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It was 6:27 AM when they found out. David Hollander had finished most of his morning routine - 5:30 AM up, 5:40 AM on the exercise bike (only for 20 minutes because it was a day off of work for him and Yuna both, so they’d go take a nice hike or long walk somewhere later), followed by a quick shower - and had settled in for probably the next 30-60 minutes. Crossword puzzle (old school in the real paper, thank you very much) and coffee time.
His wife had woken up earlier than she did most days. It always surprised people that Yuna Hollander was not, in fact, a morning person, based on, David assumed, the whole persona of Yuna-with-capital-Y Hollander-with-a-capital-H, and the excuse given was that she tended to stay up far too late watching games and post game interviews. The rarely spoken truth was that she had always woken up after him, even back in their university days, after too many nights unable to turn off her worrying mind, half the time needing him to nudge and poke her awake for her morning classes. The fact was that David had pleasantly spent the majority of his adult life with quiet, solitary mornings and indulged-in opportunities to observe the most brilliant, beautiful woman in the world as her mind was completely relaxed, for just a little bit while she would sleep, only the lines between her eyes or edges of her mouth occasionally moving as she dreamed.
But that day she was up a little early by her standards, so she had joined him on the couch, still in the loose, long-sleeved button down navy pajama shirt and shorts she'd slept in, coffee mug in one hand and phone in the other as she settled in beside him and placed her thick reading glasses on her nose for her own morning routine of reviewing stats and checking various social media and news sites for updates on the boys, which she insisted on checking manually because “Google alerts just don’t update consistently enough, David.”
And that's when they found out.
David felt his wife react a moment before she actually said anything, her muscles tightening, her breath catching, her back straightening a minuscule amount. “Oh god, David.” There was a beat as she looked over at him, her eyes indescribably wide and the color gone from her face. “It happened.”
David felt his own body go rigid at the words. They'd used the phrase - what if it happens - as shorthand for so long that he was pretty sure he knew what she meant, but was this really how it would happen, some early, random, lazy morning before they even finished their coffee? “Wait… you mean it happened? People… know?”
“Yes. It happened.”
His breath was barely there as he leaned over her to look at her phone. “How?”
"I'm not sure yet. But there’s a video.” Her eyes and thumbs were moving quickly across the screen, which she turned slightly to face him as she clicked play.
It was Shane's friend Hayden, wishing happy birthday to someone named Brad (did they know a Brad? David couldn't remember any mutual Brads), pretty mundane, not very personal, but sincere as Hayden always was and then, in a mirror over his shoulder, there were the boys outside in Hayden’s yard, Ilya pulling Shane by the hand before turning to face him, a sweet smile on his face that was decidedly their wonderful, goofy Ilya and not the world's aggressive, antagonizing Rozanov. A few inaudible words were exchanged, Shane leaned in for a gentle kiss, Ilya's hands moved in Shane's hair as the kiss deepened, and then they pulled apart and gazed into one another's eyes for a moment before disappearing from view, fingers intertwined, Hayden chatting away the entire time, seemingly oblivious.
It was a sweet interaction, for sure. It was also decidedly private and not meant for anyone besides the two men standing outside of Hayden's home. David's stomach dropped at the memory of another all too similar moment, the boys kissing in swim shorts on the steps back into their cottage, David startling them from the kitchen as he looked for a phone charger. Even though the boys had told him a thousand times by now that it was ok, that they weren't angry at him, he still felt guilty about how that had happened, how he and Yuna had learned about them before they were ready, and it was just so unfair that their privacy, a secret moment of affection, was being exposed all over again.
It wasn't fair, and it wasn't right. Who the hell was Brad, and why the hell had he shared this with... everyone like this? It… dammit, it just wasn't right.
"FanMail," Yuna sighed, interrupting his thoughts. "Oh, Hayden."
"What about fan mail?" David was thoroughly confused.
"You know, FanMail," Yuna repeated and no, David thought, that yes of course he knew what ‘fan mail’ was but he absolutely did not 'know' why she kept saying 'fan mail.' "It's a website?" When David didn't respond, she went on. "People pay for celebrities to make video greetings for them. And it appears that some asshole named Brad," she spat the name, "got one from Hayden that accidentally included the boys kissing." She seemed to steel herself, jaw clenched, and returned to her phone, thumbs moving again. "Exactly who the fuck are you, Brad?"
If the profanity came out, she was raging, David knew, and clearly on the verge of spiraling. But they'd prepared for this.
They'd made it exactly four days after meeting their son's boyfriend before Yuna had gone out to run some errands and returned home, sat down at the kitchen table, and opened her laptop alongside a brand new yellow leather notebook, a twin to the blue one where she tracked every important detail for Shane's career. David had given her an hour before bringing her a cup of tea and glancing between her laptop and the small, boxy letters in the notebook, already several pages in, and recognized that she was doing exactly what he'd expected, researching Russian laws and Canadian asylum applications on behalf of the young man they'd just unofficially adopted.
"What are you working on?" he'd asked, already knowing.
"I know they don't want to tell anyone yet, and we'll respect that." She stretched her back for a moment, picking up the tea. "Mmm, thank you.” She took another sip. “But if the Russian government found out about him being bisexual, it could be incredibly dangerous for him. There's too much potentially at risk to just leave this all to chance, especially before he moves to Ottawa. Canadian citizenship will definitely be the better route, but we're looking at a solid year before we can start that process." And she'd dived right back in, ignoring her husband again, unmoving from her work for anything besides a few trips to the bathroom for the rest of the day, David brewing more tea and bringing her water and a few snacks until he forced her to stop for dinner.
When the boys came over for lunch three days later, she sat them both down on the couch and pulled out her very full yellow notebook - Raiders yellow to go alongside Shane’s Metros blue, David had realized, because his wife loved a good color code - and presented the boys with a detailed plan for how any potential leaks could be addressed. She had asked for Ilya's permission exactly once ("May I contact an immigration attorney on your behalf, under the world's most rigid NDA that will end with you owning a very lucrative law firm if so much as a single word of this gets out, to develop an emergency plan in the event we need to file for asylum?") and both boys' permission one additional time at the conclusion of her presentation ("If it happens, if people find out before you’re ready, do I have your permission to proceed as I’ve just described?"). Both questions had been answered affirmatively, because really what other option was there when facing Yuna Hollander and one of her very robust, and admittedly very sound plans of attack?
So yes. They'd known it was a possibility for years, plans combined into a single black notebook as the boys’ lives continued to merge together and updated at key milestones like when Ilya moved to Ottawa (“Finally,” Yuna had sighed, like she hadn’t been entirely skeptical about the idea when first introduced to it) or when the boys had gotten engaged (“Married, David, married!” and she’d started to cry as she updated information about Canadian spousal sponsorship procedures). Yuna being Yuna, they weren't actually going in cold. She'd just apparently gotten side-tracked by some idiot named Brad, who had not figured into her notebook plans, not under any color.
"Yuna," David spoke gently. "Sweetheart. Look at me." She moved her eyes to him, glancing away from her phone, her jaw still visibly tight. "Do we know if the boys know yet?"
That seemed to shake her out of her enraged focus. "No. I haven't seen anything from them, have you?"
He glanced at his phone on the coffee table for confirmation before answering. "No. But it's also still early and they both had the morning off so may be sleeping."
"God I hope they are. And I think Ilya’s in Montreal, so they’re together. That’s good.” Her face shifted from white hot, tense rage, to a softening sadness. "Oh god, David. The boys." Tears were gathering in her eyes, already threatening when she'd been angry but growing now that the grief was hitting, too.
"I know, sweetheart. I know. But they've got each other, and they've got us, and they’ve got good friends. It's going to be ok." He wrapped his arms around her, and pulled her into his body, giving both of them a few synchronized breaths to sit in the unfairness, the scariness, the uncertainty of it all, before pulling back to look down at her. "Here's what we're going to do." He ran a hand over the back of her neck reassuringly. "You're going to take five minutes to pace and be as mad and sad as you need to be. Curse Brad, put as many hexes on him as you want." She smiled a little through her welling eyes. "And then you're going to take a shower, and then you'll get out your notebooks and laptop, and we'll get going."
She inhaled deeply and nodded. "Yes. Ok."
He squeezed her arms and kissed her forehead quickly. "You go get pacing, and I'll text the boys real quick. Tell them to stay off the internet and call us right away, when they wake up. Hopefully not for a while."
His wife threw her arms around him again and kissed him quickly, holding his cheek briefly in one of her palms. "You're a good man, David Hollander."
"And you're the best woman, Yuna Nakamura." She kissed him one more time and then was off for exactly five minutes of anxious pacing.
**************
The rest of the morning had proceeded more or less as outlined in Yuna’s well-loved notebooks. She had called the boys' agent, their attorney, and Ilya’s contact at IRCC to discuss his residency application and a potential asylum claim, all before the boys called themselves around 9:30 AM. Yes, they were aware; Hayden had come over and let them know himself. Yes, they’d also talked to Farah; it was after all step one of The Plan Yuna had drilled into them. Yes, Shane would go to practice and Ilya would head back to Ottawa to get ready for his road trip, because Proceed with Hockey as Normal was the next step in The Plan, as was Stay Off Social Media. Check, check, check. David knew Yuna wasn’t happy they’d had to enact her plans but suspected she was also a little tickled that everyone had followed them so closely that they’d apparently internalized them with capital letters.
David, for his part, made sure Yuna stayed hydrated and fed as she continued on her damage control calls to sponsors and friends she'd made in the League through the years. David also talked with Hayden for a while because he knew the poor kid would feel awful, and David figured he'd appreciate hearing that the rest of the Hollanders knew none of this was his fault. And while the boys were the priority here of course, Hayden was having a rough day too, and seemed to be doing a little better after talking to David.
It was a productive day, to be sure.
It was finally late afternoon, having heard from both boys that they were officially benched, that David helped load up Yuna’s car with her overnight stuff and, obviously, her notebooks, and then sent her off with a quick kiss and instructions to give Shane a big hug for him. Thirty minutes later, he stood at Ilya’s door, a paper bag in hand, and rang the bell. Anya's enthusiastic barking and the sound of her nails on the floor as she ran to the door greeted him as he waited.
It took a few minutes for his not-quite-son-in-law to appear at the door, in gray sweatpants and a threadbare blue hoodie that David definitely recognized as an old one of Shane's. “David, what are you doing here?” Ilya looked, David thought, unsurprisingly tired and a little numb, his eyes a bit hollow. “Shane said you and Yuna were heading to his house.”
“Yuna is. I’ll head over later. But we figured we’d divide and conquer, wanted to check in with you too.” David shrugged. “Can’t have one kid left out.” He held up the bag, which he knew Ilya would recognize by smell if not sight as being from their favorite sandwich place. “I brought the good stuff. And a hug, if you want it.”
Ilya took the bag, inhaling its familiar aroma, a warm, fatigued smile spreading across his face. “I will take both. Are both the good stuff, I think.”
David returned his affectionate smile and opened his arms to embrace the younger man. Ilya’s own arms wrapped around his not-quite-father-in-law, and David felt Ilya's large body fold in just a bit. David always made a point of hugging each of the boys when he saw them, and their large, athletic frames always encompassed his. But today, Ilya seemed to make himself smaller, maybe intentionally, maybe not, and David made sure to envelop him in his warmest, most paternal hug, hoping the reassurance he intended seeped through his pores.
He patted Ilya on the back a few times, and then the other man broke the hug, opening the top of the bag and inhaling in the smell. “Did you remember the au jus?”
“I wouldn’t show my face in this house without it."
“This is why you are my favorite Hollander,” Ilya responded solemnly. “Do not tell Shane or Yuna, but is true.”
“Your secret’s safe with me.” David returned Ilya’s serious nod. “Want to go eat before it gets cold?”
“Yes, good idea.”
They walked through the house together, David stopping to scratch under the chin of the small dog who was eager to see him. “There’s my sweet girl,” he cooed, adding softly, as Ilya moved into the kitchen, away from David and Anya, “You take good care of our boys today?” Anya panted blissfully up at him, leaning into his scritches, which David took as confirmation that she’d done her best. He patted her once more on the head and finished his route to the kitchen.
Ilya was plating their food and pulling beers out of the fridge, then set them at the table for the two men, who ate in companionable mostly silence. Usually they had an activity to do together - a puzzle to work on, a house project to finish, a fire to tend - and they usually also had Yuna or Shane buzzing about them, but the quiet today, David thought, was understandable, a little necessary, as he was sure Ilya’s mind was a fury of activity that could use a little pause.
“Are you planning to watch the game tonight?” David eventually asked gently, noting the time and realizing Ilya would be at home for one of his games for the first time in… well in as long as David had known him personally.
“I think I should,” Ilya exhaled. “I am still captain, and the team are good guys, will be supportive I think. Is not like…” He cut himself off before he could say what David knew they were both thinking but didn’t want to verbalize because what could they even do with the statement right now - they’re not like Shane’s team. “I do not think it will be bad for me to watch them. But I will keep sound off.”
David nodded encouragingly. “Definitely sound off,” he agreed, knowing that Yuna would watch it all later anyway to note and analyze every word said about Ilya or his absence that night. Absences were usually for illness, injury, emergency, or undisclosed “personal reasons,” and Yuna had learned in conversation with the Centaurs' social media rep that the team had been ordered to not acknowledge the circumstances surrounding Ilya being benched that evening. In solidarity, they had apparently decided to post nothing at all, a bit of a communications boycott. But the commentators would likely mention his absence, and it would be clear to everyone that the reason Ilya was gone was most definitely personal but decidedly not undisclosed. “You want a little company for that?”
“You do not have to do that. I am fine, you can go to Shane and Yuna.” Ilya waved a dismissive hand, but also scratched his nose a little bit, one of his tells of discomfort, of swallowed feelings, that David had come to recognize over the past few years.
David gave an embarrassed, self-deprecating laugh. Let the kid think this was for David, not him, and maybe he could accept the companionship. “I should have asked that differently. Do you mind some company for that? Traffic to Montreal at this time… it would be lighter later, if I stick around a bit.” He raised his bottle. “And I still have half a beer, which I am definitely too old to chug.”
Ilya smiled knowingly, and David was reminded that all the time David had spent learning Ilya, Ilya had spent learning him aa well, and he definitely hadn't fooled the very perceptive other man. But Ilya nodded once anyway. “Of course. Stay as long as you want.” Ilya rose and gestured to take David’s empty plate, but David waved him off.
“I can do clean-up. You go get the game on. You know I can’t figure out all your remotes.”
Ilya acquiesced, hands raised briefly in surrender. He rose to make his way to the living room but paused at the refrigerator, pulling a bottle of clear liquid from the freezer. He gestured towards David with it. “I also have the good stuff. You want any?”
“You want to use the good stuff on a random Wednesday? I’d save it for a celebration, but if you’re offering, I won’t turn it down. Just a little though.”
Ilya laughed just once, and then spoke, pouring two glasses as David began hand washing their plates, no point in running the dishwasher for just a few things. “Good stuff can be for celebrating. Also for bad days. Or random Wednesdays. Or days that everyone finds out you like kissing boys from other teams. Is all-purpose good stuff.” He shot David a wry smile, slid David’s glass towards him, and took his with him as he left the room.
David slowed his work, taking the time to think, assess. He knew his son’s fiancé pretty well now, he thought, absolutely considered him family, a real friend even. He knew the other man to be kinder, more sensitive than anyone would guess, and more generous with his money and time and, if you were really really fortunate, with himself than maybe anyone else David had met. He was vulnerable and open but in a way that reflected a wound that still hadn’t scabbed over, humor masking a pain in every deflection, every self-deprecating joke, every exceptionally sincere gift that, even after years of being welcomed and embraced in their family, still seemed to quietly ask please like me, please. He’d told David and Yuna a decent amount about his childhood, fond stories of his own early years on the ice, learning spins from his mother or racing his big brother, but the later details were very minimal. Alzheimer’s, and a father who was otherwise unmentioned, most notable for his absence in the telling of stories that David was fairly sure he had in fact been there for. A suicide, and a mother he loved enough to start a charity to honor and avenge. A brother whose name was treated like a swear word. A once doted on niece of whom photographic evidence had ended before David had met Ilya properly, a several-years-old selfie of him and a maybe 8-year-old girl in matching Raiders shirts sticking their tongues out and crossing their eyes.
He’d had people, and then he lost them, and then the Hollanders had found him. They were keeping him, their attachment as permanent as the ridiculous loon Ilya had tattooed on his shoulder and shown them laughing, as proud as a preschooler with a gold star sticker on a drawing, the previous year. Their family was warmer, sillier, more affectionate, and inherently better with him in it. And David was confident there were other people, teammates and other friends, who felt similarly, even as they were kept at arm’s length. There was always that little bit of armor, the layer of protective humor to keep him safe. Safe, David had suspected with sadness, from losing them when they presumably found something they didn’t like. Maybe the famous Svetlana, who they’d heard much talk of but never actually met, was allowed in closer, but David wasn’t even sure about that.
He turned off the sink definitively, dried and stored the dishes quickly, and grabbed the vodka Ilya had poured him. The kid just needed someone to stay, and David could do that.
The game had started, the Centaurs already up 1-0 just four minutes in, apparently freshly scored, as the team was breaking apart from what appeared to be a rather subdued celebration. “I’d ask how we’re looking, but I’m guessing good, based on that score. Who was it?”
"Haas. Assist from Barrett. Decent goal. Not fancy but smart." Ilya's hand was tight around his glass, his eyes set firmly on the TV.
"Good for them." David took a seat on the opposite end of the long couch and watched quietly for a few minutes as the players shifted and reset, and play resumed. It was odd and a bit uncomfortable watching without audio, especially without Ilya’s typical chatter and running commentary, but after a photo of Ilya appeared briefly on screen, David was grateful they'd agreed on no sound. The Centaurs, usually somewhat noteworthy for a lightness in their play, for feeling a little more like kids racing around on a frozen pond before their moms called them home for dinner, looked heavier, more serious than usual. Their game still reflected the fast, intuitive play that had become typical of them these past few months, but the fun wasn't there.
The Nashville players were clearly running their mouths, likely poking at the events of the day, if the glistening in their eyes was any indicator, and Ilya's teammates were evidently trying to ignore the barbs and focus, but it was a visible struggle. David glanced at Ilya after a particularly nasty look passed across a Nashville defenseman's face, and he said something to Barrett during an overly aggressive check that was caught up close - David was no lip reader of course, but was fairly certain the words "Rozanov" and "dick" had both been formed - and Barrett shoved him off, harder than necessary, before skating away, glowering.
Ilya sunk back into the couch with a sound that was in between a sigh and a grunt, a sound that should have been angry but was unmistakably sad.
David thought for a moment before he spoke but decided to go with his gut. "Have you heard from any of the guys on the team?" If no one had reached out, or god forbid anyone had been critical, the question would be a disaster, but David would bet a very large amount of money that neither of those things had happened.
"Wiebe came by," was the very short response.
David waited to see if there would be more detail offered and probed further when there wasn't. "How'd that go?"
Ilya shifted in his seat. "Fine. Good I think." His jaw ticked visibly, chewing on the string from the hoodie that had found its way into his mouth. "He is mad that we are benched."
"I'd be too, losing my captain like that." David knew from Shane's reports that the order had come direct from the Commissioner, but it had also been made very clear to Shane that his coach couldn't agree more with the punishment. He was glad to hear Wiebe was a more sensible man. A decent man in general, David was fairly certain. "Anybody else reach out?" he asked after another few moments' pause.
Ilya took a quick drink. "I... ah... I am not sure," he admitted, crossing his arms over his chest defensively.
"You're not sure?"
"I... have not looked at my phone today." David realized that, indeed, he'd heard Ilya's phone buzz several times since he arrived, but the young man had never once taken it out of his pocket.
David wasn't really sure how to respond to that. Ilya was almost annoyingly on his phone sometimes, laughing at texts he was receiving, taking selfies to send to other people and random photos to post on Instagram. Maybe he'd misunderstood the Stay Off Social Media step? "I think it's ok if you want to respond to your friends, just smart to stay off Twitter and Instagram right now."
Ilya winced in what was definitely embarrassment. "Yes, I just... it felt like too much. Too many messages, again and again and again. It made me too tired." The confession had turned Ilya's face bright red.
David nodded slowly, giving himself time to visibly consider his response. "I think it's fair to be a little overwhelmed. Today has been a lot. But I'm sure people just want to send their support."
"Yes. Sure." Ilya's voice was flat. He was decidedly not convinced, his eyes tracking the game and refusing to turn towards David.
David let the moment breathe until a commercial break, at which point he held his hand out. "Give me your phone."
The demand startled the other man out of his very busy schedule of glaring at the television, and he looked to David. "What? Why?"
"Give me your phone. I'll go through your messages, let you know which ones you need to respond to, delete any that need to be deleted, even though I'm pretty sure there won't be any of those."
Ilya shifted uncomfortably. "You do not have to do that. You are not personal assistant. I can go through my own messages."
David stood his ground, hand still extended. "Yes, you can, but that doesn't mean you have to, if it feels like too much." Neither man moved, as Ilya stared at him skeptically, until David leaned forward, resting his forearm on his knee. "When Yuna and I were dating, she realized that I almost never checked my voicemail, and this was when people really had to check it, there wasn't another way to get ahold of people, not quite as easy to just ignore it as it is now." He shot a look at the younger man, having heard his Hi, this is Ilya, I will never listen to your voicemail outgoing message more times than he could count. "And because Yuna is very very smart, she eventually figured out that I would sometimes get in my own head, a little nervous that maybe my dad would have left a message, and so I just.. didn't check them. Let them pile up until it felt like too much to even start. Missed a lot of important stuff. So Yuna started listening to them every time she came over. And I was pretty embarrassed about that, I should be able to just listen to the darn things myself, right? But you know what she said to me? It's ok to let people who care about you help you out with things." David raised his eyebrows pointedly. "Give me your phone." Ilya's jaw set, eyes narrowed, as David kept his face completely pleasant, hand still outstretched. Will you accept that you're cared for, Ilya Rozanov? The challenge was unstated but there.
Ilya sighed in frustration, pulled his phone out of his pocket, unlocked it, and almost shoved it at David, who accepted it with a gracious and overly enthusiastic, "Thank you!"
"Fine, but I am warning you, David, taking another man's phone is dangerous. Can be many things you wish you did not know, things you cannot unsee. Do not say I did not warn you of this." He crossed his arms again, fully grumpy, and David laughed with matching force.
"Note taken."
"And absolutely no Twitter. Is burning pile of garbage. There will be many unwanted pictures of penises there now, David, you must listen to me, stay away."
David swallowed another chuckle, equally surprised and amused. He just loved this weird, blunt kid so much. "I appreciate that warning. No Twitter. Texts only."
He opened up Ilya's messages as the game continued and Ilya clearly forced himself to focus on the game and only the game, avoiding even a glance at David as he began to scroll. Ilya had a lot of unread messages from today, only the messages from Shane showing as having all been opened. There were blue dots next to no fewer than 25 contacts from today alone. David scrolled through names, trying to pick one to start with, one that was guaranteed to be safe, so he didn't have to lie about it being anything other than supportive and easy and gracious.
He settled on Jackie Pike. Jackie was a wonderful woman, a good friend to the boys and had known for a long time now, so David knew would have something nice to say.
Jackie Pike: Ilya, I am so so sorry this happened to you guys! I think you know this, but Hayden feels so horrible. He literally threw up this morning before he went to your house, I've never seen him so upset, I'm not even joking. Thank you for telling him it was ok, it meant a lot to him 💜
Jackie Pike: Yuna and I think we found Brad's home address so we can go there and slash his tires, maybe TP the place? At least sign him up for a bunch of embarrassing mailing lists, maybe send him a ton of rainbow glitter that will get everywhere since he apparently cares so much about LGBTQ stuff? It looks like he lives in Las Vegas but you say the word and we ride at dawn.
Jackie Pike: We just love you guys so much! The twins are making you both pictures, will send soon.
Ok, so David would definitely have to make sure that Jackie did not follow through on their threats, as well as find out why Yuna was even researching where Brad lived, but as predicted, the message was all kindness and support. "Alright, first message is from Jackie. She sends her love, she’s sorry this happened, Hayden feels terrible, thanks you for telling him it was ok - that was really very nice of you, by the way - and then she threatened to toilet paper Brad's house with Yuna, so we'll need to make sure that doesn't happen. Oh and then Ruby sent you a picture she drew. It's..." he read directly from the text to make sure he got it correctly, "quote, a fish that is also an astronaut so its helmet is full of water but instead of space it's at Disney World, end quote."
The corner of Ilya's mouth twitched up. "The kids are trying to get Jackie and Hayden to take them to Disney World this summer. Is a team effort, not subtle."
"Ah, ok, that explains the next part then too. Sounds like Shane has also received a picture from Jade of a minion but it's an alligator - I guess Arthur gave some artistic direction - and also a pirate -"
"Amber is very into pirates right now," Ilya cut in.
"Makes sense, of course, and this pirate alligator minion is at, you guessed it, Disney World."
Ilya laughed a little, genuinely, his eyes warmed slightly. "Can I see picture?" David opened it up and turned the phone to Ilya, who leaned over to look but made no move to take the phone back. "Hmm, is actually not bad. Good detail on water in fish helmet."
"You're right, it's not terrible." David paused and looked up at Ilya. "Want me to say anything back?"
Ilya froze, evidently still overwhelmed in the moment. His mouth opened and closed several times soundlessly like, well, an astronaut fish without his helmet full of water to help him breathe.
"I could just say it's me, you're staying off of your phone in light of everything, but you appreciated the message?"
Ilya let out the breath he was holding. "Yes, this sounds fine, thank you."
David fired off a message - Hi, Jackie. This is David Hollander. Ilya is staying off of his phone today, given everything, but he's doing well and appreciated your texts and the picture. Also please do not commit any acts of vandalism with my wife. Thank you. - and moved on to the bottom of the messages that had come in. Jackie's had been nice, but if he was really going to make progress on the backlog of messages and also prove to Ilya just how ok he was, he shouldn't cherry pick the best ones.
The first message of the day had come from Max Riley, who David knew worked with the boys at their summer camp. Max and his wife Leah had played against one another in the women's league before Max transitioned (David had made sure to research how to most appropriately describe the situation, to be respectful when he met them), so David was pretty confident that Max's message would also be a positive one.
Max Riley: shit, man, Leah and I saw the news and are so pissed that this happened to you and Shane
Max Riley: if you need anything, seriously anything, let us know. I hope you don't need it, but we have the names of some decent labor attorneys if you end up needing them, although I'm guessing Yuna probably has all of that covered
Max Riley: anyway Leah and I are here if you need anything, and Leah says to tell you we want to take you guys out to dinner next time we're all in the same place, she loves doing couples shit so be prepared she’s excited about that now
Yep, as suspected, another good one, and the praise thrown Yuna's way certainly didn't hurt any either, as far as David was concerned. "Max and Leah are pissed," David made air quotes with his left hand for the word, "that this happened. They can send labor attorney recommendations but assume Yuna has that covered." He winked at Ilya at that one, which Ilya accepted with a knowing nod of his own. "And they want to go on a double date with you two sometime." He looked up at Ilya. "Want me to send another acknowledgement and thank you?"
Ilya was trying to look nonchalant as he kept his eyes on the television, as Hayes made yet another save in replays, the goaltender's energy still appearing high in the clips being shown after the end of the first period. "Sure," he shrugged casually. "Ok."
Hi, Max, and Leah. This is Shane's dad, David Hollander. Ilya is staying off of his phone today, given everything, but he's doing well and appreciated your texts. And you are right, Yuna does seem to have the legal front covered, but I will make sure she knows you both have good information as well.
The next message received that morning was one that David found his finger hovering over with hesitance. Cliff Marlow, Ilya's former teammate, seemed like a decent guy, and had even made a special trip to Ottawa to come to a fundraiser for the Foundation last year. He presented as a bit of a classic hockey meathead but with a big heart and seemed endlessly charmed by Ilya, naturally, so David hoped and assumed would be a decent man in this as well, but hockey players were, well, hockey players, and that could go in a lot of different directions in this case.
Cliff Marlow: What the actual fuck Roz??? Your banging Hollander???
David's breath caught, nervous and disappointed that he had apparently misjudged how this one would go.
Cliff Marlow: U could have fucking told me man but I guess I get why u didnt just know that we WILL go out after we play ottawa next time and u WILL tell me how the fuck this happened AND you will bring Hollander so I can meet your boyfriend, no excuses
Cliff Marlow: And I get it, Im not into guys but Hollzy's ass is fucking stacked as all hell, well done
Cliff Marlow: Love you brother
And sent a full two hours later:
Cliff Marlow: Shit I just got it, Jane, Shane, how long was this going on, u really are a goddamn beautician
And another 30 minutes after that:
Cliff Marlow: Wait u moved to ottawa for him didnt you??? tell him when we go out that hes buying the first round to make it up to us
Well. That had all really taken a turn that David did not see coming, but he felt his pulse settle at the player’s evident warmth and affection. "Cliff Marlow also is very supportive and would like to know more details at some point and wants to get a drink with you and Shane." He cleared his throat and found his next words, fairly sure that Ilya would be delighted by them. "He also evidently thinks that Shane has a nice rear end."
Ilya snorted, and David was pleased he'd anticipated Ilya's reaction correctly. "He says this?"
David checked the wording again. "It's… stacked as all hell?"
A sharp laugh preceded the response. "Yes, this is true. Is awkward to say, but Marly is right in this." Ilya dropped all amusement from his face immediately, coughing once, as serious as he could manage. "You will respond to this one as well?"
David raised his eyebrows at the challenge. "If you want."
Ilya made a "go ahead" gesture with his hand, so David proceeded accordingly. Hello, Cliff. This is Shane's dad, David Hollander. Ilya is staying off of his phone today, given everything, but he's doing well and appreciated your texts. I'm sure he and Shane will look forward to seeing you.
Marlow responded immediately, with no evident shame for how he'd apparently described Shane’s butt to his father - thanks for taking care of Roz mr Hollander! 🙏 The whole exchange was ridiculous and made David want to clap Marlow on the back, maybe even hug him, when their paths crossed again.
David opened the next message above it from another Raider and regretted it almost immediately.
Vic St-Simon: fuck u rozy working your way through every pussy on the eastern seaboard wasnt enough, u had to lock down the hottest ass in Canada too???? fucking selfish man
Vic St-Simon: connors marly and me have already talked and if anyone I mean ANYONE gives u shit u give us names and we will bury the bodies so deep no one will find them
Vic St-Simon: u may have left us for ottawa but u were ours first and Boston fucking takes care of our own
David considered carefully how to most tactfully summarize... all of that, and just gave up. "Well, we're two for two on hockey players complimenting Shane's backside. I don't know how else to say that, but St-Simon seems to also be a fan. He also said some very disrespectful things about women and seems to be threatening to murder people with Marlow and Connors for you, which I think was well meant, but is also concerning."
Ilya reached out his hand and snatched the phone like he was a child with chocolate cake, positively giddy. "I told you, David! You see things you cannot erase from your brain!" He read through the messages grinning and then shoved the phone back at David, who took it willingly but reluctantly. "Go ahead, you text back Vic too. Is rude not to."
David most definitely did not want to respond to a text that had discussed his son's fiancé's sexual history quite so bluntly, but if it was getting Ilya out of his funk, so be it. Hello, Victor. This is Shane's dad, David Hollander. Ilya is staying off of his phone today, given everything, but he's doing well and appreciated your texts. I do feel like I should reassure you that murder is not warranted, but the sentiment is appreciated.
Like Marlow, it was as if St-Simon had been watching and waiting for a response, which David found more than a little endearing. yes sir mr hollander, no murder 🫡 😉 The winking emoji wasn't necessarily reassuring, but David decided it best not to dig into that further.
There was a text from the aforementioned Connors as well, very much more of the same, that David efficiently read, summarized for Ilya, responded to, and moved on from. The names above it, though, packed more potential for disappointment, if they were anything less than supportive. David's eyes moved from another televised post-goal celebration (still very subdued) after a goal by Barrett to the same man's name on Ilya's phone. He was fairly certain, based on what he knew of the Centaurs, that they'd be warm and receptive of Ilya in general, but the relationship with Shane... well, it could raise questions for some people, David knew.
Troy Barrett: this is so fucked up, I can't believe someone did this to you and Hollander
Troy Barrett: Wiebe told us to leave you alone today and also told us about fucking Crowell, if the team is quiet know that everyone is fucking pissed on your behalf. Harris is figuring out a response
Troy Barrett: fr though if Crowell doesn't let you both play soon, they'll never find his body where the team leaves it in the wilderness
"Barrett is very angry about how Crowell is handling the situation and also is threatening murder." David sighed. "I know hockey is a violent sport, but this is too much." He frowned sincerely at Ilya. "You boys really need to stop texting like this. If anyone ever saw how often you say you all say you'll hide bodies..."
Ilya just shrugged, what can you do, and waved at the phone. "Respond." Ilya had stretched his legs out at some point, feet resting on the coffee table, decidedly making himself more comfortable, more at ease. "I am getting very used to this. You will come over every weekend and go through my messages for me, like Yuna did for you. Is very nice."
David shook his head with a laugh. It was all very silly but good to see Ilya more himself again, and hopefully the sheer quantity of support and love being sent his way was getting through that thick head of his. Hello, Troy. This is Shane's dad, David Hollander. Ilya is staying off of his phone today, given everything, but he's doing well and appreciated your texts. We’re confident the boys will be back on the ice soon. He considered for a moment and added, Ilya and I are watching the game and that was a hell of a goal at the start of the second. Well done! With the game in full swing, he didn't expect any responses for a while.
Most of the team had ignored their coach evidently, as most of them had sent messages as well, all similar in tone and content. We’re sorry this happened to you. We’ve got your back. We’re raising an army of hockey playing goons on your behalf. We love you. The sentence wasn’t there overtly quite as often, but message after message screamed the statement in the unspoken spaces. It was so clear to David, and he hoped that it was clear to Ilya as well, maybe, as Ilya’s frame continued to lighten, his face brighten, his laughter grow louder, as David read through them all for him.
“There are a couple here in Russian so I won’t be much use with them,” David said gently, eventually, apologetically.
Ilya set his face, eyes back to the game, the second period nearing its end with the Centaurs up 3-1. “What are the names?”
“I know one is Svetlana and the other is…” David doubled checked the name he'd seen, “Galina Molchalina.”
Ilya shifted uncomfortably, crawling out of his skin. “Svetlana may say some things in English so you can check that one. Galina is… you can skip that one.”
“Ok.” David scrolled back to Svetlana’s message, his insides clenching at how this Galina person had apparently hurt the boy on the other end of the couch. An ex back in Russia, his sister-in-law maybe? Presumably someone who was going to be less enthusiastic than the others. Come on, Svetlana Vetrova, David thought, help me out here. They needed to get this back on track.
Svetlana’s messages were interspersed with missed calls from her and nearly all in Russian, with a smattering of curse words in English and French thrown in, but David was pretty sure “you poutine mother fucker” wasn’t going to remedy Ilya's nervousness, even if he was a little impressed by her ability to turn Canadian cuisine into profanity.
“Ah, here we go. One full message in English.” David cleared his throat. “If any nice English speaking person finds this phone, which has almost certainly been stolen or lost, please find Ilya Rozanov and inform him that I love him very much but if he does not call me back, I will fly to Canada and stab him in the heart with the end of a hockey stick that I am currently crafting into a shiv.” He looked up at Ilya, who had started to smile again. “That sounds serious. You should probably call her back.”
Ilya’s smile was indisputably fond. “I will, after you leave, I promise.”
“Should I respond to her?”
“What kind of personal assistant would you be if you did not?”
“Careful or I may end up on your payroll, I’m having so much fun.”
“Do not make promises you will not keep, David.”
David winked at him as he started to respond. “We’ll just consider today a test run, how about that, and then see how salary negotiations go.”
Hello, Svetlana. This is Shane’s dad, David Hollander. Ilya is staying off of his phone today, given everything, but he’s doing well and appreciated your texts. He and I are watching the game together right now, but he promises he’ll call you back as soon as I leave, so you can pause on your shiv carving.
Svetlana’s response came within seconds. Thank you so much, David, for letting me know and for taking care of him 😘 I am very grateful he has your family.
David responded as honestly as he ever had. We are grateful to have him, too. He hoped Ilya would see it skimming through his messages himself later on.
Svetlana Vetrova: If you do not mind, could you send me your, your wife’s, and Shane's numbers, in case our beloved idiot man child ever refuses to answer me again?
Svetlana Vetrova: Also, for the wedding, Ilya seems only concerned about what Anya will wear and how pretty Shane will be, and I worry your wife and I may need to intervene for planning purposes, so it would be good for me to be able to contact her specifically.
David sent her the contact cards for all three Hollanders and wondered how long it would take after they started talking for Yuna to want to adopt her and casually suggest inviting Svetlana to join them for Christmas.
“Last one,” David confirmed. “Harris Drover.” Harris was a good egg, David knew, and dating Barrett. David had met him a few times since Ilya started with Ottawa, and he was always pleasant, personable, and had even done some pro bono social media work for the Foundation the year prior. Plus Harris and Yuna had talked on the phone for a while earlier in the day, and Harris's absolute support of the boys had been made very clear. It should be a good way to wrap up, to make it absolutely clear to Ilya that he was, in fact, surrounded by people who had no intention of going anywhere after the leak.
Harris Drover: Ilya, I am so incredibly sorry this happened to you and Hollander. It isn’t fair or right that people found out this way.
Sincere and supportive, and with good punctuation, Harris was very clearly everything that David had known him to be. A good kid.
Harris Drover: I don’t know if Wiebe told you, but the League ordered us to say absolutely nothing about you or Shane, which is complete bullshit, to just pretend you don’t exist and weren’t outed in a completely horrible way today. If they want a gag order, we’re going to give them a full one - we won’t post ANYTHING until we’re allowed to speak out in support of you both. Management is in total agreement, and also completely furious. If Crowell keeps dragging this out, I could probably convince them to let me post a picture of you literally blowing Shane, just to piss off Crowell 💀
Oh… no. Harris. Why?
Harris Drover: Tell Anya to give you a big hug for Troy and me, and we’ll see you soon 🩷💜💙
David paused as he considered what to say. “Harris wants you to know he’s furious about how the League is treating you, and he and management have agreed they won’t be posting anything at all until they’re allowed to speak in support of you.” David paused. “There’s more but I’m pretty sure neither of us want me to say it out loud.”
Ilya’s face was alight as he held out his hand for the phone with a grabby motion. He read quickly and doubled over in laughter. “I warned you, I did!” It took him a moment to catch his breath as David tried not to laugh himself at the sheer ridiculousness of it.
Ilya tossed the phone back to him. “You will respond and make Harris turn red as an apple, very funny.”
David wondered briefly when he’d become a court jester but acquiesced. It was that kind of day apparently. Hi, Harris. This is Shane’s dad, David. Ilya is staying off of his phone today, given everything, but he’s doing well and appreciated your texts. Thank you for the support you and management are showing to the boys and for your conversation with Yuna this morning. We appreciate it all very much.
He was debating if he should add anything else when the phone lit up with a few new messages from Shane’s old girlfriend, who David knew had become a good friend to the boys over the years. “Ah, a new arrival! Rose Landry has decided to come to the party.”
Ilya rolled his eyes. “You are a dork, David.”
David grinned. “Never said I wasn’t.”
Rose Landry: Hey babe. I just talked to Shane and am so fucking angry this happened at all and that you two are being treated like this by the league. I know you have good representation but if you need any more fancy flashy lawyers to show up, let me know and I will send Yuna so many names, or literally just send an army of lawyers to fucking Crowell's office to scare him into submission.
Rose Landry: I love you two so much. If anyone tries to tell you guys that you are anything other than the absolute perfection that you are, they can fuck right off.
David warmed immediately at the messages. He’d only met Rose the once, when she came to visit the boys at their cottage for a few days the previous summer, but David had liked her, her goodness and kindness, instantly. He went to read the texts verbatim to Ilya but paused as another came through.
Rose Landry: If you decide you need pictures for any public posts, could I suggest one of these that I told Shane I would delete but then couldn’t because you both just looked too perfect (sorry)?
A picture came through of the boys in their kitchen, both in sweatpants, Ilya shirtless of course with his back to the camera, standing at the stove, spatula in hand, making something hidden by the width of his frame. Shane seemed to have just approached him wearing one of Ilya’s old Raiders shirts that hung a little loose on him, and Ilya had turned his head towards Shane, planting a light kiss on Shane’s mouth, morning sun streaming in through the windows to land on their faces. It was a simple image, a domestic, familiar, and comfortable moment in a life lived well, together. It probably would be perfect for some kind of public communication in the coming days, if it weren’t for that darn Raiders shirt that would absolutely raise uncharitable comments, David knew.
And then a second picture was received, seemingly taken soon after. Shane faced the camera fully now, as Ilya sans spatula stood to his side, body turned towards Shane's. Shane’s eyes were light and the corner of his mouth turned up slightly in a smirk as his tongue stuck out, angled towards Ilya, who was dragging his tongue up the side of Shane’s face. Ilya had shoved his hand up the front of Shane’s shirt, while Shane had his hand that was closest to Ilya stretched wide and cupped over the front of Ilya’s pants. The camera had angled very slightly, and David could practically hear Rose’s laughter ringing as she proceeded to double over.
And… that was it. There were things a father probably shouldn’t see, and their child grabbing their partner’s crotch while their face was being licked felt like one of those, David was pretty sure. Message still open, he handed the phone back to Ilya.
“Well, kiddo, I love you and I’ve loved my time serving you, but I think I need to withdraw my application from consideration due to a conflict of interest. You’re right; it’s a risky business taking a man’s cell phone.”
Ilya took the phone back from him and saw both pictures, his face transitioning from a warm smile to one of a sort of proud embarrassment, his eyes remaining focused on the screen. After a few beats he looked at David, his mouth upturned, his face soft. "Is not a bad picture, no?"
David raised his eyebrows, the joke evident in his question, "Which one?"
Ilya shrugged. "Well, David, both are good." He winked and then he spoke, the edges in his voice completely gone. "But the first one. It will be nice to save it now I think."
David ordered his face to stay calm, his voice not to crack when he responded. "It will be." God bless Rose Landry for being the one person brazen enough to defy Shane's strict rules about deleting photos that could prove incriminating. After taking so many intentionally platonic looking pictures of the two together, pictures that could have just as easily included Hayden or Cliff Marlow, it made David feel a little bubbly, almost drunk in the best way, to see permanent evidence, taken and saved with affection and care, of the everyday reality of the boys, their togetherness.
"Want me to send anything to Rose for you? I know I quit but I don't want to leave you in a lurch mid-shift."
Ilya was still gazing at the phone, smiling to himself, as he shook his head. "No, is ok. I will answer her." His eyes flickered to David, his voice remaining soft. "And Galina. I will read her messages and respond to her too. Galina is... she is my therapist." He winced, an apologetic, slightly embarrassed look crossing over his face.
David nodded calmly in response. "I'm sure they'll both appreciate hearing from you." He thought about telling the other man that he was proud of him, grateful that he was comfortable enough to share that information, even more grateful that he was taking care of himself, but decided to save it for another day. He would tell him, but the day had already seen a lot of tiring feelings; he'd put the sentiments in his pocket and pull them out at another time.
The second period had ended, and commentators were on screen again, replays highlighting the goals scored so far, as well as several noticeably heated fights that had broken out. David had already decided that maybe he would just stay in Ilya's guest room for the night, make sure he didn't spend the rest of the evening alone, when Ilya said gently, "You should go. See Shane, see Yuna. It is getting late."
David shrugged. "I don't know, it would be good to see the end of the game-"
Ilya cut him off. "Thank you for spending the evening with me. It was good distraction. But Yuna and Shane will want to see you too, and will be good for me to know that Shane is ok and not just talking and planning all night." David had to give him something there; while he and Ilya had been laughing and enjoying Ottawa's best roast beef sandwiches and Russia's best vodka, he was pretty sure that Shane and Yuna would have spent their night revising plans and devising next steps, which was admittedly how they coped with stressful situations, but if left to their own devices... it could get a little out of hand. Ilya nodded his head once to the side. "Your one day as personal assistant was very impressive, but you are fired."
"Hey now, I quit, remember?"
Ilya held both hands up ins surrender. "Fair enough." He stood, gathering his and David's empty glasses from the coffee table, heading to the kitchen with them, effectively signaling the end of the evening, and David decided he felt ok letting him have the rest of the night to himself. He'd call Svetlana, David knew, maybe text some of his friends back himself. David had wanted him to remember he wasn't alone, and David was fairly sure he'd accomplished that mission.
When they made their way to the door, Ilya put his large arms around David's back and pulled him in for a hug, his posture taller, more familiar, than it had been earlier, and David enjoyed the sensation, curious but nice, of being wrapped up fully in one of his kids. It always just made the world feel a little more aligned to its axis.
"You call or text us if you need anything, ok?" David looked at Ilya seriously after they had let go of one another.
"I will, I promise." Ilya's face was soft and easy. "But I really will be ok."
"I know. I just also need you to remember you don't always have to be. And you don't have to do things alone, when you're not."
Ilya's shoulders loosened and he nodded, his smile sincere. "I know."
********************
Three days later, David sat to work on his crossword puzzle, a little later than usual after an earlier than usual long walk with Yuna, who had then left to take some paperwork to the post office “because it really does go out faster than when they pick it up, David,” when a text came through on his phone to their family text chain.
Well, we're official - from Shane, with a link to an Instagram post, a series of photos posted to both boys' accounts. Pictures of their life together over the past few years, real pictures, without the careful, forced distance. Them working at camp together last summer. A picture David had taken of them on a hike last November, smiling in front of a scenic overlook, arms thrown over one another’s shoulders. A selfie of them at All Stars last year, Shane grinning and Ilya with an exaggerated frown, that had been sent to the family chat - Yuna, please tell your son his team only won because Canada had better players for all stars this year, is not because HE is better than ME. Which had been followed immediately by Mom, please tell Ilya that’s literally how hockey works.
And then there was one of all four members of the Hollander family, standing in front of the lake at the boys’ cottage, a sunset turning the sky orange and magenta behind them. David had offered to take a picture of just the boys, David remembered with some hurt, and Shane had insisted on including all of them, claiming it would “just be nice” to have a picture of them all together, but they all knew that really Shane probably would have made them delete a picture of just Ilya and him. Sunsets were too potentially romantic, it went without saying.
David made a mental note to start taking pictures of them any time they were together for a nice sunset. They deserved all those pictures, dammit.
David didn't do much on social media, generally speaking, but he decided to comment on the post, which was rapidly accumulating likes and comments. Your mom and I are very proud of you both and love you very much. He thought for a moment and added one more quick sentence before clicking to post the comment, a smile creeping onto his face as he went back to his crossword, humming contently to himself.
This wasn’t going to be the easiest road to travel over the next few months. David was all too aware of that. The meeting with Crowell had been handled quite impressively by the boys all on their own, with a little guidance from Yuna, sure, but they’d managed it well themselves, because they were a good couple. The Metros definitely were going to be an issue, but Yuna had already started drafting updated plans in her black notebook, and Shane had good people in Hayden and J.J. at his side, even if it sounded like J.J. was still adjusting to the information, but he’d get there, David was certain.
However the League or the world chose to respond to all of this was ultimately outside of their control, but David was confident they’d come through ok on the other side. After all, the boys had each other. They had their family. And they had friends who quite rightly adored them more than the boys had ever really realized.
It took exactly ten minutes before the family text chain chimed on his phone again.
Shane Hollander: Dad. Ilya. Does one of you want to explain Dad’s comment?
Yuna Hollander: What comment? What did they do???
Shane sent a screen grab, a series of comments - mostly positive and kind, David was glad to note - with one from @dhollander70 centered in frame. Your mom and I are very proud of you both and love you very much. But I'm wondering why you didn't use that picture from Rose?
Shane Hollander: What picture, Dad? WHAT PICTURE?
Ilya Rozanov: Oh is nothing, Shane. Do not worry. 😇
David Hollander: Sorry, Shane. A good personal assistant never reveals secrets learned on the job.
Ilya Rozanov: 🤫