Chapter Text
Ilya was in Moscow for his birthday. His father organized a whole gathering and invited all of the important people he knew, along with their daughters, expecting his son's soulmate to be one of them. Of course the thought that Ilya’s soulmate might be someone’s son was unacceptable. Grigori introduced his son to all of the women, hoping he’d make the family proud, hoping he was destined to be with one of them. Ilya tried to be polite and obviously kept himself together, but none of them made any impact.
He wished he was in Boston. Travelling was tiring and he'd rather be alone once his soulmate tattoo appeared. Ilya was sure it wasn’t going to be anyone from this party. He didn’t even know any of these people, other than from the meetings his father dragged him to, just to show his hockey-star son off. He had no idea who his soulmate could be, though. No one has ever been on his mind for long, no one has ever made him feel something extraordinary.
Okay, maybe except this one person, but Ilya didn't even dare to think it might be his soulmate. It just wasn't possible. No matter how much he caught himself thinking about it.
“Are you okay?” Svetlana asked him. Ilya realized he was biting his fingernails. He used to do that as a kid, but stopped once he grew up. It's a disgusting habit, his father always told him, and in this single matter, Ilya had to agree with him.
“I would do anything to be back in Boston,” he admitted with a sigh and sipped his vodka.
“Just survive this evening. We have a flight tomorrow morning, sweetheart.”
Ilya really loved her. If she wasn't like a sister to him, he'd be sure that her name would appear on his wrist at midnight. It would be safe, and easy.
“If it's not a female name, I might not survive this evening,” he muttered and looked over to his father and brother. Grigori noticed and nodded at his son, probably content with his son interacting with a female guest. He wondered if they would actually lock him up.
Ilya knew it was horrible, but his country was horrible in many ways. Locking people up for something they had no power over and something decided by destiny wasn't even on top of it. It was hard to call himself a patriot, even though he had a strong feeling of belonging to this country. He was raised there, after all. That’s where his mother lived.
“I took this fake tattoo pen. Just in case. It’s not very good but it should do the trick. We'll get you out of here safely,” she promised and Ilya literally couldn't believe he got an actual angel as his best friend. They would pull it off, somehow and get out as soon as possible.
No one should care enough to look at the tattoo closely. The pen should do the trick.
“If you have someone in mind start to think about how to cover it, though.”
Ilya had someone in mind. Someone who had acted out of place the last time he saw them.
Could Hollander really be his soulmate?
Ilya had to admit that he felt something every time they saw each other. He always loved playing against Hollander, as there was no other player who would be almost as skilled as Ilya was. Of course he was still better, but Montreal’s captain was challenging enough. Because of that, he assumed that he just felt more adrenaline once they were facing each other.
At least he’d assumed that, before they met off the ice, during the captains’ meeting.
Firstly, Hollander looked hot as fuck. Ilya fully believed in the idea of soulmates, but it didn't stop him from noticing other people. In that hotel bar Shane… Shane, was definitely worth noticing. Especially when he gave Ilya that look. Like he wanted to do some unspeakable things to Ilya, and he realized he wouldn't mind that. Even the thought of perceiving Hollander as attractive made Ilya question some things, later in his hotel room, where he might have let the images of Hollander's wet lips pop up in his head once he pleased himself in the shower. Yeah, that was the second thing. He came, imagining Hollander's mouth around his cock. As much as he wanted to, he couldn't forget about that, or not question it afterwards.
They didn't really talk during the actual meeting, but Ilya caught Hollander looking at him a few times. He also caught himself staring at Hollander’s covered wrist. Ilya didn’t dare to think that his name might be tattooed there back then. Finally, once they were parting Shane asked if they could exchange phone numbers, which was weird, but Ilya didn't mind it.
He got his phone out of his pocket and, for the hundredth time, looked at the message he got from Hollander this morning. For a split second he wondered if Shane stayed up late to send it to him once it was morning in Russia, but nah, he probably scheduled it, or didn't think about the timing at all.
From: Hollander
Happy birthday :)
Ilya bit his lip and started looking at female names that ‘Shane’ could be easily transformed to. Just in case. Apparently there was Shanée, which seemed perfect and easy.
He really wished he was in Boston, by himself.
Svetlana, being the absolute angel as usual, managed to bargain a minute to themselves at midnight. They found an empty room in the huge palace that Ilya’s father had rented (with Ilya’s money, of course). Then, as the clock struck midnight, Ilya embraced his best friend, his thoughts spiralling in his head.
Maybe it's a woman.
Maybe it's Svetlana.
What if it's not Hollander?
Do I want it to be Shane?
“Sweetheart, we have to check,” Svetlana sighed after a moment and Ilya took a deep breath.
“Stay with me until we're on the plane, okay?” he asked before they moved away. He felt his hands shaking a bit.
“Of course, Ilya.”
He kissed her on the cheek and raised his hand, so he could see the name behind her back. Suddenly everything felt in place. It couldn’t be anyone else.
Shane.
“It really is him,” he whispered to himself.
“You happy with that?” Svetlana asked, moving away and getting the tattoo pen out of her purse. It made Ilya’s heart ache that he had to cover it already.
“Less terrified than I thought I would be.”
He smiled at the tattoo for the last time before Svetlana transformed it into Shanée. He didn't know how permanent the pen was, but he hoped it'd easily come off as soon as they get on the plane.
He didn't want to cover Shane up. He wanted to stare into these letters for hours. Look at them until he’ll be able to look at Shane himself.
The rest of the party was a disaster, obviously. Svetlana did a great job and no one questioned the authenticity of the tattoo. Ilya’s father was clearly disappointed that the woman's name wasn't Russian. Well, disappointed was an understatement. Ilya already feared the moment they'd be alone. Grigori looked at him like a lion looks at its prey right before the attack. He'd never wanted to leave his country more than at this moment.
And then he realized he wouldn't be able to ever go back. He’ll never visit his mother’s grave again.
He didn't want to hide once he left. If that's what Hollander would be okay with. Then it would be public, that they were meant for each other. Public in Russia too. Would his family intervene? Would they do something to Shane?
God, he had to talk to him. To see him.
To: Hollander
I'll call you when I get to Boston.
He texted and tried fighting the smile that crept into his face. He changed the contact name and couldn't stop himself from sending another message.
To: Shane
Shane.
He got the response within a few minutes. Shane probably didn't sleep. Ilya knew he definitely wouldn’t, if his birthday was first.
From: Shane
Ilya.
God, the universe really did work. Ilya couldn't wait to see him. He really didn't question the fact that Hollander was his perfect match anymore. It just instantly clicked in his brain. Probably already at the captains’ meeting when he assumed his name could be on Hollander’s wrist, that he tried his best not to show to anyone. Actually, he could give Ilya a heads up. They could get together during that weekend and now Ilya would be probably celebrating with his soulmate, safely in Boston, or Montreal, or wherever the hell Shane’s cottage was.
Was Shane afraid that Ilya wouldn’t be okay with them being soulmates?
From: Shane
When are you back?
To: Shane
Tomorrow. Come to Boston?
From: Shane
You sure?
To: Shane
Yes. Shane.
He couldn’t stop using his name. He was constantly looking at his wrist, waiting to wash the cover up off. For now all he could do was look at the contact name on his phone.
From: Shane
Bought the tickets. See you tomorrow.
From: Shane
Ilya.
“Ilya,” his father called, once the party cleared out. They were alone, beside Svetlana and Alexei. Grigori Rozanov definitely was intimidating. He stood by the fireplace with a glass of vodka in his hand. The liquid had a lot of ice in it.
“Yes, father?” Ilya hated how weak his voice sounded. He was really overwhelmed, though. It was probably the last time he'd see his father. They've never been close and Ilya never enjoyed coming home after the season ended, but still, it was family. It was home.
“Why is it not a Russian woman?” he asked and Ilya just stared at him blankly, because how the hell was he supposed to know? Was his father really blaming him for that?
“Dad, you know I didn't have any impact on this.”
“I think you did. You're always trying to make fools of us. Playing in the American league, living there and now this… This…” he gestured towards his wrist and Ilya couldn't take it anymore. Talking shit about him he could handle, but he would not let anyone talk badly about his soulmate. About Shane.
Jesus, his father didn't even know the truth.
“This is my soulmate, dad, and you will not talk shit about them.”
Ilya was proud of himself. Probably the first time he'd stood up to his father. It helped, knowing he had nothing to lose, as he wouldn’t be coming back. It was time to be as brave as his mother always told him to be.
“You're getting ahead of yourself, son,” Grigori snorted, his voice raised but this time Ilya wasn’t afraid.
“For what? Defending my soulmate?” Ilya just snorted.
He was so done with all this. With his father blaming him for everything, with this whole shit show, with the fact that he had to cover Shane’s name on his wrist, with this whole country.
While all these thoughts rushed through his head, he didn’t even hear what his father was yelling at him. He really didn’t want them to part like that, but he knew there was no return now. He’d spent his entire life making himself smaller. It was enough. He deserved to be happy. Deserved to spend the rest of his life with someone, who would make him feel valuable.
Ilya came back to consciousness when he heard glass shattering and felt his father’s cold fingers on his wrist. They were wet from the ice in the glass he was holding before. Now it was lying broken near the fireplace. The grip was tight and Ilya felt his hand getting numb, but it wasn’t what he cared about.
He was terrified seeing the tattoo pen ink dripping down his forearm. Grigori followed his gaze and stumbled.
“What is that?” he asked, slowly moving his hand away. Ilya tried to cover the tattoo but his other hand was quickly yanked away. Once Shane’s name was revealed, the only thing Ilya could think about was how much he wanted to be with him already. He held on to this.
He thought about his smile when his father pushed him to the ground.
He thought about his talent when he felt first kick on his stomach.
He thought about his athletic body when he heard Svetlana scream in panic.
He thought about his eyes when his father called him a disgrace to the family.
He thought about his beautiful freckles, hoping he would get to see them again, get to touch and kiss them when his own brother punched him in the face and he drifted into unconsciousness.