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Shane has thankfully never been a nervous flier.
It’s kind of surprising, given his most neutral state of existence is usually low level anxiety. But flying has been a part of his life since before he could remember. He did his first international flight while he was still in diapers, his grandma too ill to make the trip to meet him. It’s just too normal for him to think of it as something dangerous, something to be worried about. He’s grateful for the lack of fear. It would have made life difficult, given how many miles he logs in the air yearly with his chosen career.
So instead of popping a xanax like Mitty or fidgeting endlessly like Comeau (who would snap and deny it if you called him on it), Shane is pretty calmly sipping his ginger ale and quietly mulling over his break up with Rose in the terminal lounge.
As far as break ups go, it was a good one he thinks. Not that he has much experience in that department. It was maybe unique in the painfully embarrassing aspect of having your girlfriend tell you you’re gay, but the longer he sits with it the more at peace he feels about it all. He needed to hear it. Needed someone else to be brave for him, to tell him that what he wants isn’t wrong. That he isn’t wrong.
And he ended up with a friend. He smiles down at his phone as Rose stays true to her word, texting him constantly.
Ready to go kick some ass in Jersey tomorrow?
Always.
Have you given any more thought to…things and stuff?
No.
I mean yeah, I just don’t know what to do.
Talking is a good start.
We were never really very good at that.
Maybe.
I’ll think about it.
You’ve BEEN thinking about it.
You never know until you try.
I don’t think he really wants to hear from me.
Let him decide that.
You owe it to yourself to try.
Over the last few days before filming wrapped and Rose left Montreal, they’d talked a lot. He opened up maybe a bit more than he should have, admitting that there had only been one man. That he’d run away from that man straight into her arms. That he regretted that day more than maybe anything, even if he’s so grateful it brought her to his life.
Shane left out the Ilya of it all, of course, but he did tell her a lot about their hookups. He didn’t realize until it was spilling out of him how desperate he had been for someone to talk to about all of it. Being able to say it out loud was such a relief, to get these feelings out of him and hold them up for someone else to see. To tell him everywhere he misstepped, explain all the things he misunderstood so badly that he ended up here.
Rose did tell him that he made mistakes. But also that he’s being unfair to himself because if she had to put up with that many mixed signals she would have walked away a long time ago.
She told him that if he’s right and the guy isn't just an asshole jerking him around for fun, then it sounds like he’s in a lot of pain and is terrified of letting someone in. Her exact words were “It sounds like he’s wrapped his heart in barbed wire, babe. He’s trying to protect himself but it’s just hurting you both.”
The night before she left, she asked him if he planned on reaching back out to ‘his man’. That was three days ago and he’s been avoiding giving her a straight answer. Not for lack of persistence on her part. She’s offered to make a game plan with him, role play a thousand possible outcomes if he wanted.
It’s not that he doesn’t want to. He does, desperately. He’s just absolutely terrified of wanting too much. Of reaching out and having it thrown back in his face.
Realizing and accepting he’s gay was one thing. Realizing and accepting he’s in l-
He’s started out of his thoughts by Hayden nudging his shoulder.
“You good man? You’ve been staring at your phone for like 10 minutes. With the screen off.”
“Yeah, I’m fine. Just thinking.”
“Well save your deep thoughts for take off, it’s boarding time.”
Shane looks around, startled to see half the team has already made their way out onto the tarmac without him noticing. With a heavy sigh he grabs his carry on bag and stands, shooting Rose one last text to let her know he’ll tell her when he lands.
At least it’s a short flight.
–
Ilya is trying to find the will to match the energy of his team from the win on home ice, but he’s just so tired. He has been since…well. For a while. He should be grateful, probably, that his team is aware of his foul mood if not the reason and thus has been giving him a wide berth in the locker room lest they be on the receiving end of it. Right now the idea of snapping at anyone just makes him feel more drained.
Which is why when he hears his phone vibrating in his stall, he has very little interest in answering whoever it is. Sveta was busy tonight, and anyone else who could be calling him can’t possibly have anything to say he wants to hear right now. The vibration stops for about half a second before it starts up again, and that grabs his attention. Even when his brother is being an unrelenting asshole, there’s usually about 30 minutes or so between calls.
He finishes taking off his skates just as the phone stops again. There’s a longer pause this time before it beeps to alert him that he has a voicemail. No one ever leaves him voicemails. It’s odd enough to truly pique his curiosity.
Heaving a sigh he stands and finally grabs the phone just in time for it to start vibrating in his hand.
Incoming call
Jane 🍆💦 🍑
Seeing the name on his screen, Ilya goes from interested to alarmed so fast it gives him whiplash. They have never once called each other, not even before…What could Shane possibly want from him now?
His hand is shaking as he hits ‘Accept’ and brings the phone up to his ear.
“Hello?” Shane immediately starts speaking so fast that he can’t make sense of most of the words. There’s background noise that sounds like someone crying, someone else yelling. He catches apologies and the absolutely frantic tone, all of it is enough to send his heart racing with worry. Shane is prone to panic attacks but this sounds like so much more. He keeps his voice gentle. “Hey, hey, slow down, I can’t understand…what’s wrong?”
“Fuck. Ilya, I’m sorry. I don’t know how much time I have, I just needed to hear your voice. I needed to tell you. I’m so fucking sorry for walking out on you. I regretted it before I even made it out the door. I would do anything to go back and do that day all over again. To be on your couch or in your bed or fucking anywhere as long as it was with you. I’m so fucking sorry.”
The words he’s been so desperate to hear fill him with dread.
“What…why are you saying this, tell me what is happening?"
“There’s something wrong with the plane. I don’t…I don’t think it’s gonna land, Ilya. And I just needed you to know. It might not even matter now, but I need you to know that I-you’re the only one who ever saw me. I try so hard to be what everyone wants from me. Perfect role model, perfect brand rep, perfect teammate, perfect friend, perfect son. It’s all bullshit. I didn’t have to do that with you, ever. You’re the only one who saw through the act, saw me, and actually seemed to like what was underneath. I should have told you sooner, how much that meant to me. But it also scared the shit out of me, and I’m so fucking sorry Ilya.
I’m sorry I was so scared, that I didn’t tell you this before it was too late, but I need you to know that I…I love you. Fuck. I wish, I really fucking wish that we could have tried. I would have tried for you. To have something real. Somehow. And I’m so sorry I’m telling you this now when I’m pretty sure I’m about to die, but you need to know. I don’t think you have many people telling you how good you are. I see you too. I couldn’t die with you not knowing that I’m so fucking in love with you. I couldn’t let that day in Boston be the last thing you got from me. Or let you think you did something wrong.
And I’m sorry to ask you this but can you please tell my parents that I love them? That I swear I was thinking of them too and I’m sorry I didn’t call them, but it had to be you. I had to tell you that I love you. I love you so much. I lo-”
“Shane I-” The room around him has gone deadly silent, just like his phone. “Shane?” The call has disconnected. It must have just been a drop in service for a moment though, Shane can’t be…No. He refuses to even think it.
It takes him two tries to press the right button to call back, his entire body is shaking so violently. It goes straight to voicemail. He tries again. And again. And again. Marleau puts a hand on his shoulder but he jerks away, holding the phone close to his chest protectively.
“Woah man, I’m not gonna take it from you. What’s going on?”
Ilya just shakes his head, goes back to hitting the name in his recent calls list over and over and over again. He holds the phone up just to hear Shane’s stupidly professional outgoing message, desperate to hear his voice. He ends the call before it can start recording, and his body just gives up. He doesn’t even feel himself collapse, just finds himself on the ground between blinks.
Phones all across the locker room start exploding with notifications. Then everyone starts talking in hushed voices. Marleau glances at his own phone from where he is kneeling next to Ilya and his face goes pale. “Oh fuck.” Marleau pulls Ilya against him in a crushing hug.
He can’t breathe. This can’t be happening. This isn’t real, it can’t be, he can’t do this. He didn’t even get to say it back, Shane doesn’t know. This can’t be it, Shane can’t…he has to know, Ilya needs to say it back.
“Roz, brother, come on. You’ve gotta breathe. It’s gonna be okay, man.”
He hears what sounds like a wounded animal, and it takes him several moments to realize the sound came from him. That he is sobbing. Ilya Rozanov doesn’t cry, he hasn’t cried since his mama…but this isn’t like that, it can’t be.
It could be minutes or hours that pass in agony before someone shouts, not really any words so much as it is just an excited noise.
“Rozy! They’re okay, c’mon, look!” Whoever it is, they have turned on the tv in the locker room. On the screen is news coverage showing aerial footage of a plane sitting in a field where it clearly had a rough landing, but aside from the destroyed earth trailing up behind it and a broken front wheel leaving the plane tilted forward on a slightly crumpled nose, there doesn’t seem to be any damage. There are already several firetrucks and ambulances driving across the mangled cornfield.
There is large text on the bottom of the screen that reads “Montreal Metros plane makes emergency landing in Guilford, VT field”.
Marleau shakes him by his shoulders gently. “He’s alright Roz. You hear the news lady? She said no serious injuries or fatalities reported. He’s gonna be okay.”
As the rest of the world starts existing again, Ilya realizes his team is very aware of exactly why he just had a meltdown. Or, more precisely, who for. He should probably feel something about that, but his entire being is too overwhelmed with relief to care.
He jumps to his feet, knocking Marleau on his ass. “I need to…where the fuck is Guilford? I have to go, I have to see him.” He frantically digs through the mess of his locker for his keys.
Marleau stands and grabs him by his shoulder again. “You’re not driving like this, brother. I’ll take you. Finish getting dressed and I’ll drive you.”
Ilya had managed to get his pads and skates off before he took the phone call that shattered his world, but the rest of his sweaty gear is still on. He wants to tell Marleau to fuck off, there’s no time, but he can already see the disgruntled kitten look on Shane’s face if he showed up like this. It’s almost enough to make him smile.
Shane would probably say he should shower, too, but he settles for a quick wipe down with the silly “athletic body wipes” Shane had recommended for the days he just wanted to shower in his own home but didn’t want to get in his car with an entire game’s worth of sweat still coating his body. Ilya had said they were ridiculous, but he’d bought them anyway because he’s never been very good at saying no to Shane. He’s grateful for them now, and the sweats and hoodie stuffed in his locker. Putting back on his arrival suit would be suffocating right now. He needs softness, comfort, he needs Shane.
Marleau taps some address into his GPS as soon as they get into his SUV. He catches Ilya’s eyes and shrugs. “For now I’ll just head to where the plane landed, I doubt they’ll still be there but it’ll get us close to wherever they end up. It’s about a 2 hour drive. Connors has a buddy on the Metros, someone he played with in juniors, he’ll find out where they’re headed and keep us up to date.”
They ride in silence down 93, Marleau focused on the road and Ilya on his phone, watching it like a hawk for any form of contact. As he merges onto 95 Marleau starts shooting him glances, and after a few minutes he finally seems to work up the courage to spit it out.
“Hey man…It didn’t seem like the right thing to focus on before, and maybe it’s not now either but…” Ilya freezes, not daring to look up from his phone. “We’re cool, okay? No one on the team cares. We were a little surprised, maybe, but…fuck, man, who could be mad at you for loving someone like that?”
Ilya laughs, startled. “You are romantic, Marley?”
“I’m being serious, asshole. We don’t care. Not just that he’s a guy, but that it’s Hollander. I mean I can’t imagine what compelled you to pick your biggest rival, but-”
“I picked him before rivalry. Well, before big NHL rivalry.”
Marleau whips his head to look at him so fast Ilya’s neck twinges in sympathy. “Wait, what?”
Ilya shrugs. His biggest secret has been laid bare, he sees no reason to hide the finer details. “Pretty boy with beautiful freckles scolds me for smoking before Prospect Cup and I had to have him. It was only supposed to be casual, but I think even then I was his. Maybe not love at first sight, but he shook my hand twice and I was…smitten? Charmed. I never stood a chance.”
“Well, fuck. That was like, what, ten years ago? That’s a long fucking ti-Wait, what about Rose Landry? Because I don’t think I can be cool with it if he’s cheating on you-but you’ve been with tons of women too? Is it one of those open things?”
“No. No cheating, not open exactly. It’s…complicated. I told you, it was supposed to be casual. We couldn’t…we can’t. Fuck, I don’t know what the fuck we’re going to do. But…he was going to die and he called me. He said he loves me. I didn’t even get to say it back, his phone is still going to voicemail and texts aren’t going through. He has to know, we have to find a way-”
“Woah, woah, Roz. Breathe. He’s okay. Connors texted, his buddy said Hollander’s phone got smashed and he got bumped around pretty good so he’s gotta get checked out, it was kinda a rough landing. But he’s okay. The team has your back, so we’ll figure the rest out somehow. Right now let’s just focus on getting you to your man, yeah?”
Ilya knows it’s not that simple, all of the reasons he didn’t let himself admit to how deep he’d fallen have not magically disappeared. But it all seems so much less important now, knowing how close he came to losing Shane forever.
Right now he needs Shane in his arms, to make it real that he is okay. Everything else can wait.
–
Between the chaos of landing (or carefully controlled crashing, really), getting off the plane, getting checked over by EMTs, and getting transported to the hospital there are moments where he can feel various members of his team looking at him. Fleeting, easily to ignore moments as they’re happening.
Less easy to ignore while he sits in a hospital bed waiting to be cleared to leave.
Shane sits in his bed and turns these moments over in his mind. The looks of shock were to be expected. If he’s honest with himself, he’s not all that surprised by the other looks either. Slowly, the shock morphed to disgust on many faces. Some seemed more confused, a couple indifferent.
He knew what he was doing when he made that call. That at least some of his team could hear him, and that if by some miracle he didn’t die they would spread the word fast to anyone who didn’t. He knew what he was risking. He just also knew that Ilya had to know, and that he needed to hear Ilya’s voice one last time. He doesn’t regret his choice, even with all the things it may cost him now that he’s made it to the other side intact. He’s not exactly fine with the people he’d mostly considered friends looking at him like he’s suddenly repulsive, but he’s not surprised by it. There’s a reason he wasn’t exactly eager to come out. At least Hayden and J.J. stay firmly in the bewildered side of the reactions. Maybe he can salvage something with the two who he considers himself close to.
He really doesn’t regret it, but Shane can’t help but wonder if he just blew up his life to get rejected. It wouldn’t have changed anything, he didn’t say what he had expecting reciprocation. Hell he didn’t say it expecting to be alive to get any response. Rose may have been confident that Ilya was either a piece of shit or madly in love with Shane and just as scared, but he wasn’t so sure. So maybe he walks out of here with nothing. Well, no, he knows Rose is on his side. He thinks, hopes, his parents will handle the news okay. The gay part at least, and with time maybe they’ll forgive him for the fucking his arch rival and destroying his career thing.
Shane is startled from his morose thoughts by a commotion somewhere down the hall. In the direction he’s fairly sure the nurses station is. There’s a voice that’s vaguely familiar yelling, followed by the very unimpressed voice of the nurse who’s been checking up on him. When he hears his own name, he decides to get up and peek his head out the door to investigate.
The voice he couldn’t quite place is not at all who he would be expecting in a hospital in the middle of nowhere Vermont. “Marleau?”
Sure enough, Cliff Marleau perks up and turns towards him. Only Shane suddenly could not care less about him, because his massive body turning reveals that he didn’t come alone. Ilya nearly shoves his friend over in his rush to get across the hallway.
“Shane!” It’s all the warning he gets to brace himself before 200lbs of muscle nearly slams into him. At the last second, Ilya freezes with barely a few inches between them. He scans Shane up and down, eyes catching on the brace on his right arm. “Fuck, are you okay?” His hands cup Shane’s face, gentle like he is made of glass, thumb brushing so softly across the bruising he knows is painting his right cheek red.
“M’fine. Slammed my face into the seat in front of me pretty hard when we hit the ground but it’s just a mild concussion. Sprained wrist. Out for a few games at least, but…well, could’ve been worse.”
That seems to push Ilya over the edge as he buries his face in Shane’s neck and sobs, pulling him into a crushing embrace. They are mostly tucked away inside his room, but Marleau shuffles over to stand in front of them, looming like a body guard and hiding them from view of any prying eyes. He offers Shane a quick nod over his shoulder, but he’ll have to unpack whatever the fuck that all means later.
For now he cradles Ilya’s head with his good hand, gingerly petting his side with the other. “Hey, I’m okay. I’m sorry, my phone broke so I couldn’t call you back, I’m so sorry.” Ilya shakes his head, kissing his neck and pressing Russian words into his skin. The same three words repeated.
He pulls back and looks into Shane’s eyes, his own overflowing with tears, and translates. “I love you.”
“Holy shit.” Absurdly, he sees doubt creep across Ilya’s face. “I love you too. God, I love you so much, of course I do. I’m so sorry-”
“No. No more sorries, not now.” Ilya presses his forehead against Shane’s. “You are here. You are alive, and perfect, and mine. Moy lyubov. Just be here, okay? Just let me love you.” Shane nods, forcing Ilya to nod along with him.
A sniffle from their forgotten body guard breaks the moment, making both of them laugh. For this moment, the outside world cannot touch them.
–
Hayden Pike tells Marleau that the team is getting rooms at the Holiday Inn about a ten minute drive from the hospital and that he has their room key for Shane. When Marleau pokes his head in to relay the information, Ilya feels Shane tense under his hand, back in his hospital bed awaiting discharge.
Even Marleau, unobservant as he usually is, seems to pick up on the anxiety paralyzing Shane. “I uh…I didn’t know where you’d all be staying, but I already got me and Rozy rooms at the Comfort Inn. It’s about the same distance. I got us separate rooms in case…I mean, I didn’t wanna assume but…” He shifts awkwardly, and Ilya takes pity on him.
“Stay with me, moy lyubov. Whatever the Metros decide to do from here, you cannot play. Let me take care of you.”
Shane nods, relaxing into having a clear plan to follow. “Yeah, uh…can you tell Hayden I’ll call him later? Shit. I need to call my parents, and Rose…this has to be all over the news they must be freaking out.”
Marleau leaves to relay the message, but not before he shoots Ilya a sympathetic glance at the mention of Rose. Clearly he’s put together the reason for Ilya’s terrible mood these last few months.
Deciding that can wait for a moment, he asks something that’s been bothering him since the drive. “Why did you not borrow someone’s phone to call your parents?” Or me he doesn’t say.
“I haven’t…talked to them since we landed. The team. Any of them. Some of them heard, of course they did, and…Well, they’re not taking it as well as Marleau seems to be. They haven’t said anything, but the way they looked at me…”
Ilya grips his hand tighter. “Oh Shane…Pike?”
“He didn’t look at me like a lot of them. J.J. didn’t either. I think they’re more surprised than actually disgusted at least.”
“Is it…is it just because it is me, or…?”
Shane sighs, and Ilya gives in to the urge to stand and pull Shane against his chest.
“Some of them, maybe. There’s a few though that I’m pretty sure…have a problem with me being with a guy at all. I’ve always had a feeling about Comeau and Drapeau, maybe Olsson. I mean a lot of the guys casually say shit, but I can never really tell who’s just saying stupid shit and who’s actually being homophobic on purpose, you know? Mostly it’s just calling someone a cock sucker or whatever, but those guys…take it a bit further, sometimes.”
Ilya’s heart aches, thinking of Shane in his own locker room always feeling a little unsafe. Of course, Ilya was never sure about his team, as that sort of attitude does run rampant in the NHL, but none of them had ever actually said or done anything that made him sure that they specifically would react poorly to finding out about him.
He squeezes Shane a little tighter.
The nurse interrupts before he can press for more, coming in with Shane’s discharge paperwork. Marleau pops back into the room with Shane’s bag that Pike had apparently dropped off with him. The journey to the car and then to the hotel are silent. Marleau gets them all checked in, and when he hands them the key to their room he squeezes Shane’s shoulder with a smile.
“Glad you’re okay, man.”
The quiet continues until they’re settled in their room, sitting on the end of the bed holding hands.
“I don’t know what’s gonna happen. I’m terrified to talk to anyone, but I know I have to face it eventually…Fuck, Ilya, there’s no way none of them leaks this. You’re gonna-”
“Sh. Is okay. Do not worry about me, I will be fine. I cannot go home to Russia, but…” He hasn’t wanted to go home since he left it. Since his mama left him behind, Russia has not been home in anything but the barest definition of the word. His father kept him tied there, but his entire family would surely disown him once word got out. Maybe he would feel sad about that, once it had time to set in, but for now it feels almost like relief to not have to go back. “My team has my back. I will need to get passport to be sure, but as long as I have a work visa I am okay. Come on, you need to call your parents.”
Listening to Shane talk to his parents sparks a riot of conflicting emotions in him. Jealousy, knowing his own father wouldn’t be nearly so concerned as David Hollander sounds. An aching sadness, missing his own mother who would probably speak to him in the same soft cooing tone he can hear from Yuna Hollander. Mostly, though, he is happy. Shane deserves good things.
Once all of the reassurances and comforting have started to fizzle out, Shane looks up at Ilya with a question and maybe some fear in his eyes. He’s not sure what Shane’s asking, exactly, but the answer is the same as it always is for him. Ilya nods, giving his hand a reassuring squeeze.
“There’s something else I need to tell you. I’m...I’m gay.” He pauses, and Ilya can hear a gentle tone on the other end even if he can’t make out the words. “That’s, uh…thanks. I mean that’s good to hear. But the thing is…I mean I wanted to tell you, I would have told you eventually, in person, it’s just…There’s something else. Which is the reason I’m telling you now, like this. I’m with…I’m in love with Ilya. Rozanov.”
There’s a much longer pause this time, partially filled with stunned silence on the other end of the line. When Yuna Hollander breaks it, she sounds scolding which makes a fierce protective instinct flare to life in Ilya’s chest. Before he can do something stupid like take the phone and throw it out the window, he realizes Shane is blushing and embarrassed but not upset.
“Ah, no. It’s…complicated, but it’s not like that. Rose and I broke up last week, she’s just a friend.” Ah oh, if that isn’t one of the best things Ilya has ever heard. Second to Shane saying ‘I love you’. Well, actually, maybe it’s in line behind quite a few things that have come out of Shane’s mouth, but certainly better than anything he’s heard from anyone else. “Ilya and I have been…in a relationship of sorts since before rookie season. We were just…on a break? Kind of? I wasn’t ready to admit that I’m uh…gay. And in love with him. I got scared. Look, the point is I think this is going to be public information real soon and I didn’t want you to hear it from twitter or something.”
They talk for a while longer, but Ilya mostly just lets the gentle cadence of Shane’s tone wash over him. He’s startled out of his daze by Shane addressing him directly.
“Do you mind if I call Rose?” Irrationally, he flinches. Shane is gay, he loves Ilya, he just told his parents that he and Rose broke up. But her name still pokes at something tender inside of him, something that still aches. “I’m sorry. We really did break up. She kind of told me I’m gay? It was incredibly embarrassing. She…she’s been telling me to talk to you. Not you you, but I told her there was someone. She’s a good friend.”
Something about the way he says it makes Ilya think of Sveta. How she’d not so subtly been nudging him about ‘Jane’, how they loved each other fiercely but never romantically. The thought that Rose could be that person for Shane allows him to let go of that last piece of hurt.
There was enough pressure and pain and struggle to come from the world outside of them. But this, in here, between them? Was nothing but good.
–
First thing in the morning, Ilya borrowed Marleau’s SUV and brought Shane to get a new phone. As soon as he restored it from his crushed phone’s back up, it pinged with hundreds of notifications. Mostly people checking to see if he was alive, dozens of missed calls and texts from Ilya alone that made his heart clench.
There was an email from Theriault demanding a meeting with himself, the GM, and the owner ASAP, but no context as to what he wanted exactly. Considering he’s never heard of any injuries requiring such a meeting, and anything else related to the crash would likely involve the whole team, he can wager a guess at what they want to discuss.
A quick scroll through his notifications and social media shows that the news hasn’t leaked to the public yet, at least. Theriault probably has the team on lockdown. That can only last so long though.
So he follows his mother’s advice from the night before, and sends Farrah a message asking for an urgent meeting. He barely has time to get his laptop set up on the hotel room desk before he gets the incoming zoom call.
Consummate professional that she is, she doesn’t even blink at seeing Ilya Rozanov standing behind Shane.
“Before we talk about anything else Shane, are you okay? I saw the crash on the news, I can’t imagine how scary that was.”
“Fine. Concussion and a sprained wrist. A little shaken up. But yeah, I’m okay.”
“Good. Now, it’s not like you to ask for a meeting like this. So I’ll ask again…are you okay?”
“Well, Theriault and leadership want a meeting with me and I think it would be best to have you there. But before we talk about that, there’s something I should tell you.” He glances back to Ilya, who offers a reassuring smile.
“I figured. Hello, Mr. Rozanov.”
“Hi.” Ilya waves before pushing himself off the bed to come stand behind Shane. He puts a comforting hand on his back.
“Right. So. Long story short Ilya and I are…together?” Ilya nods again. “It’s not new exactly but I promise there’s no cheating scandal to worry about. I just…well, I didn’t know if I was making it out of that plane alive. So I called him. And confessed my feelings to him. And now the whole team definitely knows about it. Which I’m guessing is the reason for the mandatory meeting.”
“Well. I can’t say I predicted that when I woke up this morning, but let me just say congratulations. Can I ask how long you’ve been together?”
“A long time. It was…well, we were trying to be casual, but it’s been since the summer before rookie season.”
“Wow. Okay. That’s good though. There can be no questioning of your loyalties to your teams. Mr. Rozanov-”
“Ilya.”
“Sorry, Ilya. I think it would be a good idea to get your agent involved in this conversation. I doubt we can keep this from leaking to the public, though maybe we can get ahead of it and announce on your own terms. Either way your agent should be involved.”
“Ah. Yes. Well. I do not have an agent as of last night.”
Shane whips around to look at him. “What?”
“My agent was Russian, with ties to my family. I fired him last night while you were talking to Rose. I did not tell him why, of course, but he would not be good once news got out.”
“Okay then. Smart move. I’m happy to represent you, until you can find someone else at least. You shouldn’t have to go through this alone. Does your team know?”
“Yes. I was in the locker room when Shane called. I haven’t spoken to coach yet, but the whole team has been good. And yes, I would appreciate it if you could help me. Represent me from now on. If Shane trusts you, so do I.”
Farah nods approvingly. “Great. Well, there’s a lot to talk about with how you want this all to play out in the long term and Ilya we should definitely talk about citizenship options. But best not to delay the inevitable. I’ll reach out to the Metros leadership and get a meeting arranged. Not to ask a stupid question, but I need to be sure. This is serious, between you two?”
Shane doesn’t hesitate. “Yes,” he says at the exact same time as Ilya says, “Very.”
She smiles at them both. “I’m happy for you. Two rival players in the NHL dating is uncharted waters, so I won’t lie I have no idea what’s going to happen, but I am on your side. Shane, do not speak to anyone from the Metros without me, okay? I’ll let you know when I have details for a meeting, and we’ll make a game plan from there. I'll also draft up some options for announcing your relationship to the public for you to review. Ilya, I’ll get your contact information from Shane and we can get a contract together and start working out some plans. Talk soon boys!”
Once she hangs up, Shane lets his head fall back into Ilya’s stomach with a sigh. So much has happened in the last 24 hours, it feels like he’s drowning in it. There has been a thought that fills him with dread sitting quietly behind everything else, but now with the meeting looming he finally lets the truth that he’s been avoiding sink in. Lets himself say it out loud.
“I think I am done playing for the Metros.”
–
The words shock Ilya to his core. He spins Shane’s chair around and crouches to look him in the eye.
“What? No, Shane, we will not let that happen. Farah will not let them-”
“No. That’s not what I mean. I mean, maybe. They might try to get out of my no movement clause. But they’re not stupid, as much as it might kill them to admit they know I’m the reason Montreal has 2 back to back cups. I have a feeling they're going to try to lock me in the closet. But it doesn’t matter. I know Farah will destroy them, but she can’t protect me from the team.”
Vicious protective thoughts about killing anyone who so much as thought of hurting Shane scream to be voiced, but Ilya knows he cannot be in the locker room with Shane. He could only threaten, and retaliate after the fact, but he can’t actually be there to keep him safe.
Still, he knows Shane had every intention of retiring with Montreal, seeing his number rise to the rafters alongside all of his championship banners. He knows this must be hurting Shane in so many different ways.
“Shane…”
Shane stands and starts pacing the room.
“I can waive the no movement clause, give them a list of teams I’ll accept. I mean Boston would be amazing, but even Jersey or New York wouldn’t be bad. We wouldn’t be close but it would be better than being all the way in California or something.”
“Shane. You do not want to move to America?” He says it like a question, but he knows it’s true. Shane is close with his parents, they go to almost every home game. All of the places he listed as his favorite to play in were Canada. Ilya teases him for being a perfect Canadian boy because it is true. Leaving would kill him.
“No. Not really. I thought about Ottawa too, as terrible as they are. I mean they have some of the right pieces, and they don’t have a star center, but…I meant what I said to Farah, Ilya. This is serious. This is important to me. This plan isn’t just about saving my career, I want to make this work. And if you’re getting an American passport…”
“Maybe I don’t.”
“What?”
“America…is better than Russia, yes, but not so good for Russians right now…Canada is better.”
Shane stops pacing, slowing to stand in front of Ilya.
“Ilya…I can’t ask you to do that. You have a good team, and Svetlana is here…”
Ilya squeezes his eyes shut. It’s true, leaving them will be hard, but…
“You have your family. You love Canada. I am also serious about this, but it would not just be for you Shane. For us. It would be for me too. Canada has you, but it really is safer for me. Boston is not so far, I can visit. I am a free agent after next season. I will talk to Farah, but…maybe we can both go to Ottawa? If we don’t have to hide, then I don’t want to be hours away from you. I want…” Ilya hesitates. They’ve both said they’re in this, they love each other, but he’s still scared to put what he wants so desperately into words. Looking up into Shane's eyes, he sees awe and adoration shining back at him. It makes him feel brave. “I want a home together.”
“You can’t just say shit like that.” Ilya’s heart stops. Shane drops his head to rest on Ilya’s collar bone, and he hesitantly brings his hand up to cradle the back of his head. “Fuck, that’s the most romantic thing I think I’ve ever heard. I love you.”
Ilya collapses into Shane a bit, nudging their heads together softly, mindful of his concussion. “Fuck, Shane. YA tozhe tebya lyublyu. I love you too.”
There’s still so much to deal with. Meetings, and contracts, coming out or maybe getting outed before they get a chance to figure out what to say. Dealing with the response to that, positive and negative. It’s overwhelming and terrifying.
But once that is all done, he gets to plan a life with the man he’s in love with. Something just 48 hours ago he would have thought was absolutely impossible.
So from where Ilya is standing, the future has never looked so good.