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    The first sound Ilya hears is a thin, discordant symphony of beeps and whirs. Something vibrating. 

    The next thing he hears is…wet. A sort of shaking, gargling sound, that feels like the ugliest crying he’s ever heard. And through it, Shane’s voice. 

    “I’m with him now, mom. He’s— he’s not fine. He’s not. I know—”

    Ilya wants to ask who's not fine, but he can’t feel his own body, his mouth, enough to ask.

    “Yeah,” Shane is saying, only slightly calmer. “I know. He wasn’t breathing—"

    Ilya knows there's a link, between the clinical musicality of medical settings, Shane’s audible, awful distress, and his own physical incapacity. It’s just, it’s so tenuous, and the air around him is so thick, so heavy. It would be easy, to sleep, a little. 

    -
    Footage of the last game between Ottawa and Montreal is everywhere; it’s breached containment from the sports world, and now it seems like everyone is baying for Montreal’s blood. Except, Ilya is oblivious. Not exactly blissfully so, but as the fight for accountability within the league rages on without him, Ilya just wants someone, anyone, to tell him what happened.

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    19 Jul 2026

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    “Hey. Whatever this is, it seems like we’re in it together. So maybe we should try to figure it out. Together.”

    “How can we figure it out, when we don’t know what it is?” Rozanov is staring at a random spot on Shane’s shirtsleeve.

    “Honestly…” Shane hesitates for a moment, because what he’s about to suggest is truly, absolutely insane. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say it’s like a time loop.”

    “Time loop?” Rozanov repeats, sounding confused. He still doesn’t look up.

    “Yeah, like that movie Groundhog Day?”

    Finally, Rozanov meets his gaze, but only to give Shane an absolutely incredulous look. “That is a movie, Hollander. That is not real.”

    “Does any of this seem real to you?” Shane fires back. “I don’t know about you, but this kind of thing doesn’t exactly happen to me a lot.”

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    13 Jul 2026

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    5 times Yuna Hollander is there for Shane, and 1 time Ilya Rozanov is.

    “You know, you used to say that the noise of fireworks or the ocean scared your ears,” she says softly, smiling at the fond memory.

    “I'm not scared,” Shane grunts defensively.

    His shoulders are tense and his jaw is clenched. Yuna sighs. “I didn't say you were,” she reassures.

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    12 Jul 2026

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    Sometimes life came at you with a clenched fist and Ilya had never figured out how to duck.

    So here he was, twenty-eight years old, single, dealing with the fallout from injuries given to him by the game he loved, and the second youngest assistant coach in the league to one of the worst teams. Stability was hard to come by, but he was managing.

    Then along came Shane Hollander to knock him on his ass, one more time.

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    11 Jul 2026

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    Shane Hollander thought the hardest part of leaving Montreal would be changing teams. He never expected to lose himself in the process.

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    29 Jun 2026