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Shane had had a long night, a game against Toronto with a playoff spot on the line; he’d pushed himself as hard as he could for the points they needed to get a chance at the cup. Since the cottage, everything felt like a waiting game, waiting for the penny to drop and for reality to hit him in the face.
His parents actually seemed to like Ilya, and Ilya was working to actualise the future he’d put forward, but he couldn’t seem to shake the anxiety sitting in his chest.
Shane had pondered on what he was offering Ilya in this all, he got to keep his secret, his team, his spondorships and his image. Ilya was leaving his team and crossing the line to Ottawa, putting his career on a back burner, really, to give them a shot. If anything about his sexuality came out before they could get his citizenship in place, he would be effectively screwed.
He felt his phone buzz against his leg, “You up?” Ilya was never a word-type of guy. Well, not in English at least.
He just hit the call button and waited for the “Hello.”
“Hi.”
“Why do you sound awkward? Is just me.” Ilya was teasing, Shane could tell, but there was something genuine in the tone that made Shane stop before he replied.
“Shane?” Ilya now actually sounded worried; the first name always meant serious business in their relationship.
“Ilya, why do you want to make it work with me? I can’t give you what you deserve.” Shane felt the weight in his chest move to his throat. He knew he couldn’t add anything more to his question; he felt choked.
“What?” Ilya sounded confused, if not a bit hurt.
Shane felt his eyes burn, and knew he shouldn’t have started this conversation, asking him just let him consider how much he was losing in picking Shane.
“Why do you ask this question? We talked at cottage, no?” Ilya was being clear, Shane could appreciate that, but he just couldn’t understand.
“I know we talked, but aren’t you angry at me? You have to leave your team, your friends, your life for me? I’m not even offering you that; all I can offer you is this secrecy and a real life together in ten years when we leave the league. Don’t you want more?” The last bit was choked out; Shane was struggling to push through by the end.
“Shane, you give me more.” Ilya sounded every bit as upset as Shane.
“Before, we did not have future. Just hotel room after games and meeting that only happen if it was convenient. The cottage gave us more Shane.” He was hushed as he spoke, like he had his heart in his throat and if he spoke too loud, it would explode.
“How is it more when you lose so much?” Shane was quieter now too. Like they were discussing some big secret in a crowded room.
“I love you, Shane Hollander. You are more than you could imagine. You are everything I want. You are boring, and I want to be bored forever.”
Shane sat with it for a minute, listening to Ilya breathe on the other end of the phone, just counting the seconds it took him to breathe in and out.
“Is that enough?” Shane finally whispered.
“More than enough.” Ilya was final in his words, no room for discussion.
“Okay.”
“Okay.”
“Can I come see you? I have a three-day break the weekend after next.” Shane just needed the contact and downtime.
“That is next weekend or weekend after weekend. You say it confusing.” The teasing tone seems to be back in Ilya’s voice.
“Don’t be an asshole.” Teary and a bit whiny, Shane didn’t have the energy for being teased.
“Yes, Hollander, you may come visit me. I have a game in Toronto too, you are lucky.”
“Okay, I need to sleep, early flight tomorrow.”
Okay, and Hollander?”
“Yes Rozanov?”
“ Я так сильно тебя люблю.” Ilya was certain in whatever he was saying, so Shane knew what he was trying to say.
“I love you too. Goodnight, Ilya.”
“Goodnight.” The sound of the call ending, and it was just Shane again.
His heart had calmed enough that he felt he could actually lie down and sleep, the quicker he slept, the quicker he saw him. Because ultimately, what he wanted to go home to was Ilya.