Chapter Text
Ilya spotted Marlow in the corner of the hotel bar.
"How is he?" he blurted out before Ilya even had a chance to sit down.
"He is okay, concussion and broken collarbone. He will be fine."
Marlow let out a deep sigh. "Out for the playoffs though, huh? He hates my guts?"
"No no, he knows it was accident. Only mad you ruined his evening plans."
"Ah, big date?"
Ilya shrugged and took a sip from his beer.
After a moment Marlow suddenly got a peculiar look on his face. "You also had plans yesterday, didn't you Roz?"
"I was with you. Come on, Marlow, you were not that drunk."
"Yeah but, you had plans. They got cancelled, right?"
Ilya froze, fearing where this was going. "And?"
"Always Montreal, always home games against Montreal... I assumed it was a Metros superfan but..." Marlow looked like he was doing a math equation in his head, then his eyes went wide. "It's him, isn't it? He is the Montreal girl? Jane?" He gasped, "Jane Shane, holy fuck—"
No no no no. "Marlow—"
"You are fucking Shane fucking Hollander?"
"Keep your fucking voice down, Marlow." Ilya gritted through his teeth.
Marlow slapped a hand on his wide open mouth. Then his eyes widened more, if that was even possible. "You fucking kissed him on the ice!"
"I kiss you all the time and we're not fucking," Ilya tried.
Marlow rolled his eyes, then he got that peculiar look again. "But it's not just that, is it?"
"What do you mean?"
"Through the Pike bitch slaps I saw you out there on the ice, how freaked out you were. They had to actually push you away from his side. And then you spent all night just refreshing TMZ." He smirked. "You're down bad for this guy, aren't you, Roz?"
Ilya didn't know what to say, he just shrugged and shook his head.
Then Marlow's eyes widened again, the epiphanies seemed to just keep coming. "That's why you were so fucking miserable a couple months back. I mean I guessed you'd been dumped but he was banging a fucking chick. A movie star at that." Then he paused, "wait, are you gay? You can't possibly—"
"I'm not." Ilya sighed, no point denying it now, "I'm bi okay, I like both."
"You love him?"
Ilya was stunned by the question, his mouth opened but no words came out.
That was the only answer Marlow needed. He smiled. "You've told him that?"
Ilya couldn't help but grin.
"What?"
"I have. In Russian."
"Oh, you're such a fucking dick!" Marlow laughed.
Ilya waved it off. "Anyway, it doesn't matter. I'm ending it. I was going to end it last night but you fucked that up."
Ilya could see Marlow's face changing, it was probably a little too soon, so he quickly retorted with "sorry, only joking."
"Why end it?" Marlow asked.
Ilya glared at him. "Are you serious?"
"What? It's been like five, six years—"
Ilya cleared his throat, "eight..."
Marlow's eyes were about to pop out of their sockets. "You're actually joking, eight fucking years? An eight year relationship and you are ending it now?"
Ilya waved his hand again, "it's not a relationship, only casual occasional fucking."
This time it was Marlow's time to glare. "Roz, I'm pretty sure consistently sleeping with someone for eight years is called a relationship."
"Well, it can't be."
"Why?"
Ilya stared at Marlow for a second, dumbfounded. "We live in the same universe, yes? And you know where I come from?"
"Okay maybe it's tricky but—"
"Ah, tricky," Ilya scoffed.
"Well, what about him? Is it 'casual' for him too? Does he love you?"
Ilya shrugged and looked down at his beer. "I don't know..." after a pause he said "he, uhm... he asked me to go to his cottage this summer."
"Woah. Yeah no, a couples' retreat doesn't scream casual to me. You going?"
"Are you actually slow?"
Marlow contemplated for a while, then he turned serious. "Look, Roz. You do whatever you think is best, I can't possibly understand what you're up against. But I can see how much you love this guy, and he seems to feel the same way about you. That sort of thing don't come around very often, maybe it's worth fighting for. Just my two cents."
"You can keep your cents..." Ilya grumbled and downed the rest of his beer.
They sat in silence for a while. Then Marlow snorted, "Shane fucking Hollander, huh?"