Rating:

Teen And Up Audiences

Archive Warning:

No Archive Warnings Apply

Category:

M/M

Fandom:

Heated Rivalry (TV)

Relationships:

Shane Hollander/Ilya Rozanov, Shane Hollander & Svetlana Vetrova

Additional Tags:

Injury, Medical Inaccuracies, Minor Angst, Svetlana is a good friend, Hockey Coach Shane Hollander

Language:

English

Series:

Part 5 of "second chances" universe

Stats:

Published: 2026-03-16 Words: 2,044 Chapters: 1/1

i've got headaches

Summary

once in a while, Shane gets hit with some symptoms from his career-ending injury. the bruins (including Ilya) are heading out on a road trip.

Notes

this concussion and its long term symptoms have been dramatized for this story- i combined the experiences of a few different people.

usual tldr for the rest of the series: shane is an assistant coach of the bruins because he got a concussion that forced him to quit playing, and ilya is still on the team. and they are in love!

Fucking hell. Not this. Again. 

It was a bad symptom day, and Shane could tell from the moment he woke up. He didn’t get days like this as often as he used to, but the chances of it happening were never zero. Sometimes it triggered if he bumped his head, even all he did was walk into a door or open the wrong cabinet too fast. It used to happen all the time from his parents’ kitchen- they had a ridiculous chandelier in the shape of a bird that hung over the table, waiting for someone to stand up from dinner too fast while leaning too far forward, and bam. The headache by the next day would be as predictable as the slush and ice on Ottawa’s roads. 

This time, Shane wasn’t even sure what had done it. For all he knew, he could’ve slept walked into the wall. But one thing he did know was that he wasn’t going to be able to spend much time out of bed or off the couch. He was going to need his apartment to be as dark as possible. And he needed silence. Even the sound of his phone buzzing was like a hammer to his skull. 

If he did those things, the symptoms would start to fade over the next couple days. If they didn’t, he’d have to go to the doctor. 

Worst of all, he was going to have to miss the Bruins’ first road trip of the season. 

He bit down on a towel as he typed out the email to the other coaches, the light from the computer screen sending tears trailing down his cheeks as his head pounded from every side. He couldn’t even find it within him to be overly apologetic- he wrote just enough to communicate the message before shutting the computer down. 

His phone buzzed, and he immediately shut it off to make the noise stop. It had been too much already. 

Some time later, as Shane drifted in and out of consciousness from his spot on the couch, there was a soft knock and the sound of a key turning in the door. Shane had given Ilya a key to his new apartment in the North End when he’d moved there over the summer, because he was utterly and completely in love with Ilya and wanted him to come over whenever possible. He’d also just wanted Ilya to have something of his, something he could keep in his pocket and run his fingers over when he couldn’t touch Shane for real. 

But in this moment, Shane realized that as far as Ilya knew, Shane was completely fine and planned to walk over to the Garden with him for the last practice before their road trip. He hadn’t touched his phone since turning it off earlier, too overwhelmed to even think about updating Ilya. 

Shane knew all of this logically, but logic was not his friend when he was in pain. And the sounds of Ilya even just opening the door had shattered what little peace he had achieved, turning the dial up on his headache once again. 

Then, Ilya turned on a light. 

The room spun as Shane’s vision blurred. He clapped a hand over his eyes and turned toward where Ilya seemed to be standing. 

“Shane?” Shane could hear the worry in Ilya’s voice even through his headache. However, he didn’t much care. 

“Turn that the fuck off, Rozanov.” 

Ilya didn’t move, just looking at Shane and likely taking in the drawn blackout curtains. 

“Hurry up, oh my god.” Shane ducked his head away from Ilya as the light finally turned off. 

He could feel Ilya crossing the room over to him, familiar enough with Shane’s apartment to make his way across in the dark. “What do you need?” His voice, usually Shane’s favorite sound in the world, grated away at Shane’s brain. 

“Just get out. Please.” 

“But-” 

“Please, you’re making it worse. Fucking get OUT.” Shane buried his head in the couch cushions, listening as Ilya slowly did what he’d said. The door clicked behind him, and Shane took deep breaths, willing away the dizziness he’d given himself from yelling. 

He was in too much pain to feel guilty. 

 

A few days later, Shane’s symptoms had improved, and he was feeling extremely guilty. So guilty, in fact, that he was putting off turning his phone back on. He’d snapped at Ilya as if he’d been some kind of nosy neighbor. He’d missed the road trip, which the Bruins were all on now. He’d gone completely MIA. 

Finding no excuse to put it off any longer, Shane turned his phone back on. There was only one text from Ilya- a heart emoji, sent several hours after Shane had yelled at him- likely after the Bruins had finished their practice and assembled their gear for the road trip. 

Looking at that one emoji made him tear up. He was still a little on edge. With a glance at the clock- the Bruins wouldn’t be getting ready for their game yet- he called Ilya. 

Ilya didn’t answer. 

Panic coursed through Shane. Should he text an apology instead? Was Ilya angry enough to ignore a text from him? You deserve it, he thought, you told him he was making it worse. 

Shane tried to take deep breaths. Maybe Ilya just couldn’t answer right now. Shane sent him a quick call me when you can text before going back to wondering what he could do for Ilya that would make up for his behavior. 

Maybe Ilya needed a big gesture. But the problem was, Ilya was the one who was good at coming up with big gestures. Shane, on the other hand, was coming up empty. 

Then, Shane had a thought. He could join the Bruins on their road trip now. Sure, it made little sense and would be more trouble than it was worth to fly out at this point, but he would see Ilya earlier. He could apologize in person. He rubbed at his temples, trying to assess if his head was really okay enough to make it through a flight to- where were they again? Shane glanced at the calendar he’d hung on the wall. Montreal. 

He could do it. 

He was pulling up flight options when there was a knock at the door. 

He frowned, wondering if maybe someone was lost, or if a neighbor downstairs needed something. He opened the door.

“Svetlana?” 

She tossed a pair of sunglasses at him. “Get your shoes on, Hollander. We’re going for a drive.” 

Shane was too confused to argue. 

Svetlana drove him to Borderland State Park, a historic mansion surrounded by relaxed hiking trails and a picturesque pond. In one area, the trees had grown towards each other rather than up, shading the path below them with their curved trunks. It made for some built-in sun protection and a gorgeous walk. 

For a while, Shane and Svetlana walked in silence. They liked that about each other- that they could take the time to say anything they needed, knowing it would all get said in the end. 

They did one lap around the pond, then another. Shane was finding that the fresh air was shrinking the sense of panic he’d felt before, making him realize that getting on a plane before he felt well enough all to apologize to Ilya in person might not be the best option.  

Finally, Svetlana broke the silence. “He could not answer you earlier because he was with the team. He warned me yesterday that this might happen, that he would be unable to talk because he did not want someone to overhear him.” 

“How-”

“The other coaches told the team you were sick. Ilya called me, told me to come take you outside when you felt better. He had a plan ready- he knew he would not be able to take care of you like this, but he could tell me and I would do it.” 

“Svetlana,” Shane said, trying to speak around the lump in his throat, “thank you.” 

Svetlana bumped his shoulder. “It is really terrible, coming out here to this beautiful place.” 

“So did he text you when he couldn’t pick up my call?” 

“Yes.” 

Shane turned to her. “Did you drop everything you were doing to pick me up?” 

Svetlana shrugged. “I was not doing much.” 

Shane would have to buy her flowers after this. Or maybe some nice vodka. He’d have to ask Ilya which one she’d prefer. 

He imagined walking down this path with Ilya, tangling their fingers together as they looked for frogs jumping along the shallow edges of the pond. He imagined kissing Ilya’s cheek when a ray of sunlight caught his hair at just the right angle. He closed his eyes, letting himself want more than he would ever allow himself to have. 

When he opened his eyes again, he sighed. “I didn’t even tell him how bad it can get.” 

“He put that together,” Svetlana said, crunching a leaf under her sleek boot. “Why not?”

“I guess I just hope it’ll be better. Every time.” Shane adjusted the sunglasses on his face. “It already ruined the career I thought I’d have. I don’t want it to take away anything else.” 

“Like what?” 

“My job. Ilya.” 

“It won’t.” Svetlana tapped her head with a finger, as if to say don’t question me. It reminded Shane of his mom. “Half those guys you coach did not go to college and you still have them studying for every game, and they do it. Because it works. They will do what you have trained them to do. And they will not forget everything just because you miss a few games.” She laughed to herself. “Ilya won’t let them.” 

“I-”

“And Ilya? Hollander, you could not chase him out of your life with an axe.” 

Pain coursed through Shane’s chest, and it had nothing to do with his concussion. He missed Ilya so much. 

“But what will you do when you live together? Will you lock him out of your home when this happens?” 

Shane stopped. “Live together? Has he-” 

“He has not said anything to me. But he doesn’t have to.” Svetlana looked to the sky with an expression Shane hoped wasn’t exasperation. “If this is something you want, it will happen. He will not be the one to stop it.” She gave Shane a pointed look. 

But Shane wasn’t looking at her anymore. He was lost in thought, gazing out at the pond, his eyes tracking a paddle boat in the distance that kept turning in circles as a laughing couple tried to set it straight. 

Svetlana nudged his shoulder. “Let’s keep walking, yes?”

 

Shane’s headaches were gone by the time the Bruins returned from their road trip. He’d talked to Ilya and started to apologize before Ilya shushed him and told him he was just happy Shane was feeling better. 

Ilya had gone to his own apartment and dropped off his luggage before walking over to Shane’s- they figured despite their publicly acknowledged friendship they might still get some looks of suspicion if anyone saw Ilya carting his suitcase to Shane’s door. 

But as Shane embraced Ilya, barely letting him take one step into the apartment before wrapping him in a hug and kissing his neck, he found himself wishing that this was Ilya’s home, that there hadn’t been a stop before. That they would see each other every morning, at their best and at their worst. That they would come home to the person who understood them better than anyone else in the world. 

Shane pulled back and looked into Ilya’s eyes, just before Ilya tugged him into a kiss and whispered I love you in Russian, the syllables as familiar to Shane as the ones he spoke back in English. 

He remembered Svetlana’s words, and knew for certain that he did want this- he wanted Ilya as close as he could have him for as long as possible. In a shared home, a shared bed, a shared life. 

It wouldn’t be possible right now. It would take patience, resilience, and courage. At times, it might even be painful. 

It would be worth it.