Chapter Text
Shane’s eyes opened in Sachskatwean and he blinked at the cold whipping around him. He nearly fell over in surprise. A moment ago he’d been so tired, kneeling at Ilya’s grave and wanting it all to just end.
He hadn’t killed himself, he knew that’s the last thing Ilya would’ve wanted, but god he just wanted it all to be over.
A blink and he was sitting in the rink in Sachsketwan, watching the junior Russia team run through drills.
It was exactly as he remembered it. No, none of his dreams and memories, and he’d had plenty of dreams about Ilya over the pass year, had ever been this vivid.
Shane put his hands in his jacket and scanned the players for Ilya and he felt his throat clench at the sight of him.
Even at this distance he was beautiful. Not as beautiful as he would be as he aged, but still stunning for such a young man. His jaw would get wider and sharper, his brow would come forward a little to cover his soft hazel eyes, his baby would tighten around his high cheekbones.
He was also noticeably muscular. Even at a distance, even from the stands Shane could see his arms, though not as big as they would eventually grow to be, flexing and straining as he maneuvered the puck around the ice.
Shane chuckled to himself. How the fuck did ever look at that boy and not immediately realize he was gay?
“He looks good.” Yuna Hollander said, and Shane knew she was referring to his skill level and the way skated. She was obviously referring to him being in tiptop shape. She definitely wasn’t referring to how a 17 year old was already filling out his hockey pants.
Shane couldn’t help but grin.
“Yeah.” He said, wistfully. “He looks really good.”
“You’re better than him.” She said, definitively and Shane didn’t argue. He didn’t have the energy. He was just happy to see Ilya again. Even if it was at a distance. Even if he knew it wasn't real.
God he wished he never had to wake up from dreams like this.
30 minutes later and Shane was starting to get a little weirded out.
He’d had dreams, so many dreams, so, so, so many dreams about Ilya over the past year. More than he could stand.
They never let him wander like this though.
His dreams were usually him and Ilya at the cottage, their night in Vegas, playing with Hayden’s kids, their fights, the night Ilya told him to leave.
He’s been over that fight almost every night for the past year and he’d apologized every time. Told him he was tired of it too, and fuck it, we should be together, just be us and damn the consequences.
He’d give anything to just say those words to Ilya.
Shane watched his dad buy a Junior Hockey Worlds coffee cup and was definitely weirded out.
Usually he’d be awake by now, he’d be crying and screaming and begging the universe to give Ilya back to him.
“You want anything before we go?” David asked.
Shane rolled his eyes. “I don’t think I can take any of this with me.” He said, smirking at his own joke.
“It’s just some coffee cups, they’ll fit in the car.” David said, confused.
Shane looked over David’s shoulder to see Ilya pulling a bottle of coke out of a vending machine before walking out a side door like he had stolen something.
“I’m a get some fresh air. See you at the car.” Shane said, patting him on the shoulder.
Shane leaned against the wall next to Rozanov. “You’re supposed to smoke over there.”
He said, pointing to the smoking area across the parking lot.
Rozanov turned to him and it was all Shane could do not to gasp. He was every bit as shockingly beautiful as he remembered him to be.
The fucker had a curl of brown hair hanging over his forehead.
“What?” Rozanov replied, his accent thicker than Shane remembered it being. It would lighten as his English improved.
Shane shook his head. “Give me one of those.” He said, pointing to the cigarette in his hand.
Ilya frowned down at him. His face twisted a little and Shane noticed he wasn’t quite looking him in the eyes. He handed Shane a cigarette and his lighter.
Shane had picked up the habit over the last year. The smell reminded him of Ilya. The buzz of nicotine fizzled through his body just like it had the first time he’d smoked after Ilya’s funeral; like carbonation in the Coke that was undoubtedly shaken up in Ilya’s pocket.
Shane puffed out the smoke. Ilya looked down at him again, his eyes never meeting Shane’s but racking over his face with such pure lust Shane couldn’t help but laugh.
How had the two of them not known right then and there that they were completely and helplessly meant for each other?
They’d both been so stupid.
Shane took another puff of his cigarette and stared at Ilya’s face. He stuck his lip out poutingly in the way that he knew, just from the flicker of want in his eyes, made Ilya’s dick twitch in his pants. He looked into his hazel brown eyes and smirked as he switched to Russian.
You like my freckles, Rozanov?”
Ilya coughed on his cigarette so hard he fucking dropped it.
Shane blew smoke in his face.
“What the fuck, Hollander?” Ilya wheezed. He was laughing. It was high and false.
Shane laughed too. God it was good to see him, even if it wasn’t real.
“You definitely like my freckles.” Shane teased, still in Russian.
“When the fuck did you learn Russian?” Ilya asked, switching to his native language.
Shane had kind of gone a little crazy over the past year. He’d worked harder than he’d ever worked in his life and completely spun himself out over it. He spent days writing and learning Russian, trying to make himself feel Ilya there with him. To speak with him the way Ilya had always wanted to but Shane just hadn't learned yet.
There were so many things Shane put off because he wasn’t ready for them. At least he could get this.
“I like languages.” He said, still in Russian and shrugging his shoulders.
Ilya shook his head. “I don’t like your freckles, Hollander.”
Shane smiled. “I’ll miss the way that cigarette looked in your mouth.”
Ilya sputtered his lips as he looked away. He shook his head at the ground and Shane waited for him to look back up at him.
Shane looked him in the eye and, slowly, ever so slowly, wrapped his lips around the cigarette and made his cheeks hollow as he sucked in the smoke.
Ilya’s jaw clenched. His hazel eyes were locked on Shane’s lips.
Shane pulled out his phone, he discovered that he actually did have his old phone and had chuckled the first time he slid it open. It was exactly as he remembered it.
He pulled out an old receipt from his pocket and a pen. He scrolled through his phone until he found his old number and wrote it down. Maybe his subconscious would hold onto this version of Ilya, maybe he’d be in the next dream if he could give him something to pull on. A tether to hold onto even after he woke up.
He wrote down his number and handed it to Rozanov. “That’s my number.” He said simply. “Call me when you need to jerk off. I’ll talk dirty to you.”
Ilya’s eyebrows raised at that. He shook his head. He licked his lips. He took the number and entered it into his phone.
“Text me to make sure it works.” Shane said, finishing the cigarette.
Ilya sent that text and there was a long silence. His phone didn’t ring.
“Give me your phone.” Shane demanded.
Ilya did. Shane thought he’d kind of let Shane do anything. He wanted at this point.
“You need to add an extension code.” Shane explained, adding the +1 to the front of the number. He texted Lily to himself and nearly started jumping up and down with excitement.
This was gonna work. He couldn’t wait to get back to sleep again. He was sure he could find Ilya, this Ilya, his Ilya, next time he slept.
For the first time in a long time, Shane Hollander felt hope.
“Why are you smiling so much?” Ilya, asked trepidation filling his voice. He looked nervous, scared.
Shane sighed. Of course an Ilya this young would be scared of being seen with a boy smiling and flirting with him like this.
Shane smiled and handed Ilya back his phone. He lets his hand slide over Ilya’s wrist the way he had on draft night all those years ago. He was gonna seduce Ilya every night, and he was gonna savor every single dream from here on out. He was gonna have him back in his dreams and that would be enough.
Well, not enough, nowhere near enough. But it would be something.
“I’m smiling because we’re going to be the two best hockey players in the world soon.” Shane said in Russian. “We’ll be the best and I’ll be riding your cock the entire time. Call me.” Shane said, turning away and making sure to swivel his hips a bit more as he walked.
When he got back to the car, he saw Ilya unsuccessfully lighting another cigarette. His hands were shaking.
His mom turned to him in the backseat. “Did I see you smoking a cigarette?” Her voice was full of anger and concern and Shane couldn’t help but smile.
“It was from Rozanov’s pack.” He shrugged. “What? I’d never had one before, first time for everything.”
“So since Rozanov smokes you’re going to?”
Shane shook his head. “It’s not gonna be a habit.” He said, and he meant it. When he finally wakes up he’ll quit. He’ll have them here, with dreamy Rozanov and wait through his waking hours to see him.
“Promise me.” Yuma said. Her eyes were hard.
Shane had never been one to say no to his mother and this wasn’t a difficult request.
“I’ve already quit. I just wanted to see what it was like. Promise.”
Yuma shook her head. She believed him. He wasn’t the type to break a promise.
“Besides the smoking, what was Rozanov like?” David asked, changing the subject.
Shane grinned. “You know, I think he likes me.”
Shane ate dinner with his parents, showered, and went to bed in the hotel with his teammate whose name he barely remembered.
He expected it to be Hayden. Dream logic should’ve made it Hayden.
He shook his head and grabbed binder out his bag. His old high school playbook.
Okay. This was getting really weird. This had everything. All his old plays and even the notes he made in the margins. This was really weird. He’d had vivid dreams before, but they were all about Ilya and now he was the part where he should be waking up.
Shane stared at the ceiling. Everything was exactly how he remembered it. He didn’t want to sleep because then he’d wake up and he wouldn’t be in the memory he’d be in the real world.
Ilya wasn’t in the real world.
He pulled out his phone. He put “Lily” in as a contact.
Then he texted, “I’m gonna get a hat trick on you tomorrow.”
He got a text back almost immediately. “In your fucking dreams Hollander.”
Shane grinned like a maniac. He couldn’t wait to wake up so he could dream again.