Shane remembers everything about hockey. Every shot taken, every pass missed, every goal scored, he remembers it all.
Coaches, bench warmers, single season call-ups when starters get injured. There isn’t anything about his hockey career that he can’t recall.
Or so he thought.
They’re at the MLH awards for the third year since Shane joined the Centaurs.
#91 for Houston Korogyi, was busy talking with Ilya in a corner and Shane couldn’t help but scowl.
He did not like that guy, didn’t know what it was about Korogyi but he just rubbed Shane the wrong way. He was always acting so familiar with Shane for no reason and talking with him like they were friends. They were not friends. They didn’t even play on the same team what was his deal?
He caught Ilya’s eye from across the room and tried to smile. It didn’t work because soon enough Ilya was wrapping up his conversation with Korogyi, patting him on the back before walking back over to Shane. He tried not to frown as his husband approached.
“We can head out soon if you want.” Ilya said taking Shane’s hand in his and squeezing gently.
“No, no it’s fine. I’m fine.”
“You do not sound fine Shane.”
He took a sip of his drink. “You and Korogyi are friends?”
Ilya’s eyebrows went up a tick, “we are friendly yes but not friends I would say.” He looked at Shane. “You do not like him?”
Shane said nothing.
“Did he say something to you?”
“Jeez, no nothing like that, he’s friendly enough. Too friendly actually that’s the whole problem.” He felt stupid now that he said it out loud.
Ilya just looked at him. “Explain.”
“He’s just always coming up to me like we’re buddies,” Shane sighed “the whole time I’ve known him he’s just been too chummy it’s weird.”
“Sure,” Ilya began slowly, “but we do have bond you know.”
He did not know. “What?”
“We all had rookie season at the same time,” he said, like that explained everything.
“Plenty of people were rookies at the same time as us Ilya, what makes him so special?”
Now Ilya was really looking at him. “He was third draft pick after us.”
Shane blinked. What.
“He was?”
Ilya nodded.
“Me, you and Korogyi,” he said pointing to each of them in turn, “one, two, three. You don’t remember this?”
Shane racked his brain, what did he remember from that day. Ilya had been called 1OA for Boston, then him for Montreal. Everything after that was a blur. All he could remember was conversations with managers interspersed with stolen glances at his competition and future husband. Then of course everything that happened later, that he remembered quite clearly.
“We took pictures, he was on other side of me,” Ilya added, unhelpfully.
“I know there were pictures Ilya.” Shane grumbled.
“But you cannot remember who was in them.”
No, apparently he couldn’t.
“Is this hockey brain damage I have heard so much about?” Ilya was starting to grin now, and Shane could tell he was going to be teased about this forever. “Or maybe you were so distracted by the dashing rookie from Boston that you could not think of anything else?” Shane’s ears were starting to turn pink.
“I know Korogyi must’ve seemed sooo far away from the poor 2nd overall draft pick, especially with man of your dreams standing between you,” Shane rolled his eyes. “Maybe if you’d been in the middle of the photos you would remember,” Ilya said, throwing an arm around Shane and pressing him tight to his side.
He looked at Ilya, appraising. “If I was in the middle I wouldn't have remembered your name either.”
“Lucky for me then that you did.”
