Rating:

General Audiences

Archive Warning:

No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories:

F/F, M/M

Fandoms:

Heated Rivalry (TV), Game Changers Series - Rachel Reid, Game Changers | Heated Rivalry - All Media Types

Relationship:

Shane Hollander/Ilya Rozanov

Characters:

Ilya Rozanov, Shane Hollander, Original Female Character(s), Yuna Hollander, Cliff Marlow | Cliff Marleau, Harris Drover, Zane Boodram

Additional Tags:

Boston Bears | Boston Raiders (Game Changers), Social Media, Twitter, Queer Themes, Russia, POV Ilya Rozanov, Ilya Rozanov Needs A Hug, Book 6: The Long Game (Game Changers), Hurt/Comfort, Queer History, Closeted Character, Angst, Fluff and Angst, Soft Ilya Rozanov, Ilya Rozanov Loves Shane Hollander, Mixed Media, Shane Hollander Loves Ilya Rozanov, Ilya Rozanov is Loved, Ilya Rozanov Loves Shane Hollander's Glasses, Song: All The Things She Said (t.A.T.u.)

Language:

English

Stats:

Published: 2026-04-09 Words: 5,579 Chapters: 2/2

Shall We Talk About Home?

Summary

“My boyfriend thinks I’m an idiot,” Ilya says. "Well, not really but a bit, maybe.”

“Your boyfriend?” Sandra, the queer studies professor sits down, hard.

“Yes, he thinks it is not smart to say faggot in the locker room when you are locked in the closet and Russia has the keys.”

Ilya had been talking about himself when he’d said it. Making a joke. Sailing a little close to the wind, sick of listening to the background hum of homophobic bullshit. But someone had been filming. The video went viral. The Raiders panicked under the terrible PR. Now he was here.

Sent to Queer Studies 101 to appease twitter. Because he’d been cancelled. For being a homophobe. If was fucking ridiculous.

He turns to the professor. “So, can you help me take on Putin and NHL at same time or I need more advanced class for this?”

Plus Chapter 2 – Social media chapter. Once they've been outed, Ilya gets to demand an apology from twitter.

• Inspired by your fave is problematic by makemegentle

Chapter 1

Chapter Notes

“My boyfriend thinks I’m an idiot,” Ilya says. “Well, not really but a bit, maybe.”

“Your boyfriend?” Sandra, the queer studies professor sits down like her knees have made the decision of their own accord. Falls into the chair at the desk across from him.

“Yes, he thinks it is not smart to say faggot in the locker room when you are locked in the closet and Russia has the keys. Which probably he is right, yes, but...”

Ilya lifts one shoulder in a half shrug.

“Is whole locker room of homophobic bullshit and I am the one who ends up here, on fucking queer studies course.”

He had been talking about himself when he’d said it. Making a joke. Sailing a little close to the wind, knowing nobody would actually stop to consider the truth. Just sick of the constant casual use of ‘cocksuckers,’ and worse, that had been thrown around all day. There’d been a few actual slurs too. Plus a bunch of the boys telling Ryan that he was skating like a girl, whatever that meant. Svetlana would have taken chunks out of them if she’d heard that.

One of the rookies had been filming though, when he’d said it. He hadn’t realised that. Then Ilya had ended up in the background of some video on twitter, saying a slur. Suddenly it was fucking everywhere. Viral. There were media crews outside the rink and waiting at his house even. Emergency comms meetings were called, not that he was invited. Then it was decided, with very little input on his part. He was just informed, the day after it all went to shit, by his agent. The Raiders were sending him on a mandatory Queer Studies course. Damage control. Media management. All that stuff. Non-negotiable.

So here he was, in Boston College on a Monday night for fucking Queer Studies 101. The whole thing was fucking ridiculous.

He’d spent the last two hours sat at the back of the classroom, slumped down in his seat. Saying nothing because he couldn't. Because probably the media would love a statement from his fellow classmates if he said anything worth mentioning and that might be bad for his visa. Being at a mandatory course was one thing. Participating was another.

But now everyone had filed out. It was just him and the professor. Him, the professor and this feeling itching over his skin. The feeling of having to play the homophobe. Here in this cluttered little classroom, draped in pride flags and scattered with books on queer everything. So, he had caved. Grabbed for something halfway not rotten in this fucked up mess of a week.

He sets both palms down on the desk in front of him. Turns to catch her eye where she’s still staring at him. “Can you help me take on Putin and NHL at same time or I need more advanced class for this?”

She stares another moment. Then a ragged laugh claws its way out of her. She claps a hand to her mouth, like she’s trying to catch the sound in her fingers, push it back down into her chest.

Instead, she ends up leaning forward over the desk, wheezing silent half-choked laughter. “Oh my God, Rozanov, you must be having a fucking week.”

For the first time since this all started, Ilya’s face cracks open in a genuine smile. He drops his head back and laughs too, a little dazed. “Yes, yes, has been a fucking week.” He runs a hand through his hair. Tipping his eyes up to the ceiling, letting out a long breath.

“I won’t tell anyone,” she adds quickly, still caught between bouts of breathy laughter.

“You just spent whole hour talking about how outing is always wrong and,” he leans forward to check his notes, “‘integrity of the closet is sacred’, no?” He looks back over at her. “I am not worried about this.”

Then he grins, a little bitter but still real. “But you did not answer my question. Boston College Queer Studies Department has resource to take on Russian government, or no?”

She barks another laugh, then puts her face in her hands for a moment.

“If I fucking could...”

“Yes, this I believe.” She turns to look at him then. “You seem very,” he gestures at the front of the class where she stood to give her lecture, searching for the word, “passionate, no?”

“Yes, you could say that. It’s...Me and my girlfriend both come from, um, backgrounds where it was not always safe to be queer. We both spent a long time in the closet, lots of therapy, you know? It took a long time to get here. So, yes, passionate is probably the right word. Or, well, it’s personal anyway.”

“Girlfriend? She works here too at the college?”

“Yes, in the languages department. And your boyfriend?”

“Uhh, I should not say, I think. But it is nice to say even this much, is more than...”

“You haven't told anybody?”

“Only his parents.”

“Oh, wow, so I’m the first. Well, it's an honour, Mr Rozanov.”

“Ilya, please”

“Ilya.” She smiles at him then grimaces. “In that case I think I may have underestimated how awful your week has been.”

His face pulls into a grimace of his own. “Has been...yes, not so good. Maybe bad. Very bad.”

Ilya leans forward, resting his head heavy on his hand, elbow on the table, face turned towards her. He taps a finger on the syllabus sheet she handed round. With the dates for all ten classes over the ten weeks, a small description showing what each class would cover.

“Week four should be interesting, yes? The use and reclamation of slurs?”

She winces but Ilya grins. “No, no, I am expert now, special case. Very educational.”

She laughs again, shaking her head and watching him with a gaze that’s turned soft.

“Ilya, you don’t have to do this course if you don’t want. I can talk to the Dean. I can keep it all under wraps, explain everything. It’s... you really shouldn't be having to deal with this, on top of everything.”

Ilya shakes his head because, he thinks, actually this will only make things worse. Okay, maybe being on this course is dumb and strange and a very weird position to be in but he finds he really doesn't want to let it go. Doesn’t want to let go of the first honest conversation he’s had outside of a phone call in, well, a long time.

“No, no, you will need me for week four, yes? I am important case study.”

He doesn't need to explain to this woman that, of course, she cannot mention anything. She already knows. It's a relief to be able to talk and not worry. Not have to explain what things are dangerous, what has to be left unsaid. She probably knows better than he does.

She considers him for a second, nods, offers another smile.

“Hang on a second, stay there, don't move.” She gets up from her seat and walks over to her desk. Opens a drawer.

Ilya waits, considering.

She comes back and places a book softly on the table in front of him, then returns to her chair.

He glances down and is surprised to see that the title is in Cyrillic as well as English.

 ‘Assorted poems of Sofya Parnok.’

“My girlfriend thought this might be helpful, for week eight of the course.”

Yes, week eight. Modern queerphobia in Russia - a case study. Ilya is very not sure how he feels about week eight.

“But,” Sandra continues, “the English translations just aren’t very good. I think I’ve got all the use out of it that I can and I thought, maybe...Well, you can have it if you want. She was a poet. Lesbian poet. Russian. Lived in Moscow for a while. They call her the Russian Sappho, sometimes.”

Ilya picks the book up, hands a little reverent. Flicks through a few pages, sees the poems laid out. Cyrillic on one side, English on the other. Traces a finger down one page, across the neat, stacked Cyrillic verse.

“I, well, um... Maybe.”

He doesn’t really know what to do with a piece of home that would fit in a space like this. This classroom, with its confusing array of colourful flags he can’t name and its casual stack of essay assignments, listing sideways on the desk at the front of the room. Out in the light, not hidden in some locked drawer somewhere.

He wouldn’t have to hide the book, he realises, if he took it home. It's from his course obviously. This course which he has been forced to do. Nothing to do with him, just a mandated course. Easy to explain, easy to wave away if anyone asks.

“Thank you, yes, I, um.”

He slips it into his bag, nestled between his gym shorts and the hoodie he wore for his run earlier.

“Err,” he starts. Then wonders whether he really wants to know. “What- what is the subjects for Russia? Week eight?”

She gives him another kind look, which maybe he should be protesting about but it's nice and this week has been very not good so perhaps he can allow this.

“You don't have to come,” she says quickly. “You don't have to come for week eight if you don't want to. If it's too...”

He pauses, considers this.

“What is week eight though? Maybe it depends.”

He’s spent so long not talking about this. Maybe that’s tiring too in its own way. It’s like trying to dodge ghosts sometimes, these Russian promotion of homosexuality laws. So vague and nebulous and perhaps inconsequential a lot of the time. Until suddenly they snap down, heavy and solid as iron bars. Not every time but sometimes. Often enough.

“Well, it's about how the laws have changed, really. The last 20 years. Putin. A few other things. I was wondering about maybe Sochi too, talking about the Olympics since they were right at the turning point.”

“No. No, not Sochi please.”

“Well, I hadn’t actually added that in yet so that’s easy enough to leave out.”

He gives a strained half smile.

Ilya pushes at the paper bearing the syllabus with one finger, shunting it across the desk. “You remember 2015. Putin's birthday. The hockey match?”

She nods. “Yes, I think I read about that when I was researching. Building the syllabus, you know.”

Ilya drags a hand down his face. “Yes, was all the famous hockey players. All supposed to go to that celebrity match to celebrate his birthday.” Ilya coughs. “To let him score as many goals as he wanted on the ice for his birthday. They wanted me to go, of course, and even NHL season was not really enough excuse. Was a fucking nightmare.” He laughs. It comes out dark, a little incredulous. “He's a germaphobe, you know, Putin. Is the only excuse that really works. I paid old Russian doctor from north Boston, well, a whole lot of money. A lot of cash. To say I had very bad flu. Spent two weeks just lounging about at home pretending to be sick.

“Was a little surreal maybe, how you say, strange. But I thought, well, if I want to come out someday - which seemed silly then almost. You know, it’s, how you say, too optimistic. But I thought if I have citizenship at some point and I did want to, is best not to have photo with Putin, yes? This would make things, well...just best not to have this. Better to play sick like little kid, hideaway at home.

“Felt weird though.”

He’s never told anyone about this. She just sits with it. Quiet. Listening. He’s grateful. A little embarrassed. But grateful.

“Listen Ilya, why don’t I send you what I have worked out for week eight and if you want...Maybe you can look over it and give me some suggestions. You probably know a lot more about this than I do, to be honest. You've lived this. I’ve just read what I can find in English. Only if you want though, of course but...”

Ilya considers. He’d expected to take the offer to skip this. Take the offer and run. But maybe.

He’s not sure, not really, but he thinks if you can't outrun a ghost, maybe it needs an exorcism. Maybe he needs to actually look at this thing. Try to pin it down. Pin down all of it’s insubstantial edges like some strange insect. Wings and limbs pinned out for examination on a cork board. Something that can be categorised, understood, accounted for even. Shane would approve, he thinks. Perhaps he could even make a plan.

Maybe he does want to talk about this after all.

“I have ideas, perhaps.” A smile tugs at the corner of his mouth despite himself. “Have you heard of t.A.T.u.? Very important, very - how you say – connected, related, with all this change. Cultural,” he waves his hand vaguely, “you know.”

“Ha, yes, very culturally relevant,” she offers with a soft laugh, eyes crinkled.

“Yes, exactly. Very important. But only the Russian version. Russian lyrics are much better, I will find you good translation, yes?”

She grins, nodding. “Yes, yes, I think that’s a good idea actually. It's very reflective of all the changes, like you say.”

“Okay, okay.” He taps the paper. “Will be two weeks, yes, weeks eight and nine. I will have ideas and I will bring good Russian translation, proper lyrics.” He grins and she laughs.

“Yes, okay, let’s do that.”

“Yes, of course, will be good, maybe.”

Or it might be a fucking disaster. But it sounds like she will cover all the new promotion of homosexuality law at least and, well, maybe it will be nice to have someone go over them for him. Save him wading through all the details alone at home, in the quiet of his empty house.

He glances at his watch. “I should go,” he says, a little reluctant. He’s probably kept her here much longer than she intended to stay at work today.

He stands. Hooks his duffel bag over one shoulder, shrugs a little, helpless.

“My boyfriend, he will be home soon. He has a-” Ilya nearly says game tape to review but no, he can’t say that - “things to view on his laptop. He will need to wear his glasses. If I call at the right time,” he shrugs again. Smiles a little sheepish. “They're good glasses.”

 She laughs at him, face open and bright, and he grins. Feels a little warmer. A little more present.

“I will send you the syllabus,” she says, “and I guess you can’t really talk much in class, right? I can’t guarantee nobody will talk to the press. It's big news, you being on the course.”

He nods. “Yes.”

“But I’m free again next week, after class?”

He scuffs one toe against the wooden floorboards. “I, um...I could bring shchi from the Russian Deli. Is good. We can eat and I tell you about Moscow gay clubs. How they were when I was younger, how they are now maybe? How when we were fifteen, me and my, um, friend tried to climb in the second story window of the fancy club downtown.” He grins. “Was disaster.”

She laughs. “Yes. Yes please, to all of that. Thank you Ilya, can’t wait.”

“Yes, Okay, I will do that,” he gives her a shaky smile. “See you next week. Thank you for the, err...thanks.”

He turns and flees out the door. Gets all the way down the corridor and takes a few random turns before he stops to lean against a blank stretch of wall. Head tipped back, bag clutched to his side, breaths a little ragged.

What’s he doing? Talking about all this shit he has so carefully avoided talking about. Ever. For all these years. But maybe it’s just been a fucking week. It’s not like she’ll tell anyone. And – he feels a little guilty for this thought – it's not like with Shane. With Shane he’d have to explain it all, step by step. All the awful details of it. See the horror of it all reflected back at him in Shane’s eyes that always show everything, all the time. But Sandra already knows. Probably knows more about some of it than he does because he hasn’t dared to look.

Ilya stands a while longer, breathing. Wonders if he’s going to regret all of this. Panic and spiral and regret.

He can feel the shape of the book she gave him beneath his hand, nestled amongst his gymwear. He almost reaches to get it out again but no, that can wait until he’s at home.

He checks his phone instead, sees a notification from Jane. Smiles.

Jane: so how is the course?

Lily: The professor says she cannot fight Putin for me. Very sad news.

Jane: 🙄

Jane: You want to call later?

 Lily: yes, soon

 Lily: will you wear your glasses?

 Jane: I might. Text me when you're home.

Ilya pushes off the wall, still smiling down at his phone and sets off down the dimly lit corridor.

One honest conversation this week, maybe another in seven days' time. Perhaps this won’t be so bad.

He stops off at his favourite Russian deli on the way home. It's a while since he's been here, but the old lady behind the counter still smiles at him. Tells him he looks too thin. Handsome but too thin.

Her name is Nadezhda, he remembers. She’s here with her three daughters. One grandkid now too.

He orders a bowl of borscht, giving in to the impulse to sit down at one of the rickety tables, not just get takeout and leave like he planned too. Nadezhda gives him an extra serving of cream for the borscht.

“To keep you warm, Ilyusha. The winter is bad right now. Not like Moscow, no, but still cold.”

Ilyusha.

He did not think she would remember his name.

“Spasibo.” Thank you.

He settles back in his seat. Warm bowl of soup cradled in one hand, phone in the other. He brings up Google one handed and searches up the Russian lyrics to ‘All The Things She Said,’ starts looking for a good translation.

He will go home soon, call Shane. But for now, there is the smell of the borscht. Warm and familiar as the clatter of pots and pans from the kitchen, as the steady murmur of Russian from behind the counter.

An e-mail comes through from Sandra. There's the attachment with the syllabus. All the information she’s put together for her Russia classes. But there's a message too. He glances at it, surprised.

‘Ilya,

Lovely to get to know you a little. Looking forward to next week. Would you mind if my girlfriend comes along too? She always loves trying new foods, learning about other cultures. It’s a linguist thing, you know? I’m sure she’d love to meet you. Maybe you can tell us a bit more about your mystery boyfriend ;) Anyway just let me know,

See you soon,

Sandra.’

He smiles down at his phone.

It’s such a relief to just be Ilya for a change.

Perhaps there can be something soft here. In between the locker room wanting him to bitch and moan about the mandated course, and the Twitter posts screeching that he’s gone either too far or not far enough. Maybe he shouldn’t look for this but he can’t bear to turn it down either. Not right now. Okay, he will tell Sandra to bring her girlfriend. They will have shchi. Maybe even pierogi too.

Perhaps this all won't be so bad. At least for a little while, once a week, it might not be so bad.

Chapter End Notes

Sandra [as soon as she gets the okay from Ilya to bring her girlfriend along next week] :

"So, babe, you are never going to guess what happened in class this week!"

 

--------
If you want to check out any of my other fics, you can find them here

Chapter 2

Chapter Summary

Social Media Chapter - set one week after Brad leaks the fanmail video, outing Shane and Ilya.

Chapter Notes

@Rozanov81:

Okay, has been 3 years now, apology please. I am waiting.

[Image showing a printed essay resting on a dark mahogany desk. Only the title is clearly legible.

It reads ‘Queer Studies 101: Final Assignment – Self Directed Essay. Navigating Identity, the Closet and Forced Media Narratives: A Case Study for Russian Professional Athletes.

(Or, how to avoid having to play ice hockey at Putin’s birthday celebrations in case he locks you up and throws away the key.)’]

@CensFan_98:  

Oh shit, I forgot about that. 

@Charlie_Solz343: 

Oh my God, he actually did the course. 

@HockeyIsLife: 

Shit, shit, shit. We cancelled him for being homophobic. While he was hiding the most high-profile queer relationship in NHL history. Christ.

@Fred_FreddyCruz:

Can’t believe we cancelled Rozanov for using the f-slur about himself when in turns out he’s actually.... Oh shit. Major fucking oops. 

@Sarah21_CensFan: 

Christ, that must have been a mind fuck. And he actually did the course too. 

@Sammy_Smithson44:

Imagine being on that course and there’s this 6 ft. 3 Russian just sat in the back of the classroom. He’s famously an arsehole and the whole internet says he’s homophobic. - 1/2

@Sammy_Smithson44: 

He’s got this thousand-yard Slavic stare. Sat there completely silent. Fucking terrifying. Then years later you find out he was going home to facetime his boyfriend and write essays about the pressures of being queer in the NHL. – 2/2.

@Bleed4Boston: 

I still don’t really believe he did the course. Like seriously, Ilya fucking Rozanov sat down and wrote a bunch of essays about being gay or whatever.

@Sandra_QueerStudies: 

I teach the Boston College Queer Studies courses. Rozanov completed the course. Actually, he didn’t just complete it; he helped me rewrite the syllabus.

@Sandra_QueerStudies: 

Can’t wait to see you next time you play in Boston, Ilya @Rozanov81. My girlfriend has been practising making pierogi for next time you're back. Say hi to Shane from us. 

@Raider4Life_Boston: 

Hang on, what? He rewrote the freaking syllabus

@Val_Smth67: 

OK, I just...What? Excuse me?

@RozRozRoz818: 

This is too many revelations for one week. 

@HollanovTruther81: 

Please pretty please @BostonCollege @Sandra_QueerStudies what did he change? Tell us! We need to know!!

@Rozanov81: 

If you ask nicely maybe @Sandra_QueerStudies will tell you. Then you can just listen to All The Things She Said and if This Is Not Enough then you sign up and do course, like everybody else, yes?

@Chads_Hockey_Hits:

Um, what dude?

@Suzy_Metros41: 

It’s just Rozanov being Rozanov. Shit stirring for the sake of it without answering any actual questions.

@Ana_Roza37: 

OK, Ok, maybe I’m too deep in the sauce here but those are t.A.T.u. lyrics, right?

@HockeyIsLife: 

Oh my God it is.... It’s... Did Rozanov really make them all study t.A.T.u. lyrics on the queer 101 course?

@Rozanov81 retweeting @HockeyIsLife:

❤️

@HollanovStan_47: 

OK, it’s official, this is my new favourite day on the Internet.

@Katya_Vld51: 

This is too good. 

@Ana_Roza37: 

Thank you Ilya! We love you.

@HollanovOriginal:

How being on twitter this week feels:

🎵  But it's driving me mad, going out of my head🎵

🎵  Yes, I've lost my mind 🎵

@HockeyIsForEveryone: 

Ok, Ok, #SorryRozy 

Get it trending. This is not a drill. This man deserves his apology. 

      Retweeted by @ShaneHollander24 

@HockeyIsForEveryone:  

Shane Hollander?? Retweeting?! That man does not use twitter.

@Metros_24_24:  

Opening up his twitter for the first time in years to be a supportive boyfriend. I’m not crying. I’m not. 

@Hollanov8124: 

I can’t actually explain how badly I want to read Rozanov’s essay. Like, at this point, it’s a need. Please, somebody, I have to get my hands on it or I will combust.

@IrinaFoundation: 

For anyone who wishes to read Ilya Rozanov’s essay, every donation of $10 or more made to the Irina Foundation in the next month will gain access to a copy of the essay in full.

@Hollanov8124: 

Thank you, thank you, @IrinaFoundation. You are doing God’s work. 

----

[Video clip of a postgame interview, featuring Shane Hollander, Captain of Montreal Metros:

The video starts part way through the press interview. Shane is stood surrounded by microphones and a dozen cameras. Journalists crowding in a little after the game. He’s still in his game gear, hair sweaty and sticking up at odd angles. 

“Do you have any comments on Rozanov’s tweet addressing his cancelation three years ago?”

Shane sighs. “Okay, I’ve already said this but any questions about the game I’m happy to answer. I’m, um...”

Another journalist leans forward. “You don’t have any comments, Shane?”

“If you have questions about hockey, I have-”

“Do you not think your boyfriend deserves an apology, Shane?” The suited journalist directly in front of Shane jockeys forward, interrupting.

Shane’s face goes blank. He stares straight ahead. One hand reaches up to run through his hair, tugging at the damp strands. Then he lets out a breath, gives a half smile, nods to himself. “Okay, well, I... Yes, of course I have opinions about that. Of course he does. Deserve an apology, I mean. Of course I think he deserves an apology.” He runs a hand through his hair again. “Yeah. That was a rough time, y’know?”

The ring of reporters have fallen totally silent. All eager to hear anything they can. Anything more than scripted comments about the match, when twitter is melting down for the second time in a week. All revolving around Shane and Ilya in a viral swirl of speculation that contains only a few scattered pieces of actual intel. 

“We were barely getting to see each other at that point and the whole Russia thing, it was really stressful. Like, there was no way he could come out and correct anyone then, it was too dangerous. So, yeah, it was all a lot.” Shane trails off, then seems to start back to himself. Considering a moment before his face turns fond, softening around the eyes. “He did really love that course though. He goes for dinner with the professor and her girlfriend practically every time he’s back in Boston.

“So yes, he deserves an apology. Of course he does.” 

Shane pauses again, his eyes darting between a few of the cameras. He shrugs his shoulders a bit and appears to make a decision. Shucking some more of his carefully honed media persona. A grin steals its way onto his features. “And y’know, I think maybe I deserve an apology too. Ilya learned so many new words on that course and he was incredibly annoying about all of them.” 

“There was one time, he video called me and I wasn’t wearing my glasses. I’d left them someplace else in the house I think and I couldn't be bothered to go find them.” Shane shakes his head. “Anyway, he went to get his notes from his course just so he could tell me that I was, what was it, oh yeah, ‘limiting expressions of queer desire’ by not going to get my glasses.

“And every time we’d arrange to call, he would message me right before to say, ‘I cannot call now Shane. I have too much queer homework. I must study how to be gay. Is very important. You would not understand.’ Then he’d call like five minutes later anyway just to be like ‘Hollander, you really think I would do this? Homework? Me?’ Every single time. And any time he was actually doing his coursework he would try to say he was out at the club.” 

Shane rolls his eyes, a light smile on his face. “Idiot.” 

“But he does really deserve that apology. Seeing all that anger going in the wrong direction and all the support from homophobes who would hate him if they actually knew the truth. It was tough, y’know.”

“Getting cancelled when you’re in the closet is...it’s a lot.” ]

@Rozanov81: 

Shane? What happened to boring media persona?  You know Yuna will blame me for this. She will murder me in my sleep. I am too talented to die this young.

@ShaneHollander24: 

That’s not going to happen. 

Probably.

@ShaneHollander24: 

What would you like it to say on your tombstone, just in case?

@Rozanov81: 

Here lies Ilya Rozanov. He really fucking loved Shane Hollander and his stupid glasses.

        Liked by @ShaneHollander24

@YunaHollander_24: 

I would never murder my favourite son. There just won’t be any chicken parmesan next time you come over for dinner. 

@Rozanov81 replying to @YunaHollander_24: 

This is worse.

@MontrealMMMetros_24: 

Favourite son! Favourite son?!?

@Sacha_Jones43: 

Rozanov goes for dinner at the Hollander’s house. Excuse me? What?

@Greg_MetroFan111: 

Ilya Rozanov. Ilya fucking Rozanov. Part of the Hollander family. Going over for family dinner. Having a favourite dish, apparently. How did Mama Yuna ever allow this to happen?

@YunaHollander_24 replying to @Greg_MetroFan111:

Well, the first time Shane brought him over he really was very polite. He was nothing like his media persona. That said, he did wear a Boston Raiders shirt.

@Marleau_BostonRaiders: 

Going to meet Hollander’s mom in a Boston Raiders top. Cap, you legend.

@Rozanov81: 

I am always very polite to Yuna. She knows I reserve all my respect for anybody who knows more about hockey than Shane.

@ShaneHollander24: 

Oh, come on Ilya.

@Rozanov81: 

No, it’s true. Last week you said Toronto won the cup in ‘97 but was ‘99. Two whole years Shane. Is very big mistake. Your Mama would not have said this.

@ShaneHollander24: 

You have been trying to catch me in a mistake for how many years now? And you’ve caught one. Only one. Was it really worth learning decades of old hockey stats just for this?

@Rozanov81: 

Yes ❤️ You learn Russian for me.  I learn old hockey stats so I can tell you when you are wrong. Is love languages.

@Maria_HockeyWatch retweeting @Rozanov81: 

OK I’ve been laughing for 10 minutes at Roz’s batshit definition of love languages.

@Marleau_BostonRaiders: 

The real story here is that Rozy has always known all the stats. He just won’t admit it unless you get him really wasted.

@Rozanov81: 

Slander Marly. No loyalty.

@Marleau_BostonRaiders: 

Sitting pretty in Canada while you type that out, are you Rozy?

@Rozanov81: 

Ah, no, I moved for love. You are doing this for spite. 

@BoodsBBQ: 

Oh, we have to try this if we win the cup this year. @HarrisDrover @TroyBarret @WyattHayes

@Marleau_BostonRaiders: 

The tricky part is the amount of alcohol it takes for him to admit to this, is very close to the amount of alcohol it takes for Roz to forget how to speak English altogether. It’s a delicate balance. 

@BostonCarmichael: 

Yeah, we want video evidence if you pull this off. We were always too shit faced to film it but the world needs to see this. @OttawaCentaurs

@Rozanov81:

Everyone is spilling all my secrets this week, eh? Being outed was not enough. Now you try to tell internet I am a fucking nerd. No fucking loyalty.

@HarrisDrover replying to @Rozanov81: 

Hate to break it to you Roz, but you're the one who posted a photo of the whole ass academic essay you wrote for your queer studies course. 

(I read it by the way, it’s really fucking good. Been thinking about it all day.)

----

[Video clip of Shane in another post game press conference. He is sat in his post game suit at the table in the front of the media room, facing a chorus of reporters all trying to call out at once. A camera flashes twice and Shane flinches. He turns toward the media rep, who steps forward and manages to quiet the room to a more reasonable volume. It doesn’t last long. 

“Mr Hollander, how are you feeling about the game on Thursday? Ready to face the Centaur’s Captain?”

“How does it feel, facing off against your boyfriend?”

“Do you think your relationship will change the dynamic of the game?”

Shane blinks again as a camera flashes too close. “I, what, no? Why would it? The dynamic is the same. It’s about hockey, playing good hockey...”

“Hockey questions only, please,” the Media Rep calls. 

“How long have the two of you been an item?”

“Do you discuss your games with each other off the ice? Is that a conflict of interest?”

“How do you stay focused given the distraction of having your partner present in the game?”

“Do you think you can play against him without personal bias getting in the way? How do you keep up the competitive spirit if, as you say, you are in love?”

“Do you think your team can take the win? Are you concerned about facing Ilya Rozanov on the ice?”

Shane glares, cheeks flushed, then shakes his head and straightens, eyes hard.

He looks around, eyes moving between a few of the cameras trained on him before focusing on one dead ahead. He nods his head once, addresses the camera. “Ilya, I know you’re watching this. Can’t wait to see you Thursday, we're going to fucking destroy you.”

Then Shane looks straight down the barrel of the camera and winks.]

----

@YunaHollander_24: 

We’re coming to watch your game on Thursday sweetie @Rozanov81. We will be there to give you a consolation hug after Shane shows you how real hockey is played.

@Rozanov81: 

Ah, no. Thank you Yuna, but we will not be losing.

@Rozanov81:

[GIF of Ilya Rozanov in his Boston uniform, captain’s C on his chest, midway through his captains speech in the locker room. Face red and animated as he screams to the room. “Montreal goes home crying.” Ilya drags his fingers down his cheeks, miming fake tears, "please, please.”]

Number one rule of hockey is Montreal goes home crying. Even when their captain is coming back to my place afterwards. 😉

Chapter End Notes

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