Chapter Text
He still gets flashes of the incident. It’s strange because they’re not actual memories, he was unconscious for nearly all of it so that’s not really possible. It’s like the combination of him obsessively watching clips of himself getting slammed into the boards and the idea of his accident have combined into haunting images that float around like memories.
Sometimes though, he wakes up and forgets his new reality completely. Like today, his dreams took him far away to a place where he was facing off against Ilya. It wasn’t until he sat up in bed that he remembered his hand barely functions and one more hit to the head would be catastrophic. Shane will never face off against Ilya again. And that really fucking sucks.
He’s not stupid, he knows moping around and constantly reliving the injury that ended his career is a bad idea, but he has no other ideas for his life. Hockey was it. His mom gets it to an extent, but she won’t stop pushing. Now that they don’t have Shane’s hockey skill acting as a wall between them, most conversations get heated.
You could continue modelling Shane.
You could increase your social media presence Shane.
You could write a book, you used to love writing, Shane.
You could at least pick up a new hobby Shane.
You could return to and work for the Metros Shane. Just not as a player.
All of her ideas were exhausting to entertain and Shane found himself avoiding his parents more and more. In his isolation returns the unfortunate habit of finding the most punishing piece of media currently available to consume. Today’s poison was a Boston game because of course there’s a Boston game on the 6 month anniversary of his injury.
——
Three days later, Shane is doing the same thing- sprawling on the couch, a bag of chips because diets don’t matter for rich recluses and a Boston game that he can watch as jealously overwhelms him. Rozanov gets to play hockey even when Shane can’t. It doesn’t make sense but Shane feels like Rozanov shouldn’t be allowed to play if Shane can’t. They started at the same time, they’ve been compared their whole careers, Rozanov will win more awards simply because he’s able and they used to be so… close. So yeah, Shane will continue down his obsessive dark path.
Partway through the game, his eyes glaze over and his mind wanders to a different kind of obsession. He watches Rozanov’s games to make himself feel pitiful but he rereads their texts and revisits memories for contentment. Shane really just doesn’t want to experience the numbness of his life falling apart so he seeks emotional pain because it’s easy to achieve. This more positive Rozanov obsession however, makes Shane want to respond to the many texts Rozanov sent wishing him well, checking in, trying to be funny etc. He knows it’s because he cares about Rozanov in a special way. He’s had plenty of time to consider this in the last six months.
That was a side effect of injury Shane wasn’t sure how to feel about. His life wasn’t chaotic anymore so he had time to sit with his thoughts and sort through feelings. This is how he knows he’s gay. That was part of a thorough mental breakdown during month three of recovery.
So, Shane the gay-not-hockey-player Hollander opens his phone and thinks up an apology for not answering Rozanov’s messages and then requests a ticket to the Tampa/Montreal game from Theriault instead. He can’t go after his rival turned crush, that’s ridiculous, so he’s going to punish himself by watching his team function perfectly fine without him instead.
——
Shane sits in the Bell Centre with his chin resting on his hands and an empty seat on either side of him. He cheers when appropriate and puts on his best Canadian boy smile when the Jumbotron inevitably finds him. Montreal is winning but Shane is struggling to pay attention as he fights the urge to cry. Luckily, intermission hits and Shane can properly zone out as the crowd dissipates.
His attempt to fully dissociate is broken by a body sitting next to him. He desperately hopes that they’re about to realize they’re in the wrong seat when the person draws his attention.
“Shane Hollander. Elliot LeClaire,” he sticks out his hand and Shane’s head finally snaps to the mystery person. Shane reciprocates the handshake but words fail him.
“I’ll get right down to it. I’ve noticed you may be looking for a job and I have an offer.”
Shane’s brain short circuits. “I- you- what?” He stumbles out.
LeClaire lets out a light, kind laugh. “I want you to come coach for Boston, Shane. It’s no secret Montreal didn’t treat you right after the injury and in Boston, we take care of our people.”
“I wasn’t planning on coaching at all, let alone in Boston. Regardless of what you may think happened in Montreal, I wouldn’t coach their direct rivals.” It came out bitchy-er than Shane intended but in his defense he’s pretty damn tired and was just presented with one of the most ridiculous offers of all time.
“Hmm, I respect the loyalty,” LeClaire offers. “But Shane, you are still young. You said that coaching isn’t the plan, so what is it? That’s not something you have to answer to me but I strongly urge you to put together a future worth living.”
Shane sits in silence. He wasn’t expecting life direction from the Bears Coach today. Or ever.
“Here’s my card,” LeClaire says as he stands.
And just like that, Elliot LeClaire is gone as quickly as he appeared.
——
Shane spends the next day trying to shrug off the conversation. He cannot possibly take the offer seriously but it won’t stop haunting him. This is how Shane ends up properly exercising for the first time in a while. Exercise always worked wonders to stop his overthinking and he realizes that that doesn’t have to stop just because he’s not a professional athlete anymore.
He finishes what would normally be a fairly easy workout beyond drained and collapses onto the couch. He picks up his phone and ignores 4 messages from his mom. He wants to scroll right now, not be berated about turning into a failure. Just as he’s settling in, JJ calls and Shane can’t help but let out a huff of displeasure.
“JJ, what up?” He says after begrudgingly picking up the phone because he’s a good friend.
“Hollanderrr, what the fuck are you doing right now?”
“I was about to-“
“Bullshit. Get your ass to the mile end baby! My buddy Francois the chef- remember him?- he’s having an after hours thing at his restaurant and get this-“
“JJ…”
“The cast of the X-Squad movie they’re filming in town is here!”
“JJ, I’m not-“
“I don’t care! Get down here! You remember the restaurant right? La Tambour? I trust I’ll see you there Cap.” And the Bastard hangs up without actually letting Shane answer at all. Well, JJ’s not a bastard at all. He’s sweet and he’s the only one that consistently loops Shane in. It’s just that he, a celebrity only to sports people who is also the biggest letdown in recent years, does not belong at some after hours event with actual famous people. But, he would really like to meet the cast of X-Squad. And JJ is already expecting him. He has to go.
He grabs socially acceptable party clothing from his closet and throws it on. He still thinks he looks like someone who stole someone else’s clothing and decided to wear it out. Whatever, he’s not gonna decide not to go just because he looks dumb.
——
It’s easy to blend in at the restaurant and maintain the persona of someone who’s allowed to be here. It’s loud in the way it gets when you’re in a room full of happy people but not locker room loud. It makes him feel okay about coming out tonight.
He’s spent a while chatting with JJ and company- well, JJ was talking a lot and Shane stood next to him making appropriate noises and comments- so he thinks it’s okay if he goes and sits by himself for a while.
He does a penguin shuffle across the room and past the bar while intently looking at the floor to avoid that strange bartender. Maybe he should pull his eyes off the floor and search for attractive men, it’s probably fine, no one will care what he does once he slips into full irrelevance.
As he lets himself spiral through possible scenarios and consequences of the night he plops into a booth where the happy people bustle is a little quieter. Fortunately, he’s interrupted by a voice.
“Are you here to help me finish these fries? They’re sooo good but if I keep going I’m not going to fit into my costume.”
“Holy shit. You’re Rose Landry. I’m a huge fan.”
“Would you believe me if I said same?”
From there the conversation deepens to family and hockey and before Shane knows it, he’s having honest to god fun.
“So, what do you do outside of hockey Shane Hollander?” Rose asks, flirtatiously whilst reaching a hand across the table and resting it on top of Shane’s.
Shane pulls away like she’s on fire and blurts, “I’m gay. Oh… uhh,” and then swirls his head around to make sure no one heard. No one except the straight up stranger sitting in front of him who hasn’t said anything yet. Granted it’s been like two seconds but that’s two whole seconds of catastrophizing Shane has done. He moves to clasp his hands in front of him on the table and rest his forehead on them.
“Sorry, “ she starts, “I didn’t know. I’m so sorry I made you uncomfortable. I can- I can go,” she gestures over her shoulder as Shane peaks his eyes up.
“No, no, it’s fine. You had no way of knowing. Nobody knows. You didn’t do anything wrong.”
“Oh, yeah I didn’t think there were any like… out players in hockey but definitely panicked and thought I missed something there.”
“No, yeah, it’s fine. I’m sorry I just spewed my secrets at you,” Shane says, honestly pretty mortified.
“Well, you said no one knows so now you can tell me. Who do you love, what exes do we hate?”
The sheer panic subsides but uncertainty washes over Shane. “Umm.”
“I’m kidding, by the way,” Rose says with a hint of mischief in her eye, “you don’t have to tell me anything unless you feel like it.” With the last bit the look in her eye shifts to sincerity. The kind of look his mom has when they talk.
“Actually, that’d be nice,” and Shane knows it really will be nice to get everything off his chest.
——
They go a few blocks down to a park. It’s got those string lights streaking back and forth in between trees and a pond where the water gently laps up against its stone barrier.
The two of them revert back to discussing whatever random topics fall upon them until Shane clears his throat and starts a sentence with “so, there’s this guy…” and he finds himself telling her all about Ilya (without mentioning the name of course). He tells her about figuring out his sexuality, accidently falling too hard and even the job offer while she tells him about gay boyfriends and awful co-stars.
Rose goes quiet for a moment, seemingly considering something. “You know Shane, if you like this guy so much and he’s in Boston and you have a good job offer in Boston, then I think it might be time for a move to Boston. There’s a lot of life left to live, Shane Hollander, and you better go live it.”
At the end of the night, he has a movie star’s phone number and a plan that might give his mother a heart attack.