Ilya felt like his smile was going to split his face. He was overwhelmingly happy. Shane was beaming up at him, eyes bright and freckles crinkled, and Ilya loved him. And Shane loved him. Holy fucking shit. Shane Hollander is in love with me.
ignoring the fact that today is not in fact wednesday because time is social construct. hi hello! I'm entering slowly back into writing because hollanov has consumed me, like it has so many of us.
overview: after shane suffers a devastating injury, he falls out of love with the sport that once meant everything to him. ilya, new to ottawa to play in the juniors for coach yuna hollander, soon finds that his life can change beyond his role on this ice. this snippet is the moment their worlds collide.
Ilya’s eyes catch on a silver picture frame on the end table beside him.
In the photo, Yuna stands with a man outside an arena and in between them is a little boy who must be around eight years old. They’re all dressed in red, black, and gold, no doubt at a sporting event. Ilya would wager a great deal in guessing it was a hockey game. The little boy is missing two teeth on his bottom row but he still beams adorably at the camera.
It’s an older picture, no doubt. Yuna’s hair is different, a shorter cut compared to her shoulder length style now. Both she and her husband have a gentle hand placed on their son’s shoulders as they bookend him. The family looks genuinely happy.
Ilya can’t recall the last family photo he took that looked like that, if any.
The front door opens just then and Ilya sits ramrod straight, suddenly on high alert. Yuna hadn’t mentioned anyone else coming by though he supposes the man in the picture, her husband, must be returning home for the evening as well.
“Mom? Are you going somewhere?” a younger voice than Ilya had been expecting calls out. “What’s with the suitcases?”
“Ah, Shane. You’re home. I didn’t know you were coming,” Yuna says as she enters the living room, setting down Ilya’s glass and going towards the front door.
Ilya reaches for the glass and takes a sip, leaving her to handle the sudden appearance of her son.
“Sorry, sorry. I should have called,” the boy—Shane— says, his voice sounding closer now.
Ilya puts the glass on its coaster and looks up. He finds himself suddenly staring into the face of the most beautiful boy he’s ever seen.
A smattering of freckles cover his nose and the apples of his cheeks like a dusting of freshly fallen snow against a blacktop. His head is covered adorably in a snug navy blue beanie that he quickly takes off, leaving the strands in slight disarray.
It’s all so ridiculously endearing that it makes Ilya irrationally upset.
Ilya stands up and takes further stock of the other boy, the shock of inky dark hair that’s contrasted by full pink lips and a sharp jawline. The urge to feel it all firsthand is overwhelming.
Rich brown eyes study him in return.
Ilya’s lips purse, his brows furrowing as he looks at a point beyond his new coach’s son.
“Oh, wow. I got my days totally mixed up. I didn’t realize today was…,” the boy starts, shaking his head and not finishing his thought.
“Anyway. I’m Shane. Nice to meet you…Ilya Rozanov, right?” Shane says, extending his hand.
Jesus Christ. Looking at him was already torture. Now Ilya was meant to touch him too?
He stares at Shane’s hand, perhaps for a moment too long; Shane’s eyes glance off of Ilya and to his mother, looking unsure.
Ilya quickly reaches out a hand too, schooling his features to betray nothing of the firestorm actively burning away at his insides.
Ilya grunts in the affirmative, pumping Shane’s hand once before letting go. He stuffs his hands into the front pocket of his hoodie, his right hand practically scorching from the brief contact with Shane.
Yuna begins to speak again and Ilya is all too grateful for the distraction. He turns his focus back on her and does his damndest not to look at the third person in the room.
“Are you staying for dinner?” she asks her son. “I thought we’d order in. With everything going on today, I couldn’t even conceive of cooking tonight.”
“Sounds good, yeah. When does Dad get back?”
Yuna glances at the stylistic clock above television.
“Should be soon actually.”
Yuna checks her phone and frowns, tucking a lock of hair behind right ear.
“Honey, would you mind giving Ilya a quick tour for me? I have a call with the board in ten. It shouldn’t be long, but I want to update everyone on Ilya’s arrival and our plans for this week.”
No, no, no, Ilya thinks as Shane agrees. Ilya needs Yuna as a buffer.
Shane glances at him, his lips quirking up into an almost nervous smile.
“Shall we?”
Ilya clenches his jaw and nods stiffly. It’s not as if he has a choice.
He heads to the foyer to retrieve his luggage. He’s surprised when Shane reaches for one of the bags wordlessly and picks it up before leading the way through the house and up the stairs.
Shane pushes open the first door atop the landing. Ilya follows him in, the two of them setting the bags down.
“Um, this is where you’ll be staying. My parents are down there at the end. I’m across the hall and the bathroom’s just next door to you.”
Across the hall.
“You live here too?” It’s the first real thing Ilya has said to Shane. Shane clearly seems surprised to hear him speak, his brows lifting slightly though he quickly recovers.
“Oh, no. I’ve got an apartment not too far away but I crash here from time to time so you’ll see me around every now and then.”
This bit of information is like a rollercoaster ride in Ilya’s mind. The highs and lows are dizzying.
Ilya simply nods.
“Let’s head back down. I’ll show you the rest of the house.”
Shane walks Ilya through his home and Ilya takes notice of the photos once again and awards on shelves that Ilya mentally notes to come back to examine more closely.
Shane brings Ilya outside to the back patio where Adirondack chairs sit overlooking the lush woods behind the house. The view is picturesque, to say the very least. The same could easily be said of the boy standing beside him.
“So yeah, this is it pretty much,” Shane says, pulling in a breath.
Ilya takes a look at him. Shane’s thoughts seem to be elsewhere for a moment before he blinks and comes back to himself, his eyes landing on Ilya.
Shane tips his head towards the sliding glass doors in a gesture that makes Ilya think of Yuna out in the airport parking lot. Shane seems to have inherited quite a bit from his mother, her beautiful features and mannerisms too.
The two bypass Yuna’s office quietly, her voice carrying through the door as she replies to something being said. Ilya is grateful that he has all of tomorrow to rest before he starts practicing with the team.
They head up silently to the top floor again. It’s hard to know what to say so Ilya opts for no words at all. It’s better this way, he thinks, even if it is awkward.
Shane no doubt feels it too. The boy scratches at his neck, shifting on the balls of his feet as he stops outside Ilya’s new room.
“Right, well. I’ll, uh, let you get settled and I’ll see you soon for dinner. If you need anything before then, well, you know where to find me,” he says, gesturing loosely to the door across the hall.
It almost feels ominous though Ilya knows that’s just his mind and heart being overly dramatic. Shane has the least intimidating face he’s ever seen and yet, the boy still scares him.
Ilya grunts in response, nodding stiffly before slipping into his room without a word.
He takes his first real breath the second the door shuts and he’s well and truly alone.
