Work Text:
“Ilya Rozanov? I’m Shane Hollander. I wanted to introduce myself.”
“Okay.”
At seventeen years old, somewhere outside an ice hockey arena, Shane Hollander and Ilya Rozanov exchange their first few words. They’re awkward in a way a lot of teenagers are, barely able to understand one another, and for a while, it means nothing much.
At first, all they get from this conversation is Wow, this Rozanov guy is kind of an asshole.
All they will remember is, Shane Hollander sure has a lot of freckles.
And, that’s it. By itself, this interaction is insignificant. Somehow, it becomes the beginning of everything.
Because Shane Hollander and Ilya Rozanov are soulmates, by all definitions of the word. They cannot see or make sense of the metaphorical red string of fate that is tied between them, but it is here. They cannot understand what pushed them together, that day, why their paths crossed in such a way, but it was meant to be so.
From the day they were born, it was decided. You are a part of me, as much as I am a part of you. So, they meet here, and they will keep meeting after that, and they will be happy together. It’s as simple as that.
Or, it should be that simple. But the red string of fate is much trickier than it appears. Seemingly so strong, and yet it can tangle, and yet it can fray, and yet it can wander out of its path, following turns that weren't meant to be taken. And yet, it can be ignored, it can be pushed against.
The string is only powerful as they will allow it to be, and their bond can only last as long as they are willing to fight for it.
So, Shane Hollander and Ilya Rozanov are soulmates, and they will always meet here, on this exact day, and hold this exact conversation. But everything after that is nothing but an endless pool of possibilities. Each of their action creates a new path, marking a new version of their story, that can stray closer or further away from the love they unknowingly seek.
Things aren’t always as easy as they might seem, for the fates have always loved a good laugh before a happy ending.
Shane Hollander leaves Ilya Rozanov here, in the cold of Regina, shaken by this boy he has yet to truly know. And from here, their lives could still go a million different ways.
It could go like this:
Shane has started to garner more attention, since being drafted to the Montreal Voyageurs.
So much so that he quickly received multiple sponsorship proposals. Brands started circling around him in the last few months, eager to claim the Shane Hollander early, before he becomes more famous, before someone else gets there first.
Shane knows that he will become more famous, eventually. It’s not that he particularly wants celebrity, but he plans to become a player that can stand amongst the greats. Shane wants to play the best hockey of his life, and be recognized in the league for doing so. Being chosen second in the draft had stung more than he’d like to admit, but it has motivated him to keep pushing more.
He dreams, sometimes, about his older self. Someone that achieved all the goals he set for himself, with his jersey number retired by his team after a career brimming with impressive victories, challenges, and well fought games.
Well, there’s still a lot of time before any of that.
For now, the new attention is a bit overwhelming, to say the least. It is a different side of being a professional athlete, one that he had been told to prepare for, but that he hadn't really experienced while playing for his Junior hockey team. It’s a lot, and Shane would rather spend all the extra time it takes training on the ice.
Thankfully, his mom handles most of it. He’s grateful to have her by his side for this, an adult with experience navigating contracts that he currently lacks, from his eighteen years of age.
So, she manages Shane, sorting through offers and picking out the ones she believes will be beneficial for his image, or the ones with deals that are simply too good to refuse.
Such as, the endorsement he got from the hockey equipment brand CCM. Shane likes those kinds of deals more than the ones from shoes or accessory companies that he receives, since it’s adequately hockey related. He remembers, from when he was younger, watching the players he admired doing commercials like that.
“Oh,” his mom says one afternoon as she looks over her emails, “CCM wants to shoot a commercial with you, in two weeks.”
Shane lifts his face up in interest, until she adds, “They already sent over a possible schedule.” And then, after a pause, “It seems that Ilya Rozanov will be there too.”
Ilya Rozanov. Shane’s face scrunches up.
He has been thinking about Rozanov a lot, lately. A bit too much, probably, but who can blame him? Captain of his Junior team, like Shane, that he has led to the championships, like Shane did. He was named league and playoff MVP just like Shane, a scoring leader just like Shane… And the first draft pick, unlike Shane.
He’s one hell of a player, someone that Shane looks forward to facing off again on the ice, there’s no denying that. But right now Shane is still thinking about his loss, and on top of that the few conversations they had hadn’t really painted Rozanov as a fun guy to be around.
He’s an asshole, really. Shane gets irritated just thinking about their past exchanges.
“Can’t it be a solo shoot?” he asks, because now that he knows that Rozanov will also be here, he decides that he doesn’t want to be in close proximity with the other, if he can avoid it.
His mom glances at him with a little raise of her eyebrows, because Shane rarely makes demands about things like this. “I can ask,” she says. “Honestly, it would be great if they could get you to be the only focus.”
She nods, and Shane nods back. It would be great, yes.
So his mom asks them, and because she’s very good at what she does, they agree. Shane gets his solo shoot, and doesn’t have to see Ilya Rozanov.
They never get to talk more. They remain rivals on the ice and practically strangers everywhere else.
Shane is aware of the curious glances they throw at each other, sometimes, at events. But he never makes a move to have a conversation with the other one-on-one again.
Shane lives to become the great player he had dreamed of, getting trophies after trophies. At the end of his career, they call him a hockey legend. Forever the #24 of the Montreal Voyageurs.
He will live through all of this, and through the rest of his life, with a small void in his chest, an emptiness lodged deep that will be impossible to explain. A feeling that something is missing, though he will never quite understand what it is.
Ilya Rozanov disappears from his life. Their paths do not cross further.
The red string of fate twists apart, and its threads fray.
Or, it could go like this:
Ilya’s head hurts. It feels like it has been doing nothing but hurt, lately.
The Olympics are a disaster, truly. There is no nicer way to put it. Shit performances with a shit team that didn’t click, and on top of that, it had to happen in Russia, like the universe is mocking him.
What a joke he is, to show up as the captain of their national team, only to lose against a rival that should have been an easy win like Latvia.
His father has already spent an hour reminding him of this fact earlier, because apparently even with an illness claiming more and more of brain, he will always remember Ilya’s failures, and make sure that he knows that he’s weak, and such, such a disappointment.
And still, he insists on parading Ilya around. He wants to show him off at diplomatic parties, introduce him to politicians and officials like a possession that he cannot decide if it holds much value or not.
My son, the captain of the Russian hockey team. Did you see how they lost? A captain should do better, don’t you think? And Ilya can say nothing to defend himself in front of the guests, because he has long since learned how to stand there silently and nod at the right times. Yes, yes, father, I know father, I promise to do better.
Sveta comes to rescue him from these conversations, eventually. He could kiss her for it, if only she didn’t drag him directly into a room with Sasha inside. This, too, gives him an headache.
It has been a long while since he last saw him. Back when they were younger, they had naturally gravitated toward each other, two boys who never could meet the expectations their families tried to force onto them, and eager to say fuck you to them all by hooking up together, thriving on the thrill it gave them.
And for this same reason, they were both aching to leave Russia as soon as possible. So with Sasha now in Paris, and Ilya in Boston, they rarely hear from one another.
Not that it seems to deter Sasha from flirting like no time has passed.
“Come on, Ilya,” Sasha says as he closes the distance between them, once Sveta had deemed them too boring to stay in the room, “We could have some fun.”
“Seriously?” asks Ilya, who has little to no patience tonight, “Here? Seriously?”
That only makes Sasha laugh, drunk and high as he is. “You’ve gotten boring. We can always go somewhere else, if you prefer.”
He makes a move, then, kissing Ilya and taking his bottom lip between his teeth. Ilya doesn’t react.
Because his head is elsewhere, now. Ilya is thinking about Shane Hollander, who he had seen just earlier. Shane Hollander, who naively tried to approach him in the middle of a public event, in Russia, to see if he was okay.
Hollander doesn’t understand how easy it could be for anyone to see how infatuated Ilya has become, if they’re seen together. It’s too much, and too dangerous.
This whole situation with Hollander is too dangerous. Worse, it is distracting. Ilya needs to do better. He needs to focus, and he needs to win, and he needs to be the best. Never weak again. I’ll fucking show them.
So he pushes the thought of Shane Hollander away, tries to forget his curious smiles and freckles, and focuses back on Sasha.
This, too, is dangerous, but he’s familiar with this danger. Ilya knows how to handle it, how far he can push it. It’s a distraction he can afford, something safe in the sense that Sasha never unsettled him the way Hollander does.
So Ilya thinks fuck it, and kisses Sasha back. It’s rough, all teeth and carelessness, impatient hands groping and no tenderness. He doesn’t take his time.
He doesn’t pause to marvel at how the other moves, at the noises he makes, to watch the way his body bends. Ilya doesn’t really care, but it gives him an outlet for the frustration boiling inside him, and Sasha is more than willing to give.
So Ilya takes. He takes, and he doesn’t stay afterwards. Ilya leaves the party carrying emotions he doesn’t want to name, and decides that it’s all enough.
He takes a long look at Hollander’s last message. [Are you okay?], it reads. He blocks the number.
His heart breaks, silently, in a way that he refuses to acknowledge, at the thought that he could never get to have a safe life, doing what he wants and doing it well, as well as having the safe love he craves.
He needs to focus on being the best, he tells himself. It’s the one safety he needs.
He receives no new messages, and he wins the Stanley cup. When Hollander tries to ask him about what happened when they see each other at the NHL Awards right after, Ilya ignores him, and leaves the moment it becomes socially acceptable to do so.
He can’t have this. The risk isn’t worth it.
Hollander doesn’t try to reach out again, and Ilya tries to convince himself that it was the right choice. He remains a winner, in the eyes of everyone. It’s enough.
The red string of fate shakes, and tears.
Or, it could go like this:
“Will you come to my cottage this summer?” Shane asks, even as Ilya tries to shush him.
But he has to ask. Shane has been planning to ask this for weeks now, and tonight was supposed to be the night. Unfortunately, his plan did not factor in the fact that he would get hit during a game hard enough to earn himself a concussion and a trip to the hospital.
It doesn’t stop him from asking. Because Ilya came to visit him, and in that moment seeing him awkwardly standing in the hospital room means the world to Shane, so it must also mean something to Ilya.
Still, even through the high of the painkillers, he catches the hesitation on the other’s face. He adds, a bit pathetically, “Please,” and Ilya answers “Maybe” to appease him, which Shane doesn’t know if he should interpret that as being more of a Yes or a No.
So, he simply has to hold onto hope. He finishes his stay at the hospital and spends the rest of his recovery at his parents’ house. It’s a rare period of complete stillness for Shane, as he isn’t allowed any exercise while his arm heals. He itches for a run, for any sort of stimulation, but doesn’t want to risk the injuries worsening and taking even longer to get back in good shape.
He and Ilya text more, now, but Shane doesn’t ask again about the cottage. He doesn’t want to face the possibility of a clear rejection.
So, in his state, he gets to watch the Stanley Cup finale from the couch at his parents' for the first time in years. He, admittedly, had missed hearing his mom loudly complain about every bad call and missed opportunities happening on the screen during big games, and his dad turning to her to ask questions.
Ilya and the rest of the Boston Bears had been eliminated earlier in the playoffs, just like Shane’s team, so this year isn’t for either of them. His mom had been insistent that the New York Admirals got it in the bag, and seeing how this game is going, she might be right.
He and Ilya message back and forth as the finale progresses. Things like [That was a stupid shot], and [What even was that???] and [The goalie might actually be asleep]. It's fun.
And, sure enough, the Admirals win the Cup. Captain Scott Hunter lifts the trophy as the rest of his team starts to take victory laps around the ice, rejoicing in the middle of it in a hurdle, their families and partners rushing to congratulate them.
Good for them, Shane thinks, as he receives a text from Ilya that just says [This is bullshit]. He chuckles.
They watch the celebrations until the end, and then turn the TV off. Nothing else happens after the game, it’s officially the end of the season for everyone. In another week, Shane will leave for the cottage.
Still, he doesn’t ask Ilya again. He replies to his message with a [Yeah, but the Voyageurs will get it next year. Too bad for you.], and gets a string of nonsensical emojis in response.
Shane goes on with his day, and waits. He goes on with his week, and waits.
Ilya doesn’t join him at the cottage, in the end. Shane accepts it for good the day he sees a picture of Ilya circulating online, showing him on his way to Russia.
Shane spends the summer alone, like he always has before. He has never felt ill at ease at the cottage in the years prior, and he doesn’t know what to do with the feeling.
Rozanov’s absence is a clear enough sign that he doesn’t want to deal with whatever they had anymore. So, Shane will swallow the hurt and embarrassment that he feels, and let it go.
The rest of his summer passes in silence, dreaming of another body against his, in the place he deems the safest on earth.
They don’t message anymore, when the next season starts. Shane could not deal with another rejection.
The red string of fate tangles itself into knots so tight that it looks impossible to straighten out.
Or, it could go like this:
Ilya fucked up, and Shane Hollander got himself a girlfriend.
He had planned what he thought was a great way to get Hollander to stay the night at his place, greedily trying to steal more moments alone with the other before he inevitably had to slip away again.
And it all went well at first, is the thing. So much so that Ilya became too comfortable, and messed it all up by scaring Hollander away.
One word, one fucking word and Hollander was flying out of his lap and outside the door so fast that Ilya barely understood what was happening. He could not handle being called by his first name. One step closer, then ten steps backwards.
It hurts, of course. Of course, Ilya would have hoped for Shane—no, for Hollander to react differently, or maybe to not react at all. He could have dealt with Hollander pretending not to notice his slip of the tongue, not to reply the way he did just to take it all back. Ilya could deal with things remaining as they were before. He didn’t want to lose that.
But Hollander had panicked, and he had fled, and now, he had gotten himself a girlfriend.
A movie star girlfriend, at that. Famous actress Rose Landry, which feels like another slap in Ilya's face because he now cannot go anywhere without hearing about them. News about the new famous couple, candid shots of them holding hands, broadcasts of Landry very publicly expressing her affection.
It hurts, and it makes him fucking angry. He gets angry at everything, he gets angry at the smallest things. Fuck this, fuck everything.
Ilya tried. Against all better judgment, he had let himself want more from Shane Hollander, decided that it would be worth a shot, and now he’s left with nothing at all.
He mops for a long while about it, and then, he decides that it is enough. If Hollander can move on that easily, so will he. He gathers his team, and drags them out to a club while they're in Montreal with every intention of going home with someone. It should be easy enough, he used to do that all the time.
Except that Ilya doesn’t make it as far as inside the bar. Because right across from the place he had chosen is a small parking lot, and parked beneath a flickering street light is Shane Hollander’s car.
Ilya knows it’s his. He cannot be mistaking it, partially because he’s a car fiend, and because, more embarrassingly, he once looked it up just so he could spot Hollander more easily whenever he came to meet Ilya.
So, it’s Hollander’s boring car. Which means that Hollander might be in this club, and then there’s a good chance that Rose Landry is keeping him company.
It makes Ilya sick just thinking about it, so he leaves. He announces to his team that he’s not in the mood anymore, and he simply leaves them here, confused. It’s fine, they have all been confused by him lately anyway.
So, Ilya doesn’t see Hollander that night. And he doesn’t see him any other night. He learns, later, when they have no choice but to talk to each other in Tampa Bay for the All-Star Game, that Hollander brought Rose Landry with him.
He says “Okay, fun for you,” and walks away.
They still win their games together, because they’re obviously the best pairing the league has ever seen. But Ilya doesn’t jump in joy at any of the goals, and cannot stop himself from looking at Landry in the stands, as she shows off her Hollander Jersey.
He thinks, stupidly, you do not deserve to do that, I do, and immediately forces the thought down. It’s over.
He still keeps up with news about Hollander after that, because he’s nothing but a self-sabotating idiot that apparently loves to keep picking at his wounds.
Hollander and Landry stay together for a long while, before eventually breaking up. By the time it happens, Ilya cannot bring himself to feel the hope he once would have had.
Years later, Shane Hollander comes out publicly as gay, on his own accord.
Ilya stares at the window on which the news is displayed, closes it, and takes a breath.
He opens his old text thread with Jane and congratulates him, still, after everything. He receives a cordial, polite and ever impersonal [Thank you] in response, and that’s it.
The red string of fate thins, and unravels.
Unless, unless.
Unless it all goes a much different way. Because even if the red string of fate is unperceivable to their eyes, it still makes them ache. Something inside Shane and Ilya unravels, every time. Something twists, and shakes, and tears with each missed chance, with each version of events that ends with distance instead of each other.
The feeling of wrongness never leaves them, until the end of each of these cycles. This sentiment of ‘No, this is not how it’s supposed to go. I'm missing something. I'm missing someone.’ gnaws at them, with each of these endings.
They won't settle for this, for the both of them have always been stubborn to the core. The fates might enjoy a laugh at their expense, but Shane and Ilya have never been the kind of people to back away from a challenge. So, would it be surprising for them to go against the odds?
Probably not. And because of this, this time, things will go differently. They will transform their destiny, but it isn't because some higher being willed it so.
Maybe it is just as simple as this: if you believe that you can change the end that awaits you, then you will. If you fight, you will get. If you choose me, we will be happy.
So this time, it will go like this:
Shane changes his mind about the solo CCM shoot.
He tells his mom this only a few days before the commercial is supposed to happen, and, understandably, she is a little pissed at him.
“Shane,” she says, “You can't make professional brands rearrange entire campaigns for you and then suddenly go back on it. They’ll think you’re difficult to work with.”
Shane understands that, and the last thing he wants is to become known as the kind of athlete who complicates things for everyone around him.
But Ilya Rozanov refuses to leave his mind. Shane has a bit of an obsession, he realized, and something screams in the back of his head, insistent and unrelenting, saying take this opportunity.
Maybe he’s not as much of an asshole as he appeared to be? How long until they will get another chance to get to know each other?
So he apologizes profusely to his mom but please, can she try to make them change their minds?
She agrees after a dramatic sigh, and she does. The original CCM shoot re-enters Shane’s schedule.
When the day comes, Shane has to accept the fact that Ilya Rozanov is still kind of an asshole. But his fits of laughter as they're being photographed catch Shane off guard and make him laugh, too.
He is, also, unfairly attractive up close. So, all in all, it’s not a bad time. Shane doesn’t regret his decision.
And it only gets better afterwards, as they awkwardly stare at each other in the showers, and find themselves skin against skin in Shane’s hotel room. He gets closer to Ilya Rozanov than he ever thought he would, and he feels better than he ever thought possible about it.
He doesn’t know what it all means for the both of them, yet. But when Rozanov leaves his room, instead of feeling anxious about what will come next, Shane feels light.
The red string of fate smoothes into an unbroken line.
Ilya stares at Hollander’s last message. [Are you okay?] it reads, and Ilya stares at it until his eyes burn.
He doesn’t know what possesses him to do what he does next. Only minutes ago, he had been fully prepared to cut this off completely, to finally do the smart thing and push Hollander out of his life before this could ruin him too much.
Yet, he decides to text back.
He sends, [Not really], and then, after a long hesitation, [Can I call you?]
He’s afraid the messages are going to be met with Hollander telling him to fuck off, just like Ilya told him to fuck off before. Or maybe he just won’t say anything at all. It would be deserved either way.
But Hollander has always been too nice for Ilya, so he replies shortly after and says [Sure. Call when you want.]
Ilya, heart in his throat, goes outside in the freezing night of a country he doesn’t want to call his own anymore, and dials the one person he knows can bring him some peace of mind.
He’s so much weaker than he thought he was, he realizes, as Hollander picks up and starts nervously asking what’s wrong, instead of scolding Ilya for his earlier behavior. He cannot get himself to remove Hollander from his life. He feels greedy for wanting it all. He wants a safe life, he wants a fun life, and he wants Shane Hollander.
So, he will try. He will keep this going, see where it leads them. It cannot stop here, he can’t be the one reponsible for putting an end to this.
Hollander’s voice warms him in the cold, winter night. They talk for what feels like hours, and Ilya feels better than he has in weeks.
The red string of fate gently falls back into place.
Shane stays at the cottage just as he had planned, even if he’s alone. He stays, because he doesn’t want the lack of Ilya to keep derailing his life. If the other doesn’t want to spend time with him then fine, Shane will do well by himself.
Or at least, he tries. In a moment of weakness that he wishes he could explain, sitting alone on his big couch, in his big open living room, he caves and types a single message. [If you come back from Russia early, you’re still welcome.] He attaches the address to it, and then he throws his phone away. That’s it.
Maybe it’s pathetic. Maybe Shane should have more pride by now, but really, it simply feels like too much to give up without trying one last time. I need to do this, he finds himself thinking, I need to give this one last push.
And so he’s still at the cottage, alone, when Ilya Rozanov shows up without as much as a warning a week later.
“I came back for you,” Ilya says, looking wrecked and exhausted like he had just run here, which cannot be possible since Shane can see a car parked right outside. “I’m sorry. Please let me stay. I'm sorry.”
And Shane, truly, should be annoyed. His traitorous heart doesn't get the memo, and soars with joy. One step backward, and ten steps forwards. It feels like such a leap in the right direction, like the thing he has been dreaming of ever since he arrived here. He wants this, he wants him, he feels wanted, now, after all.
They will talk about it, of course. They have so much to talk about, so much to discuss and to accept, the both of them.
For now, he lets Ilya in, and smiles.
The red string of fate untangles itself, and becomes as good as new.
Fuck this, Ilya thinks, and with a newfound rush of adrenaline, walks into the club. He knows that Hollander is inside, and so, like an asshole looking for trouble, he seeks him out.
He finds him easily, at a table surrounded by beautiful people and, as expected, his girlfriend. She’s sitting beside him, laughing at something someone has just said. Ilya’s heart beats so fast he thinks he might give himself a heart attack.
Still, he makes sure to stand in Hollander's line of sight, and doesn’t miss the other’s expression when he notices him. He’s sure he doesn’t look too different himself.
Shane looks crushed, he looks unsure. He looks tempted. He looks at Ilya, and cannot get himself to look away. Good, Ilya thinks, see what you’re missing.
Ilya doesn’t leave with anyone, that night, like he had planned. Because he also was unsure, he also was tempted, and he, also, could not look away from Hollander. But he saw that the other was still affected by him, which is a pitiful soothing balm on his fracturing heart.
When they meet again in Tampa Bay for the All-Star Game, Shane is the one to approach him, and offer conversation. He tells Ilya that he’s no longer with Rose Landry. Not compatible, he says, and Ilya’s heart goes wild, again.
They meet that night, in Ilya’s hotel room, and they talk. Ilya cries, and they fuck, and they call each other by their first names.
The way Shane says Ilya, without fear in his voice, is the best thing he has ever heard. He hopes that he will get to hear it a hundred more times after this. Ilya feels more confident in himself, and in what is going on between them, than he has been in a long time.
For once, he sees the hope of a future. He lets himself hang onto it tightly, and hopes Shane will do the same.
Between them, the red string of fate sings. Wherever they go, whatever happens, they will be alright.
“Ilya Rozanov? I’m Shane Hollander. I wanted to introduce myself.”
“Okay.”
Okay. Everything will be okay.