Chapter Text
"Ilyusha, do you really have everything?", Irina asks.
Ilya is annoyed. Not really, but it is his first day in Canada and he just wants to get GOING and get a head start. This is important. This is his future. Why does his mama have to be so annoying?
Grigori chuckles. "Honey, I think somebody is impatient to get to the rink."
"As if he isn't going to blow everybody out of the water", Alexei says almost bored. But Ilya knows how proud his older brother is of him.
Secretly, he is so glad that his whole family decided to come with him to Canada. It would have been pretty scary to travel that far on his own for the first time, he thinks.
"Whatever, can we pleease just go?", Ilya whines. "I want to be the first one on the ice, the Canadians have an advantage already."
Wrong move.
"Especially one Canadian, right, brother?", Alexei riles him up. It is really no secret how obsessed Ilya has become with Shane Hollander. Studying the young Canadian's play has become an obsession in the months after he secured his place at the Prospect Cup. Ilya has a valid excuse. It is already almost guaranteed that he and Hollander will be the top contestants for the number one pick at their draft. Know your enemy and all that. Which doesn't quite explain the soft smile that creeps on his face whenever he watches his Best of Hollander compilation.
Yes, the Canadian is technically flawless. Almost robotic, some commentators have said. But Ilya sees more. Sometimes, it seems as if Hollander breaks free from the perfect line executions and just enjoys playing hockey. In those moments - rare as they sadly might be - his play takes Ilya's breath away. In those short moments nothing seems to be able to touch Hollander, nothing can possibly go wrong. He commands the puck, the ice, his opponents, as if everything and everybody were simply there to serve him. Ilya has to get to know this boy. He has a feeling that that is important.
Also, he has a feeling that Hollander will be early on the ice as well.
"Can we just goooo!"
"Sure", Irina says. "So I guess you don't wanna take your stick and tape with you? Because those are still packed away in the suitcase."
Sometimes Ilya wishes he'd come here by himself.
Shane is leaning against a wall next to the parking lot of the arena. He needs some fresh air and a few minutes for himself. He knew how the morning would go. But it still hurts. Him leaving for the Prospect Cup was a big deal. For a second he allows himself to imagine what his mom would have prepared for this occasion they had dreamed about for so long. He is sure there would have been Miso soup and Mochi, maybe even a cake. Perhaps Yuna would have picked out a thoughtful gift like an instant camera so that Shane could capture the memories he will make.
But this morning there had been no delicious smells wafting through the kitchen when he came downstairs. The house was cold and empty, just as it had been for the last five years. Shane tried to swallow the grief that suddenly tried to choke him from the inside. Instead, he grabbed the smoothie he had prepared the day before and went outside for the team bus to pick him up.
He was looking forward to the tournament. But he was also anxious about the other players. It was kind of ironic that a guy like him had ended up in a team sport. Sometimes he thought that tennis, swimming or running would have suited him so much better. He liked to keep to himself, to not have his meticulous routines disrupted, to be the only one who determined whether he succeeded or needed to push that much harder.
But his mom had been a huge hockey fan. Since he'd been little, she had dragged him to the rink, put him on his little skates and pushed him off into the arms of a trainer. Shane grew to love hockey and everything that came with it. He loved how happy it made his mom and how watching him play was something she could share with her own parents. When his grandma and grandpa had come to Canada, watching hockey was one of the few activities they could afford and were able to understand the rules quite easily. Hockey became a way to feel like they belonged a bit more.
So Shane became determined to play for his mom's favourite team one day, the Montreal Metros. He still remembered when he asked for a jersey for his eleventh birthday and how happy his mom had been.
His father, on the other hand, had looked disgusted. David did like hockey well enough, had played in college himself. But for David, hockey was no honourable career, especially not for a son of his. Athletes were little more than trained monkeys, in his opinion, and the enormous sums of money they were being paid just confirmed how utterly ridiculous and corrupt the whole system really was. If it had been up to him, Shane would have at least become a surgeon, better still a financial analyst for the government or the central bank of Canada.
David allowed Yuna her little indulgences with Shane. But him asking for the Metro's jersey convinced David that it was time to put an end to this little side quest of theirs. But then Yuna had died. Shane handled it way worse than David could accept. His son's deep sadness almost repulsed him. David decided to finally bring his own life on track again.
Marrying Yuna had been a mistake from the start. His family had never accepted her as one of their own and Shane was always viewed as a necessary inconvenience. Whenever there were family photos being taken, his mother always made sure that Shane was positioned at the side. That way, she could cut him out and blame it on the small picture frame, if anybody would ever ask. Not that anybody ever did.
David remarried quickly and simply let Shane do his thing. Which didn't mean that he not demanded for Shane to be the best. In his opinon, the least his son could do was to not embarrass him any further-
"Shane Hollander? Ilya Rozanov. I wanted to introduce myself."
"Okay?"
Great, Shane thinks. What a wonderful reply. He shakes the hand that is offered to him. Of course he knows who Ilya Rozanov is. Almost two years ago, he had heard about this awesome new prodigy from Russia. In one of the earliest videos he had seen of Rozanov, his family had cheered for him at one of the games. His mom, his dad and his brother. They were all there and visibly proud.
Rozanov had laughed and waved at them from the ice and had then proceeded to outplay every single player on both teams. "That could have been me", Shane had thought. Well, minus the brother. But he had always dreamed of having a sibling. Somebody to be less lonely with, who would understand him like nobody else might ever could. One day he had asked his mom if he could have a little sister or brother.
Yuna had smiled one of her sad smiles and said "Perhaps, who knows?" But Shane already knew that that meant no. When he grew older, he was almost glad about it. There would have been a good chance that any sister or brother of his might have been like his father and despised him just the same.
So yeah, when Ilya Rozanov approaches him and shakes his hand, Shane is a bit overwhelmed. Especially, when he sees Rozanov's mother run across the parking lot towards them. "Ilyusha, you forgot your hat in the car", Irina puffs and pulls a powder blue beanie over Ilya's curls.
The Russian winces. "Mama, I don't need a hat. Please, you are embarrassing me", he whines. Then he remembers his manners. "Shane, this is my mama, Irina Rozanov. Mama, Shane Hollander. He is a player as well."
"Oh, he is the one you were watching all those videos of the past months, right?", Irina says happily, ignoring her son's pained flinch. She shakes Shane's hand. "Your hand is so cold", she chides. "Don't you have mittens? And where is your hat?"
Truth be told, Shane is cold. Most of the time, he is freezing. But he never thought about buying himself a hat and gloves. His father and step mother never bother with this stuff like this anyway.
Irina pulls Ilya's beanie off his head ("Hey!") and puts it on Shane. The wool is really soft and bouncy, not scratchy and tight at all. "I can knit Ilyusha another hat this evening. Take it, I insist", Irina says. "Ilyusha, we will watch the training from the family box for a bit, and will meet you for dinner later, okay? Or do you want to eat with your team?"
Ilya can feel his ears getting warm. Shane must have a really great first impression of him. But he also doesn't want to hurt his mother's feelings. "I'll text you, mama, okay?"
"Yes, you are such a good son, we are so proud of you, Ilyusha", Irina beams and kisses him on the temple, like she used to do when he was little and had to do something a bit scary. Ilya automatically leans down a bit so that she can reach.
"Good-bye, Shane", Irina says, smiling warmly at the other boy. "I hear, you are a wonderful player. I bet your parents are very proud. Good luck", she says and hugs Shane softly before hurrying away.
Shane is a bit in shock. The silence is getting awkward.
"Sorry, if that was too much", Ilya says, laughing awkwardly. "You don't have to keep the hat, if that is stupid. I bet you have enough hats. Mama likes to knit. She made it on the flight, mittens as well and right now she is making a scarf." Ilya is rambling.
Shane decides he likes the beanie. His head is cozy. And isn't it kind of rude to give back a present?
"Haha, no worries, you can never have enough hats, right?" That is a saying, is it not??
"So, are you looking forward to the tourney?" Great question, so eloquent, Shane admonishes himself.
Ilya seems to not mind. "Yeah, it is a great opportunity. I have never even flown that far away before", he says. "Also I hope to enter the draft next year."
Shane knows that, of course. But still, he is curious. "So you don't wanna stay in Russia?"
Suddenly, Ilya's bright and bubbly demeanour shifts a bit. He is looking down at this foot drawing half circles on the ground. "Yeah, I mean, the NHL is the dream, right? Also, Mama thinks it might be good for me to make new experiences somewhere else. Somewhere more free than at home, you know?", he says and looks up again.
"Free like what?", Shane asks.
"Many things", Ilya answers carefully. "Canada and the US are way more open for people expressing themselves than Russia is."
Shane has never really thought about it. He knows that, of course, in theory. But he never really realized what that might be like for a boy his age, growing up.
"Well, I am glad that you could come and I hope you like it here. Regina is not necessarily a good representation of what the NHL has to offer, though", he chuckles.
"No, I like it here", Ilya says earnestly. "Even if it is pretty cold outside with no hat."
Shane sputters until he realizes the big grin Ilya is sporting.
"Yeah, bad luck, better come prepared next time", he tries to chirp back.
Ilya is beaming now. "I know we are kind of rivals. But do you also want to be, you know, friends?", he asks, his face open and soft and hopeful. "It would be nice to already have a friend here."
Shane doesn't have friends. He doesn't have a family. His head is warm. He suddenly feels like crying.
"Okay", he says quietly.
Ilya shakes his hand again, as if to seal the deal.
"Your hands are cold", he says. "Next time, I'll bring you Mama's mittens that match your hat."
"I would like that, thank you."