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“You liked last night, hmm?” Ilya purred down the phone, and Shane could feel his whole body react viscerally to the sound of his boyfriend’s voice. “Liked how I took you apart? Liked how I made you beg for it?”
“Mm hmm,” Shane mumbled, reaching his hand into his underwear for the second time that day, and it was only just gone nine in the morning. Ilya Rozanov had always had that effect on him, but it had definitely gotten worse lately, with the plans they were making together. It had been over seven years of hook ups, of pretending they hadn’t caught feelings. Like they didn’t matter to each other.
But now, everything was out in the open, at least between them. Ilya's best friend Sveta was also in the know, but that was all, for now. They’d spent the most romantic summer together at Shane’s cottage, and Shane had finally heard the words from Ilya’s lips that he'd been waiting to hear. Better still, he’d said them back and they’d basked in the glow of their love for the remaining two weeks they’d spent together. It had been bliss, and Shane was holding on tightly to those memories now that the season was in full swing again, and they were due to spend the next three weeks apart. Still, Facetime had been invented for a reason, right?
“You know I did, asshole,” Shane chirped back, but the almost dirty laugh Ilya let out down the phone told Shane he’d seen right through the bravado. “Liked when you ate me out and I grabbed your hair… fuck, love when I pull your curls-”
“I love it too, but don’t get me hard in the airport, Shane,” Ilya said, and Shane smiled in spite of himself, listening as the airport speakers sounded out in the background of their call. It wasn’t the Raiders flight, so Ilya’s attention came quickly back on the call with Shane. “I don’t want to have to wait three weeks to see you.”
Shane sighed, slipping his hand out of his underwear now that the conversation had taken a turn away from being something sexual. It could wait until later, until Ilya was back in an anonymous hotel room and alone. “I know, baby. But we’ll talk every night, okay? It’s always shitty after we’ve been together.”
“Mm, too much too good,” Ilya agreed, and Shane could hear the smile in his voice. “Fuck, stupid charger wire-”
Shane listened to a horrid amount of rustling and just waited patiently for Ilya to come back to him. “What happened?”
“Couldn’t get phone to charge. Stupid wire would not work in port-”
“Port? Ilya, I got you a charger bank so you wouldn’t have to worry about all of this.” There was silence for a minute, and Shane pulled the phone away from his ear, checking the call was still connected. “Ilya?”
“Yes?”
“The power bank. Do you not have it with you?”
Another pause. “It is dead, Shane.”
Shane just rolled his eyes. “Honestly. What am I going to do with you?”
“I have list,” Ilya said, and Shane wished he could see the smirk Ilya undoubtedly had on his face now. “So, solnyshko. You are playing Ottawa tomorrow. You are ready to win?”
“Of course I’m ready to fucking win. It’s Ottawa, Ilya. Hardly a challenge.”
“It pains me when you say this, Shane,” Ilya said before the speaker became muffled again, and Shane could hear faint conversation in the background of the call. When Ilya came back on the line, his voice was much quieter, like he was afraid of being overheard. “You cannot speak of the Centaurs like that.”
Shane smiled, recalling the conversations they’d had over the summer about his potential trade to the Ottawan team, just so they could spend more time together and only be a few hours apart for the majority of the year. “You’ll turn them around, I know you will. How long until your flight leaves?”
“Uh, an hour or so,” Ilya replied, and Shane put the phone on speaker, setting it down on the arm of his sofa. Ilya’s sliders were still tucked under his coffee table, but he couldn’t bring himself to put them away, not yet. Everytime Ilya left, Shane had to do a sweep of his place, removing any trace of Ilya, and it got harder and harder each time. He hated erasing Ilya’s presence and he was feeling more and more tired of this situation they found themselves in. “Жду не дождусь снова вас увидеть.”
Shane paused, translating the words in his head. He wasn’t proficient at Russian yet, but he had a bank of phrases Ilya used often memorised, and he was certain that was one of them. “I… want to see you again?”
“Almost,” Ilya replied, his voice lighter now. “I cannot wait to see you again. You are improving, my clever pomidor.”
“I’ll never like you calling me a tomato,” Shane laughed, and he looked over his shoulder as the washer beeped, telling Shane it was finished with its cycle. “Make sure you text me when you land, okay? I’ll probably be at practise, but I’ll keep checking my phone.”
“Да, of course. я тебя люблю, Shane.”
“I love you too,” Shane said, smiling softly even though Ilya couldn’t see it. “Won’t be long. I’d better go and pack my bag- hey, don’t laugh at me!”
“Like your bag is not already neatly packed and by your front door,” Ilya chuckled, and Shane shook his head in response, secretly loving how well his boyfriend knew him. “Am I right?”
“You know you are, asshole. Fine. I’d better go and put the sheets in the dryer then. You know, the ones you helped me ruin last night?”
“Mm, yes. Good memories. Marly is coming back so I will speak later, okay? Bye bye.”
“Bye, Ilya.” The phone beeped and Shane saw that the call had disconnected. He got up and moved through the house, smiling at the sight of the few things that told him Ilya had been here just a few hours ago. There was an empty, rinsed out coke can on the draining board, a poorly drawn heart on the magnetic notepad on the door of Shane’s fridge, and a thin ring of stubble on the sink where Ilya had shaved and forgotten to rinse it off.
Shane did so as he thought about the next time they’d see each other. As Ilya had said, it was going to be three long weeks without each other, but Shane was excited to put the new tripod he’d ordered to use. He’d broken the last one a few weeks ago, knocking it off the bed when he’d got a bit too excited on a call with Ilya, and the new one had finally arrived a few days ago. He already had a few plans he couldn’t wait to put into action.
An hour later, Shane was pulling into the car park at the Bell Arena. The car park was half full, meaning many of his teammates were already there, even though practise wasn’t scheduled to start for almost an hour. Shane always liked to arrive early and get ahead of whatever admin he might have to tackle, and he liked to brainstorm with Coach Theriault before the team hit the ice as well.
Before he got out of the car, Shane pulled up his FlightRadar app and clicked to view Ilya’s flight. It had taken off thirteen minutes later than planned, but that was fine. He’d still make it to Colorado in plenty of time. Shane tapped out a text to Ilya that he knew wouldn’t be read until they landed in about five hours time. He locked his phone and shoved it in the pockets of his sweats, finally stepping out of the car.
It was November, so the weather was getting chilly as winter approached, but Shane didn’t mind too much. He always ran too hot, so being cold was far preferable, even if Ilya did constantly complain about the too-low temperature of Shane’s bedroom air-conditioning unit. He’d resorted to hiding the remote last night, and Ilya had pouted all night when he realised he couldn’t change the temperature on the unit without it.
As he walked towards the locker room, Shane nodded his head politely at a few members of the Metro’s administration team, hoisting his heavy kit bag over his shoulder. A few of the guys had left their things at the arena after last night's match against the Raiders, but Shane couldn’t bring himself to do that. He needed to bring a clean set of everything, to make sure anything that was game worn got a proper cleaning before he could contemplate wearing it again. He walked into the locker room, and immediately felt overwhelmed by the loud noise that greeted him.
“Captain! Thought you might have come out with us last night,” called Comeau, and Shane just made his way to his stall, hoisting his bag inside, leaving his skate bag on the floor beside the bench. “You’re always too busy with fucking Lily, man.”
“Hey, watch your mouth,” Hayden Pike snapped, and Shane looked gratefully over to his best friend. He wasn’t sure Hayden would react quite the same if he realised that Shane’s Lily was in fact his sworn enemy Ilya Rozanov, but still, his support meant a lot. “We don’t talk down about your women, so don’t talk about Shane’s.”
“Got it, sorry Cap,” Comeau said, but the expression on his face didn’t give Shane a lot of faith that he meant it. “So were you with her?”
“Jesus, man, lay off!”
“It’s okay, Hayd, I’ll answer,” Shane said, tugging his hoodie over his head, folding it before he set it on the small shelf above his head. “Yeah, I was with Lily. You know I don’t get to see her much, so when she’s in town, I like to spend time with her. I’m stuck with you assholes most of the year so don’t give me shit for one night with her, please.”
Shane turned back to face his stall, letting out a long, heavy breath. He usually let any chirps about his ‘girlfriend’ go, but he felt a bit sensitive today, not wanting to hear Ilya talked about in any negative way, even if the team didn’t know that’s what they were doing. Hayden clapped a supportive hand on Shane’s shoulder, and then went back to pulling on his pads over his base layers.
The rest of the team came into the room before long, and conversation quickly turned to the match they were due to play against the visiting Centaurs the next night. Shane’s parents were due to drive up that day after practise to stay the night and then be able to attend the game the following day, having been unable to make the match against the Raiders since they were out for their anniversary dinner. Shane absolutely didn’t begrudge them a night to themselves, and in fact, he was grateful he didn’t have to waste time away from Ilya having dinner with them. It had all worked out perfectly.
“What are we betting then?” J.J. Boiziau said, unlocking his phone and pulling up the notes app. “I’m going 5-1 to us.” He tapped at his screen, writing down his prediction for the match later. “Cap? You first.”
Shane didn’t particularly like this tradition, but it was relatively harmless and he knew he’d draw criticism if he declined to join in. “Uh, I reckon 4-2.”
“Generous,” J.J. laughed, adding Shane’s prediction to the list. “Pike?”
“4-0.”
J.J. carried on, taking down everyone’s predictions. He kept a running tally of who was winning, and at the moment, Shane, Comeau and Hayden were all tied with six correct final scores so far for the season. He quickly swiped the document away when Coach walked into the room, and the players immediately turned, giving him their full attention while Coach announced what they’d be running over through practise.
As the team began to file out of the room, Shane quickly checked Ilya’s flight again, pleased to see it was well on its way now. He locked his phone and tucked it back into his bag before he joined the line of players, heading towards the ice. His left skate was slightly too tight, but Shane figured he’d fix it before he stepped onto the ice. Hayden was chatting away next to him as they walked towards the rink, but Shane was only half listening, lost in his own head.
“Shane? Can you?”
“Sorry, what?”
“You’re somewhere else, man. Is everything okay with Lily?”
Shane blinked, startled for a second before he realised Hayden really had no idea what he was asking. “Yeah, it’s fine. It’s just… it's always hard to say goodbye. Doesn’t get easier.”
“How long has it been?” Hayden asked as Shane sank onto the bench, untying his laces and loosening them off before he tied them again, much happier with the tension.
“A few years now,” Shane admitted, smiling to himself as he realised that definitely wasn’t the whole truth. Some things had to be his and Ilya’s, though, and the true length of their relationship was something that was precious to both of them.
“Getting into serious territory,” Hayden said with a wink as he pulled off his blade guards, leaving them in a heap on the floor before he stepped onto the ice. “We’ll have you married and on the road to fatherhood soon, mark my words!”
Hayden took off to join the team, and Shane sat for a moment, wondering how the team would react if the truth ever came out. If they realised that yes, their captain desperately wanted to get married and have children, but he wanted those things with Ilya Rozanov, the man they all detested more than any other player in the league. It wasn’t something Shane had to worry about for a few years yet, but even so, the thought never really left his mind.
“Hollander! On the ice!” called Coach, and Shane nodded, snapping himself back to the present as he stepped onto the ice, grabbing his stick as he headed off. It was time to practise. He had to focus. Here, he was the captain of the Montreal Metros, Shane Hollander, two time Stanley Cup winner, Rookie of the Year. He had a reputation that he fought hard to cultivate and protect, and that had to be enough. For now, anyway.
2 hours later
By the time practise was over, Shane’s hips were aching. Ilya was the one to blame. Sure, he’d played a rough game of hockey the night before against the Raiders and had taken his fair share of hits into the boards, but that wasn’t the source of his pain. Ilya had insisted on folding Shane up like a pretzel the night before, opening his legs almost painfully wide as he’d slammed into him, but the angle had been so good that Shane hadn’t even bothered to protest. Now, though, he was paying the price.
“Hollander, a word!”
Shane nodded and patted Comeau and Mitka on the back before he skated back over to Coach, coming to a slow stop in front of the older man. He’d never been a huge fan of Coach Theriault, the man’s attitude a little too old fashioned for Shane’s liking, but he still respected him and followed his cues and orders. Shane Hollander was not the sort of man to rock the boat.
“I was thinking of changing up the second line tomorrow, since we’re only playing Ottawa. It’s not like it’s going to be a challenge, and it might be good to give some of the rookies time on the ice,” Coach suggested, and Shane just nodded, thinking it wasn’t a terrible idea. “Keep the first line as it is, but let’s pull Holden and Comeau, and give Torres and Winters a go. Maybe Drapeau could do the first two periods then let Bristow on for the third.”
“If things are going our way-” Shane cut in, and Coach frowned for a millisecond before he recovered. “I mean, if that’s what you want, sure, but-”
“No, you’re right. If the win is safe, then we pull Drapeau. If not, he stays on. Good thinking, Hollander. Now go and get changed, rest for the game. I can see you were favouring your right side out there. You injured? Need to see the doc?”
“I’m good, really,” Shane insisted, not sure how he’d explain a sex injury to the medical team right now. “See you later, Coach.”
Shane headed off the ice, only stopping to clip his blade guards back in place before he headed off to the locker room. Unusually, there was a lot of noise coming from the locker room as Shane approached, and he groaned to himself, wondering what sort of fuckery the team were up to now. He wasn’t particularly in the mood to wrangle a group of fully grown adults into submission, and he took a breath before he pushed open the door.
“-would have ever guessed, I mean he’s such a fucking ladies man, always out and being pictured with models and actresses.”
“But who is it? It’s a hotel room, sure, but there must be something in that picture that gives it away!”
“Don’t fucking zoom in, you fucking idiot! I don’t want to see someone else’s jizz stomach!"
Shane just stayed back as he watched his teammates, in three groups all crowded around phones being held by Pike, JJ and Comeau. He wasn’t sure he wanted to be any part of it, but Drapeau grabbed his arm and pulled it into the group closest to him, fumbling and almost toppling over before he was steadied by a strong hand on his arm. He couldn’t see the screen from this angle, but he wasn’t sure he cared.
“You see this, Cap?” Hayden asked, and Shane only just started to shake his head when Hayden changed the angle of the phone, allowing Shane to see the photo in all its glory. He was certain the blood was entirely draining from his face and that his heart had stopped working as his eyes locked onto the image. “Rozanov’s fucking gay, man-”
“Gay, but he’s all over Boston fucking as many women as he can? Nah, man’s gotta be at least bi,” added Comeau, a look of clear disgust on his face. “Dude is fucking jerking off at some other dude-”
“Maybe he’s just… I don’t know, curious?” piped up one of the rookies, but he quickly shut up with the glares sent at him by at least half of the Metros.
“What are you thinking, Hollzy?”
“I’m thinking… this is a violation of Rozanov’s privacy,” Shane managed to say, although he wasn’t sure how he was keeping his voice steady right now. “We shouldn’t be looking, and we shouldn’t be speculating about it.”
“Fuck that, this is the biggest scandal in fucking years!” Drapeau yelled, and a few of the Metros nodded eagerly in agreement. “If he’s stupid enough to take a photo like that, then he has to suck up the consequences-"
“More like suck this guy’s dick!”
Raucous laughter exploded around the room, and Shane felt like he was going to be sick. The thing was… that picture was too familiar, and so was the body in the thankfully pixelated image. It was a screenshot that Ilya had taken during a facetime call a few months ago, when they’d spent over a week apart. Shane had lost a bet about a match against the Raiders, and Ilya’s chosen reward had been to watch Shane jerk himself off, the camera angled so that Ilya could see absolutely everything.
It had been incredibly hot, and Shane had felt on fire as Ilya had watched him, jerking himself off slowly in frame as Shane took himself apart under Ilya’s filthy instructions. Thankfully, the image Ilya had saved didn’t show Shane’s face, or anything else incriminating, and it could’ve been anyone’s body. His hand was wrapped around his cock still, so some of Shane’s dignity had been spared, but even so…
“Where did you get this?”
“Leaked on social media. This is Twitter,” JJ said, clicking out of the image and showing Shane the tweet, which read ‘Breaking: new leak from Boston Raiders’ Captain Ilya Rozanov showing him engaging in sexual video call with unidentified male’. “Man, you really need to get more on top of social media, Hollzy.”
“I hate it, and this is exactly why,” Shane snapped, swiping the screen away before he broke away from the group, folding his arms across his chest and tucking his hands underneath to stop them shaking. “You’re all better than this shitty gossip, so stop it, get changed and go home before the game.”
“But this is huge news, Cap! Come on, Rozanov with a fucking dude is going to be news for fucking weeks.”
“You think the Raiders will fire him?”
“For what?” Shane snapped, glaring at Hayden who had said the last sentence. “You can’t fire someone for liking people of the same sex, Hayden, don’t be fucking stupid.”
“Woah, sorry,” Hayden said, holding his hands up in surrender as Shane continued to stare him down. Hayden turned to the rest of the Metros, raising his voice. “Right, come on guys, we have a game to plan for. Let’s focus on that, okay? I don’t want Hollzy pissed at us if we lose to Ottawa because we’re distracted by fuckin’ Rozanov of all people.”
There was a murmur of discontent before finally, the groups started to break apart and everyone returned to their own stalls. Shane’s teammates continued to talk as they undressed and headed into the showers. Usually, the thought of heading home sweaty and sticky from practise made Shane want to rip his own skin off but right now, all he wanted was to get out of there and call Ilya, to make sure he was okay.
“Uh, my mom just texted. She said my dad isn’t feeling great. I’m going to head home and meet them, see you later,” Shane said to Hayden, nodding gratefully when his best friend wished David well. “Thanks, man.”
Shane snatched up his bags and kept his head down as he hurried out of the room, his phone in his hand. He frantically texted Ilya but felt a wave of despair roll through his body at the realisation that his boyfriend was still 30,000 feet in the air and completely unaware of his world shattering around him. He clicked to unsend his messages and tried a different tactic.
Shane was only slightly worried that he couldn’t remember the drive home when he pulled into his driveway. Occasionally, he dissociated in the locker room, or even on the ice when the pressure got too much, but never to the extent that he couldn’t remember driving his car. He left his bags in the trunk and hurried into his house, grateful that his parents hadn’t arrived yet. He needed time to work out what to do.
He flicked on the sports news channels, and was unsurprised to see that the talking heads were already discussing the image. They were talking around it, unable to show it on the screen of course, but they were talking about it enough that people would be able to go online and see it within a few clicks or searches of Ilya’s name. Shane pushed down the wave of nausea as he sank onto the sofa, wondering what the fuck he was going to do.
Time seemed to slow down until finally, Shane’s phone rang. He’d muted everyone but Ilya, and he quickly snatched it up, answering it with shaking hands. His heart was racing in his chest, wondering how he was going to tell Ilya when-
“Shane, I know.”
“Fuck. I told you not to look-”
“I didn’t. But Connors… he put his phone before we land. Got a message. Everyone knows.”
“Fuck, okay. I wanted to be the one to tell you but- fuck, that’s not important. Are you okay?”
The silence on the line was heavy and Shane felt like he was holding his breath as he waited for Ilya to answer.
“No. No, I’m not, Shane.”
Shane sighed, wishing more than anything he could be there for his boyfriend, to hold him and be in this pain with him. But he was here in Montreal, hours away and completely useless. “Shit, Ilya… what can I do?”
“You do nothing,” Ilya said suddenly, his voice stern and heavy with intention. “Shane, listen to me. You do nothing.”
Shane swallowed. “I… I get why you’re saying that, but-”
“No. Shane, I am serious. I am… I am a joke to many people. This is just another stupid thing about me-”
“Stop it,” Shane said, the words loud, shutting down Ilya immediately. “You don’t get to talk about the man I love in that way. You don’t get to stand there and repeat the shit people say about you like it’s the truth.”
“But Shane, it is true-”
“It isn’t!” Shane yelled, anger thrumming through his veins at how easily Ilya always put himself down, at how low his opinion of himself was. “You think if you say it about yourself that it’ll hurt less? That if you say you’re a joke, that no one else can?”
“Well-”
“It pisses me off,” Shane replied, his voice still loaded with anger, wishing more than anything he wasn’t miles away from Ilya right now. “I know you don’t fucking believe it because I don’t either. So stop. Stop tearing yourself apart and acting like what’s happened is okay.”
“Is my fault,” Ilya stated, his voice empty, devoid of any kind of emotion now and that scared Shane more than anything. “I kept that photo. At least they cannot tell it is you-”
“I couldn’t give a shit if they know it’s me,” Shane said, realising as he said the words that he truly meant them. “Your team… are they…”
“They are good,” Ilya said, but still, his voice was flat in that way Shane had heard before. It meant that Ilya was detaching himself from this, and Shane was helpless to do anything except listen and hope that someone would take care of Ilya when he couldn’t. “Some will not look at me, but-” His voice cracked on the last words, and Shane’s heart ached for him.
“Ilya… I’ll fly to Colorado, I can get a flight and-”
“No. You have game.”
“I know, but you mean more to me than a fucking game. I’ll tell Coach I’m sick, or-”
“I said no. If you do this, Shane, I won’t see you.”
“Hey, fuck you,” Shane snapped, clenching his jaw to stop himself feeling too emotional. “Don’t give me ultimatums. You’re my fucking boyfriend, okay?”
There was a loud noise then, and the call went quiet.
“Ilya? Ilya, what’s going on-”
“Hi, Jane?”
The voice down the line wasn’t Ilya’s anymore. Shane was certain he recognised it to be Cliff Marleau’s, and he realised that he had a decision to make. It took him less than a second.
“Marleau. This is Shane Hollander.”
Another pause. “Wait- I thought this was Jane? Montreal Jane, Ilya’s Jane?”
“That’s me. Ilya and I… we’re together, Marleau. Is he okay? I’m fucking stuck in Montreal, I want to be there to support him-”
“Fuck, man. My god. Wait- are you-”
“The one in the photo? Yeah, but that’s not what we need to be talking about right now,” Shane insisted, trying to get the conversation back on track no matter how crazy his body was feeling right now at finally outing his relationship with Ilya to someone. “How is he? Tell me, please, Marleau-”
“He’s… not doing great. But you know Roz, he’s acting like it’s cool that he’s got his dick splashed across the internet.”
“Fuck,” Shane hissed, leaning over and closing his eyes for a minute. This felt so surreal, and for the first time in his life, Shane didn’t know what to do for the best. “Marleau, you need to… control your team, okay? Ilya needs to know that you all support him, even if you don’t.”
“Anyone who doesn’t support our Captain can get the fuck out of our team,” Cliff spat out, and Shane could hear the vitriol in his tone, how he clearly meant it. “I don’t care who Roz is fucking. I care about him as a person, that he’s being treated right.”
“Give me phone- Shane, what did you do?”
Ilya’s voice didn’t sound angry. It sounded tired, like he was already giving up.
“I told Marleau about us, that it’s me in the photo. He’s your best friend, Ilya, I trust him, and so should you. Look, get back to the hotel with Marleau. I’ll call Farah, she’ll know what to do.”
“No. I will call. This is my mess. I fuck up and now I have to deal with it. Promise me, Shane. Promise you will let me handle this.”
Shane paused for a second. “You don’t have to do this alone, Ilya. You have me.”
“I know. But I will not have you dragged down because of me.”
“What? No-”
Beep beep beep.
Ilya had hung up. Shane just gaped at the phone before he slammed it onto the coffee table, gritting his teeth together so hard that it actually hurt.
“Fuck!”
Shane collapsed back into his sofa, pressing his hands and fingertips down hard into his thighs to give himself something to focus on. It hurt, especially where the muscles were tender after practise but somehow, it felt right to hurt. Just like Ilya was right now.
He was still there when his parents arrived an hour later, not bothering to ring the bell as they entered, chatting between themselves. As much as he loved to see them and spend time with them, he wasn't in the mood right now. he had far more important worries to attend to. He’d been calling Ilya for the past hour but he hadn’t answered. He’d text, warning Shane not to act, not to hurt himself as well.
His messages went unanswered, and Shane’s hand trembled as he held the phone, looking up and into the eyes of his parents. They both froze when they saw Shane, and he looked up, finally feeling his resolve crumble.
“Oh honey, what’s happened?” Yuna asked, rushing over and scooping Shane into a hug. It was too much and not really what he needed right now but he didn’t have the heart to push her away. “Shane, talk to us, sweetheart.”
“I-“
Shane didn’t know what to say. All his life, he’d worked to become a son his parents would be proud to call theirs. To be a man that people could look up to. Now… now he was almost certain he was going to topple all of that because he was in love.
“Shane, buddy, you’re scaring us. Can you talk to us, please?”
“David, go and make tea please."
“No, just… stay here, Dad. Please. I… I need to tell you both something. And I’m not sure you’re going to like it.”
Yuna and David nodded before they stood up, following Shane as he led the way to his table. He rarely ate there, only occasionally when he and Ilya wanted to share a romantic meal, lighting the tall candles between them as their feet rested together, conversation flowing easily and freely between them. They were some of Shane’s favourite moments.
“Have you been online today at all?”
The glance Yuna and David shared told Shane that they had, that they knew about Ilya. Shane silently cursed that fact because that was going to make this more awkward, but he had to do this. For himself, for Ilya. For their relationship. Because, really, Shane knew that this wasn’t a fleeting thing. This was the last relationship Shane was ever going to have, and Shane so badly wanted to share it with the people he loved most.
“If you mean the, uh, the news about Ilya Rozanov, yes, we saw.”
Shane cleared this throat, determined to do this right. He only had one shot at this. “Right.”
“Is there… is there a problem?” Yuna asked, looking between David and Shane again, like she was trying to make sense of all this.
“Sort of,” Shane admitted, clasping his hands together in front of him, resting them on the table. He looked at his parents, took a deep breath, and spoke. “I’m gay. I… I’ve been in a relationship with a man for a while now. I’m sorry that I didn’t tell you, but I’m not sorry for falling in love, or for finding happiness with another man.”
Yuna nodded, and David reached across the table, patting Shane’s arm briefly. For Shane, it was important that his parents knew that. He wasn’t going to apologise for who he was, because he saw nothing wrong with it. While he’d struggled to accept himself initially, Ilya had made him realise that feeling shame about being gay was like feeling shame for being Asian, or having brown eyes. None of these things were bad, and none of them were things that Shane could, or would want to, change about himself. It was just part of who he was.
“Okay, that was the easy part,” he said, and he wasn’t surprised to see the eyebrows of both of his parents raise at that. “Just… let me get through this, then you can ask me any questions you have before we work out how we’re going to deal with this.”
“We’re listening, Shane.”
Shane smiled slightly and nodded, wishing that Ilya was here with him, that they were doing this together. But he wasn’t, and Ilya was the reason Shane was doing this at all.
“The man that I love…” Shane swallowed hard, reaching up to pull at his eyelashes to centre himself for a moment, “it’s Ilya Rozanov.”
The surprise was clear as day on the faces of his parents so Shane paused again, letting the words sink in before he continued. “We’re not public, there’s a lot of reasons for that. But the biggest ones are hockey, and Russia. Ilya has a Russian passport, and if this got back there, if the wrong people found out… it would mean he’d be in danger. That he’d… he’d probably never be able to go back home again.”
“So… the photo.”
“The photo that leaked is real… I’m the other person in it. We don’t usually keep photos of each other, we know better. But we’ve been apart so much lately, I- we miss each other so much, and… it’s how we cope with that. Sometimes you make stupid decisions because you miss someone. That’s all it was. I’m not excusing it, but that’s the truth.”
Both Yuna and David nodded, but their faces weren’t giving much away just yet.
“I'm not ready to talk about the photo itself, or how it happened, or how badly we screwed up. I know people are going to have questions, and I get that. But that's not why I'm here. I’m here and telling you this now because I’m worried about Ilya. Whatever happens to me, I’ll deal with it. But Ilya… what I care about right now is protecting him and helping him through whatever is coming.”
“Have you spoken to him?” David asked, and Shane nodded his head. “Okay, that’s good. Is he alright? Is he safe?”
Shane felt a lump in his throat emerge at the care David was displaying, and he blinked away the tears that had been threatening to fall for the past hour or so.
“He’s with Marleau in Colorado. They were supposed to play tonight. I think that-”
Shane’s phone rang, interrupting him but he snatched it up, answering the call before he even bothered to glance at the screen to see who was calling.
“Is me,” Ilya said, and Shane sighed in relief, running a hand through his hair. “I am with Marleau. Are you okay?”
“Not really, you’ve fucking ignored me for the past hour and my stupid head has been going crazy worrying about you,” Shane said, but there was no malice or anger in his words. Only concern. Only love. “Ilya… are you alright? And be honest with me, please.”
“I am scared, Shane,” Ilya admitted, and Shane’s heart ached at the pain he could hear in his boyfriend’s voice. “I usually ignore words online, but they are bad.”
“They’re people who don’t know what they’re talking about,” Shane said, wishing he could burn all of social media to the ground, to watch it disappear into ashes. “Anyone who loves you won’t care, Ilya. Who you love isn’t anyone else’s business.”
“Russia will not agree,” Ilya lamented, and sadly, Shane knew he was right. “Coach has benched me. I am not allowed to play tonight.”
“What? He can’t fucking do that-”
“He can. He did. He said I am… distraction. That team need to focus on hockey. Not my personal life.”
Shane sighed, leaning and resting his forehead on the table for a second. The wood was cool against his skin, and Shane gripped his phone harder. He only moved when he felt a hand between his shoulder blades, rubbing back and forth softly, supportively.
“I want to do something to help.”
“No, I talk to Marly. To Sveta. I am going to resign.”
Shane figured he’d misheard because that couldn’t be right. “Sorry, I-”
“Is best for everyone. I can take time away, let people forget.”
“I won’t let you do that. Fuck, you’re the reason I love hockey so much, Ilya. I love playing against you, I love watching you skate, how you play… I just… I love you. Don’t do this. Please.” Shane knew that he was begging, that his parents could hear him but he couldn’t care about that, not when Ilya was deciding that this was his only option.
“Shane, I need to… disappear, for a while. I cannot let Russia find me, make me go back.” His voice was wobbling now, and Shane didn’t bother to fight the tears now. He was almost certain Ilya was crying as well, and that made it harder. He could do nothing but listen. “You need to let me go.”
“No, I’m not, no,” Shane said, already starting to spiral. “You’re not doing this. I’ll marry you. We were going to do it anyway, but if you can get here, we’ll get married. You can get a Canadian spousal visa, we can protect you.”
“I am trouble, Shane,” Ilya said, and the pain in his voice made Shane want to find whoever had leaked that photo and throttle them with his bare hands. “You deserve better.”
“I don’t want better, I want you,” Shane insisted, still crying as he looked at his parents, seeing heartbreak reflected back at him in their faces. “I love you, Ilya.”
“I love you so much, Shane. You make my life so happy. I wish I had not wasted so much time pretending it was not love.”
“Then let me help you. We can call Farah, make a statement.”
“I have made my choice. I… don’t try to call me, okay? I’m so sorry, Shane.”
“Ilya, no, don’t you dare-”
But Ilya was gone.
***********
Two hours later, Shane was curled up on his sofa, his parents speaking quietly as he scrolled through his iPad. He cried himself dry earlier, and almost made himself sick until Yuna had taken over, marching him to the living room and telling him to lay down while she made some calls. Shane had tried desperately to call Ilya but he’d broken again when he heard a ‘this number is no longer in service’ message instead of Ilya’s usual voicemail greeting of This is Ilya. I will never listen to your voicemail.
Shane’s body had practically gone into shock at that, shaking almost violently until David had held him firmly against his own body, bringing Shane back to earth with startling clarity. In lieu of being able to contact Ilya, Shane had gone back to social media, loading up the accounts he rarely used to see what the world was saying about his boyfriend.
There was some support out there. Some people were being kind, supporting Ilya and saying that it didn’t matter who he slept with, who he liked, who he maybe loved, that it didn’t define him. But for every good message, there were ten bad ones. Some of the things they were saying made Shane want to be sick, and he just couldn’t understand how people could be so cruel online about someone they didn’t know.
Ilya’s choices didn’t affect anyone except himself, and maybe Shane. Why were these people so affected by the thought of Ilya touching, kissing, having sex with another man? Why did that affect how good he was as a hockey player? Why did it affect his worth as a human being? Shane would never understand it.
He got a notification that the main MLH account had tweeted out a statement and he clicked on it, feeling the sofa dip next to him. Yuna had her phone in her hand and was loading up the message at the same time as Shane. They read the words together.
Official Statement
Major League Hockey is aware of the unauthorised distribution of images involving Boston Raiders Captain Ilya Rozanov.
An investigation has been initiated to determine how these images entered the public domain. Major League Hockey takes matters concerning privacy and confidentiality seriously and is committed to ensuring that all relevant circumstances are thoroughly investigated.
The League remains steadfast in its commitment to fostering an inclusive, respectful, and supportive environment for all players, staff, and stakeholders. As this concerns a personal matter involving one of our players, it will be addressed internally in line with League policies and established procedures. Out of respect for those involved and to preserve the integrity of the ongoing investigation, Major League Hockey will not provide any further comment at this time.
Shane scoffed. “An inclusive, respectful and supportive environment. What a load of shit. Every fucking locker room in this league is a homophobic cesspit. I’ve tried to tell them, but they won’t listen.”
“This is corporate bullshit, you know that,” Yuna said, and Shane didn’t even flinch at Yuna’s swearing even though it was something she rarely did. “Does Ilya have an agent?”
“Yeah, he has a Russian guy, Grotzy or something like that. But I’ve got him working with Farah too. She was, uh, she was going to help us come out.”
“Right. Okay, well, maybe we should contact her. See if she’s heard from Ilya.”
“Would you do that? I can’t deal with that right now.”
“Of course, sweetie. I’ll be back, okay?”
David switched places and came to sit next to Shane in the space that Yuna had vacated. He sat there quietly, a steadfast presence for his son.
“I love him, Dad.”
“I know. I can see that. He’ll be in touch, Shane, when he feels safe. He only wants to protect you-”
“I don’t need protection!” Shane yelled, standing up and pacing his living room as he continued to rant. “I’m not some fucking damsel in distress. I’m a fucking MLH Captain, I can- fuck, I want to help him Dad, and I don’t know how.”
David came to stand in front of his son but he didn’t say anything. He just wrapped his arm around Shane. Shane stood there for a moment before he relaxed in David’s familiar embrace, making himself small enough that he could bury his face in his father’s neck, allowing himself to be comforted.
“He knows. But… trust in him. Trust in your love, Shane. He’ll come back to you.”
Three hours later
Shane was grateful that they didn’t have a game until tomorrow night. There was no way that he’d be able to concentrate on anything. Yuna and David had tried their best to support him, but Shane still felt adrift, like he was lacking any kind of control over what was happening. The online vitriol towards Ilya was piling on, getting worse by the hour, and Yuna had taken away Shane’s iPad before she deleted the Twitter app on his phone, warning him not to go near it again.
They were sitting in silence when finally, Shane’s phone rang. It was a mobile number that Shane didn’t recognise but he answered it quickly, putting the call on speaker. Yuna hit record on her own phone just in case it was something they’d need evidence of later but she needn’t have worried.
“Hollander, it’s Cliff Marleau.”
“Cliff, thank fuck. What is going on? Why has Ilya cut me off?”
“He threw his phone against a wall, and snapped the sim card. He… he’s not coping well, Shane. He doesn’t know I’m calling you now, he’d probably kill me if he knew what I was doing.”
“You didn’t leave him alone?”
“No, Connors and St. Simon are with him. We’re supposed to leave for the game soon but we can’t leave him like this. I… I’m worried about him.”
“Shit. Let me fly out there, Marleau. He needs me.”
“I know that, and so do you. But that’s not what Roz thinks, not yet. His friend Svetlana… you know her?”
Shane nodded before he realised Marleau couldn’t see him. “Yeah, he’s mentioned her. I’ve spoken to her before.”
“She’s speaking to some immigration lawyers, trying to organise political asylum or something in case Russia fucking tries to get him back there.”
“Christ, I can’t fucking believe this is happening.”
“I know. But… the GM called Roz with news from the commissioner.”
Roger Crowell. The man Shane despised more than anyone else. He was the one who allowed the league to perpetuate this shitty image of inclusivity while secretly setting out to ruin anyone who so much had a hint of queerness about them. He was toxic, and Shane couldn’t wait until he had to retire.
“What did he do?”
“Shit, it’s fucking bad, man. He’s trading Roz. Said what’s happening isn’t a good look for the MLH and not good for a legacy team like the Raiders.”
“What the fuck-”
“I know, it’s bullshit. Coach tried to argue it, said Roz is a Raider, that he isn’t going anywhere. But Crowell said that if- if Roz wanted to stay in MLH, he had to do as he said. He said he’s sending him to a team that won’t be ruined by his reputation.”
Shane shivered at those words, hating how Ilya must be feeling because of all of this. Because they’d decided to have some fun on Facetime together two weeks ago and because they’d taken a photo to remember the moment. This was all Shane’s fault. And he had to make it right.
“They’re flying him back to Boston tonight. I said he should stay with us but they’re insisting.”
“I’ll go and meet him,” Shane said, but again, Marleau shot that down.
“No. There's been… threats. Against Roz.”
“Where?”
“Online. Fucking Twitter, the root of all evil, man, I swear. They said- what?” There was conversation that Shane couldn’t hear before Marleau came back on the call. “Sorry, that was Connors. Just checking in, said Roz is alright for now.”
“Okay. But Marleau, tell me what they’re saying.”
“It’s just a few shitty people, Hollander.”
“But they’re threatening my boyfriend.”
“I’ve reported them to the police. I have a friend who's a cop in Boston. He’s on it, he’s setting up a unit at Roz’s place.”
“What the fuck? Is it that bad?”
“They said that, uh, that they know where Roz lives. That they want to teach him a lesson.”
Shane had never been more clear about anything than he was in that moment.
“Put Ilya on the phone, Cliff.”
There was a laugh for a moment, and Shane just waited. “What? No, he doesn’t know I’m calling you."
“I said put Ilya on the phone. With all due respect, Cliff, he’s my boyfriend. And he deserves to know what I’m about to do.”
“Shit, Hollzy. Just… give me a minute.”
Marleau must have muted the phone because everything went silent then. Shane’s parents had disappeared and he looked out of the window, seeing them walking hand in hand in the garden. He hoped that one day, he and Ilya would have the privilege of being a couple like that, free and happy to express their love for each other.
“Hollzy? He doesn’t want to talk to you. I’m sorry, man.”
"Look, Cliff, just, just tell him that... the world is about to learn what happens when they make the man I love feel ashamed of who he is."
“Fuck. Okay, hold on.”
The microphone was muted again, but this time when it came back on, it was the voice Shane had been waiting to hear. But before Ilya could utter more than just ‘Hollander…’, Shane interrupted him.
“Don’t you ever do that to me again, Ilya Rozanov. I don’t fucking care how bad things feel, I am not someone you get to push away. You hear me? I love you too fucking much to let you do this by yourself.”
“Shane, I do not-”
“Ilya, I love you but you do not get to decide this for me. I’ve made my decision. I’m going to tell the world exactly who I am.” He paused, letting his words sink in.
“I… I cannot let you do this. If they know, they will… take everything from you.”
“Take everything? What, so you’re leaving me?”
“Shane, no, but-”
“Well then it’s fine. If I give them all that I am, it’ll be with you, Ilya. Not for you, not because of you, but with you. Because we’re a team. We’re in this together, okay?”
All Shane could hear was quiet crying down the line, and he closed his eyes, imagining himself hugging Ilya, holding him tightly as he rocked him side to side, being just what Ilya needed.
“Give me a few hours. I’m going to make this right, Ilya. For both of us. I love you always, okay? There’s nothing they could say or do to me that wouldn’t be worth it because I get to love you, okay? And that’s the only thing I care about right now.”
He ended the call and quickly saved the number, texting and thanking Marleau for being there for Ilya when he couldn’t. He headed outside to the garden and went to stand beside his parents.
“I have a plan. Can you call Farah, Mom? I need to call the Metros, I need a place to give a press conference.”
***********
It was almost 7pm by the time Shane was walking into the Bell Arena in his game day suit, his parents by his side. It was eerily quiet when there wasn’t a game on, but Shane couldn’t focus on that right now. He was running through the points he’d discussed with Farah, but he had a feeling he wouldn’t remember them when he was at the podium with four cameras pointed at him.
He felt slightly uneasy about using the Metros like this. He’d told them that he wanted to put out a speech about what had happened to Rozanov, that he would condemn whoever had shared the images, but that he’d agree with the actions that had been decided upon by the people in charge of the MLH.
“You okay?” Yuna asked as they headed into a side room. They could hear the quiet conversation in the room next to them, where the chosen reporters were gathering, ready to send Shane’s message out to the world. The Metros had their own livestream ready as well, and Shane wondered how long it would be before it was cut off, before he was silenced. Whatever happened, he was doing this. How much of it actually got out there was up to those behind the cameras.
“Actually, I am,” Shane said, feeling oddly detached from himself. Usually, this sort of thing was his worst nightmare. He’d never liked press, handling the media before or after games, getting through it a necessary evil. But now, it was something he was deliberately choosing. It was the way he could help Ilya. He only wished Ilya could be by his side.
“You go tell ‘em, honey,” Yuna said, straightening Shane’s tie before the side door opened, and one of the Metros admin team nodded at him, telling him they were ready. “We’re with you, okay?”
“Thank you. I love you, both of you. Whatever happens from here on out-”
“We’ll be proud of you,” David finished, and he pulled Shane into a quick hug, slapping him gently on the back. “Go be the man I know you are, son.”
The noise level rose a little as Shane walked out through the door, his parents just a couple of steps behind. Shane stepped up onto the little platform while Yuna and David peeled off the side, clutching each other's hands tightly as they kept their eyes on their son, pride shining through their eyes.
“I’m here to make a statement. But not on behalf of the Montreal Metros. I’m sorry if that’s why you were led to believe you were here. You're going to let me say what I came here to say, and when I'm finished, I'll take your questions."
Confusion rippled through the gathered crowd, but Shane carried on, ignoring everything except the thought of Ilya.
“I’m here because I want to discuss the appalling treatment a fellow MLH player has received today due to a private image being circulated without consent. Ilya Rozanov is a player I hold an enormous amount of respect for, and I have been sickened by the torrent of abuse he has had to face today.”
He glanced at his parents, seeing them nodding along, and he took a breath, continuing.
“Major League Hockey put out a statement today saying, and I quote,” he glanced down at the same piece of paper that Yuna had written out for him so he couldn’t be accused of miscrediting the organisation, “‘The League remains steadfast in its commitment to fostering an inclusive, respectful, and supportive environment for all players, staff, and stakeholders.’ I can assure you that, as someone who has been in this league since I was seventeen years old, that is absolute garbage.”
Another ripple of shock rose up, but Shane stayed stoic, gripping the podium after he’d set down the small piece of paper again.
“The homophobic culture cultivated in this sport sickens me, and the way homophobic insults are hurled around locker rooms and ice rinks is beyond abhorrent. This league has no right to pretend that it cares about queer players, or queer fans because it acts like there is no place for them in this sport. Pride nights are a token gesture, but it is an empty one. It means nothing, because this organisation is rotten to the core.”
There was a little furore at the door, and Shane’s chest puffed with pride as he watched his parents step in front of the door they’d walked through just a few moments before, preventing any of the Metro's staff from getting access. Shane wasn’t anywhere near being done.
“Seeing Ilya Rozanov receive threats to his life, seeing people threaten to dox his personal details highlights everything that is wrong with this sport, and with this world. And the reason Rozanov is being treated this way is what? Did he kill someone? Did he harm another person, or threaten them? No. Nothing like that. Yet he is being treated like he has committed a heinous crime.”
“And what was his crime? Having sex with a man. A moment of private pleasure with another man was stolen, without Rozanov’s consent, and sent around the world for people to use as ammunition to harm him. To threaten his career, to ruin his life. I cannot understand this mentality, and I am well aware that by standing here saying this, I am risking my own career. I am risking the wrath of the MLH corporation, but so be it. I am choosing this of my own volition.”
A strange kind of hush fell across the room, and Shane’s eyes flickered around, landing on his Mom. She just nodded, and Shane knew this was it.
“I’m not sure why the person Ilya Rozanov is sleeping with has any bearing on his value as a hockey player. The Boston Raiders have been lucky to have him since he was drafted, and he’s more than proved his skill, his value, his worth. Yet the minute they found out he liked to take men to bed, he became worthless. Why? Because he likes men and women? Because he likes to suck dick?”
Shane knew he said that for shock value, but truly, he didn’t care. He was unleashing everything that he’d bottled up for too long, and he was unable to stop it.
“As a society, we should be long past judging someone for who they choose to take to bed. For some reason, we’re not. But let me tell you right now. Ilya Rozanov is the best player I have played against. And he is the best hockey player I will ever play against. I hear myself being spoken of as a generational talent. But so is he. He’s a wonderful human being, and he doesn’t deserve a single thing that has happened to him today.”
Shane cleared his throat, staring straight down the lens of the nearest camera, gripping the podium harder.
“If you’re going to write headlines about Ilya Rozanov, then you better make damn sure that my name is in them too. Because I am the other man in the photograph with Ilya. I’ve been in a relationship with Ilya Rozanov since I was nineteen. I chose him then, and I’m choosing him right now. Not because it’s easy, not because you’re pointing cameras at me. I’m choosing him because I always have.”
The silence was deafening. Yuna was crying onto David’s shoulder, but they were both smiling up at him, full of love for their brave boy.
“If you’re looking for a scandal, go and look somewhere else. Because two men loving each other isn’t a scandal. Two men enjoying each other isn’t a scandal. I’m not abandoning him, not now, not ever. I’m standing by him because I love him, and because I firmly believe that love has to be stronger than hate.”
“You’re going to print his name, you’re going to print what’s happened here. Fine. But if you’re going to tell his story, you better tell it properly. Tell the world that he has never been alone. Tell the world that I’ve always been there by his side, silently supporting him. But now… you can tell the world my name. Because my name belongs next to his. He’s my endgame, and I’m his.”
“I don’t care what people say about me now. I’m a damn good hockey player. I know it, and so does anyone who watches this sport. I don’t mean to sound conceited but I’m probably the best player the MLH has got right now. Rozanov is a very close second. Sorry, baby, but you know it’s true. Nobody should give a damn who I sleep with, or who Ilya sleeps with. Why does it matter? Why do you care so much whose dick I ride?”
There was a burst of stunned laughter, and it eased the tension somewhat. Shane grinned, biting his bottom lip for a moment.
“But seriously?” Shane leaned in towards the microphone, waiting until it was silent again before he spoke. “If the biggest story you can find about us is that we love each other and that we have sex with each other then… I think we’re doing pretty well.”
“I didn’t come out today because I owe anyone an explanation. I came out because I refuse to let the man I love stand alone while the world decides his worth. We've spent years hiding and even denying our feelings for one another because we were afraid of what people would say. We thought we were protecting each other. That ends today. I’m done caring about anyone except me and him.”
Yuna and David stepped forward slightly, grinning with pride at their son.
“So write whatever you want. I don’t care. We know the truth. And as I said, love can never be wrong. The league can do what it wants with us. It can send to the backend of nowhere for all I care. Because do you know what?”
Everyone was hanging on Shane’s every word, and he could himself grow braver with every word.
“Tomorrow morning, I’ll still be lacing up my skates, heading to practise. So will Ilya. Because that is what we do. We play hockey. We play damn good hockey. We’ll still be better than everyone else in the damn league.” He grinned, winking at the camera, praying that Ilya was watching. “And if you have a problem with that… tough shit. Get used to it. I’m gay, I’m in love with Ilya Rozanov. And I’m the best fucking hockey player in the world.”
He pressed his lips together. “Ilya, I’ll be waiting for you at home. See you soon. I love you.” He turned to the rest of the room, meeting the eyes of everyone. “That’s it. That’s all I got. Do what you want. Now you know the truth.”
He stepped down from the podium, and immediately the questions flew out loudly, exploding from curious reporters one after the other.
“Did your team know-”
“Is Rozanov watching this?”
“What does this mean for your future with the Metros?”
Shane held up a hand, and silence quickly rose up around him. The journalists started to raise their hands, and Shane nodded at the first one, listening as the question was directed at him.
“Is Rozanov watching this?”
Shane just smiled. "Yes, Ilya is watching. I didn't tell him exactly what I was going to do, but he knew I was going to stand by him. I don't think he expected this, though. But when the people I love are made to feel like they're somehow less because of something they should never have to apologize for or change... I won't stand for it."
A hum of conversation started again, but Shane blinked, eyes moving around the room until he settled on a younger man in front of him.
“Are the Montreal Metros in support of you and your relationship with Rozanov?”
“I certainly hope so. I know that the news will be a shock to them, but I hope when it has time to sink in, that they can accept it and move on. My personal relationship has no bearing on the kind of teammate or Captain that I am, or on my ability to play hockey. I have to trust that the people in my locker room know that, that they know me. I’m not asking them to be friends with Ilya, they just have to respect the fact that he’s my partner, as well as a damn good player on the ice.”
“Thank you, Mr Hollander.”
A few more hands were raised, and Shane picked another.
“Why did you feel the need to hide your relationship for so long?”
It was a question Shane had been expecting, and he paused, thinking for a moment before he answered carefully.
“I want to start by saying that it was not because we were ashamed of each other. We never were. We hid because the world had convinced us that loving each other would come at a cost. For years, every time we were together, we had to ask ourselves if being honest with the world was worth losing everything we’d worked so hard for.”
“There is also the fact that Ilya is Russian. Russia is well known for its anti-LGBTQ policies, and discrimination of queer people. Both Ilya and I were aware of the danger this posed to him and his safety, and had to consider the impact this could have had on Ilya if we had come out publicly. Today, that choice was taken away from both of us.”
The atmosphere in the room had taken a serious turn.
“I hope that the person who chose to leak the photo from Ilya’s phone realises the fear, pain and stress their actions have caused. What might have seemed like a bit of gossip or entertainment for the rest of the world has very real consequences, and the potential to put my boyfriend in danger. I will now be working with my legal team and Ilya’s to ensure he is protected and safe, something a person should never have to consider because of who they are.”
He looked around the room, seeing everyone was hanging off his every word, so he continued, keeping his voice steady.
“To be clear. I was never afraid of loving Ilya. But I was afraid of what the world would say and do if they knew I love him, and that he loves me. I hate that we were ever made to feel that we had to choose between our careers and the person that we love. No one should ever feel that they have to make that choice.”
The reporter nodded and spoke up again, surprising Shane.
“So what’s changed? You’re still hockey players, you both still have a lot to lose by doing this.”
It was a fair question. Shane wanted to give it the answer it deserved, all too aware that the eyes of the world were on him now. And so were Ilya’s, and truly, he was the only one Shane cared about right now. He had to get this right.
“You’re absolutely right. We do. And honestly? Nothing has changed. There are still going to be people out there who hate us for being in a relationship with each other. People will say that we don’t belong in the league. I’m certain we will still face consequences for this.”
He glanced at his parents before he looked out at the room again.
“But what has changed today is me. I saw the man I love being shamed for who he is… for loving me. He was being forced to carry the shame that other people have projected onto him. And I realised that if I stayed silent, I was asking him to keep carrying it.” Shane looked to the ground and then back up again. “I love hockey. I always will. But I love Ilya more.”
Another reporter started to speak but Shane raised his hand again, deciding that his next words were going to be his last.
“If coming out about Ilya, the man that I love more than anyone and anything else in my life costs me my career, so be it. I refuse to spend another day letting people who made Ilya feel like there is something wrong with him keep winning. They’ve taken away his consent, his right to privacy, his right to come out on his own terms. I’m not allowing them to take me away from him too.”
He nodded and stepped back, letting out a deep breath before he turned, stepping down the final steps and into the arms of his parents, sinking into their safe, warm embrace. He knew they were taking photos of them, he could see the flashes but it didn’t matter. There was nothing to hide, not anymore.
“Let’s go, honey.” She looked down at the ringing phone in her hand. “I think you need to talk to him.”
Shane nodded and took the phone, stepping through the doors and ignoring the gaggle of people on the other side. He used his size to his advantage, forcing his way through until he was in a small meeting space, turning to lock the door before he put the phone to his ear.
“Ilya?”
“You stupid, beautiful man,” Ilya said with an emotional laugh, sniffing as he clearly wiped away tears. “What the fuck, Shane?”
“You thought I’d let you handle this alone?”
“No, but… this could be bad for you.”
“Why? Because I’m gay? I’m not ashamed of it, Ilya. I’m not ashamed of you. You’re fucking everything to me, do you get that? There’s nothing that you or anybody else could say that would ever make me think otherwise.”
“You said-”
“I know what I said. And I meant it. If my career is done, so be it. I don’t want to play for a fucking league that hates us because of who we fuck, or who we love. And I don’t want fans that won’t support me or the person that I love after everything I just said.”
“You said-”
“Hollzy, you fucking legend!” yelled Cliff Marleau, and Shane laughed at the utter joy in Ilya’s friend's voice. “You’re a fucking beauty, you know that?! You made Roz fucking cry but man, I was close. That was absolute poetry. I’m so fuckin’ proud of you. Both of you.”
“Where are you?” Shane laughed, shaking his head as Ilya swore at Marleau in Russian, snatching the phone back from him. “Ilya?”
“On a plane. Sveta sorted private plane to get us back.”
“To Boston?"
“To you,” Ilya said simply, like it was the only place he wanted to be. “I will be home in a few hours.”
“Did, uh, did your Coach say anything? About the trade?”
“No, just that he will sort it. I told him not to bother.”
“What? No, Ilya, you can’t let them do that.”
“Oh, I can,” Ilya said, and what he said next made Shane’s heart sing. “They are trading to League’s worst team. Ottawa Centaurs.”
Shane’s mind went blank before he burst out laughing, shortly joined by Ilya. “Are you fucking kidding me?”
“Ah, no,” Ilya grinned, and Shane froze as there was a knock on the glass door of the room he was in. He turned to see his parents, and he headed over, unlocking the door to let them inside. David locked it again behind him, and they stayed quiet as he continued to talk to Ilya. “You think they realise they have made everything better for us?”
“Definitely not,” Shane grinned. “Hey, uh, there’s someone here I’d really like to introduce you to. Can we Facetime for a sec?”
“Sure,” Ilya said. “Sveta paid for Wifi. Might be shitty signal but we will manage.”
Shane waited until the Facetime request came through, and he grinned at the screen when his boyfriend’s face filled the screen. “Hi,” he breathed out, touching the screen where Ilya’s cheek was, wishing it was the real thing. “You’re so beautiful.”
“Moya lyubov,” Ilya said, and he just stared at Shane for a moment. “I am coming home to you, okay?”
“I know, but… there’s gonna be people here. People who love me, and… people who want to love you too, okay?”
“What people?” Ilya’s apprehension was clear on his face and Shane wanted to press his fingertips against those lines between Ilya’s eyebrows, to make him realise that it was okay. That they were safe. He nodded to his parents and they came over, hovering behind him.
“Hi Ilya, I’m Yuna, Shane’s Mom,” she said, smiling softly at the shocked face in front of her.
“And I’m Shane’s dad. David. Hollander.”
“I think he knows your last name, David, my god.”
“Alright, Yuna, I’m nervous! I don’t want to ruin this for Shane!”
“Oh my god, get yourselves together,” Shane chided but the tension was broken, and Ilya was smiling beautifully through the screen again. “Ilya, these are my… ridiculous, wonderful, supportive parents. Mom, Dad… this is Ilya. My boyfriend, my best friend, my… everything.”
“It’s so good to meet you, sweetie,” Yuna said, resting a hand on Shane’s shoulder. “I’m looking forward to giving you a good hug when you get to Sha- when you get home.”
The easy correction Yuna just made caused Shane to look at her, wondering how he got so lucky as to have such amazing parents.
“What time do you land, Ilya? I can come and pick you up from the airport.”
“Is okay, I can get a cab-”
“No, you can’t. You’re family. We look after family,” David said, and Shane didn’t miss how Ilya’s bottom lip trembled at that easy declaration. “What time, and what terminal?”
Ilya supplied the details and David jotted them down on his phone. They spoke for a few more minutes before Yuna tapped David’s shoulder, nodding towards the door.
“We’ll give you two a minute. Ilya, honey, we’ll see you at the airport. We’ll be in the parking lot, blue Jeep.”
“Thank you Mr and Mrs Holl-”
“Uh, no,” David cut in, shaking his head. “Yuna and David. See you soon.”
They left and the door closed behind them with a soft click. Shane sighed and sat down in a chair, propping the phone up in front of him, just staring at his boyfriend.
“I hope that wasn’t too much.”
“Shane, you went on TV and asked why anyone cared whose dick you ride. You told whole world you are a bottom. I think I can meet your parents after this, yes?”
“Fuck, don’t remind me,” Shane laughed, his cheeks flushing red as he remembered uttering those exact words. He wasn’t entirely sure what came over him. “But I don’t regret it. Telling the world about us, you know. I’ll never regret saying how much you mean to me.”
“I hope not. I… I did not mean this. Any of it.”
“Do they, uh, do they know how it happened?”
“Um, USB port at airport? Apparently was hacked.”
“So you’re saying if you’d have used the power bank I got you-”
“Then the world would not know I love Shane Hollander. That Shane Hollander loves me. That he likes to ride my dick-”
“Fuck you!”
Ilya’s smirk was a welcome sight, telling Shane that he was coming back to himself slowly but surely. “Maybe later,” he said with a wink. “I am coming home, Shane.”
Shane smiled softly at the man he loved.
"Good," he said, his voice rough. "That's all I need."
2 years later
“Ilya! Come on, we gotta go or we’re gonna be late.”
Shane paused, hearing loud footsteps above him before finally, Ilya appeared on the stairs. He was buttoning a blue shirt and he smirked at Shane when he realised he was being stared at.
“Enjoying the view?”
“Fuck off,” Shane said, accepting the kiss that Ilya pressed to his lips as he came past. “I just want to drop these off at my parents on the way to the game, is that okay? We have time.”
“Seeing Yuna and David is always fine,” Ilya said with a grin. “They love to see their favourite son.”
For Shane, coming out had changed his life in ways that he was still struggling to name. Everyone knew now that he was in love with Ilya Rozanov. The majority of people were happy for them, and the support they’d received from their fans had been so heartwarming. People had been warm, and fierce online against those who weren’t so supportive, and Shane felt a kind of love he didn’t realise he’d been bracing himself not to receive.
Of course, there had been a negative side too, but they’d both expected it. Shane had lost a few friends along the way, people unable to accept him, unable to accept Ilya or the life that Shane had chosen for himself. But Shane didn’t lose any sleep over them, not anymore. If their friendship had been conditional, then they weren’t the sort of friendships he wanted to have.
But Ilya… he kept insisting that Shane had made his life so much better, like Shane’s ‘romantic, heroic gesture’ (as Ilya loved to refer to Shane’s now infamous press conference) had rescued him somehow. Ilya had told Shane that being out and feeling safe was a gift, something Shane had given him so willingly. That maybe they had saved each other, in all the quiet, stubborn ways people do when they refuse to let go.
Now, they were teammates for the Ottawa Centaurs. Ilya hadn’t bothered to fight Crowell on the move to the Centaurs, and they’d sent shockwaves through the world of hockey when Shane had announced he was forfeiting his no trade clause and joining his boyfriend there too only two seasons later, finally realizing that being even two hours apart while on different teams was too much for them. Once again, Shane had chosen Ilya openly and without hesitation. It was something Shane knew he would do again and again for the man he loved.
Ilya had also gained a family in Shane, Yuna and David Hollander. As soon as Ilya had arrived back in Montreal, he was welcomed with open arms by Shane’s parents, and Shane had never been more grateful for them, for their steady kindness, for the way they loved without making anyone beg for it first. They’d spend weeks and months helping Ilya move his life to Ottawa before doing the same for Shane two years later.
Now, everything was perfect. Almost too good to be true, but Shane didn’t let himself think that way for long. He had spent too many years afraid, too many years hiding, too many years wanting things he believed he wasn’t allowed to have. So instead, he chose to believe this was exactly what they deserved.
Shane pulled up outside his parents house, grinning when Ilya practically hopped out of the car, leaving Shane to trail inside after him. He’d already disappeared through the front door by the time Shane made it, the box of gardening supplies they had picked up for Yuna earlier that day in hand which he set down before kicking off his shoes. He could hear Ilya laughing, and he hovered in the doorway, watching Ilya embrace his mum before quickly sitting next to David, peering at the crossword he was doing in The New Yorker.
“Hey, sweetie. Ready for the game?” Yuna asked, coming over and kissing Shane’s cheek. “Oh thank you so much for grabbing that for me, you know what your dad is like. Still thinks he’s got the back of a twenty five year old. Honestly.”
“It’s not a problem, Mom. You know we love to see you guys. You’re still coming to the game, right?”
“Of course. Your dad will be in the Rozanov jersey tonight.”
It amused Shane endlessly that his parents flipped a coin before every home game to decide which son’s jersey each of them would wear. It had started as a joke, but somewhere along the way it had become tradition. No matter how many times it happened, though, both Shane and Ilya still found themselves searching the crowd until they spotted the Hollanders sitting together, proudly wearing their names across their backs. Every single time, it filled Shane's chest with warmth.
Ilya had broken down in Shane’s arms the first time it had happened, standing in the locker room after everyone else had left with tears streaming down his face as he told Shane that he’d never had any family come to watch him play before. There’d never been anyone proud enough to wear his name so publicly. Shane had just pulled Ilya into his arms and whispered that he’d never have to feel alone ever again.
“You lost the toss,” Shane laughed, but Yuna shook her head.
“No, honey. I’m happy wearing the name of either of my boys, you know that.” She glanced over at the clock, and Shane realised they were going to be late if they didn’t hurry. “You’d better get going if you’re going to be there on time.”
“I know, but… look how happy he is. This is the guy who once said The New Yorker was boring. Who’s boring now, hmm?”
“Excuse you, Mr Boring, I am not deaf,” Ilya called, and easy laughter rang out at Ilya’s witty reply. “David, send me clues, I will help you when Shane drives me to work.”
“When I what? You do realise we work together, right? I’m not your damn chauffeur."
“Ah, but you would look so pretty in little hat and gloves,” Ilya teased, getting up and coming over to Shane, pressing a gentle kiss to his forehead. “But I will allow you to tear me away from my fun…”
Shane rolled his eyes but laced his fingers with Ilya’s, tugging them to the front door. “We’ll see you after the game, guys!”
“Good luck!” David called, turning and waving goodbye to the pair as they slipped their shoes back on. Ilya rammed his feet in as usual but Shane knelt down, tying the laces carefully. Game day suits weren’t compulsory anymore but Shane and Ilya both liked how it helped them to get into a game mindset, focused on what lay ahead. “See you there.”
“Bye honey, good luck,” Yuna grinned, kissing Shane’s cheek, then Ilya’s. She stood at the door as they walked out to the car, Shane sitting behind the wheel again as Ilya opened the windows, waving at her.
“You know,” Shane said, pulling out into the road, “you’re definitely getting addicted to crosswords.”
“Is lie,” Ilya replied quickly, but Shane knew he secretly loved it. “Liar told you that.”
Shane snorted, shaking his head but smiling anyway. “Right. Says the man who’s going to spend the rest of the game trying to think of a eight letter word for bird.”
“I already know answer,” Ilya shrugged, reaching and taking Shane’s hand off the gear stick, holding it between his own. “I am letting David work it out.”
“If you say so,” Shane said with a smile. The leafy neighbourhood slowly turned into the sights of the city of Ottawa, the anticipation of the match settling in the air between them. Ahead waited the rink, an arena of supportive fans and another game.
************
“You don’t have to do that,” Shane said as he stared at his boyfriend on the bench next to him taping up his hockey stick for him. “I’m more than capable.”
“I like to do it, shush Hollander,” Ilya said as he grinned, peeking over at Shane. He leaned over and tilted his face towards Shane who met him for a quick kiss, only just coming apart as the rest of the team started to barrel in.
“Oh for fucks sake! You lose the use of your hands again, Hollzy?” called Evan Dykstra, nudging Zane Boodram who was smirking at the pair of them.
“Uh, no,” Ilya stated, glaring at his teammates. “Shane’s hands were very busy earlier, he is resting them.”
“Busy?” Luca Haas asked, but was met by resounding groans-
“Now you’ve done it!”
“Oh, dammit Haasy, don’t give him an opening like that, Jesus!”
Wyatt Hayes just sighed and looked out with a resigned and weary expression at his teammates. “I hate that I know exactly where this is going…”
“If you must know,” Ilya stated as he finished the final loop around the blade of the stick, tapping it on the ground before handing it over and heading to his own stall, “Shane gave me very good massage earlier because of my bad shoulder.”
“Oh, okay. That’s actually quite sweet,” replied Boodram, looking at Dykstra and shrugging. “I didn’t-”
“Then he used his clever hands in other places to make me-”
“Ilya, shut the fuck up!” Shane blurted out as he clapped his hand over Ilya’s mouth, smothering the rest of his words. “My god, will you ever learn?”
“Says the man who told the world he rides Rozy’s dick,” LaPointe chimed in, and Shane glared at the rookie, regretting that Ilya was keen they feel comfortable enough in the team to speak their minds.
“It was over two years ago, let it go!”
“Never,” Bood said with a wicked grin. “That was television gold, Hollander.”
“So forget the romantic words I said, yeah? Just focus on the one sex joke I make.”
“Shane, no,” Ilya said, spinning and staring at his boyfriend. “Is never a joke when you talk about riding my dick. Do not disrespect your own greatest talent.”
“Three Stanley Cups, and that’s my greatest talent. Jesus Christ. Kill me. Kill me now,” Shane muttered as he turned back to his stall, eyes landing on the small photo of him and Ilya taped to the inside of his stall. Yuna had taken it over the summer, when they’d come to visit the pair at the cottage. Ilya was behind Shane, his arms looped easily over his shoulders, their cheeks pressed together. They looked so happy. Shane adored that photo.
“Ok, ok, enough teasing my Shane, everyone to the ice now or you do bag skates for an hour at next practice, we have game to win tonight!” Ilya stated in his most authoritative voice. Then, quietly to Shane, words only for him, he whispered quietly into his ear, making Shane shiver. “Maybe later you show me how good you still ride my dick, hmm?”
“Oh fuck off, Captain,” Shane smirked breaking into a smile.
Ilya just answered with a grin that clearly said I love you, and Shane answered with an easy one that simply said I know.