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Ilya was sat alone on the flight to Tampa, looking out of the window when the plane dipped suddenly. His stomach lurched. Just turbulence he reminded himself. This was just turbulence. Any attempt to soothe his anxiety was interrupted by a loud bang and the whole cabin was shaking violently. Ilya had knocked his can of coke on to the floor but didn’t have time to worry about the mess before the plane fucking dropped. His heart was in his mouth as he screamed. He gripped on to the armrests and squeezed his eyes shut like either action might save him.
We’re going to crash.
I’m going to die.
I’ll never see Shane again.
We were going to have dogs and kids.
We were going to be together properly.
They weren’t dropping any more but the cabin was still shaking as the pilot made an announcement containing the words “engine” and “emergency landing”. Ilya had stopped screaming but his eyes were blurry with tears. He needed to contact Shane. Somewhere behind him he heard Chouinard yell something about a fire. He couldn’t turn to look. He couldn’t move.
This was really happening. They were going to die. Shane. He would never know how much he meant to Ilya. He needed to contact Shane.
No signal. He cant text. But he has wi-fi. Ilya wiped the tears away only for his eyes to immediately blur over again. He opened the first app he saw, Instagram, and started typing.
I love you. Always. Maybe from the first time I saw you.
He allowed his mind to wander from the horror of the current reality and go back to that day so many years ago. He could live in that moment forever. He might just live in that moment for the rest of his life. Fuck, no he had to do something for Shane. Needed to give him something to hold to forever, something really good.
I am thinking of you, only you right now. A million memories. Thank you for all of those.
Whatever happens, I am with you. Safe in your heart. I believe it, moy lyubov.
The plane tilted from one side to another as Ilya prayed silently but fervently that he would either be able to see his lover or his mother again soon.
With a thud the plane had landed and cheers erupted from all on board.
Eventually at the hotel the team gathered in the bar. Ilya, as captain, had purchased a round of drinks for everyone and was checking in on the rookies when Bood grabbed his arm and dragged him down a hallway.
“Fuck Bood, what are you doing?”
“Ilya your Instagram.”
“What about it?” Why was Bood confronting him about social media when they had all just survived an emergency landing?
“Did you post something while we were on the plane”
“No? What? Why?”
“Your account has a post on it tagging fucking Shane Hollander and basically declaring that you love him”
Ilya pulled his phone from his pocket and quickly opened the app. He had sent those messages to Shane directly. Right? He was sure he had. But there it was. For all to see his declaration of love with Shane tagged so there was no doubt who the messages were intended for.
“I- I thought… I meant. They were meant to be private.”
“You might want to delete it before more people see”
Bood was right. Ilya deleted the post, but not before he noticed that it had already been shared 130 thousand times.
Fuck
Ilya walked back into the bar where the whole team was gathered around Wyatt. Looking at his phone. Ilya knew that they knew. Knew that they had seen the post before he had deleted it. They turned to look at him. A mixture of shock and disbelief across so many faces. He looked to Wyatt.
Pleading silently for him to say something. Anything.
Fuck
FUCK
no
Shane was going to kill him. No, Ilya thought, Shane wouldn’t kill him. That would be better than he deserved. Shane would hold him tight and say it was an accident, Ilya didn’t mean to completely ruin their lives. But he would know that disappointment was flowing through his veins. He had shattered the trust of the one person in the world who meant everything to him. Stupid Instagram, stupid tears, stupid fucking plane… stupid Ilya.
He couldn’t pretend to blame anything else, not the technology for betraying him, not the tears for clouding his eyes, not the plane for only making him think he was going to die and not having the mercy to finish the job so that he now had to live with the consequences of his enormous mistake.
“Wyatt” it came out as a strangled whisper, Ilya coughed, tears threatening to spill over and a lump forming solid and painful in his throat. “Wyatt” clearer this time but the word was still quiet almost afraid of being heard “I am going to hotel room” the only response was a quick nod. His own team couldn’t even speak to him, how was he supposed to talk to Shane, let alone even begin to fix this mess?
He closed the door to his hotel room and sank slowly to his knees, the tears that had been threatening to spill over now cascading down his cheeks, falling into the plush carpet.
Ilya knelt there for what felt like hours not moving, his mind running in circles letting him know everything he had just ruined, making it clear just how much Shane must hate him, telling him how useless, pathetic and stupid he was.
He wanted to talk to Shane, needed to hear him say that everything was going to be ok, that Ilya was forgiven, that he had a complicated long term plan to control the narrative with about twenty steps, that he still loved Ilya. But his brain kept reminding him that Shane wouldn’t say all those things.
Eventually bright rays of dawn sunlight streamed into the room through the large window Ilya had never closed the curtains over last night.
Time to face the music.
Ilya took his phone from his pocket, the movement slow and deliberate, wanting to extend the final few moments where he could pretend he still had a future with the man he had loved for over a decade. Ilya turned the device on. It felt so small in his hands. How could something so small have such an earth shattering impact?
He opened the settings app and turned off air-plane mode, bracing himself for an onslaught of messages, the inevitable break up text, the message from the Centaurs that he was fired, the message from the league that he would never play hockey again, the messages from Yuna and David that he had ruined their son’s life, that they never wanted to see him again, that he was dead to them.
Ilya’s phone vibrated angrily as a tidal wave of notifications all came through at once.
87 missed calls from Jane
25 texts from Jane
99+ twitter notifications
99+ Instagram notifications
Ilya’s thumb hovered over the missed call notification, about to call Shane when his phone’s screen was filled with Jane calling
He pressed accept and held his breath, hoping Shane would end things quickly, efficiently so Ilya could go back to hating himself.
“Ilya? Ilya, are you there?”
“yes”
“god fuck, I’ve been trying to call you for hours”
“I know”
“where are you”
“hotel, Tampa”
“alone?”
“yes”
Ilya wanted to ask him to just get on with it, yell at him, call him all the awful things he’d been calling himself.
“Ilya, are you ok?” the concern and fear in his voice was too much for Ilya to bear.
“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I- I- I thought we were going to crash, I thought I was going to die and I needed, I wanted to tell you one last time just how much I loved you and I meant to message directly I did not mean to post. It was mistake. Is not excuse. I should not have… we did not crash I did not die. I should not have. I have ruined everything so please please Shane just tell me you hate me and we can end call.”
The silence hung heavy in the air. Ilya took the phone from his ear to be sure the call hadn’t disconnected. After what felt like an eternity Ilya could hear a shaky breath.
“Ilya… I don’t hate you. Oh shit, have you thought this whole time that I was going to hate you over this? That I would break up with you over this?”
“You don’t?”
“Asshole I could never hate you, I love you. So. Much.”
“but I ruined plan”
“fuck the plan. There’s gonna be some shit online and probably from the commissioner but he’s a bigger asshole than you”
“Shane, why do you know how big the commissioners asshole is?”
Laughter poured through the phone. For the first time, Ilya felt like he could survive this.
They had spent the next two hours on the phone, Shane eventually steering the conversation to their next steps.
“We should release a statement, on all our social media not just Instagram this time.”
“A joint statement?”
“Yeah… you know… confirming things”
“You don’t want to deny it?”
“Part of me does, part of me wants to say someone stole your phone and it was all a big joke. But I don’t think I can, I- I don’t think I can deny this. I don’t think I can face anyone and deny you, deny how I feel about you, about us. At least not convincingly”
“I’m scared”
“Me too”
The silence hung heavy between them, the reality of their situation settling like a thick blanket of dust on Ilya’s shoulders.
“It is scary” Shane continued “but we are brave”
Ilya sniffed, his traitorous tear ducts filling again. “Can you call Farah? I have practice this morning”
fuck… did Ilya have practice? Was he going to be allowed to play today? Was he going to be allowed to play ever again?
“Already did last night, she’s writing some draft statements for us to review, gonna send them over in the next few hours”
“OK, whichever you like. I trust you” Ilya tensed after the last three words, it felt like a test, like he pulled a pin from a grenade and was waiting to see if it would explode or not.
“I trust you too. And I love you. Nothing can change that. Ever”
“I love you, moy pomidor”
“Tomato right?”
“Yep” a spark of pride swelling in Ilya’s chest that the man he loved was learning his native language.
“Weird but probably accurate right now”
“Two tomatoes in a pod”
“Its two peas in a pod Ilya”
“pfft”
“Have a good practice, good luck with the game.”
“Thank you, speak to you after?”
“Of course”
They sat in mutual silence a few more moments, neither one quite wanting to end the call nor knowing what else to say.
A small knock at Ilya’s hotel room door forced his hand
“I have to go, someone at the door”
“Bye, I love you.”
“Love you too” Ilya ended the call and exhaled for what felt like the first time since he thought he was going to die. He stood slowly and rolled his shoulders and then his neck, suddenly full of energy. Shane still loved him, whatever waited on the other side of that door couldn’t be half as scary as thought of losing Shane. He was brave. This was scary but he was brave.
The words he had used to comfort Shane years ago at the cottage echoing in his ears. Deep breath in, deep breath out. We are brave.
Ilya opened the door to Coach Weibe, fist raised about to knock again.
“Ilya, good you’re awake. Can I come in?”
Ilya stepped back, words getting caught in his throat, and gestured for Coach Weibe to enter. His coach took a seat on the end of his untouched bed as Ilya closed the door with a soft click.
“Did you sleep at last night?” Glancing back to undisturbed bedding as he asked, clearly already aware of the answer.
“No” Ilya answered as he stared at the carpet, silently praying it would open up and swallow him whole.
“I saw the posts you made while we were on the plane. I’m guessing they were meant to be private messages?”
“Yes, was mistake.” He felt ten years old, once again bracing for the vitriol of his father.
“Ilya, are you in a relationship with Shane Hollander”
Here we go
“Yes. We love each other… but I swear has never impacted how we play. I could never, he would never…”
“Ilya” Coach Weibe interrupted “Its ok.” he placed a hand gently on Ilya’s shoulder like he was made of something delicate, like he might just shatter into a thousand pieces if too much pressure was applied. Ilya felt like he might shatter. The sound of blood rushing in his ears so loud he wasn’t sure he had heard correctly.
“The league isn’t going to like it, hell there are a lot of fans that aren’t going to like it. But its ok. I trust you I know that you wouldn’t let anyone beat you, no matter how much they mean to you.”
“The team?”
“The team are good, you being gay…”
“Bisexual”
“What?”
“I’m bisexual”
“OK, you being bisexual is not going to make one jot of difference in any locker room of mine”
“Thank you”
“And just for the record I am too, bisexual that is”
“We have very gay team”
“Its about damn time Scott Hunter didn’t have all the lime light”
“He is 100 000 years old”
Suddenly serious Coach Weibe added “He’s younger than me”
“Damn”
A brief chuckle escaping from both men.
“Well now we’ve settled your relationship status and the fact that I am ancient beyond words I’ve called a team meeting for ten minutes from now. Grab a shower and some fresh clothes, I’ll see you downstairs in ten captain.”
Captain. Ilya was still captain. Ilya was still part of the team. Maybe, just maybe he could survive this storm.
8 minutes later Ilya was waiting in the lobby of the hotel when Wyatt exited the lift.
“Roz”
“Hazy”
“You good man?”
“I think so”
“I’m sorry, about last night. Not saying anything, I shouldn’t… I should have said something. I was still in shock I think, from the plane, wasn’t really processing”
“Is ok. Was weird night”
“You can say that again”
A few minutes passed and the whole team had filtered downstairs and then into a quiet meeting room Coach Weibe had booked for them.
“So” The coach started, interrupting a few muffled conversations “By now we all know what Rozanov posted on Instagram yesterday. And before I go any further, I know… I hope I don’t need to say this, but Ilya has my full support and that of the rest of the coaching staff. I expect the same from everyone else in this room”
A few shouts of “sure thing coach!” “yeah!” and “woop” rose from the gathered players.
“Good, good. Now important game tonight and we’re going to have to play it without our captain.”
Ilya felt like he had been struck by lightning.
Coach Weibe raised a hand to silence the disgruntled players.
“It is not my decision, or that of anyone involved with the Centaurs, and frankly one I do not agree with both as the team’s coach and as a human being. We have been instructed to bench Ilya for the time being by the commissioner. I have been informed that Mr Hollander will also not being playing for Montreal for the foreseeable”
“They cant do that!” said Troy “They cant, its not like Ilya and Shane are the only gay players, they weren’t even the first to come out”
“I agree its wrong” continued coach weibe “but there is not a precedent for two players on different teams to be in a relationship with each other and that is the decision the league has made right now.”
fucking Crowell
“We will be working closely with the commissioner to come up with a solution as soon as possible that gets our captain back on the ice”
“What if we refused to play?”
“Yeah, we go on strike until they let Ilya and Shane play again!”
Coach Weibe looked a little panicked.
Ilya stood and turned to face his team “No” he said firmly “that will not help, it will not change Crowell’s mind and I will not have you risking your careers for me, you will play and I will watch for as long as I have to. We will win so many games, we will show everyone that we are good team and I will proud to watch you from the bench. And when we reach Stanley cup final and I play and score winning goal I will claim all credit!”
“Fuck yeah man” shouted Wyatt
“Yeah lets win the fucking cup!”
Ilya was pulled into a brief group hug with the rest of his team, more certain than not that he would survive this.
Ilya stayed behind as the other centaurs left for the rink to practice, he headed back to his hotel room the lack of sleep finally catching up to him as every bone in his body screamed for rest… for sleep. Reaching the sanctuary of his room he called Shane.
“Ilya?”
“Shane, is it true have you been benched too?”
“Yeah, fuck, this is mad. This is- this is such bullshit!”
“It will be Crowell”
“Damn right it is. That asshole”
“How are the voyagers?”
“It’s um… it’s not- not… fuck they… well Hayden knew so he’s trying, but the others well I want to think they’re just surprised but I’m worried Ilya that they- that everything I’ve done for the team is going to mean absolutely nothing”
“I’m so sorry, you deserve so much better”
“How’s your team taking the news?”
Ilya was unsure of how to answer, Shane was not being supported by his team while Ilya had people on his side. It was so unfair. This hadn’t been Shane’s fault yet the impact seemed to be so much worse for him. After a moment Ilya finally answered.
“They’re good… better than I expected. I’m benched but they support us” Ilya tried to emphasise the ‘us’ to let Shane know that he wasn’t alone that the support existed for him too, not just Ilya.
Even if that support was thousands of miles away and on a different team.
“That’s good. I’m happy for you.” Shane’s voice was quiet, emotionless.
“They support us Shane” Ilya repeated, hoping he could get through to the man he loved.
“Farah sent over the statement options if you wanted to take a look”
“I trust you to make decision”
“Please Ilya. Please look at them I- I cant… please don’t put this on me”
Fuck, you selfish asshole. Ilya had caused this, Ilya was the one being supported by his team and he was so selfish that he was placing an extra burden on Shane.
“I’m sorry, you’re right I didn’t think. I will read drafts, will let Farah know which I prefer”
“Thanks… Ilya?”
“Yeah?”
“Can I stay at yours tonight?”
“You know I will not be there?”
“Yeah I know asshole but I just… I want to be there when you get back from Tampa and I really don’t want to be in Montreal right now”
“Of course, you still have key?”
“Yeah”
“Send me photo of you in my bed”
“Anything you have in mind for what I should wear?”
“Nothing I want to be able to see every inch of you”
“I swear to god if you post my nudes anywhere”
“Plural? You will send multiple pictures? These are just for me sweetheart. I’m not sharing you with anyone.”
They stayed on the phone for another hour while Shane packed a bag to take to Ilya’s and Ilya relaxed into his bed desperately fighting the wave of sleep threatening to consume him.
As Ilya’s gentle snores drifted through the speakers of Shane’s phone he smiled and ended the call, relieved the man he loved was getting to rest.
The next morning Ilya boarded the plane with the rest of the Centaurs, who had won decisively the previous night. There was a weird atmosphere, the team excited about the win yet nervous about their captain’s future, not to mention the prospect of flying again so soon.
Ilya could barely concentrate, he wanted to be there for his team, join in the celebrations, reassure them that this flight would be fine. He wanted to be their captain. Instead, he was consumed by thoughts of the day ahead. Ilya still hadnt replied to Farah, not because he didn’t like any of her drafts but because he had woken to an email from commissioner Crowell ‘inviting’ him and Shane to a meeting at the league’s Ottawa office only an hour after he was due to land back in the city.
Shane decided to meet him at the airport. No sunglasses this time, no hiding. He was waiting with other loved ones at the airport exit. Waiting for his loved one, unable to contain his smile as he practically vibrated with excitement and nerves. He had even written out a sign that read ‘Moy lyubov’ it was mushy but if they were going to be out he was going to make up for lost time.
Ilya rounded the corner baseball cap pulled low, sunglasses on and shoulders hunched trying to make himself small, trying to disappear into the crowd. Coach Wiebe had lied to the media saying they were staying on an extra day in Tampa hoping that they could slip back into Ottawa unnoticed, but Ilya didn’t want to take any chances. He glanced up expecting Wiebe’s trick to not have worked, expecting the flash of cameras and reporters with so many questions. Instead he saw Shane and his heart stopped. Shane. He was smiling wider than maybe Ilya had ever seen him smile before and holding a sign. Ilya basically ran to his boyfriend and planted a kiss on his lips, Shane’s hands finding their way into his curls cementing the embrace keeping Ilya close. When they eventually parted Ilya became aware of the wolf whistles and cheers from his teammates. He turned back to them and laughed “My boyfriend is hot yes?”
“How the fuck did you two keep this secret for years?” Wyatt asked
Ilya looked to Shane wondering how in fact he had ever been able to be within a 100miles of this man and not kiss him “I do not know”
“We need to go” Shane interjected “The commissioner has invited us to a meeting”
A chorus of good luck and well wished rose from the gathered Centaurs.
Shane pulled into a space in the parking lot outside the league’s Ottawa office. “You ready?”
Ilya reached over and picked up his hand. Pulling it gently over and placing a light kiss on his palm.
“Yes. Are you moy lyubov?
“I think so… as long as you keep holding my hand” Shane blushed deeply.
“I will never let go of this hand again” Ilya paused “Well I will have to let go for a bit to get out of car and then maybe occasionally when going to bathroom yes?”
“I think I can live with those terms”
They had been waiting in a corridor for about ten minutes when commissioner Crowell finally appeared from within a meeting room. “Mr Rozanov, Mr Hollander. Please come in.”
The two men sat on the other side of an obnoxiously large mahogany desk. Roger Crowell leaned back in his leather chair. Considering the two men in front of him. Inspecting them.
“There are few things in life that I absolutely cannot stand” his voice calm and measured every syllable deliberate. “One thing I hate is surprises. Another is disloyalty. And another is liars”
And homosexuals Ilya added silently.
“But the thing I hate most is being embarrassed. And I especially hate it when the league is embarrassed”
“That does sound bad” Ilya replied mildly.
Crowell sat forward, fists clenched, knuckles white and growled through gritted teeth “Not another word from you Rozanov”
Ilya shrank back, he could feel the tension radiating off Shane. Ilya also felt Shane’s foot nudging his own. We are brave. He nodded, smart enough to indicate his compliance with the order.
“You can imagine, how I feel about you two right now” He stood leaning on the wide desk and towering over the tall men before him. “Your behaviour” he sneered “has put me in a very difficult situation. On one hand what you have been doing absolutely cannot be allowed, on the other you are two of the biggest stars in the league and the playoffs are around the corner.”
“Cant be allowed?” this time it was Shane that interrupted.
Crowell gripped the edges of the desk, eyes narrowing, trying to bore a hole into centre of Shane’s head “I would have thought that would be obvious. But apparently not seen as one of you” his stare now fixed on Ilya “seemed to think it was acceptable to post a declaration of love on social media for the whole world to see.”
“It was a mistake” Ilya added quietly.
“You’re fucking right it was a mistake!” Crowell shouted, fists clenched again and banging on the desk.
“What he means” Shane started “was that that was meant to be sent privately, Ilya did not intend for the messages to be public.”
“I don’t care. Those messages… they shouldn’t exist at all, publicly or privately and now that they do exist I have fucking clean this up. I’ve had to fly to Ottawa specially. Do you think I have endless free time to deal with shit like this”
“Clean this up?” Shane questioned, surprisingly steadily.
“This mess” Crowell continued “and it is a fucking mess. Needs to be dealt with ASAP” some spittle spraying from his mouth with the force of the ‘p’. “We need to get things back to normal as soon as possible. Avoid a media circus”
“We would like to avoid that too”
Crowell nodded and sat back down seemingly satisfied that he had gotten his message across.
“Good. Good. The league has prepared a statement and will be releasing it this afternoon”
He handed them each a sheet of paper. Ilya steeled himself and prepared to read.
For nearly eleven seasons, Shane Hollander and Ilya Rozanov have been elite players in the NHL.
Their skill and performance on the ice demonstrates a rare level of talent that thrills hockey fans everywhere. Earlier this week, a post was made on Mr Rozanov’s social media account that appeared to be a declaration of romantic feeling towards Mr Hollander. While the post was taken down quickly after being posted, the league is aware that many fans will want clarity on this situation.
Both players have been questioned by the league commissioner and have confirmed that there is no romantic relationship between the two, that they both identify as straight men and that the post was the result of Mr Rozanov’s Instagram account being hacked by a third party. As a result they will both return to their respective teams before their next scheduled games.
The league wishes them well for the remainder of the season.
Ilya knew this wouldn’t fool everyone, but he suspected it would be enough for many, for those who couldn’t, didn’t want to believe that they were together. Shane was still reading, he had left his glasses in Montreal. Ilya was tired, he didn’t want to hide any more, thought the universe had given them an opportunity to rip of the bandage and finally be together properly. What he wasn’t sure about was if Shane would still want the same now he had been given a way out. This was Ilya’s fault and whatever Shane decided, no matter how much it hurt him, he would agree to.
Ilya watched as Shane finished reading and quietly placed the paper back on the desk. His hands were shaking slightly as he wiped them on his jeans. “No” Shane stated “This isn’t true”
“That doesn’t matter” retorted Crowell.
“It does. To me. To us. We’re not straight, Ilya’s account wasn’t hacked and we are in a committed romantic relationship” Shane was standing now and he continued “We are together. We are going to continue to be together. And… and we’re getting married in the summer”
We are? Ilya thought, his heart might explode it was beating so fast. Had Shane really just said that?
“That” Crowell started coldly “is not going to happen. Not if you want to continuing playing in my league”
“Really” Ilya asked, standing to join his boyfriend. No his fiancé. “You are going to kick us out of the league?” he wanted to flip this fucking stupidly large desk. He wanted to punch Roger Crowell right in his homophobic face.
“We’ll sue the shit out of the league, out of you” Shane was leaning forward now, his voice steady, teeth bared like a wolf about to go in for the kill.
After an eternity Crowell said almost indifferently “you’re right. You could sue the league, you might even win with a good enough lawyer. But do you think for a second any team would take you on after that. Hell it’s going to be hard enough for either of you to be signed again after this. You’re done unless you go along with my statement”
Both men were trembling with rage, after everything they had done, everything they had sacrificed for the league.
“We can release the statement. People will believe it because they want to. Because the alternative is” he shuddered, contempt and disgust flashing across his face “not palatable. You will not get married in the summer. Or ever. You will end whatever it is you have been doing and we will all move on.”
Ilya’s jaw was clenched so hard he thought his teeth might shatter, he was about to quit then and there when Shane placed a hand on his shoulder.
“First of all fuck this. Second, fuck you.”
Crowell’s eyes widened in surprise at that “third of all, we are going to do whatever the hell we want this summer and then we are going to come back and have another all-star season again next year. We’re not some naive rookies you can intimidate. We know what we are worth. To this sport, to the league.”
“What you were worth” Crowell hissed “You’re destroying everything you have ever worked for if you do this.”
“I don’t care. I would rather have nothing than lose him” Shane countered.
Ilya’s stomach was doing somersaults, he thought he might be sick right there on that stupid desk all over the print out of that awful statement.
“I am offering you the only chance you have of saving your careers, your reputations. The reputation of the league. If you do anything to confirm a relationship between you... you will obliterate your own legacies. You’ll be nothing, jokes. Choose carefully”
Shane grabbed Ilya’s hand, looked to him and then back at the commissioner. “I choose him. We’re leaving” Shane pulled Ilya from the room, he was still in a state of shock so full of adrenaline and love he thought he might burst. Crowell was yelling after them but neither man cared.
They collapsed into Shane’s car breathless. Panting next to each other like they’d both just run a marathon.
Shane broke the breathy quiet “I’m sorry, I kinda steamrollered that-”
Ilya crashed their lips together, long fingers tangling in Shane’s hair, pulling him closer deepening the kiss. Shane’s hands found their way naturally up the base of Ilya’s skull embedding in the soft curls. They were interrupted when Shane accidentally leant on the horn which let out a loud, angry “BEEP” they broke apart laughing.
“So” Shane asked “youre not mad then?”
“Not at you. Furious at Crowell”
“Yeah well I recorded the whole thing, it was my mom’s idea”
“Holy shit Hollander, good job”
Shane started the car, about to start driving back to Ilya’s house.
“Wait” Ilya said
“Dont tell me you’ve changed your mind Ilya”
“No, no. Never. Its just- well its just that you said we were getting married in the summer?”
“Yeah that kinda came out. We don’t have to”
“You don’t want to?” Ilya asked shakily.
“Of course I do. God I would marry you tomorrow. I’m just- well I kinda didn’t ask you did I? Just kinda stated it was happening, Didn’t want to force you into something you didn’t want.”
“I want. I want to be your husband. I want to marry you in front of everyone we know so they all know we belong to each other.”
They drove home in contented silence, each with a hand on the gear stick, occasionally looking over to each other and grinning. Bursting through the front door, Ilya was desperate to get Shane upstairs to ravish, worship his fiancé. He glanced down and noticed the trail of red rose petals on the floor.
“What is this?”
“I um.. had kinda planned to ask you something when we got back”
“Moy lyubov” Ilya whispered.
“Come with me”
Shane led him upstairs, following the trail of petals up to his bedroom. Inside the petal were joined by dozens of electric candles. And there on his bed was a small black ring box. Shane walked over and picked it up. Turning back to Ilya he went down on one knee, tears welling in his eyes.
“Ilya, moy lyubov, will you marry me?”
Ilya sank to his knees in front of Shane, hot salty tears streaming down his cheeks. “Yes” Hands now cupping Shane’s face “Oh my god yes”