Life Is Like A Piñata

"Yuna," he says, shifting his elbows on the table to point at it. "What is this on his hand? Was broken?"

Shane's head snaps up from across the table, where he's pretending that Photo Album Time is very boring to him and not worth paying attention to. He hasn't scrolled on the article he's pretending to read for over five minutes.

"I never broke a bone as a kid," he says, brows furrowed. "Not until U13, when that fucking kid from Guelph--"

Yuna and Shane both inhale quickly through their noses in what Ilya has learned to recognize as a moderative measure, lest they start yelling about something that everyone else on Earth has forgotten about.

"No," Yuna says, once her face looks a little less intense. "No, it wasn't broken. It was this...contraption that the dentist gave us to correct his thumb-sucking. He was so mad about it, we only put it on him a few times."

"Oh, Jesus," Shane mutters, eyes going back to his phone.

"Aw," Ilya says. "Poor baby Shane." He taps his finger against one little red cheek and laughs. "You really do look so mad, sweetheart. How did you make him stop?"

"Hmm...you know, I don't remember," Yuna sighs, tilting her head. "I guess he just stopped by himself eventually. Do you remember, Shane?"

"No," Shane says, shortly.

"Of course, that didn't get rid of the oral fixation," Yuna sighs, adjusting her reading glasses as she flips the page. "The things you used to chew on, Shane. Pens and straws and--"

"Mom," Shane snaps, while Ilya vibrates beside him. "Can we not?"

"I was afraid to give him popsicles because I thought he would gnaw on the sticks until he got a splinter in his stomach."

"Mom!"

"Well, honey, it's true! And you did outgrow it eventually, so it's not as if you have to be embarrassed."

"Oh, you did?" Ilya says, shoulders shaking. "You outgrew the, uh, oral fixation?"

"Stop," Shane hisses.

"Mm. Excuse me." Ilya stands from the table and sweeps out onto the back porch, though the sliding door does nothing to prevent the sound of his guffaws from floating back into the kitchen.

"You know," Yuna says, "I'm just going to assume that this is some kind of language barrier thing--"

canvas: Shane Hollander

In the final moment, Williams turns to Storrie and does a version of Ilya's "attack-y" face, as Tierney describes it. He left that sweet exchange in to show how Shane is capable of breaking his guarded facade. "I think Shane does have a playful side that is stifled... Under every scene in season 1, there's not much room for super goofy play," Williams says. "There's a tentative nature to episode 6. Although it's calm, it's still like, 'Can this work, when we're left alone to our own devices?'"

So whenever someone updates their fic, the ONLY way an author knows who their regular readers are is if they comment on each chapter. And we WANT to know who's still reading.

Then, out of nowhere, he invites you to his actual house for the first time in 7 years of whatever the hell you two have going. He makes sure you come over early for the first time. He says it's because you flew in the day before the game. He gives you a tour and fucks you slow and sweet and sappy. He convinces you to stay the night, which you have never done before. This pattern of quick meaningless fucking is broken. He is being way too nice, and something about this gives you hope. Hope that he cares.

You take a little cat nap together in the sun. You wake up and he cooks for you, which he has never ever done. It's starting to sink in. This is a date. He cares about you. He wants you in his life. This is real and requited and you might even be able to have him for more than a couple hours in a hotel room 3 times a year.

Then he looks you in the face and says "Do you like girls?" Hold up, what the fuck?

When you deflect any further questions, he takes the opportunity to begin telling you how much he loves fucking other women, especially one he's known way longer than you.

So you jumped the gun. He doesn't feel the same, clearly. You're another name on a list, which you already knew. You let some dumb hope get the better of you and that's fine. Remember your place, this is all you can get. Take it gracefully.

Then this motherfucker moans your first name (again with the fucking firsts today), and all you can think is how amazing that fucking sounded and how you want to do it right back. You do, and fuck that felt perfect rolling off your tongue. You want to do it over and over and over again.

And then it all comes crashing down. You are another name on his list. He is your everything. You can't fucking do this. It's going to fucking kill you. You have to fucking leave. So you do.

sorry the text on shane's is squished his name was too long to fit otherwise 💔

One Monday he'd noticed the sink in one of the guest bedrooms was dripping a little. He'd texted his plumber, who'd been able to come by the next day, only to find nothing was dripping. Ilya has figured maybe it hadn't been dripping, the faucet maybe wasn't fully off or something?

Another week he'd taken out the trash and noticed the light above the cans was out. He'd texted the electrician guy he had on call. He wouldn't usually be able to come out for a couple days. But the next day when Ilya was bringing a box out to recycle he'd found the light back on. He'd canceled the electrician, wondering if he'd just hit the lights switch funny?

And then the final odd thing happens. He's putting some stuff away in one of the guest room closets and he tugs the door too hard the wrong way and it pops off it's tracks and hits the floor. He curses as he catches it, and props it back up, leaning it into place. He texts a picture of it to his handyman. The photo is partially to explain the problem, but mostly to assure himself it really happened if the door manages to also magically heal itself.

The next day he gets a question about the door from the handyman so he goes to check it out, and walks in on Shane, with a little tool box on the floor next to him, lifting the door back into place with ease.

Ilya, shocked, "You're the one fixing everything!"

Shane, did not know this was a mystery, "Yes, of course. What did you think it was, magic?"

3 blueberry yogurt flavor quest protein bars

a lint brush for pre game suit touch ups

collapsible snow shovel

one of those fancy spray hand sanitizers

blistex medicated chapstick

half an empty blue gatorade that ilya says he'll drink next time and won't let him throw away

microfiber towel to keep the dust off his dash

lube and condoms in glovebox under false bottom

water only wet wipes because he has sensitive skin

evil eye repellent bracelet hanging from the mirror (from rose)

four pairs of lululemon shorts under the passengers side seat he keeps losing when he has car sex. his hands are too big to retrieve them.

inside a storage bin in his trunk: jumper cables, a jack, manual tire pressure gage, collapsible air pump, roadside flares, mini roadside cones, blocks (ilya thinks this is stupid until they get a flat on the way to the cottage and shane fixes it in 20 minutes. the other 20 minutes they're stopped shane loses another pair of lululemon shorts.)

no bumper stickers but a custom license plate frame that says whatever the montreal equivalent to "keep tahoe blue" is