Work Text:
Shane Hollander wouldn’t admit it to most people- he was particular about his things- in a way that no hockey player would bat an eye at, but he knew was different. Most were superstitious and had their favorite brands in a variety of hockey gear. He had his favorites when it came to everyday things. The one brand of t-shirts that were just soft enough. A weighted hoodie that he now had in three colors. He had ten of his favorite pen and bought one specific notebook for hockey since he was twelve. Which is why Shane Hollander was losing his fucking mind about the bracelet he couldn’t find.
It wasn’t fancy. Leather strings, dark brown beads woven onto it. Just the right weight on his wrist and something that kept his hands busy when things were too much. Today had definitely been too fucking much.
Rozanov had called him by his first name- for the first time ever- as they came apart stroking each other. It wasn’t just that he’d said his name. It was a tone he’d never heard from Rozanov before, a sound that sent a terrifying trill down his spine. Rozanov might actually care about him- might actually have a thought that they could be more than fuck buddies. He didn’t know what to do with that. And now as he completely tore his hotel room apart, he’d come to a grim conclusion- the bracelet he was looking for had to be at Rozanov’s house. Fuck.
He tapped out a text- sent a picture to accompany it and asked if Rozanov would see if it was there. Ilya–Rozanov–had played with it more times than he could remember. Was there a chance he’d taken it off of him? He doubted it. They never really took of things past their clothes- except…except he’d slept next to him and he see where he left it. He tapped out another message telling Rozanov where to check and waited.
Two hours later the silence was killing him. He knew that he had walked out- but he also knew that Rozanov knew how he was about things. How if the hotel sheets were shitty he would squirm because it felt wrong and Rozanov would switch to where he could ride him instead. The way that he liked his beer, when he chose to have one. How he’d given him a t-shirt with no tag because he’d accidentally put on Rozanov’s shirt one time and about clawed himself raw trying to get the fucking tag off himself. Worry descended into his gut. Had something happened to Rozanov once he left?
He glanced over at Hayden who had watched the entire debacle. Him arriving back in their hotel room in a shitty mood, throwing on something to go run in and disappearing again. Then he tore apart their room after his shower because he couldn’t find his bracelet. The messages he’d sent off and the silence in return. He let out a sigh and then began pulling back on something to leave the hotel in. He needed his fucking bracelet and if Rozanov was going to ignore him- he’d just go get the damn thing.
“I thought things went wrong with Lily.”
“I…yeah…they did, Hayd. But, but if I don’t…I need my fucking bracelet back and if I don’t go get it now…I don’t know when I’ll ever be able to get it again.”
“You can just buy a new one, Shane. It’s not like it’s expensive- I bet we could find one on Amazon and have it waiting for you when we get back to Montreal.”
“No. I need it tonight. I’ll be back in an hour, hour and a half tops.”
“If she slaps the shit out of you- I’m going to take a guess that your anxious attachment ass deserved it.”
He glared at Hayden but he couldn’t actually speak. He wasn’t wrong. He wasn’t wrong at all. So he walked out of their hotel room- purposefully breaking curfew for the first time in his career to get his damn bracelet back.
*************
Snow came down in thick clumps as he jogged up to Rozanov’s front door. He’d been so focused on what he needed that he didn’t take a few minutes to see if this was a bad idea. Hell- he knew this was a bad idea. He didn’t know what he’d say or what he’d do. He shuffled his feet as he stood at the door and then rang the doorbell. This wasn’t going to get any better by waiting.
He stood there and willed himself to figure out what to say. He’d texted Rozanov- he had to know that Shane would show up after being ignored- especially about something that was one of his…comfort items. They’d torn apart Rozanov’s hotel room once because that bracelet had disappeared and found it shoved between the bed and the headboard. It didn’t make sense that Rozanov would just ignore him.
The door opened enough for him to see a sliver of Rozanov’s face. No invitation to come in. That was fair. But fuck- this wasn’t only on him. What the fuck had happened this afternoon? They’d had sex like normal and then Ilya–Rozanov–had asked him to stay. He hadn’t had that good of a nap in years. Then…then Rozanov had cooked for him, had made him food, had…had moved the goal line of their fuckandleaveship. Had not talked with him about it or told him that he cared or made any indication before he showed up that this was going to be different. Rozanov knew how much he fucking hated change.
“I texted. My bracelet–it…it has to be here.”
An unreadable look and then Rozanov stepped back- motioned him in. Shane watched as he shoved his hands in his pockets and plastered himself against the far wall. He moved past him and then froze- Rozanov’s house which had been pristine a few hours ago was now a wreck. His comforter ripped to shreds. A pile of clothes that looked into what he’d let him borrow earlier today. A shattered cell phone sitting on the counter. Shit.
“Il–”
“Don’t. Find bracelet- get the fuck out.”
“No.”
“What?”
“No. You don’t get to change the fucking rules on me and get mad when I freak the fuck out. You know me. You fucking know me, Ilya. And you know I need clarity and fucking words and explanations and directness and you…you did none of that today. So I freaked out. But no- I’m not just going to get the fuck out when I find my bracelet. We’re fucking talking- like I’ve asked us to do for the last year.”
He caught the shock on Ilya’s face and then kept moving into his house. He stepped around the various disaster areas- the things that were evidence of Ilya trying to remove any evidence of him from this place. Didn’t care about him. Didn’t care, has ass. He opened the door to Ilya’s bedroom and froze. This time he didn’t know where to even start- he could smell the cleaning supplies, smell how much Ilya had scrubbed and removed and done to be able to stand right now. It was never supposed to be like this. They were never supposed to care about each other.
“I…I didn’t see text.”
“I know. It’s my…you know which bracelet it is. Did…did you see it when you…did this?”
“No. Maybe under bed?”
They moved into the room together and started to systematically search for his bracelet. A silent truce. Or maybe it was more than that. Maybe him snapping at Ilya got him to realize that he would have listened- hell he would still listen- but they had to get fucking honest with each other. Tonight. As soon as he had his bracelet back on his wrist. They moved through each room with the same systematic care. Ilya even brought back out a bag of trash so that he could look through it. No where. His bracelet wasn’t fucking here and he felt his heart clench. Had he lost it in the Uber back to the hotel? Had he even been wearing it when he got here today? Could he have lost it at the airport between towns?
He dropped onto the couch- his legs finally gave out on him. He’d lost it. He’d lost it and he didn’t know what to do.
A weight settled next to him and he looked over in time to see a can of ginger ale being offered. He took it and squeezed his eyes shut. It shouldn’t be a big deal, but it was one of the last things his Papa had ever given him. He felt the loss hit him all over again.
“Sh…Shane. You…you’re right. I change…I…fuck…I wanted. I wanted real. I wanted real with you and I…I thought if I showed–you…not ready to talk that. Why is that bracelet so important?”
He shrugged. He took a sip of the ginger ale and tried to settle his stomach. He had broken curfew to come find something that he’d probably lost before he ever got to Ilya’s. An arm hesitantly slipped around him and he settled against him, squeezing his eyes shut. Ilya had been honest. Ilya had tried to be honest with him. Ilya had been brave- he could be brave too.
“It was the last thing my Papa, my Dad’s dad gave me. He…he was the first person I ever practiced with for hockey outside of coaches in rinks. He showed me the drills I still use as my warm up for puck handling and…and…I fucking lost…”
He didn’t mean to cry- but the loss hit him all over again. His Papa had passed away a couple years ago- he still looked for him at away games in Ottawa. Still searched the stands for that familiar face. He couldn’t believe he’d lost the bracelet and that it was hitting him this hard.
Ilya wrapped him up tight as the sobs shook his body, muttering something in Russian that he didn’t catch. He had tried to start learning Russian in the last few months. Not much- but he felt confident in a few phrases. He’d wanted to surprise Ilya with it.
“You had it when left here, Shane. I…I saw…when we–can you reach out to Uber driver? See if they found?”
It was a desperate hope, but it gave him something to do. He opened the app, his fingers shook as he tried to type out a message. He let Ilya take his phone as he just leaned against him and rocked himself to try to settle down. He would be fine. He had lost things like this before- this was part of life- he would be fine.
“You…you want us to be, to try–real?”
“I…yes. I did not know how to say. So I tried to show. I ask about girls because…I…just see if someone else. Bad idea. Was accident call you Shane. Can go back to Hollander if…”
“I–let me process.”
His phone dinged- he ignored it. Ilya wanted to see if they could have a relationship. Ilya wanted to try with him. Warmth spread through him and so did a sense of calm, a sense of easing- like something clicked into place. Fuck. Now that Ilya had said it, he was finally able to let himself admit how much he fucking wanted this too. And how much it had always scared him to even let himself dream that this could be a possibility.
“I…I…okay. Yeah, Ilya. I want to try too.”
“You only call me Ilya. Shane- I’m sorry. We can look more in the morning, retrace steps- maybe it came off in yard.”
He nodded and then finally looked down at his phone. A picture from Hayden. A note that said he wasn’t sorry for taking it if it made Shane go fix shit with Lily. Hayden knew he loved her too much to let whatever had happened today end them. He’d yell at Hayden about that in the morning- he’d go to be with his boyfriend tonight.