Chapter Text
I believe you. It was an accident.
The first words to appear on Shane’s arm. He’s in the middle of doing math homework. Math isn’t one of his favorite subjects. He’d much rather work on his hockey skills at the rink, but his mom refuses to let him go without finishing his homework. School is important, helps with discipline and organization skills. All of which Shane thinks he already expresses based on his drive and dedication on his hopefully successful career in hockey. His summers consist of mulling over hockey books, repeating tricks until they’re perfect, and spending every waking hour on the ice. All while completing his chores, spending meals and movie nights with his family, and finishing school work.
He spends time with friends, but that’s because his parents tell him he should. Discipline.
I believe you, Dad.
Shane stares at the words. He doesn’t understand the concept of lying. He’s terrible at it. His parents tell him this every time. If you don’t believe someone, ask questions. If you don’t want to do something, say you don’t. Shane didn’t understand what’s so bad about it. Telling the truth makes life infinitely easier.
But then Shane rejected too many invites, and his parents sat him down.
“Honey,” she said one night. “You have to spend time with your teammates outside of games. Share interests. Laugh - have fun together. It’s what being part of a team means.”
“Okay,” Shane said. That made sense. He nodded and went to every event with his teammates. He had a good time, and they didn’t seem to mind when he didn’t contribute to the conversation. They gave him funny looks at times, and he learned early on what to do to make them more comfortable.
Mimicking, scripting conversation, eye contact. Not quite lies. Not quite the truth either. Perfectly in the middle. It’s not a lie if he convinces himself it’s the truth. His words probably don’t touch his soulmate’s arm.
Morale went up, and people gave him the puck more. It was an interesting discovery Shane took to heart. The more he got along with his teammates, the more they liked him. The better he adjusted or masked with them, the better he fit.
I believe you. It was an accident.
Whoever his soulmate is, is lying about believing something. It was confusing. He has not learned yet why other people would lie, but since he masked for small comfort to his person and his teammates, he supposed his soulmate did the same. Maybe they have the same issue with people.
Shane hopes they’re okay. He hopes they meet soon. Maybe they can help each other.
++++++
I want to stay here to help, but I can’t. I have to go.
Shane frowns. He’s read a lot of lies on his arm from his soulmate. Some lies are extravagant and borderline unnecessary. They’re layered with details Shane didn’t do with his own. His simple lies are short, sweet, and hidden within the truth. His lies have to be a list of Yes, Yes, No, Yes, etc. If they even make it to his soulmate’s arm. Probably why nobody catches him, and he’s forgotten how to differentiate. He doesn’t know how to invent a proper lie that makes sense, and he doesn’t feel obligated to anyway. He just doesn’t say anything, and the other person makes up their own lie for him.
Then as time goes on, the less he truly lies. The more he masks and fits better. It’s exhausting, but worth it.
I can’t. I have to go.
Where is his soulmate going? Why do they want to leave? Are they talking about school? School can be fun. Shane likes school, but he’d much rather be playing hockey.
Was his soulmate a good liar? They must be. Why do they lie? Shane hopes his soulmate doesn’t lie a lot, but these past couple of years his arm has been covered in fancy nontruths.
It was an accident.
I am busy. I can’t come home.
I will visit as much as I can.
His soulmate does a lot of lying. He hopes they don’t lie to him. Maybe he can tell them they don’t need to lie to him. They’d get away with lying because he’s not good at catching them, and sometimes he doesn’t catch every tickle on his arm, but it would be easier if they didn’t lie to each other. They’re soulmates. There’s no reason to lie. They can be there for each other.
++++++
Shane hopes his girlfriend isn’t his soulmate. Which is awful to admit because she didn’t do anything wrong. She’s nice to talk to, and she is pretty. His friends tell him she’s pretty, so she’s great to have around.
He’s proven right about not being soulmates when he tells her he likes kissing her, and the words don’t appear on her arm. She believes him, though, and must not catch on to the fact the truth is on Shane’s face and not his tongue. Either she doesn’t catch the lies, or she doesn’t care.
Maybe she is his soulmate. It’s not as if it’s a true lie. She’s nice, and it’s not bad to kiss her. She’s kind and goes to his practices sometimes. She gets annoyed with how often Shane goes to practice, but she cheers when he scores. She is happy for him when he gets into the NHL junior teams, and she attends less games.
They’re both not much into music, and they both enjoy reading. She says he’s good at hockey. She’s…normal which is great. His friends have girlfriends, which means he should have one.
I don’t miss her.
I’m embarrassed.
Shane stares at his arm. His soulmate must be having issues too. He doesn’t know what two women argue about, but his girlfriend and her friends usually work things out fairly quickly. His soulmate obviously misses her. He hopes they work it out with whoever she is.
He hopes his soulmate figures out they don’t need to lie so much. At least not with Shane.
++++++
Ilya Rozanov is sort of an asshole. Shane was excited to meet him. He’s heard so much about him from his games in Russia and now here in America. He loves watching him on the ice. He’s a passionate player. He skates fast and doesn’t hold back, and he performs moves Shane didn’t know existed. They’re not in any of the books he’s read. He needs to work on that if they’re going to play together. Maybe they could be on the same team in the big leagues.
But it’s obvious when they meet that Rozanov doesn’t have much interest in talking to him, or maybe he’s not used to speaking in English. His accent is distinct, and it takes him a second to translate and respond. He doesn't give Shane much to work with, no masking material to bounce off of. No easy flow of conversation Shane has gotten used to doing with people.
He’s rambling, which is one of the things people get uncomfortable with. It happens when he’s talking about hockey or a player he gets excited over. He hasn’t talked this much in a while.
Shane does them both a favor and says his parents are waiting on him.
Ah, another lie for his soulmate.
Pretty lame thing to lie about, especially after so long of carefully constructed truth, but Rozanov was trying to smoke, and Shane was intruding. He’ll see him later anyway. He’ll see him in action. He’ll fight for gold for his country, and Rozanov will do the same.
“Good luck in the tournament,” Shane says warmly. He was excited to see him play, even if Rozanov is a bit of an ass. That doesn’t make him any less great.
Rozanov watches him, brows furrowed with stunned bewilderment, and his cigarette nearly falls out of his mouth. He gives Shane a guarded look, narrowing his eyes and studying him. “What?”
“Good luck in the tournament,” Shane repeats.
Rozanov’s stare is oddly intense, but Shane says nothing. He holds out his hand with a smile. He hopes he didn’t offend him. He replays their conversation, but he doesn’t see where he went wrong to get this reaction.
Then Rozanov accepts the handshake. “You will not be so friendly when we beat you.”
Shane blinks, and his smile turns more smug. The challenge makes his blood rush. “That’s not happening.”
++++++
When Shane comes in second in the drafts, he tells Rozanov, “Congratulations. Happy for you.”
Rozanov laughs, clutches his chest and throws his head back. He laughs with so much smug and joy, all Shane can do is stare.