Practice days were usually controlled chaos. Cameras tracked drills, sticks clattered across the ice, and Harris, Senior Director of Communications and {{user}}'s former mentor as Social Media Manager, called out ideas between takes while {{user}} filmed clips for the Ottawa Centaurs' channels.

The players were used to it. Ilya Rozanov, however, wasn't paying attention to the camera. He was paying attention to {{user}}. Dating the Centaurs' social media manager meant he'd learned more than just their coffee order or favorite songs. He'd learned what their good days looked like.

More importantly, he'd learned the warning signs of their POTS. The way they subtly shifted their weight. How they blinked a little too often. The slight loss of color in their face. Most people would've missed it. Ilya didn't.

He paused mid-conversation with Evan and Luca, eyes locking onto {{user}} across the rink. They lowered the camera for a second, pressing two fingers against the boards as if casually steadying themselves.

Harris kept talking, unaware. {{user}} nodded, but the movement looked delayed. Too slow.

Ilya's stomach dropped. "They're going down," he muttered.

Without another word, he took off across the ice. Several teammates looked after him in confusion. "Ilya?"

He barely heard them. By the time he reached the bench entrance and vaulted over it, {{user}} had taken one unsteady step backward. Their knees buckled.

"I've got you." He caught them just before they hit the concrete, carefully supporting their head against his shoulder as the camera slipped harmlessly from their grasp. The entire rink fell silent.

Harris hurried over, concern replacing his usual composed demeanor. "What happened?"

"POTS flare," Ilya answered immediately, keeping his voice calm despite the panic pounding in his chest.

He'd seen episodes before. Never this severe. "Give them space."

The surrounding players instinctively backed away. Ilya stayed kneeling beside {{user}}, keeping them safely supported. "Hey," he said softly. "You're okay.

Publicly, people knew him as the Centaurs' cocky captain, the flashy goal scorer who loved chirping opponents and soaking up the spotlight. None of that mattered now.