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Yuna Hollander has seen her fair share of hockey injuries. Having a son who's played hockey since he was six, a son who's in the NHL, she has made several hospital visits over the years.
Usually, the visits are precautionary. A sore wrist, a sprained ankle, a mild concussion, and once when Shane needed stitches on his shoulder when he was messing around with his friends without pads on.
She's never had Shane go into surgery before. He's never been knocked unconscious before.
She wasn't sure her heart could take it, as she stared at her son crumpled on the ice back in the arena.
Yuna was out of her seat before a medic even made it to Shane. She didn't see Rozanov crowding her son, didn't see the jumbotron of Rozanov's face as he stared at her son.
Maybe if she did, she would have understood earlier.
"On the ice and in the ambulance, Mr. Hollander asked for an Ilya?" the doctor says after updating her about the surgery.
"Ilya?" Yuna frowns. "We don't know an Ilya."
The doctor nods. "He might have been confused, it happens. Things can get jumpled during concussions this bad."
Yuna is numb as she sits back down. Concussions this bad. She grabs David's hand.
"Hey, he's alright," David comforts gently. He rubs her hand between both of his. "You heard the doctor. We can see him as soon as he wakes up."
"We should have gotten himself into swimming," Yuna mutters. She still feels numb inside. She's not sure that will change until she sees her baby with her own eyes.
"Hm, yes. Swimming in Ottawa is a huge thing."
"Or knitting. Knitting is nice."
"I don't know Yun, those knitting needles look pretty dangerous."
Yuna sighs and finally crumples against her husband, though the chair arms between them kind of make it hard. "I put him in a sport that is so dangerous."
"Yun," David kisses the top of her head, "that boy wouldn't have missed hockey. If we didn't put him in it, he would have done it behind our backs."
Yuna laughs but it sounds hollow. "He does love hockey."
"He does. Obsessed, more like. Maybe we should try to fix that?"
"I don't think he can guide him anymore," Yuna whispers. She had hoped Rose Landry could have helped him, helped him focus on something thats not hockey for once.
Shane's whole life has been hockey. He doesn't watch anything else on the TV, only reads books about hockey, even the podcasts Yuna catches him listening to are about hockey history.
Yuna thought maybe a girl could help; to show Shane that life can be more than hockey and stats.
That relationship lasted barely a month.
Yuna and David's sit in the hospital waiting room, David's arms around her, as she counts the seconds before she's allowed to see her son.
"We don't know an Ilya, right?"
David thinks for a second. He knows of an Ilya, but not personally. "No, not in Montreal or Ottawa. What do you think he was trying to say?"
"I don't know. But it was important enough that he was talking through the pain for it, right?"
Who is this person that's so important to her son?
Why doesn't she know who they are?
It's less than an hour later that they're able to see Shane. The doctor had told them they walked in on him talking on the phone to someone and advised that Shane stays away from screens until he's healed a bit.
Yuna busies herself by fretting over Shane. She straightens the blankets and fluffs his pillow.
It takes two minutes for her curiosity to win out.
"Shane, who were you talking to on the phone?"
"What phone?"
Her son has always been a bad liar. Yes, over the years he's gotten better at knowing how to avoid what he didn't want to tell the truth about, but he still sucks at lying outright.
Shane is obviously lying now.
"Shane, who were you calling?"
"Shh, mom, it's okay. Just a- a friend."
He's lying again.
He's still high on pain medicine, so maybe she should leave it for now. However, she's a mother and it's going to bother her until she knows the truth.
"Shane-"
"Mr. and Mrs. Hollander?" There's a nurse in the doorway looking uncomfortable. "Can I see you out in the hall for a minute?"
Yuna and David share a glance. "Of course. Shane? We'll be right back."
They follow the nurse into the hall. She looks younger, fresh out of school maybe.
"I am so sorry, but there is someone here to see Mr. Hollander. I told him visiting hours were over for the day, but he refuses to leave. I can grab security, but he said Mr. Hollander called and asked for him personally?"
Yuna looks over the young nurse's shoulder to see a towering figure who freezes once her eyes meet his.
Rozanov looks like shit, frankly. His face is pale with red-rimmed eyes and his shoulders slumped low. His nondescript hoodie is wrinkled and disheveled, as if he had picked it off the ground in a hurry. Looking down, she sees that one of his socks are black and the other blue.
The type of socks she knows Shane wears.
Rozanov. He has a first name except Yuna Hollander never had a reason to speak it, much less think it.
Ilya.
"Mr. Hollander asked for an Ilya," the doctor had said to her earlier.
Realization with a bitter sting of confusion and hurt flows over her. Somehow, Shane is in some kind of relationship with this man who is wearing one of Shane's socks. Not a friend, because she knows Shane was lying when he said that word.
If not a friend, then what exactly?
They're close enough that Rozanov looks destroyed in this hospital while he's on his way to see her son.
"I will deal with this," Yuna says. Her voice comes out deadpanned. "Thank you."
She can feel David's arm wrap around her, but she doesn't glance over at him. She just focuses on the huge Russian man slowly approaching them.
"Mr. Hollander, Mrs. Hollander-"
"The doctor said he called out for you." Yuna can't quite bring her emotions into her voice. That's just as well. She's not sure what emotion will come out of her right now.
Rozanov's voice is hoarse when he croaks, "On ice, yes."
"And in the ambulance," Yuna adds. Rozanov sucks in a breath at that. "I don't know why, but he wants to see you. I swear to everything, Rozanov, if this is a joke or a way for you to get into his head-"
"No, no. Not what this is." Rozanov rolls his shoulders and runs a hand through his hair. "He is okay? Awake?"
"He's awake," David says beside Yuna. "Post-surgery and groggy, but he's going to be fine."
Rozanov blinks slowly. "Surgery? He didn't say-"
"You spoke to him?" Yuna interrupts. "He just got out of surgery. I've barely managed to hold his hand."
Rozanov nods and moves his hand to his pocket, where his phone is. "No one else would text me. No one-" Rozanov's voice breaks and dammit, Yuna's mother heart hurts at the pain this young man is obviously feeling. "No one else knows. I did not know where he was. If he was okay."
David and Yuna stares at Rozanov, who stares back.
It's David who breaks the silence. "Go on inside, Rozanov. He's probably waiting."
Rozanov visibly relaxes and starts to move towards the door before pausing. "I know Shane is… loopy, yes? Not thinking right. But he wouldn't-" Rozanov groans frustrated. "The nurses, ambulance people, and others who heard him? Shane will want them to sign NDAs."
The fact that Rozanov knew that much about her son irritated her, but also made her heart swell.
Maybe Shane isn't as alone as she feared.
"I already have it covered," Yuna confirms, but she makes a mental note to make sure the EMTs and medics at the arena also signed one.
"Marleau is here." Rozanov almost looks sheepish as Yuna tenses. "He feels bad. Wanted to fix. Amends? He was going to guard door so nurses did not see me."
"Thank you for warning us," David says and pulls Yuna gently away from Shane's door. "We're going to get some coffee. Give you two some time."
Yuna wants to argue, to block Shane from everyone in this world. She wants to stay by her son's side and never let him out of her sight again. She doesn't want this stranger to steal what little time she might have with Shane before he falls asleep again.
But Rozanov is not a stranger to Shane.
Ilya.
"Rozanov," she finds herself saying, "don't leave. We'll talk."
"Yes, ma'am," he whispers and slides into Room 426.
The room is dimmed, the low lights causing shadows to grow across the room. Beeping fills the silence of the room, steady and grounding. Shane's arm is in a sling and he has an IV in the other arm, but he's not in a neck brace. Harsh bruising is already blooming on his face, over his nose.
He's breathing.
Ilya slowly walks to Shane's side when he doesn't respond to the door closing. Shane's eyes are closed, so Ilya lowers himself to the seat already pulled to the side of the bed.
"You scared me," Ilya whispers as he stares into the face of the man he loves. His eyes start to burn, but he's alone so he doesn't try to stop it. "I was so fucking scared."
He carefully takes Shane's unslinged hand and presses his lips against his knuckles. Ilya won't wake him up, so he sits there just watching him. He watches Shane's breathing, in and out and in and out.
It's comforting to see, after hours of the worst scenarios playing through Ilya's head.
It's only a few minutes before Shane's lashes flutter open.
"Ilya?" Shane blinks sluggishly as he turns his head. "Heyyy, you're here Ilya."
Ilya smiles sadly and kisses Shane's hand again. "You asked me to come. I would not say no."
"I kept asking the doctors. I asked them to get you. No one listened." Shane laughs softly. "I had to do it myself."
"Thank you," Ilya whispers. He feels a tear trail down his face.
"Hey, heyyyy, why are you sad? I'm the one not playing hockey for the season. The whole season, Ilya!" Shane sighs dramatically. "I hate it. I'm fine to play."
He's definitely not fine to play. He won't be for a long time.
"You scared me so fucking much," Ilya repeats because he can't help himself. "You were on ice and you were not moving. I could not help you and I did not know if you were okay."
Shane frowns slightly and reaches his hand up uncoordinated to try to wipe Ilya's tears before intertwining them again. "Shhh, Ilya, Ilyusha, I am fine. Shh, I'm okay."
Ilya looks at his- well, whatever Shane is. "Who taught you Ilyusha? How do you know this?"
Ilya thinks Shane blushes, but it's hard to tell through the bruising. "I am learning. I'm not good! Russian is stupid and why do people have twelve different names that mean different shit?"
Shane is learning Russian? This is the first Ilya's hearing about this and it makes his heart hurt in a new way tonight.
This has to be more than just a casual thing for Shane as well. Casual flings don't learn whole languages for you.
"Shanyusha," Ilya whispers.
"That's not real," Shane declares. "Shane doesn't have dimir- dir- whatever they're fucking called."
"No, it does not. But I can call you Shanyusha."
"Oookay." Shane smiles and Ilya is distracted by the unrestrained brightness of it.
Shane is always so guarded, always protecting himself and his feelings from everyone around him. Drugged Shane is freer, not burdened with the secrets he keeps so close to his chest.
"Do not do that to me again."
"Next time, I will call you faster. I will call you on the ice."
Not what I mean, Ilya thinks, but then he remembers.
People know now. Marly knows. Yuna and David know. Or, they know part of it now.
"Shane, I need to tell you. Wh-"
The door opens and both men turn their heads to see Yuna stepping inside the room. She's by herself, for now at least.
"Mom?" Shane blinks several times. "I-uh…" He looks over at Ilya then at their touching hands. "So, this is Ilya."
"Yes, I met Rozanov outside earlier."
"Nooo, mom, call him Ilya. Rozanov is so, so, so formal and like…" Shane looks up to Ilya's face before turning back to his mom. "He's Ilya."
"Shane," Ilya whispers in warning. He doesn't want Shane to say anything he'll regret. Also, Ilya himself is feeling a little uncomfortable. He thought about meeting Yuna and David, but this was nothing like how he thought it would go.
He definitely didn't envision the hospital setting.
"Ilya, then." Yuna walks to Shane's other side, her eyes lingering on their hands. Ilya tries to let him go, but Shane hangs on tight. "So, this is new."
"No, no. It's been years."
"Years?" Yuna looks shocked.
"Shane," Ilya warns again.
"Years. I mean, like, remember that commercial? After the draft?" Shane smiles at Ilya. "You set that commercial up. You wanted to seeee me," he says sing-song like.
Shit, sober Shane would be mortified.
It doesn't take Yuna long to do the math. When it does click, she grabs ahold of Shane's bed rail. "This has been going on for eight years?"
Shane opens his mouth, but Ilya gently covers his mouth with a hand. "No, shush. Mrs. Hollander, maybe we should wait until Shane is less drug up."
Shane licks — actually licks — Ilya's palm. He takes his hand away incredulously, but Shane just looks proud. "It's drugged up."
"Oh, is it English lesson time?"
"You liiiiked the last English lesson I gave you."
Fucking shit. Ilya's cheeks heat up. "Shane, you should sleep before you say more things."
Yuna is staring at the two of them, but neither man looks over at her. Shane just pouts, obviously not a fan of being censored. "You didn't do what I asked though."
"What did you ask, dorogoy?"
"Oh my god, on the phone. I said 'hey asshole, come over here and kiss me' and you fucking haven't."
Ilya chuckles softly. "Shane, your mother is here."
Shane frowns and shakes his head. "You don't want to."
Ilya is horrified to see tears start to well in his eyes. Fuck.
Kissing Shane in front of his mom wasn't something he planned on doing, especially today. But he's not going to let his maybe-boyfriend cry in the hospital over it.
"Hey, shh." Ilya gently runs his hand through Shane's hair and leans over the railing to kiss him ever so slightly. "Shh, none of that. I am right here."
"Yay," Shane whispers. His eyes start to stay closed longer between blinks. "Stay, Ilya."
"I am going nowhere, dorogoy. Just sleep and get better."
Within second, Shane's asleep and his hand falls limp in Ilya's hand. He leans back in the uncomfortable hospital seat and looks at Yuna Hollander.
Yuna wipes her eyes quickly and Ilya braces himself. "Is what he said true? You two… for eight years?"
Ilya bites his lip. He knows she wants answers, but he doesn't know how well he can explain things. "Mrs. Hollander, maybe we wait on Shane? I know he wants to tell you things."
"Things? What things?"
How can he explain? "I am sorry. Is late and English can be hard. He wanted to… explain himself. I will not take that away."
They simply look at each other for a minute, both of them tired and drained from the night. Ilya played a hockey game tonight and spent hours in existential crisis; Yuna dealt with her son being severely injured in front of her eyes to the point of needing surgery.
Even if Shane was awake, neither of them have the energy for a serious conversation like that.
A knock sounds at the door and David walks in quietly with Marleau behind him.
Ilya wonders what those two talked about in the waiting room. Maybe they just sat in silence the whole time.
"Just checking in," David says softly, registering his sleeping son.
Ilya meets Marleau's eyes and offers a small nod. I'm good now. I'm better.
"Shane asked for Rozanov to stay," Yuno tells David.
Ilya, he wants to say. Call me Ilya.
He doesn't dare. Not right now.
"Marleau, go back to hotel. Sleep."
Marleau frowns. "Will you be there for the plane tomorrow?"
Their plane back to Boston is scheduled for ten in the morning, meaning everyone is supposed to be on the bus by eight.
"No."
"I'll grab your stuff from the hotel." Marleau takes out his phone and types something out. "Do you need it here? I can bring it by."
"No, I have clothes at-" Ilya flicks his eyes to Yuna and David before changing his words. "I will be fine. I will text coach."
Marleau leaves quickly after that, leaving all of the Hollanders and one Rozanov in the hospital room. Ilya strokes his thumb on Shane's hand, his eyes drooping.
"Wait, you have clothes at Shane's house?"
Yuna nudges her husband. "We aren't talking about it until Shane wakes up."
Ilya hears a quiet "oh" from David. He must drift off to sleep a little, because the next thing he knows, David has a hand on his arm.
"Rozanov, go lay down on the couch," he coaxes. "Get some sleep."
"Ya ne mogu uyti," Ilya mutters. I can't leave. "I promised."
Despite his words, he allows himself to be guided to the couch on the opposite end of the room. He struggles to get his bulky frame on the rickety couch, but a place to sleep is a place to sleep.
He doesn't remember his head touching the pillow.
Ilya's hip hurts.
That's his first thought before he even opens his eyes.
For those first few seconds, he forgets where he is. His hip aches and his back is stiff, more than it usually is after a game. The bed he's in doesn't feel right and he has far more clothes on than he usually sleeps in.
Then he opens his eyes, and everything comes back to him.
Light shines through the hospital room, illuminating Shane on his hospital bed.
Shane who is very much awake and obviously anxious.
"Ilya?"
Ilya sits up and stretches out his back before moving to the empty chair beside Shane's bed. He just now notices that its only them two in the room. "Good morning."
Shane searches his face. "You're here?"
Ilya takes Shane's hand to keep him from picking at the fraying threads of the hospital blanket. "Yes."
"Why?"
Ilya raises an eyebrow. "You do not want me here?"
"No! No, it's just… Aren't my parents here?"
Ah, so Shane must have just woken up. He can't imagine Yuna would leave her son for too long.
"Yes."
"They saw you? What- Oh God."
Ilya squeezes Shane's hand. "Shh, Shane breathe. Everything is okay."
"Fuck. Fuck, Ilya. What do I tell them? What do they know?"
"They know we are more than friends," Ilya says calmly despite his own racing heart. "Nothing else."
Shane looks at him shocked. "Nothing?"
"No. I did not talk for you. I would not." Ilya stretches his arm out and rakes his fingers through Shane's hair like he did last night. "Is okay, yes? Breathe."
Shane closes his eyes and takes a shaky breath. In and out. In and out.
Ilya sits there with him, silent and present.
Sometimes, that's all Shane needs in these moments.
"Thank you," he whispers and pulls his hand up to kiss Ilya's hand.
"How do you feel, lyubimyy?"
"Sore. Irritated that I'm in a hospital instead of my house."
"Oh, so it is any other day that Boston wins."
"Asshole," Shane laughs and shoves Ilya away. Then Shane groans softly. "No, don't make me laugh. Laughing hurts my head."
Ilya straightens and looks around for the nurse button. "Just your head? What else?"
"Ilya, it's okay." Shane retakes Ilya's hand. "I'm fine."
He swallows hard. His eyes trace over the constilation that is Shane's freckles. "You called me Ilyusha last night." That was not what he thought he was going to say. Not even close.
But the blush on Shane's cheeks is so pretty. "I don't remember that. The last thing I remember is the game."
"You called me," Ilya whispers. "Two hours after the game. I didn't-" Fuck, he can feel his eyes burning again. "I was afraid. I did not know where you were and…"
"No one knew to text you," Shane finishes. He frowns and shakes his head. "I am sorry, Ilya. That must have been hell."
"Yes." Yes it was. Horrible hell. "Is better now. I am here."
Shane gives Ilya a soft look, full of concern and love. "Come up here so I can kiss you."
"Oh, so you make exception to morning breath for hospital kiss?"
"Arg, you asshole. Now I'm thinking about it!"
Ilya laughs and pulls himself up to kiss his maybe-boyfriend.
It meant to be a peck; just a small and gentle kiss. Shane is the one that deepens it by letting go of Ilya's hand to wrap it in Ilya's curly hair.
Not that Ilya is complaining.
He never complains about kissing Shane.
The door clicking open is the only thing that separates them.
Yuna and David stand in the door way, hands full of bags of food.
Shane's face goes bright red and he untangles his fingers from Ilya's hair. "Mom, dad, hey."
David, to his credit, doesn't react to the display in front of him. "How are you feeling, kid?" David sets a bag of food on Shane's hospital tray.
"Is that-"
"Yes, all in accordance to your diet. I didn't forget," David adds. He hands a bag over to Ilya as well, but not the same as Shane's. "I hope regular human food is okay with you, Rozanov?"
Ilya grabs the bag. He doesn't quite keep the surprise off his face. "You did not have to." Honestly, he had been planning to grab a granola bar from the cafeteria. He didn't want to leave Shane's side for long.
"That's his way to say thank you," Shane tells his dad with an eye-roll. Then he seems to realize that knowing intricate parts about Ilya reveals more about their relationship because he ducks his head down embarrassed.
"I think that's a good segway," Yuna says stiffly. Her and David take a seat on the couch Ilya slept on with their food on their laps. Yuna looks between her son and the Russian. "Shane said this started eight years ago."
Shane freezes with a piece of chicken speared on a plastic fork halfway to his mouth. "I said what?"
"I do not think Shane remembers last night," Ilya says mildly as he unwraps his fast-food breakfast. "But yes, you can say that."
"Wow, okay." David pauses to take a bite of his sandwhich.
Yuna gives him a pointed look. "Really? Our son has a mystery boyfriend and you're just going to eat?"
"Boyfriend?" Shane looks alarmed now. "We haven't- not that I don't want-"
He looks so panicked, Ilya cuts in to save him. "I think boyfriend works, yes?"
Shane meets his eyes and Ilya can see him visibly swallow. "Ilya, what about your family?" Shane whispers. "Russia?"
"Russia would not like my actions whether we add — how you say? — label or not." Ilya shrugs as he tries to not show how anxious the prospect makes him. "I think it is time for me to get citizenship, yes? Then Russia can not…" Ilya snaps his fingers as he searches for the word.
"Interfere?"
"Yes. Russia can not interfere if I do not have Russia passport."
Shane has only what Ilya can describe as "heart eyes" at this proclamation.
They have been so stupid, never communicating or sharing feelings. Yes, Ilya would give up Russia for Shane. The fact that he has to say that just proves how bad they've been at communicating their feelings.
The next to speak is David. "I didn't realize Russia was that dangerous, Rozanov. What would happen?"
"Ilya, please." If he's going to sit and have a meaningful conversation with Shane's parents, he didn't want to just go by his last name. This is more than that. "And I do not know. Arrested, killed maybe in prison or on way to. I do not want to think."
The hospital room is silent after that as they eat, only Shane's machines beeping to tell that time is passing.
Time.
"Yebat'," Ilya mutters and pulls his phone out, seeing the 7:24 on his screen. Late, but not too bad.
"Chto?" Shane asks.
Ilya glances up at him with a smile. "You have been learning! French, English, now Russian. Showoff." He opens his phone and pulls up his coach's contact number. "I just need to tell coach I will not be on plane."
"Oh, you don't have to. I'm fi-"
"Do not say you are fine again. Shut up." Ilya stands and kisses the top of Shane's head. "I want to stay. Give me five minutes."
Ilya gives a slight nod to Yuna and David before walking out. His phone is already at his ear before the door closes behind him.
Shane shifts on the bed and it causes his head to rush. Shit, he forgot how concussions can make everything spin. He squeezes his eyes to try to counteract the dizziness.
Unsurprising, his mom notices.
"Shane, you need more meds."
"No," Shane says firmly. He swallows before forcing himself to continue. "I need to- I want to be sober for this."
He opens his eyes and blinks a few times before everything comes back into focus. Yuna is closer than she was before, the nurse call button in her hand but unpressed.
"Mom, dad. I am so sorry. This isn't," Dammit his eyes are already burning. "This isn't how I wanted you to find out."
"Oh, honey-"
"No, please listen. I should have told you, but you found out in a really shitty way. I am sorry. You deserved for me to tell you myself."
Yuna takes Shane's hand and he squeezes her hand tightly like he used to do when he was nervous before a hockey game when he was a kid. "Oh, honey, we forgive you. We love you."
David's there two, a hand placed on his wife's shoulder. "Shane, you also deserved to come out on your own time, in your own way."
"We had a plan," Shane admits. He tries to relax back into the bed, but no, that hurts his collarbone. "After the season, I was going to tell you that I am g-" He swallows hard. "I am gay. Then, I was going to tell you about Ilya and invite everyone to my cottage to meet and... and now that possibility is gone."
"Maybe not." David gently ruffles Shane's hair. "Obviously, we know, but we can still sit down and have a meal, have proper introductions. I don't know Ro- Ilya well, just what I've seen in the news. He's known to be a, uh, ladies man?"
Shane gives the biggest nod he can without making the room spin, which is barely a nod at all. "Ilya and I have had a… relationship for eight years, yes, but we just decided to be committed about two months ago. It's complicated."
"Complicated is one way to describe it," Yuna comments. She kisses Shane's temple. "We love you, no matter what."
"Doesn't mean it won't take some time to understand," David adds.
"But we won't leave or ignore you. Never," Yuna finishes.
Shane uses his free hand to wipe his eyes before tears could make it far. "I love you," he croaks out. Fuck, now his head hurts more. It's pounding, making it hard to focus.
Ilya walks back into the room a minute later with a nurse in tow.
Ilya approaches Shane on the opposite side of the bed than Yuna and David are on and subtly take his hand while the nurse reads off the machines.
"You get chance to talk?"
Shane does another barely-nod. "Yeah. My parents are awesome."
"I knew they would be." He gives Shane's hand a squeeze.
"Okay, Mr. Hollander," the nurse says with a smile. "Your vitals are looking good. You've been off the morphine for a couple hours now. How are you feeling?"
"Uh, my collarbone hurts and my head is pounding?"
The nurse makes a quick note in her clipboard. "Yes, Mr. Rozanov said your head was bothering you."
Shane frowns over at the Russian who shrugs. "You have line between eyes when you are in pain," he says casually.
Yuna looks at Ilya Rozanov, perhaps for the first time. Really sees him.
This man, with a reputation to be an asshole and womanizer, stands in the hospital room and sees Shane; he sees what Shane tries to hide and isn't afraid to call him out on it.
Ilya Rozanov loves her son, whether he knows it or not. He's putting Shane above himself, helping him, and seems to want the best for him.
Yuna softens towards the burly Russian man who might be a little rough on the outside, but a huge softie on the inside.
How couldn't she when it's obvious how much he loves her son?
It's around two in the afternoon when Hayden shows up, flowers in one hand — from Jackie — and a gross protein smoothie in the other — from him. He signs the visitor list and heads where the nurses point him.
"Room 426… 426… ah."
Hayden opens the door with his elbow and pushes his way in. "Hey, buddy! How are-"
Hayden's steps slow down as he looks around the room. He expected Yuna and David to be in the room. He knows Shane's parents and how protective Yuna is of him. He knows she wouldn't be anywhere else if Shane is in a hospital bed.
Yuna is on her phone on the couch against the wall, probably dealing with Shane's sponsorships and other manager issues. David is passed out beside her.
What he didn't expect is Rozanov to be sitting by Shane's bed flipping through one of Shane's boring ass hockey books.
"What are you doing here?"
Rozanov looks up at his voice. If he's surprised to see Hayden in the room, he doesn't show it.
"Finally, Pike is here to save me from boredom. Book almost put me in other hospital bed."
"Ilya, shut up," Shane slurs softly. He's obviously still on some heavy meds.
Maybe that's why he hasn't kicked Rozanov out.
And why he's just called the Boston Raider Ilya.
"Shane?"
Shane looks up at Hayden and smiles widely. "Hey! Hays, my God are those flowers?"
Hayden blinks a few times. So they're going to ignore the Russian in the room? "From Jackie. I brought you one of your smoothies."
"Fuck yeah. Thank you man, I love smoothies." Shane frowns at the flowers before laughing. "Oh my god."
Rozanov sits up quickly and looks Shane up and down. "Shane, you are hurt?"
Okay, that's fucking weird.
"No, look! Jackie got lilies for me. Lilies, Ilyusha."
Rozanov checks the flowers out and his mouth turns up. Hayden thinks his mind cracks a little when he gives his own chuckle. "Yes, yes she did."
Hayden looks at the flowers. It's an assortment and he's not sure which ones are lilies and which aren't. He sets the bouquet on a table and the smoothie on Shane's side table. "I don't get it. Lilies?"
Shane nods before sitting back on the bed again. "Lilies. What do you call her? Boston Lily."
"Oh?" Hayden raises his eyebrows as he risks a glance to Shane's parents. "We're talking about Boston Lily now?"
"Boston Lily?" Yuna asks her son.
"Hayden says I always text Boston Lily and see Boston Lily." Shane giggles. "Says I play better after seeing her."
"Is true," Rozanov mutters under his breath, but Hayden's come to the decision to pretend he isn't here right now. He'll deal with him later.
"Lily is a girl that Shane, uh, sees in Boston," Hayden explains awkwardly to Yuna.
Shane smiles at his mom. "Yeah, Boston." Then, for some reason, Shane points to Rozanov. "Lily."
Hayden is completely lost, but Yuna seems to understand what Shane is saying.
"Ohh," she says.
At the same time, Rozanov cups a hand on Shane's mouth. "Is enough I think. Wh-" He jerks his hand away and gives Shane a glare. "You keep licking my hand."
"You've never complained before."
"Shane, why?" Rozanov's cheeks are pink as he looks between everyone in the room, specifically not meeting Yuna's eyes. "Shut up. Go to sleep. I read boring book so you sleep."
"Nooo, I wanna talk to Hayden."
Hayden raises a hesitant hand. "I have some questions."
"Shut up, Pike." This causes Yuna to tell Rozanov to be nice, which why is Yuna telling Rozanov to be nice? "Shane, when you are sober you can talk to Pike."
Shane seems to accept this because he closes his eyes and hums softly. "Hayden, I want to- to tell you things. Wonderful things. Give me an hour, I'll be sober."
Rozanov shakes his head and holds up three fingers.
Three hours. He can wait three hours for answers.
"Be nice to my boyfriend," Shane mutters.
"Wait, what?"
But Shane is already asleep.
Hayden's frozen in place and he doesn't know what he wants to look at: Yuna who sighs exasperatingly, Shane who looks so peaceful as he sleeps, or Rozanov who is still pink-cheeked and staring at Hayden as if he's a threat.
"What the fuck-"