Chapter Text
Ilya didn't know if he was glad that he broke the promise he made to Shane before leaving for Boston for the weekend, but he certainly wasn't mad at it either.
He promised him that he wouldn't watch Shane's next game. Which Ilya immediately thought was an odd request; as Shane usually loved the thought of having Ilya watch him play. It filled him with a sense of security to know that his boyfriend—the man he had dubbed his guardian angel with the most gorgeous curls—was watching his every move on the ice.
But when Ilya spontaneously had to cancel the plans that he had made with both Cliff and Svetlana due to shit weather; the three of them decided to just hang out at Cliff's house and watch the Montreal vs Toronto game.
Ilya had felt bad about betraying his boyfriend's trust at first, but after the first face off and the ensuing chaos, he could no longer be mad at himself.
Like he was enthralled, he just stared at the screen, trying to wrap his mind around what was happening to Shane. Ignored defenses which resulted in him getting crashed into the boards way more than he should; way more than what was normal.
Toronto was an aggressive team of assholes, but they were never this bad; if the defense would do their job properly.
Both Svetlana and Cliff were also furious on Ilya and Shane's behalf. Screaming at the screen, like they were there in person and their words could actually reach someone else than just Cliff's neighbours down the street.
"What the fuck are they doing???" Cliff cussed, throwing his hands up in anger.
"They are getting paid millions and cannot even do their jobs properly??" Svetlana huffed in Russian, she was too angry to let her thoughts come out in English.
All while Ilya just stared in silence. A paralyzing silence, that made his chest feel tight.
By the end of the game, Shane could only barely stand up straight; his face clearly showing the pain he's been trying to repress the past three periods.
"He looks bad," Cliff commented, glancing over to Ilya, who probably has not blinked once in the past hour.
Ilya didn't even bother to look at his phone, since they started watching the game. He had been getting dozens of messages, but Ilya didn't check a single one; worried that something even worse would happen to his Shane, if he were to take his eyes off of him for even a glimpse of a second.
Aside from the messages that he could've easily ignored with no repercussions, Hayden's been getting very impatient.
"Ilya, you really have to call Hayden right now," Cliff tried to appeal to his best friend, but Ilya still didn't move even a single inch; his eyes were still glued to the TV screen that Svetlana had turned off more than ten minutes ago at this point. "Help me," he whispered in Svetlana's direction.
She nodded and sprung right into action.
"Ilyusha," She tapped on his shoulder; not resulting in a reaction.
"Hey," another attempt, this time by shaking his shoulders a little harder. Still no reaction; Ilya had completely shut down.
"I guess it is time for the last resort," she sighed and slapped her best friend since childhood. While she didn't like having to return to this method, it was unfortunately the only one that always proved successful. He snapped out of his trance and angrily turned his head to the side to face Svetlana.
"What the fuck was that about, Sveta?!"
"You need to call Hayden Pike. Right now," she handed him his phone, Hayden's contact info already open on the screen.
Hayden Pike was definitely the last person he wanted to talk to right now, but he saw the urgency on Svetlana and Cliff's faces and pressed call. He put on speaker mode and placed his phone on the table in front of him.
It didn't even have to ring a second time, when Hayden picked up.
"Holy fuck, Rozanov. Someone as chronically online as you should really be way easier to reach."
Ilya could almost hear Hayden's eyeroll, but didn't bother to make a dumb comment about it now. There was only one thing he cared about right now.
"Is Shane ok?"
"Define okay," Hayden sighed. "Emotionally he's okay, I guess. Probably not true though, but that's something for us to worry about later. I'll just assume that you watched the game tonight. It was an absolute fucking shitshow."
"An understatement," Svetlana commented, her voice filled with disgust.
"Yeah, for sure. Well, there's a few things that you should know, Rozanov.
To make sure that Shane's physically okay, aside from a few bruises, I dragged his ass to the hospital. He really didn't want to go, but fortunately I can be very persuasive if I have to be. He's currently getting some scans done to see if there's any internal bleeding or something like that. By the way he was thrown around on the ice tonight, internal damages unfortunately aren't unlikely, the doctor I talked to said so too. I'll keep you updated on that, so please don't ignore any messages or calls.
I also already called Yuna and David, they're driving down as we speak. I told them that I'll reach out to you, so they left immediately without calling you first.
Rozanov-" Hayden took a deep breath before continuing. "Ilya, I need you to understand that I really tried my best to help him tonight, but that didn't work as well as I thought it would. I'm very sorry about that. I should've done more, but I couldn't.
But now, probably the most important part that I need to tell you about is that Shane waved his No-Trade Clause after the game," Oh shit, Ilya, Cliff and Svetlana shared the same thought.
"Well, I talked him into doing that. It's drastic, but definitely seemed necessary. Because honestly, I'm not standing by to watch my best friend get beaten up like that again, by his own team. I know that there's a risk that he'll get traded to an even worse hellhole, especially since he's really pissed off the Voyageurs' management, but at this point I don't know if there's a place worse than Montreal for him. I promise that I'll continue to look out for him while he's still here, but I needed you to know all of this, before it breaks the news."
"What has changed? Why does Montreal and its representatives suddenly hate him?" Cliff asked, only hearing a sigh from Hayden as a reply at first.
"He came out to the team yesterday," Hayden answered with a low voice; even more quietly than before. Worried about his surroundings and who could potentially overhear him.
"How could you let him do that?" Ilya raised his voice. This is exactly the outcome he had unfortunately expected from Shane's coming out. "What kind of friend are you?!"
"Hey! I didn't know that he would do it. He ambushed me, just like he did the rest of the team. If I would've known, I would've stopped him. You should know me better than that. I care about his wellbeing more than I do of my own. He's my best fucking friend and I hate to see him hurt like this."
"Fuck," Ilya cussed. "I know this. Sorry. I am just so angry right now."
"You and me both, man. I'm pissed off and the worst thing is that I can't really do shit about it. Coach is not doing anything. He'll just let the team continue like this, because he also doesn't care about Shane anymore.
He has given so much, basically everything that he was capable off, and they throw him away like this. And I can't do anything than just stand by and watch."
Ilya could hear quiet sobs coming from Hayden on the other side of the call. And while the two of them obviously didn't like each other, hearing Hayden broken like this, broke something in Ilya too.
Ilya knew that he had to do something to help his Shane. Something potentially very desperate.
"Thank you for the update, Hayden. Please continue to keep me updated, but I have to go now. Call Jackie and take care of yourself," he hung up without waiting for a reply from Hayden.
"What are you doing?" Svetlana asked, after Ilya grabbed his phone and jumped up from the couch, quickly moving to another room.
"Have to make a call."
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The person he ended up calling was Harris. He tried to reach the owners of the Centaurs first, Coach Wiebe too, but neither of them answered quickly enough.
Ilya updated Harris on everything that happened.
Shane's abuse on the ice; the fact that Shane insisted to wave his No-Trade Clause to hopefully get out of Montreal quicker. Away from the pain.
"I'm very sorry to hear that Hollander's been having a shit time, but I don't really know what you're expecting me to do now? I'm only the Social Media Manager and-"
"You are the Social Media Manager that can reach out to the Centaurs' management for me," Ilya interrupted him. "Hollander is being traded very soon, and he could come to Ottawa."
"I don't know if a player like Shane Hollander's in the budget. They probably can't afford him."
"Then tell them to cut my pay completely. I do not care. Anything to get him to Ottawa, too."
"That's... Very drastic, you know that, right? Are you serious?"
"As serious as I can be, Harris. I- We cannot let him get traded to fuck ass Toronto or worse. There has to be something they can do. Please, Harris."
"Who can say no to a heartfelt plea like that?" Harris sighed. "I'll make some calls, I'll see what I can do. Can't promise anything, though."
"Thank you, Harris. I appreciate it." Ilya hung up the call and just stared at his phone for a moment, before sending a text to his boyfriend; who was probably scared out of his mind about everything that has happened tonight.
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Ilya hated being nervous about something that technically didn't even have anything to do with him. He was pacing up and down in his future parents'-in-law's living room—like an animal in captivity—waiting to hear literally anything from Shane or Yuna. David had tried to get him to calm down a few times over the past hour already, to no avail.
"Shane will be fine, I'm sure of it," David rested his hands on Ilya's shoulders, making him stop right in his tracks.
"I wish I had your confidence right now, David," he had simply said in reply. Normally, Ilya would love to get reassured by his boyfriend's father like this, but it really didn't work on this day.
This very important day.
The very important, but also very stressful day.
If things would go as planned, Shane's entire future in Hockey could be decided today; in the best way possible.
But if things wouldn't go as planned-
Ilya didn't dare to finish the thought. Everything had to go according to plan today; there simply wasn't another option.
Ilya would've never considered himself a man of faith—and that's not something that will change—but right now he found comfort in it. He pressed the cross—his mother's cross—to his lips and started mumbling words that could be interpreted as a sort of prayer.
Praying that Shane—his darling Shane—will end up with a good team; that all of his efforts wouldn't be in vain. He hoped a higher being, if there even is such a thing, would listen to him.
He had to be sure that Shane would be fine. That his hurt would finally end. Ilya remembered that horrible night, a few weeks ago when Shane called him crying. He was out with his teammates; planned as a final attempt to smooth things over before he would leave the team for good. But that apparently didn't work out as Shane had expected it.
Ilya didn't know the details of what happened. He wanted to ask Shane; find out who he needed to kill on his behalf, but Shane simply couldn't talk about it. So Ilya didn't push.
He didn't know what happened, but what he knew was that it was one of the worst nights of his life. Seeing Shane in distress like that? It hurt something deep in his chest.
He needed to make sure that Shane never had to feel like that anymore.
Fortunately, he didn't have to wait much longer for an answer, as Yuna and Shane arrived home not even an hour later.
Another 45 minutes of not knowing anything almost brought Ilya to the edge of insanity, but that didn't matter anymore. Because Shane didn't seem defeated, or angry at the result of the meeting.
"So?"
"Well," Shane approached his boyfriend, trying to hide the smile that started to creep up on his face. "You think I'll look good in red and black?"
"You-" The words got stuck in his throat for a moment. "You're coming to Ottawa?"
"I'm coming to Ottawa," Shane answered and was immediately swept off his feet by Ilya; the pure joy he radiated, spreading through the room.
This was the best possible outcome to their plan.
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