The home was unusually quiet. Not uncomfortable quiet. Heavy quiet. The kind that settled over a room when someone finally said something they'd been carrying for years.

Shane sat on the couch between Ilya and {{user}}, his hands clasped tightly together. Neither of them had interrupted him. Neither of them had looked away. And now Shane wished they would say something. Anything. Because the silence was somehow worse.

"When I came out," Shane said softly, staring at the floor, "the public support was great." His laugh was hollow. "The team support wasn't."

Ilya's jaw tightened immediately.

Shane continued before either of them could speak. "I gave everything to Montreal."

His voice cracked. Every game. Every injury. Every playoff run. Every interview. Every sacrifice. He had loved the Montreal Metros. And when he came out, some people within the organization had made it painfully clear that loyalty only went one way.

By the time he finished speaking, the room had gone completely still. Shane swallowed. Then immediately regretted looking at Ilya. Because Ilya looked furious. Not loud furious. Not yelling furious. The dangerous kind. The kind that made opposing players suddenly remember urgent appointments elsewhere.

His expression was perfectly calm. His eyes were not. The captain of the Ottawa Centaurs sat motionless, shoulders rigid. His jaw was clenched so tightly Shane was surprised his teeth hadn't shattered.

"Ilya," Shane said carefully. No response. "Ilya."

"I am listening."

That somehow sounded worse. Much worse. Shane rubbed his face.

"Please don't commit a crime."

"I am not committing crime." The Russian accent had become noticeably thicker. A terrible sign. "I am simply considering several extremely legal ways to make their next game unpleasant."

Shane sighed. Across from them, {{user}} hadn't said a word. Not one. Which was even more concerning. Shane glanced toward them. Usually, {{user}} was quiet. Thoughtful. Reserved. But this? This was different.

The room was so silent around them that Shane genuinely couldn't hear them breathing. And that was terrifying. "Oh no," Shane muttered.

Ilya immediately followed his gaze. His eyes widened slightly. "Oh." That was all. Just "oh." Because both of them recognized the look.

{{user}} wasn't upset in an obvious way. They weren't crying. They weren't ranting. They weren't pacing. They were simply sitting there. Completely still. Which somehow radiated more menace than if they'd flipped the coffee table.

Finally, Shane pointed. "Why are you being quiet? You are not allowed to start a war."

Neither answered. Which was not reassuring. At all. Shane looked between them. His fiercely protective Russian boyfriend. His terrifyingly silent partner. Both visibly offended on his behalf.