Chapter Text
July 2017 - Ontario
Shane was laid out on the couch, chewing on the strings of his hoodie. He looked at the phone in his hand, taking far too long to build up the courage to message Ilya.
“It’s starting, hunny!” Yuna Hollander exclaimed excitedly as she bounced in her seat, waving Shane’s attention to the screen.
The first period of the Stanley Cup Final played out on TV, but Shane was a little distracted, typing and deleting several messages that just didn’t sound right. He was overthinking this, but after several redrafts, he pressed send.
Jane: I can’t believe New York might win the cup and it’s only just started.
Of course, he cringed at how lame it sounded, but anything was better than acknowledging the elephant in the room. Shane still smiled, feeling happy to have any connection with Ilya, even though he hadn’t spoken to him since his visit in the hospital after the injury.
The sound of sticks smacking the puck across the ice filled the silence, but the radio silence from his phone was louder. He waited. No response.
Hearing his mom curse at the screen, Shane turned his head to see what the commotion was. Whether she was angry or happy, he couldn’t tell, her passion was unrivaled. If Yuna Hollander wasn’t his ‘Mom/manager’, Shane could imagine her as the Metros’ very own commentator. It was hard to imagine her not swearing live in front of millions of viewers. The thought made Shane chuckle as he watched Scott Hunter on screen, celebrating his third goal in the first five minutes of the game.
Shit, he’d missed the other goals.
Jane: You’d probably hate Hunter more if he won this.
Shane sighed, staring at his phone, hoping for those three dots to appear, wondering if Ilya was even watching the game or just ignoring him. Frustration slowly crept over him. He put his phone down and turned his attention to the game, watching but not really seeing.
His mind wandered.
He felt tired. Tired of being holed up in Ontario with his parents monitoring his every move, like he was fragile and could break at the slightest motion. Annoyed, but also grateful for every moment of being smothered. But he needed a break.
He needed Ilya, if he was honest.
After asking Ilya to come to his cottage, Shane didn’t want to push, but he was hoping, desperately, that he would say yes. That he’d receive a text telling him he’d come. He wanted it so much.
Shane didn’t realize when it happened, but he was falling. Falling so deep he could no longer see the top of this never-ending well that was Ilya Rozanov and it scared him.
Sighing loudly, he ran a hand over his face.
“Everything okay, hunny?” Yuna looked over at him with concern.
“I’m fine, Mom… it’s just… it could’ve been us winning our third Cup in a row.” He paused. “I just wish I wasn’t injured.”
It wasn’t a lie but it wasn’t the truth either.
Yuna gave a sympathetic smile.
“Oh, Shane, you’ll kick ass next season. Rozanov’s going to stay injured, and Hunter might break his dinosaur legs and retire.”
Shane let out a shocked laugh.
“Mom, you can’t say that.”
He looked at her with admiration and disbelief at how confident she could be. He appreciated the attempt to soothe him, not realizing his heart had started racing at the mention of Ilya’s name. The dinosaur comment too, his mom and Ilya would get along. He knew it, and that thought made him hopeful.
His stomach growled loudly, breaking his thoughts. Shane covered it instinctively.
“Mom, is there any-”
“David!” Yuna shouted immediately.
Shuffling and footsteps followed as his David Hollander entered the living room.
“Everything okay?” he asked, worry thick in his voice, his soft blue eyes darting between them.
“We need to go pick up some food in fifteen minutes.”
“Mom, I’m okay. There’s probably something I can make” Shane protested weakly, right as his stomach betrayed him again.
David’s face softened into something playful.
“Let’s go now.”
Shane felt overwhelmed. He hated inconveniencing his parents or being fussed over.
“Shane, there’s nothing in the kitchen you can eat with your diet,” Yuna said firmly, then softer to David, “Fifteen minutes left in the period hun. we’ll go after that, okay?”
David chuckled, ruffling Shane’s hair.
“Okay, I’ll get the car started.”
Yuna stepped into the hallway, still watching the TV as she called Shane’s favorite takeaway. A minute later, she returned.
“There. They’ll be ready in twenty minutes, we’ll pick it up and be back in time for the second period.”
“Thanks, Mom… you didn’t have to-”
“No, hunny.” Yuna interjected “I’m allowed to be your mom.”
“Thanks” Shane muttered, getting only a slight nod his way as Yuna was lost back in the game.
The first period went by with Shane absentmindedly scrolling through his phone, his mind stuck between hunger and Ilya.
Jane: the offer is still there, I would really like to spend the summer with you.
“Okay hunny we’ll be right back” Yuna got up going towards the front door “ Do you want a ginger ale as well?”
“Yes please” Yuna nodded with a sweet smile in Shane’s direction, clutching her phone and wallet.
“We’ll Be right back” Shane kept his eyes on the door, as he watched his mom close it behind her, the sound of the car leaving the driveway.
Shane sat himself up, groaning at the uncomfortable dull ache from his collar bone. His eyes on the clock watching the time pass.
Shane anxiously watch his phone hoping to see those 3 dots appear. There was nothing Ilya hadn’t read the messages or was busy is what Shane told himself.
15 minutes had passed when Shane sent a text.
Shane: 5 minutes till the second period
Mom: we’re on our way back now
He couldn’t wait to eat, and maybe actually focus on the game when his mom comes aback.
The second period is about to start and his mom and dad still weren’t there.
Shane: mom, the games about to start?
More time passed with Shane waiting in silence.
Puck drop had happened 10 minutes ago and shane was worried, if it was just his dad, he wouldn’t bat an eye but his mom… she would never miss the Stanley cup finals. He sat up straighter, his phone already against his ear, as he dialled his moms number. It didn’t even ring before clicking and going straight to voicemail.
“Hi this is Yuna Hollander…”
That was really weird, maybe she forgot to charge her phone. He then called his dads phone, his hoody string fraying in between his teeth. He had to hold his knee with his free hand to still it from its nervous bounce.
“Hi this is David Hollander..”
Voicemail.
Strange. It wasn’t like them to both not pick up. A weird feeling shifted in his stomach as he waited.
The second period was over, and Shane found himself staring at the door.
“Where are you guys…?”
He dragged a hand through his hair, the unease in his chest beginning to spread. He tried to reason with it, force it into something logical.
“They’re probably stuck in traffic,” he muttered aloud.
Maybe they’d stopped somewhere else. Maybe they left their phones in the car. Maybe his mom was yelling at his dad for missing the Stanley Cup Final.
That thought almost made him smile, until it didn’t. Because she wouldn’t miss it. Not the final. Not this game. Her last message had been: we’re on our way back.
He couldn’t help this nagging feeling in his gut from turning into a growing ball getting larger an larger with each minute filling his chest till his breathing got a little bit restrained.
The third period started. Shane couldn’t sit still anymore.He pushed himself off the couch, pacing, running a hand through his hair again and again. His thoughts spiraled too fast to catch.
This is stupid.
He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to steady his breathing. For a second, he imagined Ilya, arms around him, grounding him, whispering something soft until everything slowed down.
But Ilya wasn’t here, and none of this was stopping.
Shane moved again, restless, heading for the front door. He pulled it open. The street was empty. No headlights. No sound of a car pulling in too fast. No familiar engine.
Just the faint hum of the streetlights and a distant echo of the game from the TV behind him.
It was too quiet.
“Stop,” he muttered, pressing his eyes shut, forcing a slow breath in. “You’re overthinking.”
He stayed there for a moment, gripping the doorframe, before finally turning back inside and dropping onto the couch again.
“Fuck… where are you?”
The final minute of the game ticked down unnoticed. The crowd roared through the TV as the Admirals secured the win. Blue jerseys flooded the ice.
Shane barely saw it.
Something was wrong.
Not because of the game, he didn’t care about the game anymore, but because of the silence.
Because they weren’t here.
Because they weren’t answering.
His chest tightened. His thoughts jammed together, too loud, too fast until suddenly they weren’t thoughts at all. Just noise.
He couldn’t move.
Couldn’t think.
Could only stare at the screen as the Stanley Cup was handed to Scott Hunter.
Players celebrated. Hugging family. Kissing their wives.
Shane blinked.
Wait.
Hunter wasn’t-
His brain struggled to catch up with what he was seeing.
Scott Hunter had his hands on someone’s face, someone not in uniform. Someone in street clothes. A man. He kissed him. Not quick. Not subtle. Full on the mouth.
Holy shit.
Holy. Shit
Shane stared, his thoughts stalling completely.
His phone rang. Breaking the shocked silent trance he was in.
The sound tore through the room. He grabbed it instantly.
“Mom! finally, where have you-”
“Hello… may I speak with Shane Hollander, please?”
His voice caught.
“…Yeah. This is him. Who is this?”
“My name is Jade. I’m calling from emergency services. I’m calling about David and Yuna Hollander. Is now a good time to talk?”
Everything inside him went still.
“What” Shane whispered reality about to break into him as a cold shiver swept through his body. The words emergency services blaring in his head.
A pause. Silence taken as an answer to proceed.
“You were listed as an emergency contact for both of them… I’m sorry to tell you they were involved in a road traffic accident earlier today.”
The words didn’t land. Not properly.
Shane swallowed. Frozen, he felt like minutes, Hours could’ve passed by before his brain caught up with what he hears, it was merely seconds. Shane’s blood ran cold.
“Are they okay?”
“They are currently receiving treatment. Their condition is serious, and they are considered critical at this time.”
Critical.
The word echoed, hollow and meaningless.
“What does that mean?” His voice shook now. His hand shaking as tears he didn’t realise that were there began to fall freely.
“Right now, the medical team is doing everything they can to stabilize them. I don’t have further details, but they are receiving urgent care.”
Shane’s grip on the phone tightened.
“Which hospital?”
“They’re at Ontario Hospital. I would recommend coming in as soon as possible. When you arrive, staff will guide you.”
His thoughts scrambled, searching for something, anything to hold onto.
“I… okay. I’ll...”
“Take your time. Someone will be there to assist you when you arrive.”
The call ended.
Silence flooded back in.
The TV was still on. The crowd still cheering. The celebration still happening.
But it felt distant.
Like it wasn’t real.
Shane lowered the phone slowly, staring at nothing.
Critical.
His chest rose sharply, breath catching halfway.
He stood up too fast, the room tilting slightly, his body suddenly too heavy and too light all at once.
“I need to…”
But the sentence didn’t finish.
Because he didn’t know what came next.