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Shane would never admit it to himself, but he loved the giddy feeling he got whenever he finished a game in Boston and went over to Ilya’s place. He always longed for that moment after the match, whether Montreal won or not. Shane knew that, no matter the outcome, he was definitely going to have a great time afterwards.
And by “having a great time”, he meant getting railed into Ilya’s bed until he cried.
This time, though, Montreal had won, but he hadn’t been able to meet up with Ilya right after. Interviews and team obligations came first, so he sent the Russian a quick text apologizing before taking care of his duties as captain. Still, Hollander couldn’t stop thinking about the next Boston vs. Montreal game, about seeing Ilya again - especially with things being so good between them. And that was exactly why he decided to do something completely out of character for Shane Hollander.
He was going to surprise Ilya.
Shane was so excited he was practically shaking. He booked a plane ticket for the next day, made up some excuse his teammates probably didn’t buy, and packed his things in a rush. He didn’t even wait for Hayden to come out of the shower, just yelled goodbye and hurried to catch the Uber waiting for him. Maybe he was a little needier than usual, but… Something felt different today. Shane couldn’t quite pinpoint what it was, but he felt that his relationship with Ilya was starting to feel less like a fuckbuddies situation, and more like something real. Ilya was feeling the same as he did, right? He had to. Shane couldn’t be wrong about this.
The Canadian heard his phone ping multiple times - probably Hayden cheering him on for going out and getting laid. He thought he caught something about Lily in the notifications, but he stayed focused on the road, not bothering to actually check his messages. His body shivered with anticipation as he remembered that Ilya usually got rougher after a loss in Boston. Shane loved every moment with him, but those nights - when the Russian fucked him like there was no tomorrow, only to bring him back with careful kisses and soft praises for being good - hit just right.
He thanked the driver as they parked a little further from Ilya’s building, and got out of the car with his bag draped on his back. Shane walked slowly towards the front doors, trying to steady his heart before heading up to the Russian’s apartment. He moved in autopilot, replaying the same movements he did whenever he was around - pressed the buzzer and waited for Ilya to answer.
He was buzzed in almost immediately. Ilya didn’t say a word through the intercom, which was odd, but Shane barely registered it. He was so happy he couldn’t think properly. Hollander tucked his hands inside his coat as he rode up on the elevator, hiding his giddy smile behind the enormous scarf wrapped around his neck. He walked to the apartment’s front door just as he heard the keys turning in the lock, so he waited for the door to open so that he could cling to Ilya and kiss the life out of him.
Only it wasn’t Ilya that opened the door.
It was a woman.
A woman that he did not know.
She smiled at him and started talking, but the ringing in Shane’s ears was so loud that he couldn’t hear her. He felt like he was underwater.
His brain refused to cooperate. It tried to make sense of the scene in pieces: the warm light spilling out from the apartment behind her, the faint smell of Ilya’s cologne drifting into the hallway, the way she stood there like she belonged. None of it fit. None of it was supposed to exist. Shane opened his mouth, then closed it again. His chest felt tight, like his lungs had forgotten what they were meant to do. This was wrong. This was some kind of misunderstanding. He was at the wrong door. The wrong floor. Any second now, the world would snap back into place.
Then she shifted her weight, casual, familiar - and he saw it. Ilya’s hoodie. The one Shane had worn the last time he was there, while Ilya made fun of him because it was a Boston Raiders hoodie. She wore it like it belonged to her.
Something inside him cracked.
He could hear his own heartbeat now, loud and uneven, pounding against his ribs. His hands had gone numb, fingers curling uselessly around his scarf as if it were the only thing keeping him upright. He couldn’t move. Couldn’t step back. Couldn’t step forward. Behind her, somewhere deeper in the apartment, there was the soft sound of movement. Footsteps. Familiar ones.
“Света, это еда?” (Sveta, is it the food?)
Ilya’s voice. In fucking Russian.
Shane didn’t understand what he said even though he was learning this damn language in that stupid Duolingo app. Either way, it sounded domestic. It sounded like… Shane didn’t even want to think about it.
His vision blurred, the hallway tilting as he saw Ilya approaching the door. He wanted to move, to fucking run away, but his legs didn’t work. It was like his body couldn’t obey him anymore. His whole world was falling apart and he could not do a single thing about it. Their eyes locked, once. He noticed Ilya’s color vanished from his face, making him paler than he already was.
“Shane.”
That was all Shane heard before running away. He ran through the emergency stairs, getting outside faster than he thought it was possible. He felt his face hurt, and when he touched his cheeks, he realized how damp they were and the first sob came ripping through his mouth.
Whatever he and Ilya had been building - whatever Shane had let himself believe this whole thing meant - it hadn’t been enough. Had never been exclusive. Never safe. Now all he could do was stand there, in the middle of a snowy street in Boston, sobbing and shaking, while his heart finished breaking.
Ilya hadn’t felt this good in quite some time. He was at the top of his game, acing most of his matches and maintaining his place as one of the best hockey players in the league. On top of that, he had Shane Hollander squirming under him in ways that he never imagined seeing him. This alone should have made him stop what he was doing, to remind him that this was wrong in a certain way and that this - whatever they had going on - would end up hurting someone in the end. It was truly ironic for him that the guy he used to think was the most boring human being in the entire world, was making him choose paths that his old self definitely wasn’t going to follow.
Like ending things with Svetlana for example. Because by doing that, he would be admitting to himself that what he felt for Hollander wasn’t casual anymore.
The Russian felt bad about keeping her on the side, the guilt persistent on his heart. It had already been months since their last hookup and, sincerely, for the past year or so, he never felt the urge to be with anyone besides Hollander. This realization made him freak out once or twice, but now he had made peace with it, or at least, something close to it. Even if Hollander didn’t want to pursue whatever they were heading towards, Ilya wanted to be able to sleep at night without the feeling like he was leading someone on - Svetlana - or that he was cheating on another person.
Not that he and Shane had a relationship so that Ilya could cheat on him. Still, he felt like an asshole to be with both of them at the same time.
When Hollander texted the other night, saying that he couldn’t make it to their “nightly encounter”, Ilya felt devastated. He had sported a semi throughout the whole last period of the game, just thinking about what he wanted to do with Hollander later. The rivalry thing worked as foreplay for them, and whenever Ilya saw that smug little smile on the Canadian’s face… He hates how easily it unraveled him. He wanted to wipe it off in a way that was filthy. And intimate. Fuck, he couldn’t even be just horny anymore.
But, since all of his plans were ruined that night, he decided that he could take a quiet day to himself, after all he was feeling pretty tired.
He left the arena, going straight to his apartment to shower, eat, rewatch all of his and Hollander’s plays at today’s game and - because he was a gigantic demon - send a dick pick to Shane just to mess with him. Ilya was able to do most of the things, but as he pressed play on his remote, his phone pinged beside him with a notification.
“Eager, Hollander?” Ilya muttered to himself, biting his lower lip to fight the smile slowly taking over his face.
Though, the name on his phone wasn’t Jane, as he expected, it was actually Svetlana looking for him.
Svetlana [19:12]: Я внизу. Откроешь? (I’m downstairs. Will you open?)
That was not something he expected. It had been a while since Svetlana showed up unannounced like this and, knowing her, looking for sex. He felt his stomach churn in an uncomfortable way. He still liked Svetlana, but she wasn’t Shane Hollander, and that was the only person he was down to fuck tonight.
Ilya felt like sending her off right away, but she was his friend for a long time and actually needed an explanation from him. Not that he wanted to out Shane, but, maybe, he could make her understand that he wanted to remain friends, just without the benefits part.
Ilya [19:14]: Поднимайся. (Come up).
He unlocked the door so that she could enter right away. Ilya waited for her at the couch, eyes closed, trying to organize what he wanted to say. He hated how nervous all of this made him feel, like he was the one about to be let down. He heard her footsteps shortly after, smelling her perfume when she landed right beside him on the couch.
“Well, I expected you to be less clothed.” Svetlana said in Russian, with a mischievous smile on her face, eyeing Ilya’s naked torso.
“We need to talk.” The words came out softer than he intended.
Something that Ilya loved about his friendship with her was that, after spending so much time together, he didn’t need to explicitly say things to her, she would get it even if he remained silent. Her face morphed into a stern expression right away, knowing that the conversation they were about to have was going to be serious. She got up from the couch again, but this time, slipping her high heels off.
“Can I at least put something comfortable on? I didn’t really think I was going to spend a lot of time dressed.” She joked, making Ilya chuckle.
Maybe this was not going to be so bad.
They talked. Ilya and Svetlana talked for hours on end after she made herself comfortable with a pair of shorts and Ilya’s Raiders hoodie - “For old times sake”, she said.
He told her everything that was consuming him. The fear of losing everything, of wanting the guy he was seeing and feeling so much towards him that it hurt, that it felt reckless. Of how they probably couldn’t be ever together in reality, but he wanted to keep dreaming. He felt tears prickling his eyes, emotion overflowing him as he talked about how Shane made him feel, without actually saying his name out loud. Ilya wasn’t someone to put his feelings into words, especially when he knew that he couldn’t be feeling all of this.
Svetlana slowly reached towards Ilya, taking his hand and giving it a gentle squeeze. They were draped in a comfortable silence, where both of them had to digest all of the feelings mixed in the air. Ilya knew that Sveta understood, that she wasn’t angry at him. He felt somewhat stupid, because how in the hell could he ever think that she would leave him hanging?
“So, I suppose Jane is not really Jane after all, huh?” Svetlana’s voice echoed in the living room, softly.
“Well, yeah.” Ilya laughed waterly. “Thanks for listening to me, Sveta.”
“I will always be here for you, Ilya. Don’t you ever forget that.” She smiled. “Even though I will miss how good we were together.”
At that moment, the intercom buzzed, startling them. The heartfelt moment was broken, but Ilya felt so much lighter. He laughed lightly at the woman’s snark, sniffing and wiping at his eyes so that he could try to get himself together.
“Oh, that must be the food. I’m going to get it.” Svetlana stood up, leaving Ilya alone in the living room.
He sat alone on the couch, listening to the woman’s footsteps fade into the hallway. Everything felt different now, like all the turmoil inside his head finally came to an end. Ilya leaned back, staring at the huge television on his wall, hockey game paused, eyes locking on the blue jersey with the number 24 on its back.
He should probably text Shane. Not for sexting, just… Talking. He wanted to know if he was sleeping already, or laying down on the bed with those cute little glasses. Jesus, how that guy made him crazy.
Sveta was actually taking too long to come back. Maybe she ordered too much food and was struggling to get it all by herself. He ended things, yes, but he wasn’t an asshole and his mother raised a gentleman. With his sock clad feet sliding through the floor, Ilya went looking for her.
“Света,” he called out, relaxed. “это еда?”
Nobody answered right away and that was when he looked at the door.
блядь. Fuck.
It felt like a truck ran over him. After his disastrous attempt at surprising Ilya, Shane started walking to god knows where and stopped only when his body begged him to. There was a diner close by, and that’s where he found himself for the last couple of hours. He looked towards his cup of lukewarm coffee - something that he hated and shouldn’t be drinking, but he just nodded when the kind waitress offered him some - like that piece of ceramic held all the answers to his problems.
Why couldn’t he just be normal? He should've ended things years ago but he was too selfish to do so. In some twisted way, Shane thought that they could work this out, that someday they could be happy. Together. He wanted to be happy together with Ilya.
Apparently, Ilya Rozanov had someone else all along.
He winced as he remembered the encounter on the doorstep and, with a groan, gulped all of his coffee down. He was so numb he didn’t even falter at the bitter and burnt taste of the drink. God, he shouldn’t have run away. He was an adult. He could fucking talk.
It was just too much at once. Shane never dealt nicely when things were overwhelming. But, right now, as his sobbing finally stopped and he could think clearly, he just wanted to understand. It was obvious to him, for quite some time now, that what he and Rozanov had, had become different. The lines started to blur, they started to look for one another for things besides the sex, they talked. Like normal fucking people.
Shane was utterly stupid.
He was too embarrassed to go back to Ilya’s apartment and too worked up to go back to his hotel room and be all alone, so he did the next best thing he could think of: watch YouTube videos until he got down a rabbit hole. It is a 24-hour diner, maybe he could stay here until his flight. Just loathing his idiotic existence.
He unlocked his phone for the first time since he left the hotel earlier that evening. There were so many unread messages from different people that he nearly got whiplash, but one of them stood up the most. Shane took a deep breath, ordered another cup of coffee, and then tapped on Lily.
Lily [21:07]: Shane
Lily [21:08]: Please answer me
Lily [21:10]: Where are you?
Lily [21:11]: Shane, please, I need to talk to you
Lily [21:11]: I ran down the stairs and you weren’t there. Are you still near building?
Lily [21:23]: Just tell me where you are. I’ll get you.
Lily [21:56]: Nothing happened, I swear, please let me explain.
Lily [22:37]: Don’t disappear on me.
Lily [22:40]: Hollander, answer me. Even if you hate me now. Please.
Lily [23:02]: I’m scared.
Lily [23:54]: Please don’t let this be how it ends.
Shane’s thumb lingered above that last message. That was nearly twenty minutes ago. He sniffled, watching a single tear drop on his phone screen. His chest ached with those last words, he could nearly feel Rozanov’s desperation through the device.
Quickly, he tapped on the screen again, sending his location. If he wanted to talk, great, he could come over. It was a neutral place, he was the only customer, the single waitress working this late at night didn’t really seem to know who he was, and she was most definitely sleeping behind the counter. Shane guessed it was safe for them to talk there.
In less than ten minutes, Shane heard a car engine rev loudly and he knew that Ilya had arrived. He could see through the glass windows how fast Rozanov moved, desperately trying to get inside. As soon as the door jingled, both Shane and Ilya locked eyes for the second time that night and it was still painful. Hollander looked at his cup again.
Rozanov slowly walked towards the table where Hollander was. They sat across each other, both looking utterly scared about what was going to happen. About what they were going to say.
“I didn’t think you would answer.” Ilya said quietly.
Shane laughed humorlessly. Tired.
“Yeah, well, I didn’t think that I would either.”
The tension was so thick, someone could cut it with a knife. Ilya swallowed dryly. He was scrambbling inside his head, trying to find the right words in English, but it was so. Fucking. Hard.
“I know how it looked.”
“That’s the thing, Ilya.” Shane finally lifted his eyes from his cup. They were red. Swollen. Exhausted. It sent a pang to Ilya’s heart. “It didn’t just look like anything, because there was something. You were something.”
Shane wasn’t sounding accusatory, he was just tired. Things that were once so simple, weren’t like that anymore and that made his brain go haywire. Absolutely nothing was making sense. He just wanted to feel safe again, to feel wanted back.
“We were. Something, that is.” Ilya crossed his arms in front of his chest, deciding to explain every single thing. He couldn’t bear to watch Shane destroyed like this anymore. “But that was it. Nothing else. You said you were not coming, so Svetlana came over to talk. Now we are nothing. Done.”
“Do you… Like her?” Shane asked, voice as low as it could be.
“As friend, yes. We fucked sometimes, in the past.” Shane flinched. “Again, not anymore.”
“That’s really not helping, Rozanov.” Shane bit his lip, trying to hold back the fresh set of tears.
“Then tell me what will, please. Shane…” Ilya tried to grab Shane’s hands and, to both of their surprises, the latter let him. “I like you. So much. I can’t see you like this. Is not right.”
Shane closed his eyes and did a couple of breathing exercises, like his mother taught him to. He needed to stay focused but hearing from Ilya’s mouth that he and that girl were actually something, was a punch on the stomach so hard that he almost puked. He felt the Russian’s warm hands against his and grabbed them a little tighter, which helped him ground himself a little more. Hollander opened his eyes only to find sab blur orbs staring right at him.
“You like me?”
“Can we, please, go back to my place? I don’t want to have important conversation in ugly diner.”
That made Shane laugh. Briefly, but it was something. He nodded lightly, and Ilya left a crumpled bill on the table, urging Shane to just get up. Soon, they were both inside Ilya’s car, not saying a word. They remained like that until they were back at the building and inside the apartment. The Canadian moved on autopilot again, removing his shoes at the door and going to sit on the couch.
He neatly folded his scarf and placed it on his lap, turning to face Ilya again. He was calmer now, he felt like he could speak a sentence without crying.
“I wanted to surprise you. I missed you very much and… Going out of the script isn’t really my thing, you know that. But I wanted to do it. For you. I wanted us to spend whatever little time we have together. I thought that was what you wanted. I like you too, Ilya. SO fucking much.”
“I swear that Svetlana is just good friend. I like you, Shane.” Ilya took a deep breath, scooting closer to Hollander and placing him on his lap. “ You’re all I can think about. I planned to tell you about it, soon, but you just… Um… What is word…”
“Beat you to it?” Shane smiled.
“Yes. You beat me to it. I wanted things clear, so Svetlana and I ended things. She already knew I was into someone else.” Ilya pulled Shane close, so close that their foreheads were touching. “I like you, Hollander. Only you.”
Shane could only smile like a crazy man. There he was, on the lap of the guy he cried for hours, hearing him say that he liked him. Well, Shane also beat Ilya again. He was pretty sure he was in love with him, but he wasn’t going to drop that bomb right now. At this point, all he wanted was to kiss Ilya senselessly, like he had planned to do from the very beginning.
Hollander leaned forward, crashing their lips together. He savored the other’s mouth like it was the only thing that could keep him alive. There was still stuff to talk about, yes, but that could wait. Right now, the relief of having the important issues clarified consumed Shane, and being close to Ilya was all that mattered.
“Sleep here?” Ilya asked, breathless.
“Yeah. I just… I drank too much coffee so I might not be able to sleep-”
“The last thing you will do is sleep, Hollander. You know that.”
Ilya looked at Shane with so much hunger in his eyes, with so much want, that the Canadian was stunned as to how he could think that this man didn’t want him. Shane just kissed him again, trying to get his shirt off. For them, the weight of the world lifted. There would be interviews, team obligations, mistakes, misunderstandings - but none of that mattered right now. Right now, Shane had Ilya and Ilya had Shane.
And that was enough.