Chapter Text
“You don’t fucking get it Ilya!” Shane shouts, walking out of the room towards the kitchen.
“Then help me understand Hollander!” Ilya follows behind him out the door, refusing to back off. He didn’t want to argue, he just didn’t get why Shane was so unfair. He had his people, why can’t Ilya have his?
“No!” Shane stopped in his tracks, whipping around and pointing his finger in Ilya’s face. “You don’t get to shut down on me, not talk to me, then go tell Luca Haas about us. That’s not how this works.” He gritted his teeth on the last sentence, holding his finger there. It came out like a whisper.
“Fuck you Hollander. Is not fair!” Ilya grabs Shane’s wrist and pulls it out of his face. “I give up everything for you. I leave Boston, I go play for shitty team, I give up Russia.” Rozanov says, slightly raising his voice now. He hated getting loud.
“Oh like you were ever going to go back?” Shane turns back around and walks towards the cabinet. “I wish you’d stop throwing that in my face.”
Ilya mumbles something under his breath in Russian, too low for Shane to translate.
“No, say it!” Shane slightly turns his head to Ilya. “And in English this time, asshole.” He exhales.
“I said to go fuck yourself.” Ilya lies. He just muttered a string of profanities but Shane was really pushing his buttons. “You don’t know what it’s like. One day in my shoes and you would kill yourself, Hollander.”
Shane furrows his eyebrows and scoffs. He pours himself some water to try to calm down. His heart is already trying to jump out of his chest but he couldn’t let Ilya know that. He can handle it…even though his hands were shaking and he almost dropped the glass.
Ilya doesn’t notice Shane shaking. He’s already upset enough. Too mad to think. He just wants his boyfriend to get him. Neither of them want to be arguing with each other, but they’re stubborn.
Shane ignores Ilya’s comment and walks towards the island to drink his water.
“Fine.” Ilya says, grabbing a crystal glass and rinses it off before reaching to the top shelf for his expensive Russian vodka.
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” Shane mumbles out while taking a sip of his water. He tried to sound harsh but ends up sounding scared. He didn’t like when Ilya drank. Not that he got aggressive, he just hated drunken behavior. The sloppiness, the radiating heat, the vomiting. It was a sensory nightmare for Shane.
“What the fuck do you think I am doing? I am having drink.” Ilya’s accent thickens as he fills the crystal glass. He has a Russian alcohol tolerance, three times the regular serving is barely enough to get a decent buzz going.
“It’s 11pm on a Tuesday, Ilya. Put it back.” Shane shakes some more, but conceals it better.
“No. Fuck you. You drink, I drink. Only difference is my drink is not boring.” Ilya says before he takes a swig, drinking half the glass.
“Ahhh.” He exhales extra loud, just to piss Shane off further.
“I’m not doing this shit, you win.” Shane says while grabbing his phone and keys and putting on the first top he could find digging through the blonde man’s closet. He started digging from the back to hoping to choose something Ilya doesn’t wear often. He was mad and unsure if he’d be back to return it any time soon.
He chose the worst possible one. Ilya’s Junior Championship jersey. The one from Russia. The same one that Ilya found his mother in. The one he hasn’t worn since but always kept in his closet. Without looking Shane pulled it over his head and started to head out.
Ilya was going to let him go until he saw what Shane was wearing. For the first time all night, he was actually mad. Ilya’s heart sank. “What a fucking asshole?” He thought to himself. He knew deep down that Shane didn’t do it intentionally, but still.
“Stop!” Ilya yells loudly as Shane heads for the door. The place echoed, he had never raised his voice to that extent to Shane. Sure, he got loud, but never screamed.
Shane stops. His face usually looks like one of those angry kittens. So pure it can’t even display anger. Not this time. This time Shane was holding back tears but didn’t show it. He was so angry. His face had a look of pure rage. He was mad at Ilya, mad at himself, mad at the situation, mad at the world for putting them in this situation, and mad at his heart. It wouldn’t stop banging at his chest. He started to text his mother to come pick him up. He didn’t want to drive himself, he was shaking too much.
His heart. It just wouldn’t stop. He was overstimulated and anxious. “Ilya,” he says breathlessly, “Why do you want to hurt us?” Shane bawls out. He doesn’t think he’s crying because tears aren’t falling, but he definitely is crying. Shane hit send on the text message to Yuna.
“Mom, please come quick. I don’t know what’s wrong with him.” The message read.
She read it immediately and got herself together before even responding. She knew Ilya was hurting and deeply angry. Everybody had noticed the shift of Rozanov’s mood lately. Especially those who had to feel his anger during practice.
“Now I am hurting you because I told my friend my secret?” Ilya is frustrated, pulling at his hair in anger. Why couldn’t Shane just get it? Get him. Shane had everything. He had family, friends, hockey. He had everything he wanted and Ilya had to bend over backwards to cater to him.
“God forbid Prince Hollander doesn’t get his way. God forbid I have someone to talk to as well.” Ilya is now as loud as he can be. Scaring himself and the other man in front of him.
“You know what? Fuck you.” Shane stomps into the other room on the opposite side of the house. He wanted to wait on his mother but man, was she taking forever.
Ilya continues to curse in Russian. He has nobody to call. Nobody to text. He is alone. This is exactly what they were fighting about. Why couldn’t Shane see his pain? Why couldn’t Shane see how lonely he was. He tugged at the gold chain around his neck. “Mama, please.” He says, closing his eyes. “Make it stop.” He pleads with his dead mother. “I don’t want to lose him mama.” He sniffles, still holding his chain.
——
Shane is still on edge. He has yet to drop the grudge. He goes back to the kitchen to grab his “rabbit food” as Ilya would call it. As he’s packing it up, he sees the blonde man turn the corner and start walking towards him. His heart rate began to climb again.
“Get the fuck-“ Shane says, voice shaking. “Get back. Go back.” He’s gasping for air. “Fuck.” he says under his breath, knowing he was almost incoherent “To your room.” He says, his voice trembling.
“Shane.” Ilya takes a step closer. He knew better than to come near Shane when he was overstimulated and needed space. He didn’t care. He just wanted this to be over.
He took one more step closer, so close Shane could feel Ilya’s breath on his back. “I said,” Shane said quietly. “Get back!” He turned around, quickly pushing Ilya back into the fridge with the back of his arm. The force was so strong the bread basket on top of the fridge came clattering down, causing Rozanov to flinch. He had Ilya’s wrists pinned against the cold stainless steel.
He had never seen this look on Ilya’s face before. It wasn’t anger. It was something else. Something scarier than seeing him angry. Fear. He has never seen his boyfriend like this.
Ilya wasn’t even sure if he was physically hurt. He wasn’t worried about that. He couldn’t think straight. His adrenaline was rushing.
“Ничего не стоящий.” His father’s words rang in his head.
He tried to open his mouth to speak.
“Тупой.”
He heard play back. He tried again
“Сука.”
He finally managed to get out “Сделай это.” Ilya dared him to do it, not realizing it came out in Russian. “Просто сделай это.” He closed his eyes, turned his head to the side, and braced for impact. He stood right there, his face scrunched up. They stood there in silence. One singular tear fell down his face.
Yuna Hollander walked into the house, picking up her pace when she reached the kitchen and saw her son pinning Ilya back.
“Shane, let go of him.” She tried to say calmly. When Shane text her, she expected him to be in danger. Not the other way around. Shane dropped Ilya’s wrists, horrified at what he had done. He hurt Ilya. Ilya was scared of him. His mom was scared of him. He was scared of himself.
Ilya still hasn’t spoken…or moved. He was stuck in the position he put himself in to brace for impact. He was locked in his 13 year old body and being forced to relive the cruelty he endured.
Shane stepped back in utter disbelief at himself. “Did I really just do that?” Shane asked himself internally. He slowly walked backwards until his mom had enough room to reach Ilya.
“Hey, It’s okay honey. I’m here” She grabs Ilya’s hands and holds them in her own. Ilya is still deep into a flashback, stuck in his far less than ideal childhood. Shane watched in absolute horror of himself. “Shane how about you go to the room?” Yuna suggests, shooting him a glare. She’d have a conversation with him later, but right now she was focused on getting Ilya responsive.
Shane didn’t argue. He stepped back into the room he was in previously, trying not to hate himself for what he did. He bit at his lip, teared at his cuticles until they bled. It was unsuccessful. He hated himself.
Ilya was still frozen. Yuna touched his chest to try to feel his heart. It was beating out of his chest, but it wasn’t a panic attack. It was something else. Thanks to Shane, Yuna was well trained on panic attacks. Helping a flashback episode? Different territory.
“Прости, папа.” He managed to get out despite feeling his breath asphyxiate. He was seeing his father. Yuna heard him say “Papa” and immediately knew where his head was.
“Breathe with me.” Yuna says, holding her own chest. Taking a deep inhale. Ilya still isn’t in the present moment. She’s not sure what he’s seeing but it’s not pretty.
Ilya’s hearing sounds as if he’s under water. Yuna is right beside him but feels so far away. All he can see is Alexei on top of him, pinning him to the ground and hitting him in the face.
“Такой чувствительный.” Alexei spits out.
David had been sitting in the car before about 10 minutes before he decided to come in. Shane’s message was very vague but terrifying. He thought something had happened to his son. Well, one of his sons.
David walks through the door and Yuna’s eyes stay on Ilya, gently speaking to him. She hears David enter the room and points him to the room where Shane retreated.
—--
He bursts into the guest bedroom. “It’s all my fault dad.” His son whimpers while holding onto a pillow. David sits beside him. “Hey, hey, it’s fine. He didn’t hurt you, did he?” David says, blissfully unaware.
“What?” Shane asks, furrowing his eyebrows. His mom must not have said anything. “Dad, I hurt him.” Shane wallows out before burying his face fully in the pillow.
Now that, David did not see coming. He honestly didn’t think Shane had it in him. Once Shane said it, everything David knew about Ilya’s childhood came flooding back. How his father wasn’t kind. How his brother wasn’t kind. How he thinks Ilya’s family hurt him. He hadn’t told Yuna and David, but they had a feeling. “Shit.” David thought to himself.
“Well what happened kiddo?” He tries not to freak out or get upset as his son. He knows Shane is remorseful, but damn.
“Well,” Shane starts, not feeling any better. “We were arguing because he told his friend about us. I didn’t want him to. I don’t think it was fair he did without talking to me.” Shane hardly realizes the hypocrisy in his words.
“Well did you run it by him before you told Hayden?” David is sure his son isn’t that unreasonable but he asks anyways.
“No.” Shane feels even worse as his father’s eyebrows furrowed.
“What about when you told Rose?” David asks again, with an eyebrow raised.
“No…” Shane grimaces at himself. He was in the wrong. The whole time. He thought he was only in the wrong when he pushed his boyfriend.
“Kid, Ilya has a point.” David sighs. “How’d it end up getting physical?”
“I was getting myself ready to leave and he came up to me.” Shane replays the events in his head. “He kept getting closer to me and I kinda just freaked.” Shane says, holding his head in his hands. He can feel the tears wetting his palms.
David shakes his head. “I understand you were overstimulated but holy. You know probably half of what he’s been through Shane. That should be more than enough for you to know now to put your hands on him, or anybody.” He lectures, absolutely lost.
Shane nods in agreement. “I know dad.” He says in a small voice.
—--
Yuna finally gets Ilya responsive…ish. He’s humming back to her questions or answering in Russian. It is clear that Ilya is not in the right headspace right now. Somebody needs to get out of the house. She doesn’t want to leave either of her sons here alone.
“Do you want to go to my house Ilya?” Yuna asks, knowing she was likely going to take him anyways. He was in no state to be making decisions.
“Mhm.” Ilya hummed back.
Every actual word Ilya tries to get out it felt like he was being strangled, again. He tried to say “Is fine.” and all he heard was “Ленивый.” He tried to say “I am okay.” and all he heard was “Тупой.” He feels possessed. As if his father was taking control of his body.
“I’m sorry.” Managed to be the only English words he could get out with a sob.
Yuna doesn’t say anything, she holds his hand and sits him down at the island.
“Get Ilya a bag ready. You’re staying here with Shane.” She texts David.
*David liked “Get Ilya a bag ready. You’re staying here with Shane.”* The notification panned across her screen.
Yuna takes the car and brings Ilya back to her and David’s home while David stays with Shane at Ilya’s. They both needed some space.