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Ilya can hear the “I think I like you a little too much” in his head at least 20 times a day since Tampa.
Deep down, he had known. There is no way that Hollander would have kept hooking up with him for so many years if there wasn’t some affection. Sure, he was convenient in a way, and they had the same secret to keep, but everything else was too complicated for it to be worth it, unless there was something more. Ilya had known that for years, but it had been much easier to pretend it wasn’t there.
But then, he had messed it up by asking him to stay, making him a sandwich and whispering his name like they could be something more.
Shane had left, and Ilya had thought whatever had been going on all these years was over for good. And he had been heartbroken, even him could admit it, but as much as it hurt, it had probably been for the best.
What he hadn't expected was for Shane to come crashing back into his life, with his pretty freckles, shy smile and a newfound confidence that finally allowed him to put into words what they had been denying all these years.
Still, Ilya clung to the illusion that nothing had changed. That they could keep doing this, even after admitting, at least to themselves, that it was more than sex. He told himself it was because Hollander understood him in a way no one else ever had. Because they had been in each other's lives for so long. Because Hollander had held him through his tears over his father and then spent endless hours on the phone with him after he returned to Russia for the funeral. Those reasons were easier to believe than the truth.
But then, he had finally said it out loud, admitted that it was love, that he was so in love with him, but since he had said it in a language Shane hadn’t understood, and he thought he could keep pretending that he wasn’t craving more than what they had.
As soon as he landed in Boston a few days later, he received a text from Jane. That made him smile but also made his heart ache. He took a deep breath, ready to chirp back, but the texts kept coming.
Jane
Welcome back! Can’t wait to beat you in a few days😉
At what time are you flying out the next day? You could stay over at my place for the night.
Or come over before the game instead if you have to leave early.
If you want.
I know you’ve had a rough week, so no pressure. There’s always next time.
And here it was, the confirmation that Shane wanted to see him maybe as much as he wanted to see Shane. The fake nonchalance of trying not to seem too eager, because whatever they had now was new and fragile, compared to what they’d had for years.
He knew he had to end it.
Lily
We leave the next morning but no too early. See you after I win 😉
Jane
You wish.
See you soon 😊
Shane crowds him against the wall as soon as he enters the apartment.
He knows he only came to talk, but he can’t escape the strong hands grabbing his hair, pulling him into a kiss. He doesn’t want to. If it’s their last kiss, Ilya is determined to make it a good one.
They’re both out of breath when they finally stop kissing, and the tip of Shane ears is a little red, which shouldn’t be so adorable.
“Hey.” Shane whispers in an almost shy voice, like he hadn’t just been kissing the life out of him. “Good game tonight.”
“You too.” Ilya says flatly, more focused on the fact that he needs to let go of Shane’s waist but can’t bring himself to.
“Come on, you guys won. You’re not even going to gloat a little bit?” Shane teases him, but his smiles falls when he realizes that Ilya isn’t really paying attention to their conversation. He’d just gotten back from his father’s funeral and had played intensely tonight, but Shane could also see the sadness in his eyes. He decides to change the subject:
“Are you hungry? I could make us something real quick, or we could go upstairs and…”
He trails off, satisfied to see that it seemed to be enough to snap Ilya out of whatever thoughts he was having.
“I’m really curious to know how you’re going to finish this sentence.” He smiles when Shane blushes and as much as he does want to take him to his bedroom and enjoy anything Shane is willing to give him, he knows that leaving tonight will be hard enough without him making things worse for both of them.
“Actually, I think we should talk,” he sighs.
Shane nods, understanding and Ilya can tell he has no idea where that conversation is going, and somehow, that breaks his heart even more. He probably thinks they’re in a good place, and they are in a way, better, more honest than they’ve ever been with each other. Which is why Ilya is terrified. Shane leads them to sit on the couch, and Ilya puts some distance between them as soon as they’re seated.
Then, they stay silent for a few seconds because Ilya doesn’t even know where to start, and his throat feels tight.
“Are you okay?” Shane asks, concerned. He tries to grab his hand, and Ilya avoids his touch so quickly that Shane frowns.
“You’re scaring me a little.” Shane admits with a nervous laugh that fades almost immediately when Ilya doesn’t react. The apartment suddenly feels too quiet. Too serious.
“Ilya, talk to me,” he pleads, trying to meet his eyes.
Ilya presses his lips together hard enough to hurt. He had spent the entire taxi ride over rehearsing this conversation in his head, trying to figure out how to make it hurt less, but now that Shane is looking at him with open concern and soft eyes, all his carefully prepared words are gone.
“I went home because my father died,” he says finally, voice rough. “And all I could think about was you.”
Shane’s expression softens immediately. “Oh.”
“I wanted to hear your voice all the time.” Ilya continues before he can stop himself. “I told you things I have never told anyone.”
“Is that a bad thing?” Shane asks carefully.
“It is for me,” Ilya breathes out.
Shane goes still at that. Ilya drags a hand over his face, exhausted already, down to his bones. “You make me forget how to do this properly.”
“Do what properly?”
“Keep things simple.”
Shane stares at him for a long moment, and Ilya can practically see the realization beginning to dawn on him, the fragile hope slowly creeping in where there should only be fear. And that is exactly why Ilya knows he has to end it now, before Shane asks for something real and Ilya is weak enough to give it to him.
“I also wanted to talk tonight,” Shane says, voice slightly trembling, but determined, “I was going to invite you to come to my cottage this summer. We could spend a couple of weeks up there, just the two of us. No one would know, and we could see where this is going…”
“This is not going anywhere Hollander.”
“Ilya…” Shane pleads.
“Don’t.” Ilya says quickly, voice sharper than he intended. Shane’s expression immediately crumples with confusion.
“I can’t do this anymore.”
“What?” Shane frowns.
“This.” Ilya gestures vaguely between them. “Whatever this is supposed to be now.”
Shane stares at him for a second like he genuinely doesn’t understand the words. “I thought things were finally getting better,” he says quietly.
“That’s the problem.” Ilya replies, forcing himself to sound cold when every instinct is begging him to pull Shane close instead. “You will want things from me that I can’t give you.”
“That’s not true.”
“Yes, it is.” Ilya snaps. “You'll want a relationship. You'll want feelings and phone calls and fucking cottages in the summer. You deserve that.”
Shane flinches at the bitterness in his voice. “And what do you want?” he asks softly.
Ilya almost says you. It sits right there in his throat, painful and desperate. Instead, he looks away. “Nothing.”
Shane’s eyes shine with hurt. “So that’s it?”
“We were good before we complicated it.”
“No,” Shane says immediately. “We were miserable before.”
Ilya laughs humorlessly. “Maybe you were.”
“That’s bullshit and you know it.” Shane’s voice breaks slightly. “You asked me to stay. At your place. You started this.”
The words hit him like a punch because he remembers the pain of Shane walking away that day. A pain he’s about to feel again.
“I shouldn’t have.”
Shane recoils like he’s been slapped and the first tears falls. For a horrible second, Ilya almost takes it back, almost grabs his face and tells him none of this is true, that he’s terrified and grieving and so hopelessly in love with him that it feels impossible to breathe sometimes. But if he does that, he’ll never leave. And if he stays, eventually he’ll ruin Shane completely. So instead, he forces himself to stand.
“I should go.”
The silence after the words leaves his ears ringing. Shane hasn’t moved from the couch. He’s sitting there staring at him, frozen in place.
“Ilya,” he says finally, voice small in a way Ilya has never heard before. “Don’t do this because you’re hurting.”
A cruel laugh almost escapes him. Hurting is exactly why he has to do it.
“You’ll get over it.” The second the words leave his mouth, he hates himself for them. Shane looks like he does too and for a moment, neither of them breathe.
Then Shane wipes angrily at his face and stands up so fast the coffee table rattles. “Wow,” he says, shaking his head. “Okay.”
“Shane,” Ilya starts.
“No, it’s fine.” His voice cracks on the last word. “You know what? I get it now.”
“You do not.”
“You came here to make sure I wouldn’t ask for more.” Shane laughs bitterly. “God forbid I invite you to spend time with me.”
“That’s not what this is about.”
“Then what is it about?” Shane demands. “Because from where I’m standing, it looks like you’re terrified that maybe you actually care about someone.”
Ilya’s jaw tightens. “You think this is easy for me?”
“I think you’re running away.”
Ilya tries to keep his face neutral despite the words hitting too close. “I am trying to save this before it becomes worse,” he mumbles.
“Worse than what?” Shane asks, tears in his eyes again. “Than loving someone who loves you back?”
Ilya physically flinches and Shane notices right away. All of a sudden, the devastating understanding settles across Shane’s face.
“Holy shit,” he whispers. “You do love me.”
Ilya looks away too late.
Shane lets out a shaky breath that sounds almost like a laugh, completely disbelieving. “And you’re ending things because of it?”
“You don’t understand…”
“Then explain it to me!”
“I can’t!” Ilya shouts. The force of it leaves the room dead silent afterward. Shane stares at him, stunned.
Ilya presses both hands against his eyes for a second, trying to stop the pressure building behind them. “I don’t know how to be what you need.”
“I never asked you to be anything other than yourself.”
“That is not enough,” Ilya argues, throat tight.
“It is for me.” The sincerity in Shane’s voice nearly destroys him because he knows Shane means it. Shane would take all of him, the grief, anger, fear, and hold him gently like he was something precious. And Ilya doesn’t know how to survive that, because there’s no way it will end well, and when it does end, when Ilya’s hopes for a life a happiness with the man he loves get crushed, he knows it will destroy him.
He drops his hands and forces himself to walk backward toward the door before he loses his nerve completely.
Shane’s expression changes immediately. Panic replacing hurt. “No,” he says quietly.
Ilya reaches for the handle.
“No, don’t leave like this.”
Every instinct in his body screams at him to stay, but he opens the door anyway.
“I’m sorry,” he whispers.
And then he leaves before Shane can see him cry.
The next couple of weeks pass in a blur, with Shane throwing himself into hockey so hard that his friends and family are starting to worry. They know that Shane has always been intense about the game, and with playoffs just around the corner, there is even more pressure on him, but they can tell something is off. Hayden tries to pry, but he gets shut down by Shane who keeps saying he needs to focus on the game. That doesn’t explain why he randomly looks like he’s about to burst into tears, or why he showed up to practise a couple of weeks ago looking like he had spent the whole night crying. But Hayden doesn’t get to figure out the issue, because Shane gets hit during their next game against Toronto, hard enough to lose consciousness for a few seconds and to end up in the hospital.
And just like that, his season is over.
“Is there hmm… is there anyone else you’d like to contact?” David asks the next day, sitting by Shane’s hospital bed after the doctor’s came in to confirm they would be able to release Shane soon as long as he stays with his parents for a few weeks while he recovers. “Anyone we should reach out to? To let them know you’re okay?”
Ilya.
Shane thinks about him right away. Does he know what happened? Was he watching, like Shane watches all his games when he can, or at least the highlights, like it doesn’t tear him apart to see him? Even if Ilya isn’t watching his games, he has probably heard of the injury by now. The captain of one of the best teams in the league being injured enough to be taken out of a game on a stretcher is the kind of news that travels fast in the hockey world, so Ilya must know. Does he even care?
“No.” Share replies instead. “Just my coach, he’ll let the team know.”
There’s an awkward silence and Shane doesn’t understand why, until his mom asks: “What about Lily?”
If it weren’t for the heart monitor he is hooked up to, Shane would have sworn his heart stopped hearing his mom casually ask about his biggest secret. If anything, the monitor has picked up that his heart is now beating a little faster.
“Who?” Shane tries to sounds calm, but he knows right away that Yuna can tell he’s lying. She raises a disapproving eyebrow at him.
“She’s been calling, Shane. We didn't want to pick up before talking to you about it because we respect your privacy but it does look like she’s concerned. If you really don’t want to talk to her, I could give her an update…”
“No!” Shane shouts and both of his parents seem surprise at his outburst, which is fair. He just yelled at them for no reason, because they have no idea what’s going on, and yelling was really stupid because now his head hurts even more.
A few minutes ago, talking to Ilya sounded like the scariest thing, but the idea of his mom talking to him instead is actually terrifying.
“Why don’t we go grab some food and give you a few minutes of privacy?” his dad suggests, and Shane is so grateful that he doesn’t pry.
“Don’t stare at the screen for too long, but call her.” Yuna says, dropping Shane’s phone in his hand before getting dragged away by her husband.
Shane unlocks his phone and realizes right away that he could definitely not look at the screen for too long because everything is too blurry, and the more he tries to focus, the more it hurts. He sees a lot of notifications, missed calls, messages but doesn’t have to scroll through them much before he sees it: 12 missed calls from Lily. And that’s not counting the unread text messages.
He presses the call back button before he can change his mind. Ilya picks up almost immediately.
“Shane?” he hears the rough but tentative tone and his head is no longer the only thing that hurts.
“I’m alive. Bad concussion and fractured collarbone. I’m out for the playoffs, but I’ll be fine.” Shane says in a clinical tone, ready to end the call as possible.
“Could have been worse.” He hears the relief in Ilya’s voice and hates it.
“Yeah, so you can stop calling now.” He’s ready to hang up, but the strangled noise he hears makes him falter.
“Shit, Hollander, you scared me. I was watching the game and you weren’t moving and I couldn’t…”
“Don’t…”
“I have been waiting to hear updates since last night; I was so fucking worried.”
“You lost the right to be worried about me when you walked away, Ilya.” Shane hangs up, hands shaking and eyes burning.
The room stays quiet after Shane hangs up, except for the frantic beeping of the heart monitor that is definitely reacting to the fact that he can barely breathe right now. He presses the heels of his hands against his eyes hard enough to hurt.
“Shane?” his mom says gently as she and his dad step back into the room about ten minutes later. “Are you okay?”
No, he thinks immediately. He’s exhausted. His shoulder hurts. His head feels like it’s splitting open every time he thinks too hard, and somehow Ilya still managed to make his chest ache with just a few words spoken in that rough worried voice.
You scared me. Shane hates the a part of him that was relieved to hear that he still cares.
He drops his hands and stares at the blanket over his legs because he can’t look at his parents right now. If he does, he might completely fall apart.
His dad pulls the chair closer to the bed. “You don’t have to tell us anything,” he says carefully, “but whoever that was… it felt important.”
He doesn’t know if it’s the medication, the pain, or just how hard things have been recently, but all of a sudden, Shane is too tired to keep lying to his parents. He’s spent so many years lying until it became second nature, but suddenly he can’t do it anymore. He knows he can’t tell them everything, but he’s hurting and he needs to say something.
“Lily’s not a girl. I’m gay.” He says, trying to keep his voice from shaking. “I’m sorry. I really tried but…”
“Oh Shane…” his mother interrupt. “You have nothing to be sorry for. We’re so sorry if we made you feel like you couldn’t tell us,” she adds, her eyes filled with tears.
“We love you, Shane. This doesn’t change anything,” his father says calmly, putting a reassuring hand on Shane's knee.
“Is that why you didn’t want to call him?" Yuna asks. "If you have someone in your life and he wants to come see you…”
“No, we’re not…” Shane takes a deep breath. “He uh… broke up with me a couple of weeks ago.”
Broke up. They weren’t even together. Shane sees the empathy on both of his parents faces, and that ends up being the final straw that makes him burst into tears.
“I’m so sorry Shane.” His mom says and she’s carefully hugging him because of his injuries. He hides his face in her shoulder and let himself be rocked gently as he keeps crying, the burden of the last decade slightly lighter. There are still things his parents don't know and maybe never will, but for the first time in a while, he doesn't feel alone.
He’s at his parents’ cottage a few weeks later when he sends the first text. When he opens the text thread, he sees the messages he received the night he got injured and can’t help but feel guilty knowing how he ended their last call, even if he knew keeping their distances was best for a while.
Lily
That looked bad, are u ok?
I just need to know how you are
Hollander
Please
Call me when you can
Or text if you don’t want to talk to me
Anything to tell me you're ok
I can't find updates online
Please Shane
He knows he shouldn’t, and he knows they’ll never actually be friends, but their careers are so intertwined, that he knows they’re going to keep running into each other for many years to come. They could at least be polite with each other.
Jane
Congrats on the playoffs.
The reply comes in pretty quickly after that.
Lily
Thank you.
How are you?
Jane
Bored out of my mind, but recovery is going well.
Thanks for asking.
Lily
Good
Playoffs would be more interesting if you were there. Is not as fun beating the old Scott Hunter.
Jane
Good luck with that, my mom thinks his team is going to win this year.
Lily
No way!
Can’t wait to prove another Hollander wrong😉
Aside from the light teasing from Ilya, the rest of the conversation sounds too formal, but it’s better than nothing. There is so much more he wants to say but that would get them back into a complicated territory and the wound is too fresh. Instead he just likes the message, knowing that Ilya will see it and understand that Shane’s done for now.
About a week later, after game 2, he texts Ilya again, even though he knows he should leave things as they are. Their last exchange was polite enough, but Shane can’t help himself. He tells himself it’s just sportsmanship or whatever, but deep down he knows that it's just him refusing to move on. Not after so many years, and not when he knows that his feelings aren't unrequited.
Jane
How are your ribs?
My mom says you’re playing hurt, and I think she’s right.
Lily
Is fine, just bruised
So, your mom knows everything?
Jane
About hockey? Definitely.
There is something else his mom knows now. He needs to tell Ilya.
Jane
She knows about you too. Both of my parents do.
Lily
What about me?
Jane
They know about Lily. And they know Lily is a man.
I didn’t tell them who you were, I wouldn't do that to you, but I told them I’m gay.
They were great about it.
Lily
That is good. I am happy for you.
You can tell them I’m Lily if you want.
Jane
I don’t know if there is a point in telling them that.
That wouldn’t change anything, right?
Ilya doesn’t respond to that for a while, and Shane feels guilty as he sees the dots appear, then disappear on his screen. He knows that was a sensitive topic and he shouldn’t have pushed, but he often couldn't control himself when it came to Ilya Rozanov.
Jane
Look, I’m sorry. I don’t want to make things more complicated than they already are. I should go to sleep. Goodnight Ilya.
Lily
I am sorry too.
Goodnight Shane.
After that, they keep texting occasionally. Never about their relationship, or about what happened at Shane’s apartment. They talk about safe, manageable things; mostly general hockey gossip as they watch the Admirals get closer to winning the Cup.
Sometimes Shane ignores a message for hours because he’s still angry and sometimes Ilya leaves him on read because answering feels too dangerous. But neither of them stops replying entirely.
Then, Ilya starts calling, usually late at night when he feels reckless. At first, the conversations are awkward, both of them circling carefully around each other like they’ve forgotten how to do this without hurting themselves. But eventually, muscle memory takes over and they fall back into teasing each other and get comfortable enough to facetime.
One night, Shane laughs so hard his shoulder hurts. The sound goes quiet on the other end of the line afterward, like Ilya is just listening to him breathe. That’s when Shane realizes this is becoming dangerous again. Because the thing about Ilya is that Shane never stopped loving him. He just got better at surviving it. And maybe Ilya never stopped either.
Shane looks healthier as the weeks go by. Less pale. Stronger. But there’s still something fragile about him that twists painfully in Ilya’s chest. And then, because apparently the universe enjoys torturing him, Shane smiles at him, and Ilya feels something crack open inside him. As much as he had tried to put an end to whatever this was, seeing Shane lying down on the ice on his TV, unconscious, and not having any way of making sure if was fine, not hearing any updates for hours had terrified him. After that, getting his heart broken hadn't looked as scary, as long as Shane was alive and well. So when Shane had reached out, he had been unable to stay away.
“I meant what I said when you were in the hospital,” Ilya admits finally, staring away from his phone. “I was worried.”
Shane’s throat tightens immediately. “I know.”
“I didn’t stop caring because I left."
“I know,” Shane repeats, quieter this time. That almost makes it worse somehow.
Ilya looks up then, eyes tired and painfully open in a way Shane isn’t used to seeing.
“I just thought maybe if I ruined it first, it would hurt less,” he admits in a low voice.
Shane actually laughs at that. A sad, disbelieving sound. “Yeah? How’d that work out for you?”
Ilya huffs out a breath that could almost be a laugh. “Terribly.”
And for the first time in months, Shane works up the courage to asks for what he really wants. “The invitation to my cottage still stands, if you change your mind.”
“I will think about it,” Ilya promises, but Shane isn't sure anything will come out of it. Ilya doesn't know either, because as much as he wants Shane, there is too much at stake, and they still live in a world where professional hockey players aren't supposed to fall in love with each other.
However, a few days later, Scott Hunter kisses his boyfriend on the ice on television and everything changes. His phone rings as Ilya calls him, and Shane’s heart is pounding hard enough that he can hear it in his ears. Weeks of waiting, wondering, and trying not to hope collapse into a single sentence.
“I’m coming to the cottage.”