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July 2017 - Ottawa
They had been at the cottage for two weeks when the upcoming season schedule was released. Just as he did every year, Shane got out his planner to write down the game dates. “You write the games down by hand? You are 12? Or wait, no, older than Scott Hunter?” Ilya teased.
“Fuck off. I like to be prepared.”
For the first time, they would be facing the year ahead with a plan in mind. Before, Shane had always secretly memorized the dates of all the Boston-Montreal games for the year but he would never text Ilya until a week or two before the games. He was always a little hopeful that he would suddenly get over Ilya and not feel that overwhelming urge to see him again. He always texted him in the end.
This year was going to be different. It would be better, knowing exactly when they would see each other. But, the time apart would be harder too. He was already getting way too used to waking up on Ilya’s chest every morning.
Their first game against each other wouldn’t be until late October. Even if Ilya was able to extend his time at the cottage longer, that still meant three months without seeing each other. They had gone longer before, but now that much time apart felt endless. Before, he was able to tell himself that he just craved Ilya’s body. It was simply a sexual urge that he could drown out with grueling practices and a punishing schedule. But he wouldn’t be able to hide the truth from himself anymore, now that he knew what it was like to have those quiet moments together at the end of the day, existing in each other’s space, side by side.
Then, Shane saw by a stroke of luck that they would be playing against each other on December 23. Right before the few days off they would have for Christmas.
“What do you usually do for Christmas?” he asked Ilya. They’d never really discussed their holiday plans before. In all the years they had played against each other, they had never had a game before Christmas. In that moment, it struck Shane how much they still had to learn about each other.
“Not much. Is not really Christmas for me. Russian Christmas is in January. And New Years is for gifts. Usually we have a game.” Ilya said it offhandedly, hoping to shut down any further questions. Fuck, Shane didn’t even know Russians celebrated Christmas on a different day. That would be another item for his to-do list. He would have to try to make up for his years of ignorance this year. He made a mental note to look up Russian Christmas traditions. Even if they weren’t physically together on New Years, maybe there was still something he could do for him.
“I usually spend Christmas with my parents in Ottawa. But this year’s game is in Boston...” Shane’s voice trailed off.
“If they want to come to the game, we could have dinner together?” Ilya said. “After I beat you, of course. Will be sad Christmas, but I’ll make it up to you.”
Shane rolled his eyes but then asked, softly, “Would you really want to do that? I know we don’t get a lot of time off during the season. You don’t have to spend it with my parents.”
“It’s Christmas. And you. Of course I want. But are you sure it’s what you want? Don’t you already have some other boring plans with your family?”
What Ilya had left unspoken was “without me”. It sent a pang of sadness through Shane’s heart.
“I’d like to make some new traditions with you. And we’ll have plenty of years in the future to have Christmas in Ottawa. You should spend this last one in Boston. Where would we be able to go, though?” He didn’t want to assume Ilya would want to have his parents over to his place. But going out was out of the question. Paparazzi shots of Ilya sharing Christmas dinner together with his parents flashed through his mind and his breath started to quicken.
“Don’t worry, moy lyubimyy. They can come to my penthouse.”
“Okay...” Shane said hesitantly. Now, all he could think about were all of the things they had done together in Ilya’s penthouse that he wouldn’t want his parents to see. Oh god, the couch, he would have to ask Ilya to deep clean it.
Ilya nudged him out of his thoughts. “Okay? Leave it to me. What boring foods do Canadians like for Christmas? I will prepare New Yorker and good Russian vodka for your father. The least I can do after beating his son before Christmas.”
Shane couldn’t believe they were actually discussing spending Christmas with his parents. In Boston. So much had changed in just a week. A year ago he would have died for Ilya to simply meet his parents as his rival, or maybe—when he really let himself dream—as his friend. Now they were discussing spending Christmas together. How had he gotten everything that he wanted?
“Thank you. They will love it. And you.” Shane said in a choked voice, embarrassed that he sounded so emotional. The words felt too serious for the moment but he couldn’t help himself.
“Is nothing, moy lyubimyy.”
“moy… lew…bee…me? What does that mean?”
Ilya was blushing, though he swore to Shane that he did not do this. “Ah, is Russian for ‘my favorite’. Like English word, ‘Darling’.”
“Moy lyubimyy,” Shane repeated to himself quietly, pronouncing each syllable carefully.
“Ach, your pronunciation is already so good. Perfect Shane Hollander. Soon I will not be able to hide anything from you.”
“So does this mean I am your favorite hockey player then?” Shane shot back, unable to keep the smile off his face.
Ilya narrowed his eyes at him. “Do you not have enough fans already? You are my favorite boyfriend, is that not enough for you?” Ilya clucked his tongue at him and his voice took on a gravelly tone. “So selfish, Hollander. If only everyone knew how desperate you are for my attention.”
Shane rolled his eyes and kissed him then to shut him up, the rest of the season’s schedule forgotten for now. He already had something in mind that he could get Ilya for Christmas…
December 31, 2017 - Boston
Ilya pulled out the gift Shane had given him before leaving. The apartment was back to feeling too quiet again. Since returning from the summer, this place had stopped feeling like home when Shane wasn’t there.
He was touched that Shane had thought to give him anything at all for the traditional Russian day of gift giving. He had only mentioned it in passing and they had just spent Christmas with his parents after all, which was enough of a gift in itself. It had been nice. A little surreal.
Ilya remembered what it had felt like last year when Shane had freaked out and he thought he would never come back to his penthouse again. He had drowned his sorrows in vodka, imagining a lonely existence in Boston and even lonelier summers in Moscow.
Little did he know then that this year would be his last Christmas in Boston before he moved to Ottawa. And he had spent it with Shane and his parents, an unfathomable thought a year ago.
This year felt like a reversal of what that first Christmas after his mom had died had felt like, when all the light had gone out of the world. Now the light was blinding. He felt so happy it was almost disorienting; his body was unused to being so at ease. He was still a bit on edge, waiting for the other shoe to drop.
Shane had given the gift to him with strict instructions to open it alone. The tag on the gift read:
To: My biggest fan
From: Your favorite hockey player
Cheeky.
Inside was a 90s style t-shirt with SHANE written across the top in big block letters. Below, the t-shirt was covered in photos of Shane’s face. It was obnoxious, in a way that suited Ilya. Shane probably only trusted him with it knowing that he couldn’t wear it out of the apartment.
Even if he couldn’t wear it outside, he was happy to have another piece of proof that their relationship was real and not just a figment of his imagination.
But he couldn’t let Shane get away with calling him a fanboy. Shane’s game in Florida was about to start. He put the shirt on and snapped a selfie from bed. Aside from the shirt, he only had his boxers on. He texted it to Shane with the caption “Ready for you, moy lyubimyy”.
With any luck, Shane would see the photo right before the game started. He could picture the blush on his face now. As he settled in to watch the game, he could hear Shane’s voice in his head calling him an asshole. He hoped Shane would be hard for the game. He was so cute when he was angry. It would make their video call later much more fun.