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Ilya Rozanov was not an emotional man.
At least, according to the media.
According to himself, he knew he had walls built around so many pieces of himself, his emotions swirling in places he hardly knew how to access anymore. He had been working on it, of course, but the media never needed to know how deeply he felt his emotions.
That day, moments after the end of practice when Ilya was checking the upcoming games was the beginning of the end of his closed off reputation with the Centaurs.
The words blazed across the Centaurs’ team calendar pulled at his heart, dread piling up behind his mental walls.
Ottawa Centaurs vs. Boston Raiders – Away
In two weeks, the two team’s first meeting this year, their first game since Boston’s star center decided to sign with Ottawa.
The Centaurs were already growing close, Bood having given up the C on his jersey for Ilya and dragging him along to as many team events as he could. They had already had a few decent opening months, something Ottawa couldn’t have said for a long time before they acquired Ilya.
They were still losing, yes, but by less. They had even won a game or two. Against the teams that got screwed over by trades and low draft picks, but points were points and Ilya was just glad he wasn’t trying to drag this team to the playoffs by their ankles.
Their most recent arrival, their goalie Wyatt Hayes, had made winning much easier. No longer did Ilya and the top line have to score an insane amount of goals to make up for how many were going into the net.
But playing against Boston was something else entirely.
Ilya had left that team on good terms, everyone knew that.
He was just a free agent and he wanted to be in Ottawa for personal reasons. The media didn’t need to know that the personal reasons had perfect freckles, pretty glasses, and was named Shane Hollander.
Boston had been his home for so long, the place he had lived for so long and where he had found his first friends in the US. Marleau still kept in touch, checking in with Ilya as many times a week as he could with the crazy schedule Boston was dealing with this season. Svetlana also kept in regular contact, but with her job and Ilya’s training it was hard to keep conversations alive.
Something about seeing the fans he so clearly remembered cheering his name so adoringly, this time cheering against Ilya, drove a pit into his stomach.
As he stepped away from the calendar he felt a hand on his shoulder, Bood, one of the guys who had been trying his hardest to make Ilya feel welcomed.
“The fans’ reaction doesn’t matter, you know that right?”
“They will be disappointed when we win.” Ilya tried playing up on his cocky, on-ice, personality, but a little bit of his worry clearly peaked through.
“They still respect you Roz. They don’t hate you.”
Ilya wouldn’t admit it but hearing those words made his head stop spinning and his thoughts stop racing. He could only manage a nod, trying to hide how much the statement had meant to him and how close he was to letting his worry surrounding the game show.
He had 2 weeks before the game, Ilya knew he couldn’t let it consume his thoughts when he had so many more games to play and a day with Shane soon.
*******
Laying on the couch staring at the text Ilya got from Shane right when he started heading towards Ottawa was not what he originally had planned for a Friday night. But a cancelled game due to a giant chip in the middle of the rink had moved up their plans and now he couldn't do anything until he had his boyfriend with him.
The thought of playing Boston still floated to the surface of Ilya’s mind, almost haunting him when he had nothing else to be doing. He couldn’t sit still for too long before the thought came back and the lump in his throat began to form. This just meant he had been spending a lot of his time working out and running to try and keep his mind occupied enough that he didn’t have to address anything.
An hour of laying on the floor was not helping the thoughts about what might happen in Boston, Ilya was slowly beginning to realize he should’ve at least put on a game to watch if he hadn’t wanted to end up thinking about it again.
What if the fans hated him now?
Bood had said they wouldn’t but he had never played for Boston fans, he hadn’t seen just how intense they got about their team. Bood hadn’t seen the way the crowd roared when Ilya stepped onto the ice. He hadn’t seen the sea of Rozanov jerseys grow after every game, every win.
Logically, Ilya Rozanov understood that people wouldn’t resent him for moving for personal reasons.
Emotionally though, Ilya Rozanov couldn’t be sure of anything.
His friends in Boston, Marly—
The buzz of the phone in his hand interrupted his spiral.
Shane: Here! Gotta get some stuff out of the trunk but I know you like helping
Before his mind could take him any further into a concerned rabbit hole, Ilya was jumping to his feet and racing out the door to go meet Shane. Between kisses and laughs, the two eventually managed to get Shane and Shane’s bag inside. Sitting down on the couch and looking back at Shane, still taking his shoes off, brought Ilya back to reality.
He had another week before the game and he could talk to Shane about his dread, it would all be fine.
Shane flopped onto the couch next to him, Ilya quickly laying his head on his boyfriend’s legs and looking up at him. Shane’s fingers began carding through Ilya’s curls, the tension in Ilya’s shoulders slowly melting away.
Ilya took a breath, preparing for what he was about to say. “Me and the Centaurs play Boston next Friday by the way.”
“Boston? You guys haven’t played them yet right?”
“Nope,” Ilya said, shaking his head. “I am a little worried for it. The fans–”
“The fans should understand Ilya, you told them it was personal and you left on good terms! Don’t you also still have Marleau on that team?”
“Marly still talks to me, yes, I am not sure why I am worried, I think I am–” He hesitated, searching for the words to describe the way his stomach churned every time he thought about playing in front of people that used to cheer for him. “Overthinking. It is taking up too much of my mind.”
Shane nodded, overly familiar with the overwhelming anxiety he knew must be taking over his boyfriend’s mind. “You wanna talk to me about it?”
“I am just concerned about it all. If we win it will make the fans more mad that I left. If we lose, you know how Boston fans are, they will gloat, they will say things I don’t know if I can hear now.”
“You aren’t–”
“No, not regretting moving, this is much better, much better seeing you more. I just worry, I was their favorite and now I am on Ottawa.”
“You’ve seen how other fans have treated traded players right?”
Ilya had, in fact, seen the way the other teams’ fans treat players who get traded. They had all been welcomed back into their old teams’ arenas with open arms, even some fans had followed the players to their new teams. Logic said that no one would be mad, but Ilya still had no idea what to expect.
Boston wasn’t a team for big emotional welcomes, any guy that was traded while Ilya was there was welcomed only by the fans, no announcements or anything. He had no idea what he was supposed to expect that Friday night.
Conversation drifted between the two of them until the light of the sunset streamed in through the windows onto their faces. Shane’s eyes gleamed in the light, his gaze sweeping across Ilya’s face and landing on the way his hair seemed to glow in the late afternoon light.
Ilya’s breath slowed, Shane watching as his eyes slowly closed and his boyfriend slipped into sleep.
A couple breaths later and Shane’s head was tipped back against the couch in a way that would probably hurt his neck later, his own eyes closing and the world melting away.
*******
Thursday
The day with Shane had taken Ilya’s mind off the game against Boston long enough for him to get through the first half of the roadtrip. The games during the week had gone well, more wins finally under the Centaurs’ belt after Ilya set a new team record for points scored on a single road trip.
When they landed in Boston late on Thursday afternoon, the rest of the Centaurs felt the air shift around their captain. Ilya hadn’t spoken to any of them about it yet but they all knew he was dreading the game.
That night, sitting in the hotel bar, tired from the flight but time not late enough to justify going to bed yet, the Centaurs watched as Rozanov sat alone, staring blankly into his glass.
Dykstra, Bood, and Wyatt sat together, hushed voices whispering about the game and the fact that their captain looked like he would rather be anywhere else but Boston. They had all gathered that he was worried about playing against his old team, but looking at Roz now gave them a whole new view on how big this fear was.
Ilya’s mind wouldn’t stop racing, tomorrow he would be back on the ice he spent his rookie season on, the ice he won his first cup on, the ice he left for Shane and a chance at a better life.
He was back in Boston, this should’ve felt like coming home.
Instead it felt like walking to his execution.
Nothing should actually go wrong, the fans’ reaction wasn’t that important and they couldn’t be too mad at him. Plus, he would finally get to see Marly again, the two of them had plans for after the game to talk a little in Marleau’s apartment.
Thursday night was rough, Ilya couldn’t fall asleep fast enough to keep himself from dredging up more concerns. If he was more awake, he would’ve known that everything he was worried about was completely illogical. But a tired Ilya was about ready to cry thinking about how many people in the rink would be wearing his number on the opposing team’s jersey because it was the only Raiders jersey they had.
Ilya slept poorly, the dread making its way into his dreams and waking him up hours ahead of when he should’ve been awake for morning skate.
*******
Friday - Game Day
Ilya was already in the lobby working on his fourth cup of too strong hotel coffee by the time the rest of his team began trickling in from the elevators. He knew he shouldn’t be caffeinated enough to be jittery on a game day, but a racing mind was better than one capable of dwelling on one topic.
Morning skate was relatively quiet, the coaching staff just making sure the team went over pieces of the past games they had screwed up. After too many runs of what to do when trying to kill a five on three penalty and enough laps around the rink to make their legs shake, the team finally spent some time playing.
Ilya could admit he wasn’t playing his best game, his legs felt heavy on the ice and swinging his stick felt like it took more energy than ever before.
After enough time on the ice getting used to the rink and processing what the night would bring, Ilya finally got out of his own head long enough to get through morning skate without coach getting on his ass for playing poorly.
The hours between morning skate and heading out to make arrivals stretched out before Ilya, the whole day seeming ten times longer than the whole week leading up to this game. The way he had himself cooped up in his room fidgeting with the hem of his shirt would make someone think this was game seven. But it was just a normal season game. A normal season game he shouldn’t be too stressed about.
The Raiders had gotten worse since Ilya left.
They were ranked closer to Ottawa than they had been ever since Ilya joined years ago. It helped that Ottawa was on a generational rebuild and was doing much better than it had the last few years. Something the fans joked about being because they couldn’t keep up with all the number one draft picks they kept collecting by finishing last in the league year after year.
The rest of the team knew they were supposed to leave Ilya alone today, he had been avoiding all mentions of this game every time it was brought up during practice or any other time the guys had been talking about the schedule.
Standing in the lobby waiting for Rozanov, every player slightly adjusting their arrival suits and trying to hold their bags a more comfortable way, Wyatt decided to break the silence.
“Are we just supposed to let him drive himself crazy worrying about this game?”
Bood looked over, clearly having been thinking the same exact thing. “I think he knows nothing too big will happen. I’ve seen videos from the fans since he left, they aren’t mad at him. They’re more likely to go crazy for him tonight.”
“But Roz doesn’t think they will.”
Bood shook his head, his eyes trained on the elevators, making sure their captain didn’t come downstairs to the team talking about him. Right as he was about to answer, or maybe just offer a half-hearted shrug, the elevator doors opened, revealing Rozanov.
Ilya knew he looked disheveled and exhausted but he honestly couldn’t care less when his mind wouldn’t leave him alone long enough for him to get a half decent moment of peace before the game.
Arrivals were quiet, normal even.
Nothing about the game seemed any different to anyone but Ilya Rozanov. It was just one more regular season game they could very possibly end up losing, nothing to write home about.
The time left until they stepped on the ice for warmups ticked down, games of sewer ball, stretches, and wildly out of pocket conversations carrying the Centaurs through the hour.
By the time the team wound up in the locker room, every single one of them had noticed Ilya struggling to keep his usual game day upbeat demeanor. Their gear went on in the same loud and chaotic way it always did, conversations shouted across the room getting further from the topic of the game as they evolved.
Ilya couldn’t hear it, he was too focused on not throwing up. His emotions swirled in his chest and every feeling in his body seemed to be amplified tenfold. He thought about texting Shane, telling him he couldn’t face this crowd yet, maybe he could’ve convinced coach to let him sit out this game. But he needed to be here, for team morale and for the community he knew he wanted to build here.
He wanted this place to be his home.
Making Ottawa his team meant being able to play against Boston, it meant being able to lead them through games even when it was hard for him personally. Whether the Boston fans liked it or not, Ottawa gave him everything he needed and more. Maybe one day, far in the future, this could be the place that knows about him and Shane. The thought made Ilya’s heart rate calm a little, a smile replacing the same worried expression he had worn all day.
Ilya knew he could do this, he knew he could face an interaction he had been dreading. Shane could be brave and face his parents when they got caught at the cottage over summer. So Ilya could be brave and face the fans that had been his support for the hardest years of his career.
If he wanted Ottawa to hang up a jersey in the rafters, one emblazoned with his last name and number 81, he needed to be brave. For his dream and his future life with Shane. He had promised Shane forever, this was the first step towards it.
*******
The call for warmups came sooner than Ilya could’ve liked, he had just gotten his gear on and had convinced himself he could do this with an internal pep talk. Of course, his internal pep talk had almost made himself cry, but Ilya wouldn’t admit that to anyone.
The hallway to the ice seemed to stretch on forever, the cheering of the crowd and the loud music growing louder with every step the Centaurs took.
Ilya had never seen the crowd from the visitor’s tunnel before.
His skate hit the ice and the noise seemed to get infinitely louder. Before he could bring himself to look up at the people who had supported him throughout the years, Ilya took his lap and watched as his team began their individual warmup routines.
He was stretching when he first looked up, more seats filled than usual for warmup, even more people holding signs than he could ever remember.
Ilya’s eyes landed on a fan right by the glass, sign held up high, smile wide.
We miss you #81!
He grinned back at the fan, his eyes watering more than he would ever admit. Ilya found the courage to keep scanning the audience for signs, each one breaking his chest open and destroying every single one of his worries.
Welcome home Roz!!
Forever a Raider in our hearts
Boston hockey isn’t the same without our #81!
Before he could process the kind words coming from the crowd he spotted another sign. This one was held up by a young fan sitting on her dad’s shoulders.
Boston is still with you Rozanov! We love you!
Ilya was crying before he could look for more signs. He never let himself show this much emotion on the ice but today was different. His nerves were already worn thin from driving himself mad with worry all day and seeing how the fans reacted to him playing in Boston wearing an away jersey was enough to bring his emotional walls down.
He could hardly even get himself through the few shots on net he needed to finish his warmups. Every single one of the Centaurs kept patting him on the shoulder when they passed him, some whispering words of encouragement as they skated by.
Ilya found himself by center ice, slowly looking around the crowds, taking in just how many people had signs supporting him.
It would take years for him to admit it, but seeing someone close to the glass casually turn around to reveal a yellow and black jersey with his name on it made his knees even weaker. Ilya’s chest hurt from the emotions of the affair by the time he noticed someone standing beside him.
“We miss you man. Every day.” Marleau’s voice says from behind Ilya. He turns to look at his friend, eyes watering even more when he sees the C sitting proudly on his jersey. Ilya couldn’t think of someone more deserving of being the captain, sudden pride filling his chest as he looked at his former teammate.
Marly had seen Ilya through so much, it felt weird wearing a different jersey than him.
The two embraced at center ice, letting themselves be the friends they were off the ice rather than the opponents they were meant to be during this game. When Ilya’s eyes found their way back to Marleau’s face he noticed the tears threatening to fall.
Before he could address them or offer any comfort to Marleau, their coaches called for them to line up with their starting lines for the anthems and announcements.
The announcer’s voice rang out through the rink as Ilya stood, looking at his former teammates lined up before him and his new team.
“Before the anthem today we have someone very special to the Boston Raiders organization back in the building. Raiders fans please put your hands together for your former Boston Raider, Ilya Rozanov!”
The crowd erupted in cheers, a video of some of Ilya’s best moments with the Raiders playing on the Jumbotron. Ilya watched as the moments in his career he was most proud of played to thunderous applause, the clip of himself lifting the cup for the first time bringing more tears to his eyes.
As the video wound down and the final graphic was displayed, a simple picture of Ilya grinning in a Raiders jersey with “Welcome home #81” written next to it, Bood nudged Ilya’s arm. He gestured for the other to take a lap around the ice, a camera already pointed at the two as if they expected it to happen.
Ilya pushed off from his place on the ice as the applause got even louder, the noise of his skates scraping the ice completely drowned out by the screams and cheers. He waved to every direction he could, grinning while letting the tears fall from his eyes, so glad he had been worried about nothing.
The signs didn’t have any less of an impact on him as he skated past, each one bringing a wider smile to his face and a couple more tears to his eyes.
By the time he made it back to his spot in line with the starting players Ilya was convinced he would be dehydrated by the first faceoff at this rate. Before the anthem began, he scanned the crowd one more time, smiling to himself. Shane would be proud of him for facing this he thought as the opening notes of the first anthem played through the speakers.
Little did Ilya Rozanov know, Shane Hollander had watched the whole thing live.
Shane has also caught himself crying watching his boyfriend be welcomed back to Boston so warmly. His heart was so full with pride watching the man he loved so deeply face something Shane knew was a subject of a lot of anxiety for him.
In the morning, Ilya might regret letting his emotions show in front of so many people, he might wish clips from that moment were never shared online. But in the moment he had a hockey game to play, and unbeknownst to him he had a text from his boyfriend waiting for him once he got off the ice.
Shane: I am so proud of you Ilya. I love you so much