Chapter Text
The loud cheers from the crowd boom down the hallways as the Centaurs go parading down back to the lockers. Hollers and screams are vibrating off the concrete walls and ricocheting off the lockers as they barge in.
“We fucking won again boys, let’s go!” Ilya shouts in a voice that sounds angry, but is in fact, extremely happy. They all erupt in what can only be described as testosterone joy.
“Let’s party tonight, Le Chateau club, yeah??” Wyatt shouts as he is standing on the bench above everyone, “Roz will buy everyone drinks!” They all reply with a variation of “Fuck yeah- Hell yes!” Rozanov is not even mad at Wyatt’s idea. He is so elated. They are starting off this season strong, no losses yet. This is what all the hard work has been for. This is a team he turned around and he loves every single one of these fuckers.
“Da, I’ll get you all drunk!” Ilya wipes the dripping sweat off his face. He’s going to party tonight. He texts Shane,
Lily: congrats on your win. Looks like we’re both winners tonight ;)
Lily: Partying tonight with the team at Le Chateau club, you coming in tonight?
Lily: I’ll leave it early if so
Jane: Congrats on the win!
Jane: I’ll come in tomorrow morning, I’m beat actually.
Ilya frowns at that. He wanted Shane tonight, but in truth, he desperately needs to party tonight too. Not just for celebrating the amazing wins, but because he has been feeling a bit out of sorts lately with Shane. Well, not with Shane himself, but the situation surrounding Shane. Everything plan wise is moving along. Two seasons ago, Ilya moved to Ottawa. Since then, Shane came to his Halloween party, they have a great friendship with Troy and Harris, who know about their relationship, the hockey camp they run for the Irina Foundation has been wildly successful. Ilya should be happy; this pace is possibly faster than they planned, but sometimes Ilya feels stuck.
So, the new season just started and Shane is back at Montreal, it’s extremely hard on Ilya to readjust post-cottage life, being torn apart after really being together jars him every time. Jealousy gets to him at times still. And Ilya can sense that Montreal has not been cool with Shane being gay since he came out years ago now, but Shane won’t admit it or won't expand on details. He thinks this because Hayden almost brought it up at a dinner they had with the Pikes, but Shane cut the conversation off and Hayden seemed panicked to continue so he dropped it. Also, Ilya can tell he’s distracted; he often comes from Montreal to spend time in Ottawa on weekends and Ilya feels like he has to perk him up, rejuvenate him with love and care, something he is clearly not getting from his team. He wishes he could alter this timeline somehow.
And Ilya has had his own… issues. Issue’s he is not letting Shane in on either. Dark sad thoughts, one’s he has been afraid of having all his life. He thinks feeling stuck between his career and Shane is a major cause of it, but at the same time, he’s more worried, he’d be this way regardless. Shane is an out gay athlete, he in a way, has been freed from expectations in ways Ilya has not. Ilya still has to nod when people make bachelor jokes, womanizer jokes; Ilya has to swallow hard to not give himself away when he sees Shane, or when representing the Irina Foundation alongside him. Stone cold Slavic stares to maintain his ego-driven hockey personality. That persona doesn’t even feel like him much anymore, and yet, it’s all anyone knows except a handful of people. And why isn’t that enough? Why does Ilya have the biggest irrational desire to scream from the rooftops he is Shane’s boyfriend? That he fucks Shane Hollander? That he loves Shane Hollander? To kiss him in public? Why does he even care if others know? So yeah, Ilya needs to party tonight. To get his mind off Shane for once and celebrate with his team and enjoy the life he has built outside of his relationship.
That doesn’t happen tonight, at all.
**
“I’ll take two!” Wyatt screams nicely to the bartender and winks. Then he turns to meet Ilya’s eyes and winks at him.
“I knew you would get two! Fuck you are all going to get drunk off my money, huh?” Ilya looks around at all the Centaurs gathered around the bar, overwhelming the staff, but Ilya grabs the back of Wyatts neck and shakes it jokingly and smiles, “We deserve it!” Ilya slides his credit card to the bartender, “This card pays for all these winners drinks tonight.” She almost walks away to file it, but he lifts his finger up, “Ahh, including mine.” He smiles and orders. He’s going to get properly drunk tonight. He turns to Wyatt, “Make sure I get home tonight, right?”
Wyatt now grabs Ilya at the shoulder, “Hah, let’s hope we both make it home!” They both laugh. Tonight might actually be exactly what Ilya needed.
The Le Chateau club is loud, lots of dancing, people, tables outside the dancefloor area. For a quiet city, Ottawa has one bumping club and this is it. Most of the players who came out are single, or their girlfriends and wives arrived. Troy is the last to arrive and Ilya notices that Harris is not here.
Ilya and Troy get a moment together waiting for some drinks at the bar while the rest of the team sets up around one of the large tables on the outskirts of the dancefloor.
“Where’s Harris?” Ilya says leaning in to Troy over the loud ass music.
“He didn’t feel well tonight, I think he’s got a stomach bug or something. He made me come out, but I’m leaving in like 5 minutes.” Troy said holding a beer he hasn’t begun to drink.
“We just got here! Bestie, you can’t leave me here with…” Ilya looks around at the table the Centaurs are gathering at. They have trays of shots. Dear god. “all of them!” Ilya learned the word ‘bestie’ and now torments Troy with it. Ilya swings his arm around Troy’s shoulders, “You’re the only one who knows I’m miserable.” Ilya laughs and takes a shot he has sitting at the bar as he says it but Troy knows it wasn’t a joke. Ilya has been off, both Harris and Troy have spoken to each other about it and have tried to check in on him a few times, to no avail.
“Is he coming in tonight?” Troy asks in vague terms because of course he means Hollander. Ilya shakes his head no and says,
“Is celebrating with Montreal tonight. I’m fine.”
“Are you?” Troy turns to meet his eyes with this question, he’s asked him this a few times over the last few weeks. Ilya’s been a sad mess since the season started, even though they are having their best season thus far.
“I don’t need him with me all the time.” Ilya snapped. Troy learned to ignore the Russian when he gets worked up and just keep conversating,
“You mean you don’t get him all the time and you deal with it. But, you obviously want him here no?” As Troy asked, Ilya looked around the club, seeing some of his teammates getting cutesy with their wives and girlfriends as they arrive, he took another shot then he flailed his arms out,
“To do what with him here Troy? Pat him on the shoulder? Not kiss? Pretend we are friends? What good is that?” Ilya took… another shot.
“Okay, yeah, I understand. Sort of in a similar position here.” Troy said and sipped his beer. Troy and Harris have been dating since last spring, no one knows except Harris’s family, Shane, and Ilya.
“Oh do you? You see Harris every day and go home every night together.”
“Obviously that’s different, I just meant the pretend to be friends thing.”
Ilya didn’t say anything. He knew Troy was right, he was just upset, he needed to shake this Shane conversation and try to enjoy his teammates. He took another shot. That’s four shots in the past 5 minutes and Troy was counting.
“You should go home and take care of Harris. Why are you here?” Ilya looked over at Troy not with anger, but obvious jealousy. “I’d be home.” He swallowed, “If he was there.”
Troy lowered his head and felt bad, for both Ilya and now Harris. He knows Ilya is right.
Troy side hugged Ilya quick and said, “you’re right, I’m heading out, thanks Captain.” Ilya met his eyes and they shared a smile. Troy had gotten used to talking with Ilya. Sometimes it’s heated, sometimes he’s worked up, but he’s not mad at you personally, that’s what people don’t get. As Troy left and walked out of the club, he pulled out his phone, he needed to make a quick call. But the night had just started and Ilya made his way over to the table; the table where all the shots he paid for was and he was going to be taking a handful of them.
There’s a chaos in the air, the club is having some EDM night and the dancing is extra intense, a whole slew of people are here that usually aren’t and it’s making the club extra packed. Everywhere is the smell of sweat and alcohol and the vision of flashing lights. Packed together like sardines, the vibe is sensual and sexy. As Ilya and the team get drunker, and some hours have passed since they’ve been here, players have been disappearing from the main hang table all night to dance with their girlfriends or to dance with strangers.
Ilya hasn’t really been dancing all night, because who would he even dance with? He’s avoided it by being the one to order the trays of shots for the table all night. Many girls have come over and proposition him, he even had to say yes to one because of how teammates were gathered and watching, but the second him and this girl got lost in the middle of the dancefloor, he glided his way out and lost her, floating to the other side of the club. He waited there and came back to the table after the song was over, seeming as though he finished dancing with her.
“How was she Roz?” Jamie Stringer asked and laughed around to the few guys at the table. Wyatt didn’t laugh but he did look to see Ilya’s answer.
Ilya bit the inside of his cheek, but smiled. He threw up a ‘so-so’ shaky hand signal and a few men laughed.
“Damn, Roz can get anyone he wants, she was smoking hot and he doesn’t even think so!”
“No one’s going to impress Roz, especially some club hoe.”
“Well he has Montreal Jane though!”
“Yeah but even she gets stringed along, this guy will never settle down! He won’t have to!”
Wyatt hasn’t added anything to this conversation and all the players who were talking were not met with Ilya’s eyes. He looked as though he wasn’t even paying attention to them, but he was listening. Wyatt noticed that too. Those guys were too drunk to care and ended up taking more shots they had at the table and leapt off to “go find some tail themselves” and went to the dancefloor. Wyatt stayed back and scooted over beside Ilya, it was only them two at the table for the moment.
“Properly drunk Captain?” Wyatt leaned in and asked. Ilya slowly turned his head to Wyatt and smiled at him crookedly, looking very drunk, but then the smile faded and Wyatt saw for a flickering moment, a wayward sadness to his face, almost like he wanted to tell him something serious. But his gaze soon averted to looking out at the crowd of dancing. Couples and single people, just grinding and touching each other, totally free, no care, enjoying themselves. He used to have that. Freedom, in a way. He hasn’t had it in a long time. Ilya swallowed hard. He needed air suddenly. He felt hot.
“I need air, I’ll be out back. Smoke break.”
Wyatt looked over at him, “You okay Captain? You seem off.”
“Am drunk.”
“Yeah, but besides that” And for a brief second, Wyatt saw again that maybe Ilya wanted to say something…serious. Ilya shook his head no slowly. It wasn’t convincing.
“I’ll be back in ten.”
Wyatt sat alone at the table for a solid five minutes before he considered going out and finding Roz, but he was so damn drunk himself, he wasn’t even sure what he’s prying at. Well, he kind of does, but two drunk guys probably shouldn’t get into something that heavy. Luca Haas comes over, sweat beading on his forehead to take a seat next to Wyatt,
“Where’s Cap?” Lucas says and looks around the club,
“Smoking out back.” Wyatt takes a swig of his beer, “He’s pretty drunk.”
“Looks pretty sad too.” Wyatt and Luca share a look, “What?”
“You said it, not me.” Wyatt took a look around to see no one else from the team was nearby, “You think him and Hollander are in a fight?”
Luca shrugged and nodded no, “No, I think they’re just a secret still.”
Wyatt nodded, “I mean we still don’t know about them. Technically.”
“Right, technically.”
“Where’d his bestie go?” Wyatt joked. Everyone knew Troy and Ilya were great friends and everyone has heard llya call him Bestie, it’s practically Troy’s nickname now. Wyatt sort of wanted that spot but Troy was the one who got it. They both glance at each other and at the same time say,
“At Harris’s” then laugh. They don’t technically know about them either.
And then as they both take a moment to drink their beers, like magnetic energy, because they were talking about Ilya and Shane, Luca zeros in on something,
“Holy shit.” Luca says,
Wyatt meets his eyes with a hazy gaze, “What?”
“Either I’m shitfaced or that is Shane over there by the door” Luca squints like he’s imagining it. Wyatt seemingly snaps out of his drunken stupor to look over at the entrance and Shane is in fact, getting his ID back from the bouncer and being let in. Shane is glancing around unsure of himself. The club is quite large and way more packed tonight than it’s ever been, it’s overwhelming to scan the whole place.
“Oh my god, he’s here for Ilya.” Wyatt says and immediately glances around the bar looking to see if Ilya is returning, he doesn’t see him. “Go get Shane, I’ll go out back and grab Ilya.” They both part to do their duties.
Luca makes his way over to Shane, trying not to lose him as he parts through the crowd. Luckily, Shane is moving predictably to the bar and Luca follows. Shane notices Luca walking towards him and gives a sheepish but relieved smile, happy he found someone he recognizes.
“Shane Hollander!” Luca reaches out his arm for a handshake and Shane gives it. “What the hell are you doing here?” They both perched up on the bar. Shane and Luca have been friendly since they met at Ilya’s Halloween party last season. He’s a nice kid and he even showed up to the summer camp just to help out, he’s going to try and be an official volunteer coach next summer for the hockey camps. Shane thinks he’s a nice kid.
“Oh, I just got here for the weekend, to see my parents, but-” Shane glances around the club, still looking for Ilya. “I was told this club is wild tonight, so” Shane didn’t know where to go with the rest of his sentence. In truth, Troy had phoned him hours ago and told Shane Ilya seemed distant and taking a lot of shots, just as a warning. Troy asked if he was out partying with Montreal and when Shane said absolutely not, he’s just sitting around, the silence on Troy’s end was palatable enough that Shane understood to just drive in tonight. So, without any hesitation, he got in his car, asked Troy what club, then drove two hours to Ottawa, because he’d do a lot more for Ilya than that.
“Do you want to come over to the Centaur’s table?” Luca wanted to nudge Shane there, figuring that’s where Wyatt would take Ilya. Shane seemed unsure.
“Oh, I don’t want to crash a Centaur party. I’m just-” again, Shane doesn’t know how to finish these sentences with Luca. He glances around again, just hoping he could catch a glimpse of Ilya and snag him. Shane looks out to the dancefloor, wondering if he’s there, dancing with a girl, trying to upkeep his reputation. The thought makes blood drain from Shane’s face and his stomach turn a bit. He is starting to hate the hiding maybe as much as Ilya does.
Luca tries play it cool, but he had a mission and Shane seems so planted at the bar.
“Rozanov is here, somewhere.” Luca states kind of plainly.
“I figured” Shane responds back in the same tone, trying to act uninterested, but he can’t refuse to add, “Where?”
“Probably by the table, he’s kind of been there all night.”
“What? He hasn’t been fraternizing with all the beautiful women? That’s unlike him.” Shane says this as casually as possible, trying to play into the persona that is Ilya Rozanov.
Luca almost rolls his eyes at this. Him and Wyatt figured out Hollanov at the Halloween Party LAST YEAR, but have kept their mouths shut. Once they saw what they saw that night, it became obvious as ever. Jane is obviously Shane. They cracked that code almost immediately. Every time they play in Montreal, Ilya was out of sight. If Montreal played in Ottawa, you never saw Ilya after. Every weekend, Shane is spotted in Ottawa and he Instagram stories his parent’s house to cover, he’s with Rozanov. They know this, because they can never get Ilya to hang out with them on the weekend’s when Shane does that. But if Shane was traveling with his team away over a weekend, suddenly Ilya was around. It wasn’t subtle to them, even on the face-offs on the ice. They had everyone fooled, but them.
“No, he doesn’t do that really.” Luca is almost tired of holding their secret for them, but he’s not going to out them, they obviously aren’t ready to come out as a couple and the thought of an all-star hockey couple is quite insane. Luca understands the secrecy. “That’s just a front the media paints him as. You’re his close friend, you must know he’s not actually a womanizer.”
Shane gives a glance to Luca and smiles, not in a telling way, or even a thank you way, just a ‘sure, whatever you say’ way. Luca thinks about how they have really gotten good at staying neutral in the way they display their “feelings” about each other. It must kill them. It must be exhausting. He continues, “let’s just swing by the table and see.” Luca starts to lead Shane towards the Centaur table and Shane reluctantly unplants his feet and follows.
***
When Wyatt dashes out the back door to the alleyway, he makes a spin around to look for Ilya. At whiplash speed, he doesn’t see him in either direction and a slight panic hits as he fears Rozanov fucking left. It’s a cold October night here in Ottawa and the crisp air hits Wyatt like a brick wall, his breath exhales out in a large white cloud as he adjusts from feeling so hot and drunk to chilly and slightly sobering. “Fuck” he whispers to himself, but when he slowly looks down each way of the alleyway again, this time with more patience, he sees a small crouched man in a squat position up against the brick building with his hands over his head. There are two cigarettes on the ground by his feet, smoked and smoldered. Wyatt takes a large breath and smiles. Good he hasn’t left, but bad, he looks sick, crouched over like that, leaning against the building for support. He walks towards him,
“Hey Cap, you good?” Wyatt approaches and hovers over Ilya, who hasn’t yet lifted his head or moved an inch since Wyatt spotted him. “Cap?” Wyatt leans over slightly, wondering if he has to pick him up physically. Is he that fucking drunk? But before he can make that move, Ilya slowly lifts his head out of his hands and looks up at Wyatt and wow. He’s crying. No noise is occurring, but streams of tears have clearly dripped down his face, you can see each individual stream painted on his cheeks all the way down his chin. He looks pathetic unfortunately and Wyatt upon seeing his face, feels almost all the alcohol leave his system. “Woah, Cap, what’s wrong? Are you hurt?”
Ilya doesn’t adjust his face, he doesn’t open his mouth to talk, he’s just staring at Wyatt, looking drunk still, head slightly swaying and clearly a mess. Ilya very slowly and barely nods yes. Wyatt perches down to sit next to Ilya. Ilya breaks from his squat position and just sits on the cold asphalt and Wyatt does the same. “Rozanov, say something. Anything.” Wyatt is getting concerned because he doesn’t exactly know what’s going on in his captain’s head, even if he could take a good guess. On top of that, he just wants to scream that Hollander is inside, but he also thinks he should sort this out first and not send him inside looking like a drunken mess. Ilya looks up and stares straight across the alley, not looking at Wyatt. He wipes his cheeks and face, smearing the somewhat dried tear streams as if they were never there now.
“I’m in love.” Ilya states it plainly and sniffs as he keeps staring off, not meeting Wyatt’s eyes, even though, Ilya can absolutely sense that Wyatt is just staring at him.
“Okay man, that’s great. I’m happy for you. Did something bad happen?” Wyatt wants to approach this as best he can.
“No, is fine. All fine. I’m just-” Ilya’s head sways slightly, he’s still clearly so drunk. He shrugs. His eyes look like they are welling up, “fucked up. Selfish.” Ilya adjusts his glance down to the ground in front of him, his head slightly bowing.
“Hey man, you’re the least selfish guy I know. You are buying everyone drinks as we speak.” Wyatt tries to manage a slight chuckle to raise Ilya’s spirits, but Ilya doesn’t move a muscle in his face, in fact, his jaw clenches. “Did you end things with…” Wyatt almost said the word him, but he snapped his lips together, he didn’t want to say her either. He wanted to say Jane, but he also thought that was boxing him in with the lie just as bad as her would. He chooses carefully, “with them.” He said slowly, deliberately. And with that, Ilya glanced over, his eyes were wet, that much was obvious to Wyatt. And Ilya looked so desperately sad that Wyatt was now deadly concerned he broke things off with Shane and that’s why Shane is here. Fuck. But Ilya shook his head no which eased Wyatt who mouth ‘Phew’ until suddenly Ilya stamped his eyes shut and just as the tears fell, Ilya folded over and somewhat fell into Wyatt unexpectedly holding on to him like a child does to a parent. Wyatt catches him in his arms and pats his back, “I got you Cap, it’s alright. I’m sure it’ll all work out.”
Ilya is quiet crying now making soft sobs and his head was shaking into Wyatt as he basically used Wyatt’s shirt as a tissue. He kept softly sobbing and Wyatt just let him. Still drunk, Wyatt was very worried now about Shane and Ilya reuniting at this club tonight. Maybe this was all bad.
Then very muffled, in his thick Russian accent mixed with slurred drunk speak, Ilya manages to say,
“I love him.” But Wyatt heard it easily. Him. Yes, Ilya, him. Finally. Wyatt has permission to know. Wyatt lets Ilya compose himself still resting on him in this bearhug like position, he pats his back again, soothingly.
“I’m happy for you Cap. And he just showed up at the club so maybe we should go in and find him.” As Ilya processes that sentence, he adjusts himself back up and out of Wyatt’s hold.
His face now is red and blotchy. He wipes his tears off himself and says,
“He’s here?” Ilya says this like he doesn’t understand because, well he doesn’t. He’s still drunk and he doesn’t know why Wyatt would know that, or anything.
Wyatt looks him in the eyes, ‘Yeah, Shane’s here, but I need to get you to the bathroom first, you look a mess.” Wyatt smiles and holds firm onto Ilya’s shoulders.
“How do you-?” Ilya feels sick but also freed. He’s a bit lost on how Wyatt knows it’s Shane or is saying Shane is here right now.
“I’m not an idiot, that’s how. Come on, let’s get you cleaned up. He literally walked in the club ten minutes ago. That’s why I came for you.” Wyatt stands up, and reaches his hand down to pull Ilya up and he accepts, pulls Ilya up and Wyatt dusts off himself and then Ilya’s jacket. “let’s go get your man.” Wyatt smiles wide. Ilya wipes his face more and it looks slightly renewed. He sniffles and plays with his hair and takes a deep breath or two. He pats Wyatt’s shoulder and nods. Wyatt keeps grinning at him.
“Okay.” Ilya says and with that one word, they both make their way back into the club. To find Shane.
***
As Ilya and Wyatt walk out of the bathroom, where Ilya splashed a lot of water in his face and dried it off, they begin to walk towards the Centaur table, a handful of the players are there, but not many and most scattering about. Everyone is beyond drunk and in their own world. But notably Luca is there and he’s standing and talking to Shane Hollander, who has a ginger ale in his hand and is facing the other direction. Ilya almost loses his breath at seeing just the back of him. He is actually here. At the club. In Ottawa. Tonight. In front of him. And his team. Right now. This all hits Ilya like shots after shots start hitting you. It’s making him dizzy and wildly sobering him up at the same time. His boyfriend’s here. His love is here. Wyatt wasn’t lying. Wyatt now knows. Or wait, Wyatt had known. Ilya can’t focus on that now. He can only see Shane, like tunnel blindness.
At that moment, Luca nudges Shane and gestures behind him, Shane turns and sees Ilya standing there, by the other side of the table, just staring at him. Drunkenly. But not in an alcohol way, in a drunk in love way. Maybe it’s both Shane thinks. And he sees from a distance, Ilya mouth something, he can’t hear it, but he saw the lips move to the words,
“Sweatheart.” Ilya mummers under his breath, Wyatt is still close enough he actually caught that.
Shane puts his ginger ale down on the table and walks over to Ilya, he can see in Ilya’s longing eyes he wants to kiss but Shane instead puts out his hand for a handshake. Ilya just looks down at it, while Wyatt flinches at the gesture, knowing what Ilya desperately wants is a hug or to kiss him even.
For all the jokes Luca and Wyatt made in private about this charade these two upkept, how fun their secret must be, the little dance of subtly, Wyatt is now seeing first hand that it’s actually devastating. Tragic even. It's not a cute game they’re playing, it’s survival. Ilya swallows and reaches his hand out, but as he grabs Shane’s hand, he pulls him in for a hug instead and then wraps his arms around Shane, practically swallowing him up, nearly lifting him off the ground. Shane doesn’t resist it, but he pats Ilya on the back to make it seem less…romantic. Ilya doesn’t let go for a bit, but then he relaxes and pulls off Shane. Ilya is just staring at him, achingly. Shane decides to say something, needing to gauge where Ilya’s mind is at in the moment,
“Hey Ilya, nice to run into you here.” Shane flashes a big smile across his face. His freckles flash and dance in front of Ilya and he stares lovingly at them. Ilya then gulps.
“Shane.” That’s all he gets out, before he swallows again, “Shane.” He says it again a bit more desperately. He clears his throat, “Why are you here?” Wyatt is still standing right by Ilya and he winces at that exchange too. This is painful. This isn’t a dance of subtly, it’s a joust. It’s love being forced to hide behind apathy. It’s awful.
Wyatt steps back and goes around to walk over to Luca at the other end of at the table, so they can talk, privately. Every other player basically left to the dancefloor and it’s just those four at the table, which is covered in spilt sticky alcohol. Shane and Ilya note that Wyatt has step away, leaving them to themselves,
“I came when I heard the club was popping off tonight.” Shane looked very intently at Ilya when he said this.
“Who told you that?” Ilya said, he wanted to ask abrasively, but it was more subdued. Shane can tell Ilya had been crying, it’s subtle but he can tell.
“Troy did.” Shane tilted his head slightly, sweetly.
“Ah, so he told you I’m sad huh?” Ilya did say this a bit more sternly, with a slight classic sarcastic spin, then he looks around to make sure no Centaurs were watching this exchange closely.
“No, he told me you were getting drunk and...” Shane did the same thing, looking around with caution. For some reason, watching Shane do it drove Ilya mad. What does he care, it’s not his team. “I wanted to be the one to take you home.” Shane spoke this rather boldly. Ilya’s eyes almost welled up again but he managed to suck them back in with a few blinks. He slowly nodded like he understood. It what he had said to Troy. Then Shane spoke up, in Russian
“YA lyublyu tebya. Poydem domoy.” (“I love you. let’s go home”)
That perked Ilya up. His eyes fluttered with emotion, he was going to cry he thought and he almost didn’t care if someone witnessed it. He nodded again and he reached out his hand for Shane to take. As if to say, lead me out of here, claim me, hold my hand. Shane looked down at it for a moment and panicked at the option of taking or not taking his hand, but when he looked up at Ilya’s face, he had one choice. He grabbed his hand and quickly walked him out through the crowd. Ilya kept squeezing it as Shane cupped it. As they approached the entrance, which was thinned out and less crowded, Shane let go, but placed his hands then on Ilya’s back, pushing him out in front of him and out the door. They walked out to the street corner and into the cold windy air; it was way past midnight and almost no one was on the street. This city is only alive in that club it seems.
“My car’s parked down this way.” Shane pointed over a block where the SUV is visible. Ilya can barely see it because his eyes are blurry. They both start walking across the crosswalk and with a half a block behind them, no one is around. Shane looks over at Ilya who is walking by his side and can see that tears have fallen out of his eyes, down his face.
Without even looking around, Shane laces their hands together. Ilya almost flinches at the touch, but he gives in immediately looking down at their hands and then softly starts sobbing. They reach the car and Shane goes to open Ilya’s side to plopped him in, but as he reaches for the door, Ilya leans himself on it blocking the handle. He’s still crying,
“I’m so sorry.” Ilya relinquishes the hand holding and takes his own hands back to wipes his face dry. “I’m sorry.” He tries to say more composed.
“About what?” Shane inquired. He loves Ilya so much; he’s just heartbroken that he’s upset.
“That I can’t be normal.” Ilya sniffs, “Without you. I can’t enjoy anything.” And with that Ilya hides his face in his hands, Shane glances around at how they are completely alone and steps towards him, putting one hand on Ilya’s waist,
“Tell me what you mean love.”
Ilya wipes his face clean again. He’s been wiping his face away all night. Ilya is drunk, sad, and frustrated. “I’m prisoner. In my own mind! I cannot enjoy my team, the club, even drinking. I am sad, all the time. Teammates have girlfriends they hold, dance with, kiss, I am alone. But I’m not! I have someone! Not just anyone! You! And no one knows!” He exhales to catch his breath because it’s sobby. Shane is trying to process this all. This is all news to him, kind of. He knows Ilya gets sad, he knows he struggles with keeping them a secret, but he didn’t know he was this low. Shane grabs his face and wipes his tears,
“Why didn’t you tell me you felt this bad?”
“Did you really not know?” Ilya says a bit with a cold stare. It kind of stings because in fact, Shane did not really know, not this intensely anyway.
“I didn’t know it was doing all this to you.”
Ilya looks away and nods, trying to shake it off, he’s definitely sobering up in this frigid air. He looks back at Shane’s desperate face, full of love and concern. He’s not mad at Shane, or his teammates, or anyone but himself. He reaches out to Shane’s face,
“I am okay. Am drunk. Being dramatic.” Ilya smiles and gives the faintest laugh. Shane has been dying to hear that laugh. He wants more of it. Ilya continues, “I just love you. So much. I’m tired of hiding I think. It makes me…insane clearly.” and with that, Shane leans in and kisses him hard. So hard that it surprises Ilya but he immediately moves his hands to the back of his hair, holding him with his powerful grip. Shane lowers his arms and grabs around Ilya’s ribs then around to his back, holding him in a hug. The kisses are wet from Ilyas tears and sloppy but their lips blend into each other like butter melting, soft and velvety. They part and both smile, a hint of a laugh, then Ilya looks around, making sure they are alone, but Shane doesn’t. He just keeps looking at Ilya. His Ilya. Ilya looks back at him, seeing him stare.
“We should go home.” Ilya says, slightly pulling away and wiping his face again. Shane smiles and nods,
“Yeah, let’s go home.”
They both get in the car and take a second to breath. Ilya looks over and grabs Shane’s hand to hold and Shane squeezes it back, lifts it up and kisses it.
“I love you.”
“I love you.” Ilya gets out and then, in a hot flash of panic, he looks over at Shane, “Oh and Shane?” Ilya says, slightly adjusting in his seat, Shane looks over with worry,
“What?”
“Wyatt knows.” Ilya was expecting Shane to freak, so he looks over and adds, “I didn’t tell him, he just…knew. Somehow.” He’s looking over to see the response,
“That’s more than okay, Ilya. Honestly, I think Luca knows. Something too.” Shane stares lovingly at Ilya’s face and smiles, “You deserve to tell anyone you want, okay?” Shane kisses Ilyas hand again. “I mean it. We…need to consider letting more people in. You, I mean. Tell whoever you want.”
“So the next press conference.”
“Hah. Soon that.” Shane says and gulps and Ilya actually drops his teasing face when Shane says it.
“Soon?”
Shane looks over, his gaze is very drunk in love and he only had a ginger ale.
“Soon.”
Shane squeezes Ilyas hand and Ilya nods, lays his eyes to rest close as he leans back on the headrest. They begin to drive home. It rocks Ilya to sleep, the vibration of the car and the repeat in his head of the word…
Soon.