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Shane stared at his phone. ‘Lily’ was calling. It was almost midnight, and he knew it was the same in Boston. So, what the fuck?
He wasn’t going to answer, but why would Ilya be calling this late if it wasn’t important? He wouldn’t. Unless he was drunk. He might’ve been drunk, actually, Shane realized. But, he answered anyway.
“Hel-“
“Oh, thank god.”
Shane stopped. That was not Ilya’s voice. One of his teammates? Why would Ilya’s teammates be calling him?
“You don’t-you don’t know me,” the voice said. “I, uh, I play with Ilya for the Raiders. Cliff Marlow. Um… I know you and Roz haven’t been, like, talking much, but he really cares about you and-“
“Did he have you call me?” Shane asked.
He didn’t get a response for a few moments. Oh. Marlow thought he was Jane. Which would mean he wasn’t expecting a man’s voice. Oops.
But, if Ilya had Marlow call him, then maybe he did know. Or at least Ilya would be fine with him knowing. As long as he didn’t know who Shane was, then it was probably fine. Maybe.
“No,” Marlow said. “Um, no, he didn’t have me call you. Uh, he’s in the hospital.”
“Oh.” That wasn’t good. Hockey players got hospitalized sometimes - it was part of the job - but it must’ve been pretty bad if someone thought to use Ilya’s phone to call him. “I didn’t watch the last game. What-“
“Not that kind of hospital. Um… Jane, Ilya was hospitalized because he tried to kill himself.”
What.
No.
Fuck.
Oh god. And, did Ilya even have family in America. No, right? Shane was pretty sure he had that one friend, but he wasn’t sure if she was from Boston or Russia. And, he had the Raiders, but maybe not if he still tried instead of talking to one of them.
Oh, fuck-
“Jane? Are you still there?”
“I-yeah,” Shane said. “Yeah, I’m still here. Is he…”
“He’s alive,” Marlow said. “He… They had to pump his stomach, but he’s, you know, relatively fine. Can… Can you come here? I can pay for your ticket - I know they’re expensive and money and stuff. He needs someone, and I know he cares about you. He’s always smiling and blushing when texting you, and I don’t know who else-“
“Yeah,” he said. “Yeah, I can come. I can pay for my own ticket, don’t worry about it.”
“Thank you. Holy fuck, thank you. I, uh, I can pick you up from the airport. Just text me your flight details.”
“Yeah, okay. I need your phone number for that.”
Marlow raddled off his number, and Shane wrote it down. He hang up after that, and rushed to get the soonest flight to Boston.
-
So Roz was gay.
Cliff did not expect that.
He was waiting for whoever Jane was to get off the flight. He really wished he would hurry up, even though, realistically, it wouldn’t do anything. Ilya wouldn’t be allowed out of the hospital until at least the next day, but probably more.
Fuck. Why didn’t Roz call him? Or literally anyone? Or literally done anything else except swallowing over half a bottle of sleeping pills? Fuck.
He watched the people get off the plane. He didn’t recognize anyone, of course. Would Jane recognize him? If not, he’d just call him and find out where he was.
But, that was not a problem. Because Shane Hollander got off the plane and walked straight up to Cliff.
Ah. Jane, Shane. Jane was from Montreal.
He looked… Well, a bit of a mess, honestly. Cliff was pretty sure he didn’t look better. It was justifiable - for Hollander, too, he supposed. He was probably freaking out more than Cliff. They were… Boyfriends? Lovers? Something like that, it seemed.
Cliff needed to get over all feelings about Shane Hollander he had. Because they couldn’t be hockey players on rivalling teams. They were people. And they were both really worried about Ilya.
“Hi,” Cliff said, not knowing what he was supposed to do. “So… You’re the Jane that Roz is…” Well, in love with, truly.
Shane nodded. “Yeah. Um… Is he… What… The news didn’t…”
“He’s, uh, still in the hospital. For probably a few more days. But… The doctors are saying he’s doing well.”
“The reporters don’t know.”
Cliff shook his head. “No. The rest of the Raiders know he’s in the hospital, but they think he just… Got drunk and took too much or something. Um… You can stay at my place. If you don’t have a hotel or something. Roz shouldn’t be alone once he gets out, and I’m the one they’re talking to and stuff, so… You should probably be with him, too.”
“Thank you,” Shane said. “Thank you for all of this, and calling me.”
He nodded. “Of course. He cares about you, so…” He shrugged. “I’d want someone to do the same for me.”
-
There was nothing Shane could do. Not until Ilya was released from the hospital, and maybe not even after that. His mom called him, asking where he was. He gave as little details as he could, saying one of his friends in Boston was sick, and he was just there to help. She accepted that.
He didn’t get any sleep. He tried, but he eventually gave up to do research on how to help people with depression and people who tried to kill themselves. A lot of what he found was pretty obvious, in his opinion. Don’t give them access to anything that could be harmful, don’t leave them alone for too long. Don’t blame them.
Cliff came knocking on the guest room door, barely after the sun started to rise. “Um… They, uh, the hospital just called and said that Roz can be released. If someone comes to get him, so… Are you… Do you want to come?”
Shane didn’t need to be asked twice, and he didn’t need a second to consider.
-
Ilya tapped his foot against the floor. He was told someone was coming to get him, but no one would tell him anything else. They hadn’t been telling him anything since he was committed. A fucking week ago.
“Ilya?”
He looked up. His heart dropped.
Shane fucking Hollander, of all fucking people, was standing there.
Ilya had assumed that Sveta or Cliff would get him - Cliff had been the one to find him, he’d have to apologize for that later. Sveta didn’t get there until after the ambulance did. As much as he was mad at Cliff for calling an ambulance when Ilya explicitly told him not to, he knew he would never get the sight of his mom out of his head, and he felt bad for making Cliff see a similar thing.
Ilya stood up slowly, and took a step towards Shane.
“I-“
Shane hugged him, and he forgot how to speak. It took a few moments, but when he remembered how to move, he hugged him back.
“I’m sorry,” Ilya whispered. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what I was thinking.”
He knew exactly what he was thinking, but he had lied his way out of the mental hospital, and he would probably be continuing his lies.
“You’re okay,” Shane whispered back. “You’re safe now; that’s what matters.”
He let him lead him outside and towards a car. Ah. Cliff’s car. So he did come. Shane had Ilya sit in the backseat, and then he sat next to him.
Oh, fuck. If Cliff was here and Shane was here, then they had probably talked. Did Cliff know? What new lie would be have to come up with to explain this? Actually, Shane better explain to Ilya where he was in Boston and not Montreal, where he was supposed to be.
“I’m sorry,” Ilya said, to Cliff this time. “I’m sorry about…”
“It’s okay,” Cliff said, even thought Ilya was ninety percent sure it wasn’t. “I’m just glad you’re okay.”
He wasn’t okay. But he was going to let Cliff believe that.
“Um… I’m going to take you back to mine, okay? Hollander’s already staying there, so you can just share the guest room with him.”
Well, Cliff had two guest rooms, so he definitely knew that something was - had been - going on between him and Shane. How much did he know? Whatever he already knew, though, Ilya was afraid it was too much.
“Okay. Thank you.”
-
Ilya closed the door to the guest room behind him. He wondered briefly how thick the walls were, but it wouldn’t matter. Shane was with Rose Landry now.
But… Shane hadn’t objected to sharing a room - or a bed - with Ilya.
“Ilya-“
“You’re here,” Ilya said, cutting him off. “Why?”
“Why?” Shane repeated. “Are you kidding? Because you…” Ilya heard his voice catch. “Fuck, Ilya.” He sighed and sat on the bed. “You tried to kill yourself,” he muttered.
“Did Marley tell you?”
He nodded. “He got my number from your phone.”
“He knows.”
“Yeah, he-Ilya, that’s not the problem here,” Shane said. “I am being very fucking serious right now.” He sighed again. “Why the fuck would you do that? Was it so hard to call Marlow? Or that friend you have, Svetlana? Or m-“
Ilya crossed his arms. “Yes, Hollander, I could have. I was drunk. I was not thinking.” He rolled his eyes, seeming almost annoyed. “Are you still with Rose Landry?”
“What does-is that why you…?”
He rolled his eyes. “No. It is problem that runs in my family. I was wondering.”
“No,” Shane said. “I’m not still with Rose Landry. She’s a woman, and… I am very gay, so…”
“Yeah? What gave that away.”
“Oh, fuck you. You’re not gay.”
He shrugged. “No. Not fully.” He stared at Shane. “It was not because of Rose Landry, and it was not because of you, but… I like you, Shane Hollander. I really like you.”
He stared right back, then nodded. “I, uh… I like you, too. I really like you, too, Ilya Rozanov.”
Ilya reached out and placed a hand on Shane’s check. When he started to lean in, Shane stepped back.
“Are you sure?” he asked. “We’re in your friend’s house, and you…”
“I am not fragile, Shane. I will not break if I put my dick inside you. If anything, will probably help.” He shrugged. “Marley will not care. He will probably not hear, but I have heard him more than I would like.”
So Shane moved forward and kissed him. He kept kissing him, pushing him slightly, until Ilya was pressed against the wall. Ilya was kissing back, not as hard as he usually would.
He pulled back slightly. “Do… Do you want to switch? I know you like to be more dominant.”
Ilya shook his head. “Can you… Take the lead, as you say? If you do not mind?”
“Okay,” he said. He kissed him again, then picked him up under his knees and carried him to the bed. “What do you want?”
“You. Just keep kissing me. Please.”
Shane crawled onto the bed next to him and did what was asked of him.