TheWeasleyBoys



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    And yeah, Shane knew that Ilya hadn’t been okay last time he was in Russia, but Ilya had had the very real excuse of a funeral to blame things on. Ilya had downplayed it as much as he could, and Shane hadn’t been there; he’d heard the fatigue and he’d seen Ilya’s tired smile, but he hadn’t felt the way Ilya’s hands were cold the entire time he was there, hadn’t seen through the screen the way Ilya dropped eight pounds in three weeks, hadn’t kept time when there were twenty hours in Ilya’s day instead of something closer to sixteen. Or, on the flip side, for the week or two after, when there had been approximately ten conscious hours in a day.

    It was one thing to see something. It was another to feel it in your hands.

    Ilya and Shane are so, so happy for their first year married. They’re playing in Ottawa together, they’re fucking winning, they’re together and out.

    So now, after a year, Ilya should be fine. He should be great. He should not be flinching at small noises or nearly punching people off the clock or feeling like he’s drowning whenever he’s not on the ice.

    Or: Ilya Rozanov, meet your PTSD.

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    "Why are you not scared?"

    "I am scared," Ilya admits. "I just am tired. Of hiding me. Of hiding you. Of hiding how much I love you. I want to go to the rink— how do you say it? Authenti."

    "Authentically," Shane supplies, automatically.

    "Yes. Authentically. I want to go to the rink authentically, as me," Ilya confirms.

    Ilya looks at Shane, pauses until Shane meets his eyes. "I want to say: I, Ilya Rozanov, love a man, and that man's name is Shane Hollander."

     

    -

    Or, sometimes it takes a little more time, and some courage, to be with the one you love.

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    31 May 2026

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    What The Long Game should've been.

    Also what I wish the Calgary Flames were.

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    Rozanov made a dismissive noise. “No, no, I will pick you up. Send me your address.”

    “I’m not giving you my home address.”

    “Why not!”

    “Because you’ll probably post it on social media to psych me out before our next game.”

    That made Rozanov laugh. “It is good idea,” he said. Stopped laughing. Started again. Blew out a breath like he had to get himself together. “I might do this to you,” he allowed, “but you have nice boyfriend living with you now. I would not do this to him. You are safe.”

     

    In which Ilya Rozanov adopts himself into Scott and Kip's household and refuses to leave. Kip finds this very sweet. Scott is going to kill him.

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    Wyatt was not, like, nosy. For sure, he was interested. He was curious. He engaged with people, obviously, because most people were interesting and engaging and had cool thoughts and said neat stuff if you asked.

    So, no. Wyatt wasn’t nosy, but he wasn’t stupid, either.

    Or: A Bromance Blooms In Ottawa
    Or: The Ballad of Wyatt and Ilya

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