Rating:

Explicit

Archive Warning:

No Archive Warnings Apply

Category:

M/M

Fandoms:

Heated Rivalry (TV), Game Changers Series - Rachel Reid

Relationships:

Shane Hollander/Ilya Rozanov, Shane Hollander & Ilya Rozanov

Characters:

Shane Hollander, Ilya Rozanov, Troy Barrett, Svetlana Vetrova, Harris Drover, Rose Landry, Hayden Pike

Additional Tags:

Alternate Universe - College/University, Jealous Ilya Rozanov, Jealous Shane Hollander, Slow Burn, POV Alternating, Idiots in Love, Complete, Hockey, But like barely any hockey, Forced Proximity, Alternate Universe, Ilya Rozanov is Obsessed With Shane Hollander, Ilya Rozanov Loves Shane Hollander, Shane Hollander Loves Ilya Rozanov, Soft Ilya Rozanov, Light Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending

Language:

English

Stats:

Published: 2026-02-15 Words: 32,983 Chapters: 7/7

Tutoring Sessions

Summary

Since the beginning of Freshman year, Shane hasn't been able to shake an embarrassing crush on Ilya.

When Ilya is assigned to tutor Shane in Russian, all Ilya can think about are his cute freckles and some very annoying fantasies.

***

College au where Ilya and Shane are angstily crushing on each other over tutoring sessions.

Chapter 1: The Boy With The Cigarette

Chapter Summary

Ilya had tried to demonstrate the proper pronunciation for Shane, but the sound Shane was making was not even close. "It is not in the front of your mouth " Ilya said, wracking his head to try to think of a better way to show Shane. He reached and placed his hand to the side of Shane's throat. "It is back here, try again."

He worked hard to ignore how good Shane's skin felt, how pink his cheeks were right now, freckles contrasting beautifully. Shane cleared his throat, and then tried again. Ilya gently tapped the spot on his throat where he needed the sound to come from, and Shane, finally, hoarsely, got it. Ilya's hand lingered for a moment. Thinking about how he'd love to cover Shane's whole throat with his hand, gently hold him there as he pushed him against the bookshelf behind them, left hand wandering down to his...

Chapter Notes

The first weeks of college were a blur. Shane's roommate Ryan seemed fine, if extremely quiet. His teammates were fun, his classes hard. He was starting to figure out the best routes through campus, not getting lost so much anymore. After practice one day, as he towelled off from the shower, his teammate Hayden cornered him.

"Please come out with us tonight. We don't have a game this weekend, and there are going to be some really hot girls at this party, I promise "

Shane's stomach clenched. He felt uncomfortable and out of place at parties, and had been avoiding them as much as he could. And he felt especially awkward with girls.

Shane cleared his throat "I don't know, Hayd..."

"Please, I need a wingman. And you know JJ is going to be a terrible wingman, I need you, dude."

Shane laughed "Ok, ok. I'll come."

Hayden whooped, clapped him on the back, and Shane tried to quiet his mounting anxiety.

The party was at a house off campus. Shane was relieved to find that he couldn’t even try to help Hayden talk to girls, the music was too loud to hear anything. He stood there while Hayden excitedly yelled in a girl's ear, and then watched as the two took to the dance floor. Shane's eyes scanned the room and he caught the gaze of a girl with long auburn hair who smiled and waved. Terrified, Shane ducked out of the room as fast as he could, spinning into a very firm chest. He glanced up to see amused hazel eyes, a curly golden thatch of hair.

"Sorry!" Shane blurted

"Is Ok" the man purred in an accent that Shane couldn't immediately place.

The stranger looked Shane up and down and then jerked his head "Do you want a cigarette?"

He walked towards the door without Shane even saying anything, but Shane followed, swallowing a sense of nervousness that he told himself was his usual party anxiety. Outside, it was quieter. Shane stuck out his hand "Shane Hollander."

The blond man had already stuck a cigarette in his mouth, and he cracked a wry half-smile, staring at Shane's outstretched hand. Shane was suddenly self-conscious. College kids didn't shake hands, this was far too formal. Just as he was about to yank it away, the stranger grasped his hand "Ilya Rozanov."

They shook hands quickly and then Shane hid his hand in his jacket pocket. Ilya tilted the pack of cigarettes towards him and Shane shook his head. "Uh, no thanks. I'm on the hockey team, I can't smoke."

Ilya's eyebrow raised, as if to ask why Shane had followed him out for a smoke break. But instead, he said "Hockey, hm?"

"Yeah. You follow hockey at all?"

Ilya shrugged "Sure. I am Russian, most Russians love hockey."

Shane nodded lamely, unsure what to say next, but there was a small thrill running up his spine.

"That's cool. Yeah, I mean my whole life I've just lived and breathed hockey, really."

Ilya grinned at him and waved his cigarette smoke away from Shane "Мистер Хоккей" he nodded at Shane before translating "Mr. Hockey."

Shane laughed, and then immediately felt stupid for laughing at something extremely simple, but Ilya's smile was infectious and it broadened when Shane laughed at his nickname.

"Did you move here? From Russia, I mean."

Ilya nodded. "Yes, this is my first time in US."

Shane felt silly, suddenly, for having such a hard time adjusting to school. He wasn't close to home, it took two planes and over five hours to fly from Minnesota to Ottawa. But still, he spoke the language, he would be going home when the school took a break for American Thanksgiving.

"That's really impressive. It must be hard to be somewhere new, so different."

Something crossed Ilya's face. Surprise, maybe, but it was also very soft, and tender. He shrugged, "Is hard. That is true. But I am Ok" His eyes raked over Shane inquisitively and Shane had to resist squirming under the scrutiny. "Where are you from?"

"Ottawa" Shane said. "Canada. So, not as far, or as different as Russia." Ilya smiled gently, and Shane felt safe admitting something that he had been embarrassed to tell anybody. "I'm pretty homesick. I feel like a baby for saying this, but I really miss my parents."

"You are not a baby." Ilya smiled, "I think this is sweet."

Shane settled against the wall of the house, grinning shyly at the compliment. His mind spun, trying to think of how to keep the conversation going with Ilya.

"So...you know I like hockey. What do you like to do?" Shane asked, desperately searching for anything to say.

Ilya exhaled a wisp of smoke and shrugged."Have sex." Ilya said casually, keeping his gaze on Shane. Shane's face felt like it was on fire. The thoughts he had been circling for years, that were becoming impossible to ignore, were screaming at him right now.

He'd been noticing men lately, noticing how attractive they were. And now here, in front of him, was an incredibly sexy man with sharp hazel eyes that were staring him down. Shane was possessed with a wild urge to push Ilya up against the wall, to kiss him, despite the fact that he'd taste of cigarettes. He wanted to take fistfuls of Ilya's curls in his hands, hear Ilya gasp as he ground against him. Instead, his teammate JJ pushed through the door, shattering Shane's daydream.

"SHANE, buddy, there you are" he wrapped his arm around Shane, and Shane dragged his eyes away from Ilya.

"Come on, there's someone inside who wants to meet you."

JJ dragged him away unceremoniously, Shane only staring back for a moment as Ilya nodded at him calmly.

Inside, JJ steered him to the girl who had waved at him earlier. She was very pretty. "Shane, this is Rose." This time, Shane thought better than to offer a handshake.

***

The following weeks passed in a blur. Things should have been great. Rose was great, Shane had so much fun with her. She was a theater major, and intent on showing Shane classic movies when she found out he had really only ever played hockey in his spare time. When she would pause a movie to point out an acting choice she loved, gesturing wildly, Shane could almost feel what he thought he should feel for her.

His teammates all told him how jealous they were, how hot she was. Shane knew, deep down, this wasn't working. Their attempts at sex were often humiliating, but she was patient and understanding. So he was stunned when one night, curled up in Rose's room studying, she turned to him and said "I don't think I'm doing it for you, am I?"

Shane must have looked as stricken as he felt.

"Hey, hey, it's ok." Rose grabbed his arm. "It really is. I just, I've been going to theater camps for years. I just have a feeling that maybe you'd rather be...kissing a boy?"

Shane shuddered and nodded. Rose squeezed his arm "it's OK. I won't tell anyone."

Shane felt a wave of relief, even as he sunk his head in hands. " I'm sorry, you're so great. And I just thought if I could ever be with a girl, it would be you."

Rose shook her head, grinning. "I get it, I'm pretty great, right?"

Shane laughed "You are! God I must be super, super gay, huh?"

He couldn't believe how much it meant to say those words out loud, to say them so carefreely, but Rose made him feel safe.

"It’s totally OK if you don't know, but do you ever think about coming out?" Rose asked gently.

Shane shook his head, biting his lip. "Hockey isn't exactly...inclusive. You know?"

Rose sighed "Yeah, that makes sense." She bit her lip. "I bet Hayden would be cool about it..." she trailed off as she saw the gears turning in Shane's head, his thoughts starting to spin out. "But you don't need to, if you aren't ready. I totally get it. And your secret is safe with me."

***

Two Months Later

It was the end of the first semester. Finals were wrapping up, and people were starting to blow off steam. Rose begged Shane to come to her dorm, promising she would proofread his French final. Shane showed up to a raucous group partying in her common room. He shot daggers at Rose as she smiled beatifically, perched by the windows.

"Too late, you're already here!" She snatched his laptop and shoved a beer in his hand.
"I wasn't lying, I'll sit and read this now. Just please stay, I haven't gotten to see you all week, and in a few days we'll start break and I won't see you for almost a month" she pouted.

Shane couldn't help smiling, she was too much of a force of nature to deny. He sat with her while she patiently paged through his essay, highlighting and correcting as needed. Shane glanced around the crowded room, taking in the chaos, and then he choked on his beer when his gaze landed on Ilya. He had thought about him plenty since that early September evening. He had even seen him, from afar. Across the quad, one morning, when he was running to class. He thought he saw him at one of his games, once, a few rows behind Rose. This was the closest he had been since that night Shane had stupidly shaken his hand.

It was as if Ilya felt him staring, because he looked up from his phone and directly at Shane. Shane felt his mouth drop open slightly, raised his hand in a half hearted wave. Ilya shot him a cocky smile, and stood. Oh God, he was walking over.

Shane's breathing must have picked up, because Rose glanced up "Shane, are you ok? If you really need to leave, it'll be alri-"
"Hello, Мистер Хоккей" Ilya drawled. His eyes fell on Rose, hunched behind Shane's laptop, and the warmth leeched from his eyes.

"Oh. Hello, Rose"

"Hi Ilya" Rose rolled her eyes. "My roommate isn't here, sorry."

"Not looking for her. New friend Harris invited me tonight."

Rose raised an eyebrow "Good to know Harris has bad taste in friends."

Shane felt like he was watching a ping pong match, Ilya and Rose cooly hurling jabs at each other without saying much of anything. He must have been frowning, because Rose snapped "Ok, go away now. I'm busy proofreading Shane's French essay."

"Ah. Hollander is cheating?"

Shane startled "No! I wrote the whole thing, Rose is just fluent and I thought she could help me make sure it's perfe-" he stopped, noticing that Ilya's smirk implied he didn't seem to actually think he was cheating.

"Ignore him, Shane. He's just trying to wind you up." Rose sighed.

"Ah, are you his mother?" Ilya pointed

Rose smiled with a syrupy sweetness and clapped a hand on Shane's shoulder "No, I'm his lover."

Shane started coughing on his beer, trying to avoid Ilya's gaze, which had turned icy.

"I see. Congratulations Mrs Hockey." Ilya pushed away from the table, gave Shane one last nod, and turned around.

"Rose, you don't have to keep telling people that. And please never use that word again, it's gross" Shane hissed.

"I know, he just pisses me off. He was banging my roommate last month. Kept hanging around in our room, even though he didn't seem to care about her AT ALL. I told her for weeks to move on."

Shane tried to not think about that. Last month was right around when he had come out to Rose. He had been so relieved, no more half-hearted attempts to hook up. No awkward moments of Rose pointedly sighing until her roommate got the hint to leave the room. They spent more time hanging out at the library now, or in the dining hall, laughing over dinner with their friends.

The thought struck him, that if the timing had been just a few weeks off, he and Rose might have accidentally walked in on Ilya, naked, flushed, glistening with sweat…

"All done! You can turn it in and be fun now." Rose snapped him out of his reverie, and Shane shoved the thought to the back of his mind.

***

Spring Semester

Shane was running late to meet Rose. She was eager for him to meet Miles, her friend visiting from home. She had dropped about a dozen times that Miles was also gay. That it didn't mean they automatically had to hook up or anything. But if Shane was interested in finally trying to hook up with a guy, there would in fact be a guy here this weekend that he could probably discreetly do that with.

He picked up his pace crossing the quad when he noticed Ilya, stretched in the grass. Or rather, stretched in the grass with his head in the lap of a beautiful woman. The sun shone on his golden curls, Shane could hear his deep laugh from here. He could also hear Ilya speaking fast, the girl matching him in a clipped language that must be Russian. Shane was so busy drinking in the sight of him, beautiful, careless, that he didn't think to look away when Ilya turned his head and saw Shane. Ilya's smile stretched wider and he wiggled his fingertips in a lazy wave.

Shane waved back, and really he should have walked over to say hi. But he swallowed that thought, squared his shoulders, and marched to Rose's dorm. Tonight he would finally kiss a guy, and he could move on from stupid fantasies about an obviously straight Greek God who sprawled out in the sun like he was sent there to torture Shane.

Later that night, as Shane laughed with Miles and Rose, enjoying the feeling of Miles' hand on his knee, he was struck with a stupid thought. Maybe he should take Russian next year.

***

Fall, Sophomore Year

Ilya's advisor scanned the courses he had selected for the semester.

"These will all be helpful for your major, Mr Rozanov" she nodded encouragingly. Ilya was confused, he could tell there was a "but" coming.

Ms Campbell lowered her glasses "Ilya," there it was. "I don't think you are very involved in student life, right?"

Ilya snorted. He wasn't sure what she meant. He had friends, he had slept with countless classmates at this point, that seemed pretty involved.

"I mean, other psychology majors are involved in clubs, activities. They have jobs on campus. I think some structure could be good for you."

Ilya tried to not roll his eyes. He really respected his advisor. She had helped guide him when he admitted he was most interested in sports psychology. Last year she had set him up for coffee with an alumni in the field. Over pastries and lattes, Ilya had been able to quiz a woman who worked as a psychologist for the Portland Trailblazers. It assuaged his fears that this was an unrealistic ambition.

Ms. Campbell's belief in him made him fix a smile on face and ask "What would you suggest?"

And that was how Ilya found himself in the library on the first night back, tapping his foot impatiently, waiting on some poor soul who needed a Russian tutor.

His pupil had been instructed to meet him at the desks by the east windows in the basement, and Ilya would give it five more minutes before he bailed. It was quiet down here. Just heavy reference materials, worn carpet, and the smell of old paper. Ilya stared out the window, and suddenly saw Shane Hollander's face come into view in the reflection behind him. Ilya saw his own grin break across his face, embarrassingly thrilled, and he was able to rein it in by the time he turned to Shane. Or maybe he didn't do a good enough job, because Shane looked flustered.

But, really, Shane often looked flustered. His hockey schedule seemed to keep him busy, his friends too. Ilya had found him so intriguing at that party last September, had wished he could spend more time talking to the earnest boy with cute freckles.

Ilya had tried, pitifully, to put himself in proximity to Shane freshman year. He had slept with a girl, Jane, and the next morning been awoken by a haughty girl with auburn hair who was loudly banging on the door, yelling for her roommate to let her in. Ilya immediately recognized Rose, she had been inseparable with Shane by that point. So he did something callous and cruel. He kept seeing Jane. He really didn't want Jane to think it was anything serious, it was just sex. Sex that felt a little thrilling because he convinced himself that maybe Shane and Rose would accidentally walk in one day. That Shane's mouth would drop open, eyes full of lust, as he saw Ilya pounding into someone else...it was stupid. Weeks passed, and Shane never showed. In a way, Ilya worried that he had only driven Rose and Shane closer, that in monopolizing her room, he had sent Rose to Shane's bed. And once those thoughts took hold, he had to end it with Jane.

A year's worth of spotting Hollander around campus, stolen glances, and all too brief memories flipped through his mind quickly before he snapped back to Shane, flushed and in front of him, his perfect freckles darker from the summer.

"Hi Ilya. I'm so sorry I'm running behind. I got to campus late today, and I was trying to unpack my dorm as much as I could. It won't happen again."

Ilya squinted at Shane, trying to figure out why he would apologize, when the logic thunked into place. "You are my student." He said flatly, sure that it couldn't be that simple

"I think so. You're the Russian tutor, right? I'm taking Russian this semester and if French last year was any indication, I need all the help I can get." Shane sat across from Ilya, busily yanking out his laptop.

Ilya felt like groaning and sinking his head onto the desk. Of course Shane Hollander was taking Russian. If last year had been an exercise in light torture- embarrassingly crushing from afar on a boy who seemed straight, oblivious, and uninterested, of course this year would be worse. Maybe the exposure would be helpful, he mused. They had studied exposure therapy for phobias last year.

"So, obviously I don't have anything to study yet. But I figure we can compare schedules, plan what days are best?" Shane looked over his laptop and Ilya realized with a lurch in his chest that he had put on glasses.

"You wear glasses?" He murmured.

Shane's cheeks flushed "Yeah, sometimes. They help for reading." He fiddled with them as if he was thinking of them off.

Ilya caught his hand without thinking, tried to ignore how it felt like there was a static shock between them. "Leave them on please."

Shane nodded, lips parted, and Ilya desperately wanted to close the space between them, to slip his tongue into Shane's mouth.

Instead, Shane flipped his laptop around, moment broken."Ok, so the blue is my class schedule. The green are my hockey practices, purple are games."

Ilya took it in, amused and unsurprised that a boy this tightly wound had a color coded calendar. "And what is red?"

"Movie nights with Rose. She's so busy and I'm so busy, and this way she can plan out what we're watching this semester, she said she wants to focus on musicals." Shane's face lit up as he babbled about perfect Rose Landry, and Ilya felt his chest constrict.

***

Shane and Ilya had picked out a schedule pretty quickly, honestly Ilya had just stabbed his finger at two days on the calendar and then offered one word answers as Shane tried to draw out their time together. But Shane shouldn't be greedy, he had a whole semester of study sessions with Ilya to look forward to. They left the library together, his heart soaring. He had never dreamed of this outcome when he impulsively signed up for Russian class.

"I'm this way" he told Ilya pointing down the sidewalk, and Ilya nodded.

"Me too."

They walked in silence, Shane wracking his brain for anything to talk about.

"Uh, I don't think I know. What's your major?" As the words came out, he cringed. It felt horribly basic and dull.

Ilya shrugged, as if his major was chosen on a whim.

"Psychology."

He stole a glance at Shane and offered the longest sentence he had said since they talked schedules.

"I want to be a sports psychologist."

Shane gulped. Maybe that's why Ilya seemed to throw him off kilter, as if he could diagnose his neuroses with a glance. "Oh. That's really cool. Obviously, I know how helpful that career can be."

Ilya nodded softly, opened his mouth, then shut it again. He pulled out a cigarette and said "And you?"

"I'm a lit major. I like to read, but I wouldn't make time for it around hockey, if I wasn't required to for classes" Shane admitted, a little embarrassed.

"Oh, Mr Hockey can read?" Ilya mocked, sounding impressed.

"Shut up." Shane smiled "We aren't all stupid."

Ilya took a long drag and looked at Shane, smiling in that gorgeous way that made his heart flip.

Ilya nodded "Ok, this is me." Shane stuttered to a stop, had been so distracted he hadn't noticed where they had been walking. He looked up and a sense of dread built in his stomach.

"Oh. Me too" he hoped he sounded casual.

Ilya stubbed out his cigarette and wrinkled his nose as if he had smelled something horrible. Before Shane could be offended by his expression, he shrugged "Ok." They walked inside, started walking up the stairs, and to Shane's horror, stopped on the second floor. "Alright. Bye-bye." Ilya waved.

"Yeah. This is my floor." Shane said weakly, and for a second time he saw something ugly on Ilya's face. Ilya nodded and turned around, striding down the hall, Shane noticed he was only two doors from him and Hayden. Shane fumbled with his keys, wondering where they had gone wrong. Ilya had seemed happy to see him in the library at first and then cold, bored. Then he had thawed a little again on the walk. And now, chilly. Shane slipped his key in the lock and looked up to see Ilya at his door, staring at Shane with something in his expression that Shane couldn't place. "Goodnight Shane" he called, seemingly back to his friendly self. "Goodnight Ilya" Shane croaked, before bolting into his room.

***

Ilya laid on his bed, frowning at the ceiling. He had woken up when his roommate Harris had left for class. Ilya had plenty of time to sleep in that morning before his first lecture, but his mind was racing too much to go back to bed. He hadn't slept well the night before, either. Painfully aware that Shane was now two doors away from him. He picked his feelings apart in his mind, telling himself that examining them clinically could help still his nerves.

Ilya noticed many pretty people in school. He had no shortage of pretty girls to hook up with. He wasn't really ready to come out here, but he admired plenty of the hot men at school from a distance. Shane was especially pretty, and Ilya wondered if that was why he felt fixated on this boy he only spoke to a couple times. Maybe it was that Shane was the first person who had been friendly to him in those early weeks. Ilya had felt out of his depth when he arrived at school, aloofness masking his insecurity about speaking English all day, every day. Shane had been sweet, earnest. Shaken his hand like an old man.

Ilya groaned. Was that all it took? A dorky handshake, and Ilya couldn't get this boy with adorable freckles out of his head?

Maybe it was that Shane had seemed off limits.That first night, Ilya had thought that from the way Shane flushed, looking at him with soft, warm eyes, that he might be interested in Ilya. But before Ilya knew it, Shane was attached at the hip to Rose Landry. Ilya would see them crossing campus holding hands and laughing. He saw her at Shane's games, cheering and blowing kisses. And the next time he had tried to speak to Shane, Rose had been there glaring at him. Calling Shane her lover.

Ilya felt his jaw clench. That must be it. He lusted after Shane because he couldn't have him. Shane was spoken for, and worse than that, almost certainly straight. Shane was probably just shy, and that's why his cheeks flushed a delicious shade of peach on the rare moments he and Ilya locked eyes with each other.

As he dragged himself out of his bed, Ilya told himself he needed to get laid that night.

***

Shane came home late, he had spent the evening catching up with Rose as she decorated her dorm, babbling about her summer and how excited she was that she didn't have a roommate that year.

"Miles says hi" she had told Shane, and Shane grinned at her. Miles was cute, and he had been a patient and fun person to guide Shane through his first awkward hookups with a guy. He and Shane didn't have a ton in common aside from a mutual physical attraction, and Shane was grateful that he didn't go to their school. That they didn't have to acknowledge that they weren't interested in dating, and that Shane didn't have to figure out how to be a boyfriend while staying closeted.

He rolled those thoughts through his head as he stepped into his room. Hayden was on his own bed, their teammate Troy was on Shane's bed, both boys scrolling their phones.

"Hey" Shane hung his backpack on the hook next to the door.

"What's up? How's Rose?" Hayden wiggled his eyebrows.

"She's good. You know it's not like that, don't give me that look."

Troy smiled his sweet, gentle grin at Shane, eyes flashing with understanding. Hayden was Shane's best friend, but Hayden liked to tease Shane. Troy was quieter, a more grounding presence. Shane flopped next to him, and they all sat in comfortable silence, scrolling.

Shane heard a girl laughing in the hallway, feet shuffling past their door. This dorm was older than the one he had last year, and Shane noticed that sound carried easily in the halls. A door down the hall slammed. Shane had just started watching a video of a puppy and a kitten when he heard a pornographic moan.

His head shot up. Shane locked eyes first with Troy, and then they both accusingly looked over at Hayden, who threw his hands up "Don't look at me!"

They heard the noise again and Hayden clapped his hand over his mouth in horror. "Oh my god. These walls are really thin."

Shane groaned, yanking the strings of his hoodie, cocooning himself in it. Great. He had a really noisy floor mate who liked loud hook ups on a school night.

Hayden moved to their speaker, frantically pulling up Spotify to drown out the noise, but not before Shane heard something that made his blood run cold.

"Oh my god Ilya, yes, just like that."

Hayden rolled his eyes and Troy's shoulders started shaking with silent laughter.

"Oh come on, that asshole can't be THAT good" Hayden huffed and put on a song, dialing the volume up. Shane stared miserably at the floor, trying to ignore the unmistakable sounds of a headboard banging against the wall. He realized with a gut wrenching twist, that as much as he didn't want to hear this, he was straining his ears to catch a moan, a sigh, maybe Russian curse words. Anything from Ilya.

But it was no use now that Hayden had the speaker cranked as high as it could go. The boys sat there, loud music filling the air until Hayden seemed to think it was safe to silence it. Troy left a little while later, and Shane crawled under the covers, trying to ignore the soft giggles and low, accented voice he could hear rumbling through the walls.

***

Ilya showed up for their first real tutoring session late. He had spent too long fussing in the mirror, trying on different outfits until he saw Harris' confused stare over his shoulder. He’d fled before he had to answer any awkward questions about why he was so concerned with his wardrobe for a tutoring session at the library.

Shane's head was buried in a textbook, his adorable glasses perched on his nose. Ilya sucked in a steadying breath and dropped his bag on the ground, startling Shane.

"Hey." Shane looked tired, and maybe a little sad? Ilya wanted to ask what was wrong, but he bit back the thought.

"How is Russian?" Ilya jerked his head at Shane, taking his seat across from him.

"Honestly, terrible. We're working on the alphabet, and today we spent a long time on vowel pronunciation. I didn't realize how differently you have to hold your tongue, and I don't think I'm doing it right at all"

Ilya was mortified to find that the mere mention of Shane's tongue made his cock twitch, and he abruptly crossed his legs.

"Yes. Is hard to change for English, I spend years practicing."

Shane looked relieved. "Well, I never would have guessed. You make it seem like it's easy."

Ilya felt a heat in his stomach. He had worked so hard to learn English, to tame his accent. It was nice, hearing that someone thought it had paid off.

"Why do you learn Russian?" Ilya wondered. Shane's cheeks flushed. "You study French last year, yes?"

Shane nodded, both of them likely recalling Rose, dutifully proofreading her boyfriend's homework, like the perfect girlfriend she was.
"I wasn't very good at French. And I thought...I'd like to play in the NHL. I want to enter the draft next year. And there are so many Russian players...it would be nice to be able to talk to them a bit."

Ilya felt a surge of affection. He had played other European countries when he played junior hockey, and nobody had ever bothered to speak to him in Russian, not even "hello" or "good game". He honestly hadn't thought until now that it would have been nice.

"Hm. Of course. мистер хоккей right?" Shane rolled his eyes, but he was smiling. Ilya leaned forward, "How bad is your French?"

Shane mumbled something that Ilya couldn't understand, and then Shane translated "very bad."

Ilya chuckled, "Russian is not easier." Shane looked so grim that he regretted his honesty for a moment. "Well, which first? Alphabet or vowels?"

Shane stared at his textbook, weighing his choice and then squared his shoulders "might as well start with vowels."

***

So they spent the hour softly practicing the thing that Shane said was the hardest. Ilya couldn't help but feel a silly sense of admiration. Shane was clearly embarrassed, he was not lying about being bad at this, but he was brave. He was willing to be bad so he could work and be better.

Ilya gently stressed the vowels, gesturing with his hands where the sound was coming from in his mouth, and Shane tried his best to imitate. Towards the end of the hour, they were stuck on the vowel in the word "byt."

Ilya had tried to demonstrate for Shane, but the sound Shane was making was not even close. "It is not in the front of your mouth" Ilya said, wracking his head to try to think of a better way to show Shane. He reached and placed his hand to the side of Shane's throat "it is back here, try again."

He worked hard to ignore how good Shane's skin felt, how pink his cheeks were right now, freckles contrasting beautifully. Shane cleared his throat, and then tried again. Ilya gently tapped the spot on his throat where he needed the sound to come from, and Shane, finally, hoarsely, got it. Ilya's hand lingered for a moment. Thinking about how he'd love to cover Shane's whole throat with his hand, gently hold him there as he pushed him against the bookshelf behind them, left hand wandering down to his…

"Ok, thanks" Shane squeaked, and Ilya jerked his hand away.

"Sorry" Ilya waved his hand, ashamed, as if Shane could tell what he had been thinking.
"No, no. It's ok, that part helped. I'll definitely be practicing." Shane snapped his textbook shut. "Are you headed back to the dorm?"

Ilya had been thinking of going to Svetlana's after tutoring. He thought maybe it would be good to distract himself from Shane. But he felt himself nodding, heart skipping at the shy smile on Shane's face.

***

They walked to the dorm, Shane's mind racing. The last time he had touched Ilya had been that first night when Shane went in for a stupid handshake. This had caught him off guard, the way that Ilya placed his hand gently on his neck, staring studiously at the spot where Shane should have been speaking from, allowing Shane to take him in. Sharp hazel eyes, Brows knitted in concentration. Shane realized they were halfway to the dorm and neither had said a word. Ilya was furiously working on a cigarette as if it was his job.

"How are your classes going?" God, Shane couldn't think of an interesting conversation opener to save his life.

"Ok" Ilya shrugged. "Not bad. Probably good" he grinned. "I do not need tutor."

Shane rolled his eyes, "Yeah, yeah. Well, that's cool. You've always been good at psychology classes?"

Ilya nodded, a cocky grin. "Yes, I moved here for it. So I am very good."

"Мистер Psychology?" Shane offered lamely, and Ilya snorted, surprised at the poorly accented Russian.

"You are bad at language, but good at hockey." Ilya didn't phrase it as a question, but Shane helpfully jumped in, eager to keep the conversation going.

"Yeah, I've been playing my whole life. My parents love hockey, my mom especially. So I was on the ice as soon as I could stand really"

Ilya's expression changed, something soft, and a little sad in his eyes.

"You miss them?" He asked.

"Yeah, I still miss them a lot. I can't just drive a couple hours to see them, the same way Rose can with her family."

Ilya nodded and squinted at the ground as they crunched through fresh fall leaves. Maybe bringing up how far away Shane’s parents were had been insensitive, Ilya's were even further.

Shane opened his mouth to ask about them, but something told him to stop. That Ilya's hunched shoulders were screaming something at him.

"How is Rose?" Ilya asked cooly. God, those two really hated each other.

"She's great. I'm happy to be back at school together, summer was so busy with training for me, and she was in a play. I barely got to talk to her the whole break."

Ilya considered this, chewing his lip. "You did not want to visit your girlfriend all summer?"

Shane felt his forehead furrow. All his friends knew Rose and him split up ages ago. Rose was friends with half of the campus, honestly, he thought everyone knew.

"She's not my girlfriend."

Ilya's eyes jerked up, locked with Shane's for a brief moment, before his expression faded from surprise to casual. "Too bad. For how long?"

Shane laughed, "Oh God. I don't know. We only dated for a couple months Freshman year. September and October I think? We weren't compatible. She's just a great friend. My best friend."

Ilya seemed to be considering the news, Shane squirmed realizing that Ilya thought he and Rose had been dating for over a year. He knew Rose threw around jokes about them being together, and he was often grateful. He could hide behind it, but he hated to think about being dishonest with Ilya, even if he hadn't tried to be.

"Hayden will be sad to hear he is not your best friend" Ilya smirked

"I mean, he is too! I can have more than one best friend. Hayden and I can talk about hockey, Rose gets bored when I do that."

"Hayden talks about being worst player on your team?"

Shane swatted Ilya's shoulder, "Shut up! He's not the worst player. And he's a great guy, I bet you'd like him." Ilya's raised eyebrow prompted Shane to admit, "Ok, I mean you're not his favorite right now either."

"Ah. Why is that? My good looks too much for him?"

Shane felt himself blushing, because yes, Ilya was gorgeous, and he loved that Ilya knew that too.

"Uh, no. I think Hayden is kind of tired of hearing your visitors." Ilya's forehead wrinkled and oh no, Shane was really going to be the one to break this to him?

"The walls in our dorm are really thin, you know that, right?"

Ilya looked confused for a moment, and then clapped a hand over his mouth to muffle the laugh that escaped.

"Oh my god, please. You had to know!" Shane laughed.

"No, sorry. I did not." Ilya dragged his hand down his chin, still grinning. "So Hayden is mad because I am sex god?"

Shane was regretting this conversation more and more, but thankfully, they had just arrived at their front door.

"Well, now you know. Maybe tone it down? Some of us don't want to have to wear earplugs to bed, alright?" Shane held the door open, but Ilya waved him off, still grinning. He pulled out another cigarette, and Shane trudged in, casting one last look behind him, as Ilya lit his cigarette, grin stretched across his face.

Chapter End Notes

In this universe Ilya does not have his super-powered gaydar, mainly because he's too in over his head with Shane.

Played fast and loose with some college structure (there is zero reason for Ilya to meet with his advisor the day people are back at the dorms). Also maybe at most universities Sophomores don't live on campus? I went to a small college where everyone had to live in the dorms until senior year. And they're attending some general made up school in Minnesota because I know Minnesota loves hockey.

Chapter 2: Not For Recreational Use

Ilya picked at his dinner. The dining hall was mediocre, but Harris and Sveltana rarely wanted to cook, and dinner was often the only time they could grab together during the week

Harris was excitedly showing Sveta the video he was editing for the school's YouTube. Harris was a communications major, and he worked on the school's social media. Right now he was working on some video about the football team. He and Sveta were both cooing over which player was the hottest, and Ilya had started to truly tune them out, when a name jerked him back to attention.

"Shane Hollander is the hottest, I think" Sveta declared.

Ilya snapped, “He doesn't play football."

She rolled her eyes and clicked her fingers in his face "Catch up, Ilyusha, we have moved on to the hottest school athlete."

Harris stroked the stubble on his chin, clearly giving it a lot of consideration. "Shane is really gorgeous. We get a lot of thirsty comments whenever we post his game highlights on the school Instagram." Ilya felt himself clenching his fork in his hand, this was so stupid. Of course other people noticed Hollander, who couldn't? "Ilya, I don't know how you focus while tutoring him, I would just be staring at his freckles the whole time" Sveta sighed. "Who cares about freckles?" Ilya spat, which elicited a raised eyebrow from Sveta. Ilya tried his best to compose his expression, all too aware now that she was piercing him with her gaze.

The two had become friends last spring, quickly settling into a comfortable pattern of occasionally hooking up, but mainly hanging out and gossiping in Russian. Sveta, Harris, and Ilya often talked about boys. They were the only people he was out to, and she was staring at him sharply now because it was unlike Ilya to deny that someone was hot. Svetlana knew his taste in men, Ilya had shown her Instagram profiles of the few guys he had trusted with discrete hookups in Moscow. They were strong and muscular like Hollander. None of them were as beautiful as Shane though, none of them had perfect freckles, a shy smile, and brown eyes you could drown in.

Harris was completely oblivious to the pointed glares Ilya and Svetlana were sending each other, and he snapped his fingers. "No, I think Troy Barrett might be hotter. It took me a second to remember his name, he's so quiet. But God, doesn't he have such a cute smile?"

Svetlana eagerly agreed, and Ilya let out a shaky breath, happy that the conversation had turned to an inferior boy on the hockey team.

A few nights later, Shane and Ilya met for their bi-weekly tutoring session. Ilya felt more nervous than ever around Shane now that he knew he had broken up with Rose. It didn't change the fact that Shane was straight, but Ilya could feel like a little less of an asshole, now that he wasn't daydreaming about a man in a relationship.

Shane was studiously working on the alphabet, Ilya helping him with script and quizzing him with flash cards. Ilya was holding up a card when he saw Shane's expression shift from focused confusion to delight.

"Hey Harris!" Ilya's head whipped around and his friend grinned at them, strolling up to the desk.

"Ah, you know each other?" Ilya asked.

"Sure, sometimes I do interviews of the hockey team for the school socials," Harris said, sitting down. Ilya mentally made a note to lurk through the school's Instagram after this. He had never considered that there were videos of Shane flushed from practice, hair sticking to his forehead, brow glistening-

Ilya snapped his attention towards Harris, who was eagerly quizzing Shane about the season so far.

Shane seemed anything but shy, Ilya realized. His eyes were lit up as he babbled about hockey, shared thoughts on his teammates, their chances against their next opponent. Ilya regretted how rarely he asked Shane about hockey. He just hadn't wanted to open that conversation. For two reasons, really. And one of those came crashing into reality when Harris tapped his knuckles on the table.

"Awesome. I'm looking forward to the next game!"

"Oh cool, I wasn't sure if you came to many of them" Shane nodded happily. Harris glanced at Ilya, surprise all too apparent on his face. Ilya winced, trying telepathically to tell Harris to not embarrass him, but Harris was too honest and pure to catch onto the fact that Ilya wanted him to lie to Shane.

"Well yeah, Ilya never misses a game. And I love hockey too, so does Svetlana. So we almost always go with him."

Shane looked stunned. He stared accusingly at Ilya, but didn't say anything.

"Anyway, I'm looking forward to it! It seems like you guys are off to a good start this season. What are you two working on?" Harris' eyes fell on the flashcards and textbooks and to Ilya's relief, Shane moved on from hockey, happily showing Harris how hard it was to learn Russian.

After Harris excused himself, Ilya checked the time, desperately hoping their hour was up, but they still had twenty minutes. He couldn't just bail, so he gritted his teeth and prepared for the question Shane would inevitably ask.

"Why didn't you tell me you like hockey that much?" Shane asked, voice lowered almost to a whisper.

Ilya grimaced "I am Russian. We like hockey." Which was not untrue.

Shane chewed his lip, nodding. As much as Ilya wanted to let that be the end of the conversation, he felt the words tumbling out of his mouth.

"I played. When I was young."

Shane's eyes widened. "Were you good?" He immediately grinned, as if he already knew the answer.

Ilya nodded, "Yes. Very good."

Shane's un-asked question hung in the air, and Ilya decided to head it off.

"Some things happened with my family. I did not want to keep playing. So I stopped."

"I'm sorry" Shane's eyes looked glassy, as if he was...about to cry? Ilya's throat felt tight, he had not even told Shane the worst of it, but it was as if Shane understood how painful the topic was already. A soothing feeling passed over him when he realized Shane wasn't pushing him either. Somehow he knew that Ilya couldn't have that conversation right now, here at a cramped library desk.

Shane's hand flew across the table before Ilya could register it, and softly rubbed the top of Ilya's clenched hand.

"Is that how you got into sports psychology?"

Ilya sniffed, feeling like a transparent cliche. "Sort of. It is not so common back home. But I saw someone on TV talk about it, during Olympics. I could have used it, back when I decided to quit. So yes, I want to help other people, I can understand a little."

Shane's eyes were still soft. Ilya couldn't see any tears anymore, now it just felt like they were piercing Ilya's heart. Ilya moved to run his hand through his curls, miserably shaking Shane's hand off his own, and Shane blushed, looking suddenly self-conscious.

He started shuffling his flash cards. "Well. I'm sorry Harris blew your cover, now that I know you're a hockey fan I really won't shut up about it." Shane grinned. Ilya bit back a smile. He'd love nothing more, he thought.

"I'll see you at my next game?"

Ilya nodded.

***

Shane usually felt the calmest when he was on the ice. Even when it was an important game, when they faced a rival school and the crowd was screaming, he always felt centered, at ease.

Today he had been a total mess. He laced his skates up wrong multiple times. He had tripped running simple drills with Troy. Hayden, his biggest cheerleader, had slapped a hand on his back at one point

"You good? Eat something funny for breakfast?"

Shane shook his head, "All good, I don't know. Just need to shake it off."

He was painfully aware of the source of his nerves. As he and Troy stretched on the ice, he scanned the crowd. Searching for sharp cheekbones, hazel eyes, curly golden hair. But unless Ilya was sitting close to the glass, it was impossible to spot anyone in the frenetic crowd. Shane shook off Harris' comment "Ilya never misses a game."

That meant Ilya had always been at his games, he shouldn't feel any different or nervous now. Troy clapped a hand on Shane's shoulder, and he took a steadying breath as they left the ice.

***

Harris and Sveta had been pissing Ilya off. He felt lousy, being annoyed at his friends, but they had been cracking each other up, ooh-ing and ahh-ing as Shane and Troy warmed up on all fours on the ice.

Ilya knew anybody with eyes would drool over Shane, transfixed, watching his thighs spread, his back ripple as he pushed away from the ice. But he felt petty and sour, like a child, hearing people voice the desire he felt.

He soothed himself by thinking about Shane's glasses. Probably nobody here knew Shane wore glasses, knew how cute they looked when he scrunched his nose, framing those soft brown eyes. Ilya sunk low in his seat, finally drawing Svetlana's attention. She shot him a confused look.

The game finally started, and Ilya felt oddly tense. Usually he and Harris, and Sveta were loud, yelling at the ref, banging their feet on the ground when the team scored. But tonight their opponent, Dakota State, was playing dirty. Harris, Sveta, and Ilya all hissed in unison when Troy was checked against the glass, much harder than necessary. JJ got a stick to the back of the knees. Ilya even felt bad for Hayden, who had been purposefully tripped in the second period. But Ilya's heart was in his throat for the whole game, watching Shane outmaneuver a team hell bent on taking him down. Ilya knew Shane was brilliant. He wouldn't have come to every game if he wasn't. Sure, he loved hockey, but he only made it a point to go to every game because Shane was phenomenal. It was as if the stick was an extension of his body, he was incredibly fast and passed as if he could do this blindfolded. His goals looked impossibly easy, but Ilya knew how much finesse it took to fire them as precisely as he did.

Ilya's worst fear came true when Shane was tearing off, having won the face-off in the third period. The defenseman came out of nowhere and slammed into him at a bad angle, and in the next instant, Shane was crumpled, unmoving.

Ilya's heart was in his throat, Sveta and Harris gasping, and Ilya was dimly aware that his hand was clutching at Svetlana desperately, searching for comfort. It felt like it took a lifetime, but the trainers managed to help Shane up. He was able to skate off the ice, supported, but Ilya barely felt any relief.

He sat there for the rest of the game, clutching Svetlana's hand, unsure of what to do. Where would they have taken Shane? Who could he talk to, to find out?

He slipped his phone out, pulling up Shane's contact. Their chat history was just bland texts like "running late, be at the library soon."

Ilya: are you ok? please call me

The game ended. He felt useless. He was sure Shane wouldn't look at his phone any time soon. He turned to Harris "Do you have phone number of Hollander's teammates?"

Harris blinked, he looked shaken still. "Oh, good idea. Hm, I think I have Hayden's, we did a little spotlight on him the other month."

Ilya knew he felt sick because he couldn't be bothered to spit out a joke about spotlighting the worst player. He grabbed Harris' phone and copied the number into his.

Ilya: is hollander ok?

Hayden: who is this?

Ilya: it's ilya. is he ok?

Hayden: how did you get my number?

Ilya: harris. is he ok?? fucking tell me!

Hayden: jesus christ dude, i think he'll be ok.

Hayden: i'm heading to the hospital now. coach said concussion testing, but they don't think any broken bones.

Ilya: thank you

Ilya: sorry

Ilya spent the night staring at the ceiling, the hit replaying in his head a million times. How uncharacteristically small and fragile Shane had looked, crumpled on the ice. He wished desperately that he could see Shane, know for himself that he was truly ok. But Hayden had, miraculously, texted him an update around 11pm. Ok, it was a group text, which was extremely annoying, but Ilya felt uncomfortably grateful that he had been included.

Hayden: hey guys. doctor's keeping Shane overnight just to be safe, but they said he should be fine. concussion and some really bruised ribs. probably can't play for two weeks. he'll come home tomorrow, and he'll be on painkillers for a few days till his ribs are a little better.

Rose: Oh God, thanks for telling us. I've been so worried

Troy: poor Shane. I'll make sure to stop by tomorrow.

JJ: two weeks of no hockey? shane is going to lose his mind

Ilya: can we murder this defenseman from Dakota State?

Rose: I can keep him company and watch movies, unless his concussion means no screens?
Rose: Wait, who's asking about murder?

***

Ilya decided to skip class the next day. He had slept maybe an hour, and he did feel genuinely ill. He typed, working on his upcoming midterms, ears straining for any noise. After Shane had mentioned it, Ilya had been all too aware of how thin the walls were in their dorm. He was relieved that it didn't seem like Shane was bringing anyone home that semester, he hadn't heard any noise from his room aside from hockey bros playing video games and Shane and Hayden laughing over inside jokes.

Ilya wondered what it would sound like if Shane brought a girl home. If Shane was loud at all, if moans ripped from his throat when he was being pleasured, worshipped, treated like a prize. Ilya's attention was drawing to his hardening cock as he pictured Shane, eyes closed, biting his lip as someone went down on him. As Ilya went down on him. The fantasy started to come into sharper focus as Ilya wrapped his hand around his cock, and then he was startled out of it by hearing Hayden's voice.

Ilya shot up. Fixed his pants, took a moment to collect himself, and then wrenched open his door. Hayden was standing at their door, fiddling with the lock while Shane stood there, staring vacantly into space.

"You need help" it wasn't a question, Ilya paced over to them.

Shane's face broke into a wide grin "Ilyaaaaa" he sang. Ilya's heart clenched, but he was too worried to enjoy Shane's smile. He slipped an arm around Shane, and once Hayden shoved their door open, steered him to his bed. Hayden pulled Shane's shoes off, and together they tucked him into bed, Ilya fussing with pillows to prop him up. Shane had some bruising around his eyes and Ilya could barely look at him.

"The doctor said he's kind of sensitive to the pain meds" Hayden whispered "he's loopier than I thought."

Ilya studied Shane's expression, which looked open, carefree. It would be comical, if it wasn't so upsetting. Hayden looked at Ilya. "When is your next class? I thought I'd be able to get him settled and then head to Econ, but I'm kind of afraid to leave him alone."

Ilya felt a twinge of gratitude to Hayden. For all of Ilya’s teasing, he did seem like a good friend to Shane.

"I have whole afternoon free today" Ilya waved Hayden off, "You can go."

Hayden nodded "Thank you. I mean it."
He nudged Shane's knee "Shane, buddy. You're in charge, you know I don't trust Rozanov." He winked, as Shane frowned seriously and gave Hayden a thumbs up.

Hayden threw his backpack over his shoulder, mouthed another genuine "Thank you," and departed.

Ilya turned back to Shane, who was smiling again.

Ilya sucked in a shaky breath. "Are you…how are...you scared me" Ilya choked out.

"I'm fiiiiine." Shane nodded firmly, but his statement was immediately undercut by the wince he made at that sudden movement.

"Sh sh sh, don't move." Ilya rubbed Shane's hand.

Shane sighed and settled back in the pillows. "Thank you for being here."

"Of course."

Shane was beaming, eyes closed. "I'm glad we're friends finally."

Ilya's mouth felt bitter. Friends.

"Me too."

Shane's eyes were still closed. "Can I tell you something? Something I only told one friend before?"

Ilya could feel his forehead wrinkle. "It’'s OK, I think you should rest now-"

"I'm gay" Shane sighed happily, as if a weight lifted off his chest. Ilya felt like Shane's words had scorched him. He had to will himself to not yank his hand away, suddenly terrified. Shane had been a safe, if infuriating infatuation. He hadn't truly had to worry about rejection, about Shane not wanting him, because he had convinced himself Shane would never want a boy. Now Shane was telling him it was possible. There was a sharp sliver of hope that was now stabbing him. He tried to breathe as steadily as he could, and realized he hadn't said anything. Shane didn't seem to notice, really, but Ilya felt like he needed to break the silence.

"Oh. Ok" Ilya wanted the floor to open up and swallow him. That was the best he could do?

Shane smiled faintly, squeezed Ilya's hand, and then immediately started snoring. Ilya waited a few minutes, and when he was sure that Shane was deeply asleep, pulled his hand away. Brushed his knuckles softly against his freckles, the way he'd longed to do for a year.

Ilya sat back in his chair and focused on the soothing sounds of Shane softly snoring, and tried not think about how completely fucked he was.

***

Shane woke to soft voices hissing at each other. He kept his eyes screwed shut for a moment, assessing his pain. His ribs hurt badly, in a way that must have meant it was time for another painkiller. As he took inventory of his body, he was jolted to reality with the memory of Ilya holding his hand. His eyes shot open. As he blinked in the dimly lit room he could see Rose and Ilya, almost nose to nose, arguing. Ilya looked like hell. Shane didn't remember that from earlier, he had just been so thrilled to see him. But he took him in now, hair unruly. Clothes rumpled. Face pale, with a crease of a blanket imprinted on his cheek

"Hayden did not ask you to watch Shane for you to just fall asleep." Rose spit out

"He is asleep, I am here, he needs something, he wakes me up, no big deal!" Ilya gestured over to Shane, before they both turned to Shane. The moment their eyes fell on him all animosity leeched out, replaced with concern.

"Oh God, Shane" Rose reached for his hand "I'm so sorry, did we wake you?"

"No, I think my painkiller wore off." He said weakly.

Ilya shot up, crossing the room to Hayden's dresser, where a prescription bottle sat. Rose stroked Shane's hand, casting Ilya an inquisitive look, not entirely unappreciative.

Ilya returned with water and a pill. Shane tried to ignore the spark he felt when their hands met for a moment on the glass of water. Shane gulped his pill down and then settled back in his pillow.

"Thanks guys. I'll be ok, you don't need to babysit me" he prayed Ilya didn't believe him.

"Sorry honey, that's not what Hayden said, and Hayden is the boss" Rose told him, while Ilya snorted. Rose glared at Ilya "I can take this shift. Hayden will be back in a few hours."

Ilya stood, not moving, and Shane felt like he needed to do something to defuse the tension.

"Ok. Ilya, if Rose needs to leave or anything, you're just down the hall, right?"

Ilya met his eyes, expression totally exhausted. He nodded. "Yes" he turned to Rose "You will get me if you need me?"

Shane expected Rose to give him a withering glare, to snort at the idea of Rose needing him. But something softened and she nodded. "Yes, I promise. Please get some real sleep. I'll just sit here and bore Shane to death while I run lines for my next audition." Ilya glanced back at Shane and Shane smiled at him in what he hoped was an encouraging grin. Ilya sighed heavily, running a hand through his tangled curls, and nodded.

"Get well soon, Hollander" he said weakly, and then he slipped out the door.

Rose muttered something under her breath about "just my luck," before she tucked her hair behind her ears and asked Shane if he was up for hearing her practice her monologue.

***

Hayden brought Shane some dinner, and shortly after Troy showed up so Hayden could go to the library for a few hours. Shane was starting to feel that his friends were taking this babysitting a little too seriously. But he was grateful. His friends were always affectionate, but it was sweet to see them fuss and worry over him

His thoughts drifted to Ilya. He wondered, with a warm, cozy feeling in his stomach, when it would be Ilya's turn next to keep him company. He sighed, burrowing into his blankets. Maybe it wasn't so bad his friends didn't want him to be left alone.

***

Shane blinked his eyes open, trying to figure out when he had fallen asleep. Troy was camped out at Shane's desk, frowning at his textbook. Shane stirred, and Troy's eyes shot to him, full of concern.

"I just want my phone," Shane said with what he hoped was a convincing smile.

Troy narrowed his eyes "Aren't you supposed to avoid screens?"

Shane tried to shrug, but the movement made a stabbing sensation in his ribs.

"Dude. I love you, but Rose and Hayden will kill me if I let you have your phone."

Shane tried bargaining. "Ten minutes? That can't hurt. I promise you can take my phone after ten minutes."

Troy sighed dramatically like the fed up father of a toddler, which Shane kind of guessed he was acting like.

"Ok, I'm setting a timer."

Troy handed Shane his phone, and Shane swiped through a slew of messages. Typed a reply to his parents, who Hayden had called yesterday and this morning. Replied to an email from a professor about Rose collecting notes for him.

His thumb paused on Ilya's message. He must have sent it at the game last night. Shane couldn't believe he had come out to Ilya while he was hopped up on painkillers, but at least he had ripped off the band-aid. He felt very peaceful now. Maybe that was the painkillers talking.

He started to type.

Shane: Thanks again for staying with me today. Rose will never tell you, but I know she appreciated it.

Ilya responded immediately, which made Shane much happier than it should have.

Ilya: i will stay with you anytime

Ilya: who is with you now?

Shane: Troy

Ilya: harris and svetlana think troy is the hottest player on the hockey team

Shane squinted at his phone. He wasn't sure if he was supposed to be offended or not. He glanced up at Troy, who was undeniably hot.

Shane: yeah, I guess that's true

Ilya: you all have bad taste

Shane bit back a laugh.

Ilya: how are your ribs?

Shane: killing me

Ilya: hayden said no hockey for two weeks?

Shane: yeah. I have no idea what I'm going to do stuck in bed all day for two weeks

Ilya: jerking off will get boring?

Shane almost threw his phone at the wall. The thought of Ilya imagining that for even a second made him feel like there were Pop Rocks in his bloodstream.

Just as he was about to steady himself and figure out a reply, Troy plucked his phone out of his hand.

"Troy, wait, I was in the middle of a conversation"

Troy raised an eyebrow. "I can type whatever you want to say, but I meant it, no more screen."

Shane's ears flamed with embarrassment, there was no way he could let Troy see what Ilya had said to him, and he certainly couldn't dictate a flirty text, hell, he couldn't even think of an adequate reply.

"Never mind. You win" Shane grumbled, and he stretched back in bed, frowning at the ceiling.

***

Ilya's hair was a mess. He had been twisting his curls while texting Shane, trying to figure out the right things to say to him. And the second he had pushed him, Shane had stopped replying. He raked his hand through his hair again and again, wondering if he had just done permanent damage to his friendship with Shane. "Friends" twisted like a knife in his gut.

Ilya hopped up. He needed a shower and a cigarette.

After a quick shower, where Ilya had lost his willpower and jerked off to the fantasies that had consumed him that morning, Ilya slunk outside, going down the opposite staircase, the one down the hall, away from Shane's. He lit a cigarette, and stared at the smoke curling up in the night sky. He could do this. He could be Shane's friend. If it meant that he got to spend time with Shane, he could handle the heartache. And maybe eventually his infatuation, his stupid crush, would go away. He stubbed out the butt of his cigarette and went inside. This time past Shane's room, and he was more thrilled than was appropriate to see Troy open the door as he walked past.

"Oh hey, thanks for watching Shane earlier!" Troy softly punched his shoulder, and then looked immediately self conscious, as Ilya stared at him blankly.

"Is that Ilya?" Ilya's heart lurched, and Troy propped the door back open.

"Hiiiiiii" Shane smiled from his bed.

Ilya blinked. If he didn't know any better, he could have sworn Shane fluttered his eyelashes at him. Shane was truly out of it again, and Ilya wondered with relief if he hadn't replied because he had passed out while texting. He wished he could have heard more of his cute, soft snores.

"Hi Shane. How are your drugs?"

"Don't get any ideas, they're not for recreational use" Hayden piped up from his bed, where he was scrolling on his phone.

Ah, Shane had Hayden. Ilya wasn't needed anymore tonight. Ilya nodded at Shane, mouthed "Good night" and backed away.

Chapter 3: How to Get Over Someone

Chapter Notes

Shane arrived at the library early, eager to have an hour alone with Ilya. He had seen him often the past two weeks that he had been on bed rest. Ilya would pop his head in to say hi, to give Hayden shit for whatever music he was playing, but they had never seemed to get a moment alone together. As Shane fidgeted with his glasses, he smiled to himself, thinking for the millionth time about Ilya holding his hand the first day he had gotten home.

As if he had summoned him, Ilya materialized, an unusually shy smile.

"How are your ribs?" He asked, taking a seat.

"Ok. A little sore still, but not bad."

Ilya nodded, and then jabbed his chin at Shane. "What are we studying today?"

Shane fumbled through his beginner phrases for the next half hour. He felt painfully awkward because Ilya wasn't teasing him. Ilya was being sweet, patient. It would have been nice if it wasn't so weird. Ilya was always kind to Shane, but he was normally teasing, playful. Today, Ilya acted like Shane was a scared bunny or something. Shane felt his ears getting hot, started trying to think of what to say without make it sound like an accusation, and before he could open his mouth, a beautiful woman rounded the corner, arms outstretched.

"Ahhh I knew I heard Russian!" She squealed. Ilya's reserved expression broke into one of ease and delight and the woman stood behind him, reaching down to hug, while Ilya grabbed her arms and laid a kiss on one.

Shane recognized her. She was with Ilya often. He could guess this was..."Svetlana," she offered, waving. "How is Ilya as a tutor, Shane?"

Shane squirmed. "Ochen' khoroshiy” and he felt a thrill up his spine when he saw Ilya's mouth hang open in a joyous grin.

"Ah! You hear that, Ilyusha?" Svetlana squeezed Ilya, to Shane's dismay. She ruffled Ilya's curls, which elicited a playful snarl from Ilya and he swatted her away, muttering something in Russian that was too quick for Shane to try to parse out. She hitched her bag on her shoulder and flashed her beautiful smile at Ilya and said "I'll leave you to it." She shot Ilya a look that Shane couldn't read, and then hurried off. Ilya seemed preoccupied with patting his hair back into place, and Shane had to ask the obvious.

In a tone that he hoped was casual, he asked "So. Uh, is she your girlfriend?"

Ilya burst out laughing.

"What?" The last thing Shane wanted to do was laugh.

"No, nothing like that. She is good friend" Ilya nodded. "Sometimes we fuck, but is nothing more than that, for either of us."

Shane felt his mouth dry up. He should be feeling reassured. He knew Ilya slept with tons of women, and Ilya was sitting here telling him that he felt nothing for this gorgeous woman he fucked. But Shane felt painfully aware of the difference between him and Svetlana. Seeing Ilya lay easy kisses on her arm, her affectionate rumple of his hair. Why would Ilya want Shane? He might not want Svetlana, but sooner or later there would be another beautiful, enchanting woman, one who Ilya could be with easily. No fear or judgement.

Shane swallowed hard. He knew he'd never have the option of choosing something simple, uncomplicated. He had tried with Rose, he really had.

Shane snapped his notebook closed, Ilya's eyes following his hands with a confused expression overtaking his face.

"I, uh. I'm so sorry. I forgot, I have a team meeting"

Ilya looked confused, and then snorted "Ok. You forgot team meeting?"

Shane stuffed his things in his backpack, wishing he could evaporate. "Yeah, sorry. Um. See you next week?"

Ilya's face shifted from incredulity to hurt, as if he was just realizing that Shane was really leaving.

"Hollander," he held out his hand, gesturing for Shane to sit back down.

"Sorry. I'm sor-I gotta go."

Shane raced out before Ilya could see the tears forming in his eyes.

***

Ilya found himself yet again, lying on his bed, scowling at the ceiling. He replayed their conversation, trying to figure out where it went wrong. Hearing Shane speak hesitant Russian, outside of stilted language lessons, had made his heart sing. And as terrified as he was to have Shane and Sveta meet, it had been nice. He knew she would be too perceptive, that she'd instantly know this was why he'd said no the past few times she'd tried to initiate a hookup. He hadn't been with anyone since Shane's accident. He had been too consumed with fear, first fearful about Shane's safety, his recovery. And then fear for his feelings. They had only deepened when he realized Shane wasn't straight, that there was a world where Ilya could be his.

No, something had gone wrong after Svetlana left. Ilya frowned. He had told Shane he didn't have feelings for Svetlana. A nagging thought crept in. Maybe he had been too transparent. Shane had seen through him, as if Ilya was screaming "Of course I don't have feelings for her, there is only one person I can't get out of my mind, and he's sitting across from me in these adorable glasses."

Ilya let out a sigh so loud that Harris put down his phone.

"Ok, that's like the third heavy sigh. Do you want me to ask what's wrong?"

Ilya was too mad to feel self-conscious. "I'm fine," he pinched his nose "just need to get laid."

"You and me both," Harris nodded, turning back to his phone.

***

Shane had been avoiding Rose for three days, and she finally barged into his room at 10pm, when she knew he would be tucking into bed.

"Rose, what the fuck!"

Shane pulled the covers up to his chin like an old grandma. Hayden was sleeping over with a new girl, someone named Jackie, and Shane had decided to sleep in his underwear, forgoing his usual pajamas.

Rose flopped dramatically at the foot of his bed. "Why are you avoiding me?" She asked.

"I'm not avoid-"

"Bullshit. You blew off our plans, I run into you getting coffee and you say two words to me before you make up some excuse and leave." She glared at him, and Shane knew he was toast.

He groaned and sank into his pillows. Rose seemed to relent, realizing that her approach wasn't helpful.

"Shane" she said in a soft voice "I'm just worried. Are you ok?"

Shane shook his head. "It's embarrassing."

Rose let out a relieved laugh "Oh, thank God. I can do embarrassing, Shane. We've seen each other naked, embarrassing is a concept that is way behind us."

Shane nodded. He had appreciated that so much about Rose. When he came out to her, he had expected her to feel betrayed, mad that she had wasted time on someone who knew he didn't want her. Instead she had waved it off, told him they had a taken stupid route to friendship, but she was happy because they had found each other nonetheless.

Shane took a steadying breath and admitted it "I have a crush on a straight guy and it's eating me alive." He could tell Rose was dying to ask more, but appreciated her restraint.

"I'm sorry, Shane. I can't imagine how hard that must be."

Shane squeezed his eyes shut. She was being so kind, she deserved to hear the whole truth.

"It’s Ilya."

"I fucking knew it! That fucker has been lurking around here for weeks! Just staring at you like some brooding vampire-"

Shane muffled her with his hand and hissed "Hey, the walls here are really thin, I don't want him hearing."

Rose shook him off and continued in a whisper "Shane, I love you, but you have terrible taste. He's such an asshole!"

Shane sighed. "It's more of an act, I think. Hayden is starting to come around on him-"

"Traitor," Rose narrowed her eyes. Then they popped open. "Wait, why do you think he's straight? I'm sorry Shane, but he seems way too interested in you..." Rose cut herself off, Shane felt how red his face had gotten. "Look. The first day you were back from the hospital, I came in, expecting to find him sitting over at your desk or something, fucking around on his phone. And instead I found him asleep," she huffed, still mad at that detail "Clutching your hand like it was a life preserver, looking like he had stayed up all night worrying about you. I just think you shouldn't be so quick to dismiss him over a reputation he has."

Shane screwed his eyes shut. His stomach was lurching with every word she said, but the loudest thought thudding in his head, like a wet duvet clunking around a dryer, was Ilya's reputation. Ilya was notorious for sleeping with countless girls. Shane had heard the evidence with his own two ears. Heard how enthusiastically Ilya had fucked a girl just weeks ago. Even if Rose was right that Ilya had an interest in him, it was probably because Ilya was chasing some thrill. Shane could just be exciting because he was something novel, and eventually Ilya would move on, and find a woman that he truly, deeply liked, that he could be with openly.

"It’s no use." Shane waved it off. Rose opened and shut her mouth, a rare moment of self-censorship.

"Ok. Well what now?"

Shane groaned, Rose could see how painful this was for Shane. "I don't know. How do you get over anyone?"

Rose shrugged, looking genuinely bewildered. She hadn't found anyone who met her high standards yet, nobody in danger of breaking her heart. "I've heard the best way to get over someone is to get underneath someone else," she offered, and Shane threw his pillow at her, finally laughing.

***

Shane was exhausted from the game Friday night, but Hayden and JJ had successfully begged him to come to a frat party. As he nursed a beer and watched Hayden lose round after round of beer pong, his thoughts turned, as always, to Ilya. Rose's words stung in his memory "The best way to get over someone is to get under someone else."

As Shane politely clapped for Hayden, Ilya appeared in the doorway of the kitchen. He poked his head in, scanned the room, and his eyes landed on Shane. Shane froze, and felt a heat creep over his face. There was a quick flash of something in Ilya's eyes.

Amusement? Something soft. Before he took in the whole scene, the hockey team yelling over each other. His face settled back to its usual aloof demeanor, and he rested against the doorframe. If he was so annoyed by the commotion, why was he staying? His eyes were fixed on Shane again and Shane swallowed hard and tore his gaze away, back to the scrum.

Troy nudged his shoulder gently "Are you feeling alright? You look a little feverish." He skated the back of his hand on Shane's forehead, and in that moment Shane did feel ill.

Why couldn't he shake this desperate crush? He stole another glance towards Ilya, who he saw to his dismay had been joined by Svetlana. Svetlana was on tiptoe, whispering in Ilya's ear as Ilya's jaw flexed, eyes flaring with a heat that Shane could only assume meant one thing. As Ilya had said, he and Svetlana had something simple and easy. They were probably whispering about what they would do to each other when they went home.

"Shane, I'm serious. Do you need some air?" Troy gently put a hand between his shoulder blades and Shane eagerly nodded. Yes, he needed to get as far away from Ilya as possible. Keeping his eyes fixed on the ground, he shouldered past Ilya and Svetlana, Troy right behind him muttering "Excuse us," as Shane dimly realized how rude he had been.

They stepped out into the cold November air, and a modicum of relief washed over Shane. His shoulders sagged, he felt like he had just finished a sprint.

"Here, we can sit on the steps. You looked a little dizzy, drink this water." Troy offered him a bottle of water he must have grabbed from the kitchen and Shane gratefully took it.

"Thanks. I'm sorry I got weird, I just...I couldn't be there."

"It’s fine. I don't know what you're dealing with, but I need space sometimes if my anxiety is bad. I think it makes me a little more sensitive if someone is going through it, and uh, you seemed to be going through it." Troy's face was so sweet and worried, Shane just crumpled. He buried his head in Troy's shoulder.

"It’s so pathetic. I'm hung up on someone who doesn't want me."

"Oh no, Shane. I'm so sorry, whoever she is, she's an idiot, I promise."

In that moment, Shane felt too tired to hold it in. "He. It's a he. I'm gay."

Troy stiffened, and for a moment Shane felt his stomach lurch.

"I'm gay too" Troy said weakly. Shane's head shot up to look at him, stunned. But Troy's eyes were steady, he wasn't joking.

"Oh my god. Have you...are you...who?"

" You're the first person I've told, aside from my ex boyfriend." Troy grimaced. "I'm still trying to get over him. So I understand. It feels all consuming."

Shane nodded bleakly. That was exactly how it felt, like it was sucking up all his oxygen, all of his thoughts. He shook his head. He was being so dramatic. What would someone confident and assured like Rose...or God forbid, Ilya do?

Rose's words echoed through Shane's head, woven with Ilya's: "She is good friend, sometimes we fuck, but is nothing more than that, for either of us."

"Have you ever heard that the best way to get over someone is to get under someone else?" Shane choked out before he could think anymore.

Troy cracked a wicked smile and started laughing. Shane laughed too, feeling relief that they could find the humor in their shared heartbreak, that they could be truly open with each other.

"Are you suggesting anyone?" Troy teased, still laughing.

Shane threw up his hands, grinning "Maybe! I don't know about you, but it's not exactly like I have a lot of options."

"Yeah, I guess casual rebound sex is the one thing I haven't tried. And you are a total babe. Maybe we should give it a shot. It probably beats crying in the shower, right?" Troy groaned.

Shane nodded, feeling emboldened. This was exactly what Rose had meant, this was exactly what Ilya did all the time. "Or crying in bed when Hayden is snoring."

Troy and Shane laughed again, then Troy glanced around to check that the coast was clear, reached out to cradle Shane's cheek and kiss him softly. Shane was surprised by how gentle it was, it felt...safe.

As Shane felt his hand reach up to grab Troy's, he was snapped out of the moment by someone clearing their throat. He and Troy whipped their heads around in unison. Ilya and Svetlana were at the door, coats on, clearly leaving. Svetlana's eyes danced between them, confusion overwhelming her delicate features. Shane had expected to see something similar on Ilya's face, or maybe his usual guarded, steeled expression. But Ilya's eyes looked glassy, his mouth hung open in an expression that looked completely stunned.

Shane couldn't make sense of it. He had told Ilya he was gay. Granted, Ilya hadn't said anything, hadn't even acknowledged it since Shane confessed.

Maybe his expression was totally unrelated to seeing two hockey bros awkwardly kiss. Ilya kind of looked like he was going to be sick, swaying slightly. Svetlana threaded her arm through his, whispered something in Russian with a syrupy sweet tone, and whisked him past Troy and Shane.

Troy turned back to Shane, Shane's pain probably splashed across his face like a billboard, and Troy's eyes immediately softened "Oh no. Shane, tell me it isn't him."

Shane buried his head in his hands. Troy rubbed his back, sighing "I'm so sorry. But wow, you have terrible taste."

Shane coughed out a laugh "That's exactly what Rose said." Troy snorted a soft laugh.

"Do you want to come back to my room? JJ is at his girlfriend's tonight, we can just hang if you don't feel up for-" Shane cut him off swiftly, crashing his mouth into Troy's. Troy tried to return the kiss, to keep up with Shane's frenetic pace, but they kept colliding, the rhythm all wrong.

"Yeah, let's go back to yours."

***

Troy's room was tidy, and as Shane sat on his bed he was pleased to realize they used the same detergent. It felt familiar and comforting. Troy was puttering around, hanging their jackets and preparing tea.

Eventually he settled next to Shane, resting shoulder to shoulder.

Harris and Svetlana weren’t wrong, Troy was objectively hot. Shane rolled his earlier statement in his head. Troy thought he was a "total babe." Someone thought he was hot, at least. Troy was smiling at him, the easy and unguarded smile that he always had.

"I meant it when I said we don't have to do anything. I'm sorry he saw us like that, I feel really bad."

Ilya's face surfaced in Shane's mind, sharp and...hurt? Shane realized now that on anyone else, that might have been an expression of hurt. But Ilya had no reason to be hurt. Shane shoved that thought down, and did what he had planned to do. He squared his shoulders, put down his mug, and kissed Troy.

Not as fast this time. Troy gently kissed him back, chaste at first, and then deeper. They sank back on his bed, and Shane crawled on top of him, exploring this new sensation of his friend's body beneath him. A nagging thought crept into his head. Bizarre. Familiar. Too familiar? Shane was painfully aware of the fact that he should be feeling something, some arousal, straddling an extremely hot man. He opened his eyes only to see Troy staring at him

"Oh my god, why are your eyes open?!"

"Why are your eyes open??"

They started laughing again, Shane resting his head on Troy's chest, feeling a wave of relief.

Troy smoothed a hand through his hair "I don't think this is doing it for either of us, is it?"

"No. I'm sorry, because you are very hot. But there are just no sparks at all, this is not going to work." Shane admitted.

Troy breathed a sigh of relief. "I'm sorry I couldn't help you get over Ilya. And that I couldn't forget Adrian for one night. I think you and I are just too good of friends, or too heartbroken. Or both."

"Both, definitely both." Shane sighed. Troy's hand in his hair felt so nice, he could feel his eyes drooping. "Can I stay the night?"

"Of course. I love you, dude. I might not be able to fuck you, but we can be sad together and spoon."

***

Svetlana dragged her hand through Ilya's curls as he laid in bed, stomach churning, willing himself to not cry. He never cried, why was he so soft right now?

"Ilya..." Svetlana said softly. She had been quiet the whole walk to his dorm, silent as he'd stripped off his clothes and crawled into bed with a half-hearted thought that maybe they could fuck and he'd take his mind off it. But she had slipped onto the bed above the covers, clothed, clearly not in the mood.

"Ilya, is that who you've been thinking of? Why you don't want to hook up anymore?"

Ilya didn't know what to say.

"I wondered. When I saw you in the library, saw how you looked at him. But Ilya, he looks at you like he's starving. Like he wants to devour you. I don't think a silly kiss with Troy Barret," her voice dripped with exaggerated distaste, "is anything to worry about."

"That is a lie. Troy is hot, you know it."

"Maybe so, but I am hot, yes? And you don't want me like that."

Ilya squeezed his eyes shut. This was humiliating, how could boring Shane Hollander make him feel so small and unimportant?

"I am tired." Ilya muttered. Without another word, Svetlana turned off his bedside lamp, and kissed his forehead. Ilya was grateful that in the dark she couldn't see the tears leaking onto his pillow.

***

The next morning, Shane woke early, eager to leave before JJ got back and could ask awkward questions. Troy smiled at him sleepily as he tied his shoes, and croaked "Goodbye, see you at the gym later."

Shane slipped out of the front door of the dorm, shaking his head and grinning at how much of a disaster that had been. Rose would be so disappointed at how bad Shane was at finding a rebound. As the door latched behind him, Shane zipped up his coat and raised his eyes to see...of course. Who else. Ilya, he couldn't seem to escape him.

Ilya was hurrying past the dorm,shoulders hunched, coffee in hand. He glanced up and his eyes widened for the briefest moment. Shane felt terrible for thinking it, but Ilya kind of looked like shit. His hair was a mess, he had dark circles under his eyes. He must have been up late with Svetlana, Shane thought. Shane weakly raised his hand to wave, and Ilya squinted, glancing up at the building behind Shane. His eyes hardened, he nodded, and kept walking.

Shane felt tears stinging his eyes. He wasn't sure why, but something felt irrevocably broken between them.

Shane started trudging to his dorm, a miserable thought crystallizing in his head that also felt like relief. He would share it with Ilya at their next tutoring session tomorrow.

***

Ilya arrived at the library half an hour early, convinced that the extra time would give him room to act cool, composed. It proved the opposite. He fidgeted, he rearranged his notebooks and pens over and over. He shrugged his cardigan on and off and raked his hand through his hair, before he caught a glimpse of his reflection in the window and frantically patted it back into place.

Shane showed up ten minutes early, looking startled that Ilya was already there. Ilya nodded at him, trying not to hold eye contact. His soft brown eyes were too much to take in right now.

"So. Fun weekend, Hollander?" Ilya really didn't want to hear the answer, but he was a masochist, he supposed.

"Uh. Not really." Shane avoided his gaze now. Ilya chewed the inside of his cheek. He might have to needle this out of Hollander, but he wanted to hear it for himself.

"Not what it looked like, Friday. And Saturday morning." Ilya cracked a smile that he hoped looked casual, teasing. From Shane's expression, he wondered if it looked deranged instead.

"Um. I don't know. I wasn't really...I tried something new, but..."

Ilya felt his eyebrows shoot up. Was Shane trying to talk to him about sex? Oh God, was Troy..."Was that your first time? With a man?" Ilya's voice was far softer than he wanted, but he couldn't help it. He felt something worse than jealousy, he felt concern. Worry because Shane looked so uncomfortable, not happy at all. Had his first time been so bad?

"Oh my god, no. No, I'm not... I'm not super experienced, but I've been with a guy before. Rose's friend from home, Miles." Shane shrugged "He was nice, it was never anything serious. And it's been forever since he visited Rose."

Ilya nodded. One man. Well, two now with Troy Barrett. If Troy was any indication of Shane's standards, Miles was probably beautiful too.

"But Troy is something serious?" Ilya held back a wince as he pushed Shane.

Shane bit his lip. "No, not at all. We didn't even really do anything. I was sad, and he's getting over a breakup, and we just...thought it might distract us, but we couldn't really...you know."

Ilya felt like running a lap around the library, like reaching over the table and kissing Shane. He swallowed his excitement down, desperate to finally get assurance.

"So you and him are not.."

"No, uh. We're not. He's great, we're just friends."

Shane looked miserable. He said he had been sad on Friday. Ilya understood sad, understood trying to fuck someone to make that sadness vanish for a few hours.

"Are you ok? " Ilya asked softly, which made Shane finally lift his eyes to meet his.

Shane shook his head, cheeks pink in a way that usually made Ilya's heart flip. But his expression was too tortured for Ilya to feel anything but worry.

"No, not really. I don't think this is working," Shane gestured between them, Ilya's stomach immediately sinking. "I'm sorry, it's not your fault. I'm just picking Russian up so slowly. I think I'll just take French again next semester. I already know a little bit and Rose said she can tutor me. I hate being a quitter, but at least you won't have to spend hours teaching someone who can't even string a sentence together" Shane laughed. Ilya imitated him, aware that his laugh sounded hollow.

"You quit." Ilya accused.

"Yeah" Shane cringed. "I'm not proud of it, but yeah...I just need to know when to move on."

Those words hit Ilya square in the chest, like a bullet. Move on, move on, move on. Of course, Shane was never his to hang on to. He would always move on.

"Sure" Ilya shrugged "Is smart. Why waste your time, my time."

Shane's eyes flashed. A cold, hard look that Ilya hated. Shane was anything but cold.
"Yeah, well. We only have a few more weeks until my finals and then you're free."

Ilya felt sick. A few weeks, and then they would go back to nothing, no excuses to spend time together. No more chances to make Shane laugh, to stare at those freckles, nothing.

***

The weeks flew by. Shane suffered through awkward tutoring sessions, Ilya stilted and dismissive, as if he was disappointed in Shane for being such a quitter.

Troy had been so kind to Shane these past few weeks, now that he knew that he was also nursing a broken heart. Shane was relieved to find that if anything, a few awkward kisses had brought them closer together as friends. Troy had let him know it was ok to tell Rose, and Rose had laughed until she cried when Shane told her about their disaster attempt to hook up. But she also saw how raw he was, and was now treating him like a wounded kitten. It would have been embarrassing if he hadn't really needed that.

At the last practice before Thanksgiving break, Harris stopped by to grab players for the school Instagram. He asked Shane goofy questions, and Shane miserably wracked his brain for entertaining answers. Harris pulled Troy afterwards, and Shane noticed that they spent much of the time doubled over, laughing. Shane felt like a miserable rain cloud, he couldn't even brighten up for a 45 second Q&A video.

The day before break, his mom called. "Honey, I am so sorry. Your dad and I are both sick, I don't think you should come home and risk it. You have to play next week, I don't want to give you this bug."

Shane's stomach clenched. He had been looking forward to seeing his parents, but he had been worried about them noticing how miserable he was. "That's ok. I'm sure I can just spend Thanksgiving with Hayden or one of the other guys" he was lying. He didn't want to take this energy to anybody's home. He could hide out in the dorm that week, enjoy some peace and quiet.

"I'm so sorry Shane, it's terrible timing."

"Are you ok? You guys will let me know if it gets worse, right?"

"Yes, we'll be ok. Just gross and definitely contagious right now."

***

Ilya usually hated these mid-semester breaks. Only a week, not enough time to go back to Russia. Campus would be quiet, nobody around to fuck. This time he was looking forward to a lonely break. He didn't feel like talking to anyone, he could hide out for the week and be as antisocial as he wanted. Svetlana and Harris had both offered to bring him home, but he'd politely refused.

It was the night before Thanksgiving, the dorm had been a flurry of activity earlier that day, students clattering suitcases in the hall and yelling goodbyes. Now it was finally peaceful and quiet. He gathered his blankets, his vodka, his cigarettes, and padded down the hall to the common area to set up camp in a roomier home base than his tiny dorm. As he rounded the corner, he froze. Fuck.

Shane sat on the couch, his face draining a pale white as he locked eyes with Ilya.

"Why are you here?" Ilya could have phrased that better but the thought spilled out like an accusation.

"My parents got sick, it's flu season. And I can't really risk getting sick and missing more games at this point in the season" Shane shrugged. He didn't look as upset as Ilya would have expected. He loved his parents, Ilya knew that.

"I am sorry." Ilya nodded while he moved to the kitchen to grab a glass. He shot a look at Shane. "You want vodka?"

"Sure. Not like I have anything better to do" Shane grinned, and Ilya couldn't help grinning back. Something about being here, alone, knowing nobody could interrupt them, stirred something dangerous in him.

Ilya held out a glass to him and then settled as far away on the couch as possible, unsurprised to see that Shane was watching hockey.

"Ah, Montreal and Boston."

"Yeah, my mom is a huge Metros fan." Shane grimaced dramatically as he swallowed a gulp of vodka and Ilya bit back a laugh. There was more time to tease him, he should be nice now.

"Svetlana's father was goaltender for Boston" Ilya shared, and Shane's eyebrows shot up

"Oh yeah? Who??"

"Sergei Vetrov"

"Fuck off. Oh man, no wonder she goes to all the games"

Ilya nodded "Yes, she knows everything about hockey. More than you, probably."

Shane chewed his lip, considering. Ilya was struck with an impossible desire to suck on Shane's lip. He stood abruptly, moving to throw open the window, aware of Shane's eyes following him. As he pulled out his cigarettes he smiled as he heard Shane's exasperated sigh

"I really don't think you should do that here"

"Ok" Ilya grinned as he lit his cigarette, took a drag, and blew smoke out the window. Shane rolled his eyes, but didn't argue further, which disappointed Ilya. He smoked quickly, because Shane had turned his attention away from him, and he banged the window shut when he was done, making Shane jump.

"Tell me more about your parents" Ilya said, returning to the couch, aware that he sat closer to Shane this time. Shane squirmed in his seat, but his face lit up.

"What do you want to know?"

Ilya was reminded of the family photo that Shane had on his desk. Shane, a little kid, standing between his parents in front of the Tokyo tower.

"Your mother is Japanese, yes? Where you get your good looks from?"

Shane's face immediately flushed a delicious shade of pink, he chewed his lip again, and Ilya could only enjoy it for a moment before he realized with horror that he was starting to get hard. He quickly grabbed his blanket and threw it over himself, pretending he was cold.

Shane nodded "Yeah, she's Japanese. My grandparents moved to Canada when she was little. If you think my Russian is bad, you should hear my Japanese, it's so embarrassing."

Ilya frowned. Shane had been terrible when he started this semester, but he had picked things up much faster than Ilya expected. He wasn't so sure that Shane's perception of himself was accurate.

Shane continued. "I think my mom knows more about hockey than anybody I know, so she and Svetlana would probably get along. She's an agent for hockey players. And um, my dad works for the treasury board of Canada." Ilya coughed to try to hide the laugh that escaped.

"What? What's funny?"

"Hm. Nothing. Just that is where you get your boring from?"

"Oh shut up, my dad isn't boring!" Shane chuckled.

"Are you very sad to not be with them?" Ilya asked, voice too tender than he'd like.

Shane ran his finger around the rim of his glass, and Ilya couldn't tear his eyes away, thinking of other places he'd like those fingers.

"I am. I miss them, of course. But, um. It's also not so bad to be here right now."

Shane peeked at Ilya out of the corner of his eyes and Ilya felt his heart flip.

"Mm. Yes, not so bad. Private, you can jerk off as much as you want without Hayden around" Ilya was thrilled to see how red Shane got.

"Fuck off. That's not really my plan for the week."

"Oh, so you have plan for vacation? Is it color coded?" Ilya was having too much fun.

"No. I mean, I don't know. I got stuff to make Thanksgiving dinner tomorrow, but it feels kind of stupid to make it just for me. I guess the only thing I'm looking forward to is that it's finally supposed to snow. I always like the first snow of the year."

Ilya's feet wiggled around under the blanket, he hoped Shane didn't notice.

"I like to cook. I am good at it. You want to make Thanksgiving dinner tomorrow?"

Shane's smile was so sweet and unguarded, Ilya had to clench his fists to stop himself from grabbing him and kissing him senseless.

"Let's do it, that would be fun."

Shane turned his attention back to the game, and they sat in comfortable silence. Ilya was so cozy, and as he started to drift off to sleep, he heard Shane whisper "Ilya?"

"Yes, Shane?"

"I'm glad you're here."

"Me too."

Chapter End Notes

ooc for Shane and Troy, but it was inspired by the silly fleeting thought Troy had in TLG.

Chapter 4: Thanksgiving

Shane woke with a crick in his neck. It took a moment for him to get his bearings. He was sitting up, he must have fallen asleep on the couch. His next thought was the sudden realization that Ilya's curly head was in his lap. At some point in the night he had stretched out, prone on the couch with his head tucked in Shane's lap. Shane had exactly one second of blissfully staring at him, taking in how beautiful he was when his face was peaceful like this, lightly snoring. Then Ilya let out a sigh and nuzzled his head further in Shane's lap, grazing Shane's cock through his sweatpants. 

Oh no. No no no. Shane had to find a way to slide him off immediately, before he woke up to Shane's rigid cock poking his face. Shane grabbed a cushion and slowly started to slide it between them, which woke Ilya up. He blinked, squinted at the light, and then beamed at Shane for a brief moment. Shane darted up, and Ilya's smile tucked away, as if it had never been there. 

"I'm going to shower. And then, um. Later today we can cook, if you still want?"

Ilya nodded softly "I still want." He rubbed his face. He looked radiant, as if he had the best sleep of his life. 

As his hands came down his eyes followed, and Shane was horrified to see Ilya look at his crotch, smirk, and look back at Shane's terrified eyes.

"Oh fuck off. You don't get morning wood?" He turned around and started scurrying out, ears hot as he heard Ilya yell "Good thing Hayden is not here!"

***

Ilya was thrilled. Maybe it was just an involuntary, morning erection. Or maybe, just maybe, Shane had been just as turned on as he had when he woke up with him. Ilya had the benefit of a blanket concealing him when he had woken up to Shane's beautiful face. 

Now Shane was in his room at the end of the hall, and Ilya's mind raced. He knew what Shane was probably doing right now. He had been teasing, but it was true. No Hayden, nobody in the dorm at all. Ilya's hand slipped down his waistband, freeing his cock. He gave it a few lazy strokes, spat on his hand, and then began stroking himself faster, already achingly hard as he thought of Shane doing the same thing to himself just down the hall.

Just imagining it made a filthy moan escape his lips, and before he could regret it, he heard a muffled, equally eager groan from Shane's room. Fuck. Ilya couldn't believe that he was this lucky, he spent months trying to imagine the sounds that Shane would gasp out when Ilya grabbed him, sucked him, bent him over. Ilya was aware that he was being brazenly loud at this point. Fucking his fist with no finesse, he was desperate to let Shane know that he wanted this, that Shane turned him on this badly.

In between moans, he heard ragged gasping, soft pleading cries from across the hall, and it built Ilya's pleasure until he came abruptly, his release seemed endless. He heard Shane cry out, and laid there with his head spinning. Giddy, blissful. He wanted to lie there forever, wished that Shane was lying with him. But then he heard Shane's shower start, and he figured he, too, should clean himself up. They had a whole day ahead of them. 

***

Shane crept into the kitchen a few hours later, half hoping that Ilya wouldn't be there, half relieved and happy to see that he was. He had laid on his bed for an hour after he showered, wondering what had happened this morning. Was Ilya just fucking around? Maybe he always loudly got off in the common room when everyone left for break. But it had felt like his hisses and groans were for Shane to hear. Shane's ears burned with embarrassment as he thought about the noises that had ripped out of his mouth, he had been too turned on at the time to worry about what they meant.  

Ilya stretched like a cat on the couch, t -shirt clinging to his frame deliciously. He shot Shane a devilish grin and Shane ducked his head. 

"Ready to cook?" He asked, and Ilya nodded.

For the next few hours, they worked side by side. They bickered over what music to play, but fell into contended silence most of the time. Ilya was not lying, he was a good cook. Shane was studiously following recipes. Ilya was seasoning without any regard for measuring cups and spoons, unconcerned about setting timers, and had an annoying knack for tasting whatever Shane was working on, and figuring out how to make it better. After he added more maple syrup and clove to the sweet potatoes, Shane finally asked "How did you get so good at this?"

Ilya didn't look at him as he opened the oven to baste the turkey breast. "My mother died when I was twelve. My father is not good cook. I learned to cook." 

"Ilya, I'm so sorry." Shane replied lamely. Those words felt insufficient. Ilya nodded, still avoiding his gaze.

 "Thank you."

Without thinking, Shane rested a hand on Ilya's back. He guessed he meant it as a steady, reassuring touch. The kind his friends would give him when he was overwhelmed. But it felt like a pulse of electricity, and Ilya stiffened. Shane started to draw his hand away, but Ilya turned towards him and slipped into a hug before he could process it. They stood like that, maybe for a moment, maybe for an hour. Ilya's face buried in Shane's shoulder, Shane stroking his hair. 

"I miss her." Ilya choked out, and Shane's heart squeezed. 

"Do you want to tell me about her?"

Ilya nestled his face further into his shoulder. "She was very funny. And very sad. When I played hockey, she came to every game. And she never cared if we won or lost. I could not play after she died, it felt like nothing mattered anymore." 

Shane could feel a dampness on his shirt, Ilya was crying. His own tears were streaming down his cheeks. He was combing his hand through Ilya's hair gently and it was as if Ilya needed to rush and tumble all his thoughts out.

"She swallowed a whole bottle of pills. I found her."

Shane shuddered "Ilya, I am so sorry."

"I do not want you to think she was weak."

"I don't."

Ilya sighed shakily. "I wish my father had died. Not her. My father is so cruel. He was so cruel to her. But now he is sick, he has dementia, and I feel mean being mad at him."

Shane kept stroking his hair "I'm so sorry. That doesn't feel like saying enough. But I am so sorry."

The oven timer beeped loudly, jolting both of them. "Motherfucker" Ilya laughed, wiping his eyes. Shane still had his arms wrapped around him, but Ilya gently pulled away to yank out the stuffing that Shane had set a timer for, and the moment had ended. 

***

Ilya had never had a Thanksgiving dinner. Shane had, adorably, set the table and conjured up candles. They turned off the harsh overhead light, and Ilya's heart felt like it was about to burst. Shane looked so pretty, lit by warm candlelight and giddily piling his plate. They had made way too much food, but Shane had been so excited about it, and Ilya was incapable of saying no when Shane had rattled off the unreasonable number of dishes he wanted to make. They ate, they laughed, they drank cheap wine. 

"One thing my family always does...well, it's not unique, most people do this. But we always say something we're thankful for," Shane murmured as they sliced into the pie. 

Ilya drank him in, his freckles illuminated, dancing in the shadow from the candles. You, I'm thankful for you. For whatever I can get of you, Ilya wanted to say. For a moment, he almost felt brave enough to say it, because Shane was gazing at him heavily, and it was reminding him of those filthy moans he had heard this morning, and…

"I am thankful for flu season." Ilya shrugged. "I am sorry your parents are sick. But I have never had Thanksgiving. Is nice." It was true, and it was the closest he could get right now to confessing his feelings. 

Shane broke into a broad smile "Truthfully, I am too. I miss my parents, but this is really nice."

The two ate their pie in comfortable silence, stealing smiles at each other in the candlelight. 

***

After dinner, they cleaned up. Ilya took a break to smoke out the window and kept raising his eyebrows at Shane, daring him to say something. But Shane didn't have the heart to. He was too happy. Full, content. Last night it felt like he had gotten the old Ilya back, the one before Shane had given up on taking any more Russian. Tonight it felt that some new level of intimacy and easiness had been unlocked. 

"It is snowing," Ilya called out. Shane's head shot up, and sure enough there were fat flakes flying past the window now, dusting the ground. 

"Do you want to go for a walk in it? After I'm done?" Shane asked. Ilya gave him a half-grin and a nod. 

"What is so special? They have snow in Canada, no?"

"Yeah, of course. But the first snow was always fun when I was little. I was so focused on hockey, but my family always went sledding for the first snow of the year, no matter what. Don't get me wrong, I love hockey. But it felt so nice to just do something that made me feel like a kid. That was only for fun, nothing else."

Ilya closed the window and his eyes glittered with something tender, something...mischievous? Shane felt his heart clench. 

"Ok. You finish here, I will go get ready."

Shane wrapped up, went to pull on his sweater and coat, and left his room to find Ilya waiting in the hall with...a giant slab of cardboard? Ilya rolled his eyes. 

"For sledding, Hollander. We have no sled, but this will do, no?"

Shane grinned. “Sure, better than nothing."

***

They scrambled through the snow, racing each other and laughing. Ilya was struck for the millionth time by how beautiful Shane was. His lips were rosy, his cheeks were pink against the cold air. 

When they reached the nearest hill, they paused, panting. 

"Ok, who first?" Shane asked. Ilya squinted, unable to tell what Shane was getting at. Shane gestured at the cardboard "sled" Ilya was holding.

"Oh. You do not want to share?" 

Shane flushed even redder, and Ilya could feel a grin break across his face, so wide he thought it might split.

"You think we'll fit?"

Ilya slammed the cardboard on the ground, splayed his legs, and patted between them "I think you will be surprised."

To his delight, Shane immediately sat where he was told, and Ilya was thrilled by how obedient he was. He pulled Shane closer, he supposed under pretense that they needed to squeeze to fit on the makeshift sled, but it only succeeded in making his cock throb. He was sure Shane could feel him stiffening against him, he thought he heard Shane gasp. 

"Ready?"

"Yeah."

Ilya shoved off the hill. They started skidding down, and then quickly picked up speed, hurtling. Shane was laughing, Ilya whooping. They reached the bottom and tumbled into the snow, laying there panting and giggling. 

Ilya turned his head and Shane was smiling at him, snow in his perfect hair, clinging to his beautiful eyelashes, and Ilya couldn't be bothered to be scared anymore. Couldn't be bothered to waste more time worrying about whether Shane wanted him, what being with him would mean.

In one swift movement he rolled over, only taking a moment to assess Shane's shy, eager smile, before Ilya crushed Shane's mouth with his. Shane let out the happiest, heaviest sigh, like he had been waiting all day for this. Ilya had been waiting more than a year for this, and finally his swirling, anxious thoughts quieted.

He sucked on Shane's lip like he'd been dreaming of, bit gently to coax another moan out of him. Nosed down his neck, biting, licking, sucking. Shane tasted so sweet. As Ilya nibbled on his earlobe, he felt Shane grinding himself against him. Ilya paused for a moment to look around them, feverishly thinking that he could just have Shane right here, but Shane saw it on his face "Not here."

Ilya nodded, breath ragged now. The walk to the dorm felt so far, but he dragged Shane to his feet. 

***

They scrambled back to the dorm, the snow truly pelting down now. The moment they were inside, Ilya shook the snow from his hair at Shane like a wet dog, which elicited a fond "oh fuck off."

Shane felt like he was in a dream, with the way that Ilya was staring at him. Smiling and beautiful, flushed, damp with snow melting in his curls. The next moment, Ilya closed the space between them and continued the desperate kisses he had been peppering on Shane in the snow, his lips cool and soft. They broke apart, stumbled up a flight of stairs, started kissing again, and then Shane grabbed Ilya's hand and dragged him, determined, up the final flight to their floor. 

Without thinking about it, Shane pulled him into his room. Ilya eagerly yanked off his shirt, and Shane palmed his chest "Why do you have this body as a psych major?"

Ilya laughed, sounding pleased "You like?"

"Yes, I really do," Shane smiled. He placed soft kisses on Ilya's chest, kissed his way down his stomach, and dropped to his knees. Ilya's breath grew ragged, eyes half lidded now. Shane placed his hand on Ilya's fly and Ilya nodded. In an instant, Shane flicked it open, pulled out Ilya's cock, and...fuck. It was beautiful. Shane gave him the slowest stroke, taking him in, afraid that at any moment this dream would evaporate. Ilya let out a hiss that sounded exactly like the one he had heard this morning. Emboldened, Shane's lips parted and he took him into his mouth. Tongue teasing the slit, swirling around the head. 

Ilya moaned deeply "Yes, Hollander. Fuck, that feels so good."

Shane eagerly took him further, hollowing out his cheeks as he bobbed his head and sucked the length of him. Ilya's hand was in his hair now, tangled, as his hips jerked and Russian fell out of his mouth. Shane had learned nothing from their tutoring sessions. Or maybe Ilya was just using truly filthy words, ones that a professor would never teach. He sounded like he was praising Shane, his words reverent as he gasped. 

Shane pulled away to lazily swipe his tongue at the head of his cock, grinning at Ilya who gave him a tortured glare. Shane licked precum off his lips, wrapped them around Ilya's cock, and took him as deep as he could, and Ilya shuddered. "Shane" he gasped "I am going to come, if you do not want-" Shane replied by humming and swirling his tongue around Ilya, and within seconds his mouth was full of Ilya's release, his hips jerking, his hand grabbing Shane's hair. 

Shane sat on his heels and looked up at Ilya, swallowing, feeling drunk with power. Ilya looked wrecked, and then he dragged Shane to his feet, threw him on the bed. Kicked off his pants, yanked off Shane's clothes with feverish desperation. Before Shane could even process the thought, Ilya was straddling him, eyes dancing with happiness. "That felt so fucking good, but I should not have let you make me come that easily" Ilya breathed as he nipped Shane's ear. 

Shane's breath caught in his throat.

"Oh?"

Ilya just smirked and started kissing his way down Shane's body. He started teasing Shane. Grasping his painfully hard cock for a delicious moment, then letting go. Swiping a tongue down his length, then stopping to kiss his thigh. Shane shuddered through it, feeling waves of pleasure. 

Eventually even Ilya didn't seem like he could take any more, and he took Shane in his mouth completely, head bobbing slowly, tongue working his length while Shane sighed and moaned. 

Ilya's hand made its way up to Shane's chest as he sucked, and Shane placed his hand on top of Ilya's, longing to touch every part of him. The instant he did that, it was as if Ilya lost all self control. His torturous pace was replaced with an urgent, desperate ferocity. In seconds, Shane was shaking, trembling, and then completely undone, words falling out of his mouth faster than he could think.

 "Ilya, that feels amazing. Fuck, I’ve wanted this for so long, want you, oh fuuuuck."

They lay there in the dark, Ilya softly kissing his thigh, Shane panting as he tried to recover. 

Ilya squeezed Shane's hand and then dragged his body against Shane's, grinning as Shane shuddered, settling next to him. 

"You wanted this for so long?"

Shane could feel his cheeks heating. 

"That's not fair, I couldn't understand what you were saying."

Ilya smirked, "Ah, you need good Russian tutor then. One you have now must not be teaching you the right words."

He placed a kiss behind Shane's ear that made him shiver, and then he started whispering something in Russian.

"I have wanted you for so long. Sometimes it feels like I have been waiting for you my whole life." 

Shane frowned, trying to translate any of it, but he could tell from Ilya's satisfied grin that he had said it too softly and quickly, he never planned for Shane to understand what he said.

Ilya kissed his forehead and whispered.

"Thank you, Shane. This is best Thanksgiving I have ever had."

Shane laughed, and he could feel Ilya laughing, and then he wrapped his arms around him. He drifted off to sleep, positive this must be a dream. 

***

Ilya woke to gentle, soft snores, and Shane's torso splayed across his. He gazed down in amazement, stunned that he had finally worked up the nerve to show Shane how he felt. That Shane had responded so enthusiastically. His words were ringing in his ears, causing his heart to flip. "Wanted this for so long." 

He felt like those words made up for the past few weeks of agony. His head swirled with thoughts of Shane dropping on his knees, peeking at him through his eyelashes. Crying out as Ilya tried to get him off in the most worshipful, masterful way he could, only to lose all self-control when Shane clutched his hand. He noticed his cock hardening as those moments replayed in his memory, and Shane stirred. He looked up at Ilya, an unguarded, beautiful smile on his face. 

"Good morning"

"Good morning." I like you, Ilya thought. The word felt insufficient. I want you, I need you. I adore you, I lo- Ilya stamped out those thoughts. It was too early in the morning, he wasn't thinking straight. 

Shane nuzzled his head into Ilya's chest and then shyly said "I'm going to brush my teeth." Ilya clutched him, not wanting to break the moment. 

"Ilya, let go. I want to kiss you, and I want to do it without morning breath please." Ilya relented. Followed Shane to his bathroom, borrowed mouthwash to freshen up. The instant the toothbrush was tucked into the cup next to the sink, Ilya started pressing kisses along Shane's neck, his shoulders. In the frantic sex last night, Ilya hadn't noticed that Shane had freckles there. 

"I want to fuck you." He growled. Shane shivered and nodded. They returned to Shane's bed, Ilya pinning him into his pillows. Ilya took the opportunity to stroke Shane, enjoying the awestruck way Shane looked at him. 

Shane threw open his bedside drawer, yanked lube and a comically long strip of condoms. 

Ilya shook them. "You think there will be enough?" He asked.

"Fuck off" Shane rolled his eyes. 

Ilya lowered himself first to lap at Shane's hole. Reveling in the strangled cry Shane made as he playfully tongued him, pushed into his warmth. He felt Shane clenching and shuddering, desperate and ready for him already.

Standing up for a moment, Ilya spread lube on Shane's hole, took a steadying breath, and slowly slid a finger inside. Shane felt warm, tight. He coaxed his finger in, stroking Shane's prostate, awestruck in the way it made him cry out. As he worked his fingers, opening Shane, he started whispering in Russian. "Look at you. So good for me. So perfect, just begging for my dick."

Shane looked as if he was already on the edge, so Ilya scrambled to roll on a condom, gave Shane one last look. Shane nodded desperately and Ilya slowly pushed into him. It felt incredible. Shane was clenching around him, precum beading on his cock, his face looking like he was about to fall apart. 

Ilya breathed raggedly. He wasn't going to last long. He would need to fuck Shane again later to prove that he could be a good lover, that he could be everything Shane wanted. Just the possibility of fucking Shane again, that he had him, could see in front of him how much Shane desired him, drove him wild. 

He began gently rocking into Shane, eyes steady on his. "Is ok?"

Shane nodded. Ilya pushed gently and firmly until he was at his hilt, all of him buried in Shane. Shane's eyes rolled to the back of his head and Ilya cursed. He pulled out slowly and then began fucking Shane harder, driving into him with a hunger. Shane reached up to stroke his cock and Ilya lost any shred of self control left. 

"Yes," he growled. "Come for me. Look at you, so desperate for me. So wet already." Shane's moan racked out of him like a sob. "You're filthy for me. Drove me crazy yesterday hearing you touch yourself."

 Shane's eyes snapped open, glazed and unfocused. "God, Ilya you have no idea how good you sounded."

Ilya made a truly embarrassing gasp, frantically pounding into Shane, hypnotized by Shane's hand rapidly running the length of his cock. 

"Please come for me sweetheart. Please, need to see you come, oh fuck-Shane!"

 Ilya came, body wracked with shudders, and he only had a moment to regret that he had finished without getting Shane off, when Shane came, his release coating Ilya's chest as he hung over Shane. They lay there, panting, gasping. Shane's eyes searched Ilya's, he looked broken open. Stunned. 

The moment was snapped by the sound of someone clattering a suitcase down the hall. Ilya cursed and threw the blanket over them, but Shane laid a soothing hand on his head 

"Don't worry. It's definitely not Hayden, he doesn't get back till Saturday." 

Ilya felt embarrassed by how jumpy he had been. He felt intensely protective of this bubble they were existing in. He cursed whatever floor mate was back early, spoiling the opportunity for more loud sex. Then he nuzzled into Shane's neck, whispering Russian endearments that he was pretty sure Shane hadn't learned. And he realized he didn't care if Shane did understand them.

***

They spent most of the day in bed, quieter now that someone else was on the floor, but they couldn't keep their hands off each other. Shane felt like they were making up for lost time. He had accidentally told Ilya last night that he'd been wanting this, him, for so long. But he was too scared to admit just how long. As Ilya kissed his way down his stomach, lavishing him with attention, Shane replayed the moment they had met. That he never could have dreamed he would have Ilya in his bed a year later. Ilya took him into his mouth, and Shane lost all ability to think of anything else. 

The next morning, Shane woke up before Ilya. He could feel his warm breath on his neck, his arm slung over Shane. Hayden would be back later today. Shane had managed to spend yesterday in a daze, uncharacteristically living in the moment, too preoccupied with the immediacy of Ilya. Now his thoughts were racing. 

He was in so deep, already. He was picturing waking up with Ilya in his bed every morning-stupid, he knew, because Hayden wouldn't put up with nightly sleepovers from a Russian boy who antagonized him every chance he got. He pictured Ilya at movie nights with Rose, but all he could envision was the two of them fighting. His stomach constricted. He pictured Ilya meeting his parents, but he stalled out at the thought of how to introduce him. His boyfriend? Shane wasn't ready to come out. He wasn't ready for it to shut the door on the thing he'd dreamed of, the possibility of an NHL career.

 He squeezed his eyes shut. Ilya deserved more than that. He deserved someone who wouldn't ask him to hide in the shadows indefinitely. Shane could feel himself spinning out completely now. A voice in his head told him to calm down. Ilya hadn't asked him to be his boyfriend. Ilya had been affectionate, adoring, the past few days, but he had always been kind and tender with Shane. He slept with a million girls and none of them seemed to hate him after. He was considerate with everyone, Shane decided. His soft kisses, his mysterious whispers in Russian, nothing indicated that this was more serious for him than it was with, say, Svetlana. 

Shane felt a knife twisting in his stomach at that thought, but he also felt a sick seed of hope. Maybe Ilya wanted that with Shane. Something like Svetlana, a friend he could fuck regularly. Nothing close to what Shane wanted, but he would be able to spend time with Ilya, be able to hold Ilya, hear him growl Shane's name. 

Shane felt a wave of relief begin to wash over him. He hadn't realized how high he had screwed his shoulders until he felt them sag, beginning to relax, and the movement must have woken Iya. Shane rolled over to drink him in. Ilya was blinking happily in the sunlight, staring back at Shane. This was going to be agony. 

***

A few hours later, they sat in Ilya's room, Ilya humming to Bad Bunny and tidying up. "Harris has been bugging me to do this for weeks" he had admitted to Shane. As Shane watched him sort through a pile of dirty laundry, he steeled his nerves. 

"So, um. Is it OK if we keep this between us?" Shane asked. Ilya glanced between Shane and his laundry, confused. Shane gestured between them, not sure how that would make it any clearer.

 "I'm closeted. Aside from Rose and Troy now, I guess. Hayden doesn't even know."

 Ilya's eyebrows were furrowed, hazel eyes narrowing. 

"And, uh. I don't really know when I'll feel ok coming out. I want to enter the draft next year. And a couple years ago there was a college player who was really good, but he came out on Instagram a few months before the draft, and nobody drafted him. It was so obvious why, there was no reason for teams to pass on him." As Shane rambled, finally admitting his worst fear, he was relieved to see Ilya's face contort into something resembling understanding. 

Ilya jerked his head in a nod. "Of course, I will not tell." 

Shane let out a sigh of relief. 

Ilya's nose scrunched. "You thought I would tell your secret?" 

Shane felt an unnecessary sting at that. He wished there was a world where Ilya could brag about hooking up with Shane. 

"No, I know I can...uh...trust you. Thank you."

As if he read Shane's worst fear on his face, Ilya breezily turned to the next topic. "Will be fun. To have a secret hook up." He said this while looking at his laundry, but he peeked up at Shane a moment after the words left his mouth. 

Shane wanted to cheer, and he was sure his smile looked dopey. "Oh yeah?"

Ilya crossed the room, sliding his arms to either of Shane, boxing him in, leaning down for a kiss "Yes. I think so."

Chapter 5: Backed Over By A Dump Truck

Ilya was trying so hard to be a good friend, but he couldn't focus at all on what Harris was saying to him. Harris was recapping his break, how he had run into his ex, and it helped him realize he was SO over him. Ilya yearned for that sensation.

Shane had essentially stomped on his fantasies earlier that day, fantasies of being together that Ilya had known were impossible, but that hurt nonetheless. He was too selfish to do the sensible thing, to cut Shane out the way he should, like some kind of infection that was compromising his system.

Ilya scowled. He must be in real pain if he was comparing sweet, scared Shane to an infection. He hadn't been able to hold on to his dignity when Shane had confessed why he was closeted. He had looked so afraid, and Ilya knew what it meant to him to jeopardize the thing he loved most.

Ilya had walked away from hockey when he was young, when his mother had died and he couldn't focus on anything but his pain and sadness. But hockey was a refuge for Shane, he could see how the man's anxiety and adorable overanalyzing evaporated on the ice.

Ilya would never ask him to give that up. But he also couldn't bring himself to stop seeing Shane. He could keep a secret, especially if it meant he could steal time with Shane, holding him while he felt him shudder and clench around cock. Plant kisses on his freckles. Twist his hands in his hair and make him forget all words, replace them with moans and sighs.

Ilya needed to get a grip. He returned his attention to Harris, who seemed completely oblivious to the fire in Ilya's mind.

"How was your break?" Harris asked.

"Ok. Hollander was here, we watched hockey one night." Ilya relayed the most tame part of their break he could think of, knowing on the surface it sounded simple. Harris wouldn't know how much it had meant to Ilya. How peaceful it had felt. The ice thawing between him and Shane again, their cozy time on the couch a precursor to the best day of Ilya's life.

"Oh, classic. Well that's nice, I bet he was happy to have some company." Harris turned his attention to stuffing his suitcase in his tiny closet, and Ilya resisted the urge to bang his head against the wall.

***

Shane sat in his bed, trying his best to not be annoyed at Hayden and Troy, who were playing a video game past Shane's usual bedtime. His phone lit up on his nightstand and he lunged for it when he saw who had texted him

Ilya: you up?

Shane: did you really just text me that?

Ilya: it is a real question. you have the bedtime of an old woman.

Shane: fuck off

Ilya: i am kidding. i can hear hayden and troy from here.

Shane: yeah, I'm trying to not be annoyed.

Ilya: hayden is very annoying, you finally see.

Ilya: do you want to come before bed?

Shane: what do you mean?

Ilya: helps me sleep, getting laid before bed.

Shane stared at his phone, unable to process the proposal. He and Ilya had agreed to keep hooking up in secret, but he hadn't dreamed Ilya would be ready for more that same night. Shane sent his next text at the same moment that Ilya’s came in.

Ilya: if you want to fall asleep to loud hockey players that is ok

Shane: where should we meet?

Ten minutes later, Shane had made up a lame excuse about going to the corner store for melatonin, and he slipped downstairs, into the basement, where the laundry room was. Ilya was perched on a washing machine, grinning like a Cheshire cat. Shane's heart flipped, he still hadn't caught up to the reality that this beautiful man wanted him.

"Do you bring all your secret hook ups down here?" He asked, trying to flirt, but regretting it as soon as the words came out. What if he did?

Thankfully, Ilya shook his head. "Only ones with cute freckles and a weak backhand."

Shane was indignant. "A weak backhand?"

Ilya nodded, trying and failing to look serious. He waved Shane closer, spreading his legs. Shane stepped in between them, and before he knew it Ilya had tucked his hand around his jaw, pressing urgent kisses onto his lips. Shane felt himself slip his tongue into Ilya's open mouth and a low hiss came from the back of Ilya's throat. Ilya grabbed him closer, hands smacking Shane playfully on the ass, and then he began sucking on his earlobe

"Where do you want me?" He whispered. "On the washing machine? On the floor?"

Shane laughed, and then pulled back, considering.

"Um. Against the door? So nobody can come in and surprise us?"

Ilya nodded eagerly and leapt up, pushing Shane slowly backwards. He felt himself thud against the door, Ilya planting his hand against it. He resumed his attention on Shane's ear, then slowly worked his way down his neck, laying soft kisses on places that made Shane squirm with delight. Ilya dropped to his knees, pulling down Shane's sweatpants and grinning at his already rigid cock.

"So eager for me" he drawled, and Shane was too far gone to defend himself.

"I want you so bad."

"Yes?" Ilya sounded breathless, peeking up at Shane. "You want me to make you come? I do not know." He pulled an exaggerated frown. "You need to be quiet, can you do that for me?"

It was driving Shane crazy, seeing Ilya like this. He was clearly loving the power he held over Shane at this moment.

"I can be quiet" Shane promised, pleading. "Please."

Something hungry flashed in Ilya's eyes and he took Shane in his mouth, into his throat, making Shane gasp loudly. Ilya dragged Shane's cock out of his mouth slowly, shaking his head.

"I said quiet."

Shane screwed his mouth closed, refusing to make a sound at all, pleading with his eyes. Ilya took pity on him and returned to Shane's cock. It was as if he was hell bent on making Shane cry out. He hummed, his mouth full of Shane, and the sensation almost tipped Shane over the edge. Ilya worked his mouth over Shane, wet and warm and adoring. He pulled off Shane for a moment, and shook his head at Shane's accusing gaze. He held out his fingers and Shane only needed a moment to realize what he wanted. He dutifully bent forward, sucking on Ilya's fingers, coating them in his spit.

Ilya looked reverent, pupils blown wide, eyes transfixed on Shane's mouth, before he returned his gaze to his cock and resumed. He began stroking Shane's hole with his slick fingers, and once he slipped his index finger in, Shane felt his eyes roll in the back of his head. In moments he was coming, harder than he had realized was possible, and he couldn't help one tortured hiss escaping his lips. Ilya raised an eyebrow at him, and Shane felt a shiver up his spine.

"What did I say?" Ilya asked in a hushed tone. Shane just stared at him, awestruck. Ilya stood.

"I told you to be quiet" he whispered in Shane's ear. "Could you not help yourself? So desperate to come for me?"

Shane nodded weakly, bleary with lust.

"On your knees" Ilya instructed, and Shane must have shot down comically fast because he heard Ilya let out a surprised laugh.

Within seconds he had his mouth on him, and he had a fleeting desire to tease Ilya, to get payback for the torturous pleasure moments earlier, but he couldn't hold back. He swirled his tongue on the head of his cock, cupped Ilya's balls, delighting in the way Ilya's hips jerked when he did. When Shane took him deep in his mouth, tongue flattening on the underside, Ilya seemed to lose any sense of control, fisting Shane's hair and fucking his mouth.

He had no instructions from Shane to be silent, and he hissed curses, Russian words that wrapped around Shane's ears like secrets. Then, to Shane's delight, he switched to English.

"Yes, sweetheart. Please, yes. So fucking good for me. Please don't stop."

Ilya gasped, and shuddered and Shane swallowed his release, grinning at the way Ilya looked so reverent. He pulled Shane to his feet and kissed his neck feverishly, hugged him close, running his fingers through Shane's hair.

"It is ok? Me bossing you?" He asked Shane.

Shane squirmed with delight "Yes. It's so hot" he admitted. Ilya pulled back, stroking Shane's hair with a tender expression, before he laid a soft kiss on him.

"Come on. Hayden will wonder where you have been, out so late past bedtime."

***

One week later

Ilya could tell Svetlana was eyeing him, in her uncanny way. He had barely seen her that week, and he was giving one word answers as they loaded their plates in the dining hall. Sveta scanned the crowded room and squealed. Ilya followed her gaze and was horrified to see that Troy and Shane were sitting with Harris. Harris and Troy were bent over his phone, laughing at something, while Shane was fidgeting, pushing his food around on his plate.

Svetlana and Ilya approached, and Shane looked up, ears immediately turning red. Ilya gritted his teeth into a smile that he hoped screamed "I am so casual" and he took a seat next to Harris.

"Hello." Ilya nodded.

"Hey! Have you seen this video Harris made about Shane? It's hilarious" Troy grinned.

Ilya shook his head and Harris passed his phone to him. Ilya glanced at Shane for a moment, who looked like he was going to be sick.

It was a quick fan cam style video, lots of quick cuts and sparkle effects on footage of Shane on the ice, and Harris had superimposed comments from prior instagram videos. They were all thirsty.

"I'd cross a desert for those freckles"

"Get you a man that can do both: hot and pretty"

"I think he wins so many face offs because the other guys are hypnotized by those brown eyes."

Ilya felt his stomach twinge. Something protective. He knew Shane was a prize, and he felt a surge of possessive pride. How many people would love to trade places with him and kiss those pretty freckles, get lost in those deep brown eyes.

Ilya handed the phone to Svetlana, who had her hand out for it, and nodded at Harris. "I bet that will get a lot of views" he said lamely, training his eyes to look anywhere but at Shane.

"I'm working on one for Troy right now too, but the comments we get about Troy are a little more...explicit" Harris chuckled.

Troy turned red, coughed.

Shane turned the topic to their upcoming game, and for the next hour the table enthusiastically dissected how the team had been faring this season, what to prepare for against Iowa,and the Michigan goal Iowa's center had made last week that went viral.

Ilya felt a tingling warmth in his limbs as he watched Harris and Sveta gossip and joke with Shane and Troy. Somehow over the course of the past few months, his life and Shane's had started to knit together in a way he had never dreamed possible.

A few weeks ago he had wanted Troy to drop off the face of the earth, but that raging jealousy had been supplanted with a fondness as he realized how gentle and kind Troy was. Ilya wondered if Troy had the same fears as Shane. He was a very good hockey player. Not as good as Shane, but Ilya thought he could likely get drafted. Did Troy ever think about coming out? Was there anyone he would think was worth coming out for?

Shane caught Ilya's eye, a miniscule expression of worry. Ilya must have been scowling as he wondered and worried, and he arranged his face to neutral before flashing Shane a reassuring grin. There was nothing for Shane to worry about, he would do everything he could to prevent that.

***

The group trudged through the snow towards Shane's dorm. It was a Friday night, but the team had early practice tomorrow, so Shane and Troy were not going out. Ilya had suggested coming back to their room for a bit, and Shane was full of nerves, thinking about squeezing into the small room, close to Ilya with other people watching. Troy and Harris were excitedly talking about a new digital camera Harris had gotten. Shane had faintly wondered when Troy got so into cameras, when Svetlana snapped him back to the present.

"So Shane, I hear you don't want to learn any more Russian."

Shane glanced at Ilya's back, he was leading the pack of them through the newly fallen snow, smoking a cigarette.

"Yeah, uh. I thought I might go back to French next semester. But now I'm not so sure."

He saw Ilya's head jerk up, as if he was about to turn around, but he didn't.

"Ah! See, it is not so bad. Ilya was so disappointed when you told him you quit. I think he felt it was his fault."

This made Ilya turn around, glaring at Svetlana.

"That is lie. I know it is not my fault."

"Yeah," Shane waved him off. "Ilya's been great. I think without him, I'd be failing."

Ilya turned around, walking backwards so he could look at Shane properly. "You are too hard on yourself." He said evenly. Shane felt his lips part in surprise, and then Ilya whirled back around, yanking the door to their dorm open.

Harris had a record player, and he and Svetlana were picking through his collection, excitedly arguing over what to play next. Shane had planted himself on Harris' bed, afraid to be near Ilya. Ilya was avoiding his gaze anyway, sitting on the windowsill next to his own bed, sipping on a beer. Troy was next to Shane, Harris' camera in hand, flipping through the photos Harris had taken of the team last week. He paused on a photo of Harris. It must have been a lighting test or something, Harris' blond hair was sticking up in a funny way that made Shane think he had yanked his cap off moments earlier. Troy carefully put the camera back in its bag and stowed it on Harris' desk before he joined Svetlana and Harris.

Shane saw an amused expression on Ilya's face as he watched his friends, and then felt a flush cross his cheeks when Ilya turned his gaze to him. Ilya grinned, a devilish smile that Shane felt was probably all too obvious. This was crazy, to think that they could be in the same room without people noticing how desperately Shane wanted Ilya. Shane cleared his throat and stood up "I think I gotta call it a night." He said, and even Troy, used to his early bedtimes and short social battery, looked surprised. It was 8pm.

"Headache," Shane said lamely, and spit out a quick goodnight before he scurried out the door.

***

Ilya counted the minutes, waiting as long as he could to avoid suspicion, before he announced that he was going for a cigarette. Outside, Ilya looked at the dorm windows. Shane's light was still on. He fumbled his phone out of his pocket.

Ilya: how is your head?

Shane: Fine. I was just tired

Ilya stared at his phone. He had wanted Shane to stay, so badly. But it was also torture being so close to him and pretending he didn't crave him.

Ilya: can i come say goodnight?

Shane: I'll unlock my door now.

Ilya had to restrain himself from racing upstairs. He gently creaked Shane's door open, and was delighted to see Shane's glasses perched on his nose, book in hand.

"Hi." Ilya whispered, gently shutting the door behind him. "I can't stay long" he apologized.

"It’s ok." Shane looked hungry, Ilya could finally see that expression Sveta had described to him. In seconds, Ilya crossed the room, tossed Shane's book aside and grasped Shane's wrists, pinning him back against his bed, planting his lips on him. Shane sighed and squirmed, evidently thrilled to have Ilya trap him. Ilya kissed him like he was drowning and Shane was oxygen. It was embarrassingly frantic, messier than he would have liked, but he had been dying to do this all night. Shane started grinding himself against Ilya, and Ilya heard a hoarse gasp come out of his lips.

"Sorry. I know we don't have time" Shane grinned wickedly, and Ilya realized he was torturing him on purpose.

"When can I fuck you next," Ilya gritted out, cursing the fact that his friends were practically next door and would ask awkward questions if he vanished for much longer.

Shane hummed as Ilya's hand traveled down to cup him over his sweatpants "Tomorrow? Hayden will probably go to Jackie's after practice."

Ilya nodded roughly, giving Shane one torturous stroke before releasing him, grinning at how wrecked Shane looked. "Goodnight Shane" he whispered.

"Goodnight, Ilya" Shane said reverently, eyes glassy.

Ilya returned to his room and spent the rest of the night biting back a grin, thoughts consumed with the beautiful boy just two doors away from him.

The hours dragged the next morning. He sat in his room, reading and re-reading the same passages in his textbook, absorbing none of the information. He had heard Shane and Hayden leave early in the morning for practice and had heard them return. He stared at his phone, willing Shane to text him that the coast was clear, to come over. He slid low in his seat, rubbing his forehead. It was pathetic how desperate he was for an hour alone with Shane. Their proximity only made him needier. Finally, his phone lit up, Shane letting him know Hayden had just left.

Ilya wanted to bolt down the hall, but he willed himself to play it cool. Spent some time trying to tame his curls in the mirror, steadying his nervous breaths. His phone lit up again.

Shane: ???

Groaning, Ilya wrenched his door open, checked that nobody was in the hallway, and padded down to Shane's.

He opened the door and immediately hurried it shut behind him, amazed to see Shane already naked, lazily stroking himself for him.

"Couldn't wait?" Ilya just about dove on top of him, taking a moment to admire the peach flush in Shane's cheeks, the sweet, defiant look in his eyes.

"Fuck off. You were trying to keep me waiting."

Ilya kissed his way down his neck. "Love how desperate you are."

Shane sighed, and it sent a thrill up his spine.

"How much time do we have?" Ilya asked.

"Probably only an hour. Hayden is just getting lunch with Jackie." Shane panted out, already leaking on his hand. Ilya groaned and fumbled open the drawer, grabbing lube and condoms.

He had wanted to torture Shane, but their hookups had such short windows of opportunity. He lowered, moving his mouth to lap at Shane's hole, running his tongue over him, slipping into his warmth. Shane was arching his back, whispered moans squeaking from him. Ilya yanked him up, laid down, and Shane crawled on top of him, sinking slowly on Ilya's cock. He was a revelation, flushed, rocking against Ilya with lust in his glassy eyes.

Ilya cursed and yanked his hands on Shane's hips. Taking his lead, Shane began riding him hard, drawing gasps and garbled sentences out of Ilya.

"Fuck, look at you. You're so fucking hot, taking me so well."

Shane locked eyes with Ilya and began stroking his cock, Ilya nodded. He was close, he was so close. In moments, Shane was coming, eyes still locked with Ilya as if he was pouring his soul into him. Ilya grabbed Shane's ass, pounded into him, and covered his words with Russian. "God, why does this feel so perfect. Why do I need you so badly? I love you, I'm so in love with you it's killing me."

He came, crashing waves of pleasure covering him. He and Shane laid there, air heavy with their breath. The reality of what he'd said hit him. He had been running away from the truth of it too long, and his fuckdrunk self had smacked him in the face with it. He was painfully in love. He prayed Shane wasn't as good at Russian as he feared, that his vocabulary was still limited to fruits, vegetables, family members, and days of the week.

Shane's eyes searched his. He didn't look like a man who had just heard his casual hook up confess undying love to him, Ilya's secret seemed safe. But he did look caught off guard, contemplating. Ilya knew by now how dangerous it could be when Shane started to overthink things, so he grabbed his chin and kissed him deeply, distracting him as best he could.

***

The semester was ending, and for the first time, Shane wasn't looking forward to break. He wouldn't see Ilya for a month. Ilya would be in Moscow, in a completely different time zone. Shane tried to not to think about how his stomach wrenched at the thought of a few weeks apart. They had only had this thing, this casual thing for a month. He could survive a few weeks away from Ilya.

They had planned their last hookup before break, Shane eagerly plugging "tutoring" into his calendar to mark the day and time Harris would be gone, and he could properly say goodbye. Leave Ilya with memories hopefully, to hang onto for the next month. But the day before, Ilya materialized in his doorway, face gaunt and white as a sheet.

He didn't speak at first, just stood there folding his hands together, and Shane felt paralyzed with fear.

Hayden broke the tension, looking up from his suitcase. "Hey. What's up?"

"I...my father is ill. I just wanted to say goodbye. Harris is taking me to airport now."

Shane's stomach lurched, and before he knew it, he had leapt up and was hugging Ilya. "Ilya, I'm so sorry. Is there anything I can do?"

Ilya's hands touched Shane's back lightly, and Shane was reminded that they were not alone.

"No, thank you. I just need to get home."

To Shane's mortification, Hayden stepped across the room and pulled Ilya into a hug as well.

"I'm so sorry dude, we'll be thinking of you" he said.

That must have been what Shane looked like. One bro to another.

Ilya looked like a wreck, nodding weakly. "Thank you. Goodbye." He hesitated for a fraction of a second, eyes locked with Shane, and then he left. Shane had never felt more useless.

***

Two weeks later, Ilya texted Shane.

Ilya: can you talk?

Shane immediately called him.

"Ilya, hi. How are you? How is your dad?"

Ilya let out a ragged breath "He is dead."

"Ilya, I'm so sorry."

He could hear Ilya sigh softly.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"Mmm. Not really. Not yet. Tell me what you are wearing." his tone turned teasing and Shane rolled his eyes. He understood that Ilya probably wanted a distraction, but he was too worried.

"Uh. Sweatpants and a hoodie?"

Ilya murmured a noise of approval. "Like what you wore the night before Thanksgiving?"

Shane felt his cheeks heat, recalling their quiet night together that ended in them falling asleep. "Yeah. I mean, to be fair it's what I'm wearing 90% of the time."

Ilya sighed, and Shane could picture him pinching the bridge of his nose, the way he did when he pretended to be annoyed at Shane. "Shane, you suck at phone sex."

"Oh my god, I don't know! How are my sweatpants supposed to be sexy foreplay?"

He could hear Ilya's smile. "Well they were very sexy when I woke up with my mouth inches from your cock. Wanted to rip them off then."

Shane groaned "I think you know how much I wanted that, since I ran out of the room to jerk off."

Ilya laughed. Then his tone turned sweet. "Where are you?"

"My childhood bedroom. Very unsexy." Shane admitted.

"Are there lots of hockey trophies?" Ilya sounded genuinely interested.

"Uh, not in here..."

"Do your parents have trophy room?" Ilya guessed, and Shane winced.

"I mean, it's not a trophy room. They just keep them in a case in the hallway. With photos of the teams I've been on."

Ilya hummed, sounding satisfied. "You have kind parents."

Shane chewed his lip, feeling the topic creep closer. He felt like Ilya was a wild horse that he didn't want to spook.

"Was your dad ever kind?"

"No." Ilya said swiftly and confidently. "He was hard on my mother. And hard on me. He only cared that I was the best, that my hockey made me important. And when I couldn't play, it was as if I didn't exist to him"

Shane felt tears well up in his eyes, and now words were pouring out of Ilya, as if he needed to exorcise these thoughts.

"I think I might have gone back, tried to play again, if he didn't do that. But I was so mad, so hurt. I needed a father, and he did not care."

Ilya sniffed a little and Shane felt the tears fall on his own cheeks. "Is OK. I found other things that make me happy. And maybe one day I can help others like me. And it is bad to say, but I am happy he is not alive anymore. It is like relief now."

Shane nodded. "No, I understand that. I'm so sorry. No kid should feel what you did."

Ilya exhaled. "You probably never thought about leaving hockey, hm?"

Shane could tell Ilya needed to move the conversation off himself for a bit. "Yeah, not really," he admitted, staring out the window at the snow. "Honestly...hockey has always been my coping mechanism. I stuck out as a kid. I was the only kid who wasn't white in my class, and kids used to say really terrible, racist things to me. Mean things about the way my mom looked and the lunches she packed for me."

Ilya made a strangled noise and Shane rushed to get to the better part.

"I was a really anxious kid. When I was bullied I'd just..totally shut down. Couldn't say anything, could barely move. But on the ice, I could forget it for a few hours. I was good, my teammates liked how good I was. I was useful. And over time, as I got better, I was important. People stopped giving me shit. I know it's probably more that we all grew up and my classmates realized it was shitty to yell slurs at the shy, anxious kid. But I think emotionally, I'll never be able to separate my value as a person from the value I bring as a hockey player."

Ilya sniffled again and Shane was aghast that he had done something to make Ilya cry. He thought he was providing a somewhat happy ending.

"You are a great hockey player, Shane. But you matter so much more to people off the ice, I hope you know that."

Shane closed his eyes, trying to will himself to believe it.

***

Ilya and Shane talked for two hours. Bouncing between flirting, joking, and discussing memories of Ilya's father that he was sure sounded terrifying. What mortified Ilya the most was that they spent a long time admitting insecurities that neither had seemed to ever tell anyone. Ilya admitted that he worried he would inherit his mother's depression, or his father's dementia. And as Shane talked about his fears: getting a career ending injury. Not being drafted. Disappointing his parents. Ilya felt a sick feeling coalesce in his gut. They finally hung up, Shane breathing "Good night," not thinking about the time difference. Ilya had a full day ahead of him to obsess over this seed of an awful realization.

Shane needed hockey. He would be lost without it. And he was right to be scared. Not that he wouldn't be good, Ilya knew he was incredibly gifted and any team would draft him. But not if they knew he was gay. There were no out players in the NHL. Not even former players who would admit it.

He had googled that right winger Shane mentioned, and Shane's assessment was correct. The man had been too good at hockey to not be drafted, and he had given an interview after the draft where he revealed that scouts had immediately stopped calling for interviews after he came out.

Ilya felt a wrenching pain and pulled out his phone, wishing he could see Shane's face, which still made his heart race, a year and a half after he had first seen it. He opened instagram, about to thumb over to search for Shane's profile, but paused when he saw the post at the top of his feed. Harris had added a string of photos, none of them strictly hockey related, so none of the team was tagged.

There was a photo of Troy bundled up in the snow, shyly grinning at the camera. Of Hayden and Shane in the dorm hallway, Shane on Hayden's shoulders for some reason. And one of Hayden and Shane's room. Hayden was in the foreground, mugging for the camera. Ilya stood in the doorway and Shane's head was turned towards him, face barely visible. Ilya's face looked completely besotted. It was painful, how obvious his love was. Was this really flying under everyone's noses?

Well, no. Sveta seemed to have guessed. Rose had been giving him unusual stares lately, she didn't look like she wanted to kick him down a flight of stairs anymore. Ilya felt his dread creep over his whole body. He couldn't do this. It was becoming too obvious, they would get caught, and Shane would be the one in the crossfire. And worse, a voice in Ilya's head screamed. Ilya was headed on a fast track to a broken heart.

Because what he wanted with Shane was so much more than fun, secret hook ups and adoring stolen glances. He had been too eager to accept whatever he could get. But it was doomed, and he knew he only really had one choice.

***

Shane had practically been crawling out of his skin, waiting to see Ilya when he returned from break. He was waiting for a knock on the door, a text, anything. But the first day back came and went, and there was nothing.

The second day back they were due for tutoring. Shane showed up early, but Ilya had beaten him. He sat at their usual table, looking lost in thought as he stared out the window.

"Hi. I'm so glad you're back." The words didn't begin to cover it.

Ilya just nodded. Shane immediately felt a nagging feeling of wrong-ness in his stomach. Something about Ilya's gaze looked off. There was no warmth behind his eyes.

"Are you ok? I mean, of course you aren't. How are you?"

Ilya looked out the window as if he was struggling for words.

"I will be better soon I think. Shane, I need to tell you something." He let out a deep breath, and turned to Shane.

"I do not think we should hook up anymore."

Shane's worst fear was crashing into reality. He felt like he was going to be sick. Ilya continued, oblivious that he was twisting a knife.

"I think it is too dangerous. If you want secret hookup with a man, there are less complicated ones."

Shane opened his mouth to tell Ilya that he didn't want simple, he wanted Ilya. But Ilya was determined to keep speaking.

"I think it will only be matter of time before people notice. Svetlana already seems suspicious. And the more people know, more chance there is that word will get out. Shane, you are incredible hockey player."

Shane couldn't even feel pride at that statement, he just felt like he needed to find a trash can to puke in.

"And I would be very bad friend if I let a hookup risk your draft."

Friend. Hookup. This had never been anything more, he knew that. Shane stared down at his textbook. Fuck, he had a whole semester of Russian to learn with Ilya. As if reading his thoughts, Ilya continued.

"I am sorry. We should keep distance. I will talk to Russian department chair, they can get new tutor."

Shane's last thread of hope snapped. Tutoring would have been torture, but it would have still been an excuse to see Ilya. He nodded, fighting back tears. He looked up, making eye contact with Ilya, and Ilya looked stricken for a moment, as if he was appalled by how emotional Shane was being.

"Shane, I...I am sorry. I can't do this." Ilya picked up his jacket and nodded at Shane before practically running out. Shane felt a chill. It was if Ilya was the sun, and he had vanished behind a thick cloud. And in that hopeless moment, a sick realization clicked into place. He was in love with Ilya. He was madly, stupidly, in love, and now his heart felt like someone had backed a dump truck over it.

Chapter 6: In Every Lifetime

Chapter Summary

Ilya saw it stretched in front of him. In each hypothetical, every version of himself couldn't resist falling for Shane. An arrogant teenager who had never left hockey, awestruck by his opponent with gorgeous brown eyes. An adult who worked a career he loved, who circled Shane's games on his calendar, counting the days for the few times a year he could see him.

Chapter Notes

Ilya was in a terrible mood for weeks. He avoided Hollander. He snapped at Svetlana, who hadn't tolerated his pissy behavior for a second, and he knew Harris was getting tired of Ilya scowling and sulking around their room.

He had convinced himself that this was necessary. That he wasn't strong enough to conceal his feelings for Shane, that treading down this road could too easily result in Shane being outed.

And if he couldn't be a good enough friend to hide how foolishly in love he was, he could spare Shane by ending it. Shane had looked devastated that their hookups were ending, and Ilya had almost taken it all back, shocked by the tears in his brown eyes. Had wanted to cradle Shane, kiss his tears away, apologize and beg for forgiveness. But one day, Shane would be over the sting of rejection, one day he might thank him. Maybe one day, when he found the right man to be with, when he was retired and able to be out and proud.

Ilya's jaw clenched as he imagined a nameless, faceless man who moved into Hollander's fancy NHL star flat, went to the farmers market on Sundays, and proposed on the beach at sunset.

These images were all too easy to conjure up because weeks ago he had pointlessly imagined himself in these fantasies.

Ilya threw himself into classes. He spent as little time in the dorm as possible, trying to ignore the laughter and fun he heard from down the hall most nights. He had realized with a pang that he had not only fallen for Shane, he had grown to love Shane's whole life. Ilya liked to annoy Shane's friends, but secretly he had started to love the way they blended with his. It had felt easy, fun. And now that he cut Shane out, those memories just stung, and he felt their absence.

One day he walked into his room to find Troy and Harris, huddled over Harris' laptop.

"What are you working on?" Ilya asked his friend.

"A highlight reel for Shane. Schools put together Playlists and packages for scouts, and Shane is probably going to enter the draft next year" Harris said.

"Do you want to look? Harris did an amazing job" Troy said breathlessly, as if Harris had directed a blockbuster. Harris flushed, and Ilya felt his eyebrows raise. He had been so absorbed in his own soap opera, he hadn't noticed this beneath his own nose.

"Uh, no. Thank you, but I do not need to see Hollander's weak backhand." Troy snorted, knowing Ilya's assessment of Shane was bullshit, but he and Harris quickly turned back to the video, and Ilya mentally filed it away. He would have to look it up later to torture himself.

***

Shane was single-mindedly focused on hockey. He hadn't been exaggerating when he told Ilya that sometimes it was all that made sense to him. And nothing else in his life seemed to make sense right now. When he took the ice for games, he tried to drown out the question that was always in the back of his head. Was Ilya still coming to every game? Was he impressed by how well Shane had been playing? Harris had told Shane that a few highlights from recent weeks had gone viral. His coach had told him after games which scouts had been in the stands. None of it excited him.

When Ilya had first ended things, Rose had known something was bothering Shane, and had tried for days to coax it out of him. But she had finally given up. Hayden had asked a few times if Shane was alright, if he was pushing himself too much, but he had backed off too. Troy had been the easiest. He seemed to understand using hockey as a coping mechanism, and that whatever Shane was going through, it was working out on the ice.

One day Shane walked into the rink, an hour early for practice, hoping to get time alone on the ice, only to find Harris filming Troy with a moony smile on his face. He snapped out of it the second he saw Shane.

"Hi Shane!" He barked. "I'm just helping Troy get some footage for his social media. Coach said some scouts from Vancouver reached out asking about him."

Shane nodded. "That's awesome. It'd be cool if he got drafted by his home team."

Shane saw the way Harris' eyes went gooey when he turned back to Troy, and he felt a sting of recognition. Had he looked that obvious when he stared at Ilya?

He stood there with Harris, watching Troy and wondering if Troy felt the same way. He probably did. Harris was cute. Would Troy be too scared, like Shane? Or would Harris be ok hiding for Troy? Shane frowned. Troy wouldn't be that cruel. He wouldn't ask Harris to hide. Shane felt a pit of shame in his stomach. He had been too happy to accept closeted, stolen moments with Ilya.

But Ilya was free now, Shane wasn't selfishly taking up any of his time with tutoring or secret sex, and Ilya could see someone else. Someone he could be with for real. Not that he'd seen any evidence, a jealous, ugly voice reminded him. Ilya hadn't been around the dorm much at all, but he certainly wasn't bringing any loud girls home like he had at the start of the year.

Shane couldn't help himself. "How's Ilya?"

Harris dragged his eyes away from Troy and Shane hurried to sound casual.

"I mean. I don't see him a lot now that I have a different tutor. How is he doing, with his dad and everything?"

Harris frowned, "Not great."

Shane felt like had dunked himself in an ice bath.

"He'd never admit it, but he's moodier than normal. Sveta and I are kind of doing good cop, bad cop these days. She keeps trying to get him to talk to her, and I'm just trying to give him space so he can at least relax a little when he comes home at night, you know? But I don't think I've seen him smile in weeks."

Shane felt tears start to form, and blinked hard. "That's awful."

Harris nodded. "Yeah, I don't think he's doing any of the stuff he enjoys. He's stopped coming to hockey games," Shane felt like his heart had just been stabbed. "I don't think he's even sleeping around right now. But with Ilya you never know for sure."

Shane knew that all too well. He chewed on his lip, trying to distract himself from the ache in his stomach. Eventually, Ilya would probably start seeing girls openly again, and Shane knew that would rip his lovesick heart in half. He didn't want to be around when that happened. A wild, stupid idea began to form in his mind.

***

"What?!" Ilya's fork had dropped to his plate with a clatter. Svetlana, Harris, and Troy all stared at him.

"Yeah, I mean it surprised me too. Shane is all about his five year plans, but I guess he's getting a ton of interest from scouts and he's having an incredible season. It makes sense to enter the draft this summer instead of waiting for next year," Troy explained.

Ilya nodded cooly, picking up his fork, his mind racing. Shane would get drafted, would move to a city far away, and probably become an NHL star. He would never see him again. Ilya had known that was always the plan, but he had pushed that thought off, taking solace in the thought that there was at least one more year of torture, of seeing glimpses of Shane around campus, of hearing his friends mention scraps of information about him that Ilya could cherish.

He knew Shane had gotten an A on his Russian midterm because he had mentioned it to Svetlana. He knew Shane's dad had gotten some kind of big promotion, because Troy had mentioned how proud Shane was. And although he had forced himself to stop going to games, he knew how well Shane was playing because he dutifully watched every video Harris posted, read the game recaps in the school paper.

Ilya shook it off. Torturing himself dreaming about an impossibility was stupid, Shane leaving would probably be the best thing that would happen to Ilya. Probably.

***

Weeks turned to months. Shane was a force of nature, channeling everything into his performance on the ice. His mom was fielding meetings and brand deals, Shane had to do so many awkward interviews with enthusiastic scouts. Rose helped him get fitted for a suit. Everything was in place for him to finally take the next step, the one he'd dreamed about since he was four. He felt hollow.

Worse than hollow, he felt bitter. Troy and Harris had gotten together right before the playoffs, and Troy had come out on Instagram, using an adorable video that Harris had edited for him. He would wave excitedly at Harris before games, and Shane's heart would squeeze, seeing Harris and Svetlana cheering, Ilya nowhere to be found. Troy seemed content to take or leave the consequences for the draft, braver than Shane had ever been.

***

The stadium was so loud that it felt like sound of cheering pulsed from within Ilya’s body. He hadn't been able to stay away, it was the final. Who knows, this might be his last chance to see Hollander play in person. His stomach curled at that thought. He knew, deep down, that if he moved to a city with an NHL team, he'd probably torture himself and go see him play whenever Hollander came to town. Hiding in the stands like he was today.

They were tied with seconds left on the clock. Shane and Troy were tearing down the ice, Troy sending Shane the puck in the blink of a moment. Shane got the winning goal. Ilya watched the team mob him, and for the first time in a long time, he felt unbridled joy. He was too happy for Shane to linger on his bitterness, and he savored that sensation.

***

The team went crazy. Bood invited everyone to his house off-campus for a party, and Shane was mobbed at every corner. He had drink after drink shoved in his hand, and with no hockey left to worry about, he finished every one.

He couldn't wait for the draft. When he'd be far away from here, far away from the possibility of running into Ilya. He desperately wished Ilya had been there tonight. Shane shook the thought out of his head as he accepted another drink.

***

Ilya was walking back to the dorm when he stilled. Shane was approaching the front door from the other direction. He wasn't looking up, and Ilya was pretty far away. If he stood here and let Shane enter, waited one minute, Shane would be safely inside his room and Ilya could go up without crossing paths with him.

So Ilya stopped, halfway down the sidewalk, and got out a cigarette. Even by Shane’s standards, this was an early night. The team would be partying into the wee hours of the morning. Harris had invited Ilya, despite Harris knowing he wouldn't join them.

As Ilya hungrily watched Shane from afar, he started to frown. Shane was stumbling down the sidewalk. He arrived at the front door and swayed, then took a moment to steady himself. He was drunk. Ilya had seen him a little tipsy here and there, but never like this. Before he knew it, he was flying down the path.

"Here, let me get that." He muttered, gently opening the door, because Shane seemed too confused to do so. Shane looked up at him, and Ilya felt his stomach wrench. Those stunning brown eyes had a flicker of happiness in them, and then they dulled.

"I'm fine" Shane snapped, and immediately proved he was not when he tripped walking into the lobby.

“Fuck my life" Ilya hissed in Russian, dragging Shane to his feet. He slung Shane's arm around his shoulder and started escorting him up the stairs.

"I hate my new Russian tutor" Shane mumbled.

"Oh. Sorry." Ilya said helplessly.

"Your ego doesn't need this, but you were a great tutor."

Ilya couldn't help laughing. His ego did kind of need that these days. They were taking the stairs so slowly, Shane dragging his feet, so Ilya talked to him, hoping it would help him focus.

"I am great at lots of things"

"I know. Trust me, I remember" Shane said in a breathy voice that terrified Ilya.

He knew immediately what Shane was thinking of, and he felt proud, thrilled, and then wrong, wrong, wrong for enjoying so much that Shane thought he was great in bed.

Because he couldn't stand to not hurt himself, and because Shane probably wouldn't remember any of it, Ilya whispered "You were amazing."

Shane nodded. "Yeah, yeah. I won us the game." Ilya's intention thankfully lost on him. They had arrived at his door and Ilya watched Shane fumble for his keys and then drop them. Ilya cursed, picking them up and turning the lock. He was all in on torturing himself, he guessed, but he needed to see to it that Shane was safely tucked in bed.

Shane cast him an incredibly pissed off look as he realized Ilya followed him in, and then his face turned to devilish spite as he started stripping down to his underwear. This was a terrible idea, Ilya needed to get out of here as quickly as possible. He turned away, grabbing a glass and hustling into the bathroom to fill it.

"Here" he shoved it into Shane's hand roughly, avoiding eye contact. "You will thank me in the morning."

Shane snorted, but he accepted it. Drank water dutifully, eyes on Ilya. Ilya was struck with memories of Shane obeying him, shyly and happily following Ilya's commands. For the hundredth time, he thought to himself that he had to get out of there.

Shane seemed to read his thoughts and turned to his bed, presenting Ilya with a torturous view of his ass as he crawled up, moving the covers back. As he settled in, he sighed a little, and that sigh almost made Ilya forget his resolve, close the space to kiss Shane on the cheek and brush his hair out of his eyes. But he couldn't.

He turned the overhead light off, and whispered "Good night, Hollander."

"Don't go." Shane said, and Ilya froze, his hand on the door.

"I know you don't want to be around me. But please." Shane's voice cracked on that last word, and Ilya couldn't help himself.

"Ok. I can stay a little." Ilya dragged a chair over so he could sit next to Shane, but Shane lifted the blanket, a sad and broken look on his face that certainly worked. Ilya slipped his shoes off and slid under the covers, turning out the lamp next to Shane's bed. His resolve was turning to pudding. Shane didn't touch him. Didn't drape over him like he had those few delicious evenings they had gotten to sleep in the same bed. He just laid there next to Ilya, curled on his side, as Ilya laid on his back, afraid to move.

At least Shane wasn't trying to make a move on him. Ilya thought he might actually combust if he touched Shane any more than this, shoulder to Shane's shoulder. But then Shane did something far worse than touch him.

"I've been worried about you" Shane breathed.

Ilya felt his mouth open and close. He was too afraid to respond, afraid that he'd be honest with Shane. That once he started to talk, he couldn't stop.

"I miss you." Shane seemed hell bent on torturing him in earnest now.

"I am sorry." Ilya squeezed his eyes as the words came out. They felt too vulnerable, an admission. He was grateful for the darkness of the room, as much as he wished he could see Shane chew on his lip, scrunch his nose. All the expressions that Ilya adored.

"I can't wait to leave" Shane plunged a knife through Ilya's heart. "I'm entering the draft this summer."

"Troy told me. I am happy for you." It was only partly a lie.

"Do you remember the night we met?" Shane was jumping topics, even when drunk his brain seemed to be spinning and cycling too fast, the way it did when he got worked up.

Ilya screwed his eyes shut. Yes, he thought about that night too much. "I do."

"I was so scared of you"

Ilya barked out a laugh "Scared? Did I look like I was going to bite you?" As the words came out he felt how dangerous they were. Shane laughed.

"I think I was scared of how much I wanted you to bite me," he admitted, and now Ilya needed to go find a hole to crawl into. Why couldn't he summon the willpower to leave?

" I wanted to. I would have thrown you against the wall and bitten your ear the way you like, would have made you sigh. That sound drives me so crazy, you have no idea. I should have thrown you over my shoulder and run us out of there, so I didn't waste a year thinking you were in love with a girl." Ilya's words flew out of him in rapid Russian, obscuring as much as he could with speed.

"Not fair " Shane snapped, and Ilya breathed a sigh of relief. "You know I can't understand anything when you speak that fast."

"I know, Shane."

"I miss you." He mumbled again. Fuck. Ilya's willpower was crumbling by the second. "I'm sorry, I know you don't want to hear that. But... I'll probably be gone in a few weeks and I needed you to hear it. I miss you right now, and I'll miss you when I leave, maybe always."

Ilya was a coward. Shane was saying everything he felt, everything he wanted to hear. He wanted to turn to Shane and grab him and yell "I don't know how I'm going to ever get over you, please stop saying things that will keep me lying awake for years." Instead he did something that felt far more cowardly, although it took all his courage.

He turned his body to face Shane, they were almost nose to nose. His eyes had adjusted to the darkness enough to see Shane softly gazing at him. Ilya reached his hand up and stroked his cheekbone. It was too dark to see Shane's freckles, but he knew they were there. Had practically memorized them like constellations. Shane shuddered. This was dangerous, and Ilya couldn't seem to pump the brakes.

"I will miss you." Ilya admitted, so quietly that he hoped Shane would somehow not hear it. But he felt Shane's cheek curve under his, he was smiling.

"Maybe I will see you play one day. I move somewhere like New York, Chicago. City with lots of teams where I could be sports psychologist." His hand was tracing Shane's face now as he detailed his painful daydream like a bedtime story. "Your team is in town. I get cheap seats-"

"I'd get you tickets." Shane cut him off, and Ilya could feel his own stupid smile "Any city, any time"

"Of course." Ilya breathed. "And I will get to see Shane Hollander do what he is best at." Ilya regretted that choice of words. Shane was incredible at so many things. Being a good friend, an amazing lover. He was too smart. Despite what Shane thought, Ilya was sure he would be fluent in Russian in a few years. "And maybe after you win, before you have team curfew that night, we meet."

Shane's breath caught, as if Ilya was telling the most entrancing story. The possibility of that statement hung in the air. They might meet. Shane in Ilya's new hometown, an undetermined city. Shane, exhausted, with only a few hours free before curfew, showing up at Ilya's door like a problem he couldn't shake. Shane, moaning as Ilya yanked him into his flat, intent to use every second of the time Ilya could steal with him, to devour him and...Ilya's eyes stung.

He could picture it all too well, and he could picture the pit of sadness he would have in his stomach even as he made love to Shane, fucking him with reverence and amazement. Too clearly, Ilya could picture himself curling into a ball in his empty bed when Shane would inevitably leave, go play in the next city on his road trip, and pretend to be straight for ten or fifteen years.

Ilya cleared his throat. "We would meet and you would sign a jersey for me" Ilya bit back a rueful smile as Shane groaned.

"Fuck off." There was a pause, Ilya knew that he and Shane were both lingering on the impossible, unsaid fantasy.

Shane broke the silence with a new one. "I wish we'd played together. That you hadn't had to quit. I don't know. We could have met at the junior world championship or something."

Ilya felt like he was melting, this was a daydream he hadn't even considered.

"Ah. You wish you could have beaten me as a teenager?"

His hand still cupped on Shane's face, he could feel Shane shake his head. "I'm not so sure I would have."

Ilya hummed. He was pretty sure. He would have wanted to beat Shane, would have left it all on the ice to try his hardest.

"My English was not so good then. My chirps would have been embarassing." And Ilya knew he wouldn't have been able to resist chirping Shane, however clumsily. To make him blush, to see him grin and shake him off.

"I would have started learning Russian earlier." God, it was like Shane was determined to destroy him. "I would have, if it meant I could talk to you."

Of all the gut wrenching things Shane had told him that night, bleary and exhausted and yes, kind of wasted, that stung the most.

Ilya saw it stretched in front of him. In each hypothetical, every version of himself couldn't resist falling for Shane. An arrogant teenager who had never left hockey, awestruck by his opponent with gorgeous brown eyes. An adult who worked a career he loved, who circled Shane's games on his calendar, counting the days for the few times a year he could see him.

And he was painfully, deeply aware, that this version of himself, lying in Shane's bed, was perilously in love with Shane. He must have been silent too long, because he heard Shane start to gently snore. He laid there. He felt a wetness on his cheeks, hadn't even realized he was crying. And he savored the last moments he would put himself through this. In the morning, he would slip out before Shane woke. He would dutifully avoid him, like he had been capable of for months, and he would never see him again after the semester ended.

Chapter End Notes

Ending and epilogue coming in a day or two. It's taking a little longer to write because it was way easier for me to write angst than happiness!

Chapter 7: Ya Tebya Lyublyu

Chapter Notes

As the semester wound down, Stanley Cup playoffs heated up. Hayden kept inviting the team to their common room to watch, and Shane tried to enjoy it. He might not have these moments with his friends again if he was drafted.

If he had felt hollow and bitter during the playoffs, he was in a new agony now. He felt ripped apart. He had laid in bed with Ilya and told him how much he'd dreamed about him, and in the morning Ilya was gone, a phantom. He wasn't sure how, but he hadn't seen Ilya for weeks, only two doors away but never present. And here Shane was, watching the Stanley Cup final sitting on the couch next to a screaming Hayden and JJ.

He was thinking about Thanksgiving, when Ilya slept on the couch with his head cradled in his lap. Shane slumped in his seat, miserably daydreaming about eating pumpkin pie with Ilya (and god, that was what he was thinking of? Not the passionate, life changing sex they had later that night?) when Ilya appeared. Shane bolted upright. Ilya's eyes were trained on the TV, Svetlana leading him into the room. Shane watched them go sit with Troy and Harris, and tore his eyes away from Ilya, sure he would burn holes in the back of his head if he kept staring.

He barely registered the game, too busy sneaking peeks at Ilya, who was like a statue. As the game wound down and it became obvious the Admirals would win, some people began to clean up. JJ was chiding them “They haven't won for 20 years! Show them some respect, don't you want to see Scott Hunter hoist the cup?"

Shane watched, Hunter did look incredibly emotional. Shane absent-mindedly wondered if he would ever know what it felt like to hold the Stanley Cup. Suddenly, Scott Hunter was skating up to the boards, beckoning someone down.

The player's families had already spilled onto the ice, Shane wasn't sure why Scott's would have been up in the stands.

The next minute felt like the longest and shortest of Shane's life. A man made his way down, Scott gripped his hand, took him to the ice, and then kissed him. Shane felt his stomach bottom out as the room gasped. He noticed Harris cheering. He felt completely numb, in a state of shock and elation, and out of the corner of his eye, he saw movement.

He glanced and Ilya had finally turned from the TV to look at him. Ilya looked completely raw, stunned. Then Ilya stood and left the room. An eternity seemed to pass, people turned on music and brought out more beer, and then Shane's phone lit up

Ilya: can you come to the library? our old spot?

Shane almost tripped over his feet, rushing out the door while texting " be there in 10."
He ran, not caring if he looked stupid racing across the campus. He couldn't imagine talking to Ilya in the dorms right now. Loud partying and roommates who could walk in any second.

Shane stumbled down the stairs to the basement of the library, to the dark corner where he and Ilya had passed so many hours together, what felt like a lifetime ago. A few students had been scattered at desks on the main floor, but almost everyone was done with finals by this point.

When Shane rounded the corner, he saw Ilya pacing by the window, raking his hand through his curls. For the first time in months, maybe for the first time in his life, Shane didn't feel anxious.

***

Ilya was terrified. An NHL player had just won the Stanley Cup and made out with his boyfriend on the ice. Maybe this could change something for him and Shane. He needed to tell Shane how badly he wanted this to change things for them, to finally stop pushing him away and pretending he was ok without him.

Shane came stumbling down the steps, cheeks pink, hair windswept. Ilya allowed himself to take in the sight of him, gasping a steadying breath before he spoke.

"Shane. I know you probably don't want to talk to me, but-"

"Ilya, I'm so sorr-" both of them stopped, waiting for the other to speak, and then Shane let out a nervous laugh. "Can I go first?"

Ilya nodded, something bubbling in his chest.

"Ilya. I'm sorry I was so scared. Hockey was all I had for so long, and I was so afraid of it being taken away from me. And then this, you-" he gestured between them, and Ilya identified the fizzing feeling in his chest. Hope.

"You make me feel better than I ever thought possible. You're so smart, you care so much about the people you love. God, I feel like I wasted so much time being scared to be with you."

Ilya started walking towards Shane, and Shane held his hand out, pausing him.

"I was so stupid. I've been in love with you for so long and I thought if I could just be with you in whatever way you wanted...being your friend, hooking up in secret, whatever...that it would be enough."

Ilya was done being patient.

"I don't want that."

Pain flashed on Shane's face and Ilya cursed himself for his choice of words and rushed to explain.

"I do not want casual, or secret. I think part of me loved you since I met you. I can't pretend not to, I can't do secret, not when it is written on my face when I look at you."

Shane's lips parted.

“Oh.”

Ilya grinned, and Shane's lips stretched into a beaming smile.

"You love me?"

Ilya sighed "Yes. It was killing me, for so long."

Shane, adorably, had tears in his eyes. "Me too. Ilya, I felt like I was losing my mind.” He nose scrunched as his thoughts continued to race. “ I want to be with you. I don't have a plan yet for this, can you do long distance? I'll be traveling so much. But I want you. More than anything. If you do."

Ilya was done talking, he needed to get Shane to stop overthinking. He laid kisses down Shane's neck as he excitedly rambled about what city he might need to move to after the draft, how long Ilya's grad program might take before he could get licensed as a psychologist, how they could try to practice phone sex, and Ilya finally got him to stop by nipping his lower lip.

"Hollander, I do not care where you go. I think it is clear that we cannot be without each other. We will figure it all out. I promise. Later, please."

Shane sighed with pleasure, and Ilya was completely undone, hearing a sound he had resigned himself to never hearing again. He gently pushed Shane against the bookshelf behind him, enveloping his mouth with urgent kisses.

***

Shane sat, stretched out the grass across from his dorm. He shielded the sun with his hand and grinned at his friends. Everyone had enthusiastically agreed to the impromptu gathering when he'd texted. Harris and Troy were laughing as Harris tried to braid his hair. Hayden, Jackie, and JJ were playing cards while Svetlana and Rose gossiped over beers. Shane's grin widened when he saw Ilya approaching.

They had spent the whole night and most of the morning in Shane's bed. They'd whispered all their hopes and dreams for their future. Ilya had some adorably cliché fantasy about getting down on one knee one day at sunset on a beach.

In the morning, Ilya had woken him up planting soft kisses on his back and murmuring a phrase that Shane had looked up months ago when he was depressed and daydreaming about a world where he could say it to Ilya. "Ya tebya lyublyu" Ilya had whispered over and over.

Ilya stood here now, grinning a crooked smile at Shane, eyebrow raised, and Shane nodded. He ducked down and kissed Shane. Chaste for moment, and then hungrily, as if he still couldn't get enough of him. They broke apart and Shane couldn't decide which reaction was better.

Troy's mouth hanging open wider than he thought was humanely possible, Hayden's mouth opening and closing like a fish, or Rose's face flipping between anger to joy.

"Please tell me you aren't fucking with me" she broke the silence.

"When have I ever done that?" Ilya asked her, and she heaved a sigh.

"It’s about time," Svetlana nodded.

"About time? When did this happen??" Hayden looked stunned and thrilled.

"Does this mean our makeout worked?" Troy asked, Harris swatting him and JJ whipped around.

"YOUR makeout? What the fuck are you talking about? Why am I the last to know everything?”

"Seriously, when did this thing start?"

Shane started to say "Thanksgiving" at the same time that Ilya shrugged "Beginning of Freshman year."

Rose choked on her beer.

"Do not worry, Rose. Hollander would not cheat on you." Ilya smirked. "But I have wanted Shane since then."

Shane squeezed his hand. Ilya knew he had felt the same way, had just been too paralyzed by it to do anything. But now they didn't have to worry about how much time they had wasted being scared.

“Who cares about when this started, how did this happen?” Hayden demanded.

Ilya and Shane shrugged at each other, and Ilya cracked a grin. “We were very stupid. And irresponsible.”

***

Epilogue

Eight Years Later

"Ilya, I love you, but I really need Shane right now." Rose spat out. Ilya sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. Leave it to Rose to be a bridezilla.

"Ok, I will find Shane. He will make it better." He promised, and ducked into the hall. He ran down to the ground floor of the hotel, scanning the reception for Shane. He spotted the love of his life, looking adorably serious in his suit, retrieving two champagne flutes. Ilya dashed up to him.

"Hey! Sorry, this isn't for you. Rose asked me to get one for her and I thought I'd get one for Lilly too-" Ilya cut him off with a swift kiss.

"Well Rose is worried about her vows again, so take this to her and I'll drop the other one with her fiance."

Dividing and conquering, Ilya flitted into the other bridal suite, delivering the champagne to a grateful Lilly, who looked radiant. "How is Rose?"

"At her worst. I think she is just ready to be married already." Ilya confessed.

Lilly beamed, “That's how I've felt for months."

Ilya grinned, knowing that feeling all too well. He excused himself and ducked into the hall, making his way back to Rose's quarters. She was huddled over a piece of paper with Shane, pen in hand.

"Everything I write sounds stupid!" She exclaimed.

Ilya would have normally loved to tease her, but he knew how she felt.

"Hey, it's fine. Lilly knows you love her, whatever you say will be great." Shane tried to reassure her.

Rose snorted. "I'm sure you and Ilya had perfect vows."

Shane's mouth fell open.

"We're not getting married till Sept-"

Rose rolled her eyes "And that's why you're both wearing rings?"

Shane frowned "You wear an engagement ring!"

Rose waved her hands in his face. "You guys got engaged without rings! Then two weeks ago you start wearing rings?"

Ilya sighed. "I am sorry. We did not want to steal your moment."

“As if you could,” Rose gestured around her. She looked stunning, and Ilya had to concede the wedding was probably the event of the decade. In the years since college her acting career had skyrocketed, and the reception was full of A-listers. Shane, the reigning NHL MVP, was the least famous person in the bridal party. Well, second-least famous. Ilya’s career as the psychologist for the Ottawa Charge was by far the least glamorous profession out of the bridesmaids and groomsmen.

Ilya looked into Shane's soft eyes, thinking about the morning two weeks ago that Shane had asked him over breakfast if he wanted to go to city hall and be married already. Ilya had kissed him senseless in response, and three hours later, they were finally married.

Ilya felt a tear leak out of his eye and swiped at it, embarrassed. Shane looked like he was a second away from crying. Rose took one look at the two of them and started wailing.

"Oh my god, I'm so sorry!" Shane looked panicked.

"I'm just so happy" Rose sobbed. "I'm so happy I found Lilly. I'm so happy you idiots found each other, I'm so happy Shane and I were the world's worst couple."

Ilya pressed a kiss to her head, and then a swift one to Shane's damp cheek.

He thought back to that night that the two of them had huddled in Shane’s bed, wondering and worrying about possible universes where they could be together. It was laughable now, because Ilya knew that there was no permutation of the universe where he and Shane weren’t foolishly, recklessly, deeply in love with each other.

Chapter End Notes

That's it! The show and books changed my brain chemistry. This is the first fic I've written, and I wrote it in like three days in the notes app on my phone.

In my hc Shane gets drafted by the Centaurs (avoiding the shitty Metros altogether), which is why Ilya winds up working with the PWHL team in Ottawa.

Thanks for reading, I can't get enough of these two dumb-dumbs being hopelessly in love with each other.