nadezza



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    This is a love letter to the all the millenials like me who played it too careful and forgot to enjoy our youth. Shane and Ilya, enjoy it for me, do good. Fuck it good, fuck it right. Life is too short to live it scared.

    The arena is too loud.
    That’s the first thing Shane notices; not the ice, not the lights, not the jersey on his shoulders that suddenly feels wrong in a way he can’t articulate. The sound hits him like pressure, like something physical, a wall of noise that vibrates in his chest.
    He’s already bent over for the faceoff when it hits him- skates set, stick down, weight forward. His body is exactly where it’s supposed to be even if his brain is still skidding uselessly, trying to catch traction.
    There’s only a split second before the puck drops.
    It stretches.
    He lifts his eyes.
    Ilya.
    Young. So fucking young. Is he dreaming? Not worn by years of hockey, travel, interviews and losses and victories that stack so high they blur together. He’s young again; sharp boned, bright eyed, unable to grow a beard to save his life. Bears black and gold instead of Centaurs red. 'If I look down am I going to be pantsless too?' He thought absently, no way this was real... right?

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    Chapters:
    20/?
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    24 Feb 2026