NeurodivergentMess



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    “Luch-Shane,” Ilya says, catching himself only at the last moment before he breaks their no pet names in the workplace rule. “Why don’t you get some air, yes? We can-”

    Shane’s anxiety takes a quick backseat to annoyance once more, at being handled like a child instead of a grown man, like he hasn’t been doing this just as long as Ilya, like he needs someone to tell him when to take a break.

    Like he deserved to have everything taken away from him because he couldn’t handle it to start with.

    “I’m fine,” he says, voice icy.

    The step he takes away is too big, farther than he meant to get from Ilya’s side, and the air between them feels both charged and icy.

    He isn’t quite bold enough to try and fix it.

    (shane is married and on the same team as his husband) (and all it cost him was his whole career and the life he spent years building beforehand) (but it's fine, really) (it's all so very, very fucking fine)

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    08 Jul 2026

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    CBC News Archives | July 2005

    Mini-Doc: Meet Ottawa’s 14 year-old hockey phenom, Shane Hollander

    [Video - 3:26]

    -

    The video has been over for long enough that his screen has gone dark, but Ilya is still stuck staring at the device.

    He hasn’t let any tears spill over yet, but god, he’s going to cry.

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    08 Jul 2026

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    ...oh,” his mom says. “Oh, honey, you were seeing someone? You never said anything.”

    “It’s-it’s complicated.” He catches the present tense too fucking late to do anything about it, and he barely resists the urge to either groan or slip forward to start beating his head against the coffee table.

    Fuck his fucking life.

    “You’re still…seeing this person?” His mom asks, and the amount of control he can hear her exerting is almost painful. “Who is-”

    “Yuna,” his dad cuts in, voice quiet, “maybe give him a second, yeah?”

    Yeah, Shane agrees in his head. Give him a second.

    Maybe give him a decade while they’re at it.

    (when shane's old fake id falls out of his wallet around his parents, he has to explain that it was to book hotel rooms before he was 21)

    (...and then he has to explain why he needed to book those hotel rooms in the first place)

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    08 Jul 2026

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    “No vodka?” Rozanov asks, tsking in disapproval but looking amused. “What then? What does the great Shane Hollander want when he does a good job? What is your vice, Hollander?”

    “Hmmmm, mangoes,” Shane sighs out wistfully. It’s not a dangerous allergy for him, but it does mean being itchy and sometimes a little queasy for a couple of days after. Really he knows that he should probably avoid them altogether, but with every other restriction he has and with how controlled he is with his life even outside of that, it’s his one little indulgence, a pressure-relief valve of one bad choice to let some steam off at the end of a season, when he carves out time in his cottage when he can make his annual bad choice and enjoy a few days of wild mango madness before he makes himself buckle back into the restraints he usually keeps his life in.

    He looks up when he hears Rozanov snort.

    “Mangoes?” Rozanov repeats, tugging his shirt over his head. “Really?”

    “They’re good,” Shane defends. “Better than vodka,” he adds, pointedly.

    (shane has food allergies but makes an exception for mangoes) (5 times ilya didn't find out about this allergy and 1 time he did)

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    08 Jul 2026

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    Cardiac tamponade: pressure on that heart that prevents it from filling and beating adequately.

    Shane thought he knew two things: his move to Ottawa would cause chaos, and that the Ottawa Centaurs were nice.

    As it turned out, he only knew one of those things.

    (Or: the Cens are still a team of professional hockey players. They're going to fuck up.)

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    01 Jul 2026