Chapter Text
Shane was trying to rush through this dinner with his parents as quick as possible without being rude. Ilya was waiting for him back at the cottage. They had their blissful two weeks of uninterrupted time together at the cottage. Ilya had cancelled his flight as they were both eager to extend their time together. He was going to spend the rest of summer at Shane’s cottage with him. But that did mean that the real world was starting to creep back in.
Shane couldn’t blow off his parents forever. He was supposedly done with his two week silent meditation. As he sat at his parent’s kitchen table, he couldn’t help but feel like a changed man. Echos of ya tebya lyublyu reverberated in his chest, so loudly he was certain his parents could hear it, if they were listening closely enough. But they weren’t. His mom dominated the conversation, as she always did. His Dad hummed along, asking the occasional shallow question that never successfully lowered Shane’s walls enough to let his parents actually know him. Shane gave them just enough to satisfy the interaction, to let his parents feel like he was sharing with them. He talked about the cottage. He talked about the peace and quiet. He talked about how his physical therapy was going.
The internal tension gnawed at his chest as he sat in front of his parents following the most life-changing two weeks of his life, and they had no idea. They had no idea that he had someone who he was making plans for. That his whole future now revolved around one person who was hiding away in his cottage. The words felt trapped right behind his teeth. He pursed his lips to try to keep them in.
“You seem relaxed,” his dad commented as they finished their meal. “Happier. That two week silent retreat really did you some good, huh?”
Shane just smiled and nodded, saying nothing about the endless days of orgasms and love confessions that occurred during his supposed two week silent retreat. Of mornings waking up on Ilya’s warm chest with the sunlight streaming in from the window warming their bodies. Of dreaming up a future together with the man he loved.
“Good,” his father said with a nod. “I’m glad you took some time for yourself. I know how hard you work and how stressful things can get.”
“Thanks Dad,” Shane said.
“Oh, don’t forget you have that interview with GQ tomorrow,” Yuna added as an after thought as David cleared their plates.
And of course, the two weeks reprieve from Yuna-coordinated obligations had ended. He knew that this was coming. He had a calendar reminder for the event blocked off for the next day: GQ Photoshoot.
“I thought it was a photoshoot,” Shane said, dread building in his stomach.
“It’s both,” Yuna said, as if that should have been obvious. “It’s a photoshoot and sit-down interview. Remember, I told you about it months ago.”
Shane schooled his face quickly. “Oh, um, yeah, I think I remember that.” He did not remember that. But Shane had started to get in the bad habit of tuning out his mother when she started talking business.
“That’s not going to be a problem, is it Shane?” his mother asked. Her tone carried a slight hint of sharpness, as if she really did not have the time or energy for Shane to have a problem with the photoshoot/sit-down interview she had coordinated for him months ago and specifically scheduled so he could do it during the off season.
Shane quickly shook his head, “No, it’s fine.” The pit in his stomach felt heavy. The only sit-down interview he had ever agreed to was the special feature on his cottage, which was safe because he could just talk about the cottage. This, a sit down interview, with the sole focus on getting to know something unique about Shane Hollander? That was scary, that was dangerous. Post-game interviews were annoying, but they never really scared him, and his media training made those easy to navigate. This? Terrifying. A sit-down interview came with more chances to slip up. It’s why he had generally done everything in his power to avoid agreeing to them. But apparently he had accidentally agreed to this.
But he couldn’t tell his mother why a sit-down interview was a bad idea. She had no idea he was guarding a secret that not even she knew about. If she had known, she would have never set this interview up for him in the first place. But she didn’t know. So Shane didn’t say anything. It would be fine. It would be totally fine.
He helped his dad with the dishes and made his goodbyes before driving back to the cottage. Back to Ilya. Back to his real life.
“Go be very sexy! I need more photos for my spank bank,” Ilya said, puckering his lips for a kiss as he started to gather their coffee cups to wash up while Shane got ready to leave for his GQ photoshoot the following morning.
Shane’s eyebrows scrunched. “Where did you learn that term?”
Ilya raised his eyes at his boyfriend. “We are professional athletes, yes? I assume your teammates are just as disgusting as mine? It is very educational.”
Shane shook his head to dismiss the thought of how disgusting his teammates are. “Wait, do you have a spank bank of photos of me?”
Ilya grinned at him. “Yes, do you want to see? We can jerk off together to how pretty your freckles are.”
Shane glared at him. “Dude, you can’t just keep photos of me on your phone. What if your phone is stolen or hacked or something?”
Ilya waved his hand dismissively. “Is in password protected folder. Do not worry, it is not titled My very sexy boyfriend, Shane Hollander.”
Shane stared suspiciously at Ilya, feeling unconvinced that Ilya’s spank bank folder was not actually titled My very sexy boyfriend, Shane Hollander.
“Do not worry, is in folder titled Boring.”
Shane scoffed and looked away, quickly shifting from anxious to hurt.
“Noooo,” Ilya was quick to reassure, seeing Shane’s insecurity rear up. “Is my favorite thing, that you are boring. I have had too much excitement in my life. Boring is good. All I want is a boring life with you.”
Shane couldn’t help but melt at that. A sweet dopey smile filled his face. “Really?”
Ilya nodded seriously. “Mmm, yes, you are not only one who thinks ahead. We will be boring married couple, yes? We will have a dog, and at least two kids I think. You will be best at all the boring parts. Doctor appointments and packing lunches and signing forms for school. We will drive boring cars because they are good in the snow and safe for kids or something boring and important like that. I will be the fun one, and make sure there is lots of chaos and laughter, yes? But the boring is very important, future does not work without it.”
Shane’s mouth hung slack as he gazed at Ilya, visualizing the future Ilya described so clearly it hit him like a punch to the gut.
“Fuck,” Shane breathed.
Shane saw the moment insecurity crossed Ilya’s features. “I mean, not that I am saying that we have to, um, I’m not saying that we will–”
“I want that too,” Shane said quickly, crashing his lips to Ilya’s in a passionate declaration. “Fuck, Ilya, I want a boring life with you. I want all of that. The marriage, the dog, kids.”
The smile on Ilya’s face lit up the whole room. Shane felt drunk off of the seer joy on his boyfriend’s face.
Shane crashed his lips against Ilya’s lips again. “Fuck, I love you so much.”
Ilya kissed Shane thoroughly before shoving him gently away. “Go, do photoshoot to make your mama happy. I will be here when you get home.”
Shane gave Ilya a long lingering look. Leaving Ilya to go do a photoshoot and interview after discussing their future was quite possibly the last thing he wanted to do. He thought briefly of calling his mom and coming up with an excuse to not go. It was a fleeting thought, one quickly dismissed after a brief contemplation about disappointing his mother.
“I love you,” Shane said, gathering his phone and keys, shoving them in his pocket, hesitating with his hand on the door. “You’ll be okay here while I’m gone?”
Ilya clutched his heart dramatically. “I will suffer every minute you are away. I will wait at the door like sad puppy waiting for you to come back.” At Shane’s guilty look, Ilya grinned and made a shooing motion with his hands. “I will be fine for a few hours, Hollander. Go.”
Shane took a steeling breath and left.
Shane swallowed his nerves and followed the intern up the elevator of the hotel before being let into the penthouse suite that the interview was to happen. Apparently this was the most common setting if you refused to let GQ come into your home to photograph and interview you. Which he made sure his mother understood was not an option.
“Shane Hollander, thank you so much for taking the time to do this. I’m Charles Bernier, I’m going to be interviewing you today,” the man greeted while reaching out to shake Shane’s hand.
“Happy to be here,” Shane said, the lie smooth on his tongue as he felt his media training immediately kick in. “Where do you want me?”
“Hair and makeup first,” Charles said. “Stacy is getting set up over there. Then Veronica will get you set up with wardrobe. Martin is your photographer. After photos, you and I will sit down for your interview.”
Shane nodded and let himself be guided into a chair in front of a woman whose perfume tickled his nose and let her touch his face and hair, trying not to let his discomfort of her strange hands on his face show up in his expression.
After what felt like an hour of being touched, but was only seventeen minutes by the clock on the wall, Shane was excused to Veronica’s control. She handed him a collection of hangers and directed him to the bathroom where he could get changed. It was a simple wardrobe of a white button down dress shirt and a black suit jacket. It was slightly more stylized than the suits he normally wore for press conferences and award shows. He left his clothing in a neat stack on the bathroom counter. He walked out to be intercepted by Veronica who made quick work of unbuttoning several buttons, plumping out the fabric so it draped in such a way that was apparently aesthetically pleasing.
Then he was released to Martin who directed him to stand in front of various blank walls, following him around with a light meter, gesturing to his assistants to make adjustments to the portable lights that had been brought into the hotel room. Shane tried really hard not to squint his eyes as the bright lights overwhelmed his senses. Martin seemed to find a section of the room that solved whatever light equation he was looking for and went about giving Shane instructions.
Shane did his best to follow the directions Martin called out. Most of it was pretty simple. Look over here. Chin down. Bring your left shoulder down just a touch. Yes, perfect, just like that.
After about ten minutes of shifting through various poses, Martin signalled to Veronica who swooped to remove his suit jacket. She rolled up the cuffs of his sleeves. Stacy swept in to fuss with his hair so that it laid just right and it took every ounce of self-control to not bat her hand away.
Martin guided him to the table and desk in the room. Shane felt somewhat ridiculous as he followed the instructions to drape himself over the desk and gaze into the camera lens as Martin crouched down to capture the shot.
After another ten minutes, Martin signalled the crew to swoop in again, and Shane was quickly rid of his button down shirt as the suit jacket was placed back over his naked chest. Shane tried not to squirm as the tag of suit jacket rubbed against his bare skin. He was guided to sit on the chair, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. Then put up against a blank wall, shifted so he looked over his shoulder at the camera.
Martin raised his hands again and once more, Shane was manhandled into a different outfit. He was directed, posed, adjusted, the lights flashed, blinding him. Again, repeat. His skin itched as he forced himself in and out of various garments that made him want to simply strip off his skin entirely, hang it on a hanger to hand to Veronica and walk out of his hotel room forever. But he didn’t do that. He changed into what they wanted him to wear. He posed how they wanted him to pose. And he tried to look like he wasn’t screaming inside. He was stripped down to his underwear and laid out on the cold floor, posed strategically and looking up at the camera as Martin hovered over him.
Finally, finally, Martin nodded. “Great job! I think I’ve got everything.”
Shane let out a breath of relief and got up from the floor and murmured an awkward thanks before darting into the bathroom to get changed. He felt slightly more like himself once he was back in his own clothes.
He left the bathroom and looked around at the chaos of Martin, Veronica and Stacy all packing up their equipment.
“Five minutes for them to get cleared out, then we can sit down for our interview,” Charles let him know. “Do you need anything? Food? Water?”
“Do you have ginger ale?" Shane asked.
Charles nodded and walked over to the minibar and pulled out a ginger ale for Shane, handing it to him. Shane thanked him.
While Shane was waiting, he pulled out his cell phone.
Shane couldn’t help the blush on his face as he grinned down at his phone.
Martin, Stacy, and Veronica were impressively efficient, and five minutes later, Shane found himself alone with Charles.
“Are you ready or do you need more time?” Charles asked.
Shane shook his head. No, the sooner he sat down to do this, the sooner it would be over.
Charles gestured Shane over to the seating area where there were two arm chairs angled toward each other with a small table between them. A couple of glasses of water sat on the table. Shane sat his can of ginger ale down while he took his seat.
“Do you mind if I record this?” Charles asked as he pulled out a tape recorder and setting it out on the table.
Shane wanted to say no, but knew that wasn’t how these things went. “Sure, that’s fine,” he said.
Charles leaned forward and clicked the recorder on before sitting back and giving Shane a reassuring smile.
“I’m curious,” Charles opened with. “You’ve done a lot of media. Do you ever get used to all this?”
No, he wanted to say. He shrugged instead. “It’s part of the job. You get used to it. Of course, if it was up to me, I’d just play hockey and call it there. But as my mom always stressed, there’s a lot of kids out there who look up to me. I try to do my part, I guess, to be that beacon of hope.”
“Are you talking about being an Asian player in the NHL?” Charles said.
“Yeah,” Shane agreed.
“That sounds like a lot of pressure,” Charles offered.
It is. “Someone has to be the one who shows others that they can make it in the NHL, I suppose,” Shane said, his mind flashing briefly to Scott Hunter kissing his boyfriend on center ice. Focus, we’re talking about race. “I just try to focus on being the best hockey player so that maybe we can step away from thinking that a hockey player has to look or be a certain way. I don’t want to be known for being an Asian hockey player in the NHL. I just want to be known for my hockey.”
“Do you feel like you have to be the best so that your right to play hockey in the NHL isn’t questioned?”
Yes. Shane forced himself to look away before the answer showed up on his face, while he tried to think of a media-friendly answer. “There will always be doubters. I guess I want to do everything I can to remove those doubts if I can.”
Charles nodded.
“You are known for having a very clean public image,” Charles said. “Is that reflective of your life or is that all part of the image and brand?”
Clean image. That’s media speak for boring. Shane had to duck his head to try to hide his smile. “It’s a bit of both, I guess. I’m pretty boring.”
Charles tilted his head at Shane’s answer. “What does boring mean to you?”
All I want is a boring life with you. Shane closed his eyes, savoring the sweet memory from this morning, a slight lift tugging at the corner of his mouth. Shane centered himself and addressed Charles. “It means I care about simple things. Things that make life easier. Less chaotic. I don’t really party, I have a lot of routines, I play hockey.” Shane shrugged, as if to say, yep, that’s me.
“What kind of routines?” Charles asked.
“I set my alarm at 6am, go for a run, then make a smoothie, shower. During the season, I head to the rink for practice or a game. Evenings are spent doing yoga, meditation, and reading a chapter of my book, and I generally try to be asleep by 10.” Except for when we play Boston and I get to see Ilya. In that case, I will gladly give up my eight hours of beauty sleep to get thoroughly fucked into the wee hours of the night before leaving in the dead of night so no one would ever catch us.
“And during the off season? How have you been spending this summer so far?”
By spending every possible moment with Ilya. Waking up next to him. Sucking him. Fucking him. Making him coffee. Playing video games with him. Cooking together. Talking about the future together. “I like to spend my off season at my cottage. It is my favorite place on earth.” Especially now, with Ilya staying with me. “I let myself sleep in,” on Ilya’s chest. “I relax, play video games, go swimming in the lake” with Ilya. “I still try to stay active during the off season. I have an off season training program that I follow. Otherwise, it’s a good time to just recharge. I get to see my parents, which is great.”
“You are close to your parents?”
“Oh, yeah,” Shane agreed quickly. “Very close. My parents are great. I couldn’t have gotten to where I am today without them.”
“Is there any part of your life that you feel like your parents struggle to understand?”
That I have a boyfriend and he’s the best thing that ever happened to me. “I mean, my mom is my manager, and I guess at times it gets kind of blurred, when her support of my career feels…” Shane had to carefully word this, his mom was going to read this. “It can be a lot, I guess. I am not ungrateful, but it’s messy, and sometimes you just want to complain to your mom about work, or to just have dinner together without talking about brand deals.”
“And what would you complain about? What are the hard parts of what you do?”
This. Doing media. All the commercials and brand deals. Hearing racist and homophobic comments in the locker room. The media pushing the narrative that he hated the love of his life. “The amount of commitments can pile up. All I really want to do is hockey. But there is a lot of other obligations that fill up my time. Media, commercials, brand deals.”
“You have an impressive number of accomplishments in your hockey career. You won gold during the World Junior Championship, you were second overall draft pick, won rookie of the year, you took home silver in the 2014 Sochi Winter Olympics with Team Canada, and you won two back to back Stanley Cups in 2015 and 2016. What do you feel like the most defining moment was for you?”
Shane thought back to all of those moments. Ilya wasn’t there for his cup wins, he only hugged his parents on center ice. Rookie of the year and olympics both ended in a bad fight with Ilya. One memory bubbled up, solid in its value. “Draft night.”
“What was it about the draft that feels the most defining?”
Ilya sprawling across from him on the gym floor, shaking a water bottle at him. “I got to join the Metros. It’s the moment that really defines a player’s career. I feel fortunate to be with the Metros.”
“And is that because they are a winning team or because of the culture of the team?”
You mean that homophobic locker room culture? “I mean, I’m not going to lie, I like winning,” he said with a smug grin. “And every locker room has it’s issues, but overall the guys are great.”
“What kind of issues have you encountered?”
Fuck. He really needs to be more careful. But it’s hard to keep it up. He’s fresh off of two hours of a photoshoot with way too many wardrobe changes, and now he is a half hour into this interview. His media training was geared toward short press interviews after a game. Not whatever the fuck this is. “I mean, locker room talk, you know. I think that’s pretty common all over the league. It’s hard to hear, I speak up when I can, but sometimes it feels like…” Like I’d put a target on my back if I spoke up every time they called something gay or called somone a faggot. “You have to pick your battles sometimes.”
“It sounds oppressive,” Charles offered.
Shane shrugged and reached for his ginger ale in lieu of elaborating on this topic he really didn’t want to continue. Charles seemed to get the hint and dropped it.
“Back to the draft,” Charles began. “You came in second after Ilya Rozanov, who you have been pitted against ever since. How has your rivalry evolved over the years?”
Maybe we could start to change the narrative a bit.. And look lots of guys have friends on other teams. Shane almost wanted to lean over and kiss Charles in gratitude. He wouldn’t because Ilya would be jealous. Also, Charles was nice looking, but he was no Ilya. Shane let a smile slip. He had to be careful, but he didn’t want to waste the opportunity to get out from the iron grip that was the rivalry narrative.
“Rozanov is the best competition a guy like me could have asked for. He has always challenged me, made me want to bring my all to the ice. He’s also the only other player who knows what it’s like to be at the top like we are. So, we’ve talked, become friends. I know it will surprise a lot of people, but we actually have a lot in common. We’ve never hated each other or anything like that. I actually respect the hell out of him. And I am pretty sure it’s mutual.”
“This last season, you had a pretty scary on-ice injury during a game against Boston. You had to be carried off the ice on a stretcher. What was the scariest part of that for you?”
Tell Ilya I’m okay. He’s gonna worry. “I think the scariest part was knowing that something bad had happened and that the people who care about me were watching, and were probably freaking out. For me, I was just worried about them. I was scared that no one was going to reach out, let them know I was okay. I didn’t want them to worry about me.”
“When you think about your future, about what comes after hockey, what do you picture for yourself?” Charles asked.
We will be boring married couple, yes? We will have a dog, and at least two kids I think. You will be best at all the boring parts. Doctor appointments and packing lunches and signing forms for school. We will drive boring cars because they are good in the snow and safe for kids or something boring and important like that. I will be the fun one, and make sure there is lots of chaos and laughter, yes? But the boring is very important, future does not work without. Shane closed his eyes as images of Ilya with a small child in his arms flooded his brain. “I mean, I want what everyone wants, right? Get married, settled down, raise children.”
“Are we by any chance talking about Rose Landry in this future? You received quite a bit of attention when you two were dating earlier this year.”
“Oh, yeah, um no, Rose and I weren’t… compatible.” Compatible, I thought I knew what it meant but I wanted to be sure. “Rose is great, and honesty I think she might be one of my closest friends now. She helped me figure a lot of stuff out about myself. I will always be grateful for Rose.”
“What did she help you figure out?” Charles followed.
I feel like maybe you’d rather be kissing Miles? Shane swallowed. Fuck. He was letting too much slip through. His mind raced. “Um, just some stuff about who I really am, what I’m looking for.”
“And who are you really?” Charles asked. His tone was kind, curious. As if it was a simple question, not a live grenade he had thrown right at Shane’s fucking face.
I’m gay. “I’m…” I’m gay. “I, uh….” I’m gay. “I…” I am a gay fucking hockey player who is in love with his rival. “I’m…” Think of something, fucking anything other than the fact that you are, “gay.”
Shane blinked. Charles blinked. Shane looked at Charles with a horrified expression. “Fuck, I um, I mean, no, I’m not…” gay. Say I’m not gay. Take it back! Take it back!
Shane bolted out of the chair. “I’m, uh, I need to, I’m sorry.”
He wanted to leave, wanted to run away from this moment. But he couldn’t. He had to figure out how to clean up the mess he just made. He darted into the bathroom, shutting it with a loud click. He pulled out his phone.
“Shane?” Ilya’s voice reached him through the buzzing in his ears. “Are you all done?”
Shane gasped for air. When did there stop being air? Why didn’t his lungs seem to be working?
“Shane? Shane, what is wrong?”
Shane could only heave for air in response.
“Okay, Shane, you are having panic attack? You need to breathe. We breathe together, da? Follow me. In. And out. In. And out.” Ilya exaggerated his breathing on the phone until Shane matched his breathing and was finally able to calm down enough to breathe normally on his own.
“Okay, you are breathing now?” Ilya asked.
“Yes, I’m breathing,” Shane said.
“Good, breathing is good. What happened? What is wrong?”
“Um, I think I just came out to a journalist,” Shane whispered, as if he was scared that Charles was listening at the door. As if the words ‘I’m gay’ hadn’t just come out of his mouth, damning him already.
“You think?” Ilya asked.
“Um, I did,” Shane clarified. “I didn’t mean to. But he was asking about the future and Rose and he asked me who I really was and I was trying so hard to not say ‘I’m gay’ but it kind of slipped out?”
“What did he say after?”
“Nothing, I ran in to the bathroom.”
“You are in bathroom now having panic attack, calling your boyfriend because you just told journalist you are gay?”
“Fuck you, Ilya,” Shane scoffed.
“I am just making sure I understand the situation. Okay, okay, you just go out and say you misspoke. You meant to say that you are… gray.”
“I’m not a fucking paint sample.”
“Maybe you said that you pray?”
“I definitely did not say I pray. Also, I’m not religious.”
“You're not?”
“Ilya, can you fucking focus?”
“Okay, okay, sorry. You go out and say you are not gay, you are very very straight, lover of pussy, just not Rose Landry’s.”
“Fuck, Ilya, I… I tried. I tried to take it back, but…”
“But what?”
“But once I had said it, I couldn’t unsay it. I couldn’t say the words ‘I’m not gay.’”
“Okay, okay, you ask that he not include in article, yes? Or threaten? Tell him your big, scary boyfriend will kill him if he tells anyone your secret after he tricked it out of you.”
“You’re not going to kill anyone,” Shane muttered.
“Fine, beat up,” Ilya compromised.
Shane scoffed.
“If you ask him, do you think he will leave it out?”
“Maybe…” Shane said, trailing off as a surprising wave of hesitation hit him.
“What is it?” Ilya prompted him.
Shane sighed. “It’s exhausting, I’ve been spinning lies and half-truths the whole interview, fuck, my whole life, and I finally got to say something fucking true. And… I can’t believe I’m saying this, but part of me kind of doesn’t want to take it back?”
“Are you saying you want to come out?”
“Fuck. No. I mean, maybe? No, that’s crazy, right? No, I can't, there's no way.”
Ilya was quiet for a long stretch as he seemed to consider his words carefully. “You could, if you wanted to. You will not be the first. Scott Hunter just kissed his boyfriend on center ice. You are already used to coming in second, should not be too hard for you.”
Shane scoffed. “Fuck off.” Then he trailed off, considering it. “I know I can’t say that it’s you, but fuck, it would be nice to actually tell the world that I have someone at home.”
“Da, is not safe yet for me, with Russia. But you can say you have boyfriend and I will know, and maybe one day in future the whole world will know you were talking about me, da?”
“Fuck, I love you. Am I really doing this?”
“I think maybe you are?”
“Fuck, I’m scared,” Shane breathed.
“Yes, is scary,” Ilya acknowledged. “But you are brave.”
“Fuck, okay, um, I guess I should get back there. Thanks.”
“You have problem, you call me, is how this works now.”
“Right, okay,” Shane breathed, trying to gather himself to face Charles.
“And Shane?” Ilya interrupted. “No matter what happens, we figure it out together, yes? You aren’t alone in this.”
“Okay.”
“And if you change your mind, let me know, I will come down to beat up journalist for you.”
Shane laughed. “Bye, Ilya.”
Shane took a moment to steel himself before opening the bathroom door, sliding his phone in his pocket as Charles looked up at him. Shane tried to get a read on the other man’s face, but he just seemed… observant, maybe a bit cautious, like he was aware that Shane was a skittish animal who might lash out if threatened.
Shane made his way back to his chair, feeling like he was walking to the gallows. He took his seat and took a sip of water, partially to have something to do that wasn’t looking at Charles, partially because his mouth had gone painfully dry all of a sudden.
“I take it that wasn’t something you planned on talking about today?” Charles broached.
Shane swallowed and shook his head.
“Are you comfortable continuing?”
Shane rubbed his sweaty palms on his pants. “Yeah.”
“Okay,” Charles said. “Then let’s go at your pace.”
Shane laughed. “Nothing about this is at my pace.”
“What does that mean?” Charles asked.
“This wasn’t the plan. I was supposed to wait until I retired.”
“Do you want to take it back? We can scratch it from the record.”
Shane shook his head. “I can’t take it back. I…” he looked away from Charles and scanned the hotel room they sat in. How many hotel rooms had seen his secret love affair with Ilya unfold? Shane sighed heavily. “I’m really fucking scared right now. But I think I might be more exhausted than I am scared.”
“Exhausted?”
“It’s exhausting, lying all the time,” Shane admitted. “I’ve lied for so long. To everyone. To my parents, my friends, my team, the whole world. Mostly lies of omission, but still. I lied to myself for a fucking long time. Rose was… fuck, she was so nice about it. She really helped me stop lying to myself. It was so scary to admit it to myself, but it was more exhausting to keep pretending that I wasn’t in love with–” Shane shook his head, cutting himself off. “I was hoping that I would find some woman who I could feel something for, so I could be normal. Get a wife like I’m supposed to. Someone I can talk about in the locker room and during interviews and not have the whole world flip out.”
“What are you most scared of when people find out?”
Shane scoffed. “That everyone is going to hate me? Turn on me? That I’ll lose sponsorships? That I’ll get benched or traded or fired?”
“What will feel like a relief once people know?”
“That I will finally be able to tell people that I have a boyfriend and that it’s very serious.”
“What would you like people to know about him?”
Shane couldn’t help the mushy smile from taking over his face, finally given the opportunity to gush about his amazing boyfriend. “He’s the best. He is so funny and kind. He’s competitive as fuck, which is perfect because so am I. He always knows how to get me out of my head or help me calm down when I’m freaking out.”
“Like…” Charles trailed off, gesturing toward the bathroom where Shane had disappeared to freak out mid-interview.
Shane gave a sheepish smile. “Yeah, like when I accidentally out myself to a journalist.”
“And what did he say about you coming out?”
“He was great. He offered to kill you or beat you up. I told him not to.”
“I appreciate that,” Charles said, a tone of humor in his tone.
“He also said it would be okay to tell the truth, at least about me. That I wouldn’t be the first. Scott Hunter just came out and the league didn’t spontaneously combust.”
“How was that for you? Seeing Scott Hunter kiss his boyfriend on center ice?”
I’m coming to the cottage. “It changed everything. Like we were saying earlier, someone has to be first. I was already the representing Asians in the NHL. I couldn’t be the first gay player too. Although, I admittedly hadn’t planned on being second either.”
“What would you say is the hardest part about being a closeted player in the NHL?”
“It’s kind of hard to pick just one thing. There’s a lot of things that are hard. Like I could talk about what it’s like to hear the word ‘faggot’ tossed around casually in the locker room and wondering if they would direct it at you if they knew. Or the pressure to go out to bars to pick up women, and I can’t give a satisfying excuse why I don’t want to. Or how my boyfriend has been in my phone under a girl’s name for almost a decade because we’re so scared of what would happen if anyone saw our texts.”
“What do you imagine will change after this interview is published?” Charles asked.
Shane thought about it. He thought about what he’d face in the league, hard conversations he’ll need to have with his parents, with his teammates. And then he thought of Ilya waiting for him at home. Of the secrecy that they will have to continue because of Russia. Shane sighed. “Some things won’t. I still won’t be able to be out with my partner.”
“Why not?”
“Because it isn’t safe for him.”
“How do you mean?”
Shane paused, considering his words carefully. “I am very lucky to be Canadian. I may be in one of the most homophobic industries possible, but at the end of the day, even if I lose hockey, I know that I have legal protections that keep me safe. I don’t have to worry about my passport being revoked, or being imprisoned or killed for loving a man. Not everyone is that lucky.”
Shane felt the weight of the silence that Charles let stretch out. He felt the moment land. He could see Charles accept just how serious this was. Charles gave Shane a small nod.
“When people finish reading this article, what do you hope they understand?”
“I tried really hard to be what everyone wanted me to be. Despite my best efforts, I fell in love with an amazing man. Between hockey and his country, we never thought we could make it work. But love is kind of an unrelenting force. We tried to push each other away, we hurt each other a lot over the years. I’ve run from that fact that I am in love with this man for years. And I’m done running now.”
Charles gave a definitive nod and shifted forward, extending his hand. Shane took it and shook it. “Thank you.” Shane nodded. Charles hesitated before adding, “I know this isn’t the interview you expected to give today. I appreciate you trusting me with your story nonetheless.”
Shane gave a small laugh. “Definitely not how I expected today to go. When will the article come out?” Shane asked.
“Two weeks,” Charles said.
Shane nodded and swallowed severely. “I guess have a lot of people I need to talk to in the next two weeks.”