Tampa — January 2017
After the game, Ilya's skin was buzzing.
They won. Of course they won.
Playing with Shane had felt exhilarating, a high that Ilya knew he would be chasing for the rest of his life. He didn't think hockey could make him this happy, but it turns out that being on the ice with someone who could keep up with him —who could read his movements like they were an instruction manual on how to score the perfect goal— was the thing that had always been missing to make hockey feel extraordinary again.
After the shower and the press rounds, a bunch of the guys invited him to a Mexican restaurant that was supposed to have the best food in town. Ilya looked around and didn't see Shane in the mix, so he politely declined, saying he'd rather find a party and a nice girl who would show him around. Brophy laughed and clapped his back on his way out, mumbling fucking Rozanov as he went.
Truth be told, Ilya itched to get a glimpse of Shane before they left. He wished he could ask about him but there was no way his interest in finding Shane wouldn't be noticed by other players.
Carson invited him to the hotel bar, claiming there were always women around. Ilya nodded, guessing it was as good place to look for Shane as any other. And if he didn't, at least, he'd be at the hotel already. If Ilya was lucky, he would run into Shane in the lobby, perhaps get an eyeful of him before he went to bed.
Ilya could text him, but for the first time in a long time, he didn't know what he wanted to say.
So, he went to the bar with the guys, drank a respectable half of a glass of mediocre vodka, then he sat, facing the door, in an attempt to see who would walk in.
Ilya guessed Shane wouldn't voluntarily be seen spending time at the bar alone, but he knew someone had invited him along. Perhaps, he would show up for a bit to appease the team. They had won the game, after all.
Half an hour passed in between loud conversations and friendly teasing but Shane didn't show up at the bar. Ilya wanted to ask about him. Badly. To know if the man was still around in some capacity, if they were still breathing the same air. God, it was pathetic. See what Shane Hollander reduced him to. He felt like he was living on crumbs.
But Shane had said he was not with Rose Landry, that they weren't compatible, and Ilya had latched onto it like a pigeon fighting for the last piece of bread tossed in his direction.
Compatible.
The word rang in Ilya's mind louder than church bells, bouncing around his brain with barely contained excitement. Not compatible. Not made for each other, right?
Ilya's English slipped through his fingers as he took a sip of his vodka.
Were Shane and Ilya compatible? The question scared Ilya. Were they made for each other? What was Ilya made for? To play hockey, that was for sure.
To be a disappointment, a voice that sounded eerily like his father whispered in his head.
Ilya shook his head and took another sip. He realized he wasn't sure that was what compatible meant. He took out his phone and opened the translator app. He typed compatible and his phone threw out the word совместимый.
What had Shane said about Rose? We're not compatible. Ilya typed that sentence in the box.
мы несовместимы.
Ilya's skin had been buzzing ever since the game ended. Now the buzzing was in his ears.
He needed to find Shane.
He drank the rest of his vodka in one big gulp, then he excused himself to find the restroom, noticing for the first time the beautiful woman who had been almost sitting on Carson's lap. He wondered how long he had spaced out, but he quickly realized he didn't give a shit. The only player whose opinion he cared about was not in the room now.
He took a detour and walked out of the hotel, following the sun into the sea. Ilya didn't know where his feet were taking him, just that he needed to keep moving. Shane was somewhere out there, Ilya knew that.
He kept walking along the beach as the sunset painted the sky in beautiful hues of orange and purple. His eyes fixed on a distant silhouette that looked painfully familiar.
Ilya kept walking.
He didn't know what he was going to say the moment he was with Shane, too many feelings warred inside him, fighting for the chance to come out. Hope was one of them. Even when Ilya knew this thing between them was impossible, that it would be better to end it now before it hurt more than the last 2 months without Shane had hurt.
There was barely any light left in the sky when he reached Shane. Some tourists walked in the opposite direction at a distance, chatting animatedly among themselves. He sat a few inches from Shane, closer than he ever dared to in public, closer than what Shane would want, possibly.
What's so fascinating about the sunset? he almost asked, but Ilya's breath caught in his throat as he looked at the sun disappearing over the horizon line, his words tangling in his vocal chords until they suffocated. His eyes went from the sunset to Shane's face, to the smattering of freckles that sat high on his cheeks, to Shane's relaxed eyes, half-lidded and heavy with exhaustion, to his beautiful lips, pink and chapped from the ice, and he had to look away before he did something stupid like kiss him and never let him go.
"Found you," he said.
"You were looking for me?" Shane's words betrayed nothing. Ilya almost wished he could read Shane's mind for some clues.
"Of course not," he replied instead.
Ilya watched the sky, as the dark purple swallowed all the orange, leaving them mostly in the dark. Ilya heard a bird cry as it flew over their heads. He let himself enjoy the rare bout of silence, wondering if Shane felt the same buzzing in his skin since they shared the ice.
He thought this was the longest they had ever gone without talking when Ilya's dick wasn't in Shane's mouth or vice versa. It was nice, he decided. Comfortable. Compatible, maybe.
Ilya planted his hands behind him, next to Shane's. The air shifted around them. Ilya's stomach tightened with adrenaline at the thought of grabbing Shane's hand. He would be content to just brush against his skin. Crumbs, he thought drily.
"I looked up that word," Ilya said. "Compatible."
Ilya had his eyes fixed on where he thought he remembered the waterline being. He couldn't be sure now that the sun had gone down. The night wrapped around them like a blanket, keeping them out of reach of the rest of the world.
He couldn't see Shane's expression, but his voice sounded like he was frowning when he asked, "what?"
"I thought I knew what it meant, but I wanted to be sure."
Shane seemed to take a moment to think about what Ilya was saying. Ilya wasn't even sure where he was going with any of this. Why was Ilya here? Because he wanted… more than anything, he just wanted.
"Oh," Shane said when he caught on whatever Ilya was saying with that. Fortunately for Ilya, he didn't say anything else to stop him from speaking. Unfortunately for Ilya, Shane didn't say anything else to help Ilya either.
"You and Rose Landry…" Ilya said, not sure how to finish that sentence.
"Yeah. Not compatible. Not in that way, anyway."
Are we compatible? he wanted to ask, but he couldn't because even if they were, they were impossible first.
"When do you fly out?" Shane asked, finally.
Ilya's stomach tightened with anticipation. Around them, Ilya couldn't see a single soul at the beach. His hands tingled as his skin buzzed. "Early," he replied.
"Me too. Columbus," Shane said, his voice pitched lower. Ilya wanted to see Shane's face.
"Toronto," he said instead.
Shane was close enough to touch. If Ilya moved his hand just a little bit to the right, they would be touching. His heart hammered in his chest as if he was driving down the highway in one of his precious cars, adrenaline pumping through his veins.
He moved his hand.
When the world didn't immediately end and Ilya could take in a deep breath again, he hooked their thumbs together. Ilya's skin stopped buzzing, his ears stopped ringing, his heart settled down slightly, and a soft thrum of joy settled on his body.
Crumbs, his mind whispered.
But Shane did not move his hand away, so Ilya allowed himself to look.
Shane's face looked soft and hopeful, eyes closed, a small smile tugging at his lips. Ilya wanted him so bad. He would have risked everything to rest his head on Shane's shoulder and stay in that moment a little longer. He was selfish like that.
Then, Shane spoke up, bringing Ilya back to this beach in Florida where everything felt impossibly out of reach.
"What room are you in?" Shane whispered, but it was as loud as a gunshot in Ilya's mind.
"Twelve seventeen," Ilya said automatically. Words spilling out of his mouth without his permission, an open wound that bled his feelings onto the sand.
"I'd like to talk. Somewhere private."
Ilya could no longer think straight. He pulled his thumb away from Shane's. The buzzing under his skin returned.
He stood up and said, "See you soon," before he started his trek back to the hotel. He tried not to run, but he was sure his relaxed gait looked as fake as he felt.
Ottawa — July 2017
It was a nice dream, Ilya thought to himself as he sat down on the dock, lighting up a cigarette. For three weeks he had almost forgotten how to smoke, how to want anything that wasn't Shane. The cottage had felt like a small eternity tucked away from reality where nothing could touch them. A taste of a life Ilya could have if he wasn't Ilya Rozanov. Or if he was a different Ilya Rozanov, one who was allowed to keep the things that made him happy.
The problem with getting a taste of this life was that Ilya did not want to let it go.
He took another hit of his cigarette, the smooth smoke burning his throat as he inhaled. The sun was setting in Ottawa and, with it, his last day at the cottage came to a bitter end.
Ilya should be with Shane, savoring every minute he could get with his boyfriend before the inevitable flight to Boston, but he was too busy fighting the looming specter of loneliness that haunted him whenever he was on a flight home. What else was Ilya supposed to do? He had gotten a glimpse of Heaven in the form of Shane's smile when he woke up in Ilya's arms. How could Ilya go without it now that he had seen it?
He finished his smoke and put it out with his fingertips, the sting of the burn enough to ground him for a minute longer. Ilya's eyes stared at the water in front of him, the lake shimmering with the fading light of day. Beautiful. Not as beautiful as Shane, with whom he should be instead of whatever he was doing.
Ilya heard a door slide open, then closed. Shane's soft steps on the grass followed by the thud of Shane's feet making contact with the dock. Shane sat next to Ilya without saying anything, leaning his head on Ilya's shoulder while his bare foot touched Ilya's calf where his legs dangled down the edge of the dock.
Shane sniffled and Ilya tensed, unsure why Shane's crying rang all the alarms in his head.
"Shane?" he asked, moving his head back to look at him.
"I'm sorry," Shane said, straightening up. He squared his shoulders back and looked at the darkening lake in front of them.
"What's wrong?" Ilya's words left his mouth before he could think them through. He didn't really want to know if something was wrong. He would rather live in the paradise created by the cottage and Shane's warmth a little longer.
Shane huffed a humorless laugh. "I'm just…" he wiped his tear-streaked face with the back of his hand. Then, as if he was remembering something, he breathed in deeply, steeling himself, and said, "I don't want you to go."
"Shane—"
"I know, okay? I know you have to go to Boston, and I have to go to Montreal. I know. But three weeks ago I said, I promised, I would be honest with you about how I really feel, and now I feel like shit because you have to go."
Ilya's heart filled with so much love for this man, he knew that he would do anything to be with him a little longer. "I can change my flight."
"Ilya—"
"Just listen to me, okay? I can change flight. Three more days. Something. Anything to stay with you a little longer," he admitted.
"Camp starts in a week—"
"I don't care," he said.
"Liar," Shane shot back.
Ilya did care about training camp. Not because he missed the ice so badly, but because it was one step closer to finishing his last season in Boston. One step closer to being as near as he could get to Shane while still playing hockey. But Shane didn't know that.
"I almost wish this season was over already," Ilya admitted. "I want to be with you all the time."
"Me too."
"But is last season apart, right?" He pushed, trying to see if Shane would smile. "Then I play in Canada, two hours away, all year long."
"Two hours away during the season," Shane agreed. "We can spend summer in here. Together."
Ilya's mouth curved in a soft smile as he looked at Shane's earnest expression. The last remnants of twilight faded into the night and Ilya was struck by how beautiful Shane was under the faint moonlight.
Shane finally turned to look at him. His eyes were glistening with unshed tears. "We really are going to do this then."
"Yes," Ilya replied.
"And this is what you want? To be together?" Shane asked, an echo of something Ilya had asked less than three weeks ago, on that fateful night Shane told him he loved him with his twelve step plan to be together.
"More than anything," Ilya replied. "I want you, this, us, for as long as you want."
"What if… what if I wanted forever?"
Ilya's heart beat faster in his rib cage. "Then I will give it to you. Gladly."
Shane crashed his mouth against Ilya's, hot and urgent and perfect, and all Ilya could do was kiss him back.
Forever. Ilya liked the sound of that.
Montreal — November 2019
They were lounging on Shane's sofa half-watching a movie but really mostly cuddling. Shane had his head on Ilya's chest as Ilya carded his fingers through Shane's soft hair. Outside, the world was slowing down as the sun went down.
It was a rare weekend off for both of them and Ilya had driven early on Saturday morning to Shane's place in Brossard. Ilya wasn't a fan of this sofa, he'd much rather be in the long sectional Shane had at the cottage, where the cushions were not stiff with disuse. Shane barely spent any time in his Montreal home now, most of his free time was spent in Ottawa at Ilya's place. (Secretly, Ilya didn't think of it as his place anymore; it was their home).
Ilya's eyes fitted from the TV to the window where the sunset was dyeing the clouds turbulent shades of purple. He spent so long tracking the movement of the sun that he barely caught Shane's words when they came.
"Do you ever think about retirement?"
"What about it?" Ilya asked, knowing that while Ottawa might not be a cup-winning team now, the Centaurs had a lot of potential to be something great. He did not think about retirement in any concrete way on a daily basis.
"I was just thinking… we will have lots of free time," Shane said. He sounded relaxed. Soft. Happy.
"Hmm."
"Maybe we could have a garden?"
"A garden?"
"Well," Shane dragged the word longer than necessary, "more like a greenhouse really, considering, you know, winter."
Ilya had a feeling that organic vegetables would be on the menu for the rest of his life. Warmth wrapped around his heart at the thought of a long life spent next to Shane and his projects. He felt the corners of his mouth curl in a smile.
"Okay."
"We could grow our own zucchini and… okay?" Shane turned his head to the side to look up at Ilya. His cheek that was pressed against Ilya's chest was shiny with sweat, but instead of looking like a mess, he looked like an angel.
"Yes, we will have boring greenhouse with organic vegetables," Ilya said, as if it were simple. If Shane wanted it, he would have it.
"Really?" Shane asked, eyes bright in the fading light of the living room.
"Yes, we can get dog also, yes?"Ilya's hand moved of its own volition to bury in Shane's hair again.
"A dog?"
"Two. Would be good for exercise, so we don't become boring people who only grow organic tomatoes." Ilya leaned his head back on the sofa, closing his eyes. He could picture the dogs perfectly. He could picture Shane sticking to a rigorous walking schedule so the dogs get all the exercise they need. He could picture himself and Shane packing the dogs' toys before heading out to the cottage for the summer.
After a moment, Shane said, softly, "okay."
"Hmm, good."
Ilya enjoyed the buzz of joy under his skin for exactly ten seconds before Shane shifted in his arms. Shane sat up, moving away from Ilya, and Ilya missed him immediately. He opened his eyes.
"What about kids?" Shane asked.
Ilya frowned. "What about them?"
"Do you want to have kids?" Shane's voice betrayed nothing.
Ilya thought about it briefly, but he realized he already knew his answer. "I think so, probably."
Shane nodded but stayed silent. Ilya's heart felt tight in his chest, thinking about the possibility that this was not what Shane wanted. Perhaps he should have asked first.
"Shane?" Ilya looked at his boyfriend, tracking his face in the now dark living room. Ilya wished he could see Shane's expression clearly, to be able to read the slightest twitch in his lips for a clue. "Do you want kids?"
"I'm not very good with kids," said Shane.
"You are good with Pike's children," countered Ilya, refusing to believe Shane did not know this. Pike's children adored him. They hung to his every word with wonder, they looked at him for hockey advice —which was hilarious considering their father was an active MHL player—, they behaved like angels if Shane promised dessert —even if it was just cut up fruit.
"You are better with them," Shane pushed.
"That is true. I am their favorite uncle," he joked, hoping it would make Shane smile. It did.
"Asshole," Shane said fondly.
They sat in contemplative silence for a brief moment. Ilya didn't want to pressure a response out of Shane, and the way Shane had one of Ilya's hands firmly clasped between his own told Ilya that, perhaps, he didn't need a spoken answer to his question. Still, Ilya wanted to hear it, to know they were on the same page about this too.
"So, you want? Children?"
Shane raised Ilya's hand to his lips, slowly kissing each of Ilya's knuckles. "I think I do."
Ilya's heart felt so full of love, he could have burst at the seams. A greenhouse. Two dogs. Children. The future stretched in front of him bathed in hazy daylight, and Ilya's veins sang with the soft thrum of barely contained joy, even with the undercurrent of worry and uncertainty about when they would get there.
Ottawa — July 2021
Ilya watched as early morning light filtered through the windows in their room and wrapped around Shane's sleeping form. Ilya's hand lazily drew patterns on Shane's back, slow circles and spirals that didn't bother his husband enough to wake him up.
For the first time in a long time, Ilya's mind is quiet. There was no buzzing excitement about the wedding or an undercurrent of nerves due to Shane's transfer to the Centaurs. Ilya's happiness felt too big to comprehend, a feeling that overwhelmed him enough to bring tears to his eyes. Last night, he got married to the love of his life, the only person Ilya has ever felt these feelings for, and it was perfect.
Ilya kissed Shane's temple, and Shane stirred in his arms.
"Good morning," Ilya said, soft enough that if Shane was not ready to wake up, he could ignore him.
"Good morning," Shane mumbled against Ilya's shoulder, turning his head just enough to glance up at Ilya. Shane lazily opened his eyes, squinting against the soft morning light. "What time is it?"
Ilya shrugged. He had no idea, nor did he want to move away from Shane to check.
Suddenly, Shane's face split in a bright smile. "We got married."
"We did."
"You are my husband."
"I am," replied Ilya, "and you are mine."
Shane kissed Ilya's shoulder before turning to look at Ilya with his most earnest expression. "So, what's the plan now?"
"The plan?"
"Yes, the plan. We've never really talked about after. After getting married. Or after coming out. Or—"
"Yes, we have."
"We have?"
"Yes." Ilya kissed the top of Shane's head before he added, "we win cups. We retire together. We build a greenhouse, adopt a little sister for Anya…"
"Ilya…" Shane said, a smile dancing on his lips.
"—and when you're ready, we will have a reasonable amount of children, unlike Pike—"
"You like Hayden's children…"
"—and we're going to live happily ever," Ilya continued, as if he hadn't been interrupted. "That's the plan."
Ilya preened under the lovesick grin Shane sent him. He came up and kissed Ilya's lips briefly, barely a peck to tide Ilya over another minute. "I like the sound of that."