Chapter Text
Hayden blinked away the sunlight in his eyes and rolled over to hold Jackie. Except, her half of the bed was empty. He grabbed his phone to check the time, except, it wasn't his phone. When did his arm get so muscular? He never had so many moles before. He looks around and realizes, this isn't his bedroom at all. The last thing he remembered from the night before was watching a movie with the kids while Jackie caught up with some work online. Then they went to bed.
How the hell did he end up wherever this is?
He picked up the phone that wasn't his, and oddly his thumbprint unlocked it. He scrolled through it a bit, most things were in Cryllic?
He rolled out of the mystery bed and stumbled into the adjacent bathroom, Ilya fucking Rozanov stared back in the mirror.
"Fuck!" He cursed out loud, except is was Rozanov's voice that echoed through the bathroom.
This had to be a dream, he just watched Freaky Friday with the kids, it must've been on his brain when he fell asleep.
He smacked his face a few times, "wake up! Wake up!" He told himself.
Just then Rozanov's phone lit up with an incoming call from his own number.
"Rozanov?" He answered.
"Pike." His own voice spat back.
"What the fuck happened?"
"How the fuck would I know?"
Theres a long pause of silence, both men equally pissed off and lost.
"Well how do we switch back?" Hayden breaks the silence.
"How should I know. This is real life, not fabulous Lindsay Lohan film."
Hayden rubs at his temple, only Rozanov would be cracking jokes at a time like this. He would much rather be in Jamie Lee Curtis's body right now.
"When do we play against each other next?"
"Thursday next week." Rozanov replies immediately, which makes sense, the captain would have the schedule down pat.
"Okay so, what do we do until then? Live as each other?"
The silence on Rozanov's end stretches for awhile, Hayden can tell he's trying to come up with some response, some wise crack, some antidote.
"I suppose we have no choice." The Russian finally responds.
Hayden runs his hands through his-Rozanovs-hair, the curls responding so differently than his shorter straight hair.
"Okay then, like, we should set up some ground rules right? And teach each other things so we can trade places without people catching onto something."
"Pike as soon as you play hockey people will know something is wrong with me."
"Yeah and as soon as I walk around acting like an insufferable jackass people will know something is wrong with me."
"Insufferable jackass who grew talent overnight."
Hayden wishes he took Shane up on his offer to start meditating with him.
"Okay starting tomorrow I'm back on the road. But you'll have to be me tonight with my family. First things first, don't you dare fucking think about having sex with my wife-"
"You think I am rapist?"
"What?"
"You think I would have sex with woman who thinks its her husband? That's rape. I'm not a fucking rapist. You really think that low of me that it needs to be stated I don't have sex with a woman who thinks I am someone else? Obviously I'm not going to do anything to your wife, Jesus Christ."
Rozanov actually sounds offended, but frankly Hayden is relieved because he was worried, Rozanov had quite a reputation for sleeping around.
"Well dont fuck anyone on the road either. If it gets out I slept with someone Jackie won't believe it was because I was really Ilya Rozanov."
Rozanov snorts, but doesn't respond so Hayden continues.
"My kids are Ruby, Jade, Arthur, and Amber. Jade and Ruby are the twins. I'm lactose intolerant-"
"Weak."
"I'm lactose intolerant. On the road you usually roommate with Shane. You better be fucking nice to him. Don't fucking take stuff he tells you and make it into a chirp once you're you again. I'll send over the weeks schedule to you. Just try to lay low, don't be an asshole, don't be yourself."
Hayden rifles through Rozanov's closet as he lists off the instructions for being him. Is it a stereotype that Eastern European men like tracksuits? He feels like it is. If it isn't, it should be.
"I eat high performance diet. Only fruits, vegetables, brown rice, salmon, chicken. No seasoning. No salt. No MSG. No sugar. Do not go off of diet, results for body could be catostrophic. Do not go through my phone, do not go through my texts. But especially, especially, do not text Jane. I mean it Pike. If you want groceries or whatever, I have ordering apps, just use that. You go out in public and people always want pictures, best to avoid. You have a mandatory practice today, I well send you picture of entire weeks schedule. Just try to keep to yourself. If people ask why you play like shit, pretend to be sick."
Hayden heaves out a sigh, of course Rozanov is on some bullshit diet like Shane. Maybe that's the secret to being the top of the league, eating like you have no taste buds and don't understand joy. He'd say "fuck it" and eat like a normal person but he knows how sensitive Shane's stomach has gotten from his diet and he doesn't want to risk it. He saves his own number in the phone under Rozanov's initials, just as it chimes with a new text.
Hayden checked the cabinet. Some deodorant, toothpaste, lube, condoms, so many condoms, and an epipen. NO medication in sight.
Hayden rolled his eyes at the self righteous asshole. How performative could you be, to not have medication in your house on the guise of being "strong"? His phone chimes again with a copy of Rozanov's schedule and he could see that mandatory practice was in two hours. He went to make himself some breakfast, the kitchen was fairly barren which made enough sense given Rozanov lived alone and was constantly on the road. There was a practically unopened case of ginger ale, and some takeout containers, probably from a party. Fuck it Hayden thought to himself, before ordering some groceries, which yes, included a family size container of aspirin.
Rozanov had 5 cars to choose from, all ostentatious sports cars that Hayden would never want in a million years.
And every single one, a stickshift, something Hayden didn't know how to operate.
"Goddamnit" He mumbled to himself, before using Rozanov's account to order an Uber. Rozanov would probably prefer if he didn't drive his cars anyway, so at least there was that.
Practice was, unbelievable brutal. He was used to Shane led practices, so as captain he tried to approach it the same way.
It did not go the same way. The Boston team knew something was up immediately, continuously asking Hayden what his injury was or how bad his hangover was. Add to that Hayden not knowing everyones names, leading to a delay in calling people as he had to wait until their back was turned and he could try to read their jersey. Shane and Rozanov were considered the best in the league. Shane was known for his hockey brain, for being a great strategist. Rozanov was known for his speed. Even Hayden could admit that his skating abilities were goddamn impressive. So even someone who had been pro for years like himself looked like a rookie in comparison.
Hayden tightened his laces in the locker room, he had been Rozanov for all of a day and he despised it, no wonder the dude was so miserable to be around.
"Yo Roz, you gonna grab some pizza and beers with us?" Marleau, the alternate captain asked, Hayden knew he and Rozanov were friends.
He also knew it was best to steer clear from people close to Rozanov, until he knew how to pretend to be him, which would be never, hopefully.
"I can't, my diet."
"Diet? The fuck? You sound like a chick." Some guy that Hayden couldn't be bothered to know the name of piped in.
"Yeah, my performance diet? I can't have stuff like that, no beer, pizza, junk food."
There was a second of silence before locker room bursts into laughter.
"Good one Roz, you sound like fucking golden boy Hollander or some shit. C'mon, we're heading to Regina's"
Hayden picks at his pizza and takes another swig of his beer. So far the team bonding was a lot more tolerable than actually being on the ice, because it was a lot easier to keep to himself.
"Yo Roz, we might hit up The Grand after this, you in?" Carmichael asks him.
"Eh, no thanks. Not today."
"Dude we need our wingman though."
Hayden just shrugs and Marleau lets out a roar of laughter, clapping him on his shoulders.
"What did I tell you guys? Roz has gone soft! He only has eyes for his Montreal girl now!"
"Fuck off." Hayden responds, which seems apt enough for a Rozanov response. Montreal girl? He had no clue if Rozanov had some girlfriend, but he did warn him not to text Jane. Hayden wanted to be nosey but also felt that if he had swapped bodies with Rozanov, he must have sinned in some past life, and had to make amends now by giving him the privacy he had asked for.
"Yo Roz, what's 20% of $179.85?" One of the rookies asks as the waitress hands them the check.
"Nah man, that waitress was hot." Another one pipes in with a laugh
"Yo Roz, what's 30% of $179.85?"
Hayden shrugs because how the hell would he know?
"Your phone doesn't have calculator?"
"Way to be an ass! Never need a calculator when you're around, dickhead." Carmichael chimed in, opening his own phone and doing the tip math.
He was able to get a ride home from Marleau, telling him he was too hungover to have driven himself to practice that morning. How that excuse will hold up at the next game, he's unsure. After a quick check in with Rozanov to make sure his kids are okay, he treats himself to a shot of Rozanov's fancy vodka and tries his best to fall asleep, praying he'll wake up as himself.
He's sitting in a small kitchen, yellow floral wallpaper decorating the parts of the walls not covered by a severely outdated oven and fridge.Theres a small cake in front of him, 3 candles lit. A young woman sings to him, an older man stands in the corner watching silently, arms folded. Theres a little boy next to him, maybe 6 or 7. The singing stops, and he goes to blow out the candles when the little boy shoves him aside and blows them out instead. He begins to cry. The man in the corner stomps over and backhands the little boy, the sound echoing through the kitchen like a whip. The man is yelling words he cannot understand. He stops crying immediately and straightens out in his seat.
Hayden wakes to the sound of Rozanov's alarm. What kind of dream was that? It felt more like a memory. Rozanov's memory? Hayden shudders at the implications before grabbing Rozanov's phone and calling him.
"Pike?" He hears his own sleepy voice ask after a few rings.
"Do you have any siblings?"
"What?"
"Do you have a brother?"
"Why are you asking this?"
"I had a dream last night, that I think was a memory? A little kid was turning 3 and a woman was singing to him in Russian-"
"And brother blows out candles then father slaps him? Yes, that was my third birthday. My earliest memory I think. You have little sister?"
"What?"
"I have dream last night I am little toddler boy, and man takes me into hospital room and there is a woman holding baby asking if I want to meet my little sister."
Hayden can picture it in his head, Layla wrapped up in the hospital issued blanket. His mother looking so exhausted but so overwhelmed with joy. Rain pounding on the windows.
"The day Layla was born. That's my earliest memory."
"Fuck."
"Fuck."
"What does this mean?"
"I have no idea but its creeping me the fuck out."
"Hayd?" He can hear Jackies voice in the background, God does he miss her.
"Sorry, Shane needed help with something, I'll be right out." He hears his own voice call back.
"Tell Shane to stop calling so early on the rare days the kids sleep in." He hears her joke in reply. Silence fills the line for a bit as Rozanov waits for her to be out of earshot, and then he continues.
"Listen Pike, we see each other in what, 5 days? I can survive that long. But what happens if we don't switch back after that??"
Hayden wants to make some wisecrack in reply but he's too upset to function.
He has the day off thankfully, then tomorrow it's a home game against New York.
"Scott Hunter is so senile he probably can't tell us apart and has no clue what team he's playing against on a good day, so no need to worry about that game." Rozanov had told him on the phone, even though Hunter was all of four years older than them.
Hayden wondered what Rozanov would usually do on a day like today. Hayden had a wife and kids, so he knew every day he wasn't on the road was devoted to spending time with them. He tried to compare Rozanov to Shane, who was also unmarried and had no kids, but the two were such polar opposites. He could never imagine Rozanov spending his free time the way Shane did. He could take advantage of having some free time in Boston, but being in this body in Boston meant he was bound to be asked to take a million selfies, and he really wasn't up to it. He decides on watching a Rozanov highlight reel to try to get more familiar with how he plays before tomorrow. Even though he had played Boston a thousand times, it was usually a Hollander vs Rozanov event, and he had little one-on-one time with the Boston captain.
----
It's the same woman as before, young with long blonde curls and pretty blue eyes. It's just the two of them this time. He's older now, up to her elbow in height. She leads him to a frozen lake, helps him tie his skates and helps him onto the ice. He wobbles a bit, then strides after her gracefully. She's over the moon watching him.
Hayden blinked as the sun beamed into the living room, waking him from his stupor on the couch. Rozano's house had large windows that overtook the living room, and he had to admit, it was a beautiful house, Shane would go nuts if he saw it, he always had an eye for architecture and home decor. Too bad he'd never get a chance to see this house.
"I think I had another memory dream of yours. This blonde woman, I think your mom? She took me to a lake and we were ice skating." He told Rozanov the second he answered, not bothering with a greeting.
"The day I learned to skate, one of my favorite memories."
"Dude theres no way that was the day you learned to skate, you were gliding around. Maybe it wasn't a memory."
"That was only time I went skating with my mother, the day I learned. After that my father realized I had talent and put me in hockey. Were the ice skates old and brown? The lake surrounded by pine trees?"
Dammit, he really was a skating prodigy. Either that or a compulsive liar, the bastard.
":Yeah, that's what it looked like...what did you dream about last night?"
"I went to animal shelter and got puppy named Snoopy."
Hayden can remember the dog fondly. Did the name Snoopy fit a golden retriever? Not necessarily, but it was the name he decided on when he got the dog for his tenth birthday, his childhood/ teenaged years companion.
"That was my memory again. You said you skating with your mom was one of your favorite memories? That's my favorite childhood memory. These are definitely linked."
It was already such an invasion of privacy, to have someone living in your body. Showering as you, going to the bathroom as you, living as you, always with the full potential to ruin your life if they felt like it. Access to your phone, your money, your cars, your loved ones. But now? Access to your memories. Nothing felt sacred. Both his and Rozanov's memories had been pretty innocent, from childhood. Aside from realizing Rozanov's father was a dickhead, there was nothing that special. But would these memories continue? Would Rozanov see things Hayden didn't want the world to know? It was nerve wracking. He grabbed a bottle of juice and a protein bar that he had ordered before realizing Rozanov was bullshitting him about his diet, and ordered another Uber to the stadium.
-
Hayden scratched at his neck, taking another swig of his juice. They had a few hours of warmup to go until they played New York, a game he was dreading. Hell, they could be playing Ottawa and he's dread it. He was not ready to be Rozanov on the ice. He was so happy they would be on the road tomorrow, even if he had to travel with such an annoying team. Every stop would be one close to Montreal.
"Yo, Roz? You feeling okay? You look like shit." It was Marleau again. Hayden couldn't even be mad, he was Rozanov's friend and could obviously sense there was something wrong with him, poor Shane was probably reacting the same way back home.
"I'm fine." He wasn't though, he actually felt quite hot, and his skin was so damned itchy and-
"Roz, what are you drinking?"
Hayden shook the juice container, "strawberry banana, my favorite."
"Fuck, dude! You can't drink that brand I've told you before! -" He turns to one of the rookies in the corner, "Yo, Ernie, go get the medic man!"
Hayden opens his mouth to question what the fuck he's talking about but lets out a wheeze instead, and scratches at his throat.
"He ate kiwi, he's allergic" Marleau explains as the team doctor makes his way into the locker room, the two of them grabbing him by his arms and leading him into the small infirmary.
if Hayden survived this, Rozanov would fucking kill him.
"Ilya, you need to be more careful, if you have trouble reading an ingredients package, you can always ask a teammate to translate for you." The doctor tells him condecendingly, prepping an epi-pen.
"I'm going to administer this, Cliff can you call for an ambulance please?"
"He knows fucking English, he just wasn't paying attention. He's one of the smartest people I know." Marleau responds curtly before pulling his cell phone out and dialing 911, as the team doctor jabs the epi-pen into Hayden's arm. The relief is quick, he stops clawing at his throat- something he hadn't even realized he was doing, gulping in breaths of air.
"Hey Roz, you're gonna be okay man, ambulance will be here soon. I call shotgun."and Hayden smiles at Marleau, because it was actually nice to have someone in his corner when he felt like a complete idiot.
They put him on a stretcher and everything, it feels like overkill.
"Do you need a trans-la-tor?" One of the paramedics asks, sounding out every individual syllable, and Hayden tried to not roll his eyes and he shakes his head no.
When they arrive, one of the nurses checks his airways before hooking him up to an IV, telling him she'll be back soon. Hayden knew he'd have to tell Rozanov about his fuckup, but apparently it had already made its way through the rumor mill.
The allergic reaction gets Hayden out of his first game as Rozanov. Which should be a relief, but just leads to Rozanov's coach being pissed off, and Rozanov's friends being concerned.
"Look man, I know it was just an accident, but you haven't been yourself lately, you good?" Marleau asked again, munching on a candy bar from the vending machine. They had to keep Hayden for observation for a few more hours, Marleau just seemed to be there for the fun of it, even though he was the alternate captain and had to lead the game tonight.
"I'm fine. Bad week. Not thinking clear." Short, curt sentences seemed to be the key for pretending to be Rozanov, Hayden was beginning to learn.
"It's not just this week man, it's been going on for months. I know you don't like talking about this shit... but is it your dad? You should see if coach can give you a leave, terminally ill parent is a good enough excuse for any other player to take a week or two off to decompress. The rest of the team wont have to know why, we can just tell them you got gonorrhea or some shit, a slut like you, they'd believe it."
And Hayden has no clue how to respond, so he just shrugs, which seems to be enough for Marleau, who buys himself another candy bar. "Look man, I gotta head back. I'll see you tomorrow, okay? Don't worry about tonight."
After a few hours of observation, they let Hayden go. He Ubers home and orders some Chinese takeout on Rozanov's dime, dude has every food delivery app known to mankind. It had only been a few days but he missed his life, Jackie, the kids, his team, Shane, driving a normal car, non-lethal kiwis. He stretched out on the couch and flipped to the highlights of the Metros game, watched his own body play better than he ever could. After highlights was press, he'd watched Shane do this a million times from the other side of the camera but had never watched it live.
"Shane, you guys absolutely dominated against Toronto tonight, how are you feeling going into back to back games with New Jersey and Boston?" one of the reporters asked, Shane replying with nothing but kindness, and humility.
Hayden wished he had Shane's talent, Shane was never too confident but could play a room perfectly.
He could get any girl he wanted too. Hayden loved Jackie more than life, don't get him wrong. But Shane was just outrageously, ridiculously hot. He wondered what it would be like to kiss him.
Wait, what?
He grabbed the remote in a panic and turned it off. That was new. He had been friends with Shane for over half a decade, and not once did he have any sort of...experimental tendencies towards him Or any man, for that matter. (Not that there was anything wrong with that, or course.)
That was weird. He opened his phone, opened instagram. It was logged into Rozanov's account obviously, but he could still stalk Jackie with it.
He went to go search for her name and then stared, mouth agape as his thumb hovered over Rozanov's search history.
Shane Hollander Ilya Rozanov all stars edit
Shane Hollander and Rose Landry
Shane Hollander GQ shoot
Boston Russian cafe
Shane hollander yoga
He clicked on GQ shoot search and his phone was flooded with black and white pictures of Shane, posing in his briefs.
He flipped through them and felt his growing erection.
Well that, that was new. Rozanov must have a secret crush on Shane, holy shit. He felt pity for the Russian man. Hayden knew Shane better than anyone, and that man was a 0 on the Kinsey scale, as straight as could be. And Hayden knew Shane and Rose Landry still talked, Shane telling him she was an amazing girl, just not for him. Which was bullshit, any straight single guy would cut off their own arm for a chance with Rose Landry, they were bound to get back together.
Were all of Rozanov's chirps like playground taunting? Done because of his crush? Hayden's mind was absolutely reeling.
His thoughts were broken by the sound of the front door unlocking. Rozanov knew his best friend well, because moments later one of the most beautiful women Hayden had ever seen (after Jackie, of course) came barreling into the living room.
“Ты, грёбаный идиот, что сегодня случилось?!” She demanded, one hand on her hip, the other holding a bakery box.
How could Hayden explain to someone who had known Rozanov for two decades that he had no idea what she just said. “Sveta, no Russian today. I have to improve my English, da?”
The red head snorted and rolled her eyes, “let me guess, doctor was jackass to you and now you feel self conscious about your English again? Ilyusha your English is fine, these assholes that judge you could never learn a second language as an adult like you did.”
“Yeah, the doctor really was a dick.” Sveta hugged him before wacking his arm hard enough to hurt. “You need to be more careful! Here I am, about to make a sale on that purple Ferrari you had your eye on, my assistant comes running over telling me the ER is calling because Ilya Rozanov cannot read a goddamn juice label!”
“Sorry, I’ll buy another car to make it up to you. Something automatic this time, I’m tired of stick shifts in the city.”
She roars in laughter as if it’s the funniest thing she’s heard in ages. “Yeah I will get you a minivan. You can settle down and fill it with little kids with your Shirley Temple hair.” She runs a hand through his curls. “You’re being a shit host by the way. I’ve been here ten minutes and you haven’t even started the kettle for tea.”
Okay, tea, that was easy enough. Hayden wasn’t sure what he expected from a childhood friend of Rozanov’s but so far it was pretty simple. The kettle was already on the stove, so he filled it with water and put it to boil, searching Rozanov’s pantry until he found an assortment of teas. He set some sugar and milk out on the table before pouring Sveta a cup of tea, but she just raised an eyebrow in response.
“You’ve become too damn American, first your English bullshit and now this.” She tells him, grabbing some jam from the kitchen and adding a spoonful to her tea. “And to think I went all the way to Palonia’s for you.” She tells him as she sets the pastry box down on the table, “and I even got your favorite, blueberry.”
Of course Rozanov loved blueberries, Hayden hated blueberries with a passion. He always had. On their own, in a smoothie, baked into some poor unsuspecting muffin or pancake, they had the most obscene texture. But Rozanov’s poor friend went out of her way to get these pastries, the least he could do was stomach one.
“Thank you.” Hayden picked up one of the pierogis, took a small timid bite and, it was absolutely delicious. He finished the entire thing in two bites. Was this just the best restaurant of all time, or did blueberries taste like this to Rozanov? He had no idea but helped himself to another pierogi.
“I will never understand how someone who lives as a bottomless pit of vodka, pierogis and McDonalds could be so fit” the redhead mused, taking another sip of her tea, “did Jane text you today? After your little stint at the hospital? You know Boston Hockey Now wrote an article about it? It’s pretty funny, I will send to you.”
Hayden thought about poor Jane, an unsuspecting beard, used to cover the fact that Rozanov wanted Shane. “Uh yeah, just making sure I’m okay. Same as everyone.” She seems like she wants to say more but instead nods and picks her own pierogi out of the box, nibbling on it slowly.
"That reminds me! Look at Ilona" She smiles holding out her phone, "Dasha sent it to me. Isn't she so cute? I bet Alexei is pissed she looks so much like you."
It's a little girl, maybe 3 or 4, blonde curly hair, smiling wide at the camera, ice cream in one hand, half of it on her face.
And damn, the resemblance to Rozanov was uncanny. Is this why he was so aloof and secretive? A secret kid? It made total sense, everyone knew he'd fucked half of Boston.
Sveta stays for a few hours, they watch Boston v New York game together, her giving commentary the entire time. And man, the girl really knew hockey. It was like being around a female Shane. A female Russian Shane. Rozanov and Shane's daughter, ew, no, weird visuals with that one. Hayden definitely owed Marleau a beer or two, because he was able to secure them a win against New York as the alternate captain. And while he didn't give a shit if Boston won or not, he knew this win would stop everyone from being in a pissy mood with him next time he saw them. He has a night cap with Sveta before he calls her a ride home.
"Text me Ilyusha, yes? I'm always here for you." She hugs him goodbye and he hugs her back ,earnestly. Hayden feels like he really made a friend tonight and hates the circumstance, and the fact that he'll probably never see her again. He wished he met her as Hayden, he'd have her over for dinner, Jackie would adore her style, hell maybe he could set her up with Shane. Damn, he really fucking missed his wife.
--
He enters the apartment, dashing straight to the bathroom. He strips off his shirt, staring in the mirror. There's something written on his chest. He grabs the bar of soap next to the sink and scrubs at his skin until it's red and raw and the word is gone. Next he goes into a small bedroom, two twin beds on either side of the room, and leaves his backpack and shoes.He makes his way to the same floral yellow kitchen, skinny arms reaching into the fridge for some margarine. He toasts some bread and spreads it on top, shouts something out in Russian.
The alarm wakes him once again, it's too goddamn early. They're flying to Toronto today, and then, God willing, Montreal in just a couple of days. He could do this.
Hayden scoffs at the text but leaves it, heading downstairs to make himself a smoothie and chug some coffee before ubering to the airport.
"Goodbye, casa Rozanov." He says as he heads out the front door, praying that he'll never have to set foot in this house again.
Customs is more difficult than usual, in the past flying between Canada and the States has been a breeze, but with a Russian passport it's just a frustration.
He doesn't want to be that guy but, don't they know who he is?? Or at least, whose body this is??
He's seated next to Marleau for the flight, but it's one of those super short flights where you essentially take off and then land, so he doesn't have to bother with fake small talk. Some of the guys decide to grab some late breakfast/ early lunch before going to the hotel to freshen up, and Hayden decided to tag along, it's better to be quiet in a group. Besides, he has Rozanov's credit card, so lunch is on him.
"So Roz, you gonna see Jane when we get to Montreal?" Marleau wags his eyebrows, taking a chug of his 10am beer.
Was Jane a beard, or was Rozanov bisexual? Wait a minute, could Jane be a codename? Someone Rozanov always sees in Montreal? What if it was someone who worked for the Metros! Jane... Jane... Jake! Jake Ramirez, Montreal's social media manager. Oh my god, Hayden was desperate for someone to gossip with, if only he could text Shane to tell him about Jane.
"Maybe, will see where night takes me." He responds trying his damndest to be aloof.
"Oh fuck off man, you better, I need the room to myself."
Hayden snorts and takes a sip of his soda while the waitress hands him the check.
217.63, plus 20% tip, thats 43.52., total is 261.15 he jots the total down before realizing what he did.
Not once, in his life, has Hayden done that without a calculator. From what the guys said at the pizza joint the other night, he figured Rozanov was probably better at math than him, but now he had that skill too?
"Never understand how you do that." Marleau mumbles as the waitress takes the check back from him, and Hayden wants to tell him that he doesn't either, but he just remains quiet.
-
Before they go up against Toronto, Hayden tries to give his best captains speech. Or at least, what he imagines a captains speech from Rozanov would sound like.
"We want to lost against most boring city in Toronto?? Hell no!! Let's kick some stupid Canadian ass!!"
His teammates cheer, although he can tell he's fucked it up already when Marleau gives him the same look he did when he suggested Rozanov take some time off to deal with his sick father. His face off against Kent is horrendous, he already knows what an asshole the guys is, but he's never dealt with him this up close and personal.
"Heard you got sent to the ER for chocking on a dick like the illiterate commie you are." Kent sneers.
"I can't even keep up with what that insult is supposed to be, are you sure English isn't your second language?" He bites back, pissed off on Rozanov's behalf, because commie? Really? Is it 1953?
He shocks himself by winning the face off, quickly passing the puck to Marleau, and somehow ending the night with a 2-1 win.
---
He enters the apartment, dashing straight to the bathroom. He strips off his shirt, staring in the mirror. FAGGOT is scrawled across his chest in marker. He grabs the bar of soap next to the sink and scrubs at his skin until it's red and raw and the word is gone. Next he goes into a small bedroom, two twin beds on either side of the room, and leaves his backpack and shoes. He makes his way to the same floral yellow kitchen, skinny arms reaching into the fridge for some margarine. He toasts some bread and spreads it on top, "mama! I made you food!" he shouts. "Mama?" He pushes the door to her bedroom open. She's laying on the bed, foam around her mouth, still as anything, an empty pill bottle next to her.He stands and stares at her in a state of shock, places the toast on the dresser and slowly approaches her."I made you lunch, you have to wake up."He gently nudges her arm, she's cold like ice."Wake up, please."He's shaking her now."Mama!" He's screaming.
Hayden wakes with a jolt, gasping for hair, feeling like he's choking.
He checks the time on his phone, 3am.
No way he can fall asleep after that nightmare.
Did Rozanov's mother commit suicide? Was that a real memory? Hayden actually felt pity for him. He wanted to call him but figured being woken up at 3am to be asked about childhood trauma and his mothers death would probably just piss him off.
After a second he realized something else, he could read what was written on his chest. He could understand what the young Rozanov was shouting.
Did he know Russian now? In a panic he unlocked Rozanov's phone, went straight to his texts, rules be damned.
All the texts from the past few days from his brother, once illegible are now crystal clear. What the fuck was happening? He could understand Russian, he was dreaming up Rozanov's memories, he wanted to fuck Shane??
Was he turning into Rozanov??
He screenshots the text from Rozanov's brother, cropping out his name and forwards them to Rozanov, it takes the man a few hours to respond given it's so early, but his response just stresses Hayden out more.
His phone rings almost instantly, "Pike, tell me you are fucking with me. This is not funny."
"I wish I were."
He can hear Rozanov's heavy breathing on the other side of the phone, "I've been speaking just English as you, I didn't even realize. Until you pointed it out. I've been thinking in English. I never do that unless I'm translating in my head. Fuck! I can't lose this."
"Listen, we see each other tomorrow, right? We can get it sorted then. How? I'm not sure, but these situations always sort themselves out in the movies."
"Yes, okay. I hope." He still sounds overwhelmed and frantic.
"I need to ask you.. this is rough. I had another dream. Your mother, she-"
"Yes, she overdosed when I was a child."
"I'm so sorry."
"It was a long time ago... I had a dream too. Jackie was in hospital, she was so sad. You lost a baby?"
"Yeah that's my worst memory, watching her lose her baby. It was our first pregnancy too."
"I'm sorry Pike. You are good father."
"You've never seen me with my kids."
"Yes, that's true but I see how they acted around me when they thought I was you. So happy and carefree, how children should be."
The memory of Rozanov's father backhanding his brother plays through Hayden's mind, he wonders what the man was like for Rozanov growing up.
"Thank you."
The silence lingers, it's probably the longest he and Rozanov have gone without insulting each other.
"Pike, you should know something. Tomorrow, if you see Sh- Hollander as me, you need to be nice. The truth is that, the rivalry, it is for the media. He is actually my friend. So, really you should just try to avoid him like the plague, but, if you do see him, don't be an asshole, yeah?
God, this poor man, falling for his rival.
"You and Shane are friends?"
"Yes, you know what they say, it's lonely at the top? That's what it is like for him and I. Drafted together, me best in league, him second best-"
"Rozanov, I know. About Shane."
He can hear the Russian man stutter on the other side of the line, "w-what are you talking about?"
"I know you have a crush on Shane. I figured it out. I'm not gonna tell anyone, okay? I mean you know he's straight, obviously, but... I know you have a crush on him."
It sounds like Rozanov is trying to hold back tears on the other line, "Pike, you are smarter than I give you credit for. How did you figure it out?"
"I got a boner looking at Shane in his underwear."
And the Russian cackles, "oh it's so funny. But so sad, that this is how you learned of my heartbreak. Through a boner. Now you know my pain-" he pauses, his voice turning more serious, "you wont... it would be very dangerous for me if this got out, Russia is, not kind to people like me. This will remain our secret, right?"
"I would never out anyone dude."
"Thank you Pike, I'll see you tomorrow."
It's an off day, tomorrow morning they're flying to Montreal, and hopefully within the next 48 hours he'll be back to normal.
He's lighting a cigarette, but the wind keeps blowing out the lighter. Finally, he gets enough of a flame to light it. "Ilya Rozanov?" He turns around, his heart starts beating rapidly, a boy walks over to him, holding out his hand "Shane Hollander, I-I wanted to introduce myself." The boy glances the now-lit cigarette between his lips, "Oh, I'm not sure if you're supposed to smoke here." He pantomimes the action.
"OK." He tells him curtly
"You're an awesome player to watch."
He blows out another puff of smoke, "yes."
"Anyways, I--I should go. They're waiting for me. But, um, good luck in the tournament."
"You will not be so nice when we beat you."
"That's not happening."
"See you in final."
He feels exhausted when he wakes up, despite getting the most sleep he's gotten since the switch. He hasn't felt this tired since he had a newborn. And frankly, despite today being the day he had been looking forward to more than anything, he doesn't want to do anything but stay in bed. He wondered if Roz- Ilya- he decided after almost a week in his body they could be on a first name basis- felt this way sometimes. Maybe he had a vitamin deficiency. He'd half to talk to him about that tonight.
"Wakey wakey eggs and bakey, I'm not missing the breakfast buffet." Marleau gives him a shake and Hayden groans.
"C'mon man, lets get some food in us before the flight."
"Not hungry."
"You're always hungry."
"Tired."
"I'm giving you ten minutes of snooze time and then you have to get up."
Hayden's bones feel heavy, he just wants to stay in bed but he knows he can't.
"Don't feel like it." He mumbles and Marleau's face changes.
"Dude, I hate when you get like this-" he sighs "I'll bring you up a plate." He sounds earnest and Hayden wonders how often Ilya feels the way he does now for his friend to react this way. Maybe he should get a blood panel done.
"I got you a blueberry danish, I know you love em. And here, coffee, drink up." Hayden smiles at Marleau, taking a bite of the danish.
It doesn't really taste like anything. He puts it back on the plate and sets the plate on the bedside table.
"You need to eat dude."
"I guess I'm not hungry."
"Roz... Ilya... nothing wrong with getting some help man."
Hayden just nods because he's not sure what he's supposed to be getting help for, exactly.
He's able to stomach the coffee and half the danish before they take off for the airport, he feels a bit at ease as they depart from the plane. He's been to Trudeau international a million times, landing here always means home, even if he wasn't landing in his own skin. They shuttle to the hotel and Hayden finds himself laying in his bed staring at the ceiling for the few hours they have to kill before warmup. He can feel Marleau watching him concerned, and not much else, he feels empty.
"C'mon Roz, lets kick some Metro ass and then you can see that girl that gets you so worked up, yeah?"
It's surreal pulling into the stadium. He as just here last week, but that feels years away. He feels so wrong being here as Ilya and not as himself.
His game plan is to meet Ilya in a back hallway before the game. It's secluded, only seasoned Metros players even know about it, no cameras, nothing important except a closet with outdated equipment.
The problem is, Hayden knows his way around this arena, Ilya does not. And thats how he finds himself waiting around, texting the same directions for the umpteenth time, when he hears a familiar voice, just not the one he had been waiting for.
"Hey, are you okay?"
Hayden is immediately comforted by the voice, even if it's technically directed at Ilya and not him.
"Oh, Hollander, hi." He tries his best to act like Ilya, whilst also being nice to Shane as Ilya. He pitied the Russian man, with his unrequited crush on Shane.
Shane raises and eyebrow at him, checking over his shoulder.
"Hollander? We back to that?"
"Sorry, Shane I meant."
"You've been ignoring my texts all week, I thought after all stars.. are we okay?"
And Hayden is floored at that sentence, Shane has Ilya's number? He hadn't seen any texts from a Shane or a Hollander all week. It must be something else in his contacts.
"Oh, I'm sorry. I've been having a really really off week. I didn't mean to ignore texts."
Shanes face softens and he nods, "is it your father?"
And maybe Ilya hadn't lied, maybe Shane and him really were friends, if Shane knew things about his family, if Shane texted him.
"Um no, it's hard to explain I guess."
He can feel his phone buzzing in his back pocket, text after text.
Shane looks over his shoulder again.
"It's just after everything, me leaving and Rose. I know things got bad but everything I said at all stars was true. And I dont want you to feel like I scared you away or anything."
"No, no. You didn't I just have been having a rough time."
Shane nods, "okay, well, maybe we can talk about it after the game?"
"Yeah sure, okay."
"1558, that's the code to my door. I'll text it to you."
"Okay, sure."
And it was weird, knowing Shane and Ilya were secret besties. That they texted and talked about personal issues, that they met up after games.
Hayden could almost brush it off with what Ilya told him earlier, that it's "lonely at the top."
Except for the fact that Shane did one more check to make sure they were still alone, surged forward, and kissed him.
It was quick, too quick for Hayden to even react, Shane pulled away, blushing.
"I'll see you later." And then he turned around and headed back to the Metros locker room.
The phone buzzed again in his back pocket, he opened it to a bunch of missed calls and texts from Ilya.
And then it chimed, a new text popping up