Archive of Our Own

Now, Ilya knows he isn’t stupid. He’s certainly better at feelings than some (Shane). He’s really good at spotting queer people. It’s why he was okay with fucking Shane when Scott Hunter was next door at All Stars in 2011 (he’d seen Hunter check out one of the refs). He’s also clocked Bennett (so bisexual, it’s not even funny) and Ryan Price (although Price wasn’t exactly hiding it). And sure, maybe his gaydar is a little broken with Troy Barret, but he’s still got a great track record. (Ignore how he won’t burden anyone with his shitty feelings, just move right on past his inability to ask for help, thanks)

So, yeah, he’s fantastic at feelings and emotions. He knows so much!

A Complete, But Not Exhaustive List of Things Ilya Rozanov Knows:

1) He loves Shane Hollander (probably did since the beginning, but that’s not relevant)

2) Shane Hollander loves him (for now)

3) He is Shane Hollander’s boyfriend (thank you Sveta)

4) He’s the happiest he’s ever been (thank you #1-3 and Sveta again)

5) He can’t do anything to fuck this up (which he will at some point, it’s inevitable)

6) Shane gets spooked easily (tuna melt)

7) Ilya’s brain is… not always good (thank you mom) (he misses her so much)

8) He has to make sure he never scares Shane away (he doesn’t know what he’d do if he did) (never leave home again? Waste away on a couch?)

9) He can never do anything to upset Shane or burden him (what if that spooks him into leaving?)

10) Ilya must be the most perfect, supportive boyfriend ever (all he needs to do is focus entirely on Shane and never worry him)

11) Then Shane will never leave him. 

Honestly, it wasn’t a hard conclusion to come to. 

Ilya can do this. He can be perfect. He will be. For Shane. He will make sure that no one needs to take care of him, that he is never a burden. Then Shane will have no cause to leave him and his mess behind. It’s a full proof plan. 

He doesn’t need anyone to take care of him. 

#

Step One: trust that others want to defend you.

The aftermath of Rose’s new year’s post has been… interesting. The Raiders don’t care. Mostly. Most of them think his ‘new’ ‘friendship’ with Shane Hollander is either PR or will end in a few weeks when Ilya annoys Hollander away. A good portion of them think he’s a traitor of varying degrees, all accumulating in suspicious glares. 

It could be worse though. They could be actively accusing him of throwing games. That hasn’t happened yet. He hopes it won’t. He’s already promised the rivalry is still on when they’re on the ice, just not off. They all have friends on other teams. Why can’t he?

The only person who’s happy for him is Cliff Marlow. It went like this: Marly asked if he was actually friends with Hollander, he said yes, Marly nodded, and said ‘I’m happy for you, bro.’ And that was that. 

God, he loves Marly. Probably his best friend after Sveta. And Shane. Although he’s in love with Shane, so maybe Shane shouldn’t really count. 

Whatever. He also knows Shane’s team has been worse. 

He’s listened to Shane rant for two straight weeks over the phone. Not even Pike and Boiziau. Although apparently they’ve been better than the others. Still trying to persuade Shane that Ilya’s bad news, slightly betrayed, but no open insults or name calling like some of the others (fuck Comeau). 

And that’s why Pike is here, at the club, staring daggers at the table where he and Shane are with Sveta and Rose. This is Sveta’s last night in Montreal. They wanted to do something fun after the game. Even though Shane hates clubs. 

Ilya’s going to make sure he has a good time regardless. 

“Hey,” Shane mutters. “Ilyushka, look at me.” Ilya does. He can’t do anything else when Shane uses that nickname. Under the table, Shane takes his hand and squeezes it. “I am right here. Stop paying attention to Hayden. He doesn’t matter. Spending time together does.” Shane grins. “Come on. Let’s go dance with Sveta and Rose.”

His boyfriend’s grip on his hand tightens and he stands, moving through the crowds towards the dance floor, never once letting his grip loosen. 

Rose and Sveta make room for them and they all dance together. Ilya can hardly believe it as he moves to the music. He’s dancing. In public. With Shane Hollander. Also with Sveta and Rose Landry, but Shane Hollander. 

He’s liable to start crying. He doesn’t want to, really. He’s just so damn happy and so damn sad at once. He’s in public with Shane Hollander, and people have questions, but not enough anymore to stop them. Shane’s right there. With him. It’s everything he could ever ask for. 

And it’s also not. Because Shane is right there, but not like Ilya wants. He can’t dance with Shane the way he wants, grind against him, run his hands over his perfect body or through his hair. He can’t kiss him or trace his freckles. Because they’re rivals, because the league, because the public, because Russia. 

The love of his life is right there and yet so impossibly far away. 

Shane smiles at him. Their hands brush. 

Ilya smiles back. 

He smiles for the entire evening, until the four of them agree to leave. He and Shane say goodbye to Sveta and Rose and start walking down the street. They stand closely enough that their hands occasionally brush. 

He wants to hold Shane’s hand so much it hurts. 

But he will, when they get home. He’ll hold his boyfriend’s hand and kiss him and maybe put on one of the songs he heard at the club. Then they could dance the way Ilya had wanted to in the club. Maybe they should do that first. It could be fun to tease Shane, get him bothered before they stripped off their clothes. 

He can picture how it will go, how Shane’s hands will feel on him, how-

“Shane!” Pike calls, running after them from the club. They both stop and watch him come to a stop, panting slightly. Pike gives Ilya a look. “Rozanov, get lost. This is a private conversation.”

Shane puts out his arm, blocking Ilya from Pike. “Stay. There’s nothing Hayden will say that you can’t hear.”

“Shane,” Pike pleads. “I need to speak with you alone. I don’t want him here.”

“I want him here,” Shane says, folding his arms. “Say it or leave, Hayden. It’s been a long night.”

“Fine.” Pike shoots a glare at Ilya. “Rozanov is playing you. I don’t know what his game is, but he’s not really your fr-”

Shane holds up a hand, his face neutral in the way Ilya knows means he’s about to snap. Pike does the first wise thing in his life and shuts up. “Hayden, I don’t want to hear it. Rozanov is a big part of my life now. And he’s not going anywhere. Ever. Don’t talk like you know him, because you really don’t. You wouldn’t dare say this if you did. There is no game. He is not playing me. He’s important to me and I am to him. He’s a good person. He’s kind and sweet and funny and protective and cares so much about people. Yeah, he’s a bit of an asshole sometimes, but it’s not all of who he is. It’s part of how he shows love. Ilya is-”

“Ilya?” Pike explodes. 

Shane nods. “Ilya. That’s his name and he’s one of the best people I know.” He shakes his head. “Look, Hayden, you can either accept Ilya’s part of my life now, or you can get out. Okay?”

“You’d choose him over me? Your best friend of six years?”

“I’ve known Ilya for eight,” Shane says coldly. 

It’s far too sexy for where they are right now. He can’t rip his boyfriend’s clothes off in the middle of the street. Shane would kill him. 

“I…. You’re serious,” Pike realizes. “You’re actually serious.”

“I am. I’d rather have both of you in my life, I really would. But if it comes down to it,” Shane glances at Ilya, something in his eyes not meant for Pike to recognize. I love you, “I choose Ilya.”

“I….” Pike’s speechless. 

Ilya’s aware of the feeling. 

Shane turns back to Pike. “Look, emotions are running a little high tonight. Let’s all go home. And next time we have a game, let’s get dinner. The three of us. There’s that one in Boston in March, right? Let’s work something out then.”

“Maybe the one in April,” Pike suggests, staring at Ilya like he doesn’t know what to make of him. “A little more time.”

Shane nods. “Okay, after the game in April. That’s plenty of time to cool off.”

“And for you to tell me what the fuck you see in this guy,” Pike mutters. 

Shane sighs. “Language. Don’t make me report you to Jackie.”

Hayden groans. “Goodnight, Shane. See you at practice.” Shane deliberately clears his throat and subtly jerks his head in Ilya’s direction. Pike makes a disbelieving face at him, but Shane just raises his eyebrows. “Ugh. Fine. Goodnight, Rozanov.”

Shane elbows Ilya. 

Oh. Right. 

“Goodnight, Pike,” he says. 

Pike rolls his eyes, not believing it’s genuine, and finally, walks away. 

Once he’s out of earshot, Ilya turns to Shane and murmurs. “You did not have to. Is fine.”

“No, it’s not,” Shane replies, “and yes, I did. You’re worth defending, Ilya. Now come on, let’s go home.”

Can someone die from being so in love? Ilya’s pretty sure he’s about to test that out. 

And, through some combination of exhaustion and adrenaline, Ilya’s sure, Shane makes the insane decision to take his hand and begin dragging him down the street.

Anyone could see. Shane doesn’t seem to notice. 

So, for once, Ilya lets the voices fade to the background. He smiles, grips his incredibly sexy boyfriend’s hand like a lifeline, and follows. 

#

Step Two: trust that others want to spend time with you.

When Ilya arrives home from practice to find Rose Landry in his house, he nearly jumps out of his skin. 

“Rose?” he exclaims. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

“Well, I was hoping for a warmer welcome,” she says dryly but smiling, so he knows she isn’t actually upset, “but I’m in Boston for a few days, idiot, so I thought we could hang out. Sveta assured me you don’t have practice for the rest of the day.”

“Aren’t you supposed to be in Montreal?” he asks. “You are filming.”

She waves a hand dismissively. “Eh. I mean, yes, and it doesn’t wrap up fully for a week or two but the next few days don’t have any of my scenes, so I can come to Boston and visit my friend.”

“And your girlfriend.”

Rose winks. “Her too, but I saw her last night already. Obviously. Today, we are hanging out and I’m dating your best friend, so I have the blackmail material to force you to do it.”

“But…” Ilya doesn’t understand. “Shane’s not here.”

She gives him a confused look. “And? You’re my friend too, stupid. I want to hang out with you.” She claps her hands. “So, I say we order in food. Are you hungry? I am!”

And so he spends the day with Rose. They order in tacos, which are a mess in the containers but still good. She bitches about her director, getting kidnapped again (which he swears him to secrecy), and terribly written lines. He complains about his teammates, shitty hotel breakfasts, and missing Shane. He talks about Shane a lot. Rose just listens. Like Sveta, she teases him about how in love he is, but a lot less. She just politely nods while he goes on for five minutes about Shane’s freckles. 

And then spends six minutes going on about Sveta’s hair. 

They turn it into a competition, who can thirst about a specific feature of their partner for longer. They time it and everything. 

Rose finally concedes when Ilya goes on for half an hour about Shane’s glasses (his previous record being twenty-two minutes on Shane’s thighs). 

That’s how Svetlana finds them, when she arrives after her work, laughing at their own ridiculousness. When Rose sees Sveta, she lights up and runs over to her girlfriend, pressing a quick kiss to her lips. 

Ilya looks away, unable to stop the sadness swelling like the tide. He misses Shane. So much. He wishes his boyfriend was here and he was able to kiss him and rest his head in his lap. 

Soon, he promises himself. All-Stars will be soon. And then you’ll see Shane in person again. 

“Hello, Ilyushka,” Sveta says, sitting down.

“Sveta.”

She’s sitting in the spot he and Shane had been when they’d said each other’s names for the first time. He wants to tell her to move, but swallows it because that’s fucking ridiculous. He can’t forbid that spot to everyone. How would he even explain it?

Sveta glances at Rose, who starts opening the bags of food Sveta brought. “Have you told him?”

“Told me what?” he asks. 

“That is no,” Sveta mutters. “We are watching Montreal’s game.”

“What?”

“Montreal has a game tonight,” Rose explains. “Against Toronto.” They all make faces. “So, we’re watching and cheering Shane on from here. And posting.”

“Yes,” Sveta agrees. “I will post since Rose did last time. Too early for you to.”

“And I want to make popcorn!” Rose declares. “Where’s the popcorn?”

“I will help,” Ilya promises. 

The rest of the evening until the game comes on passes in a bit of a blur. Sveta talks about her day and she and Ilya get into a debate on the most pompous car on the market. Rose weighs in a few times, but she doesn’t know cars well enough to truly understand. 

Then the game comes on. 

Sveta gathers them in front of the TV to take the photo, all smiling with Ilya and Rose on either side of her. She captions it: Rooting for YOU @ShaneHollanderHockeyPlayer and not your shitty team (sorry not sorry, Ilyushka insisted). Good luck. We miss you!

She hits post to Instagram and Ilya watches the likes and comments pile up like trash when sanitation workers are on strike. 

Some people curse him out for supporting Hollander. Some speculate on a PR friendship. Some theorize about all the various ‘ships’ and Ilya would look up those words if he hadn’t years ago (some ship only two of them, some think they’re all in a polyamorous relationship, some think Ilya’s in a throuple with the girls and Shane’s just a friend, it’s all ridiculous). Some think Ilya’s the funniest person ever either for the caption or for fucking with Shane. 

Popcorn hits his forehead. 

Ilya looks up and the girls are glaring at him. 

“Put phone away or I will take,” Sveta informs him. 

Ilya slips the device into his pocket. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Rose assures him. “But it’s not worth it to read the comments from stupid people on the internet.”

“Agreed,” Sveta says, nodding along. “Turn off your phone, Ilyushka, and be present with us.”
“Besides,” Rose adds with a sly smile, “don’t you want to watch your boyfriend be hot on TV?”

That is actually a very good argument. 

Ilya holds up his hands and Sveta passes him a popcorn bucket. He settles in, letting his phone remain away for the entire evening. They make fun of the non-Shane Metros and yell insults whenever Dallas Kent comes onto the screen. However much they mock Montreal, they mock Toronto worse. 

Ilya’s tempted to live tweet it. Sveta reminds him that he could be fined, so Rose does it and gives them code names rather than using their actual names. Ilya’s Asshole. Sveta’s Sunshine. Rose is Garden. Ilya thinks it’s pretty obvious but Rose says, “There’s enough deniability to prevent a lawsuit,” and he trusts her on that. 

But a video of him and Sveta yelling in Russian at the TV about a bullshit call made against Shane does make it to her Instagram with the text But no, tell us how you really feel. The actual video is five minutes long. 

He knows she texted it to Shane. 

It’s the most fun he’s had in weeks. 

#

Step Three: trust that others want to treat you.

Ilya groans awake. The bed is empty and once that really registers, he starts to panic. 

Shane had been there last night, agreeing to stay the night, even though it was risky. After all, Tampa is crawling with reporters and hockey players. Shane said he’d be there. Where was he? 

Ilya takes a deep breath. Shane’s phone is gone, but his socks are still here. 

Shane would not leave for good without his socks. 

Is he in the bathroom? Ilya strains his ears. He hears nothing and no light on in the bathroom. So what the fuck is going on?

The door opens and Ilya startles. 

It’s Shane, trying to open the door while also holding a breakfast tray. It’s from the hotel breakfast, which while not really good, is alright. It looks more edible than what Ilya’s eaten in some places. 

Ilya rushes over and grabs the door, holding it open. Shane smiles and enters properly, letting Ilya close the door behind him. 

“Morning!” Shane says cheerfully. “I’m sorry I wasn’t here when you woke up. I underestimated how much time the waffle maker would take. And you were so deeply asleep that I thought I had more time.” He smiles apologetically and sets the tray on the hotel’s dresser. “Sorry again.” He places Ilya’s keycard on the nightstand. “And sorry for borrowing this without asking. I just…. It would have ruined the surprise.”

“Surprise?”

Shane nods. “Breakfast in bed.” Ilya notes how Shane’s foot runs along the back of his leg. “We won’t actually see each other for Valentine’s Day this year,” our first as a couple, goes unsaid, “but I was thinking since we’ve got this weekend, maybe we could do something nice and romantic? Like breakfast in bed?”

Shane looks so hesitant, nervous even. As if Ilya wouldn’t love this only because Shane came up with it. 

He rushes forward and kisses him. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. He hopes Shane can hear how his heart chants the same three words over and over again. Shane melts into the kiss, so maybe he does. 

Shane pulls away and hums, “Your breath is horrible, Ilyushka.”

“Fuck you, Hollander,” Ilya replies, kissing Shane’s jaw. “Why do you do this to me?”

“Because you woke up,” Shane mutters on his lips. “And ruined how I wanted to wake you up.”

“Fuck, Shane,” Ilya mutters. 

“No,” Shane replies playfully. “Later now.” Shane intertwines their hands. “Come on, let’s go eat.”

Shane leads him to the bed and pushes him on with a bright laugh before scurrying away to grab the tray. Then Shane slides into bed with him, curling up at Ilya’s side, putting the tray over both of their legs. 

Waffles, pancakes, eggs, fruit, sausage, muffin, bagel Shane got everything possible. 

“I wasn’t sure exactly what you have for breakfast,” Shane admits. “So I got a bit of everything.” He groans and buries his head in his hands. “I wanted this to be special and I’m fucking this up.”

“You are doing wonderful, sweetheart,” Ilya assures him. “This is wonderful. I love you so much.”

“I love you too.” Shane presses a quick kiss to his lips. “We should eat.” 

And so they dig in. It’s as slow a morning as they can manage with All-Stars and it’s perfect. Ilya wants thirty thousand more mornings like this. A hundred thousand. A million. 

It won’t be enough. Anything short of infinity will never be enough. 

Ilya is flying far up into the sky, past the clouds and towards the sun, and yet also drowning, anchors chained to his ankles, sinking into the deepest, darkest parts of the ocean. He’s in love and in pain. He’s the happiest he’s ever been, and it has to be in secret. 

He knows why. 

He’s just trying to enjoy it. 

Until Shane finds someone easier to love. 

#

Step Four: trust that others want to do romantic things for you. 

Ilya’s jaw hurts. He probably shouldn’t have baited Scott Hunter yesterday, but it had been worth it. He had needed to get into a fight. It cleared his head in a way. He gets in his head too much about Shane (leaving him, choosing someone easier), the pain grounds him. 

Logically, he knows this is ridiculous and Shane loves him. Shane loves him so much and he has so much proof of it, but his head is stupid. 

The pain helps shake him out of it a bit. 

He’s just glad he only got a bruise and no loose or knocked out teeth. Shane would probably kill him. 

Ilya smiles. It’s such a ridiculous thought. He never had to really bother taking care of himself before. He had no one to do it for (he knows he had Sveta, but she would have gotten over it, over him after time), and now he does. He has to make sure he doesn’t lose teeth or hurt himself too much or Shane will call at him and yell at him (and yell at him some more when they see each other in person). 

It’s insane how happy that makes him. Sveta tells him constantly. 

So, Ilya gets home from their road trip. The entire team is tired, so there’s no practice. Besides, it’s Valentine’s Day today. He knows the men on the team with wives or girlfriends want to take them out. Unfortunately, he can’t do the same. 

Shane’s away, traveling to another city today and playing tonight. They can probably facetime today. Maybe. If stupid Pike ever leaves the hotel room. 

Shane seemed really upset that they couldn’t the last time they spoke (last night). Ilya wishes he could fight the MLH. It probably wouldn’t help, but maybe it would make him feel better. 

Ilya opens the door and enters the kitchen, where he instantly loses the ability to breathe. There’s a massive bouquet of red and pink lilies, interspersed with white baby’s breath and some ferns. They’re in his nicest vase, already cut and in water. 

He notices a card, leaning against the vase. He snatches it up. 

Dearest, Ilya,

Happy Valentine’s Day! I know we can’t spend it together, but I’m thinking about you, always ♡. I love you so much. Call me soon!

Love, love, love,

Your Jane 

It’s Shane’s handwriting. Ilya sets down his bags, takes out his phone, and snaps a photo. Pulling up his text chain, he sends the photo to Shane and begins typing. 

Jane 🥰🥵

10:13 AM

I think someone is in walls 

Protect me 

Am scared 😨

I don’t know. Maybe it’s just a boyfriend who misses you. 

Got anything to tell me, Lily?

You are in public?

Yes. We’re in the airport right now.

I hate public

I love you ♥️

Thnak you

Thank you

😘

Love you too.

And make sure to thank Sveta. She picked them up and got them to your house for me before she went to work.

I do not want to think of sveta 👎

Boo

Thank her. Or she will kill ME this time.

For my pretty Shane? 😍 I will do anything

Oh, I know. 

Fuck you 😡

worst day of life

😇

Rose is bad influence

You love Rose.

No comment

How was your day?

Good

Normal

Listened to others talk about plans with partners on plane

No one bothered to ask about mine

But what could I say?

I cannot spend the day with my boyfriend because he is hockey player and not even playing at home right now?

This day is fucking stupid

Ilya.

Lily

Public remember?

I do not give a fuck.

Ilya.

Baby.

Love.

Listen to me, okay?

I hate this and you have every right to hate it too. It fucking sucks that we have to hide and that you’d be arrested if everyone knew and you went home. It’s not fair. You have every right to be upset. Today is supposed to celebrate love and couples and we can’t really do that. It’s frustrating. 

That being said, I do have more surprises for you today. Because I love you and even though we’re hiding, I want to make you happy. 

Sending you all the hugs and kisses and cuddles, okay?

Can I get orgasms too?

Sure, baby. 

All the orgasms you want. 

🥰🥰🥰

😘🫶

🫶😘

Ilya smiles at his phone. He has the best boyfriend in the world. Ilya sets his phone aside and unpacks from practice. 

About ten minutes later, there’s a knock at his door. Frowning, he hurries over and opens it. An older woman stands there, holding the leash for a very cute puppy. Ilya’s never seen her before. 

“Hi?” the woman says. “Sorry to bother you, but my neighbor, a Russian woman, told me I could come here and ask for help. She said she’s a friend of yours?” 

She extends a hand with a note. Ilya takes it. It’s Sveta’s writing. And in Russian. 

Ilyushka. This is my neighbor, Rachel. She needs to go to a doctor’s appointment in New York and needs someone to dog sit until tomorrow morning. I know you are off. Dogsit. The dog is Peanut. She is a good dog. You will love her. 

“I’m so sorry to impose,” the older woman rattles on. “But I got a complicated hip surgery recently and my sitter canceled and I need to see the specialist and I don’t know anyone else to watch Peanut and-”

“I will take her,” Ilya promises. “Is no problem.”

He holds out hand. Rachel places the leash in his hand, relief written across her face. “Thank you, thank you, thank you! I will be back tomorrow. Does 9 am work?” Ilya nods. She hands him a duffle bag. “All the food you’ll need will be in there. As well as bags to pick up her poop on walks. And her dishes. And her favorite toys. You can make a dog bed out of pillows, she’ll see on it. Or the couch if you let her. She needs to be walked at least two more times today and maybe once tomorrow morning. She’ll need water. And she loves to play tug of war-”

“I will manage,” Ilya promises. “She is sweet girl.” He smiles and kneels to pet her. Peanut tilts her head to give him better access. He smiles up at Rachel “See?”

“Thank you,” Rachel repeats. “I’m so sorry to put this on you without any notice.”

“Will be fine,” Ilya promises. “I love dogs.”

“Thank you again, uh….”

Oh. She does not know who I am. 

“Ilya,” he says. 

She nods. “Thank you, Ilya.” She clears her throat awkwardly. “You have a very nice home.” She clears her throat again. “Okay, I’ll leave. Thank you. My number is in the bag so text me if you have any questions.”

“I will. Go to doctor.”

And Rachel leaves. And for the afternoon, Ilya has a dog. 

He’s always wanted a dog. He and Shane have debated how many dogs they will have in the future (Shane doesn’t want more than one, Ilya wants ten. He’s certain he can wear Shane down until he agrees to two or three). 

His phone buzzes. 

Jane 🥰🥵

10:35 PM

I want photos. 

Of me?

Of the dog. 🐕 

Peanut right?

You set this up?

🤐

You are wonderful amazing perfect

I love you so much

♥️

♥️

The afternoon with Peanut is wonderful. She is the second most perfect dog ever (the most perfect dog will be Ilya and Shane’s future dog). He loves playing with her. He takes photo after photo of him playing with her and sends them to Shane. Shane only ever likes the photos. Ilya likes to imagine his boyfriend is too hard to form coherent sentences. 

Finally, Shane texts him again. 

Jane 🥰🥵

6:43 PM

Listen for the door. There’s a delivery coming soon. Also, watch my game while you have dinner, will you? 

Okay

Why?

What delivery?

Shane?

Shane

Shane

Shane

😇

I hate you

😈

Love you too! 😘

Ilya sticks out his tongue, but the knock comes before he can type anything else. 

A DoorDash man stands there, an order of food in his hand. “Ilya Rozanov?” he asks, completely butchering Ilya’s name. 

Ilya nods and takes the order. 

Food. Shane ordered him dinner. 

He opens the bag and is going to cry. 

He told Shane about his favorite Russian restaurant in Boston months ago and all the dishes they had that reminded him of his mother. He hadn’t expected Shane to remember any of it. 

Yet there they all are. Each dish in a takeout box. 

Jane 🥰🥵

Okay I take back

I donot hate you

Love you too. Gotta go. Watch the game?

Of course

But why? You have something else planned?

Shane doesn’t reply. Ilya turns on the game, eating on the couch with Peanut as he watches his boyfriend play a beautiful game of hockey. 

And then Shane comes on a kiss cam while he’s on the bench. One of his teammates is in with him, but Shane just laughs and blows a kiss to the camera then makes a heart with his hands. Ilya knows it’s for him. 

And when the reports in the post game interviews if there’s someone special in his life. Shane smirks and says, “No comment,” in a way that actually means, ‘yes, but it’s none of your business.’ 

Then Shane winks at the camera. And while Shane can’t see him, he makes a heart with his hands back.

Jane 🥰🥵

9:57 PM

♥️

Svetlana

9:57 PM

Thank you

For today

For helping him make today special

Love you, Ilyushka. 

I was happy to do it.

#

Step Five: trust that others want to give you things just because.

Ilya’s arm is around Shane’s shoulder and life is perfect again. Except for his brother won’t stop calling him. 

“You should get that,” Shane mutters. 

“Ah, I see, Hollander, you want me to answer so I am off game. Dia- word like devil?”

“Diabolical.”

“Yes, very diabolical of you. But I will not fall for it. I will be strong.”

Shane pokes his ribs. “What if it’s important?”

“My brother can get fucked until after the game,” Ilya murmurs back. “I want to be with you. I miss you.”

Shane smiles and tilts his head up. Ilya matches him and they kiss, sweet, slow. 

Then suddenly, Shane pulls away. Ilya’s about to whine, but Shane puts a hand on his lips. “Wait,” he says. “I just remembered something.”

Shane throws off the blanket and springs out of bed. 

“Hollander,” Ilya whines. 

“A minute, Rozanov!” Shane calls. 

In fact, a minute later, Shane enters again with something black tucked under his arm. He hands the black fabric to Ilya. 

“Here,” Shane says. “I saw it online and I thought of you, so here.”

Ilya unfolds it then laughs, hard. 

It’s black t-shirt with Your opinion matters… To somebody… Somewhere… Maybe… printed on it.

“I love it,” Ilya promises. He quickly puts it on. It fits perfectly. 

Shane grins. “Good. Because I saw a lot that reminded me of you so I will keep sending you them.”

“Only if you wear them first.”

“So they smell like me?”

Ilya winks. “Exactly.”

Shane kisses him. Ilya kisses back. 

#

Step Six: trust that others want to listen to you.

Sveta shoots him a look. Alexei has stormed off. And Ilya’s cut ties. After this trip, this will be it. There will be no more family for him in Russia. 

What a thought. It’s not nearly as upsetting as it should be. 

It’s barely upsetting at all. 

“That was intense,” Sveta says. “Are you okay?”

“No idea,” he admits. “I need a walk.”

“I will make your excuses,” she promises. “Do you want to talk?”

“No.”

She nods. “Call Jane, Ilyushka, when you’re ready. You need to talk to someone.”

He nods. “I will, Sveta. Thank you. For coming, for everything.”

She smiles and hugs him. “Anytime. I love you.”

He returns the hug. “Love you too.”

So, Ilya takes off, only stopping to change into the shirt Shane gave him a few days ago and grab a jacket. 

He takes off into the city, his father’s funeral running through his head. There were so many people there and Ilya isn’t convinced a single one of them actually cared about Grigori Rozanov. Did his father ever have any real friends? Anyone who loved him for exactly who he was?

Ilya doesn’t know. 

He wants to say that he did, that he loved his father, but his feelings for his father are Daedalus’ labyrinth, winding, twisting, leading in one direction to just loop back around to where they started. 

He thinks he loves his father. He was his father after all. And there were good moments. Mostly before his mom… died. So the memories were mostly fuzzy. But there were good days of laughter and some approximation of love. They were few, far between, and all so long ago. The happy days with his father were stars in the sky, bright, hopeful, and all so far away. 

And then there were the bad days. The bad days were rats: everywhere. Every harsh word, pointed look, raised hand, they all stood out in his mind like scars on his skin. Like the moles Shane loves so much. 

The night surrounds the stars, highlighting them and their beauty, but the blackness is so much more abundant than the tiny pinpricks of light. 

So, does Ilya love his father? Of course he does. He also hates him. 

He’s flying and drowning at the same time. 

Ilya’s getting very good at living oxymorons. 

He finds a tunnel and texts Shane, asking to call. He knows Shane is on the road. He might not be alone. 

Thankfully, Shane’s free. 

“Ilya,” Shane breathes out and the word breathes oxygen into Ilya’s lungs. “How are you doing?”

“Bad,” he admits. “English is hard now.”

“Understandable,” Shane replies. “This can’t be easy. I… I can’t imagine it. And I can’t imagine doing it twice. Fuck, shit, I shouldn’t be talking like this, right?”

Ilya laughs. “Is okay, Shane.”

“I miss you.”

“Same.” 

Shane falls silent for bit, but Ilya can still hear his boyfriend’s breathing. It helps. It helps to know he’s there and alive, even if he’s half way across the world. 

“Hey,” Shane starts and Ilya can hear some excitement in his voice, even though he’s trying to hide it, “I have an idea. How about you tell me everything that’s on your mind, but in Russian? I won’t understand everything, you know my Russian is still really limited, but maybe it’ll help?”

And Ilya’s in love all over again. “Okay.”

“Really?” Shane brightens. 

“Really,” Ilya confirms. “Try to keep up, Hollander.” Shane says nothing, but Ilya pictures him nodding and readying to try to follow. He can have a very basic conversation in Russian, but only slowly. He’s always lost whenever Ilya and Sveta talk. “I never want to come back here again,” Ilya confesses, unsurprised how true it is. “It’s not home anymore. I don’t know how long it hasn’t been. Probably when I fell in love with you. I just fucking hate it here. And they all fucking hate me.

“I pay for everything,” he admits, the anger starting to bubble in his chest. “I make sure everyone has clothes they like. I make sure the food is perfect, that father is buried next to his parents, that the tomb is perfect. And the only fucking word I ever hear is: ‘I want more, Ilya. I need more, Ilya, more, more, more, more, more, more.’ It’s exhausting, Shane. And I have nothing left for these people. I give them everything, but I feel fucking empty. They don’t care. They look at me and they see a bank. Or an enemy. Or… I don’t even know what. 

“My brother, he always hated me. And I know why, but… it kills me.” And isn’t this the crux of the problem? “And it kills me that he took care of my father and I didn’t. But I couldn’t. I wasn’t here. I still paid for all of it. And he will never forgive me.” For being the provider, breadwinner. For forcing him to stay at home, feeding their father and caring for him the way Ilya wishes he could have. “For any of it. For existing. And it means… I have no one now. 

“Well, not no one,” he corrects “I have you, Rose, Svetlana. I love you all. And you love me. But I worry….” 

He brings down the phone for a moment. He looks around, tears in his eyes. 

“Fuck me.”

How is he going to say this? How is he going to admit this?

“But I worry that you’ll all leave me. That’s the worst fucking part of all of this. That I want to keep you in my life. All of you, and I don’t think you’ll stay. I don’t think I’m worthy of staying for, and I don’t know what to do about it.” He takes in a deep breath. “Okay. I’m done.”

“I love you,” Shane tells him. “How do you feel?”

“A little better. Thank you.”

“You should talk to Sveta about… all of that.”

“How much did you understand?”

“Not much. Just words here and there. You should talk to Sveta. She can help. Please, Ilya, just consider it, okay?”

Ilya promises and they keep talking about anything and nothing at all. Finally, Ilya hangs up and Sveta is waiting for him. He tells her everything, including the last bit, crying for real this time. The moment he finishes, she stands and throws her arms around him, drawing him into a hug. He returns it, crying on her shoulder. 

“Thank you for telling me,” she whispers. “You know Shane, Rose, and I will stay, right? You know it’s a silly fear, right?”

“I know. I still fear it. I... I feel like my mother sometimes, Sveta,” he whispers. “I do not want to be like her.”

Sveta’s grip tightens in him. “You won’t be. I promise. You have people; your mother didn’t. She had no one to support her, but you do.” Sveta pulls away slightly to look him in the eye. “Ilyushka, I… Can I say something and you promise to not get mad but think about it?”

He nods. “I promise.”

“I… I think you should consider talking to a therapist. I know you don’t want to, but Shane, Rose, and I cannot help you the way you need us to.” She taps his head. “We don’t know how to help your brain. We will love and support you through everything, but that’s not the same as talking to a professional.” She puts a hand on his chest. “Just promise me you’ll think about it?”

He nods and they both know he might think about it, but not do anything. “I promise.”

She pulls him into another hug. “I love you so much. Alexei sucks.”

Ilya laughs a bit. “He really does.”

“I think it will be better if you don’t come back here.”

“Maybe once. To see Mama’s grave one more time.”

“One more time then,” she agrees. “God, this country doesn’t want either of us, does it?”

He knows what she’s talking about. The two bisexuals dating the same gender. “No, it doesn’t. Why do we love it so much?”

“I think life is just complicated like that, you know?”

Stars and the night sky, Ilya thinks.

He knows exactly what she means. 

#

Step Seven: trust that others can see you. 

It wasn’t supposed to go down like this. The game was supposed to draw him out of his funk, not drag him further in. He was supposed to play against Shane, go out to dinner with Shane and Pike, then go back to Shane’s place for a night with his boyfriend. 

It was supposed to go good. He was supposed to end the night cuddling with his boyfriend’s hands running through his hair. 

Not… not this. 

Not Shane on the ice, not moving, not awake. 

Lying there. 

(Like the last body he found)

(Like Mama)

The moment he sees Marlow on a collision path, Ilya skates as quickly as he can, but not quickly enough. Not quick enough to catch Shane before he falls. 

Shane hits the ice and Ilya freezes, right there, right at his side, unable to move, jaw slack and eyes fixed on his boyfriend. 

Some people are saying things. It sounds a lot like ‘Rozanov,’ but he’s not really listening or thinking or feeling anything. He can’t leave Shane’s side. (Shane could die) (This could be the last time Ilya sees him) (Ever) (Like his Mama)

A hand grips his shoulder and pulls him back. Ilya glances to his side. It’s Pike. 

“Rozanov,” Pike pleads, pulling him back, “please, you need to move. The medics are here. You need to let them do their job. Come on, man. Please.”

“Shane,” Ilya mutters. Don’t be dead, don’t be dead, don’t be dead, don’t be dead, don’t be de-

“You need to let them help him, Rozanov,” Pike says, gently, like he’s talking to one of those four thousand kids he has. “Come on.”

“Is he okay?” Ilya says, letting Pike pull him away as the emotions start to trickle back in. The desperation and fear come back first. “Fucking tell me!”

Tell me if I’ve lost another person.

“I don’t know,” Pike admits, pulling him, but encountering a little more resistance again. “But he won’t be if we don’t let the medics do their fucking jobs.” He tugs. “Come on.”

“Roz,” a new voice comes. “Roz man, listen to Pike-”

“Can you get him to your bench?” Pike asks, interrupting. “He’s in no fucking condition to play like this, Marlow.”

“I know, I’ve got this, Pike.” 

“You are so fucking lucky I’m not punching you right now.”

“I know. I am so sorry about Hollander. It was an accident.” Accident. (Just what they said about Mama) “I-”

“Just get Rozanov out of here, okay?”

“I’ve never seen him like this,” Marlow says, guiding Ilya away. 

Pike stakes with them. “His father just fucking died, Marlow. You think he’s in the headspace to see a major injury right now?”

“Oh, shit,” Marlow realizes. 

“Major injury?” Ilya squeaks out. Accident. That fucking word again. “What did they fucking say?”

“Nothing,” Pike says. “He’s responsive, I think. I think I heard him say something. Your name. So that’s good but we don’t know yet, Rozanov. But the medics got to him quickly, which means he’s getting treatment fast, so be hopeful, alright?”

“He asked for me?”

“I didn’t hear, man. We’ll find out, later, okay.”

“Come on, Roz,” Marlow says, opening the door off the ice, helping off. “Off the ice for now, okay?”

“I-” Please let him not be dead, God, please. I will give anything. I will never see him again if it means he’s not dead like Mama.

“Off the ice, Rozanov,” their coach orders. “Now. I’ll let you back on later if you can snap out of this, alright?”

“His dad-” Marlow begins. 

“I know, Marlow. Get back to the game, alright?”

“Take care of yourself, Roz,” Marlow tells him. “When you see Hollander, tell him I’m really sorry, please?”

Ilya nods. He’s herded to the back for the rest of the period. He sits on a bench and just stares into the air, eyes not fixed on anything. He tries to think about anything other than Shane on the ice, but fails miserably. 

He can only see Shane lying there. 

Too close to dead. 

(What would he do if Shane died?) (What would be left for him?)

“Knock, knock,” comes a voice he definitely doesn’t recognize. Ilya looks up. A pretty white woman stands in the entrance. “Hi,” she says kindly. “My name is Jackie. I’m Hayden Pike’s wife. Can I come in?”

He nods. 

“Thanks,” Jackie says. She sits on the opposite bench of him. “How are you doing?”

She asks simply, just genuinely curious. 

“Bad,” he decides on saying. 

He doesn’t elaborate. 

She nods like it explains everything. “It can’t be easy to see him on the ice like that. I know Hayden wanted to punch Marlow, but…. I heard about that fight in January. I know you’re important to Shane. And him to you. Hayden’s not happy about it, but he knew you needed support more than Marlow needed to be punched.”

“Marly’s teeth thank him,” he tries to quip.

Jackie laughs. “I bet. Point is Hayden knew Shane would want him to help you more than punch Marlow. I’m sure Shane would want you to get back on the ice. Play the rest of the game.”

“I know,” Ilya admits softly. “I do not know if I can.”

“I think I get that. I….” Jackie lowers her voice. “Did you know Shane’s in love?”

“I….” Fuck. “What do you mean?”

“Back in November, I got a text from a Sally,” Jackie explains, “the friend of a girl Shane hooks up with in your city. Lily. That’s her name. Sally needed my help getting them together. She also said that Lily’s relationship with Shane could be damaging for her career and that’s why they’re a secret. That Shane would share details when he was ready.”

“That is…” My boyfriend, my Shane, “good of him.”

“I know,” Jackie says. “Shane’s a great guy and anyone he chooses as a partner must be equally wonderful.” She places a hand on Ilya’s shoulder. “Lily,” she mutters. Ilya’s eyes snap to hers before he can stop himself. His expression is too raw, he knows, but he doesn’t know how to stop this either. “He’ll be okay,” she assures him. “He will. The medics know what they’re doing.”

“I….” (They couldn’t save Mama) (Why would I trust them with my Shane?)

“It’s okay,” she assures him, pulling him into a hug. “I won’t tell. Not even Hayden. Don’t worry, he won’t figure it out, not yet. And I will continue to not say anything until you’re both ready, alright? And when you are, I can’t wait to get to know you properly.”

“I….” Don’t believe that. You won’t like me.

“I don’t care what the media says,” she says firmly. “They say you two hate each other. And well….” She pulls back and gestures vaguely at him. “They’re wrong about a lot.”

Ilya laughs a bit. “They are. I….” Have loved him since we were seventeen. Will love him forever.

“You don’t have to say anything. It’s okay, Roza-”

“Ilya.”

“Ilya,” she corrects. “It’s really okay. The hospitals here… they know hockey injuries. He’s in good hands. He’ll be alright.”

“Is hard to believe.”

“I bet. I would have a hard time if it was Hayden. But Shane would want you back on the ice. If you can.”

“I don’t know if I can.” He shakes his head. “I….” 

He takes a breath. He can do this. 

He’s talked about her before with Shane (for the first time since he was twelve) (like most things, Sveta had just known and not needed another explanation) (then, they just hadn’t talked more after the funeral) (no adult had wanted them to). He can talk about her again now. 

“I keep seeing my Mama.”

“Your Mama?”

“Her death was ‘accident.’ She accidentally swallowed a bottle of pills.” He looks to the ground, tears welling once again. “I was twelve. I found her.”

“Oh, Ilya.” Jackie pulls him into her side and holds him. “I will stay with you until you feel okay again, alright?”

“Alright.”

And she does. Jackie Pike stays with him, caring and seeing him, seeing the broken boy he feels like, and caring for that little boy anyway.

#

Step Eight: trust that others can change their opinion about you.

Ilya hovers, waiting for Marlow to be done with press. Coach told him he wasn’t going and that was that. No room for argument. 

Ilya had made his way back onto the ice in the end. Last period. Not his best game, but not shitty. 

It was something. 

So, now he is waiting for Marly. 

Marly, his best friend on the team. A man he thinks of as an annoying older brother. Marly, who he is so incomprehensibly angry at right now. The man who hurt his Shane. 

Another oxymoron. This one feels smaller, more survivable in the end. 

Hayden Pike walks down the hallway and his eyes lock on Ilya. Pike was also called to press since Shane was at the hospital (don’t think about that) (don’t think about that) (don’t think about that).

Pike approaches, hands clasped behind his back. “Rozanov?” he asks hesitantly, but no detectable bite in his words. 

“Yes, Pike?” Ilya replies, unable to bring himself to insult the man or get snappy at Montreal’s most annoying player. He’s just too tired. “What is it?”

“I… uh…. Look, I know Shane wanted us to all get a meal and clearly that’s not happening, not this game, but I…. I’m sorry about January, okay? I’m really sorry. I was completely out of line and it’s obvious you care about him. I’m sorry I said you didn’t.”

“Only is obvious now?” He was wrong earlier. Apparently he still has some snark left in him. “When he could die?”

“That’s not-” Pike takes a deep breath. “Look, I don’t want to start anything today. I know emotions are running high. It’s been a bad night for both of us. I just want to apologize for January, okay? I was being a dick. Clearly, Shane was right. I don’t know you at all. I never would have guessed you’d care at all. So, I’m sorry.”

“This will not make us friends, Pike,” Ilya says. 

“Oh, I know. I still think you’re an asshole, but it’s clearly not all you are. And Shane likes you well enough, and you like him. And that’s really all you need in the end.”

Ilya raises his eyebrows. “What?”

“To be friends. All you have to really do is care about each other.” Pike shrugs. “I care about Shane. So do you. So maybe…. we just restart?”

“To before January?”

“Before 2010.”

“Where in 2010?” 

“Before the season started of course!”

“Before or after July?”

“Does that matter?”

Ilya shrugs. “To me.”

“Fine, August. Happy?”

Ilya nods. “Okay, Hayden Pike.” He looks the man in the eyes. “You are better man than hockey player.”

Pike rolls his eyes. “I’ll take that as a compliment.” He takes a slip of paper out of his pocket and hands it over. “This is Jackie’s number. She forgot to give it to you earlier. She wants you to text her if you need anything. She’ll also get you the hospital address and room number.”

Ilya nods silently and takes the paper. “Thank you, Pike.”

Pike nods back. “See you tomorrow, Rozanov,” he says, starting to move on. 

Ilya hears it. See you at the hospital. 

“I leave early,” Ilya calls. 

Pike pauses and turns. “Then see you early.”

Ilya offers a small smile and Pike leaves for good. 

#

Step Nine: trust that others can tell when they hurt you and don’t want you to be in pain. 

Ilya’s rooming with Marlow. Of course he is. He almost always shares with Marlow. The two of them return together. Marly’s tried to say things on the way back to the hotel, but Ilya’s been glued to his phone, waiting for a text from Jackie Pike. Or sending texts to Shane for him to read when he wakes up. 

Jane 🥰🥵

10:23 PM

I love you so much

Be okay

Please

I need you to be okay

I love you sweetheart

Wake up for me okay?

Youre my boyfriend you have to listen to me

And many, many more along those lines. 

Ilya flops onto the bed, curling up, his Shane still lying there on the ice like his Mama whenever he closes his eyelids. 

“Roz?” Marlow whispers. Ilya can feel the bed sink a little from his weight and then comes the hand lightly placed on his shoulder. “I….” Marly chokes up. Ilya thinks if he could turn around, he would see Marly tearing up. “I didn’t mean to hurt him. I swear.”

“I know, Marlow,” he mutters. “You still did.”

“I know. I need to apologize to Hollander.” Ilya nods. “You… you really are friends, aren’t you?”

“Did you think we lied?”

“I dunno, Roz. It felt weird that Golden Boy befriended the Russian Menace. I don’t know if I thought it would last. But… you really care, don’t you?”

“I do.”

“He was looking at you,” Marly mutters. “He didn’t see me because he was looking at me.”

“I know, Marlow. I watched.” Ilya turns around and sits up so he can properly look his teammate in the eye. “Remeber? I saw him go down.”

“This has been going on longer, hasn’t it?” Marlow realizes. “You’ve been friends all this time?”

Ilya nods. He doesn’t think Marly’s put together that they’re in love, but he can share a little, even if Marly will interpret it as just friendship.“Since 2010.”

“Fuck Roz. So, every time we’ve trash talked Hollander…?”

Ilya nods again. “Yes, Marly. He was important to me the entire time.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“You cannot tell, Marly. World is not ready for it. Rose and Sveta… they were smart. They helped tell story world will believe, but not real story. World…” 

He shakes his head. How can he explain this? How can he explain he’s spent his life chasing after Shane, in love with Shane, and the world will never accept it?

“Hey, man,” Marlow says, “I won’t tell, okay? I promise. Just… introduce me to him at some point, okay?” Ilya considers. Okay, maybe Marly does know. Marlow laughs. “Hey, when we’re in Montreal next, you can introduce me to him and Jane at the same time. That would be fun.”

Never mind. Marly is as stupid as ever. 

Ilya cracks a smile. “Yes, would be. Your face would be.”

Marlow playfully punches his shoulder. “I will wear you down, Roz. Eventually.”

“You can try.”

He would have to talk to Shane about it first. 

Shane, who might be fighting for his life right now and Ilya has no way to know. Shane, who’s hurt and injured and Ilya can’t do shit about it. Shane, who is the most important person in his life and-

Marly pulls him into a hug. Ilya sobs on his shoulder. Marlow just holds him close, not letting go. “Hey, hey. It’s okay, man. I’m here. I’ve got you. Get it all out, alright. I’ve got you.”

And Ilya believes him a little.

#

Step Ten: trust that others want to show up for you.

When Ilya goes to the hospital, bright and early, the earliest possible visiting hours, Sveta’s already there. 

“Sveta!”

She jerks out of whatever zoned out haze she’d been in. “Ilyushka!” She jumps to her feet and throws her arms around him. “How are you?”

“Better than yesterday. But not good.”

“I’ll take it.” She pulls back. “Come on, visiting hours start in a minute.”

Ilya nods and they check in before making their way to Shane’s room. 

“I can’t believe you’re here,” he admits. 

She scoffs. “You’re my best friend, my oldest friend. And Shane is like a brother to me. Of course I’m here. I wouldn’t be anywhere else. Rose will be here later today, but she couldn’t get a flight before you left. She wants you to know you can call her whenever if you need to talk. Obviously, you can call me too.”

“Thank you, Svetlana. That means a lot.”

She smiles at him. “We love you, Ilyushka. We all do.”

He thinks he believes it a little more than he did yesterday. 

When they get to Shane’s room, a man Ilya recognizes as David Hollander is already there. He clearly slept outside in a chair in this hospital hallway. 

Sveta clears her throat. Mr. Hollander jerks away. He yawns. “Oh, Svetlana. You made it.” His eyes narrow as he takes in Ilya, but only for a moment. Then, he breaks into a grin. “Oh, you’re Rozanov. I’ve been wanting to meet you.” He stands and offers his hand. “David Hollander.”

A bit in a daze and aware of Sveta smirking next to him, Ilya quickly shakes his boyfriend’s father’s hand. “It is good to meet you, Mr. Hollander.”

Fuck, fuck. Fuck. He needs to set a good impression. This is his boyfriend’s father. 

“Call me David, please,” Mr. Hollander tells him. “You’re Shane’s friend. No need to stand on formalities.”

“Of course. Call me Ilya then.”

“I will! I was hoping you’d say I could.” He smiles so warmly. Ilya can’t remember the last time his father looked at him like that. “It’s really good to meet you, Ilya.” He pronounces it correctly, something Shane doesn’t always do. Has he been practicing? “Like I said, I’ve been wanting to for a while. Yuna, that’s my wife, she does too, now that she’s adjusted to the idea of you being friends. She’s just a diehard hockey fan,” David adds hastily, as if he’s afraid Ilya might be offended. “She takes it way too seriously. The rivalry too. But that’s all in the past now,” He waves good naturedly, “and she’ll be around later. She’s calling up Shane’s brands, rescheduling shoots and that stuff. I don’t really know, that’s her department. Oh, Shane’s alright, by the way, I probably should have said that earlier. Broken collarbone and concussion. He’ll make a full recovery but he’s out for the playoffs.”

“Oh.” He’ll be okay. He’ll be okay. He’ll be okay. “He will hate that.”

“Oh, I know. I’m already meal planning for his diet. Anyway, Yuna said she’d be here around noon. I’m guessing you can’t stay until then?”

Ilya shakes his head, “No, I have flight in few hours. I must leave soon.”

“Of course, she’ll have to meet you some other time. When you’re next in Montreal. Or if you have a game in Ottawa! And I just want to say that… if you ever need anything, let me know. Svetlana has my number. I… You’re Shane’s friend, so our home is always open to you. Always.”

“You have Sveta’s number?” Ilya winds up saying, because all of this is an absolutely insane amount of information at 8 am for a non native English speaker. 

David nods. “Yeah, back in November she reached out for my help in getting Shane together with his current partner. I…” David gives him a funny look and lowers his voice, “I’m guessing you know Lily.” 

Ilya nods. He is Lily. And David used the gender neutral term, so does he…. 

“I’ve had her number ever since,” David explains. “We chat sometimes. She helps me understand hockey things Yuna just assumes I know.”

“You do know know hockey?”

“I know the basics. Shane gets his hockey IQ from Yuna, not me.” He clears his throat. “Anyway, I’ve kept you long enough. I’m sure you want some time alone with Shane, so why don’t you go in while Svetlana and I catch up, okay? Warning, he’s on some pretty strong pain meds, so he’s slightly out of it.”

Ilya nods and goes into the room as David and Sveta strike up a conversation. He’s almost certain David knows, and doesn’t care. If anything, it felt like he was trying extra hard to make Ilya feel welcome in a family he’s not really a part of yet.

But maybe he can be, one day. 

He glances back at David, chatting happily with Sveta, before opening the door, and he thinks this could be his father in law one day. And he already likes how this future looks. 

Step Eleven: remember that you are worthy of being loved. 

“Ilyaaaa,” Shane says loopily the moment Ilya enters the room. 

“Hello, Shane,” he replies, making his way to his boyfriend’s side. 

Shane holds out a hand and Ilya intertwines their fingers. Shane hums happily and closes his eyes. “Better.”

“How is your head?” Ilya asks. 

“Fucked up. Concussion and-”

“Fractured collarbone,” Ilya finishes. Shane gives him a confused look. “Your father is out there. And Sveta. He told us. He said you are out for the playoffs.”

Shane groans. “Don’t remind me.”

“Could have been worse,” Ilya reminds his ridiculous boyfriend with a quick squeeze. 

“Could have been worse,” Shane echoes. “I… wanted to ask you something. I had a plan. I’m mad at Marlow for fucking that up.”

“He feels horrible. It was accident.”

“I know. It’s fine. It’s the game.”

“What did you want to ask, sweetheart?”

“Yes! That! Will you come to my cottage this summer?” Shane looks at him, so fucking hopeful. “Don’t go to Russia. Come to my house. We’ll have so much fun. It’s so private, no one will know.”

“Shane-”

“We could have a week, two, the whole summer, whatever we want. We can be completely alone, together.” Shane smiles, still so beautiful, even with the bruises hiding his freckles. “Well? What do you say?”

Now, Ilya is smart. He knows he’s not worthy of Shane Hollander, just like Pike thinks (even though he’s wrong about what way). He knows the best thing for Shane is probably for him to break it off and let him find something, someone easier. 

But Ilya is also selfish. He wants to fly so much, he doesn’t care if he drowns in the end and brings Shane with him. 

Does that make him Icarus? Maybe. But in other ways, he thinks he’s more like the ocean and Shane the moon. 

If his good memories of his childhood are stars, then it follows to reason that Shane, the best part of his life, would be the sun, but Ilya doesn’t think that’s right. The sun lights up everything, but he can’t look directly at it. All its brightness is counteracted by a harshness and pain it can never shake. And that’s not his Shane, not at all. That’s the perfect life. Wonderful in theory, harsh and painful in practice. No life is perfect. It can’t be. It’s an aspiration no one should look too closely at. 

No, his Shane is the moon. Beautiful, lights up the night sky, gentle, and so, so much closer than the stars. The moon reflects the light of the sun. Shane reflects a perfect life, not truly perfect, but as close as anyone is going to get. 

And Ilya’s the ocean, beautiful in the moonlight and constantly following the push and pull of the moon. Constantly chasing after Shane as Shane orbits him. 

He can’t help the distance, the longing, and how it pains him, even than it is better than it was with the stars (huh, maybe he should look into a therapist). He can’t help wanting to stay in Shane’s life any more than the ocean can help how the moon controls the tides. 

He brings Shane’s hand to his lips and presses a quick kiss onto it. “Okay,” he murmurs. 

Shane lights up, his beautiful, beautiful moon. “Really? You’ll come?”

Ilya nods. “I am coming to your cottage,” he confirms. 

Shane just grins, like Ilya’s made his day, week, month, year. “Yay!” God, he’s so cute. “You’ll love it! There’s a lake, campfire for smores- wait. Do you even know what smores are?” Ilya shakes his head. “Oooh, you’ll definitely love those. They combine all your favorite things, sugar and not eating healthy.”

Ilya chuckles. “Sounds good, sweetheart. I can’t wait.”

Selfish, selfish, selfish Ilya. 

“I can’t either,” Shane admits. “God, I hate Marly. He ruined our night together and now I have to wait longer to have you in me.”

Ilya nearly chokes on air. “Maybe not so loud?” he suggests. “Your father and Sveta are out there.”

“Ooh, I want to see them!” Shane exclaims. He turns to Ilya with pouting eyes. “Can we? I miss my dad and my sort of sister.”

And the clarity hits him again like lightning. There will never be anyone like Shane ever again. He will never love anyone like he loves Shane ever again. No one will love him like Shane does ever again. No one will slit so perfectly into his life ever again. 

No one will accept Sveta, his history with Sveta, and love her as much as Ilya does. 

Shane is like a brother to me. My sort of sister. 

The love of his life and his oldest friend, bonded like siblings. How could he have gotten so lucky? What did he do in a past life to deserve this?

He’s so loved and he’s sure he’s never done anything to deserve this. 

“Okay, Shane,” he mutters. “I will get them.” 

He moves to go to the door. Shane makes a whining noise and grips his hand more tightly, not letting him leave. Ilya wants to protest, to remind him that ne needs to get to the fucking door to let in Sveta and David, to remind him they’re a secret that holding hands will likely give away, but Shane doesn’t want to let go of his hand. And Ilya’s pretty sure David knows and doesn’t care. So… maybe they can take this risk? Maybe?

“Sveta?” he calls. “He wants to see you. David too.”

They enter. David’s eyes linger on Shane and Ilya’s intertwined hands, but he looks away quickly and says nothing. Sveta only smiles. 

“How are you, Shane?” Sveta asks. 

“Meh. Better now that Ilya’s here.” Shane smiles at him and squeezes his hand. Ilya smiles back, but more reserved. 

“I’m glad,” Sveta says, diverting the conversation. “Ilyushka, when do you need to leave for the airport?”

Ilya pulls out his phone with his free hand and glances at the time. “Five minutes? Ten?”

Sveta gasps, faking horror. “Ilyushka? You will leave Shane so soon when he needs your comfort? How dare you! You are bad friend!”

“Yeah,” Shane echoes. He folds his singular free arm across his chest and tries to plaster an angry glare over his very obvious grin, which still peaks through. “You’re a bad friend.” He sticks out his tongue. “Bad.”

Maybe Shane and Sveta bonding like siblings isn’t such a good idea after all.