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i. Rose
“It’s Ilya Rozanov.”
Shane watched as Rose’s jaw dropped in shock.
“Shane - holy shit. Holy shit,” she whispered, even though they were alone in his living room.
He nodded; he had never told anyone about Ilya before. His parents had caught them, and he had been forced to come out and tell them he was with Ilya. But this was the first time he got to say it, on his own terms.
“He’s so goddamn hot, Shane, holy shit,” Rose said.
Shane nodded; this is what he had spent nearly ten years desperate to talk about.
“You have no idea,” he breathed. “I’ve been dying to talk about it.”
“So the sex –”
“No offence to you, but it’s not like anything I’ve felt with anyone else,” Shane said.
Rose took a large sip of her wine and nodded. “Low bar to clear, though.”
“Okay, well –” Shane said, ready to argue.
“Is he –”
“Big,” Shane confirmed.
Rose laughed, but she shook her head. “No, is he sweet to you?”
“God, so fucking sweet,” Shane said. “Even from the first time. I thought he was so cocky and such an asshole, but he was always so sweet to me, even at the Prospect Cup.”
Rose smiled at him, watching him closely. “What’s he like? Really, away from the cameras?”
Shane smiled as he looked around the house that had traces of Ilya all around.
“He reads a lot,” Shane said. “I don’t think people know that. He writes notes in the margins of the books he reads.”
Rose kept smiling at him, waiting.
“He’s always touching me,” Shane said wistfully, missing Ilya more than usual all of a sudden. “And he’s like, so warm. I don’t need to sleep in sweats when we sleep together in winter. He's radiates it. And Ithink he loved me right from the start.”
Rose sighed. “Wow.”
“He’s finishing out his contract with Boston and he’s signing to Ottawa at the end of the season,” he said.
“You guys are gonna like – be together?” Rose asked, her face bright.
“I don’t know yet,” Shane admitted. “We have a lot of things to sort out before that’s a real conversation. I'm not even sure we can even come out until we’ve both retired, let alone admit we’re together.”
Rose didn’t say anything, just watching him from the armchair as he thought about Ilya.
“He’s just the best person I know,” Shane smiled. “He’s not like those people who say things they don’t mean, you know. He means what he says. He thinks about it before he says it. And not just because he’stranslating it in his head. He doesn’t bother speaking unless he’s saying something that he wants you to hear. He's so fucking smart. And he pays attention to people, like really sees them for who they are in a way I just can’t.”
“He’s thoughtful,” Rose supplied.
“Intentional,” Shane nodded. “Like everything he does is super intentional. It's like he’s conscious that every single thing he says and does is gonna have a ripple effect, and he thinks about everything he says and does ten steps ahead before he says or does anything.”
“Jesus,” Rose said.
“It’s - I think from how he was raised,” Shane said quietly. “It’s kind of like I’m trying to teach him that there’s nothing he could say or do to make me leave him.”
“He’s been through a lot?” Rose asked.
Shane nodded, not willing to share more than that. He wouldn’t betray Ilya’s confidence like that, and if it wasn’t on his Wikipedia page, Shane wasn’t going to talk about it.
“Yeah and like, he moved here right after he got drafted, so he’s been all on his own in a country that doesn’t understand him for a decade,” Shane said. “I know he has his friends on the team, but soon he’sgonna have to start over again because of me.”
Shane cast his eyes down; he hadn’t said the next part out loud before. He hadn’t even allowed himself to think it inside his own head, cutting the thought off before he could finish it every time.
“He’s gonna have to start all over, and what if I’m not worth it?”
Shane could feel his face grow hot as he stared at his hands in his lap, not realising Rose had moved over to the seat next to him until she started rubbing his back.
“You just said he doesn’t say or do anything without thinking all those steps ahead,” Rose said. “There’s no way a man with convictions like Ilya Rozanov would do all this for you if it wasn’t worth it.”
“But -”
“Is he stupid?” Rose asked.
“No,” Shane said shortly, kind of annoyed.
“No, he’s not,” Rose said firmly. “You just told me how smart he was. Would a smart man uproot his whole life for you if you weren’t worth it?”
Shane shook his head. “Probably not.”
“Mm, probably not,” Rose teased, wrapping her arm around his waist and squeezing him. “You’re worth it, Shane.”
He hummed. He wished it was true.
“Seriously. Do you think I’m friends with every guy I have sex with that grimaces when they’re inside me?” Rose teased.
Shane dropped his face into his hands. “Jesus Christ.”
“I’m serious!” Rose said, setting her wine glass down on the coffee table and grabbing his wrists, pulling them away from his face. “You’re the kind of guy people stick around for, Shane Hollander. You're worth it.”
Shane let himself really feel her words.
“You don’t think he’s gonna regret starting over again?” he asked.
“I don’t think he’s gonna care about anything that happens as long as the two of you are together,” Rose said, letting go of his wrists and snuggling in close to him. Shane wrapped his arm around her, hugging her close as they sat back against the couch cushions.
“I hope you’re right,” he murmured.
“Hey, I was right about everything else, wasn’t I?” Rose said.
ii. David
Shane frowned as he watched his dad read the newspaper, eager to ask what he was looking at, but not wanting to interrupt him.
“Someone vandalised one of the oldest trees in the Rockeries,” his father said.
“Shitty,” Shane muttered.
He looked out onto the porch at his mother who was answering some sort of business call.
“Hey, dad?”
David must have heard something in his tone, because he put the paper down and focused on him completely.
“You knew mom was the one, right?”
“Oh yeah,” his dad smiled, looking out to where Yuna was through the huge bay windows. “Straight away.”
“Did you ever wonder if she felt the same way?”
David locked eyes with him, his brow a little furrowed. “At the start, maybe, yeah. I could never work out what she saw in me.”
Shane nodded. He knew the feeling.
“But, you know, I trusted her when she told me she wanted to build a life with me,” David said.
Shane stared out the window at the lake, trying to think about the years and years that Ilya held his tongue.
“It’s new,” Shane admitted. “Him telling me how he feels.” He didn’t look at his father as he stared at the water. “I can’t tell if there’s still things he isn’t telling me.”
“Shane,” his dad called quietly. Shane turned his head slightly to show he was listening, but he wasn’t ready to look at him just yet. “Ilya isn’t the kind of person to do something he doesn’t want to do.”
Shane tried not to scoff – his father didn’t know Ilya that well. Ilya was exactly the sort of person to do things he didn’t want to do, because his whole life was about taking care of other people.
All Shane wanted to do was take care of Ilya for a change.
“Maybe,” was all he said instead.
“Shane,” David called again, even gentler.
Shane finally looked up, flinching a little when he saw the worry in his father’s eyes.
“Shane, Ilya has been chasing you all around North America for ten years,” David smiled. “Let him come to you one last time. Let him rest.”
Shane let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding.
“He must be so tired,” he tried to joke.
David shook his head and didn’t laugh. “You both seem a little tired. You both need to rest.”
Shane shrugged. However hard it must be for him, it had to be even harder for Ilya.
“I just – I wanna make sure he’s happy,” he said.
“You don’t need to do anything other than what you’re doing,” David said surely. “Talk to him. Be there for him. Be a team. That's all a relationship needs.”
“Three things we spent ten years not doing,” Shane scoffed.
“I don’t know,” David smiled, picking up his paper. “You two made a pretty good team sneaking around all those years.”
Shane couldn’t help but smile back. “So the other two things should be easy.”
“I think you guys will manage,” David winked at him.
Shane believed him.
iii. Hayden
"I just can’t totally wrap my head around it,” Hayden said.
Shane nodded, but he was starting to get frustrated with these talks with Hayden.
He'd known about Shane and Ilya for a month, and at least once every three days he would hit Shane with an I don’t understand. Shane didn’t understand how Hayden kept knocking up Jackie despite not being able to keep up with their soccer team’s worth of kids, but he had the decency to keep his mouth shut. Shane didn’t shout get off of her! And stay off! every time they announced another pregnancy.
“What,” Shane asked flatly.
“You’re just – you're so nice,” Hayden frowned at him.
Shane tried not to roll his eyes at that. He was sure plenty of people who knew both him and Ilya would agree that Ilya was the nice one and Shane was the tense, two words from snapping kind of guy.
“Nice,” Shane repeated. “And nice isn’t, what, enough for Ilya?”
“What? No,” Hayden said forcefully. “More like, he’s a fucking asshole, and I don’t understand how he got such a nice guy like you.”
“Maybe he likes that I’m nice,” Shane said, thinking about how Ilya always called him boring, and how long it took Shane to realise that maybe it wasn’t Ilya making fun of him. “Maybe he’s not the asshole that you think he is.”
“Oh, he’s not?” Hayden challenged.
“He’s a smartass,” Shane conceded. “But he’s not an asshole. He's a good person. What have you heard about him to make you think he was a bad person?”
Hayden was quiet for a moment as he thought.
“I mean – he's a dick on the ice,” he said.
“We’re all dicks on the ice,” Shane rejected.
“He plays rough.”
“But not dirty.”
“He’s -”
“He’s mine,” Shane said softly. “He’s mine, Hayd.”
Hayden nodded, sitting at his kitchen counter and folding his hands on the benchtop. “He’s good to you?”
Shane was sure he was smiling as he turned into the fridge to grab them drinks. “Nobody’s ever been as good to me as him,” he said honestly. “How much do you wanna know?”
Hayden grimaced slightly. “I mean – keep your private stuff private,” he said. “But like – what's he like with you?”
“Well,” Shane tried to think. “He always has my favourite things in his house. Like my drinks and my snacks. He sleeps with a blanket on in the summer even though he sweats because he knows I can’t sleep without something over me. He reads the books I read after me and leaves me notes in the margins for the next time I read them so we can talk about it. He calls out for me in the middle of the night, and when I go to him, it’s like his asleep brain can’t believe that I’m there. He always uses coasters here even though he thinks they’re stupid.”
Hayden blinked, looking surprised at Shane. Maybe Shane said too much.
“Oh,” Hayden said as he looked down at his hands. “You guys are like, in love.”
Shane rolled his eyes. “What did you think we were doing?”
“I mean, I thought maybe it was like a forbidden sex kind of thing,” Hayden said. “Like, maybe even that you guys were friends. I didn’t realise it was this – I don’t know. Real.”
“It kind of started out casual,” Shane admitted. “But even when it was casual, it wasn’t casual, you know?”
Hayden nodded. “I kind of figured, the way you would obsessively text Boston Lily.”
Shane looked down at the counter, hoping he wasn’t blushing. “It was so fucking hard to keep it a secret.”
Hayden was silent for a long moment. “I’m sorry you felt like you couldn’t tell me.”
“No,” Shane shook his head. “It was – there was a lot going on. I wasn’t ready to admit a lot of things about myself for a really long time. And then when I was, it wasn’t just my secret to tell, you know?”
“Yeah,” Hayden said sadly.
“And it’s not like it is for me,” Shane said quietly. “We have a lot to figure out before Ilya can come out safely. People are murdered for being gay over there.”
He looked at Hayden, who seemed stricken.
“Oh, shit.”
Shane could tell the gravity of everything he and Ilya had been holding onto all these years was finally making sense to him.
“I did wanna tell you,” Shane said. “I just wasn’t sure what was safe to tell. This whole thing, it’s never just been mine.”
“I get it,” Hayden said.
“And now, it’s been ours for so long that I don’t really know how to adjust to it not just being ours anymore,” Shane admitted.
Hayden looked at him in shock. “It’s still just yours.”
“For now,” Shane said. “My mom wants some huge announcement for press and money. Ilya’s safety is on the line. We both risk losing our careers in a sport we love, and it’s not like there’s anywhere for us to go at this age. It was safer when it was just ours.”
Hayden stood and walked over to Shane, pulling him into a hug.
“I’ll help you protect it,” he promised.
Shane hugged him back with a smile.
iv. Cliff
Shane tried not to laugh as Ilya did four straight vodka shots in a row faster than the rookies could sink a single shot.
“Ridiculous,” Cliff Marleau said, coming up next to him. “Proper show boater.”
“Can’t be easy being on a team with him,” Shane said sympathetically.
“Gotta enjoy these moments while I can,” Marleau said.
Shane froze, unsure of how to react. Ilya hadn’t said anything about telling Marleau about not resigning with Boston at the end of this season, but maybe he’d forgotten. And Shane had stupidly had had a couple of drinks and maybe he shouldn’t have.
He should have been sober and sharp tonight.
“Oh?” Shane said blankly.
“Everyone due to re-sign did before Christmas,” Marleau said quietly. “I figured out a while ago that Rozanov had somewhere else to be.”
Guilt flooded Shane again as he thought about Ilya leaving the only family he’d had since he left Russia. Ten years with these guys, only to have to start over again in Ottawa.
They didn’t even have good food. Ilya was going to hate Canada so fucking much. He liked the hot weather, and Shane was making him move somewhere that fucking snows eight months out of the year.
“Did he say that?” Shane couldn’t stop himself from asking.
Ilya was beaming as he egged on the rookies to do another shot without choking or sputtering, some of the older boys grabbing a bottle of tequila and suggesting they try something less terrifying.
“No,” Marleau said. “But I've known him long enough to know that he’s doing the right thing.”
Shane frowned and looked over at Marleau. “He is?”
“Yeah,” Marleau shrugged. “Sometimes you just gotta throw caution to the wind and be with your – person.”
Shane caught the way he caught himself on that last word.
“Even if you abandon a team that you carried to the cup?” Shane said quietly.
Marleau knocked his elbow with his own. “He’s a hell of a player,” he said. “Best in the league, if you ask me. Any team he plays for has a shot at making the cup.”
Shane couldn’t help but smile; he agreed. Of course he did.
“He is the best player in the league,” he said softly, watching as Ilya exaggeratedly rolled his eyes and took one of the boys’ tequila shots for him while everybody was looking at Scott Hunter talk. His entire body felt warm as he took him in.
“I just hope Montreal Jane knows how lucky they are to have him,” Marleau said, looking straight at Shane. Shane made the easiest promise he had ever made in his life.
“Jane isn’t gonna fuck it up,” he said.
“Good,” Marleau said, visibly relaxing. “Maybe they can have me and the missus over during the off season.”
“Deal,” Shane said.
He looked around, feeling brave when he confirmed nobody was within earshot of them.
“I love him so much,” Shane said boldly to Marleau. “I’m gonna do everything I can to make this good for him.”
Marleau smiled, his dark hair falling into his eyes as he nodded. “Oh, I know you will. Or you’ll have me to deal with.”
Shane laughed as Marleau winked at him and walked over to his wife. Shane looked back at Ilya, looking down into his drink when Ilya caught his eye and smiled brightly at him.
He was going to do everything in his vast power to make sure Ilya had the happiest, easiest life for the rest of his life.
v. Svetlana
Shane couldn’t make out many words, his Russian being so admittedly poor, but that was okay. It wasn’t often Ilya had the chance to speak freely without needing to translate every single word before saying it.
Svetlana was lovely, and, horribly, even more beautiful than Shane had imagined her to be. She looked like a high fashion model. He'd never seen thinner legs in his life. Shane tried not to think about his own body as he looked across at Svetlana, wondering whether Ilya had a preference.
He’d drunk too much, probably.
He looked up when he heard the balcony door open, raising an eyebrow when he saw Ilya walk outside with a pack of cigarettes. Shane was sure he had quit, looking to Svetlana who looked guilty as she brought their empty plates to the kitchen where he was stacking dishes.
“Sorry, it’s tradition,” she said apologetically. “I always bring him a pack when I come to visit. I didn’t realise he had quit.”
“You don’t need to explain to me,” Shane said, surprising himself a little when he realised he meant it. “I know that those little things from home mean a lot to him.”
Svetlana smiled at him as she reached for the last bottle of wine.
“I’ve been curious about you for so long,” she said, eyeing him up.
Shane looked out to the balcony, watching Ilya smoke as he leaned over the balcony, looking up at the stars. He wished they were alone so he could go and join him. Maybe shove him down onto the swinging chair and get on his knees for him while Ilya kept staring up at the stars.
“I’m not that interesting,” he said, watching Ilya blow smoke straight up into the sky.
“You have to be, to get Ilya’s attention,” Svetlana said. “Let alone keep it for ten years. I don’t think it’s just your good looks.”
Shane shrugged; he had been worried about meeting her, and this was why. He had heard so much about Svetlana, and he wasn’t sure how they would feel about one another. Shane, for his part, had mostly felt jealous that there was someone in the world that knew Ilya better than he did, and that loved him as much as Shane did.
That Ilya loved just as much. Differently to how he loved Shane, he hoped.
He had wondered whether she would meet him then think Ilya had lost his mind by loving Shane and coming to Canada to be with him.
“He calls me boring,” Shane shrugged. “He’s everything to me and he thinks I'm boring. I don’t know why he wants me.”
Shane looked over to Ilya on the balcony, trying not to frown when he noticed him lighting up a new cigarette with one hand as he stubbed out the previous one. He tried not to be embarrassed by the unexpected honesty, ignoring the heat rising through his face.
“I do,” Svetlana said softly. “You’re soft with each other. You treat each other like you’re each other’s whole world.”
“He is,” Shane said simply.
Svetlana smiled. “Good. And you let him be himself. You let him be soft.”
Shane frowned.
“He wasn’t allowed to be like this in Russia,” she explained. “Our men, they’re very cold, very hard. Ilya has never been like that. He's always been so –”
“Gentle,” Shane intoned. “He’s so beautiful.”
“He is. And I can see it now, so are you,” she said smiling, reaching forward and resting her hand over his. “I’ve spent years worrying about him. I feel like I can relax for the first time, seeing you two together.”
Shane looked her in the eye, the alcohol in his system making him feel brave. “I’ve got him,” Shane promised.
“I know. And you’re not boring, Shane,” Svetlana said. “You’re something he’s never had before. You give him peace. A place where he can just be himself, and not worry about acting a certain way.”
Shane looked out to the balcony where Ilya was still smoking, watching him and Svetlana intently. Shane looked back at Svetlana, any jealousy he had for her melting away.
"He does the same for me,” Shane admitted. “Makes me feel safe. Safer than I've ever felt. He’s my best friend.”
It felt like Svetlana was staring into his soul. “I can see that.”
Shane smiled as Ilya came back inside, looking suspiciously at them.
“What are you talking about?” he asked, making his way into the kitchen and wrapping his arm around Shane’s waist, kissing his temple before he moved away and grabbed the dirty dishes.
“How many years it’s gonna take you to win Ottawa a cup,” Svetlana said, winking at Shane.
Ilya scoffed, rolling his eyes and looking at Shane.
“Five years,” he said.
“Ten,” Svetlana said.
Shane pretended to think, before he split the difference.
“Seven.”
i. Ilya
"He’s just so – I don’t know,” Shane said, struggling to keep his eyes open. “So like, good, you know?”
He felt the car take a wide turn, holding his arms out to try to steady himself. He felt the driver push him back into his seat; Shane went easily, sighing.
“It’s hot,” he complained. He smiled when he felt cold air, but frowned again when the sound of the wind hurt his ears. “It’s too loud,” Shane complained.
The wind disappeared, and he felt the air conditioning kick in.
“Sorry, man, I’m being annoying,” Shane apologised to the driver. “I just have to get home to Ilya. Do you know Ilya? I fucking love him so much. I miss him.”
The driver said something, but Shane could barely hear him. He couldn’t hear anything other than his own blood rushing through his ears.
“He’s so beautiful,” Shane sighed. “He has this hair, it’s so curly and cute. I just wanna play with it all the time. He keeps cutting it, and it’s still cute, but I miss when it’s longer. And his mouth. God, you should see his mouth. Sometimes I just wanna stay in bed all day and think about his mouth. And I know what you’re thinking, but no, it’s not just that he’s good at using it. It’s just the way it looks. I love it so much.”
Shane blanched when a bright light flashed into his eyes, forcing them open. He couldn’t make out anything but the blur of the streetlights as they buzzed past.
“Have you ever seen the most perfect man in the world?” Shane babbled. He should probably be quiet; he had no idea who this random can driver was. He needed to be careful.
But he needed to talk about how beautiful Ilya was even more.
“Like his back, and his hands,” Shane smiled, curling into his seat. “He has all these freckles. I haven’t seen them in so long. Like four hours. Are you taking me home to Ilya?”
Shane didn’t hear the answer, but the driver hadn’t asked him for directions. Maybe Hayden had given him instructions for him.
“Have you ever seen blue eyes?” Shane sighed. “Not like, boring blue, but like, someone has eyes so blue it’s like you can see the ocean moving inside their eyes?”
The car slowed down a little.
“But it’s like he’s so beautiful on the outside because of how beautiful is inside,” Shane smiled to himself. “Like, his soul is written all over his skin, you know? Like it just radiates from the inside out.”
Shane felt the car roll to a stop, making a soft noise as the car braked. He tried to open his eyes, but his eyelids weren’t working. Or maybe his eyes were glued shut. Shane wasn’t sure.
He heard the driver get out of the car, taking a deep breath as he shut the door. Shane blinked his eyes open a little when he heard his door open, strong hands unbuckling his seatbelt and pulling him out of the car.
Shane sighed as strong hands gripped him tightly, one arm wrapped around his waist and the other holding his wrist.
“Am I home?” Shane asked. “I need to see him. I miss him.”
He cracked his eyes open, smiling when he saw their bright blue front door.
“I picked this blue because it looks like his eyes,” he told the driver. “I love him more than anything. I wish I could paint everything the exact same blue as his eyes.”
Shane could feel him stop for a moment before he hauled Shane through the door. He could feel himself being hauled up the stairs to the bedroom he shared with Ilya, grateful that the driver seemed to know where to take him.
“I’d paint the roof brown though,” Shane added as an afterthought. “To match his hair. I love his hair. Have you touched his hair? Oh my god, it’s so soft, and I know some days he doesn’t even bother using conditioner.”
Shane hissed as he whacked his elbow against a doorframe.
“Is Ilya home?” Shane asked. “I need Ilya. I can’t sleep without Ilya.”
Shane groaned as the driver let him go, shoving him down to sit on the bed. Shane let himself fall back onto the mattress as his shoes and socks were removed, making a soft noise as his pants were unzipped and removed. Shane tried to smack the driver’s hands away, but the driver was insistent.
"Only Ilya does that,” Shane murmured.
He heard a distant laugh as soft, warm hands moved underneath his shirt, pulling it off over his head. Shane frowned as he felt someone crawl over him, ready to push them off, but relaxed when soft kisses trailed up his neck.
Shane knew those kisses.
“You’re here,” Shane smiled, trying to make his heavy arms reach up and hold him.
Ilya threaded his arm underneath his back, hoisting him up and pulling him up the bed. Shane made a soft noise as Ilya shuffled him around, sighing when he felt cosy covers and strong arms wrap around him, Ilya’s heart beating against his back.
“He brought me straight to you,” Shane smiled.
Ilya mumbled something into his ear, but Shane couldn’t hear anything. The buzzing stopped, but so did everything else.
>>>
Shane smiled, feeling himself fall out of his dream and realising he was in bed with Ilya.
God, he loved Ilya so fucking much.
Shane made a soft noise as Ilya trailed his hand up and down his back, featherlight touches making his skin tingle.
“Did you really paint the front door to match my eyes?” Ilya muttered into his neck.
Shane grimaced. “Did I say that?”
“You said a lot of things,” Ilya said.
Shane could feel him smile, all too familiar with the way his mouth felt against the back of his shoulder.
“What else did I say?”
Ilya’s arm wound around his front, pushing Shane flat on his back. Shane smiled as Ilya climbed over him, reaching up to brush his frizzy brown curls out of his face.
“You said you missed me, that you can’t sleep without me,” Ilya said. “You said you like my freckles. And my hands. And my eyes. You really like my mouth, hey, Hollander?”
Shane rolled his eyes, but he lifted his chin. Ilya leaned down to meet him halfway, kissing him softly.
“You love me,” Ilya teased in a singsong voice.
Shane rolled his eyes, but he spread his legs for Ilya, smiling when Ilya settled between them, resting on his chest. Shane cradled Ilya, sighing as he finally ran his fingers through his curls, remembering how much he had wanted to do this last night.
“Oh, you talked about my hair a lot,” Ilya mumbled against his heart.
Shane gripped his hair and pulled a little, smiling at the soft noise Ilya made.
“Yeah, I like your hair a lot,” Shane smiled. “And your eyes. And your hands. And these freckles,” he said, running his hands down Ilya’s bare back, teasing the cleft of his bare ass. “And your mouth,” Shane whispered.
Ilya started shuffling down his body. Shane forced himself to keep his eyes open as Ilya pulled his boxer briefs down, mouthing at his cock.
Shane watched as Ilya used his mouth, the red lips he was so obsessed with, the pronounced cupid’s bow that he had kissed thousands of times over the years, unable to look at anything else.
He'd never been able to focus on anything else when Ilya was near him.
He never wanted to do anything but look at Ilya.