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The crowd erupted. Before his brain had processed what had happened, he found his fists thrown up in the air, bracing for impact as the rest of the team barreled into him. They pressed in and he didn’t know where his body ended and the next one began or where his relief ended and his joy began and he didn’t even know how the game winning goal had played out, he only knew that it had and they had won. They were champions. Champions!!! His Ottawa Centaurs had a cup! And it was being thrusted at him and his hands were once again in the air displaying his joy in a way his words couldn’t.
He realized he was smiling larger than any time he could remember and his smile held the weight of the cup but also so much more. The flash of cameras and shouts of reporters and fans mixed together and he was high on it all. The absolute joy of it all. Was this real? Yes, of course it was real. He had been through so much and given up so much. And this was what it was all for. This was so very real.
He looked around at his team and saw his joy and elation reflected back at him on every single face. His team. His family. The people that had not only accepted him but supported him. They were his backbone these past few years and he knew he would never be able to fully explain to them how much they meant to him. And he knew he would probably never stop trying. They all deserve this, he thought. Each and every one of them. The almost-plane crash, multiple coming-outs, media hail storm. The work and passion they had put in on the ice. No one understood all the growth and challenges the Ottawa Centaurs had experienced the past three years except the Ottawa Centaurs. He loved them so much.
The tight pack of his team around him began to loosen as family members trickled onto the ice slipping and sliding so they could get to their loved ones to celebrate. He handed the cup off to someone, he wasn’t sure who, and searched for the one face he wanted to see more than anything. There, coming down the stairs of the seats as quickly as he could with Mom and Dad in tow. He skated over to meet him. Did he know? What this all meant to him? The weight of all the joy he was feeling right now? People said joy made you light. He disagreed. This was a pleasant heaviness, weighed down with all the strength he fought with to get here and everything it represented. They made eye contact just as Shane got to the boards. Yes, Shane probably understood better than anyone.
“Ilya!” His voice. His beautiful voice. Anytime it was aimed at him, his heart stuttered.
A croaky, “Shane,” was all he could muster. His throat was tight. He could count the number of times in his life he had cried and this was the first time he had cried from happiness.
Shane moved towards him as quickly as he could with his sneakers on the ice. Ilya stopped a few feet away so he could watch Shane come to him, the details of his face coming into clearer focus with each step. Shane collided into him and threw his arms around him, holding him with a tightness that relaxed every muscle in his body. He basked in the weight of him against his body, that heavy joy still flaring. Ilya held him back and thought that this might be their final embrace only because he was never going to let go. But then, impossibly, if you had asked him a few months ago, Shane leaned back, grabbed his face with both hands, and kissed him squarely on the mouth. Ilya thought the flashes might have gotten faster and the crowd might have gotten louder but he couldn’t quite hear over the roaring in his ears. His boyfriend, his Shane, was kissing him in public, on the ice, celebrating his cup. None of this felt real and yet this was the realest he’d ever felt. He loved him so much.
“You did it! You won!” His hands had slid around to the back of Ilya’s head, holding him in place. Ilya squeezed Shane’s waist.
“We won.” His smile was wet and he could still hardly talk through the emotion of it all.
“I am so proud of you. I love you so much.” Shane kissed him again. Ilya sniffled.
“I guess this means I am the best player in the league again.” Shane rolled his eyes and tried not to smile. He was never successful though and Ilya loved that about him.
“I’ll give you twenty-four hours to brag.”
“Just twenty-four?”
“Just twenty-four. That’s it.” Shane had apparently given up on hiding his smile. It was blinding.
“No, I get to brag until you win another cup.” Ilya kissed him again, a quick peck, just because he could. Shane paused, pretending to think.
“You get to brag until I beat you on the ice again.”
“Okay. Fair.” He looked around. There were more people he should be celebrating with. “Where are Mom and Dad?”
Shane looked over his shoulder. “I don’t know, I thought they were right behind me.” Ilya scanned the crowd tracing the path Shane had taken. There. A few rows up. They made eye contact and Ilya waved them down. Yuna pointed down at the security guards standing there. They were doing their job very well and Ilya was grateful for it. But this was a mistake. He skated to the boards.
“Hey! Mr. Security Man!” The guard turned, eyes searching until he found who had called to him. Ilya pointed up at them. “Those are my parents! Let them through please!” The guard's eyebrows knit together but he nodded. Ilya looked back up at them. “Mom! Dad!” He waved them down again and they began moving immediately. The security guard waved them by and Yuna and David took the remaining steps quickly, only slowing when they started traversing the ice.
“Atta boy, Son! That’s how you do it!” David called at the halfway point. He was beaming with fatherly pride. It was something Ilya had never thought he would be on the receiving end of. And yet, the past few years, he had been a regular recipient of it, even at times when it confused him. Like when he talked about the Irina Foundation or when he shook his opponent’s hand after a particularly hard loss or when he helped Yuna in the kitchen. He used to think that David somehow knew and was trying to help him make up for lost time. But over time he began to think that maybe he really was just someone worth being proud of. And maybe the Hollanders saw that.
Yuna made it to him first. Her face was wet, and her smile rivaled Ilya’s. Her eyes took in his face, the messy joy spread all over it. “Oh, sweetheart,” she said and hugged him, wrapping her arms fully around his shoulders and holding him tight. “You mama would be so proud,” she whispered in his ear and he knew that moment was just for them. He held her back and poured all his appreciation into it, all his love. His mom, making sure his mama was a part of this monumental moment. David came up next to them and wrapped his arms around them both and Ilya decided that turning into a sandwich would be a good way to go. He loved them so much.
He wanted to tell them thank you. He wanted to tell them that he wouldn’t have gotten here if he hadn’t had them in his corner the past few years, if they hadn’t loved him like their own. He wanted to explain to them all the holes in his heart they had healed and that seeing them run to him to celebrate meant just as much as winning the cup. But he was crying again and his throat was tight and he knew that they already knew all that probably.
Shane came around the other side and joined the family hug. And they just stood there, holding each other, embracing. Loving each other. They were celebrating Ilya and Ilya was celebrating them and no one could tell the difference. And Ilya thought to himself that he really did have it all.
He had his boyfriend down on the ice with him. In public. Holding him and celebrating him. He had his parents who had adopted him as son just a fully and briskly as he had adopted them as mom and dad. He had his team, who had taken in stride everything that had happened the past couple months, his outting, his relationship, the media storm, and had stood by him through it all. And the cup. He had the cup. He had led his team to victory. Moving to Ottawa from Boston had never left him with any doubt, he would sacrifice his entire hockey career for Shane if it was necessary, but he had resigned himself to a career of mediocrity and forever answering for others the question “why?” Being able to lead his team into one worth playing against was something he hadn’t thought to dream of before this season.
He looked around at his team still celebrating with the cup, the fans, his family, his Shane. He had it all. He actually had it all. He never would have believed he could be this happy without making some life altering sacrifice. But he had made it through all the worst parts and came out the other side the richest man in the world.
-
The next morning, the Centaurs’ championship win was on the front page of the newspaper boasting two colored photos. The first was of Ilya holding the cup up, surrounded by his team in the midst of that chaotic celebration that only teams know. “Captain Ilya Rozanov lifts the cup after leading his team to a 4-3 victory.” The second was of Ilya surrounded by his family while they all held him. You couldn’t see his face, but you could see the back of his jersey with his name in bold letters across the back. Yuna's head was draped over his shoulder while they hugged and Shane and David framed them on both sides, arms wrapped around them both. “Captain Ilya Rozanov celebrating with his boyfriend, Shane Hollander, and parents, David and Yuna Hollander.”
Ilya found an unused photoframe from the drawer and pulled out the scissors. He cut both pictures out and for the first time in his life, he framed a newspaper article.