Chapter Text
“Get your head in the game, Rozanov!” Zane Boodram yelled as he skated past Ilya in pursuit of the puck.
Ilya let out a string of curse words in Russian as he moved to keep up.
Bood was right.
Ilya was off his game and everyone could tell.
He just couldn’t stop worrying about Shane Hollander.
Earlier that day, Shane had called Ilya in tears.
While Shane had mustered up the confidence to come out to his teammates last season, word had not spread to the rest of the players in the NHL until recently.
This year, the smack talk against Montreal had begun to target Shane’s sexuality.
This had resulted in Ilya’s beautiful boyfriend calling him while heartbreakingly distraught.
Hearing Shane that way made Ilya want to commit a murder.
He had tried to console Shane by reminding him that his rivals were stooping so low because Shane was a force to be reckoned with.
Ilya had even tried to comfort Shane by telling him that he was the best player in the NHL to no avail.
That’s how Ilya knew it was bad. Usually, hearing those words from Ilya’s lips would have stopped Shane in his tracks and earned Ilya some light teasing.
But it didn’t work.
Shane had gone nonverbal in response, ragged breathing the only thing Ilya could hear on the other line.
It alarmed Ilya how personally Shane was taking all of this.
Shane, who had single handedly led Montreal to two Stanley Cup wins for the first time in sixteen years.
Ilya had no doubt that they would reach three soon if Montreal kept playing the way they had been this season.
“They are jealous and they want to get into your head. Do not let them, Sweetheart,” Ilya had begged, desperate to help his panicking boyfriend.
But Shane was too distraught.
Unlike Ilya, Shane was too accustomed to having all the other NHL players respect. He was not equipped to handle all the sudden slander. The slander being homophobic, only made it that much worse.
Shane had been so brave coming out to his team. Their industry was notoriously cruel to people who were different, and it killed Ilya to see Shane’s heart shatter in the face of the hockey community's cruelty.
Shane had dedicated his entire life to hockey.
Hockey had been his first love, Ilya could only imagine the rejection Shane was feeling, knowing the community he loved didn’t love him back.
Ilya didn’t know how to make it better. All he knew was that he had to try something.
Ilya had demanded that Shane tell him the names of the players who had been bothering him,but Shane had refused.
It didn't matter though, Ilya would find out soon enough.
While he hated Hayden Pike, Ilya couldn’t deny that he did always have Shane’s best interest at heart.
That was why Ilya had texted him to get the answers his boyfriend refused to give.
The text bubbles from Hayden had begun immediately after Ilya texted. However, his fat fucking fingers hadn’t been fast enough to send a response before Ilya had to put his phone away.
Ilya really should have been channeling his rage into tonight's home game against New Jersey, but instead his mind kept replaying Shane’s tear filled voice.
It hurt his heart so much to hear him so broken on the phone.
At least Shane was currently on his way to Ottawa from Montreal.
Ilya couldn’t wait for the game to be over so he could hold his Shane.
He wanted to wrap Shane in his arms and murmur sweet nothings into his ear all night.
He wanted to use his tongue and fingers and dick to make Shane forget all the terrible words he had heard since coming out.
Ilya wanted to remind Shane that he was worth it.
That their relationship was worth it.
The rational part of Ilya’s brain knew it was ridiculous, but he was so scared Shane would take it all back.
He was so scared that one day, Shane would decide that Ilya wasn’t worth the disruption to his life.
It was Ilya’s biggest fear.
He was in far too deep now.
Shane and his parents were Ilya’s family now.
They made Ilya feel whole in a way he hadn’t since his mother had died all those years ago.
The traumatized child inside of Ilya kept screaming that they would leave him too, that Ilya was not enough to make any one stay.
If Shane ended this with him, Ilya was certain he would never recover.
The idea of a life without Shane made Ilya want to vomit or cry or die.
Realistically, all three.
Ilya tried to shake the intrusive thoughts out of his head as he moved back to center ice to face off with the New Jersey captain.
“Have you heard?” the beady eyed player in front of Ilya asked.
Ilya frowned in response as he positioned himself for the face off.
For some reason, the referee was still slowly making his way towards them with the puck.
“I bet you have heard since you’re playing like shit. I’d be distracted too if I found out they guy I was running a charity with was a disgusting fucking fa-”
Before his opponent could finish the sentence, Ilya had thrown off his gloves and began violently pummeling him.
“You think you are better because you are not gay? I would rather be gay than look inbred like you!” Ilya snarled between punches.
“Rozanov, what the-” Bood yelled in confusion, as he tried to break up the fight.
The referee's whistles sounded and Ilya felt more hands try to pull him away.
“You will not disrespect my friend like this,” Ilya gritted out, as he dodged the hands trying to pull him away from the New Jersey player.
Suddenly, the New Jersey players' back up arrived and Ilya's helmet was torn off.
Ilya took a few hard blows to the face from several players, but continued his assault as a pile of players formed around them.
It was chaos.
Everyone was yelling and the referees were trying to figure out how to stop the fighting.
Ilya found himself thrown back onto the ice.
Hard.
The back of his head cracked against the cold ice, and something wet felt like it was tricking down his neck.
But that didn’t stop Ilya from getting back up to continue the fight.
“Enough!”
He heard his teammates' desperate pleas.
“Ilya, your head! You are bleeding, enough!” Ilya heard someone say.
Who is bleeding? Me? Ilya thought disjointedly as the world around him began to spin.
The hands holding back Ilya finally succeeded in pinning his arms behind his back.
The homophobic player finally made it to his feet.
Then he smiled menacingly at Ilya, his mouthguard covered with blood.
Ilya frowned as the man appeared to double.
Well that can’t be right, Ilya thought, scrunching his eyes in hopes that the second figure would disappear.
The player pretended to skate back to his bench, succeeding in deceiving the referees.
But when enough of the brawl had broken up, and Ilya was no longer being held back, the homophobic player took the opportunity to barrel full speed towards Ilya, striking him hard in the nose.
Ilya’s head snapped back violently as he fell backwards.
Everyone around Ilya was so shocked by the aggressive retaliation that they were unable to stop Ilya's head from cracking on the ice a second time.
Ilya couldn’t help but laugh in the brief moment before he lost consciousness.
Shane was going to be so mad at him later.
The last thing Ilya heard was the referee screaming for the medics to hurry as everything went black.