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All Star Game, Winter 2018
Scott hated these All Star press panels. Before he came out last June, they’d always been full of tedious and tired questions about gameplay and strategy despite the fact that the game didn’t actually matter. Now, as the first and only openly gay player in the MLH, the leadup to All Stars had—in addition to the typical boring topics—been full of questions that ranged from vaguely homophobic to outright bigoted. He was tired of dodging queries about if his fan-voted captaincy would make any of his teammates uncomfortable due to his sexuality.
But here he was, sitting in an uncomfortable suit at a table in a random conference room in a random hotel in Toronto, between Hollander and Rozanov, two of the three other captains of the All Star teams this year. He had no idea where Parker Bain, center from Las Vegas and the fourth and final captain of this year’s teams, was, but he was envious of him. Why did he get to skip this farce, but Scott didn’t?
Scott sighed as Rozanov gave an annoyingly charming answer to some asinine question. How much longer until I can get dinner with Kip? he thought.
“Question for Hollander,” the next reporter said. Scott tried not to zone out. He was sure it would be something stupid about the rivalry between him and Rozanov, and how much Hollander wanted to beat his team. It’s All Stars, Scott thought, as if it fucking matters.
“Do you have any comments on the rumors that you are gay and have a boyfriend?”
Wait. What? Scott zoned the fuck back in. What did that reporter just say?
“Wh-what?” Hollander sputtered from Scott’s left. Scott looked over at him and saw his face drained of blood, eyes panicked. Fuck. This had been Scott’s worst nightmare for years. He couldn’t believe this was happening. He turned and looked at the reporter as he continued speaking.
“Rose Landry’s personal texts were leaked, including several exchanges between the two of you in which you mention having a boyfriend. Is this true? Are you the second gay hockey player in the MLH, after Hunter here?”
“I—oh, god,” Hollander said. His chair scraped loudly as he pushed away from the table. “I’m sorry, I—fuck,” Hollander muttered, already halfway to the door behind them. Scott winced internally at the number of camera flashes that were going off as he fled the room.
Vaguely, he was aware of Ilya Rozanov getting out of his seat on Scott’s right, but the reporter’s mention of his name had awoken something in him. He turned his attention fully back to the scrum and looked directly at the man who had just outed Shane Hollander.
“Fuck you,” he said coldly, not even caring about the consequences for cursing. “That was an incredibly shitty thing to do. Do you know how terrified I was of something like that happening for years before I came out?” The man opened his mouth, but Scott cut him off. “No, I’m not done. I need you to understand that was not okay. Even if it’s true, it’s nobody’s business but Hollander’s when or even if he comes out. But you just took that from him. And that, in my eyes, is unforgivable.” Scott pushed back his own chair, leaning down to add, “I hope you sleep horribly tonight,” before turning and leaving the room to go check on Shane.
r/MLH
Umm, did anyone else notice this?? Shane Hollander is gay?? (Rose Landry leaked texts)
u/QueenLandry2244
Hey everyone, forgive me if this isn’t allowed, but I have been deep (and i mean DEEP) in the Rose Landy text leaks and I noticed a few mentions of Shane Hollander being gay??? And potentially having a boyfriend?? Has anyone heard any rumors of this? I absolutely did NOT see this coming but I guess it makes sense why he and Rose didnt work out if it is true.
[screenshot 1]
November 13th, 2017
Rose: Shane, I miss you! How’s my favorite gay ex-boyfriend doing?
Shane: Hey, Rose. Not bad, how are you?
Rose: Bored at my shoot. Tell me something about your secret man??? 👀👀👀
Shane: Haha, nice try. You know I can’t tell you anything.
Rose: Pleeeeease? Just one juicy little nugget of a detail?
Shane: He’s really hot?
Rose: Well DUH
[screenshot 2]
January 8th, 2018
Shane: [image attached]
Shane: Boyfriend scoured the internet for a cupcake recipe that fit my diet.
Rose: !!!!!!!!
Rose: Shane!! Those look INCREDIBLE omg this is so sweet
Rose: Is boyfriend with you now???? Can I say hi??
Shane: He says hi.
Rose: Hi Shane’s boyfriend!!! I’m very impressed by your baking skills!!
Shane: He’s pretending to be annoyed because he’s still weirdly jealous of you but I can tell he’s pleased you’re impressed.
Rose: 😂😂😂
Scott left the conference room and scanned the hotel hallway for a bathroom, the most likely place for Hollander to escape to. Seeing a men’s room not too far away, he quickly made a beeline for it.
As he pushed open the door, he heard low voices and rapid breathing. He turned the corner, and came upon a view he never would have expected.
Ilya Rozanov was crouched next to Shane, his arm firmly around him, murmuring soothing words into Shane’s ear. The arm that wasn’t around Shane’s back was pressed against his chest, as if Rozanov was encouraging him to slow his breathing.
What was perhaps more shocking than Rozanov’s presence was the fact that Shane seemed to be leaning into it. He was gripping Rozanov’s arms like his life depended on it. Scott had been sure that Shane hated Rozanov, in all his cocky assholery, but this tableau was scrambling everything Scott knew.
They had clearly heard him enter the bathroom and come around the corner; Shane tensed up and grabbed at Rozanov’s forearms more desperately. Rozanov’s head turned to look, and he made eye contact with Scott.
“Don’t worry, malysh, is just Hunter,” Rozanov said.
“Hi,” Scott said. He cleared his throat. “I mean, uh…I came to check on Hollander. Are you….” He stopped himself. Of course Shane wasn’t okay. “That was fucking awful. I’m so sorry that happened,” he finished.
Shane let out a long, shaky breath, and mumbled a weak “Yeah.” His face was now buried in Rozanov’s shoulder, the two men’s arms around each other as they both sat on the tile floor of the hotel bathroom. Rozanov was rubbing his hands up and down Shane’s back, and—was he kissing Shane’s head?
“Fuck, that was my worst nightmare for years,” Scott said. “I cussed out that reporter. He should know better than to do that. I mean, it’s 2018, man, what the fuck?”
Rozanov looked at Scott, appraising him. Fuck. He felt completely out of his depth here. How was Rozanov, Hollander’s arch rival and total womanizer, doing a better job than Scott at this?
He pulled out his phone and opened his messages to Kip.
Scott: SOS a reporter just outed Shane Hollander. Can you come guard the door to the men’s bathroom by conference room B?
Kip: Holy shit, that’s awful. Omw
Scott pocketed his phone and looked back up at Hollander. Rozanov was whispering soothing things in his ear and Shane was nodding jerkily, eyes closed, his breathing unsteady.
“Is okay, moya lyubov, they do not know about us, yes? You had not told Rose yet, yes? So it is okay. We are safe. I know it is—is shitty, but you have Hunter here, no? Ready to be wise gay elder?” Rozanov’s eyes flicked up to Scott’s as he said this.
“Fuck you, Rozanov,” he said on instinct. Then he paused. “Wait,” he said. “You said ‘they don’t know about us,’ Rozanov. What the fuck does that mean?”
Rozanov sent him a withering glare.
Scott felt like his brain was lagging behind him. “Uh—hold up. Are you two, like—together?”
The bathroom was silent except for Hollander’s shaky breathing and the distant sound of a toilet in the women’s room flushing.
“I mean—you don’t, uh, have to tell me, I guess. I’m sorry,” he scrambled to say. “You’ve already been outed in one way today, you don’t need to—”
“Yes,” Hollander said, his voice gravelly. He cleared his throat and tried again. “Yes,” he said, “Ilya is the boyfriend.”
Scott looked at Rozanov then, and was somewhat shocked to see an incredibly tender look on his face as he looked at Shane. He looked like he was torn between his normal bravado and melting into the floor.
“Wow,” Scott said.
That got Rozanov’s attention. “Wow, Hunter? That is all you have to say?”
Scott rolled his eyes and didn’t deign that with a response. “I texted Kip. He’s on his way to guard the bathroom door.”
Rozanov nodded. “Good idea.” He turned back to Hollander. “Shane, what are you thinking? Do you want to stay in this smelly bathroom or do you want to go up to our room?”
Our room. Despite the literal confirmation of what he was seeing, Scott’s mind still reeled at the fact that Rozanov and Hollander were together. Like, in a gay way. What the fuck.
“It’s not that smelly,” Hollander mumbled.
“Yes, okay,” Rozanov said with a large amount of fondness, “but we are in our nice suit pants on the floor of a public restroom and it is not even for sexy reasons.” Hollander huffed out a laugh. “Do you want to go up to the hotel room? Get changed, take a shower, lie down?” His voice lowered, then, but not quite low enough for Scott to miss him saying, “Then maybe I can do some very dirty things to you.”
Jesus Christ. This was breaking his brain. He thought Rozanov was, like, the straightest of the straight. How was this possible? He was practically photographed with a new model on his arm every week.
Although, come to think of it, Rozanov’s escapades hadn’t made the tabloids in a while. Scott couldn’t remember the last time he saw a headline about Ilya Rozanov and some hot, skinny girl leaving a club together. And, thinking back to Scott Hunter Night in June, he had looked pretty comfortable dancing with men.
Huh.
Shaking his head slightly, Scott refocused on Hollander. Shane had tensed up, and choked out, “Everyone will see me.”
Scott felt a rush of empathy for Hollander. He knew that fear. The fear of being seen in a drastically and completely different way because of who he loved. “The back stairs aren’t far,” he offered, and checked his phone. “And Kip is outside the door. He can help block people’s view and distract them.”
Rozanov nodded at Scott, then looked back at Hollander. “How about that, Shane? We take back stairs to our room, Hunter and his boytoy can come too.” He paused. “Maybe it will turn into very sexy foursome,” he said, smirking slightly.
“Fuck off,” Shane said immediately.
“Um,” Scott said. He wasn’t a fan of Rozanov calling Kip his boytoy, but now didn’t feel like the time.
“Relax, Hunter, was just joking,” Rozanov said, rolling his eyes. “You have heard of this, yes? Joke? Did they have them in the Jurassic era?”
“Oh my god,” Scott mumbled. “Is he always like this?” he asked Shane.
“Unfortunately,” Hollander responded. He took a deep breath and extricated himself from Rozanov’s arms, grabbing his hand as he stood slowly. “Okay, I’m ready. Let’s get out of here.”
Scott nodded and said, “Let me poke my head out and make sure the coast is clear.” He turned back and left the bathroom, opening the door slowly in case Kip was right outside.
“Hey,” he heard Kip say, and he realized in that moment how fucking grateful he was for him. That he was here, in the specific hockey hell that was All Stars, with him. “Is he okay? Are you okay?”
Scott stepped fully out of the bathroom and let the door shut behind him. He reached for Kip where he was standing a few feet away, folding him into his arms and breathing deep.
“Fuck,” he said. “I’m okay. Hollander is…okay. Rozanov is in there with him.”
“Rozanov?” Kip said, rubbing his hand up and down Scott’s back. “Really?”
“Yeah, Scott said. “They’re like…” he trailed off, looking furtively around for any eavesdroppers. “...together,” he finished quietly.
“Seriously?!” Kip exclaimed.
“Shh!” Scott hissed, pulling away from their embrace. “It’s a secret. Obviously,” he said.
“Well, duh,” Kip said. “Huh. Hollander and Rozanov. Never would’ve thought.”
“Me neither." He took a deep breath. “Now, come on. We’ve been enlisted to help get them up the back stairs to their room.”
“On it,” Kip said dutifully. God, Scott loved him. “What do you need me to do?”
“Make sure the coast is clear and keep people from taking photos and videos and whatnot. Staring, that sort of thing. We’re taking the stairs to hopefully avoid as many people as possible.”
“Got it. Let’s do it.”
The four of them made their way quickly from the bathroom outside conference room B to the stairwell at the other side of the hall. It was a pretty straight shot, but it did require crossing a hallway with sight-lines to the main lobby.
As they left the bathroom, Scott saw Rozanov drop Hollander’s hand and his heart hurt for them. He remembered what it was like to hide his affection. It sucked. Rozanov moved his arm to a safer, more platonic location on Hollander’s shoulder, and Scott made the impulsive decision to do the same. The two of them flanked Shane, each with a hand on him, with Kip out in front of them keeping an eye out.
Kip darted ahead to swipe his key-card to get them into the stairwell, and jerked his head at them indicating the coast was clear. They moved efficiently across the hallway, ignoring the murmurs from the lobby and not looking away from the door to the stairs.
As soon as they got inside, Scott dropped his arm from Hollander’s shoulder, and Rozanov did the same, reaching for Shane’s hand instead. Kip started up the stairs, followed by Rozanov leading Hollander by the hand, and Scott took up the rear.
“What floor are we going to?” Kip asked.
“Seventeen,” Rozanov answered.
Kip groaned. “Fuck me,” he said. “This is what I get for hanging out with hockey players,” he grumbled.
They made it—somehow—to the seventeenth floor, and Rozanov led them to room 1712. He ushered Hollander in, and then held the door for Scott and Kip, arching one eyebrow at them when they hesitated.
“We do not bite,” he said, then inclined his head. “Well, I mean…” he trailed off smirking.
“Cut it out, Ilya,” Hollander said from where he was seated at the end of the far bed, pulling his tie out of his collar. “Enough with the sex jokes.”
“Sorry, moya lyubov,” Rozanov said, sounding only slightly sorry. But he turned towards Hollander—towards his boyfriend—and started helping him out of his button-down. Scott and Kip followed him inside.
“Uh,” said Scott. “Should we…?” He didn’t want to stick around if this did turn sexual.
“Stay,” Rozanov said. “Hollander is going to take a shower and get into comfy clothes in bed and then we will strategize.”
“Uh, okay,” Scott said, lowering himself onto the other bed in the room. He wasn’t sure he would be very helpful for whatever strategizing Rozanov wanted to do, but he figured as the only—fuck, first—out MLH player he had some duty to help.
A phone buzzed from one of the bedside tables. Rozanov left his post between Shane’s legs and retrieved it.
“Moya lyubov, your mother is calling. Is okay if I answer?”
Hollander nodded, shedding his shirt the rest of the way and standing. “Yeah, you can talk to her. Tell her I’m in the shower—I’ll talk to her when I’m done.” He rummaged in a duffel bag for a pair of sweats and headed for the bathroom. Scott was glad he seemed to be a bit more capable of dressing and undressing himself, at the very least.
“Hello, Yuna,” Rozanov said, answering Hollander’s phone. “Yes, he is with me. We are in hotel room. He is taking a shower now. He says he will talk to you when he is out.”
There was a pause while Hollander’s mother said something. “Yes, is…not good,” Rozanov said, and Scott snorted. That was an understatement. Rozanov glared at him. “Shut up, Hunter. English is not my first language.” After another, shorter pause, in which Scott could hear the shower start, he said “Ah, yes…Hunter is here, too. And his boyfriend. Kip. Yes, they have been very helpful so far.”
Rozanov sighed and brought the phone down from his ear, tapping something on the screen. He held it out in front of him and looked at Scott and Kip with a mischievous look on his face.
“Yuna has asked me to put on speakerphone so she can thank gay hockey elder.”
“That is not what I said, Ilya, god,” came a voice from the phone. “Scott, hi, it’s Yuna Hollander,” she continued. “Thank you for being there with Shane and Ilya.”
“Of course,” Scott said. “I can’t imagine…” He cleared his throat. “This was always my worst nightmare,” he continued. “I’m, well, I’m livid on his behalf. I can’t believe that reporter.”
“God, I know, what a piece of shit,” Hollander’s mother said. Scott felt his eyebrows raise. He never got to know his mother as an adult, but he wasn’t sure if she would have sworn so easily in front of him. “And the motherfucker who leaked Rose’s texts, I mean come on!” She scoffed. “What an invasion of privacy! I mean, who does that kind of thing?”
It was a rhetorical question, but Kip chimed in, “Self-centered people with nothing better to do. Hi, I’m Kip, by the way,” he said.
“Hi Kip,” Yuna said warmly. “It’s lovely to meet you. What you and Scott did at last year’s cup finals was incredibly brave,” she said. “It meant a lot to Shane and Ilya.”
Rozanov made a strangled noise of protest. “Do not tell him that, Yuna!” he exclaimed. He glanced at Scott, and Scott was surprised to see he looked a little nervous. Underneath all his chirps, did Rozanov actually…look up to Scott? He felt a little bewildered at the realization.
Kip reached over and took Scott’s hand, squeezing it gently. “Yes, I’m incredibly proud of Scott,” Kip agreed. “And I’m glad it could help other closeted players in the league. I’m really glad to know there are other queer hockey players. I just wish it hadn’t happened this way,” he said.
Yuna hummed on the phone. “Yes, this sucks,” she said. “Ilya, have you and Shane talked at all about what to do next? I know you’re not mentioned in the leaked texts, and with your contract and visa situation I think it’s wise to keep your name out of this.”
Fuck, Scott thought. His visa. He had forgotten about the Russia of it all. But what did Yuna mean about Rozanov’s contract?
“Yes,” Rozanov said. “I mean, no, we have not talked much, but I do not think either of us want to come out as a couple right now.” He cleared his throat, and Scott heard the shower turn off in the bathroom. “Shane is…he is nervous, I think, about what his team will do. They are not so good like Admirals.” He looked at Scott again, almost for confirmation.
“The Admirals have been supportive of me and Kip,” Scott affirmed. “The Metros…” He sighed.
“Some of them say nasty shit to Scott on the ice,” Kip jumped in. “Not the worst team in the league, but not great.”
Rozanov nodded. The bathroom door opened then, and Shane stepped out in a billow of steam, shirtless with black sweats riding low on his hips. Scott did his best to look away—he still saw Hollander as a kid, for Christ’s sake, despite him being in his late twenties—but he was a gay man with eyes, after all.
“Stop ogling my boyfriend, Hunter,” Rozanov growled.
“I’m not,” Scott said immediately, as Kip snorted next to him.
“Fuck off, Rozanov,” Hollander snapped, blushing. Scott continued to be confused by their dynamic. “Is mom still on the phone?”
“Hi honey,” Yuna said. Scott was grateful she didn’t comment on the ogling. He wasn’t ogling Shane. He wasn’t! He had looked away very quickly, thank you very much.
“How are you doing?” Hollander’s mom continued. “I saw the livestream, honey, that was just awful of that reporter. I’ve already called his network to complain.”
Hollander sighed. “Thanks, Mom,” he said. He moved around Rozanov with noted ease, lifting the covers of the hotel bed and slipping in. He grabbed one of the extra pillows and hugged it close. Rozanov settled in at the edge of the bed, sitting with his legs on the floor and one hand on Hollander’s hip, the other still holding his phone.
“Now, I hate to jump right into logistics, honey, but have you seen the leak? I—it’s not bad, honey, but it’s pretty damning. I don’t know what you want to do, but I think it might be hard to deny this, especially because you ran out of the press conference—”
“Mom,” Hollander interrupted. “I know. I mean, no, I haven’t seen the leak but—” He looked at Rozanov. “As scary as it is, I don’t think I want to deny it. I’m tired of hiding this part of myself. I was going to come out to my team soon, anyway. At least if I can’t be completely truthful about Ilya, I can be honest about my identity.” He sighed. “And at least this will get Hayden and JJ to stop setting me up with girls,” he said.
It was Scott’s turn to snort. “Sorry,” he said. “Carter used to do the same thing to me. Was really annoying. Sweet, but annoying.” He smiled at Shane.
“I talked with Farah, earlier, Shane, and she said she was writing up some options for statements. Do you want her to send them over?”
Hollander covered his face with his hands. “Yeah,” he groaned. “Have her send them. Thank you,” he said.
Rozanov rubbed his hand on Hollander’s hip. “You are being very brave, moya lyubov,” he said.
“I don’t feel very brave,” Hollander said, dropping his hands. “I feel like I don’t have a choice.”
“Yes,” Rozanov said. “Is scary, and you are doing it anyway. That is brave, remember?”
The two of them shared a look that was so tender that Scott had to look away. He turned to Kip and saw him looking back at him, his eyes shining. He squeezed his hand again.
“It’s very brave, Shane,” Yuna said. “I’m so proud of you. Both of you. You too, Scott, and Kip.”
“Uh,” said Scott, “thank you?” He wasn’t sure what to do with Hollander’s mother’s pride about him just, like, existing.
“Okay, boys, I’m going to go and call Farah back. She’ll email you some drafts for your Twitter, Shane. I love you, okay? Please call me if you need anything. Same goes for your dad, too, okay, honey?”
“Okay, Mom,” Shane croaked. “I love you too.”
“Thank you, Yuna,” Rozanov added. “Goodbye,” he said, his thumb moving to end the call.
Shane let out a big breath. “Fuck,” he said. “This is really happening.” He covered his face with his hands again, then whined and reached up to grab Rozanov and pull him down into a crushing hug. Rozanov went willingly, dropping the phone on the bedside table and kicking off his shoes to lift his feet onto the bed as he spread his body on top of Hollander’s, resting his head on his chest. Hollander reached his arms around him and buried his nose in Rozanov’s curls.
The phone buzzed again. Hollander glanced down at it. “It’s Rose,” he said. “She’s FaceTiming me.”
Rozanov lifted his head and looked at Shane. “Should I go?” he asked. Scott was perplexed at first, before he remembered what Rozanov had said in the bathroom: Rose didn’t know about him. Fuck.
Shane shook his head frantically. “No, please,” he said, “don’t go. I need you.” He looked at Rozanov with the biggest eyes, his lashes clumping together with tears. Damn, Scott thought. He had assumed Rozanov called the shots in this relationship, based on what he had observed thus far, but he was quickly reevaluating.
Rozanov nodded and grabbed the phone, handing it to Hollander, who swiped to accept the call.
“Hey, Rose,” he said.
“Shane, oh my god, I am so sorry,” she said. “I have no idea how—um, hold up, Shane Hollander, is that your boyfriend? Is he at All Stars with you?! What the fuck! You won’t tell me who he is but you’ll bring him to the All Star Game that is crawling with reporters?”
Shane was grinning. “Yes,” he said. “This is my boyfriend. And I didn’t bring him with me, because he’s here, too. Playing, I mean.”
There was a pause while Rose Landry apparently short-circuited. “I’m sorry, what?!” she cried. “You’re dating another player? Who!”
At this, Rozanov, who had kept his face mostly hidden in Shane’s chest, raised his head and looked at the phone. Hollander tilted it down slightly to get him in frame. “Hello, Rose Landry,” he said, his accent thicker than it had been in their earlier conversations.
“Oh my god. Oh my god!” Rose squealed. “Is that Ilya Rozanov? Shane! What the fuck! Your boyfriend is Ilya fucking Rozanov? I can’t believe you didn’t tell me!”
Kip leaned into Scott’s side where they were perched on the other bed. “This is fun,” he said. “Neither of us had the chance to have a proper freakout about this. I’m glad someone can.” He smiled toothily at Scott. God, he was beautiful.
“Sorry, Rose,” Hollander said, grinning. Scott didn’t think he had ever seen him smile that big before. Maybe when he won Rookie of the Year? “It’s not just you. We didn’t tell anyone. I mean, my parents know, but you know they kind of, uh, walked in on us.”
Now that was a story Scott wanted to hear. Or maybe he didn’t.
Hollander glanced at him. “And now, uh, I guess Scott Hunter and his boyfriend know about us? But that’s it. In terms of people who know the identity of my boyfriend, not just that I have one, I guess,” he finished wryly.
“Which, by the way, again, I am so sorry about this, Shane, I—wait, is Scott Hunter there right now?”
Shane looked back at him and Kip on the other bed. “Yeah, he and Kip have been helping me, uh. Freak out less,” he said.
“Hi Rose!” Kip said, ever the bold conversationalist. “It’s nice to meet you, I’m a big fan! This is Kip, by the way.”
Shane turned the phone so the two of them could see Rose Landry on the small screen. She beamed at them. “Oh my gosh, it’s so nice to meet you both. Hi! Thank you for being there with Shane, and I’m so, so sorry this happened—”
Shane turned the phone back to himself. “Rose, seriously, stop,” he said. “It’s not your fault. Besides, your privacy was violated too. I just happen to be one big story, but I’m sure there was all sorts of stuff in your texts that you didn’t want to get out.”
“Ugh, don’t remind me, I have to call my agent back about some stupid shit I texted Miles,” she said. “God, this is a nightmare, in more ways than one. I know you told me to stop, but seriously I am so, so sorry Shane, but I’m glad you’re surrounded by people who love and support you. Please let me know if you need anything, okay?”
“I will,” Hollander responded, smiling, his fingers moving gently through Rozanov’s hair. “You too, okay?”
“Will do, love you, Shane!” she said cheerfully. “Nice to finally meet you, boyfriend of Shane. Ilya Rozanov, oh my god! I’m never going to get over this. And nice to meet you, too, Scott and Kip! Take care everyone!”
“Love you too, bye, Rose,” Shane said, and replaced the phone on the bedside table with a small smile.
Scott watched as Rozanov lifted his head to place his chin on Hollander’s chest. “So you love Rose Landry, huh?” he said, rather grumpily.
“Oh my god, Ilya, stop,” Hollander responded. “You know I’m gay and that Rose and I are just friends. Literally cut it out.” He sounded exasperated but fond.
Rozanov tilted his head down and kissed Shane’s chest. “Oh? You are gay? I did not know this. Maybe you will have to show me,” he said, trailing more kisses along Shane’s bare chest.
“Aaand, I think that’s our cue to leave,” Scott said, standing up and pulling Kip with him. This was getting to be a bit too much. “Hollander, you have my number, so please—text if you need anything. I’m happy to look over whatever your agent is sending you if that would be helpful.”
“Thanks, Scott,” Shane responded. He was blushing, and gripping Rozanov by the curls in a way that Scott couldn’t tell if it meant he was into Rozanov’s rather public innuendos, or trying to get him to stop. “And, uh, thanks, Kip.” He smiled at the two of them.
“No problem,” Kip said. “We’ll leave you two to…do whatever.”
They hastily left the room, but not before they heard Hollander say in a breathy voice, “Fuck, Ilya…”
The door shut noisily behind them. They walked in silence to the elevator, hand in hand, where Kip reached out and called it to take them down to their room on the fourth floor.
“Do whatever, huh?” Scott said.
“Shut up,” Kip responded. “You were just as awkward as I was in there.”
“Uh huh,” Scott said, even though he knew it was true.
The elevator dinged, and they entered together, both silently pondering the gravity of a Hollander-Rozanov relationship. As they descended the floors, Scott glanced at Kip, who was smiling softly at him.
“I love you,” he said.
“I love you, too,” Scott replied, his heart full as he pulled his boyfriend closer into an embrace.
Shane Hollander @shanehollander_hockeyplayer ☑️
Earlier today, my privacy was violated in a way I hoped it never would be. While I wasn’t quite ready to share this, yes, I am gay, and yes, I do have a boyfriend. I’d like to keep my private life private, so I’m not ready to share details about who he is. (1/2)
Shane Hollander @shanehollander_hockeyplayer ☑️
I know this will be a shock to many of my teammates and fans, but being gay has never impacted my time on the ice in any way. Frankly, it sucks that I even have to say that. But I’m looking forward to tomorrow’s #AllStarGame, and getting back into the rest of the season. #GoMetros (2/2)
[image attached: the legs of two men reclined on a hotel bed, their hands entwined on Shane’s lap, with the television on in the background. The lighting is warm, and there is a pizza box on the corner of the bed beyond their socked feet.]