Chapter Text
The nights were the most difficult, especially after games in Boston. At least on the road, Ilya could distract himself from how much he missed Shane when his teammates pressured him to go out to clubs to pick up women—he never did, but they always congratulated him on his conquests anyway and he didn’t deny it. Besotted. That was the word he learned from the silly Word a Day calendar Shane gave him for Christmas. Ilya loved the calendar, and felt determined to use it. He had the free time, since he didn’t pick up women and spent too much time alone.
They’d spent their first Christmas together, truly the first Christmas Ilya had enjoyed since his mother died. He and Shane exchanged gifts, but that was a first too, they’d never really done that but the six months since the cottage had been filled with things they’d never allowed themselves to consider.
Shane had been particularly difficult to shop for, Ilya had spent months unsuccessfully brainstorming a gift before he texted Yuna and asked for her advice. She’d told him that Shane was impossible to shop for, even before he’d been drafted by Montreal and made more money than anyone needed. He was particular about many things, downright fussy about most. He had enough money to buy everything he wanted and needed, and truthfully, she’d told him, he didn’t need for anything and didn’t want much. She reminded him that her son wanted a life with him, but how could he wrap that up and tuck it under a tree they’d dragged in from the outdoors? So Yuna wasn’t much help, other than to reinforce what he already knew, he couldn’t give Shane what he really wanted, not now. Not yet.
Eventually he found inspiration in one of those in-flight magazines he’d been flipping through during take off when he couldn’t turn on his movie yet. An ad for a men’s engraved bracelet with custom coordinates spurred an idea. He knew Shane would never buy a bracelet, and he had the deal with Rolex so he didn’t need another watch, but even if he didn’t wear it every day, he could carry it with him. So Ilya found the coordinates for the ice arena in Saskatchewan, going as far as pinpointing the parking lot where Shane had awkwardly told him not to smoke, and had searched for hours to find the perfect bracelet, settling on a classy, handmade leather band with white gold clasp made by an Indigenous Canadian artisan, which he knew Shane would appreciate. He had them engrave the location on the inside, since he knew Shane’s teammates would ask about it. At first glance, no one would know the significance, and he could tell people his mom gave it to him. Until Ilya could put a ring on his finger, it would have to do.
Shane likely had a similar struggle, since Ilya liked fast cars and good Russian vodka, both of which he had in excess. He was a complicatedly simple man. Besides, Shane once bought an entire multi-story building for them to meet, so the bar he’d set for himself was high. Ever practical, Shane booked flights to Montreal for Ilya, and for himself to Boston, scheduled during the only three times their schedules would allow it all season, quick trips that would be over in 36 hours, but until Ilya could finish out his contract in Boston and move to Ottawa as they planned, those three trips were more than he’d dreamed he’d get. Plus, Shane gave him the calendar. It was one of those tear-off page a day calendars, a daily dictionary of big words that were not in the English classes Ilya took in Russia and words that never came up in the locker room. Ilya loved it.
Every day, he’d peel off the previous day’s word, and painstakingly read the definition, repeating the word to himself until he remembered it. He’d sometimes fold up the paper and slide it into his pocket to look at later. Some he’d have to find a pronunciation on the internet to get it right. Then he’d try to use that word at least once during the day, often to the amusement or confusion of his teammates. When they’d chirp him for it, he would simply say he was trying to improve his English, as though he wasn’t conversationally fluent and hadn’t been in North America for almost a decade. They didn’t need to know his boyfriend was a nerd who went a little feral when Ilya used a word like scrupulous because they couldn’t know he had a boyfriend at all.
Besotted. That was one of the words in February, probably Valentines day, he thinks. He remembers struggling to use it in his conversations that day because what would he say? I am besotted with Shane Hollander? Right. He slipped in in when Marley was going on and on about his latest girl and Ilya used it as a chirp, earning an eye roll from his friend. The word continued to rattle around in his head, especially late at night when he was alone in his big empty house, missing Shane.
Ilya’s phone rang and it answered immediately. Shane’s sleepy smile filled his screen. “Hello, moy ponchik, Ilya said.
Shane scrunched his nose, thinking. “I don’t know that one.”
“Is like a donut.”
“Thanks?”
“You are sweet, like donut,” Ilya said, earnestly.
“I miss you,” Shane said.
“Tell me something. I want to listen to you talk. Not about hockey. Tell me something else.”
Shane told him a story about when his parents took him to Japan when he was 8 years old, to see where Yuna’s family was from and to visit some distant relatives. He talked about how he liked the structure of the culture, and how clean and organized everything is, but he said he mostly ate rice and a little bit of salmon because all the food was so different than what he was used to, so he was hungry the whole trip. Ilya reminded him that he mainly eats rice and salmon now, but he insisted it was not the same because the salmon was almost never cooked which he couldn’t handle. Ilya smiled fondly as Shane told his story, and it loosened something in his chest, allowing him to breathe deeply again. Ilya yawned. He’d played a tough game and he was exhausted. Truthfully, he hadn’t been sleeping well since the last time he and Shane had been together, which was more than two weeks earlier. And they had more than a month left to go.
“You’re sleepy, and so am I. We can talk tomorrow. I don’t have practice until the afternoon, what’s your schedule tomorrow?”
“Morning flight, Winnipeg.”
“And the game in the evening? How about the next day?”
“Vancouver, but we only have practice, so maybe evening,” Ilya said.
“We’ve got a flight that afternoon to Nashville, but evening might be free, other than team dinner.”
Ilya made a growling, moaning sound. “I hate this. What if I get injured and need to be out for a few games, I can meet you in Nashville.”
“Ilya, you know you can’t do that. And I don’t want you to even joke about injuries.”
“Would be better than this,” he said. The joking tone in his voice gone.
“It’s only one season, hopefully next year you’ll be in Ottawa and we’ll be close enough to see each other.”
“Is so long, so far away.”
“We’ve been doing this a long time, we’re so close, we can do it,” Shane said.
“Incorrect. We did not love each other then.”
“I did, I just didn’t say it. I was scared,” Shane said.
“Me too. For a long time.”
“Ilya, I am quite besotted with you, too.”
“Is good word.”
“Goodnight, Ilya. I love you,” Shane said.
“Goodnight, Shane. YA tebya lyublyu,” Ilya said.
When Ilya’s phone went dark after the call disconnected, he realized that all they’d done is talk. No flirting. No phone sex. And it was somehow one of his favorite phone calls they’d shared.