masterlist ✶ rules ✶ requests are open! ✶
↳ recent works:
ㅤꨄ︎ achilles come down
ㅤꨄ︎"i hope this letter finds you well"
ㅤꨄ︎ runaway
↳ current fandoms i have work out for:
♡ HEATED RIVALRY
☆ hi! my name is serena, my pronouns are they/she, and this is my fanfiction blog where i keep a hodgepodge of all my works and various whatevers over the years.
☆ i've been writing fanfiction for a little over a decade, yet i've never made a place to put everything...until now
☆ i am most active in doctor who and heated rivalry, but i've been in a number of corners (yellowjackets, the it franchise, sherlock, anything scooby doo related, gravity falls, avatar the last airbender, a series of unfortunate events, arcane). i'm a casual marvel fan as well if that's relevant to anyone (emphasis on casual unless it's about bucky barnes or black widow, then all of a sudden i'm paying CLOSE attention)
☆ feel free to stop by or scroll on, i'm getting things reorganized so if you see stuff moving around, that's why!
Check out my rules page for more info on blog rules ♡
DIVIDER CREDITS: i typically make all my own headers unless specified (like the one on this post, that one is from a pinterest post that i found really pretty linked here), but all the dividers on this blog are not mine! they belong to @saradika-graphics
DISCLAIMER: Most of my work is adult and some works may contain dark themes. If you are uncomfortable at any point, please turn away.
KEY: ঌ smut | ♡ fluff | ☁︎ angst
HEADER CREDIT
✧ no ists or phobes! racism, homophobia, transphobia, and the likes are not allowed, you will be blocked ♡
✧ i do not support ai usage, especially in creative works. all work on this blog is made by me and my two hands, not a robot!
✧ no incest
✧ no pedophilia (i'm fine with writing large age gaps, but they MUST be between adults)
✧ no real people (actor meets their character is fine, actor x character is not something i do)
✧ please be as detailed as possible with your asks! i'm not asking for a full novel but i do need a little bit to work with. just a basic genre, details of the ask, and who's involved is all i need
✧ if you're doing an hr ask, please specify the time/era
"I HOPE THIS LETTER FINDS YOU WELL" — ch 2, 1.3k [⛆]
SUMMARY: Shane went to place the photo on the counter, when he saw the photo start to come in and that stopped him in his tracks. The polaroid changed from the murky, blank, undeveloped black to an actual photo. It wasn’t very good quality, but it was good enough to where Shane could see what was going on. In the photo was something that sent a chill down Shane’s spine. It was him, on the phone with Svetlana earlier, with a note along the bottom frame.
DISCLAIMER: I am a vile hater of generative AI, especially in creative fields. I did not use it to create this. Do not use it on my work.
DIVIDER CREDIT: @saradika-graphics
CHAPTER TITLE: someone's on borrowed time
WORK RATING: Mature
WORK TAGS: creepy letters and photos, check masterlist for complete work tags
AUTHOR'S NOTE: My work was EMPTY today so I got several hours of laptop time and decided to finish editing this chapter so everyone can have it early :)) Enjoy!
PREVIOUS WORK | NEXT WORK | READ ON AO3 | HOLLANOV MASTERLIST
The letter was stuck in the door when he came home that day. Shane initially laid it on the counter after seeing it promising himself that he’d get to it later. Ilya came home with Anya from his run, the night came and went, and suddenly it was 2 in the morning and Shane was getting water when he saw the letter again.
“I should probably read this,” he mumbled, rubbing his eyes and picking up the letter in his hands. Something in him told him that he needed to read this and he didn’t see any reason to disobey. His fingers fumbled with the envelope and he tore it open before the letter unfolded and the disaster that was on the paper unfurled before his eyes. Shane was scared. Honestly he was more than scared—he was terrified.
His hands shook as he read the letter. This was so dangerous.
Shane had read about creepy stalkers like this before. Rose had told him of her many many horror stories about crazy fans. There had been a few that came after her when they started dating, pissed that she was off the market. He had his own experiences with insane fans—there was one time he almost got kidnapped but thankfully the kidnapper thought he was stupid (he knew better than to leave an event with a random stranger)—but it was nothing like this. Even when he was with Rose, the insanity wasn’t as intense as a letter like this was.
Whoever this person was had collected a lot of evidence to prove their legitimacy as a threat. Personal details about Shane and Ilya’s lives were listed as if they were common facts. This person even had facts about their friends and families and their schedules. They knew where everyone lived, the vacations people took, what they were doing for work or fun. The anonymous sender even had photos of Anya, the family game night he had had with his parents and Ilya recently, as well as Shane and Ilya cuddling on the couch.
“Shane?” Shane flinched at the sound before relaxing, recognizing it as his husband’s voice. Ilya rubbed his own eyes as he walked down the stairs, eyeing Shane with worry, “What are you doing up? Are you ok?”
Shane slipped the letter behind his back and prayed that his facial expression was convincing, “I’m ok,” he said, “Just getting some water. Couldn’t sleep.”
Ilya nodded, turning back up the stairs, “Ok,” he said, voice low from sleep, “Come back to bed when you’re done. It’s cold without you.”
Shane nodded in return mildly melting at the fact that Ilya had noticed him being gone (Ilya noticed (almost) everything) “Yea, just give me a second.”
Ilya left him to his own devices in the kitchen and Shane pulled the letter back out from behind his back as he began to contemplate what he was going to do after reading this.
He could always call their bluff. It’d be really easy to go to the police tomorrow without even telling Ilya what was going on. He could get them protection while this potential threat was investigated. Rose also had her own security for press conferences and studio shoots and they could be warned...but part of him didn’t want to test his chances. There was always the chance that they weren’t faking anything (and from the photos, it definitely didn’t look like they were) and then they might actually start hurting people.
There was thing Shane was certain about though: he was not getting a divorce with Ilya. Even if (god forbid) he wanted to, the process would take way longer than three months and he wouldn’t be anywhere near able to meet the deadline of this crazy person. A few guys on his former team of Montreal were divorced. Only of those was relatively amicable with no court contesting or anything, but even so, it took them 6 months to officially separate. It didn’t matter regardless—he was not divorcing Ilya because of a strange, sketchy letter.
He mused over the letter again, trying to process his options, before realizing that there was one crucial person the letter did not mention: Svetlana.
They might know about her anyways and just failed to mention it. Maybe they had eyes on her too and left her out of the letter as a sort of trap for Shane to see if he would bite the bait and contact her. But still, the letter failed to mention her at all. In fact, everyone who was threatened here seemed to have been people who were deemed closer to Shane than to Ilya. It wasn’t like Shane didn’t care for Svetlana (he very much did outside of the thankfulness he held in relation to his husband), but to a fan like this looking in, it might look like they weren’t close at all and therefore there wasn’t any reason to mention her.
The letter did say that there would be consequences for contacting anybody, but since Svetlana wasn’t mentioned, maybe the sender didn’t consider her a “loved one” of Shane’s? Shane’s team wasn’t mentioned either, but there wasn’t a way he could secretly contact them without this crazy person figuring it out. The sender did mention that they knew where Shane practiced and even included a polaroid of the rink. He could “secretly” contact Svetlana and since she wasn’t mentioned, she seemed like fair game.
Before he could go back on his decision, he was dialing Svetlana’s number.
“Hello?” Svetlana’s voice was rough with sleep, “Shane? Why are you calling me this late, what’s going on?”
Shane swallowed uncomfortably, looking at the letter, “Svetlana,” Shane began to speak, “I-”
A knock on the door interrupted him. Shane paused, pulling the phone from his ear as he turned his head towards the source of the knock. The knock sounded again in an almost rhythmic fashion—but Shane wasn’t expecting any visitors.
“I’ll call you back,” Shane whispered before hanging up, ignoring Svetlana’s protests and confusion on the other end. After he had hung up, the knock on the door didn’t happen again. It was honestly probably just a tree branch or the house creaking as houses sometimes did, but something in Shane’s gut told him that it was more than that. Under any other circumstances, Shane would have just gone back to bed but he moved towards the front door like his body wasn’t even under his control anymore. Before he knew it, he was opening the front door and looking around.
“Fuck,” Shane whispered, letting out a sigh of relief at the sight of just the front yard and a tiny tree branch right in front of the door. That was probably what the sound was, the branch had fallen from one of the trees and scratched the door. Simple and logical...right? That was, until Shane looked down at the doormat. On the doormat was another polaroid.
At first, Shane wondered if maybe this fell out of the letter that he had picked up earlier. Shane bent down to pick it up, snatching it from the mat before swiftly shutting and relocking the door. The photo was black, but not a pitch black. It was more of the murky, swamp black that you get when you first take a polaroid photo. It was almost as if the photo had been taken recently and was still developing.
Shane went to place the photo on the counter, when he saw the photo start to come in and that stopped him in his tracks. The polaroid changed from the murky, blank, undeveloped black to an actual photo. It wasn’t very good quality, but it was good enough to where Shane could see what was going on. In the photo was something that sent a chill down Shane’s spine. It was him, on the phone with Svetlana earlier, with a note along the bottom frame.
It was written in that same, neat handwriting as the first set.
I’m a little disappointed, but honestly not surprised. Someone has to pay for this you know—and I know exactly what I’m doing first. Let’s see if you can figure it out before it happens!
-Anonymous
SUMMARY: The rattling sound was still present and his mother was gone. The pills were on the floor and the vodka was empty. His attention turned to the bathroom door—the door that someone was trying to open, but it wouldn’t open all the way—yet it was open just enough for Ilya to see who was there. His eyes narrowed as he tried to get a closer look at who was there, he was supposed to be alone.
DISCLAIMER: I am a vile hater of generative AI, especially in creative fields. I did not use it to create this. Do not use it on my work.
DIVIDER CREDIT: @saradika-graphics
CHAPTER TITLE: be done with this now, and jump off the roof
WORK RATING: Explicit
WORK TAGS: suicide attempt via overdose + alcohol, suicidal thoughts, hallucinations, drinking, pills and alcohol mention, Sofya is involved in this chapter. She does not see anything graphic nor is she harmed, but she has a bit of a bigger role in this chapter and the next and she is a CHILD, so I just wanted to put a warning there for that, check masterlist for complete work tags
AUTHOR'S NOTE: Here we are guys, it’s time. All the suicide tags now come into play. Please take caution and take care of yourself, this gets graphic. Trigger warnings below. Listening to In This Shirt by the Irrepressibles was a MISTAKE while writing this.
PREVIOUS WORK | NEXT WORK | READ ON AO3 | WORK MASTERLIST | HOLLANOV MASTERLIST
1 Day – June 14th
Ilya expected to wake up that morning feeling terrible—but he didn’t. He felt like a weight had been lifted off of his shoulders. It was almost as if his brain had connected with his body in the way that now even physically he knew. The birthday that he had feared for years would be tomorrow...and he wouldn’t have to go through it at all. He would be stuck, permanently 39, permanently with his мама. But even so, he knew that the “happy” feeling in his brain was just a fallacy and that he was actually very scared and very conflicted, his mind doing its best to mask the feeling for him.
“Good morning,” Ilya mumbled into Shane’s hair in an attempt to calm his whirling mind, feeling him stir as his breathing indicated he was waking up.
“Good morning,” Shane turned around in Ilya’s arms, “What’s going on?”
“What do you mean?” Ilya kissed Shane’s forehead, “I cannot say good morning to my husband.”
“Haha, you’re so funny,” Shane smiled back.
Ilya leaned forward to kiss him once again, on the lips and deeper this time. His hands curled around Shane’s body and pulled him in tight while Shane’s wrapped around his neck. As their kissing grew more heated, Ilya rolled over, dragging Shane down until he was pinned underneath Ilya.
“Ilya—” Shane groaned, pushing into Ilya’s grip.
Ilya reached down further, his lips brushing the sensitive spot on Shane’s neck, “It’s been awhile since I’ve last made you come, hm?”
Shane looked up at his husband with pleading eyes and it wasn’t much longer before their clothes were on the floor.
BREAK
Ilya showered alone after. They usually showered together (and if anyone was going to shower alone, it would have been Shane), but Ilya couldn’t bring himself to knowing what was going to happen later. The marks on his body told a story—a story that would soon be reaching its end. As he brought Shane closer to the edge in their bed, he couldn’t help but feel an immense wave of guilt that he would never see Shane’s face blissed out in the morning light ever again—no. He couldn’t be thinking about this right now. If this was going to be his last day, he wanted to be able to enjoy it.
Shane was getting ready to leave with Sofya in order for Ilya to have some time to himself. Ilya claimed that he was just stressed, that in order to prepare for tomorrow he needed some time to get his thoughts in order. Shane wasn’t comfortable leaving him for a long stretch of time. They had actually argued about it quite a bit, however, Ilya wouldn’t let it go and to Shane, it looked like Ilya really did need this—so they came up with a compromise.
“Are you sure? Really?” Shane asked, his mouth pressed into a thin line on his face.
Ilya nodded, “I am sure. Tomorrow is...going to be a lot. I think I need some time to gather my thoughts.”
Shane hummed, “I guess can understand that. I used to do the same before a hockey game,” Shane turned to look at Sofya, who was currently enamored with Anya’s ears, “I don’t- I just—leaving you alone for a really long stretch of time is just something I don’t think I can do right now. I’m sorry.”
Ilya wrapped his hands around Shane’s waist, “I get that. It is ok, I just need a few hours? Please?” Ilya felt shame as he was unknowingly (to Shane at least) begging for Shane to just let him die.
Shane didn’t look convinced but nodded anyways, placing a kiss on Ilya’s temple, “Ok,” he said, “I’ll take Sofya to the store. I’d like to make you dinner. Would that be enough time?”
Ilya nodded and hugged Shane tightly as the sickening guilt within him grew, “That will be enough. What are you making for dinner?”
“You’ll see once it’s done.”
Ilya just hummed in acknowledgement.
He went downstairs to see Shane holding Sofya’s hand on their back balcony, who was eagerly pointing at the different animals that were crossing by. Ilya walked up to the stove and decided to start making breakfast.
“Wow, what’s all this?” Shane came in a little while later, his eyes wide and expression surprised at the spread that Ilya had curated for them. Anya hung out by the counter eating a scrap that Ilya had given to her.
“A gift to you,” Ilya smiled, wiping his hands off with a towel and pushing the plates forward.
“Waffles!!!” Sofya smiled big and wide, running up to Ilya and hugging him. Ilya scooped her up and spun her around, soaking in the laugh that she let out at the sudden lift.
“Chocolate chip waffles for me and you, Sonechka. And I made Papa his special omelette.”
“Baby,” Ilya could see tears pricking at the corner of Shane’s eyes, “You didn’t have to. You know how much of a pain that omelette is to make.”
Holding Sofya in one arm and Ilya reached around to pull Shane closer to him, “Hmmm, but I wanted to, моя любовь,” Ilya kissed Shane’s cheek, “Today is special. Very very special.”
“And tomorrow too, right?!” Sofya said excitedly. Ilya felt Shane squeeze his hand in support. Sofya knew that they didn’t really do too much on Ilya’s birthday, but she didn’t know why.
Ilya nodded hoping that his shadowy thoughts wouldn’t cloud his expression, “Yes, tomorrow is special too. But today is also special—that’s why I made a special breakfast.”
“Ok well I have a surprise for you tomorrow, Papa!”
Ilya froze, “What?”
Shane smiled and nodded, “She’s been working on it all week.”
“Don’t spoil it, Daddy! That would mess up the surprise.”
Shane laughed, squeezed Sofya’s shoulder, “I’m sorry, honey. I won’t say anything else.”
“A surprise you say?” Ilya laughed, “I am very excited. I cannot wait to see.” But the words came out of his mouth like thick tar and the pit in his stomach grew. He felt himself grow nauseous. Of course Sofya had a birthday surprise for him, that was how she was. Both he and Shane spoiled the daylights out of her on her birthday, so it only made sense for her to attempt to replicate what she knew. The smile on her face and the excitement in her voice made him want to vomit at the thought that he wouldn’t even be there to see it. It almost made him want to go back on his decision—but he knew that he couldn’t do that. He couldn’t keep burdening everyone.
After finishing their breakfast, Ilya placed Sofya down (who ran over to the carpet) to get everyone’s dishes in the sink. He noticed Shane eyeing him.
“What are you doing?” Ilya asked, confused.
Shane gave him a smirk, looking over to see if their daughter was in earshot before leaning over to Ilya’s ear, “Sofya isn’t the only one who can plan surprises you know,” he leaned back, “I’ve got something as well.
“For me?”
Shane smiled, kissing his cheek, “Yes, for you.”
Ilya gave his own, smug look at Shane and desperately hoped it was convincing, “I want to see what surprise you’ve got for me.”
“Tonight. You’ll see it tonight when I’m back with dinner,” Shane adjusted his shirt and filled his water bottle at the kitchen counter before turning to his daughter, “Are you ready to go?”
Sofya nodded eagerly and turned to Ilya. Ilya bent down to hug his daughter trying not to cry. He reached out to Sofya, hugging her close and hugging her tight, “Be safe and have fun, Sonechka. I love you, Я тебя люблю.”
“Love you too Papa!” Sofya hugged Ilya back just as tight.
“Have a good time with Daddy and be safe!” Ilya struggled to get the words out knowing that they were nothing but a lie, but did it anyways.
Shane reached out to hug his husband, who returned the hug with equal vigor, “I’ll be back. I love you.”
“I love you too, Shane,” Ilya blinked away tears from his eyes, “So much.”
Shane pulled back and kissed Ilya (one last time) before he grasped Sofya’s hand in one and Anya’s leash in the other. He then shut the door, finally leaving Ilya alone in the house. Ilya watched as Shane drove away and didn’t move a muscle until he was sure that Shane was gone. He began by locking all the doors. When Shane came home, he’d be a dead body and he didn’t want Shane, or god forbid his daughter, to be the one who saw him laying lifeless.
The lock on Irina’s bedroom door was flimsy and broken. He remembers her attempt at locking it, the lock pushed through the door and out from the knob, signaling that it had been locked, but it had never gone through the doorframe where it was supposed to be. It had been a problem that Ilya’s father had insisted he would fix—but he never did. Ilya walked through that day to see his mother dead. That flimsy lock was a part of why and he would not have his family go through the same thing.
After shaking the front and back doorknobs to make sure they were locked, he turned to walk up the stairs but found that he couldn’t bring himself to. He looked around the room to take it in for one last time, but his feet wouldn’t move. It was like his body didn’t want to go, like his body wasn’t ready to leave like he thought—and Ilya called this into question. Did he really want to do this?
You can’t chicken out now. Shane will come home and find you. Would you rather he come home and find you to fix, or find you no longer broken?
Ilya moved upstairs to his and Shane’s room and sat on their bed. He held their wedding photo in his hands as tears began to drip down from his cheeks.
“I’m sorry,” he said to the picture, pressing his lips to the part of the photo where Shane was before looking over to the first ever photo of them and their daughter, “to you both,” he moved to hold the other picture, “Especially to you.”
He wouldn’t be there for any of her milestones. He had seen her take her first steps and speak her first words. She was slowly learning how to read. But he would miss everything else. He wouldn’t be there for her teenage years or for the awkward child phase that most kids went through. Shane would be there—alone.
Ilya placed the picture down and looked to the bathroom connected to their room. The bathtub, soon to be his grave, stared back at him, almost insulting him with it’s pristine whiteness. He didn’t know how Shane always managed to keep the tub this incredibly clean—and how he would look at it after knowing that was where Ilya had died. He turned and closed the bathroom door before he rummaged around in the medicine cabinet. The guilt intensified, yet it left him more at the same time.
He was going to see his mother again. He was leaving his husband and leaving his daughter, but he was going to see his мама. Ilya looked down in his hands at the bottle of pills and the bottle of vodka that he had brought up with him and he realized that was going to see her the very same way that she left. He shivered at the coldness of the bathtub, his thin pajamas not really doing much to conceal the temperature. It had been a long time since they had taken a bath.
Ilya looked at the pills in his hand. He felt uneasy and he was scared to take them.
But do you want to be older than her? Live to a time she deserved that you have done nothing to receive?
Ilya shook his head. His mind was right, this was the way. This was the right decision for him him make. He had done absolutely nothing to deserve to live this long, it was only fair for her and it was only fair of him to do this. He glanced at the vodka again only to realize that it was in his hand, open, and partially empty and he felt his head begin to throb in an awful way. He didn’t even remember drinking.
He opened his phone to his contacts and decided to call Shane. If anyone deserved a goodbye it was him—until he didn’t and his phone lay on the ground next to the tub.
“Are you insane?!” His mind shouted, “That’s how he comes home, finds you, and stops you!”
“Right,” Ilya mumbled, “I will text.”
Asshole Russian <3: I love you
Asshole Russian <3: Thank you for doing this for me
The vodka was empty now. Ilya must have drank it all. He didn’t know why he was feeling so queasy, he had consumed much more than this in a single sitting and had gone home that night fine. He hadn’t had that much alcohol since his partying days, but the tolerance didn’t just go away. Yet now, he felt like he was going to collapse at one bottle.
He looked to the side, the pills had fallen out of his hand, scattered on the floor.
That won’t do. Pick them up.
Ilya moved over, movements sluggish and eyes tired and droopy, as he slouched over the edge of the tub to start retrieving the pills when suddenly he heard the call of his name.
“ILYUSHKA!”
Ilya paused. He knew that voice. He’d know that voice from anywhere. He looked up from his position, to see a beautiful woman standing in front of him—it was none other than his own mother, “мама?”
“Ilyushka,” her hands bent down to cup the side of Ilya’s face, “My baby, what are you doing?! Oh god, what are you doing?!”
“мама, I miss you,” Ilya cried, “I can’t—I will be older than you tomorrow. I can’t. I have outlived you long enough.”
“No, you must wake up sweetheart. You are on the floor, you must wake up, you cannot sleep yet. You will not sleep yet!”
“I am following my own path, мама,” Ilya slurred, “This is what I have chosen.”
“You are not meant to meet me again, sweetheart. Not yet, not for a very very long time,” Her golden curls fell in front of her face framing it like a halo, much like Ilya’s own hair did for him, her hands somehow tight on his face despite the fact that she wasn’t here (or maybe she was).
“But мама—“
“No,” Irina pulled back, “No. No, this is not your fate. You need to wake up. You have life left to live, my darling, you need to wake up.”
Ilya shook his head, “мама, no, I don’t want to.”
Ilya felt himself shake violently as Irina’s voice grew louder and louder, “Wake up! You have to wake up, you can’t, you have to!”
“I can’t!”
“You have to wake up!” Irina moved over Ilya, shaking him in order to get him to “wake up”.
“мама, I need to sleep, please—“
“Papa!” Ilya looked at Irina puzzled. Why was his mother now calling him Papa? “Papa, why are you sleeping in the bathtub?”
“мама, I’m confused.”
“Papa? Papa, wake up!”
“мама, it’s your son, I’m coming to see you.”
But Irina just kept yelling. Her voice melded together with another yelling for him. The voice was not Irina’s, yet it was familiar. It yelled for him like a child would much. A loud bang caused Ilya to rub his eyes and he shot upwards out of the tub.
The rattling sound was still present and his mother was gone. The pills were on the floor and the vodka was empty. His attention turned to the bathroom door—the door that someone was trying to open, but it wouldn’t open all the way—yet it was open just enough for Ilya to see who was there. His eyes narrowed as he tried to get a closer look at who was there, he was supposed to be alone.
And then he saw. Ilya felt his body stiffen. Through the crack in the door stood the one person who he didn’t want to see any of this, second to Shane.
It was his daughter—and she was yelling for him like he had for Irina.
Translations:
мама – mama
моя любовь – my love
малышка - baby
↪I HOPE THIS LETTER FINDS YOU WELL — work in progress [⛆]
"Dear Shane Hollander, I hope this letter finds you well."
· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·
Someone starts sending stalkerish and threatening letters to Shane ordering him to break up with his Ilya or face the consequences. And the worst part? He has to keep it all a secret.
↪FIC DETAILS───〃★
RATING: Mature
CURRENT WORD COUNT: 2.4k
CHAPTER AMOUNT: 2/?
PREFER AO3? CLICK HERE
WORK TAGS: spoilers for tlg, married shane hollander/ilya rozanov, ilya rozanov loves shane hollander, shane hollander loves ilya rozanov, protective ilya rozanov, protective shane hollander, DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT, stalker, stalking, the stalking is not between Shane and Ilya, the DD:DNE tag is just in case for other things, don't like don't read, creepy letters, creepy photos, non-consensual voyeurism, hurt ilya rozanov, hurt shane hollander, emotional manipulation, betrayal, evil, you will be sad and upset, angst with a happy ending, tags may change as work progresses
↪ CHAPTERS───〃★
CHAPTER ONE — letter one, 1k
Dear Shane Hollander, I hope this letter finds you well.
CHAPTER TWO — someone's on borrowed time — 1.3k
Shane went to place the photo on the counter, when he saw the photo start to come in and that stopped him in his tracks. The polaroid changed from the murky, blank, undeveloped black to an actual photo. It wasn’t very good quality, but it was good enough to where Shane could see what was going on. In the photo was something that sent a chill down Shane’s spine. It was him, on the phone with Svetlana earlier, with a note along the bottom frame.
SUMMARY: Dear Shane Hollander,I hope this letter finds you well.
DISCLAIMER: I am a vile hater of generative AI, especially in creative fields. I did not use it to create this. Do not use it on my work.
DIVIDER CREDIT: @saradika-graphics
CHAPTER TITLE: letter #1
WORK RATING: Mature
WORK TAGS: creepy letters and photos, check masterlist for complete work tags
AUTHOR'S NOTE: Timeline wise, this is actually supposed to take place towards the end of TLG not during. I rewrote this chapter like 6 times and redid the planning a lot as well. I kept going back and forth on when the timeline was supposed to be and I guess I forgot to change the author's note after ultimately deciding to go with it being towards the end. I think in the stalker letter me writing about them being married and living together made that obvious but the author's note is usually what I go with when I read fics so yea lol. Sorry about that 😅💔. This fic does not have a set upload schedule. The AO3 curse has taken a liking to me recently and every time I set a schedule, something happens to prevent that schedule—despite my love for having a schedule. So the "schedule" for this fic is just going to be whenever I want and whenever I'm able. Sometimes I may dip for a month, other days I'll give you a double upload. It all depends on my life. I am aiding my friends and family in their back to school journeys + my own back to school journey towards the end of next month, so that will of course come first. I do not know how long this fic is going to be. In all of my various drafts and plans I just haven't been able to nail down a number that I'm sure about. Until I figure that out (or until I complete the fic, straight up), our good friend the question mark will be active. I hope that you have fun trying to figure out who the culprit is. I am trying my best to make sure that this is as "mysterious" as possible. Maybe everyone can have fun in the comments lol. Thanks for reading my blurb and clicking on my work. The fact that people see my things on AO3 and decide it's interesting enough to invest themselves in means the world. I hope you have fun reading 💜 I made a post about this on tumblr with a poll on who will suffer the most. If you're from that post, hi :D !!! And also please forgive me for the fake photos, I'm trying my best with what I can find and my editing isn't that good. I'll need a suspension of disbelief for the way they look. I've tried to put a filter on them to look far away/blurry and mysterious but I am not that skilled lol. Same with the evil letters and how they sound. I hope they sound threatening enough but unfortunately sometimes my "evil" things sound incredibly cartoony. I'm doing my best guys trust me 😭 I've also always pictured Anya as an Australian Shepard mix of a dog since her breed isn't canon (at least not book canon and not show canon yet) so that's what you're getting from me, but eveyrone has free will to believe something different if they choose.
NEXT WORK | READ ON AO3 | HOLLANOV MASTERLIST
Dear Shane Hollander,
I hope this letter finds you well.
You do not know who I am and you will not know who I am any time soon—but you will get to know me a little. I'm going to be a part of your life for the forseeable future. The faster you give me what I want, the faster I will depart from your life and no longer disturb you. This can be easy or this can be difficult, the choice is entirely up to you and I am prepared for whatever path you choose to place yourself on :)
As for what I want? That is very simple. I'm not going to play any games to trick you or make you solve any riddles to figure anything out. This isn't a saw movie and I'm not that bored. I'm just going to tell you plain and simple: I want you to break up with your husband.
Ilya Rozanov is by no means good enough for you. He never has and he never will be.
He is loud and unkind. He holds you back. I've seen the way he annoys you Shane. I've seen the way that you are tired and exhausted. Ilya Rozanov is nothing but lazy and selfish and you should not have to put up with it in the slightest.
The only redeeming quality that he possesses is the fact that he loves you. That is it. There is nothing good about him otherwise. You do not see it now, but you will soon enough. When you spend time apart from him, when you finally man up and leave him, you will see how much he has been holding you back.
"But I love him!" Sometimes the ones we love are the ones who hurt us the most, who are the worst for you, Shane. You need someone who won't hold you back in life and that is all he does. You may think you're happy, but you're not and I know it. I know you. I have long watched you both and I have seen the underlying suffering that you face, even if you refuse to acknowledge it yourself.
You must keep this letter a secret—yes, even from Ilya. Find a reason to divorce him and stick to it. I trust that you are smart enough to figure out what to do here. You will do it or there will be consequences. You will be hurt...but not in the way you think. No, someone that you love will suffer in your place.
It could be your mother. Perhaps she could have an accident on the way to her morning yoga class or something could go wrong while she goes for a hike? Or maybe, I could find your father. He has that beach vacation next month. How would he like an extra special guest?
Your best friend if that doesn't work? Hayden and Jackie Pike are going on a couple's vacation for their anniversary. Something could happen to the plane or they could have a surprise waiting for them at their hotel—and they have kids too, don't they? You wouldn't want anything to happen to them. They're parents with kids who need them.
Rose Landry has a movie shoot in Cabo. Her plane could malfunction and she might not make it. The rental car she's taking from her apartment might break down. It's honestly all up in the air. You never know what could happen these days.
The dog you share with Ilya could get a new home. I would never harm her—I'm not that cruel—but I could take her for a little bit to encourage you. She would be pampered to the extreme and spoiled with the finest things that money could buy. She would be perfectly fine. But yes, she could always stay with me for awhile if the need arises.
Or maybe...I would teach you this lesson through Ilya himself. I mean, I almost encourage you to just ignore this letter and let the time run out so I can just take him. That might make things easier. But I'd rather not dirty my hands dealing with him. It's easier to go through you—and honestly much more painful for Ilya.
I know that he stays in bed alone while you go for a run. There's a period of 1 hour and 27 minutes (on average) that he's by himself here with your dog. It would be the perfect time for me to drop by and pay a visit. I know he likes to go the grocery store on Sunday around 12pm. I know that he takes Anya to the vet at the end of every month.
I know when you practice and I know when you play. I know the facility that you practice at and how you will both arrive early and stay late. I know the places you frequent post practice and the hotels that your company likes to stay at. I know what your cars look like. I know when the next gathering for your foundation will be—I have eyes everywhere that you can imagine.
I will know if you tell anyone. There's no need for me to get myself involved if you listen to me—but if you break that rule, then know I am not afraid to become drastic. I have enclosed several photographs of you and your loved ones (don't worry, I haven't touched them yet) that should prove my legitimacy as a threat and my knowledge. I certainly do not mind getting up close and personal with you if that is what must happen :)))
That is it. Break up with Ilya or face the consequences. You have 3 months to do this—and yes, I know the average divorce in this country can take between 4 and 6 (or even more) due to the legal filings and stuff you have to do—but you're rich and so is Ilya. You can make it happen in 3.
You may call me a crazy "fan" or perhaps a stalker, but I call myself someone who just keeps an eye on you and wants what is best for you. After all, this is only to better your life. Don't waste this chance.
Good luck,
xx Anonymous
CAPTION ON PHOTO 1: Practice does make perfect—although not for everything.
CAPTION ON PHOTO 2: Awww all cozied up :)) You know, the guy is terrible but he certainly looks like a good cuddler.
CAPTION ON PHOTO 3: Have you considered doing a dog show or dog modeling with Anya? She's absolutely gorgeous.
CAPTION ON PHOTO 4: Family game night I see! What were you guys playing?
CAPTION ON PHOTO 5: A morning run is an excellent way to clear the mind.
Rating: Mature
Word Count: 1.5k
A/N: Suspend your disbelief on missing person law in this chapter for my sake 😅 Also I wrote this at work (I work at a little gift shop and it was DEAD for like half of my shift so I took advantage of that) so forgive me if there are grammar mistakes, I'm proofreading as we speak :P
Luca went back and forth between the thread and the attached photo, but found he could find nothing more. The only photo evidence that he had of Ilya after his departure was of him and that woman. Maybe it was Jane, maybe it wasn't (Ilya had mentioned her once or twice in passing), but even so, it did nothing to point him in the right direction. Ilya was gone—and there wasn't anything he could do about it. He didn't know why and he didn't know where or even when, but he did know that he was gone.
He could only try to move on.
DISCLAIMER: I am a vile hater of generative AI, especially in creative fields. I did not use it to create this. Do not use it on my work.
Divider: @saradika-graphics
Header: Me :P
Read on AO3 | Work Masterlist | Hollanov Masterlist
Luca needed hockey advice and he couldn't think of the right person to ask. On a normal day to day basis, he'd just ask one of his team members, but he tended to prefer to default to the Centaurs captain. Luca told himself that he much preferred Ilya's teaching style and the direction of different tactics, but deep down he knew the truth. He missed Ilya. That was who he really wanted to help him.
The man was a bit like an older brother figure to him. Everyone on the team had their struggles and connections with Luca, but no one else understood what it was like for him. Luca was a young, immigrant boy in a new country learning a new language and culture with new people who he had no idea how to interact with. On top of that, he was alone as his family were all back in Switzerland. Ilya knew what that was like—no one else on the team did.
They bonded a bit over that almost immediately. Ilya had essentially taken Luca under his wing, guiding him on what to do in a way that was more than hockey direction. He made sure Luca knew he was welcome in his corner at all times. It helped Luca greatly when he was lonely or missing his family. That small bit of closeness just made his transition period all that much better.
Luca knew It was stupid for him to be calling Ilya about something so trivial. Hockey advice was something he had plenty of other people to ask for or confide in. That plentiful amount of people he still played hockey with! But in hindsight, he was glad he did it. Who knows when he would have discovered Ilya's sudden disappearance otherwise?
Luca's face twisted in confusion when he saw the text to Ilya not send. Except it didn't just not send—his phone was claiming the number had been deactivated.
"You good?" His sister asked over the phone.
"Yea..." Luca felt an unsettling feeling in his stomach, "I'll call you back, Clara."
"M'kay!" His sister hung up and Luca moved to his texts with Ilya again.
He tried sending another text. Then when that one didn't go through also claiming the deactivation message, he full on restarted his phone. He sent another text, receiving the same message that the number had been deactivated. He tried calling at that point only to get the same message over the phone.
"The person you are trying to reach is unfortunately unavailable. This number has been deactivated. If this is your number or there has been some kind of error, please contact your carrier's support network."
Luca hung up and tried again. Then he tried a third time. He kept going until his call log with this now deactivated number was at 7 calls, each getting the same message.
"The person you are trying to reach is unfortunately unavailable. This number has been deactivated. If this is your number or there has been some kind of error, please contact your carrier's support network."
Luca was panicking at this point. If there was one way to reach Ilya, it was his phone and that had seemingly been disconnected.
Luca exited out of his messaging app and switched to Instagram. Ilya's Instagram page was basically dead as well, the most recent post being from months before he retired. Troy commented about him being chronically online once and while that was true in some aspects, it wasn't all the way true. That consisted more of Ilya being knowledgeable of recent meme trends and stupid stuff. He had a period where he'd post insane stories multiple times a day but eventually mellowed out—and now what looked to be silent.
When he went to message Ilya, he found that his Instagram DMs weren't even on. So that wasn't even an option. His last resort was the business email in Ilya's bio and he was all out of options otherwise.
Hi Ilya, it's Luca from the Centaurs! Sorry if this is a bit strange, your phone number seems to be deactivated and I needed some hockey advice. It's also just been a minute since I've heard from you. It's been a minute since we've all heard from you at the Centaurs and we're all wondering how you're doing. If there's a new way I can contact let me know <3
-LH
The email was written and then the email was sent, but Luca was quickly met with the same error message.
This email address does not seem to exist. Please check your spelling and try again. If this is your email, please contact your carrier's support network.
Luca had practice with his team in a few hours. Maybe they would know something about where he was.
When he arrived, there was something wrong with the room. Not physically, but the energy of the room had this sour feeling to it. Everyone looked upset and Luca felt his heartrate quicken when instead of walking in to find everyone preparing for practice, they were all still in their normal clothes. Coach Weibe looked particularly distraught in the corner, a hand on his forehead.
"Hi Luca," he said, "We're going to have a bit of a meeting."
"So," Harris hesitated before continuing, letting out a deep sigh, "Ok, there's no easy way to say this so I'm going to say it outright."
"Is this about Ilya?" Luca bit his lip and looked at the floor. The silence in the room spoke for him.
"You tried calling him too didn't you?" Weibe spoke up this time, his voice quiet and tone heavy.
"I emailed too," Luca looked at the rest of his teammates, "How long have you guys known?"
"Literally today," Troy motioned to the wall calendar, "I meant to call my sister in law Ellie on the way here, but my phone heard it as 'Ilya' and then I got that disconnected message."
"I just wanted to see how he was doing," Wyatt said, "Lisa and I were talking about who we hadn't heard from in a minute and then we called him and boom—same thing. Then I texted a few others and they started calling him, said they had the same thing, and you get what happened next."
Luca hummed, "What do we do now?"
"We could call in a police report," Harris said, leaning against the wall, "But other than that, that's about it."
"That's been done already," Zane said, "I know it was kind of wild for me to go to that immediately, but can you blame me??? And you guys know that I go to the worse case scenario a lot..." He breathed, "Anyways—the police said that there wasn't really a reason for them to pursue that. Rozanov has done this before and there weren't any incredibly unusual circumstances before so..."
"So he's lost? We're giving up?" Luca was shocked at his own tone. He hadn't meant for that to come out so snappy, but part of him was, he guessed, relieved that it did.
"Is there really much else we can do...?" Evan said, "We quit practice and go out looking for him? The guy clearly doesn't want to be found."
"No, I think you guys just don't want to look," Luca got up and felt Troy's hand on his shoulder but he shook it off.
"Just give him a minute," Harris whispered to him as Luca walked out of the room.
Luca went through the motions of practice robotically. He didn't talk to anyone except to play hockey. That night that he went home, Luca immediately turned to the internet to see if maybe, just maybe, there were more clues about Ilya elsewhere.
The first place he went to was reddit. He had found countless answers on that site before from obscure math problems in school to tutorials on the most random things. He searched for Ilya's name, scrolling until a thread caught his eye. The thread read, "Where is Ilya?"
Where is Ilya Rozanov????
searchingforapiece
seriously, does ANYONE know where this guy is??? he's completely fucked off the side of the earth since he retired. literally no trace.
↳poisonatedivy
i mean it's not like we're entitled to know that information. maybe he just wanted to settle down or do something.
↳puzzlemania10101
@poisonatedivy
ok but it's still WEIRD and we've got to acknowledge that
↳lillianflorals123!!
@puzzlemania101, @poisonatedivy
[Img.]
Peep this photo. It's him alright, in Boston or something. With a woman.
@puzzlemania101
@lillianflorals123!!
Oooh maybe that's a love interest 👀
Luca went back and forth between the thread and the attached photo, but found he could find nothing more. The only photo evidence that he had of Ilya after his departure was of him and that woman. Maybe it was Jane, maybe it wasn't (Ilya had mentioned her once or twice in passing), but even so, it did nothing to point him in the right direction. Ilya was gone—and there wasn't anything he could do about it. He didn't know why and he didn't know where or even when, but he did know that he was gone.
Rating: Mature
Word Count: 1k
A/N: Rose's POV gave me such a hard time for some reason, but I hope this is ok!! Enjoy!
The investigation was never meant to go public—at least not that quickly. Some scumbag from the police department ended up leaking details to the press and soon angry fans were in her messages demanding to know where Shane was. It got to the point where Rose was receiving threats herself and her manager encouraged her to make a statement. But Rose couldn't focus on that.
She could only focus on the fact that Shane was gone.
DISCLAIMER: I am a vile hater of generative AI, especially in creative fields. I did not use it to create this. Do not use it on my work.
Divider: @saradika-graphics
Header: Me :P
Read on AO3 | Work Masterlist | Hollanov Masterlist
Even after they broke up, Shane Hollander and Rose Landry never really drifted. It would have been weird if Shane had moved on to date anyone else, considering he was so close with his ex. Maybe that's why Rose never really heard of him being with anyone. Or maybe he was with someone and never told her at all.
She was a bit upset when they broke up, of course. It was somehow sudden but also unsurprising at the same time and he was Shane Hollander—who wouldn't be upset? But the breakup was amicable. Neither of them harbored negative feelings for the other person and they both quickly found out that being friends was actually much better for their relationship than dating ever was.
And so, as friends did, they made an effort to spend time together. Rose being a famous movie star and Shane a famous athlete, their schedules were full of job-related things. On top of the fact that they were always traveling for work, making time for one another was hard—yet they managed with their monthly meetups. Every month, they'd pick a place to meet up (which was often Shane's Montreal apartment) and then catch up. Shane never really had that much to say while Rose's life was filled to the brim with new details and shoot locations.
When Shane retired, Rose was quite surprised. He was a bit on the older side for an NHL player, so she guessed it made sense, but he was Shane Hollander. He wasn't the kind of guy to just go down and settle like he was doing now. Of course she was happy for him to have led such a fulfilling career, but it seemed so...odd.
"I mean it makes sense, I guess," Rose mumbled, "But he's Shane Hollander. Seeing him retire from hockey so suddenly is just...weird."
"Shane doesn't make a decision on a whim. He must have wanted to do this for awhile," Rose's cousin, Eva, replied, "But you know what else is weird though?"
Rose hummed in response, "What?"
"Ilya Rozanov retired too."
Rose raised a brow, "What does that have to do with anything?"
Eva sighed, "I'm not saying it has anything to do with anything," she said, "But I just think it's weird. The moment Shane was out, Rozanov was out too."
"I mean they did have a pretty heated rivalry on the rink. Even if I hated Shane with all my guts like that, I'd miss playing against him," Rose looked to the side, "I mean, isn't he the same age as Shane?"
Eva nodded, "I think they're around a month apart. Maybe Rozanov was getting older too."
"Maybe," But Rose couldn't shake the feeling that something else was going on...
...so she looked into it.
She felt a bit gross, going online and searching relentlessly for details about a random hockey player who rivaled someone she considered a close friend, but it just didn't make sense. Her search quickly amounted to nothing. Rozanov had practically disappeared off the internet. The only "reports" she found of him last being seen were that he was apparently back in Boston with a woman with dark, curly hair. She didn't find anything else after that.
Regardless of the lack of "interest" in Shane's life, Rose found she was always willing to listen and Shane looked like that was something he appreciated. His face would essentially light up when he got to talk to Rose about his newest hobby amongst other things. Shane was free around her...or at least he appeared to be. Shane and Rose were close, but there were still walls between them—and that showed the very next week.
That next week, Shane didn't show up to their hang out. There was no text, no call—not even a message passed on from a friend. Shane was never late to their time together. He was always 10 minutes early and if he was going to cancel, you'd know—so when he was a straight up no-show for their hang out? Rose immediately knew that something was amiss. At what she didn't know at the time would be their final hang out, Shane's eyes seemed vacant, yet relieved. It was almost like he was waiting for something.
"You look happy," Rose chuckled, taking a sip of her champagne, "Something on your mind?" She raised a brow, "Or someone...?"
Shane laughed, shaking his head, "No, no," he said, "I'm just...I don't know. I think life is going well for me right now."
Rose smiled, "I'm glad, Shane," she said, "I'm glad."
And then he was gone. The next week, Shane was a no-show for their meetup. Rose made a call to Yuna and quickly realized what was going on when Yuna explained that no one had heard from him at all. The hardest part? Shane left without a trace.
Rose just remembers staring at her phone when she got the call from the police that the investigation had gone cold.
"We haven't found anything, Mrs. Landry. We're sorry about your friend." Those words were on repeat in her head 24/7.
The investigation was never meant to go public—at least not that quickly. Some scumbag from the police department ended up leaking details to the press and soon angry fans were in her messages demanding to know where Shane was. It got to the point where Rose was receiving threats herself and her manager encouraged her to make a statement. But Rose couldn't focus on that.
She could only focus on the fact that Shane was gone.
Caption Reads:
I'm sure that everyone is wondering about my "stance" on Shane, and I'm here to say it. Yes, I knew Shane was missing. No, I do not owe anyone anything. Shane's disappearance was sudden. I do not know how Shane disappeared. I do not know what happened. I can only hope that Shane is safe, wherever he is. Please allow me to grieve and leave me alone. Hi Shane, I miss you every single day. Love, Rose 🌹❤️
SUMMARY: It wasn't an action thought if he deserved it. It wasn't an action thought if he didn't have a complete plan. His only definite statement right now was that of his death. But it didn't matter in this moment. All he knew is that he was done.
Tomorrow would be the day that Ilya Rozanov died.
DISCLAIMER: I am a vile hater of generative AI, especially in creative fields. I did not use it to create this. Do not use it on my work.
DIVIDER CREDIT: @saradika-graphics
CHAPTER TITLE: throw yourself into the unknown
WORK RATING: Explicit
WORK TAGS: suicidal thoughts and ideation, minor self harm through burning, check masterlist for complete work tags
AUTHOR'S NOTE: Two words: I'm sorry. The next chapter is where shit gets REAL real (this guy is a bit of a buffer before I chuck a brick at you) so it will definitely take me awhile to write. I will see you all soon. Be warned of this chapter, it's hefty in its own right.
PREVIOUS WORK | NEXT WORK | READ ON AO3 | WORK MASTERLIST | HOLLANOV MASTERLIST
Since his nightmare, Ilya had been incredibly uneasy. The feeling of uncertainty hadn't left like he hoped it would—it only grew on him. He had clammed up and closed and he could tell that everyone noticed, especially Shane. Shane often approached him like he was a stray cat injured in the street.
Sofya noticed something was up with her Papa as well. As a result, Ilya had received an abundance of adorable handmade gifts from his daughter, who of course had the best arts and crafts supplies that you could get your hands on. Their fridge was decorated with her drawings. Ilya's favorite, a family portrait, sat beside his wedding photos with Shane on their bedside table. He tried his best to smile and pretend (the pictures really did help him and he loved his daughter) but found that the pictures barely made a dent in his sadness.
He couldn't stop thinking about the ultimatum that he had set for himself again—and how he hadn't told Shane anything despite promising that he would. There wasn't an "action" thought, so it didn't count, and therefore he didn't have to say anything to anybody. But his mind only grew darker, his movements growing more sluggish, and his thoughts clouding with nothing but grief as his birthday approached.
"Ilya?" Shane's voice snapped him out of his thoughts, "You ok?"
Ilya nodded, "Yes, sorry," he said, "What were you saying?"
Shane looked around and held Ilya's hand. He gently rubbed his thumb against Ilya's fingers and held him steadily, like he was afraid Ilya would run away, "I was wondering if there was anything specific you wanted to do for your birthday?" He whispered.
Ilya flinched and Shane noticed the tension. But before the guilt could set in or before he could even say anything, Ilya felt like the wind was knocked out of him. He wasn't there, yet he also was. His vision was blurry and he couldn't breathe or move or do anything. Shane's hands were on his face, bringing him up to look at him—but his mouth was only moving and no words were coming out.
It felt like hours had passed—yet when Ilya looked up at the clock, he noticed it had only been a few minutes. He came to eventually with Shane hugging him, wiping the tears on his cheeks away with his thumbs.
"Ilya? Baby?" He asked tentatively, "Are you back with me?"
Ilya nodded, "I'm so sorry," he croaked out, "I don't—sorry."
"No apologizing. I'm sorry I brought up your birthday, I know it's a tough spot and I should have been more careful."
Ilya wanted to apologize more, yet found that his mouth couldn't move. He nodded, moving to tuck himself into Shane's embrace again as Shane moved them from the kitchen to the couch.
Later, Ilya spoke up, "I'm turning 40."
One of Shane's hands lay on his head, the other running up and down his back, "You are," he said.
"It is..." Ilya took a deep breath as he contemplated on revealing to Shane why 40 was of such magnitude to him, "40 is. Big deal."
Shane hummed.
Ilya breathed again. And then Ilya spoke again.
"My mother had two kids by this time," he said, "Me. I was 12. And Alexei who was 16," he paused to turn his head on Shane's chest, "She had us so young. She was so young," he paused again, "And I was young when she died. But she..." Ilya's words got caught in his throat. He willed himself to say it. To say the reason why she was on his mind and why he felt this way. She died at 39. She never got to see 40. But his mouth wouldn't say it. So he said something else instead, "She never got these milestones. Like me and you."
It wasn't a complete lie—but it wasn't the total truth either. Irina Rozanova had many milestones taken from her—specifically, her 40th birthday—but for some reason, Ilya's mouth would not say the words. And he selfishly wished Shane would make him, that he would read his mind and force him to speak.
"I'm sorry," Ilya breathed again, "For freaking out like I did earlier. You were trying to be nice to me. And I threw it back at you."
"You don't need to apologize for anything, mon amour," Shane kissed his forehead, "I understand. And if you want, we can treat your birthday as if it is just any other day."
Ilya nodded, "That would help," If I'm around he whispered, "A lot."
"Then that's what we'll do."
Ilya lay in his husband's arms for a few moments more before Sofya woke up from her nap and launched herself into the arms of her parents.
Ilya slipped out of Shane's arms that night and walked himself to the back balcony. He hadn't even registered the lighter that he had in his hands as he walked out, sitting and staring at the moon's full shine. He knew why he was out here, why he had the lighter in his hands.
He wanted to hurt himself.
He laid awake that night thinking about it. If he hurt himself, maybe the incessant nagging of his brain to die, die, die, die would go away. Perhaps he'd be at peace and could just live like this, hurting himself every now and then to keep the thoughts of his mind quiet. He had smoked to do that before, but he had given Shane all of his cigarettes that he knew about. Even so, he knew he needed a stronger bite than the feeling of smoke in his lungs could give him.
A knife or a razor would make too much of a mess and be ever so hard to hide (they hadn't been having as much sex recently, but they went long enough to where a burn would heal without notice). He refused to drink himself sick. His daughter would notice and he would be damned if she ever had to see him in such a state (much like he had to see his own father). This was productive and could be done in secret. If Shane surprised him outside, he could say he was looking at the moon and pray that Shane didn't notice the burns he was soon to inflict.
He pushed the lighter and the flame lit—yet as he brought it to his skin, he felt...nothing.
It hurt, that was true. He pressed it against his elbow, arms, wrists, and anywhere he could get his hands on. But the hurt didn't satisfy him. His brain only shouted louder and louder and how he should go further.
Burn your veins. That should kill you quickly.
You are pathetic.
What would Sofya think?
What would Shane think?
A method that had once calmed him and quieted his mind had only caused it to grow even louder. His plan had backfired and now he was sitting on the balcony, eyes filled with tears as he bit his lip to keep himself silent with burns littered across him. He stopped the lighter and dropped it, his hands shaking as he looked down at his skin.
Fuck. He thought. I've done so much damage.
His arms were red, raw, and angry. His old burns had new ones over it as of now. These would definitely scar if he didn't treat them. How was he going to explain this to Shane when he inevitably saw?
These wouldn't heal in the next few days—and neither would Ilya or his head. His birthday was in two days. His time was almost up. The decision had to be made soon—and he decided to make it now.
"I can't," he whispered, "I can't."
He couldn't do it. He couldn't make it. He couldn't make it to his birthday. He couldn't. He couldn't.
After all, it wasn't an "action thought" if he deserved it, was it?
His мама was so good and kind, completely unlike him, and she had gotten this milestone taken it from her. Ilya had done nothing to earn making it to 40. She had done everything and she had had it taken from her. He didn't deserve it. So he hid the lighter in the cabinet and gingerly wrapped his arms (to avoid Shane seeing it, he didn't care about the infection) and slipped back into Shane's embrace. Shane squeezed him in his sleep and pulled him closer. Ilya pulled Shane's hands to his lips and kissed his knuckles.
And so it was complete. It was finalized and done with, over—this was it. Tomorrow would be the day that he did it. The ringing bell of death that never shut off in his head would finally be silenced. He would see his мама again and unburden those around him.
It wasn't an action thought if he deserved it. It wasn't an action thought if he didn't have a complete plan. His only definite statement right now was that of his death. But it didn't matter in this moment. All he knew is that he was done.
SUMMARY: Shane daydreams at practice—and ends up paying for it.
DISCLAIMER: I am a vile hater of generative AI, especially in creative fields. I did not use it to create this. Do not use it on my work.
DIVIDER CREDIT: @saradika-graphics
CHAPTER TITLE: the ottawa centaurs
WORK RATING: Mature
WORK TAGS: freaky shane and ilya, secondhand embarrassment, the ottawa centaurs rip, rip shane honestly
AUTHOR'S NOTE: Long time no see guys, so extremely sorry for the delay. I had serious writer's block and genuinely could not write ANYTHING for this fic, but I was able to yesterday so voila! Enjoy :)
PREVIOUS WORK | NEXT WORK | READ ON AO3 | WORK MASTERLIST | HOLLANOV MASTERLIST
Shane lay in Ilya's arms, drinking a glass of water as Ilya wiped him down with a cloth. Spanking Shane (and sometimes even Ilya) wasn't uncommon, but tonight they had tried a new implement. Their brand new paddle (along with the weight of Ilya's own hand) had left Shane with heavy bruising, but bruising that he wanted nonetheless.
"You did so good for me, my Shane," Ilya whispered, giving Shane a loving kiss on the neck and watching as he preened at the praise, "You always take everything so well. You were absolutely perfect."
Shane smiled much like Anya did when she was rewarded for good behavior. He turned over slightly to look at Ilya, but winced at the pain on his backside.
"You are still sore?" Ilya immediately looked alarmed, reaching for the ice pack on the nightstand and pressing it against Shane.
Shane hummed in relief at the cold, "'M ok," he said, "Was what I needed. You gave me what I needed," Shane turned to Ilya again, hoping his message got across. They had come far in their partnership, but Ilya would occasionally be resistant to any form of reassurance.
"Good," Ilya seemed settled, which in turn settled Shane.
Shane Hollander did not get distracted.
That was what made him so good at what he did. He was the one to swoop in while other players were distracted–not the other way around. While their eyes were off the puck, his eyes were on it. He was quick on his skates in the rink and his mind was always focused on the hockey game in front of him, even during practice. Shane Hollander was a hockey menace.
But Shane wasn't a machine. He was a player who was a human at the end of the day—and sometimes? Humans got distracted.
When Shane entered the rink that morning, his ass was absolutely on fire. He and Ilya had dove into a pretty intense scene the night before—one that ended in relieved tears and Shane's ass a bright shade of red. It had felt good. It had been more than what Shane wanted, it had been what he needed and Ilya had given that to him. Shane just didn't expect the feelings to be so good that they lingered into the next day at practice.
When Shane arrived at the rink, he was out of it.
He was missing pass after pass. Calls of his name remained unanswered as he gave blank stares before shaking himself out of whatever trance he had sent himself into.
"I want you to count for me," Ilya kneaded the flesh of Shane's ass before he brought his hand down, causing Shane to yelp and squirm.
"One..." Shane felt his cock hardening further against Ilya's thigh.
Ilya slapped him again, a guttural moan releasing from Shane's throat in a way Shane had never heard himself do before. "Good," he murmured, "Again," Ilya's hand came down again and Shane let out a two. Then three, four, and so on and so forth until they had gotten to twenty and Shane's vision was blurry with tears, his face coated in snot.
On the twentieth slap, Shane felt himself rut up and before he could stop himself, he was coming, long and loud and essentially riding his husband's thigh. His orgasm was so violent that he actually felt himself move further off of Ilya onto the cold, hard—
Shane's memory/fantasy melded with reality had him met with a face full of wall, Ilya's arms immediately snaking around him to steady him. Murmurs of concern followed him as he moved to sit down, a towel pressed to his face to stop the apparent bleeding of his nose.
"Guys, I'm fine. Seriously," Shane waved off the other players around him (and hoped the blush on his face wasn't obvious), "I think today is just not my day."
"Are you playing with an injury again?" Hayes folded his arms and frowned.
"I wouldn't jeapordize myself like that!" Shane huffed.
"Really?" He replied, "Because it does look like that to me."
Boodram spoke up this time, "You're never that distracted."
Shane sighed, his face heating up as each player gave him a look and before he knew it, the most random lie tumbled out of his mouth, "I did a pretty intense yoga session the other day. Maybe I pulled...something." Shane struggled to keep his gaze from flitting to his husband.
The lie seemed to satisfy the men around him, who nodded and wished him well as he got up and headed to the car.
"Alright," Ilya closed the car door, "Spill. You've been distracted and I want to know why."
Shane felt his face go red again, "It's embarrassing," Shane tried not to feel secondhand embarrassment at the literal whine that statement was.
"You were so distracted at practice that you got hurt. This is not like you. This is worrying." His voice left no room for discussion.
Shane breathed, "I couldn't stop thinking about the other night," he said, "With how you...had me."
Ilya's face molded from concern to smugness, a smirk taking the place of the thin line that was once there, "Shane," Ilya sighed, "You are telling me...that you got so worked up, that you got distracted at practice...?"
"You're making fun of me, aren't you?"
"Shane," Ilya laughed, "No, no. I would never. Although you do have ot admit that this is a bit funny."
Shane folded his arms and turned away, "Shut up."
"You looooove meeee," Ilya kissed Shane's cheek all singsongy and laughed again at the redness in Shane's face, "We are not doing that again though."
"What?"
"When practice is so close? I will not be spanking you that hard," Ilya's fingers intertwined with Shane, "It sounds silly, but seeing you stumble today...reminded me of when I saw you go down on the ice."
"Do we have to stop...completely?"
Ilya shook his head, "Of course not. I love doing it and you love having it done, but we will need to be more careful. Today was scary.
Shane nodded, his own eyes softening, "I should have said something before we went, but I didn't think I'd be focusing that much. I mean normally it's just a thought in the background."
"Shane Hollander-Rozanov, do you think about me fucking you on the rink?"
"As if you haven't thought about it either!"
Ilya shrugged in defeat, "I stand corrected."
Later that night when they were situated on the couch, Shane's phone buzzed with a text from the team groupchat.
The Baby™️ (Luca): Ok so no one else is going to say it so I will
The Baby™️ (Luca): Ilya get OFF of Shane when it comes time for practice. You guys can be as freaky as you want when it doesn't interfere with the rink.
The Baby™️ (Luca): For our sakes. Pls :(
Ilya's laugh was akin to that of a hyena. Shane almost threw his phone and then himself out the window.
Rating: Mature
Word Count: 1.1k
A/N: Please forgive me guys I am not a professional therapist 🥀 Also yes, the chapter count went up :) Enjoy!
"I wanted to give him space! You know Shane was a private person, he barely shared anything about his life with us," Hayden breathed out. Then in. Then out again, "Maybe that's because we never asked."
DISCLAIMER: I am a vile hater of generative AI, especially in creative fields. I did not use it to create this. Do not use it on my work.
Divider: @saradika-graphics
Header: Me :P
Read on AO3 | Work Masterlist | Hollanov Masterlist
"I think it's my fault."
Hayden noticed the lamp turn on moments after that. His wife turned over to face him, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes, "What?" She asked, "What's your fault?"
Hayden swallowed uncomfortably, "You know what."
"Hayden. I'm not a mind reader."
Hayden paused again, "Shane," he finally said, "I think it was my fault."
Jackie's face softened and she leaned over to wrap an arm around his side, "I think it might have been a bit of mine too."
His brows furrowed in confusion, "What? Jackie, you didn't do anything."
"And neither did you, Hayden," she sighed, "And I think that was the issue."
"I wanted to give him space! You know Shane was a private person, he barely shared anything about his life with us," Hayden breathed out. Then in. Then out again, "Maybe that's because we never asked."
At first, Hayden thought Shane just needed space. Their friendship had gotten a little rocky after Hayden asked interrogated him about Lily once, but Hayden blew that off as his friend needing space—even though he couldn't count the times he had even seen Shane after that. When he received that phone call from Yuna about how no one had heard from him, Hayden knew something was wrong in his gut...and he was right. Rose, his parents, and Hayden hadn't heard from him, Shane's accounts had been drained—he was gone in what felt like an instant. He even heard how Yuna and David went to his apartment only to find out it had been cleared out and under possession of a new owner.
He didn't know whether Shane was alive or dead. That was something he hadn't gotten to in the mess of his mind yet. Part of him sided with Yuna, that there was no possible way that Shane had left them alive because of something they had done and so the only conclusion was death, and another part of him sided with David on the opposite, that there was no way Shane would leave them through death. Some days he leaned towards one, some days he leaned towards the other. His kids begged for an answer, wondering when they would be able to see their Uncle Shane again, and he and Jackie had to bite back tears and swallow their sadness before ultimately being unable to give their kids a satisfactory answer.
They settled on the fact that he left. They didn't know why and they didn't know where, which wasn't a lie in its entirety, but he was gone. That would satisfy them for now. But of course, the kids would get older and put pieces together. They'd know eventually that Shane didn't "leave" but that he disappeared and they had no idea what else to think.
He started to notice all the little things that Shane had done shortly before he disappeared (or at least what they assumed was shortly before, no one had an exact timeline on his disappearance).
He had come over to see the kids almost every day that week, doing things that he had once protested adamantly. Like he was giving the kids a fun goodbye before he knew he wouldn't see them again (Hayden was convinced he knew he was leaving, despite other opinions). He was a fun "uncle" and there wasn't much that the kids couldn't do to him, but there were a few big things for Shane: sweets and anything super messy, like slime. Shane hated the feeling of slime on his hands and wouldn't usually eat more than a bite of whatever sweet the kids had eagerly begged him to try. But that last week was different.
That week, he ate everything that was in front of him. Every brownie the kids tried, every cookie or candy or food experiment they made, he was full steam ahead on testing them. He had cake batter, brownie batter, and even some strange concoction of cotton candy, honey, and whatever else that Ruby and Jade had decided was the best thing in the world.
Ruby and Jade had taken to making slime as of recent and boy oh boy did it make a mess. For that reason, it was an activity reserved for special days and those days never fell on a day Uncle Shane was over. That week, Shane had asked if he could make slime with the kids, to see what all the fuss was about. Hayden, confused due to Shane's normal adversity to the texture, said sure and watched as chaos erupted in his kitchen. Shane even let them pie him with whipped cream as a prize for whoever's slime was the "goopiest".
Hayden couldn't even remember the last time he had called Shane outside of his kids. Their friendship was along the lines of a PR friendship at this point, if Hayden thought about it enough. They were friends in public and to their families (and Hayden guessed to him as well) but they rarely ever spent any time together, and when they did? It was in relation to Hayden's children. Every single time.
Shane hadn't even told him of his retirement early or anything. He found out about the same time as everyone else. Everything that he thought he knew about Shane was surface level, or he didn't really know at all. He couldn't remember many of Shane's favorite things and the answers he gave were usually incorrect. Much of what he knew really only pertained to hockey and Shane's career with it.
Did he even know Shane?
Who was this man that he had gotten to befriend over the past decade plus? Did he even actually try? Did he really even know someone who was essentially family to him? Had Shane been pretending this whole time? Had he made Shane have to pretend this whole time?
When Hayden retired shortly after Shane, he had nowhere to direct the remaining thoughts in his head that he once used hockey to fill. And even so, his departure from the Metros caused a steady decline in their quality. No one would be able to fill the void like Shane did—at least not for a long time. His last remaining couple of months with them was met with uncertainty and instability. The locker room was just...off and the games were even more off.
There were a lot of questions that were and would remain unanswered when it came to the disappearance of Shane Hollander. Hayden always wondered what he could have done, how he could have changed and been more involved, better, more there—but those were only questions he could dwell on. There was only one thing he knew for certain in his heart and deep into his bones.
Rating: Teen
Word Count: 1k
Work Tags: sad shane, f slur usage by shane of himself, insecure shane :(
A/N: Short oneshot based on this post by hollanovhattrick linked here! Might expand on this to include the morning after once I'm back from my vacation. Enjoy the brick (and yes I kissed it)!
"I mean," Shane laughed again, loudly this time, "Ilya, baby, mon amor—can I tell you a secret? And you have to promise to keep it a secret. You can't tell anybody."
Ilya nodded shakily. He didn't like the sound of his secret from Shane, "What is your secret, my Shane?"
"My secret is..." he said, "I don't even like me."
DISCLAIMER: I am a vile hater of generative AI, especially in creative fields. I did not use it to create this. Do not use it on my work.
Divider: @saradika-graphics
Header: Me :P
Read on AO3 | Series Masterlist | Hollanov Masterlist
Ilya sat back in his chair. He was still today, his posture reminiscent of a statue as he watched his other teammates drink and party in front of him. On another day, he'd be up with them, dancing and probably dragging Shane into some shenanigans in the back bathroom.
That was why he wasn't. Shane.
Troy sat next to Ilya in the adjacent seat, joining him at viewing Shane in the corner, who was currently chugging a bottle of vodka straight from the bottle—something that reminded Ilya of his own harsh partying days as a teenager.
"Does he usually drink like this?" Troy said, attempting to mask the worry in his voice. Ilya shook his head. To anyone else, Shane just looked like a typical hockey player having fun and letting loose and having fun. But Ilya knew better.
"He doesn't drink," Ilya replied, "Period."
"Oh," Troy paused, his voice no louder than a whisper, "Ever?"
Ilya shook his head, "Ever."
Shane not only hated the taste of alcohol, but it made him feel terrible afterwards. The few times he'd had more than a sip, he'd wake up the next day with his bones aching and his stomach queasy. Him taking a sip made him feel this way. There mere mention of Ilya talking about the amount of alcohol he'd used to drink would make Shane nauseous. So to see him practically draining a bottle of vodka with no hesitation was incredibly concerning.
That night, Shane was so drunk he couldn't stand. He threw up all over his shoes, Ilya having him to carry him to the car and to their bed. As Ilya reluctantly settled into bed for the night, attempting to mask his concern while mentally preparing for how things were going to go over in the morning, Shane stirred.
"'Lya?" He said, turning over to smile lazily at him.
Ilya froze. He turned over, reaching out to gently touch the side of Shane's face, "What is it, моя любовь? Are you ok?"
"Me?" Shane loosely pointed to himself and laughed loudly, "I'm fine. I'm doing so good actually!"
Ilya frowned at Shane's obvious remaining drunkness, "You cannot stand, sweetheart," He stroked Shane's cheek, "And you do not ever drink."
Shane laughed again and smiled at Ilya once more, "I should be drunk forever."
What hurt Ilya the most was the genuineness in Shane's voice—yet he laughed with him, attempting to play along despite the fact that it was making him just as sick as Shane was inevitably going to feel once the morning came, "Why is that?" He asked, hoping he masked his worry well enough.
"Baby," Shane said, his smile growing wider and wider, "People liked me. Like, actually," Shane paused to do what Ilya assumed was gather his thoughts. He could barely understand Shane through his slurred words as he spoke, "They liked me."
"What do you mean?" Ilya's confusion was real this time, "People love you, my Shane."
"Mmm, but they don't. They don't like me," Shane's smile quickly transformed into a frown, "Online. About us, about me being a faggot," Ilya flinched at Shane's tone, the slur puncturing his skin like a needle did to thread.
"Shane-"
"They think I tripped," Shane said coldly, the joy and laughter drained from his face, "They think I threw the game. They all think we've thrown games. That we," Shane paused to cough, "That we have been lying or whatever," Shane huffed, "You've seen the comments, you know what they say."
"Yes," Ilya's voice grew cold as well, "I have."
"They don't like me there," Shane pulled Ilya in closer, "But they liked me here."
"People like you Shane, here and there."
"No," Shane shook his head, "They don't."
"Shane-"
"I mean," Shane laughed again, loudly this time, "Ilya, baby, mon amor—can I tell you a secret? And you have to promise to keep it a secret. You can't tell anybody."
Ilya nodded shakily. He didn't like the sound of his secret from Shane, "What is your secret, my Shane?"
"My secret is..." he said, "I don't even like me."
Ilya's heart shattered at Shane's revelation. How long had he been holding onto this insecurity? How long had he been made to feel inferior in this way and Ilya had not been able to do anything about it? How long had Shane spent hating himself so much? How long had he spent keeping this secret so close to his chest that the only way for him to reveal it was for him to get drunk?
"You don't like you?" Ilya struggled not to tear up, "What ever do you mean, sweetheart?"
"Well I mean just that!" Shane flopped onto his back, "I don't fucking like myself. I don't know how you do either to be honest."
"Shane. Please."
"It's the truth!" Shane said, "Not just—not just the stupid comments. It's the stupid world. You could get with anyone and you're with poor old Shane Hollander."
"Shane," Ilya reached over to pull Shane's face closer to his, "I love you because you are you and nothing else. I love you and nothing can change that."
"You sure?" Shane's eyes began to droop as Ilya pulled him into his side, "'M boring and I don't go out. Tonight I was fun. Wanna always be fun for you. Don't like holding you back like this.
Ilya nodded, "Absolutely. I am 100% sure. You do not need to be a party animal or go out all the time for me to love you. I love you. I love your boring, I love you for all of you You do not hold me back in the slightest. And anything else is lie," Ilya could feel that his English was starting to slip with the anger that he felt. Whatever—no, whoever—contributed to Shane thinking that he was worthless and hating himself would be dealt with.
But that could wait until morning. For now, Ilya Rozanov had a husband in his arms who needed him more than he needed his anger.
Translations:
моя любовь - my love (russia)
mon amor - my love (french)
Rating: Mature
Word Count: 1k
A/N: Second bonus chapter with the POV and aftermath of David Hollander!!
"David, please come to bed," Yuna said one night, rubbing her eyes sleepily and approaching her husband who was currently bent over some old photos of CCTV cameras.
"I'll be there in a minute," David muttered. But he didn't even look up from his work.
DISCLAIMER: I am a vile hater of generative AI, especially in creative fields. I did not use it to create this. Do not use it on my work.
Divider: @saradika-graphics
Header: Me :P
Read on AO3 | Work Masterlist | Hollanov Masterlist
Shane Hollander's case went cold within the year—and David didn't know what to do.
For the first year, he searched incessantly for his son. Him and Yuna distanced themselves from one another, Yuna refusing to believe he was still alive and David refusing to believe that he was dead. They had sides of the house during that time and they barely saw one another other than to sleep. They fought with one another more than ever and at one point, considered splitting up.
Yuna's side was full of mementos to Shane. She had let go of him in life and had transitioned to mourning him. David's resembled that of someone who was not ready to let go.
He had a cork board with string attached to it. At first he found it silly, but later he found that it helped him trace things to Shane. He had a filing cabinet full of information on Shane's last whereabouts, documents from the investigator, and his own mysterious findings. He had papers all over the main table and he stayed up late into the night searching for any trace of his son. Yuna would get up in the morning ready for work or a doctor's appointment or something of the sort only to see several coffee cups and the shell of her exhausted husband slumped over the same documents that he had already searched through thoroughly.
"David, please come to bed," Yuna said one night, rubbing her eyes sleepily and approaching her husband who was currently bent over some old photos of CCTV cameras.
"I'll be there in a minute," David muttered. But he didn't even look up from his work.
"David." Yuna walked over to him, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder, "David!"
"What, Yuna?!" David snapped, "Can't you see I'm busy?" David held up one of the photos that he was observing, "Can't you see that I'm preoccupied with looking for our son?!"
"He's gone David-"
"No, he's not!" David frowned, "That's something that you've clearly given up on."
Yuna gasped, "David…"
"No Yuna, you've given up on him!" David looked up from his work, "You believe that Shane is dead. What signs point to him being dead?!" David ruffled through the papers on the table, "I found this news article clipping back from when Shane retired, yea? Ilya Rozanov retired too-"
"And you think he has something to do with this?" Yuna snarled, "For all we know, Rozanov got sent back to Russia. Maybe his family was having issues or he had a drug problem—what does it matter about him anyway?"
"I don't know, maybe they're connected?" David sighed, "He's not dead, Yuna. He's not!"
"We've been over this," Yuna snapped, "The investigators found nothing. His money is gone, all in charities or in our accounts. His car is gone. His apartment was sold and his cottage? That belongs to a new family."
"We can find the transactions. We can see who they bought the things from, find out who did the selling, and trace it back to Shane," David pointed to the papers on the table, "Just give me time!"
"It's been a year of nothing, David," Yuna said solemnly, "There's no going about it anymore. He is dead. That is the only solution."
"He's only dead because you want to believe that!" David huffed, eyeing his wife with pointed eyes, "Maybe you think he's dead because you've given up on him," he gotup from his chair, "But I haven't. And I won't."
David walked out of the room, leaving Yuna dumbfounded.
They spent time apart after that. The fight hadn't been explosive. Words were not tossed around and names were not used, but they were hurt. Yuna had left the next morning to go to her sisters, saying she would be back in a few weeks. David didn't even blink an eye at her departure and while she was gone, he spiraled.
Was this what made Shane leave?
Yuna had set up a small memorial for Shane in their house. Something that David couldn't bare himself to look at. It made him physically ill, so ill in fact that Yuna had to move it into Shane's closet so that it would be out of sight. He kneeled down and sat in front of the picture of Shane and the various items that Yuna had set out for him.
"Hi Shane," he said, his voice coming out raspy, "I've been avoiding looking. At this," he paused to adjust his posture, "Fuck. Let me start over." David took a deep breath before speaking again.
"I've been avoiding looking at this memorial your mother set up. I didn't believe you were dead for a long time but I think that now? Now, I think I'm ready to let go. I don't believe you're dead, not yet, but I think it's time I stop searching. You clearly don't want to be found," David sighed, putting his head in his hands, "I've been a terrible father. I didn't shout at you or insult you—but I didn't," he choked, "I didn't get to know you. I let you down, you died or ran away. You left without a word because you didn't feel comfortable enough to talk to us—to talk to me."
David wiped his eyes, "I'm sorry, Shane. I know you're not here to hear me say it but I'm sorry."
David heard a familiar sniffle behind him and he turned around to see his wife, who he brought into his arms and they hugged together on the floor.
"What did we do wrong?" Yuna whispered, clinging to her husband, "What did we do to make him leave us?"
"We didn't listen," David whispered back, clinging equally as hard to his wife, "We weren't there for him in the way we should have been."
"I want him back," Yuna's shoulders shook as she sobbed, "We didn't even get to say goodbye. No note, no…just no goodbye."
David looked at his wife sadly, glancing around at Shane's room, "Maybe we didn't deserve to say goodbye."
Rating: Mature
Word Count: 1.4k
A/N: First bonus chapter with the POV and aftermath of Yuna Hollander :) Thank you for the love on this fic and enjoy!
"What did I do?" She whispered as she cried, "What did I do to make you leave? What did I do to make you suffer?"
Yuna fell asleep that night on the floor with the picture in hand.
DISCLAIMER: I am a vile hater of generative AI, especially in creative fields. I did not use it to create this. Do not use it on my work. =
Divider: @saradika-graphics
Header: Me :P
Read on AO3 | Work Masterlist | Hollanov Masterlist
Yuna knew that something was wrong with her son deep down—but she ignored it.
Shane had been ignoring them, but it wasn't a normal "I'm busy" or even an "I'm pissed at you" type of ignoring. This was full blown, complete and utter silence that was uncharacteristic for Shane Hollander. He hadn't answered any calls from her or David that past week. They had had a game night recently and Shane didn't look at all like himself. He looked empty and drained, answering questions sharply—and worst of all, he looked utterly exhausted. He hugged her and David tight that night before telling him he loved them and that he'd see them later, yet it almost seemed fake.
Shane never hugged them like that. It seemed like he was saying goodbye.
A few days went by. Then a week. Then two weeks. Then finally, when they passed the threshold of almost a month, things started getting alarming. They hadn't heard a peep from him.
Hayden called first. "It's been a minute since we've seen him," Hayden said, "The kids miss him a lot and we love having him around. If you hear from him, let me know."
Rose called just after him a few days later. "We normally meet up with one another at the end of the month. We've been doing this consistently since...I don't even know how long. It's been forever. We've rarely ever missed one and I'm worried because this is not like him. Even if we can't see one another, he'll always texts or calls."
"We haven't heard from him," Yuna said worriedly.
"Well," Rose sighed, "Please let me know if you do."
"We will."
After that phone call, David and Yuna immediately made their way to Shane's Montreal apartment. When they arrived, Shane's jeep wasn't in the driveway.
"His car isn't there," David pointed to the jeep, "Maybe he's not home then?"
Yuna just ignored her husband and knocked on the door anyways. Then he tried when her knock came to nothing. Then she tried again. No answer. She tried jiggling the handle and the door was locked.
"Fuck it," Yuna muttered, fishing around her purse for the spare key she had before opening the door. The scene that they arrived to would haunt her forever.
Shane's apartment was almost empty.
Everything had been cleared out. There was no furniture minus an unfamiliar gray couch in the living room. The shelves were completely empty and there were no pictures on the wall. The kitchen cabinets were open, but disorganized—nothing like Shane. In fact, everything was disorganized and lacking Shane's usual carefully color coded and thoroughly categorized system. Yuna even went to take a look in the fridge and it had two lemons and a carrot.
"Shane?" Yuna called out, "Are you here?" She peered into the bathroom to see that it was empty as well. Shane's usual collection of carefully curated skincare products had vanished. The only item that haunted the bathroom was a singular roll of half used toilet paper and a bathmat at the foot of the shower.
"Um, excuse me?" Yuna jumped at the voice behind her and David did the same. They both turned from where they were looking to see a strange man. "Can I ask what you're doing at this property?" he said, "Is one of you guys the other landlord? I thought he left, but I guess I was mistaken."
"What are you doing here?" Yuna scoffed, "This is my son's apartment. Who are you?"
"Your son?" The guy who spoke looked at her confused, "Are you guys not the other landlords?"
"Can you just tell me what the hell you're doing squatting in my son's apartment?!"
"Ma'am, I think you have the wrong apartment."
"Is this not 2481?" Yuna walked to the front door, peeking out to see the address, "This is 2481. My son lives here and has had no intention of moving. This whole building is owned by my son."
"Ohhh," the guy said, realization blooming on his face, "Your son was the other landlord."
"Yes!" Yuna said, "And this is his apartment."
"Was, ma'am," The guy said, "He sold the building a few weeks back. Just upped and left without warning. I snatched this apartment up immediately," he sighed, "I'm sorry no one told you."
Yuna felt her heart shatter. "What?" she said, voice timid, "He...I'm sorry?"
"He sold the building. No idea where he is now, but he's gone."
Yuna felt her breath quicken and her face grow pale. She took a step back, grasping onto her husband's shoulder as she stumbled.
"You ok?" David whispered, his hand winding around her waist to keep her steady, "Yuna?"
"I'm ok," Yuna whispered back, "Just—I'm fine," Yuna turned toward the guy, "I'm so sorry we've invaded your space. This was a clear misunderstanding."
"It's no trouble. He left so suddenly I was surprised that someone didn't show up sooner," The guy ushered to the kitchen, "Do you need water?"
"I'm ok. Again, I'm so sorry, we'll be on our way."
They got to the car a few moments later, sitting in silence for almost 30 minutes before Yuna spoke up. David looked at his wife, an equally worried look on his face.
"Yuna," David whispered.
"He's missing," Yuna's voice was harsh and cold, "He's missing David. He's fucking missing. He hasn't talked to us for a month. We get calls from his two closest friends, Hayden and Rose, that he hasn't contact them. We go to his apartment and apparently it's been sold for the past couple of weeks. His car wasn't in the driveway and we have no idea where it is and we have no idea where he is. For all I know he could have disappeared the last day we saw him a month ago and had no idea."
"I'll file a missing person's report," David said. He reached over to place a hand in Yuna's rubbing his thumb against hers in an effort to comfort her, "We will find him, my love."
Yuna nodded, tears in her eyes as David turned on the car.
What she didn't have the heart to tell him was that something in her told her that they never would.
One Year Later
Shane Hollander was gone. That was a certainty. A certainty that Yuna had been forced to accept.
The investigation for Shane fell apart quickly. There was dead end after dead in from the investigators. Shane had left absolutely no trace. All of his money had been deposited into random accounts, including her and David's—like he wanted them to not worry about paying anything. His car was found eventually, but it was at a random dealership having been through three owners. However when asked for a source, the first set of owners failed to provide one.
"I found it on the side of the road. It wasn't registered to anyone and the thing was almost dead," she said, "My wife and I are both mechanics, so we fixed it up and tried to drive it. Thing died on us though and we're not rich enough to afford to keep fixing things like that, so we gave it up."
The day the investigator called to report the possibility of Shane being dead, Yuna almost threw her phone against the wall, but she accepted it. The other possibility was that he ran away from them. She and David had made him feel so closed off that he had decided to leave. That was one that Yuna refused to accept. She was a good mother and David a good father, there was no way Shane had left them, that wasn't possible—so Shane was dead, that was the only other possibility, right?
She had begun to notice what Shane had decided to leave.
He had taken his gaming console that he played games on during his childhood. There was a stuffed bear that was missing, one he used to never sleep without. A few of his shirts were gone, ones that he always wore when he was home. All of his hockey trophies and posters were left exactly where they had been placed years ago. In fact, all of his sports stuff remained untouched.
Yuna picked up a picture of them at family picture day from when Shane was first in school, brushing her thumb over the frame and feeling her eyes well up with tears. Before she knew it, Yuna was clutching the picture to her chest and sobbing on Shane's bedroom floor. Her baby was gone and there was nothing she could do about it.
"What did I do?" She whispered as she cried, "What did I do to make you leave? What did I do to make you suffer?"
Yuna fell asleep that night on the floor with the picture in hand.
SUMMARY: He told Shane he would stop. That he would come to him with action thoughts of any kind and this certainly qualified. But the fact that it wasn't an actual action plan had Ilya convinced that it wasn't necessary for him to say that it was of that level. He'd ask Shane for what he needs, to hold him and help take care of their daughter, and he would happily live without the rest. He would not bother Shane with his action "thought" until he had an action plan and he wouldn't have his action plan until his head got things together before his birthday.
"Just five more days," he thought to himself, "Five more days before this all ends. One way—or another."
DISCLAIMER: I am a vile hater of generative AI, especially in creative fields. I did not use it to create this. Do not use it on my work.
DIVIDER CREDIT: @saradika-graphics
CHAPTER TITLE: don't listen, achilles
WORK RATING: Explicit
WORK TAGS: suicidal thoughts, grigori rozanov is his own warning, panic attack, nightmares, check masterlist for complete work tags
AUTHOR'S NOTE: I'm back guys and omg the AO3 CURSE!!!! I'm ok now but JEEZ free me lmao. Anyways, I had to switch writing softwares AGAIN and while the italics, bolding, etc do copy and paste well the spacing does not, so please excuse any weird spacing issues while I figure out how things want to transfer.
PREVIOUS WORK | NEXT WORK | READ ON AO3 | WORK MASTERLIST | HOLLANOV MASTERLIST
They had established a system since Ilya fled in the night. They already had one previously, but thought it best to review and change a couple of things about it—for both of them, not just for Ilya.
For starters, Shane still kept Ilya’s keys hidden away, more so at Ilya’s request than his. They had argued about this a couple of times, just as Ilya had said they would days prior, but in the end, they kept to the same decision of Ilya’s keys being out of his hands—for now. To Shane's surprise, Ilya had asked for him to speak with his own therapist.
"You are falling back into those unhealthy coping methods as they are called," Ilya said, concerned, "I watch the way"
They’d check in on one another morning and night about how they were feeling and if an emergency appointment needed to be scheduled, it would be scheduled—though thankfully they had managed to avoid anything like that. The most important quality between the two of them at the moment was honesty, which wasn’t something they struggled too badly with...except when it came to health.
Shane gently held Ilya’s face in his hands, “But I need you to be honest with me about how you’re feeling. If you’re having action thoughts, someone needs to know as soon as they occur. No more keeping them in there.”
Ilya nodded, “Same goes for you? You can’t shut me out.”
“Same goes for me,” Shane laughed, “Although I imagine we’re both going to have a hard time with that.”
“And if you’re not here?” Ilya swallowed nervously. Shane had barely left Ilya’s side since the other night, but they couldn’t be attached at the hip forever (although they certainly wouldn't have minded).
“Call me,” Shane breathed, “Or my parents, a friend—just call someone. If you're feeling that way, you can't be alone."
"I know," Ilya said, nodding and kissing Shane on the cheek, "I will. If I need to," Ilya hoped it would never come to that, but unfortunately he could never know for sure. There had been an incident in the past and there very well could be an incident in the future.
Sofya, meanwhile, remained blissfully unaware, happy to be spending a little more time with her family and that her sick Papa, was appearing to feel better. The key word was appearing.
For the first 5 days, Ilya was slowly feeling better. He woke up in the morning with a relative lack of suicidal thoughts and he actually wanted to get out of bed. He had a couple rough moments, it wasn’t just like switching medication doses and getting some TLC from his husband and time with his daughter was going to fix everything instantaneously, but it was better. A lot better. He wanted to be free to exist with his little family.
But it didn’t last long.
Their former teammates were in town with their families once again. Life after hockey had sent most of them to different areas (a few stayed nearby) and get togethers like this one were practically their only chance to see one another properly. Shane had offhandedly proposed that they come over for a barbecue.
“Are you sure?” Ilya asked, surprised. Shane wasn't really one to host, “All of them? At our house?”
Shane nodded, "They're in town, we haven't seen them in a bit. It'd be fun," Shane's smile softened, "But if you don't want to-"
Ilya shook his head, "No, no," he said, "I think it is a great idea," he paused, mouth tilting as he contemplated his thoughts. Was Shane doing this because he wanted to, or was he doing it only because he thought it would make Ilya to feel better, "Are you doing this because you think it will make me feel better? Or because you want to?"
"I guess you could say a bit of both. I want you to feel better, but I also miss our friends. If you're not feeling up to it though..."
Ilya thought about it for a moment before shaking his head again, "I think this would be good for me," and he meant it. So invite away Shane did and now fast-forwarding to later and all former Ottawa Centaurs had gathered in the Hollander-Rozanov household with their families.
But Ilya wasn't really there—and he didn't know why.
The party was like a blur that he had never experienced despite the fact that he was really enjoying it. He interacted with his friends as if his body was on some kind of autopilot. He couldn't even really register Shane's hand brushing his arm or resting on his lower back. He was lost in a void and his thoughts were bouncing around his head like tufts of cottons. It was almost like he didn't exist and he was merely in a vacuum that mocked his reality.
He picked up Sofya, absentmindedly bouncing her on his hip as she fell asleep on his shoulder. It was late for her and with all the guests in the house and outside playtime she had had, she was bound to be tired. Ilya was honestly surprised she hadn't fallen asleep sooner.
"You ok?" Shane mouthed to him from across the room noticing his husband's tired eyes. Ilya nodded, not finding it in him to respond—but Shane understood what was happening, one of Ilya's favorite things about him. Ilya had done the same thing countless times with Shane, especially earlier in their relationship, at team parties, events for their charity, and other large and loud gatherings.
Shane walked over to Ilya, "Why don't you take Sofya upstairs and put her to bed? Then you get in bed."
Ilya nodded without protest, signaling his tiredness as he heard Shane mill around downstairs and eventually usher all their guests out of their house. Sofya was an easy sleeper, out like a light and not stirring at all the moment Ilya put her down. When Shane came to bed, he had a concerned look on his face.
"Talk to me," he said, "What's going on?"
"I'm..." Ilya paused. He didn't know what he was feeling exactly, "I don't know. I liked the party, I liked seeing everyone. I think my brain was just...done, you know?"
"I see," Shane kissed him gently on the cheek, "That's ok."
"Sorry," Ilya croaked out, guilt clouding his mind. Shane had worked to put together this gathering with him in mind and while he said it wasn't meant for Ilya or to make him happy, Ilya knew better. And he had ruined it with feeling tired.
"What did we say about apologizing for things like that?" Shane's mouth had evened out into a flattened line, gently guiding Ilya under the covers as they prepared for bed. After kissing one another good night, they sat in silence for a few minutes before Ilya spoke up.
"Shane."
"Ilya?"
"I am happy," Ilya said, "With tonight. Tonight really did make me feel happy. More than I have been."
Shane smiled lazily, kissing Ilya's chin and then his temple, "I'm glad, baby," he said, "I'm really, really glad."
The two closed their eyes and eventually let sleep take them.
Ilya jolted awake in bed immediately reaching for Shane only to be met with a cold and empty bedside. But before he could reach around or panic, he was met with a person standing at the foot of his bed.
"Hello, son."
Ilya froze. He knew that voice. As he looked at the floor of the figure in front of him, he realized he knew those shoes. He knew those pants, the shoes, his belt, his hands, his face—his everything. In front of Ilya stood his late father, arms folded and face angered like it always had been.
"What," Ilya swallowed, "What are you doing here?" Ilya knew that this was a dream instantaneously. His father had died many years ago and was buried in a cold, stone grave in Russia, thousands of miles away from where he and Shane were now.
"Is that how you talk to your father?" Grigori spat.
Ilya had to use all his willpower not to flinch backwards, "Answer the question," he said with equal vigor.
"I have come to remind you," Grigori had his head held high, "Of what you are."
"Of what I am?" Ilya spat, "Of what I am?"
"Oh calm down, I'm not going to do anything but remind you. You always were a whiny brat, it's no wonder you have gone back more to that behavior since I left."
"Get it over with," Ilya said coldly, "Go ahead. Remind me."
"I wonder how that husband," the older man says the word husband with disgust like it's dirty and foul, "Puts up with you."
Ilya stood, "Don't you dare," he snarled, "Talk about my fucking husband like that."
"I see I have struck a nerve?" Grigori laughed, "And your daughter? You are not fit to be a father."
"Do not talk about my family," Ilya practically yelled, "I do not know how мама dealt with you," Ilya breathed, "She deserved so much better than you. Better than what we could give her."
"You forget your mother, boy. You forget her," Grigori's lip had curled into a frown, his face reddening slightly as he yelled at his son, "You are off celebrating yourself, drinking and partying, but you forget your mother. What kind of son are you?"
"Papa-"
"You do not deserve to age another year. I may not have cared for Irina as much as I could have, but we can both agree on one thing. We can both agree that you did not deserve to outlive the beauty that was Irina then at 12, and you certainly do not deserve to outlive her now."
Ilya was taken aback. He knew that his father hated him, but to hear this directly? It was a dream, sure, but it hurt. He had heard many insults from Grigori over the years when he lived, but to hear directly that he should have been the one to die instead of his mother? It shocked him. It shocked him because partially—he agreed.
"You should be ashamed for living this long," dream Grigori spat again, "You should be ashamed that you aren't dead."
"Shut the fuck up," Ilya covered his ears as his father's shouts grew louder.
"You do not deserve to be alive. You are a fucking waste of space, a spoiled brat, and your mother would be disappointed."
"SHUT UP!"
Ilya jolted again, finding Shane's warm body instantly when he reached for him this time.
"Ilya?" Shane was startled awake and instantly by his husband's side as Ilya began to hyperventilate, "Ilya, hey—hey, baby breathe."
"Shane—" Ilya could barely get out any words as he wrapped his arms around his husband as tight as they would go. He was sobbing so hard he thought he might puke. Shane's shirt was undoubtedly covered in snot and tears at this point, but neither of them seemed to care. Ilya needed his husband and Shane was there.
"You're ok," he said, "I'm right here. I'm right here, you're ok."
"Shane," Ilya cried, "Shane."
It took what felt like hours for Ilya to calm down, Shane holding him the entire time. When he eventually came to, Shane was looking at him with what was only love.
"Hey," he smiled, one of his hands coming up to caress Ilya's cheek, "You back with me?"
Ilya nodded, taking Shane's other hand in his, "I think so," he croaked out, "I'm-"
"I'm stopping you right there. No sorries."
"Well I'm saying it anyway," Ilya sniffled.
Shane squeezed the hand that was still holding Ilya's face, "Do you want to talk about it?"
Ilya shook his head abruptly. Shane had just gone to the trouble of planning a nice gathering for him. He could deal with his own, sad feelings for one day, "No."
"Tell me what you need," Shane moved the hand on his face to Ilya's back, absentmindedly rubbing it.
And then in the most timid voice that Ilya had ever heard from himself, Ilya spoke, "Just hold me?"
Shane nodded, turning Ilya over to what was essentially his happy place of Shane's chest, holding him just like he had when they had first confessed their love for one another. But as Ilya let sleep take him, Shane's hands in his hair and stroking up and down his back, he found that his mind was completely restless again.
"What if he was right?" He thought, "My mother would be heavily disappointed. I should not celebrate myself like this. I forget her, Papa was right."
Ilya felt utterly disgusted with himself. He was not one to really listen to his father (although some of his teachings had clearly stuck) but this statement that he had said was sticking, despite it being a dream. His own brain knew how to attack him just so—and he hated it—but he was believing it. He felt selfish for even thinking of his own birthday. Why would he celebrate himself when his mother was so obviously more important?
"Maybe you should kill yourself."
Ilya shook his head, feeling Shane's arms tighten around him instinctively.
"It would be the right thing to do."
"Honor your mother the right way."
"She put up with you in life for too long."
"You had this dream for a reason."
"You should have died instead of her."
Ilya felt himself start crying again, Shane continuing to hold him close as he sobbed into his chest just wondering why his head would not shut off and just leave him alone. He couldn't take it anymore. So he returned to his beginning plan. If he felt like this the day before his birthday, then he would do it.
He told Shane he would stop. That he would come to him with action thoughts of any kind and this certainly qualified. But the fact that it wasn't an actual action plan had Ilya convinced that it wasn't necessary for him to say that it was of that level. He'd ask Shane for what he needs, to hold him and help take care of their daughter, and he would happily live without the rest. He would not bother Shane with his action "thought" until he had an action plan and he wouldn't have his action plan until his head got things together before his birthday.
"Just five more days," he thought to himself, "Five more days before this all ends. One way—or another."
Work Rating: Teen??? Idk it's pretty general minus one mention of them being freaky
Work Tags: David walks in on them
Word Count: 1.4k
A/N: This is written from David's POV for shits and giggles and because also I wanted to. Enjoy :) Original Post by weewoo911 and reblogged by may-xox, linked here.
Read on AO3 | Series Masterlist | Big Hollanov Masterlist
David knew that he should leave. This was obviously a moment that he was not supposed to be seeing, but he felt frozen in place. Before he could react, Shane groaned, turning as much as he could in Rozanov's arms, "Ilya?" He said sleepily.
"Ilya," David thought, "He's Ilya to him."
DISCLAIMER: I am a vile hater of generative AI, especially in creative fields. I did not use it to create this. Do not use it on my work.
Divider: @saradika-graphics
Header: Me :P
“Yuna have you seen my charger?” David asked as he peered under a couch cushion.
Yuna shook her head, “Is it that special one?” she asked, “The one you have to buy online now?”
“That’s the one. This is probably my 4th time losing it this week.”
“Well where did you last see it?”
David thought back to where he could have left the charger. It would be a real pain to buy a new one—they weren’t sold in store anymore, so he’d have to go searching for something online if he didn’t find it now. Not to mention that he was about to go on a work trip and he did need his phone charged for that, so he'd have to find something on short notice.
"Wait," he breathed, "Shane's cottage."
Yuna looked at him, puzzled, "What about Shane's cottage, honey?"
"My charger," David grabbed his keys off of the counter, "I think I left it there," David reached in his pocket for his phone to dial Shane's number only for it to shoot straight to voicemail.
"Everything ok?" Yuna asked, noticing her husband's frown.
"He's not answering," David said, trying Shane again.
"He's got that silent retreat, remember? Total and complete meditation? He's probably got his phone turned all the way off."
"Well, if he's at the silent retreat then I'm sure he wouldn't mind if I grabbed my charger and left."
"Ok, well be safe- oh shoot," Yuna reached down to place a pod in the dishwasher in their kitchen only to find that they had none, "Do you think you could get some dishwasher pods from Shane? He gets the same ones and it looks like we're all out."
David nodded, "I'll get some," He kissed Yuna on the cheek before heading through the front door.
When he arrived, he parked next to Shane's jeep before carefully climbing the stairs and walking into the kitchen. However, instead of being met with an empty house, he was met with another, much more shocking scene in front of him.
"Oh my gosh..." David felt his eyes widen and his jaw drop open.
In front of them lay his son in the arms of Ilya Rozanov, Shane's #1 rival/hockey enemy in (and what they thought until now to honestly be out of as well) the rink. Rozanov's arms were tightly wrapped around him, one his waist and the other stroking through his hair. Shane was equally as wrapped around Rozanov, his head buried in his neck and their legs entangled together. It was a tender display of affection, one that looked like it was familiar for the both of them. Both men looked like they were at home in each other's arms.
As one of his hands carded through Shane's hair, Rozanov was looking down at their son like he was made of diamonds. He was cradling Shane like he was a rare golden coin found under beach sand. His eyes were soft in a way that they had never seen before, a gentle smile following them. Ilya Rozanov was looking at Shane in the way that he and Yuna looked at each other. He was in love with Shane—and by the looks of it, Shane was too.
David knew that he should leave. This was obviously a moment that he was not supposed to be seeing, but he felt frozen in place. Before he could react, Shane groaned, turning as much as he could in Rozanov's arms, "Ilya?" He said sleepily.
"Ilya," David thought, "*He's Ilya to him.***"
Rozanov gave him a lazy smile, "Hi Shane," he said, brushing Shane's bangs out of his face.
Shane smiled back in a way that David had ever seen him do, "Hi," Shane kissed the other man gently on the forehead, "Did you sleep ok?"
Rozanov nodded, "I did. How is your back?"
"My back is fine," Shane laughed before he gasped and attempted to pull back from him.
"Trying to escape me, Hollander?"
"Your ribs!" Shane said, attempting to push himself up before eventually relenting, "How are your ribs? I've been laying on them."
"My ribs are fine," Rozanov smirked, leaning in to Shane's ear, "You did not complain last night when I took you on the couch," he kissed the shell of it, his hands tightening around Shane, "Or the shower, the carpet..."
As Rozanov droned on about all the places he had done things with Shane, that shocked David's brain into getting up and turning around to leave.
Unfortunately, David was not able to leave silently.
As he turned around, he stumbled into the counter, knocking over a bottle of soap and thus attracting the attention of the two men on the couch.
"Shane-" David said, stumbling on his words, "I-"
David saw the panic in Shane's face and Rozanov looked terrified too, but only for a moment. His panic quickly morphed from fearfulness to defensiveness. Rozanov straightened his posture and sharpened his gaze. It was almost like he was becoming bigger to look more like a threat, similar to a dog with its hackles up or a lion puffing out its chest. His arms tightened around Shane and he grew more alert—the look he was giving David may have appeared neutral but, David knew better.
"Son..."
"Dad," Shane swallowed, hopping up from the couch, "Dad, I'm—what are you...doing here?"
"I left my charger here," David replied, holding up the aforementioned charger, "The one I can only get online. I didn't know you were home and," David glanced at Rozanov, "Preoccupied."
Shane looked guiltily to the side, "Dad..."
"I have a lot of questions, I won't lie," David sighed, "But now doesn't seem like the time for that," the older man slowly made his way out of the kitchen, ignoring the footsteps behind him of his son.
Once he was back in his car, driving away, David felt immediate guilt. He had invaded his son's space, taking his lack of answering the phone as an invitation that he wasn't home, and then when he was caught observing a private moment, he ran away. Shane probably felt awful. He probably thought that he hated him and that he had done something wrong. Instead of staying and comforting his child, he bolted and left him with uncertainty. When he got back home, he decided to not tell his wife. This was Shane's secret to hold and he had already been forced to reveal it to him before he was even ready.
And later that evening when Shane came by and revealed his relationship with Ilya Rozanov and what they had been through, everything ended up working out.
"Have all of Shane's silent retreats been to spend time with him," Yuna asked as they retired to bed that night.
David sighed, "I was so embarrassed walking in on them."
Yuna laughed, "Well, we never did as a teenager, so I guess it's a right of passage?"
"No, no," David laughed as well, shaking his head, "Not like that. They were...cuddling."
"Cuddling?" Yuna sounded surprised, "As in snuggling with one another?"
David nodded, "Shane was practically using him a pillow. It was adorable honestly. I've never seen him so quiet and at peace like that," he smiled thinking back to the scene he saw earlier, "Rozanov," he paused. He was still getting used to calling him Ilya, "Ilya, I mean. He was looking at Shane like..." David paused again as he attempted to think of a way to describe what he saw.
"Like how, honey?"
"Like how I look at you," he grasped Yuna's hands in his, "And how you look at me."
"In love."
"Yea," David smiled, "In love. He held Shane against his chest like he was some kind of treasure. And when I was discovered to be in there, he folded around Shane like some kind of protective dome. Like if I was a threat, he'd take me on with no hesitation."
"I can't say I'm used to it yet," Yuna said, adjusting her pillow.
David just nodded back at her also shifting to adjust his own sleep setup, "Shane doesn't make any choice lightly, especially not over someone he loves."
"I know," Yuna said, "But I trust him. Even if it takes a minute to get used to..."
"Yea. It will—but we'll do it for Shane, won't we?"
