inthedreamatorium



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  1. Public Bookmark *

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    He only realizes he’s doing it when it’s too late to stop.

    He’s standing in the drink aisle of the grocery store, checking the expiration dates on the cans of Coke, mentally cross-checking them with Boston’s away game schedule, and the reality hits him like someone shook one of those cans and popped it open. A snap. A fizz. A mess.

    Shane is making space for Ilya.

     

    (or, lessons in budget-friendly shopping, home decor, and resisting the urge to neatly combine all your situationship’s shit into a drawer in your bedroom because you might be falling in love with him: a seven-ish step guide by shane hollander, who is so, so fucked)

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    28 Feb 2026

  2. Public Bookmark *

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    “Don’t–” Ilya starts, already reaching, already cupping Shane’s face between both hands, thumbs warm and tender against his cheekbones like they’ve always belonged there.

    Shane’s eyes are big and gorgeous and genuinely curious. “Don’t what?”

    Don’t make me look like a lovesick idiot. Don’t make my heart trip over itself for a way out of my chest and into yours. Don’t say it like that—so fucking sincere—like you don’t know how devastating it is for me.

    “Don’t butcher my language,” he says instead and kisses Shane’s smile hard, like reflex, like gravity, like there was never going to be another option.

    -

    Shane sets out to learn Russian. Ilya discovers he's incapable of keeping his composure.

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    31 Jan 2026

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    Ilya has learned that love gives you time, but it cannot make forever out of two weeks.

    He worries at his bottom lip, feeling the first seeds of dread as he leans against Shane’s bureau. He’s dressed, his bag is zipped, and it’s still dark outside. Shane sleeps, adorably, half on his stomach with his face nearly off the pillow. He didn’t need to get up as early as Ilya. You don’t need to get up as early just to drive someone to the airport.

    It’s 3 am. Ilya’s flight is at 7:30 and they still need to make the two-hour drive.

    OR

    They had two weeks, and those two weeks are finished. Shane drives Ilya from the cottage to the airport.

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    29 Jan 2026

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    “It was in 2013. The first time, we were in that stupid apartment of yours in Montreal. So many pillows, you hired someone to decorate. I knew it was your first time, like that, with anybody. I wanted to make it good for you so badly. I’d thought a lot about it. I’d planned for it, like I never would have for anybody else I’ve been with. I didn’t expect— I didn’t realize how right it would be. I wanted to stay, I wanted to stay in that bed forever just to hold you.”

    “Holy shit,” Shane says.

    Ilya sighs, glares at him. “You have got to stop saying that in response to my romantic declarations. Is bad for my nerves.”

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    29 Jan 2026

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    “So,” Shane said, after another minute. “Welcome to Montreal.”

    Ilya just started laughing, his body shaking against Shane’s.

    “Do not tell me you prepare for all your home games this way,” he said.

    “I shouldn’t have prepared for any home games this way,” Shane said, glancing at the clock by the bed. He should go, but he couldn’t make himself.

     

    There's a year between the ending and the epilogue of Heated Rivalry. This is it.

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    27 Jan 2026