semi-plotted starter with @rinkholy
it had been a long couple of weeks for both of them, but especially shane. it was shane's first season playing on the centaurs, so they were still getting the team dynamic figured out. they'd both been training hard and playing harder. but something tonight seemed... off. shane wasn't playing well. ilya had tried for an assist with him and it was like he wasn't even paying attention. that wasn't like him in the slightest.
ilya pulled shane aside after the game. they'd just taken their first loss of the season, and ilya was taking it pretty hard, so he was maybe a little harsh on shane when they spoke. it came more from a place of concern than anything. he didn't think it was shane being lazy or not caring. something was wrong, and he wasn't letting ilya in.
it's just the two of them left after a while. the rest of the guys had already cleared out, he was just waiting for shane to get out of the shower. and he was taking forever. longer than usual. he figures maybe he's just having a moment to himself. thinking things over. replaying their conversation over and over in his head. he doesn't think too much of it.
and then he hears it. a thud. something that sounded heavy, and very, very wrong. and then... nothing. just the sound of the shower continuing to run. ilya's already in his street clothes, hair still wet from his own shower when he hops off the bench and sprints into the showers. in a way, he already knows. and he was right. shane was down, curled awkwardly on his side. the water pooled around his head was starting to turn a faint red.
❝ fuck! shane— ❞ he reaches for the knob and spins it off. what the fuck was he supposed to do in this situation? ❝ shane. hey, hey, hey— ❞ he kneels down, water soaking instantly through his pants. he doesn't even notice.
relax, ilya. you've seen guys go down before. you've seen them worse off than this. make sure he's safe and stable. you can do this. he puts two fingers on the side of his neck. okay, he has a pulse. it feels slow. too slow. but he doesn't know what normal is. and it's still there. so he's not dead. he watches shane's chest rise and fall. he looks almost too peaceful. like he'd just fallen asleep. ❝ what the fuck are you doing? wake up! ❞ ilya presses his knuckles against shane's chest and gives it a firm rub. nothing. he's really out.
❝ i need help! ❞ ilya shouts, hoping there's someone in the vicinity that will hear him. fuck. he doesn't want to leave him. not even to get his phone, if he can help it. ❝ locker room showers, someone, get the fuck in here! ❞ he can hear footsteps approaching. hopefully either a trainer or someone who knows what they're doing. he turns his attention back to shane, lowering his voice a bit. ❝ hey, it's me. you need to wake up. stay with me, okay? ❞ he reaches back to feel his pulse again like he's afraid of losing it. still there. maybe a little faster now. maybe. the back of his head is still bleeding a little bit, but there's no obvious gash or wound. and he sure as hell isn't moving his head to look right now. ❝ please stop. you're scaring me. ❞
