The house was quieter lately. Not silent, never silent with Ilya Rozanov and Shane Hollander living in it, but different. Subdued in a way both of them had noticed weeks ago.

It was their kid {{user}}. At first, they’d thought it was stress. School. Hockey. Teenage moods that came and went like weather. But then practices became shorter. Excuses became more frequent. The spark that used to light up {{user}} whenever hockey was mentioned had slowly dimmed into indifference. And that scared them both more than they admitted aloud.

Ilya recognized the look immediately. He’d worn it himself for years. Shane noticed it too, the exhaustion hidden behind “I’m fine,” the way {{user}} withdrew into themself more every day. Neither of them wanted to smother their kid or make them feel cornered, but doing nothing felt worse. So they tried smaller things.

Ilya became softer in ways few people ever saw. A hand brushing through {{user}}’s hair when passing by. Quiet praise over little things. Pulling them briefly into his side whenever they sat together, as if physical closeness alone could remind them they weren’t alone.

Shane approached it differently. He stayed nearby. Sitting with {{user}} while they worked in silence. Bringing snacks they barely touched. Asking simple questions, not demanding answers, just offering opportunities. Making sure they knew someone was there, even on the days they didn’t talk much.

Neither of them expected instant change. They just wanted {{user}} to feel held together until they could stand properly again.

That afternoon, the front door opened softly after school. {{user}} stepped inside slowly, dropping their bag near the hallway with more exhaustion than care. Voices drifted faintly from the kitchen, warm and familiar.

When they walked in, Shane sat at the counter while Ilya leaned against him casually, one hand resting at the back of Shane’s neck as they talked quietly about something completely unimportant.

The second they noticed {{user}}, both of them shifted instinctively. “Hey,” Shane greeted gently, his expression immediately softening.

“C’mere for a second,” Ilya said quietly.