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Fabian had invited Shane and Ilya to see a famous pop artist who was performing with Fabian as support act for his Europe tour — an event that would have been electrifying on its own.
But as representatives of the LGBTQI+ community in professional sports, they would also be joining Scott, Ryan, Troy, Harris, and many others on their own truck at Berlin Pride on Saturday. The initiative Scott had launched — bringing together an international group of queer and allied athletes — had resonated across the globe. It connected people and created a network thats now stretched around the world.
This year, representatives of the movement would be present at nearly every major Pride parade in bigger cities — visible, loud, proud. Preparing for it had been time‑consuming alongside playing ice hockey, but now, just before the big parade in Berlin, there was a vibrant mix of pride, anticipation, and the sense of being part of something big.
And their trip to Berlin promised far more than just an evening of music and a day of queer revolution — it also promised a night filled with adrenaline and ecstasy.
[...]
The concert evening felt like a summer dream. The show where Fabian participated as support act had taken place on the old airfield at Tempelhofer Feld under a cloudless July sky and a a warm summer breeze. Everywhere, people were moving, sunset colors drifting across the huge stage, and the music washing over the crowd like an electric current.
It was that special kind of atmosphere – free, vibrant, full of love and the feeling of being part of one big community, with a touch of wonder and magic. Strangers who feel more like friends, celebrating, laughing, holding each arm in arm, glitter sparkling on their cheeks. For a few hours, the world seemed lighter.
They had let themselves drift through the crowd with their group after they shortly met Rose, Miles and a bunch of other's of her friends group before the concert started. Shane and Ilya kept touching each other, sometimes casually, sometimes on purpose. But very different from their last time seeing Fabian on stage. A quick glance, a grin, a gentle lean against the other’s shoulder – small gestures that disappeared in the crowd, yet felt huge as they exchanged those tiny sparks openly between thousands.
Right beside them, Kip and Scott along with Elena were rocking wildly to the music and incidentally talking with Ryan and his friends. At some point, Harris had thrown both arms into the air, singing at the top of his lungs, while Troy laughed and tried to keep him at least somewhat in rhythm. Harris made Ryan filming the two of them, who was shaking his head with an amused smile, as if wondering how he had ended up in this wonderfully chaotic group.
By then, the night had already taken on something extraordinary, especially when the main artist swept the crowd up with one of his most euphoric songs. The atmosphere was so light, so free, that even in Shane something rare and careless began to bloom. Before he knew it, his boyfriend was sitting on his shoulders, hands stretched toward the sky, his hair glowing gold in the stage lights.
The crowd was on fire and sang in unison. Ilya was radiant—not just his smile, but that unrestrained joy that Shane also knew from him on the ice. The kind of energy in Ilya that made Shane’s heart full every single time. And even though he held Ilya’s legs firmly, he also felt a small sting of worry in his chest. Not out of worry about the vivid crowd, not because of the weight on his shoulders or that he would drop him — no but because of the reminder of how fragile Ilya could sometimes be.
Suddenly, Ilya turned down toward him, eyes full of life, and shouted something that was almost swallowed by the noise. Shane just nodded — and let him go.
Ilya slid from his shoulders into the crowd, which caught him instantly. A rolling wave of hands carried him away, and he laughed — loud, free, so weightless that Shane stood frozen for a moment, simply watching.
And in that exact moment, something unexpected washed over him. A sharp, fleeting contrast to harder times: nights when Ilya barely slept, when getting him out of bed felt impossible. Tears and conversations heavy as lead. Moments when Shane wasn’t sure if Ilya’s smile would ever shine as brightly as it did now.
But here and now — Ilya was being lifted by hundreds of hands, and his laughter drifted above the crowd like a light of its own. Shane blinked and tears were rising in his eyes. Not from worry. From pure, overwhelming joy.
He was so lost in thoughts that he flinched when someone suddenly draped an arm around his shoulders. Scott gave him a warm smile. A few minutes later, Ilya stood in front of him again, out of breath, hair tousled, eyes gleaming with excitement.
“Shane! That was... ! The people were so… I don’t know, just… nice, yes?” He gestured wildly, as if he could grab the euphoria with his hands.
Shane laughed, pulled him close, and pressed his hips and forehead briefly against his. “I saw you,” he murmured. “You looked so happy!”
“I always am, with you,” Ilya replied — and in that moment, fireworks blossomed above the crowd, their colors shimmering like a halo over every head.
Later on, as a quiet, romantic song began to play as encore under a gradually spreading starry sky, it grew quieter around them. Ilya snuggled up to Shane from behind and put his arms around his hips. Shane took his hands and for a moment it felt as if the music was playing just for the two of them. Shane rested his head on Ilya's shoulder and they kissed for the rest of the song. Here, so free among thousands of other people with their friends, they could finally be free. Free to express their love for each other. Free in the crowd. Not Ilya and Shane, the former rivals and ice hockey superstars. No, just Shane and Ilya. A moment that burned itself deeply into their memories.
[...]
When Shane opened his eyes late the next morning, it took him a moment to realise where he was. Their room at the Hotel Bikini Berlin felt special. Not that Shane is not used to designer hotels, yet that one felt different to him. The floor-to-ceiling windows offered a green view of the Tiergarten, not far from the Gedächtniskirche and the zoo, which lay directly below them. The morning sun bathed everything in a warm light.
The room itself was a colourful, urban work of art. A hammock swayed gently next to the window, as if still swinging from their extended lovemaking the night before. Near their bed was a cosy reading corner with soft cushions that looked as if you could easily disappear in them for a whole day. The comfortable king-size bed they were lying in was a sea of white, shiny blankets and pillows. Shane was hundred percent sure that Ilya had ordered a lot of extra pillows to teasingly remind him of their first time.
The walls were painted in warm, vibrant colours, a mix of natural materials and modern design. Plants hung from the ceiling, as if they wanted to bring the jungle of the zoo right into the room.
Ilya was still lying next to him, half buried in the sheets, his hair tousled, his breathing calm. Shane watched him for a moment, feeling the memories of last night rise up inside him like a gentle echo. He smiled and gently caressed Ilya's body. This was just a Thursday, he thought. Three other days still to come.
That morning, Shane realised that they would not forget this holiday here anytime soon. Especially when he was thinking about the CSD on weekend.
[...]
Today, they would be going out with Harris and Troy to do a bit of shopping in Berlin. A relaxed start to the Friday – before something came up later at night that Shane was significantly less enthusiastic about: a club visit.
The night before, Harris had told them enthusiastically about Berlin's club culture, its uniqueness, its freedom, its creativity. And about how it was under threat – from rising rents, from political decisions, from the simple fact that such places rarely last forever. "You have to enjoy them while they're still around," he had said, and there was a seriousness in his eyes and words that had convinced even Shane a little.
Ilya, on the other hand, was immediately hooked when he heard the name of the club – Kitkat, like the chocolate bar. The name was sweet, but the club was a little unique from his usual club experience. From what he heard from Harris, queer people were explicitly welcome, sex on the dance floor was nothing unusual, and daring, extravagant, kinky clothing styles were not only allowed but explicitly required, which made him beam with excitement. Shane knew immediately that his boyfriend would love this club.
To ensure they were suitably equipped for this, Harris had organised something special for the late afternoon: first, they would take a leisurely stroll around Ku'damm, visit a few boutiques, enjoy a lunch, and take a short walk in Tiergarten. Later that afternoon they would have a pick-up, as Harris had announced with a grin – which would take them to a kind of private shopping event. Elegant, kinky fashion, tailor-made for the club, in an atmosphere that was somewhere between exclusive and wonderfully unhinged.
Shane wasn't sure yet how he would feel about all this. But when he saw Ilya waking up with sunshine and a smile on his face, he knew he wanted to try. For him. For this special moment. And maybe also a little bit for the version of himself that he was allowed to be in Berlin – freer, braver, lighter.
Because of this, Shane also realized what had fascinated him most about Berlin: that despite their fame, they could move aboud with surprising freedom. No one stared, no one whispered, no one constantly or even secretly pulled out their cell phone. Harris had explained it with a shrug: "That's the Berlin 'I don't give a fuck' mentality." And for the first time in a long time, he simply felt like one of many. Shane didn't complain. On the contrary—it felt nice.
Ilya blinked at Shane, smiling but still a little sleepy.
"Good morn-ning," Ilya murmured, snuggling closer to him.
"Good morning, sleepyhead." Shane brushed a strand of hair from his face. "Breakfast in bed?"
Ilya immediately nodded, beaming like a child—and so they ordered a late breakfast to their room. A short time later they were sitting in this king-size bed, surrounded by pillows, croissants, scrambled eggs, fruits and coffee. Ilya kept stealing food from Shane's plate, Shane pretended it bothered him, and they both laughed at little things that were only truly funny in such small, intimate moments.
When they finally got up, they disappeared into the bathroom together. The shower was more than big enough for two and warm steam filled the room as they teased, kissed and giggled. It was this familiar, playful togetherness that Shane enjoyed so much in their relationship.
[...] to be continued [...]