lilacberry



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    "You're supposed to smoke over there." Someone said from behind Ilya.

    Ilya almost dropped his cigarette. His English was shitty, but he had studied that sentence enough times over the years to understand it immediately. He didn't even think about his words much anymore, but it was impossible to avoid them.

    He turned instinctively, and was face to face with Shane fucking Hollander.

    Out of almost seven billion people, of course Ilya's soulmate had to be his fated rival. It was almost poetic. Still, Ilya had enough sense to realize just how bad this was.

    or, Shane says Ilya's soulmate words. Ilya vows to never speak a word to him to keep him from finding out. They fall in love anyway.

    Language:
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    2/2
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    18 Jan 2026

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    “Your space is nice,” Hollander whispers back, leaning in, breath warm against Ilya’s chest. “Smells like mint.”

    Ilya stops breathing.

    Hollander’s eyes are half-lidded, dazed, soft in a way Ilya has never seen. “Ilya,” he murmurs.

    And Ilya nearly chokes. The first name. His actual first name. Whispered like something intimate. Sacred. They’ve never called each other by their first name. Always Hollander. Always Rozanov. Ilya is so stunned he almost doesn’t process the next words, almost can’t translate them despite living in the States for almost four years now.

    ---
    or: ilya is spiraling about what his roomate could be doing on a random tuesday night. he's not prepared when the night takes an unexpected turn.

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    18 Jan 2026

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    “Ilya Rozanov,” Shane repeats slowly, letting himself taste the words. He grins. “Wow. You’re, like, a really good player. How come you’re in Canada for summer camp? Is that weird to ask? Sorry if that’s weird. I just meant-”

    Shane is cut off by a hand on his mouth. He flushes.

    “Too fast,” Ilya says. “My English… not good.”

    “Sorry,” Shane mumbles into Ilya’s hand. Ilya grins and shakes his head, curls dancing, as he pulls his hand away.

    “Is okay. Slow words. Okay?”

    This year marks thirteen year Shane Hollander's third summer at Coach Marakov's elite hockey training camp. In attendance for the first time: Ilya Rozanov, visiting from Russia. Shane isn't the most sociable, and Ilya's English isn't the greatest, yet the unlikely duo soon become the best of friends.

    It's just one summer, but it makes a world of difference.

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    18 Jan 2026

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    “Hollander,” Ilya greeted. He was leaning over the partition of Shane's desk with a lop-sided smile on his face.

    “Rozanov,” Shane said pointedly.

    “You sound upset.”

    “I’m not upset.”

    “It is too early in the morning for you to look like you want to kill me,” Ilya pointed out.

    “It’s never too early for that,” Shane threw back, unnecessarily shuffling some papers around on his desk. “Do you need something?”

    “A pen,” Ilya shrugged, not being able to stop the dumb smile forming on his face at Shane’s reaction.

     

    or, ilya and shane are co-workers. they like each other but are oblivious idiots about it. also, it's christmas!

    Language:
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    17 Jan 2026

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    “What are you doing here?"

    He’s thankful his voice doesn’t shake, but he’s trembling. And he knows Ilya notices. Even all these years later, he’s sure he can still read Shane like a fucking book.

    Ilya’s smile softens and he points to the ice, where the player whose eyes had brought Shane back to Before lines up with the other boys.

    “My son."

    Ilya never goes to the cottage. Nearly two decades later, they meet again.

    Language:
    English
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    17 Jan 2026