When Ilya is fourteen, he sees a small, angry boy, sitting on the sidelines of the rink, scribbling in a notebook.

Ilya sees him flinch when the coach raises his voice, even though the shouts aren’t directed at him. Sees him scowl and force his attention back to his drawing. Sasha, he learns, is Ilya’s new coach’s son. He’s no good at hockey, but he causes trouble when left alone, so he gets dragged to the rink most days, adamantly not watching the other boys practice.

He’s funny, and mean, and has bruises most of the time, despite never doing much other than drawing. But Ilya doesn’t need to see it happen to understand, not when it comes to this. He thinks maybe he and Sasha could understand a lot about each other.

***

Sasha is pretty sure hockey players are the worst kind of people. He can feel one of them staring at him in the breaks between… whatever it is they do at these practices. And Sasha has learned by now that attention never means anything good, but when the boy finally speaks to him, it’s not to throw insults.

There’s something to the way he looks at Sasha, like he actually wants to know what he thinks. When he sees the bruises on Sasha’s wrist, he doesn’t say anything, but he doesn’t look surprised either. Sasha still tells him to suck his dick when Ilya asks to see his sketchbook though.

Ilya loses his virginity at fifteen, to a beautiful figure skater two years older than him. It’s thrilling and a little bit frightening, but it’s probably the best thing that’s ever happened to him.

Four months later, he gives Sasha a handjob in a supply closet at the rink. He thinks maybe he should be surprised that they ended up here, but he’s not. Everyone suspects that Sasha is gay. The only reason Ilya’s even allowed to be around him is because his coach thinks that Ilya could be a good influence on his useless son. Because obviously Ilya isn’t gay.

The truth is, neither of them are, not completely, but that’s not the point. The point is that they laugh into each other’s mouths as they kiss, trying to keep quiet when footsteps pass by outside. Getting caught would be worse than Ilya can bring himself to imagine, but he feels alive in a way he’s never felt before when Sasha looks him in the eye and unzips his pants.

***

Sasha wants to be an artist. He’s wanted it for as long as he can remember, clutching crayons in his fist and hoping to have his drawings put on the fridge. He worked hard at it too, taking the natural talent his teachers said he had and doing something with it, getting better.

But his drawings never made it onto the fridge, and he learned to stop asking. His father wasn’t interested in them, and he wasn’t interested in a son who couldn’t hit a puck to save his life.

He’d rather have a son like Ilya, who can skate like Sasha can draw. Who’s charming and talented in all the right ways. Unfortunately for all of them, Sasha decides he wants Ilya too.

And to his surprise, Ilya is hungry for it in the same way Sasha is. When they kiss, he clutches the back of Sasha’s neck like he’s hanging on for dear life. It’s not Ilya's fault, Sasha reminds himself, that he can pretend so much better than Sasha can. And it’s not like it actually saves him. Ilya's bruises are never just from hockey.

Ilya cannot go anywhere or do anything without someone having an opinion about it. His father, his coach, they regiment his life down to the minute. They control what he eats, what he wears.

Because he is their golden ticket, their chance at wealth and influence. It's a responsibility that weighs heavy on his shoulders, but he will not let them down. He's proud of what he can do. Yet sometimes it feels like the nights with Sasha and Sveta are the only thing keeping him going.

In seedy clubs that don’t bother to check ID’s, Ilya gets to be someone else. He gets to drink, and dance, and pretend that it’s freedom. Their parents aren’t oblivious, but as long as it doesn’t draw any attention, as long as it doesn’t interfere with hockey, they pretend not to see. Because Ilya might be the one good influence Sasha has. And everyone knows that he’ll marry Sveta someday, and have sons who will play hockey like no one has before. His life’s trajectory is inevitable, but for now, Ilya has this too.

***

No one really cares what Sasha does, as long as they don’t have to find out about it.

He can exist in a world all his own, as long as he keeps his head down, keeps his desires and bad habits away from the light of day.

He’s always the first one to know about a less-than-legal club, where they can go and party and do very much illegal drugs.

The only sticking point is Ilya. Ilya has to be home in time for practice. Ilya can’t drink too much on game nights. It’s annoying, but worth it most of the time. He’s incredible when he stops trying to be the golden boy for a while. When he pretends to be like Sasha for a night, and parties like no one gives a shit if he makes it back home.

They fight, frequently, all their fear and helplessness wrapped up in petty bullshit. Usually Ilya will go away and sulk for a few days, and usually Sasha will let him, until Sveta gets bored of it all and demands they take her out. Then Sasha will saunter up to Ilya with that bravado he knows Ilya loves, and Ilya will let Sasha kiss him, and by the time they’re spent, it’s like it never happened. Until the next time.

Ilya leaves the country for the first time at seventeen years old, to go play hockey against a bunch of boring Canadians. One of them is maybe a little less boring than all the others, but he tries not to think about that too much. He already gives in to his worst desires far too often.

When he gets home, Sasha is nowhere to be found. Fucked off to Paris or something, Sveta says, when Ilya finally makes himself ask. He didn’t say goodbye, to either of them, but it’s not like that matters. Fuck Sasha.

***

Sasha makes it a point to ignore anything and everything hockey related. That does mean he has no idea what’s going on with Ilya half the time, but they always find each other when they need something, so it works out. Ilya can’t risk anything more, and Sasha doesn’t need more.

These days, hockey takes up most of Ilya’s life, but they always knew that was coming. Some day, Ilya would be a big, famous hockey star like both their fathers dreamed, and Sasha would be doing who the fuck knew or cared.

Still, the sting of it catches him off guard, when he finds out that Ilya has left for North America, for his shiny new life in the MLH, without even saying goodbye. Sasha takes all the money he's been saving for years, steals the rest of what he needs from his parents, and is on a train to Paris within the week. Fuck Ilya.

Sveta mentions Sasha offhandedly over drinks one night, which is how Ilya finds out that they’re still in contact. He wants to be hurt, but he knows it’s none of his business who she talks to. He doesn’t have exclusive rights to her time and attention. And just because he’s pissed at Sasha, doesn’t mean that she has to be. The thing between him and Sasha was always messier, meaner. Sasha and Sveta didn’t feel strongly enough about each other to hate each other. Or so he’d thought. Apparently they cared enough to keep talking to each other, even when Sasha was away in Paris and Sveta was in Boston.

This is also how Ilya finds out that Sasha didn't know what the fuck was going on when Ilya left for Canada. Sveta just throws it out there like it’s a comment about the weather. It’s probably supposed to be a hint, but Ilya refuses to take it. If something’s going to change, it’s not going to be him.

Because Sasha always did his absolute best to not know anything about hockey. Even the parts of it that were Ilya's life. He had his own life, free from the tethers that kept Ilya to a neverending schedule of obligations. Not that Ilya could blame him, back then. But still, if he had bothered to ask, he would have known that Ilya was coming back.

It probably wouldn't have changed anything; Sasha was always going to escape the first second that he got the chance, but maybe he would have at least said goodbye. Maybe they could have stayed friends, in a distant way. But Ilya knows a burned bridge when he sees one.

***

When Sasha finds out that Ilya is back in Russia, he almost laughs. Of course he is. He had a chance to get away, to live his perfect life with his dream career and piles of money, far from everyone who hurt him, but no. Ilya was in love with his own misery. He would give everything for some bullshit idea of duty to the people who would rather have him dead than honest.

Meanwhile, Sasha was moving from couch to couch, relying on the desire of strangers to keep him fed, but he would take that any day over going back. Some people just didn't know what they had.

And Ilya could have texted him. But that would mean admitting that he cared.

When Ilya walks into the bathroom, he sees the coke before he sees Sasha. He’s not sure which is worse.

All he wants is to get drunk, go back to his hotel room, and try not to think about Hollander before he passes out, so of course Sveta is pulling this bullshit now. But her hockey insights are sharp and hopeful, so he lets it go as he listens to her predicting his dreams coming true. It helps him ignore Sasha too, until Sveta not-so-subtly bids them both goodnight and tells them to catch up.

And Sasha starts in on his old routine immediately. He gets right up against Ilya, smelling of some fancy cologne Ilya doesn’t recognise, and he can’t help but open his mouth when Sasha’s lips brush his.

But he doesn’t kiss back, and when Sasha tries again, he leans away. He won’t do this. He can’t. He can’t cave to the gravity of this old desire when Sasha is acting like nothing fucking happened.

Sasha’s angry at him, he can tell, but he still rubs Ilya’s cock through his pants like that will solve everything. Like they can just pretend to be fifteen again, making stupid choices and refusing to acknowledge any consequences.

He wants to, to drown in the familiar pleasure he knows Sasha can give him, but he pushes him away instead. Things have to be different now. They’re different now. At least, Ilya is.

He does it gently, in the hopes that maybe they’ve grown up enough for this to go differently, but Sasha never took rejection well. And rejecting his advances may as well be rejecting forgiveness, as far as Sasha is concerned.

If they could just talk, maybe things wouldn’t have to go like this, but Ilya doesn’t have the words. He needs to hear it from Sasha first.

I’m sorry. I should have said goodbye. I should have stayed in touch. I missed you.

But Sasha just announces that he’s going to find a party, and doesn’t change his mind when Ilya refuses to take the hint and change his. He just leaves.

***

Sasha promised himself he’d never go back to Russia. Not for any reason. But when the Olympics are held in Sochi, he can’t help but look up who will be representing Russia in hockey this year. It doesn’t surprise him at all to see Ilya’s name and photo on the website. Everything must be going according to their fathers’ plans.

He looks so much older than Sasha expected, his jaw squared and his eyes steely. His flat expression is almost as unsettling as his face is alluring. He doesn’t look like the boy Sasha once knew.

It’s probably the closest they’ll have been in years, even with Sasha still in France. The thought is embarrassingly painful, so he tries to put it from his mind, but he still finds himself half listening whenever he hears people talk about the Olympics in the following days.

And when Sveta texts him that her father is throwing a party that will be unbearably boring without him, he barely even hesitates. If she pays, both for his train ticket and some party favors, he’ll be there. This is how it goes.

When she gets sick of their shit, Sveta brings them together, then Sasha and Ilya have angry sex and get over themselves. It’ll be different, now that they live so far apart, but at least then Sasha can put it behind him. They’ll have made up, so they can drift apart naturally, instead of the bitter thing that’s between them now.

But Ilya is cold in a way Sasha has never seen before. He doesn’t let it show, but it scares him a little, the empty, impassive look Ilya gives him. Ilya was never good at hiding his feelings, especially not his anger, but he looks like he couldn’t give a shit about Sasha now.

He ignores Sasha all night, and his face is practically dripping with disdain when he turns down Sasha’s advances. He’s not the same person anymore, and it’s all Sasha can do to hold onto his anger in the face of it.

He should have known. This is the version of Ilya that was always waiting to be brought to the surface. The hollow, hard shell that his father and Russia and fucking hockey had been trying to carve him into since they were children. Sasha tries one more time to get Ilya to react, to do anything, and then he leaves. He never should have come back.

It might be too late for Ilya, but Sasha refuses to let this place kill him too.

So I'm a little insane about Sasha and Ilya, in case you couldn't tell. The fucking acting in the bathroom scene. I don't think I've ever had a story about two characters leap so fully formed, so quickly, into my head before. I legitimately forgot that it wasn't canon.

Also, if you're looking for a good Ilya/Sasha song, check out Matches To Paper Dolls by Dessa!