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It had been almost three weeks since Shane’s injury during the Boston game. He had a pretty bad concussion and a broken collarbone.
He had finally been allowed to leave his parents house and go back to his cottage but that didn’t mean his mom wasn’t at his house just about every second of the day checking on him. He had limited screen time and wasn’t really able to do anything that required concentration.
Almost every day ended in a headache and Shane was getting really tired of it. On top of that he was exhausted. Exhausted from doing absolutely nothing. He didn’t feel like a world class athlete or much of anything at all.
He tapped his foot under the dinner table. He couldn’t stop wondering if he’d always feel this way. If the headaches, the exhaustion and the spells of dizziness would ever subside. He just wanted to play hockey. What if he couldn’t anymore?
Shane had just finished eating the dinner that his Mom made him. Carrying things was a challenge with one arm but he was sick of making his mom do everything. He carefully balanced his bowl and plate on his good arm and started walking towards the sink. After about three steps he was hit with a wave of dizziness causing him to stumble and drop everything in his arms. “Shit!” He said as he hopped over shards of broken glass.
His mom came running in, “Shane honey, are you okay? What happened!” she screamed, alarm bells ringing in her head. Her panic was actually annoying to Shane at this point. He was fine. He wished everyone would just relax and leave him alone.
His mom ignored the mess and instead reached for her son’s shoulders. “Mom I’m fine! I dropped a plate. Can you just leave me alone for five minutes! Relax!” He regretted saying it the second it left his lips.
Yuna stared up at him and stepped back. She looked hurt but maybe like she understood. Shane scrubbed a hand over his face.
“I’m sorry Mom, it’s just been a lot. You have been so helpful and here I am yelling at you. I’m just feeling a little helpless right now.”
Yuna assured her son that she understood. She agreed to go home for the night and give him a little space.
The second he heard her car engine start he sunk to the floor and cried.
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Shane collected himself and laid on his bed. He texted the only person in the world he actually wanted to talk to right now.
Shane: Can I call you?
Shane waited for a reply but instead his phone starting ringing.
The caller ID read Lilly
“Hey Hollander calling to wish me good luck in the playoffs?” Rozanov said as he answered the phone. When the other man didn’t reply, the Russian kept talking. “How are you feeling?”
“I’m fine.” Hollander said curtly.
Ilya could immediately sense something in Shane’s voice. Was it pain, anger, sadness? He wasn’t sure but suddenly he was feeling all of those emotions too.
“Shane, put me on FaceTime.” He demanded.
Shane reluctantly obeyed and when he saw Ilya’s concerned green eyes he suddenly relaxed a little.
As soon as Ilya got a glimpse of the man on the other line Ilya could confirm Shane had been crying. His eyes were glassy and puffy. When Shane saw his own image in the phone he quickly sniffled and wiped his sleeve under his nose to get rid of the wetness.
“Oh Shane… Hey, tell me what’s wrong. Does your head hurt bad?”
“A little…” he replied sounding small.
“How about your arm?” The Russian asked.
“My arm feels fine except for the fact that I can’t fucking use it!” Shane yelled gesturing towards the sling. And practically throwing the phone with his good hand.
Okay so angry then, Ilya thought, as he just looked sadly at Shane.
“Tell me what else is on your mind.”
Shane took a steadying breath.
“Where do I start? The Metros lost in the first round of the playoffs and I had to watch it from my couch. And the worst part is, I couldn’t even make it through the whole game without fucking falling asleep!”
Shane leaned his head back and clenched his fist in his sling as he spoke.
“Then my parents… Oh my gosh they are absolutely smothering me! My mom treats me like a baby. She literally hid my phone from me this morning.
Errrrg the worst part is I can’t even exercise. Not even a little bit. I’m just a couch person now, a lazy couch potato. The second I try to do anything remotely useful or entertaining I end up back in bed with a headache.
Ugh it’s so frustrating Ilya! I just want to go for a run or read a book. I don’t feel like myself. What if I can’t play hockey again? What if I’m like this forever? Everything sucks so bad right now!
By the time Shane finished he was red in the face and practically yelling. He was typically a man of little words. Ilya had guessed he’d been holding a lot inside. He wanted to reach into the phone and give him a bone crushing hug.
“Hey, hey, hey, slow down and take a breath,” Ilya commanded in a kind but stern way.
Shane attempted to suck in some air. The Russian watched him carefully.
“I’m sorry Shane. It does suck.” Ilya said softy. It came out more sympathetically than Shane had ever heard from the other man. There wasn’t an ounce of snark in his tone.
“It won’t always be this way. Soon you’ll be able to go for walks and do yoga. You won’t have to wear that thing on your arm. You’ll relax this summer and then you’ll be back on the ice being a pain in my ass.” He started.
“You have to be… patient?” Ilya said, taking a second to find the word.
Shane sighed releasing the frustration from his body.
“I know” he said, a little stubbornly.“But what if I’m not ready to go back in the fall? The doctors are optimistic but there are no guarantees I’ll be able to come back that soon. The fans are not going to be happy.”
Shane put his head in his hands as he finished speaking.
“Pffft you are the Shane Hollander. Montreal fans worship you. If you come back in two months or two years fans will be weeping in the streets, throwing parades, giving you first born sons.”
Shane looked up from his hands to roll his eyes.
Ilya tried to catch Shane’s eye through the screen. “Hey, I know from experience it is not your strong suit Hollander, but you have to be patient…. Look at me Shane,” he said firmly. “It could have been worse… take your time. Don’t rush.”
Shane resigned and listened to what Ilya was saying and he nodded in defeat.
“You’re right…”
“Of course I’m right.” Ilya flashed him a smile.
“You sound like my mom,” Shane added.
“She must be smart woman… I wish I could give you a hug right now.” Ilya said feeling vulnerable. He blinked back the tears in his eyes.
“Me too.” Shane admitted.
“You are lucky because I know just the thing to get your mind off injury.” Ilya fumbled with his phone. “Hold on I’m sharing my screen” Shane waited patiently,
A YouTube video titled “Ilya Rosanov Top 10 Goals” popped up on the screen.
“Fuck you!” Shane said laughing. Ilya’s heart swelled. He scrolled until he found another video titled “Rosanov vs Hollander: Best Rival Moments” they both watched as years of slamming each other into the boards and beating each other on face offs played on the screen. A clip from the all star game popped up and Shane couldn’t help but smile.
After a few videos Ilya decided it was best to stop having Shane look at the screen so he stopped sharing his screen. “Hold on a second I have to text Hayden back, my mom wouldn’t let me use my phone the whole day.” Shane said.
Ilya watched Shane as he concentrated. The last time Ilya had seen Shane in the hospital he had two puffy black eyes that hid his freckles. Now they were back. The way the lamp lit hit his face made his glassy eyes glisten. He was striking. Ilya didn’t realize that he was staring until Shane said, “What?”
Ilya’s cheeks heated just the tiniest bit. He’s hoped Shane hadn’t noticed. What he was thinking about was how fucking beautiful Shane was and how glad he was that Shane was okay. But instead he said the only thing he could come up with on the spot.
“You look so… bad. Get more sleep Hollander.”
Shane rolled his eyes and managed a tiny chuckle. It made Ilya feel a little better. After another half hour of catching up Ilya could tell Shane was getting tired. He suspected by the way his words were turning to mumbles that he needed sleep. He wouldn’t say this to Shane because he knew it would make him mad but he also knew that it wasn’t good for him to be looking at his phone for this long.
Ilya watched him carefully through the camera. Shane squeezed his eyes shut as he massaged the back of his head, clearly trying to fight the pain.
“Shane buddy, I think you should get some rest.” Ilya whispered.
To Shane’s disappointment the thought of having to end the call with Ilya because his stupid concussion made his eyes start watering again.
“I don’t want to say goodbye yet.” The dark haired man whispered avoiding eye contact. Ilya could see his lip quivering.
For about the fourth time that night Ilya felt his heart shatter into a million little pieces. He sighed and smiled so softly at the man on the other line. The truth is Ilya wasn’t ready to say goodbye either.
“I have an idea. I will keep talking to you on the phone. Maybe put on T.V. or music. You close your eyes and rest. You don’t have to say anything but I’ll be here with you.”
Shane nodded, mulling over the idea. “Okay”
“Okay.” Ilya repeated.
Shane propped up his phone on the nightstand and aimed it towards his face. Ilya was glad he could still see him. He watched Shane lay down on the pillow and drape a big soft blanket over himself.
Illy didn’t want to get caught staring again so he quickly flipped through channels until he found a playoff game. He talked to Shane about everything from hockey to a wild party one of his teammates threw. He didn’t know how much time had past but he sensed that Shane had fallen asleep.
“Shane?” He whispered and waited. When he didn’t get a reply he smiled. He wanted nothing more than to crawl into bed next to Shane and hold him close, kiss his pain away but if he couldn’t do that watching him sleep so peacefully, hearing his slow breaths was the next best thing.
“Good night moya lyubov” he whispered.
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Shane couldn’t help but smile when he woke up the next morning to a bouquet of Lillies on his porch.