Chapter Text
Chapter 1: Whatever This Is
Tampa Bay - All Star Weekend - 2017
“You’re looking very pretty today. Hmm. Different maybe? Somebody take you shopping?”, Ilya prodded, his foot tapping restlessly against the bar stool, his fingers nervously moving around his beer bottle. He and Shane had been dancing around each other's questions as soon as the other man had joined him at the bar. Shane looked beautiful. Dressed in a white linen suit that clung to every muscle and had made Ilya's mouth go dry as soon as Shane had entered the bar. Shane had always been beautiful to Ilya, but this, this was something new. Something...more. A change in Shane. A change that made Ilya nervous.
“If I, um, if I tell you something, will you promise not to tell anyone, or make fun of me?”
“Well, that depends.” he teased.
“Seriously…”
“Sure.” Even though he shrugged with practiced nonchalance, he braced himself for whatever Shane was about to say. I'm engaged. I don't need you anymore.
“I think…”
When Shane cleared his throat nervously as if to start over, Ilya just knew. Knew that his fears were justified, and he was about to get his heart broken. Again. Still, he forced himself to give Shane his full attention.
“I think…I’m going to…fuck…” Shane trailed off, his eyes looking everywhere but at Ilya.
“Just spit it out Hollander.” Ilya couldn’t help himself from snapping quietly, suddenly wanting whatever this was over with. When Shane’s eyes finally met his, he saw a sadness there that made him want to scream. So, this was it. He was getting dumped. Dumped at this stupid bar.
“I think it’s probably best if we don’t see each other anymore.” Shane said as quietly as he could, even though no one was paying any attention to them. Or at least Ilya hoped. The bar was mostly empty anyway, and the music playing over the sound system would drown out their conversation to anyone nearby. Shane took a drink of his beer before continuing. “Rose is…she’s really great and I’m going to try to make things work with her and it wouldn’t be fair to her to keep doing whatever this…is.” He waved his hand quickly between the two of them, looking around nervously.
Whatever. This. Is.
Boiling them down to three words. As if their whole history meant fucking nothing. But, honestly, why would Shane think any differently? Ilya never gave him any reason to think that their ‘whatever’ was anything but secret meetings and quick fucks. Shane didn’t know that Ilya counted down the months, days, minutes, and seconds until he saw him again. Shane didn’t know that seeing all the Twitter posts of him and Rose cracked Ilya’s heart wide open. Shane would never believe it anyway, why would he? Ilya had tried to show him more, that day at his house. Tried, but failed spectacularly.
“I’m sorry, that was…I…I don’t mean to downplay it like that. I don’t. All these years, it’s been…I’ve never regretted it. I want you to know that.” Stopping quickly as if to gather his thoughts, Shane continued. “I know these last few weeks have been weird between us, and you probably don’t even care, but I still wanted to be honest with you.”
If only Shane knew how much Ilya actually did care. This was fucking killing him.
“Thank you, but...you don’t have to explain anything, Hollander.” Ilya turned to look at him and dug deep for a smile that he knew didn’t reach his eyes. “I understand. It’s not like this was going to last forever, right?”, he watched and waited, hoping Shane might disagree, only to have him whisper “Right.”
Moving his eyes over Shane’s face, he committed it to memory, his beautiful eyes, his perfect profile, the full bottom lip that drove Ilya insane. The freckles that Ilya had first fallen in love with. He knew, of course, that he would see Shane again, countless times, but not this close. So, he just took a moment to…memorize…he supposed. Was that the correct word in English? He didn’t know. запоминать was what ran through his head now.
“Right.” Taking a deep breath, his voice ragged, he asked, “So, is that all you wanted to tell me?” As Shane twisted and bit at his lip, Ilya gave him the time he seemed to need, turning to look out at the pool, but in reality, not seeing anything.
“I’m sorry.”, he finally heard, but barely. “I thought this would be for the best, but…”
“It is.” Ilya told him with finality, turning back. “Of course it is. You deserve to be with someone who makes you happy and that isn’t me. Can't be me. We both know that.”
“Don’t say that.”
“Why not? Is true.” He was suddenly so tired. Tired of keeping up the walls he built, tired of watching every word he said or forced himself not to say, tired of being…that fucking version of Ilya Rozanov. “All these years you have called me an asshole, and you have been right. I am.”
Smiling sadly when he saw Shane about to disagree, he continued. “Don’t act like I’m not. We both know there have been times I have treated you very badly. You did not deserve that.”
“Ilya, I…”
Hearing his name but not equipped to handle whatever Shane planned to say next, Ilya continued. “I’m happy for you Hollander. Really. There is no, how do you say? Bad feelings?”
“Hard feelings.”
“Yes. Yes. No hard feelings.” Knowing he couldn’t keep his composure much longer, Ilya got to his feet, pushing the bar stool away. He needed to get out of here before he humiliated himself. Looking around quickly, he made sure no one was paying them any attention. Satisfied, he braced himself one last time before turning back to Shane. Leaning his elbow on the bar, keeping some distance, he waited until Shane looked at him. “I hope Rose Landry knows how lucky she is. I mean that.”
Seeing Shane rapidly blink, he knew he wasn’t the only one close to breaking down, so Ilya did what he always did when things because too much, he resorted to teasing, to sarcasm. “Let me know if she has actress friend. Yes? Introduce me. Then you and I can both become pretty Hollywood arm candy. We will run into each other on the red carpet, at all the fancy dress up parties. At the Oscars. Can you picture it?”
“No.” The small smile that Shane returned didn’t quite reach his eyes, just as Ilya’s hadn’t. Their usual banter was not working, not doing anything to alleviate the tension, the sadness that surrounded them.
“You will see. We will both look sexy and hot, and our faces will fill up Twitter and Instagram. And we will repost them as sexy, um, thirst traps? Yes. We will do that.”
“That sounds horrifying.”, Shane shuddered.
“Maybe for you. I am already one, as we both know. But you better get used to it Hollander, people will be following you everywhere you go.” Though he meant it as a tease, he saw shock and terror slide over Shane’s face at the thought of such a thing. Thinking of people following Shane and bothering him, upsetting him, made Ilya angry, but there was nothing to be done about it. Shane was making his choice and would have to deal with whatever came of it.
“I told, um, Marleau I would meet him over by the pool.” He lied, making a show of looking over his shoulder, even though he knew his teammate was nowhere close by. He needed to leave. “So, I guess I’ll see you on the ice Hollander?” At Shane’s jerky nod, he gave him one last wink. It was their silent language after all. “Let’s give the crowd a good show, yes? I’ll even let you score first goal.”
“Let me?” Shane let out a small laugh, taking Ilya immediately back to the first time Shane had said those words to him. Their first darkened hotel room. Their first kiss. Their first taste of each other. That kiss, that night, would stay in his memory forever, he knew. He didn’t know how he was supposed to go on without another one. That thought must have shown on his face, because Shane looked away from him, his fingers tapping restlessly against the bar, as if he too was remembering.
Clearing his throat, Shane looked back, his beautiful brown eyes sadder than Ilya had ever seen them. The knowledge should be enough to make him angry. Angry because Shane was making this choice for both of them. But it didn’t. It just broke his heart. It just made him realize what a coward he was for not being honest with Shane about what he felt, what he wanted, how much he fucking loved him. Why shouldn’t Shane look to someone else for all of that? Ilya had never given him any reason to believe it was right in front of him all these years. He only had himself to blame for this happening. He deserved this pain. But Shane didn’t. He wasn’t lying. Shane did deserve the happiness that he was searching for. Even if it could never be found with Ilya. He was worth so much more than sneaking around, hiding, lying.
“Be happy Shane Hollander…yes?”
“You too. Promise?” Shane whispered the plea.
“я думаю уже слишком поздно для этого.”, he answered honestly before turning quickly away. Making his way out of the bar, he kept his head down, ignored fellow players who tried to greet him, and returned to his room as fast as he could. He needed to punch something, he needed to scream, he needed a cigarette, he needed to get black out drunk. He needed…Shane. That’s all he needed. And he would never have him again. Slamming the door, he tore off the ridiculous shirt he was wearing and threw himself on the bed. Covering his eyes with his forearm, he grasped at the cross that never left his chest. “Mama”, he whispered, his voice breaking, “Я так сильно его люблю. Что мне делать без него?”