Chapter Text
The nurse comes in to check on Shane mid-afternoon.
She’s young. Her voice is gentle as she checks his chart, asks him how he's feeling and adjusts the IV.
Shane's utterly exhausted. He's been watching Ilya sleep for the last couple hours— thinking about how Ilya reacted to his incident. He wonders if the Russian made it obvious from the get go. His parents made it clear that it had been made clear to everybody the nature of Ilya and his relationship. Ilya must have gotten too close, looked too affected, followed him off the ice or something. He wanted to see it for himself.
His eyelids feel heavy but he's so entranced with voyeuring on Ilya's slumber. He mumbles and speaks in Russian in his sleep.
While his nurse silently works away, she glances toward the sofa, then back to Shane with a small, knowing smile. “He’s finally sleeping?”
Shane nods. “Yeah. He's done fussing now I think. I just need to convince him to go shower now, huh?"
"I could see what I can do about letting him use the staff one?"
"Please, Thank you, that would be so great,” He then adds,”Ask first though, I don't want you to get in trouble for our sake."
She finishes what she’s doing, then pauses, clearly debating saying something more. Shane breaks the silence first. “Did you… see it?” he asks.
She stills. “The accident?”
“Yes.” He didn't dare ask his parents about it. He'd made them call Hayden on speaker last night so he could assure him he's okay and his teammate sounded so relieved. He’d asked if it looked bad on the ice and was met with silence down the phone and wincing on the face of every other face in the room.
Her expression softens. “I think everyone did. It’s um- been doing the rounds on social media.”
Oh God. The dreaded comment section would be eating this up. He hated social media on a normal day. He only had a page for promotional purposes and even that was managed by his PR team. They must be having a miserable time handling the press around him and Ilya. He'd left it with his mom to deal with but was still curious about the reception he was getting. What did the Voyagers say in their press release about him?
Something tightens in Shane’s chest as he asks. “What… what was it like?”
The nurse exhales slowly, mouth twisting as she chooses her words with care. “well… I’ve worked trauma for five years now,” she says so softly and so silently as though the words could hurt him. “and I’ve seen a lot of families fall apart in hospital hallways. I don't think I've seen anything like that. It was devastating.”
Her head nodded in the direction of the man in the corner of the room.
“He was inconsolable,” she continues quietly. “They couldn’t pull him away at first.”
Shane’s eyes burn. “He looked,” she adds, “like he lost his entire world.”
Shane closes his eyes. “Can I… see it?” he asks. “My parents aren't gonna let me have my phone for a long time and I'm not going to stop thinking about this. I can't ask them to relive it.”
She hesitates. "Mr. Hollander, you are already on a major screen restriction."
"I'm not going to be able to sleep till I see it. I'm getting too in my head about it"
“Are you sure?”
“Please.”
She retrieves her phone from her pocket. She scrolls about a bit trying to find it. She dims the screen, and steps closer to the bed.
“So, they stopped broadcasting what was on the rink after they started CPR and stuff but obviously, there's thousands of people in there with their phones out."
The video is shaky at first. It's shot from the front row, just next to where his body lay on the floor.
He sees them start resuscitation efforts.
Then, there’s Ilya. Oh Ilya.
He’s on his knees on the ice. Hands in his hair. Face twisted in agony so raw it steals the air from Shane’s lungs.
Rozanov is sobbing gutterally. His body is shaking. His brutally animalistic cries sound through the arena.
“I need you. You can’t leave me—please, Shane.”
Shane’s breath shudders. The video pans to his parents briefly who are standing there in floods of tears, their eyes flickering between the two men.
They zoom into Ilya who's sobbing Russian words into the air. It sounds like he's begging or praying—bargaining for his life.
The video catches him pressing his lips to Shane's forehead—Kissing him like a sweet goodbye.
The next words he can't hear. But he knows what they are. He can see the shape of his mouth.
“I love you,” Ilya is saying. Again. And again. And again.
When the nurse quietly turns the phone off, Shane is crying without realizing it. Silent tears slip sideways down to his ears in his reclined position.
“Oh,” he whispers. “And everybody's seen this?”
“And the countless other angles. I'm sorry, Mr. Hollander. For what it's worth, there's a whole community out there that is cheering you on and supporting you both, me included.’
“It's okay. Thank you for saying that and you know, for showing me that,” He gestures to her phone.
She smiles gently, “You're welcome. I just think, If someone loved me this much I’d want to know. Now that's your screen allowance for the day Mr.Hollander, I think. Please no more now. I'll be back later for rounds, I’ve got some more patients to check on." She collects herself and pockets her phone. “Please try to rest now. Dr. Samuels will be back in the morning, and you'll most likely be moving out of here into somewhere more comfortable. I have no doubt your parents will be back by then.”
The nurse gives him a soft pat on the arm before leaving. Shane turns his head toward the sofa where Ilya is still unaware. Still in a deep sleep.
He watches him with a newfound clarity, his heart is full and warmed and there's gravity that's settling into his chest—certainty.
Ilya Rozanov loved him.
Ilya Rozanov loved him.
He loved him enough to bare his heart for all to see. Loved him enough to feel anguish at not having Shane in his life.
He can't stop smiling. Sure his heart hurt seeing Ilya in pain but he still can't stop smiling. He is loved! He loves Ilya and Ilya loves him!
What did he do to deserve this? He thinks through the blur of moments of their relationships, all the times Ilya had kissed him deeply, every time Ilya laughed at his jokes, every time they climaxed together—panting into each other's mouths.
Hollander lets out a giggle. It hurts his chest but he can't stop himself. More spills out, he can't seem to stop laughing in joy. He wants to kick his feet. He wants to scream into a pillow. Instead he lays back eyes closed laughing to himself.
“You are crazy now, yes?” Ilya's groggy but amused voice rings through the room.
Shane gasps as he looks at him, but as he sees Rozanov's smiling expression, his laughter comes back in full force. It's so painful but so sweet.
He has pushed himself upright on the sofa, rubbing a hand down his face, his eyes blinking away sleep and fatigue. He watches Shane's wide smile and his eyes crinkle as he beams back.
“Come over here.” He taps the bed and begins to shuffle himself to the side, making space beside him.
Ilya freezes for half a second. “What?”
“Come here,” Shane repeats, softer now. “Please.”
He's almost fluttering his eyelashes. “Ilya.”
There’s something in the way he says his name that has Ilya on his feet immediately. He crosses the room in quiet steps, stopping beside the bed.
“Lie down,” Shane says. “With me.”
Ilya swallows. “I want you to be comfortable—”
“I’d be a whole lot more comfortable if you got on this bed, Rozanov.” Shane interrupts gently. “I almost died. You have to be nice to me.”
That earns him a breathless huff of a laugh.
“Okay,” Ilya says softly. “I will be nice.”
He kicks off his shoes and climbs carefully onto the bed, slow and deliberate, mindful of each movement. He settles on his side, facing Shane. His arm tucks under his head, and he lets his gaze fall on Hollander's face.
“Hello," Ilya smiles.
“Hi.”
Shane lets his eyes scan over Ilya's face. He lifts his fingers and runs them through Ilya curls. The Russian closes his eyes for a moment and lets himself appreciate the sensation. He runs his knuckles down the side of Ilya's face then swipes his thumb slowly over his lips.
His palm finds Ilya’s wrist, then his hand.
“There,” he murmurs. “That’s better.”
They lie there in silence, their foreheads almost touching, breathing in the same air. The world feels reduced again. Here there's no cameras, no ice, no press, no thousands of people with phones. Just this. Just him, and the man he loves.
“I saw it,” Shane says eventually.
Ilya stiffens instantly. “Saw what?”
“The game. The footage.” Shane watches his face carefully. “of you, and me.”
A muscle jumps in Ilya’s jaw. His eyes flick away. “I'm sorry. I did not think about cameras until after. I- I've been so stupid. Now everybody knows”
“No they don't." Shane replies. “They know what they've heard. But that is not even half of it. They don't know our story or what we've sacrificed.They don’t know how i feel about you”
“It was bad.”
“I know.” Shane’s thumb strokes over Ilya’s knuckles. “I still wanted to see it.”
Ilya swallows hard. “I’m sorry about– ”
“Don’t.” Shane’s voice is firm, but gentle. “No more. Don’t apologize.”
“Yes, well, apologizing is usually your thing.” Ilya looks back at him then, eyes glassy, vulnerable in a way he rarely let himself be before. “I thought you were gone,” he admits quietly. “I couldn’t stay– I didn’t care who saw. I didn’t care about the league or my team or—” His voice breaks. “I just needed you to come back.”
Shane’s chest aches. He presses his forehead to Ilya’s.
"I know, Ilya."
A tear slips free from Ilya’s eye. He doesn’t bother to wipe it away, and it falls onto the pillow both of their heads rest on. “I was so scared,” he says. “I’ve been scared for years. Of this. Of losing my family. Of people knowing and what it means for citizenship or for my hockey.”
“I don’t want to hide anymore,” Shane says softly. “In a perfect world we could have kept this going for years, and there would be no repercussions but, I wouldn’t have this any other way. I'm glad my parents know. I'm glad my teammates know.
Ilya searches his face. “You don’t have to make any choices right now.”
“I know.” Shane smiles faintly. “But, I want to. I want to choose us.”
Ilya considers that, and looks away furrowing his brow but smiling gently. “I am trying to imagine. Hollander and Rozanov, fighting for the cup. People won't like it when I bully you on the ice.”
“People don't like it when you bully anyone on the ice. People kind of hate you, Rozanov.”
“Good. That's what I like.” Ilya lets out a stark laugh. "I put a lot of effort into becoming the big scary Russian."
“The press will be insane.”
Ilya blows a raspberry. “Yes, well, we are very profitable couple. Rivals turned lovers, NHL will eat it up”
Silence settles, comfortable and heavy with meaning.
“You’re worth it,” Shane adds. “All of it.”
He lifts his hand to the side of Rozanov's face once more. And whispers, "I love you so fucking much, Ilya.”
Ilya smiles and presses a gentle kiss against his lips. He pulls back, his eyes dragging over Hollander’s face and presses a deeper kiss once more, his tongue meeting against Shane's.
They lie in the cot like that, tangled in wires and quiet promises, as they slip into a slumber. Before he drifts away, Ilya curls around his frame, his face pressed into Shane's exposed neck.
They're still here, no longer hiding.
“You’re coming to my cottage this summer.” Shane whispers.
“Mmmm sell me on it.” Ilya replies with a kiss.
“Well, we’ll have so much fun. It's so private, no one will know where we are. We could be completely alone. Togeth– ”
Ilya cuts in, “Hollander, we would not be completely alone”
“Huh? What do you mean” Shane’s nose scrunches making Ilya smile as he compares Ilya to a little bunny in his mind.
“David has already made plans for us to hang out. We are barbequing ribs and reading boring New Yorker together”
“You made summer plans with my dad?!” He responds confused.
“Yes, I have plans to become new favourite son. Then, I will be best hockey player in the league and best son in the Hollander family, yes? I try to be the best in all areas.” Ilya replies in his annoying, stupid, sexy voice and at the words, Shane is angered, endeared and turned on.
“I hate you”, he says simply.
“No, no, no,” Ilya whispers, pressing a soft peck to his lover's lips. “You love me”
Press Statement
“I want to say how relieved I am that Shane is stable and recovering. I talked with him on the phone briefly last night and am glad to share that he is awake and thankful for your well wishes. Shane is my best friend, my Captain, the Godfather to my children, and someone I trust with my life on and off the ice.
Watching him go down was terrifying, and I’m grateful to the medical staff who saved him.
I want to acknowledge the importance of communication in moments like these. When something like this happens – something that affects players, families, and the entire hockey community, I believe thoughtful acknowledgment matters. I'm hopeful that the rest of the Montreal family will come forward and join me in supporting Shane in all areas of his life. His dedication to this team has impacted the core of this franchise and allowed us to become the top performing team in the league.
I’m confident everyone involved—even in their notable silence—shares the same priority: Shane’s happiness, health and recovery.”
Hayden Pike
Montreal Voyagers