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Ilya was reactive, it’s what made him a good player on the ice, it’s also what got him into a lot of dangerous situations. Seeing Shane with Rose Landry, in the very place he was going to try and forget him, was a cruel twist of fate.
Even with all the pain Hollander had caused him of late, he wasn’t able to shake the guilt eating away at him when he pictured Shane’s pained stare. Ilya knew it was immature of him to put on a show but he wanted Shane to hurt like he did.
It was perfectly ironic that the girl was using him just as much as he was using her, he’d chuckled darkly to himself as she disappeared back into the crowd. His options were either going back to the hotel to lick his wounds, or drink until he forgot what his name was. Ilya chose to go with the devil on his shoulder and walked to the bar.
He would remember this as a ‘sliding doors’ moment, like the film he watched on a flight once. If he had gone back to his hotel room, he would have been on a flight back to Boston in the morning. He’d message Sveta in advance, have her waiting for him when he got home so he could fuck the thoughts of Shane fucking Hollander right out of his brain.
Instead he made a series of stupid mistakes, starting off with accepting an invite to a private booth occupied by the club owner’s son. Ilya was approached by a security guard, he thought he was getting kicked out but surprisingly found himself being led towards the VIP section.
‘Ilya Rozanov, it’s an honour man! I’m Jacques.’
Jacques looked to be in his early thirties, he wore a black dress shirt with a pair of dark wash jeans, his light brown hair pushed back into quiff. Sitting beside him was a man and a woman of similar age, who introduced themselves as Leo and Kathryn. Ilya indulged their questions about hockey as best as he could, the alcohol made translating difficult the more drunk he got.
He was shocked when Jacques brazenly produced a glass vial containing white powder, offering out a ‘bump’ to the table. An alarm started ringing in Ilya’s head, if he was pictured out in public with drugs then he could lose his NHL career. His heart began to race as he watched the other three snort the powder off a tiny spoon, declining as the vial was handed his way.
‘Thank you but I don’t do drugs.’
Ilya hoped his refusal would not be offensive, surely it was common sense that professional athletes don’t take illicit substances. He had been relieved, if not confused, when he was met with guffawing laughter.
Jacques slowly stopped laughing, tilting his head at Ilya, ‘Oh wait, you’re serious… But dude, you were the one who said yes to a Molly cocktail?’
Ilya felt warm, uncomfortably warm for somebody not exerting any energy, he remembered accepting a cocktail but clearly missed the part about it containing MDMA. He needed to get it out of his system, he needed to leave before he lost all sensibility he had left.
The ever accommodating Jacques seemed all too happy for Ilya to leave, instructing the same security guard to guide him out. He was told they would let him out of a discreet side exit, it was dressed up as a kindness rather than a dumping of a problem.
The fresh air hitting Ilya’s skin did nothing to cool him down, his teeth should be chattering but his jaw had a mind of its own. He felt out of control of his body, a fear seeping in that if he went back to his hotel room alone he could die.
He heard voices in the distance, whipping his head round to see two older men in their forties walking up the side street he was on. They were wearing Montreal jerseys, which on reflection should have been a warning sign for Ilya. He saw them whisper to each other as they spotted him, something he was used to happening in public.
‘You okay there bud?’ One of the men directed towards Ilya.
‘Da. Yes, sorry. I forget where hotel is.’
‘We’ll take you there, it’s on our way.’ The other man said, a gleam in his eye.
This is where Ilya should have realised that he hadn’t told them what hotel he was staying at, thanked them and rang an Uber. He shouldn’t have followed them like a little lamb into slaughter, much to their delight. It was only when he found himself in a darkened alleyway, a small group of men also wearing Montreal regalia advancing, that he knew he was in danger.
He tried to turn round but he was stopped by the two men that had led him here, ‘What’s the problem buddy? Our friends want to say hello, maybe get a few souvenirs.’
Ilya fumbled in his pocket for his phone, punching in his passcode as quickly as he could, it opened on a message thread he’d been obsessively checking all day. There was no time to worry about the repercussions as Ilya pressed the call button, hoping that ‘Jane’ would answer. He was glad the Montreal fan who ripped it out of his hand had been too dumb to notice before they pocketed it.
A sober Ilya would have given up a good fight, maybe even good enough to get away, but a drugged and drunken Ilya hit the ground with the first punch.
* * *
Rose had rebuffed Shane’s attempts to go home separately, he couldn’t imagine trying to have sex with her when all he wanted to do was cry. It was wrong, he was in a relationship, the last thing he should be doing was thinking of Ilya. Thinking of how seeing Rozanov’s hands all over someone else had cracked his heart into tiny pieces.
Shane’s hands shook as he put his key in the door, he could feel the panic rising in his chest at the weight of the performance that lay ahead. If Rose noticed she was kind enough to not say anything, silently following Shane inside, her expression unreadable. He’d expected her to pull him towards the bedroom but she made herself comfortable on the sofa, gesturing for him to sit beside her.
‘I want you to know that I’m here for you Shane, no matter what.’ Rose started.
Shane felt thrown, this sounded like a break up conversation, he couldn’t fathom what he had done wrong. Had his dancing been so bad that Rose didn’t find him attractive anymore? Did Miles tell her that Shane was a dud and to get rid? He ran his hand through his hair, opening his mouth to speak but Rose cut him off.
‘Shane please, don’t panic.’ Rose took hold of his hand, ‘I’m hoping this will be cathartic for you. I want you to be happy.’
‘I don’t understand.’
‘I saw you Shane, it’s honestly a wonder nobody else did the way you were staring.’
Rose’s tone was gentle, however it did nothing to quell the dread surging through his veins, he’d been caught. He scrambled for an explanation as to why he was gawping at his rival grinding on a stranger at the club.
‘It’s not what it looks like.’
Rose smiled sadly, ‘I think it’s exactly what it looked like and that’s okay. You’re safe here, I think you’re an incredible person and hopefully a lifelong friend. Tonight isn’t the end of us, only romantically.’
Deny or tell the truth, Shane weighed up his options, ‘I’m sorry Rose, this was never fake for me, I really do like you.’
‘I know Shane, I like you too. Now tell me, what’s the deal with Rozanov?’ Rose smirked.
Emboldened by his admission and Rose’s acceptance, Shane told her everything, right back to the first time he and Ilya met. The lightness he felt having finally confessed his secret was short lived, interrupted by a phone call from ‘Lily’. Rose now knowing who Lily was a codename for had nudged Shane in the ribs, encouraging him to answer it.
‘Hello?’
Initially he kept the phone pressed close to his ear, worried that Ilya would say something diabolical in front of Rose. The voice he heard didn’t have a Russian accent, in fact there were multiple voices, all with local accents. Shane put his phone on speaker, muting his microphone so he couldn’t be heard.
‘I think something is wrong.’
Rose listened with Shane as the unknown voices goaded each other on, encouraging each other to make sure they all got a ‘good go’. Both sat in horror, helpless to do anything but listen to Ilya be beaten by some thugs.
‘He won’t be a problem for Hollander anytime soon.’ One voice laughed.
‘That’s what you get for letting yourself get so fucked up in a city where everyone hates you.’
‘I can’t believe he followed us here willingly, idiot fucking Russian. Of course your hotel is down the alleyway next door to an abandoned warehouse.’
‘See you later Rozanov, sleep tight.’
Shane ended the call, not wanting the man with Ilya’s phone to know anybody had heard them. Rose was already on her feet, an unspoken agreement between them that they needed to go and find Ilya, and they needed to go now.
* * *
Shane parked his car haphazardly at the entrance to the alleyway, leaving the headlights on to illuminate the darkness. His stomach flipped when he couldn’t see Ilya at first glance, what if he had crawled away before they could get to him. As he got further in, he caught sight of a crumpled figure, nestled between two large bins.
‘Oh my god!’ Shane exclaimed when he saw the state of Ilya.
The cotton shirt Rozanov had been wearing at the club was ripped to shreds, angry purple bruising flowering all over his chest. His swollen face was covered in blood, making it impossible to tell where it was coming from. His hand was clutched around the crucifix necklace he always wore, the only thing of value they hadn’t managed to take from him.
Shane kneeled in front of Ilya, trying to gain if there was any level of consciousness. He brought his hand to Ilya’s cheek, noting how hot and sweaty his skin was.
‘Ilya. Ilya, if you can hear me, open your eyes.’
Two hazel eyes flickered open, ‘Shane?’
If Shane had thought seeing Ilya with someone else was the biggest heartbreak he would have this evening, he was sorely mistaken. Ilya looked scared, like he couldn’t tell if Shane was real or he was hallucinating, still keeping a tight hold of his crucifix.
‘Yes, I’m here. Jesus Christ, what did they fucking do to you?’
Ilya hissed as Shane ran his fingers over the bruising on his chest, ‘Man in club give me drugs. I didn’t know. Men outside said they show me to hotel. Bring me here.’
‘What drugs? Fuck, we need to take you to a hospital.’
‘Нет. No hospital.’ Ilya shook his head determinedly, a bad idea for somebody with a possible concussion.
He managed to push Shane away in warning before he emptied his guts on the floor in front of him.
‘Ilya! You have to be seen by somebody!’ Shane began to panic, he was out of his depth.
Rose cleared her throat, drawing both of the men’s attention, Shane felt guilty that he’d forgotten about her presence.
‘Rose Landry?’ Ilya quirked a bloodied eyebrow.
‘Lily Rozanov?’ Rose supplied in good humour, ‘If we take you back to Shane’s I can get a medic to come and check you over. Is that okay?’
A bewildered Ilya looked between Rose and Shane, an equally bewildered Shane looked at Rose.
‘I’m a movie star guys, let’s just say it opens you up to a lot of discreet services.’
* * *
Rose was a woman of her word, one phone call on the drive back to Shane’s and a medic was dispatched. Shane wondered if her discreet movie star services stretched to hit men, he wanted the people that did this to Ilya to suffer.
‘It’s likely he was given MDMA, it should wear off within a few hours but it’s important to keep him cool and hydrated. His ribs are too swollen for me to be able to check for any breaks but his blood oxygen is high enough to rule out a punctured lung. Your best bet is to clean him up, keep a close eye and if anything changes call me or 911.’
Rose had taken herself off to the guest room once the medic left, giving Shane and Ilya some privacy. They were currently in the bathroom, Shane peeling off the remainder of Ilya’s clothes before he got into the lukewarm bath. It was possibly the most intimate thing they had ever done, every movement was careful, a tenderness between them both.
Ilya stepped into the bath, sucking in air as he lowered himself down slowly, ‘Sorry I ruined your date night.’
Shane was placing Ilya’s clothes into a plastic bag, either for evidence or for the trash, a decision for later.
‘Do you not remember what Rose called you?’ He asked.
‘She make cute joke, called me Silly Rozanov, yes?’
Shane laughed, a hearty chuckle that took him by surprise, ‘No Ilya, she called you Lily Rozanov.’
‘But that is… Oh.’
‘She saw me looking at you and asked me about it after the club. She knows but I can trust her, we can trust her.’
Ilya looked up at Shane, his pupils so big the irises were almost missing, ‘What are you saying Shane?’
‘I’ve regretted leaving everyday, I was scared, scared of how right it felt.’
Shane crossed the room, kneeling next to the bath with a stack of wash cloths in his right hand. The events of tonight had been transformative for him, he was buoyed by a new found confidence. He knew exactly what he wanted, who he wanted, and he hoped Ilya did too.
‘It is okay to be scared.’ Ilya took one of his wet palms, placing it on Shane's cheek, ‘I am too.’
* * *
Ilya allowed Shane to clean him, first a scrub in the bath, followed by a quick rinse in the shower. Then he sat patiently on the lid of the toilet whilst Shane applied antiseptic creams to his wounds, arnica for his bruises. They were now in the bedroom, Ilya trying to find a comfortable angle to lie down whilst Hollander got into his pajamas.
‘I think I feel the drugs the way I am supposed to now.’ Ilya voiced with a tinge of wonder in his tone.
‘What do you mean?’
‘I feel very happy.’
Ilya grinned as wide as he could with a fat lip, earlier he was terrified but now he felt safe, the remainder of the MDMA providing a warm glow. Shane was so beautiful, every part of his body was perfect but the freckles, they were painted by the angels. Ilya’s hands ached to touch him, to feel him, to absorb him.
Shane blushed at the intensity of how Ilya was looking at him, like he was seeing God, rather than a Canadian hockey player.
‘I’m glad, not that you’re on drugs but that you are happy.’
He took a careful seat on the edge of the bed, not wanting to disturb Ilya now he seemed to have found a painless position to lie in.
Despite his injuries Ilya tugged Shane towards him, ‘Come here.’
‘I’m worried I will make your pain worse.’
Ilya gave Shane another insistent tug, this time he lay down ever so gently, fastidious about keeping a safe distance from Ilya’s broken body.
‘You are not pain Hollander, you are medicine.’
Shane felt like he might burst with joy as Ilya traced over his freckles, down his jawline to his chin, where he hooked his finger underneath. The kiss was euphoric, Shane swore they were levitating, the whole world vanishing apart from them.
Daylight was fast approaching, bringing with it the cold realities they would have to face. The Raiders would need to know where Ilya was and what happened. Excuses for why Shane and Rose were the ones who ended up rescuing him. A believable reason why they didn’t just drop him at a hospital and be on their way. It was a shitstorm.
For now though, they relished being in their own little bubble, the night would end but Shane and Ilya were forever.