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I hope he struggles to look Hayden in the eyes sometimes because he can't stop thinking about that fucking video. He doesn't want to, that's his best friend and it was an honest mistake, but God, would it have killed him to watch it back? He was so close to getting to come out on his own terms. So fucking close.

I hope he's bitter about how nice the Centaurs are because how is that fair? Why didn't he get to have that in Montreal? Why was it so impossible for them to give him this? Why do the guys in Ottawa make it seem so fucking easy? Even Troy Fucking Barrett's nice here?! What the hell's in the water?

I hope he looks up at the rafters when they play Montreal and all he sees is where his jersey should have been retired and he just wants to scream. I hope when fans burn their Hollander jerseys, he's not able to laugh it off as absurd extremist homophobia. He's fucking livid.

He looks at his body, at his legs that will be shot before 50 and every bone he's broken and every injury he's played through, all to be tossed aside because, what? Because he fell in love? Because he tripped, which players do all the fucking time?

I hope he's angry and then angry at himself because this is supposed to be his happily ever after. He's supposed to be happy. Why can't he just be fucking happy? Why can't he just hold Ilya's hand and kiss him in public? Why does that still feel like a death sentence? Why can't he get his brain to understand that he's free now?

And I hope we see Ilya loving him at his most bitter self, whispering reminders that he doesn't have to move on just yet. That he's spent a decade carefully controlling every single emotion and he's allowed to feel them now, even if they're not pretty.

Shane always just wanted to play hockey. He didn’t want to talk about the racial barriers he was breaking, he didn’t want to talk about the homophobic barriers he was breaking. He just wanted to be known for his hockey. And now he’ll always be known as the gay Asian hockey player who married his rival and just possibly might have thrown a game for said rival. Mud sticks.

I want him to be angry. He has every right to be. And I desperately want Ilya to support him. Yeah, the Centaurs gave him a soft landing, but it still isn’t fair that he needed one. That his team, management, and fans of a decade turned on him the very first time he did something that didn’t fit the sexless hockey robot image they’d built in their heads.

That they got outed and couldn’t control the narrative because Hayden couldn’t take two minutes to play back that stupid birthday video before sending it to fucking Brad. Brad, who posted it to fucking Twitter like Shane kissing his fiancé was the next Watergate.

he's never lived together with someone to this degree. he's played hockey for montreal for more than 10 years. his brain is hardwired to have a difficult time with change and transitions.

he went through a traumatic event in which all of his fears came true and was treated horribly by his team he considered family until he was able to leave. he has to adjust to a new house, living with someone, merging their stuff, joining a new team, new routines, etc.

this man is absolutely having the worst and hardest time adapting to this new life. he's not okay. his stress levels are through the roof. he Cannot Help being rigid in everything. his diet is the only thing that feels like it's still in His Control and he gets stricter. he creates new routines where needed and sticks to those and the old ones as tight as he can. small habits that could be broken before become Rules and he has to Stick To The Rules. he's doing bad.

It'd been a long night. From the first terrifying phone call, to the tense car ride to the hospital, to the hours waiting in the too-hot, stark-white, eerily-quiet waiting room...it'd been almost unbearable.

David and Yuna had been in a car crash.

It was one of those rare, awful, truly dreadful out-of-body moments that Shane had thanked the universe over and over again for Ilya. As he'd first taken the call and frozen, nearly dropping his phone, his whole body going limp and cold, Ilya had caught him out of the air, pulling him close like a reflex. 

As he'd sat, hands shaking, fingers still cold in the passenger seat, Ilya'd driven the half hour to Ottawa Hospital, hand steady on his knee.

As he'd waited, mind going a million miles an hour, making up worst-case scenarios and replaying all of the terrifying, one-in-a-billion news stories he'd heard in the past in his mind, Ilya had sat with him, arm wrapped tightly around his waist, a comforting presence.

And when the doctor finally came to talk to him, Ilya stood just as fast as he did, eager for news.

"Mister Hollander?" His stomach dropped. "They're both just fine," the doctor reassured them, a tired smile on his face. "Beat up, for sure, and I'll warn you that they definitely look worse-for-the-wear. But I promise, they'll both make quick recoveries, and be back on their feet in no time. Would you two like to see them?"

"Yes." He croaked, rather than said, the answer, but it was adequate enough. He and Ilya followed the man eagerly.

It was when he saw both of his parents, in the same hospital room but beds on opposite sides of the small space, that he relaxed. Leaned against the doorjamb and breathed, warmth finally returning to his heart.

They were fine.

Stumbling into the room, he took it in turns to hug both of his parents, who were tangled in medical wires, machines beeping by their bruised bodies, but who both greeted him with exhausted, smiling faces and reassured him that they were, indeed, alright. Yuna had a broken arm and a black eye and David had broken a few ribs, but they were both fine.

Tired, hurt, shaken. But fine.

"Where did Ilya go?" David asked after a pause in the conversation, updates on everyone's conditions and more murmured reassurances that only the car had suffered permanent injuries.

Shane whipped around, searching the small room, realizing: Ilya was gone. "I--shit." His hand grasped the air, instinctively grabbing for his husband. It felt wrong, to be here without him.

"Go find him, honey," Yuna urged, looking concerned. 

Heart hammering again, Shane darted from the room, head on a swivel. Had Ilya gone to the bathroom? For a smoke? Why had he disappeared?

It was then that he heard a sob coming from a nearby door.

Ilya.

Turning to the sound, he found himself facing the entrance of a bathroom, one meant for only one person. Not bothering with pleasantries, he banged on the door. "Rozanov, let me in," he demanded.

The turn of a lock was enough to tell him he could go inside.

Ilya Rozanov was crumpled on the floor, back against the wall, elbows on his knees, tears flooding down his face. 

"Ilya," Shane breathed, immediately moving to sit there with him. "Ilya, oh my god, what-"

Quickly, the man scrubbed at his face, looking away. "Sorry," he muttered thickly, his accent stronger with his emotion. "Sorry, I--I am fine. We can go now. We see your parents, I-" he made to stand, but Shane grabbed him, yanking him back to the floor.

"No! Fuck, Rozanov, you're upset! What happened?" he demanded, furrowing his eyebrows.

Ilya looked at him, eyes red-rimmed and glassy. "I...it's stupid. Is not my family, is not the same. I..." he trailed off, looking away determinedly, staring stubbornly at the opposite wall.

Shane turned the words over in his mind, trying to piece together what Ilya meant. Not his family? David and Yuna were absolutely his family, they'd treated Ilya like a son for years. Not the same? The same as what? Ilya's mom and dad? Well, yeah, Ilya's parents were dead, for one, and...

Oh.

"You were scared," he whispered, reaching to hold Ilya's trembling hand.

He looked to the ceiling, pressing his lips together. "Stupid."

"Ilya."

Finally, the other man glanced at him. "It is, Shane, it is. I know--I know it is not the same thing. My father-he was sick. My mother-she...well, you know. Just because They die, does not mean--" he cut himself off, choking on his own words.

But Shane could hear the fear there, the implication. "But?"

Ilya's responding look was absolutely wrecked. Desperate, unadulterated panic and grief flashed in his eyes as he stared at him, the picture of a small boy who'd been ripped from his family far too soon. "I cannot deal with it again, Shane. I cannot...fuck, if they leave me..." His voice cracked heartbreakingly.

Tears welled in Shane's own eyes as he reached for his husband, holding him close. "They're not leaving you. We’re not leaving you," he mumbled, rocking Ilya a little as he felt him sob. "You have a family here, Ilya, and it's not going anywhere. Promise."

But Ilya was still not done being stubborn, it seemed. "Is still stupid. I know...they are not mine. Not like that."

"Rozanov, shut the fuck up," Shane snapped, pulling back to shoot him a glare. 

Ilya gaped.

"You know they asked for you? Sent me to find you? Ilya, they love you. You are their son. You always will be, okay? You belong here. With me, with us. And you're never losing that, whether you like it or not!" His tone was almost angry, but Ilya needed to hear it.

And perhaps he did, a little, because a watery smile slowly formed on his face. Eventually, Ilya spoke "I belong here, on bathroom floor?"

Shane relaxed a little, smirking as well and immediately picking up his reference. "Hm. Sometimes. Want to get on your knees next?"

Ilya grinned back at him. "Later, yes. Definitely. First, we visit parents. They need to see their favorite son," he smiled, winking.

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Heated Rivalry (TV) Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Luca Haas/Shane Hollander/Ilya Rozanov Characters: Luca Haas, Shane Hollander, Ilya Rozanov Additional Tags: Summer, Domestic Fluff, Fluff, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Established Relationship, Polyamory, Ilya Rozanov is healing, Found Family Summary: