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The only time Shane ever allows himself to wake up naturally without an alarm is here at the cottage, in Ilya’s arms, letting the morning sun and gentle bird song wash over him. Ilya is still asleep beside him and could be for another hour or two but Shane has no intention of letting them waste away this precious time in bed– well in bed sleeping.
It's not like he has their days as regimented as during the season but a little bit of structure keeps him grounded. After the nonstop intensity, the cycle of travel and training and games, the first few days of summer always have Shane feeling slightly untethered. It’s comforting in a way to not have to think too hard about your next move, to know exactly what’s coming hour by hour week by week. And it’s not as if hockey is ever monotonous, every game a blank slate, every time he hops the boards a thrilling uncertainty.
Making a list of things he’d like to do, laying out a bit of a schedule for himself, makes the transition less jarring. He’s sure Ilya wouldn’t mind a deal more spontaneity but for now he’s plenty happy to indulge Shane in this. After all, he’s facing down a major change of routine himself having played his final season with Boston. Ilya has been as blasé about the move to Ottawa– and the entirely new team– as he can but Shane can sense it’s at least in some part a front. Going from a hockey superstar at the peak of his career captaining an original six team to playing on one that hasn’t qualified for the playoffs in recent memory can’t be easy. Shane is trying not to make a big deal of it but Ilya clearly doesn’t want to talk yet.
The plan they’d discussed for today is to take the boat out on the lake. For the first time actually since despite Shane's insistence that it was perfectly safe (as long as they wore life jackets), Ilya was still certain it would drown them both. It’ll be nice, they can–
From the bedside table, Shane’s phone rings loudly. His boyfriend stirs and blinks awake.
“Who the fuck calls at 8 in the morning? Do not answer.” Ilya buries his face grumpily into Shane's neck and holds him tightly.
Shane sighs, pulling Ilya’s clinging hands away as he slides out of bed and reaches for his phone. “It's my mom. I've got everyone else on do-not-disturb. It could be important.”
“Important? At 8 am? Ignore your dear mother and come back to bed моя любовь (my love).”
“I'll just be a moment Ilya, you'll survive.” He rolls his eyes and answers the phone.
“Noo Shane I will die, will waste away without you.” Ilya pleads, reaching his arms out dramatically.
Shane sternly puts a finger to his lips to shush him but he can't entirely hide his grin as he steps into the hallway and out of earshot. “Hey mom, what's up?”
“Shane,” His mother answers, sounding drawn and upset. “I’m very disappointed in you for hiding something like this from us.”
What. The world shutters around him. His breath is coming too fast and he barely has a chance to reach out a hand to steady himself before sliding against the wall. There's only one thing this could possibly be about.
“How did– I didn't– I'm sorry–” No, he's not sorry but he's not sure what he is. He's not sure anything is real right now and he's having trouble breathing let alone stringing together a coherent sentence. “I really meant to tell you, mom. It's just complicated and the longer I waited the harder it was to say anything.”
“You– Longer? How long exactly has this been going on?” Yuna says sharply.
“A while, years, the whole time really but it's only been serious for about a year.” Shane's not sure if he's really speaking or if the world had ended the second he picked up the phone. He wants to be back in bed with Ilya. He wants this not to be happening. He should have listened. He should have–
There's an intake of breath on the line. “What do you mean the whole time? Your whole professional career? I really thought your father and I raised you better than this. Do you even realize the risks you’re taking? And for what? To be special? To look cool?”
“Please mom, I know– I understand–”
“Oh do you, young man? Do you understand? Because you have thousands of people, of kids who look up to you and are watching the kinds of behaviors you engage in. You’re a role model and this is not role model behavior. It's unhealthy and disgusting–
He chokes out a sob. Even since the time he and Ilya were just hooking up casually, Shane has been thinking about this, he’s obsessed nonstop over contingencies for nearly every scenario where someone could find out. In all the scenarios Shane had played out, this was the one of worst. He thought he'd prepared himself for every sort of response– shock, disappointment, anger– but really hearing it is different. Really hearing what his mom thinks of him is different.
Yuna must realize that he's trying to stifle his crying because she pauses and changes tact. “Oh honey, Shane, I know I'm being harsh but this is fixable, right? We can work together. Talk to a doctor or a psychiatrist. Lots of people get through this. I'm going to come over and we can talk about it, okay?"
Don't. Please don't. He thinks and hangs up on his mother for probably the first time in his life. Shane feels hollowed out and lightheaded, sick to his stomach and he really doesn't want to throw up. He hates throwing up, he hates it and he needs–
“Ilya,” he calls out hoarsely. He's not sure if Ilya can even hear him but he can't move right now.
“Yes, sweetheart? Done with phone call now?” Ilya appears in the doorway of their bedroom. He's still shirtless but he's put on a pair of Shane's sweatpants. His face is beautifully sleep rumpled and Shane desperately needs to be held by him, needs his boyfriend to hold the shattered pieces of him together. As soon as Ilya sees Shane, crouched against the wall, rocking slightly, head in his hands, his expression changes and he rushes forward.
“Shane! What's happened? Are you okay? Are your parents–” Ilya drops to his knees pulling Shane immediately to his side. But he wants to be surrounded, like there’s nothing that could possibly reach him, so he maneuvers them so that Ilya is in his lap, pressing him into the wall and he can finally breathe enough to speak.
“She knows– my mom knows. Not sure if it's just about me or if she knows about us but she definitely hates me now.” The words muffled against Ilya's neck. Shane digs his nails into Ilya's back trying to bring him even closer.
“Are you sure? There is no misunderstanding?” Shane knows he rarely speaks badly of his parents so to Ilya this must seem out of character. It's sweet that his boyfriend is trying to defend his mother. But not this time.
“No. No, she said–” Shane can barely repeat what he heard. He focuses on the feeling of Ilya's bare skin against his own, hearts beating, lungs expanding in tandem. “She said I need to be fixed.”
Ilya swears sharply as Shane starts to cry again.
“You know that is not true. I've got you. я тебя люблю (I love you). Shane, I love you. Whatever happens, I’ll be here.” Ilya says softly as he runs his hands through Shane's hair and presses soft kisses to the side of his neck.
Shane lifts his head to meet Ilya's lips. He wants to be devoured, to sink into Ilya until Shane Hollander is no longer a distinguishable being.
When Yuna called her son after finding the pack of cigarettes in his jacket pocket, she expected denial, maybe that he would scoff at her and say “they’re not mine” or “what are you talking about?”. Even better, that it was all a huge misunderstanding and one of his teammates had handed it to him to hold on to during a celebration last season. Shane was being a good friend, he'd just forgotten they were there. Anything but him breaking down into tears and confessing he'd been smoking for a decade. She's beyond furious, has no words to describe how upset she is about a betrayal like this.
Shane was private, there were clearly things about his life that he preferred to keep to himself and Yuna understood that. As much as she felt the need to be aware of every little detail, she's come to accept and trust that bit of distance. She thought she'd known her son. How seriously he took the game, his career. That was unquestionable. Or was it? Her head is reeling. How could he possibly have kept this a secret for this long? And he'd said it was ‘serious’ now, did that mean he was having issues with his lungs? Did he have cancer? Was he going to have to retire?
David had attempted to calm her down saying that she shouldn't go over right away. Not until she had collected herself.
“You’re angry now. I don't want you to say something you'll regret to him.” he'd said. But nothing could stop Yuna once she'd set her mind to it and she was on the warpath now.
She spent the car ride gripping the steering wheel until her knuckles were white, running through what she was going to say to Shane.
Nothing could possibly have prepared her for opening the door to former Boston Raiders captain Ilya Rozanov glaring at her with his arms crossed.
“What the fuck?!” She says eloquently.
“I think you should leave. Shane does not want to speak with you.” He replies curtly, barely giving her a glance.
Shane? How well did they know each other? “Absolutely not. No. Shane is my son and you have no right to tell me I can't enter his house. What are you even doing here?
Rozanov bares his teeth and continues to bar the way. Yuna can definitely see why he's such a terrifying player, she's trying very hard not to be intimidated by his muscular, six foot plus frame. But honestly, the intimidation was secondary now, superseded by the overwhelming bizarreness of the whole situation. His response gave her no clarity. “I think I have more right to be here than you actually. I said go!”
What did that mean? Were they really friends? Could he have–
“Did you do this to Shane?” Yuna is certain she's seen photos of Rozanov smoking and Shane surely would never have tried it on his own. Scarily, it makes some kind of sense.
“Do this?” Rozanov hisses. “Is not a fucking sickness!”
Yuna tries and fails not to raise her voice. “It certainly can make you sick! A hockey player with lung cancer? What a joke!"
“Lung cancer? I have never heard this–”
“Don't play dumb, Rozanov. Everyone knows smoking can give you lung cancer.”
Rozanov makes a confused face and steps back slightly, so that he's not fully blocking the door anymore. “I am not sure what that has to do with being gay. I think possibly there is misunderstanding.” He says finally.
Hold on. Yuna’s jaw drops. A misunderstanding for sure, the conversation seems to have gotten away from her. She takes his movement as an initiation and pushes her way inside, suddenly unsure if this is all a hyper-realistic stress dream. Yuna slips off her shoes and turns to face Rozanov.
He speaks first. “What exactly is it that you think is going on?”
“I think Shane was a perfectly well behaved young athlete until you got him addicted to smoking.” She says but she’s not at all sure what she thinks anymore.
“Ah,” Rozanov responds and he looks lighter, maybe even relieved. “Shane, моя любовь (my love) come out here.”
Her son appears cautiously and moves to stand directly behind Rozanov, so close they’re touching. His face is puffy from crying and he can’t meet her eyes. It makes her heart ache. But she has no time to dwell on that thought because Rozanov runs his hand along Shane’s arm in a comforting way and says, “Your mother thinks I have corrupted you with cigarettes.”
And then in Russian, “Она ничего о нас не знала. Я же говорила, что это было недоразумение. Она тебя любит (She did not know about us. I told you it was a misunderstanding. She loves you).”
Shockingly, it seems like Shane understood something from that because he sags and leans bodily against the other man, pressing his face into Rozanov’s shoulder. There’s no mistaking the level of comfort and intimacy between them but Yuna’s mind is scrambling to come up with another logical explanation.
“I found– There was a pack of cigarettes in your jacket Shane. I thought–” She’s trying desperately to bring the conversation back to the original reason she came here, to something that makes sense.
“Ah, sorry. I did borrow Shane’s jacket last week.” Rozanov shrugs apologetically and Shane lifts his head to frown at him but Yuna can tell it's not his serious frown.
“How many times have I told you not to take my shit?”
“Ты же знаешь, тебе нравится видеть меня в твоей одежде, это напоминает тебе, кому я принадлежу (You know you love seeing me in your clothes, reminds you who I belong to.)” Shane blushes in response to this and Yuna really does not want to know what Rozanov just said.
“So are you two…” Yuna breaks off. What is she even asking? Are you, Shane Hollander, in a relationship with your longtime rival, the man you’ve supposedly hated for years, Ilya Rozanov? It sounds absurd. She wasn’t even certain– well she’s still not even certain– that her son liked men until a minute ago. It was something she and David had considered but figured that if Shane didn’t want to say anything, then it wasn’t any of their business.
Shane finally breaks his silence. “Yes, yeah, we're together. I’m gay and we’re together. Mom, meet Ilya.”
The living room is a much nicer place to have a serious conversation than the doorway. Shane's mother sits across from him in the arm chair and Ilya, next to him on the couch. Ilya moves to fit his hand around the back of Shane’s neck, intending to run his fingers gently through his hair the way he knows Shane likes. But Shane shifts away subtly. Ilya takes the cue and keeps his arms at his side but the look on his face says that they'll be talking about this later. Now that Shane doesn't feel like the ground has dropped out from beneath him, he's uncertain about the amount of physical intimacy he wants to show in front of other people. They'd never had the need to discuss where their boundaries were on this. Well, where Shane's boundaries were at least. As consolation, Shane moves his hand closer to Ilya's on the couch, so that their pinkies are just touching.
“To clarify, Shane, you aren't smoking?” His mother breaks the silence. Not what Shane thought her first question would be about but clearly hockey manager Yuna takes priority here.
Ilya lets out a huff of breath as if holding back an incredulous scoff. Shane Hollander? Smoking?
“No of course not, mom.”
“He is always telling me not to. And throwing away my cigarettes, lucky I am rich hockey player with lots of money to waste.”
“You really should stop.” Shane tells him.
Ilya looks at him sheepishly. This is by far not the first discussion they’ve had about his smoking. “Yes. Is not often now. I know you don't like it.”
Shane gives a nod of acknowledgement. His boyfriend really has cut down on smoking. In fact, he’d all but stopped a few years into their acquaintance before the habit came back again full force. Ilya has been uncharacteristically cagey about it and Shane has his suspicions but the ‘Rose Landry era’ is still a sensitive topic so he hasn’t pressed.
He takes a deep breath and turns to his mother. If she’s not going to bring up the looming matter of his relationship, then he’ll have to brave it. “You must have questions.”
Yuna's brow is furrowed slightly, like she's thinking hard about what she wants to say. Shane's heart begins to pick up.
She starts with, “I imagine this isn't how you wanted me to find this out.”
Shane shakes his head. It's easier than admitting he wasn't sure if he ever wanted people to know. They deserve –Ilya deserves– more than having to lie and sneak around just to love each other. But an ugly part of him, the part that's always cared too much what others think, wants to cling to normalcy. If he can just have Ilya and keep everything else too. It's not fair, Shane knows this. He might be able to bear it himself but Ilya loves so openly, Shane can tell he's already crumbling under the secrecy.
“It's definitely a shock.” Yuna continues. “At least the Roza– Ilya part of it. But I want you to know this doesn't change how much I love you at all. And your father will feel the same way if you're comfortable sharing with him too.”
Shane nods. If he's out to his mother, there's no point in keeping it from his father.
“I'm here to support you in any way you need, Shane. I'll reach out to your sponsors, see if we can start building out a narrative. Play on the power couple of it all–”
“Please no.” Shane rushes to stop his mother’s train of thought. “We’re not– At least until Ilya has Canadian citizenship. Probably not until we retire.”
“Yes, is not safe for me to be public yet.” Ilya backs him up.
“And the Metros, my teammates and management…they wouldn't like it. As you said, I'm supposed to be a role model.” Shane winces. That wasn't very tactful, he knows his mom hadn't meant it that way.
“Oh god.” Yuna brings her hand to her mouth in horror. “Sweetheart, I'm so sorry. I said some awful things. I was angry but that doesn't excuse it.”
“It's okay.” It's not really. Shane won't ever be able to erase the moments when he thought his mother hated him, his mind will throw her words back at him when he's at his most insecure. But he will be able to tell those voices to shut up. If this had happened more than a year ago, it might have broken him but he's not alone now, he has Ilya.
“You must've thought– You never need to change who you are. All those kids are right to look up to you, to wish they could be like you– every part of you.”
“Even if I'm a smoker?” Shane tries for lightheartedness, his eyes are getting dangerously watery.
“Well…” Suddenly Yuna sits up, eyes wide. “Oh, wait a minute! When you said the whole time, you were talking about your relationship! You've really been together since your rookie year?”
“Since the summer before.” Ilya corrects at the same time as Shane says:
“No, definitely not.”
Yuna raises her brows.
“It's complicated. We've been boyfriends since last summer but…” The last thing Shane wants to do is try to lay out the timeline of his and Ilya’s relationship to his mother. Hopefully, if he leaves it vague, she’ll move on.
Or not. “But before that, you were…”
“We were–” Ilya starts to explain.
“не (Don’t).” Shane hisses, trying to head off whatever explicit thing Ilya is about to say.
“It was casual.” He finishes innocently but turns to Shane with a grin, “Что, боишься, что я расскажу твоей матери в точности, как я тебя трахаю (What, worried I'm going to tell your mother exactly how I fuck you)?”
“Jesus!” Shane feels his face heat and he resists the urge to smack Ilya in the arm.
Yuna laughs, clearly having understood the nature of the comment if not the exact wording, thank god. “I think I get the idea.” Shane could die of mortification.
“One more thing, is it serious between you two? Like I said, you have my full support but…Shane, this is big. I can’t say I’m not worried.”
Shane takes Ilya’s hand tightly in his. “It’s very serious. I love him.”
“And…” She glances over at Ilya and he tenses.
“I know Ilya has a reputation, but there was never cheating, mom. We both had to go through some things and now we have each other. It’s no different for him.” Shane’s own insecurities aside, he won’t stand for anyone else doubting how much Ilya loves him. When Shane glances over his shoulder, Ilya is looking at him with an intensity that says he is desperately holding back kissing him. I’m sorry I’m so uptight about this. He wants to say. Instead Shane bumps his shoulder against Ilya’s, hoping he understands.
“Your son has made us plans for years ahead. Is why I’m going to Ottawa.” Ilya says earnestly.
“Oh, wow. I did wonder what that was about.” As immersed in the hockey world as she is, Yuna must realize the weight behind this decision. When the deal was announced, it was all anyone –his teammates, sports broadcasters, the entire internet, it seemed like– could talk about. Speculation, shock, criticism– it had been a lot and no one would know the real reason.
“It’s for me.” A thought that has Shane feeling at once giddy and unreasonably guilty.
“Well, if you’re moving to Ottawa…” Shane can see the machinations beginning to take shape in his mother’s mind. Poor Ilya has no idea what’s coming his way. “Please come for dinner, both of you. I won’t say anything to David if you don’t want, just that you might bring someone. We can talk more about Ottawa then, I have some ideas.”
“Don’t overwhelm him, mom.” Shane knows that this is how his mother shows she cares but he also doesn’t want his boyfriend to feel obligated to participate in any of her schemes.
“Nonsense.” Yuna rolls her eyes. She speaks directly to Ilya, “I can’t tell you how glad I am that Shane has someone now, I never would have expected it to be Ilya Rozanov but I look forward to getting to know why my son loves you.”
“Thank you Mrs. Hollander.” Ilya’s voice wavers slightly and there’s an indecipherable look in his eyes.
“Yuna please. And see you two tonight.”
As soon as his mother is out the door, Shane is on Ilya, kissing him hungrily, grabbing his hair roughly with one hand and pushing him to lie down on the couch with the other.
“What is this?” Ilya teases once they’ve parted to breathe.
Shane doesn’t want to talk, he just wants to feel but it's also important that he tells Ilya, “Just…I love you. I love that you stood up for me.”
“So you are saying it was hot when I yelled at your mother?”
“Ew no.”
“Really?”
“Well, maybe a little.”
“Okay, show me how hot you thought I was, моя любовь (my love).” And Shane does.