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When Ilya accepted to go work out with the team he didn’t expect to get his heart broken. Actually he didn’t even see it coming.
He was minding his own business when they called out for him, “Roz! come look at this”, he walked over to them, “Apparently Shane Hollander is dating Rose Landry”.
Ilya’s heart drops, who is doing what?! And more importantly, why is Ilya so upset about it. They’re not together, they could never be, that much is clear. So why does he feel like someone punched him in the face.
He pretended to not care, maybe not too successfully, but he played it cool. He thinks, at least.
That day, when he got back to his empty apartment, he didn’t even pretend to have a normal night, he went straight from the door to his bedroom, not wanting to even look at the couch, he hasn’t really sat on it since that day. Since Shane decided to abandon him, to freak out in the most Shane way possible.
Ilya keeps telling himself he should’ve known. He should’ve seen it coming, what was he thinking, saying his name like that, as if it would change anything. The truth is Ilya had hoped it would, he had hoped that it would make them closer in a way. Stupid. Shane made him feel good, there was no denying that.
He headed straight to the bathroom the moment he let his bag fall at the end of the bed, Shane would tell him to not leave his sweaty clothes in the bag like that, to take them out immediately and at least throw them in the hamper. He pushed the thought aside and stopped himself from kicking said hamper to the other side of the room.
After a way too long shower, spent mostly standing under the water, with his eyes closed, pretending that the shortness of breath he was experiencing was due to the hot water making the bathroom fog up too much for the air to be breathable, and not due to his stupid feelings.
With a towel around his waist he slowly walked - dragged his feet actually - to the kitchen to grab something to drink. In a normal situation he’d just pour some vodka, some of that good vodka he gets from Russia, in a glass, but this time a coke seems like a better idea to stay in control, mostly of his feelings.
He opens the fridge without even thinking, forgetting what has haunted him for the past week, 5 ginger-ale cans are still sitting there, right in front of him, mocking him and his stupid emotions, making him feel like he lost something that he never really had.
He stands there, frozen, numb, then he grabs a coke. Somehow though, it feels wrong, it feels like he’s not supposed to have one if Shane isn’t there to drink a ginger ale next to him, reminding him about how bad all that sugar late at night is.
“It’s gonna rot your teeth” he’d say, thinking he was being tough when in reality it was just extremely adorable.
“I'm a hockey player, sugar isn’t the worst thing that can happen to my teeth” he’d say back, grinning.
He’d brush his teeth again before going to bed.
He holds the coke in his hand for way too long, observing it but not really focusing on anything. He opens the fridge again and puts it back. Before he can think twice about it, he grabs a ginger ale and makes his way back to his bedroom.
The can is cold in his hands, maybe too cold, he realises he feels cold, he should probably put some clothes on, but it’s easier to just drop the towel, shove some boxers on and get under the sheets.
He’s never been a duvet guy, he’s russian, he doesn’t do cold. When it’s too cold outside and he wants to feel warm he just turns up the heating, but Shane complained about it once. “You know how bad that is for the environment?” Ilya had just scoffed at that, but once again, he’d listened, he had turned it down.
That day, before planning to ask Shane to stay at his place, he had bought a duvet. One of the expensive, super fluffy ones. Just to be sure his bed was comfortable and warm enough. Looking back, that was stupid too. Shane wouldn’t have cared, nor noticed, but that didn’t really matter now because he’s dating fucking Rose Landry, and she’s hot, and even if it hurts him to admit it, she’s perfect for him. Soft and understanding. Fuck.
He lays in bed, staring at the ceiling, listening to the soft bubbling of the fizzy drink left untouched on his night stand. He sits up and takes a sip, God how does Shane drink this stuff.
That night he ended up falling asleep with the TV on and a full can of ginger ale next to his bed.
A couple of days, and plenty of articles about the new couple after, he gets back home to Svetlana. She’s standing in one of his Boston shirts, it almost reaches to half of her thighs and the shoulders are way too big, but she looks comfortable, and she’s there for him.
He called her the day before, asking if she was up for one of their nights, he tried his best to be normal, sexy, daring, but all he managed to sound like was pathetic and in very dire need of someone to fill the silence.
They kiss, make out, have sex, all the usual stuff they do every time she’s in Boston, or at least what they used to do every time. Before it stopped feeling so good, before Ilya realised he was thinking about someone else. The sex was still good, they’re both hot and capable, so it was always a fun time.
After showering they find themselves, clean and dressed up, back on the bed. Is at that point, for some pathetic reason, that Ilya realises he misses the usual ruffling of clothes and soft footsteps of Shane trying to clean up and fold his and Ilya’s clothes.
But Svetlana’s there, and they’re joking and laughing, speaking half in English and half in Russian.
A few jokes after, Ilya’s head is in her lap, and against everything he ever believed in, against everything he swears he’ll never do, his eyes start to get wet. He can feel the stinging of the tears building up behind his eyes. He’s not supposed to do that. He doesn’t cry. That’s pathetic, “men don’t cry” that’s what his dad always told him, since the day his mother died he heard that sentence at least twice a day, how real men don’t cry, not even when their mother kills herself. He was twelve, he wasn’t a man, but he didn’t cry in front of his father ever again, he’s not sure he cried in front of anyone after that.
But tonight that’s bound to change, because he can’t stop. He doesn’t know if it’s the nice vodka Svetlana brought back from Russia and that he had a glass of earlier, or if it’s the warmth and comfort of having her there, her hand though his hair, like this warm reminder of home.
The tears build in his eyes more and more, if he was Shane he’d say he isn’t crying yet, because the tears aren’t falling. But he isn’t Shane, and he’s way too aware of how weak he’s being. Against his will, his breath shudders. Svetlana tenses up slightly, as if she’s trying to listen for more, they’ve never been the emotional type of friends, but he knows she’d be there for him, that she wouldn’t judge him.
He sniffles, an actual loud sniffle. She definitely knows now.
Her hand moves softly in his hair, massaging his head, she starts speaking in Russian, not mixed with English anymore.
“Ilya, what’s going on? What happened?” He doesn’t move, doesn’t speak. She doesn’t push it, just quietly keeps moving her hand, waiting for him to be ready.
Eventually he is.
“I fucked up, I did something I wasn’t supposed to” Ilya realises that he’s being more dramatic than necessary, but he doesn’t know how else to go about this.
“It can’t be that bad” She smiles and Ilya can hear it in her voice, he turns his head just enough to stare at the ceiling and glance at her at the same time.
Svetlana’s hand moves from his hair to his cheek.
“I-I have feelings for someone… someone impossible to have” She doesn’t look surprised or taken aback, she just nods understandingly, giving him the silence and space to keep talking, at his own pace. God why is she so good at this. “It’s someone I shouldn’t want. Someone I can’t want. There’s simply no world in which whatever I feel could ever be okay”
“Jane?” Ilya looks at her, and swallows hard.
“It’s not that easy”
“Does he not love you back” Love is such a scary word though.
“I don’t love him- wait. Him?” Ilya’s eyes widen in surprise, how does she know? It’s not a secret to her that Ilya likes men too but in what world would she assume that? They never even talked about him, not in that way at least.
“I’m not one of your hockey boys, Ilya. I see signs when they’re right in front of me. No woman would ever make you so scared and sad at the same time. If it was a woman you’d be screaming her name at the top of your lungs, telling everyone about her. But you aren’t.”
“I simply can’t. I fucking can’t say anything. To anyone. Fuck-” She stops his rambling, talking as if what she’s about to say is the easiest most obvious thing ever.
“You can talk to me…” If Ilya didn’t know her he’d almost think she was hurt by the fact he’s not talking yet. But he does know her, and he knows this is mostly about getting him to talk, to take that weight off his chest. “You don’t have to tell me who it is, just tell me about him. You love him, right? So tell me why” Ilya scoffs, he wishes it was that easy, but anything he’d say would make it obvious he is another player, and from there it wouldn’t be too hard to guess who.
“I can’t. You’d guess.”
“I promise I won’t try to guess” Her hand is still stroking his hair softly, occasionally moving it down to his cheek, catching a tear that he couldn’t hold in. Ilya finally breaks.
“He’s ridiculous” He chuckles bitterly, “He’s always scared and overthinking… But it’s adorable. And he worries so much.” Ilya lets out a sigh, it feels good to talk about him openly, and this is probably the first time he’s so honest about his feelings to himself, or to anyone else for that matter. “I don’t know if I love him” He takes another deep breath, trying so hard to not cry. He doesn’t even know why he’s crying. But he is, and just the thought of Shane makes his eyes sting. He’s so fucked.
“It sounds like you do.” She says it so matter of factly, as if it was the most simple thing ever, as if it was as clear as day that Ilya Rozanov was in love.
“He’s so sweet, and so fucking annoying. But I think I do… Love him, I mean” And that was it. For the first time in his life, he was in love. In love and brave enough to admit it, to himself mostly, but also to someone else. “Fuck. I do love him. And it’s killing me that he’s probably in bed with someone else now. And it’s probably my fault too” Svetlana’s hand freezes in his hair, she doesn’t pull away, but the comforting stroke of her hand stops, leaving Ilya pathetically empty.
“Ilya… Your fault in what way? Because I know you, and I know you tend to try to not care about stuff. To be stoic and tough. But I know for a fact you don’t fuck things up, not on purpose at least.”
“I pushed too much, I did fuck up. He wasn’t ready for things to be real, and I made them real. I got so happy and stupidly excited about him staying over that I forgot we aren’t supposed to be real.” He glances at her and quickly realises she looks so confused.
“That doesn’t sound like fucking up”
“I was already pushing it when I made him a fucking tuna melt” He wants to laugh, he knows he sounds ridiculous, he made him food, it’s just a normal nice thing to do, he’d do that for a friend too. Well, actually maybe Shane would. Not Ilya. He doesn’t do that, he doesn’t go to the store the day before inviting his situationship over just to buy ginger ale. “I went to the store to buy ginger ale, and i set my fridge to the temperature I noticed he keeps at home. So his drink would be the right temperature. That’s ridiculous, Svetlana. Stupid, and ridiculous, and insane. I am insane. And I pushed him away.”
“Did he freak out because of a ginger ale?” Ilya has never been so glad to have never made fun of Shane for his ginger ale passion - obsession really - because if he did, Svetlana would’ve definitely guessed by now.
“No. No, I don't think so. He was weirded out, but I think it’s mostly about me making him tuna melt. Not the drink.” Ilya glances at her again, incredibly glad when her hand resumes the soft massaging of his head.
“So what was it?”
“I called him by his first name, while… coming…” She tries so hard to keep a straight face, but when Ilya looks at her she loses it completely. Her laugh makes Ilya’s head bounce on her lap. “Shut up.”
“Sorry…” She’s still laughing and Ilya can’t stop himself from joining in.
“It’s serious. He freaked out. He left. And now i’m laying here like a sad pathetic- nevermind” She stops laughing, softly wiping at her eyes.
“Ilya just fucking call him or something.”
God how he wished it was that easy.
“Can’t.”
“Why? You have his number, you’ve been texting him all day every day. Ignoring me…” She fakes annoyance, but Ilya can tell she’s so happy for him, so happy he found someone special enough to make his eyes sparkle when he talks about him.
He does something between a shove and a headbutt on her lap, “Fuck off, I’m freaking out over here, give me a real solution” He looks at her again, “And no. Calling him is not an option. He’s probably fucking Ro- His girlfriend.” He freezes, that was way too close to fucking it up.
“Ilya.”
“No. Don’t. Can’t say.”
“Ilya.” Her look wasn’t harsh, or judging, she just genuinely wanted to know. Probably to comfort him better. To try and fix it.
“Svet.”
“Is it him? Telling you that you can’t tell anyone?" Ilya sighs. He had never thought about it that way. Would he tell Svetlana who it was if it wasn’t for Shane’s obsession to keep it private? Ilya respected Shane’s choice, and he had no wish to come out. Especially because he can’t. He wouldn’t be able to go back home because god knows what would happen to him. But would he want to tell his friends? Does he even have any friends? Besides Svetlana, of course.
“I respect it. I would never want him to feel outed. I am fine with his choice. I don’t need to tell people.”
“Not people, Ilya. Friends. Are you keeping his secret or yours?” Ilya has never thought about it that way. About it being Shane’s secret he was keeping. It wasn’t untrue, he didn’t mind keeping it, but he might also need someone in his corner. Someone that wasn’t Shane. He realised how alienated he felt. How his relationship with Shane felt real, and big, but at the same time it felt like it was a dream, a parallel universe where they could both hide for a few hours every once in a while. Svetlana was right. He needed to tell someone, and Ilya knew she would keep the secret.
“I want to tell you. I want it to be real.”
“It’s real whether you tell me or not. But it might help to tell someone.”
“Maybe I will. One day. I’d ask him first, but we’re not speaking right now because he’s too busy fucking someone else. While I can’t even- do anything without thinking about him.”
He’s still not sure he’s going to ever feel Shane’s skin under his hands. What if he loves her, what if he marries her, what if they build a life and he has to watch Shane have perfect little babies with fucking Rose Landry.
His breathing must have quickened because Svetlana moves her hand from his hair to his cheek again, trying to calm him down. “Ilya, breathe.” He scoffs, like she just said the most stupid thing ever. As if Ilya Rozanov would ever need to have someone remind him to breathe.
But clearly he does, because when he tries to take a deeper breath in, he finds his lungs heavy, his breathing stays shallow. Pathetic. “Ilya.”
“I’m fine. I’m ok” Maybe he isn’t, but it doesn’t matter when Svetlana switches back to english. Ilya doesn’t know if she did it to distract him from what was starting to look scarily close to a panic attack, or simply because what she was about to say was tied to their North American lives.
“Ilya… Is it Shane Hollander?” For the first time in what feels like hours, Ilya snaps up, he sits up so fast his oxygen deprived head starts spinning. “Is that a yes?”
“How the fuck do you know?!”
“The signs were there”
“What the fuck does that mean?!” Ilya was snapping at her for no reason now, she wasn’t doing anything wrong. If anything, her apparent lack of surprise, or any other emotion for that matter, was helping him. It felt normal, like nothing special, and maybe that bothered Ilya a bit. But mostly, he felt like betraying Shane.
“Ginger ale and calling him by his first name, Ilya? Really?” Ilya was confused. Ginger ale isn’t something tied to Shane publicly, at least not in an obvious way. Sure Shane must have mentioned it in some interview but it’s not like the world knew how absolutely obsessed he was with it. And other people like ginger ale too anyways. “Hollander must have mentioned ginger ale a million times in his interviews. Also you were watching his cottage documentary and that boy has no less than 20 cans of ginger ale in his fridge.”
That still didn’t make complete sense to him, “What about the last name thing?”
“The only people that you would call by their last name, and that would freak out if you didn’t, are hockey players. And “Jane” is from Montreal. The only Metros guy you keep commenting too much on is Hollander. I thought it was because he is amazing at hockey, but at some point it became obvious you were trying to insult him to hide something else.” Damn it. She’s right. It’s obvious to anyone that wants to see it. And that thought was scary.
“Oh”
– – – – – –
Slowly, the next week passed. Ilya was living on autopilot, wake up, train, go back home, sleep. That’s all he could do, and quite frankly he wasn’t sure he was doing it right either.
The 4 ginger ale cans left were still in his fridge, mocking him loudly, the one can he had opened that night after finding out about them is still on his nightstand. He emptied it a couple of days after opening it, when he started feeling disgusted by it, but he placed the can back on the nightstand. Without thinking, he had put it on the left side, the closest to the window. Shane hadn’t really been in his bedroom, on his bed, but whenever they stayed in hotels Ilya would notice Shane always picked the window side of the room, so it only felt right to leave it there for him.
Training wasn't good, he was distracted and anyone could tell. Marleau tried to talk to him, “as friends” he said, but Ilya couldn’t bring himself to be honest with anyone right now, so he just forced a smile and blamed it on being tired. When they won the next game people stopped asking him questions, he played well, that’s the only thing he could do really. Playing hockey wasn’t about thinking, and Ilya was naturally smart. Years of playing hockey no matter what, of having to perform at his best at all times, even when the world around him was crumbling, had prepared him for this. He could still beat other teams while his heart was burning.
Ilya was purposefully ignoring the calendar, they had some home games so he wouldn’t have to think about who they were playing against until they had to make game plans for it. He pretended to not know exactly when they would’ve played Montreal. Pretended to be completely oblivious and unaffected. But the truth is, he wasn’t. He was counting down the days. Forcing himself to not put a reminder in his phone like he usually did. If Ilya was a teenage girl, he’d be subscribed to the pro version of a countdown app.
The day eventually came, and the worst part was that they were playing in Montreal. He decided to drive the almost 6 hours there. He didn’t know if being alone was the right idea, but the thought of having to explain to the team why he felt like he does was enough to make him choose the lonely option.
He left his house way too early, they had to be in the hotel by 5pm, so all he had to do was leave around 11 and he would’ve been fine, instead he left the house at 7am, after walking around his living room for way longer than he’d like to admit. He made sure he had everything he needed at least 4 times, then he threw his bags in the car and sat in the driver’s seat. He scrolled through his music app for the first time in probably a month. The first playlist on it is his usual car playlist, normal music he can hum along to, he subconsciously scrolls down and finds a playlist he had made for Shane. Well, not for him, but about him. The cover photo was one he had taken of him when he fell asleep one night. His brain threw him back into those memories, they were in Ilya’s hotel room, they had joked about how the room number was a combination of their jersey numbers, then Shane had gotten on his knees before Ilya could even realise what was happening. Ilya wouldn’t admit it, but he liked how Shane made him feel when he was so ready. The sex had been good, like it usually was, but something was different that time, maybe it was the way his kisses lingered a bit longer on Shane, or the way Shane felt less worried, more free. Like for the first time he was happy to be there and not only glad to see Ilya again. It was like that night, he knew they would keep seeing each other, knew that he didn’t have to take in all he could, waiting for things to break off. Ilya snapped back to reality with a scoff, maybe Shane was right. Maybe Ilya should’ve taken everything in too. That night Shane had fallen asleep after sex, for the first time in Ilya’s room, he was comfortable enough to let himself fall asleep. Ilya knew he had to wake him up, they couldn’t sleep in the same room all night, people would have noticed, but he didn’t do it immediately, instead he looked at him. He had laid next to Shane, looked at his chest moving and his eyelashes fluttering softly. Without thinking he had grabbed his phone and zoomed in on his face. Only his freckles and a small piece of his eye were visible, no one would’ve guessed it was Shane, but that quickly became Ilya’s favourite picture of him. He had found himself looking at it the day before Shane came to Boston. When Ilya realised he loved that picture more than any shirtless photoshoot he’d seen he admitted to himself that he wanted more, he wanted it to be real.
The drive started with soft, non Shane related, music. He drove without thinking, he figured that if he stayed zoned out then he wouldn’t have to think about Shane, about how he was driving to Montreal, about how last time he saw Shane he pictured that this trip would be exciting, that he wouldn't have to stay in a hotel room because Shane would let him stay over like he had done for him. But that wasn’t the reality, so he couldn’t think like that, and he couldn’t let that fact break him again.
When he got to Montreal he tapped the hotel address in the GPS. He followed the instructions without thinking, until he started feeling like he recognised the area, he knew the hotel was really close to the rink, and he knew it was a different one this time, what he didn’t expect was to end up in Shane’s neighborhood. He tries to ignore it, to convince himself that he’s wrong the same way he tries to convince himself that the sting in his eyes is just due to how early he woke up and how long he has been driving.
The hotel is quiet when he walks in, but the lady at the front desk is already walking towards him.
“Mr. Rozanov, please, come in. You’re the first one of your team but your room is ready for whenever you want to settle in.” Her voice is kind and even if you weren’t looking at her you would be able to tell she’s smiling as big as she can. Ilya feels bad when he doesn’t have the emotional strength to smile back.
“Is now ok?” She simply nods and calls over another worker to bring him to his room. The new guy asks him about a million questions, half of those go unanswered and probably not understood by Ilya anyways. Then finally, the guy leaves.
The door isn’t even fully closed yet when Ilya falls on his bed, sprawled out in the middle of it, looking at the ceiling like it personally offended him.
What a fucking joke.
He spends the rest of the day inside of his room, orders some junk food he probably shouldn’t have, and goes to sleep early enough to not hear his phone ring when he gets a text from Jane.
Needless to say he had a very interesting morning. He woke up before his alarm, which made him check the time on his phone, and almost roll off the bed when he sees the notification “Are you here yet?” It was 6am, Shane might have been awake already. So he replied.
“Yes” Good job Ilya, great text. Shane didn’t take long to reply, when Ilya was back from the bathroom two notifications were waiting for him.
“I don’t want it to be weird today.” then another text a minute later, “please don’t make it weird” Ilya scoffed for the millionth time.
“I do not make it weird.”
“Ok”
He did try to not make it weird. He just wasn’t very successful.
The game sucks. Ilya scores two goals, Shane scores another two. All four of those goals get scored when only one of them is on the ice. When they both are, it’s a shit show. Ilya doesn’t know if they’re trying to avoid or look at each other. Maybe Shane is trying to avoid Ilya, but Ilya is definitely just trying to look at Shane.
He checks him every chance he gets, trying to look at him. Pinning him against the glass and pushing his own face in front of Shane’s.
Look at me.
He doesn’t say anything. His hands are sweating under his gloves, he can feel little droplets of sweat running down his head under his helmet, he doesn’t care. Time seems to move in slow motion, his hands on Shane’s back, keeping him checked against the glass. He doesn’t even know if the puck is still under them.
Please look at me in the eyes. Have I fucked up?
A whistle, fuck, the puck is definitely not under them anymore and now it only looks like Ilya’s fighting Shane. But Shane is letting him.
Am I losing you for good?
A referee skates over to them, grabbing Ilya’s jersey and pulling him off of Shane, he doesn’t fight it. He lets his skate slide on the ice, away from Shane, away from the small amount of contact they’re allowed to want. Shane glares at him, angry, disappointed. That kills Ilya, he skates away, letting the air in his face dry his eyes. How can Shane be so ok with this?
Montreal ends up winning the game, Pike scoring the third goal with a minute to go.
He doesn’t wait on the ice for his team to line up and get off it, instead he speed walks to the locker room trying to gain a couple of seconds of very much needed alone time to put up an acceptable face. He waits next to the door, fist bumping all the team members as they walk in, letting out the usual “good job”, “unlucky”.
He drops everything that he’s wearing, shoving every piece in his bag, randomly. He knows he’ll regret this later but he needs to get in the shower, the sooner the better. His skin is sweaty, sticky, and every inch of it is screaming to be touched by Shane.But Shane isn’t there. Or, well, technically he is, but he feels a million miles away. The thought of it makes Ilya’s breath shallow again, he really needs that shower. He needs to wash away the feeling of Shane's body pressed against his, of his hair peaking out of the helmet just enough to graze Ilya’s cheek, taunting him.
He leaves everything but a towel on his bag and walks to the showers, he’s not sure whether he wants this to be the fastest shower ever or if he wants to just stand under the water, let it wash away every feeling.
He doesn’t get to choose because a minute into his shower Marleau walks in, chuckling.
“Damn man, what did you do?” Ilya freezes. What does he know? How could he know anything? What exactly is he asking? The confusion must have been clear on Ilya’s face because Cliff speaks again, “You made your lady quite angry, Roz.” He chuckles and Ilya is about to rock his teeth out of his skull. “Jane is mad at you, man”
“And you know this, how?” He goes through every option possible in his head. Did he assume his behaviour was connected to that? Of all possible options, for some reason, Ilya doesn’t think of the most obvious one.
“She just texted you to fuck off”
Fuck.
Well at least Shane had texted him. Sure it didn’t look like it was to pretend all of this never happened but it was something.
Ilya didn't think he deserved him anyways. He should’ve broken off things earlier. Should’ve stopped calling him over to his hotel rooms the moment he started feeling like he couldn’t help it anymore. When it stopped being a booty call and it started being need. Need to feel him, touch him, make him feel good and drink every little sound he makes. Instead he kept luring him in, ruining him. Ilya knew Shane would never say no, and somehow, it felt like it was his responsibility to do so. Except he failed. Massively.
Ilya finished showering as quickly as he could and walked back to the locker room with a towel around his waist. He didn’t even bother putting any clothes on before he grabbed his phone to reply to “Jane”. It turns out, he doesn’t really know what to say. He would apologise, maybe for making it weird. Probably that’s what Shane is mad about. But his pride keeps him from doing that.
“Don’t act like you didn’t like that” Technically it was true, Shane had let him pin him against the glass for longer than needed. He could have easily pushed him off after about two seconds, but he hadn’t, because he wanted it, he wanted Ilya’s body pressed on his own, and that was the only way he would’ve gotten what he wanted. Ilya was mad, he’s not really sure what is making him so angry, but he twists the knife. “What is your problem?” Shane scoffed so loud that for a second he worried Ilya could’ve heard him.
“My problem?!” Ilya stopped thinking, he didn’t care anymore. He needed Shane back. That was all he could think about. Get him back. Whatever you have to do to get him back, do it. There was only one thing he wasn’t going to do, and that was making himself pathetic and small. He had never really been vulnerable in front of Shane and he wasn’t about to start now.
“You freaked out and dated Rose Landry” Ilya dropped his phone on the bench to try and focus on getting ready to leave and not on fucking Shane Hollander. Literally.
“Are you jealous?! Is this what all of this is about?!” Oh no, he was not going to let Shane shame him for something he was already so unsure and scared of.
“Fuck you Hollander” Ilya saw the typing dots appear and disappear a few times and he could very vividly imagine a frozen Shane behind the screen, internally freaking out over his last name written clear as day on the screen.
“Don’t call me that. People could’ve seen.” Ilya's blood boils, who fucking cares, that’s his last name, anyone that could’ve been looking at Shane’s screen wouldn’t assume anything and Ilya would’ve never typed it he wasn’t sure no one was looking at his.
“That is your name.”
“Sure..”
Ilya doesn’t want the conversation to end. He knows the only reason Shane texted him before was to make sure he wasn’t going to make things weird, which in Shane’s mind means “please don’t do anything that would make me inevitably and obviously attracted to you”. And now it was only to let him know he did not follow his instructions. But that was the first time in weeks that Ilya felt anything, and he didn’t want it to end. What he didn’t mean to do was fuck it up even more.
“Svetlana was right”
“About what.” Ilya can picture the sass in Shane’s voice, the annoyance.
“You are more worried about secret than about me” Ilya stares at the text before sending it, debating it over and over again, is that too much? He’s certainly not toning down the reason why Shane left. He’s still being too much, too involved. His hand sends the text before his brain can agree. He regrets it immediately.
Shane stops replying. Great. All Ilya can do is try to focus back on the team. He engages with his teammates more than he has done in the past three months and they don’t question it. They keep him busy, his mind occupied with team talk. A few times Hollander gets mentioned and Ilya tries his best to feel normal about it. He’s just another player.
He’s about to leave, finally ready to get back to his hotel room, alone, when his phone buzzes. He grabs it without thinking twice, without remembering his phone is on Do Not Disturb, and the only one that can bypass it is… Shane.
“What did you do?” Ilya stares at his phone confused, what did he do? He has no idea what Shane is talking about.
“???”
“How does Svetlana know all that.” Ilya almost wants to tease him about how there is supposed to be a question mark at the end of that sentence, but he has a feeling it wasn’t a mistake. His stomach turns uncomfortably. God, he wasn’t supposed to find out like this.
“I told Svetlana you are asshole” Half a lie.
“You told her I’M an asshole??? As in Shane Hollander?!” Ilya doesn’t really know how to reply because, yes, he did, and he knows Shane won’t be happy about it. And he knows that Shane is somewhere in this building freaking out massively. Ilya doesn’t have to reply though, because his phone rings again. “Go to the spare locker room.” Ilya knows about the alleged spare locker room that the Montreal rink has, Shane has mentioned it once during one of their meetings in Montreal, and because of that Ilya also knows that that room is strictly locked. Not even the coaches have the keys, Ilya doesn’t really know why.
“That room is locked”
“Spare. Locker. Room. Now.” Ilya doesn’t have to read that twice. Shane is pissed, and Ilya knows he’s about to get his heart broken. Again.
The walk down the hallway feels too long, Ilya knows he’s not going over to Shane with the usual premises. He knows he’s not going to leave with a smile on his face and an empty body. This time he’ll feel empty.
When he walks into the locker room the door slams behind him before he can even see Shane. He has no idea how he managed to get the keys but he locks the door from the inside. Ilya would almost be scared if he wasn’t so down bad for Shane that he wouldn’t even mind being murdered right in this room. Let his ghost haunt the Montreal Metro’s rink. He could watch Shane train for eternity.
He gets snapped back to reality quickly when Shane steps in front of him. “What the fuck is your problem?”
“What-”
“You told your fuckbuddy about us?! And you used my name.” Shane was speaking too fast and Ilya was just staring at his lips, trying to drink up every word.
“Is just Svetlana” He can see Shane take a breath, trying to calm himself down. He steps away and Ilya almost reaches out to stop him.
“What if she tells people. Fuck Rozanov, we had a rule. One damn rule.” He needs Shane to look at him, he needs to feel his gaze on him. He doesn’t care if he’s angry, if he hates him right now. He needs him to be close again.
“Shane.” That works, in a way, because Shane turns around, eyes small, angry. Like a kitten, Ilya thinks, but he knows better than to make comments right now. Shane has tears in his eyes, like he always does when they’re upset at each other.
“Don’t you fucking dare Rozanov” Shane’s voice barely rises, but Ilya steps back, almost hurt. God what is wrong with him.
“Svetlana is just friend, yes? She won’t tell. I am sure.”
“It doesn’t matter. You shouldn’t have told anyone.” Ilya steps closer, hoping Shane will let him make up for this in any way. Wishful thinking. Shane steps back.
“Don’t worry Hollander, won’t make you suck my dick, you already have Rose Landtry” Shane scoffs, and Ilya can see in his eyes that he’s done, disappointed almost.
“Fuck you, Rozanov”
Shane leaves. He simply leaves, he unlocks the door, opens it, and slams it behind him once he’s out.
Ilya walks back outside, grabbing the keys Shane left, locking the door behind him and walking past the Metro’s locker room to drop the keys on the floor, they’ll just assume Shane dropped them. He makes his way back to the locker room, finding just a couple of his teammates left in it.
When he’s ready to leave, he simply grabs his bag and walks out. Cliff tries to say something but before he manages to let a syllable out Ilya is already telling him he’s fine.
He walks back to the hotel, he had taken an Uber to the game earlier, but he feels like the cold air on his skin is a better idea. He doesn’t put the address in his GPS, he just wanders around, thinking he will remember the way easily. Unfortunately, when his brain thinks home, it doesn’t default to whatever hotel Ilya’s staying in. It defaults to Shane. So at 10pm, Ilya Rozanov finds himself in front of Shane’s apartment, with no recollection of how he got there.
His first thought is about how stupid it is, Shane doesn’t even live there, he’s probably at home, not there. Ilya doesn’t leave though. He sits on a lonely bench outside of the building and grabs his phone from his pocket for the first time since he texted Shane. The only notification is a text from Svetlana.
“If i didn’t know any better I’d say you and Hollander really can’t stand each other” He almost chuckles, then without thinking twice he hits the call button next to Svetlana’s name.
The phone rings a couple of times, until a very tired sounding Svetlana answers.
“Hello?”
“Hello.” Ilya doesn’t really know what to say, or why he called, but he needs someone to tell him what to do.
“Ilya?”
“Yes. Yeah. Sorry I know it’s late”
“Since when do you apologise?” God, she’s not making this easy.
“Shane is mad at me because I told you about us” He can hear Svetlana sigh loudly.
“That’s ridiculous” Ilya doesn’t think so. He deserves it.
“No. It isn’t. He’s right. I should’ve kept the secret, it wasn’t my right to out him”
“Ilya you didn’t out him. I guessed, and you were just being honest with a friend, seeking comfort. It’s not normal for him to get so mad about it. It’s not healthy” For some reason that makes Ilya mad, like she was insulting their relationship. Insulting Shane. When he doesn’t say anything else she keeps talking, “Are you sure this whole thing is a good idea? It sounds like you’re suffering for him more than he would do for you” Ilya feels like he just got slapped across the face. She doesn’t know anything. He stands up, running a hand theough his hair.
“So what are you suggesting, Svet?! That I stop trying?! That I end things?!” Just the thought of it makes Ilya sick, he’s going to do the opposite actually.
“Ilya.”
“No. You don’t know anything. I just walked to his house subconsciously! I can’t just forget him!” Ilya is on the verge of tears again and Svetlana seems to understand it, because the next thing she says surprises Ilya enough to snap him back to reality.
“Then go get your man”
Ilya has never ended a phone call that quickly. Before he can convince himself to not put himself through the inevitable rejection, or to realise that there’s a very slim chance Shane is actually there, he walks to the front of the building for the first time ever. He walks in and lets his memory take him to Shane’s front door. He knocks.
No reply.
Please.
Knocks again. Still nothing.
He’s about to give up when he hears a noise from the other side of the door. Then it opens. They stare at each other for a beat too long, then it dawns on Ilya. What if Rose is there?
“Is she-“ Shane shakes his head before he can finish the sentence and Ilya lets out a loud relieved sigh. “Can we talk? Please?” Shane doesn’t say anything, he just steps aside and lets Ilya in.
“Sit.” Ilya doesn’t hesitate.
“I am sorry. For real. I told her I could not tell her. She guessed and I was hurt” Shane interrupts him again.
“No. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have snapped at you.” Ilya almost smiles. “And you’re right. I freaked out, because it made me feel things we’re not supposed to.” That single sentence made Ilya forget about everything bad that ever happened, they were going to be honest and it was going to be alright.
“We are both sorry” Shane nods. “Rose?” Ilya was terrified to get a reply he couldn’t stand, and even more terrified he would cry in front of him.
“Me and her aren’t… compatible” Ilya nods but Shane can tell he’s not sure, maybe of what that even means, so he spits out the thing he’s been terrified to say out loud since he and Rose talked about it, “I’m gay”
Ilya almost laughs, “Woah, how bad did you fuck Rose Landry?”
“Fuck off.”
They kept talking for what felt like hours. First it wasn’t about anything deep. It was mostly teasing each other. Ilya mentioning Rose every two sentences and Shane pretending he didn’t know it was purely out of jealousy. At one point they fell silent, a comfortable silence.
Ilya let his back rest against the couch, more calm, somehow just being in the same room as Shane again made his brain stop buzzing so loudly.
Shane was the opposite. His brain had been weirdly quiet in the past few months. Not in a good way, obviously. Sure he still thought about Ilya on a daily basis, his name always on the back of his mind, but the buzzing always came back when they were together. The need to not ruin things, to not be too much or not enough was always there when he and Ilya were together.
“Ilya–” Ilya’s head snapped towards Shane, the soreness in his neck reminding him how badly he’s been sleeping lately.
Did he just call me Ilya?
Shane stops talking when he sees Ilya’s reaction, he looks confused again, but surely he knows what made Ilya react like that.
“What?” Ilya encourages him.
Please tell me we’re ok. Please.
“I want us to be together. I can’t keep pretending this isn’t killing us both.” Ilya’s breath itched, he looked away. He would give the world to Shane. If he asked Ilya to bring him the moon, he would not think twice before personally going to retrieve it for him. But of course, Shane had asked for the only thing Ilya couldn’t give him.
“Can’t” He kept it short, one single word. One word that somehow was capable to hold all of himself.
“Why?”
“Couldn’t go back home” Ilya was on the verge of tears, he did not want to have this conversation. He tried to play it cool. To go back to their usual witty banter. “We get together. We fuck. It is simple”
Shane shot up from where he was sitting, “Simple?! This is not simple Ilya” His name in his mouth felt bitter, he was using it to get back at Ilya, they both knew it. He was using it to make him feel as vulnerable as Ilya had made Shane feel all those months ago.
“Don’t say my name like that”
“Like what? Huh? Like it means something?!” Ilya almost flinched.
“I would give you anything else”
“I don’t want anything else Ilya!” He walks back and forth in front of the couch, “Don’t you get it?!”
“I do.”
“Then why?”
“I have family in Russia. I wouldn’t be able to go back.”
Shane sighed, he ran a hand on his face. It was too rough, he could feel the skin on his nose burning after being scrunched. He didn’t care. He sat back down. “Is it because of your dad?”
“Dad, brother, what difference does it make? The whole country would want me dead”
Shane melts at that, he suddenly feels like his problems might be nonexistent. The worry he had felt, the panic that had risen in him when he found out about Svetlana knowing suddenly felt stupid. He had always trusted Ilya, which is why it hurt so bad when he found out that trust had been broken, but now he had a whole new point of view on that, Ilya respected him, and he would never put their secret on the line if he wasn’t completely sure it would be kept. Shane felt a lot better now.
“And your mother?”
The question was valid, expected even, but Ilya’s eyes tingled, tears building up behind them, “Dead.” He said it in a way that didn’t really give much space for conversation, and Shane seemed to pick that up because he stopped talking, he just looked at Ilya, his eyes penetrating into the side of his face. Ilya was crying now, a big wet tear falling down his cheek.
Shane didn’t think twice, he moved and before Ilya could even realise what was happening he was on his lap.
“Hey…” Shane grabbed his face in his hands, soft but firm.
“Sorry”
“No, it’s all good. We don’t have to put a name on what we have, ok? It’s just… us. That’s it”
Ilya looks at Shane again, he’s embarrassed by the tears on his face, but there’s a more pressing question on his mind now. “So we are back together?” Well that sentence didn’t really come out as he had hoped, but he didn’t correct himself, and Shane, even if he had a very telling smirk on his face, pretended to not notice how official that sounded.
“Yes. Yes we are.”