Chapter Text
Shane Hollander didn't understand why the driver of the black truck was so upset.
At first, it started with some strange hand gestures that he didn't understand. He was sure it wasn't sign language because he kept pointing at something and moving his hands enthusiastically without any sense at all, so he dismissed it. But now, not only were his hands moving frantically, so was his mouth.
He was shouting something, but since Shane was deaf, he didn't understand what he was saying.
In the morning, his stepbrother Troy had asked him to accompany him to school since they were going to give him the new hockey team uniform. And the truth was that Shane hadn't wanted to go, but since Troy was always doing favors for him, he didn't want to be ungrateful.
Outside, the sun was shining intensely, and according to the news it was going to be a day far too hot for April. Troy's car didn't have air conditioning, it was a miracle that it still started every morning, and only the driver's window opened.
And because Shane didn't want to die suffocated, he had made the decision to move to the driver's seat to be closer to the window and avoid sweating so much. Now he wondered if it hadn't been a bad idea. The angry driver was now honking furiously. It wasn't that Shane could hear him, but he could guess it by the way his hand hit the center of the steering wheel over and over and over again.
Fed up with waiting for an answer that was never going to come, Ilya Rozanov got out of his truck, abandoning the comfort and coolness provided by the air conditioning, and made his way toward the beat-up car that wasn't moving from his parking spot.
"Are you deaf or what?" was the first thing he said when he got closer.
He had to lean down more than he intended while resting his arm on the hood of the car, but quickly pulled it away with a groan when he ended up burning himself.
"I've been asking you to move the car for thirty minutes and you've been ignoring me."
The boy remained silent, so Ilya leaned in a little more so he could see his face better.
He had long, wavy hair in a cut that seemed to be a messy mullet, with bangs that fell slightly over his forehead but didn't cover his eyes. Small brown eyes with thick, long eyelashes that fanned against his face every time he blinked. And those freckles scattered across his nose, beneath his eyes, and near his pink mouth.
For a moment, Ilya forgot what he was supposed to be doing there.
Until the horn of his own truck sounded again, startling him. Inside, Scott Hunter was motioning with his hands for him to hurry up. Ilya raised the palm of his hand, signaling for him to calm down. Scott rolled his eyes, fed up.
"Are you going to move the car?" His tone of voice had lowered and was softer now. He almost sounded like he was begging. "I know it sounds stupid, but this is where I normally park. It's easier for me. If I park on the other side, it'll be impossible for me to get out afterward, understand?"
Shane kept looking at him in silence. He could easily read the boy's lips, but he didn't want to. He refused to.
Not when his first sentence had been asking him in a mocking tone whether he was deaf or not.
Not to mention that he didn't know how to drive, so even if he hadn't offended him, he wouldn't have been able to move the car anyway. He didn't even know how to start it.
"You're not going to move it, are you?" Ilya sighed, knowing he was already running late.
And to his bad luck, his first class was Chemistry with Wildmore, who already hated him and hated even more when people showed up whenever they felt like it. The sound of his truck door closing caught his attention. Scott got out and started walking toward the school entrance. Ilya ignored him, knowing that Scott hated being late.
Shane, on the other hand, couldn't wait for Troy to come back. He was dying from the heat. Sweat had started running down his back and it was bothering him, not to mention that the guy standing in front of him was blocking the entire window, preventing any air from getting in.
"What can I do to make you move it?" Ilya couldn't believe he had gone from yelling at him to asking what he could do to make him move already. His friends would probably laugh at him if they knew he was practically begging the shorter boy, who kept looking at him from beneath his long, thick eyelashes.
He opened his mouth, ready to offer anything, although at this point even he didn't understand why he kept begging for that spot when he had already seen several cars leave the parking lot and free up better spaces, when a voice was heard behind him.
"What are you doing?"
He turned around to find his captain standing behind him, looking at him with a raised eyebrow and a strange expression on his face. Usually, Troy was an incredible guy. Except that right now he didn't look like the kind and friendly guy Ilya always ran into at practice. In fact, there was a dry and hostile tone in his question.
"Captain," Ilya greeted him, ignoring how strange his teammate was acting. Maybe he just hadn't had a good day. "I see you came to pick up the uniform."
Troy only nodded his head, which struck Rozanov as odd.
"What are you doing leaning on my truck?" Troy asked again.
Realizing what he had said, Ilya immediately stepped back, leaving a good amount of space between them while awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck. It was strange to see Troy treat him that way.
"I didn't know it was yours," he replied with an awkward laugh. "I was just asking if he could move it. I normally park here because it's harder for me to get out if I park farther away. Too many cars nearby. This spot is closer to the exit."
"I was leaving anyway," Troy answered as he walked forward and opened the back door, where he tossed his training bag along with the uniform before closing it again. Troy was shorter than Ilya, so he didn't need to bend down to speak to Shane, who was still watching everything from the passenger seat now. He had switched seats the moment he saw his stepbrother approaching.
"Are you okay?"
Troy asked him using his hands, but also out loud, as he was always used to doing. Shane answered by bringing together the tips of his index finger and thumb and raising the other three fingers in an "I'm okay."
"Yeah, everything's fine. Why?" Ilya thought the question was strange out of nowhere, but Troy acted weird sometimes, so he didn't pay much attention to it until his captain turned to look at him with a frown.
"I wasn't talking to you," he replied out loud while also signing with his hands so Shane would understand as well.
"I don't understand..." Ilya laughed awkwardly.
"Shane, let me introduce you to my teammate, Ilya Rozanov. Ilya, let me introduce you to my stepbrother, Shane," Troy said in sign language and out loud.
Ilya frowned. He didn't remember Troy having any brothers. He remembered a younger sister, but that was all. Then again, Troy didn't talk much about his family, to be honest. Neither did Ilya.
"Like I said, I didn't know it was your truck. I honked several times, but he wouldn't move."
Troy sighed as if Ilya were an idiot and, honestly, Ilya felt a little like an idiot for some reason.
The brunette got into his car, fastened his seatbelt, and then turned toward the Russian, looking him straight in the eyes. This time, he didn't use his hands when he spoke again.
"Ilya, my brother Shane is deaf. He can't hear absolutely anything and rarely reads lips. He never would have been able to understand or hear you."
And Ilya did everything he could to keep his cheeks from turning an intense shade of embarrassed red.