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When Scott Hunter kissed his presumed boyfriend. Ilya’s world froze.
His eyes darted down to the text conversation he and Shane Hollander were having. For a moment, everything seemed possible. Scott Hunter was kissing a man in front of the world. That could be Shane. That could be Shane with Ilya. Ilya hovered his finger over Shane’s contact, contemplating the possibility of it all.
They wouldn't have to be the first anymore. He could go to the cottage- Shane’s cottage- without the shadow of the Hockey world- the homophobic chirps, canceled pride nights and angry fans- looming over him.
He and Shane could be something. Something that existed outside of hotel rooms and stairwells. Something in the light.
Ilya glanced back up at couple kissing on screen. They pulled apart and grinned stupidly at each other. Ilya’s stomach twisted at how much he wanted that with Hollander.
His finger hovered over Shane’s contact once more.
But then, a new thought popped into his mind. Scott Hunter and his boyfriend were different than he and Shane. He had noticed that Hunter’s boyfriend, whoever he was, was unsteady on the ice, like a fawn taking its first steps. He was not a hockey player. Whatever he and Scott’s relationship was like, Scott would likely being taking all the heat from the Hockey world. Granted, there would be those who supported him, but Ilya knew as well as anyone that just as many people would hate him for kissing a man after winning the most prestigious award in hockey.
Ilya could take the heat- in fact he loved to be hated. He loved when crowds booed at him when he scored. He loved to cause a bigot’s face to contort in disgust with an effective chirp. He loved to punch out the teeth of someone who was comfortable saying slurs on the ice.
Yes, Ilya Rozanov could take anything the world threw in his way.
But Shane Hollander couldn’t.
Shane loved hockey. Anyone who watched him play knew this. Hyper-focused and precise, he was a marvel. He had spent his whole life dedicating each and every day to hockey. If hockey decided it no longer loved him back, it would destroy him.
And this thought -Shane Hollander, abandoned by his greatest love, distraught and teary- stayed on Ilya’s mind long enough for his finger to float back down to the bottom of his screen.
Lily: He’s crazy.
It only was a few seconds before Shane responded.
Jane: He’s brave.
Ilya wondered if either of them would ever find that same bravery. He knew right now, he did not have it. If he did, he wouldn’t have deleted the text of “I love you” he had yet to press send on.
——
Shane and Ilya had never defined what was between them.
It was just hookups. But it was also was soft moments of slow kisses in entangled arms. It was confusing and intoxicating. A feeling Ilya had chased with others, but had only successfully found with Shane.
Tonight was one of those nights. The season had just started again. Ilya had ignored any texts from Jane over the summer. It was too risky in Russia. He had already tempted fate by making out bound calls and texts to Shane in the years prior. He had only responded once back on American soil.
Shane for his part, had taken a few days to respond. Ilya wondered if it was an immature punishment for his summer silence. He also wondered if Shane was seeing someone else.
They had one final text conversation before Ilya flew out to Russia that summer. In which, Ilya had expressed his need to keep things casual with Shane. Shane agreed. Ilya told him to experiment more- a suggestion which now he couldn't help but regret. What if Shane found someone else to take to his cottage? Someone else to have sex with? Someone else’s chest to sleep on?
Shane did eventually respond though, agreeing to keep up their rendezvous going during the season. It kept them both their toes, playing their best. It was almost like a good luck charm, he had joked. A hockey player’s obsessive superstition. Ilya had agreed, solely because he craved more time around Shane.
That first night back together was electric. They both were so worked up it only took a few moments for them both to climax in that Boston hotel room. Then they laid in bed for a while, talking about their summers, cuddling in a way that Ilya cherished and missed every time Shane left. Then they coaxed each other hard again, and went another round of fucking until they were both spent. It was early enough they both laid back down on the now ruined bed, and put on the hotel TV. Ilya lit a cigarette and for the first time, Shane didn’t complain.
Shane flipped through a couple channels before landing one of those gossip-y entertainment shows. There, on the screen, was Scott Hunter and his handsome boyfriend, on the red carpet of some charity event in New York. The looked at each other with love as the cameras flashed.
“I don’t know how he did it.” Ilya muttered.
“How he did what? Got the courage to come out?” Shane asked.
“No- how he got such a sexy boyfriend.” Ilya quipped. Shane threw a pillow at him and Ilya laughed as he caught it. “What are you jealous?” Ilya gave Shane a wiry smile.
“No.” Shane asserted. There was a beat. “Are you?”
“Hm.” Ilya took a second to think. “No, not really.” He lied. He was envious of Scott Hunter being able to go to events with his arm around the waist of a man he loved.
“Good.” Shane said. He no longer met Ilya’s eyes as he continued. “I, um, saw some guys this summer.”
“Ah- congratulations.” Ilya’s words came out a little sharper than he intended. He cautiously continued- “Were they nice?”
“Yeah, yeah they were.” Shane felt his face flush. But they weren't you - he wanted to say. He held his tongue. Ilya didn’t need to know more. This was casual. They always wore protection and met late at night. It was easy and convenient for them both. It was best to keep it that way.
They sat in an uncomfortable silence for a moment.
“Did you- uh- see anyone over the summer?” Shane asked. His brown eyes were beautiful and cavernous and Ilya got lost in them for a second.
“Yes. A few.” Ilya lied again. There had been no one that summer. He had only found himself thinking of Shane. The brilliant hockey player and sweet lover pliable in his hands.
“Nice.” Shane gave Ilya a weak smile.
They sat quietly once more, Ilya finished his cigarette and then turned to face Shane.
“If things were different, do you think we could be like Scott and his sexy boyfriend. Like would you-” Ilya searched for the right phrase in English “- be with me in that way?”
“I could never be with you like that.” Shane responded. That was a lie. He had been in love with Ilya Rozanov for a good while now. “At least, I mean-not in public.” he tripped over his words as he realized the implications of his first sentence.
Ilya’s face was expressionless. His eyes distant, even though they were staring directly into Shane’s.
“I understand.” Ilya said matter of factly, turning his head from Shane.
In Ilya’s mind the conversation had different words.
“Could you love me like that?”
“I can’t.”
“I never asked you to.”
Shane watched him for a moment, searching for a crack in Ilya’s armor. There was nothing. Shane turned to check his phone on the nightstand. He didn’t really need to check it- he wasn’t worried about how long they had been in that room together. He just needed to not face the man who was tearing him apart from the inside of his ribs.
It was only when Ilya felt Shane shift, did he let a tear fall before rubbing it away roughly.
——
The next morning was a flash of skin and sweat. They made each other come hard and fast. There was no time for breathy moans of names. Just “fuck” and “yes”. Simple. Casual. Safe.
Shane got dressed and left. He said goodbye but did not turn to look at Ilya. He was worried it would break him.
——
A month later, they were in the same city again.
But things had changed. Shane Hollander was engaged to a woman. She was tall and gorgeous, with long glossy hair and a million-dollar smile. Ilya hoped she knew her future husband was gay. He hoped Shane would be decent enough to let her know.
As much as Ilya craved Shane’s touch- his mouth, his hands, his eyes- he did not want to play a losing game. It was too sad for even him to stomach.
Ilya’s thumb ghosted over his phone screen. A momentary boyish hope flooded his heart, before his head cleared it. Jane was blocked. He was free.
——
“What kind of guys do you date?” Scott Hunter posed the question to Ilya as they sat in a booth at the Kingfisher bar. Ilya had come out to the older man with little fanfare a few weeks after Scott kissed his boyfriend live on TV. Everyone knew he was a player, so adding men to the equation wasn’t too much of a stretch for Scott to understand. Besides, the out gay captain of the admirals always appreciated knowing he wasn't alone.
“Ones just as beautiful as the women.” Ilya bragged. A smiling freckled face flickered in the back of his mind.
“Anyone good enough to tie you down?” Scott raised an eyebrow. He and Kip had been dating for a couple years now. There were plenty of rumors of marriage.
“You wish Hunter.” Ilya took a long swig of his beer. “I refuse to ever be as boring as you and Kip.”
“An asshole and free spirit? You are a man of many layers, Rozy.”
“And I’m the best hockey player in the world.”
“Nah,” Scott chucked and shook his head. “that’s still Hollander.”
It was always still Hollander. The best player on the ice since Gretzky and the best fuck Ilya ever had in his bed. Someone who could fix every negative thought rattling around in Ilya’s brain with a simple kiss.
The beer in his stomach suddenly turned sour. Ilya excused himself from the table and hastily made his way into the bathroom. He burst into a stall and emptied the contents of his stomach into dimly lit porcelain. He didn’t know why this was happening. He secretly wished, as he wiped his mouth with a wad of toilet paper and flushed, that he had just expelled from his body not only his dinner, but also the memory of a sleeping Hollander, features soft and perfect.
——
The next year, for the All-Star game, the MHL had decided to switch it up once more, and have different conferences play on the same team. Ilya and Shane were on the same team again. Just like 2017.
Ilya felt sick to his stomach as he silently slid on his hockey gear in the locker room. Eyes focused downward, with his crucifix pendant weighting heavy on his neck. The gold chain felt like a noose.
They had had plenty of games against each other in the past couple years, but Ilya had been sure to be off the ice any time Shane set a skate on it.
Whether it be from a injury or the death of a “beloved uncle” (or several, the Raiders management was always too lazy to check) or, as a last resort, a penalty from random checks and high-sticking that got Ilya’s coaches furious - Ilya made sure there was never a chance he would ever be in a face-off with Shane Hollander again.
He hated playing the Metros. They were a great team led by their great captain who was still undefeated when it came to goals in the league. They had won two more cups since Lily had blocked Jane. A dynasty molded by a prodigy. Jesus and his disciples.
Boston kept Ilya on for this long, but he could tell his love for hockey was fading. The sport that brought him so much invigoration and joy in his youth was finally starting to wear him down. He had lost so many teeth now he was sure he would need serval dental implants before he turned 30. He cracked so many ribs and broken so many fingers that he felt like a doll that had been so torn apart and sewn together multiple times.
Despite the bitter taste in back of his throat every time he saw him, Ilya had been cordial to Shane. There was no point in being rude to him- if anything, Shane had a right to be rude to Ilya for ghosting him so abruptly.
But Hollander, as always, was gracious.
Smiling with everyone that was in the handshake line. No hard feelings for a rough check or a pointed chirp. He didn’t even falter when he got to Ilya. He kept up the persona of the hard-playing but kind captain and Ilya despised him for it.
How could Shane Hollander have forgiven him? Ilya often thought of how he ended things and how he could’ve at least told Hollander that he wasn’t comfortable continuing something behind his wife’s back. Told him that he meant more to him than Ilya had been able to express. Told him that he didn’t care if Shane couldn’t love him the same way that Scott Hunter loved his husband. He just wanted to be around him. He just wanted the secret quiet moments, even if they became more and more fleeting as Shane had to spend time with the person he was actually married to.
Ilya was so mad at himself. How could you fall in love with someone who couldn’t do the same? Maybe Ilya had convinced himself back then that Shane had fallen fully in love with him. He was just too afraid to speak it, but Ilya knew that if he truly felt that way he could’ve fought for him- no - that he would’ve. He would’ve done what Ilya would’ve done. He would’ve shown up at Ilya’s house and asked why he was blocked. If Shane truly cared, he wouldn't have gotten married. He would’ve stayed a bachelor and never moved out of that apartment in Montreal that Ilya began to think of as a second home.
Ilya’s fog of loathing was lifted as Shane Hollander, wearing the same uniform him, swung a leg over the the boards. He planted himself right next to Ilya on the bench.
It was the closest they had been in a long time. The sounds and lights of the arena faded. It was only Rozanov and Hollander next to each other, both staring ahead, both avoiding acknowledging that someone who had seen them truly vulnerable was next to them.
Ilya couldn’t stand it so he spoke.
“Congratulations.” Ilya‘s words were muffled as he chewed on his mouthguard.
“On what?” Shane said, clearly a little confused as the 1v1 competitions of the all star game hadn't happened yet and taken aback that Ilya had gotten up the courage to speak with him. He turned to face Ilya and Ilya’s heart couldn’t help but skip a beat seeing that Shane had tightly held onto his good looks. The sprinkle of freckles still kissing the bridge of his nose and the tops of his cheeks. His dark eyes accented by heavy yet shapely eyebrows. Lovely pink lips with a deep cupid's bow. Sweat ran down the side of his face from the simple exertion of playing hockey, but it reminded Ilya of many of the nights they shared together, Ilya losing himself in Shane’s body and the vast midnight seas of his eyes. Ilya turned before he continue talking.
“You know.” Ilya motion towards the section where the families of the players usually sat. There, in the stands, Shane's beautiful wife was speaking with another one of the Metros WAGs. She was a legend among them-the woman who finally got the elusive Shane Hollander to settle down.
“Oh, thanks.” Shane said his cheeks had a whisper of blush on them, but it was nothing compared to how flush he got when Ilya was inside him. The thought of their last encounter hit Ilya. It was distant and hazy, but Ilya could still remember some details. He still knew how Shane looked back at him, mouth open and eyes wide. He still knew where to touch him to provoke a lurid whine. He still knew how Shane sounded when he came.
But here they were side-by-side, and a brick wall was now between them. Shane began engaging in some small talk with the other player next to him, and Ilya decided to let the conversation go. Their rivalry wasn’t as popular as it had been- thus no point to pretending they were friends or enemies. No more tickets to sell based solely on Boston’s bad boy versus Montreal’s hero. Of course, their rivalry was still legendary- there was no doubt in that. There were serval hockey podcasts episodes focusing on it and rookies still spoke of it to this day. Ilya was incredibly sick of it. He disliked being attached to Hollander still, because at this point it no longer felt like it was his choice to be.
As the all star game continued, Ilya couldn't help but wonder what it would have been like if they had kept their arrangement. If they had continued for years- through marriages to women and the births of children they loved but could not be truthful to.
——
Ilya had blocked Jane, but he could never get the courage to block Shane Hollander on Instagram. He didn’t post much but when he did, Ilya found himself staring at the screen for far longer than felt healthy. He was transfixed by the pedestrian hockey posts, awkward selfies and random ad campaigns. Ilya thought if he couldn’t be with Shane, at least he still had the option to look at him. And maybe touch himself while thinking about him. And then maybe cry after.
Ilya never blocked Shane, but a few months after the All-Star game, he wished he did.
As the Instagram homepage refreshed, a black-and-white ultrasound photo came up.
“Baby Hollander ❤️ Coming 08.2023”
This time it was not Ilya’s world that froze. It was his heart.