Chapter Text
Shane thought he'd waited long enough. Given them enough time to hang out. He’d taken his time doing all the errands of the day and even spent an extra hour at his parents house when watering their plants had really only taken ten minutes.
But when he wanders into his house the sounds of shouting and laughter from the back yard tell him that Barrett is still here. Damn. He glances outside at the sight of Ilya and Troy playing one on one football.
He watches for a minute and then tries to leave without them noticing but just his luck Ilya spots him and waves at him. Shane steps outside and half heartedly waves back.
“Shane, you are back. You were longer time than I thought.”
“Yeah” Shane shrugs.
“You get everything done you needed to?” asks Troy, clearly trying to be friendly.
Shane barely spares him a glance, “Mmmmm”
“Do you wanna join us?” Troy asks, trying again.
“No thank you.” Shane pivots and starts to go back inside.
“Hey, we can do something else if you want” Barrett calls after him, “We don’t have to play football. We could…”
“It’s fine.” Shane interrupts, “I’ll just go read my book in the bedroom.”
“You really don’t have to leave. It’s your house.” Barrett says a little pleadingly, following him into the house alongside Ilya who’s frowning.
“Yeah, you could leave” Shane mutters, although obviously not quietly enough because both Ilya and Troy hear him.
“Shane! Apologise!”
“What?”
“You hear me. Apologise.”
Shane winces, ok so he had been a little snarky but it was Troy fucking Barrett. “You want me to apologise, to him?”
“Yes!” Ilya snaps back, “You always make me apologise to Hayden when I am asshole so you should apologise now. He is my best friend and you are being rude and mean. He is trying to be friends. He is trying to be nice and you will not let him. You are being asshole.”
Shane stares at Ilya. And for a brief second he hates him. Hates him for making him do this. He hates him because he loves him and would do anything for him. Even apologise to his tormentor. Even though he doesn’t want to. Even though he can feel the shame that apologising to him would bring. But Ilya has asked him to apologise. And Shane would do anything for Ilya. Even if it kills him. He can feel it like a cut deep inside. Something stabbing him internally. The pain is so strong it almost makes him wince. Makes him want to clutch at his chest where the sharpness resides. Makes the tears he can feel building flow down his face. He wants to scream in agony at the pain these words will cause.
But he does nothing. Because he cannot under any circumstances let Troy Barrett know that he’s vulnerable. Troy Barrett has always preyed on every insecurity and weakness Shane has ever had. He will not let him see now.
So he shoves himself down, locks away the real Shane Hollander in a box and, like a soldier called to attention by his commander, snaps into media mode. The bland, polished mask of calm politeness descends. The neutral voice of nothingness takes over.
He turns and looks him in the eye. “I am an arsehole. I apologise Troy Barrett. I apologise to you. I apologise to you, Troy Barrett, for being an arsehole and being rude and mean to you. I am sorry.”
He’s like a robot. No emotions. Just saying the words he’s been commanded to say. And he knows Ilya can probably tell. Troy is also looking at him with a pained expression. Like he doesn’t really want to hear these words either. But Ilya said Shane needed to say them so he does. And Troy probably listens because Ilya wants him to.
The sickening words having been said Shane knows he needs to get out of here and fast. He’s pretty sure that he’s going to throw up, and maybe pass out.
So he continues, “I apologise that I’ve gotten in the way of yours and Ilya’s friendship. You should have all the time together that you want. I’ll leave you to it. Again, I’m sorry.”
Then he turns and walks away. For a moment there’s quiet as he leaves, he’s sure that Barrett and Ilya are having a silent conversation with their eyes behind him, but it’s long enough for him to make it to the front door and bend down to pick up his shoes before Ilya is calling his name and coming after him.
“Shane! Shane, don’t go. Stay please. I don’t want you to go. We can all hang out now, yes? Let’s just try! Please, please Shane, just try.”
Shane is still facing the door. He closes his eyes, screwing them up tightly as he tries to breathe. He’s going to break, he’s going to break. He can feel the real Shane Hollander fighting to get out of the box. To be allowed to have a panic attack. But once again Ilya is asking for something. Something to make him happy. And what can Shane do but give in? Anything for Ilya.
So Shane takes a second to add extra locks on to the box deep inside. The internal bleeding that is pooling around his heart will have to wait. He tightens the mask in place. He absolutely cannot slip, he thinks.
Then he turns around, “Sure. Let’s hang out,” he says plainly. And forces himself to walk back towards Troy Barrett. As he passes Ilya he tries to reach out to him but Shane flinches away. He cannot let Ilya touch him right now. Not while he’s trying to stave off the pain.
He sees Ilya’s pained expression, sees the worry in his eyes. But he cannot deal with that. Ilya is the one making him do this, and so he will do it. Just get through it, break down later. He says to himself.
He almost stops at the sight of Troy again, still standing in almost the exact same place as he left him. But it’s only a moment of hesitation before he powers through and continues his path. He goes and sits down on the couch. Upright like a school child awaiting a lesson from a strict teacher.
After a moment Ilya and Troy both follow. Ilya sits next to him whilst Troy sits on the other side of Ilya.
“Shall we play Mario Kart?” Troy asks tentatively and Ilya latches on to the suggestion, “Yes, good idea.”
The controllers are handed out and the game starts.
The conversation starts off stilted as they begin to play but eventually Ilya and Troy seem to get more into the game and relax. Bantering and shoving each other in attempts to put the other off. Shane remains rigid. He’s still in survival mode.
He dutifully presses the buttons on the console but for once in his life he doesn’t care at all about winning. He loses every race. Ilya tries to tease him about it, tries every trick he knows to pull Shane back into his body but nothing works. He is too shut down.
And Ilya can see it. His worry is really growing now. He can sense that Shane Hollander is gone. He doesn’t know where but his beautiful husband is an empty shell. And he made it like that.
Fuck! Ilya needs to do something. Needs to talk to Shane. Needs to fix this. But he can’t whilst Troy’s here and he can’t ask Troy to leave when he was so insistent that they all hang out in the first place. He forced this entire awkward situation.
Luckily Troy is not an oblivious idiot and after just twenty minutes, he makes up an excuse about Harris and rises to leave.
Ilya stands up to walk him out. Shane doesn’t move. It’s like he’s catatonic. Eyes open but not seeing.
Ilya apologises to Troy at the door.
Troy mumbles, “It’s okay. I shouldn’t have tried to force it. Is he gonna be ok?” Ilya can see the genuine concern in Troy’s eyes.
“Yeah. I’ll talk to him.”
Troy gives Ilya a hug and lets himself out. Ilya takes a second to lean his forehead on the closed front door as he takes a deep breath. Okay, time to get inside his husband’s head and figure out what’s going on.
But when he goes back to the living room Shane isn’t where he left him. He wanders the house calling his name until he reaches the closed door of their ensuite bathroom and the sound of running water.
He quietly knocked on the door, “Moya solnyshko, can I come in?” He tries the handle but it’s locked. That makes his heart pinch. Shane never locks the door against him.
“Please, moya lyubov.” Then he hears a sound that shatters his heart. Shane sobbing, panting, struggling to breathe. A choking, wheezing sound. “Shane” he bangs loudly, “Baby, you have to let me in. Shane, just reach up to the door baby, okay? I’m right here, you can do it. Just click the lock. Please sweetheart.”
Shane can hear him. Sort of, but it’s quiet and far away and drowned out by the whooshing sound pounding through his ears. He’s screwed up into the tightest ball on the bathroom floor. Steam from the shower surrounds him. He’s too hot. His clothes are itchy. He wants to take them off but he can’t move. His hands are clutched tightly over his ears. He’s already thrown up in the toilet but the nausea is still there. He’s shaking fiercely despite the heat. And he can’t breathe, he can’t breathe at all. Black spots fill his vision but he can still see Troy Barrett’s face. It’s the sneering face of disgust he always wore on the ice whenever he looked at Shane. He’s throwing insult after insult at him, some homophobic, some racist. He’s laughing. Shane is mumbling ‘I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I’m sorry’ over and over again. But Troy doesn’t stop. Not until the blackness descends and Shane finally passes out.
Ilya is forceful, banging on the door and commanding Shane to open it. He gets a screwdriver and tries to pick the lock from his side. He throws himself at the door trying to break it down. He pleads and begs and sobs for Shane to open it. But nothing works. He can’t get to him. The most precious thing in his world is all alone in his panic and Ilya has never felt worse in his life. He caused this. He saw it. The shut down when he told Shane to apologise.
He contemplates going to get an axe. But they don’t have one so that would involve going to the store and he can’t leave Shane. He can’t text Yuna and David to come over because they’re away, cruising around the Caribbean. Eventually Ilya collapses against the door and waits. He prays to his mama, asks her to help Shane because he can’t.
Shane isn’t sure how long he’s out for but he doesn’t think it’s been that long. He’s a little groggy but he has to admit he feels better. It’s like his body was able to reset whilst unconscious. He gingerly climbs to his feet. Only swaying slightly. The shower is still going so he strips off his clothes and climbs in. Allowing the water to ground him for a moment before reaching for his body wash. He cleans himself methodically, washing away the remnants of his panic attack. He can’t hear Ilya anymore. Maybe he left. That’s probably good. Shane doesn’t want to talk right now and no doubt Ilya will want to dissect everything.
He finished his shower and cleaned his teeth. Downs three glasses of water and pops a tablet for the lingering headache. Wraps a towel around his waist and opens the bathroom door. He doesn’t see Ilya on the floor at first and trips over him.
“Ooommmfff, sorry” he stutters as he manages to catch himself from actually falling.
Ilya stares at him wide eyed for a second before scrambling to his feet. His face is red and puffy. He’s clearly been crying. “Shane, moya lyubov, are you ok?” He reaches for him but Shane is already walking across to the dresser, dropping his towel and pulling on some pyjama bottoms.
“I’m fine. Just needed a shower, sorry I was so long.”
“Shane” Ilya sounds so pained, “You are not fine. You were not just having shower. You were having breakdown. I could hear. I tried to get in but I couldn’t. I’m so sorry my love. I should have been there.”
“I didn’t need you.” Shane says simply, kind of glad Ilya wasn’t there. It’s a different thing. Ilya knowing he had a panic attack and Ilya witnessing a panic attack. Objectively Shane knows that Ilya would’ve helped. He always helps. He would've calmed him down quicker, helped him breath. He wouldn’t have passed out with Ilya there. But it doesn’t matter because Shane got through it anyway. He’s had his overwhelming moment. The emotions had their outlet and now he can shut them down again. He’s back in control.
He doesn’t see the devastation on Ilya’s face at those words. He’s climbing into bed, his back to Ilya. Reaching up to turn off the light and curling up on his side.
Ilya is frozen. He doesn’t know what is happening. Where is his husband? He saw the moment media Shane clicked into place when Troy was here earlier. Saw the shutters over Shane’s emotions go down.
But Troy is not here now.
Ilya thought that once Troy left, the real Shane would come back and they could talk. But robot Shane is firmly still in place.
After a moment Ilya decides to go along with Shane for now. He’s had an attack and needs to rest. Ilya doesn’t want to make anything worse. So he quickly washes his face and brushes his teeth, changes and slips into bed behind Shane.
He hesitates for a moment before tentatively reaching out to Shane. “Can I hold you, moya lyubov? Is it okay?”
Ilya can’t help the relief that floods him when Shane reaches back without a word and takes his hand, pulling it around his waist so that Ilya can spoon him.
“Ya tebya lyublyu.” He murmurs, pressing a kiss to the back of Shane’s neck. “Vechno i navsegda.”
“Ya tebya lyublyu.” Shane whispers back.
Okay. Ilya thinks. We’re alright. We’ll fix this in the morning.