FireInTheTwilight



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    “It was in 2013. The first time, we were in that stupid apartment of yours in Montreal. So many pillows, you hired someone to decorate. I knew it was your first time, like that, with anybody. I wanted to make it good for you so badly. I’d thought a lot about it. I’d planned for it, like I never would have for anybody else I’ve been with. I didn’t expect— I didn’t realize how right it would be. I wanted to stay, I wanted to stay in that bed forever just to hold you.”

    “Holy shit,” Shane says.

    Ilya sighs, glares at him. “You have got to stop saying that in response to my romantic declarations. Is bad for my nerves.”

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    28 Jan 2026

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    Shane put God on a back burner sometime between the ages of eleven and twelve. It was around that time that he barely stepped foot off the ice. His dad would joke that he was born with skates on, while his mother cursed out a grown man for a bad play. God, religion, faith came second to the rush of adrenaline as he flew on the ice.

    It takes seventeen years and the love of his life being dead for twenty-eight minutes to relearn how to pray.

    -

    Or, Shane's game is cancelled and he reads Ilya's would have been last messages in a tiny hotel room with JJ and Hayden at his side.

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    28 Jan 2026

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    Ilya has learned that love gives you time, but it cannot make forever out of two weeks.

    He worries at his bottom lip, feeling the first seeds of dread as he leans against Shane’s bureau. He’s dressed, his bag is zipped, and it’s still dark outside. Shane sleeps, adorably, half on his stomach with his face nearly off the pillow. He didn’t need to get up as early as Ilya. You don’t need to get up as early just to drive someone to the airport.

    It’s 3 am. Ilya’s flight is at 7:30 and they still need to make the two-hour drive.

    OR

    They had two weeks, and those two weeks are finished. Shane drives Ilya from the cottage to the airport.

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    28 Jan 2026

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    "It was nothing, Ilya. Don't worry about it."

    "Ah," Ilya said, and something like understanding crossed his face. "Was about us, then."

    Shane pressed his forehead to Ilya's neck. Of course Shane couldn't just slip this by, of course he would be figured out. He wrapped Ilya up in a hug and moved his hand up and down his back, in a way that he hoped said it doesn't matter.

    "He just–after he checked me, I called him a dick, and then he said I'd need my big scary Russian husband to protect me. And then he called you a name, and…"

    Shane didn't know how to finish that sentence, so he let it trail off. And it felt so unfair. And I got more angry than I had any reason to. And I hate that I can't go one game without my sex life being brought up in some way. And it's happened a million other times, so why should I have cared on this one specific occasion?

    Over the course of the first half of his fifth season on the Centaurs, Shane considers retirement, homophobia, his public life, family, and his legacy. He also gets a tooth knocked out, visits the beach, and is repeatedly pissed off by how hot his husband is.

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    27 Jan 2026

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    After the longest season of his career, Ilya retreats to the cottage with Shane, expecting rest, recovery, and a month of stolen peace. Instead, exhaustion lingers. Small things feel wrong. And the body that has always carried him through pain begins to falter in ways he can’t explain.

    As concern grows and outside eyes begin to notice, the life Ilya and Shane have carefully built—careers, borders, futures—starts to feel fragile. When a medical crisis shatters their summer before answers arrive, love is no longer something they protect quietly. It becomes something they fight with.

    A story about what happens when the body speaks before you’re ready to listen, and the people who refuse to let you face it alone.

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    25 Jan 2026