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Ilya barely made it four weeks into the season before breaking his ankle.
It wasn’t really anything to write home about. Well, he was the Centaurs’ captain and their star center, so having him out was certainly not ideal, but it wasn’t like this was a particularly egregious injury or anything. He hadn’t been tripped by another player or knocked over during a fight; he had just taken an unlucky hit against the boards and twisted his ankle weirdly on his way down.
He was out for a couple months at the very least, but was hoping to get back on the ice for the playoffs. The team’s doctor, Terry, had insisted that Ilya stay home while the rest of the team travelled. It was pretty much the only way Terry could keep Ilya from stubbornly walking on it (or worse, skating on it) and just prolonging the injury.
Ilya had been characteristically grumpy about it, at least for the first week or so. He wanted to be back with his teammates, back on the ice with his best friends and amazing husband.
And that’s about all Shane knew about Ilya right now. And it was eating Shane alive.
Shane had absolutely no idea how he had been able to go for months at a time without even speaking to Ilya, back when their meetings were limited to hasty hookups in twentieth floor hotel rooms. In the couple of years since Shane had been traded to Ottawa, the two of them had spent every second together. They didn’t just live together – they drove to practice together, they sat next to each other on planes, they roomed together on every trip, their stalls in the locker room were right next to each other.
Now, Shane had to go for days at a time without Ilya. But Shane wasn’t used to the distance anymore. He was so busy. Up at 6AM for his run and workout, then straight to practice, then a game, then the guys would drag him to some awful bar, and he would end up back in his hotel room, exhausted.
It had been one of those days when Shane shot up out of his (horribly empty) hotel bed in Colorado, frantically pawing for his phone on the nightstand.
“Fuck,” he breathed, frantically checking his text messages.
Ilya <3
Yesterday, 11:24 AM
Ilya: Good morning ♥️
[Photo: Anya, asleep, curled in a perfect circle in Ilya’s lap on the couch in the Hollander-Rozanov living room.]
12:01 AM
Shane: Ilya I’m so sorry, I just realized I didn’t text you all day
Shane: I feel so fucking terrible
Shane: I’m so sorry, I had such a busy day with the game and everything
Shane: I’m so sorry for all the texts, I know you’re probably asleep right now
Shane: I love you so much please text me when you see this
12:15 AM
Shane: I’m so sorry baby. I don’t deserve you
12:28 AM
Shane: Fuck. I feel so bad. I can’t sleep.
Ilya: Sweetheart is everything okay?
Shane: Oh my god did I wake you
Ilya: No you didn’t, I was in the shower
Shane: Okay. Good.
Shane: I’m so sorry Ilya
Ilya: I just read everything
Ilya: Why are you sorry?
Shane: You’re stuck at home alone and I don’t
even have the decency to text you back
Ilya: Shane, we talked on the phone for two hours last night
Shane: But you texted me at noon and I didn’t even respond!
Shane: I haven’t texted you once today
Ilya: Is okay, you are busy
Shane: But you’re my husband
Shane: You’re so much more important than anything else
Ilya: I am not upset with you мой любимый
Shane: Are you sure?
Shane: I feel like I’ve been so neglectful of you while you’re at home
nursing an injury
Ilya: I don’t understand. Do you want me to be upset with you?
Shane: I don’t know!
Shane: It just feels like you should be
Ilya: Is okay! I promise
Ilya: Do you want to call me?
Shane: No, I don’t want to keep you up any longer than I already have
Ilya: Shane.
Ilya: Call me
Shane huffed out a breath, glancing over to Luca Haas’s bed. The two had been sharing in Ilya’s absence. He was out like a light, snoring loudly enough to be mistaken for a lawnmower. Haasy wasn’t normally a heavy sleeper (Shane had learned that the hard way, sorry kid), but he was grateful for it right now. Somehow, Luca seeing Shane cry felt far more embarrassing than all of the filthy things Luca had heard Shane say through hotel walls. Shane took his phone out onto the small balcony of his hotel room and called his husband.
Ilya picked up within the first ring. “Hi, солнышко.” Shane could hear the gentle smile on his face.
Shane could already feel tears pricking at the corners of his eyes. “Ilya, I’m so sorry-”
“Don’t even start.” Ilya cut him off abruptly. “What’s going on?”
Shane paused, genuinely confused. “What do you mean?”
“I know you, Shane. You think I am mad with you, but there is no reason. There is something else, then. Tell me.”
Shane let out a deep sigh, releasing some of the tension in his shoulders. Damn, this man knew how to read him like a book.
“I miss you.”
“I miss you too,” Ilya replied, almost automatically, clearly expecting more to Shane’s response.
“It’s been a while since we’ve had to…do this.” Shane could feel everything about to spill off of his tongue.
“Yes,” Ilya agreed. “I much prefer spending every second with you.”
Shane ran an anxious hand through his hair. Ilya’s warmth wasn’t reaching him.
“Are you happy with me?” Shane blurted out.
Ilya went silent for a moment. Then, “What?”
“I’m serious, Ilya. I haven’t been texting you all that much, I’m on the road all the time, I barely get to spend time with you, but you seem not to mind all that much. I should be at home, with you, helping you recover. And it’s not like I’m mad at you for not caring, most people would probably find it really sweet, but I feel like I’m not doing enough for you, and that makes me feel like you’re just pretending you don’t mind because you know how I get sometimes, and you don’t want to make me upset. And I would hate that even more, you know, if you felt like you were walking on eggshells around me.”
He was practically yelling at Ilya by the time he was finished. And there it was. All that word vomit that had been waiting to spill out. It was all out on the table now.
Shane knew it was a lot to process, and he knew he was being stupid but in the few moments of silence that followed, he truly thought Ilya was trying to find the words to ask for a divorce.
“Shane. You are more than enough for me,” Ilya said, simply.
Shane felt his heart begin to fill with warmth. Ilya’s tone was so simple, so gentle, so completely devoid of anything but raw honesty. Like it was the truest, most obvious statement ever uttered.
There were a few more moments of silence before Ilya spoke again.
“I know there have always been people who…expect a lot from you,” Ilya went on, choosing his words carefully. “But just you is enough for me. You are not perfect, but if you were perfect, then you wouldn’t be Shane anymore.”
His words hung in the air, dripping with care.
“And Shane is enough for me. I don’t want anything else.”
That was it. Shane burst into tears.
Heavy, uncontrollable sobs that shook his whole body. The kind of sobs only possible when you’ve been holding them in for longer than you can remember. He couldn’t help but be a bit embarrassed by it, but there was no holding them back by now.
“Oh, мой любимый,” Ilya cooed. “I wish I was there to hold you.”
“This is so stupid,” Shane managed through sniffles and sobs. “I’m supposed to be the one taking care of you right now.”
“Is not stupid,” Ilya replied, almost sternly. His tone softened. “I would be the same way if I was out there without you, Shane. Right now, I get to lie in bed with Anya and watch my gorgeous husband play hockey on the TV. Is not so bad. I know it is a lot to travel so much, yes?”
Shane’s sobs were starting to soften by now. He sniffled. “Yeah, it’s um…it’s really overwhelming. I think I got too used to you being here with me.”
Ilya chuckled fondly. “Yes, it is a nice thing to be so used to. Getting to go to work with your husband.”
“It’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me,” Shane replied truthfully.
“Yes. Same.”
They sat in comfortable silence, Shane closing his eyes and feeling the cold January air blow against his face. He let the distant sounds of the bustling city ground him, feeling the concrete balcony under his feet.
“Feel better now?” Ilya asked once Shane’s sniffles had mostly ceased.
“Yeah,” Shane said, his lips turned upward in a little smile.
“Good. Would be a shame if my husband went to bed sad after scoring sexy hat trick.”
Shane groaned, holding in a laugh. “Ilya!”
“What! They were very good goals.”
“You are the worst.”
“And you are terrible liar, Shane Hollander.”
Shane would never admit it, but Ilya was absolutely right. There was a dopey grin plastered across Shane’s face.
“You should go to sleep, probably,” Ilya said, after a moment.
Shane sighed. “Yeah, you’re right.”
“As always,” Ilya said smugly.
“Ilya, not even five minutes ago I was crying into my phone!” Shane whisper-yelled with poorly feigned frustration.
“Yes, but you are not crying now, are you?”
“I love you, you asshole,” Shane said, in probably the most adoring way anyone has ever been called an asshole.
“I love you more.”
“No you do-” Shane tried to say, before being promptly cut off by Ilya hanging up the phone.
Shane rolled his eyes, but went back inside with a big grin stretched across his face. He had just hopped into bed, pulling the covers over himself, when he heard Luca’s soft voice from across the room.
“Hollzy?” Luca asked quietly, nervously.
“What’s up, kid?”
Man, sometimes Luca did really feel like Shane’s son.
“Um…” Luca stared at the ceiling awkwardly for a second. “Are you like, okay?” There was a beat before he blurt out in a high pitched voice, “I don’t wanna intrude or anything, I just heard like-”
Shane chuckled a bit before cutting the poor kid off. “I promise I’m okay.” It was sweet of him to ask. Maybe people seeing Shane have emotions wasn’t so awful after all.
“Okay, that’s good…” There was clearly something he wasn’t saying.
“Okay, spit it out Haasy.”
Luca stuttered for a moment, awkward as ever.
“Okay well, I heard you and Roz talking, and it kind of sounded like you were arguing. And I really don’t want to be a child of divorce.”
Shane immediately burst out laughing. He felt bad – Luca had said that completely earnestly.
“We’re okay, bud. We weren’t fighting, I promise,” Shane said, when he had finally finished choking on his laughter.
“Okay, okay,” Luca said, relieved. “That’s good.” He paused. “Goodnight.”
“Goodnight, Luca,” Shane said, before shutting his eyes and quickly drifting into wonderfully cozy dreams of strong arms wrapped around his waist and golden curls tucked under his chin.
—-
Bonus: Luca’s POV
The Kid’s Table
12:50 AM
haasy.tumblr.com: guys i think dad and dad are fighting
Sherlock Holmes(berg): NO
Pointey: Haasy it is 1AM
haasy.tumblr.com: ik but hollzy just like shot up out of bed and went onto the balcony
Young 👶🍼: That does not automatically mean they are fighting
haasy.tumblr.com: no listen
haasy.tumblr.com: he’s on the phone with cap and hollzy’s like yelling
haasy.tumblr.com: something about how hollzy should be at home with him right now
haasy.tumblr.com: oh holy shit hollzy’s full on sobbing now
Pointey: Ohhhh shit
haasy.tumblr.com: yeah it sounds pretty serious
haasy.tumblr.com: when he first got up i didn’t want him to know i was
awake so i just pretended to be snoring really loudly
Young 👶🍼: LMAOOOOO
Pointey: Luca you are the least subtle person I know
haasy.tumblr.com: guys shut up i’m doing important reconnaissance here
Sherlock Holmes(berg): Honestly if it was anyone else I would be worried
but Hollzy is the one person I think you could get away with literally going
HONK SHOO at
Pointey: Keep us updated Luc
Young 👶🍼: Yeah I really don’t wanna be a child of divorce
haasy.tumblr.com: okay will do
1:17 AM
haasy.tumblr.com: okay guys they’re not fighting
Young 👶🍼: PHEW
Sherlock Holmes(berg): Good. I would've been up all night worrying
Pointey: Is Holly ok tho? Didn’t you say he was like crying or smth
haasy.tumblr.com: yeah he seemed ok
haasy.tumblr.com: i think cap was probably talking him down
haasy.tumblr.com: also he laughed really hard when i told him i didn’t
wanna be a child of divorce
Young 👶🍼: Mf you stole my line