Chapter Text
They don’t sleep together.
When Shane explains what he’s feeling and hears Ilya shut it down immediately. Everything changes with a harsh clarity that forces Shane to step back.
After he holds Ilya through his tears, rocks him and gives him all the comfort he can, including a few kisses, Shane makes the decision to verbalize it.
“We can’t sleep together anymore, Ilya,” whispers Shane as he sits on the edge of the bed, not looking at the blonde behind him. He hears the scoff and has to look over his shoulder as he explains. “I want to, fuck do I want to, but we can’t. The wires are too crossed for me, and if we keep going, I will actually fall for you. I know you don’t want that, so we can’t anymore.”
“Fine, no more fucking,” Ilya’s voice cracks, like he’s unhappy, but his face is stoic and cold. “Arch-Rivals to the end then.”
“Sure, if that’s what you want to be,” scoffs Shane as he shakes his head and stands, feeling stupid for thinking of suggesting anything else. “See you, Rozanov.”
“Wait, wait, you are mad?” Ilya’s voice stops him as he heads for the door, confusion and annoyance is sharp.
“No, I’m not mad,” replies Shane with a sigh as he turns and puts his back to the wall by the door. He can’t look at Ilya, even though he wants to. “I was going to suggest something else, but you said archrivals. That’s how the world sees us, so why change it, right?”
"What would you say?” asks Ilya curiously as he scoots to the edge of the bed.
“Something stupid probably, so let’s just not and say we did, yeah?” replies Shane with a shake of his head as he pushes off the wall and twists for the door.
“Shane,” Ilya calls his name so softly, so reverently that he genuinely can’t believe he’s about to do this, walk away from this.
At least if they kept fucking, he could have Ilya close, even for just a couple hours.
This way though… this way maybe he can pull himself out of this deep ass hole he’s fallen into for the man.
So stupidly in love with his archrival that it’s ridiculous.
“What, Ilya?” asks Shane seriously as his hand rests on the doorknob.
“You suggest what? Hm? Tell me,” urges Ilya gently, carefully like he’s scared that Shane’s going to run.
Too late for that, he’d already taken off when he said they couldn’t fuck anymore. This is him crossing the finish line with tears in his eyes and his heart shattering in his chest because he’s lost even when he won.
“I was going to suggest that we try being friends. I know you are friends with Svetlana, though you fuck her, and probably love her considering how long you’ve known her. Romantic or not isn’t my business,” Shane has to cut himself off before he shows just how jealous he is of a woman he doesn’t even know. He can’t show anymore feelings than he already has with Ilya because tonight has been emotional enough. “But we could change the narrative in hockey and just… We could still be who we usually are just without the sex… and the flirting, probably.”
“Friends?” Ilya sounds like he’s fighting back laughter as he says the word.
“Like I said, you want archrivals then we’ll keep doing what we do on the ice,” replies Shane coolly, fighting back the embarrassment twinging through him as he twists the doorknob. “It was a suggestion that you could take however you chose. Goodbye, Rozanov.”
Shane leaves and feels like he’s going to puke.
But he makes it to his room, to his bed, and just drops everything on the floor as he undresses completely.
He needs this.
Even though everything in him is demanding he make his life easier for his early flight in the morning.
He needs this.
So, Shane goes to sleep naked, phone somewhere in the pile of clothes that will annoy him in the morning for not being folded. He gives himself this night to be bare and broken and himself because come morning, he’s got to be perfect again.