Rating:

Teen And Up Audiences

Archive Warning:

No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories:

F/M, M/M

Fandoms:

Heated Rivalry (TV), Game Changers Series - Rachel Reid

Relationships:

Shane Hollander/Hayden Pike, Shane Hollander/Ilya Rozanov, Hayden Pike/Jackie Pike

Characters:

Hayden Pike, Shane Hollander, Ilya Rozanov, Jackie Pike

Additional Tags:

POV Hayden Pike, Hanahaki Disease, mild body horror, Illnesses, Requited Unrequited Love, Texting, Polyamory, brief mention of internet comment homophobia

Language:

English

Collections:

Heated Rivalry Bingo

Stats:

Published: 2025-12-28 Words: 6,268 Chapters: 1/1

A Dozen Forget-Me-Nots

Summary

Hayden coughs up the first petals the night Shane's trade to Ottawa is announced.

Hayden doesn't have hanahaki and if he does, it's purely platonic and if it's not, nobody ever has to know. Especially not Shane.

Notes

i asked "who would be funnier with hanahaki, shane or ilya?" and lugarn, chaos0pikachu, and cryptidafter all said "hayden." and they were so right about that.

written for the hanahaki square for heated rivalry bingo.

i can also be found on tumblr at technicallyverycowboy.

Hayden coughs up the first petals the night Shane's trade to Ottawa is announced.

**

The easiest and first thing Hayden does is to pretend it never happened. It was just a particularly vivid nightmare brought on by his crushing guilt over accidentally outing Shane and Ilya, or maybe a really weird visual metaphor for how Montreal's dogshit treatment of the greatest player they've ever had has killed a part of Hayden's love for the team.

(This does not explain the crumpled petal he finds next to the toilet, glued to the tile by a rusty crust of dried blood. Hayden soaks a washcloth in hot water and scrubs it away and that's the problem solved. Like it was never there at all.)

**

Hayden: are u sick of rozanov yet? i can be there in two hours

Shane: very funny :P

Hayden: dude i am so serious. rozanov AND ottawa? no one deserves that

Shane: it's my home town. i like it.

Hayden: if you say so. just remember that i will drop everything including one of my kids to come rescue you

Shane: thanks, buddy.

**

Summer cushions some of the blow from Shane's absence because it's very easy for Hayden to pretend that it's just like any other summer.

Shane has to lock himself away in the cottage for four to six weeks to decompress from the season, during which he will text Hayden every two days and call him once a week. You could set a clock by those messages. And Hayden's busy, too, with four children that have both boundless energy and terrifying cunning. He loves them so fucking much and he pours himself into the uninterrupted days to try and make up for the many, many times he's gone.

He doesn't forget about the petals, forgetting is too strong of a word, but they do settle in the back of his mind with the other things Hayden doesn't feel like thinking about. Once or twice he wakes up from dreams of coughing up thick, glistening handfuls of flowers with his chest burning. But dreams are weird like that.

He accidentally wakes Jackie up once and feels nauseatingly guilty as she hands him a glass of water and rubs her palm up and down his back. She asks, "Are you getting sick?" and presses the back of her hand to his forehead.

Hayden chugs the water and says, "Nah, I'm fine, just a bad dream."

"Want to talk about it?"

"No, I don't even really remember it now," Hayden says, which is lie which is something he doesn't do with Jackie.

**

The second time Hayden coughs up petals is the day Shane sends the details for his and Ilya's wedding to the group chat: July, at the cottage, they're wearing suits but Shane doesn't care what guests wear.

Jackie's in the back yard with the twins and Arthur, so the only person who sees Hayden's reaction is Amber. He's trying to get her down for a nap and not having a ton of success because she's hated napping from the moment she was born. Hayden's pretty sure she just doesn't want to miss anything, which he can respect.

He doesn't think he's having an emotional reaction about the wedding thing — and why would he, he's known it was coming for months — until he stands up and his throat suddenly clogs up with something hideously thick and wet.

He lays Amber down in her crib and bolts for the nearest bathroom. He nearly kills himself tripping over a net bag of bathtub toys and hits both knees onto the tile with a painful crack that jolts pain up his thighs. He gags and coughs until his eyes water and he's got snot running down his face; when he can finally breathe again, there are more than dozen blue petals floating in water dyed a delicate pink.

"Fuck me," Hayden murmurs. He reaches in and grasps one petal between his thumb and first finger. He lays it in his palm and kneels there in his kids' bathroom for a long time, staring at the fucking thing.

**

Shane: just so you know, the only reason i didn't ask you to be my best man is because we're not doing wedding parties. if we were, you're the only one i'd want.

Hayden: thanks man

Shane: you're the best friend i've ever had, hayd.

Hayden: you too

Shane: :)

Shane: how's everyone?

Shane: how're you?

**

Hayden spends an hour looking at pictures of flowers and comparing them to the petals. The flowers he's coughing up are, he's pretty fucking sure, forget-me-nots. He reads the name twice.

"You've gotta be fucking kidding me. Goddamnit."

**

He spends several more hours over the course of the next couple days Googling:

- flower disease, which brings up lot of information about aphids and root rot
- coughing up flowers, which brings up something called hanahaki
- hanahaki not in love, which brings up approximately fuck all except for reddit posts saying if you've got hanahaki and think you aren't in unrequited love with someone you're wrong
- hanahaki cure, which he gets six pages deep into results looking for anything that isn't tell the person you love them

After that, he decides he doesn't want to know more and stops looking.

**

When Montreal first drafted Shane, Hayden hadn't been sure what to expect from the wunderkind from Ottawa.

Hayden had spent a normal amount of time thinking about Shane that summer, aware that they were likely going to be on the same line and thus spend even more time together than typical teammates already did. Shane had come across as a little awkward in his interviews, which Hayden thought was kind of endearing. He'd take bad on camera over an overconfident teenager believing junior talent guaranteed professional dominance.

He figured that, at worst, he'd be saddled with a distant and vaguely superior asshole and Hayden could handle that.

On that first day of training, Hayden found six feet of quiet anxiety, laser focused dedication, and mildly awkward sincerity in the stall next to him. Hayden's first thought was: freckles, nice.

**

The wedding is just -- so fucking beautiful.

Hayden can admit that. It really is. The food is good and the music is good and there's dancing and laughing and joy. Hell, even the Centaurs are nice to Hayden and JJ, even though they're the only Metros present.

And at the center of it all is Shane and Rozanov, who are so obviously, deeply, truly, magically fucking in love with each other that it almost hurts to look at them. Hayden's never seen Shane's smile so bright and constant and Hayden doesn't miss the way Rozanov looks at him with wonder in his eyes. They dance to a Rihanna song. So many people cry.

Hayden stifles coughs all day and ducks around corners to spit petals into napkins until it's dark and that's not enough.

**

Hayden just barely manages to keep his mouth clamped shut until he's in the car and can swipe up an old fast food bag to catch all the petals that spew out of his mouth. It's disgusting, coughing and retching at the same time, the paper bag immediately soggy with bloody spit. Wet petals coat his tongue and the inside of his mouth and clumps land with wet plops.

Jackie slides into the driver's seat and hits the overhead light, which means Hayden can now see the blue of the petals and the red of the blood, which he's not sure he can honestly call an improvement. But he should be looking at Jackie and he just can't because she was never supposed to see this because he loves her so fucking much and she already puts up with so much shit for him.

She cracks open a water bottle and rubs his back until the coughing subsides a little. Hayden scrubs a hand over his face and notices a splatter of pink drops on the cuff of his shirt because of course he does. Fuck.

Jackie says, "It's okay," and has the grace to not even sound mad about it. Hayden nods and slumps down further into his seat. He's the worst goddamn husband on the planet and he doesn't deserve Jackie or anyone else.

An hour later, Jackie comes out of their hotel bathroom freshly showered and in an extremely old Metros tee-shirt that she's owned longer than she's known Hayden and a stolen pair of his boxers. Hayden feels a little physically improved after the steam from his own very hot shower, though his guts are twisted up with a crawling kind of shame.

Jackie sits down on the bed and takes Hayden's hands in her own. She squeezes and Hayden squeezes back.

"So, how long has this been going on?" she asks.

"Not that long," Hayden says a little too fast, even though if he counts out the days it's really, genuinely not that long. "The first time was after the season ended."

"More than a month?"

Damn, it definitely sounds longer when she says it like that. Hayden grimaces and nods. "Yeah. It was -- ah. The night they announced the trade. Shane's trade."

Jackie nods. "It is Shane, right?"

Hayden wants to fling himself into the sun. "I think so. Yeah. I'm pretty sure."

Jackie nods again. "Do you remember what I said when you asked me to marry you?"

It's so completely not the question Hayden expects that it takes him several seconds to reengage his brain and scramble up an answer. "That you loved me and to take my pants off?" Hayden might be the worst husband in the world, but of course he remembers that night, the way Jackie looked gold lit by candles.

"Before that."

Hayden stares. "Uh--"

"About Christy," Jackie prompts.

"Oh! Yeah, of course," Hayden says. "That you loved me but you and Christy have been getting tipsy and fingerbanging since you were sixteen and you wanted to marry me, but you weren't going to stop doing that."

Jackie drops one of his hands and cups his jaw in her hand. "So, please believe me when I say I'm not mad."

"I'm sorry."

"Hayden, I'm not mad."

"I am!"

Jackie leans in and kisses him and a little tension slides out of Hayden. "How about this," she says. "I'm not surprised."

Hayden blinks at her. "What do you mean?"

Jackie smiles at him, the one that's half affection and half a magnanimous kind of pity. "Babe, you've never shut up about Shane Hollander once in the ten years you've known him. He's the only teammate that when I suggested you invite him over for dinner, you were actively worried he was going to say no."

Hayden says, "Oh," and Jackie giggles. "It's not funny!"

"Hayd, baby, it's a little funny."

"My chest is full of magical flowers and you're laughing at me!"

That Hayden does mean as a joke because, objectively, it's funny that he plays "strap knives to your feet and throw your body at others" and just catches the odd ding and scrape only to get bodied by the too many fucking feelings disease. But Jackie sobers instead of laughing and Hayden feels like an ass again.

"No, that part isn't funny," Jackie says. Then, softer, "You need to tell him."

Hayden shakes his head. "No, he doesn't feel the same way, there's no point. I'll wait it out and it'll be fine."

Jackie scoots closer and wraps an arm around Hayden's shoulders. "Are you sure?"

"Yes," Hayden says and he sounds exactly as confident as he feels. Which doesn't fool either of them.

**

Image description: Candid photo of Shane and Hayden. They both have their collars unbuttoned and their sleeves rolled up. Hayden is smacking a kiss to Shane's temple and Shane is smiling with his eyes crinkled at the corner like he's been caught mid laugh.

Caption: #hollanderrozanov @ilyarozanov if you break his heart, @montrealmetrosjj and @thehaydenpike will break your legs

**

-Pike, Hayden - Appt July 26, summary

"Based on imaging, the patient is not a strong candidate for surgical intervention. Refer to psych to discuss social disclosure options."

**

Hayden: how's married life?

Shane: you were right, it is nice. i should have listened to you sooner.

**

In August, Ilya and Shane host a sort of family reunion type thing, for a value of family that includes them and Shane's parents, but also Hayden and Jackie, Rozanov's childhood friend from Russia, and Rose Landry.

It's fun. The twins are at summer camp and Jackie's mom agrees to watch Arthur and the baby, so they can just enjoy the break. Rose Landry turns out to be very funny and down to earth, she teases Shane mercilessly and tells funny stories about unnamed costars and directors. Rozanov's friend, Svetlana, is one of the most beautiful people Hayden has ever seen in person with an encyclopedic knowledge of hockey.

Dinner the first night turns into Shane, Rozanov, Hayden, Yuna Hollander, and Svetlana arguing about draft picks while David Hollander, Jackie, and Rose Landry talk about the behind the scenes drama surrounding the next X-Squad movie. Hayden almost forgets about the flower thing for a couple hours.

But then after dinner, while everyone is picking at the rest of the food and hanging out, Shane asks for another ginger ale, so Hayden goes and gets it. He comes back and hands it to Shane, and Shane smiles and says, "I'm really glad you're here." Hayden coughs.

**

Hayden mumbles something about going to get another drink and speed walks back into Shane's 5,000 square foot cottage.

The problem is he's not totally familiar with the layout (since Shane never invited Hayden over to experience his stupid fortress of solitude) so by the time he zeroes in on which door leads to a bathroom he's already got petals in his mouth and all he can do is throw the door open and bend over the toilet.

The coughing hurts. It's deep, raw, ugly barks that tear out of his chest and rip up his throat. Petals splatter into the toilet and all over the seat; several are them are fully fucking intact flowers that float like little boats. Hayden can feel blood in his teeth and that's so fucking gross and he hates it.

Rozanov says, "Jesus fucking Christ, Pike," behind him and Hayden jolts in surprise so hard he almost brains himself on the sink.

"Fuck off," Hayden croaks. Acid fear starts churning in his stomach, which feels super awesome licking fire up his fucked throat. "I'm fucking fine. Go away."

"You're not fucking fine, Pike, there is blood," Rozanov says and then he's kneeling beside Hayden on the floor of the half bath that really isn't big enough for two adult hockey players. "I think you need the fucking hospital."

The only thing Hayden wants less than to have to explain to Ilya Rozanov why he's barfing up unrequited love flowers in his bathroom is to have to explain to Ilya Rozanov why he's barfing up unrequited love flowers in the emergency room in front of an audience that includes Shane and Jackie and Yuna and David Hollander and Ilya's hot friend and Rose fucking Landry.

"I'm not sick—"

Rozanov makes an extremely derisive Russian noise. "Oh, you puke blood for fun, yes?"

"You're such an asshole," Hayden groans. "If you want to do something helpful, get me some water."

Rozanov eyes him with deep suspicion for a moment, but does stand and starts filling a cup next to the sink with water. Hayden had really been hoping he'd have to go all the way to the kitchen and give Hayden an opening to escape or, failing that, close the door and lock it, but it's fine. This is just the worst night of Hayden's life.

He rips a wad of toilet paper off the roll and wipes off his face and the toilet seat, decides he doesn't care that much about their plumbing, and flushes. There are still petals in the bowl and on the floor. Shane's going to have an aneurysm if they stain the grout.

"Here." Rozanov hands him the glass and Hayden chokes down a couple swallows. Rozanov also closes the bathroom door with him inside, then sits down on the floor next to Hayden. Which is weird.

"I don't need to be babysat," Hayden rasps. He sounds better, but only relatively. "I'm fine, I can deal with it." A beat later, he adds, "Please don't tell Shane."

Rozanov raises an eyebrow. "This is nobody loves me flower disease, right?"

Hayden cannot stop himself from rolling his eyes. "It's not nobody loves me, asshole, it's — it's one fucking particular person I have not told that I care about them. It's different."

"You are married."

"It's actually possible to love more than one person. Maybe not for you, but for some of us."
Rozanov rolls his eyes and it's just so fun that they're doing this. Hayden's so, so happy his kind, sweet best friend fell in love with one of God's perfect assholes.

"You have not told Shane," Rozanov says. It's not a question, but Hayden grudgingly shakes his head.

"I don't want to worry him."

"It's better you drop dead one day and he is surprised?"

Hayden scoffs, but the burst of adrenaline is fading and with it the warmth of irritation. What's left after that is just exhaustion. Stupid, boring, dreary exhaustion. Hayden scrubs a hand over his face and drinks the rest of the water while Rozanov studies him.

"Why do you care?" Hayden asks.

Rozanov shrugs. "I do not care, but if you die Shane will be sad. For some reason."

"You're a shitty host."

"You are a shit guest."

They sit in silence for a moment. Hayden fiddles with the glass while Rozanov stares at him like he can see through Hayden's skin and bones to the flowers blooming in the dark caverns of his lungs and follow their roots into Hayden's secret heart. Jackie does the same thing, but it's nice when it's her.

"Who is it?" Rozanov asks.

Hayden flinches. "It doesn't matter."

Rozanov's face tightens into an expression that inexplicably reminds Hayden of the footage from when Cliff fucking Marleau almost killed Shane. Hayden hadn't seen it in the moment, but he'd spent a week obsessively watching every recording he could find. Most of them cut to Rozanov's blank, shocked face at some point.

"Is it—"

"You know who it is," Hayden says.

"Shane."

Hayden nods.

He half expects Rozanov to follow that up with a swing directly into his face, but Hayden doesn't see anger in his expression so much as a weird brittleness.

"You can't have him," Rozanov says.

"No shit." And then, just to add a little extra topping on the shitshow of a night, Hayden's eyes start to burn. "I would never — he loves you, asshole. I'm never gonna tell him and neither can you."

Rozanov doesn't say a damn word.

**

Hayden: hey, sorry to dip like that, suddenly got a headache.

Shane: don't worry about it. take some painkillers and get some sleep ok?

Hayden: yes mom

**

Fucking Rozanov: this can kill you. you know this?

Fucking Rozanov: this WILL kill you. you cannot do that you have jackie and kids. they need you.

Hayden: fuck. off.

Fucking Rozanov: there must be a way.

Hayden: i'm open to fucking suggestions.

**

Unknown: hello jacki, this is ilya. i ask shane for your number.

Jackie: hi, ilya :) what's up?

Ilya Hollander: pike has told you he has thing, right? he is sick?

Jackie: ah, yes. he has.

Ilya Hollander: it is not good

Jackie: no, it's really not. he told you??

Ilya Hollander: no, no, it was an accident.

Jackie: did you tell shane?

Ilya Hollander: no, pike asked me not to.

Ilya Hollander: but i am thinking about doing it anyway.

**

Because Hayden feels like ass, it's a lot harder to stop himself from doing other things that make him feel like ass, because why the fuck not. He only scrabbles together a couple hours of sleep a night so he's got a lot of long, dark hours to fill.

Which means laying in the dark with his phone's brightness down low at two in the morning, reading Montreal sports coverage in English and French and getting mad about it. The anger is, if nothing else, slightly different to the physical pain and exhaustion and that's not nothing.

He reads articles about Shane's lack of loyalty and how anyone can understand why his teammates would have a ton of trouble trusting him after such a break of honesty. He reads threads about how Shane's lack of integrity casts doubt on what seemed like such an accomplished career. He reads an op ed about how disappointing Shane's actions are, for someone who markets himself as a responsible and mature professional.

He reads comments about how Shane is disgusting, appalling, embarrassing, putrid, a faggot, a pussy, Rozanov and/or Boston and/or Ottawa's little bitch boy, and (and this is the only one that pisses Hayden off enough to respond) that Shane's a terrible friend to the two others on his line and Pike and Broussard deserved better.

**

Hayden spends days not answering texts from Shane, playing with the kids when he can, and sitting on the couch when he can't. The fits start coming once a day, then twice a day. Jackie brings him water and says, "This can't go on, Hayden, you're dying, do you understand that?"

**

Shane: i'm worried about you. what's wrong?

Shane: please, hayden

Shane: talk to me.

**

Jackie tells him, "Get in the car," in a tone that does not invite questions so Hayden does. He falls asleep within fifteen minutes and wakes up in front of Shane's cottage. Rozanov is standing on the porch his his hands shoved into the pockets of his sweats.

"Jackie," Hayden croaks.

"Come on," Jackie says, and gets out and Hayden, again, follows.

Rozanov says, "Shane is getting groceries, we have that long to talk."

"There's nothing to talk about," Hayden insists and it's a lie, it's such a lie, he knows it's a lie with the same certainty he knows that he cannot talk about this. It'll kill him faster than the fucking flowers. Neither Jackie nor Rozanov acknowledge him, so Hayden follows them through the front door and past the kitchen to the living room.

"Sit," Jackie says. Hayden sits.

Jackie does not sit. She stands next to Rozanov and folds her arms across her chest. Hayden has not felt this cowed since the last time his parents yelled at him for breaking curfew.

"You will tell Shane what is going on tonight," Rozanov says and he sounds like a capital C captain who expects to be obeyed. Hayden's not so fucking tired that he can't bristle a little, but Rozanov cuts him off before he can say a damn word. "You are not dying because you are embarrassed. That is an asshole thing to do."

"A really asshole thing to do," Jackie agrees. "I don't care that you don't want to and I don't care that you're afraid, Hayden, I really don't. You are not leaving me and our kids to avoid having one conversation with your best friend."

"It's not that simple," Hayden says, weakly.

"It actually is--"

"It's very simple--"

Jackie and Rozanov shout at the same time and Hayden wants to curl up into a little ball and die. They're right, of course they're right, but they're also so wrong and they're so completely justified in being pissed and in yelling at him, because none of this is their fault, it's all 100% Hayden's fault because his stupid fucking feelings couldn't be content with Shane as his best friend and there's no way out of this mess and --

"I would really, really, really appreciate it," Shane says and his voice cuts all three of them off, "if someone would tell me what the hell's going on."

**

Hayden has had so, so many nightmares over the last couple months about this moment. It's both better and worse in reality.

Better, because they're sitting next to each other by the little fire pit behind the cottage rather than swirling in a dark and formless void thrumming with voices chanting about what a pathetic loser and irredeemable asshole Hayden is. The early evening light is nice and golden and the lake glints with it.

Worse because the real Shane is so much more than the best Hayden's mind can replicate. His freckles have turned browner over the summer and his hair's grown out a little bit so that it curls around his ears. He's looking at Hayden with those big, brown eyes with obvious, sincere concern. He's probably never going to want to spend time around Hayden again.

"Do you know what hanahaki is?" Hayden asks.

"The flower thing?"

"Yeah."

Shane nods, his brow creased. "Yeah, my mom told me about it. My grandma had it when she was young."

"Your grandma had it?" Hayden repeats with genuine curiosity.

"Yes, she fell in love with my grandpa but he was dating someone else, so she thought there was no chance." Shane says the words with a touch of sing-song roteness to it. Hayden can hear Yuna in the recitation. "But her best friend told my grandpa and he realized he liked her back and they got married."

"That's sweet as hell," Hayden says, pretending his eyes aren't stinging. It's a fucking romantic story.

Shane nods. "Why do you ask?" His brow is still creased in confusion.

Hayden closes his eyes for a moment because he knew there was never really a chance that Shane wouldn't need some of it spelled out. If Shane were anything other than what he is, Hayden wouldn't be in this position.

"I have it," Hayden says. "It's why I didn't say goodbye before we left your wedding and why we left the barbeque party early."

"Are you okay?" Shane asks, leaning forward as his eyes scan over Hayden's face. One of his hands darts out, but doesn't land. It just hovers there in mid-air. "Does it hurt?"

"Hey, calm down," Hayden says, half to himself. "It's not -- it's not good, but I'm fine right now. Okay? Take a breath."

Shane does. "I'm sorry." He pauses for a moment and Hayden sees the important question come to him. "Who -- who is it? The person you love?"

Hayden gives God and/or the universe five seconds to come through for him and open up a hole in the Earth, but nothing happens, and Hayden steels himself. The only way out is through and, if nothing else, at least it'll be over. Selfishly, he's tired.

"It's you."

Shane blinks at him. "It's you? Me? It's me?"

Hayden nods.

Shane blinks at him again. "But you're not gay."

Now Hayden blinks at him. "That's what you have to say?"

Color blossoms on Shane's cheeks. "You're not!"

"Neither is Ilya!"

"That's true." The color on Shane's cheeks deepen and he looks down at his hands. "What does -- what does that mean?"

"I love you!" Hayden says, too loud and too fast, and the words fucking echo out over the lake so probably anyone within a hundred kilometers hears. Hayden covers his face with his hands and turns his head away from Shane because no thanks, he doesn't want to see the pity or the distaste or the hurt.

(He feels something happen in his chest that's not quite painful.)

"You mean that?" Shane asks.

Hayden nods without moving his hands.

"Please look at me." Shane's fingers wrap gently around his wrist and Hayden jumps. Off the ice, Shane is not a physical person. Hayden can probably count on two hands the number of times Shane has initiated physical touch between them when neither are wearing skates.

Hayden allows his hand to be tugged away and shifts back toward Shane. It takes a couple additional seconds to force his eyes open.

"Hi," Shane says.

He doesn't look angry. Not that Shane has a temper like that, most of the time. But he also doesn't look upset and after ten years of rooming with Shane Hollander on away trips, Hayden knows how easily little things he doesn't expect can snowball in pissy moods.

"Hi," Hayden says. "I'm so sorry."

"Don't be -- you don't have to be sorry." Shane's fingers stay wrapped around Hayden's wrist and it's a little distracting. "I'm not mad."

"You'd be justified."

Shane rolls his eyes at that and a wet little chuckle bubbles out of Hayden's chest. "You're being serious, right?" he asks.

Hayden fishes his wallet out of his pocket and extracts the kleenex he folded around the one petal he saved. The blue color has faded to something much more delicate and it's smashed flat, but it's there. Shane peers down at it with an expression that Hayden can't entirely suss out. He reaches out, too, but stops his hand before his fingers actually touch.

"I know it's not fresh, but give me a couple minutes and there'll probably be more."

"Won't it stop?" Shane asks, his voice sharp with concern. "Since you told me?"

"God, I hope so. I think I have to bring up everything that's in there now, still."

"I'm sorry," Shane says. "I never meant to hurt you."

Hayden shakes his head. "No, Shane, you didn't do anything. None of this is your fault. This is all me."

"Because you love me."

"Yeah," Hayden sighs. "Because I love you."

Shane cocks his head. "I love you, too."

"Shut the fuck up," Hayden absolutely does not yell.

**

Hayden is pacing on the other side of the firepit when Jackie and Rozanov come casually busting out of the cottage. Shane's, calmly, still sitting and, calmly, listening to Hayden and, calmly, turns and waves like everything is normal.

"Stop shouting," Rozanov says. "You will scare the loons."

"Fuck the loons!" Hayden knows he's shouting and he can't fucking help it.

Rozanov stands behind Shane and puts his hands on Shane's shoulders. Jackie sits on the arm of the bench. "Maybe we should take a breath?" she suggests, calmly.

Hayden throws up his hands. "Have you all been replaced by pod people! What is going on!"

"You know I love you," Shane says. "Or I thought you knew I love you."

"As a friend!"

Shane cranes his neck to glance at Ilya and something passes between them. Shane then looks at Jackie and something wordless passes between them too and is this a prank? Is this some bizarre social media thing for the Centaurs that he's gotten roped into? Did he actually get cracked on the head at the last game and he's been in a coma for two and a half months?

"I thought so for a long time," Shane says. "But it's been more than that for a long time, I realized."

Hayden stills and narrows his eyes. "And how did you come to this realization?"

Shane's face colors a little. "I talked to Ilya. And Jackie."

"You motherfuckers," Hayden hisses.

"You will live now, you're welcome," Rozanov says.

"Someone had to say something." Jackie shrugs. "And you weren't going to."

And there are so, so many things Hayden could say that and wants to say to that, but when he opens his mouth to say them all that comes out is a deep, wet cough. He thinks god fucking damnit, then bends in half and starts hacking up petals.

**

It's possibly the worst fit he's had. It's like long fingernails are clawing at his lungs and scraping runnels into his throat and there are so many fucking petals and whole flowers and long stringy bits that he's never seen before. His knees give and he's on his hands and knees and there are hands on his shoulders and pounding against his back and voices in his ears.

And there's Shane's mouth against his ear. "It's okay, you're okay. I love you, Hayd, you're okay."

**

An hour later, it's twilight and there's a fire in the firepit. Hayden's sitting on the bench next to Shane, Ilya -- and fine, he might as well be Ilya at this point -- is in a chair next to Shane and Jackie's in a chair next to Hayden. All four of them are staring at the fire. Hayden's hand is next to Shane's hand between their bodies, knuckles close enough to touch.

"Are you okay?" Shane asks for the fourth time. "Really?"

Hayden laughs and sure, it's a little raspy, but whatever. Apparently the stringy bits were roots. "I'm really okay."

"You sound like you spent the whole night sucking dick," Ilya says.

"You wish you knew what I sound like after spending the whole night sucking dicks."

"It's pretty close," Jackie says.

"Traitor."

"You've spent a whole night sucking dicks?" Shane asks.

Hayden blushes. "I mean. Not a whole night."

Ilya cackles and so does Jackie and then Shane smiles. And fine, it doesn't feel like the end of the world. Maybe they had a point. Hayden exhales deeply and shoves a hand through his hair. The firelight brings out the auburn in Jackie's hair and turns Shane's skin gold, his eyes a warm, rich brown. Even Ilya fucking Rozanov and his stupid curls soften into something almost appealing.

"Are we still friends?" Hayden asks. He means to joke, but it doesn't come out that way.

"Of course." Shane jostles his shoulder. "Always."

Hayden nods. That's enough. It's more than he expected.

"So cute," Ilya croons. "Ask the twins to make you matching bracelets."

Shane sticks his tongue out and they all laugh again. Jacki puts hand on Hayden's thigh and squeezes.

"Hypothetically, If I kissed you," Shane says, turning toward Hayden. "Would we still be friends?"

Hayden's eyes snap to Ilya before he's even fully processed the question, which is so fucking embarrassing, but does mean he sees Ilya's expression go tight for a moment, but not with surprise, exactly. And Ilya meets Hayden's eyes and holds it for a couple seconds, then nods once. Hayden's heart starts to pound in his chest.

He turns to Jackie, even though he already knows what he's going to find, because he loves her and respects her and it still matters that he asks. She squeezes his thigh again and nods. Hayden thinks about her and Christy curled up on their couch and how it never actually bothered him, because everyone should love Jackie. She deserves that.

Then he turns to Shane. Shane, with his pretty eyes and freckles, who is the safekeeper of ten years of Hayden's life and a big part of the reason why playing hockey never stopped being fun. Shane, on the other side of so much fear, lit up by the freedom to exist honestly and real love.

"I think so," Hayden says. "I think we should try."

Shane smiles. He lifts one hand and sets it on Hayden's throat, light and careful, then leans in and they're kissing. Hayden cannot stop himself from making a sound, low and longing. Shane coaxes his mouth open and slips his tongue past Hayden's teeth. All Hayden has to do is follow and, for once, that's all he wants to do.

When they break apart, Shane doesn't move his hand. He closes his eyes for a moment, inhales carefully, and exhales carefully while Hayden tries not to pant like a teenager making out for the first time.

Shane opens his eyes again and smiles. "How was that?"

"Good. Pretty good. Really good." Hayden swallows.

"I think so too," Shane says.

**

Shane and Hayden are sitting on the bench with their fingers now laced together. Hayden's so fucking tired he knows he's starting to slouch into Shane's side and doesn't care.

"I think it was just okay," Ilya says. "I think you can do better, Hayden." He smirks. "I can teach."

"How do we know you're actually qualified," Jackie cuts in. "Shane has kissed, like, four people in his entire life, just because you're the best he's ever kissed doesn't mean you're actually good."

"How dare you. Kiss me yourself and find out!"

Maybe it's a little bit for show, the argument they devolve into, both of them proving that different doesn't mean broken. Answers are ambitious, given the gravity of everything, but possibility is more than Hayden had ever hoped for.

"What happens next?" he murmurs to Shane.

Shane hesitates for a moment, then kisses his forehead. "I'm not sure, honestly. But I'd like to keep kissing you, and we can figure the rest out."

"Works for me," Hayden says.

**

It's dark and Hayden's mostly asleep as he's laid down in a bed. He hears Jackie's soft voice a little bit away and Ilya's, too. A hand brushes Hayden's hair off his face and he's already sinking back down to sleep.

"Good night," Shane says and kisses him, light and fleeting. "I'll see you in the morning."

**

Cottagecore Group Chat

Jackie: my mom just got here, we're heading out.

Jackie: the kids want to know why they're not invited lmao

Ilya: tell them we say hi.

Hayden: should we pick anything up on the way?

Ilya: condoms

Shane: there's no possible way we're out

Ilya: is long weekend, lyubmiyy, where is your ambition

Hayden: for once i agree with ilya :*

Ilya: :*

Hayden: as if, that was for shane.

Ilya: fuck off, mine was for jacki.

Jackie: eta 2.5 hours.

Shane: i can't wait :D

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Winter Bloom by Anonymous