Rough Contact

by NovaIsSuper

Summary:

Ilya's stepbrother has eyes everywhere and stupid little Ilya pays him for it. He knows that little shit's secret and he knows how to use it as a weapon.

He decides to put Ilya back in his place when his friend contacts him one day. Not only is there a text, but a fucking picture.

Andrei decides that enough is enough and that Ilya will learn his place or lose his life. If his little friend dies with him, well, that will be another piece of shit the world will be rid of.

(Author is queer and does not support any hate or harm to the queer community, please read with care)

Notes:

Hi! Welcome to my first Heated Rivalry fic! I say first because I am very sure I will be making more. XD

Just a heads up, I have only just started the first book and began writing this after watching episode three of the show, so if I get personalities and such wrong, please forgive me!

Next, this is an intense story that will end very well. I NEVER write sad endings and this will be no exception. I just want to encourage you all to be mindful as you read so you do not trigger yourselves. This is a story about the severity of the hate and oppression of queer people and what can and has happened to those that are part of the community in various parts of the world.

Be safe, be mindful, and enjoy!

Chapter 1

Hollanov Playlist

 

 

It was almost midnight and Andrei was drunk on his couch. His wife was sleeping in their bed and the baby was sleeping in the laundry basket since it had no crib. The little fucker did just fine in the basket so why spend money on a crib? His wife kept nagging him about it but she’d stopped after Andrei had put her in her place about demanding money. 

 

He groaned as he felt over the floor next to the couch for his phone. He swore when the light of the screen blinded him. 

 

Alexei 11:53 p.m.

Your faggot brother isn’t being careful enough when he’s away. A friend just sent me this. He’s getting too damn comfortable.

click to view photo

 

Andrei threw his phone across the room as he screamed after seeing the fucking picture. His brother just always had to do something to embarrass the family. His mother offing herself wasn’t enough, now her spawn just had to make every damn thing worse. 

 

Then he had an idea. 

 

He got up and retrieved his phone, growling at the massive crack in the screen. He flipped through his contacts to call a person that would have a fun time handling this. 

 

“It’s fucking midnight, what the fuck do you-”

“I have a job for you that will let you and your gang blow off some steam.” Andrei interrupted. He could practically feel the energy through the phone as his friend stopped bitching. 

 

“Give me details and an address.”

_____

 

Ilya was back in Moscow and hating every damn minute of it. He hated who he had to pretend to be here. He hated how  he had to force himself to never smile, how he couldn’t let himself show interest in a single thing, and how he absolutely couldn’t let a single movement of his look gay. 

 

His brother had eyes on him absolutely everywhere here. Of course his father didn’t know. His father barely knew his own name some days. He hated Andrei. He wished that his father had never met Andrei’s mother and that she had never brought Andrei into his life after only a few months of dating his father. 

 

Andrei was the only reason he had to be so shut down. He demanded money constantly because he knew Ilya’s secret. Only once had Ilya not given him the money and that was because he really hadn’t had anything in his account to give him. That was the day Andrei had sent someone after him with a knife. He still had the scar across his palm from where he’d had to grab the blade to keep the man from stabbing him. Luckily someone had seen the scuffle and the man had been arrested. 

 

From then on, Ilya always made sure that he had plenty of money in his savings account and that he never did a single thing while too close to Andrei that could lead to him thinking he was embarrassing the family. 

 

He was at his condo now, watching the flames in the gas fireplace. Sometimes he wished he could just set the place on fire and let the smoke or flames kill him. 

Then he would remember that face.

Freckles, doe eyes, that crooked smile. 

 

He moved to get up to get a beer to relax with when he heard it. Shuffling steps outside his door. 

 

Ilya silently moved to the kitchen, grabbing the largest knife from his butcher's block. He gripped the handle tightly and watched the door. 

 

It all happened so fast. 

 

The bolt turned and the electronic lock was detached from the door. Strange men poured into his home and he was definitely not going to win this. 

 

Best to go down fighting then.

 

He dodged a punch and slashed with the knife, catching the guy across the chest to leave a shallow but long cut. 

 

Another ran at him to try to tackle him but Ilya set his feet and fought to not be toppled over. He threw the guy off of himself and ran. 

 

He just needed a few seconds. The front door was blocked so he ran upstairs and locked his bedroom door. He put a chair under the knob for good measure before pulling his phone from his pocket. 

 

Please pick up, please pick up, please pick-

 

“Rosanov? You never call what’s-”

 

“I am in trouble. You have my address. I need you to send help. I am so sorry, I do not want to scare you but-”

The group of men managed to smash the door in. Ilya tried to shield himself but one had a baseball bat. 

 

Ilya raised his left arm while still clutching his phone in his right hand. The metal bat swung and Ilya caught it with his hand. He hissed and winced as the impact sent harsh pain up his arm. Then baseball bat guy charged at him. 

Ilya was tackled to the floor and the call ended when his phone skidded away from him. 

 

He bit and kicked and punched but it was no use. 

 

He was dragged down the stairs and to his dining room table where a chair was pulled out so he could be tied to it with the power cord from his TV and cords that had been cut from a couple lamps. The plastic dug into his skin harshly and pinched it between coils.  

 

“I didn’t think a powder puff like you would be able to fight back so much. Your brother sent us to teach you to stay in your place. I would have thought that you’d have earned your lesson by now.” The man that Ilya had cut with the cooking knife sneered. Russian, not foreigners. 

“For fuck’s sake. You all are really here to do the dirty work for that coward? All of you are his bitches, you do realize that right?” Ilya almost regretted speaking when he was punched solidly in the eye. 

 

“The only one who should be talking right now is me. Hold your tongue or lose it.” The man rolled up his sleeves as Ilya glared at him. His eye was throbbing and he knew it would be swollen shut soon. 

 

“You picked the wrong guy if you think I’ll be some meek victim.” Ilya retorted with a laugh. 

 

“That’s fine. I’ll get you silent one way or another.” The man growled. He raised his hand and Ilya quickly made sure his tongue wasn’t between his teeth. 

 

The hits rained down on his face and head. He felt dizzy and the pain was horrible but he refused to make a single noise. 

 

“So now you want to be quiet? Thought you were a screamer.” The man laughed and Ilya raised his head. The other four men were standing back to watch, none of them seeming to want a turn at using him as a punching bag yet. 

 

“Nah. I’m the one who makes my partners scream. I bet you’ve never even made one cum.” Ilya grinned and lifted his nose in the air, his eyes never leaving the man’s face. 

There wasn’t a verbal response. Instead, the man grabbed the baseball bat and hit Ilya over and over in the ribs on his left side. Ilya grit his teeth but a small groan left his lips when a sharp pain flared under his skin. 

 

“Already cracking. Not so tough now are you? Faggots can never hold out. You’re all just a bunch of weak, whiny, piles of dog shit.” The man walked forward and grabbed Ilya tightly by the jaw, his fingers digging into his cheeks. 

 

“I bet you would scream if I fucked you. I bet you would be the loudest whore in the city. Want to try?” The man tried to seem intimidating but Ilya laughed in his face. 

 

“I doubt I’d even feel it, little guy. You seem to be trying to compensate for your tiny problem.” Ilya flicked his gaze down then looked back up. He waggled his eyebrows and that was what really broke the thug. 

The man hit the side of Ilya’s head, his palm landing over his ear. Ilya focused on not vomiting as the pain, dizziness, and ringing took over his senses. 

 

“You think you’re so cool, don’t you? I know you only get what you have by using that pretty face of yours,” The man dug in his pocket while Ilya tried to get his bearings, "I wonder what will happen if I make you ugly.” Ilya’s eyes snapped open when he heard the sound of a pocket knife opening. 

 

Just bare with it a bit longer.

 

The man snapped to get someone’s attention and pointed for the other man to hold Ilya still. A hand wrapped around Ilya’s forehead and another grabbed him harshly underneath his chin. He refused to look away or close his eyes as the man in charge brought the blade to his face. 

 

He pressed the tip in just under Ilya’s right eye, a small trickle of blood ran warmly down Ilya’s skin. 

 

“Still trying to be tough, huh? You won’t be after this.” The blade dragged in a white hot line down Ilya’s face. The blade slid through his flesh and Ilya clenched his fists to keep from making any noise. The cut was drawn from just under his eye, down over his cheek, and to his jaw. Ilya took a deep breath when the metal lifted from his skin and his body began to shake. 

 

“Awwww, do you need a second? Poor baby, do you need to cry? You can cry, I’ll make sure to get the tears in these pictures.” The man held up Ilya’s phone. Ilya was kept still as multiple pictures were taken of the state he was in. 

 

“Hmmmm, oh, how cute. Your last call was to ‘My Shane’. Would be a shame if Shane got these pictures. Oops, I hit send. Hopefully he doesn’t cry.” The guy laughed before tossing Ilya’s phone aside. 

 

It’s okay. He is strong. He will be okay. I will talk to him and tell him that I am fine. 

 

Ilya was forced to stay silent as his mouth was held closed by the man who still held his head. Instead, he glared with every ounce of hatred he had in him. 

 

“Aww, don’t look at me like that. I’m doing you a favor, really. I’ll beat the queer out of you and then you’ll be normal. Don’t you want that?” The man held the uncut side of Ilya’s face and rubbed his thumb over his lips. 

 

Ilya was able to lurch forward just an inch and caught the first digit of the man’s thumb between his teeth. It was as easy as biting through a raw carrot. One moment the end of the man’s thumb was attached to his body, the next it was severed and sitting in Ilya’s mouth. 

 

Ilya spat it on the floor along with a mouthful of blood. He grinned breathlessly with blood covered teeth as the man swore. 

 

“You mother fucker!” The guy held his hand and kept on swearing, all while Ilya laughed. 

 

“Oh, I’m sorry. I forgot I’m just a weak powder puff who couldn’t possibly fight back.” Ilya taunted when his head was finally released. 

 

“You fucking piece of shit queer.” The man punched Ilya in the face some more, like it mattered. Ilya’s teeth cut the inside of his cheek but he knew that wouldn’t be a problem. Then the man got up in his face again. 

 

“I’m gonna let my boys have you. I don’t care if you survive it or not.” The guy was absolutely rabid with rage. 

 

“If you fuck me you’ll all be fags too.” And then Ilya spat. Blood hit the man directly in the eye and he stumbled back with a yell. He frantically wiped at his face while screaming and Ilya smiled again with bloody lips.

Chapter 2

Notes:

Doogle is on purpose ;)

“Rosanov? Ilya?!” Shane pulled the phone away from his ear and saw that the call had ended. 

 

“Fuck! Okay. Call someone. Who do I call? Fuck fuck fuck.” Shane took five steps to begin pacing but froze. Scott’s in Moscow right now.

 

Shane pulled up Scott’s contact and he hesitated to call. We just fought. I… no, I have to try. 

 

Shane pressed the button and put his phone back against his ear. It took five rings but then the call went through. 

 

“Fuck, Shane. Do you know what fucking time-”

“It’s Rosanov. I need you to get the police and send them to the address that I’m about to text you. Something really bad is happening to him, there’s people breaking in at his place.” Shane put himself on speaker phone and sent the text with Ilya’s address to Scott. 

 

“Holy shit. Yeah, okay. Let me get some clothes on.” Scott threw himself out of bed. He quickly put on clothes and shoes before going to Doogle Maps to find the nearest police station. Fifteen minute walk, I can run. 

 

“Did you get the text?” Shane was pacing as he pulled at his own hair. His hands shook and his chest hurt. 

 

“Yes, I have it. Give me five minutes to get to the police. Stay on the phone with me.” Scott sprinted down the halls of the hotel and practically threw himself down the stairs. He burst out onto the sidewalk and followed the map. He rushed into the police station and three men looked at him in shock. 

 

“Hostage situation. Someone is being hurt.” Scott announced, hoping someone spoke English. 

 

A man stood quickly from his chair, speaking Russian as he rushed out from behind the front desk. The other two ran out from behind the desk, yelling as they ran to the back of the station. 

 

“Address? Name? You have?” The man approached Scott and he sighed with relief. 

“Yes. Ilya Rosanov. Address.” He held out his phone to show the text to the cop. He quickly wrote it down, gave Scott a thumbs up, then ran to the back of the building. 

 

“Shane? You still there?”

“Yeah, what’s happening?” Shane was biting his nails, chewing them down until he bled. 

 

“They took his name and address and started running around. I can see them leaving in their cars.” Scott looked out the front window to see four vehicles leave the station. 

 

A text message notification vibrated Shane’s phone. It was from Ilya. He almost screamed when the pictures popped up on his phone. 

 

Shane collapsed to the floor, trying to fucking breathe. 

 

“What’s going on? Shane, are you there?” Scott had heard the loud thus from Shane falling to the floor. 

 

“P-p-p-pictures. They, they sent pictures.” Shane stammered and Scott forced himself to focus and kept the panic shoved down inside his chest. 

 

“Deep breaths, Hollander. Try to slow it down.” Scott guided as he sat down in a lobby chair to wait. He could feel how tense his own muscles were and tried to relax. 

 

“I, I can’t…” Shane clutched at his shirt over his heart. He was going to fucking pass out, or throw up on the floor. 

“You can, Shane. You’re one of the best fucking hockey players in the league and you’re gonna tell me you can’t do something as simple as breathing? Come on, man, just listen to me and try to follow.” Scott breathed loudly so Shane could hear him. He listened as Shane fought to mimic him. 

 

It was a while later but Shane was finally out of his panic attack when he spoke again.

 

“What if he’s dead, Scott? What if they get there and whoever broke in has him-”

“Stop that. Nothing good comes from shitty what-ifs. Just, stay on the phone with me and we can wait together.” Scott interrupted. 

 

“I… okay.” 

 

_____

Ilya couldn’t open his right eye. His body was shaking from pain. He was sure he had broken ribs. He couldn’t tell if he had a broken nose or not but his eye socket definitely had a fracture. When did it get so cold in here?

 

Breathing hurt so he did his best to take slow, even breaths. 

 

Then a fist slammed into his face. 

 

"Fucking fag. People like you don't deserve the space you take up. You think you get to be such an abomination without having to pay for it? Bet you'd like it if we fucked you so I guess we wont be doing that." One of the other men spat while he gripped Ilya's jaw tightly to force him to look up.

 

Ilya smirked.

 

"Oh, so cute. I would be the one fucking you, cupcake." Ilya said before spitting a massive glob of blood straight into the bastard's face. 

 

"Fuck!" The guy stumbled back and was wiping at his eye. Apparently he’d learned nothing from the exact same thing being done to his boss. Ilya got a second to laugh before a different guy punched him in the stomach. 

 

"You are the bitch. You want us to show you?" The guy tried to be intimidating but Ilya couldn’t help how he laughed in his face.

 

"I would love to see you try." Ilya winked and the guy growled. He pulled his hand back and hit Ilya in the ear as hard as he could. 

 

Ilya gritted his teeth against the pain and tried to flex his jaw to get the ringing to stop. 

 

The sound of a knife flicking open again almost made Ilya hold his breath. For fuck’s sake. 

 

"I'm going to cut pieces off of you until you beg for us to kill you, little lady." The ring leader walked forward with blood still smeared across his face. 

 

"I do not beg. Good luck." Ilya smirked and straightened in the chair. His heart was racing but he refused to show any fear.

 

The man walked forward to grab Ilya by his hair before he lifted the knife to Ilya’s chest and slashed in a downward motion. It stung but Ilya gritted his teeth, still refusing to make any sounds of pain. 

 

His lack of reaction obviously angered the leader. He growled and slapped Ilya on the same side of his face as the first cut but Ilya shook it off and straightened back up. 

 

"This fucking bitch needs to be trained." The man raised the knife again but the front door swung open on bent hinges. People began to rush in and Ilya sighed with relief.

 

"Play date is over, boys." Ilya breathed heavily as he tossed his head back to shake his bloody hair out of his eyes. 

 

Police flooded the condo and the five men dropped to their knees with their hands in the air. The knife was pulled from the ring leader's hands as he snarled at Ilya. 

 

The cords were cut from where they had kept Ilya's ankles and wrists secured to the chair. He forced himself to stand on his own even though he could feel how his legs wanted to give out. He stared down at the men with a blank face before he turned to walk out of the condo unaided.

Notes:

What did yall think of this chapter?

Don't forget to use the link in my bio to join my discord server!

Chapter 3

Notes:

******GO TO CHAPTER ONE FOR THE LINK TO THE PLAYLIST I MADE FOR THEM*****

"I need a phone, quickly." Ilya demanded when an officer walked over to him. 

 

"We can't offer that to you yet, my apologies." The officer replied, wincing slightly. 

 

"God fucking damn it! Fine. I will go find one myself." Ilya held his side and got up from where he'd been sitting on his car's bumper. The officer stepped in front of him. 

 

"You cannot leave. You are evidence that we need to record." The cop held a hand out in front of Ilya's chest and Ilya promptly slapped it away. 

 

"There’s someone I need to call. It’s urgent." Ilya was trying his best to not yell again. He didn’t like to yell. 

 

"We cannot allow you to contact anyone at this time," the cops hands flinched forward when Ilya began to sway, "you need a doctor. Here. We have an ambulance for you." The cop pointed to the waiting vehicle but Ilya didn't move. 

 

"No. I need to call," Ilya gagged as everything began to spin, "I need Hollander." He managed to get out before his ears started to ring and he lost his vision. 

 

The cop barely caught him before he could hit the ground. 

 

_____

"I have a flight booked and I'm packing a bag, told coach there’s an emergency. I'll stay in a hotel until someone tells me where he is." Shane rambled as he rolled  outfits together to fit into the duffel bag he was filling. 

 

"Shane, they haven't even had a chance to come talk to me yet. I haven't seen any cars come back. Just give it a bit-"

 

"No, Scott! I will not be wasting time when I could be getting there faster!" Shane yelled. He froze, shocked at his own volume. 

 

"Okay. Okay, get ready for your flight. I'll stay on the phone with you." Scott replied calmly. Shane, of all people, had just yelled. It's gotta be even more serious than I thought. 

 

"Th-thank you. Sorry for yelling." Shane muttered as he put another outfit in his bag. 

 

"I didn't take it personally, it's okay." Scott replied as calmly as he could. Shane needed someone stable and patient right now. 

 

"Do you think seven outfits are enough? I have some comfortable clothes too." Shane scratched the back of his head and looked back at his closet. 

 

"I can't really help there. I can say don't forget a toothbrush, deodorant, and a few extra pairs of underwear. You never know when your ass will betray you." 

 

Shane huffed a sound that almost sounded like a laugh and Scott mentally patted himself on the back. 

 

"And Shane?"

 

"Yeah?" Shane whipped around to look at his phone like Scott was really there. 

 

"I'm sorry for the shitty things I said. I have my own shit going on and made it your problem. I'm sorry for all of that." Scott waited nervously as silence came from his phone. 

 

"Well," Shane took a deep breath, "at least I got a couple of good punches in. Congratulations on being my first ever fight." Shane smiled a bit when Scott laughed. 

 

"For someone who never fights, you pack a mean punch. Now, finish packing so you don't miss your first flight."

 

_____

 

Shane settled into his seat for the first part of his trip. He would be spending seventeen hours in the air and he knew every second would drag by. 

 

He couldn't stop his leg from bouncing anxiously as he waited for the plane to take off. 

 

"Flight anxiety, sweetie?" The middle aged lady next to him guessed. Shane smiled and shook his head. 

 

"Ah no, um," fuck, what could he tell her, "family emergency." He nodded at his answer and looked back at the floor between his feet. A hand landed on his knee and patted it. 

 

"I know that feeling. I took a ten hour flight to go say goodbye to my mom a few years ago. I found that listening to music she liked helped me to stay a bit calmer." When Shane looked at her like a scared little boy, she smiled at him. 

 

"I'll, uh, I'll make sure to do that." Shane tried to swallow around his tears but his vision went blurry. He hastily wiped them away with the back of his hand. 

 

"Here, hun. Use these instead. I'm sure you'll get there when you're meant to get there." The lady pulled a pack of tissues from her purse and handed them to Shane. 

 

"Thanks." He managed to whisper. 

 

"I'll be here the entire flight, so if you need to talk, go ahead. I've been told that I'm an excellent listener." She smiled and wrinkled her nose at Shane. A single chuckle left his lips as he patted his eyes dry. 

Notes:

Short chapter this time, what do you all think?

Don't forget to use the link in my bio to join my discord server!

Chapter 4

Notes:

Surprise! Double update!

Ilya groaned when he had to lift his arms above his head for the x-rays. His ribs were killing him and since he'd woken up from fainting he'd had a massive migraine. 

 

"Alright, take as deep of a breath as you can and hold it." The tech walked away to take the image and Ilya wiggled his toes at the pain that shot through him as he held his breath. 

 

"Okay, you can breathe. We've got all the images we need. I'll take you back to your room now." The lady helped Ilya to sit up and to get into the wheelchair that waited for him. 

 

Outside his room stood an officer. He'd been told that until they had the person who had ordered for this to be done to him in custody that he was to stay under guard while admitted. 

 

As he settled into his bed, another nurse came in with two vials in her hand. 

 

"Pain medication and anti-nausea medication. I just need your IV port." The nurse smiled and Ilya held out his hand. The medications began to work in minutes and he sighed before relaxing into the pillows. 

 

"Don't worry about trying to stay awake. The doctor says you can sleep despite the concussion." 

 

"Alright. Thank you." Ilya replied. He frowned when his words slurred from the pain meds. 

 

Before he could think anything else, his eyes closed and he slept. 

 

_____

 

After seventeen hours, Shane was finally in Moscow. When he turned his phone on to normal functions, texts from Scott flooded in and a voicemail from an unknown number popped up. 

 

When Shane played the voicemail, it was in Russian and he couldn't understand a single word. 

 

"God fucking dammit." He muttered to himself. He grabbed his large duffel bag and slung the strap over his shoulder before immediately walking to a coffee shop. 

 

The barista greeted him in Russian and he winced. 

 

"Uh, sorry. I don't-"

 

"Oh! I speak English! Hello, what can I make you today?" The woman beamed and Shane felt a little of his tension drop from his shoulders. 

 

"Could I have a large mocha, four extra pumps of chocolate syrup please?" The barista smiled at Shane again and put his order in.

 

"Ready in few minutes. Name?" 

 

"Shane." 

 

"Okay. Please tell me if you need help with anything else!" Shane looked down at his phone. 

 

"Um, actually, I have a voicemail but it's in Russian. Would you mind telling me what it says?" Shane held his phone out and pointed at the screen with a frown. 

 

"I can help." 

 

Shane pressed play. As the person in the message talked, the woman lost her smile. 

 

"Oh dear. It says that you are emergency contact for Ilya Rosanov and that he is at Moscow Central Clinical Hospital. They have asked you to arrive quickly." She looked up at Shane's face with worry. 

 

"Oh. Well, thank you. I didn't know where to go when I landed." 

 

"I see. I hope your family is alright." The woman turned to take a coffee cup from a man in the same uniform as her to hand to Shane. He took it with a small smile.

 

"Thank you. Uh, where do I pay?" Shane looked around for a card reader as he pulled out his wallet but the woman quickly snatched the reader off of the counter. 

 

"No need. On the house." She squared her shoulders and her smile made another appearance. Shane tried to insist but she refused to accept his card. 

 

"Fine then. Take this." Shane pulled six five-thousand ruble notes from his wallet and put them in the tip jar with a large grin, proud of himself for outsmarting the kind barista. 

 

The girl stared at him with wide eyes. 

 

"Three for each of you. Have a good day, and thank you." He picked up his cup and walked away. 

 

Just as he got into a cab, Scott called. 

 

"Hey, any updates?" Shane pressed his phone to his ear after telling the driver where his hotel was. 

 

"They won't tell me where he is but they said he's being cared for. They currently have five people in custody and are trying to find the person who told them to do this. Apparently he’s on the run according to his wife." Scott rubbed his forehead as a headache came on. 

 

"I, uh, I got a voicemail. Scott, I'm his emergency contact." Shane felt overwhelmed tears burn at his eyes and pinched them closed to try to hide that he was crying. 

 

"Means he trusts you, Hollander. Seems like he considers you a close friend." Scott tried to point out the silver lining and Shane managed a short laugh. 

 

"Right. Friends." He muttered, forgetting amidst the chaos that he was supposed to be keeping a secret. 

 

"What, are you two not close? Would be weird to make you his emergency contact if you're just some random guy to him." Scott wasn’t smiling anymore and Shane panicked. 

 

"I, well, um, it's just that-"

 

"Shane. You know you can tell me anything, right? You're family to me. I know we just fought but I swear you are safe with me." Scott listened to the silence from Shane. 

 

"It's just... fuck. I want to tell you but I'm scared." Shane admitted. 

 

"If I told you a secret of mine first would that help?" Scott chewed the inside of his lower lip and closed his eyes. I can do this. Shane is safe. 

 

"Yeah. That would be nice, actually. Just let me get to my room first." Shane thanked the cab driver and tipped him heavily before walking into the hotel. Once the door to his room was locked and he had set his duffel bag down, Shane sat on the edge of the bed with a massive sigh. 

 

"Okay. I'm good. You can talk." Shane sat in the lamplight and focused on breathing. 

 

"I," Scott felt his throat lock up, he cleared it and took a deep breath, "I'm gay, Shane. I'm gay and I've been seeing someone for months." He forced himself to just blurt it out. Shane was silent. 

 

"Hey, so, the silence is killing me so could you-"

 

"I'm gay too. I'm gay and I think me and Ilya are becoming a thing." Shane interrupted Scott. Now they both were quiet. 

 

Scott opened and closed his mouth a few times and then he remembered something. 

 

"You little shit! You and Rosanov weren't shit talking all that time ago! You were flirting!" Scott started to laugh and Shane felt a smile spread across his face. 

 

"Yeah. And when he said '1221' and I told you it was him just messing with me? It was his room number." Shane admitted. 

 

"Wow. He’s a dickhead, saying that right in front of me!" Scott was properly laughing now. 

 

"So, uh. You too?" Shane asked and Scott’s laughing stopped. 

 

"Yeah, me too. You're the only one that knows and I’d appreciate it staying that way." Scott could feel himself starting to sweat as his heart beat harshly. 

 

"Of course, thank you for trusting me with that." Shane wiped at more damn tears. 

 

"Maybe we could, uh, set up double dates at each other's places? When you and Rosanov figure yourselves out that is." Scott couldn’t help how he poked at his friend to try to ease the tension. 

 

"Oh fuck you," Shane let out a noise that was almost a laugh, "and, yeah. Hanging out sounds good." 

 

_____

 

Shane slept horribly for three hours. He tossed and turned and dozed until his alarm went off. 

 

He flew out of bed, rushing to get ready. Jeans, a tee shirt, his Reebok sneakers, and a thick coat were his fashion for the day. He put on a hat and a face mask before grabbing a cab to the hospital. 

 

"I'm here because I was called as an emergency contact?" Shane explained to the secretary. 

 

"Name of patient?" The man asked. 

 

"Ilya Rosanov." 

 

"ID please." 

 

"Oh, yeah sure." Shane pulled his passport out for the man to look at. 

 

"Good. I will call to have you brought to him. Please sit." The man gestured to the waiting room chairs and Shane sat in the first one he reached. His leg wouldn't stop bouncing and he felt like his heart was going to climb out of his throat. 

 

"Shane?" A nurse called and Shane launched out of his chair. They walked silently until they got to a room, Shane shrank a bit as a police officer stared at him. 

 

"He has medication so he sleeps much. Please allow him rest. Red phone on the wall calls help." The man in scrubs explained. When Shane nodded, the nurse opened the door for him. 

 

"Do not be afraid. He is injured but his pain is low." The nurse coaxed when Shane froze. 

 

"Is... he'll be okay, right?" Shane turned and the nurse smiled gently at him. 

 

"Yes. He will be okay. He look bit scary but will be alright." The nurse patted Shane's back as he took a few deep breaths. 

 

"Okay. Thank you." Shane nodded his head once. 

 

"You are welcome. If you need me, I am at desk." The nurse pointed to the nurses station before walking away. Shane took a deep breath and took one step forward. 

 

"He is very brave, your friend." The police officer murmured. 

 

"Oh. Thank you." Shane awkwardly responded before entering the room. He closed the door softly before he walked over to the bed. 

 

Ilya looked awful. The right side of his face was swollen and heavily bruised. His lip was also split. But when Shane saw the long cut down the right side of Ilya's face he had to press a hand over his mouth to muffle his sobs. 

 

Ilya's torso had a wrap around it and bruises peered out from underneath it along with another cut. His left hand was wrapped in an ace bandage. Shane softly ran his free hand over Ilya's legs to feel them under the blanket, relieved to find no casts or boots. 

 

He carefully moved the guest chair over to the side of the bed and held Ilya's right hand. 

 

"Hey. I made it. I would've come a little sooner but visiting hours were over. I'm here now, though. I'm here, Ilya." Shane felt tears run down his cheeks but he didn't care. 

Notes:

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Chapter 5

Notes:

Another short chapter, sorry!

It was four hours later when Ilya woke up. His ribs ached and his face throbbed. He blinked his left eye open and tried to lift his good hand to move some hair out of his face but it didn't move. 

 

When he looked down, his heart jumped. Shane. 

 

Shane was resting his head and chest on the bed while clutching Ilya's hand in both of his. The Russian would have smiled if it didn't hurt his lip and face so much. 

 

He watched Shane as he slept, refusing to push the button to ask a nurse for his medications. He would go without them easily if it meant he could see Shane sleeping at his side. 

 

Shane finally woke when Ilya's saline drip ran out and the pump beeped loudly. 

 

He jolted out of sleep and immediately looked for the noise. He froze when he saw Ilya looking at him.  

 

"Hey, Hollander." Ilya croaked. Shane stared at him, blinked, stared some more, and then he quickly stood from his chair. 

 

"Oh my God. Are you okay? Do you need anything?" Shane was scanning Ilya's body like he had x-ray vision. 

 

"I am okay. Hollander," Shane was frozen as he kept looking over Ilya's body, "Shane," he finally looked at Ilya again with wide eyes, "I am alright. I look horrible but I am alright. I promise." Ilya watched as Shane sank back into his chair. 

 

"I... the pictures... I was so...." Shane couldn't get a full sentence out, his brain finally crashing from the adrenaline that had been keeping him running. 

 

"I know. I know, Shane. I am so sorry. Please, come here." Ilya patted the bit of the bed next to him. Shane moved his chair up and stared at Ilya. 

 

"I was so scared that the next time I saw you that you would be dead." Shane whispered. He couldn't force his voice to be any louder. Ilya carefully took his hand and lifted it to his lips. The Russian closed his eyes as he pressed a kiss to Shane's skin before setting their hands down on the bed. 

 

"I am here. I am alive and have no wounds that are fatal. I will heal and be okay." Shane looked at Ilya as he spoke, savoring each word. 

 

Silently, Shane moved the chair in so his legs had to spread against the side of the bed. He leaned forward until he could gently kiss Ilya's shoulder. 

 

They sat quietly for a while. Shane had leaned his forehead against Ilya's shoulder and hadn’t moved, so Ilya let him stay there as long as he needed. Then someone knocked on the door and popped their bubble. 

 

"Hi, there. I am here for his pain medication." The nurse explained as he carefully ignored Shane sitting up and wiping at the tear tracks that were still on his face. 

 

"I do not need-"

 

"No. You do need. Do not lie. It does not make you brave to suffer." The nurse scolded, pointing at Ilya with the syringe of medication. 

 

"He's right. Being in pain doesn't earn you points. Let him give you your meds." Shane coaxed. Ilya looked at him with fear. 

 

"You will not leave? I will be sleeping. I know that is boring but I-"

 

"Ilya. I won't leave. They'll have to drag me out of here at the end of the day as it is. I'll stay here even while you sleep." Shane forced himself to keep his hands to himself even though he desperately wanted to hold Ilya’s hand. Ilya took a deep breath and nodded.

 

"Okay. I am ready." With Ilya's consent, the nurse walked over and put the medication through his IV. 

 

"You will sleep in few minutes. I will make sure he stays." The nurse said with a wink. Shane blushed and Ilya chuckled. 

 

"I will see if I can get cot." The nurse left before Shane could try to tell him that he didn't need to do that for him. 

 

"Stay with me." Ilya slurred. His eye was drooping shut against his will. 

 

"I'm right here. I won't leave." Shane held Ilya's hand again and the Russian sighed before drifting off. 

Notes:

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