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Ilya Rozanov has a secret. Well, a few secrets. One of them is Shane Hollander. Another secret is math.
When he was a child he tested into rigorous mathematics programs, competing well at Russia’s Olympiads. Hockey he played for his father, but math was something he did with his mother Irina, who had taught math before her marriage. His success led to high school placement at Moscow’s fabled School 57. For years Ilya combined hockey at an advanced level with his studies, often doing math problems at the back of the team bus.
In 2008, before he went to Canada to play for Russia at the International Prospect Cup, he travelled to Spain to take part in the International Math Olympiad, where he scored 40 points to win gold for Russia. When he was drafted in 2009, he deferred for a year not only to play an additional year of hockey, but to represent Russia at the Olympiad in Bremen Germany, where he once again won Gold for Russia with a perfect score of 42 points this time.
In early 2010 Ilya faced his teachers and informed them he would not be continuing on to study at the Moscow Institute of Physics and Technology (or alternatively Moscow University), but instead take up a career in hockey with the MLH.
His teachers and mentors were…appalled.
“Ilya, you cannot be serious. You have one of the finest minds for pure mathematics in your generation. You want to throw it all away to play a stupid game on ice?” His mentor, Igor Sergeev asked him. Igor had brought him into the Moscow University Maths program for schoolchildren (“Malyi Mechmath”) the year after Irina died, helping Ilya direct his grief into higher leaning. He worked around Ilya’s ‘hobby’ but this was too much.
Evgeny Pankratiev chimed in. “Ilya you must continue with your mathematics studies, no matter where you are. If you will be in Boston maybe you could go to MIT.” He ran a program supporting School 57 from Moscow University and was also a professor of Algebra.
“I will be playing hockey,” Ilya pointed out. “I will be travelling half the season, I can’t go to university at the same time.”
“If I set up interview for you, will you at least talk to them?” Evgeny asked. Ilya sighed. He didn’t want to disappoint the men who had supported him through so much.
“Yes, if you set up meeting I will talk to people at MIT.”
Which was why before his rookie season started Ilya found himself at the fabled Massachusetts Institute of Technology. It was only a week after the CCM shoot where he and Shane first got together, and the thrill of that encounter was still present in Ilya’s body, like an electrical current.
He sat at a table with the Department Head Joseph Manotti, and one of the professors in Number Theory, Alexei Volkov, who had studied at Moscow State University with several of Ilya’s teachers and mentors.
“Ilya, I have been hearing about you and your Olympiad success for two years now,” Volkov said as he shook Ilya’s hand. “Yet I understand you chose hockey over math.”
Manotti shook his hand as well and waved Ilya into a chair. “Tell me about hockey,” he said to Ilya, who nodded thoughtfully.
“My English may not be up to task, but if Volkov is willing to translate if necessary,” he said, looking at the older Russian man, who nodded.
“I don’t understand when I’m told to pick one or the other. Hockey is math, and hockey is physics. When I am skating, or shooting the puck, I can see the vectors in front of me. When I pass to a teammate, I am completing complex equations, identifying velocity of the skater, of the puck, of the defending players. I feel like hockey always made math real to me, it never felt separate.” He paused and looked out the window.
“My mother always used games to teach math to me. Math was always about movement, about the physical world. I loved school, but only because I was also playing hockey. I can’t imagine a life at a desk, I need to move. I need to apply what I learn on the ice. I think it makes me a better mathematician, to play hockey.”
“Plus, let me be, how do they say, ‘for real’, hockey pays much better than most math careers. Maybe excepting finance but that seems boring to me.”
The men are nodding now, following along.
“If you could have both somehow, like you did before, is that what you want?” Manotti asked him. Ilya smiled.
“Yes, I would love to do both. However my travel schedule…”
The Department Head held up a hand.
“Let’s give it a try. You enrol this fall, take a partial course load, you attend classes while you are in Boston, and keep up with your work, and we see how things go, ok?”
“Yes, that sounds amazing, thank you.”
Afterwards there were transcripts and recommendation letters and an actual application involved, but it all seemed like a formality honestly. He was given credit in Calculus for his advanced programs, and he took Advanced Standing Exams for several of the classes and passed all of them.
That was how Ilya Rozanov came to be enrolled in MIT at the same time as he played hockey for the Boston Raiders. For the first two years, he took a half course load and attended in-person classes when he was in the city. Initially he hoped to keep his lives separate, but his fellow students recognized him pretty quickly. They were largely math nerds as well though, so they didn’t really care. He was able to keep his secret from the Raiders a little longer, but he needed to come clean when in his second year of playing the Raiders made the playoffs for the first time in five years, and he had a conflict with an extra practice and one of his exams.
“You need to do what?” Coach LeClaire asked, shaking his head like a dog coming out of the water.
“Is exam, in afternoon. I can’t come back to watch game tape.”
“What the fuck kind of exam do you have?”
“Algebra,” Ilya told them.
“Like equations? Like in school?”
“Yes, Algebra is abstract systems.”
“Did you not graduate high school Rozanov? What are you taking school for?”
“Yes, I graduated high school. This Algebra is more, applied concepts, like factorization.”
“What the fuck does that even mean?” LeClaire asked. Ilya tried to think of a way to explain it to his coach that didn’t sound condescending.
“Where are you taking this class? Is it like community college?”
“I don’t know about community, but is college. In Cambridge. Is MIT.”
“I’m sorry, did you say MIT? You are taking a math class at MIT?”
“Yes, several classes really. This is last exam though, I completed the other two.”
“How the fuck have you been taking three math classes at MIT this year?”
“Well, only two were math,” Ilya starts. “Also took Physics, one of general requirements for degree.”
“Wait, you are taking a degree? What is happening here?”
Ilya sighed and sat down, realizing this would be a longer conversation than he hoped. He just wanted tomorrow afternoon off to take the exam.
“I am enrolled in degree program, part-time.”
“For math.”
“Yes, for math.”
“Like, what kind of math?”
“Um, no specialization yet. I think I would like to focus on Number Theory when I do pick though.”
“What. The. Fuck. Is. Number. Theory?” LeClaire said slowly. Ilya wasn’t the best at picking up sarcasm in English, but he was pretty sure his coach was being sarcastic. One of his usual strategies was ignoring it and treating it with all seriousness, so that’s what he did.
“Ah, Number Theory. Is branch of mathematics devoted to study of integers and arithmetic functions. Very pure mathematics, one of the oldest branches as well. Has long been a love of mine.”
“You have loved mathematics? Since when?”
“I am International Mathematics Olympiad gold medalist, two times. Same years as Prospect Cup.”
LeClaire slumped down behind his desk, looking confused.
“Who the fuck are you?”
Ilya shrugged. “I love hockey, I love math.” He thought about it for a second. “I love hockey because it is math.”
“So, you want the afternoon off to take a math exam at MIT.”
“Yes,” Ilya said, hoping they were getting somewhere.
“I mean, I guess. But this isn’t the last time we talk about this whole math business.”
“Ok, thank you,” Ilya said, just wanting to get out of this conversation.
The next day he thought he did pretty well on the exam, and at the game later Boston clinched their first round series against New York.
“Math huh,” LeClaire said later.
“Yes, math,” Ilya said.
Boston didn’t make it past the second round, but it was a great signal that the rebuilding of the team around Ilya was working. He wasn’t aware of it at the time, but heard later that many meetings were held about ‘Rozanov’s math thing’. The Raiders organization reached out to MIT to confirm Ilya’s enrolment, and heard about the special deal the Math department had set up to facilitate his education. The two Boston institutions then put their heads together to figure out how best to support Ilya Rozanov in both hockey and math.
He wasn’t really aware of that at the time, having already gone home to Moscow for the summer. But he heard about it the following year, when he was invited to a joint meeting with the Raiders management and the MIT Math Department, which was really fun. All Ilya wanted to do was get back into math, hockey and Shane Hollander. Thankfully he was able to do all three.
It was November 2012. Ilya stood at the edge of the pool, his heart racing. 100 yards, should be nothing. How stupid was it that to get a degree in Math he needed to prove he could swim four laps of a pool? But he’d focused his life on hockey before. He’d splashed around at the beach but until this fall he didn’t actually know how to swim, and hadn’t that been an embarrassing admission to his academic advisor?
She’d just rolled her eyes and pointed out the beginner swimming classes MIT offered. In the end he’d opted to work with a private instructor. He didn’t want anyone posting on Facebook that they were in a beginner swimming class with Ilya Rozanov. Most of the time when he was hanging out with fellow students he asked them to keep his presence quiet, and so far they’d complied. But in general he wouldn’t be worried about showing up a bar in someone’s post. He was Ilya Rozanov, if he was at an MIT bar it would be to pick up college girls, right? Learning to swim was something else entirely.
His instructor had been very nice though, a young man on the Harvard swim team who moonlighted as a lifeguard and swim coach. He’d taught Ilya the basic strokes, and they’d swum enough laps that he was reasonably confident he’d get through this. He may even swim again, once he got the hang of it he could understand the appeal of moving through the water. It felt almost sensual.
“Rozanov, you’re up,” the coach yelled, and he nodded. Four laps. He jumped in and started swimming, the front crawl his teacher had shown him. Worked to time his breathing properly, and roll his head up. The first lap was rough but then he started to get the hang of it. Three more to go. Technically he could switch to his back now but he was in a groove, swimming. Finally he touched the far wall for the fourth time.
He looked up and saw the coach smile. One more degree requirement, done.
The fall of 2013 brought quite a few firsts, including the first time he was able to fuck Shane Hollander. It was also the year he took a semester off. He informed his advisor Amira Dhalan that he would be taking the spring term off to compete in the Olympics. She looked at him, confused.
“What kind of Olympics?”
“The Winter Olympics, in Sochi.”
“Like, sports?”
“Yes, you know I play hockey, professionally, right?”
“I mean, sure, yes.”
“So have also been invited to play on Russian team. Have been named Captain actually.”
Amira gave him a good long look and then shrugged.
“Ok, well, let’s meet next week to figure out what next fall looks like. There are some courses only offered in the Spring term you know.”
“Yes, I am aware, I appreciate the flexibility.”
Sochi was a shitshow of epic proportions, and he wished he had math to fall back on. He soothed himself by solving old problem sets and just tried to get through it. Hollander popped up to check on him, but he didn’t have the bandwidth to explain the Russian surveillance state. When he got back to Boston he decided to use his free time to ensure Boston won a Stanley Cup, which they did. In Moscow for the summer, he had to hear endless conversations about the Olympic team, for once his hockey career bleeding into math. He texted Hollander to make himself feel better. A few times he thought about telling Hollander about his math education but it never felt like the right time, and he was on thin ice with Hollander anyway after last year and Vegas.
The 2014-2015 season opened with the Raiders as Cup winners. Most of his classmates knew the Boston team had won last spring. A few of the students Ilya had met in previous classes gave him high-fives when he saw them in the hallways. He didn’t really fit in with a cohort though, since his progress through the program was so slow. That was OK, the math was there, and the math was clear. He was almost finished with his required non-math subjects, and decided to start the fall term with two of them. One was a course on Imperial Russian History (in Russian). He was completing a concentration in Russian Studies and it was kind of soothing to take classes in his native language. He also had a Biology course with labs which was going to be tricky, and finally he had a course in Number Theory he was very much looking forward to.
By now all his team-mates were aware of his math studies, which meant he could work on his courses openly while travelling. Sometimes Marley would sit down beside him and ask him to explain ‘some of the math shit’ he was working on. He had a laptop with several applications, including Mathematica, Sage and MATLAB, but he preferred to work by hand in a notebook whenever he could. He used a pencil and now travelled with his favourite sharpener.
“Whatcha working on Roz?” Marley said, plunking himself down beside Ilya on the plane to Montreal for their first matchup of the season. Ilya had texted Hollander but hadn’t heard back yet so he was distracting himself with homework.
“Integers,” Ilya said, reviewing this week’s problem set.
“Ok, what’re integers?”
“Natural numbers, like zero, one, two, or minus one, minus two.”
“Huh? You need advanced courses for that? I learned that in kindergarten.”
“Yes, foundational for mathematics.”
“So you are just adding and subtracting?”
Ilya sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose.
“Well, the problem set has a few pieces to it. If I let a > 0 and b be integers, I need to show that there is an integer k, such that b+ ka is greater than zero…”
Marley made an exaggerated snoring noise, and Ilya rolled his eyes.
“Well then don’t ask,” Ilya said as he got back to his equations.
The game was tight but ultimately a win for the Metros, but also for Ilya because Hollander texted him after the game with confirmation that he would meet Ilya at his investment place, what Ilya like to secretly call Hollander’s Sex Den.
Hollander met him in the back alley as usual. The last time Ilya had been there was the first time Ilya actually fucked Hollander. He assumed Hollander would remember the event. He felt bad because after Sochi he effectively ghosted Hollander until Vegas, when Ilya had made him perform for him. He felt like the whole spring was a fever dream of hockey and guilt, culminating in the Cup victory. Ilya felt like he would have been on more solid ground if he’d had math. Lesson learned, he didn’t plan on taking a full semester off again. If he needed more time he would go down to one class. Clearly the problem had been the lack of math.
This fall, with the new courses, Ilya felt much more himself, and he hoped Hollander would not hold Vegas against him.
Half an hour later, they were naked in bed and Ilya had Hollander’s cock half-way down his throat. He was considering its mathematical perfection when something pinged in his brain, something he’d been thinking about the Diophantine equation. He almost ignored it, but the equations started to get loud in Ilya’s head.
“One minute,” he said to Shane, his mouth making a popping sound as it came off the other man’s cock. (Hollander, Ilya must remember to only call him Hollander, even in his head.) He leaped off the bed and ran to his backpack, fishing out his notebook and pencil and started furiously writing the equations that were racing through his brain.
“Um, what?” Hollander asked, having raised himself up to his elbows.
“Just need to write this down, one minute.” Ilya said, still scribbling. It was a bit awkward, crouching on the floor naked with a hard-on, but it would only take a minute.
“Can you sit on a chair please?” Shane (Hollander, damn it) said, and Ilya looked up to see him fully dressed in sweats, waving at a chair he’d brought over.
“Ah, sorry,” Ilya stammered, realizing quite a bit of time must have passed. He looked down at his soft cock and noticed he was actually kind of cold. He rose to his feet and squawked at the pain in his knees, and sat down on the chair Hollander had brought for him. Shane (Hollander!) waved at a glass of water on the table beside him.
Ilya looked down at his notebook and realized he was pretty much done, he’d need to go over it all again tomorrow but he had the important bits. He looked back up at Hollander who just looked…confused.
“You are probably wondering what’s happening,” Ilya said.
“Well, yes. What are you writing? Those look like equations.” Hollander said, pulling Ilya’s clothes up from the floor and tossing them to him.
“Yes, equations. I was having difficulty with something and the solution just came to me,” Ilya said sheepishly. He put his shirt on and stood to pull on his jeans. The mood was probably completely dead now, which was a shame.
“So you just…do math for fun?” Hollander asked.
“Um, fun, but also, am studying it. Math.”
“Like, by reading books and shit? Youtube?”
“No, at University.”
“You are studying math at University? What University? And how?”
Ilya sat down again and took another sip of water and waved Hollander to the bed, where he dutifully sat and waited for Ilya to answer.
“MIT. And I take classes part time. I attend in person when I am not traveling, and keep up with homework.”
Shane looked thoughtful at that. It was the first time Ilya had ever told anyone where they hadn’t expressed disbelief.
“Have you been at it the whole time you were in the MLH?” Shane asked. (Hollander!)
“Yes, pretty much. I took spring semester off last year but I don’t think that was good for me.”
“Can you tell me about it?”
Ilya smiled at him, and told Shane the story of how he fell in love with math, and how he came to be studying at MIT. How the Raiders were now working with MIT to support him. How he figured he had another year after this to finish his Bachelor of Science degree. How hockey and math went hand in hand for Ilya. When he was finished Shane looked away, and he could almost see the gears turning in Shane’s head. He finally turned back to Ilya.
“Honestly, that explains a lot,” Shane said to him, nodding thoughtfully.
“It…does?” Ilya asked.
“Yes, I’ve always seen the patterns in hockey, and you are the only other person I’ve met who sees them too,” he says, then gave Ilya the sweetest smile, like they were the only two people on earth. Ilya’s cock surged to life, and he smiled back at Shane.
“Um, it’s probably late but…” He stood up and leaned over Shane, who fell backwards onto the bed.
“It’s very late,” Shane said, his mouth twitching. “Are you sure you aren’t going to like, speak in tongues this time?”
Ilya leaned forward and kissed him, sliding his tongue into Shane’s mouth and around his teeth. He brought his hands to Shane’s thighs, holding him securely as he kissed him.
“Maybe,” Ilya said as he came up for air, and caught Shane’s smile with another kiss. This time he didn’t jump up to solve a math problem and fucked Shane thoroughly. By the time they were done it was nearly 3 AM, and it didn’t take much for Ilya to agree to just sleep there.
In the morning they walked to the corner to get coffee, and Ilya smiled at Shane as he got into an Uber to go back to the hotel, and calculated the rate of change of the distance between himself and Shane as the car pulled away. (Hollander, fuck.)
Thankfully the midnight scribblings turned into Ilya’s first accepted paper in the Journal of Mathematics, so it was worth it.
“Roz did you see the news?” Ilya put the weight back on the bench and sat up, shaking his head. Carmichael brought his phone over to him.
“What the fuck?” He said grabbing the phone.
ESPN: Shane Hollander Outed in Leaked Texts
October 11, 2015
Photos of a text chain between Montreal Metros star Shane Hollander and his parents show them discussing Hollander’s sexuality. ‘Mom’ Yuna Hollander and ‘Dad’ David Hollander are shown debating whether Hollander should reveal that he is gay to the Metros organization.
Mom: You don’t have to make any decisions today sweetie, but let’s talk to Farah and make a plan if something happens, ok?
Dad: I know we said it before but you know we love you and nothing will ever change that.
Shane: I know, thanks Dad. Mom, ok lets talk to Farah. I don’t want to do anything dramatic though. It’s just getting really hard.
Mom: Do you think the Metros would support you?
Shane: Honestly? No.
Dad: Well, that’s a shame, you’re their star player
Shane: According to Theriault I’m just the DEI hire. Nothing to do with the Cup this year.
Mom: WHAT?
Dad: You know I don’t like to swear, but FUCK THEM
Shane: It’s just complicated, not everyone feels that way but…
Mom: It’s 2015 for gods sake, gay shouldn’t be a big deal.
Shane: you’re the one who always tells me about being a role model
Mom: You are a role model! An amazing one! Being gay won’t change that!
Shane: I have to board, I’ll talk to you when I land
Mom: I’ll connect with Farah, chin up. I think your dad is broken though, he’s staring out the window plotting murder.
Shane: LOL, try to restrain him, he faints at the sight of blood. Love you
Mom: you know we both love you so much! (Heart emojis)
No comments have been received from either Hollander’s team or the Metros organization.
In the Raiders training room, players are quiet, digesting the news. Ilya feels sick.
“That’s just,” Marlow said, staring off into the distance. “Fucked up. Shane fucking Hollander is the diversity hire? And he thinks the Metros wouldn’t support him? That’s just…” He shook his head. “That’s just so fucked up.”
“He’s Shane fucking Hollander! He makes goalies across the league go weak at the knees! If he’s gay you drag the entire team out to a gay bar! You lead the pride parade!” Anderson, their starting goalie said from the corner.
“Right?” Connors added. “Who the fuck cares who he sleeps with? I’d set him up with my brother, my dentist, whoever the fuck I can think of to keep him happy. He’s Shane fucking Hollander!”
Marlow stood in front of him, with a strange expression on his face.
“You ok Roz?” He asked, and it had a weird edge to it. Ilya shook his head.
“I…don’t know.”
“Look, I know Russia is weird about gay people, and Shane is your rival, but-”
Ilya looked up in shock. “You think I wouldn’t support him?”
“I don’t know man, you haven’t said anything.”
He stood up, nearly shaking with…something. Rage? Frustration? Sadness? He felt a million emotions at once. He started to lift his hand to say, something, he wasn’t sure what, and instead found himself bursting into tears.
“Roz, what the fuck?” He heard, and his team-mates crowded around him.
“Shane, I have to call him,” He finally said, wiping his eyes. “He is my boyfriend,” Ilya blurted out. Was he? They’d never had the conversation, but over the past year Ilya had just…stopped going out and sleeping with other people. They talked all the time now, about subjects other than hockey or math. Would Shane agree with that definition? He realized he’d zoned out for a minute and everyone was yelling around him.
“Enough!” He yelled, and everyone stopped to look at him.
“Here is what we are going to do. I am going to call Shane, then I am going upstairs to tell the team that Shane should come here, that we need to figure out a way to get him to Boston. You,” he said, waving at his team mates. “You will make a plan to make him feel safe and welcomed when he gets here. Ok?”
They all nodded frantically.
“Ok, but at some point we are going to need the story of you and Hollander.”
Ilya smiled. “Yes, it’s a good one.”
Jane
Hi, I just heard. Can I call you? Please?
Jane: Yeah, just give me a minute, my parents are here
Ok, you call me
Ilya sat in the little meeting room off the locker area and tried to calm his heart rate. The phone lit up and he answered immediately.
“Shane, how are you sweetheart?”
He heard a sigh on the other end.
“I mean, not great really.”
“What can I do? Can I come there? Can I storm the Metros? The Raiders would back me, they are ready to go to war.”
Shane snorted.
“Thank you, not sure if that would help, but I’ll tell Mom and Farah and they will add it to the list of possibilities. It’s pretty long. It’s not the most outrageous idea I’ve heard though. One of my dad’s friends sent over a plan to ruin the Metros ownership through a complicated cryptocurrency scam.”
Ilya laughed, and wiped his face.
“I have to tell you something.”
“What?”
“When I heard the news, we were in the training room. I was so shocked, I outed myself. Us I guess. I told them…you were my boyfriend.”
There was a long pause.
“Are you my boyfriend? We’ve never really put a name to this.”
“I mean, yes, probably. Definitely. I think so. Unless you don’t want to be?”
Shane laughed and it lifted Ilya’s heart.
“No, I guess we are boyfriends. That’s something at least. Were they ok about it?”
“Yes, surprised I guess. At first I was just stunned and I think Marlow thought I was being homophobic and it just came out.”
“Well, I feel like that’s the least of my worries now.”
“So the Metros?”
“Well, if I didn’t think they would support me before, they are less inclined now.”
“I mean, they had the option to prove to the world how wrong you were, by you know…”
“Not being assholes? No, yeah, no, they are doubling down. I’m benched for now.”
Ilya felt a stab of rage. “Those assholes. You think they would trade you?”
“I think it’s a guarantee, apparently I’m a distraction now.”
He took a breath, to tell Shane the idea that had been taking shape in his mind.
“Come here.”
“What?”
“Come to Boston. I’ll tell management why, they will figure it out, cap space, whatever. The two of us together will be…unstoppable.”
“Seriously?”
“Yes. My team would love it, they would love you. I…would love it.” I love you, he almost said, but held back. Now was maybe not the time.
“So I can tell mom and Farah about you?”
“Shane, yes. You can tell whoever you like.”
A long pause, the kind where Shane was thinking about it. It made Ilya feel something strange that he could identify the shape and nature of Shane’s pauses even over the phone.
“Ok, I’ll talk to them. I think Boston may be good for me if they can make it work.”
“Ok,” Ilya said smiling.
When they got off the phone Ilya marched upstairs, where he found LeClaire and his assistants in a meeting with GM Duane Allen and a bunch of other people.
“Rozanov, we are a bit busy here,” LeClaire said as he burst into the room.
“Shane Hollander,” Ilya said and they nodded.
“Yes, everyone in the league is probably putting together offers, we are too.”
Ilya smiled. “But we have advantage.”
“Oh yeah? What advantage?” Duane asked, his eyebrows raised.
“Me. Shane Hollander is my boyfriend. He wants to come here, to be with me. You need to get him for me.”
They all looked stunned. Duane was the one who recovered first, and got a sharp look on his face. “Ok, we can work with that. Thank you Ilya, we’ll take it from here.”
“We’ll talk about secret boyfriends who are Captains of rival teams later,” LeClaire said, with a bit of an edge to his voice, and Ilya just smiled and nodded.
He went back downstairs to where his team was still discussing the news.
“We are going to try to bring him here,” he told them, and they all cheered.
“Wait,” Marlow said, “Montreal Jane! Holy shit!”
Ilya winked at him and smiled.
It took a couple of days, but finally Shane texted him.
Jane
Ok, it’s a done deal. News coming out shortly.
Boston?
Yeah, Boston
Ilya was working on homework, which always soothed him. He felt like he could walk on air.
Jane
(Emoji string, hearts, eggplant, salivating, more hearts)
I am so happy!!!
When are you coming?
I’m driving down tomorrow morning, should be there by mid-afternoon.
I will be ready for you!
Ilya was standing at the whiteboard in his office, trying to work out a problem. It was hard to concentrate though, when he knew Shane would be here any minute. He’d already calculated Shane’s driving speed (exactly at the limit, of course), border wait times and expected traffic, factoring in stops for coffee and bathroom breaks. Assuming he’d actually left when he texted Ilya he should be here…
Ding-dong, his front door bell chimed.
Now.
Ilya practically ran to the entry, then took a second to shake himself out, and opened the door to Shane’s shocked face.
“Ilya? What are you doing here?”
“This is my house,” he said. He’d never had Shane to his new house before, he’d just bought it over the summer.
Shane frowned, his beautiful face scrunching up.
“They told me this was where I could stay until I found a place,” he said, looking confused.
“Shane, why would you stay somewhere else when you could stay with your boyfriend?” Ilya asked, pulling him inside.
“Um, I don’t know. That makes sense I guess. It’s been a weird week ok? I just assumed it was like an AirBNB or something. I need to recalibrate.”
“Mmm, you do that,” Ilya said as he pulled Shane in for a kiss, running his hands over Shane’s back to soothe him. He could feel the tension in Shane melting away as he leaned into the kiss, his tongue meeting Ilya’s, and his hands came up Ilya’s back, pulling him even closer.
Shane finally broke away, panting a bit in a sexy way. Ilya started to pull him to the stairs, intending to drag him to the bedroom, but Shane paused.
“Um, I don’t think I can relax until I unpack. I’ve got boxes in the car, can we…”
Ilya smiled at him, God he was so adorable.
“Ok, let’s get your boxes, get you unpacked. Then you will shower because you probably feel icky from the car, then I will fuck you into the mattress, and then I will make you dinner, OK?”
“Yeah, honestly that sounds like a great plan.”
It didn’t take long before Shane’s boxes were all inside, and Ilya showed him the closet and drawer space he’d cleared out, and they moved onto the next phases of the plan.
While dinner was cooking (or being reheated, Ilya’s chef had made the meal) Ilya got out the envelope he’d made for Shane and put it on the counter.
“What’s this?” Shane asked with interest.
“Is stuff for you, for house.” Ilya said, shrugging his shoulders like it was no big deal. Shane opened the envelope and found keys, the door code, a garage door fob for his car, and papers with information on banks, grocery stores, the barber Ilya went to.
Shane smiled at him, his face turning pink.
The next day Ilya drove them both to practice, grinning from ear to ear. He held Shane’s hand as they walked into the locker room, and the whole team was there early, waiting.
“Everyone, meet Shane Hollander,” He yelled as he lifted their joined hands, and the team cheered in welcome.
“Well Ilya, what do you say?”
It was January of 2016 and Ilya was sitting in the conference room with his coaches, Raiders management, Shane, and the immigration lawyer the Raiders hired. He picked up the papers delicately.
Permanent Resident, it said. He wanted to cry.
“I don’t have to go back to Russian” he said, almost not believing it.
“Nope, and in a few years you will qualify for citizenship,” the lawyer said.
Ilya looked at Shane with a glint in his eye.
Later when they were lying in bed, sweaty, Ilya kissed Shane’s head.
“We could come out.”
“Yeah, we could. Do you want to?”
“Maybe. Maybe for now it’s enough that we don’t have to be so careful. If it came out I won’t be sent back to Russia. Just knowing we could…”
“Why don’t we think about it over the summer,” Shane said, kissing his chest.
“You can come to the cottage since you don’t have to go back to Russian, we can have some downtime and make a plan. Once we win the Cup together, of course.”
Ilya smiled.
“Of course. I like this plan. Mathematically sound.”
Shane laughed lightly and Ilya felt like he could float away.
Safe.
The gown was kind of hot for May. Ilya looked at himself in the mirror and adjusted his cap. He couldn’t honestly believe this was it, he was done with his undergraduate degree. His mentors wanted him to move right into a PhD program, but he wasn’t sure. He couldn’t really do it part-time, and even with schedule accommodations and some classes by Skype he wasn’t sure he could manage to do both.
Apparently Harvard could be more flexible in their graduate program, it was something that had been suggested in passing, but he hadn’t looked into it yet. One thing at a time.
Shane came up behind him and slid his arms around Ilya.
“I’m so proud of you, do you know that?” Ilya leaned back into him and smiled.
“Thank you, I just can’t believe it’s done.”
Shane kissed his cheek.
“Boys, we’ve got to get going if Ilya’s going to be there on time,” Yuna called from downstairs.
Miraculously the schedule worked out and the Cup final didn’t start until Monday, and they were at home in Boston.
“Ok, let’s get you graduated,” Shane said, tugging on his hand.
Instagram
@ilyarozanov81
May 26, 2016
(image 1 - Ilya receiving his degree and smiling
Image 2 - Ilya and Shane standing together, Ilya in his gown, grinning.
Image 3 - Ilya, Shane and the Hollanders standing together, smiling.
Image 4 - A celebration at the TD Gardens, with the Raiders and families gathered around Ilya as he cuts a cake. )
Something you may not know about me is that I’ve been working on a degree in Mathematics from MIT since 2010. It’s been challenging taking classes while playing hockey full-time, and I want to thank the Department of Mathematics and the entire Faculty of Sciences at MIT, as well as the Boston Raiders organization who supported me in this journey. I also want to thank my wonderful boyfriend Shane Hollander, and his parents Yuna and David Hollander for their love and cheerleading.
Thank you also to my teammates past and present who have held me up, bringing me snacks, giving me space to do homework, letting me explain concepts to them just to help me work out problems.
See you next week for the Cup Finals!
@Shanehollander24 So proud of you my love!
@YunaHollanderOfficial David and I are so, so, proud of you Ilya! You are amazing! Can’t wait to cheer you both on next week!
@Cliffmarlow Way to go Roz! I will never understand irrational numbers but never stop trying!
@Real_hayden_pike Congratulations Ilya, we know how hard you’ve worked. Ruby and Jade made a picture for you
@Jackiepike Congratulations to our kids second favourite uncle! Can’t wait to see you and celebrate
@Connorconnors You rock Captain! I could never understand how you found the time, but you showed up every day!
@Ilyarozanovupdates WHAT?!?!?!
@Dailyhollander24 Seriously WHAT????
@Georgie55 So let me get this straight, Ilya and Shane Hollander are together, and Ilya has been enrolled in a math degree from MIT since 2010? I honestly don’t know which is more surprising.
Instagram
@MIT_Math
May 26, 2016
(image 1 - Ilya at a whiteboard, frowning at an equation
Image 2 - Ilya and the Department Head, smiling at graduation.
Image 3 - Ilya getting his Pirate Certificate.)
Congratulations Ilya! When we met with you in 2010 we wanted to find a way for you to have both hockey and math, and all of your instructors have been impressed by your work ethic and dedication to your education. You dove into college life as well, even gaining a coveted Pirate Certificate! We can’t wait to see what you do next! (Besides bringing another Cup home for Boston!)
@Manotti_joe Congrats Ilya! Well done!
@Amit_das Ilya thank you for being such a great study partner the past few years, you rock!
@IlyaRozanov81 Thank you MIT! Number theorists do it perfectly and rationally.
@Manotti_Joe Snort. I hate your math jokes. (Just kidding, we low key love them. But also hate them.)
Instagram
@BostonRaiders
May 26, 2016
(image 1 - Ilya asleep on a plane, his homework spread out in front of him.
Image 2 - Ilya at a whiteboard, explaining an equation to several confused looking players.
Image 3 - Ilya in front of a projector, explaining a curve to coaches.
Image 4 - Ilya holding the Cup in 2014, the team behind him)
Congratulations to our Captain Ilya Rozanov for achieving a degree in Math from MIT, one of the most prestigious colleges in the world. When you first told us you wanted to pursue a degree while playing hockey we were not convinced you could make it work. But the dedication and passion you bring to hockey never wavered as you pursued your studies. Every day you demonstrated your leadership qualities both on and off the ice.
We are so incredibly proud of you!
And if anyone doubts Ilya’s commitment to hockey he’s leading the team to the second Cup Finals in three years!
@Hollanov4ever
I am unwell
@Hollandefender
No FR, like, I don’t know what to say, where to dig in. Ilya and Shane together? Ilya a secret math whiz?
Twitter
@JanineRoe Ilya and I started our programs together. I knew him from the International Mathematics Olympiad where he beat me resoundingly in 2010, winning gold with a perfect score, so I wasn’t surprised to see him on campus. I was surprised that he was also a hockey player! I graduated a few years ahead of him, but Ilya and I have stayed in touch and we had lunch when he came to SoCal this year. I wish he’d consider coming to UCLA for grad school!
@BostonRaiders Not a chance!!! We are never letting him go.
@Harold_evans_math Wait. The Ilya Rozanov who trounced the competition in Bremen and got a perfect score in 2010 is also the Ilya Rozanov who is Captain of the Boston Raiders???? WHAT???
@Justinling I knew that guy would go on to great things in math, but hockey??? What???
@Simon_ng Are you telling me the Ilya Rozanov who published the paper on the Diophantine equation last year that had us all talking is also a professional HOCKEY PLAYER????
@Kurt_cohen I have no words. The guy who argued with me for hours at the bar last year over Fourier coefficients plays hockey for a living??
@IlyaRozanov81
How many topologists does it take to screw in a lightbulb??
Just one. But what will you do with the doughnut?
@Kurt_cohen Man, fuck you. Also let’s grab a beer when the cup is done and I’ll tell you why you should join me at Harvard!
@Guodong_hu You know, I wondered why Rozanov was taking such a long time with his degree, but didn’t want to ask. (Could have been health related.) After his two resounding Olympiad victories everyone expected great things from him. Now I know he was (checks notes) pursuing a career in professional hockey on the side? I mean, sure.
@Sahai Ok, but he has to be the only Math Olympiad who’s actually been in the athletics olympics, right?
@Kurt_cohen Oooh, good point. That has to be pretty rare!
@Arka_ghosh While you are all melting down over Ilya, I’m just shocked to hear that his gorgeous underwear model boyfriend Shane also plays hockey???? Like, we all know him from the Calvin Klein ads, right?
@Nisha_sharma ….WHAT??
@CarsonEllis Oh, I’m Ilya Rozanov and graduate programs around the world are begging me to come and continue studies into roots of unity in residue rings of prime ideals, have you met my super hot underwear model boyfriend who is also hilarious? Did you know we both also play hockey professionally and are millionaires? Like girl, fuck you.
@IlyaRozanov81 HAHAHAA Ellis your face when you hit on Shane at the pub that night. Never change buddy. Also you are wrong on the Reimann zeta function in your thesis.
@CarsonEllis What? No I’m not. Where? SHOW ME ROZANOV
@Hockey_analysis
Ok seeing Math twitter melt down because they didn’t know “Ilya Rozanov” teenage math prodigy and number theory scholar played hockey on the side is giving me LIFE