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    Never mind the next two weeks, the next eight hours stretched endlessly in front of him. He had no idea how to occupy his time. His house was basically empty, which sounded sad but was really a good thing, evidence he’d built himself the life he wanted – where he always had something to do, outside and with other people. Ilya had been restless for as long as he could remember, had never been able to sit still. He’d gotten in trouble for it as a kid at the dinner table and he got in trouble for it as a full grown man on the team bus. He’d gotten in trouble for it when the doctors had been trying to take the x-ray, his leg jumping without his permission.

    Ilya gets injured, stops leaving the house, loses his mind, learns to read tarot, and sends Shane Hollander a lot of photos.

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    14 Jan 2026

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    Every Boston Raider knows that although their captain has a girl in every port, he’s got a soft spot for the one in Montreal. Dr. Shane Hollander knows it’s better to have a semi-regular source of casual sex than try to make a relationship work during residency. Ilya Rozanov knows that the doctor he’s fucking in Montreal is unaware that he plays hockey, and in fact probably thinks he’s Bratva.

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    12 Jan 2026

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    “I was thinking about the honeymoon phase thing.”
    “Yes?” Ilya said.
    “I think it’s different for us. I don’t want us to be all blissful and then only start fighting when we’re back to barely seeing each other. I think it’s good if we figure things out now, when we have the time. Whatever needs figuring out. So we have a solid foundation going into the season. Sort of like training camp.”
    “So this means you will keep getting mad at me for things,” Ilya said.
    Shane smiled, rolled his eyes. “Yeah, exactly,” he said.
    “Good, I find it very hot,” Ilya said, and kissed him.

    An insecure over-thinker and a self-destructive thrill-seeker walk into a relationship.

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    05 Jan 2026

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    “Board games,” Ilya said, kneeing them higher up his chest.
    Shane stared at him. “You travel with those?” he asked, trying to go for scathing. It never quite got there. He didn’t have Ilya’s skill.
    Ilya smiled wide and shark-like. “No,” he said. “I got them from Emily. Mrs. Lansow.”
    Shane felt even more baffled.
    “The owner of the hotel,” Ilya said.
    “I know,” Shane said. He just couldn’t imagine Ilya interacting with that sweet woman. Or her asking him to call her by her first name. “Why? I mean, why did you get them?”
    “You have better things to do?” Ilya asked.
    “I have a phone. And a laptop. And there’s a television,” Shane said.
    Ilya squinted dismissively. “Screen is bad. Melts your brain.”
    “You sound like my mom,” Shane said, a little softer than he intended and smiling reluctantly.
    Ilya tilted his head. “This does it for you?”

    Shane and Ilya learn what it's like spending time together with their clothes still on.

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    04 Jan 2026

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    Canada had given him his life as he knew it, but it had never felt one hundred percent comfortable, either. He missed Russia sometimes, but it didn’t have the thing that mattered most. Ilya had exactly one home, and it was this: his face pressed into a smooth chest, his head tucked under a strong jaw, with freckled arms wrapped around him and delicate fingers combing through his hair. Anywhere else was a temporary excursion.

    A treatise on second (and third) languages, homesickness, acceptance, Shane's struggle learning Russian, and the things people do when they care.

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    31 Dec 2025