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@shollander24
"I don't think I can keep pretending I don't like you anymore."
Shane Hollander open to interaction.
12+ years of RP/Writing experience, para/multi-para, 3rd person. Mun is 30+. Please see multi-muse hub (@borrowednarratives) for more information/preferences, or just send me a message if you'd like to write together. Please note that I follow back from the main hub account, as this is a sideblog.
Usually active here, but can also be reached on wire under the same name.
Happy ✨ Fingers In His Mouth ✨ Friday
continued from x | shane & rose
Late-ish. Shane turned the answer over in his head. "Oh… you travelled here?" His brow furrowed, trying to make sense of it. Now that she'd mentioned it, he noticed she did seem to have arrived in a hurry.
As her hand left his hair and settled on the railing, Shane clumsily reached to rest his free hand atop hers. The movement was slower than usual, less coordinated, but he managed it. He shifted, trying to sit up a little more, wincing as it pulled at his shoulder and made his head swim. He drew a slow breath, eyes finding their way back to Rose as he tried to focus on what she was saying.
"Broken collarbone, mild-to-moderate concussion…" He trailed off, some part of him registering the joke she'd made without quite having the mental agility to catch up to it. At least not in such quick succession to her other questions.
"I don't remember all of it," he admitted after a moment, brows knitting together. "Everyone keeps looking at me, asking me questions. Like they're worried. Even though I'm fineeee." He dragged the word out, a vague attempt at emphasis, closing his eyes for a second. When he opened them again and found her, his expression shifted into something softer, a little lost. "Was it bad?"
@ofthclight
heated rivalry gif meme: ↳ [5/7] kisses
"Fuck," he breathed, barely above a whisper. Fifteen.
There wasn't anything useful he could say to that. I'm sorry seemed painfully small, and reaffirming the facts that Hunter had just given him felt almost cruel. Scott already knew those things. Fear didn't give a shit about statistics. Shane leaned forward again, forearms braced against his thighs.
"I get why you wanted to keep playing." The corner of Shane's mouth pulled into a faint, sympathetic smile. "I think if someone told me that I could keep playing safely, they'd have to physically drag me off the ice too."
He shifted slightly, straightening up a little bit. "And for the record, I said you could call me. I didn't promise same-day prescription delivery from Montreal. I'm serious, Scott. You wouldn't be a burden." Shane shrugged, but his expression warmed. "And I don't have to be in New York to answer my phone. Even if you just want to talk... vent to someone that's less... closely involved."
"In fairness - the doctor didn't really want to approve that, but after I passed a physical with everything else, they agreed it'd be good for me to treat things as normal as possible in the meantime." Scott said, "as a means of keeping my mind off of it I guess."
Scott listened to Shane's offer and his expression softened, "I mean, if you're okay with it, I'm sure Carter would appreciate the break from the calls he is bound to get." He joked, knowing full well Carter would probably move into his apartment to help him out if he needed him to, but he would appreciate the outside contact.
"You're a good guy, Shane," Scott said after a moment, "I'm glad I can call you a friend."
"Yeah," he said, a little quieter. "You too." The sincerity of Scott's words caught Shane slightly off guard. Not because he didn't consider Scott a friend. He did. They'd known each other for years, crossed paths at enough events, played together enough times that friend wasn't exactly a stretch.
"..And if things get harder once treatment starts, the offer doesn't disappear." Shane paused, just momentarily, knowing there was every chance Scott would try to wave him off again. "I know Montreal isn't exactly around the corner, but I travel all the time anyway. If you actually need somebody and Carter and Eric can't be there, I'll figure it out."
He couldn't promise Scott everything would be fine. He couldn't fix this for him, but he could make sure Scott knew there was one more person in his corner.
"They aren't that bad." Shane mumbled, not turning to look up at his husband. He knew Ilya was probably just trying to get a rise out of--well, Shane didn't know who exactly. Deciding to pay it no mind, he turned his attention to the screen, only to be distracted again a few moments later by Ilya's hand against his back.
It felt nice, even now when his whole body felt tender and achy. His eyes drifted back to the television, following the puck for a few seconds before he started to lose focus again. The game blurred pleasantly into background noise, the commentators' voices fading beneath the steady rhythm of Ilya's hand moving along his back.
"Oh." Shane didn't think he could possibly be that warm. Not with the way he was reliant on Ilya's body heat to ease his own shivering. He sniffled miserably before giving another weak cough into the crook of his elbow. The kiss to the top of his head settled him again, Ilya was being so sweet to him.
"If I try to sit up... have some soup, I can come back to this after, yeah?"
Ilya is ever-patient with his husband, moving his hand up and down along the span of the other's back - caressing him, trying to massage soothing patterns into his skin - and then hums out a low, approving noise when Shane speaks about the soup, seemingly wanting to try another bite or two...
Good, very good. Soup will help. Soup will warm him up from the inside and give his body some nutrients to fight off the killer-virus he's somehow managed to catch himself. Oh god, Ilya will suffer so, so fucking much once said killer-virus is going to jump over and make itself a home inside his own body... ---yeah, Ilya's definitely preparing himself mentally for it, the fact that he will be the next one to go through this hell.
"Of course, malysh. Can always sit up, have food, and lie back down with me. I am not going anywhere." No, Ilya's is staying right here - and helps his poor husband to sit up moments after, letting out a few gentle coos before he picks up the bowl of soup and brings it close to Shane, holding it out for him. It should have cooled off a little by now, which definitely makes it safer to eat - less chances of the other burning his mouth in the process.
"---Also - yes, they are bad, Shane." The Hockey teams, Ilya means - accompanies his words with a smile that tells he's just beeing a cheeky menace on purpose, trying to lift the mood. "Last time we played against them, we basically obliterated them, remember?"
Well, actually, they'd almost lost the game but managed to score two more goals in the last couple of minutes... but anyways, details - who cares about those, after all?
"Maybe after this, I should go try shower... the steam might help a bit?" He didn't know if it would help much with the fever, but maybe it would make him feel a little more human.
Shane let himself be guided upright with an almost pathetic amount of compliance, one hand instinctively clutching the blanket around his shoulders as the sudden change in position made his head swim.
His first few mouthfuls were slow. It wasn't much, but the warmth of the soup eased his sore throat enough that he willingly reached for a third spoonful. He'd barely swallowed it before Ilya's comment about the game earned him a tired look over the rim of the bowl.
"We did not obliterate them. We just got lucky in the end." Still, a faint smile tugged at the corners of his mouth, Ilya's attempts at lifting his mood were working, slowly but surely. After another few careful spoonfuls, Shane carefully set the bowl down, the effort of simply sitting upright beginning to catch up with him.
"I'm already tired again. I don't know why eating is so exhausting."
Ilya | @fornsics
TXT: i’m only texting you cause i’m drunk.
Shane stared down at the text. It had been months since he'd even gotten a response to one of his messages, months of not knowing quite what he'd done, or hadn't done. He'd turned it over and over in his head, trying to work out why Ilya had suddenly cut contact. And now? A drunk text?
He couldn't quite place the feeling. He felt furious, relieved, and hurt all at once. Shane thought about not replying, but that idea lasted all of two brief seconds before he was typing.
TXT: Is that really how you're starting this?
TXT: I haven't heard from you in months.
TXT: i've missed you too.
TXT: things felt different without hearing from you.
TXT: not good different.
Shane took a deep breath, looking back at the texts he'd sent. Fuck it. He hit the call button, what was the worst thing that could happen? If Ilya couldn't, or didn't want to answer, he would probably just say so.
today's gonna be a weird one - will try to reply to anything when I get the chance, otherwise I'm around via dm/discord for plotting. shane will be reachable on wire as per, so feel free to come hit him up there.
Shane nodded, taking a slow breath in as the worst of it passed. He still felt cold, but he knew he was running a fever, so maybe the cool flannel might help with that too? He wasn't sure. "There's.. a facecloth in my bathroom. By the sink." He nodded towards the ensuite. Shane wasn't used to this side of Ilya, he was used to his parents—particularly Yuna—being overbearing when he was unwell, but this was unfamiliar territory.
❝ okay. i'll be back. ❞ ilya nods, kissing his temple before heading towards the ensuite. he finds it quickly, running cold water over it and wringing it out. he returns a few seconds later with it, holding onto it while he rubs shane's back with his free hand. ❝ do you want to lay down? or that will make you feel worse? ❞ he offers the cloth regardless.
Shane sat on the edge of the bed, forearms braced against his legs as he focused on trying not to let the nausea get the better of him. "Maybe?" He answered in response. He didn't really know if lying down would ease it any. Ilya's hand on his back helped though.
Shane took the cloth after a few moments, pressing it against the back of his neck, the cold sending another chill through him. He glanced up at Ilya, moving to lean against his side, seeking out the warmth. "I really don't think this is a good idea... but.. I don't want you to go either."
For just a split second, Shane forgot how to breathe. The bottle paused halfway to his lips.
Good for you, I'm glad you came out…
His stomach dropped before Scott finished the sentence, the intended meaning only clicking into place moments later. Heat crept up the back of Shane's neck, equal parts relief and embarrassment. He forced a small smile before taking another drink.
"I've never exactly been known for my nightlife, anywhere really, but it's good to see that there's a strong community here too."
The conversation could have ended there. Shane almost let it. They'd already come too close to the topic for Shane's comfort. He began to wonder again, if Scott did know.
There had been that one chirp Scott made—Shane had started a fight in response. That probably just confirmed it for Hunter, if he'd been at all suspicious.
"…Can I ask you something?"
His fingers turned the bottle idly against the tabletop.
"Before you told everyone…" He chose each word carefully, hoping it would come across as casual curiosity. "Did you ever think about just… not? Deciding it was too risky to turn your life upside down? I just... I've seen how much happier you are now, and it's... I really respect it."
scott almost missed it, the panic in shane's eyes and for a moment he didn't process what it was. until he remembered the same look that used to pass through his eyes, everytime someone got close, every time he was worried that someone might see who - or what - he was and turn his world inside out. he hesitated a moment, wondering if he should address it but before he could decide shane had moved on and scott laughed, "yeah, i mean i'm not really known for being a party animal, but it's good to have people around you. like-minded people." he added on for shane's benefit, just in case what he'd seen there had been the reality.
it was hard. it was a lonely road being gay and a professional athlete, scott had gotten lucky to find kip, someone to push him into the light when he'd been hiding for so long, desperate to protect his secret - and for what? a career? a lifetime of loneliness and meaningless, faceless hook ups? he still couldn't believe he'd taken so long to make this jump, wondered how many incredible things he'd missed out on while he was locked away in a tower of his own making.
"of course…" he's pulled from his thoughts when shane leans in, his voice is quieter now and scott nods his understanding, "i did." he admits, "for most of my life i just…thought i'd be alone. forever maybe. and then i met kip… and i almost lost him because it just felt safer to stay hidden. and maybe it was but…stepping out into the light, even in the crazy way i did it…it's worth everything. even if i'd lost my career right there and then, it would still be worth it for how happy i am. how lucky i am to have that man, and this life, and these friends." he spoke sincerely, pouring his heart out to shane as he's done to others many times since he'd come out, "thank you…i hope me doing that means other guys feel safe to do the same, even in their own way."
Like-minded people. Something about Hunter's words echoed in Shane's mind, he pushed the thought away. If he let it take up more space in his mind, there was so way he'd be able to survive this conversation without outing himself.
Unless he had already. God. Shane was grateful when Scott started talking again. He listened without interrupting, picking at the edge of the label on his bottle as he tried to maintain the composure that he'd found. I thought I'd be alone. Forever maybe. Shane's breath caught for a moment. He'd thought about that too. Not exactly being alone—he had Ilya—but about what their lives would look like if nothing ever changed. How many years could they keep stealing hours and weekends and carefully planned summers before it stopped being enough?
"I think it does," Shane said finally, voice quiet. "Make it safer." His gaze dropped to his drink. "I mean, even just seeing somebody do it and…" He hesitated, searching for wording that wouldn't reveal too much. "Still have everything afterward. Hockey. Teammates. Fans. And more than you had before, I guess. I can see why it would matter to someone who's..." Someone who's what, Hollander? He took a sip and tried again. "... someone who's worried about what they might lose." There. Detached enough. Hypothetical enough. Except Scott's words had worked their way beneath his skin, and Shane couldn't quite manage to leave it there. "What about before that, though?" he asked, glancing up to meet Scott's eyes briefly, before dropping his gaze back to his own hands. "Before... did you... tell anyone? How did you figure out who was safe to tell?"
Hiring a nurse.
Something about the way Scott said it made Shane's chest tighten. There was nothing wrong with that, obviously, but that wasn't really what Shane had been asking, and he had the feeling Scott knew it.
"Scott…" Shane glanced down, rubbing his palms once against his thighs as he tried to figure out how to say what he was thinking without overstepping. They were friends, sure, but not close friends. "Carter and Eric are good guys, I'm sure if you needed them they'd pick up the call." The admission that he didn't have family had landed harder than Shane wanted to show. Shane couldn't imagine going through something like this without his parents hovering within a five-mile radius.
"...You can call me too." It came out before Shane could consider whether it was strange to offer. "I mean it." He shifted slightly on the bench, turning more toward Scott. "I'm not saying you should put me down as your emergency contact or anything, but if you're having a bad day, or you need someone to bring you something, or you just don't want to sit around by yourself…" He shrugged. "Call me."
Scott listened to him, and his features softened as Shane offered to be there for him. "I know I can count on them, I just. . .don't like feeling like a burden with anyone." When Shane told him to call him, Scott gave a small smile, "that's really decent of you Shane, but I couldn't ask that of you, with you living in Canada, that's a bit of a trip to pick up my prescriptions." He tried to joke, despite the situation, adding, "I do appreciate the offer though, your a good dude Hollander."
Taking a breath he said, "I lost my mom to cancer when I was fifteen, I know it was different, but I've just been thinking a lot about her with all of this. I won't lie and say I'm not terrified, I think it's why I wanted to continue to play, because at least for three periods I can act like I'm not sick. . ."
"Fuck," he breathed, barely above a whisper. Fifteen.
There wasn't anything useful he could say to that. I'm sorry seemed painfully small, and reaffirming the facts that Hunter had just given him felt almost cruel. Scott already knew those things. Fear didn't give a shit about statistics. Shane leaned forward again, forearms braced against his thighs.
"I get why you wanted to keep playing." The corner of Shane's mouth pulled into a faint, sympathetic smile. "I think if someone told me that I could keep playing safely, they'd have to physically drag me off the ice too."
He shifted slightly, straightening up a little bit. "And for the record, I said you could call me. I didn't promise same-day prescription delivery from Montreal. I'm serious, Scott. You wouldn't be a burden." Shane shrugged, but his expression warmed. "And I don't have to be in New York to answer my phone. Even if you just want to talk... vent to someone that's less... closely involved."
Whatever Shane had been expecting, it wasn't that. His stomach dropped and there was a flicker of shock across his face before he managed to school his expression back into something more neutral, the last thing he wanted was to make Scott feel like he had to comfort him somehow. "Shit, Hunter."
Shane listened without interrupting as Scott explained, elbows resting against his thighs and hands loosely clasped between his knees. "Okay." He nodded once when Scott finished, then again, more firmly. "Okay. First—yeah. Of course. I promise. Nobody hears it from me." There wasn't even a question about that.
"I'm really glad they caught it early." The words felt painfully inadequate, but Shane wasn't sure there were adequate words for this. He understood wanting to stay on the ice. Probably more than was reasonable. If somebody told him he could safely keep playing, he knew exactly what his answer would be. He couldn't fault Hunter for trying to push through.
"I can't imagine getting news like that and then having to walk into this place and pretend everything's normal." Especially surrounded by people who didn't know. The thought of someone potentially chirping Scott for being off his game made Shane feel sick to his stomach, even if it was in good nature.
"Do you have people looking out for you? Besides your doctors, I mean. Friends, support or something?"
Scott listened to Shane, even though he really didn't doubt Shane would keep it quiet about this, it was still a relief to hear his reassurance on the matter. Talking about pretending everything was normal, Scott nodded, "yeah it's been rough, I let management and my coach know. Vaughnie and Bennet know too so it's not like a complete secret but they've been good about having my back if they see me slipping up."
When Shane asked if he had friends or support, a sharp pain hit Scott in the chest. He had no family, the boys from the team had their own lives to attend to (though Carter and Eric both had told them they were going to help when they could), the only other person he would have thought would be help was Kip. But they had broken up just before all this started going down and Scott didn't have the heart to tell him. Kip walked out for a reason, and he wasn't going to draw him back into this.
"N--not really, I mean outside of just feeling tired all the time nothing has really happened yet. Carter and Eric have both said they are going to help where they can but they've both got their own lives to deal with." Scott shrugged and said, "and I don't have family, so I'll probably just be hiring a nurse, seems like the right thing to do."
Hiring a nurse.
Something about the way Scott said it made Shane's chest tighten. There was nothing wrong with that, obviously, but that wasn't really what Shane had been asking, and he had the feeling Scott knew it.
"Scott…" Shane glanced down, rubbing his palms once against his thighs as he tried to figure out how to say what he was thinking without overstepping. They were friends, sure, but not close friends. "Carter and Eric are good guys, I'm sure if you needed them they'd pick up the call." The admission that he didn't have family had landed harder than Shane wanted to show. Shane couldn't imagine going through something like this without his parents hovering within a five-mile radius.
"...You can call me too." It came out before Shane could consider whether it was strange to offer. "I mean it." He shifted slightly on the bench, turning more toward Scott. "I'm not saying you should put me down as your emergency contact or anything, but if you're having a bad day, or you need someone to bring you something, or you just don't want to sit around by yourself…" He shrugged. "Call me."
@gamechxnger | continued from: x
A few weeks. That caught his attention more than anything else Scott had said. Shane's brow furrowed slightly. A bad night was one thing. Everyone had them, even at a game that barely mattered. A few weeks of feeling off was something different, and now that Scott had confirmed it, Shane found himself thinking back over what little he’d seen of Hunter lately. "You don't have to apologize to me." Shane shook his head, offering him a small smile. "You still played better than half the guys out there."
He knew he should probably leave it there. Scott had answered the question without telling him anything specific, which Shane had understood the implication of. Carefully chosen words, minimal information. Still, he found himself setting his bag back down, sitting on the edge of his stall again. "Rough how?" Shane seemed to reconsider his question almost immediately. "Sorry. You don't have to tell me. I just meant-- are you okay? Like, actually okay?"
There was a difference, Shane thought, between someone having a rough few weeks and someone looking as exhausted as Scott had tonight. "If something's going on, I'm not going to tell anyone." His mouth twitched into a smile, something a little lighter than the situation felt. "Not that I think you're about to confess to murder or anything..."
Scott looked over at him and took a breath, Shane was a good dude, he had always liked him save for that one time on the ice. He knew he was a private person himself, maybe he could trust him with this. Looking around, Scott saw they were the last ones in the locker room. His eyes looked back at Shane for a moment before he moved to sit in front of his stall and ran a hand through his hair before nodding, "if you want the truth, I haven't been okay for a hot minute."
Gripping his thighs as he took a breath, Scott said, "if I tell you what's going on, you have to promise me this stays between us, there's only a few people that know. As in not even my whole team knows." Taking another deep breath he said, "I was diagnosed with thyroid cancer, about two weeks ago."
He took a moment before explaining what had lead to the diagnosis, that the doctors told him that it was caught early and that with treatment he'd be fine. "I didn't want to bail on my team so close to play offs, it's a slow progressing cancer and it was small enough the doctors felt it safe to let me play out the season with my team. I'm still going through imaging, diagnosis and all that so by the time they're ready to start it will be around play offs time and I don't really expect we will be in contention this year so once playoffs start, I'll be going into treatment full time."
Whatever Shane had been expecting, it wasn't that. His stomach dropped and there was a flicker of shock across his face before he managed to school his expression back into something more neutral, the last thing he wanted was to make Scott feel like he had to comfort him somehow. "Shit, Hunter."
Shane listened without interrupting as Scott explained, elbows resting against his thighs and hands loosely clasped between his knees. "Okay." He nodded once when Scott finished, then again, more firmly. "Okay. First—yeah. Of course. I promise. Nobody hears it from me." There wasn't even a question about that.
"I'm really glad they caught it early." The words felt painfully inadequate, but Shane wasn't sure there were adequate words for this. He understood wanting to stay on the ice. Probably more than was reasonable. If somebody told him he could safely keep playing, he knew exactly what his answer would be. He couldn't fault Hunter for trying to push through.
"I can't imagine getting news like that and then having to walk into this place and pretend everything's normal." Especially surrounded by people who didn't know. The thought of someone potentially chirping Scott for being off his game made Shane feel sick to his stomach, even if it was in good nature.
"Do you have people looking out for you? Besides your doctors, I mean. Friends, support or something?"
