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After taking his shoes off, Ilya stepped into Shane’s apartment already moving to kiss him.
Shane, however, stepped back and held a hand up, open palmed. Ilya frowned.
“Wait,” he said. “Just… wait for a second. Please?” His hand fell and he gathered his fingers together behind his back. “I want to ask you something.”
Ilya shifted his weight as he asked, “Can it wait until after?”
Shane huffed and shook his head. “If we wait until after we fuck I don’t think I’ll have enough brain space to ask you. Or you’ll try and make me forget about it. So…” he let go of his hands and made one gesture for Ilya to step further into the apartment.
A skeptical expression appeared on Ilya’s face. “Okay. What is it?” He walked toward the couch.
Hollander followed him.
Neither actually sat down.
“I, uh, well,” Shane began, eyes briefly darting about the space. His heart was beating too fast. This had all seemed so much simpler in his head.
He huffed and centered himself before looking Ilya in the eyes and continuing, “I wanted to ask if you’d come to my cottage this summer. Spend a week or two there, with me.” His hands moved as he spoke, gesturing to the both of them. “Just the two of us. Don’t go back to Russia.”
Ilya’s frown deepened. “Hollander, you know we can’t do that.”
The answer came so quickly it almost knocked the air out of Shane’s lungs.
It was now Shane’s turn to shift his weight. “Why not?”
“Is not a good idea.”
Hollander’s mouth fell open. He scoffed.
“Not a good idea?” He parroted, trying not to sound hurt.
He took a step forward, recalling the conversation they’d had when Ilya last went to Russia. He couldn’t understand what Ilya had actually said, but he’d gotten a general vibe.
“You hated going back when your father died,” Shane went on. “You sounded like you hated everything about Russia on that phone call-“
“Hollander,” Rozanov said sternly. “Please-“
“No.” He stepped closer. “Haven’t you ever thought about it? Wanting more than- than secret hotel meetings, stolen glances, fucking and then leaving right after?”
Ilya nodded slowly, backing away, outstretching his arms. “And what about when I asked you to stay at my house and made you tuna melt?”
Shane winced and shifted, somehow looking smaller as he gathered his hands behind his back again.
One of Ilya’s arms dropped while the other followed a hand as it gestured toward Hollander. “You freaked out on me then. What if-“
“I wasn’t ready then.” He said quickly, voice as small as he felt. Then, he grew a little bolder. “But I am now. I promise, I-“
“And I don’t know if I am ready still.”
For a second, Shane thought he’d misheard him. He blinked, and stared at him for a moment.
“Do you care for me at all?” He inquired, wanting to take the conversation somewhere, but the notion was shot down.
Ilya huffed and his eyes flickered away. “Can we not do this now?” His voice was barely above a whisper.
“If not now, when?”
Ilya partially sat on the arm of the sofa.
“Why can’t we keep our normal routine?” He shrugged. “You usually are big on those.”
“Not when it’s hurting me.”
Ilya did not look impressed. “Is it?”
“It might as well. If we keep this up, I’m going to become miserable. I-“
Oh, you’re miserable?” Ilya mocked as he stood, waving his arms about. “You? Your life is so hard?” He shook his head as he approached the other man. “No, I don't think so. You know who has harder life than you?” He tapped his own chest with his palm. “Me.”
Something hot and defensive flared in Shane’s chest. “You know what? Fuck you. I can’t believe that I actually started falling in-“ The words caught in his throat.
“Stop.” The word came out sharp enough to cut glass. The next one’s cut deeper. “You do not get to say things like that.”
The anger built. “Oh, really?” He gestured to himself. “I don’t get to?” He huffed and his hand dropped. He started walking away. “Fine, because I wasn’t going to anyway. And neither should you.”
“Sounded like you were,” Rozanov said matter-of-factly, hands in his pockets.
Shane shook his head and spun around to face him. “You’re such an asshole.”
Ilya walked after him as he said with a raised voice, “You want to play at real life with me? You would hate it. It would ruin you.”
The Canadian stopped in his tracks. A flicker of concern graced his face.
“Ilya-,” he started gently, but was interrupted.
“A week or two,” the Russian explained as he got closer. “And then you would want more.” He stopped a few feet away. “I can’t give you everything! We would have to remain in hiding, hoping not to be found out or risk our careers- our lives.”
“I know that,” Shane replied tersely, then he shifted his weight and gathered his hands at his front. “You don’t have to. Give me everything, that is. I would still be happy because I would have you.” It sounded desperate even to his own ears. His voice had cracked slightly, but he meant it.
His eyes searched Ilya’s for a sign.
“No,” Ilya shook his head. “You do not understand. You are being naive.”
“And you’re still being an asshole.”
Ilya took another step forward. “Hollander-
Shane met him half way. “Rozanov.” He took a moment to study his guarded face. “Please. Help me understand.” When the other man didn’t respond, he posited, “You’re afraid. Right?”
“You should be too.” It was said seriously, but there was a small waver in his voice.
“Ilya-“ he took another step forward and moved to grab the man’s hands.
However, he backed away, and turned around, heading towards the apartment’s entrance. Then, he grabbed his shoes and opened the door.
Next, before he fully left, he paused and told Shane, “You should stop asking questions you do not want answers to.”
Ilya didn’t look back as he stepped through and let the door close behind him.
All the while, Shane had just stood there, frozen.
Shane managed to hold it together until several seconds after the door closed.
Then, he fell to his knees, hands covering his face as tears began to spill from his eyes. His breathing started to hitch. His voice started breaking into sobs.
It was too soon, wasn’t it? He jumped the gun. He pushed too hard.
Now, he’ll probably just get radio silence from him, just like in 2014 between Sochi and All-Stars.
The cottage had seemed like such a simple idea earlier today. They would be able to get away from it all: the league, the media, their friends, everything. It was going to be nice, fun, and relaxing. They’d spend however long they wanted to. No more sneaking around, just existing together.
And then it turned into a disaster and shattered in his face.
Shane dragged in a shaky breath, pressing the heels of his hands harder against his eyes as if he could somehow stop the tears that way.
God, he’d really done it now.
Is this what heartbreak felt like?
His stomach twisted.
Maybe Ilya had been right. Maybe he was being naive, or selfish.
Maybe the cottage had sounded ridiculous - dangerous, even. Or, like a trap.
Shane sucked in another breath that broke halfway through.
“Nice going, Hollander,” he muttered hoarsely to the empty apartment.
They had something. It wasn’t perfect, or simple. And now, he’d scared Ilya away from it.
Just like before.
Shane laced his fingers against the back of his head. He leaned forward as he continued to sob.
It was an eternity before he felt relatively calm again.
Now, he sat on his couch with his phone in his hands. Shane had decided he was going to be brave for a moment and talk to someone about this, but he wasn’t quite sure who.
Telling either of his parents felt too daunting. So did Hayden. And if he called Jackie, she would eventually involve her husband in this as well.
After a long moment of deliberation, he pressed on Rose’s contact and hit call. She picked up after three rings.
“Shane?” Rose said. “Hi. What’s up?”
“Hey,” he replied, trying not to pay attention to how wavy that one word sounded. He laid down and curled into the cushions.
“Oh, honey, you don’t sound too good.”
“I fucked up.” He felt the tears start to pool in his eyes again.
There was a small pause on the other end of the line.
“Okay,” Rose said gently. “What happened?”
“I asked him to come to the cottage this summer,” Shane said.
Rose hummed thoughtfully. “And?”
Shane swallowed, shifting to lay down on his back. “And I think I might have just scared him off for good.”
“Oh,” she said softly. “I’m sorry.” There was another small moment of silence before she spoke again. “How did you phrase it exactly?”
“I don’t know,” Shane replied. “Normally?” He rubbed his face. “Probably a little pushier than I needed to be.”
“Pushy how?”
He sat up and told her everything that was said, from the moment Ilya stepped through the door to the moment he left. When he was finished, the man anxiously waited for her to stop taking things in and reply.
Thankfully, he didn’t have to wait long.
“Shane, that doesn’t exactly sound pushy to me,” Rose told him. “It sounds honest. Maybe he just wasn’t ready.”
“But-“
“Shane.” Rose reiterated sternly. “It seems like this is a tough situation to navigate. You did fine.”
“No, I didn’t.” He slid down, increasing strain on his neck.
“You stubborn man,” she lightly admonished. A faint laugh escaped her. “Both of you.” She sighed. “Honey, listen: people don’t panic like that over things they don’t care about.”
Shane frowned. “He didn’t look like he cared.”
“That was probably just a mask.”
He blinked. “Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
There was silence on the line again and Rose muttered under her breath. Then, she said, “Shane, I have to go. Are you going to be okay?”
Shane wanted to say ‘no,’ or ‘not really,’ but he didn’t want to be a burden to her.
Instead, he said, “I think so.”
She didn’t respond right away and Shane wondered if she could see right through him. Whatever she thought, however, she didn’t end up pushing.
“If you’re sure,” Rose said. “Hang in there okay?”
“Okay,” he replied automatically.
“Talk to you later.”
“Yeah.”
The line clicked dead.
Shane sighed, releasing a weight from his chest.
Two seconds later, his phone buzzed with a message from Ilya’s cover name. It read: ‘let me back in please.’
Shane’s stomach dropped.
Fuck.
Ilya stumbled into his hotel room, the door clicking shut behind him. He leaned against it, letting out a long breath that felt more like a weight than relief.
“Whoa, you okay dude?” Marleau asked from the other side of the room. “You look like shit.”
Blyat. Ilya forgot he would be coming back to a hotel roommate. He rubbed his face as he stepped further into the room.
“Fuck you too, Marly,” he said, wandering further into the room.
“You have a fight with your Montreal girl?” His friend inquired, watching him practically fall onto his bed.
“Something like that, yes. I do not wish to talk about it.”
“Yeah,” he exhaled. “Sure, alright man.”
Ilya stared at the ceiling, but he could hear Marleau shuffling through the space and opening then closing drawers.
After a minute, his friend and teammate said, “I’ll give you some space. Need anything, text me. I’ll be down at the bar. Feel free to join me.” When he left, the door clicked softly.
The room was too quiet now, aside from the air conditioner humming faintly, and filling the silence in a way that somehow made it worse.
Ilya turned his head to stare at the wall, then back at the ceiling again. A dull ache settled into his chest. He couldn’t get the argument out of his head.
‘I would still be happy because I would have you,’ Shane had said.
Ilya closed his eyes and huffed.
He wouldn’t, the man thought. He deserved more than him- better than him. He deserved the world.
“Idiot,” Ilya muttered to the empty room, eyes tearing up. He wasn’t sure which one of them he meant.
He thought about the offer: a week at this cottage. Two. Just them.
Ilya swallowed. Tears spilled down his cheeks.
The idea did sound nice. It really did. And yet, they couldn’t have something like that. He was sure of it.
There was too much at stake. He would be protecting both of them by saying declining. In fact, he should have just ended things with Hollander. He had a chance to earlier.
Besides, if he let himself want that, even for a second, there would be no going back. He would fall harder in love with the man than he already was and by then, it would be too late.
And yet…
“Nyet,” he huffed, shaking his head.
Shane had looked so hopeful when he asked. So certain.
And Ilya had watched that hope crack right in front of him.
He swung his legs off the bed and sat up for a moment, elbows resting on his knees.
The room suddenly felt too small.
He had done this before: walked away and stayed away. He hated it then. He knew that doing the same now would be unbearable. It would make both of them feel worse.
Ilya didn’t want that.
He rubbed his face again, clearing it of tear stains. He wondered what the hell he was doing. The truth felt painfully obvious anyway.
He stared down at the carpet for a long moment before finally grabbing his phone. Ilya quickly texted Marleau that he would be going back out. His teammate responded, telling him to be safe.
Then he was off again.
Once Ilya was at the door outside, he texted Shane’s cover name: ‘let me back in please.’
The reply came a minute later.
Jane: Why should I?
He frowned slightly at the screen.
Ilya: I need to talk to you.
Shane started typing and then deleted his message to try again.
Jane: I think you’ve already said enough.
Ilya: Please, lyubimyy.
He stared at the text, not sure if he meant to add the term of endearment.
The man then suddenly became aware of how cold and quiet the area was.
Four minutes later, the door creaked open. Shane stood there looking as wrecked as Ilya felt. His eyes were red. His hair looked like he’d been dragging his hands through it. The guarded expression on his face didn’t quite hide the exhaustion underneath.
They stared at each other for a moment, not speaking. Then, Shane stepped aside.
“Are you coming up, or what?” Hollander asked, tone flat.
Ilya simply nodded, stepping inside.
The stairwell echoed faintly as they made their way up. Ilya could tell that Shane’s steps were heavier than usual.
“You are very annoying,” Ilya commented under his breath.
Shane didn’t look at him when he fired back, “You came all this way just to tell me that?”
“And more.”
That got Shane to glance over his shoulder at him. He paused and something flickered in his eyes before he continued his way up.
When they reached the apartment, Hollander quietly unlocked the door and pushed it open. His posture was rigid and his movements were stiff.
He let Ilya go in first.
Once they were both inside, the Canadian asked in a somewhat neutral and tired tone, “Okay, so what is it?”
Ilya hesitated for a second, lips pursed. He couldn’t quite bring himself to look at him.
“I should not have left like that,” he admitted.
Shane blinked, not expecting those words. He took a tentative step forward, but took it back.
“Well,” he said slowly. “You did.”
“Yes.” He absentmindedly started lightly chewing on the inside of his cheek.
Silence stretched uncomfortably between them. Shane shifted his weight slightly, watching him. Ilya wished he could kiss the stress wrinkles away, but knew this wasn’t the time.
“So… you ran all the way back here to apologize?” Hollander asked.
“Partly.”
That made Shane’s brow crease. “What does that mean?”
Ilya rubbed the back of his neck, voice low. “It means I was not finished speaking.”
Hollander let out a quiet breath through his nose. “You seemed pretty finished when you walked out.”
“I know.” He swallowed.
There was another lull in the conversation. Ilya looked at the floor for a moment before meeting Shane’s eyes again.
“You asked me if I was afraid,” he said.
Shane didn’t respond immediately, but his shoulders tensed slightly.
“Yeah, I remember,” he said after a few seconds.
“I was,” Ilya admitted, voice breaking.
Hearing this, Shane slowly uncrossed his arms. The man finally approached. His eyes and mouth moved, making him look worried.
“Of the cottage?” he asked.
“Of what it means,” Ilya corrected, exhaustion in his tone.
Shane frowned. “It’s just one week.”
“No,” Ilya said quietly. “Is more than that.”
Shane’s mouth opened as though he was going to say something, but he didn’t. He blinked a few times instead.
“You think I’m asking for more than that?” He questioned, shifting his weight.
“I think you deserve more than that,” Ilya said, meeting his gaze steadily, finally. “And is something I can’t give.”
Shane blinked a few times, tears threatening to fall, as he asked, “Could you try?”
“If I do,” he started, but his breathing hitched. “I will not be able to go back.”
“Is that so bad?” His voice was almost above a whisper.
Ilya didn’t answer right away. Instead, he looked down, jaw tightening slightly as if he were trying to find the right words and failing.
Finally he said, quietly, “I do not trust myself with it.”
Shane frowned. “With what?”
“With wanting it.”
The words hung in the air between them.
Shane shook his head slightly. “Ilya…” He took another step closer. “You’re acting like wanting something is a problem.”
“For me, it is.”
“That doesn’t make any sense.”
“It does to me.”
Shane let out a frustrated breath, dragging a hand through his hair.
“You’re talking about this like it’s some kind of disaster waiting to happen,” he said. “Like if we try, everything falls apart.”
Ilya didn’t answer. That silence told Shane more than words would have.
His expression softened as he asked, “You think I haven’t thought about the complicated parts?”
Ilya hesitated. “Maybe.”
Shane exhaled slowly. “I have.” Another step brought them only a few feet apart now. “And I still invited you here tonight. I don’t care about the risks if it means being with you. Even if it’s hard or scary.”
Ilya’s eyes flickered up to meet Shane’s, a flicker of hope mingling with doubt.
“I want that too,” he whispered. “But sometimes wanting isn’t enough.”
“Enough for who?” Shane asked, reaching out, fingers brushing lightly against Ilya’s forearm.
“For both of us.”
The Canadian sent him a small smile, waiting for him to continue.
“Wanting won’t solve the pressures or consequences. Or the fact that I still might fail you.”
Shane’s expression softened, his thumb tracing small circles on Ilya’s skin. “Then we’ll face that together. No one said it would be easy.” He paused. “I’m not pretending this won’t hurt sometimes, but I’m not going anywhere.”
Ilya swallowed, the tight knot in his chest loosening just a bit. “I don’t want to lose you.”
“You won’t,” Shane promised.
“You say that now.”
“Yeah. I do.”
Ilya’s heart felt lighter and heavier at the same time. He searched the other man’s face and knew Shane must be feeling something similar.
For a moment neither of them moved. Then, Shane’s hand slid from Ilya’s forearm to his wrist, then up to rest lightly against his elbow, grounding but gentle.
“We don’t have to figure everything out today. You don’t have to give me an answer on the cottage-“
“I do.”
Shane blinked.
Ilya swallowed, then forced the words out before he could second-guess himself.
“I want to go.”
Shane stared at him for a second, eyes wide, trying to figure out if he’d heard correctly.
“You… what?” He exhaled.
“I want to go,” Ilya repeated, quieter this time but no less certain.
“You’re serious?”
Despite his pounding heart, his shoulders lifted slightly in a helpless shrug as he admitted, “It is terrifying. And probably a terrible idea.”
Despite everything, Shane let out a small breath of laughter.
“Yeah,” he agreed softly. “Probably.”
Ilya’s expression softened just a little. “But I want it anyway.”
They were closer than they had been all night. Ilya didn’t move away.
“I’m glad,” Shane said as his hand slid from his arm to his cheek without much thought.
For a second they just stood there, sharing the warmth of each other’s breath.
“Is this okay?” Shane asked, eyes darting between his eyes and his lips.
Ilya answered by leaning in.
The kiss wasn’t rushed. It was careful at first, and tentative in a way neither of them usually allowed themselves to be. Like they were both making sure the other wouldn’t disappear.
That didn’t last long, though. Ilya’s hand came up to grip the back of Shane’s neck, pulling him closer as the hesitation finally melted away.
The tension that had been sitting between them all night broke all at once.
When they finally pulled apart, neither of them stepped back.
They rested their foreheads against each other and smiled.
“Still terrifying,” Ilya murmured.
“Yep,” Shane said. “But worth it.”