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š¤: Well, ultimately it's up to fourth place Max, I don't know if you felt it was a bit of a lonely race. How do you assess your day?
š¦: Yeah like that, I mean a bit lucky with P4 and pretty lonely for me. I think on all the compounds we were just a little bit off compared to the cars ahead, so I just tried to do my own race, and tried to make it work.
Barcelona 2026 post-race interview (feat. Kimi and Carlos yapping in the background)
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Shane doesnāt consider himself someone who cries easily. He gets worked up about things, sure, heāll get frustrated or angry or sometimes his eyes will mist over with a lump gathering in his throat. But he doesnāt really cry. Itās a practiced habit, he doesnāt want things to get to him, he tries not to allow things to overwhelm him to the point of breaking. Isn't it much easier and more productive to jump into figuring out a plan? Or taking a deep breath and moving on? Or venting to someone who will listen and not judge him for becoming upset? These feel like much more attainable tasks, something that makes so much more sense to him.Ā
Even though he knows not every time can be like that.Ā
Hence the downside, it also means whateverās wrong has the opportunity to build to the point where he canāt do anything else other than let tears fall down his cheeks.Ā
ā
Honestly, Shaneās felt like heās been in a sour mood since he woke up. Thereās something going on with the Metros that justā¦hasnāt been right ever since he came out. The comradery and teamsmanship that he once had in the palm of his hands, something that was so easy to click into and work towards not one but two Cups seems like a distant memory. There are whispers and looks and wordless foreboding that somehow feels like betrayalālike Shane has done something awful by just being himself.Ā
He knows not everyone feels like that, that heās got some great people as team members and friendships. But itās not the same. He doesnāt regret this step forward in his life but he also, at the same time, wishes not everything was so hard.Ā
On top of everything else, he misses Ilya. Their schedules have flipflopped in a way that itās been three weeks since heās last seen himāFacetime calls and text messages just arenāt enough. So the moment Shane gets back to Ottawa, coming off of a losing game, he makes a b-line to Ilyaās place.Ā
His boyfriend barely opens the door before Shane is dropping his bags in the entryway and wrapping his arms around him. The force of the hug nearly knocks Ilya back a step, a small amused sound rumbling in Ilyaās chest.Ā
āI heard that absence makes the dick grow harder.āĀ
God. Shane rolls his eyes but heās smiling against this idiotās shoulder, āThatās really not the saying.ā He replies, voice muffled. He wonders how long Ilya has been sitting on that comment, waiting for the perfect time to say it.Ā
Ilya squeezes him around his middle, a kiss pressed to his neck, āI think it might be.āĀ
And while as entertaining as that is, when Shane pulls back, Ilyaās demeanor shifts as he gets a good look at his face. His hand moves to cup his cheek, brushing his thumb over his freckles and Shane has to bite the side of his tongue so he doesnāt do something stupid like cry in the entryway,Ā
āYou are okay?āĀ
He lets out a slow breath that shakes a little at the end. He wants to tell him that itās been a shitty dayāa shitty three weeks really. That he missed him, that heās afraid he doesnāt want to play for the Metros anymore, that his entire life and everything heās worked for is gently shifting in a direction thatā¦that he wants to be in butā¦that itās terrifying. That sometimes Ilya feels like the only grounding source that there is.Ā
āIām just tired,ā He admits, sniffling, before running his fingers over his eyebrow.Ā
Ilya watches carefully, nodding, but Shane can tell that he doesnāt completely believe him. He lets it go though, which Shane is grateful for, leaning down to pick up his bag to take towards the laundry room.Ā
āGo shower. Iāll make dinner.āĀ
And itās that quiet, gentle intimacy that makes Shane so grateful to be home.Ā
ā
Shane knows that Ilya can tell something is off. While Shane wouldnāt consider himself someone whoās chatty, he definitely talks more than this. He showers, pulls on a pair of sweatpants and one of Ilyaās hoodies and lingers around him as he does mundane tasks to get dinner ready. Thereās an effortless balance of Shane remaining close but Ilya not prying. Heāll gently thread his fingers through Shaneās hair or brush his hand over his shoulder, or press a kiss to his cheek as he moves around the kitchen. But he doesnāt ask Shane whatās wrong.Ā
Shane wonders if Ilya justā¦knows. Heās sure that he watched his game, that heās absorbed his teamās loss, that heās frustrated that the team just isnāt gelling anymore and it feels like itās his fault. That heās holding something on his shoulders that he has no business bearing.
When Ilya encourages Shane to go into the living room and sit, he does and eventually his husband joins him with two bowls of pasta.Ā
āYour mom gave me sauce recipe.ā Ilya smiles warmly, like heās proud heās put together something that feels like family. Like home.Ā
And it just lodges that hurt in the back of Shaneās throat again. His fingers are shaking as he runs them over the lower half of his face, āDid you watch the game with them?āĀ
Ilya hums, āYes. Yuna and I took turns screaming at refsāDavid took videos he can show you.ā He smirks in soft amusement, sitting down next to Shane on the couch, āBefore I forgetā¦can I ask best player in league for an autograph?āĀ
Itās said so simplyā in such an absolute, that regardless that Ilya is teasing him, he means itāthat Shaneās chest cracks wide open. His hand moves to cover his entire face, the bridge of his nose stinging as his eyes sheen over. Shane attempts to take a deep breath but his chest ends up shuddering instead, tears on the brinks of his eyelashes spilling over.Ā
āShane,ā Ilya whispers, soft concern and affection and far too much for Shane to handle.Ā
His hand moves to rest on the back of his neck and Shane finds himself shaking his head, like he can somehow hide this reaction even though itās too late for that.Ā
āIām s-sorry,ā Shane breathes out, the urge to move, to hide but Ilya wonāt let him.Ā
That same hand on the back of his neck moves to his shoulder as his boyfriend shuffles closer, his lips pressed to Shaneās cheek, āShh, no. Is okay.ā His lips move to his temple, nose pressing into his hair, āCome here.ā His other hand gently grips Shaneās chin, forcing him to look towards him. His lower lip wobbles when his brown eyes meet blue, āCome here, Shane.āĀ
Shane allows Ilya to turn his body, to pull him into his chest. Ilya shifts until his back is tucked into the corner of the couch, tugging Shane until heās mapped over him. Shane hides his face in Ilyaās shoulder, his fingers digging into his t-shirt, holding onto him as pathetic sobs tumble out of his chest. Everything heās been holding back lately, all the frustration heās been stewing in just pours out of him. Ilya wraps his arms around him, keeping him close, squeezing him every so often as his fingers massage the back of his neck and thread through his hair. Heās quiet, offering the occasional shh and comforting Russian.Ā
It takes a few minutes for him to calm down, until heās a soft mess of sniffles and hiccups. He wipes his cheek, Ilyaās hand soothing through his hair and down his spine, resting low on his back. Shane licks his lips, glancing at the bowls of pasta on the table; fuck.Ā
āI didnāt mean to ruin dinner.āĀ
Ilya shakes his head, āI know how to work microwave,ā He presses a kiss to his forehead, letting his lips linger there, āBesides, seems like that was building up for a while.āĀ
Thereās no judgement in Ilyaās voice even though Shane feels a flush kiss the back of his neck in silent embarrassment. Even though his boyfriend isnāt trying to make a statement connected to guilt, he has been letting a lot build up lately. Unloading like this just tells Shane he should have tried to talk about things as they happenedāthe Metros, the frustration with the team not clicking, the missing Ilya; all of it.Ā
āJust a lot going on,ā He sniffs, resting against Ilyaās chest. His boyfriend opens his legs a little until Shaneās body slips between his knees. Shane turns his head so that his chin is resting on his sternum, their noses brushing, āI should have told you.āĀ
Ilya paints his thumb across Shaneās cheekbone, dragging it down to run along his lower lip, āYouāre telling me now, thatās what matters.āĀ
Shane lets out a slow breath, noddingāhe supposes thatās true.Ā
And he does. Shane tells him everything. Itās slow and lazy and broken up with Ilya heating up their dinner. Itās not always the most coherent way to go about sharing all the things, Shane wants to say, but Ilya follows nonetheless. He offers support in gentle words or intimate touches. And itās enough. Itās more than enough.Ā
When dinner is done, Ilya tugs Shane back onto his chest, tucking him along his shoulder. He presses a slow series of kisses to his forehead, āI missed you too.ā He eventually says.Ā
Shane closes his eyes, a small smile pulling the corners of his mouth, āYeah?ā He asks, Ilyaās hand sliding down his back again. His fingers play with the waistband of his sweatpants, āMe or my dick?āĀ
Ilya smiles against Shaneās mouth, nipping at his lower lip, āGuess we will see.ā And playfully grabs his ass.Ā
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