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Unlike Ilya's pre-game taunts the Centaurs did not win, Boston beat them 3-2, but the Cens did put up much more of a fight than they did last time. Cliff still didn't get why Ilya had left Boston, a thriving team that he had led to a cup and multiple playoff runs, to a team who has probably forgotten what the cup even looked like. Ilya's whole legacy was healing the Bears team, building it up, and Cliff has the honour of being his right hand man (quite literally, when on the ice) through all of it. He supported his friend through it all, even if he didn't understand it, and had his own theories beyond just the public's gossip.
When he got to the bar– him and Ilya's favorite for non-team outings from back in the day– Ilya was already there, in a booth near the back corner, mostly hidden from view of the rest of the bar. Usually they would sit right up at the bar table, but it was nice sometimes to hide out where they would be unbothered.
“Marly!” Ilya called as soon as he saw him get closer, he slid a beer across the table and tapped the hardwood to show Cliff to his spot. “It has been so long!”
“It's been like two hours buddy, calm down.” Cliff shakes his head, smiling as he sits down.
“No, I mean like this.” Ily gestures between the two of them “Not for hockey just for friendship.”
“No friends in Ottawa?” Cliff raises an eyebrow, he was sure Ilya was enjoying Ottawa, he seemed very happy. In Ilya's first few months playing with the Centaurs he had even told Cliff one night over a call that despite their performance, the Centaurs had wonderful comradery and were a very welcoming team.
“I make friends everywhere Marleau, you have lost faith in me,” Ilya takes a sip from his beer, “I have many friends in Ottawa, but you are like…” he hesitates, “my best friend.”
Cliff feels a smile bloom on his face, "You're my best friend too, man.” He holds up his glass and Ilya happily cheers him.
“So, how is Samantha?” Ilya asks. So Cliff tells him all about her, he had met her a few months ago while looking for flowers to bring to his mother and instantly felt there was something different about her. So he kept going back, the first time he asked her out she said no and he was baffled, he could have sworn she was into him too, but then St-Simon had said she probably assumed that he was buying flowers for a girl. Cliff had immediately felt incredibly stupid, and went back the next day to apologise and explain, and then she did accept his dinner invite. Cliff knows most hockey players settle down young, but he hadn’t, he spent many years going to clubs with Ilya so they could both find a girl to go home with. (though Ilya maybe didn't go home with a girl sometimes but Cliff decided that wasn't his business unless Ilya wanted it to be and shut those thoughts down.)
But Cliff was done with his playboy life, he had found Samantha, and deep down he knew he would marry her.
“Good, good,” Ilya smiled, “I am happy for you Cliff, you deserve a nice pretty woman who makes you happy. Though the single women of Boston will grieve the loss of Cliff Marleau to becoming an honest man for years to come.”
Cliff laughs into his beer, he’d missed Ilya's brash statements, “and what about the women of Ottawa?”
Ilya purses his lips, looks down at his lap, his demeanour changing in a second. He taps his fingers on his glass and Cliff immediately thinks he’s said something wrong. He’s had a suspicion for …a long time, that maybe Ilya didn’t only go home with women, but didn’t want to bring it up. He wanted to let Ilya come to him if that was the case, and he didn’t want to accuse Ilya of anything like that knowing what Russia is like, even if he was wrong if someone caught on and word spread, Russia probably wouldn’t be happy.
Maybe Cliff had hit a nerve, asking about Ilya’s romantic life, maybe he made a wrong assumption, or Ilya was offended somehow by Cliff's insinuation.
“Actually, that is what I wanted to talk to you about.” Ilya said finally, he looks up at Cliff, seeming smaller than he ever has. “I am in a relationship, for a long time.”
“Okay.” Cliff would cheer for his buddy, except he feels like that doesn’t match Ilya’s serious tone, “is this a good thing?”
Ilya smiles a bit, looking down almost bashful, oh god, “yes, it is a very good thing.”
“Good,” Cliff nods, “good.”
“I never told you because it was a secret, we did not want people to know. We are public figures, could be bad for both of our careers.” Ilya takes a big gulp of his beer, but Cliff knows he has more to say, so he waits, “I am bisexual, my partner is a man.” Ilya says. He doesn’t break eye contact with Cliff as he says it, almost daring him to say something untoward.
Cliff smiles at his friend, “I’m glad you trust me man, I love you no matter what. You have got to know that.”
“Yes, yes,” Ilya rolls his eyes, “you have saved my drunk ass many times.” He laughs and Cliff joins him, “American vodka is very bad.” Ilya shakes his head.
“It’s not great.” Cliff agrees.
Ilya’s face goes serious again, but he holds himself lighter now, “I tell you this now because, I feel… little bit lonely. Very few people know, is hard to…” he gestures out with his hand, “you know.”
Cliffs heart sinks for his friend, “I don’t know, but I understand what you are saying. I’m sorry you didn’t think you could tell me sooner.”
“No no,” Ilya shakes his head quickly, “is not you. I wanted to tell you, but my partner got scared. He got more anxious with more people knowing.”
“I’m glad you are telling me now.” Cliff smiles, “this relationship is pretty serious?” He asks.
Ilya smirks, “it is very. Is why I moved to Ottawa, he lives in Montreal—”
“JANE!” Cliff can’t help himself, he’s about to apologize but he sees the amused look on Ilya’s face and decides not to. “Montreal girl was a Montreal boy, that’s why you were so secretive of ‘her.’” He puts finger quotes around the ‘her.’ He can’t say this wasn’t a possibility that crossed his mind, but he hadn’t dwelled on it.
Ilya nods, “yes yes, Jane is a man, I know this already,” he waves a dismissive hand, “as I was saying, is why I moved to Ottawa… is why I start the charity…” his face shifts, raising an eyebrow to hint, when- oh my god.
“Oh my god.” Cliff feels his jaw drop in shock, “Jane… Shane…” he watches Ilya for confirmation and gets it when he smiles.
“Yes, Shane Hollander, second best player in the league,” he waves his beer as he talks.
“Oh my god.” Cliff says again, how did he not… how did he not see it? Okay they were rivals who hated each other of course he didn't see it. Except… Ilya always played hard against Montreal, teased Shane but it was never anything actually cruel, at the 2017 all star game they actually seemed to be automatically friendly. In fact it actually made too much sense.
“Are you done being shocked now Marleau so I can keep talking?” Ilya sighs, but Cliff knows he's not actually annoyed.
“Not really. But go ahead.”
Ilya nods, "I'm sorry I did not tell you sooner, about any of it.” He shrugs, “It is complicated, with Russia. I am a public figure, so I can not promote certain lifestyle choices. I did not tell anybody for a very long time.”
“It's okay, you don’t need to explain yourself.” Cliff shakes his head, Ilya doesn't owe him any apologies.
“No but I want to.” Ilya's drink is gone, but he still holds the glass, shifting it around, “My therapist says I need a support system, I realized I pulled away from you when I moved, was bad friend of me.”
“Therapist?”
Ilya nods, “I get… sad sometimes,” He says the word ‘sad’ like it's inadequate, but he doesn't want to say the other one. “Galina helps me find ways to not get more sad, also helps me realise that I felt lonely because I left my friends. Not by moving, but by stopping talking to them. I think I did that because I didn’t want to let anybody into the uh, bubble I made around my life in Ottawa. I want to tell everyone, but I need to tell the people I care about first.”
Cliff nods, “I’m glad you told me.”
“Stop saying that a million times Cliff, it is boring now.” Ilya throws his hands out, “boring in a bad way.”
“Okay, geez,” Cliff laughs, “can I ask…” except he doesn't know what to start with. Ilya seems to read his mind and answers for him.
“How long have we been together? Who else knows? What about the rivalry?” He ticks the questions off on his fingers as if he's gotten them a bunch of times, or maybe they are just obvious enough to be predictable.
“Yeah all of that.” Cliff says.
“Okay.” Ilya thinks for a second, “Rivaly wasn't made by us, Shane always says “the media likes a narrative”, we are very competitive, but we push each other to be better, never any hate, just challenges." Ilya nods, “Who else knows is his parents, Hayden Pike and his family, Galina my therapist, I think probably Rose Landry, and I just told Svetlana. I think Troy Barrett guessed maybe.”
“Wow, exclusive club.” Cliff hums.
“Yes, must be on the list to get in.” Ilya says, “How long is complicated. Officially? Summer 2017, but we have been seeing each other since summer before rookie year.”
“You have been together… your whole careers,” Cliff knows that “Montreal girl Jane has been around for a long time, but… Cliff has never known the Ilya without Shane Hollander.
“Not together.” Ilya shakes his head, “more like fucking whenever we are in same city.” He shrugs, “It was more than that in my heart but it was easier to ignore that part.”
“Wow.” Cliff lets out a breath, “thats…” he doesn’t even know, Ilya just shrugs. Ilya didn't need to understand it when it was his life. “You are together now? And you are happy?”
Ilya smiles, blushes but won’t admit it, “He makes me very happy. I love him very much, I almost don’t know what to do with all of it.”
“I get what you mean.” Cliff smiles, thinking of Samantha's smile that rests on her face while she's in the flower shop, the way she laughs with her whole body when the joke wasn’t even that funny. It's not even been a year yet, but Cliff knows he is going to marry that woman.
“I do have one thing I am doing with it though.” Ilya smiles big and wide, pulling the chain out of his shirt, and beside his mothers crucifix dangles a ring, “I am getting married.”
“Oh my god!” Cliff cheers, forgetting to keep his volume down, “Congratulations!”
“He has made an honest man out of me.” Ilya just beams, glowing with pride.
“Geez I can't have one normal outing with you, can I, Rozanov?” Cliff chuckles, he thought he was just catching up with his best friend, but now he's finding out his best friend is engaged to his long time rival.
“Nope!” He waves down to the bartender to get a second round, “Wedding is in the summer, you are invited, and you better be coming.”
“Of course I am what!” Cliff swats at Ilya's arm, “When did you get engaged?”
Ilya goes solemn, “After the plane incident,” he says, “was very scary, realized that if something had happened then legally he would get nothing, and that nobody would ever know what we mean to each other. We had a plan, because Shane loves plans. We would wait till retirement, but after that we just couldn't… I didn't want to wait. So now we are getting married!”
“I’m so happy for you buddy.” Cliff chuckles, “I’m glad you found him, and that you guys worked your shit out.”
“Me too.” Ilya smiles, “We plan to say something publicly after the wedding, when Russia will have less control, and when the league can’t try to hide it.”
“I will have your back when you do, the bears will too, I'll make sure of it.” Cliff remembers Ilya's statement to the group chat after Scott Hunter came out. ‘There will be no tolerance of disrespect or ignorance towards Hunter or anyone else in my locker room, if you have thoughts keep them to yourself unless you want to be demoted or traded. This is my team and here we accept everybody in hockey, if you have a problem with that you will answer to me.’ Cliff will have the same policy to stand behind Ilya and Hollander. Zero tolerance policy.
“Thank you Cliff. You are a good friend.”
“I know,” Cliff accepts the second round from the server. “You don’t have to thank me, you deserve it.” Cliff gets up from his seat and pulls Ilya up from the bench and into a tight hug, “You are my best friend Ilya, no matter what, I’d support you through literally anything. I am so glad you have found someone who makes you so happy, who is so perfect for you.”
“Thank– Okay.” Ilya sighs into the hug, “I hope everything works out for you Cliff, and I will reach out to you more after this, I promise you.”
“And if you don’t, then I will.” Cliff thinks about what Ilya said, how he gets sad sometimes. He thinks about what Ilya didn’t say but was still there, how he struggles with depression. Cliff remembers what very little he knows about Ilya's mother, died by suicide, he knows of the hereitary aspects of mental health, hes seen it in his sister in law and her father. “You aren’t ever alone my guy, even if you feel lonely. I'm only a call away. And a phone works both ways, so I need to do better too.”
Eventually Cliff lets go, they sit down and finish their beers, Ilya asks about the team and Cliff returns it, Ilya shows him many pictures of Anya, many of which have Shane in them too, and Cliff shows the singular picture he has of the fish in Samantha's apartment. Eventually they both know they have to leave, Cliff has a morning practice and Ilya has an early flight back up to Ottawa to end off the roadie.
He waits outside with Ilya for his car to come, he's close enough to walk to Samantha's place and she had given him permission to come over to stay the night after. The Boston air is cool, but not cold, and they wait in relative silence. Ilya doesn't pull out a cigarette like he used to whenever they waited outside, but he looks around the city as if taking it in.
“Hey man,” Cliff puts a hand on Ilya's shoulder, “I love you, for real. Whatever you want or need, I'm always here.”
Ilya pats Cliffs shoulder back, “I love you too. I am not sorry I left, but I am sorry we are apart.”
“I’m not, we don’t need proximity to be friends.” He shakes his head, "You've got everything you need up there with you, and I've got everything I need down here.”
The car pulls up then, so they let go of each other, Ilya gives him one last smile, “I will see you in play offs when I beat you!”
“Asshole.” Cliff snorts, but as Ilya hops into the car and it drives away, they both know he doesn't mean it.
~~~
The lights are all off when Cliff uses his key to slip into Samantha's apartment. He knows it enough to navigate it without the lights, so he sneaks quietly into her room. She's dead asleep, snoring gently even though she swears she doesn't, her face has a gentle smile on it even when she is unconscious. He quietly takes his clothes off, stripping into his boxers and sitting on the opposite side of the bed to curl up behind her.
He reaches to put his phone away on the bedside table charger when he sees a text that must have come in while he was walking.
That son of a bitch