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The way Ilya Rozanov acquired the One Wish Willow wasn't important. Okay, he can admit he doesn't remember when he got it. It might as well have appeared in his bedside drawer like magic one day. It sits unassumingly next to a bottle of lube, a large handful of condoms, and a vibrating cock ring he hasn't charged in a few months.
The thing is though, he does have a wish.
He glances over to where Shane is napping beside him in bed, his breath coming out of his mouth in short puffs. Ilya just edged him like five times before finally letting him come, so he was well within his rights to pass out for a few minutes. He loves watching Shane sleep. They don't get to see each other in this state often, since they never spend the night together, but sometimes they'd nap for a few minutes before one of them had to leave. Always on their way away from each other.
Ilya doesn't know why the One Wish Willow has grasped his attention now, since it has been sitting in his bedside table for many years, possibly since he arrived in Boston. It stares back at him from the open drawer until he picks it up.
He reads the box: "Spark the middle and break in half." There are some words circling around each other, but Ilya ignores them. They probably just say what he already thinks: this is just dumb fun and will not actually work.
He considers his wish. He's recently admitted to himself that this thing with Shane is serious to him. He hasn't been able to get himself hard for anyone else in a long time, and besides that, his brain has locked onto the word love recently. The sex they're having feels different — more emotional, like neither of them wants their time together to end. It almost made Ilya want to be brave: "я тебя люблю," he had said tonight as his orgasm overtook him, knowing Shane would not understand him. Before Shane knocked out, he asked what Ilya had said, and rolled his eyes when Ilya responded with a joke.
Ilya knows they cannot be together, that Shane probably doesn't even care to be. Together. With him. They fuck, they meet up, they kiss, whatever. He and Shane — together — would end in disaster. For the league, for their careers, and though Ilya thinks he might give up his career to be with Shane, he is certain Shane would not want the same.
Ilya can't really stand the idea of his love being безответная; unanswered; unreturned. What is the actual word, though? Unrequited. That he would be yearning for Shane, in love with Shane, and Shane would be — what, disgusted? sickened? — by his admission. Not that Ilya would ever say anything, to admit this out loud. But he can picture Shane's panic if he were to find this out. His lips turned down into a frown. His eyebrows furrowed, confused because they have always just fucked, never been more than that to each other. Couldn't be.
Shane sighs in his sleep, and it's as if Ilya has manifested the picture of Shane he had in his head, because his mouth starts tipping down into a frown, his eyebrows also crinkling in his sleep. He looks dissatisfied, which Ilya knows is not because of what they just did in bed together. So it must be because he can somehow sense Ilya thinking about impossible things.
Ilya's attention turns back to the triangular package in his hand, bright red and white. The One Wish Willow. He opens the flap, pulls out the brown stick-shaped thing to rest in his palm.
In the end, he doesn't think so hard about his wish. He is sure this will not work, but Ilya is feeling a bit desperate.
"I wish Shane Hollander loved me back, like I love him," he says — out loud, in his Russian-accented English because he is insane but also because he wants to give this the highest shot at working. He breaks the stick in half. And nothing happens.
He starts repeating his wish in Russian, "Пожалуйста, полюби меня в ответ," just in case whoever grants the wishes also speaks his language.
Shane is confused when he wakes up. He doesn't recognize the feel of the sheets on his legs or the pillow behind his head. He looks over and sees Ilya, and Shane remembers falling asleep almost immediately after they'd had sex.
Ilya has his eyes closed, murmuring something under his breath in Russian. For a moment, he doesn't notice Shane is awake, so Shane gets to look at his face undetected. Shane wants more than anything to understand what Ilya is saying — feels that if he could speak his native tongue, he'd unlock something about him, something that can't be easily translated. He feels the desperation radiating off of Ilya in the words he speaks, speaking a prayer, a wish, a plea out into the universe.
"H-hi," he says to Ilya, his voice cracking a bit from the sex, then sleep. "How long was I asleep?"
Ilya opens his eyes and studies him for a minute, not saying anything. Shane feels Ilya looking for something on his face, something that he's not seeing.
"Hopefully not too long, any— anyway…" Shane says, unsure what Ilya wants from him. "Thanks for… that. Sorry I fell asleep." Shane wishes Ilya would say something, hopefully in a language Shane can understand, to tell him what he wants. Ilya's still staring.
After a few more moments, Ilya responds: "Is no problem, Hollander. I did just give you a very tiring orgasm." His words are wry, but his face steels in the same expression, not giving Shane an indication of his meaning — like if he should be leaving immediately or not. Shane doesn't even know what time it is. He peels his eyes away from Ilya to check the nightstand, where his phone is. It's 9 p.m., he'd only been sleeping for 20 minutes or so.
Ilya still looks — off, to Shane. Shane wants to caress his cheek, his jaw — he doesn't think he's ever had this impulse before, or not so strongly as he is feeling it now. But they don't do that to each other.
Ilya is observing Shane as if he's a wild animal, could pounce on Ilya at any time. Shane decides to make the decision to leave for both of them, instead of waiting for some indication from Ilya.
"I'll go ahead and get out of your hair, get back to the hotel," Shane says, his voice still feeling a bit rusty. Ilya responds to that, his face looking surprised and — maybe disappointed? Could that be?
"Hollander," Ilya says, schooling his features to an impassive look, but Shane can't forget what he saw. "You don't need to sprint away, мой зайчик. I was just… thinking."
"Thinking what?" Shane says, really wanting to know what Ilya had just called him. If it meant something.
"What our feelings are like," Ilya responds.
What the fuck? Shane starts to panic. They're talking about this now? He inhales and tries to let it out slowly, warding off a panic attack.
"I mean…" Shane starts, wanting desperately to deflect, "I feel pretty good after that… um. Orgasm and nap. I've been exhausted." Ilya shakes his head, like that wasn't what he wanted.
"We've been doing this for a while now," Ilya starts. "And lately I've been a little… Влюбленный."
Shane breathes in through his nose, trying in vain to not panic. What is Ilya trying to say? That he's unhappy with Shane? That he's found someone else? Someone better? Easier to be with?
Ilya pauses, shakes his head again, seeming to change his mind. To yet again not translate his thoughts for Shane. "I've just been wondering what we are," he finishes.
Shane automatically knows the answer he needs to give to that: "We… just. We meet up, we have… sex, um. We are friends, I think. Aren't we? So we're fuck buddies, I think people would call it. I mean, if people knew," he manages to say, feeling himself cringe at that last part. If people knew… He doesn't let himself finish that thought. He wants to say more, maybe even share his feelings, but does not feel prepared to do that.
The thing is, Shane knows his feelings go deeper. That he is falling in love — truthfully, has fallen in love — with Ilya. He knows the last few times they've been together have felt more emotional, like he doesn't want it to end. But he is really good at compartmentalizing, and talking himself out of his feelings. He is certain Ilya does not feel the same; that he is trying to break it off with Shane, tell him he's found someone easier to be with. Maybe a woman.
He looks around the room, trying to find something to distract them from this conversation. Shane is not ready for this to end. He spots a red package, something around the size of a candy bar, on Ilya's bedside table that wasn't there before. It's lying next to a broken stick.
"What's that?" Shane exhales, trying desperately to get their topic of conversation off of feelings. He points to the stick.
"Is nothing," Ilya responds immediately. "Something silly I found."
"…Outside?" Shane asks, because where else would you get a stick?
"No, no. Was in my drawer. It's supposed to give you a wish." Ilya drags out the last word, and Shane wonders idly if he has been drinking. His eyes look a bit unfocused. Shane has no idea what Ilya is talking about, but he wants to get away from any further conversation about feelings. And what feelings he might have for Ilya.
"Okay, well. I should probably go," Shane tries again.
"Aren't you going to ask me what I wished for?" Ilya pierces him with his stare, suddenly totally focused, and Shane, well. Shane has a hard time saying no to Ilya.
"Wh— what, um. What did you wish for?" Shane asks.
Ilya twists off the bed and stands up. He is facing toward Shane and next to the bedside table that the One Wish Willow is sitting on. Ilya feels like the wish he just made has done nothing except for make him feel crazy. He asks — begs — this stupid toy to make Shane Hollander love him back? What is he doing? He feels the weight of the whole world — the weight of whatever this is, between them — needing him to figure this out. Tonight.
"что ты полюбишь меня в ответ," Ilya says, though he realizes this will not mean anything to Shane.
His brain is going hundreds of miles per minute, since he made the wish. Nothing material has happened, nothing physical. But of course: he realizes he might just not know how Shane is feeling. How stupid is that? He made a wish where all that would change is someone's brain. But Ilya has a feeling Shane's brain hasn't changed at all. He was just trying to leave, for god's sake. Would someone who loved him back leave? Yes, a voice in his head answered. It's happened before.
So forgive Ilya if he's feeling a little wild, insane, needing to know.
"Did anything change for you tonight, Hollander?" Ilya asks instead of telling him his wish outright, instead of translating what he just admitted in his mother tongue.
"Uh, no… I don't think so?" Shane seems to be racking his brain, his eyes go up as if trying to remember. Then his eyebrows raise in surprise and he focuses his gaze back on Ilya. "Wait, your wish was about me?" he asks.
Ilya still has that wild feeling in his body, his brain, god — his heart. Everything seems to be spinning, so he truly feels he can't be held responsible for what he says next.
"Yes, wish was about you. I wished for you to… Полюби меня в ответ. To love me back," Ilya says.
And well, Shane's heart stops at that. He runs out of breath, forgets how to suck another breath in. Soon his autonomic nervous system kicks in and he is pulling in a breath, almost a gasp.
"Rozanov, I…" he starts, because what do you even say to that? And also, how the fuck did they get from a "what are we?" conversation to discussions of love? Oh, right. The broken stick. A wish.
"No, no, I know," Ilya responds, when Shane doesn't finish his sentence. "I know wish did not work. Is stupid to try," he finishes.
"Wait, but. Ily— Rozanov," Shane says, his mind trying to process this new information. "You said love you back. You… love me?"
Shane starts scooting to the side of the bed where Ilya is still standing, still looking a bit crazed and out-of-sorts. He stops in front of Ilya, looking up into his eyes, wanting an answer.
"Holland… Shane," Ilya suddenly corrects himself, and Shane feels a shiver go down his spine. Using first names has never been on the table, but feels the shiver change into something warm, comforting, swirling around his body.
"я тебя люблю," Ilya says, as tentative as Shane has ever seen him be. "Means 'I love you.' I am sorry, though. I know this kind of throws off our 'fuck buddies' arrangement, catching feelings." He seems to be about to keep going, to keep apologizing, when Shane reaches up and grabs one of his arms to steady him.
"Ilya, wait. Can you let me speak?" Shane asks, and Ilya nods.
"I think I know why your wish didn't work," Shane says, and Ilya stops meeting his gaze to look down. "I think your wish didn't work because I… love you too. I mean, already. I love you back. I have for a while," he finishes, and Ilya's gaze jumps back up to lock onto Shane's. Ilya doesn't seem to know how to respond. He starts to lean in and pulls Shane in by his arm to kiss him.
Shane deepens the kiss, opening his mouth slightly to let Ilya in, and they make out for a few minutes, basking in the glow of their admissions.
Shane pulls away, Ilya's mouth following, groaning at the loss of pressure. But it's important.
"Can you teach me how to say that in Russian?" Shane asks. "I love you, I mean."
"Ya. Tebya. Lyublyu," Ilya says slowly.
"You said that earlier… before. Right as you were about to… I mean, right before you, uh. Came," Shane says, in disbelief. "You told me it meant 'best hole ever.' Asshole." He rolls his eyes, looking more fond than annoyed, he's sure.
"Yes, well," Ilya responds. "I have loved you since then. Since way before then. No wish needed."
There's not much need for talking after that.
"One Wish Willow," Shane says later, reading from the package, studying it. "Ilya, there are like a million warnings on this thing." He squints to see the words better, murmuring as he reads: "…it cannot be undone or repeated. Hmmm. Only one wish per life per person. Consider Long-Term Effects: Wishes are irreversible." He turns to his side, stares straight at Ilya.
"Ilya. Did you consider long-term effects?"
Ilya smirks, his eyes half-closed, feeling the effects of coming down from his orgasm.
"Nope," he responds, popping the 'p.' "Did not even read the stupid box. And besides, it did not work anyway. Ooh," Ilya sits up straighter suddenly, his eyes opening fully, "Do you think this means I could make another wish? Since this one didn't count?"
Shane shakes his head, still squinting at the text.
"No," Shane says. "I think your wish is probably still out there, like in the universe or whatever, and this box says your wish is irreversible and users assume all responsibility for wish outcomes." He glances at Ilya, his lips already in a smirk, and continues, "So I can't ever fall out of love with you. Sorry, One Wish Willow says. And it's your fault if you some day decide to get rid of me, because you won't be able to."
Ilya thrills a bit at that, feels his insides go a bit gooey, and leans over to grab Shane's sides, shaking him playfully. "Well, good thing I will never get rid of you."
3 months later
"Shane, I got you something," Ilya yells from the living room. Shane's in Ilya's kitchen, grabbing a ginger ale, but Ilya can't wait.
Shane is walking back to the couch. "What? I hope it's nothing too big. I don't have any room in my bag to bring anything back."
Ilya just holds up the One Wish Willow box, shaking it from side to side, like teasing a dog with a bone. It's a new one, acquired from some metaphysical shop in Boston. It was tough to track down, but Ilya was determined.
"Ilya. This did not go very well for us the last time," Shane says in his lecturing voice. Ilya can't help but start to grow hard when Shane uses this tone of voice.
"Hmm, I don't know, Hollander. I think it actually went very well for us last time," Ilya responds. Shane starts to blush. Ilya loves this about him, that his body always gives him away when they talk about love and sex.
"Anyway," Ilya continues, "Is your turn to make a wish. Anything you want."
"I've actually been thinking about this," Shane says. "Since I found what it was. Fantasizing about what I would wish for, if I could have one wish."
"Oh?" Ilya asks, his eyebrows raised. It doesn't seem like something Shane would do, to fantasize about something that would require a wish. "What are you thinking?"
"I mean, all the usual stuff. I saw the terms and conditions on the website, and you can't wish for anything involving time manipulation, resurrection, immortality, or creating more One Wish Willows. I read about a guy who wished for a billion dollars. That would be pretty cool," Shane says. Ilya smirks, because of course Shane read the fine print.
"I want to do something that would have a strong benefit," Shane continues, "but low risk for something bad to happen. Like if I wished for world peace or something — who knows how that would be achieved? Maybe it would start a third world war."
"Mmm," Ilya responds, considering. "Would be bad."
"That was the thing all the commenters online talked about," Shane says. "To make sure the wish is foolproof, that it couldn't be misinterpreted. I read about this one guy who wished this girl, one of his friends, would love him more than anyone…" Ilya cuts him off.
"Okay, okay," Ilya says, feeling impatient. "I get it. So what are you wishing for, moya lyubov?"
Shane takes a deep breath. "I considered… several things. Mostly while I was thinking of you and what we like to do together. But all of those seem silly, or impractical, or easy to misinterpret — like you being able to get me pregnant, or…" Ilya stops breathing at that. Shane notices instantly, rolls his eyes and continues, "or having the MLH magically be free of homophobia, or somehow turning the world into the most accepting place for us to come out. But I think we can weather those things together, and I don't think it's worth the potential risks."
Shane grabs the One Wish Willow from its box. "So, how should we do this?" he asks.
"Shane," Ilya groans, "I do not think I can wait one more second to hear what your wish is going to be. If you already decided against me being able to get you pregnant, what could it be?"
"Okay, well. When I was thinking back to when this all started, a few months ago, I realized that besides finding out that you love me too, my biggest wish was to be fluent in Russian. I've been working on trying to learn it for the past few weeks, and it's going much slower than I want it to," Shane says.
Ilya shakes his head, smiling. "Perfect Shane Hollander. Needing to speak three languages fluently, no accent," he says.
Shane blushes, returning Ilya's smile. "I think this could help more than just me. I can make rookies from Russia feel welcome, and be able to speak to them in their language as Captain."
"Yes, yes, and you can chirp me better too," Ilya says. "Make me hard at center ice without anyone knowing what you said. Such a fierce competitor, Hollander."
"Well, let's hope it works. I would love to be able to give up my dumb Duolingo streak," Shane says.
"It will work," Ilya responds confidently. "The One Wish Willow is solely responsible for us being together."
"I mean, not really," Shane can't help but argue. "The wish was totally superfluous, I was already in love with you."
"Hollander. Make the wish," Ilya says, his voice dropping. "Then tell me in Russkiy what 'superfluous' means."
Shane takes a deep breath and closes his eyes.
"I wish I was fluent in Russian," Shane whispers as he snaps the One Wish Willow in half. Shane opens his eyes and they both still for a moment, as if expecting the world to change around them.
"моя любовь?" Ilya questions. Shane remains perfectly still, staring at the broken stick in his hand.
Then Shane looks up, meets Ilya's gaze.
"твоя любовь," he says, his eyes crinkling as he smiles.