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“You know, at some point you’re going to have to play as someone else,” Shane scolded Ilya as he chose his player and, for the third time, tried to move onto the next screen before selecting a uniform.
“Fuck.”
“Ilya, it’s not going to let you play with me naked,” Shane laughed as Ilya pursed his lips and scrunched his face in frustration. Maybe it was silly to find it so cute. That Ilya wanted to see Shane that way even on the TV when he could, by all means, have the real him anytime in any way.
“Why not? You are so sexy. That is why people play this.” He threw the controller down and leaned back against the couch, sinking into the cushions with a dramatic sigh. “Stupid game. They should take my face off the cover if they will not let me see you naked.”
“You’re such an asshole. That is not why people play it.” Any bite that his words had was lost as Shane climbed onto Ilya’s lap, his knees gripping his hips and one hand on each side of Ilya’s face. He stroked Ilya’s cheeks with his thumbs, his own stupid lovesick smile mirrored on Ilya’s face. It was still impossible to believe the man under him was real. After years of whatever they had been doing, a week of doing something else entirely at Shane’s cabin, he still had to touch Ilya to convince himself. Yet, the fact that he could touch Ilya freely and uninhibited only made everything feel more unbelievable. He threaded one hand up into Ilya’s curls, his gaze following to avoid the adoring smile that was staring up at him and distract himself from the warmth of the strong, calloused hands at his waist.
“It is why I play it.” Ilya moved one of his hands up Shane’s side slowly, up his chest, giving his shoulder a light squeeze the way he knew Shane loved before softly grabbing his chin and forcing Shane’s gaze back down.
“You play it because you love any chance you get to beat me.”
“Ah, so you admit I am better at this game than you?” Ilya’s smile was tender and teasing in a way that Shane found ridiculous, only knowing that it still left him hot and flustered after all of these years. It still left him feeling naked like Ilya was unraveling him with his eyes and his lips.
“Nope, no chance.” Shane swung his legs over, climbing off Ilya’s lap and plopping down next to him before they started and couldn’t stop. Normally, he would take any opportunity to feel Ilya’s lips on his, to have Ilya kiss and touch any part of him that he could get his hands on. It had always been desperate. The desperation to not waste a single second of privacy that they had before their lives ripped them apart again. Before his brain and heart began to catch up to his body and he realized that he was in much deeper than he should be and forced himself to pull away. But here, that could disappear. Shane could have Ilya, slow and intimate in the morning, hungry and loud in the evening. They could be careless and obvious the way they never could before. The way his brain knew they wouldn’t be able to once they left the bubble they had created in his cottage. So Shane wanted to indulge in the moments where he could take things slow and let the tender moments be, knowing Ilya would still be there in the morning.
“Alright, put some clothes on me and let me kick your ass,” Shane said, picking up his remote.
Ilya sat up with a feigned whine and put a blue jersey on Shane’s avatar. “There, now fake you is also boring.”
He looked over at Shane with a soft smile, with what Shane now knew was love in his eyes. Before, Ilya would’ve turned away and Shane would’ve pretended that his heart wasn’t yearning for Ilya to look at him. Shane smiled back.
“Stay here, honey. I’ll be in and out quickly,” David said to his wife as he opened the car door and stepped out. He appreciated that she spared him the i told you so.
Remember, my phone is new and uses a different charger than yours. Make sure you pack yours, okay? They don’t sell them anymore.
Of course, he had forgotten it. David wasn’t used to technological change and he was horrible at keeping up with it. It often felt like everything was moving around him. As soon as he caught up, there was already a new product, a new website, a new platform and, often, his son was the face of it. David’s inability to master them as they were thrown at him was one of many reasons that his wife, Yuna, was the one that handled all of Shane’s professional affairs. She was intelligent enough to know how to take advantage of the moment. On the other hand, David had finally learned how to use Youtube and was now wrapping his head around Instagram.
Give me your phone. I’m making your account private, Yuna had to tell him once as they cuddled on the couch, pushing her glasses up her nose. You keep posting private pictures of Shane on public, David.
But Yuna had never made him feel ignorant for it. A part of him knew Yuna liked that David was the parent that didn’t have to understand all of this. Shane could just be Shane. For Yuna, the sake of their son’s career required a part of Shane to be Shane Hollander. She was great, Shane was cooperative. Yet neither was enough to make it easy or normal.
David unlocked the front door to Shane’s cottage with his spare key, walking in carefully. Even though his son was away, David didn’t take his open invitation to the cottage lightly, planning to make his way straight to the kitchen drawer where he knew Shane kept all of his spare chargers organized without disturbing anything else. He saw it before he heard it, catching a glimpse of a slightly open door leading to the dock from the hallway. A hockey announcer that didn’t sound quite real coming from the living room TV that hadn’t yet entered his line of sight. Shane wouldn’t be back from his silent retreat for another week. Could it be that someone had broken in, not stolen anything, and sat down to watch TV? The thought was ridiculous, but David kept his footsteps quiet anyway, approaching the kitchen that would give him a view of the living room slowly. Perhaps Shane had lent the cottage to one of his teammates? Hayden Pike had hinted that he needed a getaway enough times for David to consider that it was him and his children playing in the living room. David appreciated Hayden and the friendship he had forged with Shane since day one. Even more so since it was founded on Hayden’s persistence and refusal to let Shane become a hermit in Montreal, at least from what Shane had told them over their lunches. But David was well aware of how particular Shane was, how sacred and safe the cottage was to him. He began to doubt that Hayden awaited him on the other side, unsupervised and with four kids in tow.
That brought him back to burglars. David wasn’t afraid, but he stood in place to wait for any telling noises just in case. He dug his hand into his pocket, placing his car key in between his knuckles. A self-defense method he had learned during the latest rabbit hole he had fallen down in the wee hours of the night. He held his breath.
A loud buzzer and a man’s voice came from the living room. “You cheat, cheater.”
A Russian burglar?
“I didn’t cheat! You’re just a sore loser.” That was definitely Shane’s voice. Why was he here? Who was he here with? He wouldn’t put it past Shane to charm and disarm a burglar without even trying or realizing it.
“You will be sore when-”
“Shane?”
David came out of the hallway and made himself known now that he was sure it was Shane in the home, not wanting to feel like he was eavesdropping any more than he already had. He looked at his son who was smiling and laughing with the man across from him, relaxed in a way David hadn’t seen in years. Making it that much more unnerving the way his eyes went wide and his smile dropped as he turned to look at his dad.
All David could see of the man across from Shane was a head of blonde curls. As he turned, David finally realized where he had heard that accent before.
Ilya Rozanov.
Fuck. Fuck, this was such a mess. Shane had lied to his parents for what was definitely not the first time, especially when it came to anything having to do with Ilya. His lies had finally caught up to him. He had gotten too comfortable, too careless, too sloppy.
Shane stood up from the couch slowly like his dad was a deer who might run off, grabbing Ilya’s arm to force him to do the same. He knew, rationally, that this wouldn’t help his case, but he needed him.
His dad looked back and forth between him and Ilya. “Oh gosh, Shane. I didn’t think you’d be here. I’m sorry to barge in. You know your mother got a new phone and we don’t use the same charger anymore and I know you have them all-”
“Dad. Dad, it’s okay.”
He couldn’t move, thumbs hooked in his pockets because he was afraid he'd sink to his knees and cling to Ilya otherwise. Because this is possibly his worst nightmare. Being caught in a lie. Ilya as his accomplice standing next to Shane with his hands clasped behind his back, posture painfully straight, his expression blank and hardened. Closer to the eighteen year old boy that Shane had locked eyes with all those years ago, held hostage between his unforgiving father and the man who was granting him an escape, than the man he now knew and loved.
“Honey, what is taking so long? Do you need help finding it?”
Shane heard his mom before she rounded the corner. Yuna wasn’t given the same privilege of slowly discovering them, stopping in her tracks next to her husband, her face suddenly pale in surprise.
“Rozanov?” She looked at the unlikely pair, equally in disbelief at either of their presence. “Shane? What? What are you doing here? What is Rozanov doing here?”
Ilya looked to Shane who hadn't taken his eyes off his parents. Out of instinct, he unclasped his hands and moved one up between him and Shane, reaching for him before catching himself and letting it fall at his side. Pulling back before he let himself make contact. It was a habit he’d spent the last ten years trying to perfect, but which had started to quickly come undone in the last week.
Shane still hadn’t spoken. This was not how he expected any of this to happen. He began to think that it would’ve been less painful and confusing and awkward if his parents had walked in on him and Ilya being something. Something more than two guys sitting on a couch playing MLH together. Something more than two men now standing in his living room petrified, orbiting each other and refusing to light a spark. If Ilya had Shane the way he usually did, blushing and writhing under him, he would be less heartbroken at the bewilderment on his parents' faces. Without speaking, what he had spent the last few nights trying to convince himself wasn’t true, as he let himself indulge in Ottawa, the charity, and public sightings, was being confirmed. What he always feared was right. They would be okay with him being gay, but it couldn’t be with Ilya. Hell, he couldn’t even be friends with Ilya.
But, what other possible explanation could there be for this? For lying to them. Lying to them so he could bring Ilya here and be alone. Shane’s head hung low, willing his brain to slow down, his chest to take a full breath. Ilya could see the panic rising in Shane, taking over his entire body slowly and then all at once. Paralyzing him. His practiced restraint broke entirely this time. He cupped one hand on Shane’s right shoulder and rubbed circles above his collarbone with the pad of his thumb, hoping it would shake Shane out of his stupor enough to address the two Hollanders that were staring them down. Hoping he would do it before they looked at them long enough to figure them out.
Shane finally looked at him and Ilya’s heart all but broke at how different he suddenly was from the man sitting on the couch only ten minutes ago. The past week had created a new vision of Shane in Ilya’s head, one that laughed with his entire body, lunged onto Ilya’s lap when he pissed him off, kissed him to shut him up. But now Ilya could see Shane closing in within himself. He could see it in his eyes, manifesting physically in the way his hands trembled slightly at his sides and his breath stuttered. With another squeeze to his shoulder, Ilya gave Shane a slight nod. I’m here. It’s okay. Like he could hear every one of Ilya’s thoughts, Shane nodded back and turned to face his parents.
“Mom, Dad. Rozanov. Uh, Ilya is here because,” he stole another look at Ilya. “Because we’re friends.”
Ilya had braced himself, but hearing the words come out of Shane’s mouth threw him off his balance. This was the first time they had been anything but rivals to someone. Friends. It was more than nothing. He cleared his throat to recover himself and nodded in agreement. For the first time that wasn’t in front of a crowd or reporters banking on their rivalry, they were a united front.
“Friends? Since when? I thought you hated Rozanov.”
The man next to their son spoke for the first time. “Ilya.”
“Right, okay. Sorry.” Yuna folded her hands over her head, exasperated, trying to wrap her mind around what they were saying. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, beckoning them to look at these two boys anew when she opened them again. “Okay, Shane, you’re supposed to be at a silent retreat? What is this?”
“Can we just, can we go outside to talk about this? I can explain,” Shane said as he led the way outside, fully opening the glass door they had left ajar.
They sat around the table at which Ilya and Shane had shared what now seemed like countless meals over the past week. Shane would cook by the grill while Ilya set the table, teasing Shane over his usage of uniform containers for all of his condiments, adoration lacing his every word. They had fallen into a rhythm that felt familiar and innate, moving like they had been doing this their entire lives. In complete contrast to how they sat now, rigid in their chairs across the table from Shane’s parents. Not touching, making the conscious choice to not gravitate toward each other the way they always inevitably did.
“Look, Ilya and I hung out at the All-Star game in Florida and we realized we had more in common than we thought.”
“In common?”
“Yes, in common.” It came out harsher than he meant for it to. Because he knew what his mom saw when she saw Ilya. Aggressive, cocky, womanizing. Everything she thought Shane wasn’t. It didn’t help that Shane couldn’t quite elaborate on all of the things that drew them to each other. Not yet, not like this. “He didn’t want to go home to Russia during this break because of some personal things and I thought it would be nice to invite him here. It’s more private and relaxing than Boston.”
Shane managed to choke the words out by telling himself that they weren’t complete lies. The All-Star game had brought them back together. And there was no longer anything tying Ilya to Russia.
“Yes, I heard your father passed, Ilya. We’re so sorry.”
Shane’s chest ached at the sorrow in his parents’ eyes. Selfishly, it also gave him a glimmer of hope to see them showing the man he loved sympathy and care. He knew his parents would show anyone who was grieving the same concern, yet he clung to it as a lifeline to get through this conversation.
“Yes, it’s okay. Thank you.”
Yuna gave Ilya a sad smile, seeing through his default stoicism and noting the way his eyes gleamed, before turning back to her son.
“Well, honey, that's very nice of you. Even if it’s a bit surprising. But I still don’t understand why you would say you were going to be at a silent retreat. We wouldn’t bother you here if you had guests. You know that.”
David looked guilty again. “I wouldn’t have barged in unannounced if I knew you would be here.” Yuna and Shane gave David the same pointed look, impatient but enamored. Ilya thought to himself that she was definitely where he got his looks.
Shane crossed his arms over his chest as he closed his eyes and took a deep breath, still feeling traces of the panic that had flooded him when his dad first spotted them.
“It’s okay, Dad. I promise.” He looked at his parents, their eyes burning into him.
Shane had always been terrible at lying to them. The truth about his sexuality only stayed a secret because it was muddled and riddled by his own confusion and denial. And it still reared its head, in the form of unearned cold and biting comments thrown at his parents’ genuine attempts to get him to do anything else besides play hockey and workout. He turned his gaze upwards to avoid their eyes.
“Um, I guess that I just…” Shane had to pause, afraid that if he spoke, the movement would let the moisture that had settled in his eyes take over his entire face. Although he couldn’t see his face, Ilya, still rigid beside Shane as he waited for a cue from Shane that it was okay to move, could hear the way his voice shuddered. He leaned forward, seeing how the sunlight reflected off the tears that Shane was willing to not streak his cheeks. They were already too deep into this. Desperately holding onto any semblance of plausibility deniability wasn’t worth leaving Shane alone.
Ilya put a hand on Shane’s back, rubbing it up and down to soothe him. I’m here with you. It gave Shane the strength to continue without falling apart.
“I guess that I was just worried that us being friends would be a problem. That you wouldn’t be okay with it because of, well, everything.” He looked to Ilya to ground himself back in reality. “But I think he’s one of the greatest friends I’ve ever had. I’m not sure hockey would be as fun without him. Rivalry or not.”
Shane smiled at Ilya because it was so much more than that. He wanted to say that he was sure. Sure that Ilya was the greatest person he’d ever known. Sure that he was the love of his life. Like he could hear all of these quiet sentiments threaded through the words that Shane allowed himself to say out loud, Ilya smiled back. A gentle smile that Shane was starting to recognize as being reserved only for him. He looked back to his parents before he drowned in it.
“Oh, Shane. I’m sorry we made you feel that way.” She looked at her husband as she said it. They were a united front, always, even if they weren’t on the same page yet. “I’m not going to lie to you. It’s a bit shocking. I mean it’s Roz- it’s Ilya.” Gesturing toward him with her hands as if she still couldn’t believe he was here. Even more unbelievable that he was staving off her son’s impending panic attack. “But we trust your judgement, Shane. We never wanted to control who you surrounded yourself with or who your friends were. We just wanted to make sure you had good people around you.”
“And Ilya seems like great company. I saw the way you two played together at the All-Star game. You can’t fake that kind of chemistry,” David chimed in as he took his wife’s hand in his own over the glass table.
Ilya looked at their joint hands, seeing the love between Yuna and David in them. He had started to relax, smiling at the way Shane’s parents looked at their son, patient, caring, concerned. The tense conversation he had anticipated felt familiar, this didn’t.
“Yes, you two play very well together. Just don’t let your friendship affect how you play against each other, Shane.”
“I’d rather die than go easy on Ilya, Mom.”
“Well, honey, you never know.”
Shane took a beat, feeling uncomfortable at how clueless his parents were. Keeping this hidden from them for nine years now felt easy. Having them so close yet so far from the truth felt unbearable. He had to stop himself from laughing at the fact that they had no idea that the most defining part of his life had always been intertwined with Ilya. He wasn’t sure he had ever played against Ilya without being in love with him, at least a little.
“I think I’ll manage.”
They sat there for a while, talking like this was the most normal thing in the world. Naturally, Yuna discussed career and strategy with Ilya.
"You should take advantage of these opportunities, Ilya. You have to know how in demand you are."
Ilya was quickly learning how intense Shane’s mom was about hockey. “You get more than just looks from her, huh?”
“Shut up.” Shane knocked their knees together, the contact sending warmth up to his face. He hoped his parents saw it as embarrassment and nothing more.
“You boys could do some things together now that you’re friends. I mean, the rivalry sold well too, but it’ll be easier if you can be in the same room and remain civil. Oh! Like that commercial you did before your rookie season. The…uh-”
“The CCM commercial.” Ilya cut in.
“Yes! Thank you, Ilya. Gosh, it’s been so long. Do you boys remember that? I think you got along pretty well there. I suppose it was before all of the real madness began.”
“Yes, we got along very well.” A blush rose on Shane’s face at the implication. Intensified by the fact that their legs were now pressed together under the table. Even without looking at him, Shane could feel the weight of his words and his stare. “You are welcome, by the way.”
Yuna looked between them, settling her gaze on Shane. “Welcome? For what?”
“Um. It was actually Ilya’s idea that I be part of that commercial. He asked the production team to reach out to us.” Ilya’s face broke out into a smile that Shane had only seen a handful of times, mostly confined to his cottage. In reality, Ilya had only been teasing, trying to embarrass Shane at the memory of their first hook up when they were both just scared teenagers. Part of him hadn’t expected Shane to remember the lengths that Ilya had gone to see him again. Lengths he now thanked his young self everyday for being brave enough to go to.
Yuna’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Oh! Oh, wow. That was incredibly generous of you, Ilya. So early on and sharing the spotlight already.” She shifted in her seat, looking over at David, sharing a knowing look. “Maybe it’s my memory failing again, but I don’t remember them mentioning that.”
“Yes, they took credit for my idea. But I let them,” he shrugged.
“Hm, now I’m really not understanding where this rivalry came from.”
“David.”
“Well, are you?”
Yuna sighed in defeat because no, she wasn’t. Yes, the part of her brain that lived and breathed hockey understood it. Because it was logical and expected. Inevitable since the moment Shane and Ilya had become the top two hockey prospects in the world and solidified when they were drafted by rival teams. Yet that all seemed inconsequential and meaningless as she sat here across from the pair. Seeing the secret smiles they exchanged when they thought her and her husband weren’t looking. Their need to be touching at all times in a way they didn’t even seem to do consciously, crossed arms grazing over the table, legs pressed against each other, Ilya tucking Shane’s hair behind his ear when she and her husband had stepped away briefly. The way they looked at each other when they were scared or unsure of the direction of the conversation. Yuna knew they thought they were being subtle, the way people always do when they’re living in their own worlds, consumed by another person.
“No. No, I’m not,” she said without taking her eyes off them as they exchanged small smiles.
She had never seen Shane this serene, Ilya even less so. She wondered how far this conversation would go today.
“Baby.” Yuna reached across the table taking Shane’s hands in her own, steadying them and him. Looking at both boys, she spoke in the calming, soothing voice she had spent Shane’s entire life perfecting. “Your father and I love you no matter what. I want to make that perfectly clear. I know you’re an adult, but, from now on, please know that you can share these things with us. Whenever you’re ready.”
Yuna would learn from this misstep. She would make sure her son knew that he was just Shane and that he would always find safety in them. Yuna knew that, in many ways, they had never failed him. Driving him to early morning practices in the dark before work. Traveling throughout the country when he was in the junior leagues. Managing every facet of Shane’s public relations so all he had to do was focus when he was on the ice. Somewhere along the way Shane had become a body that showed up and did as he was told. They had made their baby boy into someone who felt he had to hide whatever this was with Ilya from them. It wouldn’t hurt the same if it was anything less. If Yuna couldn’t see the electricity between them. The thought that Shane felt he had to hide something so significant made her sick.
“Look at me, baby.”
Shane shook his head, willing himself not to cry. He looked to Ilya one last time before finally looking at his mom. “Thank you, Mom.”
Yuna didn’t expect much else from either boy. There was an understanding that something deeper was left unsaid. And that was okay, for now.
She wiped under her eyes with the pad of her thumb. “Well, I’m going to go grab a sweater from inside.” Yuna steadied herself on David as she stood, feeling dizzy with the weight of what this conversation had revealed heavy on her. “I’ll be right back. Then we can discuss how we’re treating you boys to dinner to celebrate your new friendship.” She struggled to find the right words for something she knew was much more. “New to us at least.”
Shane could see how the smile didn’t reach her eyes, more sadness and sympathy in the curve of her lips than happiness. He watched as her steps wavered, as her head hung back the way it always did when she was keeping tears falling.
“I’m going to go check on her.” Shane squeezed Ilya’s hand absentmindedly before standing up and following his mom into the cottage.
David nodded at his son. Though he had let himself fall into the background of the conversation, seeing what it was for Shane and Yuna, he knew all of the thoughts that were running through Yuna’s head without them having to exchange words. The knowing looks between them as the boys smiled at each other. The feelings she was trying to convey as she took Shane's hands over the table. All of this built upon the years of hushed conversations over the dinner table, wondering, questioning, and worrying, but leaving things be until Shane came to them first.
Watching as his son made his way inside, mirroring his wife’s anxiety, David cleared his throat, and looked to the other boy. Both of them had slipped into the periphery of the conversation, but David hadn’t forgotten about him. He was present, never taking his eyes off Shane for even a second. Although David had never subscribed to the rivalry and the mostly well-meaning Rozanov hate the way Yuna did, any semblance of doubt that he had disappeared. David’s biggest worry about his son since he had been shoved into the hockey world as a child dissolved within minutes. His son was cared for, loved, and understood.
“So, do you like vodka? I can get the good kind imported from Russia for us if you’re ever feeling homesick.”
Ilya raised an eyebrow at David, a smile making its way onto his face for the millionth time that day. He was beginning to accept everything the Hollanders were. Boring, safe, and kind.