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1. The Rivalry Narrative
By November, the league had stopped pretending the race for top goal scorer was anything other than a two-man story.
Shane Hollander. Ilya Rozanov.
Every broadcast seemed to have the same graphic at the bottom of the screen in early December.
GOALS THIS SEASON Rozanov 26 Hollander 26
“Dead even,” the commentator said, amused. “You really can’t separate them.”
A low chuckle from the panel.
“Different styles, same result.”
That night in Boston, Rozanov scored off the rush, cutting inside the defender and snapping it short side. In Montreal the next evening, Hollander answered on the power play, one-timer bar down.
Twenty-seven.
Still no separation.
In December, it was even harder to ignore.
Rozanov scored twice in Detroit, a clean wrist shot from the circle and a net-front deflection he barely celebrated. The broadcast cut immediately to Montreal’s game from the night before.
Hollander, digging a rebound out of traffic and burying it through chaos.
Thirty-four each.
Split screen.
“Two of the best finishers in the league right now.”
@NHL
The race is ON 👀 #ScoringTitle
@puckanalytics
Rozanov 9 goals in 6 games. Hollander 8 goals in 5 games. This is absurd.
Mid January, the graphic stopped being an afterthought. It opened broadcasts.
Side-by-side headshots. Old clips of their first matchup replayed like archival footage.
A dramatic montage scored like a title fight.
“Two captains. One crown.”
Rozanov scored in overtime in Tampa. Thirty-five. Hollander answered the next night in Calgary. Thirty-five.
“If he wants it,” Rozanov said in Boston, smiling without warmth, “he should try harder.”
The clip ran everywhere.
In Montreal, Shane did not rise.
“It’s about team wins,” he said evenly. “Individual stats don’t matter if we’re not closing games.”
Thirty-seven. Thirty-eight. Thirty-nine.
“TONIGHT: ROZANOV vs HOLLANDER.”
By the time they met in late January, it was not framed as a game. It was framed as an event.
The camera lingered on the centre dot. They lined up opposite each other. The arena was loud. The faceoff circle was not. Helmets nearly touching. Breath caught in cages. Rozanov leaned in.
“Не отставай сегодня, солнышко.”
Try not to fall behind tonight, sweetheart.
The word was soft. Playful. Impossible for anyone else to understand.
Shane went very still. The puck dropped. He was half a fraction late. Rozanov won it clean.
Rozanov’s goal came in the second.
A clean rush down the left wing. Defender flat-footed. Shot placed precisely inside the far post.
Forty.
The broadcast cut immediately to Hollander on the bench.
Expression unreadable.
“Advantage Rozanov,” the commentator said, delighted.
The replay rolled.
Slow-motion of the shot. Slow-motion of the release.
Then, unexpectedly, slow-motion of the faceoff from earlier.
Zoomed tighter this time.
Rozanov leaning in. Saying something.
Hollander’s jaw tightening.
@nhlclipz
They just replayed the faceoff 👀
@puckstats
Whatever Rozanov said clearly got under his skin.
@metropulse
Hollander does NOT react like that unless someone crosses a line.
Third period.
Montreal on the power play.
Hollander plants himself net-front, absorbs a cross-check, does not move. The rebound pops loose.
He buries it. Forty. No celebration.
Just a hard skate past Rozanov on the way back to centre.
Shoulders brush, a little too much force. The ref wedges himself between them. The camera zooms in.
Rozanov says something again, quieter this time.
Not Russian.
Just: “Relax.”
And he smiles.
Shane shoves him.
Not hard enough for a penalty.
Hard enough for everyone to notice.
@raidersburner
That’s twice now. What is happening.
@metrofan13
If Rozanov said something out of line I swear
@hockeytalk
He’s always been kind of dirty. Wouldn’t shock me.
The clip spreads before the shift ends.
Looped. Cropped. Slowed down.
Speculation fills the space left by silence.
@puckpolitics
Hollander doesn’t react like that for normal chirping. If this was something racial, the league needs to address it immediately.
@nhlreddit
Wait what??
@raidersfan88
Has Rozanov ever had issues like that before?
@metrostats
This is getting weird fast.
On the broadcast, the tone shifts almost imperceptibly.
“Hard to tell what was said there,” the commentator offers, more cautious now, “but there’s definitely some emotion in this one tonight.”
The game continues. The narrative does not.
In the tunnel, someone shows Shane his phone.
He reads the thread once. Then again. “If this was something racial.” The phrase feels absurd and dangerous all at once. He knows exactly what was said. He knows exactly what was not.
The word had been reckless. Intimate. Ill-timed. Not cruel.
And yet here it is, metastasising.
He sees himself looped in slow motion, the shove, the set of his jaw, the half-second delay on the draw. He reacted. He gave them something to build on.
People prefer the version of Ilya that fits the story.
Cold. Abrasive. Foreign.
The villain.
Shane exhales slowly.
He does not care what strangers think of him. He cares what they are starting to think of Ilya.
“Media in two.”
He hands the phone back.
This is on him.
“Shane, there’s been speculation online about what was said between you and Rozanov tonight”
“I’m going to stop you there.”
The room stills.
“I’ve seen the speculation,” Shane says evenly. “And I’m here to say categorically that Rozanov has said nothing to me that could ever be referred to as racist. Not tonight. Not ever.”
He scanned the room.
“Yes, we’re rivals. Yes, we both want to win for our teams. But Ilya would never cross a boundary like that. It’s not in his character as a person.”
The name lands clean.
Uncorrected.
“And if anyone’s looking for someone to blame for the temperature out there tonight,” he continues, steady now, “that’s on me. I let a chirp get the better of me. That’s competitive hockey. It’s not something deeper.”
“There was no line crossed. I’d appreciate it if we could put that to bed.”
The clip spreads instantly.
@nhlclipz
Hollander shuts down racist speculation.
@metrofanclub
Since when is it Ilya??
@linguisticsNHL
Russian speaker here, not racist but not normal. Looks like he called him “solnyshko.” That’s basically sweetheart.
I’m so sorry you got dragged into this. - S
You called me Ilya. - I
What? When? - S
In press. After you come to my rescue. - I
My fault. I call you sweetheart. - I
That was reckless. - S
Da. - I
I will be at yours in 30 minutes. - I
Will call you it again. - I
2. Uniform Issue
The All-Star weekend schedule was designed for maximum visibility.
Media day. Skills competition. Poolside sponsor appearances. Endless cameras.
Which was how Shane Hollander ended up sitting at the edge of the hotel pool with half the All-Star roster and three photographers pretending not to aim their lenses in his direction.
Across the deck, Marlow spotted him immediately.
“Didn’t pack the red Speedos, Hollander?”
Several heads turned.
Shane looked up, already halfway to rolling his eyes.
“Didn’t want to break the internet again?” Marlow added cheerfully.
A few players laughed.
Shane lifted his drink in a lazy salute.
“Wouldn’t want to show you guys up.”
More laughter.
Across the pool, Ilya didn’t say anything.
He didn’t look at Shane.
But he remembered.
Those stupid red shorts.
Twenty feet tall on a screen in an airport.
The first time he’d realised he was in trouble.
Marlow, of course, had no idea.
He couldn’t know how important those red Speedos had been to Ilya and Shane’s relationship.
How much had started there.
Some things were not meant for locker room jokes.
Ilya took a slow sip of his drink.
When he looked up again, Shane was watching him.
Just for a second.
Shane lifted his eyebrows slightly.
A silent question.
Ilya shook his head once.
Behave.
Shane’s mouth curved despite himself.
He looked away first.
The skills competition that afternoon only made things worse.
The league had been promoting the scoring race for weeks.
Now they had Rozanov and Hollander on the same All-Star roster.
Naturally, they paired them in the team relay.
Shane took the first leg.
Clean edges. Tight turns through the cones. He threaded the final pass through the target ring and skated straight past the line.
Rozanov pushed off immediately.
The puck stayed glued to his stick as he cut through the course.
One move. Two.
The final shot hit the corner target dead center.
Their teammates erupted.
Rozanov skated past Shane, tapping the top of his helmet once.
Not subtle.
@NHL
Rozanov ➝ Hollander relay combo 🔥
@puckstats
they make it look easy
@rinkrat
hollander smiling at rozanov like that is new
That evening the team lounge was loud.
Music. Players drifting between tables. No cameras for once.
Shane slipped out first.
Ten minutes later, Ilya followed.
The hallway outside Shane’s room was quiet.
The door closed behind them with a soft click.
Shane exhaled.
“God. They’ve got cameras everywhere.”
“It is All-Star weekend,” Ilya said.
“Feels more like a surveillance exercise”
“Not in here.” Ilya purred. “Unless you have changed your rules on making sex tape?
Shane snorted.
A minute later they were both tugging off their bright league-issued ‘All Star’ t-shirts.
Shane automatically started folding his.
Ilya caught his wrist.
“Later.”
“I’m folding my clothes.”
“I have much more exciting things for your hands to be doing.”
Ilya snatched the shirt from him and tossed it, along with his onto a chair. Shane huffed but he let himself be pulled closer.
The shirts ended up tossed over the same chair in a messy, very un Hollander approved pile.
The next morning they were running late. Ilya’s fault, obviously.
Shane grabbed a shirt from the chair without looking.
The tag brushed the back of his neck, unfamiliar for a second, he thought he’d cut all of his out.
He ignored it and pulled his hoodie over the top watching across the room as Ilya pulled the other one over his head.
Neither of them looked closely.
The All-Star team photo went live just after noon.
Players arranged in neat rows.
Identical shirts. Identical poses.
Except for one small problem.
Rozanov’s shirt was clearly too small.
The fabric stretched tight across his shoulders. The sleeves riding high.
At first no one noticed.
Then someone did.
@gearwatch
why is rozanov’s shirt two sizes too small 😂
@puckstats
equipment manager did him dirty
@rinkrat
that shirt is fighting for its life
@puckthirst
respectfully that shirt is doing incredible work
@goalwatch
rozanov absolutely knew what he was doing
@rozysgirl81
disrespectfully why aren’t all his clothes this tight
@nhlreddit
did he ask for a tighter one
@rinkrat
i mean… not complaining
In Shane’s hotel room, his phone buzzed nonstop.
“Oh no.”
Across the bed, Ilya glanced up.
“What.”
Shane turned the screen toward him.
Ilya studied the thread.
Then the photo.
Then the replies.
“…They are very interested in my shirt,” he said.
“That’s not funny.”
Ilya looked back at him.
“It is a little funny.”
Shane dropped onto the bed beside him, running a hand through his hair.
“We’re going to get found out.”
Ilya didn’t react immediately.
The panic in Shane’s voice was quiet, but real.
Ilya nudged Shane’s knee with his.
“They are hockey fans,” he said calmly. “They will become distracted.”
“That is not reassuring.”
“It is historically accurate.”
Shane groaned.
“This wouldn’t have happened if you’d let me fold my clothes.”
Ilya’s mouth curved faintly.
“You were overthinking.”
“We swapped shirts, Ilya.”
“Yes.”
“And the internet is already investigating it.”
Ilya glanced at the phone again.
Then back at Shane.
“I think they noticed the wrong thing. Look how cute you look in my shirt”
Shane flopped back against the mattress.
“We are terrible at this.”
Ilya’s voice softened as he joined him.
“I do not want to be good at hiding.”
For a moment, neither of them spoke.
Then Shane’s phone buzzed again.
He looked down.
And froze.
@puckdetective
got so lost looking at rozanov busting through his shirt to realise hollander’s is way too big 👀
Shane slowly lowered the phone onto his chest.
“Oh no.”
Ilya leaned over to see.
“…Ah.”
3. Taking The Hit
The game had been chippy from the start.
Late season.
Playoff spots tightening across the league.
And hanging over the whole night was the thing the broadcast had been talking about since puck drop.
The scoring race.
ROZANOV — 62 HOLLANDER — 62
Dead even.
Two of the league’s best players chasing the same number.
The commentators had spent most of the first period reminding everyone that the next goal from either of them could break the tie.
By the second period, the players had started reminding each other too.
Shane had already taken a couple of hard shoves in front of the net.
The third one he returned.
The whistle blew.
Bodies converged immediately.
Gloves stayed on but sticks dropped as players grabbed whoever was closest, the familiar circling shove that kept scrums from turning into something worse.
Across the ice, Ilya saw it.
And pushed straight into the pile.
Not toward the man who’d shoved Shane.
Toward Shane.
His hand caught the front of Shane’s jersey and hauled him close.
“Easy,” he muttered.
Shane blinked.
“Rozanov?”
Ilya’s fist twisted in the fabric just under Shane’s collarbone, knuckles pressed against his chest. Close enough to hold him there. Close enough that anyone watching would assume they were about to drop gloves.
Instead they just circled.
Shane shoved him once for appearances.
“Your lot started this.”
Ilya leaned in slightly.
“You shoved first.”
Around them the scrum thickened.
Players yelling. Linesmen trying to wedge bodies apart.
Shane’s glove hooked in the sleeve of Ilya’s jersey.
“You picking a fight or what?” Shane muttered for show, a twinkle in his eye.
“Maybe later.”
Then the pile shifted.
A defenseman slammed into them from behind trying to reach someone else in the scrum.
Ilya moved without thinking.
He twisted his body, dragging Shane with him so Shane’s back hit the boards and Ilya took the collision instead.
The impact drove hard into his shoulder.
Something gave.
Ilya dropped to one knee.
Shane’s expression changed instantly.
“Hey.”
Not loud.
Just worried.
The linesmen were already pulling bodies apart. Trainers rushed in.
Shane crouched beside him before anyone could stop him.
“You good?”
“I am fine,” Ilya said.
He was clearly not fine.
The trainer reached them.
“Let’s get you up, Ilya.”
Shane’s hand was still fisted in his jersey.
He didn’t let go until the trainer touched his shoulder.
The game resumed.
Technically.
Shane lined up for the next faceoff and realised halfway through the draw that he had no idea what the score was anymore.
The puck dropped.
He lost it clean.
Pike skated past him a moment later, scooping the puck off the boards.
“Jesus, Cap,” he muttered. “Where are you tonight?”
“I’m here.”
Pike didn’t look convinced.
Another whistle.
Shane glanced toward the Boston bench without meaning to.
The trainers’ tunnel door was closed now.
Rozanov was gone.
Pike noticed that too.
“You know he’s not dead, right?”
Shane blinked.
“What?”
“Rozanov,” Pike said. “Guy took a hit, not a sniper round.”
Shane huffed out a breath.
“I’m aware.”
“Good,” Pike said. “Because we’ve still got twenty minutes of hockey to play.”
The puck dropped again.
This time Shane won the draw clean.
Pike nudged him with a shoulder as they skated up ice.
“There we go.”
They circled back to the bench a minute later.
Pike leaned closer.
“Besides,” he added quietly, “Roz is off the ice. Gives you a chance to pull ahead.”
Shane frowned.
“In the scoring race.”
Pike jerked his chin toward the scoreboard graphic hanging over center ice.
ROZANOV — 62 HOLLANDER — 62
“Would be rude not to take advantage,” Pike said.
Shane looked away.
“Yeah.”
But he didn’t look particularly interested in the opportunity.
Up in the broadcast booth, the replay rolled again.
Rozanov going down. Hollander crouching beside him.
The commentator cleared his throat.
“Well, you don’t see that very often.”
His partner hummed thoughtfully.
“No, you really don’t. Hollander sticking around there while the trainers came out. Shows the kind of player he is.”
“Yeah,” the first commentator said. “That’s sportsmanship. Hollander’s always had that reputation around the league. Plays hard, competes like hell, but he’s a good guy. When someone gets hurt, rival or not, he’s the first one to check.”
The replay looped again.
“And of course these two have been tied in the scoring race all week,” he added. “So plenty of intensity between them tonight.”
“But that moment right there,” his partner said, “that’s just respect.”
Within minutes the clip was everywhere.
@nhlclipz
hollander immediately checking on rozanov after the collision
@raidersburner
rivalry aside that’s class from hollander
@metrofans
say what you want about him but the guy is a good captain
@pucktalk
man hollander looks absolutely wrecked here
@rinkrat
yeah that’s not your usual rivalry reaction
One slowed replay made the rounds.
The moment just before the collision.
Bodies turning.
Rozanov pulling Hollander slightly behind him.
@puckdetective
is it just me or does rozanov kind of turn there so he takes the hit and not hollander
Most replies ignored it.
The clip kept circulating.
The narrative stayed simple.
Hollander the good guy.
Rozanov unlucky.
Shane spent the rest of the game pretending he knew what he was doing.
He finished his shifts.
He answered the coaches.
He even managed an assist.
But the entire time his brain kept replaying the same moment.
The turn.
The impact.
Rozanov dropping.
Two hours later, Shane’s doorbell rang.
He opened it to find Ilya standing there.
Jacket zipped halfway.
Left arm secured in a sling.
Shane’s stomach dropped.
“Ilya.”
“I told you,” Ilya said calmly. “Minor injury.”
“You said minor sprain.”
“This is still minor.”
Shane stepped aside immediately.
“Come in.”
Ilya walked inside and shut the door behind him.
The anger lasted about three seconds.
Then Shane saw the way he was holding himself stiffly, protecting the shoulder.
“You idiot,” Shane muttered.
“I protected you.”
“You didn’t need to.”
“You were about to punch someone.”
Shane opened his mouth.
Closed it.
“That’s not the point.”
He moved closer.
Carefully.
“Does it hurt?”
“Only when I move.”
Shane helped ease the jacket off one shoulder without disturbing the sling.
His hands were suddenly very gentle.
Ilya watched him the whole time.
“You were worried,” he said quietly.
“Of course I was.”
Ilya’s gaze softened, “You did not leave.”
“That’s because you got hurt.”
“I have been hurt before.”
“Yes,” Shane said softly. “But not because of me.”
That made Ilya pause.
Shane finally looked up.
“You turned,” he said.
Ilya frowned slightly.
“When Johansen hit us,” Shane continued. “You turned so he’d hit you instead.”
Silence.
Then Ilya shrugged one shoulder.
“You are more valuable player.”
Shane stared at him.
“That’s not funny.”
Ilya tilted his head slightly.
“I also wanted to give you head start.”
Shane blinked.
“What?”
“In scoring race,” Ilya said calmly. “You seemed distracted.”
Shane looked at the sling.
Then back at him.
“That’s your strategy?”
“Very generous rival.”
Shane shook his head slowly.
“You’re unbelievable.”
Ilya’s mouth curved faintly.
“Yes.”
He leaned back against the couch.
“Come here.”
Shane hesitated.
Then moved closer.
Ilya rested his head briefly against Shane’s shoulder, careful of the sling.
Shane froze.
Then relaxed.
His hand came up automatically to steady him.
“You’re impossible,” Shane murmured.
“Da.”
@nhlupdates
rozanov spotted leaving hospital tonight, arm in sling
@rinkrat
hope he’s ok honestly
@raidersburner
hollander better behave next time 😅
4. Lily & Montreal Girl
@metroinsider
📸Team bus vibes after the win tonight in Toronto.
photo: several Montreal players slumped in their seats, headphones on, half the team asleep. Shane Hollander is visible by the window, head tipped back, arms folded, completely out.
@pucktalk
hollander asleep like a golden retriever after a long walk
@habsdaily
captain finally resting 😭
@rinkrat22
why is he so cute asleep tho
@goaltracker
meanwhile he’s still tied for the Rocket with ROZANOV lol
@statscorner
Rozanov – 64 Hollander – 64
@neutralzone
league marketing team absolutely foaming at the mouth over this
@icegirlie
i’m sorry but why does he look like a disney prince when he sleeps
@benchminor
how is the guy leading the league in goals also the most adorable man alive this feels unfair
Hayden had known about Lily for years.
Not much about her, sure.
Just enough.
It had started sometime in Shane’s rookie season. A quiet pattern Hayden noticed because he noticed everything about Shane. Certain road trips to Boston where Shane disappeared after games. Certain nights when he checked his phone and went a little pink around the ears.
Eventually Hayden had leaned over on the team bus and asked casually,
“So who’s Lily?”
Shane had nearly choked on his drink.
Hayden had never let him forget it.
Over the years it became one of Hayden’s favourite hobbies.
“Lily still tolerating you?” he’d ask after Boston games.
Or:
“Tell Lily I said hi.”
Shane never denied her existence.
He also never confirmed anything.
He just got flustered in a way Hayden found deeply satisfying.
So Hayden filed it away.
Shane had a mysterious girl in Boston.
Fine.
The realisation came years later.
Completely by accident.
They were on the team coach after a road win, the quiet hum of the engine filling the dark cabin.
Half the team was asleep.
Shane had fallen asleep beside him, head tipped against the window, phone loose in his hand.
Hayden was halfway through watching a replay clip when the screen lit up.
Lily
Hayden smirked automatically.
Perfect.
He nudged Shane lightly.
“Your girlfriend’s texting you, Cap.”
Shane didn’t stir.
The preview read:
Also you owe me dinner.
Hayden huffed quietly.
Good for Lily.
Another message appeared.
You looked distracted in third period. Was it because you missed me or because Pike keeps yelling?
Hayden frowned.
“Hey,” he muttered toward the sleeping Shane. “Why am I catching strays from your girlfriend?”
Shane remained deeply unconscious.
The phone buzzed again.
This time the message was in Russian.
Спи, сладкий.
Hayden stared at it.
“…okay.”
He didn’t know Russian.
But he knew enough to recognise that it definitely wasn’t English.
Curious now, he quietly opened a translation app and typed the phrase in.
The result appeared almost instantly.
Sleep, sweetheart.
Hayden blinked.
Then smiled a little.
Well.
That was actually kind of adorable.
Also slightly surprising.
He hadn’t known Lily was Russian.
The phone buzzed again.
Another message appeared.
Next time you are in Boston I am going to make sure you cannot sit for a week.
Hayden leaned back slightly.
“…alright.”
That was…
He stopped.
Because that was not, strictly speaking, how that usually worked.
Unless…
He stared at the phone again.
Russian.
Boston.
Hockey.
Hayden knew exactly one Russian man in Boston.
The phone buzzed again.
Watching that goal replay is doing dangerous things to me, Hollander.
Hayden went very still.
Because suddenly he heard the message in a Russian accent.
Low. Amused. Slightly smug.
Hollander.
Rozanov never called him Shane.
Always Hollander.
Hayden leaned slowly back in his seat.
“Oh,” he murmured.
“Oh no.”
Shane stirred beside him.
His eyes opened slowly.
“You wake me up?”
Hayden tilted his head.
“No.”
Shane squinted at him.
“Why are you looking at me like that?”
Hayden nodded toward the phone still in Shane’s hand.
“You should probably text Lily back, Hollander.”
Shane glanced down.
Read the screen.
And froze.
Hayden watched three emotions cross his face in rapid succession.
Shock.
Horror.
And the very specific expression of someone calculating whether it was possible to jump out of a moving bus.
Hayden lifted both hands.
“Relax.”
Shane did not look relaxed.
“You read it?”
“Just the previews.”
Shane closed his eyes.
“Hayden…”
“Couple things,” Hayden said calmly.
Shane braced.
“First,” Hayden said, “your fake girlfriend texts like a Russian hockey player.”
Shane covered his face with one hand.
“Second, you are absolutely terrible at this.”
Silence. “Third,” he added, “Rozanov calling you sweetheart is incredibly funny.”
Shane lowered his hand slowly.
“You’re not going to…”
“What? Tell the team?”
Hayden shrugged.
“Nah.”
Shane blinked.
Hayden grinned.
Shane made a strangled noise.
Hayden leaned back in his seat.
“So,” he said casually, “when were you going to tell me you’ve been secretly dating the guy you’re competing with for the Rocket?”
Shane stared out the window.
“I was hoping to retire first.”
Hayden burst out laughing.
Metro Pulse – Postgame Recap Montreal 4 - Boston 3
The long-running scoring race between Shane Hollander and Ilya Rozanov tightened again tonight as both players scored a goal apiece to remain tied atop the Rocket Richard standings.
Montreal’s captain logged another efficient performance, controlling play through the neutral zone and setting up several scoring chances.
Boston’s Rozanov, meanwhile, continued his relentless push for the scoring title with two assists and six shots on goal.
With only a handful of games remaining in the regular season, the league’s most compelling rivalry shows no sign of slowing down.
@bostonbarwatch
📸 Saw a couple raiders players out tonight in Montreal 👀
photo: Cliff Marlow mid-laugh with a drink in one hand. Ilya Rozanov beside him, expression neutral, jacket still on.
@raidersburner
lol Marlow already looks hammered
@rinklife
Rozanov looks like he’s calculating how long he has to stay before leaving
@hockeynight
this man absolutely had one drink and left
@barwatchreply
confirmed lol. Rozanov dipped after like ten minutes
@rinkgossip
man had somewhere better to be apparently
About three hours later, Cliff Marlow came back to the hotel drunk.
Not falling-over drunk.
But loose, cheerful, and loud in the particular way that meant every thought in his head immediately came out of his mouth.
He pushed the hotel room door open and kicked it shut behind him.
“Rozy!”
Ilya looked up from where he was sitting on the edge of the bed.
“…Cliff.”
“You’re still awake?” Marlow said, impressed.
“What time is it?”
“Late.”
Marlow shrugged off his jacket and tossed it toward the chair.
Then he stopped.
“Wait.”
He squinted at Ilya.
“You’re here.”
“Yes.”
“That’s weird.”
Ilya said nothing.
Marlow leaned against the minibar, frowning as his brain tried to catch up.
“You never stay here when we’re in Montreal.”
Silence.
“Where’s your girl?”
Still nothing.
Marlow straightened.
“Best you ever had, didn’t you say?” he continued, warming to the subject. “Absolutely besotted. Blushing at your phone like a teenager.”
From somewhere inside the bed, a small strangled noise escaped.
Ilya moved immediately, standing between Cliff and the bed.
He coughed.
Loudly.
Marlow paused.
“…you alright?”
“Fine,” Ilya said calmly.
Marlow nodded slowly.
“Anyway,” he continued, grabbing a bottle of water, “I thought you’d be over there tonight. You get all weird about it. Whole ‘must see Montreal girl’ routine.”
Ilya did not respond.
Marlow took a long drink.
Then he noticed the shoes.
Men’s shoes.
By the chair.
He frowned.
Then he noticed the very obvious human-shaped lump under the blankets.
Marlow blinked.
Looked at the lump.
Looked at Ilya.
Looked at the Reeboks.
Looked back at the lump.
“…Rozy.”
Ilya closed his eyes.
“No.”
The blanket shifted.
Shane Hollander sat up in the bed, clutching the sheets tightly under his armpits.
His hair was a mess.
His expression was pure mortification.
“I’m sorry,” Shane said quickly. “Ilya said you wouldn’t be here tonight.”
Cliff blinked.
Slowly.
Then again.
“Wait.”
He pointed at Shane.
“Wait, what?”
Shane winced.
Cliff looked at Ilya.
Then back at Shane.
“Is this a joke?”
“No,” Ilya said.
Cliff frowned harder.
“You got dumped by Montreal girl,” he said slowly, “so you fuck Hollander?”
“No.”
“Hollander fucked you?” Cliff whispered.
Ilya actually laughed at that and shook his head.
“No.”
Cliff pointed again.
“Then why is Hollander in your bed?”
Ilya looked at him evenly.
“Hollander is Montreal girl.”
Silence.
Cliff stared at him.
Then at Shane.
Then back at Ilya.
“…you’re kidding.”
“No.”
Another pause.
Cliff leaned back against the wall and ran a hand over his face.
“Oh my god.”
He looked at Shane again.
“You’re Montreal girl?”
Shane sank lower under the blanket.
“I hate both of you.”
Cliff started laughing.
Hard.
Ilya did not laugh.
“Cliff,” he said.
Something in his voice made Cliff look up.
“This stays in this room.”
Cliff blinked.
He looked between them again.
Really looked this time.
Shane clutching the sheets like armour.
Ilya stood there like he was ready to bodycheck his own teammate if he had to.
The laughter faded.
“Relax,” he said. “I’m not telling anyone.”
Shane studied him carefully.
“You swear?”
Cliff snorted.
“Rozy once punched a guy for calling you a slur,” he said. “You think I’m gonna out him?”
The room went quiet.
Cliff shrugged.
“You’re my captain,” he added, nodding toward Ilya. “And you’re… apparently my captain’s Montreal girl.”
Shane groaned and pulled the blanket higher.
Cliff grabbed his jacket again.
“You know what? I’m gonna find another room.”
“You do not have to,” Ilya said.
“Oh I absolutely do,” Cliff replied. “Because if I stay here I’m going to keep laughing and Hollander already looks like he wants to die.”
Shane made a small noise of agreement.
Cliff paused at the door.
“Seriously though,” he said. “Your secret’s safe.”
Then he pointed at them.
“But if you two start another on-ice brawl I’m chirping both of you forever.”
The door shut behind him.
Silence settled over the room.
Shane slowly lowered the blanket from his face.
“I’m never playing Boston again,” he muttered.
Ilya sat down on the edge of the bed.
“You say this every time we play Boston.”
Shane glared weakly at him.
“This is your fault.”
“Da.”
A pause.
Then Ilya reached over and gently pulled the blanket down from where Shane still had it clenched.
“It is alright,” he said softly. “Cliff is loud, but he is loyal.”
Shane let out a long breath.
Ilya brushed his thumb once across his shoulder.
“Now sleep,” he murmured. “Sweetheart.”
@hotelbarstaff
funniest part of tonight is Marlow came back asking if we had another room because his roommate had “company” 😭
5. Plane Spotting
The Montreal team flight leaves early.
Too early, if you ask Ilya Rozanov.
Most of the roster boards together. Bags slung over shoulders. Half-awake conversations about coffee and back-to-backs.
Shane is not there.
That, by itself, is not entirely unusual. Players fly separately from time to time.
What is unusual is the message posted to hockey Twitter an hour later.
@hockeyspotter
pretty sure i just saw ilya rozanov drop shane hollander at logan airport??
@raidersburner
what
@hockeyspotter
like he pulled up at departures and hollander got out of the passenger seat
@goaltracker
no way
@hockeyspotter
i swear
@metropulse
why would rozanov be driving hollander anywhere
@rinkrat22
wait WAIT
@nhlreddit
do you have a photo
@hockeyspotter
no 😭 it happened fast
@raidersburner
things that didn’t happen awards
@hockeytalk source:
trust me bro
@nhlreddit
maybe hollander’s uber driver was a 6”2 Russian?
@hockeyspotter
look im just saying hollander got out a yellow sports car looking stressed af and the driver looked like rozanov
@raidersburner
LMAO now we’ve got a yellow car too
@goaltracker
man missed his uber and now we’re inventing lore
@rinkrat22
doesn’t rozanov actually have a yellow ferrari? pretty sure i saw it in that garage tour video
@raidersburner
ok but its ILYA ROZANOV he aint driving hollander anywhere
@nhlreddit
imagine your rival personally driving you to the airport
An hour later, the Montreal team account posts a travel photo.
Players boarding the charter.
Shane Hollander is not in it.
@goaltracker
ok wait
@raidersburner
where is hollander
@metropulse
flying commercial maybe
@puckpolitics
interesting timing to be environmentally conscious
Eventually the timeline moves on.
There is no photo.
No confirmation.
Just another piece of hockey internet nonsense.
Did you arrive safely. - I
You made me miss my team flight and barely got me to my backup. - S
Was fine.- I
You are drama queen. - I
Someone on Twitter saw us at departures. - S
I was in disguise 😎 - I
We were in your stupid yellow car. - S
Not yellow. - I
Ardilla Amarillo. - I
Very discreet. - I
+1. For The Record
@nhlbreaking
🚨 FREE AGENCY: Ilya Rozanov signs with Ottawa. 8 years. $88M.
@pucktalk
OTTAWA???
@raidersburner
i’m sorry WHAT
@hockeystats
roz just finished tied for the Rocket and signs with a rebuilding team???
@nhlanalysis
this might be the strangest free agency decision in years
SportsNet Panel
“I’m stunned.”
“You usually see players make this move late in their careers.”
“He’s still at the absolute peak of his game.”
“So why Ottawa?”
@puckpolitics
Something about this move feels off.
@hockeyreddit
nah man they just overpaid him
@raidersfan88
88 million will convince anyone
@puckpolitics Replying to @raidersfan81
Maybe.But this guy just left a contender while tied for the league lead in goals. Most players chase Cups. This move doesn’t line up with that.
TSN Article
Ottawa’s signing of Ilya Rozanov has stunned the hockey world.
The star forward leaves Boston after a dominant season that saw him tied with Montreal captain Shane Hollander atop the Rocket Richard race.
League insiders say the Centaurs aggressively pursued Rozanov the moment free agency opened.
@puckpolitics Thread.
Trying to understand the Rozanov decision.
Leaves a contender
Goes to Ottawa (currently rebuilding)
Signs immediately when free agency opens
None of that is normal behaviour for a player in his position.
@hockeytalk
bro it’s called money
@puckpolitics
Maybe. But Ottawa wasn’t the only team offering big contracts. Something else is going on here.
@puckpolitics
Adding another piece to this.
Rozanov finished the season tied in goals with…Ottawa’s own Shane Hollander. Montreal captain.
@goaltracker
okay?
@puckpolitics
Montreal to Ottawa is a two hour drive.Just saying.
@rinkrat22
buddy log off
@puckpolitics
Not claiming anything. Just pointing out geography.
“Shane, have you seen the news about Rozanov signing with Ottawa?”
Shane nods easily.
“Yeah, I saw it this morning.”
“What do you think of the move?”
“I think Ottawa got a great player,” Shane says calmly.
“You two have always had quite the rivalry, now your nemesis is playing for your hometown, any thing to say on that?”
For a moment Shane presses his lips together.
Like he’s trying not to smile.
Then he shrugs.
“Welcome to Canada, Rozanov.”
@metrofan13
why did he look so pleased
@hockeydaily
that smile was suspicious
@puckpolitics
Adding this to the thread. Hollander reaction to Rozanov signing. Extremely relaxed. Almost… pleased?
@puckpolitics
Let’s recap the timeline.
Hollander and Rozanov spend entire season tied in scoring race
Faceoffs between them repeatedly go viral
Rozanov suspension last season defending Hollander
Hollander publicly defends him in press conference
Airport sighting of them together
Rozanov leaves contender for Ottawa
Ottawa is two hours from Montreal
@hockeyreddit
dude you’re building a conspiracy wall
@puckpolitics
Maybe. But if this ends with those two playing golf together all summer I expect apologies.
You actually did it. - S
You sound surprised. - I
A little. - S
It was your idea. - I
I didn’t think you’d sign that fast. - S
I know what I want Shane. - I
You know the entire league thinks you’ve lost your mind. - S
Yes. - I
You’re okay with that? - S
They do not know what I got in return. - I
@puckpolitics
Just to add...Does anyone remember the All-Star weekend team photo? Rozanov’s shirt was two sizes too small. Hollander’s was two sizes too big.Just saying.
@goaltracker
between ottawa being hollander’s hometown and that shirt swap i’m starting to think rozanov just wanted a shorter “commute”
The apartment in Ottawa is quiet.
Shane sits on the kitchen counter, watching Ilya pace slowly across the floor.
It still catches Ilya off guard sometimes, how easily his attention settles there.
“You know this doesn’t have to change anything,” Shane says.
Ilya stops.
“It already has.”
“I mean publicly.”
Ilya considers that.
“People are already trying to figure it out.”
“That doesn’t mean we have to help them,” Shane says.
A small smile appears on Ilya’s face.
“You liked the thread.”
“I did not.”
“You laughed.”
“I sighed.”
Ilya walks over, leaning against the counter beside him.
“What do you want?” he asks.
Shane doesn’t answer immediately.
He thinks about the last year. The hiding. The speculation. The way everyone seemed to know pieces of the story except the truth.
“I don’t want to lie anymore,” he says finally.
Ilya answers immediately.
“Good.”
Shane narrows his eyes. “You said that very quickly.”
“I have been waiting for you to say it.”
Shane exhales.
“I still want to be discreet.”
“Of course.”
“But if someone asks,” Shane continues carefully, “really asks…”
He shrugs.
“We tell the truth.”
For a moment Ilya just stares at him.
Then he grins.
Shane points at him.
“Do not get weird about this.”
“I am not weird.”
“You’re already weird.”
“I am happy.”
“That’s what worries me.”
Two weeks later, Ilya is in post-practice media in Ottawa.
Routine. Predictable. Mostly boring.
The reporter flips through his notes.
“Rozanov, so much of your time in Boston was framed around your rivalry with Shane Hollander. Now that you’re in Ottawa, what does your relationship with Hollander look like? Still rivals?”
Ilya pauses.
Then he raises a hand slightly.
“I just want to confirm something,” he says.
The reporter nods.
Ilya tilts his head.
“For the record, you are asking me what is my relationship with Shane Hollander?”
There’s a ripple of laughter in the room.
The reporter shrugs. “Yeah. I guess I am.”
Ilya wags a finger. “Ah, not guess. Yes or no, is important.”
The reporter smiles, confused but entertained. “ Yes, what is your current relationship with Shane Hollander?”
Ilya nods once, satisfied.
“Good. Very good question.”
He smiles.
Almost gleeful.
“Because he is my boyfriend.”
A pen drops somewhere in the room.
Then suddenly every reporter is talking at once.
Questions collide over each other.
“How long…”
“Did you just…”
“Does Hollander…”
Ilya lets the noise build for a moment.
Then he leans back in his chair, almost contentedly.
His phone buzzes on the table.
He glances down.
A message from Shane.
What did you just do?
Ilya smiles slightly.
Then looks back up at the reporters.
“Yes,” he says calmly. “Next question.”
@nhlbreaking
DID ILYA ROZANOV JUST…
@goaltracker
HE CHECKED THE QUESTION FIRST 😭
@hockeyreddit
THIS MAN SET A LEGAL TRAP
@rinkrat22
PUCKPOLITICS WAS RIGHT
@puckpolitics
I WOULD LIKE A PUBLIC APOLOGY FROM EVERYONE IN MY REPLIES
The next day the Montreal media room is packed.
More cameras than usual. More reporters than usual. Phones already recording before Shane even sits down.
He takes one look at the room and exhales softly.
Then he leans toward the microphone.
“Why do I get the feeling you guys aren’t here to talk about hockey?”
Laughter ripples through the room.
A reporter grins. “Did Ilya Rozanov just come out yesterday?”
Shane presses his lips together, clearly trying not to smile.
“That sounds like something he’d do.”
“So it’s true?”
Shane nods once.
“Yes.”
Pens start moving immediately.
Another reporter jumps in.
“How long have you two been together?”
Shane lifts a hand slightly, the same calm authority he uses on the ice.
“Alright,” he says. “Let me answer this properly.”
He exhales.
“Ilya and I have been in a relationship for some time. We chose to keep that part of our lives private up to now.”
He pauses.
“But we agreed that if anyone asked us directly, we wouldn’t lie about it.”
A reporter raises an eyebrow.
“And someone asked.”
Shane huffs out a laugh.
“Apparently.”
Another voice calls out from the back.
“So the rivalry wasn’t real?”
Shane’s expression sharpens immediately.
“No. The rivalry was real. Is real”
He folds his hands together on the table.
“When we step on the ice, we’re playing for our teams. That’s the job. We compete hard and we compete fairly.”
A pause.
“Ilya doesn’t give me anything. I definitely don’t give him anything.”
The room laughs.
“And that’s not going to change.”
Then he adds:
“If anything, it made it more fun.”
A ripple of laughter moves through the room.
Finally Shane glances around the table.
“Now,” he says lightly, tapping the microphone, “unless anyone has something about tonight’s game…”
He spreads his hands.
“Because I’m pretty sure that’s what we’re actually here for.”
@nhlbreaking
HOLLANDER CONFIRMS RELATIONSHIP WITH ROZANOV
@goaltracker
THE COMMUTE THEORY WAS REAL
@hockeyreddit
Hollander literally said yeah im bouncing on it, can we get back to hockey please
@rinkrat22
PUCKPOLITICS WAS RIGHT THIS WHOLE TIME
@puckpolitics
I WOULD LIKE IT NOTED THAT MY THREAD WAS SCIENTIFICALLY SOUND
@throwbackpuck
thinking about that speedo ad of hollander that went viral at the start of last season and realizing rozanov probably saw all of us thirsting over his man. no wonder he went on a rage
@raidersburner
oh my god
@goaltracker
WAIT LMAO
@puckpolitics
…hold on
@neutralzone
so you’re telling me this whole thing started because rozanov saw hollander in red speedos
You still have those speedos, yes? - I
Don’t push your luck, Rozanov. - S