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"Shane?"
"Buddy.."
"Shane..open your eyes.."
Voices were floating around the air, though Shane couldn't see who they belonged to. He couldn't see anything, actually. A dark fog invaded his mind, and his vision blurred as he felt himself go crashing down hard onto the wet concrete outside of the team bus.
"What the fuck.."
"Shut up. Get a medic.."
"Shane? Come on, man.."
He could feel hands grabbing his arms, attempting to hold him up, which was a lost cause as Shane's legs had lost all ability to stabilize. "No.." He managed to mutter, shaking his head slightly from left to right. "No..this isn't…" Shane's breath was weak and sputtering. He couldn't breathe. Oh god, what was happening?
He couldn't tell how much time had passed. Seconds felt like hours. Finally, he could make out the face in front of him, whose hands were currently cupping his face.
Hayden. Hayden is here.
"What's happening?" Shane said weakly. Tears had begun to fall down his face. His chest was restricting at a rapid pace, as if someone had wrapped him in barbed wire and was yanking it tighter and tighter, the sharp blades cutting into him deeper and deeper, paralyzing him in this god-awful moment.
"You're okay, Shane. It's okay." Hayden's voice broke as he tried to convince Shane that what he was saying was true. "Fuck, man. I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry, Shane. It's gonna be okay."
That was the last thing Shane could recall. He didn't remember the ghastly sob that escaped him before completely passing out onto the ground, or his scared and confused teammates carrying him into the arena and laying him down on the small, uncomfortable couch in the team medics' office. He didn't remember the conversations happening around him.
"Shit, man, this is fucking crazy."
"How many people were on the plane?"
"Shane knew them, right? The guys..."
"And Rozanov…"
"Ilya Rozanov didn't make it out of the plane."
Shane was awake. His eyes looked around him in a panic. Where was he? What happened? Where's Ilya? His team?
Something was wrong.
As Shane was going through questions in his mind, Hayden entered the room. His eyes were puffy and red, his skin streaked with tears. "Shane.." He shut the door behind him. They were alone.
"Hayden.." Shane couldn't get himself to say anything more. His heart knew. It knew something his brain didn't, and he felt petrified at the prospect of finding out.
Hayden looked Shane up and down, realizing that he was gonna have to break the news, again, to his best friend in the world. He pulled the medic's chair closer to the coach, where Shane was still lying. Sitting with his hands on his knees, tears breaking through no matter how hard he was trying to fight them. "Do you remember? Uhm...anything?"
"No," Shane responded softly. "Hayden..please."
Hayden swallowed harshly, taking a long and deep breath before finally letting his usually bright eyes meet Shane's. "There was... uhm... There was a plane crash."
No.
"The Centaurs. It was... it was their plane, man."
Stop.
Hayden looked at Shane with sad, pleading eyes, as if they were begging Shane to remember so that he didn't have to destroy him for a second time in one day. "Shane.."
"Where's my phone?" Shane asked, throwing Hayden off. "What?"
"My phone, where is it?" Shane said as he started to lift himself from the couch. "Ilya will be calling. I need to talk to him. Check in." Now standing, Shane began searching for his phone around the small office. Suddenly, it was the most important thing he had ever faced. He tossed pillows and moved the magazines scattered over the small table in the middle of the room. "FUCK!" He yelled as his movements grew more frantic. "Where the hell is it?"
Hayden was crying again, watching Shane so swiftly move around the truth that was lingering in the air. He remembered when Shane first told him about his relationship with Rozanov. How angry he was at his captain, at his best friend, for keeping something so big from him for so long. It's no secret that Rozanov was never his favourite person, but he was a damn good player. So was Shane. And reluctantly, Hayden could see similarities between them, how young they both were when they started playing professionally, and the pressure put on them. As weird as Hayden thought it was, he could see the changes in Shane that he attributed to Rozanov. He was happier, less strict with himself. The unachievable level of perfection Shane typically held himself to slowly dissipated. He saw how kind and genuine Ilya was with his children and with Jackie, and how they, in turn, fell in love with his playfulness and his genuine nature. Most importantly, Ilya loved Shane, and Shane loved Ilya. Any anger or discomfort quickly vanished after he had realized that.
Hayden shook his head slightly to bring him back into the moment. Shane was now crying as well, his face flushed. God, he wanted this to be a dream. They both did.
Hayden stood up and grabbed his friend with both hands, holding his shoulders to steady him. "Shane. Please just listen. Ilya... he... he was helping his team off the plane. There was a fire and..."
"And what?" Shane snapped. He stared at Hayden's wet eyes and felt a rush of anger fill him. "What?" He yelled.
"Ilya didn't make it. He didn't make it off the plane. I'm sorry, Shane."
The ringing in Shane's ears started again, but this time he wasn't lucky enough to lose consciousness and be taken away from this reality. No, he was here. This was happening.
Ilya was gone.
Ilya was helping his teammates.
Ilya didn't make it off the plane.
Ilya.
Ilya. Ilya. Ilya. Ilya. Ilya.
Shane couldn't help the sob that ran through him, anchoring his knees to the ground. He cried out in agony, in desperation. He didn't even notice how his arms had moved to hold his own shaking body as he wept. His brain was moving so fast he thought he would be sick.
No, he was going to be sick.
Shane hurriedly half ran, half crawled to the small bathroom in the corner of the office and trembled as his body tried to expel the breaking feeling in his bones. He thought he was going to die, between sobbing, retching, and not being able to breathe.
He thought he was going to die.
Ilya was dead.
Ilya didn't make it off the plane.
Ilya.
Oh god, Ilya.
Shane was finally able to pull himself back and lean against the wall, violently crying and clutching his hands into fists with his fingernails digging deeply into his skin. Hayden was beside him in seconds. He, too, sank to the ground and wrapped Shane in his arms. Usually, Shane would be embarrassed by this, the emotions he was showing and how his body completely fell into the comforting arms of his teammate. But Shane didn't care how pathetic he must have looked as he curled himself into the fetal position; he couldn't. All he cared about was Ilya. His sweet, silly, loving Ilya. The Ilya that was brave enough to kiss him first, all those nights ago, unlocking a part of Shane that he didn't even know was there. Nothing was ever the same again, not after Shane tasted what was possible. He knew it was the same for Ilya. They were stuck on one another. They always had been, no matter how long they had spent fighting it. It was always supposed to be them. Shane and Ilya. In love. Happy. Together.
Shane yelled out as Hayden held him tightly.
"I'm so sorry. I'm so, so sorry."
Screaming.
"I know, man. Fuck. Let it out. It's just you and me."
Sobbing.
"I got you, Shane. I got you."
You're not Ilya. Ilya has me. I need him.
⊹˚. ♡.𖥔 ݁ ˖one week later ⊹˚. ♡.𖥔 ݁ ˖
Shane was sitting on the main couch in his grand living room, letting the silence surround him. Blankets, tissues, and used dishes surrounded where he sat. He hadn't been able to move very much in the past few days. He felt as if he was in a trance, and everything that was happening wasn't really happening to him, but to another version of him somewhere far away. None of this felt real. Nothing. Shane wasn't ready for that yet.
Hayden had stayed with Shane for the first few days. Jackie stopped by with prepared meals and other small comforts, like a card from the kids and some flowers. Hayden had placed them on the kitchen counter, but Shane hadn't paid them much attention. He mainly just stared blankly, as if he was lost in his own mind and couldn't find a way out.
After 5 days, Hayden finally left. "Are you sure?" He asked, looking Shane up and down as they stood in the doorway. "Because I can totally stay. For as long as you want. Or Jackie can come by. You shouldn't be alone, not yet."
"Fuck you, Hayden," Shane thought, "Don't fucking tell me I shouldn't be alone. I wouldn't be alone. Not if Ilya was here."
He quickly let out the breath he was holding in. Shane wasn't mad at Hayden, not at all. He appreciated what he and his family were doing, as much as he could, but Shane needed him to leave. He needed to be alone.
"Thank you, Hayden. Really. Give my thanks to Jackie, too."
Once Hayden had left, Shane was alone. Completely alone. He and Ilya had spent plenty of time apart, but he never truly felt alone, not like this. Shane shuffled himself back to the spot on the couch that had now creased to his body. He looked up and saw his reflection on the black TV screen. He didn't look good, not that he cared. His hair was unruly, and the dark bags under his eyes were deep and prominent. "Fuck.." He muttered to himself, rubbing his hands over his face. He hated himself at this moment. For the last week, really. He was so sad that it didn't feel appropriate even to call it sad. He was angry, weak, tired, and frustrated, to say the least. He was mad at himself, and he was mad at Ilya, and he loved Ilya so intensely it felt like it was strangling him. Then the anger would turn to despair, and Shane would find himself crying out to the sky again, begging for his boyfriend to make everything better. Ilya always made him feel better. Always.
Basically, Shane didn't know how to feel. Part of him just wanted to drown himself in his sorrows and to give up and let his grief win. What did he have left to fight for, anyway?
Shane hadn't looked at his phone since the accident or turned on the television. He knew the hockey world would be in shambles, and he couldn't even bear the thought of watching his Ilya be memorialized, especially from an industry that never really cared about him in the first place. Shamefully, he couldn't help but think what it would mean if he himself were to grieve publicly. The rivalry between them hadn't been major news for a while, but it was still the main storyline that was attached to the two whenever they played—even with the Irina Foundation, the MLH and the public never permitted Shane and Ilya to be friends, much less anything else.
After more blank staring, Shane at last gathered the strength to reach for the remote and turn the TV on. The screen flashed to life, already on the sports channel, as that was the last thing he and Ilya had been watching here. Ilya.
The broadcaster was dressed in dark clothes and wasn't nearly as animated as they usually were. Before Shane's brain could register the words being spoken, he saw a picture of Ilya flash on the screen.
"God, he is so handsome, so beautiful. My beautiful, beautiful boy." Shane thought to himself.
"The hockey world has been shaken after the devastating loss of Ottawa Centaurs captain Ilya Rozanov." The broadcaster stated, turning to his co-host. "All games have been paused as the league takes in the loss of one of the strongest young players seen in decades."
Games? Oh, right. Shane hadn't even thought about hockey in the past few days.
"That's right.." The co-host chimed in, "The young hockey star who was known for his ruthless attitude and fierceness on the ice is being remembered as a hero for helping rescue his teammates off a burning plane. A true display of leadership from a captain."
"Indeed, a brave young man."
Shane muted the broadcast. He couldn't listen to this anymore. "Brave?" He thought, "Are you fucking serious?"
"Stupid. He was stupid." Shane said out loud. "He was fucking stupid, that's what he was." He didn't know who he was talking to. "Fuck being brave." He felt the tears welling in his eyes again. "Fucking FUCK being brave," He yelled out, "That stupid idiot wasn't supposed to be brave! He was supposed to come home! To me!" He didn't know when he had started crying, because lately it felt like he never really stopped. His heart ached terribly as he focused on the footage of Ilya on the ice, smiling and skating and scoring. "Fucking idiot.." He said softly. Slowly, Shane crawled off the couch onto the ground and towards the television screen until he was sitting directly in front of it. He could feel the static coming from the screen as he intently watched Ilya's face. "You were supposed to come home." He whispered, reaching his hand out to touch the screen, as if it would somehow open a portal that would allow Shane to touch the real Ilya, to feel his skin and beating heart. "Ilya.." He breathed shakily, tears so strong now he could barely see the screen.
Shane stayed transfixed like that until the screen suddenly changed to a highlight reel of Ilya's time in the MHL, featuring a shocking amount of footage of Shane and Ilya interacting. Shane sobbed as he watched himself and Ilya chase each other around the rink, of their press conferences over the years, and of the camps they held for the Irina Foundation. That's when Ilya looked happiest, at least to Shane. And he would know. He knew Ilya better than anyone, yet no one knew it.
Shane slumped down to the floor as he continued to shake with sobs so strongly he thought his whole house was rattling. The grief alone was enough to destroy him, but the fact that he was so alone with it was all too much. Sure, he had Hayden, but it wasn't enough. He wanted to scream until the blood vessels in his body burst that he’s in love with Ilya Rozanov and Ilya Rozanov is in love with him. Was. He was in love with him.
Shane must have knocked himself out by crying. When he woke up, he was still on the ground in front of the television, and the morning sun was sneaking through the windows. For a split second, Shane didn't remember why he was here. For a split second, Ilya was still with him.
Shane groaned and stretched as he sat up, his muscles aching from the hard ground and the realization of what reality he was in. He stood up and walked himself into the kitchen to get a glass of water. While doing so, he glanced at the food Jackie had made that Hayden left for him. He didn't want to eat, so he turned his back and returned to the sofa, sitting down and clicking the television back on.
"Oh fuck no.."
Immediately, Shane recognized a tearful Svetlana on his screen. He'd only semi-met her one time when Shane and Ilya were sizing each other up in the club all those years ago. He'd only heard about her since then. He knew that Ilya had known her for a very long time, longer than he had known Ilya. He knew Ilya referred to her as an "angel", which always boiled his blood with jealousy.
⊹˚. ♡.𖥔 ݁ ˖
Ilya had just walked into his house after enduring a far too long flight back from a tournament in which his team had done exceptionally well. Ilya felt as if he was on cloud 9, coming off a much-needed win and knowing his boyfriend was inside waiting for him. Nothing could be better.
"Sweetheart, I'm homee.." He sang out as he closed the front door behind him. He knew Shane was here, not by the text confirming it, but by the neatly folded clothes on his kitchen table, which indicated that Shane had already changed and was most likely wearing Ilya's clothes. "Hollander?" He called out again, waiting to hear his favourite sound of Shane's voice saying his own name back to him. Except he didn't. Ilya didn't hear anything.
"Hmm.." Ilya took off his shoes and dropped his backpack on the ground. He wasn't sure what Shane was playing at here, but he knew he needed to find out. To see him. Fuck, he needed to see him, especially if he was walking around wearing Ilya's far-too-big clothes.
"Shane?" He called out once more, turning the corner into his bedroom. Of course, this is where Shane would be. Ilya smiled as he took in Shane's figure sitting on the edge of his bed. He was right, Shane was wearing one of Ilya's old practice shirts that hung loosely around his frame. His boxer briefs sat snugly around his waist. Ilya was happy that they were the only barrier between him and his favourite toy.
"Hi.." Ilya greeted softly, leaning down and placing a quick kiss on Shane's pouting lips. He kept his face in front of Shane's for a few seconds, just admiring his warm eyes and the constellation of freckles that he would never not be obsessed with. Ilya leaned in for another kiss, hoping Shane would take the hint and deepen it, but he didn't. Ilya pulled back and stood up straight, looking at Shane and following the intent gaze of his eyes to the television screen, which showed Ilya and Svetlana at a charity event a few months ago. Ilya took a deep breath and straightened his posture, suddenly feeling his muscles tense. He knew precisely what was holding Shane so intently.
After the game tonight, an interviewer had asked Ilya about the secret to his success in these recent games. Without thinking, Ilya immediately credited the wins to Svetlana, who had been following all the teams and helping him gather the information he needed in order to beat out the competition. "Is this the very same Svetlana we've seen you spending a lot of time with lately?" One reporter said. "Such a beautiful woman, it makes sense she is your good luck charm." Said another. Ilya just laughed, "She is an angel." He told them, then ducked into the changeroom to join in on the celebration with his teammates.
It was true, he had been spending a lot of time with Svetlana recently. Besides the fact that she was probably his best friend, besides Shane, they had a lot in common. They had gone to museums, art galleries, and dinners; it was nice. Ilya enjoyed her company, and it was strictly platonic between them, or it was for him; he didn't really know if that was the case for Svet. He knew that they had hooked up on and off for years, similar to what he was doing with Shane, but the similarities between them ended there. Shane was different; he was everything. Nobody stood a chance once Ilya knew Shane was an option. Svetlana didn't know about Shane. As much as Ilya wanted her, it never felt right. So instead, she knew that Ilya had someone. Someone who wasn't her. And it was okay. They were friends first, after all.
Ilya brought himself back to the current moment, to Shane staring at the pictures on the screen of Ilya wrapping his arm around Svetlana and posing for photos. "Enough of that." Ilya muttered as he pressed the button to turn the screen off. Shane finally let his gaze drop, then allowed it to climb up Ilya's body until they were looking directly at one another. After all these years, Shane didn't even need to say anything. Ilya could read it in his eyes. "Hollander.." He said softly, the cloud he had walked in on disappeared as he saw the hurt in his lover's face.
"She's an angel. Your angel. That's what they said. Or what you said..."
Ilya was immediately on his knees in front of Shane, who was still sitting at the edge of the bed. Their bed. That distinction was very important.
Shane let himself get lost momentarily in Ilya's eyes in front of him. God, he knew he was being stupid. He knew Ilya loved him and would never do anything behind his back. It wasn't Ilya he was upset with, it was himself. Him and his stupid insecurities. Svetlana was perfect. She was beautiful and intelligent, she loved hockey and knew how to master the gamer. Put all of that aside; she was Russian. She connected with Ilya in a way Shane knew he couldn't. He hated that. And he hated that he thought about how intimate Ilya and her must have gotten, speaking in their mother tongue together. Ilya loved women, and Svetlana was the perfect woman; there was no doubt about that. But Ilya loved Shane too, no doubt. It was just..hard.
"Hmm.." Ilya hummed, resting his hands on Shane's bare knees and leaning in slightly so he could place a gentle kiss on Shane's exposed neck. He could feel the tension in Shane melt slightly at the contact of his lips, but it wasn't enough.
"Are you jealous?" Ilya asked slyly, pressing another, firmer kiss to Shane's neck. This time, Shane tilted his head back slightly, making access easier.
"No. Yes. Fuck. Maybe. I don’t know."
Ilya couldn't help but smile as he continued kissing up Shane's neck, reaching the spot right under his ear that he knew turned Shane to mush. He made sure to let his lips rest there a few seconds longer before pulling back to face Shane properly again.
Shane broke into a small smile when their eyes met, which told Ilya he was doing something right. "I'm here, yes? I am always here. With you." Ilya said the last part with a stronger tone. He knew Shane; he knew his worries and how his mind would wander to the worst-case scenario. Keeping their relationship hidden for so long has taken a toll on both of them. Plus, his past with Svetlana didn't help ease Shane's mind. He wasn't ashamed of any of the people he's been with, and he knew Shane didn't judge him for it either, but he knew that his friendship with Svetlana wasn't always easy for Shane, just like how Ilya hated seeing Shane and Rose photographed together on late nights.
Shane draped his arms around Ilya's neck and widened the gap between his legs so Ilya could slide in between. "Yes." He said, "With me." Ilya hummed in agreement and leaned in to finally connect their lips. Ilya knew how to do this, how to show Shane how much he fucking loved him. Or how much he loved fucking him.
Their kiss deepened within seconds, Shane pulling Ilya closer and parting his mouth open so Ilya could slide his skilled tongue in and explore. Both of them were moaning softly, which sent vibrations into the kiss that shot immediately down to Shane's dick. Ilya rubbed his hands up and down Shane's bare thighs, squeezing the skin right under where his briefs began. Ilya pulled out of the kiss, looking down to see Shane's growing bulge and feeling his own heart swell. Shane's eyes were already starting to glass over in the way they did when he wanted Ilya to take control of him.
Ilya playfully toyed with the edge of Shane's briefs, pushing his fingers underneath the fabric and feeling the hot skin underneath. Before Shane knew it, Ilya was standing up, pulling Shane up with him. He moved his strong hands underneath Shane's thighs and lifted him as he stood, Shane quickly wrapping his legs around his boyfriend's waist.
His boyfriend. Even now, the thought that this gorgeous man had chosen him, that all of this was his, was enough to send him into orbit.
Ilya kissed him again before pulling back to stare deeply into Shane's eyes. "I said she is angel. But you, Lyubimiy, you are heaven." Ilya kissed him. "You are my heaven. There is no comparison."
⊹˚. ♡.𖥔 ݁ ˖
Shane felt numb to the hot, heavy tears that poured from his eyes. He clutched his chest as he watched Svetlana speak into the microphone before her. She talked partly in English and partly in Russian, but by now Shane had learnt enough to mostly keep up. She spoke about how much she cared for Ilya, and how devastating it was that he was gone. She said she didn't know how to go on without him, what to do with herself now.
Shane had never hated Svetlana, ever. But at this moment, he thinks he will despise her for the rest of his life. How dare she? How dare she speak at this stupid press conference as if Ilya had been hers, as if it was them who had spent the last decade learning to love one another, not Shane/ Her tears meant nothing to him, not when he had spent the past week drowning on his own.
He should be the one crying to the camera and talking about how much he loved Ilya Rozanov. He despised the jealous fire that burned within. Because this wasn't about him; it was about Ilya.
What would Ilya want?
Shane watched the rest of the press conference. It was nice, as nice as a press conference talking about the death of the love of your life can be. Shane actually smiled a bit when listening to what people had to say about Ilya. Watching the Centaurs speak was brutal, agonizing. Shane suddenly felt so horrible about cursing Ilya's bravery that day on the plane. Of course, he was brave; he was Ilya fucking Rozanov. The man Shane loved with every fibre of his being. He was brave, and strong, courageous, fearless when it came to the people he loved. Shane was the luckiest; he got to experience it all. So he should have known that Ilya would never have abandoned his team if he had thought even one person was in danger. That's who he was. That's the Rozanov Shane fell in love with all those years ago. A flood of pride washed through Shane as he listened to the Centaurs talk so highly of their captain. How could he not be proud? That was his boyfriend.
His lover.
The press conference ended, and an old Boston game in which Rozanov had played exceptionally well was replayed. Shane left it on.
Throughout the day, he couldn't escape the thought that snuck into his mind earlier. What would Ilya want Shane to do? It felt like an anchor, pulling him down further and further. Shane knew that Ilya was proud of their love and would have told everyone if he could, which made Shane feel like he needed to go out and find the first reporter who would listen. But he didn't, THEY didn't, tell anyone, that is. Their love, their relationship, it was THEIRS, not anyone else's. And Shane felt protective of it. He and Ilya both had been so scared to let the public in and give them a chance to pick apart what they had. That thought alone made Shane want to keep their love tucked away safely in his heart forever. As he pondered the thought more, he only found himself crying again. Neither option seemed like the right choice. He needed Ilya. Ilya would know what to do.
Shane cried harder, wrapping his arms around himself in an attempt to comfort his rapid breathing.
God, why did it have to be Ilya? Why couldn't it have been Shane instead? Shane hated the idea of his already torturued lover experiencing this agony, but Ilya was better. Smarter. Stronger. He would know what to do, how to be okay. Shane didn't have that in him; he needed Ilya.
He needed Ilya.
Shane craved those strong, competent hands roaming his body, making him feel as if his nerves were being electrified. He felt like he was going crazy, especially in the early hours of the morning when he swore he could feel Ilya breathing behind him.
Shane didn't allow himself to travel any further with that thought. He dried his eyes with the sleeve of his shirt. As he sat watching Ilya skate around on the TV, he suddenly remembered his phone. He hadn't looked at it since that day, since before the accident, he couldn't bring himself to. Hayden had held onto it the first few days, but now that he wasn't here, Shane bundled all the nerves in his chest and walked over to the kitchen cupboard Hayden had placed it in, then returned to his spot in front of the television.
Shane took a deep breath and unlocked the phone screen. Instantly, a slew of texts came in,
Rose: "Shane, I'm so sorry to hear about Ilya Rozanov. I know you two were close. I'm thinking of you. Call me anytime <3."
JJ: "Hey Cap, I hope you're feeling better. The team's here for you."
Mom: "I'm worried about you, Shane. Hayden Pike called today. I'm so sorry to hear about Ilya. You two formed a special friendship. Call us, we love you."
Hayden: "Hey bud, just checking in. Let us know if you need anything."
Shane skimmed over a few more. People knew he and Ilya were friends, at least, so it wasn't totally strange that he'd gone MIA for the past week. Honestly, he didn't care what people thought. Fuck them. Ilya was gone. Nothing mattered anymore.
Shane saw in his emails a request to be in the press conference that he had just cried himself silly over. That wasn't what caused his heart to clench and stop, though. It was the email that told him he had a message request from Ilya's Instagram account. Shane couldn't breathe. They didn't talk on social media; hell, Shane barely even used it. Why would Ilya send him an Instagram message? Shane looked at the date.
It was from that day.
Shane almost dropped his phone as his hands were shaking so badly. He hastily downloaded the Instagram app and opened his messages.
Four unread messages.
Four messages from Ilya. Not "Lily" or any other nicknames they had adopted over the years, from Ilya Rozanov. His Ilya.
Shane felt like he was going to be sick. As badly as he wanted to open the messages, he was scared. Scared that once he did, that would be it. No more new messages from Ilya. No new notifications. It would be silent. For the rest of his life, he will live in silence. The fear and desperation that thought caused him had Shane running for the nearest bathroom. He was going to be sick again.
4 unread messages.
Shane left them that way.
⊹˚. ♡.𖥔 ݁ ˖ one week later ⊹˚. ♡.𖥔 ݁ ˖
The MHL had arranged Ilya's funeral. Shane wished he could have, but he knew he didn't have what it takes to put together something that Ilya deserved. Hell, he had beaten himself up viciously for not even knowing how to contact Ilya's stupid, awful brother. Hayden had said that Svetlana had helped put things together and that she had been given all of his immediate possessions. Shane had desperately wanted to go to Ilya's house, as he had the spare key, but the one day he was able to drive himself there, he saw too many cars in the driveway and Svetlana wiping tears as she directed people putting things into boxes. He wanted to storm in and demand that they put everything back, to stop touching Ilya's things, THEIR things. But he didn't. He drove back home. He was a chicken.
The funeral was private, just for other league members and people close to Ilya. Shane looked around at all the people, some of whom he barely even recognized, and his heart swelled softly at how loved his boyfriend was. He looked up to the shining sun in the sky, and a soft breeze blew through his hair.
"I know." He thought to himself, "You're here."
Ilya's body had been sent back to Russia almost immediately, so the casket in front of Shane was purely for looks. People had filled the space around it with various mementos and things that, to them, represented the great Ilya Rozanov. Hockey sticks, jerseys, pucks, and photos, it was overwhelming. Shane felt unbearably overwhelmed. He hated how conscious he was of how he showed his emotions, and how he forced himself to hold back. Thank god for Hayden and Jackie, who had stayed at his side throughout the service and held his hand when tears threatened to spill. He knew how much they were trying, and he appreciated it, but inside, it was destroying him that nobody could understand the level of torture this was. Not only losing his secret lover of decades, but to watch people act as if they knew Ilya the way only Shane did and be able to grieve however they felt necessary openly, meanwhile Shane, the only Ilya really, truly loved, had to hold it together once again. It wasn't fair. Not to Ilya or to Shane.
"It's not fair," he said as he walked back to the cars after the service had ended, Hayden by his side and Jackie holding onto his arm. "Those people. They act as if they have some kind of right over him. They don't."
"No, they don't," Jackie replied. Hayden quietly listened.
"It's fucked, right? They're mourning someone they didn't even know." Shane dryly laughed as he continued speaking. "Like, they're so sad and crying, but the fuck do they know? When was the last time half of these people even saw Ilya? Talked to him about something other than fucking hockey!" Shane had stopped walking, and Jackie dropped his arm. "That's fucked! Right?" He gasped out, looking between a worried Hayden and Jackie. He could hear the anger in his voice.
"Shane.." Jackie started softly, reaching out to grab Shane's arm again.
"No! Don't give me that fucking look, Jack." He started, before being interrupted by Hayden, "Hey! Cool it, we're here for you, you know that. We want to help."
Shane looked between them again, and the apparent fact that they were together, married, in love, suddenly enraged Shane.
"Fuck you! The fuck do you think you can do to help, Hayden? I mean, seriously?" Shane shouted harshly. "You two go home and have one another! I have nothing, Hayden! NOTHING!" He yelled the last part so ruthlessly that he felt it scratching his throat. He didn't feel like he was even in his own body right now; it was as if he was watching a movie or observing from a distance. He didn't feel in control of anything, much less himself.
"You didn't even like him! Hayden, you fucking hated him!" Shane cried. "He was mine! MINE! Not the MHLs, or his asshole brother, or fucking Svetlana's. Ilya was MINE. I knew him better than any of those people. And I can't even say anything at his fucking funeral! Don't fucking tell me that's not FUCKED, Hayden." Shane spoke between sobs. He put his hands on his knees in an attempt to steady himself as he wept. It felt like everything in his body was breaking and falling apart. But he wasn't done yet.
"This whole thing is fucked! He was Ilya FUCKING Rozanov. He was the best player in the goddamn league, and they put him on some shitty fucking plane, I mean, are you fucking kidding me?" Shane shook his head left and right in disbelief. "He's supposed to be here. This isn't supposed to fucking happen, not to him. All these people say they don't know how to go on without him, they're fucking full of SHIT." The restraint in Shane finally snapped. He couldn't take it anymore.
"He was my LIFE, Hayden! My whole fucking life. I can't do anything without thinking of him! His absence is so strong I can physically fucking feel it! God, I loved him so much, and he fucking LOVED me, and now I have to figure out how to live without it! Without HIM! And those people act like they know what that feels like? Are you fucking kidding me? They don't have a fucking clue what this shit feels like! It's FUCKED.." A sob that was more of a dry heave escaped, cutting him off. "Oh, god.."
Hayden and Jackie were holding him before Shane knew it. He felt their bodies shaking, too. "It's fucked, Shane." Hayden whimpered, to which he felt Jackie nod her head against him. "Really, massively fucked."
They stayed holding one another for a few minutes. Eventually, they broke apart, though Hayden and Jackie both kept one hand on either of Shane's arms. "You know, I don't think anyone will be at the site right now," Jackie said suggestively, looking at Shane. "Did you want to go have a moment alone?"
Shane watched Hayden and Jackie walk down the small hill leading back to the car park. Jackie was right, after the service, the casket had been left entirely alone. It was a bit ridiculous, he thought, to speak to an empty box as if it were Ilya. But it seemed to help everyone else, so maybe it could help him too.
The casket was on planks that raised it high enough to sit adjacent to Shane's waist. He reached out and placed his hand on the cold top, taking a slow, deep breath.
⊹˚. ♡.𖥔 ݁ ˖
"Fuck off, Rozanov. There. Can you see me now?"
Shane had spent the last few minutes trying to set up his phone at an angle that would please his boyfriend. They both sat in dark hotel rooms on either side of the country, fresh off the ice. Shane's team had an embarrassing loss that night, so Ilya wasn't surprised when he could only see the corner of Shane's face as he accepted his FaceTime call.
Ilya found everything about Shane endearing, especially the way he attempted to hide himself from Ilya out of embarrassment, as if Ilya had never had a bad game himself. It's not that Ilya ever wanted Shane to feel bad about himself. But he did love that he was the one who got to remind Shane Hollander who the fuck he was. And that includes getting a full view of Shane's bare torso and pouty face.
"Da. Much better."
Shane sighed as he turned to look away from Ilya's intense gaze. "I can feel you looking." He grumbled in a low voice. "Yes." Ilya agreed, still taking in Shane's figure. He had no shame. Why should he? "You are mine, yes? Can I not look?"
Shane felt his cheeks become hot and knew he must have been blushing an embarrassing amount. A small smile cracked, "Fuck you." He scolded in the softest tone. He knew what Ilya was doing, trying to make him feel desired, and it was working, which only annoyed Shane even more than he already was.
Shane casually shifted in the camera view so more of his waist was exposed. "How was your game?" He asked nonchalantly.
Ilya's eyes were locked on the spot where Shane's joggers concealed the rest of him. "Was fine. Did you not watch?" He teased, knowing Shane hadn't seen the game; it was on pretty much at the same time as his own.
"No. What is there to watch?" Shane quipped back. Two could play at this game.
Ilya chuckled slightly. This was the Shane he knew.
"Aaahh, I don't know. Maybe hot Russian who is best player in league." He replied in a questioning tone. Honestly, he didn't think he was the best player in the league. He was good, no, great, for sure, but in Ilya's opinion, his boyfriend was the most outstanding player on the ice.
"The best, huh?" Shane questioned back.
"Mh-hm. Best in league." Ilya pulled his gaze from Shane's waist so their eyes could lock together. "That is not all, though."
Shane had a smile resting on his face now. "Oh no? What else could there be?"
Ilya still had his shirt on when he started the call, though he was also wearing too-tight joggers that he definitely didn't put on just to call his boyfriend in. Ilya was playing with the hem of his shirt, making sure it was visible and Shane could see it on his own screen. "I hear he is very good in bed, too. Very good." Ilya said this in a deeper tone, catching the way Shane's breath caught in his chest momentarily.
"Is this why you called me?" Shane asked, eyes still locked on the patch of skin Ilya had revealed as he slightly lifted the bottom of his shirt.
"I have no idea what you are talking about, Hollander." Ilya replied quickly, finally pulling off his shirt and deeply sighing, leaning back against the headboard of the bed as if he was trying to get more comfortable and not send shockwaves to his boyfriend's crotch. Ilya's heart skipped a beat at the small chuckle Shane replied with. They both stayed silent for a few minutes as they took one another in.
Ilya loved Shane. Like, he really loved Shane. Everything about Shane felt warm, and Ilya felt warmer just simply knowing he was the lucky one who got to receive his love and affection. Sometimes, he swore he could actually feel the ice in his heart melting away every time Shane was around, turning Ilya into a mushy mess. He loved how competitive and disciplined Shane was, and how he would only truly let himself go with Ilya. The trust Shane had in him was the honour of Ilya's life, and he swore he would do everything in his power to hold onto it.
"Touch yourself." Ilya stated, reminiscing on the first time he had asked Shane this.
"No."
"Yes."
"Fuck you." Shane's hand began to wander over his chest as he said this.
"Hmm.." Ilya hummed, watching the slow trail Shane's hand made from the top of his chest to the edge of his pants. Painfully slow, Shane was sneaking one finger after another underneath the waistband. Instinctively, Ilya began palming himself through the thin fabric of his pants, watching as Shane reached lower down his body until he grabbed his own dick firmly. Ilya couldn't see this, as Shane's pants were still on for some ridiculous reason, but he could tell by the way Shane's eyes fluttered shut and how his mouth gaped open, Shane’s moan confirming. "Let me see." Ilya stated rather than asked, but Shane continued to hide underneath his joggers, though now Ilya could see the movement of his hand going up and down, up and down..
"Hollander." Ilya said firmly. He slid his own pants down far enough where his cock was able to spring out, eager at Shane's presence even if it was just through a screen. Shane now had his eyes open, hungrily staring as Ilya pleasured himself. "Show me. Now."
Shane's eyes glazed over, and he immediately obeyed Ilya's command. He quickly wiggled himself out of his pants until he was completely bare and on display. His hand wrapped tightly around his cock and was moving quicker and quicker, causing the muscles in Shane's torso to flex in a delicious manner that made Ilya feel crazy. "Want to touch you." He panted, making sure the rhythm of his own hand matched Shane's. Ilya felt crazy. He was crazy. Crazy in love.
After they had both reached their climax, they stayed on the video call as they prepared to fall asleep for the night. Shane was tucked under the covers of his boring hotel room and starring at the screen as Ilya was standing in the bathroom, fresh out of the shower.
"I miss you." Shane said delicately, so softly, and it hit Ilya's heart like an avalanche.
Ilya picked up his phone so he could fully see Shane’s sleepy eyes on the screen.
“I miss you too. Only a few more days, sweetheart.”
Only a few more days.
⊹˚. ♡.𖥔 ݁ ˖
Shane was smiling sadly to himself, his hand gripping the wooden box in front of him. "What am I supposed to do without you?" He whispered, fighting back his tears for what felt like the millionth time. "Tell me, Rozanov. Please. I can't do this." Fighting was pointless; tears fell down Shane's face like heavy raindrops. "I need you. Ilya. I need you." Shane felt the breeze blow through his hair again, and his heart cracked even wider. He wanted to die. He knew how horrible that was, how selfish he was by thinking it, but he couldn't hide from it anymore. He just wanted to be with Ilya, wherever he was.
Shane now placed both hands onto the casket, using it to support the body weight that felt crippling to him. "Take me with you." He pleaded quietly. "Don't leave me here, please." Cries began shaking his chest, making it harder to breathe. "Ilya, please. Please.."
"Shane Hollander?"
Shit.
Shane quickly straightened his posture, wiping his eyes and turned around to see who had caught him in such a vulnerable moment. To his absolute surprise, standing before him in an elegant, black silk dress was Svetlana. Her hair was tied back, so Shane could fully see her puffy eyes and tear-stained cheeks.
"Um..yes?" This came out ruder than Shane had intended.
Svetlana took a cautious step forward. "Do you, um.. Do you know who I am?" Her voice was gentle yet careful, which only confused Shane more. "Yes. I know who you are." Too rude, again. What would Ilya think? Be nice, Shane. "Svetlana, right?"
She smiled shyly in response, taking another step so she was now standing beside Shane. "I didn't mean to interrupt." Her words hit Shane like pins digging into his skin. His eyes slightly widened, his breath held in his chest. He felt exposed, as if he had been caught and was now trapped in a corner. Had Svetlana been watching him this whole time? Or worse, listening? This was all too much. Shane felt faint.
"Can I drive you home?"
This snapped Shane out of the fog he was falling into.
"What?"
Svetlana smiled again, friendly and small. "Can I drive you home? I would like to talk."
"About..?" Jeez, Shane. What a stupid question. He didn't know why he said that, other than the fact that he now thought he might die of sheer panic.
Svetlana must have noticed how nervous Shane was. She didn't seem bothered by his less-than-polite tone or the way Shane's body seemed to get tenser and tenser the closer she got. Instead, she only looked at Shane with kind, reassuring eyes and a sad, friendly smile. "Come." She said gently, "We will talk."
The car ride back to Shane's house had been unbearably quiet. It was incredibly awkward; Shane knew they both must have felt it. He had expected Svetlana to begin a conversation, or at least say something, but no. They sat in an uncomfortable silence the entire ride, broken only by the automated GPS voice. He thought about texting Hayden, who had been very confused when Shane told him Svetlana would be taking him home, but he didn't really have anything to say. He just wanted to be doing anything but this.
Finally, finally, they pulled into Shane's driveway, where Shane watched, confused, as Svetlana turned off her car. "Can I come in?"
Uh-oh.
Shane's place was a mess. He had basically been living on the couch and the floor before it, as he couldn’t bring himself to sleep in the bedroom he’d grown so accustomed to sharing. He didn't care about the pile of dishes and dirty clothes when it was only himself and maybe the Pikes being witnesses, not strangers. Not Svetlana.
"Um, I would like you too, but my place, it's.."
"I don't care about mess," She said, waving her hand in the air and then reaching for the door handle to exit the car. Shane sat, dumbfounded, for a second, then hastily followed her.
She's a lot like Ilya.
Once Shane had opened the door, he purposely directed his guest away from his shameful living quarters and to the kitchen, where she could sit with her back faced to Shane's visible wreckage.
"Can I get you anything?" He asked because he didn't know what else to say.
"No, thank you." She sat with his back straight and her arms resting in her lap. For the first time, Shane realized she was nervous too. "You have known Ilya for long time now, yes?" She asked carefully, her gaze pointed down to her twiddling fingers in her lap.
"Oh, um, yeah. But not as long as you two knew each other. You have been friends since you were kids, right?"
Svetlana smiled and finally looked up from her lap. "Yes. Did he tell you that?"
Shane felt a lump grow in his throat. He didn't know what to say or how to say what. Ilya never talked to Shane much about Svetlana, much less what she knew about them. He knew it wasn't the whole truth, but she was Ilya's closest friend, so who knows what he might have let slip. And he couldn't really back himself out of this now.
"Yes. He talked very highly of you." That was the truth, and Shane said it with as much conviction and softness as he could to show that he meant it. Svetlana nodded solemnly. Shane knew this wasn't what she wanted to talk about. Was it? Maybe she did want to reminisce, but why with him? Shane found himself getting lost in his own nervous thoughts when Svetlana struck him with what felt like a dagger. "Are you Jane?"
Shane could literally feel his heart drop to his ass. "Excuse me?" He attempted to say with casual indifference, but cringed at the way his voice cracked slightly. Svetlana was still looking at him with comforting eyes, as if they were trying to expand the room so Shane felt less cornered. He wanted to say something, anything, to fill this awkward, defying silence. It felt as if he instantly lost his ability to put words together and string sentences. His fight-or-flight response was screaming at him to run, to get out of here and get as far away as he could.
"Can I speak freely?" Svetlana asked after a few moments of silence, and Shane only nodded.
"Ilya didn't tell me a lot about you. About Shane." Oh.
"But he told me about Jane. Little by little." Oh…
"Ilya.. he was not lonely, does that make sense? He had a lot of... friends.” Shane gulped down the air that was caught in his throat. He wanted to hear her out, he really did, but must they discuss his boyfriend's sexual conquests?
"Sorry." Svetlana laughed. Not in a teasing manner, but in a release-of-nerves way. "I'm not saying this right." Shane shook his head, "You're okay."
Svetlana took a deep breath to resettle herself. "Ilya always had someone, usually multiple people. But then he had Jane. And it was like everything fell away. It was just Jane." Svetlana held Shane's gaze. "I knew Ilya for a very long time. I saw many versions of him. None like the person he became once there was Jane. He was infatuated." Shane felt like his heart was going to burst, or melt, or cease to exist entirely. "That was you, yes? You are Jane?"
This moment felt like an avalanche, something Shane had feared for so long and had avoided so intensely for so long. He didn't know what to say. A part of him wanted to drop to his knees and cry, to tell Svetlana everything and finally be freed of the weight sitting on his chest. But the weight was there for a reason; it wasn't just his choice, it was Ilya's too. And now that he's gone, Shane didn't know what he could say or do, what Ilya would want him to do. He thought about this harder. What would Ilya want him to do? This was his best friend, the most important person in his life, besides Shane. He wanted to do right by her. He didn't want to lie anymore.
"Yes.." He whispered, too scared that if he said it any louder, somehow the whole world might hear. "I'm.. I was Jane. Yeah. That's me." Shane was surprised by the hint of pride he felt as he said this. Yes, it was me. I'm the one Ilya Rozanov was infatuated with, as you say.
"Wow.." Svetlana reeled, though still sporting a friendly smile. "I had suspicions, but I wasn't sure."
"Was it obvious?" Shane asked now that he felt some of the tension leave his body. He could see why Ilya spent so much time with Svetlana; she had a way of comforting you without even seemingly trying. "No, not obvious. Not to most people, at least. But for me, maybe." She shifted in her seat, crossing one leg over another. "It was long time ago when I noticed he was talking to someone. But years went by, and he was still locked to his phone screen. Every time, it was Jane. I tried asking on occasion, but he was very tight-lipped. Always very protective of Jane, or should I say, of you." She gestured her hand to Shane. "It was only in recent years that I finally got him to open up. Not much, but little bits."
Shane felt gooey inside. He didn't want to think about it too much. He was just relieved to be feeling anything other than the despair that had plagued him. "What did he say?"
Svetlana's smile turned a bit cheeky, "Do not worry. Ilya spoke very highly of you, also."
Shane felt the blush creeping onto his cheeks. He'd never experienced this before, getting to talk about his relationship with someone who really knew Ilya, who saw how good he was. When he'd told Hayden, it had been an argument for days over how Shane could have brought his standards so low.
"I mean.. Fuck, Shane! Rozanov? Really?"
"Yes, really."
"God, man!" Hayuden recoiled like he had been shot. Shane thought it was a bit dramatic.
"Fuck off, Hayden. He's not.. He's not that bad."
"Oh!" Hayden said in an exaggerated tone, turning to face Shane, who was sitting on the Pike's sofa. "Not that bad, huh? Not that bad..that's hilarious."
Shane laughs to himself at the memory. He knew Hayden had come around to Ilya, not that he would ever admit it. This reminded Shane of what he said to Hayden at the cemetery. He was gonna have to apologize for that.
This, though, was different. Svetlana loved Ilya, and so did Shane. They were just two people talking about someone they both loved. Yeah, it was new for Shane.
Svetlana must have seen how Shane was falling into himself, so she expertly broke the silence once again, to Shane's delight.
"He was in love. I could see it in his eyes, the way he... moved. Not only was he in love, he was being loved in return. That wasn't something Ilya had experienced a lot. His family, his father and brother, they were…" Her words trailed off.
"Shitty fucking assholes." Shane finished.
"Yeah." She laughed. "Shitty, fucking assholes. It was hard for Ilya. He loved very deeply, and when it was not returned, he took it very personally. His father made sure of that. Even after the old man died, Ilya carried him around in his head, constantly hearing his criticism."
Shane knew how right she was, how haunted Ilya had been by his father. Some nights it seemed to be enough to crush the light in Ilya's spirit so severely that he worried it would never spark again. On those nights, Shane tried to hold him extra tight, or show him what felt like an embarrassing amount of tenderness, whatever it took to make the crinkles in Ilya's cheek that appeared only when the boy was smiling.
"You freed him of that. You loved him for exactly who he was. It was healing for him, I could see it. He smiled more, and was less grumpy. He had excitement for life again, a life beyond hockey. Did you know he was the one who wanted to go to museums? It was like all of a sudden he had remembered the beauty in life and could not get enough of it."
Shane's heart had definitely melted through his body, making him feel warm and flushed. He didn't know this, any of it. Sure, he had hoped Ilya knew how strongly he was loved, but Shane had never really known for sure whether he could feel it, accept it. He thought he could die happy right now, that if his only purpose in this life was to make Ilya Rozanov feel loved and valued, he could die right now knowing he had succeeded.
"I tried..." Shane broke out. "I tried to, you know, make him feel... really loved." He hated how awkward he sounded. After all this time, he didn't really know how to talk about loving Ilya. He'd never really had the opportunity to do so.
"You did love him, yes?"
"Yes," Shane responded immediately. There was a strong sense of urgency and passion as he spoke now, "I loved him. I loved him more than I thought was possible." He didn't know why, but he really needed Svetlana to know this, to believe him. "I love him." He added, dropping the past tense he had used previously. He didn't love Ilya a long time ago; he loves him now, at this moment. He was in love, and he would be for the rest of his life; he knew this.
"Thank you. For loving him." Svetlana said sweetly. Shane only now noticed that she, too, had tears spilling down her face.
"Don't. Please." Shane begged. He didn't need to be thanked; he didn't want to be. Loving Ilya wasn't some act of service he was doing; it was his life. His honour..
"He was not always easy to be around," Svetlana admitted. She was, again, right. Ilya could be an ass; everyone knew it. He was sarcastic and annoying; he loved teasing and picking on that one little string he knew would drive his opponent mad. He could also be grumpy, as Svetlana had mentioned earlier. Shane usually wrote these moods off, as they usually followed a poorly played game or something like that, but there were times when it was as if a switch had been flipped within Ilya, and his demeanour would change drastically. There were a few times he had even asked Shane to leave so he could be alone. Shane hated it, but he would obey.
"No. But he was very easy to love." Shane knew this was the truth, the only truth that mattered, really. Because Shane loved Ilya, every part of him, even the dark parts, which were only met with the floodstreams of light Ilya had within him, he was charming, soft, and very romantic. Shane knew how shocked people would be if they knew just how romantic Ilya really was. He would never forget the first Valentine's Day they had spent together. Well, technically it wasn't their first, but it was the first time they had allowed themself to luxuriate for an evening in their love.
⊹˚. ♡.𖥔 ݁ ˖
Shane was exhausted. His team had won their game, but just barely. At least he had tomorrow off, though. He could relax, probably get a good workout in.
Shane thought about it as he pushed his key in the lock and turned, opening the door to his dark apartment, except it wasn't dark. Instead, he found his home was dimly lit, but what seemed like hundreds of little candles were placed delicately along the main walkway to the open living area.
Wait. What?
Shane felt his heart stop, whether from confusion, fear, or from deep swooning without his knowledge. He carefully shut the door behind him, dropping his jacket and bag on the ground instead of correctly hanging them on one of the many hooks that Ilya had installed for him. (He didn't need him to, but Ilya had insisted.)
He carefully walked along the set trail of candlelight until he reached the kitchen, where he saw the most gorgeous basket of red roses sitting on the countertop. Not only this, Shane saw a framed picture of himself and Ilya, taken a couple of months ago. They had gone on a hike one day at the cabin. Every few steps, Ilya was begging Shane to stop and take pictures. ("Why?" Shane complained. He didn't see what was so important about the same kind of tree they had walked past a million times by now. "Ah, shush. Come take a picture.") It was beautiful. Everything was beautiful. Shane thought he was going to cry. While staring at the picture, he felt two strong, warm hands wrap around his waist from behind.
"You are home late, Hollander."
Shane's knees felt weak at the sultry voice behind his ear. He loved listening to Ilya talk; the way his accent wrapped elegantly around the most boring English words was like music to his ears.
"Sorry.." That was all Shane was able to say back, breathless and dazed.
Ilya held tightly onto Shane's waist, ever so lightly placing a kiss on the latter's earlobe. "Come. Come see." Ilya kept his arms firmly around Shane and began to walk behind him, guiding Shane to the living room while trailing delicate kisses down Shane's neck. He had spent a lot of time preparing for tonight; he was going to make sure Shane didn't miss a single thing.
When they walked into the open space, framed by the floor-to-roof windows that Shane had covered with his walls, the soft candlelight flickered against the city skyline. The fireplace was lit, and rose petals had seemingly danced around the room. A small, black book sat perfectly on the coffee table, a ribbon tied neatly around it. Beside the book were two champagne glasses and a bottle of something Shane knew must have been expensive. He didn't drink much, but he certainly felt drunk right now.
"Ilya.." He whispered, so entirely taken aback by the effort Ilya had clearly put in. When they discussed maybe doing something for Valentine's this year, Shane didn't know what to expect. He definitely wasn't expecting all of this. They weren't even dating, not really. Not officially. They hadn't really talked about it properly. Yet.
Shane felt himself being spun around, so finally he could see the man who had set up this surprise for him. God, he was beautiful. The candlelight highlighted the softness of Ilya's face and the gentleness of his golden curls. Shane couldn't believe his luck, that this man was here with him, willingly.
Ilya had dressed nicely for the occasion. He wore a black, short-sleeved, button-up shirt that fit snugly in all the right places. His dress pants restricted his already hardening dick, but it was worth it. He wanted to make the night last, to spoil Shane silly. He had dreamed about it since their first time together. Ilya's gaze wandered from the freckles dusted along Shane's cheeks to his doe-eyes, staring up at him as if he were something otherworldly, something beautiful. Shane made him feel beautiful.
"Hi, sweetheart." He said softly against Shane's lips before taking them in his own. Ilya intentionally kept the kiss light and soft, not wanting to get too excited too quickly. Shane clearly didn't have the same idea, as he pushed himself harder onto Ilya and gaped his mouth open slightly in invitation. Ilya pulled away, revelling in the way Shane's eyes stayed closed for a few brief moments before slowly opening them, like a kitten who has just opened their eyes for the first time. Ilya felt himself swooning.
He kept his hands firmly on Shane's lower back, not wanting him to float away too far. "You..I thought you had practice tomorrow. You aren't supposed to be here." Shane questioned, though his voice still came out all dreamy. Ilya smiled at the success of his plan. "Practice? No. Liar must have told you that." He leaned his face closer to Shane's, so their noses brushed. "Am here, with you. Nowhere else to be." The smile that grew on Shane's face was reward enough, but he definitely wasn't about to stop Shane's arms wrapping around his neck and pulling Ilya in for another desperate kiss. They allowed themselves to enjoy the closeness for a few minutes, just kissing and stealing gasps of air, running their hands over one another as if they would never be able to touch again. When Ilya eventually brought himself to pull away, he looked deeply into Shane's eyes, searching for any sign of resistance. There was none; Shane was here with him, too. Fully.
"Happy Valentine's Day, Zayka," Ilya said softly, moving his hands to Shane's thighs and effortlessly lifting him, forcing Shane to wrap himself around Ilya. Shane smiled and giggled.
He fucking giggled. Ilya thought he was going to die.
"I don't know that one." He said, returning the deep gaze into Ilya's eyes.
"Bunny," was all Ilya could say. He suddenly felt engulfed in their own, private intimacy.
Shane smiled even wider. "Bunny?"
"Zayka. Bunny. Rabbit. Whatever you call it."
Shane's fingers began twirling the hair at the back of Ilya's head. His heart was swelling in ways he didn't think were safe, but he didn't care.
"You can put me down," Shane said softly. "No." Ilya responded immediately, instead tightening his hold on Shane and slightly lifting him to readjust the hold.
"Rozanov."
"Zayka."
"Rozanov!"
Ilya only smiled. As much as Shane was trying to hide it, he knew how Shane's brain would short-circuit at the smallest amount of affection. It was endearing, and only motivated Ilya to give him more. He spun around in quick circles, as if Shane really was a small pet and not a 200-pound scarred-up hockey player. "Stop it!" Shane laughed, lightly swatting Ilya's shoulder. He was so happy it felt indecent. Ilya stopped, finally letting a dizzied Shane down to stand on his own. "Come. Open present" Ilya laced his fingers with Shane's, which was something he didn't allow himself to do very often. It was fine when they were fucking, but holding hands outside of that felt too personal, too real.
"I don't need a present, Ilya. All of this..." He looked around him, but Ilya only waved his hand to dismiss Shane's words. Didn't he know that Ilya wanted nothing more than to give him anything and everything? Didn't he know that's what he deserved?
Ilya led them so that they were both sitting on Shane's horrible, uncomfortable couch together. He hated this couch, and had told Shane many times. ("It's decorative!" He argued, "It matches the rest of the furniture!") Ilya grabbed the small book and handed it to Shane, who ran his finger along the ribbon and bow Ilya had spent too long perfecting. "What is it?" He asked, looking up to Ilya. "Open it. You will see."
Shane slowly untied the ribbon. Just as he did with everything, he took his time untying the bow, sliding the ribbon off, folding it with precision, and placing it on the table before him—another thing Ilya found incredibly endearing. When Shane finally opened the book, Ilya could hear the gasp he let out. Inside was full of pictures, not just of Ilya and Shane, but of their memories together. There were photos of the cabin and the messy bed, clearly the result of a morning spent enjoying one another. There were old pictures of each of them on the ice, though the one that caught Shane's attention the most was an unused shot from the photoshoot they had done all that time ago, the one Ilya had set up without Shane knowing and would eventually lead to their first hookup. As he continued flipping through, Shane didn't even really see any of the photos; his eyes were too glazed over by tears. This was all too much; Ilya was too much. He didn't deserve this.
Shane didn't know how to express what he was feeling, so instead he crawled into Ilya's lap and kissed him passionately. His hands held Ilya's face, and Shane knew at that moment that he never, ever wanted to let go. Whatever they were doing, whatever this was, Shane decided right then, and there he would go to his grave to protect it. He went lax as Ilya snuck his talented tongue into his mouth and began roaming. Shane desperately needed Ilya to take control right now.
As if Ilya could read his mind, Shane felt strong hands grip his ass and pull him closer, so close that Shane wanted to dive into Ilya's chest and live neatly tucked away in his heart. Shane moved one hand down to rest on top of Ilya's pec, to feel his heart beating underneath. This was his. "Mine." Shane thought, except somehow, horrifyingly, he had said it out loud. He stared down at Ilya, except now with a sense of panic in his eyes. He knew that, really, Ilya wasn't his. He shouldn't be thinking it, much less saying it out loud.
Ilya's heart had fully stopped when Shane pulled away and whispered against his own lips. Did he hear him right? He said "Mine", right? Did he mean Ilya? Was Shane trying to lay claim to Ilya? God, he hoped so.
"Yours." Ilya grunted back before crashing their mouths together again. Shane was his. He was Shane's; they didn't need labels or anyone else to prove it. They both knew it. They both wanted it.
"Bedroom?" Shane asked, out of breath and panting.
"No," Ilya said back. "I want to fuck you right here."
They spent the night touching one another and making love on the floor in front of the fireplace. It was hasty and slow and sweet and indulgent, and Ilya wouldn't have had it any other way.
⊹˚. ♡.𖥔 ݁ ˖
Shane hadn't realized that Svetlana was now standing. "I have his things." She said blankly. Shane suspected this not only because he had seen Svetlana packing things at Ilya's home, but also because he had assumed Ilya's family had entrusted his possessions to her. Suddenly, the hatred he felt for her roared back.
"I want you to have this. Ilya... he would want you to have this." She outstretched her arm and opened his palm, revealing the gold chain and cross pendant that Ilya had worn every day. Shane never saw him without it; he almost didn't believe it was the same one. "The doctors, they gave to me." When Shane didn't move, she boldly grabbed onto Shane's hand and dropped the necklace into his palm. "It was his mother's." She told him. "I know," Shane muttered, still in slight shock that this was really Ilya's necklace, no, it was more than that. This was his most prized possession; it almost felt as if it were a physical part of him, and now Shane held it in his clammy hand.
"I have more of his stuff. All of his stuff, really. I went to his home before his brother could."
What?
"His brother?"
Svetlana leaned against the counter. "Yes, you know, the previously mentioned shitty fucking asshole, as you say. You saw him at funeral, yes?" Shane had seen him, but he didn't dare talk to him. He knew Ilya himself had barely spoken to his brother since their father died years ago. It was hard for him to stop taking his calls, but as he explained to Shane, all his brother ever wanted from him was money, and Shane would gently remind him that he didn't owe his brother anything, and that it was okay to move away from people who aren't good for us. ("You are good for me, Hollander," Ilya said intently. "You are good.")
"Well, when I found out he was coming into town, I had a feeling he was gonna raid Ilya's home, take anything of value, trash the house. I couldn't bear the thought, or allow him the satisfaction. So I hired people to move all of his things to storage unit." She reached into the small bag she had brought with her, sitting on Shane's kitchen counter, and pulled out a minor key wrapped in a ripped piece of paper. "Here. Go take what you want. Let me know when you have, and I will help you handle the rest. My phone number is on there." She placed the key on the counter and took a step closer to Shane, putting her hand on his biceps. She lightly kissed his cheek. "I will go now. Been a long day." Before she pulled away, she looked directly in Shane's eyes and tapped his forehead once. "Try not to get lost in here, yes? Ilya is not there." She moved her finger to press gently onto his chest, where his heart lay underneath. "He is here." She patted his chest lightly once more before grabbing her bag and gracefully letting herself out of Shane's home.
Holy shit.
What just happened?
Shane felt dumb as he walked to the littered couch he had grown very familiar with in a trancelike state and slowly sat down. He didn't know what to think, which is a common thread these days. He had spent so long conjuring up who he thought Svetlana was, what she would be like. But the woman he had just met was nothing as he had imagined. She wasn't the dominating, powerful force that he had expected. She was kind, understanding, and empathetic. She didn't want to take Ilya away; she never did. How stupid was Shane to think she did? All the horrible things he thought of her, how off he was. Ilya would be ashamed, or he would laugh at how wrong Shane had been. Either way, Shane found himself laughing slightly as well. He'd almost forgotten in all that weirdness that he had just told someone about his relationship, someone important, and it was okay. It was more than okay, it was good.
Shane pulled his phone from his pocket. "I should text Hayden." He thought. When he turned his phone on, he saw four little notifications from the Instagram app he installed, and realized he had totally forgotten about the messages Ilya had sent him.
Shane thought for a moment and decided that having the notifications didn't mean as much as knowing what Ilya had wanted to tell him. It could be anything; it could be completely pointless, but Shane needed to know. He needed to know right now.
Taking a deep breath, Shane opened the app, ignoring the mass of notifications that popped up when he did and immediately went to his messages. Not that it was important, but Shane took note that the only other person he had seemingly talked to on Instagram was Hayden and Rose, who had attempted to send him things before realizing their messages would more than likely sit there, delivered, until they saw Shane in person and told him to check them. Shane smiled. He needed to get better at that. But it was beside the point right now; all he could focus on was Ilya's profile at the top. With shaky hands, he opened the messages.
Ilya: "You are the best thing in my life."
Oh my god.
Ilya: "I love you. Always. Maybe from the first time I saw you."
No.
Ilya: "I am thinking only about you right now. A million memories. Thank you for those."
Oh god.
Ilya: "Whatever happens, I am with you. Safe in your heart. I believe it."
Shane couldn't hear anything besides the ringing in his ears that cancelled out the deep, guttural sobs that were breaking free from his chest. He dropped his phone and held himself as he rocked back and forth, no longer fighting his emotions.
He knew exactly when these messages were sent. God, they were Ilya's last words. This was his panicked, scared goodbye to Shane, the person he loved, the one he was infatuated with.
"You are the best thing in my life."
Shane couldn't handle this, the thought of Ilya realizing his plane was going down and thinking not of himself, but of Shane, and making sure, one last time, that Shane knew how much Ilya valued him. In such a scary, unknown moment, Ilya's mind went to Shane.
"I love you. Always. Maybe from the first time I saw you."
Shane could still feel the cold air outside the arena on the day he first talked to Ilya. It had taken all of his courage to turn away from the team bus and walk around the corner to where he had seen Rozanov sneaking off moments earlier. When their hands touched for the first time, Shane couldn't have dreamt of all the ways they would go on to touch each other. Not just physically, but emotionally too. They were just kids, thrown into a world that would chew them up and spit them back out, but they had found each other. They found each other.
"I am thinking only about you right now."
A million memories. The same memories Shane had spent the last few weeks torturing himself with were the same memories that gave Ilya comfort in his final moments. God, Shane really thought he might die.
"Whatever happens, I am with you. Safe in your heart. I believe it."
Safe. In my heart.
Shane cried harder than he thought possible. It felt like all the emotions he had tried to hold back were released and were attacking Shane for trying to withhold them. He couldn't endure anymore. In his final, terrifying moments, Ilya had reached for Shane. Not only that, he had attempted to comfort Shane, to give him something to hold onto. Ilya was safe in Shane's heart. Ilya was sure of it, and now Shane was too.
Now lying in the fetal position, Shane reached for his phone and dialled the most recent number in his activity log.
"Hey.."
"Hayden?" Shane blubbered out before his friend could even finish.
"Shane?"
"Can you..Can you, uhm.." Shane attempted to get the words out, but was failing miserably.
"I'm on my way, buddy. I'll be there soon."
⊹˚. ♡.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ONE MONTH LATER ⊹˚. ♡.𖥔 ݁ ˖
Shane fiddled with the gold cross pendant around his neck. He felt the comforting hands of Hayden on his shoulder and Svetlana's on his arm. The three of them sat on Shane's recently cleaned couch, with Jackie on the arm of the sofa beside Hayden.
"Are you sure it's okay?" Shane asked for the hundredth time, though his friends didn't fault him for it. "It's perfect." Svetlana chimed, "Yeah, it's great, Shane." Jackie added. Shane nodded at their words, but ultimately looked to Hayden. He was beyond appreciative of the support Jackie and Svetlana had given him and eternally grateful for their friendship, but he needed to know what Hayden was thinking. Not only had this man been there for him through it all, but he also understood the hockey world and what it was like to be a player in the league. He knew best the stakes Shane was risking, how much was on the line for him.
Hayden gave a supportive grin and squeezed his friend's shoulder. "It's good, man. It's great. Fuck all the noise, this is for you."
"And Ilya," Shane added, to which Hayden only squeezed him tighter.
"Yeah. For Ilya."
"For Ilya." The girls repeated, and for the first time since losing Ilya, Shane felt the love of others circling him. He sighed in relief, partly for the confirmation from his friends, but mainly because he was worried he would never know what it felt like to be loved again. He knew in some way, he wouldn't, but even though it was different, it was still good.
He looked at the photo they all had chosen, the same one Ilya had framed for him, and briefly skimmed the attached statement. His thumb lingered over the "post" button.
"Okay, here goes... everything."
Shane Hollander:
"Hi, everyone. I know my silence since the Ottawa Centaurs' horrific accident and my absence from games may have been confusing. Still, I kindly ask for your patience and understanding, as this has been a challenging time. For the majority of my career, I have been pitted against Ilya Rozanov, even as we created the Irina Foundation together that honoured my partner's late mother, Irina Rozanov.
Ilya was an exceptional player. He was exceptionally talented and brought a level of skill into the league that will not be seen again. It was a pleasure to watch him play and an honour to play against him. Off the ice, he was a dedicated business partner who found great joy in running our youth hockey academies and in interacting with the future generation of players, many of whom he saw himself in.
Ilya was more than just my hockey rival or my business partner. I appreciate that this may come as a shock, but understand that this was not, in any way, how we had imagined sharing this information.
For the past decade, Ilya Rozanov and I have been in a relationship. While we loved each other very much, we felt we needed to keep our relationship secret from the public out of fear of retaliation or retribution. It was hard, but we thankfully found solace in one another.
Ilya was so far from the man the media portrayed him to be. Yes, he was a fierce competitor with a passion for winning; he was also gentle and kind, and deeply protective of the people he loved. He was the kind of person who would willingly give up everything he had if he thought it would help another person or make them smile. I consider myself beyond fortunate to have not only gotten to know him for who he truly was, but also to have loved such a wonderful human being, and to be loved by them in return. Grateful is an understatement.
For Ilya, I could never forget you or the times we had together. They were the highlight of my life. You, specifically, were the highlight of my life. Everything you taught me, everything you shared, I will carry with me for all time. I love you deeply and fully, Lyubimiy, and I will miss you for the rest of my life.
Safe in my heart, you are there. I believe it."