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They’re walking slowly, unhurried, the way people do when they don’t have anywhere they need to be. Just enjoying the occasional bump of the other's shoulder as they walked down the busy sidewalk.
New York in summer is loud and alive, but Shane barely notices it—just the warmth of the sun on his bare arms, the presence of Ilya close at his side. Ever since their relationship was made public last summer, Ilya has absolutely no concept of personal space; his fingers hooked loosely into Shane’s belt loop like it’s the most natural thing in the world, like loving Shane out in the open is both a privilege and a right.
“I like your smile,” Ilya says, tilting his head. They were waiting at a crosswalk for the lights to change.
“You put it there,” Shane replies.
Ilya smiles back, giving him a quick peck as the little white walking man in the box told them they could go.
They had made it just across the busy street when someone stepped into their path, a phone already raised, their smile bright and hopeful.
“Hi! Sorry—hi. I promise this is quick,” she says. “I run a TikTok called Meet Cutes NYC. Can I ask if you two are a couple?”
Ilya doesn’t miss a beat.
“Yes! Very much,” he says with a proud grin. He holds Shane’s hand up like it’s a trophy.
Shane smiles, easy and warm. “We are.”
The interviewer grins, delighted. “Okay, amazing. Can I ask how long you two have been together?”
Shane glances at Ilya, that familiar silent check-in, then answers. “Going on fourteen years.”
“Married one,” Ilya adds, lifting their joined hands into the frame again. Two gold bands caught the sunlight.
The interviewer’s eyes widen. “Oh my god. That’s—wow. Okay. So how did you meet?”
Shane lets out a quiet breath, like he’s choosing his words carefully—not just because the story is fragile, but because it matters.
“We met back in 2008, a year before our rookie season,” he says. “We were supposed to be rivals.”
The interviewer blinks. “Rookie season… for…?”
There’s a beat of silence.
Then a guy behind the camera laughs. “You’re kidding.”
She turns toward him, confused. “What?”
He gestures wildly at them. “You literally have two of the top MLH players standing right in front of you—the top two scorers in the league—and you have no idea,” he joked.
Her jaw drops as she turns back to them.
“Oh my—are you serious?” she blurts, hand flying to her mouth. “I’m so sorry—I didn’t—”
Shane shrugs, amused. “All good.”
Ilya’s thumb brushes Shane’s hand. “We like being normal.”
They smile at each other, warmth passing between them like a current.
She shakes her head, still stunned, then refocuses. “Okay. Wow. That makes this even better. So—what was it like, you said you didn’t get along at first. Did you start as rivals?”
Ilya watches Shane answer, eyes fond and openly adoring.
“Complicated,” Shane says. “Intense. But… inevitable, I think. Sometimes I think we were pushed into being rivals more than us actually having a rivalry.”
Ilya nods.
The interviewer smiles. “Okay, a couple of quick questions. Who said ‘I love you’ first?”
“You did,” Shane says immediately, squeezing Ilya’s hand before bringing his knuckles to his lips for a gentle kiss.
Ilya looks proud, “I felt it long before I said it.” a blush coloring his cheeks.
“What do you love most about each other?” she asks.
Shane’s gaze drifts to Ilya without thinking—like his body already knows where to look.
“He loves without holding back,” Shane says. “Once I was his, I was his. Completely.”
Ilya’s expression softens, eyes shining. “He makes the world quiet,” he says. “With him, everything is steady. I get lost in my head a lot. He doesn’t force me out of it. He just sits with me—or close enough that I know he’s only a reach away.”
The interviewer exhales like she’s witnessing a real-life fairytale. “Okay, final question.” She smiles gently. “If you could go back to the very beginning… what would you tell yourself about what’s to come?”
Shane’s thumb brushes slowly over Ilya’s knuckle again.
“I’d tell myself not to be afraid of how fast it happened—or how big it got.” he says. “That the love only continues to grow—and that it’s worth every moment it took to get here.”
Ilya leans closer, shoulder pressing into Shane’s. “I’d tell myself it’s real. That feeling in your stomach when you shake his hand for the first time and see those freckles? That’s real.” he says softly. “And one day, you get to be his husband. In the sunlight. Like this.”
Tears pricked at Shane’s eyes as Ilya spoke as if it were only the two of them on the sidewalk, looking deep into his husband's warm eyes.
The interviewer lowers her phone, visibly emotional. “Thank you. Seriously. That was… beautiful.”
Shane nods. “Thanks for stopping us.”
Ilya smiles brightly at the camera. “Good luck with love.”
They walk away hand in hand, unhidden, unhurried.
That night, back at the hotel, Shane toed off his shoes the second the door shut behind them, letting out a long breath as he dropped backward onto the edge of the bed.
“I love this city,” he muttered, rubbing at the back of his neck, “but Jesus Christ.”
Ilya, halfway through shrugging out of his shirt, snorted. “This from man who insisted we walk everywhere.”
Shane looked up at him. “You picked the hotel because it was ‘charming and central.’”
“It is charming.”
Shane gave him a flat look. “Yes, it is charming, but your definition of central is deeply concerning. It took us forty-five minutes and three near-death experiences to get a bagel.”
Ilya grinned, completely unbothered, tossing his shirt toward the chair and missing entirely. “You survived.”
“Barely.”
Ilya had just opened his mouth with what was undoubtedly going to be an annoyingly smug response when his phone buzzed on the nightstand.
Then again.
And again.
Shane’s phone lit up almost immediately after.
The two of them paused.
Looked at each other.
Then simultaneously reached for their phones.
“Oh,” Shane said.
Ilya frowned, leaning over him. “Oh what?”
Shane just turned the screen toward him.
Harris: My God, you two are revoltingly adorable. ❤️❤️❤️
Troy: BRO! DID YOU KNOW YOU’RE TRENDING?!
Rose: I have watched this six times. ❤️❤️
Scott: This is disgusting.
A second later—
Scott: Kip cried.
Shane laughed.
“Oh, there’s more.”
Dad: Your mother is emotional.
Immediately followed by—
Mom: You both look so happy ❤️
Ilya made a soft sound in the back of his throat and climbed fully onto the bed beside him, shoulder pressed against Shane’s as he checked his own messages.
“Mine are worse.”
“Worse?”
“Hayes sent fourteen crying emojis.”
Shane barked out a laugh.
“Svet says we are ‘offensively in love.’”
“Accurate.”
Ilya nudged him with his shoulder. “I know.”
Another link came through from Troy.
TikTok
Shane clicked the link.
Meet Cutes NYC
4.7M views • posted 2h ago
Shane blinked at the number of views. “Jesus Christ.”
“What?”
He turned the phone toward Ilya.
“Oh,” he said, sounding almost impressed.
Ilya was already leaning in close, practically draped over him now as he stated scrolling the comments before even watching the video. They were impossible to miss.
- I DON’T EVEN WATCH HOCKEY WHY AM I SOBBING
- THE DARK HAIRED ONE SAID ‘HE MAKES THE WORLD QUIET’ EXCUSE ME????
- not the husband in the sunlight line i need to lie down
- THIS is what yearning looks like after the happy ending
- once i was his, i was his????? HELLO????
Shane made a strangled noise. “Oh my god.”
Ilya looked delighted.
“People have excellent taste.”
“People are insane.”
The video played.
Shane watched them on the screen—the easy way they stood close without thinking, Ilya’s hand in his belt loop, the way they kept turning toward each other like gravity.
And then the answers.
Once I was his, I was his. Completely.
He makes the world quiet.
One day, you get to be his husband. In the sunlight. Like this.
Shane went very still.
Beside him, Ilya had gone quieter too, his expression softer now.
“Do we really look like that?” Shane asked after a moment, voice low.
Ilya turned to him immediately.
“Yes.”
Shane huffed a laugh.
“No, seriously.”
“Yes,” Ilya said again, firmer this time, like it was the simplest truth in the world. He reached up, brushing his knuckles over Shane’s jaw. “Worse, actually. We are much more in love in person.”
Shane’s face warmed.
“Jesus.”
“Is compliment.”
“It’s embarrassing.”
“It’s accurate.”
The comments kept rolling past faster than Shane could read them.
He set the phone down on his chest.
For a moment, neither of them said anything.
Then Shane said quietly, “Remember when we used to panic if someone saw us standing too close?”
Ilya’s expression shifted.
Softer.
Older somehow.
“Mm.”
“Checking reflections in restaurant windows.”
“Separate elevators.”
“Leaving places ten minutes apart.”
The silence that followed wasn’t heavy.
Just full.
Ilya reached for his hand, threading their fingers together.
“Now strangers cry about us on internet,” he murmured.
Shane laughed softly, something a little wrecked around the edges.
“Yeah.”
Ilya shifted closer until Shane could just fold around him naturally, familiar as breathing.
“Good,” Ilya said.
Shane looked down at him.
“Good?”
Ilya shrugged against him, pressing a kiss just below his jaw.
“Let them see.”
And after everything—the years of waiting, the careful touches, the stolen time and quiet love—
Shane smiled, tucked him closer, and pressed a kiss into his hair.
“Yeah,” he whispered.
“Let them.”