Rating:

General Audiences

Archive Warning:

Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Category:

M/M

Fandoms:

Heated Rivalry (TV), 21st Century CE RPF, Game Changers Series - Rachel Reid

Relationship:

Shane Hollander/Ilya Rozanov

Characters:

Ilya Rozanov, Yuri Dud, Shane Hollander

Additional Tags:

Ilya Rozanov Loves Shane Hollander, Ilya Rozanov Speaks Russian, translated from Russian, he speaks on hockey and his past in russia and the ussr and music, shane is also here! you Will hear from him, POV Ilya Rozanov

Language:

English

Collections:

girl help i can't stop crying, Sixty’s Gay Hockey Hall of Fame, realism in heated rivalry

Stats:

Published: 2026-05-01 Words: 19,935 Chapters: 4/4

Rozanov – Not on Hockey / vDud'

Summary

“Shane, how do you feel about rage-baiting Russians?”

“Cool. My daily routine,” Hollander replied, eyes not leaving the page.

“Yes. But usually you do it for free.”

or
 
Ilya Rozanov, the first out Russian queer player in professional hockey, is interviewed by Yuri Dud', the most famous journalist of progressive Russia.

Notes

PSA: currently experiencing an issue with some notes cutting off at the border on mobile. looking into it because on paper everything should work but ao3 is trolling me. temporary solution is rotating your phone horizontally. jesus christ. im sorry, i will fix this

From translator: i have been obsessed with this fic since I read it when it was first published. this is a crazy thing to say but i was born to bring this to the english-speaking fandom. Ilya is so very alive and real in this fic. [pedro pascal voice] you should know about this, too. i'm feeling insanely lucky to have been the one to do this, from translation to footnotes. please give your love to the author. she's the fucking best. also feel free to ask any clarifying questions or for help finding links to anything. MUCH love

From author: playlist and pinterest board.

• A translation of [Restricted Work] by gotthesunshinex

Chapter 1: Preface

Translating a work that is so embedded in its cultural and historical context requires, obviously, translating the context as well. The original fic does not have any notes from the author; in this one, there are 74 footnotes. Please turn on creator style at the top of the page. That way you will have access to in-text pop-ups to help you parse through the text. It works both on mobile and desktop and looks like thishi!. Without that, you will miss out on a lot of nuance in Ilya as a characterand you'll also probably be lost as hell :D.

Italics are used when 1) English language is spoken, as used by author in the original fic, 2) a brand name is mentioned, 3) a thought or sometimes a quote is said. Hopefully it’s clear in context. It should be!

There is something – or someone – we could not address in footnotes that’s important here: Yuri Dud’ [Юрий Дудь]. Yura is a German-born Russian journalist of Ukrainian descent currently living in Spain. Born in 1986, he started his career in 2011 in Moscow as a sports journalist and commentator, and worked in the field for various publications. In 2017, he launched his own YouTube channel vDud’ [вДудь] (currently 10 million subscribers), where he hosts interviews with people of note (anywhere from 1.5 to 4.5 hours in length) and documentaries (on the Kolyma concentration camp, the Beslan tragedy, the HIV epidemic in Russia, etc). As of 2022, Yura is persona non-grata in Russia on account of his condemnation of the Russian invasion in Ukraine (formally because of YouTube monetization, which is illegal in Russia).

Yura is known for his unceremonious and extremely forward approach to interviewing. The questions he asks toe the line of truly hitting, relevant, what no one else dares to ask, and provocative. He doesn’t attack in malice, but to a less secure guest it may seem so. His style is conversational: he engages in open, often heated but still respectful debates with guests he both disagrees with and those he’s more closely aligned with.

Most of his video interviews are sit-down style, with multiple cameras capturing him and the guest from at least three angles: closeups and a wide shot. With some guests, especially those he travels to visit (and those he actually likes), he diversifies by doing first the sit-down portion and then interviewing while walking and sightseeing together.

Yura Dud’ is, like any good journalist, a resonant figure.

Chapter 2: Part I

It was 2021 the first time Yura contacted him, right after he’d come out. It was expected: of course, the interviewer of the young Russia, a favourite of the liberally inclined media-comms students, the face of alternative, independent journalism wants to interview the first Russian athlete to announce his queer identity to the world. Ilya had thanked Dud’ then, for the attention to his humble person, but declined: too much was happening at the time, too many people grabbing at his limbs and tugging every which way, too many thoughts spinning in his head, and critically little time to think them through. On top of that, Ilya knew for a fact that his words would not mesh well with his Russian passport. Yura had written that he gets it, respects Ilya’s right to show him to the door, but promised to return to his inbox a surprise mail.

In the beginning of the year, Ilya became a Canadian citizen. The news popped up in Sports, hung about on Twitter threads, got lost in Telegram channel agendas. Rozanov hadn’t even thought that anyone could be seriously interested in his legal status, so he was very surprised when one April evening his G-mail was graced with a message from an infamous herald of foreign agencyAn expression of Russia’s authoritarian regime. This status for a Russian resident means state surveillance, limits social engagement. Journalists, politicians, writers, musicians, and other public figures are mostly targeted. Many have left Russia after acquiring it, many more have stayed, a lot have received it after moving abroad. In anti-war oppositional circles it is seen as seal of approval, a compliment..

“Ilya, hello!

Just recently found out you’ve become a full citizen of Canada. Accept congratulations, from the team of “vDud’” and myself personally. Another huge accomplishment in your life. In this regard I’m actualizing a question that I posed to you a few years ago: how about a big interview? Time and place up to you, itinerary and price tag we’re discussing. Will be glad to visit you guys in Canada and talk about Russia (among other things).

With the best of regards, designs and intentions,

Dud’”

Ilya, sitting in that moment on the couch, looked down to Shane, who was reading some pop-science book on nutrition, his head settled on the strong thigh of his husband.

“Shane, how do you feel about rage-baiting Russians?”

“Cool. My daily routine,” Hollander replied, eyes not leaving the page.

“Yes. But usually you do it for free.”

Shane buffered for a couple seconds, then took a deep breath, carefully closed the case of his e-reader, and looked up to Ilya.

“I’m all ears.”

On June 10, Ilya parked his Ferrari by the National Gallery of Canada. Yura and his team, having consulted their treasured guest, rented the hall of the chief art museum in the country to film the first “sit-down” part of the interview in a huge room with high ceilings and full-sized windows, top to bottom, overlooking historical sites.

Ilya locked the car and moved towards the entrance, routinely checking time on his Rolex watch. Ten to ten in the morning. He woke up at six, and for the past four hours he’s been shaking, internally, which, according to Shane, you couldn’t really tell if you looked. Ilya hadn’t asked for a complete list of questions from Yura, but from the outset he’d discussed the focus points of their conversation. He wasn’t against the idea of a revealing interview, but he did know that the next few hours would not be easy.

“Физкульт-привет!”[Fizkúl’t-privet] “Phys-hello!”. Customary greeting in Soviet Russia during sports events, one teammate to another, one team to their opponents. Sometimes can be heard in PE classes at school, teacher to students. In casual conversation used as a joking greeting. Dud’, greeting him by the door of the Gallery, offered a handshake. They’d come here yesterday to talk over the final details of the upcoming three days, and Ilya had gotten acquainted with the spacious location, and the pleasant, friendly, unceremonious air of the interviewer. “What’s the mood? How’s the fighting spirit?”

Yura opened the door and, with an elegant swirl of a hand, motioned for Ilya to come inside.

“You think we’ll get into a fight at some point?” Rozanov asked, accepting the polite gesture.

“If I wanted to fight on my show, I’d have invited Eldar DzharahovA popular Russian videoblogger. Famous for his height – very short.,” Dud’ replied, catching up to his guest.

Rozanov had not a single clue, in his heart of hearts, who the fuck was Eldar Dzharahov. He really tried not to let it show, though.

By this point the team of professionals that came with the journalist have already transformed the hall of the Gallery into a filming set, and all Ilya had to do was sit in one of the chairs in the frame – to the left, of courseDud’ only ever sits on the right because he famously thinks his face looks best from that angle.. As the makeup artist briskly worked to cover up the signs of a sleepless night on Ilya’s face, Yura went over the rules of “vDud’” again.

“You and I just have a casual conversation, and then we cut it after, as needed,” Dud’, sitting in the chair opposite, tore eyes away from his iPhone and looked at Rozanov’s reflection in the mirror. “If you realise, in the process of the interview, that you’ve said too much, let me know, we’ll cut it. If you need to re-shoot something or start the thought over – also tell me. And if you don’t like a question I ask, you don’t have to answer it. You’re not a prisoner, so just speak up if something’s wrong. We’ve got the place booked for six hours, we’ll get it all done.”

“Okay, Mr. JournalistIlya says "Okay, kind mister journalist," an ironic modification of expression with “policeman” instead of “journalist”. It means distrust in the police force and the state at large. Here it’s a joke in response to Dud’ saying Ilya’s “not a prisoner.”,” Ilya let out a nervous laugh at the looking-glass Dud’ and closed eyes to make the makeup girl’s job easier.

Please don’t ask about mom, he thought on exhale.

Please just not in the very beginning.

“Tell me about your family,” Yura began, chin propped up by the edge of his smartphone.

Ilya sniffled.

“That I used to have, or have now?”

“The one you were raised in.”

“I don’t really like talking about it.”

“How so?”

“I think you know.”

“Let me start, and you’ll pick it up,” Yura offered. “Your father – a retired military general Grigori Rozanov.”

“Yes.”

“Who was your mother?”

“D’you wanna know if she was a retired military general?”

“Well, was she?”

“No,” Ilya smiled and softly shook his head. “She was too cool for that.”

“I don’t want to pry and dig up your ghosts, but everyone knows what happened to her because of your charity campaign.”

“That was Shane’s idea, to dedicate the project to her. And the whole thing, with the charity campaign to help support people with mental health struggles – his idea.”

“What was she sick with?”

“Don’t know. She hadn’t been to the doctor with it. And she didn’t have someone by her side to take her there by the hand. You know how we had it twenty, thirty years ago… She just felt miserable, all the time, but that tells you nothing. Could be depression, could be a personality disorder of some kind. Or both. I know a lot about this now.”

“How old were you when she took her own life?”

Ilya crossed his arms on his chest, on reflex, but then immediately put them down, recalling the obvious tells of body language. He wasn’t ashamed of his past or his feelings, but he didn’t want the fame of an angsty himbo within the first five minutes of his big debut Russian interview.

“Twelve.”

“How did you live through it?”

“Somehow. I don’t know. Not very well. I’m still talking about this with my therapist.”

“You said she didn’t have a person by her side to take her to the doctor. What about your father?”

Ilya chuckled.

“You really wanna talk about him, right?”

“Look, he’s an important figure in your life, I think,” Yura’s eyes characteristically popped out a bit, which made him look like a funny fish turned human for good behaviour in the tank. “You must get it yourself, that the life that you live now doesn’t really add up to where you came from.”

“Well, yes. That’s why we’re not in Russia right now, you and I.”

“I have a block of questions on Russia as well.”

“On Russia you know everything yourself. I’d rather you asked me about Canada. It’s good here. Warm, bright, the flies don’t biteA popular saying in Russian to mean good, comfortable, sometimes carefree life. Funnily enough it does not rhyme like this in the original..”

“Denis KataevRussian oppositional journalist, also a “foreign agent,” like Dud’. Famously a No.1 Macron fangirl. was saying something along the same lines about France.”

“You know what they say – love makes cottage a castleA popular saying in Russian to metaphorically mean what it says. Literal translation is “with a sweetheart, heaven is found in a hut”. We love a cottage though.,” Rozanov’s smile was innocuous as he jumped to mount his hobbyhorse. “I feel great in Canada because Shane is here. Kataev’s castle is France ‘cause Macron sits there.”

“You’re so disinterested in Canadian politics?”

“Nah, I have more important things in Canada. Politics overall I’m only interested in as a matter of fact.”

“Unpack that.”

“I choose to be happy when I can. And do things I have power to do to help those who need it. I preserve my resources to be able to share them. That is how I live. Decorated old men on pensions with sulking mugs and medals have tired me the fuck out many years ago. I don’t want to look at that or have any part in it.”

“Trudeau’s not an old man with a sulking mug,” Dud’ countered. “Young, liberal, free.”

“I have my own, young and liberal, at home. Not free at all, though, anymore. Mine only.”

“And you’re quite possessive, turns out.”

“You can ask him later yourself, whose is it that he is. He’ll tell you. It’s just the truth.”

“And you?”

“What about me?”

“Well, are you his?”

“Yes. It’s my biggest happiness and luck in life,” Rozanov fixed his eyes on the cream marble floor, feeling the sides of his lips slide up to his ears, inadvertently. “I still sometimes wake up in the middle of the night and can’t make myself look – God forbid it was all a dream, and he’s not mine, and I’m not his.”

“You’re serious?”

“Yes. Something paranoid about it.”

“This is all very unexpected, coming from you, because you were quite the playboy, for many years. At the very least your image in the media.”

“I was young, rich, famous and very charismatic, and I took all that I could get from this life.”

“And now?”

“And now I am still young, rich, famous and very charismatic, but now I know what I want from this life, and what I don’t have to take if I don’t want to. But what I do want I’ll fucking fight for ‘til my snot is bloody.”

“And wasn’t there anything you wanted in your youth?”

“They never taught me how to want, Yura. And even if I did have some sort of natural wanting drive, I was very quickly informed that it doesn’t matter at all – what is it that I want. Your dad is military, I thought.”

“Yes.”

“So you know what they say, there is a word out there – “must”The saying is popular among the military crowd to mean that freshly drafted soldiers “must” follow orders unquestioningly..

“And here you go again, back to it,” Dud’ nodded and straightened up a bit. “Your father – a retired general.”

“Yes.”

“Tell me.”

Ilya sneaked a glance at the clock as carefully as he could and let out a long breath, gathering thoughts.

“When I was born, he was almost half a century old, and mom was only 24. I’m their second son, I have a brother who’s four years older.”

“You keep in touch?”

“No.”

“Why’s that?”

“Mutual decision, I’ll put it that way. We don’t like each other much. I’m my mother’s son, and he is his father’s. He stayed in Russia.”

“Why did your mom marry a man twice her age?”

“No idea. I was too young at the time, to ask any sorts of questions and expect honest answers. And I was also afraid to ask something that would upset her, so I just avoided these sorts of topics. It’s a pattern with many kids growing up with mentally unwell adults.” Rozanov crossed his arms on his chest again, allowed himself this innocent act of defence. “Kids understand everything, so they keep quiet and try not to be a burden. So – there, I kept quiet, wasn’t a burden. Just loved her very much and was a safe space for her. That’s why, when she passed, I blamed myself for a long time, that I didn’t manage well, couldn’t save her. At the time that didn’t seem that big of a deal, but it very much left a mark in my life and then got to my head, too.”

“Are you depressed?”

“Yes.”

“Long time?”

“My therapist thinks it’s since I was a teen. But it’s hard to say now. I was just very busy my entire life, like hamster in a wheel… Had all sorts of coping mechanisms. First and foremost, of course, the hockey didn’t leave much room for thought, because at 12 I was already playing with sights on the future. And when I grew up to some sort of stability and had time to think… well, it’s best not to think sometimes.”

“Sorry I ask, can’t help it. Have you ever thought of suicide?”

“With serious intent I haven’t. But that’s why I went to the doctor – got scared that I’ll start someday.”

“And there were signs?”

“I felt awful all the time, just like she did. I’d just signed with Ottawa then, and I found out pretty fast exactly how the taste of defeat changes when it gets old. The man I love was closer than he’d ever been before, but I would still only see him a couple times a week, and that’s if I was lucky… So, yeah, it all just became too much, I was overwhelmed. And no one to talk to about it. Had to talk to a therapist.”

“And why didn’t you have anyone to talk to?”

“Do you know how much a secret isolates you, if you keep it too long?”

“You mean Shane right now?”

“Our relationship, yes. It quickly grew into the most important thing I have, and have ever had in my life. I wanted to scream about him from the rooftops, I’ve never had this before… And I couldn’t even casually say his name without my voice breaking and giving it up, ‘cause we weren’t even friends to the public for a very long time. Everybody thought we hated each other, though it’s never been the case. Even in the very beginning, before we met… No one seriously hates each other in hockey, for the rivalries. Being better than the others is our job, everyone knows this.”

“Not a single player hates another player, ever?”

“Well, there’s personal conflicts of all sorts, but not dumb shit like that. Sorry, not to offend anyone, but. Would be really weird if Shane and I personally hated each other for being great at hockey. If not for him, I wouldn’t have had competition on ice. If not for me, he wouldn’t have had any. It kills an athlete, if there’s no real competition. We live off each other, as hockey players, among other things. Every athlete, if he’s smart, and really any smart professional, I think, is grateful for a worthy opponent.”

“Ever get scared he turns out the better player?” Dud’ raised an eyebrow.

Rozanov laughed.

“Wanna know a secret, off the record?”

“I mean, sure. We’ll cut it, if anything.”

“He’s better.”

“At hockey?”

“Yes. He is better. More professional, more put together. It’s not physical advantage, his brain is just wired in a way that makes him one of the greatest at the moment. But I’m the only one who knows. Hence why it’s off record. Big secret for the small companyA popular saying in Russia. It’s a reference to a Soviet puppet cartoon by the same name, and a song that the characters sing..”

“And how do you deal with this?”

“With what?”

“That you, this means, lose to your arch-rival.”

“First of all, I’m in a unique spot: my arch-rival is my husband, my closest friend, my favourite person and my loveIlya says “lyubimyi”. In Russian, it means both beloved and favourite., my teammate… I’ve got plenty of opportunities to beat him. Second, hockey means more to him than it does to me. Or, it’s more that we love it differently. I love hockey ‘cause they pay me crazy big bucks for it. And also because it’s fun, especially if you can play it the way I do. Right now I think I’m getting the kick out of it like never before in my life, because I play on the same team with my husband. I’ve never felt this good before – on ice, or ever. But I can live without the hockey, I can find something to replace it with. Shane probably cannot, at least not yet he can’t. And so I’m not at all ashamed to lose to him there.”

“But you don’t let him win?”

Ilya sniffled, suppressing slight annoyance.

“I’ve answered this question, like, a billion times since our outing, I’m sure. I never let him win on purpose, with anything. I have never let anyone win, for that matter. It’s a thing in sports: if you want to succeed here, you’ve got to be competitive. What’s the word in Russian?... What I mean is you’ve got to strive to be the best at everything, has to be in your blood. It’s a personality trait, you either got it or you don’t. And the best athletes are people who don’t take silver for a consolation prize, it’s never enough. But I’m incredibly fucking good at hockey, Yura,” Rozanov winked at Dud’, and the man sent him a wide grin, “and I’ve had bad days, bad games, I’ve had silver, bronze and eliminations from competitions, championships, but never once in my life have I not given it my allIlya says “I have never played with loose sleeves”. To do something with loose sleeves = to not care, to do a sloppy job.. It’s not a question of professionalism to me, it’s the principle of the thing.”

“Do you strive to be the best outside of hockey, too?”

“Of course. Now especially, when hanging out with my husband twenty-four-seven – he’s the same brand of psycho. Impossible to get bored with him. I get so excited sometimes I forget there’s ice out there somewhere to play on.”

“Ever instigates fights, this sort of ambition?”

“You don’t lose if it’s the person you love that wins. So we both never lose. Not with each other.”

“You’ve got some sort of super-healthy relationship, is what I’m hearing.”

“I mean, I’d like to think it is. But I don’t know. Things happen, we’re people.”

“You sound very therapy-ed.”

“Therapied?” Ilya raised an eyebrow.

“You’ve put in the work, as they say these days. Reflected on it.”

“You’re saying all this and there’s sand just absolutely pouring off you“Sand pouring off someone” in Russian is said to mean that the person is old..”

Dud’ barked out a laugh. Rozanov thought it was nice to have the guy not take himself seriously.

“Therapy helps, or it’s a scam for sigma zoomers?”

“Do I look like a sigma zoomer to you?”

“Nope.”

“It helps, then. It saved me and it keeps doing that. There’s also drugs, of course, but it’s like poultice for the deadClosest equivalent is “too little too late” with a dash of “knife to a gun fight”. if it doesn’t come with therapy. And I’ll always say it: if you feel like something’s off – go to the doctor. You can start with a therapist, and they’ll sort out where to refer you.”

“Your therapist speaks Russian?”

“Yes. It’s been years of us ramming the… the fucking bullcrap that I have going on. I wouldn’t manage in English. I speak it just fine, but it’s not the same, not right. My heart speaks Russian. The language of the soul is a singular thing, I think. Well, at least for me it is.”

“You speak Russian to Shane?”

“Yes, all the time. He understands it and even speaks a little. I’m maybe not good at assimilating in that sense, ‘cause I still talk like that lady, from the store – ‘depends on the kind of fabric, depends on where the fabric comes from.’A quote from a viral YouTube video interview (circa 2007) in Russian with an Odesa-born clothing store owner in Toronto. The woman speaks “runglish”, a mix of languages. It’s widely known among Russian-speaking expats/bilinguals because it’s representative of our speech and among Russian monolinguals because they find it ridiculously performative. With Russian I have the same issue. Not that many people I have left to speak Russian to regularly, so Russian words I forget, English comes to mind faster. So yeah, I just speak runglish, I’d say. Shane helps me out with the Russian words sometimes, because he’s learning right now and practicing it, more often than I do. And some mundane words, that I’ve replaced with English by now, they’re just closer to him than they are to me.”

“Is he studying on his own?”

“He did start out self-studying, he’s got a tutor now. He’s very stubborn, if he starts something you bet he’ll lay down his bonesTo lay down one’s bones = to fight to the death. but see it through. Hadn’t had to lay down any bones yet, though, because he’s just naturally talented at everything. He’s quite the nerd by nature.”

“You really love talking about him, do you not?”

Rozanov felt a smile grow wide on his face. He prided himself on his enormous feeling, so he really appreciated it when others could see this feeling and remarked on it.

“I do. Can we just talk about him for two days, and then on the third you’ll just look at him yourself? There’s your Ilya Rozanov interview… He is the very best part of me. ‘My better half,’ is that what they say?”

“And the worse half, then, is what?”

“Already told you about that one.”

“Did not tell me anything.”

“And what is it that you want to know?”

“I want to know what happened in Russia. You were born in 1991.”

“Yeah. When Rozanov was born, they took the Soviets by storm“When [name] was born, the Union collapsed” is a popular saying for people born just before the dissolution of the USSR. Translator’s best approximation at rhyming, because the original rhymes..”

“What do you remember about the ‘90s?”

Ilya pursed his lips.

“I am not Lena Kostuchenko, Yura. Don’t have a sob story about my groatsKostuchenko is a prominent Russian oppositional journalist and an LGBTQ+ activist, openly lesbian since the 2010s. In her interview with Dud’ in 2023, she shared stories about surviving the ‘90s in Russia: “Potatoes… it was really good if we had potatoes. Like, we usually only had groats.”.”

“Some other sob stories you do have.”

“You looking for stories about how rich people cry, too?”

“Tell me about your childhood.”

“I grew up in Moscow. My dad’s a cop, and mom graduated the Piter institute of Lesgaft“Piter” is a slang nickname for St. Petersburg. “Institute of Lesgaft” is the Lesgaft National State University of Physical Education, Sport and Health..”

“Is that the Physical Education one?”

“Uh-huh. She did athletics and was going to get into coaching kids. But then she married my father. And he wanted her to stay at home.”

“And she did?”

“What else was she supposed to do? It was the eighties. And it was my father. Had to have known him.”

“How did you get along?”

“With father? Of the dead you either speak well or not at all. Don’t want to go into detail but… not a fountainNot a fountain = no bueno.. As a kid I barely saw him, because he was always at work. And after work, he’d come and kill the vibe for me and my mom. He was one of those men that don’t give a fuck about kids. They just like the thought of having sons. And they need there to be sons. If I were born a girl, he wouldn’t have known my name, I don’t think.”

“And your mom?”

“And my mom loved me,” Ilya habitually reached to adjust the chain on his chest – it had twisted, “and I loved her. We’d spend all our time together, I was her little tail. For the first few years there were three of us in the gang, but then my brother got sent to military school, the Cadet Corps, so they’d make a real man out of him, and there was just two of us left. And he’ll never forgive me for it.”

“For what exactly? That you’d spent more time with her?”

Why the fuck did I say that, Rozanov thought.

“Yes. But don’t go there. Cut that.”

Dud’ gave him a nod.

“Why weren’t you sent to the Cadets?”

“You’ll laugh if I tell you.”

“No-no, no shame.”

“I was a very sensitive kid, I cried a lot, and overall just… not much of soldier material, I’d say. And it would be embarrassing for father to show me off like this to his very important colleagues. He was afraid I’d undermine his authority. ‘Cause they all know each other up there, the military, the cops, big shots like my father especially. So they sent me to public school. In my case the man-making business was the hockey.”

“Yes, actually exactly what I was gonna ask. Why hockey specifically?”

“I mean, it had to be a ‘real man’ sort of sport. Mom was very much against wrestling, scared they’d punch my spine out, so football and hockey were the obvious choices left. They picked hockey. Maybe because a coward wouldn’t play itInitially a lyric from a 1968 Soviet-era song “A coward does not play hockey”, which became so popular the phrase is now a common expression. The full lyric goes like this: “Hockey is played by real men, a coward does not play hockey!”.”

“Parents kept up with your success?”

“Mom did. Father got interested when his son started giving him reasons to brag about to the big men in slick suits. But I’d sort of stopped whining, so he was satisfied.”

“Because of the hockey?”

“Not sure, maybe I just grew out of it. I was only four when they’d put skates on my feet. But they yell in your face in hockey constantly, so with time, like it or not, you toughen up. Can’t be much of a softie here. You have to learn to filter out the negativity fast, otherwise one day after practice you’ll go and blow your brains out.”

“Was it apparent right away that you’re a future hockey legend?”

“First few years I was just having fun. No one’s good for anything yet, for the most part, everyone’s just learning. I was maybe eight when I felt I was treated differently, somewhat. But maybe the boys that didn’t have that caught on earlier. I don’t know.”

“Did they talk? Daddy-general greased some hands and now they kiss Ilyusha Rozanov’s ass out there?”

“Look – alright, was no ass-kissing for me, from anyone. Back then. Now there’s plenty of kissing, and not just for the ass in question,” Rozanov bit his lip with a wolfish grin, expecting Yura to react. He liked to catch people off guard with borderline inappropriate shenanigans.

“My god,” Yura rolled eyes, which got a satisfied laugh out of Ilya.

“Come on, don’t be jealous. Will come a party to your streetAn expression to mean “you’ll also get lucky”.… I got yelled at, told to suck a bag of fucking dicksIlya says “I got covered with dicks”, which means the person “covered” was verbally degraded. all the same, especially when I’d grown up some and got a bit wild with it. The coaches sure did grind their teeth but made me centre, ‘cause they knew that, yes, I’m an asshole and a jerk, but I’ll score. And my father no one knew nothing about until I was, like, 16. ‘s not like he’s a minister, or a public figure of some kind. You’ve got to really dig deep to find it. Wasn’t exactly blasted on my forehead.”

“And there was really nothing of a kid with golden spoon up his assTo “have a golden spoon up your ass” means to have everything handed to you on silver platter, have a carefree life. Used in context of growing up comfortably. in you, was there?”

“Something’s going on with you and my ass, Yura. I have a husband. You better give it up.”

“I’m sure your ass is phenomenal but I’m completely heterosexual.”

“My ass is seriously extremely phenomenal. Don’t be so cocky.”

Dud’ burst out laughing.

“But back to the golden spoon.”

“Was never any spoon to speak of. Lived life like normal, didn’t need for anything but it’s not like I took to Paris for dinner on private jets. Not sure that’s what a golden spoon is. I mean, we had the luxury of surviving the ’90 crisis. The default, even.”

“What’d you have in real estate?”

“Meh, not that much. A three-bedroom, lived there ‘til the ’98, a mansion just outside MKAD boundsMKAD – Moscow Circular Automobile Road, literally circles old bounds of the city. Marks an unofficial financial and somewhat cultural divide. Those “in” are “real” Muscovites.… a couple of firms that dad owned of some kind. Oh and I had like, a two-bedroom from my grandparents, mom’s folks. In terms of Moscow oligarchy it’s next to nothing.”

“And what real estate do you have in Russia now?”

“Nothing. Don’t own property in Russia.”

“What about your apartment?”

“Gave over to my brother.”

“Why’s that?”

“He needs it more.”

“So this means you didn’t get anything after your father passed?”

“Nah, I gave it all up.”

“Why?”

“I’ll earn it on my own.”

“You’ve said before that your relationship with your brother is not the best. Kinda sounds like you’re giving him too much grace, pretty literally.”

“It wasn’t for him that I gave it up, it’s for myself. So I have nothing tying me to this city, and this family.”

“What was your life like after your mother passed?”

“Father married the next year, thank God.”

“Why the ‘thank God’?”

“Because I couldn’t stand him on my own. Polina at least distracted him.”

“You were cordial with your stepmom?”

“Was okay. We never got close, of course, but we had something like an unspoken agreement to not get in the way and not talk shit to or about each other. She wasn’t even thirty then, beautiful, young. Smart. She was sensible enough to realise there was a teenager in the house whose mom just died and left him with a tyrant of a father. I was sensible enough to get why she married him. It’s like this: I didn’t get in the way of her building her life, and she made mine easier when she could.”

“Where is she now?”

“Don’t know. I hope she’s well. She hasn’t reached out in many, many years. I think she probably would have if she was in some sort of trouble. I didn’t tell her to never call.”

“So you did tell that to someone?”

Ilya shrugged.

“When did you start to consider leaving Russia?”

“Ah, around the same time. It wasn’t at all political in the beginning. I just knew there’s no life for me there.”

“Father wouldn’t let you live?”

“Of course. I was, like, thirteen and he’d already started dragging me around all sorts of meetings, introduced me to a bunch of important people who’d piss in my earsAn expression to mean all sorts of stuff. Deliberately saying something untruthful in flowery language; just plain lying; waxing poetic about some bullshit. Ilya means the latter. about Russia the Great… I don’t know, maybe he’d wanted to make me out to be some kind of national hero, when he realised that hockey was going great. And I never wanted to be a national hero. I always play for myself, first and foremost. I don’t need any geopolitics attached. Distracts from what really matters.”

“Which is?”

“Getting pucks in the right nets.”

“But what about your patriotism? Does that motivate you?”

On hearing the “p” word Ilya sat up, instinctively, and leaned forward a bit, but immediately stopped himself, embarrassed at the minute reaction of the body – like some kind of well-trained dog.

“What does patriotism have to do with it? I love Russia, but it’s no better than any other country out there. And hockey is about the rivalry and the drive to overtake, to prove that you’re faster, taller, stronger. I think all the talk about patriotic feelings in sports is just same old propaganda. And I don’t want to be part of it. It’s maybe because I’m from Mother Russia, where athletes get their brains fucked through”To fuck one’s brains” means to get on their nerves, to nag. with this sort of bullshit constantly. If I came from somewhere like, let’s say, Finland, where they don’t use sports accomplishments to feed the info-warfare machine, maybe I’d feel different. I don’t know… I’ve always thought you should play where you find your place, where it feels good, where they listen to what you say and value your input. Wherever the offer’s better, if nothing else. What’s the difference – Russia, the States, Canada? None of it matters.”

“What’s patriotism to you, then?”

“I’m not even sure you can call me a patriot in a sense they talk about back there. I won’t be dying for Russia, like I wouldn’t for any other place. I love her like an old friend that we parted ways with amicably. Russia was with me for a very long time and she lived with me through many things. Russia’s where my mother’s grave is. Russia’s where there’s still an apartment where mom grew up, where my grandma used to show me dioramas. Yes, I did give it up, because of my circumstances, but it is there. Russia’s where there’s still my first courtyard rink, the Palace of SportsPalaces of Sports and Culture are Soviet-period buildings hosting various facilities and venues for sport and cultural events, respectively. I started out at. Anyway…. If life is a puzzle, Russia has many, many pieces of mine. Of course I love her. I love and remember.”

“You got your Canadian citizenship.”

“Yes, not too long ago. Otherwise this interview wouldn’t have happened.”

“Do you still have your Russian one?”

“Yes. Have not renounced it. Yet.”

“Yet?”

“Maybe I’ll dare someday.”

“What for?”

“Same reason I gave up all my property in Russia.”

“You haven’t been to Russia in a long time.”

“Many years. After father’s funeral I came just once, got everything sorted, left my keys, signed my papers and got out.”

“Don’t you miss it?”

“Sometimes I get this sort of longing, but it’s not for Russia, it’s for the things that sucked but could have been better. I had more things that sucked than things that were good there. No place for me there. I think it just happens, this sort of thing. I’m lucky in that I have this job and this paycheck, that I could look for my place in the world. And some people live a whole life out of place, because they simply can’t afford to pay for or spend time looking.”

“Your place is in Canada?”

“My place is not about geography, Yura. It’s a state of being. It’s maybe a mix of a bunch of circumstances. I don’t know how to explain it. I just know what it feels like because I spent many years feeling like an outsider. I know the difference, I feel it every day. It’s not some sort of joy on the daily, euphoria or fireworks in your brain. It’s peace, it’s knowing you wouldn’t trade your place for any single other one in the world. My place is next to Shane. He’s here, and I’m here. Here’s where the team is – which I love, both of us do, and they love and accept us. Here’s where our family is. Our animals. Our homeIlya says “dom”, which means both home and house.. Our routine. It’s not about flags or anthems.”

“But you understand that, right, that the life you live now is only possible because this government allows it? This is state politics. In Russia it wouldn’t be possible.”

“Yes, of course. But it’s not some sort of favour, it’s the norm. In Canada they know what human rights are. Just like in the Netherlands, Australia, France, Germany, like they do in Scandinavia and many other places. Russia does not, unfortunately, know what it is, human rights. I hope they learn someday.”

“Would you come back to Russia, if that were to happen?”

“No, I’ve got too much baggage associated. I think that even if right in this moment it became heaven on earth, I wouldn’t be able to live there. I need a clean slate. I did start my life over at some point, and so now I don’t want to, cannot turn the leaf over. I should go, show Shane around Moscow, stop by the graveyard, but I can’t. Maybe a bit later. Should keep at it with the shrink.”

The nod that Dud’ gave him was understanding.

“You wear a cross.”

“I do.”

“Are you religious?”

“Yeah. I think so.”

“Christian?”

“No, I’m… I don’t believe in anyone particular. I just believe there’s something out there.”

“And why the cross, then?”

“It’s my mom’s. So this is not religious. Or not strictly just religious. Not sure.”

“Your mom was orthodox?”

“Yeah. Not devout, but we did go to church routinely. She liked it there. Maybe more than she did at home.”

“And how is it?”

“At church? ‘s okay. They sell icons, books. Smells of incense. Candles burning. For souls departed, for health. Praying with three fingers. You’ve never been to church or something?”

“But that didn’t make you the orthodox type of religious.”

“It didn’t. But I’m not traumatized by religion, either. Was a good time.”

“Did your father come with?”

“Very rarely. Could count on my fingers. He believed in a way a man in government does. ‘Orthodoxy, Autocracy, Nationality,’Imperial doctrine of late Russian tzars. and all that jazz. Tzar’s the only god there.”

Rozanov swallowed the bitter taste that sat heavy on his tongue. Yura unlocked his iPhone.

“Blitz time. I ask a short question, you give a short answer. Or maybe not so short. Up to you.”

“Okay.”

“Ovechkin or Crosby?”

“Crosby.”

“And why?”

“Ovi’s not my type.”

“You get compared a lot.”

“Pity. I’m younger and more handsome,” Ilya winked at his closeup camera and turned back to Yura. “But you cut that.”

Yura chuckled and motioned scissor hands to the camera trained on him.

“Number of tooth implants.”

“That Ovi’s got? Not enough, clearly. Cut that, too.”

Dud’ shook his head.

“That you’ve got.”

“Access to my mouth I grant Shane Hollander only, Yura. We don’t have that kind of relationship, you and I.”

“Just. Say. The. Number.”

“Three.”

“Seriously?”

“Yes. And one of them has nothing to do with hockey.”

“And what happened?”

“Was young and dumb and opening a ‘Baltika’A beer brand. with my teeth. Not worth it.”

“You like your cars.”

“I do.”

“Keeping up with Formula right now?”

“On occasion.”

“Favourite team?”

“Mercedes. Red Bull’s also fine.”

“Favourite racer?”

“Schumacher. Of those up right now – Hamilton.”

“Why not Verstappen? I thought he’s the best of the best.”

“Not a fan of his moves sometimes. But respect to him, obviously.”

“Why 81?”

“January 8th. Mom’s birthday. Right after ChristmasJanuary 7 – Orthodox Christmas..”

“Favourite hockey player?”

“I always say Pavel Datsyk, it’s an old habit, but… don’t know. Shane Hollander is my favourite hockey player. In every sense of the wordAs above: favourite = beloved..”

“Last movie you saw?”

“Just yesterday, I showed Shane your movie, about Kolyma. Does that count?”

“Oh, wow!” Yura’s eyes popped out funny again. “And what did he think about it?”

“He liked it. Said we can skip Kolyma if we ever come to Russia for sightseeing.”

“What about a full feature?”

“We saw ‘Sinners’. Good one.”

“Is that the one with like a record number of Oscar nominations?”

“Yes. I’ve had the song stuck in my head, since before yesterday. Whack-fol-la-de-da...”

“What would you do in life if not for hockey?”

“Would be a firefighter, I think. Search and rescue maybe.”

“But not a cop?”

“Nah, definitely wouldn’t be a cop.”

“Three things you miss about Russia.”

“Glazed cheesecake bars.”

“Is that a serious answer?”

“Yeah. I really liked the ones with dolce de leche. Can get them here but you’d have to work for it. And the spinach-stuffed rolls from ‘Pyatera’Nickname for Pyaterochka, a nation-wide grocery/convenience store chain..”

“No way.”

“Have you ever had them hungover? Delectable.”

“I got you. Anything besides food?”

“Meh, I don’t know. Pops up in my mind, sometimes, something vague in the moment, but nothing in particular. Like snow will glint in some special way, a leaf will fall, or I get a whiff of some smell, and for a second it throws me far back somewhere, like three decades back… But it rarely hits and never lingers, so I don’t dwell. I’ve had my share of missing things, but I was so bored in RussiaWordplay here. To miss in a sense of longing is the same base verb as to be bored.. I was so bored there I was tired of living. And now I have everything I need. Nothing much to miss. So – cheesecake and spinach rolls.”

“Anything in the States that you miss?”

“Nah, had no time to get attached. My close friend lives in Boston, so we fly over sometimes. I still have a house there.”

“The one you lived in when you played for the Bears?”

“Yeah. I wanted to sell it but I still really like it. Shane and I both do.”

“Do you guys rent it out?”

“Nah, it just sits there. Sveta comes around sometimes, checks up on it.”

“Why won’t you rent it?”

“Don’t like strangers hanging about my house. Even for pay.”

“Main difference between an American and a Russian.”

“Americans give less of a fuck about Russians than Russians care about Americans. Well, at least I see it that way. I’ve never once been scolded for a Russian passport in the States. And in Russia no one passes up the chance to tell me how I sold off my homeland for a ‘Snickers’ bar”To sell off the homeland for a Snickers bar” (to sell out) is an expression likely originating from the ‘90s when Snickers was the first major snacks brand to infiltrate the post-Soviet market. Young people loved it, as they did all new things from the West..”

“And one last thing,” Dud’ held his signature pause before philosophizing, as usual. “What is power?“What does strength lie in?”, “what’s power to you?” are ways to translate this. В чем сила? is a question posed by an iconic protagonist of the “Brother” [Брат, Брат 2] film duology, and it became an expression and a rhetorical question for the nation. To understand the Russia Ilya remembers, these films are required viewing.”

“Love is power,” Ilya replied immediately. “It’s like, the most unoriginal answer in the world, and most of your guests probably tell you this, but it’s just the truth. Truth shouldn’t be uniquely original.”

“Your colleague Zadorov said it’s opportunity.”

“For him it maybe is. But I won’t trade my biggest and most important strength for any single opportunity ever. And not even for all the opportunities at once, if offered. We all have our own strength, our own power. It’s not a collective thing. D’you remember Tony Stark, how he had this magnet in his chest for a while? Kept the shards from getting to his heart and killing him. This is Shane for me. Rip him out of my chest and I’m done for.”

Yura held eyes on him with an unreadable expression which Rozanov consciously elected to interpret as approval and deep admiration of his tender homosexual feelings, and clapped his hands, ending the shoot.

Ilya was drinking water by one of the tables when Dud’ came up from behind to say goodbye.

“Passed with flying colours,” Yura slapped his shoulder. “Hope I wasn’t too forward with it.”

Ilya shook his head with a smile.

“You were characteristically forward. No more, no less.”

“Perfect. Well, at ten tomorrow on Parliament Hill. I’ll be asking about the charity.”

“And what else?”

“And some other things, too,” Yura grabbed his hand and shook it in a hurry. “See you tomorrow, champ. Sleep it off and all that.”

“Nah,” Ilya thought on his way to the car, “no one would turn this fish human for good behaviour.”

Chapter 3: Part II

“Should you even be eating ice cream?” Yura questioned, taking the other scone with vanilla scoop from him.

They left the snack booth and made their way along the pedestrian route up to Wellington street. The camera was trained on them already, and Ilya pitied the man behind it just a little bit – he didn’t have a third hand to hold a scone of his own.

“Why not?”

“Well, you’re an athlete, not a mere mortal. I thought maybe they pay you guys this much so that giving up ice cream tastes a bit sweeter.”

“And you’ve got it all figured out, Yura. Have your money, and eat your ice cream, too,” Rozanov licked at his chocolate scoop with a wide motion. “All I want I can eat, ‘ve to just be moderate about it. I’m on vacation now, anyway. Can afford it.”

“You and Shane got the same diet?”

“Right now we do. We were on both of the extremes at some point: I wasn’t watching my food at all and inhaled everything that tastes good and sits there, and Shane was counting his calories in every spoonful of oats. We sort of found common ground when we started living together all year ‘round. And anyway… no one’s getting any younger.”

Wellington was not your typical busy street of a capital city, but that wasn’t that surprising – Ottawa as a whole barely looked a capital in a way that Rozanov was used to. Here it was peaceful, quiet and boring – just like he loved best.

“What happened on the 6th of January in 2021?” Yura began when they passed the Bank of Canada.

“How many letters?”

“Ilya.”

“Phone a friend?”

“Dude.”

“Multiple choice?”

“Stop it.”

“Well, what the heck, not gonna be a millionaire todayIlya jokes about “Who Wants to Be a Millionaire?”, a TV program.,” Ilya’s expression was bored as he looked over a huge building, where the entire glass façade reflected the blue sky and the bright June sun.

“You don’t want to talk about it?”

“What’s there to talk about? How I almost died?”

“Yes.”

“And why would I? I didn’t die,” Rozanov shrugged, indifferent. “If I did die it would be a whole other case altogether. Would you make a movie about me?”

“About a young Russian hockey player that died in a plane crash at the height of his brilliant career?”

“Yeah. Would be like TsoyViktor Tsoy was a legendary Soviet rock singer, poet, and actor of Russian-Korean descent. Frontman of “Kino,” he wrote music and lyrics for the band. Generational classic rock artist and poet. He died in a car crash in 1990 when he was 28 years old. in hockey world… D’you have a Tsoy movie?”

“I don’t. I’ve one about BodrovSergei Bodrov was the actor who played the iconic protagonist of the ‘Brother’ film series. Reported missing since 2002 after an avalanche buried the film crew in North Ossetia. He was 30 years old..”

“Well, there you go, you’d also have one on Rozanov.”

“Do you like “Brother”The “Brother” [Брат, Брат 2] film duology is foundational expression of Russian post-Soviet ethos. To understand the Russia Ilya remembers, these films are required viewing. See Chapter 1, “What is power?”.?”

“No.”

“Why?”

“‘Cause it’s got everything I hate about Russia.”

“Danila BagrovProtagonist of the “Brother” films. – a hero. Yes or no?”

“He’s a protagonist. Not a role model though, for sure.”

“And who’s a hero in the role model sense?”

Ilya considered it.

“Nemo’s dad.”

“Which Nemo?” Yura’s brows furrowed in confusion.

“‘Finding Nemo.’ A fish cartoon.”

“Ilya.”

“The rabbit lady from ‘Zootopia’.”

“Alright, I get it,” Dud’ nodded in defeat and licked at his ice cream. “Back to January 6th. How was it?”

On this second day of filming, Rozanov volunteered to show him around downtown Ottawa. They met up at Parliament Hill, as they’d planned, and made their way toward the Portage bridge to look over the Ottawa river, marking the border between Ontario and Québec. The European air of the city reminded Ilya of the old Piter, untouched by the asphalt. Here, unlike in the northern capital of RussiaCommon, a bit poetic way to refer to St. Petersburg on account of it having been capital of the Russian Empire., trees bloomed right downtown.

“It was a really nice day. We’d just won our first game of that trip, against Carolina, and we were supposed to fly into Florida, Tampa city. That’s two hours by air. Everything was great. We boarded, took off – no surprises there. Although, if I’m not mistaken, they say the most dangerous parts of flying according to plane crash stats is takeoff and landing. But anyway – at some point, already in the air, there was a jolt.”

“Like turbulence?”

”Yeah, that’s what we thought, so we didn’t think much of it at first. Like, it’s not our first rodeo. But in a few minutes something blew up, or something, and we started to fall. That was no turbulence,” Ilya’s smile was strained. “The plane was shaking so much that I had my can of Coke fly off the little fold-out table, and it spilled all over the aisle. I thought then, like, wow, way to go, making a mess right before dying. This sucks.”

Rozanov caught a glimpse of a couple of funny pigeons sitting on the ledge of a semi-circular window under the roof of one of the old buildings. Fat with the charity of locals and tourists alike, they were enjoying the warmth of the summer sun and occasionally pecked each other’s butts. Ilya, not thinking much of it, pulled out his iPhone, opened up ‘telega’ and recorded an informative circle video“Telega” is slang for Telegram, the default messaging app for Russians. In-app functions include 1-minute-long circular video recordings in chats. for Shane.

“Us?”

“And what happened next?”

“Well, we were falling for some time,” he put the phone back into the pocket of his joggers. “Not that long, but at the time it seemed like forever. And then the pilot – God bless him – somehow set the plane right, announced emergency landing. And then we just sat there and waited to see if we'd land or crash.”

“How long?”

“Don’t know. About ten minutes, maybe. Maybe longer. Time, it turns out, flows very differently when you know you can die very soon, and this is, like, the last seconds of your life. Very hard to explain this. I think I’ve never had my brain work that hard in my life. Like agony, before death, but longer.”

“What were you thinking about?”

Ilya scratched his chin, pondering.

“How I’ve lived 29 years of life and Yura Dud’ still hasn’t interviewed OxymironOxxxymiron (stage name) is one of the most prominent Russian rappers, a lyricist, and a political activist. His album Горгород [Gorgórod, “Citcity”] (2015) is a narrative tale of imaginary city under the rule of the authoritarian mayor who stalks and captures the protagonist, who is himself a poet. Also a “foreign agent”..”

Dud’ smiled at that.

“And now you’re 34, and I still haven’t interviewed Oxymiron.”

“I don’t even want you to anymoreIn 2025, multiple women came out with sexual assault allegations against Oxy when they were underage. Ilya is expressing disappointment at this here.,” Rozanov replied, disappointed.

“But seriously.”

“I messaged Shane. On Instagram. Concise, but… everything I could find the words for. The rest he knows.”

“What’d you write?”

“That I love him. That he’s the best thing to happen to me in this life. The truth.”

“Did he see it?”

“He did, but later, when we’d landed and I messaged him apologizing and asking to call. He had a game at the time. He’d called me later, horrified, when I was already in my hotel room in Tampa.”

“What kind of conversation did you have?”

“Just tried to comfort each other.”

“Did it affect your life in any way?”

“Yes. Saving up for a teleporting device.”

Yura smiled again. Rozanov enjoyed seeing signs of favour on the faces of his new acquaintances. Boosted his self-esteem, which, as it were, was far from starving for itLiteral: “It boosted his self-esteem, which as it were was not eating dick without salt.” To eat dick without salt = to be very poor..

“Shane proposed to me the next time we saw each other, and we started planning for coming out and the wedding.”

“Why?”

“Because… Because in life, there are things that matter, and things that do not,” Ilya patted down the back pocket of his pants and settled when he felt the pack of cigarettes in its place. “Shane and I were hiding out in hotel rooms, all sorts of concrete boxes since 2010, and all this time both of us had a list of reasons why we can’t have a normal life. And all of those reasons seemed to matter very much, because when you have your life settled, when you live it a certain way, when everything is clear and everything is planned it’s very hard to let go of all that. This all sounds like white people problems, of course, but that’s what they are, in a sense. Privilege is easy to get used to. And even if you logically understand that you can’t control it completely, that your life can be ruined at any given moment by literally anything at all, you still don’t really think about it. We’re wired that way as humans. Like, we all know that people die in plane and car crashes, their heads get smashed by falling bricks, walls of buildings and giant icicles, they get ran over by cars and electric scooters, attacked by dogs and snakes, but every single one of us has this hope living inside that tells us it’s all about someone else.” Rozanov reached for his back pocket again, but this time he did pull out a pack of SobraniyeA cigarette brand. Allegedly one of the best of them.. “Someone got hit by a car? Horrible! What a pity! How wonderful it is that I am me, and that my life definitely doesn’t have a tragic end in a pool of blood on the side of the road in store for me. And that’s the way everyone thinks,” he bit down on and lit the cigarette, “and I thought that way before, too, that my life will definitely end as this beautiful thing, safe, in old age, surrounded by family, no surprises, and that I still have lots of time for all kinds of bullshit and all kinds of stuff to figure out. And then death breathed down my neck, I touched her and I felt her, and turns out that she’s extremely close, and you never know when she comes to get you. Maybe today. Maybe in five years. Maybe in fifty years it’ll happen. And there’s no guarantee that you’ve got much time stomping this earth. We both got a serious whiplash out of it. Life really is very fragile, fluid, and you can’t waste it on some fucking bullshit… What does it matter to me anyway – what people say about me if they find out I’m in love with Shane Hollander? What the fuck does it matter whether I sign with some hockey club or another? Will it all matter right before I die? And I have an answer to this, because I was there – ‘right before I die’. And I know that the only thought I had was of him; I was thinking about if he’d be able to live with this, if nobody in the entire world, except his parents and a couple of our friends, knows that I was everything to him, and that he was everything to me. This is what matters. And everything else means jack shit, it’s all pixie dustIlya says “it’s all tinsel” here, which is an expression to mean cheap, insignificant, a farce.. Everything in the world is dust, except for him. And I feel sorry for myself that to realise this it took me almost dying.”

“And if the world had not accepted you?”

“Well then fuck it, we’d learn to live with it. We were already accepted by the people we cared about.”

“And the hockey?”

“And the hockey would have to go find the new Hollander and Rozanov. And they wouldn’t have. And we would’ve found what to do instead of hockey.”

“You’ve dropped a joke about teleporting. Not scared to fly these days?”

“Sometimes I fly tipsy.”

“For real?”

“Uh-huh. Not often though. Shane and I fly together now, and with him it is easier.”

They walked up to a freshly painted bench, which had a particularly good view of Ottawa, the city quiet and calm today. Rozanov flicked the butt of the cigarette into the bin drilled into the ground nearby and sat down next to Yura, so that he could peer, content, at the water and the random strangers with dogs and kids.

“How much do you earn?”

“Ah, but that’s not a secret. Disclosed to the public.”

“Ten lemonsSlang for millions. a year.”

“Yeah.”

“But that’s just hockey. And there’s also promotional contracts, investment interests.”

“Oh, don’t even ask me about investments,” Ilya shook his head, “I don’t know anything.”

“You got a finance guy?”

“I’ve got… well, you could say that. Or, no, it’s way cooler. I’ve got Yuna Hollander.”

“Is that Shane’s mom?”

“Uh-huh.”

“She’s managing your money?”

“She’s managing our money. And she’s managing many things overall.”

“How’d that come about?”

“Well, Yuna’s always been managing Shane’s stuff. There’s a funny word in English – momager. It’s a mom who’s very involved in her child’s career and is their representative, a manager. You come across this everywhere in hockey, it’s common practice. But it usually stops when the kid grows up, separates, hires people for this specifically. And Shane’s got great relationship with his parents, very close, and he’s glad to have his mom at the rear and not some stranger. At some point I found out she’s my manager as well. It happened gradually and in a natural way, didn’t even realise it at first. They just accepted me into the family, and so my business became shared, too.”

“Does it not bother you?”

“What does?”

“That your mother-in-law is your manager?”

“For some reason the Russian names for family relations all have some sort of negativity attached – all these jokes and complaints about mothers-in-law from both sides, fathers-in-law… In RussianThere are four different words for each parent from each side. Adapted for translation. they say it like it’s annoying to have. It’s maybe weird but I haven’t ever thought of Yuna as my mother-in-law in Russian. You just called her that word and it’s the first time it clicked for me. She’s just that – my mother-in-law. And it’s so different. So I’m really glad that my brand is in her hands. I’ve had managers before, but with her I don’t have to worry about anything. She can be intense, of course, but exclusively because she cares. Yuna will never do anything that’ll come back at me later, because it’s not so much her professional interest as it is personal. And for her this is not a job, or a career, for her it’s more of a love language. And in her decisions, advice, her strategy she’s not always going by what’s profitable or affordable, but what is right to do. Not everything can be strictly… transactional.”

“Does she do a good job of it?”

“Of course, she’s been doing it her entire life. She’s the mother of Shane Hollander, Yur. Naturally she does it well. Yuna always knows what to do, who to call, what to say, what to agree with and refuse, who’s to be trusted with a comment and who’s not even in a gun-to-you-head type of deal… She’s got heapsIlya says “a car and a wagon” here, which is an expression to mean “very much a lot”. of contacts in this business, finance guys included. So she handles all those, hires everybody, talks to everyone.”

“You’ve no idea what you invest in?”

“I know the gist of it. I know my money will never go somewhere I’d see as inappropriate. That’s the most important thing. Shane knows about the investments. To him it’s interesting. To me – I’m bored to death… I know more about the charity: amounts, recipients, frequency. That’s also what the whole family’s involved with.”

“Could you already live off your dividends?”

“We can. But it’s like in the old Jewish joke – you’ll wait and not see it come aboutJoke popular in Soviet Union: Rabinovich, how’s your health? – You’ll wait and not see it come about! – And how’s your mood? – You can’t spoil it!.”

“You’ll keep your heads in the game?”

“We’ll keep our heads in the game.”

Yura chuckled in approval.

“Let’s get to the charity. Tell me how your family became the face of sports in charity work on an international scale.”

“Purely by accident, to be honest. In 2018 we launched Irina Foundation, our charity organization, to help people with mental health issues. It was part of the long-term plan to reveal our relationship.”

“And how was that supposed to work?”

“Was supposed to bring us together in the public eye. Our number one problem has always been, like, not even that we’re dudes and play hockey, but that we had this rivalry dynamic… Neither of us has done anything to promote that on purpose, but that’s what happened. Journalists, sportscasters got a hold of it from the very beginning, then the fans, the players… I mean, we even got hooked on it ourselves. In short, we had to soften the narrative a bit somehow, show that we can act not just against each other but together, too. For starters it would be enough to make it so no one is wheeled away with a heart attack at the sight of Hollander and Rozanov walking the streets together. Shane suggested charity. I agreed to it. We’ve both been steadily donating to various funds for years out of pocket at that point, so charity was already part of our lives. We didn’t think it’d grow into something this big and important, just wanted to kill two birds with one stoneThe Russian expression is “to kill both hares at once”..”

“You started with a kids’ camp.”

“We did. In July of the next year we organized and hosted a children’s hockey camp for the first time as part of our campaign. Yuna was supervising the process, by the way. You just gotta give her something to organize, I swear… And for the coaches we recruited our friends and colleagues that we think are great people and players. Wasn’t easy, but super cool to do. And since then it’s every year that we do it.”

“How’d you run the camp?”

“Takes up two weeks of July. First and third, as a rule. A couple times we did second and fourth weeks, because some of the coaches went away on vacation with family. Each of the weeks is a full session. For the first week we’re in Montreal, the second one we’re in Ottawa. See, it’s two sessions in different large Canadian cities, so that more kids could hang out with us. Sometime in mid-April we open up the application forms on our website, and parents or legal guardians have until the end of May to fill it out with the kids. We’ve got some formalities and purely informational questions there, but we also have a bunch of write-in fields, for creative answers. We just physically cannot take in everyone who wants to come, so we have to filter out somehow. But we came up with a system: if the kid’s out of luck one year, we keep the name in our database, and if they’re still interested in coming the next year it’s very likely that we’ll have them.”

“Surprisingly liberal for athletes of your caliber.”

“How so?”

“Correct me if I’m wrong but I thought the big sport was about the highest jumper. If I win today, it doesn’t mean I have to give in to some kid who hasn’t won at all tomorrow.”

“Yura, this is a children’s sports camp, not a School of the Olympic ReserveType of middle-to-high public school in Russia that specializes on athletic achievements of students. A school meets certain criteria to be considered “Olympic” – for example, a certain number of graduates considered or involved with Olympic teams/sports per four years.. Our main goal in working with kids is to teach them to love hockey, show that it’s fun and cool to play. And we also try to make a friendly space that will be sports-oriented, on the one hand, and on the other – open and accepting.”

“And by that you mean…”

“We want kids that think they fall outside the traditional sports scene for whatever reason to feel safe. We want to show that they too have a place in sports.”

“Showing by example.”

“Yes, of course. Hollander and I are stars of the NHLAuthor’s note: Since Ilya is placed in the real world, the real League is used., and we’re married to each other. And the kids know that. Scott Hunter… can still creak his old bonesAn expression to mean someone can still put up a show/fight at their old age.,” Ilya chuckled, without much malice. “And he’s the first hockey player in history to publicly announce his homosexuality. We work with Max Riley – the first transgender man and hockey player and his wife Leah. And many more cool people. Some of them are even heterosexual.”

“Unbelievable.”

“Yeah, we let that happen, too. So, yeah, we’re trying to humanize the environment that hurt us all in some way. These past few years Hunter’s been talking about it on occasion, on podcasts and in interviews. And he’s good at it, actually, so I recommend you listen and read. But to the point – professional sports are an extremely conservative snake pitIlya says “swamp.” Calling a place a swamp draws attention to its unpleasant, convoluted, toxic nature., close to the army, I think, in terms of the values. D’you know how often they throw around the words “faggot,” “bitch,” “retard” in Russian men’s hockey changerooms?

“I’m assuming it’s very often.”

“Correct. I was there, I know all about it. And it shouldn’t be like this. My husband is gay, and he’s the strongest hockey player in the world. D’you know what I mean? I want every kid that feels they’re a bit different to know that it won’t get in the way of them climbing to the very top. And it’s not just about hockey, either. Most of these kids won’t play professional hockey. But they’ll grow up and be teachers, first responders, politicians, doctors, artists. They’ll live their lives and affect those of others. And so our summer camps, they’re not about the hockey, first and foremost. We’re sort of remaking a healthy society, where they respect you for who you are and expect the same in return.”

“You’re making it out to be so cool I want to get in myself now.”

“You’re a big mister now who’s already found his place in the world. You don’t need it.”

“How much for a kid to go?”

“Fixed price is eleven hundred bucks. Canadian. But we have a bunch of social discounts. All that you can look into on our website, and you can also e-mail or call our little phone. You’ll get to my friend and the Boston Bears SMM manager, Sveta Vetrova, who’s also doing communications for us.”

“You’re talking about the daughter of Sergey Vetrov?”

“Uh-huh. She helps us a lot in this business.”

“Well, you sure got everyone on board that you could find.”

“Almost everyone got on themselves. Sveta included. We’d been doing this for a couple years when she’d offered to help. Wasn’t even an offer, really, she just informed us she’ll take over our SMM and hung up the phone… We’re extremely cool, Yura, and we’re doing a good thing, so everyone wants to be part of our team.”

“Does anyone get paid on your team?”

“The hired staff do. It’s the cleaning crew, the chefs… Coaches, folks up top – Shane with myself and Yuna, Sveta, a couple more people, we only contribute because it’s our initiative and we get paid by feeling good. We don’t get anything material out of it, all profits go to the foundation.”

“What does it do, the Irina Foundation?”

“Very many things we’re doing. We were coming up with this thing back then and weren’t even thinking at this scale. Right now the Irina Foundation accepts volunteer donations, and here’s where many people are involved. We have a team that runs the day-to-day and handles the projects. We also have all kinds of things now: a mental health hotline, support groups, creative workshops… There’s even internships for psychologists,” Rozanov almost thought he’d gotten carried away and talked too much in detail, but he quickly decided to not give a fuckTo not give a fuck = to hammer in the dick. Which is what it says in Russian here. about it, because this was his interview and he’d talk about whatever he wanted. So he just went on listing off their accomplishments. “We also work a lot with psychological education. There’s a YouTube channel where we talk about mental health and not-health. We just launched a podcast with our host-psychologist, Eric, where he has different athletes come and share their stories, struggles, insights. One day I’ll get to it, too. We’re also always printing something. Right now it’s this new book that we just finished typesetting, it’s actually about hockey. Illustrated by one of the Centaurs, our teammate, Luca Haas.”

“You have a hockey player that’s also an artist?”

“Sick, isn’t it?”

“Incredible.”

“Here’s one of the latest things I’m super proud of: we’ve just launched a really complex type of service for helping families with an adult – that is, a parent or guardian – who struggles with a mental disorder or is neurodivergent. There’s many people in this world who have not just a kid, but also, for example, depression, and these things have to coexist somehow. Parenting is a very difficult thing as is… But no one really talks about that. Nobody talks about how to raise a child if you have panic attacks or OCD. So now we have support groups of this kind – and not just for the parents with these issues, but also for the kids of these parents.”

“Dude, you’re talking about it as if this is your life’s work.”

“But I think this probably is my life’s work.”

“Not hockey?”

“Hockey, too. These things go together, in my mind. Hockey allows me to pursue charity. Charity shines a new light on hockey. We’re just starting to work on something with the NHL, by the way, but it’s a secret for now. Don’t tell anyone. So… This is our lifestyle, you know? It’s very important for all of us.”

“I’ll maybe ask a stupid question, but still. Why do you want so much to make people’s lives better?”

“Because no one should be facing their demons alone. It’s good if you have a support system in life – people that are there for you and can help. But what if you don’t? You need community, you know? Community that offers you a shoulder to lean on – social initiatives, programs, structures. In Russia there’s jack fucking shit that we have in this area.”

“I know that you donate to Russian organizations.”

“I mean, yeah. Not through the Foundation, of course, I do it out of pocket. On behalf of our family.”

“Including organizations that help people with dementia.”

Rozanov pursed his lips.

“Sniffed that out, too.”

“You’re not the only one doing your job well. Your father had dementia.”

“Yeah. Alzheimer’s.”

“Long time?”

“He died in March of 2017. Everything was fine when I left Russia in 2010. So five years, give or take, I think.”

“Did you have a sense of his illness progressing?”

“Yes, but you have to account for me not being there for most of that time. We talked over the phone, but only occasionally. And when I visited I would see a new person, more and more a stranger. There wasn’t anything crazy that he ever did that made it especially hard on us, but he’d put us through the wringer.”

“What sorts of symptoms did he have?”

“At some point he’d forgotten stuff that a healthy person wouldn’t. He’d forgotten he had a granddaughter, forgot that he had two sons. He could get ready for something and then forget what it was. He was forgetting people and their names. He asked me once if it was my mom that fixed my tie. It was then that it hit me that this is it, the fucking end.”

“What were the doctors telling you?”

“What could they tell me? Brace yourselves and endure it. I’d bring him pills from the States, but that’s not treatment. You can’t treat this.”

“And what do these organizations do, that you donate to?”

“Family support, first and foremost. So they could hire a maid, for example. Or place their loved one in a home that doesn’t look like hospice and not worry about them being tied down to a bed there or anything of the sort… Dementia in the family is very difficult. The last couple years my father needed constant attention and care. And it’s a job, Yur. You can’t live your normal life and also care for someone sick with Alzheimer’s. And this is a fucking nightmare, there’s no choice to be made, really, because you have to live with it after. And it’s very unfair.”

“Are you scared of getting sick someday?”

“I am, of course.”

“What scares you the most in life?”

“Losing Shane. Losing what we have now.”

“How could you lose it?”

“Lots of ways. Life’s unpredictable. But I’ll do everything I can to keep it. I trust myself in this. And I trust him, too.”

“D’you have any fears that don’t bother you anymore?”

“Oxymiron has this song, Life unlivedLyrics of Life unlived [Непрожитая жизнь] are a collection of brief life stories. One is about a man who is afraid to confess his feelings for a male coworker.. And I was really scared of that, what he sings about there. But I’m not anymore. Life is being lived.”

“Second time you bring up Oxymiron. Unprompted. I didn’t say it. It’s all on tape.”

“If you say so.”

Rozanov suppressed a smile. Yura unlocked his iPhone. Ilya, remembering yesterday’s schedule, realised that he will soon be released on good behaviour.

“Let us play a game.”

“What’d you wanna bet?”

“I mean, anything you want. A beer.”

“Okay.”

“You don’t even know what we’re playing!”

“No matter. I’ll win.”

“We’re going to your cottage tomorrow.”

“You are.”

“Right now I’ll ask you a bunch of questions. You will answer them. And tomorrow I’ll ask Shane the same exact questions and he’ll have to guess what you said.”

“What sorts of questions you got?”

“Entirely unoffensive.”

“I mean, alright, let’s try it.”

Yura nodded in approval.

“Shane Hollander: first impression.”

“I thought that he was very… very youthful. Strange word, right? Like it’s out of a literature textbookIn Russia, the typical American/Canadian primary to high school English class is divided into two separate classes: Russian, as in linguistics (sentence structure, grammar, morphology, phonetics) and Literature, an American equivalent of English. Most (if not all) schools in large cities also had mandatory or popular elective classes of ESL until 2022. Currently foreign language hours are cut everywhere.. But it’s the truth. We were 17 years old then, we were both very young, but there was something about him that… it was something fresh, untouched by the world. Like the first winter snow.”

“This interview feels like a rollercoaster. Absolutely impossible to predict what you say next.”

“You will never forget me, Yura.”

“Never. What’d you like to do together?”

“We love to clean. We do jigsaw puzzles. We paint by numbers. Baking pies is nice.”

“Is that true?”

“Nope. Why would I tell you the truth? YouTube’s gonna demonetize you for it,” Ilya’s grin was entirely too bratty.

“Exactly what I meant. What do you like to do alone?”

Rozanov winced, trying to feel for an answer that he’d like best, but failed miserably.

“I don’t really like to be by myself, to be honest.”

“You don’t do anything alone, at all? Like, the gym, do you go separately?”

“I mean, yeah, of course, we’re not Siamese twins… We’re just not into it. Everything I like to do is way cooler with Shane.”

“Like jigsaw puzzles?”

“And painting by numbers, yes.”

“What is an animal you associate with your husband the most?”

“We did, actually, talk about it at some point. He knows the answer to this question. He is like a reindeer.”

“Why exactly?”

“Beautiful. Noble. Instills reverence and fear, all at once. Not predatory, though, and… vulnerable.”

“Wow. I can already feel the tears and squeals of the female audience in the comments.”

“Wishing you big bucks to earn off my pure and innocent feeling.”

“Thank you, I wish the same upon myself. Favourite trait of his?”

“Like a personality trait?”

“Or physical. Doesn’t matter.”

Ilya’s smile was just a tad insane.

“Dude, the fuckin’ biceps he’s got on him?”

“You serious?”

“In a chokehold he’d break your neck, like, 15 seconds tops.”

“And you’re into, like, this sort of thing?”

“Yura, have you ever been dominated by a man?”

“Nope. But I’m not looking to be!”

“I can tell.”

“What’d you mean?”

“You’ve got this sad look in your eye.”

Dud’ cleared his throat and showed the scissor hands to the camera.

“We’ll cut that. And what about a personality trait?”

Ilya looked over Ottawa. In the distance, closer to the other side of the river, a small boat was riding the waves. He thought that Shane probably wouldn’t be able to see it without his sexy glasses.

“Remember that ancient meme, where they ask a guy about what’s most important in a woman, and he says ‘her soul’?”

“I do.”

“Well, I’m just like this guy. Tits are nice. But what’s important is the soulOld viral video of a guy at a club, drunk, talking to a girl in front of interviewer: We want tits! We want more tits! – What’s most important in a woman? – …the soul. The soul. – And what about tits? – Tits are nice. But most important is the soul!.”

Chapter 4: Part III

“What’s his name?” Yura asked as he scratched the head of the dog that’d just ran out of the house. Following the dog was Shane, already carrying a bottle of beer that he was opening for Dud’.

“Anya. It’s a girl.”

Dud’ raised a brow, puzzled, unimpressed by the name, evidently. He turned to Ilya, who already settled on the bench next to the house, sipping on his Corona. Rozanov sighed. He was used to explaining simple truths to Russian dimwits.

“Anya because she’s a doggie, Yura. SobanyaUntranslatable wordplay. Sobanya is doggie. Sobanya – Anya. It’s her full name :), get it?”

Dud’ and his cameraman SanyokSnayok, Sanya, and Sasha are all nicknames for Alexander. arrived at the cottage around one o’clock. By that point Shane and Ilya had already made fire and marinated the turkey, which was currently the object of dreams of the hungry Russian journalist who’d had his breakfast at seven in the morning.

After he met the star of the NHL, Shane Hollander, and Anya – the sobanya, Yura was presented with an extremely fluffy cat named Timoshka and Chiron, the team dog of the Centaurs, who was, like a kid of divorced parents, living between the houses of the Ottawa players. Today Ilya and Shane had deliberately taken Chiron in. Especially glad was the habitually restless Sobanya.

“What made you realize you were bisexual?” was Yura’s first question of the final part of the interview.

They sat by the fire with Rozanov. The logs, licked by the flames, crackled and sounded pleasant to the ear, now relaxed by the quiet of the countryside. Shane went back to the house for the time being, so that he wouldn’t be hanging about. He was on a call with his mother.

“Watched your interview with Egor KreedRussian pop singer with a big ego, kinda like Justin Bieber but widely considered to be more cringe.,” Ilya held a beat of silence before the punchline, “and decided to give women a chance.”

Yura rolled eyes at that.

“Come on, Ilya. I’m serious.”

“Yur, I hate this question.”

“Why?”

“Because I have no clue how to answer it. What made you realize you’re, like, I don’t know, a man and not a woman?”

“Not the same thing.”

“Not for everyone. But it is to me, kind of. There are things you just know. I didn’t have some sort of epiphany. I know people who did, but I didn’t. I have always just been me, this way.”

“Were you never worried about it?”

“Nah, had other shit going on.”

“Tell me, what’s it like to be a man who’s attracted to men in Russia?”

“I can only tell you about being bisexual in Russia. Being gay in Russia is a different story altogether, different experience, different case. And I’m glad it’s not my experience.”

“Is that because bisexuality is almost heterosexuality?”

“Just don’t say that to anyone except me, in America especially. But basically yes. Bisexuality is easier to hide. Before we were outed no one knew a thing, ‘cause the cameras would get me with a girl on occasion. I remember when the video blew up, the people online were commenting stuff like ‘Rozanov’s definitely not a fag, he dates women.’ It was so funny in the moment.”

“For the viewers that don’t know what happened – you’re talking about Hayden Pike’s video that accidentally caught you and Shane kissing?”

“Yes. Hayden is Shane’s best friend and his ex-colleague from Montreal. He was filming a fan-video, and we were visiting at the time and came outside for some reason. Basically he filmed it and sent it over, didn’t watch it back. And then it turned out that Shane and I were there, in the background. Obviously the person leaked the video, and it went viral in an instant.”

“How did you react?”

“I mean, of course you freak out when you’re outed, it’s terrible, vile and just disgusting, but like… it could’ve been worse. By that point we’d already decided that we’d come out, because living with this secret became absolutely unbearable, and it was just a question of time. We did want to do it on our own terms, but we’d do it and we’d run into consequences anyway. The decision was already made. Had it happened a few months earlier… I don’t know what would’ve happened then. I don’t even want to think about it, to be honest. We both were in the wrong mental state for this sort of blow. And when we were actually outed, by that point we’d decided everything, so we got off with a minor scare.”

“Do you think you could break up if you were outed at the wrong time?”

“I think people can make really fucking bad decisions under stress, make unnecessary sacrifices and derail their lives. So outing is a total fucking nightmare that no one deserves. Ours was pure coincidence, a series of unfortunate events. It happens, c’est la vieSaid with heavy Russian accent. It’s actually a very popular saying in Russia.. But there’s so many people out there who are outed deliberately, and their lives are ruined because of someone else’s choice. And they don’t have the privilege of a supportive family, reputation or money. And they end up losing their loved ones, their home, their job. Their life. No one can ever predict the worst-case scenario. And I also can’t say what would’ve been if all of this came out at a worse time. There’s really no limit here. People kill themselves because of things like this.”

“Would you?”

“Next question.”

Dud’ gave him a nod.

“You said you can talk about the life of a bisexual guy in Russia.”

“Well, that I was bisexual only my friends knew about, who were themselves either on the queer spectrum or just chill about the whole thing. The number one rule for any queer in Russia – shut up and lay low. Again, I had it easier. I liked girls, so I wasn’t really gasping for breath. And the guys… I mean, I left for the States in 2010, and I only came to Russia in the summers after that. I don’t know what it’s like there now. Back in the zeroesSlang to refer to the ‘00s. there were… places. In Moscow. Clubs. Bars. I won’t say the names, just in case. And then there’s something like a radar, still. I think it’s especially relevant in countries like this, where you can’t openly express yourself and your attraction, and so you gotta read the subtle signs. You learn to do it over time, to read between the lines.”

“Were you seeking it out often?”

“Sex with guys? No. I had… someone for this sort of thing. I didn’t get a taste of the ‘beauty’ of being queer in Russia, in that sense.”

“How did you meet him?”

“Can’t tell you. Don’t want to compromise him.”

“Is he still in Russia?”

“Move on.”

“Was there a sense, in the zeroes, that things would get better?”

“Yeah, I think there was. Seemed like the window to EuropeIn his 1833 poem “The Bronze Horseman” dedicated to Peter [Pyotr] the Great, A.S. Pushkin, the most famous Russian poet, wrote that Pyotr had “hammered through the window to Europe”. The Emperor was famous for modernizing, advancing Russia via establishing trade routes with the West. The phrase is since a common expression to mean many things, but namely cultural and informational connection to the world. was maybe open again, after the SovietsIlya says sovok here. It’s one of many derogatory slang words for USSR. It literally means “dustpan”. had boarded it up, and that we’re maybe slowly moving in the right direction. But for me it’s actually hard to say for sure, I’m in too deep with the family history of traditionalists, old men in their uniform. I was never part of any community to know the ins and outs of it. You’d have to ask the people that were immersed in it.”

“Do you think anyone in your family suspected that you weren’t heterosexual?”

“Father didn’t, no question about it. It just wasn’t even seen as a possibility. I’m sure to him he’d never once come across a gay person in his life… My brother also probably didn’t. He knew I was very different, not like them, that I valued different things in life. He’d thrown all sorts of homophobic slurs my way, but I don’t think he ever really meant it. I was just, like, too much of a ‘liberal’.”

“Homophobic slurs like what?”

“Faggot, fag. Nothing new.”

“And your stepmom?”

“Polina wasn’t paying me enough attention to suspect anything. Didn’t matter to her in the slightest, whom it was that I fucked.”

“Did you talk about your sexuality with anyone? Like friends?”

“Nah. I mean, it wasn’t really a thing, Yur. Was just my business, and because I still liked girls the fact that I was also attracted to guys wasn’t seen as anything of note or importance.”

“But you talked about sex?”

“Well, yeah, but… You know how teenagers talk about sex. There you have it, that’s the way we talked about it. It’s not like we had some meaningful discussions and reflections.”

“But still, they weren’t about same-sex action?”

“No, of course not. Though I get a sense now that maybe that was a waste. Could’ve been discussing. We’re doing it now, after all.”

“You’d do it with same exact people?”

“Yeah, them too. I think that maybe times were just different. And I was also different. And I didn’t want to, and couldn’t seriously talk about anything, not just the sex.”

“Have you had relationships before Shane?”

“Like, committed? I haven’t. I’ve had long-term things going, but we weren’t exclusive.”

“Hold on, so there was never a girl that you had? Not even at school to hold hands in the hallways?”

“You’re calling this a committed relationship, at school, in hallways? A committed relationship is what I have now, married to a man I’ve been with for 16 years, give or take.”

“But were there any girls?”

“There were, there were. But I wasn’t holding hands with anyone in any hallways.”

“What were you doing?”

“Smoked in the washrooms to Jane AirAn alt-rock band popular with the youth in late ‘00s–early ‘10s., Yur. There you have it, the romantic vibe I had going.”

“‘Hash, hash, they smoke hash’Lyrics off Junk, track 3 of the debut album.?”

“‘She was pretty like a dream, and then it turned out that she is a he.’Lyrics off Акт.Love, track 8 of the debut album.”

“They have a song like that?”

“Yeah. Their first albumThe album is called “Pull Ya? Let it doll Go.” The title is phonetic play: it’s a bad approximation of transliterating “Bullet? Flies for a long time” in Russian.. My favourite.”

“Alright, listen, judging by your words I can, for example, conclude that in Russia you very well could live your life even if you weren’t heterosexual.”

“In Russia you can live your life if you’re a lonely bisexual who shuts up about it. You can also be in a heterosexual relationship, and then no one thinks anything of it for sure. Were I gay or dating a man, I would’ve had my fill of it. All issues with my sexuality I only really got when I fell in love.”

“With Shane?”

“Yes.”

“He’s your first love?”

“And my last. He is.”

“You’re not afraid to say it?”

“Why would I be?”

“Well, you said yourself just yesterday that no one knows the future.”

“I said that no one knows when they’ll die. I don’t know when I’ll die, but I know I’ll die with him in my heart. I’ll die his husband. No matter what. There’s nothing I’m sure of in life except this.”

“Alright. Bring him in?”

“Yeah, let’s do it,” Ilya smiled, happy, content, and rubbed hands together. “I already miss him.”

***

“Shane, Ilya and I are playing a game. Yesterday, I asked him a few questions. Today, you have to guess his answers.”

“Yes,” Shane nodded in agreement. “I’m ready.”

“Did he tell you what questions I’d asked?”

“No. I know nothing.”

“Yura, I’m an honest player,” Ilya protested.

“I’m sure you are. Shane, what was Ilya’s first impression of you?”

“He thought I was boring, probably. Yeah?”

“No.”

“What was your first impression of me then?” Shane turned to Ilya, with obvious interest, and Ilya answered his questioning smile with one of his own, knowing and sly.

“We’ll see when this interview comes out.”

“Not fair.”

“Life is not fair.”

“Moving on,” the interviewer interrupted them, “what is your favourite couple activity? Something you enjoy doing together.”

“Gosh, he probably said something naughty. Am I right?”

“Maybe,” Rozanov replied. “I don’t really remember.”

“I do remember,” Dud’ chimed in, like a traitor, “you said you like cleaning together and doing puzzles.”

“What?” Shane immediately turned back to his husband, turned his entire body to him. Ilya felt a sudden urge to peck Shane on the nose.

“And painting by numbers.”

“Yeah, but what did I say next?” Rozanov cut in. “I said I couldn’t tell you the truth, or YouTube wouldn’t give you your money.”

“Okay, yeah, I expected that,” Hollander laughed and went on without a shadow of discomfort. “He was joking, obviously, but he wasn’t wrong.”

“Guys, too much information.”

“We literally told you nothing!”

Shane put his hand on Ilya’s thigh and lightly squeezed.

“Okay, I’m the responsible one here, so if you want the real answer… I don’t know. We just love each other’s company. Always. We like working together. We like chilling together. We can talk or we can quietly watch a TV show... Or even just sleep. You know, we were in a long-distance relationship for a very long time and we just couldn’t afford to actually sleep together as long as we wanted. It just didn’t count as quality time. But now we can. And it’s amazing… Anything has potential if this asshole is next to me.”

Rozanov, giving in to unbearable softness in his heart, now sported a wide grin as he stared at his husband. Between them hung the quiet of a private, silent conversation, eyes only. Ilya was the one to break it.

“I would be happy to paint by numbers with you.”

“What about puzzles?”

“You will do puzzles, and I will sit next to you and complain.”

“Okay, now I really want to buy some.”

“Do you think they sell jigsaw puzzles with my face?”

“You must tell our team’s management about this idea”.

“Would you buy it?”

“Why? I have the original.”

Yura pointedly side-eyed the camera that was zoomed in on him.

“Okay. Shane, next question.”

“Yeah, sorry. I’m ready,” Hollander smiled at Ilya and lowered his voice. “Stop distracting me.”

“You are so fun to distract, I can’t help myself.”

“How does Ilya like to spend his alone time?”

“Oh my god… Okay,” Shane frowned and addressed his spouse again. “Can I be honest here?”

Rozanov nodded. Shane read the ‘da’ off his heart-shaped lips.

“Ilya can’t stand being alone. Even if we’re both at home but in different rooms, he’ll come into the room I’m in within ten minutes. And he won’t even demand my immediate attention. He’ll just sit there or maybe lie down and do whatever he was doing in the other room. This time, though, he’ll be sitting next to me. And that will be enough for him. And if we don’t see each other for a long time, then later he doesn’t leave me for eternity.”

“And you’re not that kind of person?”

“I… I feel much better when he is around. Besides, I have separation anxiety after the plane accident. Or something like that. But I feel like it’s different for Ilya. He just can’t be alone. I guess it’s something… psychological.”

Dud’ turned to Rozanov, evidently waiting for a comment.

“Ilya?”

“What?” he asked, unfazed, “I told you the same thing. I love doing everything with him, together."

“Okay,” the interviewer gave up. “Then I asked Ilya what kind of animal you could be.”

“Oh, I know this one. He probably said deer.”

“Yes. Do you know why?”

“We’ve talked about this before, so I know, yes. It’s because I'm Canadian and I like weird organic food. Right?”

Yura, his brows up to his hairline, met Rozanov’s eye. Ilya smiled at the journalist, admitting to the bottomless weakness before the man sitting next to him. Dud’ decided not to spoil the surprise for Shane, allowing them to talk about it without cameras watching, when the interview comes out.

“Yes. Right. Shane, what about Ilya’s spirit animal?”

“That’s a good question. Ilya is just like a cat. A domestic cat. He wants to be independent and edgy, a little arrogant, but in reality, he’s just a soft clingy creature that needs attention and love. And he gets it, of course. And he enjoys causing chaos.”

“Only the last one is true,” Ilya smiled and sniffled, which sounded a little bit embarrassed.

“Yeah, sure.”

“Okay, the last question. What is his favourite thing about you?”

“Like, a physical thing?”

“Yes.”

“Okay, first things first,” Shane stared at his husband with a smile. “Did you tell him the truth?”

Ilya firmly shook his head.

“Nope. No chance.”

“Did you lie to me?” the interviewer exclaimed.

“Of course he did,” Shane laughed. “Knowing him, he said something like chest, biceps, or shoulders?”

“This is insane.”

“No, tell me. Am I right?”

“You are. He said biceps.”

“What a fucking asshole! I can’t believe it.”

“Why?” Ilya gently, tenderly squeezed Shane’s forearm. “I love your arms.”

“Sure. But we both know that’s not the right answer to this question.”

“And what is the right answer?” Dud’ asked.

Shane looked down, and he was almost shy about it, biting his lip. Ilya couldn't tear his gaze away.

“Come on, baby. Say it.”

“I hate you.”

“No, you don’t.”

When Hollander looked up, his eyes were overflowing with love.

“My freckles. That’s the answer.”

“This interview will be unbearable for single people. I am a married man and I feel sick around you two.”

“You should patent a new trigger warning: ‘Beware, happy people!’” Ilya laughed.

“A Russian audience special?”

“Yeah. Weird that no one’s thought of that yet.”

“Okay, you two nailed it, I guess.”

“You owe me a bottle of beer.”

“Did you bet on a bottle of beer?” Hollander asked, and it sounded extremely judgemental.

“Yes.”

“This is the most unromantic thing in the world. Especially considering the questions.”

Yura laughed and shoved the phone back in his pocket.

“Okay. Now be serious. When did you guys first meet?”

“It was 2008,” Ilya began.

“We met at the Junior Championships in Regina.”

“What’s Regina?”

“The capital of the Canadian province of Saskatchewan.”

“A very unusual name.”

“It’s named after the local river, I believe,” Shane scratched his temple, thinking on it. “I’m not sure what it means, but it’s a North American word. From one of the local languages.”

“Do Canadians still speak these languages?”

“Yes, but, you know, it’s not English.”

“Sure. Was that the day Ilya thought you were boring?”

Ilya let out a tired moan.

“I didn’t think he was boring.”

“Yes. That was the first time we saw each other in person.”

“And I didn’t think you were boring.”

Shane smiled with the corner of his lips.

“Okay.”

“Tell me about this moment.”

“I went out for a smoke. And he came up to me.”

“He lit his cigarette next to a huge NO SMOKING sign.”

“Yeah. And he came up to me and said, ‘Hello. My name is Shane Hollander. You can’t smoke here’.”

“It wasn’t like that. I just wanted to introduce myself to you and, I don’t know, show my respect. And I didn’t want you to get in trouble in my home country, for fuck’s sake. Certainly not for smoking in the wrong place.”

Ilya stared at his face again – beautiful, happy, well-rested after a season’s worth of stress.

“You’re so cute. No wonder I fell in love with you right away.”

“Shut up. You are making this shoot very difficult for me, you know?”

“I like it when you blush. Your eyes start to shine this really special way.”

“Shane, what was your first impression of Ilya?”

“Okay. I thought, like, ‘Wow, he looks a lot older than he actually is’. We were both 17, and I was a month older. Well, I’m still a month older, obviously. And he still looked older than me back then. Like, much older. He looked mature. I didn’t. And I wasn’t.”

“And how did that make you feel?” Ilya said in a curious tone.

“Jealous, but not quite. Weird feeling.”

“I think it’s called ‘being gay’.”

“Well, I know that now,” Hollander barked out a laugh. “Asshole.”

“And what happened next?”

“Nothing exciting for quite a while. We saw each other again only six months later. Nothing happened.”

Ilya peered at his husband.

“Well, I wouldn’t say that…”

“No,” Shane cut him off, “shut up. Nothing happened.”

Yura side-eyed the camera again.

“No, seriously. Can you share the story of your relationships? When and how did this happen?”

“Nope.”

“Not a chance.”

“Why?”

Rozanov rolled his eyes.

“Because it’s so hot and exciting that everybody will get jealous and curse us. I don’t want to lose my libido because of some creepy witch.”

Hollander’s smile was shy again.

“Yes, that would be really… unpleasant.”

“Yeah, exactly. Sorry, but the details of this story belong to us. For now, at least,” Ilya sat up and turned to his spouse. “You know, maybe I should write a book.”

“About us?”

“Yes. Not now, tho. Later, when we will be old and wrinkled. And bored.”

“You will never get bored.”

“Not with you, no. Shit, no book then.”

“I will help you.”

“To write a book?”

“Yeah. I can be your co-writer.”

“Perfect. But my name should go first in the credits.”

“Sure,” Hollander agreed.

“What will be the title of your book?” Dud’ asked.

“I don’t know. Something like ‘The Game of Love’.”

Shane put a hand to his mouth in an attempt to hide his embarrassment.

“Oh my god, you’re so cringe.”

“Wait, wait,” Ilya was not gonna be stopped, “‘Playing With Fire’.”

“Jesus, just stop.”

“No! ‘Heated Rivalry’.”

“Shut up and don’t embarrass me,” Hollander shook his head in disapproval, but then gave in, and admitted, voice lower now, “I like ‘Heated Rivalry’, though.”

Rozanov smiled.

“I do, too.”

Yura, who watched the scene from the sidelines, blinked, so very tired.

“Got it. We're waiting for the book. When did you start dating?”

“It was 2017. Fucking hell of a year, to be honest. Turned my life upside down, then put me back on my feet and shot both my knees clean through. And those were just the first few months,” Ilya cast a long look at Shane. “It’s just so crazy how one year can be one of the worst and one of the best in your life.”

“How was it before 2017?”

“We were… we’d hang out with each other. And by the time we officially called it a relationship I was already– I’ve been, for a very long time… a lost cause.”

“You were a lost cause? I was the one having a fucking breakdown in a bathroom somewhere in Vegas in 2014,” Shane turned to Yura. “Cut it out. Please.”

“Damn, we’re going to get one hell of a book.”

“I'm just better at hiding my feelings.”

“You were better at hiding your feelings. You can’t hide shit from me now.”

“Because I don’t need to, baby.”

“Exactly.”

“Ilya, you said that bisexuality started to be a problem when you fell in love.”

“Yeah, was a thing.”

“Why?”

“Because I couldn’t be a careless straight guy who likes to whore around anymore, that’s why. I couldn’t and I didn’t want to. I wanted to build a life with the person I love. And I couldn’t do that either. What is this word,” Rozanov turned to his husband, “when you really want something and you can’t get it, can’t hide your need for it?”

“Frustration?” Hollander offered.

“Yeah. Frustration.”

Dud’ nodded in understanding.

“Shane, have you ever had problems with your sexuality?”

“Well, I figured out my sexuality much later than Ilya had figured out his. We were already a thing when I realized I was gay. So I was freaking out about that as well, among other things.”

“When I was preparing for this interview, I researched your digital footprint. I didn't know you were in a public relationship. With a woman.”

“It was a very short public relationship, as you may have noticed.”

“Worst two months of my life,” Ilya announced, like he was still grieving the whole ordeal.

“Not exactly the best two months of my life either,” Shane looked into the camera. “Sorry, Rose. I love you. She’s one of my best friends.”

“Was this relationship a PR strategy?”

“No, absolutely not. I would never. No. I tried to convince myself that I was compatible with women. It turns out I'm only compatible with this asshole.”

“Why did you try to do that?”

“Because being gay is scary. Lonely. Difficult. Especially in hockey. Especially when it's your arch-rival. This is not how I expected my life to be.”

“How did you expect your life to be?”

“I don’t know. I just always wanted to play hockey. That's all I could think about back then.”

“Haven’t you thought about having your own family in the future? A partner?”

“Well, I wasn’t exactly good at loving someone romantically, so… I focused on what I was good at. And that was enough. Until this certain someone came into my life.”

Ilya’s eyes grew wide and huge.

“‘This certain someone…’ This is what you get when you love a man with all your heart for half of your life.”

Yura shook his head.

“What was your life like before coming out?”

“Until 2017, we saw each other once every few months. Then, I moved to Canada.”

“Yes. Ilya started playing for Ottawa, which is my hometown. I was still playing for Montreal. It’s a two-hour drive. Our schedules made it really difficult for us to be together, but we managed.”

“We spent every summer break here in the cottage. And the entire following season we lived in anticipation of the next summer break. It was an endless delayed life syndrome. We really are a long distance relationship survivors. We are, like, the ultimate tortured couple.”

“It’s been a hell of a ride, yeah. This interview is only possible because we don’t live like this anymore. When we lived in different cities, we couldn’t afford to spend our time together on anything other than each other.”

“Shane, can I ask you about the plane accident?”

“No, sorry,” Shane shook his head in refusal. “Nothing personal. But I just… I can’t.”

“No pressure. Do you remember the day you were outed?”

“Yes. It's impossible to forget something like that. It was the most surreal thing that has ever happened to me, I think. Now I'm grateful for it in some ways, but back then... It wasn't like a nightmare, you know. It was like a very stupid comedy, but this is my life, so I don't find it very funny. But it was dumb as fuck.”

“Yeah, I remember our reaction was like, ‘Fuck, we sold so many wasted years for a hundred bucks on Onlyfans’.”

“Oh my god, Hayden felt terrible,” Shane turned to the camera again, “We love you, buddy. We don't blame you.”

“I blame you for selling it cheap,” Ilya crossed arms on his chest, upset. “What the fuck? You’re like the worst businessman in the world. You’re worse at being a businessman than you are at being a hockey player. Which is like, insanely bad. Terrible.”

“How did the fans, the league, and the public react? Did you get the reaction you expected?” the interviewer went on.

“We expected it to be much worse,” Shane nodded, putting his hand back on Ilya’s thigh. Ilya squeezed it with his own. “We received so much support, and we will always be grateful for it. A lot of people said our story gave them faith and strength. Some said that we were still their favourite hockey players, no matter what.”

“And they didn’t care that we were fucking.”

“Basically, yeah. As we expected, the gay thing wasn’t the main problem. It was… us. Me and Ilya. A lot of people I talked to back then were like, ‘Seriously? Rozanov? Of all the guys?’, and I was like, ‘Yeah, I had to make sure I got the best one’.”

Rozanov suppressed a happy smile.

“What about the league? What did the important guys in suits say?”

“Let’s say they had to get used to it. And accept that from now on Rozanov and Hollander are a package deal. And it’s not something to be discussed.”

“Shane, did you leave Montreal to play on the same team with Ilya?”

“Yes.”

“There were rumors that your team rejected you because of your relationship.”

“Montreal rejected their chances to win the Stanley Cup. Zero Cups since Shane left. I mean, so fucking surprising, right. Who would have thought.”

“Well, I made the decision to leave Montreal on my own. I have no problems with this team.”

“No one has a single problem with this team right now. It’s unlikely they could cause anyone any problems in their current state.”

"Ilya, it’s petty.”

“They truly are.”

“Cut it out, please,” Shane addressed Dud’, and the guy nodded in approval.

“No,” Ilya protested.

“Yes.”

“No,” Rozanov insisted, but meeting the strict look of his husband he did give in. “Okay.”

“Ilya, what did Russians say about you coming out?”

“You tell me. You are more connected to Russia than I am.”

“Come on, man. Don’t tell me you haven’t seen all those breaking stories on the talk shows back home.”

“I haven’t seen anything. I couldn’t care less, about the TV stuff especiallyLiteral: “To me it’s like to the streetlight, especially in terms of the cupboard.” “To the streetlight” is said to mean you don’t care about something. “Cupboard” is slang for TV in context of bad programming and propaganda – anything that rots your brain on TV.. But people from Russia have messaged me. Told me they’re happy for me, that I gave them hope to escape someday. Just because you were born in Russia doesn’t mean you have to die there, you know? This country isn’t for everyone. If it rejects you, don’t hold on to it. Let it go.”

Yura nodded.

“Do you want kids?”

“Yes.”

“Yeah, one hundred percent.”

“We want a huge family.”

“Not huge huge, but a big one,” Shane clarified. “My best friend Hayden, he has, like, four kids. That’s way too many.”

“Yeah. They’re all great, but it’s just too much. Two is the perfect number for us.”

“I wouldn’t be mad if we had three.”

“Yeah, me neither. But not four.”

“Not four.”

“Jackie, Hayden’s wife, is a fucking hero,” Rozanov exclaimed. “You asked me about heroes before. There she is. Jackie is the real one. For multiple reasons. First of all, she is Hayden’s wife.”

”Ilya, stop it.”

“No. I would kill myself if I were Hayden’s wife.”

“Well, you’re not.”

“Lucky me. Because being Hayden’s wife means having five kids, and your husband is one of them. And he will sell a fucking exclusive that will blow up the entire universe for a hundred bucks on Onlyfans.”

“Does Ilya have beef with your best friend?” Yura asked Hollander.

“Ilya has beef with every single one of my friends.”

“Is not true.”

“It’s true. But it’s not serious, though. Нe has beef with every single one of his friends as well. Being an asshole is just his love language.”

“Is not. Maybe only a little.”

“Will your future children speak Russian?”

“Yes, of course,” Shane said immediately.

Ilya looked at his husband, puzzled.

“Why?”

“Russian is your mother tongue. It just feels right.”

Rozanov smiled wide at that.

“They will, yeah. Come and chat with them when they grow up. So they could learn what the word ‘шпала’Literal meaning of shpala is a railroad tie, the track on which trains run. Figuratively used to refer to a lanky person. means.”

Yura’s eye twitched.

“Shane, what’s the most Russian thing about Ilya?”

“He’s the funniest person I know. He’s just fucking hilarious. But sometimes —and, for the record, not every time he opens his mouth — he’s funny in a Joker kind of way. I think he could play Joker without locking himself in a hotel for six weeks or whatever that Heath Ledger had to do. If we had a psychiatrist living in the cottage with us, Ilya would have been sent to a psych ward within a week. But that’s just his sense of humour.”

“I would’ve been sent to a psych ward and the psychiatrist who lived with us for a week would have been cast as Joker.”

“He also makes very funny and accurate jokes about politics. No one can do that, especially with his poker face. He could have become a stand-up comedian in Russia, but he would have been exiled to Kolyma.”

The journalist raised his brow in amusement.

“To be honest, I expected you to say something like, ‘He always wears slippers at home’.”

“We're in Canada, Yura. Canadians wear slippers, too. Unlike Americans.”

“Not all Americans wear outside shoes inside,” Shane countered. “Only white Americans. I have relatives in New England, and they wear slippers, too.”

“It’s always white people somehow.”

“You’re white, Ilya.”

“Yes, but I’m from Eastern Europe. We’re white in a completely different, miserable way.”

“And that’s why you Slavs wear slippers inside?”

“Yes. But our floors are cleaner. So it doesn't matter.”

The group by the fire exploded with laughter. Sanyok the cameraman put a hand to his lips.

“Shane, I have a tradition. At the end of every interview, I ask my guests the same question, and now it’s your turn to answer: ‘What is power to you?’”

Shane thought about it for a second, feeling for an answer.

“There’s this one song called ‘The Power of Love’ by the old English band ‘Frankie Goes To Hollywood’. And there are these words in the chorus: ‘The power of love, a force from above, cleaning my soul’. It makes me cry all the time. I don’t think I understood it before. Not fully. But now I do.

“So, love, huh?” Yura clarified. There was some kind of mischief in his eyes, which Ilya really liked. He’d realised that he and Shane did a great job with the interview.

“Yeah, love,” Shane nodded and turned to Ilya. “What did you say?”

Ilya looked at Shane. He did it first almost twenty years ago now, and since then everything had changed in his life except this one constant variable – his heart skipped a beat when his eyes found the sun-scattered array on Shane’s cheeks. It’s you, Ilya thought. Your forever curious look in the eyes, deep like my mama had, too. Your kind hands and strong thighs. Your soft skin, melting my fingers and melting, too, with my touch. It’s that I don’t have to choose my words or find excuses or explain myself to you. It’s that I find myself in your arms and don’t look for reasons or meanings or sense, because they wake up on the pillow next to me every single day – in you. It’s love.

“It’s Newtons,” Ilya replied, his tone pointedly levelled.

Shane beamed. He knew that Rozanov was lying.