Runaways AU cw// past suicidal ideation The ice pattered cold and light against the glass, if they were lucky it wouldn't stick. Shane would like to be able to drive still. It was an objectively dreary January day, all winter had felt lackluster when compared to Canada. There hadn't been a real snow yet, and their second Christmas had gone by without even a drop of rain on the day. Still, Shane couldn't help but find the quiet pattering to be peaceful. He was getting used to Tennessee winters. The front door slammed and Sobaka gave an underwhelmed bark from where he was stalking for snacks in the kitchen. "Honey, I'm home!" Ilya called in some butchered version of a transatlantic accent.
"No English in the house," Shane scolded. He didn't really care about the rule anymore, but that wouldn't stop him from weaponizing it for his own gain.
Ilya let out a fake groan, dropped his belongings on the floor and threw himself over Shane on the couch. "How was your day?"
"Good, but better now," Shane cooed, depositing his hands into Ilya's hair.
Ilya sank into the sensation for a minute. Then broke the silence in the worst way imaginable. "Our anniversary is coming up."
Shane's mood was soured in an instant. "Can we not do this again?"
"I let us skip it last year. It is only fair."
It was true, after moving into their new home everything had been so different and moving so quickly Shane hadn't even noticed the date had passed until the following week—it had been wonderful.
"And it was great. Let's do that again."
"I don't understand why you don't want to celebrate us."
"You don't?" Shane said skeptically.
"I know what you say, but it's not like I died. If anything, we are celebrating my heroic escape!"
"I am not celebrating the day I almost lost you."
"Your fault for asking to be married on that day."
Ilya was technically correct. The moment the phone had connected that day Shane hadn't been able to keep anything in anymore. He's been broken open and raw. Nothing could have stopped the words from tumbling out. "Marry me. Right now. I know we can't have anything legally, but I can't lose you before I ever get to call you my husband. I need you to know how much you mean to me." It had been said through sobs and an addled mind but he wouldn't take it back for anything. It didn't mean he wanted to celebrate it.
"I'm not doing this."
Ilya's hands hit the couch in exasperation. "Let's just do something nice!"
"No." Shane slammed the bedroom door shut. Then locked it for good measure, before allowing his body to sink to the floor.
The hail that had brought him peace now felt like a firing squad. Everything was too loud. Why did Ilya always bring this up? Why did he refuse to understand?
- Shane had five missed calls, and five unread WhatsApp messages. All from Ilya.
I love you. Always. Maybe from the first time I saw you. I am thinking only about you right now. A million memories. Thank you for those. Whatever happens, I am with you. Safe in your heart. I believe it.
They had all come through while Shane was playing a game against Washington. He only saw them on his way out of the locker room. The amount of calls was worrying, the content of the texts was worse. They didn't sound like Ilya. Well, they did, but usually he was far more close chested about his raw emotions than this.
Shane ducked into the hall with a wave to his team mates. No one stopped him. He re-read the texts as he found a service corridor that was blissfully empty. He swiped over to his notifications again. He needed to call Ilya back right away.
There was only one other notification at the top of his phone. One of the gossipy sports columns that Shane kept an eye on to make sure there was no speculation about he or Ilya.
'Engine Trouble Forced Centaur Plane Down - What This Means for the Centaur Team Going Forward.'
It was like a gun went off over Shane's head. His half discarded hockey pads were the only reason his knees didn't crack as he hit the concrete floor. Ilya was gone? Shane slammed the call notification and the ring screen popped up. Part of him screamed to hang up, to never learn, to hold on to any shred of doubt he still had. If Ilya didn't pick up he didn't know what he would do.
Ring.
Shane would give up anything if he could have one more hug, one more kiss, one more moment where Ilya's eyes met his own.
He'd wasted so much time already, all the nights spent wishing he was two hours west, all the days he'd prioritized team building or getting to practice on time, all the mornings he'd cut short. Now he felt foolish. How could he have possibly done anything but commit himself to Ilya when their time could be cut short at any moment?
He started making a list of where he could find time. Shane was wasting too much of his life away. He'd been using too much of it on everything that didn't matter.
First, they spent too much time apart driving to each other's houses. Maybe they could split the trip? They needed to. Shane couldn't go back to his lonely apartment every night anymore. He couldn't. They would buy a house near Grenville, or some other town an hour between them both. Then every night they spent at home they would also be spending together.
Friendships would be the easiest thing to cut, he'd been pulling back from Hayden and his best friend's suspicions for a while now. He doubted anyone would really notice. Maybe JJ. The defenseman liked to keep track of people and Shane hadn't been doing a good enough job of removing himself from his notice. Family obligations would still exist but could be lessened with the right excuse. His dad would be easier to convince than his mother. He would still need to do brand deals, but he could probably get away with cutting a few of the less high-class-high-dollar ones with a lie about elevating his brand.
Still there were things that couldn't be touched without messing up his body too much, but hopefully living with Ilya could allow some of those non-negotiables like eating, sleeping and working out to be with Ilya instead of separate.
If Ilya was alive, Shane vowed he wouldn't waste another second. He would spend as much time with Ilya as he could while he still had the chance, he would give up everything as long as his boyfriend was okay. Boyfriend. Shane couldn't even call the man he loved more than anything in this world his husband. FUCK.
"Please," he begged the only god he believed in. "Please. I'll give up everything. Just pick up the phone."
Ring.
If Ilya didn't make it Shane wouldn't.
If Ilya didn't make it Shane would— No it wouldn't be that simple. For one, Shane was indebted to his mother for building his life. She'd given up everything to raise him to be the best hockey player in the MLH. His life wasn't just his to throw away.
Maybe someone else would take the selfish road, but that never worked for Shane. The guilt wouldn't let him. No, he could only allow himself to treat his life like he owned it once he'd paid in full. Yuna had raised him eighteen years. She sacrificed everything that made her herself to create Shane Hollander, the least he could do was repay her for her efforts. He would give her her due. Eighteen years of perfection. He was twenty-nine. He had less than seven to go. He'd be thirty-six. A perfectly fine age to retire. And that would solve most of the other problems with his plan. No one would even have to notice he was gone. Yes, he would hold himself to that. He'd hold on until then.
Until then, he just had to find ways to endure the pain.
He wondered if there would be a way to just skip days. Shane had never really considered drugs before, they'd mess with his performance too much. But maybe he could do it in the summers, skim over the lonely months in a drunken or drugged up stupor before it was time to get into tip top shape again. He wondered how much his body could take, how hard he could push himself if pain didn't matter anymore. Shane suddenly missed the abusive whine of the Washington locker room's fluorescent lights. He shoved his headset deeper over his ears and turned the volume all the way up so that the humming dial tone became piercing. He was sure it was damaging his ears, but it quieted his head a little.
Ring.
Everything was spiraling out of control. If Ilya didn't pick up how many more road trips would Shane have to go on? How many planes would he have to fly in hoping they would crash? How long would he be able to stare at that bottle of methamphetamine he never used when he broke his collar bone.
Between the last ring and the next Shane swiped over to his calculator. Six more years, plus the time until the draft. The screen read 2344. 2344 days until he'd consider himself repaid.
He stared down at his empty hands. No ring, just some broken dreams and a slowing heart. Shane Hollander had just died. Ri— "Shane."
"Marry me," Shane sobbed. -
The hail outside was calming. How lost had Shane been sitting in their bedroom? He pried himself off the floor, savoring the crack of his hip—a reminder of how much time had passed since then.
After that day—even when everything had turned out as it should—Shane Hollander's life was over. Only one thing mattered to Shane anymore, and it was the one thing that would always be kept separate from his name. No longer would Shane chase notoriety, fame, or championship. He wouldn't put down roots, wouldn't let anyone too close. As the years slipped by he found he couldn't help but consider any time without Ilya wasted.
The day he dedicated himself to loving Ilya was the day the person known as Shane Hollander died.
Shane didn't want to celebrate the day he killed himself.
Shane drifted over to his night stand. The letter that Ilya had written Shane during his last depressive episode sat peacefully in its drawer. Ilya was so vulnerable, sharing the darkest parts of himself. Had Shane ever shared that part of this story? Of course not, that sort of thing was strictly squared away.
The door latch felt deafening when Shane turned it. He stood in the doorframe hugging his arms. "I need to tell you something."
Part 23 -> Part 24 -> Part 25
