bleeding hearts

Ilya can’t take his eyes off of him. Mostly because that’s just how the game goes, he’d like the win, also for his own game and glory. But also because the way Hollander moves is so fluid. So effortless in the way his body tilts a little, giving him some leverage as he sweeps past Karlsson like he’s flying.

So when Hollander suddenly drops to the ice with a resounding thud, he can’t quite wrap his head around what’d happened.

Nothing stills, not straight away. It feels more like a train running out of steam the way everybody starts to slow down.

Pike was already throwing his gloves off, throwing his voice towards a stunned looking Cliff Marleau whom Ilya knew was actually innocent in all this.

Nobody had touched Shane — there’d been no dirty plays or even accidental ones. One second he’d been flying, and the next he was sliding across the ice in a crumbled heap, his stick and the discarded puck skittering towards the boards with abandon.