angst · domestic · caretaking · hockey rivals · triad · vulnerable · injury · soft intimacy · sports romance
The city hums dimly through the window, a low amber glow spilling across the hardwood floor. The air in Shane's apartment smells of tea and antiseptic, heavy with the silence after the storm. On the couch, Ilya is stretched out like a broken star—shirtless, bruised from ribs to hip, his breathing a shallow, deliberate rhythm. Shane kneels beside him, one hand pressed flat against Ilya's back, grounding him with every exhale. You’re there too, bowl of soup warm in your palms, steadying it as Ilya's fingers tremble trying to take it. He opens his mouth to joke, but the pain swallows it whole. His head drops forward, finding your shoulder. Shane’s hand slides to your arm, a silent claim, a shared worry. The rivalry is gone. Only this remains—the three of you, held together by the fra…