Chapter Text
The first time Shane saw color it was the brown of Ilya’s eyes when they met for the first time.
Shane walked up to him outside of the rink in Saskatchewan, he could see his own breath with how cold it was. He remembers holding out his hand to shake.
“Ilya Rozanov?” He had questioned, even though he knew who the other boy was already. That’s what they were. Boys. Shane watched him flick his lighter before he turned to him. “Shane Hollander. I wanted to introduce myself.”
At that point he couldn’t tell what color his eyes were, could only guess by the shade. They were dark grey, intense and probing. Ilya had taken his hand, shook it, then placed his cigarette back on his lips. They were pouty, and Shane could only guess what shade of pink they actually were.
“I- I’m not sure you’re supposed to smoke here?” Ilya was quiet, maybe he didn’t speak English yet? Lots of the European boys that Shane had met couldn’t, or at least not fluently, taking their time to translate what others said mentally before their tongues wrapped thickly around clunky English syllables.
Ilya took an inhale of his cigarette before looking at Shane. “Okey.” he mumbled, careful to blow the smoke away from Shane’s face.
That moment is when Shane sees his first color. He blinks one moment, his world in black and white, the next it was full of light.
He could see the yellowish brown of Ilya’s eyes. They were deep, like a pool of gold was hidden in them. He remembers being stunned at how beautiful they were, how he’d never seen something so wonderful. He stood there for a moment, a little bit in shock before he turned to see the trees. He remembers the story his mother told him, about when she first met his father;
‘I was young, we both were. I went to McGill with your father, as you know, and we were in the same sociology class. We were grouped together for a project. I introduced myself to him, and he turned to me and said “I’m David. I play hockey. I’m honestly only here for my scholarship.” and suddenly the world around me flooded with colors. I remember looking around me at the trees in the courtyard and marveling at the green of the leaves and the red of the blossoms. It’s- I can’t describe it Shane.’
And- well. Shane could see the beautiful brown of Ilya’s eyes, could see the violet of his hair, but when he turned to see the trees around them- they were brown. A muddy, disappointing brown. Shane shook the thought away. Maybe it was because the trees were dead for winter.
Shane turned back to Ilya. “So…” He couldn’t help the smile growing on his face.
Ilya smiled back, stubbing his cigarette out on the wall. “So…you’re Shane?”
There, right behind the ice rink, they had their first kiss. It was everything Shane had imagined, like some missing piece of his life’s puzzle had finally slid into place.
Shane remembers after their game still. He pulled Ilya by his jacket, his cheeks a little nipped by the cold to his parents' car. He had asked about Ilya’s family, and apparently they were back in Russia while Ilya stayed at a hotel near the rink. No way was Shane about to let his soulmateーgod he still can’t believe itー sleep in a random hotel. Shane’s parents ended up loving Ilya. Shane’s dad gave Ilya a healthy serving of chicken parmesan and Ilya ate it with glee and Shane’s mom started formulating a plan to switch up their narrative from rivals to soulmates.
That night Shane and Ilya stayed up late to watch a movie, some Russian comedy film about a runaway groom while Shane’s mom started drafting Ilya’s green card paperwork.
Shane remembers squeezing into his twin sized bed, curling up right next to Ilya. Nothing happened that night, they just laid there together, Shane brushing patterns onto Ilya’s bare chest. For a moment Shane was worried that it was just because they were soulmates, but as Ilya tells him about his mother, about his life in Russia, about his friend Sveta, Shane feels himself falling in love.
It takes about a year to get Ilya to Canada permanently, away from his evil father and his horrible brother, which meant that he had to wait a year later to enter into the draft than he normally would. He didn’t seem to have any problem with it, in fact he said it was even better to be welcomed home with a surprise party. They welcomed him home in December, and that night felt like he was flying, even when he took Ilya to bed with him it felt like a dream.
Ilya’s first Christmas in Canada is not what he expects. The pine tree in his parents living room looks like hay, the lights strung around them this watery beige color. Shane expected his first winter to be flooded with the rich reds and vibrant greens of Christmas, but all around the holiday is underwhelming. Ilya helps his mom make an edible frosted flake Christmas wreath, and when Shane sees it for the first time he feels himself deflate. ‘Maybe mom is having one of those millennial grey phases,’ he figured, trying to dull the disappointment at the bland color around him. Ilya doesn’t seem to mind it, at least until he’s opening presents. He gets his hands on this flat box wrapped in paper and tears the paper to shreds, completely abandoning the careful peeling of the tape that he started in the beginning.
Inside is this long scarf, crocheted by Shane’s dad. Shane can see the tears in Ilya’s eyes, and at first he thinks it’s of joy, right before Ilya sniffles. “Is this some prank?” Shane can see the offense on his face, and the confusion on his parents faces.
Immediately Shane is wrapping his arms around Ilya, trying to calm his confused crying. He looks to his parents for an answer, also confused. “No, Ilya. Nothing is a prank- what’s wrong?” he asked, rubbing a soft hand down the other man’s back.
“Everything is brown! The trees, the lights- the wreath! Is this some type of joke I am not understanding? Are you mad at me?” Ilya looks at Shane’s parents, desperate for an answer. “Do you not think I am good enough?”
Shane’s mom kicks into ‘mom mode’, leaning down to look Ilya in the eyes. “No, Ilya. Of course not- we love you. Do you not like it? I thought the green was a little on the nose but I didn’t know it would upset you.”
And that- that made Shane freeze. He looked at the scarf, such a pure dark brown could never be close to green. He snatched the piece from Ilya, running his thumbs over the soft fabric. That’s when he truly started to worry something was wrong. “Mom- you said this was green?”
He handed her the scarf, watching her careful expressions. “Yes?” She takes the scarf in hand. “Your father decided Ilya needed something festive.”
Shane turns to the tree in the middle of the room, it’s pine needles looking like straw feed a cow would eat. “And the tree? It’s not brown?”
His mother followed his gaze, looking up and down at the baubles hanging off of them. “Shane, what are you saying?” She had given him a look, one full of motherly worry.
Shane told her. He told her about the bland trees, the dull flowers and the dirty color of objects around him, and he could see in Ilya’s eyes that he was experiencing that same lack of brightness around him, that he felt like he couldn’t say anything, that something was missing.
His mother ended up wrangling them into an eye doctor's office the next week. They found that both of them were still colorblind, even after finding each other. Shane was diagnosed with tritanopia, and deuteranopia. Ilya was told he had tritanopia and protanopia. Their doctor said there was unfortunately no cure, that since they had already found each other as soulmates it must be a genetic factor instead, no matter how exceedingly rare it was that their genetics would pair that specific way.
That night Shane had cried in Ilya’s arms, had cupped his face and looked into his eyes and hoped that his eyes were really brown, that he knew the true color of his soulmate's eyes. He ran his hands through Ilya’s loose violet curls and wondered if the beautiful purple was the real color, or if it was just his eyes. He fell asleep in Ilya’s arms, unsure of the world around him.
The year that Shane gets drafted, he goes to the Ottawa Centaurs. He meets his teammates Wyatt Hays, Zane Boodram, and Evan Dykstra, and even with every great player on his team, they don’t make it to the playoffs that year.
The year that Ilya gets drafted, he also goes to the Ottawa Centaurs, and that year, they do make it to the playoffs. They won their first cup together. As a team. As a couple.
The news easily latches onto the narrative of the soulmate hockey players, two men on the same team perfectly made for each other. After all, a love story is something that breeds hope and attention.
Shane and Ilya have worked hard to get where they are, owning their own home that Shane had built for them, next to a lake, with an adorable little dog named Anya who presses her cold nose to Shane’s legs every time he comes home.
It’s perfect.
Well. Almost.
Sometimes, Shane still waits…waits to be overwhelmed with the beauty that is color, expecting to be blown away by blues and reds and yellows and greens of all shades, but he finds that he’s quite disappointed with the results. Every day, he steps out on his porch, morning coffee in hand, and squints at the trees. Maybe, if he looks hard enough, they would change from the mucky brown to a deep pine or an olive green. Maybe, if he looks long enough, he would be enough for Ilya. For him to see the beautiful color of red that flushes over his face when he’s flustered.
Every morning, Ilya comes up behind him, wraps his arms around him, kisses his cheek, and tells him not to worry; that everything is perfect, despite the missing vivids; and every morning, Shane whispers, “This can’t be it, this can’t be all,” into Ilya’s soft lips, unsure if he’s begging Ilya, or some divine being, to fix this, to fix them.
Overall though, Shane is content enough in life to let it pass, even if some little part of him screams that something is still missing; that there’s something he’s doing wrong to not experience what so many others do. ‘But it’s fine,’ he thinks, ‘I have Ilya, he’s all I need. I should be grateful I see what I do. Some people never do.’
Shane and Ilya are on their day off, even though Shane doesn’t really take days off. To be fair, Shane is working. He’s looking through all of the prospect draft picks for the 2021 to 2022 season, switching through their fresh faces and looking at their stats. Most of them will probably go to AHL. Just as he’s about to close his laptop, a new face pops up on his screen-the face of one ‘Luca Haas.’
The first thing Shane notices are his freckles. They’re these soft little flecks that lay all over his face, like gentle kisses. Then, he sees the man’s eyes; brown, just like Ilya’s, but lighter, fainter. He sits up a little, and looks at his stats, and feels more impressed than he had in a long time. This Haas guy was the second place draft in 2018, played as a right winger in the Swiss U17 Elite league, and broke Doydas Jukna’s top scoring record of 33 goals by four. Both seasons, he played for his team, they won the Swiss Champion cup, and he was just 15 when he played for the Swiss team in the Olympics...the 2014 Sochi Olympics. ‘Why can’t I remember him. He won bronze.’
Shane didn’t even recognize him, even though he can see himself standing right out of frame in paparazzi photos of the younger man. Ilya had been going through some family issues at the time, so his brain was mostly focused on comforting him that year. Then, he thinks back to his time in Sochi, and really tries to remember. He has a faint memory of a mother, her hand on a young boy’s shoulder. She was polite, trying to introduce her son, her hair almost white with how light it was. Shane had his mind on other things, sure, but he tried his best to be polite to the boy.
In his memory, the boy looks nervous, almost scared of him. His mouth becomes a flat line and he scrambles back to his group of teammates in the shop. His mom looked disappointed, and explained to Shane that despite her best efforts, her son was the shyest person she’d ever seen. “I’m so sorry. He’s not trying to be rude, he’s just so…anxious. He’s always told me he’d love to meet you one day, but I didn’t account for the fact that he may just freak out when it happens.”
He remembers looking back at the boy, seeing how excitable he was around his teammates, and shrugged it off. ‘Hopefully the next time we meet he won’t be so nervous,’ Shane hoped. A guy like Haas could be great for their team, but if he couldn’t talk to them, it might ruin the chemistry of the team.
As he’s thinking about all these factors, Shane feels the bed next to him dip, and he looks up to see Ilya in a towel, fresh out from a shower, water dripping from his violet hair. “What are you looking at?”
Shane hums, and turns back to his computer. “Just looking at the new prospects.”
Ilya moves to lay half over Shane, catching his attention once again. “Mh. Want to find some new prospects with me?” He shrugs and wiggles his eyebrows playfully.
Shane couldn’t help but snort. “Hmmm. Should I?”
Ilya grins, landing a kiss on his lips. “Hmm, I think yes.”
And maybe all these files can wait.
♡
The first time Shane actually meets Luca Haas is at training camp.
Ilya, as captain, is running the whole thing, rounding up all the fresh faces and returning ones. Shane notes that Haas is one of four rookies who made it to training camp. Shane notices that whenever Ilya shakes up the line and places people in different positions, Haas is always the first to recover, the most versatile. Haas’s backhand is impressively strong, his hockey IQ is so impressive that sometimes, Shane had to fumble to keep up with him, and he’s so fast, he keeps up with Ilya AND Shane on the ice. Ilya only has to correct him a few times, and most of the time it’s on his stiff posture when he’s unfocused.
Once, Ilya slaps a hand on the younger man's hockey pads, patting his back and complimenting his moves. Haas turns bright brown, says nothing, and skates away. Ilya looks back at Shane, a little confused at the interaction.
Of course, it’s no surprise that Haas gets invited to become a Centaur, the only rookie that made it on the team that year. He seems proud when Shane gets a glimpse of his face as he’s introduced to the locker room. What Shane doesn’t expect, is just how flustered the younger man would actually be.
It’s the first day of practice, and Haas is dressed in his pads already, and lacing his skates in some complex order, as per hockey rituals. Shane walks up to him, and in hindsight, he probably should’ve been fully dressed before he approached the man, but whatever. He offers his hand out to shake, “Hey, you’re Luca Haas right? I’ve seen how you play. Pretty impressive, man.”
Before him, Haas starts shaking, literally trembling. ‘Oh, woah, is he okay?’ Shane couldn’t help but think as Haas’s shaky, gloved hand reaches for his. He has a tight grip on Shane’s hand, maybe a little too tight, but he does his best. “Uh- y-yes. I’m Luca- Luca Haas.” He swallows before continuing, “I know who you are. Of course I do, you’re like my hero- You and R-Rozanov. You guys-” He shakes his head. “N-Never mind.”
Shane can’t help but find him a little endearing. He can see pale grey hair curling out from under his helmet and around the nape of his neck, which is a stark contrast to his face, brown with embarrassment. He can see the boy he met at the Sochi Olympics, and Haas doesn’t look much older than him. “Well, It’s nice to know I inspired someone. Just don’t tell Ilya anything; it’ll go to his giant head.”
“I heard my name; are you talking about me, moya lyubov?” Ilya walks into the locker room, hooking his chin on Shane’s shoulder. “You should know it is rude to talk about someone behind their back.”
Shane can see Haas’s face. His eyes are wide in awe. “Just introducing myself to our new rookie. Now who’s rude? Introduce yourself.” Shane tacks onto the end; “Asshole.”
Ilya snorts. “Asshole? You are the asshole.” He turns his eyes towards the man sitting on the bench, squinting at him in a way that’s a little intimidating. “Hmm. What do you think? You think I am asshole?”
Shane watches as Luca’s eyebrows raise. “What? N- No I don’t think that! I was-”
Ilya laughs, seemingly glad at riling up the rook. “I am just joking. You are new rookie?” Ilya asks, even though he helped pick out people from training camp.
The poor guy doesn’t seem to know what to do, and he seems to stutter over his words a little bit. “Uhm- Yes, I am. I’m-”
“Luca Haas.” Ilya nods, moving forward to clap a hand on the man’s shoulder. “I know. I picked you myself. You impress me. I have not seen anyone move that fast since- well. Since I was a rookie.”
“I was always faster than you.” Shane huffs, “And you know it. See you on the ice, rook.”
That practice seems to distract Luca. He plays great, the critiques he got from Ilya over training camp were taken seriously, but the entire time, his eyes seem to find Shane’s. Shane feels eyes on him constantly, but whenever he turns, Luca is no longer staring.
That weekend, all the current players are invited to a barbeque Zane Boodram is hosting. Bood is going through some color swatches with Shane, comparing the colors against the already existing wall shade and asking Shane’s opinion; ‘I know you’re into all this…home stuff’. He pulls out a specific paper, this deep brownish green color that makes Shane wrinkle his nose a little bit. It reminds him a little bit of mud. Why anyone would want their kitchen painted that brown is beyond him, but he tries his best to at least look supportive. “ーlove this color. You know it’s a perfect match to- Shane? What’s wrong, do you not like it?”
“Uh- No! It’s good! I really like the…uh…tones in it. Yeah.” Shane tries to lie, putting a strained smile on his face and taking a sip of his cold beer, his wedding ring clinking against the glass. The color is…well there’s no other way to describe it: If Bood painted his house, that color it would look like shit was smeared on the walls of his kitchen. Shane grimaces at the unappetizing thought and Bood gives him the most disappointed look he thinks he’s ever received.
“You don’t like it.” Zane looks down at the color swatch and sighs before looking at the other options. “Yeah, Cassie says it’s too close to Centaurs red. She says I’m ‘bringing work home’ with me.” He shakes his head, brows furrowed. “I just don’t know what to do anymore. All the websites say ‘mellow yellows’ are out and ‘rustic reds’ are in, whatever that means.”
Shane squints to look at the color again. “Too close to red?” Despite him squinting his eyes the best he can, he can’t see ANY red in the swatch, just the same nasty color offending his eyes.
“Yeah I-” “What’s going on over here?” Ilya interrupts him, throwing one arm around Shane’s shoulder and the other around Bood. “Oh, ew. I do not like that. You are planning to paint your house with that?” Ilya laughs,“Is going to look like you smeared shit on the wall.” Ilya gives Bood a little shoulder shove and snatches the other swatches to look at the options. Shane mutters an ‘Ew, Ilya’ before taking another swig of his beer, despite that fuzzy feeling in his stomach at the idea that he and Ilya are so close, that they think the same way.
“Is it really that bad? I thought red would be nice- WAIT, what do you mean SHIT!?” Bood winces before spinning his head towards Ilya, a bewildered look on his face. “If this is what your shit looks like, you need a doctor!”
Ilya almost spits out his drink, then he snatches the color swatch from Boodram’s hand “Red?!”
Bood nods, looking a little confused, a little drunk, and a little humored. He flicks the swatch placed in Ilya’s fingers, chuckling a bit. “Uh, yeah?”
Ilya shakes his head. “Bood- that is obviously brown.” Ilya flicks the corner of the paint swatch too. “A nasty, shit brown. Eugh.” Ilya takes a swig of his drink.
Bood just laughs, shoving Ilya’s chest away and making him stumble back a bit and spill a little beer on the kitchen tile. “Dude it is NOT! Wait- Ohhh, I forgot that you guys are still colorblind. Can’t see SHIT, man!” Bood jokes. Ilya is comfortable with the idea he may never see the right colors now, but Shane still flinches away at the joke. He can feel his smile straining a little. He hates being reminded that he may never know what things actually look like.
Ilya snorts. “Ah, yes. I forgot about it, too. You know, it’s so easy to forget when you’ve been living it for years. And, maybe, it’s a good thing, yes? That color is probably horrible if Cassie hates it, but I will never know. Good for me.”
Luca pads over to the kitchen to be nosy. Shane can see the care he puts into not reacting at the swatch, but his lip curls a little bit in disgust. ‘Can he see it? Has he met his soulmate yet?’ “What are you guys talking about?”
Bood shrugs. “Just how I want to paint the kitchen. Can you even see it?” Bood asks, eyeing Luca carefully.
Usually it’s kinda rude to ask if someone has met their soulmate, but Luca doesn’t seem to mind. He takes a sip of his drink; non-alcoholic for the younger guys on the team and takes a while to answer. “...No.” he answers quite suspiciously, mumbling something before walking off. Shane thinks he hears ‘looks like shit’ before walking over to Young, one of the younger guys on the team, but he can’t be sure.
All throughout the night, Shane couldn’t help but keep his eyes on the younger man. Something about him drew Shane’s eyes, maybe it was his pale grey hair, his wide brown eyes, or the freckles spattered across his face. Maybe it was his smile, the little gap between his two front teeth, or the way he was so excitable. Shane couldn’t tell.
It was later that night that Shane admittedly lost his cool a little. Luca, somehow, had gotten a hold of a few shots and a vodka soda, one of the other younger players probably. He was swaying a little to the music, and maybe shivering from the cold. Shane approaches him mostly out of concern; Luca had driven to Bood’s house alone so somebody was going to have to drive him home relatively soon.
Shane slings an arm around Luca’s shoulder, his bare skin brushing against the cloth of Luca’s long sleeved shirt. “Hey rook. I think it’s time to head home, huh?”
Luca turns to Shane, an easy smile on his face. “Hmm. Maybe. I guess I should start asking around-”
Shane shakes his head, ignoring the little, strong, icky feeling deep in his gut that tells him not to leave Luca alone. “Ilya and I can drive you home. I only had one beer two hours ago. Ilya can take your car.”
Shane looks into Luca’s wide eyes and thinks about running a hand through his curls. He doesn’t. “Oh. Thank you! That is very kind of you, Mr. Hollander, sir.”
‘He seems to be feeling less nervous with alcohol in his system, at least.’ Shane thinks. ‘Maybe, I can have an actual conversation with him.’ Shane looks back at Ilya, who is still talking to one of the other guys. “It seems Ilya’s still talking. Let’s sit down.” Shane grabs a water bottle for Luca before leading him to the couch.
Luca sits down and takes a long pull from the plastic water bottle, and Shane can’t help but eye the way his adam's apple bobs as he swallows greedily. “Thank you, Mr. Hollander.” He sits back on the couch, setting aside the half-drunk bottle for later.
Shane smiles, a little endeared at the way he continues to call him ‘Mr. Hollander.’ “You know, you don’t have to call me that. You can just call me ‘Shane.’”
Luca blinks for a second before nodding. “Uh- Okay Shane. So…why are you here with me? You could be hanging out with Rozanov instead. Not that I mind you being here.”
Shane has to keep himself from laughing at the way Luca overthinks. “I just wanted to talk to you a bit, get to know you a bit.”
Luca bobs his head. “Ask me anything. I’m ready.”
Shane asks him all sorts of questions; His sister’s name (Maria), his favorite swiss food (Älplermagronen), his favorite TV show(Helvetica). Shane learns a lot about Luca, a little about how he sees the world. He can’t help but be a little mesmerized by his hair, grey with violet at the roots and tips. Of course that isn’t his real hair color, but Shane finds himself wanting to know what he actually looks like.
Before he knows it, Luca is in the middle of a sentence, when he feels a hand land on his shoulder. “What are you boys talking about over here, hm?”
Luca turns to look up at Ilya, looking intimidated, which is fair; Ilya looks pretty intimidating, until you get to know him. “We were just talking about Heidelbeerenwähe. It’s like a blueberry cream pie.”
Ilya nods. “Sounds yummy. Are you both ready to go?” Ilya twirls Luca’s car keys on his pointer finger.
Luca sits up, patting around his body looking for something. “How did you get those?” Luca looks at him with wide eyes, a little shocked.
But Ilya just smiles. “Ah, a man must have his secrets. Come on, rook, time to go home.”
Ilya hums along to the music playing in the car, while driving himself and a grumpy Shane, to the rink to get ready for a game.
He’s feeling quite chipper today, a light feeling in his chest. He feels great, which is why it’s so strange that Shane is feeling so upset. Shane shuts off the music and sighs, frustratingly. Shane woke up at 2 in the morning unable to go back to sleep and Ilya had to make him take his emergency insomnia medication, which always made him grumpy the next morning, plus they were running a little late, which always made Shane on edge.
His eyes occasionally flick to Shane’s, eyeing his perfect face. As much as Ilya feels bad that Shane can’t see what he actually looks like, Ilya is glad he can see what Shane’s face actually looks like. He can’t be 100% positive what he sees is correct, but he’s sure his vision of Shane’s brown eyes and black hair fits him much better than blonde hair or blue eyes. And, he bribed Shane’s mom into telling him what he actually looked like.
“Moya luybov. It is okay. Take a breath.” He places a hand on Shane’s knee, breathing in deep as if to show him how to. Eventually, Shane starts breathing with him, and slowly his shoulders begin to drop.
“Thank you,” Shane mumbles, which makes Ilya smile. It’s been a few months since Luca had joined the team, and Ilya’s mind can’t help but drift to the younger man, his mousy face and scared appearance. ‘He seems to be doing better with nerves recently.’ Ilya thinks, ‘Hopefully it stays that way.’
When he gets into the locker room he sees him; his grey hair curling at the nape of his hair. He’s half-dressed, looking at his phone, his chest bare. Ilya can’t help but eye the way freckles spill down his back and dip with his hips. Ilya’s quick to look away and face his locker to get undressed. ‘There’s no need to look at him.’
It’s when he's half-dressed, that Luca addresses him. Luca smacks his glove-covered hand on Ilya’s bare shoulder. Ilya quickly turns around to look at the other man, who is grinning so wide Ilya can see all his teeth. “We are going to win this,” he says, his face lighting up, before leaning his head close for Ilya to crash his helmet against Luca’s.
Ilya leans forward, knocking his helmet into the younger man’s, feeling his energy level go up at how confident he is. Ilya can feel his own smile spread on his face. “I like your confidence, rook” He places a hand on Luca’s head and shakes his head around a little, before shoving him away and addressing the rest of the locker room. “And we all better be this confident out there! We are going to win this game and send Tampa home crying!” Ilya laughs, trying not to let his eyes stray to the not-so-nervous-anymore rookie.
♡
They end up winning, and Ilya got a hat trick thanks to Luca’s assist in the last period. They’re at a bar, Luca’s hair in a beanie protecting his ears from the cold. Ilya leads him to the bar by his shoulder and orders two shots for them. He watches carefully as Luca licks the salt off the rim of the glass, throws back the tequila, and quickly moves to suck on the lime. He eyes Luca’s lips, a brighter green from him biting nervously on them. Ilya shakes him by the shoulder, whooping happily as he throws back his vodka. Ilya watches Luca mingle into the dance floor, as he turns back to Shane.
A while later, Ilya looks back to Luca, and is maybe a little less shocked then he should be. Luca is grinding back on some random man, the blue of the lights flashing over his face, dewy with the heat of mingling bodies. His hand is drifting up into the man's dark hair, the man placing kisses from his ear down his neck.
Ilya is mesmerised by the sight of Luca’s body moving so fluidly, but feels a sudden spike of anger at the man moving his body against him. His eyes flick over to Shane, Shane’s eyes wide and on Luca. Ilya tries to distract himself with another drink, but he just…can’t. He watches Luca on the dance floor for a better part of an hour, the bold colors of the lights flickering over his face, before Luca stumbles off of the dance floor, and out the door of the bar. Ilya moves then, walking out of the bar and looking around. He can see Luca in the alleyway, his coat bundled up tight around him, and a cigarette placed between his closed lips. Ilya takes a few steps forward, offering up his emergency lighter. Luca leans in, cupping a hand around the end so the wind doesn’t blow out in the cool wind. Ilya watches the tan light flicker over Luca’s pale face, his cheeks a dull green from the cold.
“Thank you,” Luca murmurs, taking a long drag from his cigarette and leans against the wall.
Ilya nods, staring at the brownish color of the light illuminating Luca’s face in the dark. “Where did you get this?” Ilya flicks the cigarette lightly.
Luca smiles. “I nabbed it from the guy I was dancing with. He happened to have Parisienne. They were my favorite from back home. Can’t get them here in Canada.” He breathes out, the smell of smoke lingering in the air, woodsy and dry.
Ilya leans a little closer, his breath visible in the cold. He places a hand on Luca’s shoulder, shaking him a little. “It’s cold out here.”
Luca nods. “It gets cold in Zurich too. It doesn’t bother me. I’ve heard it gets cold in Russia."
Ilya hums, leaning back against the wall. “Ah, yes, it does. The cold here does not bother me either because of how cold Russia was.”
It’s quiet for a moment, the cold, night air curling between them. “So. You and Shane are colorblind? Actually colorblind?” Luca asks, his eyes flicking to Ilya’s.
Ilya nods, sighing. He knew this would come up eventually; he doesn’t mind it, but he’s glad Luca asked him, instead of Shane. “Mh, yes. I have- I do not remember the actual name, but I have red and yellow-blue colorblindness, and Shane has green and yellow-blue colorblindness.” Luca offers Ilya his cigarette and Ilya takes a deep inhale of it. “Doctor says it is genetic.”
Luca watches Ilya carefully, and as he hands the cigarette back, his fingers brush against Luca’s. He watches Luca’s eyes widen just momentarily at him, before looking down at the floor, taking another puff of his cigarette. “That is rare, right?”
Ilya nods. “Very. This is why I don’t believe the doctor, but what can I do? Doctor says we are colorblind, we must be.”
Luca nods, keeping his eyes on the ground. “Have you heard of multiple soulmates?”
Ilya had. It was a relatively new concept when it came to soulmates. Some people claimed to have more than two soulmates, but it was so rare that some people didn’t even believe it was real. “I have.” Ilya looks at Luca, “But I do not know it that is what is happening with me and Shane.”
Ilya watches Luca’s expression, and he seems careful not to react. “How can you be sure? That you don’t have more than one soulmate. Can you be for certain?”
Ilya takes a moment to actually consider Luca’s words. “No. But can anyone?”
Luca considers Ilya’s answer, he sticks out his tongue and chokes out the bud on his tongue, and Ilya can’t pretend that wasn't more than a little hot. “Let’s go back inside. Shane will probably be mad that we smell like smoke.”
♡
They make it all the way to the playoffs this year, Ilya can feel the sweat dripping down his face during the last game. The Centaurs have had a fire lit under their asses tonight, skating faster, more aggressively, knocking the opposing team on their asses. The game is tied, 6 to 6, there’s only five minutes left in the game. Ilya’s cornered against the boards, but his eyesight narrows down. He sees Luca, wide open, the other man already made two goals and this would make a hat trick.
Ilya pushes back against the player cornering him, shoves him off and shoots the puck to Luca. The other man skates as fast as lightning to the goal and shoots.
He makes it.
They won.
All of the sudden, the rink explodes. Ilya hears screaming, cheering all around him, the other men on the team bowling over each other to crowd around Luca, to celebrate. Ilya can’t help but watch the swarm of hockey guys, staying back so he can congratulate Luca in a more personal way. Shane throws an arm around him, giving him a tight side hug before moving to join the rest of the team.
After a moment the group disperses, and Ilya can see Luca, he’s standing there in shock, looking proud of himself. Ilya skates to him, slow and steady while the other man takes off his helmet, his grey hair sweaty from exercise.
Ilya places a hand on his shoulder. “Great job rook.” he shakes the other man by the shoulder before ruffling his hair.
As Ilya turns back to look at the crowd. They’re wearing red. Then he looks at the logo on the rink. It’s red. He looks at Luca’s face. It’s red.
He backs away, slipping his hand off of Luca’s head, eyes widening.
“Rozanov?”