silveredsailor



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    “I don’t want anyone to know,” Shane says quietly. Saying it out loud makes his throat tight.

    Evan nods like that’s nothing. “Me neither. We can keep it private.”

    Private. Discreet. The words settle over Shane like a promise. For a second, he thinks of Ilya. Of hotel rooms and locked doors and the way secrecy used to feel safe instead of suffocating.

    “I just need to-“ Shane trails off, shaking his head. “Forget something.”

    Evan studies him, gaze lingering. “I can help with that.”

    -

    After Vegas, Ilya is distant, completely ignoring Shane. Shane is hurt and decides to try moving on, which ends in a horrifying, terrible disaster.

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    03 Aug 2026

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    After months of being ghosted by Ilya, Shane gets horrible news about his health. At the age of 23 he gets diagnosed with Stage 4 Hodgkin's Lymphoma. He is supported by his friends and family and yet he cannot stop thinking of his rival. But he and Ilya have never been more disconnected, so he resigns himself to fighting this without Ilya in his life.

    Ilya knows he was an asshole last Spring. Shane has been ignoring him all summer. But he figures that once he's back in North America and the season starts, he'll be able to get back in Shane's good graces. And then Montreal announces that they have placed Shane Hollander on Long Term Injured Reserve and he panics.

    ---

    Canon Divergence after Episode 2.

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    03 Aug 2026

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    Shane lingered in the doorway, holding out for the chance that any second now Rosanov would come around the corner and lead Shane back to his bed. That he would help with the feeling of despair and emptiness that had hit Shane the moment Rosanov had taken his hands off Shane and reached for his damn pack of cigarettes.

    Refusing to look at him. Refusing to touch him, the space between their bodies felt like it was ten miles wide even as Shane could feel Rosanov’s cum drying on his skin. Usually, Rosanov would at least clean him up before ending their nights together, but apparently Shane wasn’t even worth that courtesy anymore. There was a sudden feeling of hotness behind his eyes at that thought.

    AKA a post-episode two subdrop fix-it fic

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    03 Aug 2026

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    “I get kind of–” Shane makes a little whining noise in the back of his throat, tips his head toward the ceiling for a moment before looking back at Ilya. “I hate those fucking press conferences. I hate them, Roz, and sometimes it just feels like too much and I can’t–” One hand goes up to run through his hair, already a little mussed, and Shane gives it a slight tug, making a frustrated noise that Ilya hasn’t heard before.

    And Ilya decides that’s enough.

    - or, a post-game press conference makes shane hit his breaking point. ilya goes after him. 

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    03 Aug 2026

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    “Hollander.” Shane’s head snaps back to his left. Ilya is much closer, pace slightly hurried. “Come here.” His voice sort of mimics the way one would talk to an animal paralyzed in fight-or-flight. Shane is not sure what to make of that.

    He slowly turns his head in the opposite direction, where his vision tunnels on the door for the stairwell. It almost glows like a special item in a video game, like a hint. Without giving himself time to doubt, he bolts.

    “Wha- Hollander, what the fuck!” Ilya shouts in audible disbelief, and Shane distinctly hears matching thuds of frantic footsteps behind him; Ilya is chasing after him. Shane runs faster, positively sprinting at this point. He’s the fastest skater in the NHL right now. He can do this. He flings the door open and bounds down the steps two at a time, hitting the walls with each turn of a corner. If he eats shit on this filthy floor and embarrasses himself in front of Ilya, he thinks, he’ll never let himself see the light of day ever again.

    or alternatively, in which Shane accidentally sends the text, and Ilya chases after him. Like, actually chases after him.

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    03 Aug 2026

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