Chapter Text
February 2015- Boston @ Montreal
Ilya had been a fucking mess before the game. Hidden in the bathroom at one point to splash his face with cold water and calm his nerves. Snuck outside to chain smoke. Paced around the weight room like a caged animal.
He was going to see stupid fucking Hollander for the first time since he'd walked out and left Ilya confused and scared on his couch. This was the first time Ilya was going to see Hollander since he'd gotten engaged to Rose Landry.
For the week leading up to this, Ilya had found it harder and harder to drag himself out of bed. He told himself it was new medication, it was because he was pushing himself too hard on the ice. The plucking nerves in his core betrayed him.
Stomach churning, Ilya skated onto the ice for the puck drop. Kept his eyes trained down, trying to ignore the way the air around Hollander prickled with an intangible electricity. He could feel Hollander's eyes on him, and Ilya gritted his teeth and looked up.
Shane's eyes looked glassy, unfocused. His freckles were dark, probably from getting sun at the All Star Game in Tampa.
"I heard you got married. Congratulations." Shane whispered.
Hollander won the face-off.
***
December 2014
"Sveta, I can't. I can't ever come back here again." Ilya clutched her, aware that it was uncomfortably tight.
She combed her fingers through his hair, shushing him with soothing noises. "Ok, so you never come back."
Ilya shook his head "No, I mean I cannot. I am too scared."
Alexei had cornered him at his father's wake, spitting threats about evidence he claimed to have, calling Ilya a Пидор. It might have been bullshit, empty lies from a scared cokehead who saw his source of income drying up, but the consequences were too real and terrifying for Ilya to test his bluff.
Svetlana frowned, assessing him. "Ok. We can make sure you don't have to leave the US."
Ilya blinked at her, a conversation from a few years ago bubbling back in his memory.
"Svetlana, I can't ask you to-"
She put a finger to his lips. "You don't have to. I want you safe. This way, you are safe." She shrugged like it was nothing, and Ilya felt his fear start to dissolve.
They married quickly, efficiently at a courthouse. Nothing changed between them. Svetlana stayed at Ilya's often, but they weren't any more serious than they were before. Citizenship interviews were easy, because they knew everything about each other. Ilya's biggest fear, being deported and subjected to whatever homophobic punishment was waiting back home, was finally being laid to rest.
He couldn't figure out why nothing felt better. Why Svetlana had to coax him to eat some days, why he needed to draw the curtains and sleep for fifteen hours on off days. Shortly after he returned from Russia, Ilya withdrew from the All Star Game. Svetlana assumed (somewhat correctly) that it was because he could barely take care of himself, let alone go to a weekend of parties and press appearances. Embarrassingly, Ilya knew he was really avoiding Hollander. He couldn't imagine going to Tampa and laughing by the pool with his teammates and playing wing to Hollander and pretending nothing ever happened between them.
A few days later, his fog lifted enough for him to have a moment of clarity. He might be like his mother. He needed to see a therapist.
It wasn't a moment too soon, because the morning of his first session his teammate Connors sent the team a link. He tapped it, and almost dropped his phone.
"Wedding bells? Rose Landry spotted with something icy." She was on the red carpet with a gigantic fucking engagement ring. Ilya slapped his phone down on his kitchen counter and resisted the urge to scream. Shane Hollander really had incredible timing.
***
May 2018
Shane couldn't take it any more. Mitty, Comeau, guys he's known most of his adult life, wouldn't make eye contact with him anymore. They left the room when he entered. Shane was crawling out of his skin.
He called the only person who might understand, one who was admittedly surprised.
"I hadn't heard you were out." Scott said
"It's not a secret. But I haven't put anything on social media yet, put out a statement, whatever.”
"Yeah, I guess not everybody can kiss their boyfriend on national TV." Scott laughed, and Shane wanted to laugh along, but his stomach was churning. "Do you...are you seeing anyone?"
Shane frowned "No. I was, kind of. But not anymore. Not for a long time."
"I know how hard it can be to date, or find people when you're closeted." Scott mused.
Shane squeezed his eyes shut. He had found someone, once. That was the whole problem.
"Anyway, I was wondering if you know what teams might be more...uh...open minded?" Scott sucked in some air. Shane leaving Montreal had been unthinkable until now. To his relief, Scott didn't interrogate the idea.
"Hm. I've heard San Jose is pretty alright. I mean, you'd live near San Francisco too, which would be pretty fun for a guy who's just coming out." Shane nodded, as if Scott could see him.
"Seattle, too. I know the center for Los Angeles has a gay brother..." Shane felt like he should be scribbling notes as Scott analyzed. Then Scott said something that made his heart stop for a moment.
"I mean, it's not really an option for you to move there, but I know that Boston locker room is supposed to be pretty good."
"Really?" Shane stuttered.
"I know, I know. Don't ever tell him this, but Rozanov is alright. This bar in Vegas did a Scott Hunter night the year I came out, and he showed up. Danced all night, didn't care about being seen at a gay bar."
Shane felt like his stomach was full of cement, imagining Ilya in a pulsing club, dancing with some imaginary guy that Shane automatically hated.
"Anyway, he comes by the bar I own now. And I'm friends with his left winger, Boodram. He said Rozanov runs a tight ship over there, pretty good locker room culture."
Shane chewed his lip. "Too bad they have a center."
***
September 2018
Ilya hadn't seen Wiebe like this before. Passionate and focused during games, intense and encouraging in the locker room. Calm and warm when they were off the ice, when they packed into the team plane or went out for dinner on the road.
Ilya watched him settle into his chair, shuffling papers, and slowly identified it. Wiebe was nervous. A feeling started to build in Ilya's stomach, one that told him he should run. He took a deep breath.
"Whatever it is, just tell me." He spat.
Wiebe sighed. "It’s not bad news. But I think you'll understand why I wanted to tell you first, before the rest of the team. "
Ilya leaned forward.
"We're going to sign Shane Hollander."
There was an instant ringing in his ears, and Ilya saw red.
"Fuck off."
Wiebe wasn't joking, and Ilya really felt himself starting to lose control.
"Wiebe, what the fuck? I give everything to this team, you sign Hollander? For what? So you can trade me?"
Wiebe shook his head emphatically "No, we would never do that. Also, you know you have a no-trade clause right?"
Ilya dimly remembered that in his contract negotiations, he had wanted permanence.
"So what, you put me on second line? You try to make me play wing? Why does he get to come here and fuck with me, my team?"
Wiebe held a hand out, trying to get Ilya to pause. "Please listen, we would never sign him if that was the case."
Ilya couldn't make sense of it.
"Hollander has agreed to play second line."
"We can't afford him" Ilya desperately flailed as he tried to process the idea of Shane Hollander accepting second line.
"He's taking well under what he's worth." Wiebe shrugged.
Ilya's dread mounted. Hollander was doing this purely to fuck with him, this had to be the reason, this made no sense.
"Why the fuck would he do that?"
Wiebe gave him an uncomfortably sharp look "You and I know what we've built here. We've won two cups in the past four years. I think Hollander just wants to win."
Ilya was livid, but he had to admit that part made sense. Perfect Shane Hollander loved to win.
"He also mentioned some things about team culture. I won't get into it any more, it's his story to tell, but it sounds like the Metros locker room is not a place he likes to be. He had a lot of meetings with me, with ownership, and he thinks he can fit here."
Ilya frowned. Hollander had his best friend, Pike, in Montreal. What could be so bad that he would leave?
Then Wiebe said the worst part of it all. "And he said he wants to play with you. I thought the rivalry was more of a media thing. I can tell from your reaction that I may have been wrong, at least on your part. But he clearly has a lot of respect for you as a player, and I know you can understand wanting to play with the best." Wiebe grinned "And come on. Tell me you don't want to see other teams try to face us when you're both on the ice for a power play."
Ilya slumped in his seat. Wiebe had nailed his Achilles heel. He loved winning. Knew Hollander loved it more than anything. Knew no other team stood a chance if they were both playing for Boston. Only a psychopath like Hollander would accept lower pay and give up captaincy for an opportunity to dominate the league like this.
Wiebe could tell he was wearing Ilya down, but he still looked nervous. "Ilya," Ilya stilled. To his team he was always Rozanov or Roz or Rozy, never Ilya. "You're our guy. There's nobody I'd rather be our captain, to lead this team to another Stanley Cup. It's clear you don't like the guy, but we both know how good this could be."
Ilya jerked his head in a nod. "We will destroy everyone, this is true." Wiebe seemed satisfied. Ilya stood to leave and delivered one last look at Wiebe "But I do not have to be happy about it."
***
Ilya was grateful that Wiebe had told him separately, even if it was only to avoid a scene. Wiebe had called a team meeting the week ahead of training, breaking the news before the press ran with it. The locker room was stunned into silence. Ilya registered that the team should be overjoyed, Shane Hollander was a perennial MVP candidate, any team would be thrilled to have him. Wiebe finished telling the team, explaining how it would all work, and Ilya could feel everyone's faces turn to his. This was why Wiebe had told him separately, he was the captain and he needed to set the tone.
"Everyone knows I'm not fond of Hollander," Ilya started, to some laughter. "But he is the second best player in the NHL," more of the team was laughing now. Good, this was working. "And he wants to win. So he is welcome here, yes?"
Players nodded. Wiebe shot Ilya a grateful look and left. The room descended into buzzing, everyone processing the news.
"I mean, shit. How bad was the Metros locker room for Hollander to bounce?" Marleau asked their goalie, Wyatt Hayes. Hayes shifted uncomfortably for a moment and then lowered his voice. Ilya pretended to be very interested in his phone, but he strained his ears to hear him.
"Uh, look. I've got an old teammate on the Metros. I don't think Hollander is keeping this a secret or anything, but I haven't seen it in the press, so just...keep it on the down low for now, ok?"
Ilya was frozen, mind racing.
"He came out."
Ilya dropped his phone. As he picked it up, Hayes and Marleau watching, he realized he had to abandon all pretense.
"Sorry. I did not mean to overhear." He lied. "Hollander is gay?"
Hayes nodded. Marleau let out a low whistle.
"And the Metros didn't take that well?" Marleau asked.
"No," Hayes shook his head. Ilya had hated the Metros since he had been drafted into a decades old rivalry, but he felt an even sharper hatred now.
"Fuck them." He growled.
"Yeah, it sounded bad. Obviously some guys were fine, but a lot of them stopped changing around him, made a lot of shitty jokes, it just seemed...toxic." Each word Hayes said stoked anger in Ilya.
The Hollander he had known had brushed Ilya off the few times he asked about his sexuality. He had been far too worried about being the perfect poster boy for hockey. The kind who was straight and at one point engaged to a beautiful movie star. Ilya started to turn over an unsettling thought in his mind. He thought he knew Hollander well, but this felt so different, deeply out of character. How much had he changed in four years?
***
Shane sat in his car, practicing breathing exercises that he'd done with his therapist last week. He was scared, really scared to see Ilya again. But he was also excited. There was a relief knowing that he wasn't going into the Metros locker room again. Hayden had been heartbroken, livid at the team. But he was happy for Shane, if not completely confused that Shane chose Boston, of all places.
Shane took a final steadying breath, got out of his car, and marched inside.
"Hollander! Good to see you." Coach Wiebe was walking down the hall, smiling. If anything had cemented Shane's decision to come to Boston, it was Wiebe. He had more warmth than any coach Shane had worked with. Seemed to see through him, in an uncanny way. "Come on, I'll take you back to the locker room. A lot of guys rolled in early, wanted time to catch up before training started."
Shane could hear joyful yelling already. It stung, unexpectedly. He hadn't heard a locker room like that since he came out.
They rounded the corner and it took Shane maybe two seconds to register that Ilya wasn't there. His shoulders slumped as he relaxed. This was a better way to meet everyone.
"Look who showed up!" Wiebe thumped him on the back, and Shane took in the inquisitive faces of his new teammates.
"Hey. Looking forward to playing with you." Shane nodded, and then he moved to his locker. He was wedged between Zane Boodram and a very young looking boy, his locker said "Haas."
"Hi. I'm Luca. Luca Haas." The blond shyly stuck out his hand, and Shane couldn't help being a little charmed by his manners.
"Watch out, he's going to ask you to sign his Shane Hollander poster." Boodram nudged Shane, grinning.
"I told you, I don't have that poster anymore!" Luca flushed "It was when I was a kid."
Shane could feel himself smiling. "So like, one year ago?"
Boodram chuckled, a low rumbling laugh that eased Shane's nerves further.
Luca seemed thrilled to be teased by Shane. "I'm twenty. Not as young as you and Roz when you started."
Shane nodded, biting his lip. He and Ilya had really been so young when they met, when they started playing. Maybe things would have gone differently if they had crossed paths when they were a little older and Shane hadn't been so scared.
"Anyway, I promise I won't be weird. But I can't believe I get to play with the two of you." Luca said breathlessly.
"I'm looking forward to it." Shane smiled.
"Ok, ok." Wiebe clapped his hands. Shane cast his eyes around the room again, wondering if Ilya was sick or something.
"Five minutes, then we head to the ice for drills."
Shane changed quickly, still force of habit from trying to get in and out of the Metros locker room as fast as possible.
As he started walking down the tunnel he sucked in the familiar sensation of cool air, the faint chemical smell of freshly smoothed ice. It calmed his nerves right in time to be hit in the face with the sight of Ilya, already gliding on the ice.
"Cap, couldn't wait for us?" Wyatt Hayes yelled behind Shane, rushing onto the ice to hug Ilya. Shane hung back for a moment, but Ilya wasn't turned towards him, he seemed totally absorbed as Hayes started telling him about some sci-fi show he had watched that summer.
Shane skated out to center ice and started stretching. His nerves settled as he took in his surroundings. This was the same as any pre-season training. He was back on the ice, things always made sense here.
He looked up as more players tumbled onto the ice. Haas shot him an eager smile as he skated next to him and started stretching. As Shane looked up at him to grin back, he noticed Ilya, facing towards him for the first time. He wasn't making eye contact with Shane, but he was frowning at Haas.
Shane was sure he didn't want anything to do with him. Wiebe had said Ilya was excited to have him on the team, but Shane knew better. This was a crazy, stupid idea. He was starting to fill with doubt and regret before Ilya turned his hazel eyes on Shane's and his breath was knocked out of him.
***
Ilya could feel himself glaring, unfairly, at Haas. Luca seemed to be a sweet, eager kid. He had been in training camp last year, freshly drafted and too green to be seriously considered for a call up. He had gotten a couple valuable weeks around the squad before working his ass off in the minors. Ilya was happy, almost like a proud father, when Wiebe had said he was probably ready to join the team this season.
The team had teased him mercilessly when he admitted last year that he had a poster of Ilya in his bedroom growing up. Ilya had stopped teasing him about being a fan boy when Haas had argued that he wasn't obsessed with Ilya, he also had a poster of Hollander.
Was he really so irritated that his little shadow from last fall had latched onto his other idol? A worse sensation was curling in his stomach. He watched the way Haas flushed as his eyes traveled over Hollander's face. Haas looked shy, tentative, and curious. The same kind of look he had caught on Hollander's face the first few times they crossed paths. That expression had encouraged his reckless and impulsive younger self to book a commercial with Shane, try to come onto him in the shower, and eventually land in his bed that same evening.
Ilya's gaze slid from Haas to Hollander's for a moment and he was mortified to lock eyes with him. Those deep brown eyes were gazing softly at him, a searching expression on his face.
Fuck. Fuck this shit, fuck Hollander. Ilya forced himself to think about Hollander walking out the second Ilya had shown his feelings. He had made it extremely clear that Ilya was unwanted. Ilya tore his gaze away and turned back to Hayes. He had faced off with Hollander on the ice for years. He could handle whatever this new challenge was.
***
Shane was dreading the shower after training. He had wanted to tell the Raiders that he was gay before this. He worried the guys would think he was being a creep for showering with them before he came out. He hung back in the locker room, pretending to take ages to unlace his skates. Ilya came wheeling around the corner in a towel and grimaced when he saw Shane.
"Why are you here?"
Shane supposed he could be asking the broader, general "Why the fuck did you come to Boston," version of that question. But he went for the more simple answer.
"I got used to showering after everyone in Montreal."
Ilya's face softened for a fraction of a second, before his eyebrows furrowed and he went to his locker. "Yes, Hayes said they were shitty."
Shane's head jerked up. "Wyatt knows?"
Ilya winced a little and looked apologetic. "Yes. The league talks."
Shane slumped a little. He felt relief more than anything. "So the team knows?"
Ilya nodded carefully, looking at Shane like he was a bomb that was about to go off. "Yes. You don't have to worry. They do not care."
Shane squinted at him.
"Hayes has gay sister. Our social media guy, Harris, he is gay. Team loves him." Ilya waved his hand like it was easy. Scott had not been exaggerating, this team was miles different than the Metros.
"Ok." Shane let out a steadying breath.
"It is just shower, Hollander. Nobody thinks you are going to get a boner." Ilya was smirking at him and Shane suddenly felt completely unprepared for this. Ilya knew all too well that he had gotten embarrassingly hard the first time he'd seen Ilya in the showers. And judging by Ilya's grin, he was all too happy to torture Shane with that memory.
"Yeah, I guess the coast is clear. Not like any of the guys in there do it for me." Shane shrugged, and turned around to strip off his clothes. He could feel Ilya's eyes boring into the back of his head, but by the time he had turned around, Ilya was intently staring at his phone, eyes pointedly trained away from Shane.
***
Ilya had hoped training would start to desensitize him to Hollander. It was aggravatingly enjoyable to see him on the ice as a member of the team, not an opponent. They still found ways to compete, one-upping each other in drills to the point that the team started to notice and egg them on. Wiebe seemed pleased, watching them try to best each other on shot accuracy one morning. Ilya couldn't deny that the team had incredible depth now. He wouldn't be anxious getting off the ice and letting Shane take over with the second line. If anything, he begrudgingly admitted, it could be an advantage if a team had his number. Their style of play was so different, and from the way Shane frowned and focused as Wiebe explained drills and plays, Ilya could tell that he would watch their opponents with precision, analyzing how to attack them where Ilya couldn't. He could never, ever admit that to Hollander. But he did admit it to his therapist one afternoon.
"That must be a new feeling." Galina nodded.
Ilya rubbed his chin. "It is. He's always been the only one who could keep up with me. Or challenge me." He admitted.
He toed the carpet. He had promised to be honest in his sessions. When he started, he had told Galina that he was reeling from a breakup. Not even a real breakup, just a devastating rejection from a boy that he had been falling for. He had said he couldn't share more about him, that he was a public figure. Galina hadn't pressed.
"You remember the person I talked about when we started?" He asked, eyes raising to assess her face. She betrayed no emotion when she nodded.
"Of course. We haven't spoken about him in a while."
Ilya cursed Hollander internally. He hadn't talked about him in a while. He had accepted that they were over, he had worked on himself, and he had moved on.
"What I tell you stays here, yes?" Ilya saw a flash of understanding cross her face, but she nodded gently again.
"So he..."
"Yes. He." Ilya sighed. "And now he is here. And I see him every day."
"Is that very challenging?" Galina asked.
Ilya frowned. Challenging didn't feel like the right word. Aggravating. Infuriating? Like Ilya had worked hard to build up scar tissue and Hollander was now picking at it.
"I am afraid." He didn't even realize it until the words slipped out. "I do not understand why he is here. I do not want to be around him. I thought I could, but I don't think I can."
"What would happen if you spent time around him?"
I'd fall for him again. I'd get my heart ripped out again. "I think he could hurt me. Again." Ilya simplified.
Galina looked so sympathetic that Ilya felt like he was going to cry. "That's very possible."
Ilya must have shot her the world's more transparent "what the fuck" expression, because she raised her hands.
"You can't control other people hurting you. But you have done so much work since then. You have coping mechanisms."
Ilya slouched in his seat.
"Ilya, I think it would help to tell other people what you are dealing with right now. Someone you trust. This is a big burden to carry by yourself."
Ilya nodded, musing on her advice. She was wrong about control. Ilya was afraid to let Hollander near him again, but he could control his feelings at a distance. He could just keep him at arms reach. Ignore his soft gaze, his beautiful freckles, his shy smile...Ilya groaned and covered his face in his hands.
He would tell someone. Svetlana would be back in Boston when the season started. He would tell her he was in deep shit, that he was in trouble.
***
Training with the Raiders still felt surreal to Shane. He loved playing on the same team as Ilya. Off the ice, it was a different story. His heart would plunge into his stomach whenever those piercing hazel eyes would find his, but on the ice they worked in sync in a way Shane had never experienced. There were moments off the ice where Shane thought he caught Ilya staring at him, but he always seemed to glance away right before Shane could catch his eye. Shane was relieved that the rest of the team didn't seem to care about his presence when it was time to shower or change. But he did notice that Ilya never seemed to be around when Shane would step into the shower, or pull on clean clothes.
Ilya was a good captain, he was encouraging and sharp. His interactions with Shane were limited to overly competitive drills or barking suggestions when Shane practiced plays with Haas and Connors. Shane had never imagined not being captain, but it felt like a blessing as he adapted to everything. He could focus on his play more, as he got attuned to the team.
Boston was a really great team to play with. Bood was warm, boisterous, and a menace on the ice. Hayes was an incredible goalie. Shane had hated playing against him in recent years. And Luca was excellent. He still had some confidence to build, but he was nimble and a quick learner.
As they left the ice one day, Luca tapped Shane on the shoulder.
"Hey, a few of us are going to get drinks after this. Do you want to come?"
The "No, thank you" was automatically loaded on Shane's tongue, but Haas had incredibly effective puppy dog eyes, and Shane felt himself weaken. He remembered how thrilled he had been when Scott Hunter celebrated with him the night that he won Rookie of the Year.
"Sure, I'm down."
Ilya had been several paces ahead of them and jerked his head around, looking surprised.
"Are you coming, Rozy?" Haas pleaded. Shane could feel himself holding his breath.
"Why not. Need to make sure Hollander doesn't corrupt you." Ilya sighed, turning away from them.
Shane wasn't sure who was more excited, him or Luca.
***
Ilya rested his chin in his hand, trying to look the picture of boredom as Haas and Hollander quietly chatted across from him and Bood and Marleau loudly argued about barbecuing techniques.
He was stunned that Luca had been able to coax Hollander out. More stunned to see Hollander order a beer, although Ilya observed that everyone else had moved on to their second or third as he still nursed his first. Ilya wondered absently if Hollander still drank ginger ale, or if he had outgrown it.
He chewed the inside of his cheek. His observation on the first day of training seemed correct. Luca practically had stars in his eyes as he talked to his idol, but that flush on his cheeks and the way he looked at Hollander whenever Shane's attention was elsewhere seemed unmistakable. So the boy had a crush on Shane. Big deal, Ilya was sure there would be men falling at his feet when he came out to the public. Even if he hated Hollander now, he could admit he was handsome. His eyes were a warm brown that you could drown in. His hair was glossy, begging to be combed by gentle fingers. And his freckles, little constellations that had tormented Ilya for years, were darker from the summer sun.
Ilya tried to ignore the sensation curdling in his stomach. "What are you two talking about?" He interrupted, annoyed that his other companions had drowned out the ability to eavesdrop on Hollander.
"I was talking to Shane about his rookie year!" Haas said breathlessly. Hollander flushed now, and Ilya was distracted for a moment by the way his freckles stood out against his pink cheeks.
"Oh my god, which would have been your rookie year." Luca smacked himself in the forehead.
"That must have been so crazy. And you guys were both All Stars that year."
Hollander turned redder, and Ilya felt a smug satisfaction, knowing exactly what made him flush this time. He had thought about that All Star weekend often. How he had been thrilled to get Shane's number. How quickly Shane had dropped to his knees for him. How much he had wanted to hear about the toy Shane used on himself.
"Yes. It was very memorable." Ilya smirked, and his grin only broadened at how flustered Hollander looked.
Then Hollander tilted his head and said something that shot through Ilya like an arrow. "I think there are other moments in our careers that are more memorable. Like the time you beat me out for MVP."
Ilya could feel himself clutching his beer too tightly. Hollander was trying to taunt him with a memory that Ilya had revisited too many times. Ilya didn't even want to admit to himself how often he had thought about Hollander offering himself up as a prize, toying with himself for Ilya's benefit in that Vegas penthouse.
"What about the game where I scored a hat trick against you?" Ilya shot back. He had bent Shane over his couch and fucked him until he forgot how to speak that night.
"I liked that season opener after I won the Stanley Cup." Shane's eyes were glinting now. They hadn't even made it to a bed that evening. Ilya was so desperate for him after a summer apart that he had pinned Shane to the floor the second he walked into his apartment.
Ilya was about to spear Hollander with another memory when he caught sight of Luca, who was watching with rapt attention.
"Rivalry got old." Ilya snapped, and a flash of something crossed Hollander's face. It might have been anger. Ilya forced down the idea that it might have been hurt. "Now we are on same team. I cannot enjoy beating you anymore."
Hollander nodded, turned to Luca, and started asking him questions about his conditioning routine.
Ilya excused himself for a cigarette, desperately needing the time to collect himself and push these thoughts out of his mind.
Out in the cold fall air, he stared up at the sky. At one time, he had cradled those memories like special treasures. And then Hollander ran away, everything went to shit, and Ilya had tried to bury them because he couldn't stand thinking about Shane. He took a deep drag of his cigarette. Hollander had sat across from him, rattling off those same moments as if they were etched in his brain as deeply, as if he'd never been able to suppress them. Had Hollander ever laid awake at night, staring at the ceiling, tortured by the way every euphoric moment had fermented into something painful and sour?
Ilya stubbed out his cigarette. It didn't really matter. They had broken it, whatever they once had. And it was pointless to think of it fondly, now they just used their memories as weapons to jab each other.
***
The first game of the season, as luck would have it, was against Montreal. On home ice, at least. Which was good, because Ilya was pretty sure the first time Hollander played in Montreal people would be burning effigies of him in the street.
As Boston stretched on the ice, Ilya noticed Hayden Pike glide up to Hollander. They embraced, and fell into animated conversation. Ilya's curiosity got the best of him, and he started slowly looping up behind Hollander to see what he had to say to his old teammate. Just as he was about to approach Shane's side, he heard Hayden say something that made his blood run cold.
"Whoever he is, I hope he's worth it."
Ilya skidded to a sharp stop, which made Shane jump and look at Ilya.
"Who is worth what?" Ilya asked, and Hayden squinted at him before he turning a questioning glance at Shane.
Shane nodded "I'm out to the team, it's ok." He was fighting a smile, and Ilya couldn't make sense of it.
Hayden sighed. "I was just telling Shane that the Metros are going to be out for blood, they're not happy he signed here."
Ilya shrugged "That is what they deserve, they are homophobic."
Hayden nodded. "I'm not arguing that. Just warning Shane."
Ilya turned his gaze on Shane and shot him an accusing look. Hayden hadn't answered his question. Shane's smile broadened more for some reason.
"And Hayden guessed that there was a reason why I signed here, when there were other teams I could have gone to that probably would be accepting enough."
Ilya waved his hand in a universal "spit it out" gesture.
"He moved here for a guy." Hayden sighed, and Ilya's blood ran cold. Of course he did. Shane Hollander was out now, and he had his first boyfriend. A Boston boyfriend, of all fucking places he had to find one.
"Oh. Who?" Ilya could feel his eyebrows shooting up as his heart dropped to his stomach.
"Some guy who was in his phone forever under the name Lily." Hayden answered, and Ilya suddenly felt winded. He couldn't look at Shane right now, but he felt his gaze burning into him. "They'd text and hook up whenever he was in Boston. So when I heard Shane signed here of all places, I put the pieces together." Hayden sounded proud of himself.
"And I was just telling Hayden that yes, Boston Lily is worth moving here for." Shane said, and Ilya finally dragged his eyes up to meet his. What kind of sick mind game was Hollander playing at?
"Nobody is worth playing second line for." Ilya spat out, and skated away.