Chapter Text
“He did not fly with his team.” J.J. says it like it’s not important.
“Why?” He can feel Hayden stare at him.
“I do not know. Does not say.” Shane’s gut turns, walking up to his stall to grab him phone.
“Maybe he is sick.” J.J. hypothesizes.
“He wasn’t sick.”
“Hm?” Hayden has raised an eyebrow, looking at him tensely. Nothing is on his phone.
“I mean, he didn’t seem sick.”
You: hey, what’s going on? J.J. said you didn’t fly with your team.
It’s read immediately.
“Maybe he came down with something.” Hayden suggests. That deep dread is swirling within in. Ilya never texted him last night, he had felt sick because he didn’t, but now he isn’t sure. Before the game he had been avoiding his brother, did something happen? Shane didn’t know his family well.
Lily: will be fine.
Shane looks around the room, those three words feel like a lie through the phone.
You: what’s going on?
Lily: can I call?
Shane looks around the room again, shoving his bag over his shoulder.
“Hey, I gotta go.” Shane informs Hayden, hoping he won’t ask too many questions.
“Why?” Oh, today of all days he wants to be observant.
“Lily.” He doesn’t meet Hayden’s eyes, seeing the man light up anyway.
“Your buddy Lily?”
“She’s not a buddy.” The word she feels like ten tone weight on his tongue. Flashbacks from Ilya explaining how bad Russia would be to people like them.
“We’re talking to lily again?”
“No, I’m talking to lily again.”
“Fine, go call her back lover boy.” Hayden rolls his eyes and he bids goodbyes to everyone, granted it’s in a hurry. He slams the contact as soon as he gets in his car.
“Hey.” Shane says, not sure how to do this.
“Hello.”
“Are you okay?”
“Yes. Maybe. Probably.”
“That doesn’t sound sure.”
“Am fine.”
“What’s going on?” He can hear the pause in Rozanov’s movements.
“My father died.” What a gut punch.
“Ilya, I’m sorry.”
“Is okay. I have to go to Russia.” He sounds anything but okay, anything but fine.
“When?”
“Tonight.” Shane freezes, looks down at his phone, and takes a deep breath.
“What time?”
“Flight goes out at nine.” It’s only two. Shane looks at his phone again, how many flights from Boston would be going to Moscow? He’s already searching.
“Are you okay?” He repeats the question, Ilya has a shaky breath and Shane realizes he’s about to cross a line.
“Will be.”
“Ilya?”
“Hm?” He doesn’t know what to say, he finds the only flight departing at nine pm. He books the ticket, thankful he has all his information in the app.
“I’m really sorry.” He takes a deep breath, “can I call you again in a little bit?” He’s about to have the worst panic attack of his life.
“Of course. I am home. Sveta is coming over.” Oh fuck, yeah, he’d probably want a girl with him. Shane looks at his flight confirmation coming in his email, biting his lip he decides he’s doing this.
“Okay, I’ll call you back.” He starts his drive home, asking Siri to call his mom in the process.
“Hi baby.” She sounds happy, he guesses she should be. He’s ready to break down though.
“Mom, can I ask something?”
“Anything.” He knows she means it.
“I have to go somewhere, can you figure out what to say to the team?” She’s silent for a moment.
“Where are you going?” His thoughts race to what he can say. The immediate options are: “my boyfriend needs me”, “Russia, you know, Rozanov”, or “with my rival because we’ve been fucking since the first photo shoot”. Even just blurting out “I’m gay” feels like a good option. He can’t out Rozanov though.
“Mom, you have to trust me.”
“What do you want me to say?”
“Family emergency?”
“I can do that, but I want to know where you’re going.”
“I can’t handle questions if I tell you.”
“Okay, I just need to know you’re safe.”
“Russia.” Silence just about slices him like a knife. She recovers though, despite the fact Shane can hear her breathing pace pick up.
“Russia? Shane…”
“I know, just, mom trust me.”
“We’re having dinner the second you touch back down. Where are you flying out of?”
“I’ll send you my flight information.” He pulls into his drive way and just stares at the house.
“Tell me when you land safely. I’ll make sure your phone works in Russia.”
“Thank you.” He’s walking inside, he’s just packing his small suitcase and backpack. Easy to get in and out of security.
“Shane…” his mom sounds unsure for the first time in her life.
“Yeah?” He doesn’t know what they wear in Russia for funerals. He packs a suit. Would Ilya even want him at the funeral?
“Does this have to do with Rozanov missing?”
“He’s missing?” Did he sound as bad as he felt lying?
“You’re a terrible liar.”
“Mom.” He groaned.
“This isn’t the end of this discussion.” She sounded serious.
“I know.”
“Be safe, okay?”
“I’m always safe.”
“I love you.”
“I love you too.” He hangs up, finishes packing, and starts his trek to Boston.
He’s ten minutes out from Ilya’s when dread fills his stomach. His heart rate is so fast and he might throw up. He swallows thickly before he decides to call someone Ilya would be so mad about knowing. She’s never outed anyone though. Clearly.
“Shane?” Rose sounds confused, which is fair.
“Tell me I’m not stupid.”
“Depends on what we’re talking about.”
“Rose!”
“I’m kidding, kind of. What are you doing?”
“Are you alone?” He can’t say anything if she’s out and about.
“Yep. I’m currently laying on a hotel bed flipping through channels.” He can picture her, perched on the end like she said she liked. It reminded her of growing up. Okay, he can tell her. Holy shit he’s about to talk about Ilya, that thought alone makes him queasy.
“Driving to someone’s house so I can catch a flight to Russia with them.” He hears her drop her phone with a slew of curse words flying out next.
“You’re fucking joking.” She says into the phone once she recovers.
“I didn’t tell them I bought a ticket.”
“What!”
“I decided to on the phone. I wanted to go with him.”
“That’s so sweet though! Oh Shane!” She coos at him and he’s going to put his head through the steering wheel.
“Rose! Please! I’m ready drive myself off a bridge.”
“Don’t do that! You’re like essentially declaring your love to him!” She squeals this time.
“I don’t… I dont love him.” Shane loved him, had since rookie year. Hell maybe before rookie year. His mind flicks back to the Olympics, he had wanted Rozanov to take him with him the entire time. His mind drifting to what his house looked like and how he grew up. He knew growing up wasn’t good now, but still.
“Hmmm, you’re a bad liar.”
“Did I over step?”
“He probably loves you too.”
“I still don’t love him.” He committed every single Ilya Rozanov fact to memory before he even met the man. Fuck, he is a bad liar.
“What happened? Why Russia?” She asks, clearly curious, but also connecting dots.
“It’s not public yet.”
“But he told you?” He bit a smile back.
“Yeah.”
“And your first response was to drive the whole way to Boston!”
“Well, I bought a ticket first.”
“Shane, this is such a romantic love declaration!” She declares herself. “How long were you with him? Wait! Is he the peg?” Shane groans.
“Don’t call him that.”
“So he is!”
“Yeah, he is. Always has been.”
“Holy shit how long have you known him?”
“Since like 2008.” He admits to her, her phone drops again.
“Sorry! Sorry! Holy shit!” She yells as she picks her phone back up. “Why the hell did you ever date me?” She hisses into the phone, clearly back to being by her ear.
“I was scared! He made me a tuna melt and asked me to sleepover!”
“Have you never slept over?”
“Um, no. I mean we spent a lot of time at the all stars. But not over night.”
“And you’re flying to Russia with him?”
“Maybe? I haven’t asked him yet.”
“He has no idea?”
“None, but he sounded almost upset! He’s always so stoic?”
“Whatever happened, tell Rozanov I send my regards.”
“I’ll tell Ilya.”
“Ha!” Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. He outed them. Clearly and entirely.
“Rose! Dammit!”
“You said Russian and stoic! Absolutely Ilya Rozanov!”
“Do you think he’ll be mad at me?” He’s ready to cry.
“No. I don’t. I think he’ll be happy to have you there.”
“Really?”
“Whatever happened, I’m serious, he’ll be happy to have you.”
“He told me Russia isn’t safe for people like us…”
“Be safe, okay? Keep in contact with me.” She has fear in her voice.
“I will. I told my mom.”
“About Rozanov?”
“Not… exactly.”
“Call me later. Okay?”
“Okay. I love you.” He did love her, she’s so important to his life now.
“I love you too. Go get your man! Ack! Who knew you were such a romantic!”
“Not me. Bye.” It’s long and drawn out and she chimes in before he hits end. Holy shit, he was declaring his love? Was he? Maybe…
He stares at the house, the same house he ran out of mere months ago. The house he expected to be at just two days ago. He swings the door open: now or never. He grabs his backpack and small suitcase, that might be presumptuous. Fuck it. He walks to the door quickly, not giving himself away, before ringing the doorbell. It’s pulled open just seconds later.
“Mrs Smith, I promise…” Ilya’s face is puffy, eyes red, but mouth is gaped open staring at him.
“Hi.” Shane half waved like an idiot. Ilya’s eyes bug in surprise.
“Sveta!” He calls behind him, over his shoulder, “I think I’ve finally cracked.” He says in English, smile evident. “Are you real?” Shane pushes past him so they can close the door.
“Hi Ilya.” He drops his backpack and almost tackles him to the ground.
“Hollander?” Ilya’s face is tucked in his neck when Svetlana speaks. Her mouth is hanging open as she looks at the pair.
“Um, hi.” He looks at her, he had seen her in photos obviously, but this was different. She had a knowing smile.
“What are you doing here?” Ilya sounds rough as he pulls away, clearly confused.
“I might have over stepped.” Svetlana snorts as soon as he says it, her eyebrows hidden by her hair.
“Why are you here?” Ilya asks again, thumb tracing his cheek bone.
“I got a plane ticket. I’m coming with you.” Svetlana drops her glass when he says it, he sees crystal shards scatter.
“Hollander.” Ilya is looking hard into his eyes, it’s so uncomfortable, like Ilya can see into his soul.
“No, don’t Hollander me. I’m coming Rozanov, I got the same 9pm ticket. That being said we should leave soon, it’s six. We need to get through customs.” Shane informs them.
“Shane, is not safe.”
“I don’t care. I want to be with you.” He eyes Svetlana and takes his chance, “Svetlana, you understand, don’t you?”
“I need you safe.” Ilya touched both of his shoulders.
“I will be. Let’s go to the airport. Customs always freaks me out.”
“What ticket do you have?” Ilya’s eyes bug out again.
“Hollander, let me see. Ilyusha, go get bags.” Ilya lets go of his shoulders and nods towards her before following the order.
“I think I fucked up.” Shane whispers to Svetlana who is looking at the ticket on his phone.
“You booked same plane and same layover, I’m mildly impressed. I am going to forward this to me. I’ll go print it quick.”
“Is he mad?” Shane asks as she types in her email.
“Ilyusha? No. No. Not mad, surprised though.” He sees Ilya come back with bags. “I’m going to print his ticket.” She informs Ilya as she walks past, leaving them alone together again.
“Hi.” Shane smiles and Ilya is crushing him near his chest again.
“You are insane.”
“I know.”
“What will everyone say?” Ilya looks confused, clearly trying to piece together Shane.
“I don’t know. I don’t think I care. My mom is covering for me with a family emergency.”
“Your mother would do that?”
“I could have told her I personally killed someone in Russia and she’d be there to clean up my mess within twenty four hours.” He laughs at this, smile wide like when he found out Shane got a stylist.
“You are full of surprises.”
“Let’s go, Hollander is right. I already called cab.” Svetlana reemerges.
“Are you sure you want to come? Think about it please.” Ilya asks of him.
“He can debate the entire time and before we board, hell, he can change his mind in Turkey for all I care.” Ilya is picking up Svetlana’s bags as well as his own while Shane grabs his own.
“Give Svetlana your passport and such.”
“Why?”
“I’m in charge in the airport, you’re welcome.”
“I’m a grown man.” Shane mutters as they make their way to the uber. Ilya locking his house before walking with them.
“So is he. I’m in charge in the airport.” Svetlana states again. Shane passes over his passport. “Thank you.” She kisses Shane’s cheek.
“Do you have items for disguise?”
“We aren’t in a spy movie.”
“You don’t wear hat and sunglasses in airport?” Ilya had a knowing look.
“Yeah I have those.” He nods before climbing in the backseat with Ilya, Svetlana apparently taking the front seat.