Chapter Text
Shane and Ilya just held a press conference confessing their relationship and love on live television. They got tired of hiding it.
The Commissioner released a statement following the press conference by Ilya and Shane. Rather, the Commissioner’s office did. The official statement read:
We are currently under discussions in reviewing the situation between the two NHL players, Ilya Rozanov and Shane Hollander in light of their relationship. We understand their sentiments and support them to carry on their personal lives, however given the circumstances of their careers, the league must take seriously the potential for illegal or intentional manipulation of gameplay. After a thorough investigation is completed, we will announce our decision regarding their status as NHL hockey players. The investigation will take one week and until then, they are to be on suspension. This is not a punishment to their sexuality, as the NHL is a proud supporter of the LGBT and will remain so. This is an unprecedented situation and we thank you for allowing us to conduct and relay our findings with proper protocol.
Shane’s stomach sunk. Possibly the worst email of his life, but he knew it was coming. They had been sent this statement in their emails nearly two hours after the press conference, along with their coaches. The crazy part is the Commissioner no longer wanted to meet with them. They would just be given the official report when it was done. Yuna let everyone know this was basically because it’s being handled by lawyers and third-party auditors, to keep the investigation fair. The statement however was then posted everywhere a few hours after that.
Shane and Ilya were back in their house in Ottawa together. Ilya was making dinner for them. Shane’s parents had been over all afternoon, but Shane needed alone time. Well, just with Ilya time.
Suspension. One week. Decision regarding their status as NHL hockey players.
All of that made Shane want to hurl. He sat on the couch and kept rereading it and then kept reading the reactions on twitter. They are kind of split. A mix of “Let them play” and “Kick them out”. Shane was spiraling. It was a nightmare hiding, but it’s a bit of a nightmare being so open.
“You need to eat.” Ilya said as he prepped plates of the dinner he made.
“I’m not very hungry.” Shane said from over the couch.
Ilya bit the inside of his cheeks. “It was long day, eat something. I made this whole dinner!”
Shane looked back at the kitchen and sees a giant mess and a lovely looking plate of hot food. It does look good and his stomach, though queasy, might need to eat. He stomach is also a bit queasy at the mess. He gets up and smiles but kind of defeatedly. Ilya clocks that. Nerves still. Ilya brings the plates over to the island stools and places them next to each other and takes his seat. Shane takes his. As Shane stares down at the food and takes a large inhale, Ilya rubs his lower back gently and then kisses his cheek.
“We will be okay. They can’t kick us out.”
“They can.”
“They won’t”
“They might!”
Ilya turns his body to face Shane more and grabs his cheek, forcing him to look at him directly.
“I won’t let them. Okay?”
Shane looks lovesick, a glassy eyed sadness with a sheepish smile looking at Ilya. He wishes he was right. But Ilya has no power or control over this. Then Ilya slips in, “Worse comes to worse, I quit. You play.”
“That’s not happening.” Shane is extremely bothered by that statement. His tired sappy face turned red and taunt, like he just snapped into a brand-new set of emotions. “You’re not quitting! Are you insane? What are you even saying right now?”
“I won’t have to, I’m just saying, is option.” Ilya said this so calmly.
“No the fuck it’s not! What’s wrong with you?” Shane is actually getting mad. “I’m not playing hockey without you in the league. That’s not an option Ilya!”
Ilya stayed with Shane’s face for a bit, reading it, taking in his outburst with real focus.
“Okay. Okay. Okay” Ilya said this and squeezed Shane’s cheek, touching his freckles then smiled. “I won’t quit. Is not option then.”
Shane stared at Ilya like he was still in shock by the concept. He looked back down at his plate of food.
This is going to be the longest week of his life.
***
Shane and Ilya spent most the week stewing in domestic life together, very similar to their cottage spent days except with a lot more tension in the air; it made every motion palpable. It made for great sex too. Always on the verge of concern, like every touch was a cliff they could fall off, the tenderness and rawness of knowing everyone knows now, makes it almost feel the most real it’s ever felt. They are a couple, everyone knows they fuck, everyone knows they love each other. It’s as if a new vibration frequency has been turned on; it made them extra sensitive, to everything.
They expect to get the results of the investigation over the weekend, and whether they’d be returning to their team practices as early as Monday. Shane was dreading returning to Montreal. He was dreading the idea of continued suspension. Dreading the idea of being released by the NHL. He wasn’t even sure what to feel or think. Everything sounds bad, except for Ilya’s voice, everything feels bad, except for Ilya’s touch, everything looks bad, except for Ilya looking over at him, disgustingly in love. Shane feels lost, even moreso once the email comes in:
After our thorough third-party review, the conclusion is both Shane Hollander and Ilya Rozanov had no involvement in manipulation or illegal activity regarding their respective gameplay throughout their careers in the NHL. No paper trails, messages, or outside parties seem involved in the knowledge of their relationship and nothing was found to imply professional collusion regarding it on their part. This is the official findings, report summary, and conclusion.
NHL decision: Based on these findings, we will not be releasing either Shane Hollander or Ilya Rozanov from the league. They are both qualified to play in the NHL starting immediately.
Ilya Rozanov is to return to The Ottawa Centaurs with a lifted suspension starting Monday Janurary, 8th.
However, until further notice, Shane Hollander is still on suspension with the Montreal Voyageurs as per the Team and Coaches request as they conduct an internal investigation.
That was it. Ilya is back on his team and Shane…isn’t? But the NHL didn’t kick him out, and yet, he’s still suspended? He needed more information, what did this mean? Both Ilya and Shane were reading this email and the same time and both looked up around the same time after finishing it.
“What is Montreal doing?” Ilya asked but not really towards Shane. “Are they insane? They do not want you playing?”
“I expected this. I guess. I mean-” Shane had to collect himself from a near panic attack and being on the verge of tears. He did expect this, but it hurt. Ilya was fine, he wasn’t, he thought whatever the decision was, it would be the same for both of them, but he also expected The Voyageurs to handle it different than the Centaurs. Shane’s phone started to ring and it was his Mom, Ilya looked over and saw that she was calling,
“Talk to her. This is outrageous. I am calling Wiebe.” Ilya immediately got up to call his coach while Shane answered the phone.
“You got the email?” She jumped right in to it.
“Yes. Not good.”
“Oh, I’ve already spoken to Coach Theriault. 5 minutes ago. He got an ear full.”
“Mom, that probably makes it worse.”
“Honey, I’m your manager, I needed to know all the proper paperwork and investigation he’s running. The lawyers are now involved. Don’t worry.”
Shane was silent on the either end.
“I don’t even want to go back to Montreal.” He finally said it out loud. Now she was silent.
“I know the plan is to trade you to Ottawa, but realistically, its mid-season, you likely have to finish out this year, and we can’t have them bench you. It’s illegal! It’s discrimination!”
“It’s not though.” He said this defeated. “They didn’t bench me when I was gay, so this is about Rozanov. It’s ‘conflict of interest’, I can already hear it, I know what Theriault is doing. It’s going to work, watch.” Shane swallowed hard and he could hear his mother take a deep breath over the phone.
“We’ll see what happens, stay positive. I’ll call back shortly with any new…news. Do you need me to come over?”
“No!” Shane folded his head into his hands, “I have Ilya, just call me or him honestly.” Shane was forming tears and he wanted to hang up before crying could be heard by his mother. She’d be over at their house in 20 minutes if she did. “Alright? love you, bye.”
“Bye honey. I love you.” Click.
Shane can hear Ilya expressively talking to Coach Wiebe in the other room. He hears phrases like ‘how soon can we?’ and ‘he is not safe at Montreal then!’. Shane keeps his head folded into his hands. His phone goes off with a message, and Shane assumes it’s his mother. He glances down to see a text from Coach Theriault.
Coach: Be in my office before practice on Monday.
We need to discuss your suspension with Montreal.
Shane thinks about answering, but instead lays on the couch in fetal position and cries.
When Ilya hangs up, Shane doesn’t even notice, he’s practically comatose on the couch, deep in his own thoughts.
“Shane!” Ilya comes over and sees he’s frozen in position. Ilya gently rubs him, unfolds him and sits him up. “Shane?” Shane looks over at Ilya with blotchy eyes and flushed cheeks, “It is okay, I am working on it. I promise.”
Shane hands Ilya his phone to the opened message and as Ilya reads it, he takes a big breath. “Do you want me to come along?”
“Definitely not.” Shane gets out, “I mean, if this was a better situation, sure, but no. You have practice on Monday too.”
“Wiebe would give me off.”
“No! We can’t let this…” Shane motions between the two of them, “Get in the way of hockey, we just told the world we don’t do that. I’ll be okay, he just wants to tell me about the internal investigation and that I’m still suspended, it’s not going to be anything shocking. I’m not kicked out of the league, worst he can do keep me suspended or trade me.” Shane has been thinking about this the entire time on the couch, he was running every potential and this seems most likely.
“Okay.” Ilya gives a gentle smile, he grabs Shane’s face and holds it, “You call me immediately after the meeting, okay?” Shane nods his head yes.
“Promise!”
***
Shane drove back to his Montreal apartment on Sunday night, wanting to get a full nights rest before the Monday morning meeting. He wanted to eat breakfast but he couldn’t even stomach it. He just had coffee and waited until it was time to arrive to the arena. He didn’t suppose he needed his gear or warm up clothes on since he was suspended, but out of hope or routine, he grabbed everything as if he might play again or fit a practice in, he could use it. He really wanted to play again, even though he really didn’t. It was a very confusing headache to have.
Shane arrived way earlier than the rest of the team would, he just wanted to be there and avoid all of them. He dressed in athletic clothes, again in case, and went to Theriault’s’ office, expecting him to not be there yet, but he was. When Theriault saw Shane, he beamed the coldest meanest stare at him, and waved him in the office, with no change in expression on his face. It was psychotic looking.
“Why do you have all your gear? You’re not playing, you’re suspended indefinitely.”
Shane dropped his bag down, and sat in the seat across coach’s desk.
“I know Coach. I just…” He looked down at the bag, “habit.”
“I don’t know what kind of fucking stunt you think you’re allowed to pull. That just because you’re Shane Hollander you can pull the wool over my eyes! You know how fucking embarrassing this is? Dating Ilya Rozanov? Do you know how fucking disgusting that is?”
Shane cuts him off, “Because we’re gay?”
“Well, that is bad enough and you know that, don’t you?”
Shane just stared off, trying to focus his eyes on the filing cabinet and not cry. He can’t cry in front of his coach. “Bad enough you’re a fucking pansy but we ignored it, right? But fucking your hockey rival? You have to be fucking joking. We’re the laughing stock of the whole NHL.”
Shane turned his head back to his coach, “That’s not true.”
“Well, you haven’t been paying attention then!” Theriault slapped his hand down on the desk so hard it made Shane jump. Theriault yelled after seeing Shane’s reaction. “Oh my god, you fucking faggot!” He stood up and leaned over his desk, trying to loom over Shane sitting, “We are conducting a thorough, far more thorough investigation into your gameplay. If we find one moment where you let Rozanov have the puck, maybe not slam him into the boards when you should have, in even ONE game, you’re off this fucking team by breach of contract.” Theriault fixed the cap on his head and sat back down, “The NHL may not have kicked you out, but good luck finding a team that wants some fag fucking Rozanov. Oh! Wait, let me guess, he’s the one that fucks you. Get the fuck out of my office. We’ll call you when the investigation is done. You’re banned from the premises until then.”
Shane opened his mouth to say something, anything. Defend himself, defend Ilya, defend his career, honor, himself, his relationship, but he couldn’t muster a single word. He didn’t have it in him. The lump in his throat felt like it was getting bigger and stuck. If he hung around a second longer, he’d be gasping for air and choking on tears. He grabbed his bag, and walked out of the office. Leaving the arena, he felt out of focus, the world felt fuzzy, the welling of his eyes made everything blurry looking as he left. He grabbed his phone to call Ilya. To tell him, as promised, that the meeting went…horrible? He wasn’t sure what to tell him. If he told him the truth, Ilya would probably be here in two hours punching Theriault. If he lied, well then he’s not being a good boyfriend. As he walked out to the parking lot about to press call, he saw two players approaching as they were coming in for practice. He just kept his head down but upon passing him, they checked his shoulder so hard his bag fell off. Shane looks up to see Cromber and Grange, fucking pricks. His phone went flying out of his hand.
“Guys, I’m leaving.” Shane said as he went to pick up his bag. But Grange pushed him as he was reaching for it, hard enough that it shoved him to the ground, eating shit on the asphalt.
“What the fuck Grange!” Shane rolled over to meet him in the eyes, then he checked his palms for rash burns.
“Fucking pussy traitor bitch” Cromber spit on him, then kicked him in the ribs. Grange followed and kicked him on the other side. Shane tried to get up quickly to end this bullshit fight, but then Cromber lowered himself and took a full punch to Shane’s jaw and with Shane being so close to the ground still, the punch made his head hit the pavement. That knocked him out and he doesn’t remember what happened after.
*
Shane woke up in a car, driving him, his head was splitting, he felt like he was going to throw up. His vision was blurry, he heard from the driver a familiar voice,
“Shane, buddy, I’m taking you to the hospital, JJ he’s awake. Talk to him.” That’s Hayden’s voice.
JJ’s voice came from the backseat. “Hey man, we’re one minute away, glad you’re awake, try to stay awake, can you remember what happened?”
Shane couldn’t think to say anything. His jaw hurt, his head, his ribs, his eye hurt too, why did his eye hurt?
“My eye” is all he managed to get out. It was the only thing he didn’t quite remember. He remembers he got jumped by teammates. JJ speaks up,
“Yeah, you got a bit of a black eye. You got beat up, by…teammates we’re guessing? We don’t know who, we just found you lying there. Okay, we’re at the hospital, thank god. Hayden go get a nurse to get a wheelchair.”
Shane doesn’t remember much after that, he started fading out. He recalls people putting him in a wheelchair and taking him into the ER. It can’t be that bad if he’s not on a gurney, right?