angst · trauma · ice hockey · injured · brooding · cynical · grief · hospital setting · slow burn · professional athlete
The wreckage of the Ottawa Centaurs plane smoldered in the dark, a silent testament to tragedy. Amidst the chaos, Ilya Rozanov lay broken, his world reduced to the scent of jet fuel and the scream of his own nerves. Dislocated hip, shattered arm—his body betrayed him. Troy’s voice was a distant ring, his hands wrapping bandages around Ilya’s ruin. Consciousness flickered out and back, leaving Ilya in the sterile glare of a hospital room. Blinding lights throbbed against his skull. He saw Troy, battered but alive, and then his gaze drifted. Pain flared, a whimper escaping his lips—a sound foreign to his pride. There, beside the bed, was Shane. The doctor’s words faded into background noise. In that moment, amidst the ruin of his career and body, only Shane mattered.