Rating:

Teen And Up Audiences

Archive Warnings:

Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply

Category:

M/M

Fandoms:

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

Relationship:

Shane Hollander/Ilya Rozanov

Characters:

Shane Hollander, Ilya Rozanov, Svetlana Vetrova, Yuna Hollander

Additional Tags:

Stanley Cup, Social Media, Ilya Rozanov is Whipped, Shane Hollander Needs a Hug, Drinking, Drunk Shane Hollander, Yearning, so much yearning, Pre-Relationship, Fluff, Humor, Crack, Crack Treated Seriously, This started out as crack and then turned very fluffy very quickly, Hangover, Montreal Voyageurs | Montreal Metros Being Assholes (Game Changers), Protective Ilya Rozanov, Insecure Shane Hollander, Jealous Shane Hollander, Mentioned Svetlana Vetrova, Shane Hollander Loves Ilya Rozanov, Ilya Rozanov Loves Shane Hollander, Relationship Reveal, text fic, going public, Sort Of, Good Parents David Hollander/Yuna Hollander, Protective Yuna Hollander, Mentioned Rose Landry, Yuna Hollander Finds Out About Shane Hollander/Ilya Rozanov, David Hollander Finds Out About Shane Hollander/Ilya Rozanov

Language:

English

Stats:

Published: 2026-04-12 Completed: 2026-04-27 Words: 14,663 Chapters: 3/3

Find Lily

Summary

“Got someone special waiting for you?”

Shane’s breath hitches and he looks up, big, brown orbs settling on the person behind the camera. There’s a blush crawling across his freckles, his voice unsteady as he answers.

“I wanted to celebrate with Lily, but she isn’t here.”

The video ends shortly after, and the internet collectively loses its mind. Within minutes #FindLily is trending across all social media platforms, women from across the globe begging Shane to dump her ass.

OR on the night that Shane wins the cup for a second year in a row, the internet learns of Lily and goes absolutely nuts.
Inevitably, so does Ilya Rozanov.

Notes

Chapter 1: #FindLily

It takes exactly thirty-seven minutes for the video to go viral.

Social media, by this point, is already flooded with clips of Shane Hollander.

Hollander scoring the winning goal. Hollander raising the cup. Hollander posing with his parents. Hollander drenched in champagne. Hollander’s post-game interviews. Hollander leaving the arena to go celebrate with his teammates.

Hollander, Hollander, Hollander.

This clip is of Hollander, too, although it hasn’t been posted by an official media news outlet.

It’s filmed at a bar approximately two hours after Montreal won the cup for the second year in a row. Whoever’s filming has had too much to drink, the camera unsteady as it zooms in on Shane Hollander’s face. Hollander, too, has had too much to drink.

It’s not obvious to those who don’t know him, but to those who do, it’s apparent that Hollander is absolutely trashed.

“Looking for someone to celebrate with?”

The question comes from someone offscreen – presumably whoever’s holding the camera. The voice is decidedly female and there’s an underlying giggle permeating the words.

Hollander doesn’t hear it at first. The music in the background is loud, almost loud enough to drown out the conversation. But Shane Hollander is Canadian, he is polite, and so, he asks the woman to repeat the question.

The woman does, and this time, Shane hears it, his face morphing into an adorable pout. By the time the sun rises in the morning, there will be Twitter accounts dedicated to that pout.

“I – no.”

Shane’s answer is slow, slightly slurred, but no less determined.

“No?” The woman – whoever she is – doesn’t back down. “Got someone special waiting for you?”

Shane’s breath hitches and he looks up, big, brown orbs settling on the person behind the camera. There’s a blush crawling across his freckles, his voice unsteady as he answers.

“I wanted to celebrate with Lily, but she isn’t here.”

The video ends shortly after, and the internet collectively loses its mind. Within minutes #FindLily is trending across all social media platforms, women from across the globe begging Shane to dump her ass.

Emma @shanehollanderfanclubmember

everyone this is not a drill I REPEAT THIS IS NOT A DRILL 🚨

#ShaneHollander #Voyageurs

 

Léa Martin @MrsLéaMartin92

Shane Hollander is TAKEN !?

#ShaneHollander #Montreal #Voyageurs #WhoIsLily

 

Clara @mrsshanehollander4ever

Shane Hollander has a girlfriend????

#WhoIsLily

 

Mila Doyle @MilaDoyle892734

Replying to @mrsshanehollander4ever

Shane Hollander has a girlfriend and she’s out of town?????????

#FindLily

 

Call Me Mrs. Shane @callmemrsshane1234

Replying to @mrsshanehollander4ever

Shane Hollander has a girlfriend and she’s out of town on the night that he won the cup???????????????

#FindLily

 

Florence @Voyageaurs4Ever<3

Hollander is whipped and his girlfriend doesn’t even know 😭😭

#WhoIsLily #FindLily

 

Sara @VoyageursFan24

Shane all alone in that bar, I’m actually crying💔💔💔💔

#FindLily

 

Adele Fortin @iloveshanehollander

Someone give me the name of that bar !!

#FutureMrsShaneHollander

 

Juliette @i<3thevoyageurs

for real that woman is all over him 😭

#FindLily

 

Rosalie @shanehollander27426

Replying to @i<3thevoyageurs

Someone #FindLily

 

Adele Fortin @iloveshanehollander

Seriously someone give me the name of that bar !!!!!

#FutureMrsShaneHollander #Montreal

 

Mandy @MrsShaneHollander

If I had locked down the Shane Hollander, my man would not be alone tonight iykyk

#FindLily

 

Holly @HollyHollander24

Not Shane Hollander crying on the night of his cup win because his girlfriend is out of town

#FindLily

 

Carly @HockeyPuck1234

Lily, babe, pull yourself together 😩

#FindLily

 

Adele Fortin @iloveshanehollander

i'm crying someone pls !!!!!!!!!!!

#FutureMrsShaneHollander #Montreal #Desperate

 

Bobby Hansen @iamahockeyfan234

hollander so boring his girl’s got a date tonight 🙄

#Toronto4Ever #FuckShaneHollander

 

Mary @bornandraisedinmontreal93

@ShaneHollanderHockeyPlayer If Lily’s not available, I’ll offer up my services 🙋‍♀️🙋‍♀️🙋‍♀️

 

Lily Mae @LilyMae1995

Replying to @bornandraisedinmontreal93

This☝️ I’ll volunteer as tribute @ShaneHollanderHockeyPlayer

#FuckLily #ImLily

 

Sally @VoyageaursFanNumberOne

Lily you better get your ass to Montreal right now 😒

#FindLily

 

Camille @MrsScottHunter729

Lily your man is crying on main

#FindLily

 

Bibi @BibiFromMontreal

Can we all agree Shane Hollander deserves better if Lily can’t even bother to show up when he wins the Cup???

#FindLily #FuckLily

 

Simone @simone_fournier_montreal

Someone tell me what is happening I left for like 2 minutes 😭

#confused #hockey #ShaneHollander

 

Geneviève @geneviévelapointedemontreal

Did we know she existed???

#ShaneDeservesBetter #FuckLily

 

Sophia @marrymeshanehollander

Replying to @geneviévelapointedemontreal

seriously who is this woman?

#ShaneDeservesBetter #FuckLily

 

Charlotte @charlottefromquébec

Replying to @geneviévelapointedemontreal

seriously where is this woman?

#FindLily

 

Léonie @LeonieGagnon27328

Shane, mon chéri, dump her ass 💅

#FuckLily

 

Éloide @montrealbaby

everyone in Montreal about to storm that club lmao

#FindLily

Another twelve minutes pass before a phone is handed to Ilya.

He has received no new messages from Hollander since their single exchange earlier in the evening:

Lily: Lucky.

Jane: The luckiest ;)

Ilya has checked his phone more than once since then, ignoring the stale taste of disappointment every time he’d glanced at the empty notification center. For this reason, he feels a jolt go through him when he looks down and Hollander’s face suddenly fills the screen.

His teammates have cleared out by now, Svetlana the only one who’s stayed behind. Normally, Ilya would have suggested they move on to the bedroom by now, but for some reason they’re still on the couch, watching the flurry of post-game interviews for the third time in a row.

“Who would have thought Shane Hollander had a girlfriend?”

There’s something in Svetlana’s voice that Ilya tries his best not to examine too closely. Instead, he focuses on the screen where Shane’s freckles are visible even in the dim lights of the bar.

Ilya is glad that Hollander’s having fun, that he’s letting loose for once, so there’s no logical reason why he suddenly feels his veins filling with ice as the video starts playing.

Except, of course, for the fact that Hollander is asking for Ilya, and Ilya isn’t there.

Ilya is not unfamiliar with the feeling of pain. Throughout his career, he’s been involved in more on-ice fights than he’s willing to count, yet none of them have felt quite as upsetting as watching this video does.

Ilya watches it for a second time and a third time and a fourth time, and somehow, it doesn’t change.

Hollander pouts in every single one of them, his voice noticeably dipping as the word Lily escapes his lips. He looks into the camera right before the screen goes black, and Ilya thinks he might drown in the longing he finds there.

He makes the mistake of scrolling down to see the comments and then it’s as if the room tilts on its axis. Jealousy like Ilya has never felt it before spreads throughout his body. It’s like a fire has consumed his every fiber, and it burns on and on and on.

Ilya rises from the couch before he’s consciously aware that he has done so.

Svetlana snorts, but she doesn’t say anything except to remind him that he’s still holding her phone.

Ilya drops it, and she unceremoniously takes Ilya’s own from the couch and pushes it into his hands.

“You need to text me when you get there,” she tells him, “It’s a five-hour journey, and it’s nearly midnight.”

Exactly four minutes have passed since Ilya first saw the video, and he, albeit reluctantly, makes an additional promise to stop at a gas station and buy some food along the way.

“Ilyusha.”

Ilya’s hand is on the doorknob when Svetlana stops him for the third and final time. He meets her gaze across the living room.

“Don’t screw this up,” she tells him.

Then, she smiles, and Ilya is out the door before he can think of the thousand reasons why this is a bad idea.

While he drives, social media continues flooding with posts.

Gabrielle @GabbyHollander

I am AT THE BAR and Shane is NOT HERE IM CRYING

#FindShane

 

Zoé @ZoeFromMontreal

Replying to @Gabby Hollander

oh my god you think he’s with Lily? 😍😍😍

#Shily

 

Julia<3Pike @MrsJuliaPike

Replying to @ZoeFromMontreal

noooooo anyone but lily 😭

#FindShane

 

Shily4Ever @ShilyStanNumberOne

Replying to @MrsJuliePike

Guys you need to chill tf out he’s a real person you don’t know him

#Shily #ProtectLily

 

Rosalie Camille @RosCammy

For real everyone is here except Shane, even Pike 🙄

#FindShane

 

Ava @AvaBenjamin334

Guys, I think Shane is gone

#FindShane

 

Anne @Pike4EverEver

Replying to @RosCammy

Honestly, I’d take Pike

#Justice4Hayden

 

Alex @AlexHollander4Ever

Replying to @Pike4EverEver

Girl he is literally married, also seriously? 🙄

#FindShane

 

Trish @trishtrish

Replying to @AvaBenjamin334

I can confirm that Shane is gone💔💔

#IWasSoClose #FindShane

 

Chloe @ChloeHollander

Replying to @trishtrish

oh my god who is the lucky girl?? 😭😭

#FindShane

True to his word, Ilya stops on his way out of Boston to buy a pack of granola bars but doesn’t otherwise remove his foot from the gas until the glowing lights of Montreal appear on the skyline before him.

He’s made the journey in four hours and as he crosses the city limits, Ilya prays to every God and deity he knows that Shane did not go home with that woman tonight. Prays that Shane is okay. Prays that his idiot teammates took care of him in his drunken state.

Prays that he is not too late.

By the time he pulls onto Shane’s street, Ilya can feel himself shaking. With what, he doesn’t really know, but it continues even as he parks the car and pulls the phone from his pocket. He texts Svetlana, as promised, and then he looks up at Shane’s building.

It takes a moment for his eyes to adjust to the darkness and when they do, Ilya’s breath catches in his throat.

There, with his back against the wall, is Hollander.

Shane.

Ilya is out of his car in seconds, crossing the parking lot faster than his legs have any right to carry him after a four-hour drive at four in the morning.

“Shane.”

Ilya’s voice is shaky even to his own ears, and he doesn’t wait for a response before checking over the other man. He’s cold to the touch, and Ilya suppresses a cry as he checks his pulse.

“Please, no,” he begs, but his fears turn out to be unfounded.

Shane’s pulse is strong and steady beneath his fingers, and Ilya cannot help himself from leaning forward and pressing a kiss to his temple.

Then, he lets his fingers trail across his arms, his legs, his torso, his chest, making sure that there are no wounds hidden anywhere, that Shane is indeed unharmed.

It’s when Ilya’s fingers trail across the freckles on his cheek that Shane finally wakes.

For a moment, Shane’s eyes remain unfocused, seemingly unaware of his own surroundings. Then, his gaze settles on Ilya and a smile crosses his face, so bright that it’s like watching the sun come out.

“Illlyyyaaaa.”

Ilya lets out a sigh of relief, grabbing hold of Shane’s fingers when the other man reaches for him.

“Hollander.” It takes him a moment to get his emotions in check. “What are you doing here? Who left you here?”

The words come out harsher than intended and a small frown makes its way onto Shane’s face although it doesn’t quite overshadow his smile.

“What do you mean?”

“You were asleep outside of your apartment. Do you have any idea how dangerous that is?”

Shane looks around and only then seems to realize that he’s sitting outside on the concrete.

“Huh.”

“Hollander.” Ilya tightens his grip around Shane’s hands. “Shane. You need to tell me who left you here. Did someone hurt you?”

“Shane,” Shane whispers, a bad imitation of Ilya’s accent forming around the word, “I like that.”

Ilya is equal parts endeared and exasperated. “Sweetheart.” The endearment tumbles from Ilya’s lips before he has a chance to stop it. “Please tell me how you got here.”

If Shane noticed the slip, he doesn’t show it.

“Well, I – I walked,” Shane says.

“You walked?” Ilya looks at him, “All the way from the bar?”

“There were women there.” Shane frowns. “They told me they were Lily, but they lied. I left.”

Ilya feels so relieved that he barely knows what to do with it.

“You are Lily,” Shane says.

“Yes.” Ilya lets out a shaky laugh. “Yes, I am.”

“I am Jane,” Shane continues.

“You are Jane,” Ilya confirms, and then, because he cannot help himself, “My Jane.”

“Your Jane,” Shane parrots, “I like that.”

Despite the cold, a sudden rush of heat spreads across Shane’s cheeks, and Ilya remembers where they are.

“We need to get you inside,” he says.

Shane lets out a low protest which cuts off when Ilya leans forward and tightens his arms around him. Ilya helps him to his feet and encourages Shane to hold on to his shoulders.

Shane does and then, before Ilya has time to move them towards the door, Shane crashes his lips to Ilya’s.

Shane’s breath smells like alcohol, and his mouth tastes like something died in it. His lips are so eager against Ilya’s that it borders on sloppy, and Ilya is sure that Shane doesn’t mean to swap quite as much saliva as he does.

It is, objectively, a truly terrible kiss and yet, Ilya moans and hopes that it’s never going to end.

Still, he is the one to eventually pull away, whispering soft apologies against Shane’s skin as the other man whines.

“You’re freezing,” Ilya tells him and subsequently steers him towards the door.

With absolutely no help from Shane, Ilya pushes in the code and maneuvers him inside.

They have almost reached the stairs when Shane decides that he’s had quite enough of walking by now. He slumps against Ilya’s chest, and Ilya lets out an exasperated sigh before lifting him into his arms, bridal-style.

“Never known you to be so lazy, Hollander.”

“’m not lazy,” Shane mumbles.

He’s looking way too pleased with himself, and Ilya nearly faints when Shane nuzzles against Ilya’s chest and inhales his scent.

“All right,” Ilya whispers, “Time to get you to bed.”

He ascends the stairs, slowly, making sure that Shane doesn’t accidentally slam against the banister. Once they’re in the apartment, Ilya spares no time walking them across the floor plan to reach the bedroom.

“We should take a shower,” Shane says as they cross the threshold.

“Sweetheart, if we take a shower now, you’ll drown.”

“Nuh-uh.” Shane shakes his head, seemingly unsatisfied with this vision of events. “You wouldn’t let me drown.”

Shane’s face is downright sinful as he looks up at him beneath his lashes, and Ilya groans.

“I am so fucked,” he mutters, too low for Shane to hear it.

He carries Shane the rest of the way to the bed before gently lowering him onto the mattress.

Shane lets himself be manhandled quite willingly, except when Ilya leans back, Shane’s arms stay locked around his neck.

“Hollander,” Ilya’s voice is low as he meets Shane’s gaze,” You need to let me go now. You need to go to sleep.”

“But I’m not tired.”

Ilya can’t help the chuckle that escapes him. “Is like eight hours past your bedtime.”

“But I won the cup,” Shane says, a bit petulantly, “I want to celebrate. Won’t you – won’t you celebrate with me?”

And then – before Ilya has time to form any form of defense – honest-to-God tears well into Shane’s eyes, and Ilya’s heart clenches painfully.

“Shane, sweetheart, yes, I will, but you need to sleep, okay? Sleep first, and then we’ll celebrate.”

By the looks of Shane’s face, he doesn’t hear it, not really.

“I wanted –“ Shane hiccups, “I wanted to celebrate with you.”

“I know, moya lyubov, I know, and I am so sorry I wasn’t here.” Ilya presses a kiss to his temple. “We will celebrate tomorrow.”

Shane’s lip wobbles in a way that breaks Ilya’s heart. He looks up at him, cheeks flushed and tears in his eyes. “Promise?” he whispers.

Ilya hums. “I promise I’ll rock your world, Shane Hollander.” Ilya presses another kiss to his freckles because they are right there, and Ilya is only human. “My champion,” he whispers, and Shane lets out a pleased smile.

“Two times champion,” Shane tells him, as if Ilya has forgotten, “You have to do it twice.”

Ilya snorts knowing that Hollander is going to be absolutely mortified when he wakes in the morning.

“I’ll do it twice,” he whispers and kisses his nose, “I promise you.”

With this promise, Shane finally lets go of his hold around Ilya’s neck, although Ilya thinks it has more to do with the complete sleepiness currently overtaking his body rather than an actual willingness to do so.

Ilya takes the opportunity to remove the shoes from his feet and wrestles him out of his jacket. Then, he checks that his keys and phone and wallet are all safely tucked inside the pockets, before folding it and lying it on the chair next to the closet.

There’s an empty glass of water on the bedside table and Ilya goes into the ensuite to fill it.

When he comes back, Shane is looking at him through half-lidded eyes.

“You’re still here,” he whispers.

Ilya hums. “Of course, I am.”

“Will you –“ Shane starts before stopping again, a suddenly sober look crossing his face, “Will you stay with me?” he asks, voice impossibly vulnerable.

Ilya hadn’t planned to. In fact, he was about to find the nearest guestroom and steal the duvet with him to the couch.

But Shane is looking at him in a way that Ilya has never been able to resist and suddenly, Ilya cannot imagine going to sleep anywhere that isn’t in Shane Hollander’s arms.

Before he has time to change his mind, Ilya toes off his own shoes and jacket, keeping both sweatpants and sweatshirt on.

Then, he settles in beside Shane and adjusts the covers above them.

Ilya turns off the light, and Shane spares no time curling up against him, limbs slotting so perfectly against Ilya’s that Ilya thinks he might go a little bit insane.

Once they’re tangled together, a look of absolute contentment fills Shane’s face. One of his hands sneaks across Ilya’s chest, and Ilya’s just about to grab it before it pauses above Ilya’s heart, fingers curling around the fabric of his t-shirt.

Ilya hasn’t had a drop of alcohol all night but this sight, he thinks, might make him a little bit drunk.

Shane is asleep in seconds, soft snores filling the air between them.

For a while, Ilya simply watches him, reveling in the feel of Shane beneath his hands.

Then, a thought enters his mind.

They could have this, he realizes, slightly hysterically, they could have this every night.

The season is over. There’s the NHL Awards coming up and he’s sure both of them have a few sponsorship deals, but apart from that they could have this. All summer.

Ilya expects his heartbeat to pick up, except it doesn’t. In fact, for the first time since he watched that video, Ilya feels his heart begin to settle.

He doesn’t know who posted it. Doesn’t know who that woman was. Doesn’t know how Shane is going to react in the morning, but for now, Shane is here. In his arms.

For a few more hours, until Hollander wakes up and panics, Shane is Ilya’s to hold.

So, Ilya stays awake.

He watches the way Shane’s face is slightly squished against Ilya’s chest. He counts his freckles. He listens to his breathing. He catalogues the way his hair tingles his chin. He feels his heartbeat beneath his fingers and listens to the steady rhythm of his breathing.

All night, Ilya doesn’t move. Not an inch. He blinks only when it’s absolutely necessary.

Because if this is the only night that Ilya ever gets, he wants to remember every single detail.

Chapter 2: #FoundLily

Chapter Summary

By popular demand, I give you *the morning after*

Chapter Notes

To Ilya’s great disappointment, he does eventually fall asleep, although according to the alarm clock on Shane’s bedside table, it’s for little more than an hour.

Upon waking, it takes Ilya a few moments to reorient himself, reminding himself of why that one hour might qualify as the best sleep he’s ever had. Then, he looks down at the bundle draped across his chest and is reminded of Shane.

Beautiful, talented, brilliant Shane who is also very, very awake.

He has turned around at some point, chin now resting on Ilya’s chest and looking at Ilya with big, brown eyes, a look of utter confusion painted across his every feature.

“Hi,” Ilya says because he has literally no idea what else to say.

Shane doesn’t respond. “Am I dreaming?” he asks, and Ilya is left to wonder if he’s asking because this is a recurring dream of his. Lord knows, Ilya’s had the same dream more times than he’s willing to count.

“No.” Ilya swallows. “No, it’s real.”

“So that’s why my head hurts?”

Partly because Ilya is tired, and partly because he cannot help himself, he reaches out a finger to trail across Shane’s brow, smoothing the skin as he goes.

“You were a bit drunk last night,” he tells him.

“I see.”

The look on Shane’s face indicates that he doesn’t see a whole lot, and Ilya tightens his arms around him, trying to steady him as best he can.

“Did we have sex last night?” Shane asks.

Ilya can’t help the snort that escapes him. “No, moya lyubov, we did not have sex last night.”

Shane seems a bit disappointed by this, which Ilya does his best to ignore.

“When I say you were a bit drunk, I mean that you were very drunk.”

“Oh.”

“Yes.”

Shane scrunches his nose, obviously still confused by Ilya’s presence.

“Did we kiss?”

“We did kiss,” Ilya confirms, “Once. You kissed me.”

“You didn’t want to kiss me?”

“I did,” Ilya says, watching Shane’s face carefully, “But as I said you were drunk. I did not want to take advantage of you.”

For a long while, Shane simply stares at him.

“You’re in my bed,” he eventually says.

“I tried to leave,” Ilya says, “You wouldn’t let me.”

A blush crawls across Shane’s face and again, Ilya is helpless to run his fingers across his cheeks, to trail his freckles as they change color.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.”

“I’m glad,” Shane blurts out, freckles turning impossibly darker, “I’m glad you’re here. Although I don’t know why you’re here.”

It’s Ilya’s turn to swallow, warmth blooming in his chest.

“You won the cup,” Ilya says simply, “I came to celebrate with you.”

Again, Shane doesn’t say anything, and Ilya doesn’t exactly blame him. They’ve already talked longer than they usually do, and they’re in uncharted territory here.

“Are you going to leave?” Shane asks suddenly, and immediately cold starts spreading through Ilya’s body, effectively extinguishing the previous warmth.

Does Shane want him to leave? Should Ilya not have come? Should Ilya have insisted on sleeping on the couch? Has Ilya just made a terrible mistake?

“Sure,” Ilya says somehow, “Yes, I need to leave.”

Ilya does not need to do anything so he’s not sure why he’s agreeing with Shane, but already Shane is moving, sitting up and leaving Ilya’s arms painfully empty.

How am I supposed to sleep again, Ilya wonders, knowing what it’s like to have Shane in my arms?

Shane is avoiding his gaze now, and Ilya feels suddenly nauseous. He rises from the bed and looks around for his jacket, hoping it’s hidden somewhere so that he will have an excuse to stay just a little bit longer.

But unfortunately, his jacket is right there, hanging across the chair next to Shane’s.

Ilya takes the jacket, and then he’s turning towards the door.

Should he say goodbye? Should he kiss him goodbye? Should he leave? Should he apologize? Should he beg to stay?

Ilya’s hand tightens around the doorknob.

And then, because Shane is a stronger man than Ilya will ever be, he says the magic words. Those that have been at the forefront of every meet-up, every hook-up, every glance and every stolen moment, haunting the narrative like a ghost in the night.

“Please don’t go.”

Never, Ilya wants to say, I’ll never leave again, not if you’ll have me.

But Ilya isn’t quite that brave.

He does, however, turn around and that small gesture, it seems, is enough to undo him.

Because Shane is sitting on the bed with a pillow clutched to his chest and tears in his eyes. Big, brown orbs that Ilya is helpless to resist. Thank God, he thinks, that Shane doesn’t use those weapons on the ice because Ilya would never win a match-up again.

“You promised me,” Shane says, voice small and a pout on his face, “You promised last night you’d stay. Didn’t you?”

And of all the things to remember, Shane has chosen this. Ilya isn’t sure what to do with that, but he can’t deny it. In fact, he’s quite helpless to deny it with Shane looking at him like that.

“I did,” Ilya says, voice quiet in the early morning light.

“Then why –“ Shane pauses, “Why won’t you?”

“I will,” Ilya says before an excuse is able to form in his mind, “I will stay. If you want me.”

“I always want,” Shane whispers, so quietly that for a moment Ilya thinks he might have imagined it. But judging by the blush that deepens across Shane’s cheeks, Ilya hasn’t, and it’s enough to make his heart skip a beat.

It’s also enough to lure him back to the bed, and in the next moment Ilya’s sitting down, reaching forward to tangle Shane’s fingers with his own, needing some sort of tether to tie him to the moment. To remind himself that this is real and not another unfulfilled fantasy.

Shane’s breath hitches as their fingers meet, and Ilya gives them a squeeze, knowing exactly how he’s feeling.

“I don’t understand how you’re here,” Shane says suddenly, “I don’t – I don’t remember.”

He looks frustrated as he tells Ilya, and Ilya wants to tell him although he doesn’t know how.

“You asked for me,” Ilya says, which is the truth although it isn’t the whole truth.

And of course, it isn’t enough for Shane’s confused mind.

“I asked and you came?” Shane says a bit skeptically, “Just like that?”

“Just like that,” Ilya says, but Shane is frowning, his brain obviously fighting to fill in the details from last night.

“The last thing I remember is being at the bar,” Shane says.

It’s Ilya’s turn to frown as he remembers finding Shane outside, remembers the moment of absolute fear when he’d thought that something had happened to him, that someone had hurt him.

“What’s that face?” Shane asks, and Ilya does his best to school his features.

“Is nothing,” he says.

“It doesn’t look like nothing.”

“I was worried about you,” Ilya confesses.

Shane’s frown deepens. “Why were you worried about me? Did I write something to you?”

“Not as such.”

“Not as such?”

Ilya knows that he needs to tell him the rest, but Shane’s brain, it seems, works faster than Ilya’s indecision.

“There were women at the bar,” Shane says suddenly, “Telling me that they were you. Why did they – how did they know that, Ilya?”

Shane’s voice is becoming increasingly high-pitched, but Ilya’s brain is stuck on the fact that Shane just used his name, his first name, and that it sounds absolutely beautiful in Shane’s unpracticed accent.

“Ilya, why did women at the bar claim that they were Lily?”

Ilya squeezes Shane’s hand again, but Shane is standing up now, freeing his hand from Ilya’s grip, and Ilya feels the loss acutely. He’s reaching for him before he’s able to stop himself, but Shane rises from the bed, panic suddenly evident with every stilted movement.

The movement, it turns out, is too quick for Shane’s hangover, and in another moment, Shane’s sitting down on the floor, pillow still clutched to his chest. Ilya’s about to go to him, to help him back up, but Shane is shaking his head, and Ilya somewhat reluctantly stays where he is.

“Is this a nightmare?” Shane asks, “Did our secret come out?”

Ilya doesn’t understand how spending the night together could possibly be a nightmare and he’s quick to shake his head.

“Secret isn’t out,” he assures him.

“Then why did people talk to me about Lily last night?”

Ilya bites his lip, not sure how to ease Shane’s panic.

“You asked for me,” Ilya says again.

“Out loud?”

“Yes.”

“I asked for you?”

“You asked for Lily,” Ilya corrects him, “Women offered to be Lily.”

“But then – you were at the bar?” Shane asks, coming to the wrong conclusion, “You heard me ask for you?”

“I heard you,” Ilya says, giving him half a truth.

“But if you were in Montreal, why wouldn’t you just tell me?” Shane sounds hurt which does nothing to ease Ilya’s growing guilt.

“I was not in Montreal,” he says.

Shane looks like he doesn’t believe him, which, Ilya supposes, is quite fair.

“Then where were you last night? And how did you hear me?”

Shane seems very hung up on that one tiny detail.

Ilya does his best to brush off the question.

“I was in the general continent,” he says.

“That makes no sense.”

“I drove here,” Ilya says.

“Then how did you hear me?”

Ilya knows that he isn’t being fair. Knows that he should just come out and tell him the truth. But Shane’s already been let down once during the night, and Ilya can’t bear the thought of causing him more pain. Shane should be celebrating right now. He’s done a remarkable feat. He’s led Montreal to a cup for a second year in a row. He shouldn’t be sitting here, feeling like his life’s been upended.

“There was a video,” Ilya says eventually, but Shane is stuck on Ilya’s previous words.

He holds up the hand that’s not currently clutching the pillow, “You said you drove here. Do you mean from Boston? How did you even? I mean – when did you even…?”

“Is nothing.” Ilya tries to dismiss the words despite his mind screaming that no, in fact it’s everything.

“But you came,” Shane says, looking so insecure in that moment that Ilya wants to hit himself over the head.

“You asked for me.” Ilya sounds like a parrot. “I came. Is simple.”

“You said that there was a video?”

“Yes…” Ilya trails off. “There was a video.”

“I asked for you in a video?”

“Basically, yes.”

“Why didn’t I just text you? Were you ignoring me?”

Ilya tries not to feel too hurt by that question, although it’s a justified one.

“Someone made a video, but it wasn’t, ah, you.”

Shane’s eyes turn somewhat bigger. “So I did talk about you? To other people?”

“You talked about Lily. You didn’t mention my name.”

“Why would I talk about Lily?”

Ilya doesn’t remember the last time he’s hated his lack of English more than he does now.

“Someone asked you who you wanted to celebrate with,” Ilya says slowly, carefully, “You mentioned Lily. Woman’s name. Not my name. Secret is safe. I promise.”

“But then – how did someone know to send it to you?”

Ilya bites his lip, not quite sure how to tell Shane that someone recorded him against his will, that the same someone proceeded to post the video on the internet, and that the video went viral.

But of course, Shane isn’t dumb.

“It’s on Twitter?” he asks hysterically, and Ilya does a bad job at hiding his grimace, “On Instagram? Facebook? The news?”

“Among other things.”

Shane hugs the pillow closer to his chest and Ilya, who is not usually prone to jealousy, has to content with the fact that yes, he’s currently turning green staring at a literal sack of feathers.

“How did you even find out?” Shane asks.

“Svetlana showed me the video.”

”And you just, what, jumped in your car and left Svetlana?” A slight wheezing noise accompanies Shane’s words before – “Who is Svetlana?”

Ilya’s just about to answer when Shane continues, trailing off in his own little world.

“Tall, leggy, gorgeous woman, I’m sure. Svetlana.”

Ilya doesn’t miss the little sneer that accompanies her name.

“Gorgeous Svetlana whom you were going to sleep with last night.”

And then, Shane looks at Ilya with eyes so big and so brown and so beautiful and so sad that Ilya wants to lie. Wants to do something stupid. Wants to promise never to so much as look at Svetlana again if it will make the tears go away. Wants to promise to never look at another person again, if only it will make Shane happy.

But of course, Ilya doesn’t do any of that.

Instead, he tells Shane that yes, he was going to sleep with Svetlana last night, and Shane responds by hiding his face in the pillow.

Ilya looks at him but doesn’t move. Not because he doesn’t want to. In fact, Ilya doesn’t think there’s anything he wants more than to go to him, to pull Shane into his arms and whisper sweet nothings in his ear. Ilya, however, isn’t sure that he’s allowed to do that now, not in the light of day.

“Did you?” Shane looks at him from behind the pillow, and this time, there’s a wobble in his voice, something that makes Ilya’s heart clench somewhat painfully.

“I didn’t,” Ilya whispers, “Didn’t even kiss her.”

“You didn’t kiss her,” Shane says, “But you were going to. You didn’t sleep with her, but you were going to.”

Shane’s voice is small and sad, and Ilya feels horrible because Shane should never feel sad, but Ilya also feels happy, so ridiculously, so gloriously, so shamefully happy because Shane is jealous, and Ilya is in love with Shane.

The revelation comes as Shane sniffles and wipes his nose on his sleeve. It’s something Shane would never do if he wasn’t hungover, and Ilya finds it terribly attractive.

“Why didn’t you?”

“What?”

Ilya is too busy spiraling to realize that Shane is speaking to him.

Shane repeats the question, and it sounds like it’s causing him physical pain to do so.

“Why didn’t you sleep with her?”

Ilya feels like the answer should be obvious.

“I’d rather sleep with you,” he says.

“But –“ Shane looks like his brain is short-circuiting, and it causes Ilya physical pain to stay on the bed, to stay away, to let Shane have the distance that he so obviously needs right now.

“We didn’t sleep together either,” Shane eventually says, and a blush spreads across his cheeks.

“Sure, we did,” Ilya says, “And you looked very comfortable. You drooled on me and everything.”

“No, I didn’t.” Shane sounds scandalized, and Ilya merely hums, pointing at the dark stain on his sweatshirt.

Shane turns somehow redder, but he doesn’t hide his face in the pillow which Ilya is grateful for. His freckles look downright delicious against the red stains, and Ilya wants to kiss them, wants to see if they might turn even redder.

“So, just to get this straight,” Shane says, “You turned down a night with Svetlana to be drooled on by me? You drove five hours in the middle of the night, and you expect me to believe you were happy with that?”

“Four.”

“What?”

“Was four hours,” Ilya corrects him.

Shane frowns. “That’s literally impossible.”

“No, it’s not.”

And then, before Shane gets the chance to lecture him on road safety, Ilya continues. “And it’s a good thing it didn’t take any more because you were freezing when I found you.”

“Freezing?” Shane looks quizzically at Ilya, “Why was I freezing?”

It occurs to Ilya that if Shane doesn’t remember him, he obviously does not remember anything else from the time he got home.

“Ilya, why was I freezing?” Shane repeats, and Ilya honestly doesn’t know how to say this. Doesn’t know how to tell him that he was so utterly let down by men who pretended to be his friends.

“The guys took me to this bar, but I don’t –“

“Do not – “ Ilya takes a shaky breath, cutting off Shane before he has time to finish his sentence, “Do not mention your teammates to me right now, please.”

Again, those big, brown eyes look at Ilya, and Ilya honestly doesn’t know how he’s ever been able to leave before.

“I am sorry,” Ilya shakes his head, “Sorry, they just – they left you, sweetheart.”

Shane’s eyes widen at the pet name, and Ilya feels the sudden urge to bite his tongue.

“You called me that last night,” Shane says suddenly, a small frown between his brows, “Outside. Is that right? I was – outside?”

“Sleeping against the wall.” Ilya’s teeth are clenched, and again, he must keep his temper in check. “You left the bar and walked home. No one – no one stopped you.”

“You don’t know that –“ Shane protests, but Ilya cuts him off.

“I do know that,” he tells him, “I know that because if they’d looked out for you, you wouldn’t have been asleep outside where anything could have happened to you.”

Shane swallows, and Ilya is sorry for upsetting him.

“No one in Boston would have let their teammate do that,” Ilya says at last, “No one.”

“Maybe they didn’t know,” Shane says, his protest feeble.

“They went out with precious cargo,” Ilya says, “They should have known.”

For a while, neither man says anything. Then –

“Do you mean that?”

Again, Ilya curses his English because Shane’s meaning is lost on him.

“Mean what? That your teammates are horrible excuses for human beings? Yes, I mean it. In fact, I might just take you with me to Boston to make sure that –“

“No, not…“ Shane stops him and takes a deep breath before he continues, “Do you really think that I’m – precious?”

He’s shy as he asks the question, braving Ilya’s gaze even as it’s obvious that he wants to hide.

This time, Ilya is too strong to stay away.

He reaches out his hand to beckon to Shane. Pleads with him to rise from the floor and come to him.

For a moment, Shane doesn’t react. Simply looks at the outstretched hand, seemingly confused by the intention behind it. But then –

Slowly, very slowly, Shane starts to shift, detangling his limbs from where they’re curled underneath him.

It’s slow-going, and Shane is still holding the pillow, but Ilya waits until he’s halfway up to reach forward to help him. He catches him when he stumbles, and Ilya breathes a sigh of relief.

Once Shane is safely ensconced in Ilya’s arms, Shane looks at him, another frown between his brows. “Did you carry me last night?” he asks.

“I did.” Ilya nods.

“All the way upstairs?”

“All the way upstairs,” Ilya confirms.

Shane lets out a small noise that Ilya isn’t sure how to interpret. Then, Shane leans forward and hides his face in the crook of Ilya’s neck, lips soft where they rest against his skin.

“Can we lie back down?” Shane whispers.

“We can,” Ilya says, trying not to sound too exuberant as he’s allowed into Shane’s bed for the second time in less than twelve hours.

Shane lets out a soft moan as Ilya helps him lay down, helping to rearrange the pillows and duvet. The process is somewhat hindered by the fact that Shane doesn’t let go of him, but Ilya is the last person who’s going to complain about that.

Once he’s sure that Shane is comfortable, Ilya lies down himself, silently preening when Shane rests his head on his chest, not unreminiscent of the way he did last night. Only, this time Shane is sober. This time, Shane knows exactly what he’s doing.

“We should probably talk,” Shane says.

“We probably should,” Ilya agrees although he isn’t sure where to start.

Luckily, Shane continues to be braver than Ilya which Ilya is thankful for despite Shane’s next words nearly causing Ilya to faint.

“I haven’t been with anyone since last time,” Shane tells him.

Ugly, selfish thoughts run through Ilya’s mind upon hearing those words. Possessive thoughts that Ilya has absolutely no right to think about.

“No?” Ilya’s mouth feels suddenly dry, “Montreal upholding the sex ban during play-offs?”

“No, well – yes,” Shane says, “But that isn’t the reason why.”

Ilya would kill for some water right now, although he isn’t sure he’d be able to swallow anything.

“What is the reason?” he asks, proud that he’s able to sound somewhat coherent.

Again, Shane stays quiet, and Ilya is acutely aware of every heartbeat and every breath that fills the room between them.

“I don’t sleep with a lot of people,” Shane eventually says.

Again, possessive thoughts fill Ilya’s chest until he thinks he’s going to choke on them.

“Not a lot of people,” Ilya says, wishing that he could see Shane’s face. He’s not sure if he’s asking a question or simply repeating the words but Shane, thankfully, makes the decision for him.

“I tried,” Shane says quietly, “Once a few years ago but I didn’t – it wasn’t –“

“Did he hurt you?”

Sudden dread fills Ilya, but Shane is quick to shake his head, hair tickling the underside of Ilya’s chin, “He didn’t, but he wasn’t –“

“He wasn’t what?”

“He wasn’t you,” Shane whispers, “He wasn’t you, so I didn’t like it.”

Ilya thinks there’s a very distinct possibility that he might die here. That he might explode if Shane keeps talking. Either his head will or his heart will, Ilya isn’t certain, but surely his body cannot contain the feelings that’s currently running through him.

“I’m the only one you’ve been with?” Ilya whispers, “In all these years?”

“Apart from that guy then – yes.”

Ilya feels a slight increase in pressure from Shane’s hand that’s currently curled against his chest but apart from that, neither one of them moves.

Ilya feels somehow horrified and exhilarated at the same time. Learning that Shane has been his all these years and that he’s taken it for granted.

He thinks of the way he’s treated Shane. Of how quickly he’d left after their first time. Of the six months of silence after Sochi. Of the night in Vegas where he’d kicked him out without so much as kissing him. Of last night when Shane had won, when Shane had texted him in the locker room and still, Ilya had stayed at Svetlana’s side, planning on spending the night with her.

Ilya tightens his arms around Shane, and Shane bends his head, making it impossible for Ilya to catch his gaze.

“I’m sorry,” Shane says, “I didn’t mean to make it weird, I just –“

“Shane.” The word escapes Ilya before he’s even sure what he’s going to say, “Sweetheart. You did not make it weird, so don’t you dare apologize.”

“No?”

“No.” Ilya tries to put as much conviction as possible into that one word. “I am glad you told me,” he says.

“You don’t think it’s pathetic?”

Ilya lets out a wounded noise, making the sudden decision to turn them around so that he’s looming over Shane, knowing he’s definitely going to die if he doesn’t get to look at Shane’s face right about now. “Has anyone ever told you that? Did that guy tell you that?”

“Not in – not in so many words, I just –” Shane stumbles, avoiding his gaze, and Ilya’s heart clenches painfully in his chest, “You have a lot of experience,” Shane continues, “And I’m sure you’re seeing a lot of people, and I’m sure most of them are probably better than me, I’m sure Svetlana is better than me, so…”

“Shane, sweetheart, you’re breaking my heart,” Ilya whispers, trying and failing to get him to look at him. “There’s nothing wrong with having less experience, you hear me? And you’re perfect, moya lyubov, absolutely perfect, don’t you dare think otherwise. You were perfect the first time and you’re perfect now.”

Ilya’s dying to kiss him, to show him with actions if he cannot show it with words, but Shane looks so overwhelmed that Ilya doesn’t dare move.

“Besides, if you think about it, it’s my fault,” Ilya says.

“Your fault?” Shane’s frown deepens. “How can it possibly be your fault?”

“Is simple.” Ilya shrugs. “I did it so well the first time, I ruined you for anyone else.”

“Oh my god.”

Shane has turned beet-red, and again, Ilya gets to enjoy the way his freckles stand out against his flaming cheeks.

“It’s all right,” Ilya assures him.

“It’s embarrassing,” Shane says.

Ilya protests. ”Is not embarrassing.”

”It is.”

”No, moy lyubimyy, it’s not.”

”But it is.”

Ilya frowns, realizing that this is a bigger issue for Shane than he has let on.

“Moy pomidor,” Ilya whispers, “Won’t you look at me? Please?”

Shane’s face has become so red by now that he’s trying to hide behind his hands, and Ilya simply can’t have that. In fact, he’s sure it must be some sort of crime to hide away such beautiful freckles.

When Shane continues to refuse eye contact, Ilya tries a different approach.

“Do you want to sleep with anyone else? Anyone who isn’t me?”

There’s a stubborn set to Shane’s jaw now, but he responds all the same, giving a short, terse shake of the head that Ilya almost misses. The answer makes Ilya’s heart skip a beat, racing so quickly that he’ll be surprised if Shane can’t feel it.

Shane, for his part, still won’t meet his eyes.

Ilya raises a hand, gently removing first one hand and then the other from Shane’s face. He revels in the sight of the man beneath him, wondering, not for the first time, how he came to be so lucky as to get to bask in the glory of his company.

“Well then,” Ilya whispers, “I guess we are both in agreement.”

For a moment, Shane doesn’t answer. Then –

“You don’t want me to sleep with other people?”

“I do not,” Ilya shakes his head, “I really, really don’t. But also – I, too, do not want to sleep with other people.”

“But –,“ Shane protests, lip wobbling in a way that Ilya is dying to stop, “You do that. A lot. I mean –,“ Shane scoffs, eyes trained somewhere above Ilya’s left shoulder, “You were literally going to sleep with Svetlana last night.”

Ilya suppresses a smirk at the way Shane says Svetlana’s name, secretly pleased with Shane’s ill-disguised jealousy.

“I did,” Ilya says, not wanting to lie, “But it would not have been fair to her. Or to me.”

“No?”

“No.” Ilya shakes his head. “I would have wished it was you the entire time,” he says.

Shane licks his lips, and Ilya suppresses the urge to lean down and help.

“You would stop sleeping with other people?” Shane asks at last.

“Sweetheart.” Ilya puts a finger beneath Shane’s chin and angles him so that he has no choice but to look up at him with those big, brown eyes, “I could never get pleasure from something that causes you pain.”

Shane’s breath hitches, and then he looks at him, really looks, a frown between his eyes like he doesn’t quite believe the words that Ilya is saying.

Ilya hates himself for that. And then, because apparently it’s possible for Ilya to hurt just a little bit more, Shane asks him –

“You would give it all up – for me?”

Shane stutters, and Ilya tightens his arms around him.

“I would not be giving anything up,” Ilya tells him, “I would be gaining the only thing that matters.”

A harsh breath escapes Shane. One might almost call it a sob, and in the next moment, a tear slips down his cheek. Ilya bends forward to kiss it away and immediately, it’s accompanied by a second and a third until Shane is crying in earnest.

“I’m sorry,” Shane gasps, and Ilya is quick to shake his head.

“Is nothing to be sorry for,” Ilya says. “Besides. You are very hungover,” he adds, a smirk tugging at his lips.

“It’s not the alcohol, you asshole,” Shane says, “It’s you saying stuff like that with no warning.”

He’s trying to wipe away his tears and failing spectacularly.

“Did I say it wrong?” Ilya asks, suddenly worried that Shane doesn’t understand.

“No.” Shane lets out a shaky breath. “No, you said it perfectly.”

And then, before Ilya’s confusion deepens, Shane pulls him forward.

“You are perfect,” Shane says, a whisper against Ilya’s lips, and then there is no more space for words between them.

Ilya isn’t sure who deepens the kiss, but next moment their tongues meet, and Ilya emits a moan that’s borderline embarrassing in the quiet of the room. Shane replies in earnest, and Ilya feels it in his toes. He sneaks his fingers into Shane’s hair, trying to pull him closer, and Shane sneaks his legs around Ilya’s waist, rolling their hips together in a way that makes Ilya see stars behind his eyes.

Although their lips eventually part for air, their limbs stay tangled around each other, and Ilya realizes that Shane is still crying.

“Moya lyubov,” Ilya whispers and presses a kiss to his temple, “Please do not be sad. You do not know what you do to me.”

“I’m sorry,” Shane says again, and Ilya shakes his head.

“I should be the one to apologize,” Ilya whispers, a gentle finger trailing across his freckles, “I should have been here yesterday. I should not have waited until you asked.”

Shane’s nose scrunches in a way that Ilya is unable to label as anything other than ‘adorable’.

“We have never traveled to see each other before,” Shane protests.

“It doesn’t matter,” Ilya says, “And the internet agrees with me so you cannot argue.”

“Because the internet is always right,” Shane teases before suddenly pausing, “Wait, what do you mean that the internet agrees with you?”

“Well… the post,” Ilya says, shrugging to pretend he doesn’t care, “People were telling you to dump me. What do you think all those women were doing at the bar last night?”

“Being bad people?” Shane trails off, but it’s obvious that he isn’t really listening anymore.

Ilya bends forward to try to steal another kiss, but Shane sits up before he gets the chance. He untangles his legs from around Ilya’s waist, and when Ilya looks at him, Shane looks suddenly livid.

“Is all right,” Ilya assures him, “No one blames you, they all blame Lily.”

Shane jumps out of bed quicker than Ilya thought he’d be able to in his current state. And then, just as Ilya’s trying to determine whether he’s said anything wrong, Shane leaves the room altogether.

Ilya has the sudden realization that a bed might feel very cold despite being perfectly warm.

Then he, too, rises from the bed and follows Shane out of the room.

When Ilya finds him, he’s in the kitchen, head bent and typing furiously on his phone.

With no other words to describe it, Shane is in full angry kitten-mode, and despite that being incredibly sexy, Ilya prays to God that it is not currently directed at him. Lord knows he has no willpower to withstand any pouts that Shane throws his way.

“Shane?” he asks quietly, not wanting to scare him.

Shane makes a noncommittal sound but doesn’t look up.

“Is everything okay?”

Shane shakes his head, and Ilya feels a lump in his throat. If he’s somehow managed to screw this up within the first fifteen minutes, Ilya thinks it might be a sorrow from which he will never recover.

“You drove through the night,” Shane says, and Ilya is already so deep in a hole of despair that it takes him a second to crawl out of it.

“What?” he asks.

“You saw the video,” Shane says, “And then you left Svetlana and drove to me with such speed that it was probably illegal. You carried me upstairs and you tucked me in to bed and this morning you told me that you want me and you held me as I cried.”

Ilya opens his mouth to tell him that doing so was a privilege, but Shane doesn’t let him.

“You are my favorite person,” Shane whispers, those tearful eyes undoing Ilya for the umpteenth time, “The best person. No one gets to tell you otherwise.”

And then, while Ilya’s brain is slowly short-circuiting, a phone is thrown into his face.

Shane Hollander✅ @ShaneHollanderHockeyPlayer

(1/2) Last night, a video started circulating of me online. The video was recorded without my knowledge, and I did not give consent to it being posted on the internet. While I am happy to share in the joy of our cup win with my fellow Montrealers, I kindly ask that my private life remains private.

Shane Hollander✅ @ShaneHollanderHockeyPlayer

(2/2) With that being said, I can confirm that I am in a happy, committed relationship, and that I plan to remain that way. To those of you who expressed your worries last night, I will end by saying thank you for your concern and tell you that I #FoundLily

For a moment, Ilya is completely stunned. Then, he sneaks his arms around Shane and presses a kiss to his neck, to the spot behind his ear that always makes him squirm. Predictably, Shane reaches forward to tangle his fingers in Ilya’s curls.

“You did not have to do that,” Ilya whispers. He can hear his voice shaking and hopes that it’s not as noticeable as he thinks it is.

“I know,” Shane says, “But I can’t bear the thought of anyone thinking badly of you.”

Ilya hums, reveling in the feeling of Shane in his arms. On the counter, the phone is exploding in a mass of reactions, and Shane closes the app before it has the chance to overwhelm either of them.

Eventually, Ilya breaks the silence.

“A happy, committed relationship,” he says.

Ilya can feel Shane tense beneath his fingers, and Ilya is quick to soothe him, rubbing soft circles against his skin. “I like it,” Ilya assures him.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Ilya presses another kiss to his skin, “My new favorite phrase in English.”

Shane emits a happy noise that makes Ilya’s insides go fuzzy. He hides his nose in the crook of Shane’s neck and inhales his scent. He’s sure that Shane is about to comment that neither of them have showered yet, but Ilya doesn’t care. There is nothing on Earth that could compel him to let go right now.

Also, Shane doesn’t get a chance to say anything because in another moment, his phone starts buzzing, not with social media notifications but with a flood of texts and calls.

“Shit.” Shane’s voice has dropped again, not with anger like it did in the bedroom, but with something resembling fear.

“Sweetheart?”

Ilya sneaks a glance at the phone currently displaying a growing array of notifications.

“I think –“ Shane gulps, “I think there might have been some people I should have texted beforehand.”

Shane takes his phone with shaking hands and holds it up so that Ilya is able to read along with him.

Ilya does, quickly, and then he lets out an uncharacteristic snort.

“Well shit,” he agrees, although his voice doesn’t carry quite the same amount of panic as Shane’s does.

Jackie

Oh my god, Shane? OH MY GOD? Hayden told me about Lily, but he didn’t tell me IT WAS SERIOUS? Shane! This is better than a cup. It’s better than TWO cups (🏆🏆). Name the date, and I’ll invite you both for dinner!!!!! 😄🤩🎉❤️❤️ Hayden tells me she is from Boston, is she a vegetarian??

Hayden

dude, you told the internet before you told me? not cool. jackie is certain I must have forgotten to mention it and she’s on the phone screaming with a bunch of WAGs right now

Hayden

also congrats bud, it was about damn time

Dad

Hi Shane. I am very happy for you, son. Love Dad. P.S. You might not want to pick up the phone when your mother rings.

Mom

Hope all is well, honey, and that you are well-rested after last night. Just writing to say that your dad and I are still in Montreal and are going to stop by for breakfast before leaving.

Mom

Another thing. In the future, you might want to run any social media posts by me or Farah before posting. Your post makes it sound like we have a daughter-in-law, and that can’t be true seeing as I’m sure you wouldn’t announce that to the internet without introducing her to your parents first. See you in a few minutes.

Missed call (Mom)

Missed call (Mom)

Missed call (Mom)

Chapter End Notes

I’m a bit obsessed with those scenarios where one of them was a bit braver, a bit earlier and simply told the other person that they wanted more. And since all of you seemed to want the morning after, I figured – why not?

Chapter 3: #WhoIsLily

Chapter Summary

In hindsight, I do see how that ending might have been mistaken for a cliffhanger. In other words, here you go <3

Chapter Notes

For a moment, neither man moves, Yuna Hollander’s words glaring at them from the screen.

Then, Ilya hears the tell-tale signs of Shane’s breathing picking up, small gasps that are too short to provide Shane with the oxygen he needs.

“Oh my god,” Shane says.

Ilya tightens his arms around him, his hands drawing soothing circles across his back.

“Is okay,” he whispers, “Breathe, Shane. You’re all right.”

“But Ilya.”

Ilya shushes him, pressing small kisses across his brow. “I’m here,” he whispers, “It’s going to be all right. I’m not going anywhere.”

“But you need to.” Shane’s voice is high-pitched. “You can’t be here when they come, they don’t even – I’ve never – fuck.”

“They don’t know about you?” Ilya guesses.

“I don’t even know about me,” Shane says, and he sounds so lost that it breaks Ilya’s heart. “I know I like being with you, but I don’t know about anything else. I mean – I don’t know if I’m – if it makes me –“ Shane breaks off.

“You don’t have to tell them anything,” Ilya assures him.

“But they’re going to want to know,” Shane says. “You don’t know my mom, she won’t stop until she meets Lily. I don’t – fuck – I don’t know what to do.”

Shane hides his face in the crook of Ilya’s neck. His breath is hot against Ilya’s skin, and Ilya wishes that he had the answers. Wishes that he had the ability to take away Shane’s anxiety. Wishes that they didn’t live in a world that taught them their love was something to be ashamed of.

“I don’t know, either,” Ilya tells him honestly, “I think only you can answer that.”

“I’m hungover,” Shane complains, “I should be in bed, I shouldn’t be posting things on the fucking internet.”

“You were impulsive,” Ilya says.

“I’m never impulsive.”

“I know, sweetheart, but you’re 25 years old. It was bound to happen sometime.”

Shane snorts, and Ilya revels in the fact that he can still make Shane laugh, even now.

“I wish we didn’t have to hide,” Shane says at last, “I wish it hadn’t taken us eight years to get here. I wish I had been braver.”

Ilya makes a disapproving sound. “You are brave,” he tells him, and when Shane goes to protest, Ilya won’t have it. “Posting on the internet was brave,” Ilya says, “Telling me how you felt last night? That was so brave. You are being so much braver than me, moya lyubov.”

For a moment, Shane doesn’t answer. And then –

“What does that mean?”

Ilya stills, and Shane pulls back a bit so that he’s able to look him in the eye.

“Those words,” Shane says as if Ilya doesn’t know exactly what he’s talking about, “You said them this morning, too. And last night.”

“You’re starting to remember an awful lot from last night,” Ilya says, and Shane lets out a quiet huff.

“Of course, I remember,” Shane says, “I remember the important things.”

Warmth spreads through Ilya, and Shane looks at him so earnestly that Ilya decides that he, too, can be brave.

“Moya lyubov,” he repeats, and then, quieter, “My love.”

Shane’s breath hitches, and Ilya wonders if this is the thing that will ruin everything. If once again, Ilya wants too much too soon. It’s what his father has always told him, and his brother, too.

But then Shane presses his lips to his for the third time since last night, and Ilya decides that no, this time he will allow himself to want this. To want Shane. To want whatever Shane is willing to give him for as long as he is willing to give it.

There’s a ferociousness to Shane’s kiss now that wasn’t there earlier. Maybe it’s that he’s more awake. Maybe it’s the adrenaline. Maybe, Ilya hopes, it’s his confession. Whatever it is, Shane moves like he’s trying to claim him, mark him, brand him as his.

Shane bites down on Ilya’s lower lip, and Ilya is helpless to do anything but follow his lead. He bends down to grab hold of Shane’s thighs, and then he lifts him onto the kitchen counter. Shane moans his encouragement, and his legs come around Ilya’s hips, pulling him impossibly closer.

“Fuck, Shane.”

It’s all Ilya manages to get out before Shane deepens the kiss. And then… then Ilya’s mind goes blissfully blank.

The kiss continues, of course. Ilya is very aware of that although he’s aware of little else. It continues on and on and on until the point where Shane suddenly pulls away and declares that he loves him too.

“You don’t have to say that,” Ilya whispers, “Not if you don’t mean it. I can wait.“

But Ilya doesn’t have to wait.

“I mean it,” Shane says, “I love you.” And he looks at Ilya with such fire in his eyes that Ilya has no choice but to believe it.

Then, they’re kissing again.

They still haven’t brushed their teeth, but Ilya feels like he’s in heaven. Feels like he’s home. Feels like he could stay here forever and not give a damn about hockey or the outside world or –

Something falls to the floor behind them.

At first, neither Ilya nor Shane reacts. Ilya, because he figures Shane’s foot probably knocked something over and Shane, because he’s too busy moaning Ilya’s name.

The noise, however, is accompanied by the very distinct sound of someone talking which Ilya will admit is a bit strange, but Shane is in his arms, and Ilya is so, so happy that he can’t really be bothered to turn around until Shane suddenly screams.

Ilya freezes, every single nerve-ending on high alert.

At first, he’s afraid that he’s somehow hurt Shane but when he looks up, Shane isn’t looking at him but rather at something across Ilya’s shoulder.

Ilya follows his gaze and yes, those are probably the reasons for Shane’s scream.

Those, of course, being Yuna and David Hollander, both of whom look absolutely shell-shocked standing in the doorway to Shane’s kitchen. At their feet lies a mess of containers which, Ilya presumes, contain the breakfast items that Shane’s mom had mentioned in her text message.

Ilya is acutely aware that both Hollanders are staring at them, but the next thing he knows, Shane’s breathing picks up again and Ilya redirects his attention to the most important Hollander.

Shane looks nothing short of terrified, gaze flickering between his parents and Ilya. He hasn’t moved yet, nails digging into Ilya’s shoulders and legs locked around Ilya’s middle like an overgrown koala. Ilya would die before suggesting he let go, but he also knows that Shane is currently too stunned to make any sort of conscious decision right now.

In other words, Ilya knows that he must be the one to try to salvage this.

He puts his hands on either side of Shane’s face, waiting patiently for Shane to look at him, his big, brown eyes filled with terror. “Is all right,” Ilya whispers, acutely aware that Shane’s parents are listening to his every word, “It will be all right, moy lyubimyy, I promise.” He presses a kiss to Shane’s cheek, and then he turns to Yuna and David, never removing his hands from where they’re pressed against Shane’s skin.

“Is very nice to meet you,” he says, internally wincing at the thickness of his accent, “But perhaps you want to wait in the living room? Then Shane and I will be out in a minute.”

David is the first to recover, and he mercifully beckons for Yuna to follow him. Yuna is still staring at Ilya, an indescribable look on her face, but thankfully, she follows David’s lead, and then Ilya and Shane are alone in the kitchen again.

It takes a while for Shane’s grip to slacken, but it does, eventually, and he lets his feet fall slowly to the floor.

“Tell me that did not just happen,” he says.

Ilya bites his lip, never wanting to deny Shane anything yet knowing it’s futile to do so.

“It could be worse,” Ilya tries to assure him, “Must be the longest we’ve kissed while fully clothed.”

Shane lets out a sniffle, and Ilya realizes belatedly that Shane is crying.

“Sweetheart,” he says, “Please don’t be sad. They’re both still here, right?” He presses another kiss to his brow. “No one’s yelling, no one’s leaving. Everything is good, yes?”

“I can’t –“

Shane is gasping, and Ilya knows he’s one wrong sentence away from a full-blown panic attack.

“Maybe…” Ilya bites his lip, “Maybe they didn’t even notice.”

“Ilya.” Shane looks at him, his face one of full affront. “They just heard me moaning your name.”

“I know,” Ilya says, “Was very beautiful.”

“This isn’t funny, Ilya!”

“Shane, this is not the end of the world.”

“Then why does it feel like it?”

Ilya traces a gentle finger across Shane’s freckles. “Why don’t we go into the living room?” He suggests, “Talk to them. I think it will make you feel better.”

“What if they hate me?”

“That’s impossible,” Ilya whispers, “They could never hate you.”

“You don’t know them.”

“I know enough,” Ilya says, “I know that they raised you. My favorite person.”

A small blush appears on Shane’s cheeks, and Ilya takes that as a victory. “Go to your parents,” he says, “Talk to them.”

For a long while, Shane stays quiet. Then –

“Will you come with me?”

“Of course.” Ilya nods his assent even before Shane has finished asking the question. “Of course I will.”

“Okay then.”

“Yes?”

“Yes.”

Shane nods, and Ilya rewards him with another kiss. This one considerably tamer than the previous one, both participants acutely aware of Yuna and David’s looming presence.

After, Ilya picks up the containers and deposits them in the fridge before he grabs Shane’s hand and gives it a comforting squeeze.

Shane rewards him with a grateful smile, and Ilya doesn’t let go, not even when they enter the living room and sit down on the couch opposite Shane’s parents.

It’s obvious that a conversation has taken place between Yuna and David, and before either Ilya or Shane has a chance to say anything, Yuna gives a slight cough.

“We are sorry,” she says, looking mostly at Shane, but eyes darting to Ilya while speaking, “We should not have barged in like that. We didn’t know you had… company.”

“Right,” Shane says. He is looking literally anywhere but at his parents.

“Really, son.” David, this time, chimes in. “We didn’t mean to ruin your celebration.”

“It’s all right,” Shane says.

“We’ll get to it later,” Ilya says at the same time, and there’s a moment of absolute silence before Shane lets out a horrified squeak.

Ilya gives him a confused look and it’s then that he realizes that all three Hollanders are staring at him, varying degrees of shock painted across their face.

“Ilya, literally, oh my god.”

Shane has turned so red, Ilya is about to check his temperature, and it’s then he realizes that he and David Hollander probably have different interpretations of the word.

“Do we have any alcohol?” Yuna asks.

She looks around in an attempt to look anywhere but at Shane and Ilya, but then Shane makes a faint gagging sound, the words “dear lord no,” mumbled beneath his breath.

Ilya resists the temptation to rise and find him some water, and Yuna thankfully stops her search.

Ilya mumbles a quick apology, and Shane clears his throat.

“Mom. Dad,” he says. “This is… Ilya Rozanov. But you probably know that.”

“Hi,” Ilya says again.

“And he’s… visiting. We’re… fuck.” Shane takes a shaky breath. “He’s Lily,” Shane settles on, and Ilya doesn’t miss the intake of breath from the other side of the coffee table. He figures that Yuna and David have definitely worked this out by now, but he’s sure the confirmation must still be somewhat shocking.

“So you’re…” Yuna trails off, seemingly as incoherent as her son on this matter, “The two of you –“ She raises a finger and points it between Shane and Ilya, “– You are in a relationship?”

“Yes.” Shane sounds surer now than he did before and Ilya tries to control his smile. A single glance at Yuna, however, tells him that his attempt is not entirely successful.

“And it’s… serious?”

Yuna is obviously parroting the words from Shane’s social media post, but again, Shane doesn’t hesitate to confirm it.

“Yes, it’s serious.”

“But… you hate him.”

“No, I… I don’t. I mean. Sometimes I do, kinda. But mostly I… love him. Actually.”

Shane looks at Ilya, and Ilya doesn’t miss the giddiness in his eyes as he says those words.

“I see,” Yuna says.

Ilya isn’t sure exactly what she sees, but he won’t question it if Shane doesn’t.

Yuna, however, seems to have no problems when it comes to questioning them, and before Ilya is really prepared to face the Yuna Hollander, she turns her gaze on him.

“And the feeling’s mutual?” she asks him, “You love Shane? Your rival?”

“Jeez, mom.”

Shane’s fingers, this time, squeeze Ilya’s, and Ilya appreciates the comfort although he  doesn’t need it. In fact, he doesn’t think he’s even been surer of anything.

“I do,” Ilya tells her, “I am in love with him, and I have been for eight years.”

Three heads swivel to look at Ilya, and although it pains Ilya not to look at Shane in this moment, his gaze doesn’t waver from Yuna. Ilya is sitting across from the two people on Earth who love Shane as much as he does, and he needs for them to understand that he’s serious. He needs for them to know that Ilya is in this for the long haul.

“Eight years?”

David voices the question that Ilya knows Shane must be dying to ask.

“Yes.” Ilya nods. “Since world juniors.”

“Ilya that’s – that’s impossible. You can’t – you don’t mean that.” Shane splutters beside Ilya, but Ilya won’t lie. Not here. Not in front of these three people.

“I do,” he says, finally tearing his gaze away from Yuna to look at Shane, “I might not have known it then, but I do now. You were it for me, Shane, even then.”

“Since the parking lot?”

“Since the parking lot.”

Shane draws in a shuddering breath, but before he has time to say anything, Yuna interrupts them. “So you have been in a relationship all these years?”

“No,” Shane says.

“God, no,” Ilya says at the same time.

“But then…” Yuna trails off. “When did this –“ she points between them again “– this happy, committed relationship start?”

Again, she quotes from Shane’s social media post, and Ilya can practically hear Shane gulping beside him.

Ilya looks discreetly at the clock above the mantel and concludes that it must have been about half an hour ago although he knows better than to say that out loud. Especially considering the fact that it’s some five minutes after Shane made the post.

“It took us a bit,” Ilya says before Shane develops an ulcer, “But we got there in the end.”

“But then –“ Yuna still doesn’t seem quite satisfied, “Why weren’t you with Shane last night?”

Ilya realizes that she’s referencing the video. The one that started this entire thing, and the one where Shane very clearly stated that Ilya was not anywhere near his vicinity.

“Ilya was in Boston,” Shane says, coming to his rescue, “I had made plans to celebrate with my teammates and since we can’t be together in public there wasn’t any reason for Ilya to come. He would have been all alone while I was out.”

“And yet – here he is.”

“I came when I saw the video,” Ilya says, and for the first time, Yuna’s face begins to crack.

“The video was posted at midnight,” she protests, “You can’t possibly have made the drive this morning.”

“Is true,” Ilya says, “But I didn’t drive this morning. I drove last night.”

For a moment, Yuna seems at a loss for words. She looks briefly at David, some sort of silent communication happening between them that Ilya and Shane are not privy to. Then, she turns back towards Ilya.

“You mean to tell me that you got in your car at midnight and made the five-hour drive from Boston to Montreal because, what, Shane got drunk and missed you?”

“I wasn’t that drunk,” Shane splutters.

“Yes,” Ilya says at the same time, “And yes, you were, sweetheart,” he adds, looking at Shane.

“But that’s five hours,” Yuna interjects, “In the middle of the night.”

“Ilya made it in four,” Shane corrects her.

“That sounds irresponsible,” David says, and Ilya feels chastised in a way he didn’t when Shane commented on it.

“Shane needed me,” Ilya tries to explain himself, “I didn’t want to waste any time.”

It’s David’s turn to give Ilya an appraising look, and Ilya tries not to squirm, not yet able to interpret the meaning behind David and Yuna’s words.

“Wait,” Yuna holds up a hand, “What do you mean that he needed you?”

“Well, I…” Ilya trails off, and Shane goes unnaturally stiff beside him.

Ilya realizes belatedly that he’s said more than he should.

Yuna, of course, realizes it too and leans forward in her seat.

“Shane,” she says, all attention turned towards her son again, “Did something happen last night?”

Her voice softens as she asks the question, and this time, Ilya needs no help to interpret the twin looks of fear suddenly dawning on David’s and Yuna’s faces.

“No!”

Shane’s denial is swift, and, Ilya presumes, not entirely convincing. At least, it seems to do little in the way of easing his parents’ fear, and Ilya feels the need to step in, knowing exactly how the two are feeling. It’s the same way he felt last night, discovering Shane asleep outside his apartment building.

“Shane was harassed at the bar” Ilya says, “First, he was filmed without his consent, and then fans started coming up to him, telling him lies about me even though they didn’t know who I was.”

“But surely your teammates were there to help you,” Yuna reasons.

Ilya doesn’t quite manage to hide his scoff, and Yuna looks a bit desperately at Shane, “Honey, if you were harassed at the bar, your teammates would help you, right? There would be no need to call Rozanov all the way from Boston.”

“Call me Ilya,” Ilya interjects.

“Ilya,” Yuna says, a bit clumsily, “I apologize. But I just – I’m not sure I understand what happened last night. Why did Ilya drive here in the middle of the night? Why did you feel the need to post about him this morning? Where were your teammates during all this?”

Ilya and Shane look with each other, and Ilya doesn’t miss the hurt in Shane’s eyes. His nails are digging into Ilya’s skin, and Ilya does his best to soothe him. It’s their turn to have a silent conversation, Ilya not wanting to overstep in front of Shane’s parents. But after a few moments, Shane gives him a slight nod, and once Ilya is absolutely sure that this is what Shane wants, Ilya turns towards the Hollanders, both looking desperately between them.

“Shane’s teammates… abandoned him last night,” Ilya says at last, carefully cataloging the shocked expression on Yuna’s face. David, Ilya notes, looks slightly less surprised, and Ilya files that information away for later.

“When I made it to Montreal,” Ilya continues, “Shane had fled the bar, alone and on foot. He wanted to get away from the crowd, but his teammates didn’t help him. He was asleep outside his apartment building when I arrived, and I had to carry him upstairs. I don’t know for how long he’d been there, but it was probably a couple of hours judging by how cold he was.”

Any trepidation that Yuna has had up until now seems to crumble in the face of this news.

“Your teammates left you alone with all those people?” Yuna whispers, and Ilya doesn’t miss the flinch that crosses Shane’s face. “People who’d come to harass you after the video was posted?”

“Yes,” Ilya says, because he knows it will hurt Shane too much to confirm it, not quite ready to accept it himself.

“That’s why you made the post this morning?” David asks.

“Ilya helped me last night,” Shane says a bit defiantly, “Ilya was the only one who helped me, and the entire internet was talking shit about him. I couldn’t –“ Shane’s breath stutters, “I couldn’t let them do that.”

“Oh, honey.”

There are tears in Yuna’s eyes, and then she’s on her feet, crossing the floor to pull him into her arms.

Shane lets out a sob as she does, one hand coming to rest around his mother, the other still holding on to Ilya like a life raft. Yuna whispers something, too soft for Ilya to hear, but it seems to help.

“And you,” Yuna says, suddenly turning towards Ilya, “You drove all through the night.”

It’s all the warning Ilya gets before Yuna engulfs him in her arms.

And Ilya… Ilya freezes. Because this is not a timid hug. It’s not a small one, either. It’s a real one. A motherly one. The sort of hug that Ilya hasn’t had since he was twelve years old.

Yuna seems to sense it because she doesn’t let go despite his immobility. If anything, she tightens her arms around him, holding on until Ilya relaxes into it. Until Ilya, too, puts her arms around her and hugs her back.

“Thank you,” she whispers. She presses a kiss to his temple, and then she pulls away, just enough to be able to look him in the eyes. “Thank you for taking care of my baby.”

Ilya is sure that if he attempts to talk, he will start to cry. Therefore, he settles for a nod, and Yuna rewards him with a smile that is blinding in its intensity. She presses another kiss to his temple, but then suddenly her eyes shift, face pulling into a sterner frown.

“However, if you drive like that again, we will be having words, you hear me?”

Ilya lets out a startled laugh, but he acquiesces, telling her he’ll try to do better.

Beside him, Shane lets out an indignant huff. “You’ll promise mom but not me?”

“Your mom is scary,” Ilya says, and Yuna seems satisfied with this answer, returning to her seat beside David.

“I can be scary, too,” Shane protests, and Ilya indulges him.

“Of course you can, moya lyubov. I am very familiar with your angry kitten face.”

Both Yuna and David laugh at this, and Shane sends Ilya a betrayed look that would be much more convincing if he wasn’t also smiling.

“How about we sit down to breakfast?” Yuna asks, “You boys look like you need it.”

Ilya’s stomach chooses that moment to let out an enormous growl, and Ilya tries not to be too touched when some ten minutes later, Yuna makes sure to serve him first.

Breakfast, it turns out, is … surprisingly all right. More than all right.

Although Shane is still too nauseous to really eat anything, he manages a few bites of toast, and he laughs at every single joke that Ilya and his parents make.

The only bit of awkwardness assumes when Yuna mentions the Voyageurs again.

“I just can’t believe your teammates did that,” she says.

“But they did,” Shane mumbles, obviously not in the mood to talk about it.

“It’s like they have no concept of loyalty,” Yuna scoffs, and David, this time, puts a hand on her arm, obviously trying to stop her.

“Hayden was home with Jackie,” Shane says, “Or I’m sure he would have helped me.”

“You should be able to count on more than Hayden,” Yuna protests, “You’ve given that team two cups. Back-to-back! And if nothing else, you’re their captain.”

Shane is very obviously becoming more and more distressed, and Ilya puts a hand on his shoulder, silently begging Yuna to stop. He’s about to do it out loud, too, when Yuna’s next words make Ilya freeze.

“You’ll be a free agent next year,” she tells him, and for a moment Ilya thinks that Yuna is looking at him, except Yuna isn’t looking at him. She’s looking at Shane, and her eyes are shining as she repeats her words. “You’ll be able to go wherever you want, honey.”

Ilya doesn’t miss the slight flicker as Yuna turns her gaze towards him.

Shane, too, has stilled, and the moment feels so fragile, so vulnerable that Ilya barely dares breathe.

Surely, this is a dream. Surely, Ilya doesn’t get to love Shane and play with him, too?

For a moment, Ilya stays completely frozen. So does Shane, and so does David and so, in fact, does Yuna.

But Ilya also knows that this is not the moment to make that decision. Shane has just experienced an enormous betrayal by the men he’d considered to be brothers. He and Ilya have confessed their love to each other, and Shane has come out to his parents. Not to talk about the fact that Shane is still incredibly hungover.

“I think…” Ilya says, “That this is not a conversation to be had right now.

“Right.”

Ilya doesn’t think he’s kidding himself into believing that Yuna looks almost disappointed by those words.

But she doesn’t let on.

“Of course not,” she’s quick to say, “Of course you’ll need to think on it.”

And then she looks at Ilya again, before looking to David and quirking her head. “Perhaps it’s time for us to leave,” she says to him.

Ilya is quick to protest, but Yuna shakes her head, giving him an assuring smile. “Really,” she insists, “I think we have more than overstayed our welcome.”

Shane, by this point, has calmed down again, so much so that he’s able to follow his parents to the door.

They say their goodbyes, Yuna and David pulling first Shane and then Ilya into long hugs.

And then, it’s just Shane and Ilya again.

Ilya spares no time pulling Shane into a hug of his own, and Shane lets out a slow breath as he tightens his arms around him.

Ilya doesn’t say a word about Boston although he can feel the excitement thrumming beneath his skin. Shane doesn’t say anything either, but Ilya knows Shane. Ilya knows he’s thinking about it, even now.

“I know I said I wanted to celebrate,” Shane whispers, “But…”

“Sleep?” Ilya guesses.

“Dear god, yes please.”

Shane’s voice sounds borderline sinful at the prospect, and Ilya gives him a short kiss before pulling him towards the bedroom.

He still can’t quite believe that he’s allowed this now. That Shane Hollander is Ilya’s to kiss and no one else’s. It makes Ilya giddy just thinking about it, and by the look on Shane’s face he’s feeling the same.

“You know it’s strange,” Shane says once they’re in bed, “I feel almost grateful to that woman now.”

“Yeah?” Ilya tightens his arms around him.

“Yes… I mean… If not for that video, I’d be here alone, and you’d be waking up next to Svetlana.”

Again, Ilya doesn’t miss the little sneer that accompanies her name.

“Sweetheart, I could be waking up next to Rose Landry, and I’d still wish it was you.”

“Rose Landry?” There’s a brief pause as Shane turns around to glare at Ilya. “Who is that?” he asks, “Another one of your women?”

Ilya would smile if not for the devastated look currently dawning Shane’s face.

“She’s an actress,” Ilya tells him, “And I’ve never met her, I promise.”

“But you want to?”

“No, moya lyubov, I do not want to meet Rose Landry.”

“But then why –“

“Hollander.” Ilya stops him by pressing a kiss to his lips. “You are it for me, okay? I have wanted you for eight years, and I promise you, I’ll want you for eighty more.”

Shane wrinkles his nose. “You’ll be almost as old as Scott Hunter then.”

Ilya lets out a bark of laughter and pulls Shane closer. “You’re perfect,” he whispers, “Absolutely perfect.” And he waits patiently as Shane curls around him, not unreminiscent of the way he did it in the kitchen earlier.

Ilya wonders briefly whether this will be his life from now on. Whether Shane will be this clingy every night or whether it’s because they’ve never allowed themselves to have this before.

Ilya prays to God it’s the former. It’s only their second time falling asleep together, and Ilya is certain he’s developed an addiction for it.

When Shane finally stills, he has his head on Ilya’s chest, head tugged beneath Ilya’s chin, and his left hand curled around his shirt, right above his heart.

“I love you,” Shane tells him, and it’s obvious that he’s already halfway to sleep.

“I love you, too,” Ilya tells him and Shane lets out a content little sigh before falling all the way.

Once again, Ilya feels compelled to stay awake, to catalogue every single moment with Shane. Although, he supposes, he doesn’t strictly need to now.

Shane Hollander loves him. Shane Hollander wants to be with him. And suddenly, Ilya can imagine a lifetime spent just like this, however crazy it might sound.

And so, Ilya will sleep this time. At least as soon as he’s done what he promised himself to do this morning.

Very slowly so as not to wake up Shane, Ilya reaches for his phone on the bedside table. He hasn’t looked at it since last night, his imagination only too able to imagine what must be happening on Twitter.

But Ilya doesn’t look at any of the comments. Instead, he logs off his account, knowing full well that Shane will chastise him for what he’s about to do.

For that reason, Ilya does it before the man in his arms has a chance to wake up and stop him.

Quickly, Ilya puts in his details and types out the message. He presses ‘post’ before he’s able to overthink it, and then he puts the phone back on the table, tightening his arms around Shane.

A few seconds later, he falls asleep.

And for the rest of the afternoon, Ilya remains blissfully unaware of the absolute chaos he’s just unleashed.

Lily @BostonLily1991

#WhoIsLily you want to know? That is me. I am Lily. And you better back off ladies because my man is taken 💅😌

 

Léa Martin @MrsLéaMartin92

Replying to @BostonLily1991

Girl, you’re messing with us

#FindLily #WhoIsLily #IsThisLily

 

Clara @mrsshanehollander4ever

Replying to @BostonLily1991

Guys she’s messing with us. Right? RIGHT??

#WhoIsLily #IsThisLily #SomeoneAnswerMe

 

Call Me Mrs. Shane @callmemrsshane1234

Replying to @BostonLily1991

i am calm about this. i am very very calm about this 🤯

#IsThisLily #FoundLily

 

Juliette @i<3thevoyageurs

YES woman go get your MAN

#FoundLily

 

Carly @HockeyPuck1234

Replying to @i<3thevoyageurs

r u for real? this woman LEFT him. he was CRYING

#DumpLily

 

Adele Fortin @iloveshanehollander

Replying to @HockeyPuck1234

CRYING 😭😭😭

#FutureMrsShaneHollander #IsThisForReal #DumpLily

 

Sally @VoyageursFanNumberOne

Replying to @BostonLily1991

Guys this is a joke. BostonLily???? Shane Hollander would never

#FindLily

 

Lily Mae @LilyMae1995

Replying to @VoyageursFanNumberOne

This☝️ It says Boston, ladies. BOSTON. Could you imagine??? 😂😂😂😂

 

Geneviève @geneviévelapointedemontreal

Replying to @LilyMae1995

Next someone is going to say that Lily sounds like Ilya

 

Léonie @LeonieGagnon27328

Replying to @geneviévelapointedemontreal

lol

 

Éloide @montrealbaby

Replying to @geneviévelapointedemontreal

wait

Chapter End Notes

It breaks my heart whenever I remember that Shane and Ilya had to wait until 2021 to play on the same team, so… interpret that how you will.