Anzillu



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    Shane: Hello?
    Unknown Caller: Is this bird professor?
    Shane: …uh yes?
    Unknown Caller: Cool. Do humming birds have legs?
    Shane: What?
    Unknown Caller: Do humming birds—
    Shane: No, I heard you. Yes they have legs.
    Unknown Caller: [loud cheering in the background] I win! Thank you bird professor.
    Shane: …uh you're welcome?
    Unknown Caller: Goodbye.

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    30 Aug 2026

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    "What is your problem?" Shane demanded, his voice sounding thinner than he liked, laced with the exhaustion of the night. "I gave up our bedroom and the guest room and now you're here".

    He heard the rustle of fabric as Ilya settled onto the far end of the couch, claiming his territory with his infuriating, unspoken intensity.

    "We sleep in same place no matter what," Ilya murmured, the low, steady vibration of his voice hitting Shane somewhere deep. "So stay put or I follow you around home".

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    03 Jul 2026

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    Ilya: I think Shane is going to break up with me.

    Bood: I’m sorry…what?

    Hayes: You think Shane Hollander is going to break up with you?
    Hayes: Shane Hollander.
    Hayes: The Shane Hollander who learned Russian for you?

    Bood: The Shane Hollander who drives back and forth from Montreal any chance he gets to see you?

    Barrett: The Shane Hollander who started a charity with you and named it after your mother?

    Bood: The Shane Hollander who just generally puts up with you and seems mostly happy about it?

    Ilya: It does boggle the mind.
    Ilya: But yes, I’m almost certain of it.

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    30 Jun 2026

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    Shane: Is this Ilya Rozanov?
    Unknown number: no
    Shane: Oh, but the dog collar had this number.
    Unknown Number: What? What dog collar? What are you talking about?
    Shane: I'm Shane Hollander.
    Shane: I have your dog.
    Unknown Number: Is this ransom threat?
    Unknown Number: Did you kidnap my dog?

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    28 Jun 2026

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    “It’s okay. I don’t need anything.” 

    “I am not going to eat in front of you while you have nothing, Hollander,” Ilya scoffs. He plucks a can of cold ginger ale from the top shelf as casually as he can manage and slides it over the island, interrupting Hollander’s fidgeting thumbs. “You must be hungry, yes? It’s been hours since you left hotel. I can make something. Easy.” 

    “Make… what?” he asks warily.  

    Ilya rolls his eyes and tosses a look over his shoulder. “Do not worry. I will find something that works for your special hockey diet,” he teases. He reaches back into the fridge. “Tuna melt okay?” 

    “No,” Hollander says primly. “And it’s a disease. Not a diet.” 

    He pulls his hands out of the cold and turns, blinks. “What?” 

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    27 Jun 2026