It's all Canadian Vodka's fault

Ilya awoke to a shriek. 

It took him a moment to register what had suddenly awoken him and another moment to register that he wasn't in his own bed. 

"Hello?" He asked groggily, eyes swimming. A woman in a navy tunic was staring at him, agape. She was clutching a box of cleaning supplies in one hand and using the other to shield her eyes.

"Housekeeping!" She stuttered. "I am so sorry, you did not have do not disturb!"

Ah, hotel. Vague memories of the launch event came back to Ilya. Vaguer memories still of how he managed to get to bed also returned. He took in the sleekly decorated room with a wince, a chrome polished clock on the wall telling him it was just after one in the afternoon. 

"Is okay, convenient alarm clock really." Ilya groaned as he sat up, head pounding as he did so. The reason for the housekeeper's horror suddenly became very apparent as Ilya realised he was totally naked. He would be unlikely to admit it to anyone, but he very much let out a shriek of his own and bundled into the blanket.

"I am sorry! I am not pervert, didn't mean for you to see that. I'm just," he shuddered as a wave of nausea rolled through him, "hungover but also still drunk, I think"

The housekeeper nodded and backed out the room, her eyes screwed shut. Ilya made a mental note to leave a generous tip. The sort of tip he left the time he and Shane had a weekend break in Florida. It had been for their first wedding anniversary and they literally did not leave the hotel the entire time. Shane had pointed out it was perhaps a waste to have even left home in the first place, to which Ilya had protested that any time spent naked and alone with each other was not a waste, thank you very much.

It was an absolute testament to how wretchedly hungover Ilya felt that he couldn't even fantasise dreamily on that weekend, but even the thought of his husband making lovely noises as Ilya did unspeakable things to him didn't help soothe his pounding head.  

Ilya had wanted to get up early. Be sober enough to drive home in the morning and see Shane looking all pretty in his photo shoot make up. Sober at that moment seemed a distant memory and for the first time in his life, Ilya thought he may never actually be able to stomach another vodka. 

"Fuuuck," he groaned, his feeling as though it was simultaneously going to split in two and cave in on itself. Canadian vodka, who the hell thought that was a good idea? Yuna? A rare misstep from her.

Part of Ilya knew that had he not attempted to consume his bodyweight in vodka, he may not feel so uncharitable. But he was too hungover and grouchy to feel any semblance of reason, so he stuck to quietly grumbling to himself as he groped around the room looking for his belongings, blanket draped around his shoulders as though he was a very pathetic superhero.

Clothes: all present and correct. 

His Phone: badly cracked, battery dead. 

His wallet: fine, although somewhat lighter. 

His keys - 

His keys?

Unaccounted for. 

Ah. 

Fuck. 

Ilya stumbled down to the hotel lobby, having left all his cash on the dresser alongside a hastily scrawled apology note. His legs had just about received the memo it was time to be sober and he managed to walk in a somewhat straight line to a small desk at the end of the room.

"Good morning," he greeted, wincing at the sunlight shining through huge windows. He needed coffee. Maybe a priest. 

"Good morning, Mr Rozanov-Hollander."

 Ilya decided he liked this hotel. 

"Did I leave my keys with your valet service?"

"Allow me to check," the lady at the front desk typed something onto her computer, her namebadge Lucy glinting with the movement. Ilya was certain that despite how drunk he was, he'd never lose track of his car. It had been years since Ilya had owned a fleet of supercars, but he'd allowed himself the one indulgence. Shane had unsuccessfully attempted to mask his disdain the day the car had roared onto their driveway, greeting Ilya with a very tight grimace and an adorably crinkled brow. 

"The hell you gonna do when it snows?" He had grumbled, kicking its poor, defenceless tyres. 

"I still have boring car also. You still have boring car." Ilya returned, ignoring the protests of 'safe and reliable is not boring!' 

Ilya wondered what Shane's reaction to him losing his keys - and, in that moment, losing track of the attached car - would be. Perhaps smug or a little exasperated? Ilya attempted to peer over the desk at Lucy's screen, seeing if there was any progress on her search. She looked up at him and shook her head. 

"I'm sorry Sir, we did not valet your car for you last night."

Ilya scrubbed a hand across his face, trying to disperse his brain fog. Memories from the night before were far a few between but he was certain he'd handed his keys over to someone and tipped them too. Yes, he thought, I gave them extra to take good care of it. 

Ilya wracked his brains. The keys had stayed in his pocket for the entirety of the event, right up until the very end when Ilya realised it needed to be moved from street parking (he liked the appreciative glances he got from the general public when they walked past it, so sue him)

"I asked someone to move it for me," he said slowly, remembering not even daring to open the car door with how drunk he was. "Yes, I paid them to move it to your garage. Event finished but I went to an afterparty. 2am, maybe?"

"I have nothing under your name, I can check with your registration?"

Ilya gave her the registration. The make and model. A very vague time of when he might have handed the keys over. None of it turned up anything.

"I'm sorry, there really isn't anything here," she said apologetically, Ilya caught her stifling a small yawn. "I've been here since 3am Mr Rozanov-Hollander, and you got back to the hotel about 4:00, we spoke but, um, you said nothing about your car."

She blushed slightly. Ilya had a terrible feeling he'd said a little too much about something else.

"I was very drunk last night," he said apologetically and somewhat unnecessarily. "I am sorry, I probably was an asshole?"

"You weren't .. Bad," she said with a small smile. "But your phone had died and you were very insistent I try get a message to your husband. You couldn't remember his number, so you wanted me to call numbers based on which, uh, 'vibed' with you." She paused, suddenly unable to maintain eye contact. "You managed to dial two people before I convinced you it was perhaps a bad idea letting you call strangers you thought were your husband and telling them you missed their, uh, warm .."

"I am begging you not to finish that sentence," Ilya said, another round of nausea welling up for Lucy had turned the shade of a literal tomato. "You would have been correct in saying I was an asshole. I am sorry, Lucy."

"It's okay, you were very nice. Just really wanted to talk to your husband, I guess."

"Yes, that happens when I am drunk," Ilya confirmed. "It also happens when I am sober," he added thoughtfully. Ilya was certain Shane would have next to no sympathy for his current state, but even some smug teasing from his husband would be welcomed at that point. There was almost certainly going to be a couple of peevish missed calls and a snarky 'let me know you're not dead (whenever convenient of course 🙄 )' as there was anytime slow to reply on a night out. 

Ilya looked down to his smashed phone. It would hopefully still work once charged but his phone charger was in his suitcase and his suitcase was almost certainly still in his car. There whereabouts of the car? As yet unknown. Lucy smiled sympathetically at him. 

"Let me ask security about your vehicle, in the meantime, would you like to charge your phone behind the desk? I offered last night but you were quite insistent that the power of love was going to work."

Ilya was having words with whoever created Canadian vodka. Russian vodka would never let him make such a fool of himself. 

"May I offer you a coffee whilst you wait?" Lucy asked, indicating to a member of staff on the far end of the room. 

"Yes please to both, Lucy," Ilya said, making another mental note. This time to visit an ATM and withdraw a ludicrous amount of money to repay Lucy for her kindness and sheer professionally in the face of his drunkeness. Though he may withhold a few bills based on the fact it sounded like she definitely let him make a few random, 4am calls to strangers before realising it was a bad idea.

As he waited for further updates, Ilya settled into a seat, sipping a passable coffee. His hangover was gripping his skull and the hasty shower he'd had in his room had not quenched the smell of stale alcohol. Ilya doubted he was in a state to drive the three hours home, so once his car was located and phone was charged, Ilya would make an apologetic phone call to Shane and crash back in bed. 

Lucy spoke for some time on the phone to various security personnel, cycling through the same information. Car missing, no record of it, but definitely handed the keys over to someone. Behind the desk Ilya's phone slowly came to life, notifications flashing up on the screen in rapid succession. Ilya wasn't too sure what other drunk antics he'd got up to, but he was sure twitter would be telling him shortly.

Damn Canadian Vodka. 

"Yes, that's right," Lucy said, sounding slightly impatient with whoever she was talking to. "Rozanov-Hollander. Uh, hockey player? I don't know."

"I am," Ilya supplied. 

"Well yes then, the hockey player." There was a pause. "Yes, Russian." Another pause. "Yes, about 6 foot." Pause. "Blonde curls! Darren, please," her voice dropped to a whisper, "we may have just lost a car that costs more that what you or I make in several years stop asking if I'm sure who I'm speaking to!"

There was another very long pause and Lucy sighed, proffering the phone, "the securities manager wants to talk to you."

Ilya took the phone, unsure what information he could provide that Lucy couldn't. Unless this was a super fan, in which case Ilya was very much prepared to schmooze his way into getting his car back.

"Ilya Rozanov?" Darren asked in the purest Newfoundland accent Ilya had ever heard. 

"Rozanov-Hollander, but yes. Do you know where I put my car? Very embarrassing for me if I've lost an entire car, I think."

Darren was silent for a moment and then let out a low whistle, "holy shit, it's actually you."

"Darren!" Lucy squawked, clearly having overheard this. "Do not swear at guests!"

"It's okay Lucy, I hear much worse on the ice."

"But still .. "

Darren cut in, "no, sorry, she's right, it's just - well, it's just a shock to know it's you."

"Are you a fan?" Ilya asked, starting to understand Lucy's impatience.

"Well, not an Ottawa fan and to be honest, I prefer Hollander's style if we are talking Ottawa," Ilya rolled his eyes. "It's just it's crazy but um, I'm guessing you haven't seen the news? Twitter? Checked your phone?"

Panic started to rise in Ilya's chest, he frantically gestured to Lucy to hand him his phone.

"No, why, what's happened?" Thoughts of Shane, Yuna, David, the team, surged through Ilya's brain. Was someone hurt? Had Ilya been passed out whilst his entire world broke down around him? Canadian. Fucking. Vodka. Ilya would never drink it again. 

"It's you, bud," Darren let out a disbelieving laugh. "You're meant to be dead."

Ilya Rozanov dead at 34, sources claim

Swipe. 

Major RTC with confirmed fatality thought to be concerning NHL player Ilya Rozanov

Swipe. 

Tributes pour in for NHL superstar Ilya Rozanov

Swipe.

Police seen attending home of NHL players Ilya Rozanov and Shane Hollander after TCH collision

Shane.

Fuck.

"I'm dead?" Ilya looked up from Lucy's phone, the news reports all merging into one muddled mess. His phone was still meekly charging but the screen was smashed and wouldn't work. He could vaguely see missed calls from just about everyone he knew and there were some texted pleas barely legible on the screen, begging him to call when he could. Lucy had kindly offered her phone so he could try and call someone, but the problem was he had not memorised a phone number in years. 

"It, uh, looks like it, yes Sir. Sorry."

"And the police? Why the fuck are there police at my home talking to my husband?"

He wasn't expecting an answer from Lucy, but his tone must have said otherwise as she offered one almost immediately.

"Well I suppose if it's your car the assumption will be you were driving, so they might want to talk to him even if they hadn't established it's certainly you," Lucy said, staring at more articles on her own computer screen. "Looks as though major news outlets were able to report that it was your vehicle and that a body was recovered, but nothing beyond that. The gossip sites however," she grimaced, clicking past what looked to be a particularly dramatic article. Ilya caught sight of an image of his own car burned to a pile of twisted metal. 

"But they were stupid and did their jobs wrong. Everyone thinks I'm dead."

"I guess it's speculation, but it's reasonable speculation."

"It's not reasonable if I'm alive!" Ilya snapped. Lucy blinked rapidly, taken aback by Ilya's sudden anger. He hung his head apologetically. 

"Sorry."

"It's okay," Lucy said graciously. "I can't say I'd know how to react if I was in your situation."

Ilya very much also did not know how to react in this situation. He let out a long, pained groan and buried his face into his hands. The earliest report he'd seen on his own demise was from just before 5am and Shane would have definitely been awake then. Ilya thought about him checking his phone, would he have seen it immediately? Or would someone have tried to contact him to see what was going on? He would have been alone, that's for certain. He would have tried to call Ilya straight away, but the call would have never connected.

"I need to get home."

His hangover had been magnified tenfold and his head pounded. The news had been reported in the early hours and it was nearly 3 in the afternoon, so everyone who meant something to him had surely seen it and surely believed he was dead. What had they done? Immediately believed it, most likely, as there was no real reason other than sheer desperation to not believe it. Ilya thought for a moment what he'd do if he woke up one morning to see a headline reporting Shane had supposedly died in a fiery wreck. He only allowed himself to dwell on the idea for a moment before expelling it from his mind completely. 

"I need to call my husband, first. He needs to know I'm alive."

"If we contact the police, they'll be able to tell him?" Lucy suggested. "They're trained for that sort of thing, they might even still be at your house and could let him know immediately."

Ilya didn't particularly trust the police and an urge of protectiveness surged through him at the idea of Shane being sat down for the second time that day by uniformed men, but if it meant getting the message to Shane quickly then he would try anything. Lucy, once again going above and beyond her duties as a hotel concierge, pulled up the number for the investigating station and handed Ilya the handset to the hotel desk phone. It rang a few times before a smooth voice answered.

"Ottawa Po - "

"I need to speak with someone about Ilya Rozanov-Hollander?"

There was a very weary sigh as though the person who answered had already fielded many questions on the matter that day. 

"Sir, we will not be discussing this matter with any member of the public or press. This is an ongoing concern and we have no comment to offer yet."

"Okay, well I have comment for you," Ilya said through gritted teeth, "I am alive!"

There was a pause and the voice on the other end hesitated, "Sir, we are not offering comment on this ongoing matter."

"This is what I am trying to tell you! The matter is not ongoing, it's .. stopped-going! You can update your little - thing, the computer or whatever that has made everyone think I'm dead. You can write 'he is alive, we made mistake, the end' and everyone is happy. This is incredibly simple!"

"Sir - "

"If I need to prove I am alive, what do I do?" Ilya interrupted. 

"It would require proof of wellbeing, likely a visit to the station wherein officers could validate your identity."

Ilya glanced at the screen in front of Lucy, still displaying her google search for the station. It was miles off course for his journey home and Ilya wasn't going to entertain any delays, "that is not an acceptable option, what else?"

"That's all."

Ilya wished he wasn't so disgustingly hungover. His brain felt like sludge and he couldn't figure out a solution. His only real experience with the police had been his brother and father and he certainly knew how they would deal with the matter, "okay, so it's my only option, but I am wondering Mr - ?"

"Officer Matthews," Officer Matthews said drily.

"Mr Officer Matthews, I am wondering if maybe it would be nice I don't come to your station today, but you still update your computer that I am alive. I will come tomorrow, I think, and maybe bring something to show my appreciation? Police officers are very under-paid, and I have always thought this is a terrible shame."

Lucy's eyes widened and she began frantically waving her arms, mouthing 'don't bribe the Canadian authorities!' and it looked as if Officer Matthews shared the same philosophy. 

"Sir, are you trying to bribe an officer? That is an incredibly serious offence in itself, and - "

"You have the wrong number," Ilya said, and quickly slammed the phone down. He looked up at Lucy, who stared back at him almost pityingly.

"You're not meant to do that," she said, slightly redundantly. Ilya didn't respond, he just picked up his phone and jabbed a few more times at the screen. It was totally shattered, but other than that the phone still seemed to work. 

"Where can I get my phone fixed quickly?" He asked Lucy. She thought for a brief second and then procured a pen and paper and scrawled an address. 

"Down the street and around the corner."

Ilya thanked her and immediately headed for the exit. Lucy's desk had been helpfully tucked away in front of the staircase and relatively away from prying eyes. However, the streets of Montreal were busy and Ilya wasn't blending in. He still wore his clothes from the night before and a lurid silk shirt didn't exactly make going incognito easy. He stopped as an ATM caught his eye and made good on his previous mental note, shoving handfuls of cash into his wallet. Ilya ignored the curious look from the man behind him and crossed the street, heading to a building with a faded 'superspeed phone repair!' sign. 

Ilya slid into the small store at the end of the block, striding past rows of cables and cases to a bored looking man behind a desk. Ilya placed his phone onto the desk and cleared his throat.

"How long to fix a screen?"

"One moment," the man was staring down at his phone. A woman who had been perusing phone cases peered interestedly at Ilya and were he not so focused on staring daggers into the unhelpful store clerk, he would have sworn she snapped a quick picture of him. 

"How long?" Ilya asked again, sliding the phone further along the desk. The man sighed.

"We're pretty busy. You can drop it here and pick it up in a few hours," the man said, still not looking up from his own phone. Ilya smiled.

"I am so sorry,  you seem to misunderstand me. I am little hungover and my English is not good today," he held up a wedge of notes. "How long will it take to fix my phone screen?"

The mans eyes finally left his phone widened and darted between the money, Ilya's phone and a security camera in the corner of the room. He quickly reached out and stuffed the money in his pocket with a smile.

"Twenty minutes - thirty, absolute max." 

Take that, Officer Matthews.

23 minutes later, Ilya was marching back through the streets of Montreal, phone clutched triumphantly in hand. He was waiting for it to restart, so thought he should retreat back to the relative privacy of the hotel. Lucy greeted him, frantically gesturing for him to duck behind her desk.

"I've found your car!"

Ilya didn't want to necessarily be rude, but he couldn't help but think it wasn't the achievement Lucy seemed to think it was. He awaited the last few moments of his phone's update, eyes darting down to the screen every other second so he could hungrily pounce on it as soon as it came back to life, "ah, yes. It is a pile of metal on Ottawa Highway 817."

"No, I found who took it," Lucy said triumphantly. "You parked it on the same street as our sister hotel. It was no trouble getting footage." She tapped a finger on her screen, a blurry CCTV still showing Ilya leaning against a lamppost. From his stance, it looked as if the lamppost was a necessity and the only thing stopping Ilya from becoming familiar with the ground. As Lucy clicked play, Ilya on the screen began to sway. He was gesticulating wildly, engaged deep in conversation with a man in a vest and tie.

"So I gave it one of their valets?" Ilya asked, it still didn't explain how it ended up burnt out 200 kilometres away.

"No!" Lucy scrubbed through a solid five minutes of Ilya's animated talking before hitting play again, Ilya-On-Screen fished into his pockets and handed a fistful of notes to the man, alongside his car keys. A clumsy handshake was offered and Ilya-On-Screen happily toddled off to the afterparty. The man in the vest looked down to the keys as if unable to believe his luck, before swiftly clambering in.

"You were robbed!" Lucy said. Ilya blinked.

"I was?" He squinted at the screen. "I didn't seem to mind very much." His phone was still sheepishly coming back to life in his hand, unable to keep up with the pings of messages and notifications. Lucy shook her hand. 

"It's a scam, we know the guy. They usually target tourists with high-end rental cars; he and some other guys usually pose as Valets and get them to hand over their keys."

"Tourists?"

"Or people who are .. intoxicated, I guess. Usually they end up in a chop-shop within the hour, but I guess this guy wanted to take it for a spin."

Ilya is going to sue Canadian Vodka. Fuck it, he was suing Canada. All of it.  

"I guess this will be useful for the police, right? They'll have to believe you're alive and I guess they'll need to identify this man."

Ilya felt a small spasm of pity for the man in the video. He was a thief, sure, but he didn't deserve to die. The pity was disrupted by a happy little chime from his phone. It came to life with a flash and more notifications poured in. Ilya dismissed them and headed straight for his contacts, ducking away from Lucy and round the corner.

How the hell was he meant to start this? Hi sweetheart, it's me, I'm not dead, sorry for the confusion, do you want tacos for dinner?

No, that was stupid. Shane didn't like tacos. 

Ilya breathed a shaky sigh and hit 'call' on Shane's contact. It immediately hit voicemail. He wasn't surprised, he did guess that Yuna would firmly steer Shane away from the media as soon as she could. Ilya flicked through his contacts pulling up Yuna's quickly. Another immediate voicemail. David's? No. Voicemail. Who else would be with Shane?

Ilya wondered about the woman he thought took a photo in the phone kiosk. It would be understandable if she posted it online or even sold it to the press - after all, Ilya was a literal dead man walking in most respects. There were a few patrons of the hotel who had given him curious glances, would any of them have gone to the press? Ilya thought of Shane, what would happen if he found out Ilya was alive by way of news report? Would he even believe it? Ilya knew if the roles were reversed he would need to have Shane standing in front of him, living and breathing.

Ilya gave his name a quick google, most of the stories being ones he'd already seen earlier. None were reporting his resurrection. Not yet, at least. 

Every celebrity rag in Canada seemed to have the story of his death and were reporting updates by the minute. Some were circulating the same information again and again, but then then something caught his eye. It was a video from the gates of their home in Ottawa. The headline screamed:

EXCLUSIVE UPDATE FROM HOME OF BEREAVED NHL STAR SHANE HOLLANDER

Was Shane giving a statement? Surely no one would make him do that and Shane would never willingly do it unprompted .. unless maybe he knew the truth? Knew this was the world's most ridiculous mistake. Ilya allowed himself a moment of levity. Yes, somehow Shane figured out that the police and news reports were mistaken. He would tease Ilya about it, maybe be pissed off for the momentary scare but it would mean Ilya would get to see an adorable scowl and Ilya was well versed in the ways of getting those scowls to vanish. 

Everything was fine, Ilya assured himself, Shane was probably releasing a statement that his husband was alive and they could all go home. Shane would then wait for Ilya to come home, grumpy because his plans for the day had been disrupted. Ilya would return and obligingly grovel until Shane would eventually acquiesce and Ilya would spend the rest of their night proving he was very, very alive. 

Simple. Easy. Definitely not a total delusion. Definitely not a pathetic attempt to convince himself that the love of life wasn't probably beside himself with grief. 

Ilya clicked the article, waiting for the video to load. It was a clip from outside his own home. Yuna and David's car was parked outside, but the attention was turned to a figure emerging from the security gate. There was a surge of activity, camera flashes and shouts for  a comment or queries into Shane's wellbeing echoing out. Hayden Pike surveyed the crowd with a scowl, Anya's leash clutched in one hand, the other held high with middle finger extended.

"Yeah that's my comment, you fucking vultures. Leave him alone."

More flashes of cameras was the response. Ilya looked at the time the video was posted, about an hour ago. So Pike was there with Shane? Yuna and David too? Ilya's earlier delusions were fast fading. It seemed the only people in the world who knew he was alive were a few select staff at La Belle Nuit Hotel.

Or .. 

Ilya thought about Hayden. Would he still be there? The video was dated an hour ago. He must have his phone switched on, he wouldn't leave Jackie unable to contact him. He scrolled to the 'J' section of his contacts until he found who he was looking for. The phone rang out so quickly the call was surely declined. Seriously? Was Pike really that stupid that he rejected Ilya's call out of petty habit? 

Don't dwell too much on that, Ilya thought as he pressed the call button again. Once more, the call was declined and a message quickly followed.

Jackie's Husband: i'm blocking this number you sick freak. Whoever you are, this phone needs to be given to the police

Jackie's Husband: if your another fucking journo trying to speak to shane I will literally put your head through a wall

Ilya rolled his eyes, but at least Hayden very clearly had Shane's back. 

Ilya Rozanov-Hollander: **you're

He couldn't resist it. It felt like a way to prove it was really him. Ilya justified it with the knowledge it was the sorted of pedantry that Shane appreciated. 

Ilya Rozanov-Hollander: please dont block this number 

Ilya Rozanov-Hollander: please there has been a horrible mistake

Ilya Rozanov-Hollander: is really me 

There was a torturous wait for a reply. Had Hayden blocked him? Who would be the next best option to get a message to Shane as quickly as possible? Hayden would likely be letting the other players and their WAG's know that there was a supposed 'sick freak' pretending to be Ilya. Was he going to shut out all of Ilya's avenues? Ilya went to type another message, breathing a shaky sigh of relief upon finding he was still able to. Good. Not blocked. 

Ilya Rozanov-Hollander: I promise its me. We babysat for you last week and the twins gave us makeovers

Ilya Rozanov-Hollander: jackie was mad because they used her good makeup

Ilya Rozanov-Hollander: so we sent a giftbasket to your house which im pretty sure you took credit for 

Still no reply. Ilya was growing desperate, he knew Hayden was there, maybe only feet away from Shane. He needed to get the message out.

Ilya Rozanov-Hollander: we gave jackie very nice champage flutes as birthday present and you think we didnt notice you broke them within 2 days

Ilya Rozanov-Hollander: i acidentally taught your kids how to swear in russian and you didnt realise for a year

Ilya Rozanov-Hollander: you thought they were calling you 'daddy'

Ilya Rozanov-Hollander: they were not calling you daddy 

The message were being read but no reply was coming through. 

Ilya Rozanov-Hollander: when in hotels alone you used to watch movies that were too scary for you and have to go stay in shanes room 

Ilya had actually promised Shane he'd never reveal to Hayden he was aware of that particular fact, but this was a desperate measures sort of thing.

A facetime request appeared. Ilya answered instantly.

"What the fuck."

Hayden's greeting was understandable but Ilya had no time for pleasantries.

"I need to talk to Shane."

Hayden stared down at him. It looked as if he was in his car which was not promising for Ilya's plan to speak with Shane ASAP, "what is going on?"

"Where is Shane?"

"Where are you?"

Ilya grit his teeth.

"Montreal. How near to my house are you? I need Shane."

"What the hell is happening?"

"Get Shane. Now."

"Is this a Ghost thing?" Hayden asked nervously. "Like, am I Whoopi Goldberg?"

"I don't know what the fuck you are talking about. It's me, Pike, I need to talk to Shane."

"I know it's you, that much is clear but .. You're meant to be burned up in a morgue right now. Shane is going to be looking at your barbequed body soon. He's really messed up about it."

Ilya was going to cry. He was literally going to dissolve into a puddle of frustrated, angry tears. He was going to combust and die for real and his epitaph would read 'this is Pike's fault', "I'm clearly not in the fucking morgue! I am in a hotel in Montreal! Go. Get. My. Husband."

Hayden's expression betrayed absolutely no comprehension of the situation at hand. Ilya took a long exhale and began again slowly and with about as much patience he could muster.

"Someone took my car keys and crashed my car. Nobody knew it was stolen because I was passed out drunk in the hotel, so I never reported it. So when they find a body in my burnt out car, they assume its me and everyone overreacts. Okay? Do I need to draw you pretty picture? Have one of your children explain it to you?"

Something about Ilya's unbridled impatience must have unlocked something in Hayden and understanding suddenly dawned on his face, "oh my god, Ilya, you're .. Alive."

Ilya had to lower the phone at that and take a few deep, calming breaths. When Ilya returned to the call Hayden was out of view, the phone propped up in a cradle. Ilya glared at the headrest of Hayden's vacant seat, temper fast fraying. "Pike!" He barked.

"I'm here," came a voice from offscreen. "I've just put my head between my legs."

"Pull together."

"You mean 'pull yourself together'" said a mumbled reply. Eventually Hayden reappeared. He looked back down, exhaling shakily. "Holy shit. Holy shit. You're alive!"

"Yes."

"This is insane. This is a miracle." 

"This is a misunderstanding." 

"Shane is not okay, dude."

"No, he probably isn't."

"Everyone's really upset."

"I know."

"This is really fucked up. Yuna might actually kill you for this. Shane is definitely going to. Even David might throw a punch or something."

"I know! Can you get back to my house and let me speak to Shane?"

"I'm at a gas station a couple miles away, they made Shane go lie down and I was kind of in the way after I walked your dog so I was going home. I'll need to turn round," Hayden fumbled for his belt. "You need to call the police or something. Pretty sure you're all but legally dead at this point."

"I will figure that part out later, just get Shane okay?" Ilya didn't bother to hide the desperation in his voice. "Let me be the one to talk to him, I know what he's like. He'll be - he's going to be - "

"Not good." Hayden finished, buckling himself in, ignition chattering in the background. "Yeah, you're right with that one. I'll call you when I'm there."

Hayden hung up and Ilya stared down at his phone. So he just had to wait? 

No.

Fuck.

He had to figure out how to get from Montreal to Ottawa in record time. He marched back over to the desk.

"Lucy, I need a car."

"Um," Lucy pursed her lips, nose wrinkled. Ilya knew that despite his shower he still reeked of vodka and was in no fit state to drive and from her expression, he guessed Lucy was thinking of a tactful way to tell him this.

"Not one to drive, but you do private cabs, yes?"

"None available at the moment," she said apologetically. "Honestly, I - "

"How much?" He demanded, digging back into his pocket for his wallet and withdrawing the rest of his money. He was going to beg, borrow, bribe and steal if it meant getting home. He would run if it was the quickest option. "I can get more out, it's not a problem. Unless you want a bank transfer?"

"I can't - "

"Please."

The 'beg' part of Ilya's promise looked as if it were about to come in fruition and he was not above doing just so, "please Lucy, I know this is a weird day for you. Weird for me too, right? But my husband thinks I am dead. I have already scared him like this before and I cannot do it to him again. Please."

Lucy considered him for a moment, "Uber." She said simply. "Quickest option."

Uber it was.

He placed the cash down onto the desk and immediately opened the app. He was still getting messages and calls, but they had been silenced and his focus was solely on a shining beacon 200 kilometres away. He watched as it searched for a ride, his heart racing. Without looking up, he slid the cash along the desk.

"For you," he told Lucy. "Not a bribe, a thank you," he added. She immediately shook her head.

"I can't."

"I have not been polite to you," Ilya pulled his head from the phone. The wait was excruciating. "I have been rude and snapped and interrupted. You have been very kind and patient to me. You have gone beyond your job role. Please, accept this."

Lucy fumbled nervously before reaching out and cautiously taking the cash in her delicate hands. 

"Thank you."

Ilya was aware it would be the only time today he would be able to use his money to absolve guilt. He gave Lucy a final smile and ducked out of the hotel, shielding himself from the rain that had started to fall. It took a moment for a driver to accept the journey. Ilya knew it was a long drive for a taxi but it was literally his only option. He took to waiting, tucked away out of view, waiting on Hayden to call. After a few more painful minutes, Ilya's phone began to ring, Hayden's number flashing up on the screen requesting to facetime. Ilya answered within the second.

"Hey," Hayden said. "Thought it would be easier if I had literal proof of life. I'm outside your house."

There was a hammering in the background. Hayden must have been pounding the front door with all his might, calling out 'it's me, open up!' there was a long pause before a horrified his of -

"Hayden!"

Ilya could practically feel the venom in Yuna's tone from all those miles away and the pained squeak of the hinges as the door was wrenched open. "What are you doing!?"

It occurred to Ilya that Hayden was perhaps not the brightest bulb and that after Ilya had explicitly stated to not speak to Shane before Ilya could, he probably should have added that it would be fairly important to pre-warn the other Hollander's. Hayden muscled his way through the door, camera jolting as he did. It was only after Ilya heard the door slam shut that anybody spoke.

"I need to talk to Shane."

"He's still in bed," Yuna said frostily. It was perhaps a credit to Hayden that he didn't wither on the spot, but rather simply shoved his phone at Yuna.

"Hi Yuna," Ilya said meekly once her face appeared. She froze.

"No," a shaky hand made its way to her mouth. "Hayden, what is this, is this a joke?"

"It's him."

Yuna took the phone from Hayden, mouth agape in utter disbelief. "No," she said again. David popped up by her side, looking equally as shocked as his wife. "Ilya?" he goggled. Both Hollander's stared down at him, Yuna shook her head, attempting to shove the phone back.

"This is ridiculous Hayden, this is going to be a journalist using AI or spoofing a number - "

"Please! It's me, Yuna, I know you think it's AI because David liked that article in the New Yorker about it. We argued over dinner about if it was going to take over the world, yes?"

Yuna looked from David to Hayden. It was striking how much she looked like Shane, brow furrowed, the gears in her head clearly whirring and trying to make sense of this situation. She was looking at Ilya as though he was a logic puzzle only she could solve.

"We did," she confirmed, tone unreadable.

"David made extra parm for me to take home."

"He did," came another confirmation.

"So please believe me, this is not AI or robots, I am real."

Yuna stared down at her son-in-law, holding his gaze for an uncomfortable amount of time. Ilya was aware of how unfathomably bizarre the situation was. 

"I'm going to kill you, Ilya," she eventually said, faintly.

"Oh." Ilya had often been informed that somebody had murderous intent toward him, but he had to admit it actually stung a bit coming from Yuna. "That is fair."

"I'm going to murder you," Yuna confirmed, raking a hand through her hair. "Jesus. David, hold the phone, I'm getting a knife and driving to - ?"

"Montreal," Ilya prompted, because he was trying to be helpful and compliant, even if that meant being murdered by his mother-in-law.

"Montreal, perfect."

"Nobody is killing anyone," David cut in firmly. 

"I am. I'm killing Ilya, David, I'm going to murder him, what part of that is not clear? You'll be my accomplice - " 

"I need Shane," Ilya interrupted. "Can we please do this later? I am sorry for this, I will explain everything but please. I need to see him."

David pried the phone from his wife and spoke directly to Ilya, "I'm going to take you upstairs now. Shane is not in a good way but honestly, I have no idea how to handle this situation tactfully. So we're just going to walk in and tell him, okay?"

"Okay," Ilya echoed desperately. "Yes, please. How is he?"

"He thinks you're dead, Ilya," David said bluntly, camera blurring behind him as he ascended the stairs. The sound of Hayden and Yuna's footsteps clattered behind him, alongside a familiar pit-pat of Anya's feet. He heard a rapid knock on the door and their bedroom swam into view. 

Yuna was the first to speak. 

"Shane, get up." 

"Is it time?" Shane's voice was small, desperate and ragged. It was so far removed from the man Ilya married he had trouble reconciling it.

Time?

Oh. Time. Shane thought Yuna was collecting him to view the body.

Ilya needed to be home right fucking now.

"No, no, look Shane, there's been a mistake," the view from the phone glided around to face Shane and when Ilya saw which side of the bed he was curled up on, he felt his heart break just that little bit more. Shane's head poked above the blankets and Ilya was met with the face of his pale, clearly distraught, husband. 

Shane blinked, head slowly taking in everyone in his room before his gaze fell to the phone and onto Ilya's face. He blinked again. 

"What is happening?"

"Shane," Ilya began, entirely unsure how to begin but eager to get the very much big picture detail out of the way. "It's me, I am not dead."

Shane stared dead ahead. His arm moved under the covers and Ilya wondered if he was pinching himself. 

"What?"

"My car was stolen or I gave it to someone or something, I don't know. I am not dead, sweetheart, I'm alive. I'm here."

" .. What?"

"I'm not dead"

"What?"

They were in danger of being caught in a near infinite loop, it seemed. Yuna cleared her throat softly.

"It's him, sweetie, it's not a joke and you're not dreaming. There was a mistake."

"But, you - I - " Shane's brow crinkled in confusion, Ilya had always loved that expression but in the moment he was desperate for it to fade. For Shane's eyes to lighten and for him to give Ilya one of those sweet, fond smiles Ilya greedily chased each and every day. "What?" 

Hayden huffed, took the phone from Yuna's grip and thrust it into Shane's face. Shane slowly took the phone from his friend and Ilya noticed the screen trembling as he did. Shane went from being a slightly blurred figure wrapped in blankets to his face filling the screen. His hair was sticking up in tufts and eyes were lined with dark circles; even his freckles seemed drained of colour.

"Ilya." Shane finally said slowly, evenly.

"Shane," Ilya breathed, "it's me. I'm still in Montreal. I passed out in hotel. Asshole took my keys and crashed my car. I've been asleep most of the day, just drank too much. I am sorry. I am so sorry. I love you. I love you more than anything. I'll be with you soon, I promise."

There was a very long silence. 

"The police were here," Shane finally said faintly. He wasn't actually looking at Ilya bit rather past the view of the camera, presumably to the assembled group still in the room, "the police said they found his body."

"The police found an unidentified body which they presumed to be him," David corrected gently. 

"I'm coming home right now, don't worry," Ilya urged. 

Shane's gaze flitted briefly back to the screen before going back to the group. 

"Everyone's reported it, it's on the news," he whispered to them. 

"They're shitty celeb rags buddy, they report any rumour going and this was, uh, a pretty juicy rumour." Hayden's voice became clearer and his arm appeared, giving Shane's shoulder a quick squeeze. "C'mon, look at him. It's really him. I checked!"

Shane finally looked back at Ilya. His eyes were terrifyingly blank and expression unreadable.

"I'll be home soon, Sweetheart." Ilya promised. "I'll stay on the phone the entire time or you can track my location on this phone or both if you want. Whatever you want."

Shane nodded slowly, his face paler than ever. There was another painful silence and then he suddenly bolted, the phone falling onto the bed. A clatter rang out with the sound of hurried footsteps and the slam of a door. After another moment, the phone was lifted from the sheets and Hayden's face come into view.

"So he's actually puking, I think."

"Oh."

"Yuna's got him," Hayden added helpfully. 

"Oh. Good."

"But it's probably best I don't, um, so - uh - yeah, I'm probably not going to take the phone in there. He's clearly freaking out."

"Well, yes."

David appeared over Hayden's shoulder, "it's a lot to process, Kiddo, he just needs a minute to understand it's .. Real. I think, and you're not dead."

"I know," Ilya said miserably. He longed to crawl through to phone and drape himself around his husband, hold him to his chest and prove that his heart was still beating. He was still there and alive and overwhelmingly in love. "Please, just tell him I love him, yes? I will not stay on the phone, I don't think it's what he needs but I will answer the minute he calls .. If he calls, okay?"

"Okay," David agreed softly. "We love you, Ilya. This morning was the," he exhaled shakily, "the worst of our lives. We're so happy to know you're safe. So happy to know you're alive, Ilya."

Ilya swallowed, "Love you too, David. Yuna also, I love her."

Hayden cleared his throat and Ilya smirked, despite himself. The sheer anxiety of the situation was settling as a weird hysteria in his chest and the urge to prove he was alive to everyone around him was making him giddy.

"Tell Anya she's my baby, and I love her."

David laughed, though there were tears in his eyes, "will do."

"Tell the neighbours with nice topiary hedges I love them."

"Sure thing."

"I think garbage collection is today, tell the guys I them I love them."

"Noted."

"There is an old lady that jogs past our house on Saturday's, tell her - "

"Fuck you!" Hayden cried. "I mourned you, asshole! I was googling how to explain death to my children!"

That part actually hurt a little and just then, Ilya could actually see Hayden's eyes were almost as tired as David's. 

"I love you, Hayden," Ilya surprised himself with the sincerity of his tone. "It is nice to know you would look after Shane if anything happened." 

"Well yeah," Hayden grumbled but he gave Ilya a begrudging smile. "I'm glad you're not dead, man. I love you."

"Naturally. Though we'll deny this conversation ever took place if either Jackie or Shane ask?"

"Taking to the grave. A real grave."

Ilya smiled but it faded after a few seconds, "is Shane - ?"

"Still puking his guts up? Oh yeah, big time"

"Adrenaline, most likely," David added, "he'll be okay, just focus on getting yourself home, Ilya."

Ilya nodded, crushing the phone in his hand as though he could teleport via screen if sheer will would allow, "Tell him I love him," he said again, his throat going tight. The uber notification chimed telling Ilya that Ben had arrived. 

"Will do, we'll see you soon, Kiddo."

Ben was thankfully either unaware of who Ilya was or hadn't caught the news. Their only exchange had been a brief 'you got any music requests?' and a 'you need the air turned up higher?' The answer to both had been 'no' and Ben was tactful enough to fall quiet and begin navigating traffic. Ilya settled back in his seat trying to figure out what his next steps should be. How should he go about telling the world he wasn't dead? A quick video? Call the biggest news station he could? No, he had to tell the people he loved in person. It was starting to feel more for his benefit than theirs, but Ilya had three hours to kill and a fully charged phone was his only distraction.

"I'm going to be making some calls," he told Ben, who gave him a brief thumbs up and switched the music to his earbud. It wasn't total privacy but it would have to suffice. Ilya's thumbs skittered past message after message until he came to one sent to him at 06:42am. 

Sveta: how could you do this to me?

Sveta: bastard

Sveta: i hate you

Ilya paused over the 'call' icon and elected to send a message instead.

Ilya Rozanov-Hollander: Sveta it's me, I'm not dead. My car got stolen. Call me when you can

He thought of how long Hayden had taken to believe him and though he was certain Svetlana was considerably more intelligent, he still sent an assurance it was him.

Ilya Rozanov-Hollander: you once cried so hard at a car commercial that I made fun of you for a week

Ilya Rozanov-Hollander: then after that week you saw it again and cried some more

Ilya Rozanov-Hollander: you tried to pretend I cried too but you are a filthy liar 

Three dots appeared. Then disappeared. Then reappeared. 

Svetlana: you cried like a bitch and you know it 

A facetime request cane through almost immediately after. 

"Fuck you." was the immediate greeting. Ilya smiled.

"Surprise."

"You're meant to be dead."

"I know, I'm sorry."

"I cried over you! I had a very expensive facial treatment yesterday which was for nothing. My eyes are puffy as shit." 

"You still look beautiful."

"Flattery won't help. First you commit to a lifetime of monogamy and take away some reliably good sex, then you pretend to die. I'm reaching my limit with you, Ilya."

"You are not."

"I'm not," Svetlana admitted. "But you're on thin ice. What the hell have you been doing?"

Ilya recounted the night before, told her about his morning and only finding out he was supposedly dead a few hours prior. She was understandably unsympathetic hearing about what happened to his car, but her eyes softened somewhat when he began talking about Shane.

"He must have been in hell," she said softly. Ilya swallowed. 

"I didn't mean to do any of this. I didn't mean to put him through that. I just wanted to get drunk off Canadian vodka, I didn't want to die!"

"Canadian vodka?" Svetlana repeated, sounding unimpressed. They spent the next 10 minutes happily trashing !raw until the car slowed again. More traffic. Ilya felt his smile falter. He needed to be home and be with Shane. The wait was unbearable.

"He couldn't look at me," he said once the conversation had fallen into a lull. It wasn't necessary to explain who he meant. Svetlana tutted sympathetically. 

"It's hard, sladkiy, everyone thought you were dead. People still think you're dead to be honest, there's photos of you in a phone repair shop but they're being treated as a conspiracy."

"So fucking stupid."

Svetlana shrugged, "that's the media for you."

"I just - " Ilya hesitated. "Never mind, I need to go, I have lots of calls to make. I love you."

"I love you too, next time you die, please leave me millions in your will."

Ilya laughed genuinely at that, watching Svetlana's face disappear from the screen. 

The phone call with the police was awkward. Yuna had spoken to them prior, and whatever terrifying magic she'd managed to weave meant she could negate a visit to the station, but Ilya still had to loop through the same endless questions. 

Ilya couldn't shake the feeling the officer he spoke to was accusing him of intentionally causing this mess. He would admit he had a natural distrust of officers, owing to his father and brother, but he had attempted to be as civil as possible when they all but scolded him for not self-reporting to a station once he knew they had assumed he was deceased. To this Ilya retorted there was no guide on what to do when the entirety of Canada thinks you've died and he was providing perfectly reasonable information over the phone. 

Besides, his priority was getting back to Ottawa, not speaking with a beer-bellied officer in a dingy Montreal station but he bit his tongue on that part. 

The next hour was spent calling various members of the team. It felt an almost profound honour to Ilya that most of them cried with relief. Wiebe was so overcome he had to step away for five minutes. Dykstra had grilled Ilya on every aspect of their friendship until he was truly satisfied he was speaking with the real deal. Bood had nearly passed out, his wife having to swoop in and steady him. 

After a while news began to spread amongst the players of the truth, and what had started as sincere exchanges of friendship and respect quickly devolved into what Tanner christened 'the real roast of Ilya Rozanov', a moniker which was deemed both highly inappropriate and extremely funny. They even changed the group name. Ilya allowed himself a slice of normalcy in the group chat, it had never been busier or livelier, messages pinging off every other second. 

Dykstra: (ouija board.png) guess I don't need this anymore?

Bood: so glad we dont have to weekend at bernie's our way through the next game

Hayes: @bood I'd still be up for that tbf

Chouniard: @rozy selena is making me clean the gutters, tips on how to fake my own death to get out of it please??

Hayes: have some respect for the dead @chouniard 

News reports were slowly starting to pick up as well. Some were simple and to the point

Ilya Rozanov reported to be alive and well after his vehicle was stolen in the early hours of Saturday morning

Some were vaguely insulting.

HOAX? Has Ilya Rozanov gone too far with recent attention-grabbing stunt? 

Some were mildly deranged.

Do you believe in ghosts? Reports of spectre of Ilya Rozanov browsing phone cases circulate circulate - join us for an interview with professional medium, Seer Susie.

Ilya was mildly offended at the implication that his ghost would have no better unfinished business than to purchase a new phone case. The group chat had turned this into a game of other mundane things Ilya would come back from the dead for; a podiatry appointment, a 25% off coupon at Sobeys, a free pair of Birkenstocks

Just as Ilya was typing out an impassioned reply that he would never be caught in Birkenstocks (dead or alive) another message came through, separate from the group chat.

Baby Luca: hey is shane good? He text everyone this morning asking if we'd heard from u, but hasnt said anything since

Baby Luca: just feel pretty bad goofing off in the team chat if hes not okay yknow. Is he ok??

Well, that was the question, really. Shane was on radio silence and Ilya understood it was his processing time. He was likely angry too, Ilya couldn't blame him for that. Resentful? Perhaps. Ilya knew it would make matters worse if the chat suddenly fell silent and there was an almost zero chance Shane was looking at the messages anyway. Ilya couldn't really offer comment on how Shane was doing as he simply didn't know, so he just provided the truth.

Ilya Rozanov-Hollander: i don't know but ill be with him soon

Ilya still had an hour left on his journey and it felt as though time was standing still. Yuna had called him again and Ilya had the distinct feeling she just wanted further proof he was alive. She asked if he'd eaten ('no') and if he wanted some food put aside ('please') he asked if Shane had eaten and received the reply he was expecting. 

"Do you mind if I tweet something? Most people are picking up on the news, but I want something official out there. You broke a lot of hearts this morning."

Ilya wanted to protest that none of this was his intention and that he very much would like to shift some of the attention to the true villain of the story: Canada's attempts to produce grain alcohol. He stopped however when he realise one of the hearts he'd broken was Yuna's and confirmed that she was fine to post something.

He wasn't going to put anything up on social just yet. He was sure Yuna would come up with something appropriately humble and apologetic, which would immediately be identified as not his own words but he didn't care. He scrolled through twitter mindlessly, trying to remember the last time he'd been a trending topic. Whatever it was, it was considerably less dramatic than this. 

Rozanov Updates HQ @Rozanovupdatesunofficial:
Sources are now saying Ilya Rozanov alive!! Several credible reports that he has spoken with family, friends and authorities and confirmed his wellbeing

Lexi 🧚 @thathockeyslut98:
WHAT IS THIS ROLLERCOASTER OF A DAY???

shanes precious freckles @hollanderstan4life:
nobody wake me up if this is a dream fr #rozanovlives

kat hopkin @kathopkin02:
my parasocial ass cant take this, ive been through the emotional wringer, IMAGINE IF I ACTUALLY KNEW THE GUY #rozanovlives

marie 🐸 @frogmatrix:
replying to @kathopkin02: I would actually kill my husband if he did this to me

24+81 = 105 @hockeybeth: 
replying to @frogmatrix: Ilya Rozanov alive and well (until hollander gets ahold of him)

Asha (dedicated Haas girly) @ashasaysalot:
reply to @hockeybeth: Ilya rozanov seen voluntarily climbing into flaming car after trying to explain to his husband wtf just happened, more at six 

 

Ottawa Centaurs ✅ @ottawacentaursofficial:
We are pleased to report Ilya Rozanov-Hollander is indeed alive and well. We'd like to take this moment to extend our gratitude to those of you who offered sincere condolences and our thoughts are with the family of the as-yet unidentified driver of the vehicle

Luca Haas ✅@LucaHaasReal:
we're in as much shock as you guys, grateful for the kind words and even more grateful they weren't necessary

Marly ✅ @CMarleau_Player:
MY BEAUTIFUL BOY LIVES!!!!!!! EVEN DEATH CANT BEAT HIM!!!

Yuna Hollander ✅ @YunaHollanderRep:
Thank you all for your sincere kindness. We have spoken with Ilya and the police have confirmed his wellbeing. We would like to thank the emergency services for their support and ask for privacy at this time. Our thoughts are with the family of the driver of the vehicle. 

Hayden Pike ✅ @HaydenPikeHockeyPlayer:
Crazy day 🙏

Rozy stan 1st, lesbian 2nd @lisaburnhu46_:
replying to @HaydenPikeHockeyPlayer: imagine dying and getting hit with the 'damn that's crazy 🙏' from pike. id throw hands. 

Clare A @Clarebearbow_:
marly, haas, momma hollander and the official ottawa page all confirming it. Oh my god this is real hes alive

FiFi ✨ @Custardpie:
replying to @clarebearbow: so thats all well and good but now I owe the devil my first born. Who knew those deals actually worked???

Clare A @Clarebearbow_: 
replying to @custardpie: thank you for your service bestie 🙏

"Just down here, bud?" Ben asked, navigating down a side road. Ilya nodded, heart in his throat.

He was home.

Shane lay his bed thinking about what would come next. He'd allowed himself a foggy period of delusion that Ilya was with him before slowly wrenching himself from the dream. He was Shane and Shane faces facts and plots out his next move and will always have a plan. He couldn't entertain lies any longer, it was far too dangerous and slippery of a slope. Hayden had returned with Anya about an hour ago and he could hear her barking, most likely searching for Ilya. Shane wondered for a moment or two if he should go join her. 

Instead he lay there, painstakingly listing everything that came next and tried to ignore that with every addition, he said goodbye to something he thought he had to come.

See his body.

Ilya would usually have been home by now.

Arrange his funeral.

It was Ilya's birthday in a couple of months.

Pick where to scatter his ashes.

They were due to go to the cottage in the next few weeks.

Decide what to do with the house.

They'd had a few trees planted in the yard last month.

Shane drew a shaky breath. At some point he was going to have to get out of bed and the list would turn into his reality. Ilya's scent would ebb from the pillows, his clothes would need to be folded up and boxed away, their photos on the wall would fade in the sun. Ilya would leave him again, piece by piece and memory by memory. 

There was a commotion downstairs. Shane could hear his mom arguing with someone - probably Hayden, he was starting to fray on his parents nerves for the sheer crime of existing in a space where Ilya no longer did and had turned into a convenient target for their ire. Shane burrowed further down into the blankets, running through his list.  

Live an entire lifetime without him

They were going to have kids.

Grow old alone.

They were going to grow old together.

Do whatever comes next.

Which was? 

The commotion grew louder. Somebody - everybody, how many pairs of feet was that? - was clattering up the stairs. Weren't they meant to be letting him sleep? They'd been figuratively tiptoeing around him the entire morning, they couldn't bring themselves to literally do it?

Unless they needed to wake him up. Shane realised with a jolt that it was probably his mom was coming to get him so he could view Ilya's body. It occured to Shane with a horrific intensity that he couldn't do it. Any of it. He couldn't see whatever remained of Ilya. He couldn't lose his best friend. He couldn't have it be true. Shane grabbed the covers back up over his head and pulled them tight, just as he did when he was a child and he was afraid the monsters at night were coming for him. His heart hurt with the intensity of its pounding and his eyes were stinging again. 

There was a quick knock at the door but it was shoved open without waiting for a reply. The covers were straining over Shane's head and he screwed his eyes shut. He could hear his mom's voice and he willed himself to reply.

"Is it time?"

He would do it. He would see Ilya. He would give him the most beautiful funeral. He would dedicate his life to preserving his legacy. He wouldn't rest until everyone on earth knew the name Ilya Rozanov-Hollander and they would breathe it with awed exhalation. He forced himself to surface from the blankets, his ears and heart humming with adrenaline. He would do it for Ilya. 

His mom said something again and the buzzing in his ears grew louder. Something about a mistake? He must be mishearing things or he must've legitimately gone insane with grief already. His parents and Hayden were staring at him as though he was going to break any moment, which wasn't an unreasonable assumption to make. Shane dropped his gaze to the phone pointed at him and blinked. 

Ilya stared back at him on the screen. 

After a while, Shane could only heave hopelessly. He'd been hunched over in his ensuite for some twenty minutes, retching miserably. He'd not eaten all day, he'd only managed a few small sips of tea that morning and his stomach was protesting that there was nothing further to give. His mom murmured soothing hushes, stroking his hair out of his eyes.

"It's okay, deep breaths," she pressed a small kiss to his sweaty forehead. "You got everything out?"

Shane paused and nodded weakly. 

"Stay there. I'm going to get you some water."

Shane nodded again, as she left his side leaving him still clinging desperately to the porcelain. Ilya is alive, Ilya is alive, Ilya is alive, Ilya is alive, Ilya is alive, Ilya is alive, Ilya is alive. The mantra thundered in his brain. He was there on the screen. He looked at Shane. He said Shane's name. He said it desperately, as though Shane was the one who had died. He'd told Shane he was coming home and that every single delusion Shane had that morning was true. 

His mom returned and handed him a glass of water, "drink it slowly," she said sternly. Shane nodded, hand tremoring as he took measured sips. The nausea was dying down but the thundering in his chest was still there, hammering relentlessly against his ribcage. Shane took another shaky sip, swished it around in his mouth and spat. It took a moment or two for him to muster himself and lean against the wall. 

"He's .. alive," he told his mom. She nodded, face blooming into a teary smile.

"He is."

"Definitely?" Shane thought about an argument at a family dinner a few weeks back. Something about AI. He'd been mostly distracted by a poor play earlier that day and had been obsessively revising it in his head. He wished he'd listened to his dad and Ilya bicker about identifying fakes and robots and whatever it was. 

"It's definitely him, Shane," his mom said firmly. "He's on his way home, he'll be here in a few hours."

"Right," Shane couldn't quite believe her. Delusion was a hell of a thing. 

"How are you feeling?"

"I don't know."

"It's okay if you're angry. I am," his mom settled next to him, resting the back of her head on a hanging hand towel, "I'm angry at him. Very angry. And the media too and the man who stole his car."

"I guess. Yeah. Angry."

"But so relieved, more than anything," his mom pulled him close to her and squeezed tightly. "I didn't know it was possible to feel this happy and angry at once."

"Yeah. Relieved too."

Shane didn't know how to express what he was feeling. It was never something he was particularly good at. How was he going to articulate that he felt as if he were made of porcelain which had been thoroughly destroyed by a hammer, only to be suddenly and unceremoniously shoved together again? That all his pieces had been strewn through the house and then he was expected to bundle them together at a moment's notice? He'd heard his dad and Hayden laughing with Ilya when he was in the bathroom and hadn't been able to understand how it was possible. Then again, Ilya just had that effortlessly charming effect on people and it made sense he could find humour in whatever this situation was.

It was as if he could work miracles. 

Eventually Shane made his way from the bathroom and into the living room. He'd had a long shower using Ilya's shampoo and brushed his teeth several times.  There was a fresh pot of coffee waiting for him which he couldn't stomach and the sight of his dad unboxing some donuts. Shane opted for water.

"Stomach still doesn't feel great," he told his dad at the prompting of a concerned look. His dad pursed his lips, unconvinced and Shane felt a small twinge of irritation. It was as though he were a kid again, home sick from school. There was then an immediate crush of guilt, his issue with his parents was what, they were too caring? Too considerate?

"Thanks," Shane added. "I'll eat later."

His dad was clearly unconvinced but didn't push it further. He just cast his wife what he must've thought was a subtle glance, which she returned with an unreadable expression.

"I'm going to call Ilya," his mom said lightly. "Would you like to speak with him?"

Shane shook his head and wondered if she thought he was punishing Ilya by giving him the cold shoulder. He was angry, it was true. He didn't know the full details, only that someone stole the Porsche and crashed it, and he wasn't sure if that could even qualify as Ilya's fault. He knew first-hand that Ilya had been drunk, but how much had that accounted into things? What if Ilya had been held up at gunpoint or something? Shane felt a horrible twist of guilt. He'd had a nasty manifestation of anger building towards Ilya for the past couple of hours, but what if Ilya had been robbed and had spent the past few hours as terrified as Shane?

"Ask him how the hangover is," his dad said, dropping the last of the donuts onto a plate, "or if he's pulled anymore Oprah stunts."

Shane looked at his dad quizzically and received a grin in return.

"He gave his car away voluntarily from the sound of things."

So, not terrified. Charitable, apparently. 

Fuck, maybe Shane was going to have to kill Ilya himself. 

His mom had made everyone dinner, piling dishes up high as she cooked. Shane's hand had twitched towards them and Yuna steadied him.

"Leave it, Shane, come and eat."

Shane hadn't been able to. He'd just sat at the table, fidgeting with his fork in his hand. Yuna had tactfully ignored this and just covered his plate after everyone had finished, placing it in the fridge next to Ilya's.

"So you two can eat together, right?"

Shane nodded. Sure, once Ilya was home and Shane had strangled him with his bare hands they could settle in with a nice plate of pasta.

Or maybe Shane wasn't going to strangle him. Maybe he was going to do something pathetic like throw up again. 

Cry? Maybe. He truly didn't know. He just patiently waited for his parents to clear the room and looked to his mom beseechingly.

"Let me clean my kitchen, Mom, nobody does it right."

Which was true, Shane was specific with how he liked the kitchen ordered. Yet, after his parents had been seconded to the living room with glasses of wine, Shane found himself going beyond the dishes left after dinner. He washed them in the sink, soapy suds flooding around which led him to wiping down every surface. The cupboards were next, pulling disused glasses and plates and piling them into the dishwasher. Cleaning spray was spritzed around and out in the laundry room, a load of dishtowels were obediently swirling in the washer. 

Shane turned to another cupboard. More crockery, a wedding gift from one of the guys. Hunter, maybe? Shane pulled it all out so they could await their turn in the dishwasher. 

There was a sound which was possibly the front door opening and then a voice which was definitely Ilya's. Shane's heart began to hammer. He should put the dishes down and go out. He should see for himself that the morning really had just been a horrible mistake and Ilya was alive, just metres away.

He carried on tidying, one dish out after the other, placing them into the dishwasher. 

He could hear his mom and dad greeting Ilya joyfully and Ilya's deep rumble in return. Shane steadied his pace to a slow rhythm. One after the other. One after the other. 

Why the hell was this so terrifying? 

Behind him, the kitchen door creaked open. Shane turned around, his heart hammering a familiar beat.

"Shane? I am home."

Ilya looked, for lack of a better word, like shit. His clothes from the night before were stained and rumpled and his hair was sticking in wild curls. There was a distinct smell of stale alcohol and cigarettes on him, and traces of a long, hungover day were all too evident.

Shane had been thinking over the past few hours what he'd do when Ilya was back with him. It hadn't occured to him, though it should have been obvious, that all Shane was going to do was fall hopelessly further in love.

"You're here," Shane said, voice hoarse. Ilya smiled tired and Shane drank in the crinkle of his eyes, the moles on his cheeks.

"I'm here."

He paced towards Ilya hungrily, grabbing him by his shirt and pulling him in close. Shane could feel a thrumming pulse which wasn't his own, feel Ilya's soft gasps from breath as they kissed and kissed and kissed. He nuzzled along Ilya's neck, tracing his pulse point and relishing his husband's firm hand steadying his waist. 

He was home. 

Ilya's hand shook as he reached for the front door. It swung open before he could even make contact with the bell and David Hollander stood before him, grinning broadly.

"You're here!"

David looked as if he'd aged 10 years in a single day. Puffy eyes betrayed the fact he'd been crying and his clothes were unusually rumpled. The video call they'd had before didn't do the sheer tiredness seeping off of him any justice. Ilya was pulled into the house and lead to his own living room, David's grip tight on his shoulder as though he was about to drift away any moment. Anya was excitedly yapping at their heels. Ilya reached down to ruffle her ears, only to be pulled up by a sudden joyful shriek.

"Ilya!" Yuna cried. It was unnerving how unpolished she looked, but it was with a familiar warmth and waft of powdery perfume that she threw her arms over his shoulders, dispersing her husband. "Oh I'd murder you here and now if I wasn't so happy."

"Apparently that would upset some people," Ilya said, voice muffled by her shoulder. She laughed and pulled away, tears streaming down her face.

"It would appear you are very well loved, that's why," she said. Ilya nodded, his throat sticking.

"I am. I'm very lucky, like that."

There was nothing from Shane. He hadn't even made his way into the room.

"Where is - ?"

Yuna's face fell slightly and she nodded over her shoulder.

"Cleaning the kitchen."

A classic move and not a good sign. Ilya excused himself, feeling David and Yuna's eyes boring into his back as he headed to the kitchen alone. He found Shane pulling various items of crockery from the cupboards and placing them in the dishwasher in a steady rhythm. It was a full deep clean, which was an even worse sign. Ilya cleared his throat.

"Shane? I am home."

It was a ridiculous greeting, as though Ilya was the husband from a 50's sitcom. Shane looked up from the dishwasher. His face was not as pale as it had appeared on the phone screen but his eyes were still lined. He did not smile.

"You're here," he said softly.

"I'm here," Ilya returned. His eyes were burning with tears and it only took a pause and few strides from them both before they collided into an embrace. Shane buried his head into Ilya's shoulder and a shaky hand made it's way up to his chest, feeling for a heartbeat.  It rested there for a brief minute before snaking up around Ilya's jaw capturing him into a breathless kiss.

"You're here," Shane repeated against Ilya's lips after a string of desperate kisses. "Jesus, it really is you."

Ilya hated how awed Shane sounded. As though he hadn't believed every fibre of Ilya's being had been focussed on getting home or as though he didn't quite believe Ilya was alive. He was so desperate for Shane to smile. He knew he would have spent the day in abject misery and it was all Ilya's fault. It was a point of pride for Ilya that he knew how to make Shane smile. Reluctant, peevish, fond, loving, lustful. Ilya had a roster of his favourite smiles from Shane but right then, any one would do.

"So," Ilya chuckled, dotting a few quick kisses across Shane's freckles. "Last time you thought I died I got a proposal so I'm thinking this time, maybe some head?"

Shane froze. He withdrew. His eyes narrowed. 

Ilya stepped back.

Shane stepped forward.

Ilya stepped back again. The room had iced over at record speed. 

"Sorry, I - "

"Jokes?" Shane hissed.

"Shane - "

 "Joking? I have spent the day mourning my husband and he wants to joke about it?" 

"I - "

"I thought you were dead! I thought you were fucking dead and you want to make jokes?"

Shane's voice was rising, his cheeks flushing. Anger wasn't something he wore a lot and it was unsettling.

"I've spent the day thinking my life had ended! I've spent the day wondering how the hell I'm meant to just carry on and what the point would even be! I've sat here thinking I'm going to need to burn this damn house to the ground because there's no way I could live somewhere with the happiest memories of my life knowing I'd never be close to being that happy again! Never be close to being normal again. I was thinking about burning it to the ground with me in it so I could feel what it would be - what it would be like to - "

Shane's voice had risen to a shriek by the end of his tirade and then trailed off into a desperate, unsettled gasp, tears rolling down his face. Ilya's eyes were still burning too. The joyful voices from the living room had long quieted.

"Everything ended when I saw that report," Shane whispered after a long silence. "I was calling and calling and you wouldn't pick up. The police came to the door and told me to sit down and everything just .. Stopped mattering."

Ilya desperately searched for his own voice, "I'm so sorry, Sweetheart."

"You don't know what it was like."

"I can't imagine." It was true. Ilya had thought again in the Uber ride over what he'd do if the roles were reversed, but his brain simply hadn't allowed it. As soon as he began to consider what it would be like to think he'd lost Shane, he couldn't form a coherent thought, almost as if his brain was in self preservation mode. No, don't even imagine it, you couldn't handle it, you wouldn't be strong enough.

"I'm so sorry, Shane."

"I don't know how I'm meant to be normal about this. It hurt, and you want to joke about it right now?"

"I just wanted you to smile," Ilya was well aware of how pathetic he sounded and Shane seemed to take some level of pity on him

"It's not your fault," Shane sighed and scrubbed his sleeve over his face. "Not really, I guess. You didn't ask for this. No one would ask for this."

Ilya was certain this was one of those moments he knew exactly what to do. He stepped forward again, gathering Shane into another embrace. There was the briefest pause before Shane melted back into his arms, shaking with soft, hiccoughing sobs.

"I was thinking about how hot car fires burn and the melting point of gold. I couldn't bear the fucking thought of having to bury you without your mom's crucifix or your wedding ring."

Ilya hushed him, holding him impossibly tight. Shane's sobs increased, but he continued speaking. 

"I kept thinking if you were scared, if you knew what was happening or if you'd suffered. Wondering what killed you, the impact or the fire? I was praying you'd died quickly."

"Shhh - "

"I wanted it to be me. We agreed I'd die first."

"We agreed no such thing," Ilya said firmly, pressing more kisses to Shane's cheeks, forehead, nose. 

"You're not allowed to leave me."

His voice was so painfully small. Desperation was another thing Shane rarely wore (at least, outside of sex) Ilya hated it and hated he was the cause of it. 

"I won't." Ilya was viciously familiar with the pain of losing someone. He never wanted to expose Shane to that.

"If something like that really happened, you wouldn't get much of a choice."

"I am simply going to become immortal Shane, so you never have to feel like this again," Ilya felt this joke would perhaps be slightly better received. He is indeed rewarded with a shaky, wet laugh.

"You're fucking right you are." Shane heaved out an unsteady sigh. "I love you so much that every part of me hurts."

Ilya didn't know if it was possible or advisable to hold Shane any tighter but he was certainly going to try, "I love you too. Since the beginning, Shane, and for forever."

Shane clung tighter still, "this has been the worst day of my life."

"It's over now, I'm here. I'm here." 

They held each other for some time, Ilya rubbing slow circles on Shane's back. After a while, there was a small knock on the entryway to the kitchen and Yuna slowly peered around with David in tow.

"Hi," she said, watching the two still embracing men with a small smile. "We're going to leave, but call us if you need."

"Oh, right," Shane swallowed and finally untangled himself from Ilya's arms. "Thank you."

"I would say 'anytime' but if there is ever a repeat of this, there will be consequences. Ilya," Yuna crossed the room and squeezed Ilya tightly. He let himself just be held for a moment before placing a quick kiss on her cheek. She smiled, "I'm not sure how many times I can express how happy we are you're not dead, but for nearly scaring me to death, you've dropped in my rankings. So, my #2 son, I love you and we'll call tomorrow."

Ilya laughed and bowed his head, "you are tough, but fair."

"And my #1 boy," she cupped Shane's face in her hand and pressed a quick kiss to his forehead. "It's over now, okay? The day is over."

"Yep."

"Ilya is here and alive."

"He is."

"I love you." 

"Love you too, mom."

The kitchen fell briefly silent again. David coughed slightly, hand coming up to squeeze Ilya's shoulder. "We will leave you boys be, you know where we are if you need us."

"I do and," Shane swallowed. "Thank you, I honestly don't think I would've made it through the day if you guys weren't here."

"We're always here for our boys," David said, teary eyed again. "even if #2 has some serious grovelling to do."

"It's not really his fault, dad. I mean, some of it is but .. "

"I'm serious Shane, if Ilya ever gets so drunk he accidentally fakes his own death, creates a nationwide panic and sends half of Canada into mourning again, I'm putting him on the time out chair."

Ilya snorted. Shane did too, which made Yuna snort in an identical manner. The snort made Iyla giggle in delight as he never gets to hear both Hollander's snort. Eventually, hysterical laughter filled the kitchen which was almost certainly fuelled by their waning adrenaline.

"Oh God," Yuna said, wiping her eyes. "That wasn't even funny, David."

"No," David said fondly. "Come on, lets leave them in peace."

Final hugs, kisses and I love you's were exchanged. Ilya and Shane waved the Hollander's off from their front door, arm in arm, watching the car retreat. It wasn't until the cars lights disappeared into the night did they shut the door and stood staring at each other in the entryway of their home.

"So." Shane began.

"So."

"Not dead."

Ilya's lip twitched. "Not dead."

"You've told Svetlana, right? And all the guys know? They were texting me, but I had to switch my phone back off, it was getting too much - "

"I've spoken to everyone. Needed to keep myself busy in the car or else I would have crawled out of my skin."

"You've told - "

Ilya shushed him, "everyone who I care about already knows. The person I care most about is right here."

Shane smiled but it didn't last long. His covered his eyes and sighed.

"I'm so fucking exhausted."

"Let's go to bed."

"Mmm," Shane agreed, but made no effort to move. Instead, he leaned into Ilya and stood there for a moment, allowing his husband to cradle him gently. 

"This is not our bed."

"Okay," Shane murmured against Ilya's shoulder, breathing deeply. Ilya thought he may've actually dozed off standing there and was calculating the mechanics of scooping him up and carrying him to bed without disturbing him. Shane jolted back suddenly, making Ilya jump. 

"Oh, shit, wait - I forgot!"

Ilya blinked as Shane disappeared from his grasp, striding back to the kitchen. He followed suit, Anya trotting along as well, happy to be involved.

"Shane?"

"Your meds!"  Shane grabbed a bottle up from the counter. "I found your spare, I guess you didn't take a dose this morning?"

Ilya took the bottle from his husband, the pills rattling as it was exchanged. He'd been nursing a headache all day which he'd naturally chalked up to his hangover,  but he supposed his very late dose had something to do with it. Shane handed him a glass of water and watched him swallow the pills down. Ilya thought of how some of the texts he'd been reading felt like small I love yous. This felt the same.

"Thank you."

"You need a refill anyway."

"I do."

Ilya placed the glass down. He'd ended up chugging the water and was only just realising how dehydrated he was. Hungry, too.

"Your mom said there were leftovers?" Ilya asked hopefully. Shane nodded, headed over to the fridge and withdrew two plates. He considered them thoughtfully for a moment.

"I'm starving," he looked up at Ilya, confused. "How the hell am I only just realising how hungry I am?"

"Busy day," Ilya said lightly, taking one of the plates from Shane and shoving it in the microwave. Shane rooted in the fridge for a box of salad whilst Ilya sawed up a crusty loaf of bread and chugged another glass of water. Anya patrolled the floor for crumbs, shooting Ilya hopeful glances as he swallowed down a hunk of bread. As they waited for Ilya's dinner to heat, Shane's sat in front of him, a neat serving of greens on the side.

"You should start," Ilya said thickly through a mouthful of bread. Shane shook his head.

"I'll wait."

The microwave beeped. Ilya shovelled in the last bite of bread before grabbing the plate out, adding a generous sprinkling of parmesan for good measure. He decided to forgo the leafy greens and it almost felt possible to hear Shane roll his eyes. Ilya settled into his chair, regarding his plate of pasta fondly. Another I love you, it seemed.

Ilya shovelled in a few forkfuls before jerking his head to Shane's untouched food; it was pure carbs and dairy, exactly what Ilya was craving.

"Thought you were hungry," he knew Shane hadn't had a bite to eat all day. Shane had never really been able to address or identify his tenuous relationship with food, so Ilya took it upon himself to keep vigil at mealtimes, ready to reach out with a gentle nudge if ever he saw habits slipping in again.

Shane nodded and picked up his fork, prodding the greens on his plate. He faltered and it dropped back down again. Ilya was up in an instant, pulling his chair around to sit next to Shane, nudging his foot with his own.

"Hey," he jerked his head to the plate again. "Come on, you need to eat. You've had nothing today, you need food, any food. Cheat day."

"Hm?" Shane asked, seemingly confused by Ilya's concern. He looked between the two plates, "oh, right. Yeah I know, don't worry," he fixed Ilya with a small smile. "I'm fucking starving and I know it, I was just think how happy I was to be annoyed with you."

"Oh?" In truth, Shane did seem to make a hobby of being annoyed with Ilya, so this wasn't out of the ordinary.

"Yeah. I was watching to drown your food in cheese and ignore the salad and I was thinking 'that man is going to go an entire day without touching a single vegetable and then whine to me that he feels shitty and sluggish.' And I was just so happy to be able to think that again, you know? I was wondering how to sneak some spinach on your plate and I was suddenly just so happy that it was something I got to try and figure out again."

Ilya wondered how often Shane snuck vegetables into his dinners. He was going to ask, but something in Shane's face said that wasn't the right moment for the question. He looped an arm around Shane's chair, letting him lean in. 

"I really thought I'd lost you," Shane whispered suddenly. Ilya's heart shook.

"I know."

"I kept thinking I was deluding myself, when you called" Shane confessed, burying himself further into the crook of Ilya's neck. "I was sure I'd just gone insane with grief that quickly. Or that I was dreaming and I was going to wake up and our bed was empty again." 

Ilya could only rub a soothing hand up and down Shane's back.

"I wanted to call you after you facetimed, well, after I stopped throwing up. But every time I looked at your contact I just kept seeing all these messages I'd sent you and I was scared what would happen if I called you. Either you wouldn't answer and I realise I was  being deluded or you'd answer and laugh at me for overreacting."

Ilya tried to quash the small dart of hurt he felt at that assumption, "I can't even imagine what I would have done in your position. I would never have laughed at you, I was desperate to hear your voice."

"I know, I know. My mind was just a mess." Shane leaned against Ilya and sighed "I was angry at you too, I guess, for getting so drunk. What if as soon as you answered the phone I started yelling at you?" He asked. 

"I'd have deserved it."

"Maybe."

"I deserved it earlier."

Shane's mouth quirked with an ill-disguised smile, "a fucking blow-job joke," he muttered, sounding so sweetly fond that Ilya could have melted on the spot. "I really thought I was going to have to actually kill you."

"You'd have to get in line, behind your mother."

"Oh she's too efficient, there would be nothing left."

Shane settled into eating his dinner. Ilya, satisfied that Shane was eating happily, went back to wolfing down his own portion. They were quiet for the rest of the meal, the only disturbance was Anya snuffling at their feet for crumbs. Ilya watched Shane, noting every single minute movement as he ate. He thought of losing his mother and how it broke him. In a huge, devastating way at first and then smaller heartbreaks throughout his life. His first birthday he spent without her or the first nightmare he had about her. He lost her again and again throughout his childhood. It felt like he lost her once more the first time it really struck him she was never going to meet the love of his life.

He could never give Shane that plethora of heartbreaks, even if it was literally over his dead body.

Their plates were cleared after a while and slotted neatly in the dishwasher with their wedding crockery. Shane yawned, glancing at his watch.

"I'm exhausted and I want another shower - you definitely need one, just so you know - and then we need to sleep for an unreasonable amount of time."

Ilya let out a yawn of his own, thinking of their warm, soft bed and a night spent in it holding Shane close, "good idea."

Shane awoke in the night with a small jolt. He lay there, heart racing, for a few moments before rolling over to face Ilya. He was gently snoring and his curls were squashed and wild from where he'd fallen asleep with shower damp hair. Shane watched the rise and fall of his chest for a while before letting himself drift back off.

Still there.

Ilya Rozanov-Hollander ✅ @Rozanov81:
I am sorry for the confusion and upset caused yesterday after my death was mistakenly reported. Rest assured I am alive and well. I'd like to extend my gratitude to the emergency services who attended the scene and who cared for my family. (1/3)

Ilya Rozanov-Hollander ✅ @Rozanov81:
I am taking some time with my loved ones to reflect on how alcohol can harm not only me but others around me. Irresponsible consumption is not condoned by myself or @raw_vodkacanada and I look forward to our continued collaboration (2/3)

Ilya Rozanov-Hollander ✅ @Rozanov81:
I am grateful for the kind words about myself and was genuinely touched by your support. I am proud of the hockey community and togetherness shown yesterday. Lastly, my thoughts are with the family of the driver involved and I would like to offer my sincere condolences. (3/3)

The next morning was a quiet, sleepy start. Ilya awoke to the feeling he was being watched, a feeling which was confirmed when he rolled over in bed to see Shane staring back at him.

"Watching me sleep? Pervert." He teased. Shane rolled his eyes

"You watch me sleep all the time."

"Lies. Lies and slander."

"We both know it's not."

Ilya didn't dispute further - after all, he had no right to. Shane rolled closer and rested his head back on Ilya's chest. He sighed, rubbing sleep from his eyes, "I'm so happy they cancelled today's game. I don't want to leave this house, let alone this bed."

"Why did they cancel it?"

"You're not serious."

Ilya shrugged. Shane huffed.

"They cancelled it yesterday morning for very obvious reasons which I refuse to accept you don't understand. Wiebe called when you were still asleep, apparently they can't uncancel it, so here we are," he nuzzled happily further into Ilya, who held him tighter in return.

"Here we are."

They lay there for a while, Shane's fingers gliding along the lines of the bear tattoo on Ilya's chest. A few minutes passed and then Shane sighed. 

"I really want to stay here forever, but I also really need the bathroom."

Ilya would have loved to have protested, but he knew life was waiting for them which was a joy, upon reflection.

"I need to feed Anya," Ilya said, eyeing the bedside clock slightly regretfully. Especially when Shane rolled away from him and sat on the edge of the bed. "She will be looking at her little doggy watch and thinking I don't love her anymore."

Shane paused, head tilted to the side thoughtfully, "that reminds me, I .. Well, I guess I was wondering, how do you know when the doggy hotel don't feed her on time?"

Ilya raised his eyebrows, not quite able to contain his amusement. He'd informed Shane long ago that Anya would tell him when she wasn't fed on time. Shane had naturally reacted with an eyeroll, but had grown less and less sceptical every occasion they picked her from the hotel and Ilya would question if she'd been fed according to the schedule. They'd always apologise and advise why she hadn't - they'd been perfectly reasonable excuses (Ilya wouldn't have let his baby stay there any longer if they hadn't been) but Shane had clearly burned with curiosity at every one of Ilya's correct predictions.

"You really haven't figured it out?" 

Shane shook his head.

"The camera, Shane. They have a little camera in her pen."

"Oh."

"Did you think I maybe did have a psychic connection with her?" 

"No! I just, yeah, I just thought I'd ask. Doesn't matter," Shane was avoiding something. Ilya could read the room well enough to know not to pry further. He nudged Shane with his foot.

"Thought you needed the bathroom?"

"I do," he yawned, standing up to stretch. "I need to call mom too, I potentially pissed of the skincare brand I was working with."

Ilya watched appreciatively as Shane stretched again and shirt rode high, "go grovel to your boring skincare brand. I will make you some breakfast when I make Anya's."

"Can you make us different things? I'm not really in the mood for kibble."

"You are very spoiled and demanding," Ilya informed him. "But it is fine, because you are also very beautiful and sexy and you let me do very sexy things to your beautiful body."

Shane rolled his eyes with absolutely zero trace of irritation and headed off to the ensuite. Ilya watched the closed door for a moment before dragging himself from the bed and shoving on a pair of sweats. Anya had begun to paw at the door, trying to nose under the crack at the bottom. 

"I'm coming, baby girl."

Anya scampered around his legs as soon as the door opened, nearly tripping him down the stairs as he walked. Shane may have a point when he said that she could do with a little more obedience training. 

Scratch that, she was perfect. Shane may be perfect also, but he was wrong on that occasion. 

"Shall we have some yummy-yummy organic food?" Ilya cooed at her. She barked happily, tail swishing as Ilya measured out her food and dropped in a couple supplements. He went to update the chart on the fridge and noticed the day before. There was a small, shaky tick next to her morning food. Something caught in Ilya's throat and he traced the chart with his finger.

"Oh Shane," he said softly. "I am so sorry."

When he added the small checkmark, it was as shaky as Shane's own. 

Shane Rozanov-Hollander: Hey I just wanted to say thank you so much for yesterday. I havent replied to everyones messages yet but thank you so much for what you guys said. I honestly dont
know what would have happened if it really was true, but I know you'd all be there for me. I really appreciate it 

Bood: anytime, we wouldve been there day or night ❤ so how many years in the doghouse is Ilya getting for this?

Dykstra: odds on whether or not were using his testicles as a puck in practice??? Just so I can mentally prepare 

Barrett: he definitely slept on the couch last night

Chouinard: nah, he slept in the yard

Dykstra: he slept on the roof, like snoopy

Baby Luca: I miss those memes where Shane was snoopy

Dykstra: @Baby Luca okay bud ❤

Chouinard: ngl kinda worried that Ilya hasnt responded this morning 

Boyle: ...

Barrett: oh no ..

Hayes: not again!!

Bood:  back to mourning boys, chop chop 

LaPoint: he was (kind of) too young to die 

Young: rip etc etc

Ilya Rozanov-Hollander: you are all idiots

Hayes: not our fault you disappeared again 

Ilya Rozanov-Hollander: excuse me for stepping away from my phone and making a delicious breakfast for my husband

Barrett: whipped.GIF

Ilya Rozanov-Hollander: none of you are funny

Bood: beg to differ

Ilya Rozanov-Hollander:  youre all doing laps of the entirety of Ontario next practice

Shane Rozanov-Hollander: ?

Ilya Rozanov-Hollander:  apart from shane

Dykstra: whipped.GIF

Bood: whipped.GIF

Hayes: whipped.GIF

Young: whipped.GIF

Chouinard: whipped.GIF

Ilya Rozanov-Hollander: I am not whipped

Shane Rozanov-Hollander: yes you are 

Ilya Rozanov-Hollander: yes I am 

"Smoked salmon?" Shane asked approvingly, placing his phone down and examining his breakfast plate.

"And a hollandaise made from scratch, the nice english muffins you like, too."

"Hm," Shane speared a forkful of food into his mouth, chewing thoughtfully. "Delicious, thank you. I'll knock a day off your doghouse sentence."

Ilya took his unoccupied hand and pressed a kiss to it, "you are a gracious and forgiving man."

"Don't be a suck-up, it doesn't suit you," Shane said, although he was smiling. Ilya wanted to capture it and greedily keep it to himself. Shane appeared to have slept well and he had a distinctly brighter aura around him. Their kitchen was bathed a sunny, morning glow and it was as though Shane was magnifying it tenfold. He hadn't let go of Ilya's hand yet and was absently rubbing his thumb over an old scar on Ilya's knuckle. 

"Your mom okay?" Ilya asked, taking a deep swig of coffee and tucking into his own breakfast. Shane nodded.

"Yeah, she'd sorted out the thing with the skincare brand."

"What was the thing?"

Shane looked at him for a moment before answering, "I was rude to their driver."

Ilya laughed, something which seemed to delight Shane. He flushed a pleased pink, "shut up."

"I need to understand though, your - what is it - metric for rudeness is very strange. Did you not talk about the weather long enough or something?"

"I yelled at him and slammed the door in his face."

"Oh that actually is rude, very out of character for you, Hollander," Ilya waggled a finger at him sternly. "You will get a reputation for being an asshole and then I will have to start being boring good shoe guy."

"Goody two-shoes."

"Huh?"

"I don't understand it either," Shane shrugged. Both their phones both buzzed again with the Centaur's chat. Ilya looked down.

Bood: rozy Im hearing rumours that you not only voluntarily handed your keys over to the guy who crashed your car but you TIPPED him also. Confirm or deny???

Ilya looked to Shane, unsure of the next move. Shane looked back at him, clearly having the same moral dilemma.

"I've been thinking about that guy, you know. I wonder when they'll identify him .. should we say something when they do? Like release a statement offering condolences?"

"Your mom will know what to do."

"Just feel like it should be something, y'know?"

"We will send flowers," Ilya assured him. 

"Is that weird? You're better at this stuff than I am, but it feels weird."

Ilya wasn't sure what qualified him to be better at this than Shane, but he nodded confidently, "is fine. He did not deserve to die because he stole a car, so we will send flowers and donate to a nice charity or something."

Shane nodded seemingly placated by this answer and looked back down at the phone, "I know they're kidding around a lot but they were .. struggling. This morning I looked at the messages they sent me yesterday, but I had to stop because it was too much. Started to feel real again."

Ilya squeezed Shane's hand and pressed another kiss to it before picking up his phone. If his team wanted to tear him to shreds over this, then so be it.

Ilya Rozanov-Hollander: not my fault

Ilya Rozanov-Hollander: he was very convincing 

Chouinard: no way

Barrett: worlds politest mugging, captain is becoming more and more canadian by the day 

Bood: rozy

Bood: be real

Ilya Rozanov-Hollander: I think I apologised for leaving takeout carton on the passenger seat 

Chouinard: you apologised???? you really are canadian

Chouinard: oneofus.GIF

Dykstra: o canadaaaa, (rozys) home and native laaand

Barrett: atta boy hollzy, you infected him with the canadian niceness!

Ilya Rozanov-Hollander: I have infected shane with russian badness and he is going to beat you up for being very mean to me

Shane Rozanov-Hollander: no im not

Ilya Rozanov-Hollander: okay youre not 

A message pinged through, separate from the group chat. Ilya scanned it and rose from the table to quickly scribble something on the calendar on their kitchen wall, Shane followed him, craning his neck to see.

"Anything I need to know about?" 

"Galina, I'm going to see her next week. She was very happy I'm not dead and unsurprised I wanted to move my appointment forward," Ilya said. Shane coiled his arms around Ilya's neck, regarding

him thoughtfully.

"Are you okay?" 

Ilya landed a quick kiss on Shane's freckled nose, "I am perfect."

"Sure, but are you okay?"

"I'm okay, Shane," Ilya assured him. "I've been very good recently, yes? Meds are doing still their work, therapy is still helping. Yesterday was hard, but I feel very loved. Very lucky."

Iyla had been given a decent amount of time to do some inner-reflection in the past 24 hours. He was genuinely doing okay, he still had bad days (who didn't?) but they were manageable. It no longer felt like he was on a grey, motionless sea looking for glimpses of sun on a horizon but rather bathed in or around one of those sunny patches most days, with only the occasional grey cloud rolling through. Shane watched him with a soft expression.

"But?"

"I feel guilty," Ilya told him although he was sure Shane already knew. Willa and Andrew, the neighbours kids, had slipped a note through their door saying how happy they were he was okay. Ilya had looked at the note, alternating between handwriting where both children had taken turns in penning their thoughts to him. Had their parents had to explain everything? How long did they think he was dead? Ilya knew the Pike children had been kept away from the news, that Jackie had wanted to wait until a positive ID had taken place and until her husband came home so they could sit the children down together and explain it. But Willa and Andrew followed hockey religiously, they would've known as soon as they turned on the sports channel that morning. Ilya wondered if they'd ever experienced a death before. He hoped not - but he also realised that it meant that he was temporarily their first exposure to death, and the idea of being such a formative experience for them was painful.

"I want to stop feeling guilty," Ilya admitted.  "I want the boys to make fun of me - I want this to be funny. I don't want it to be a thing where I made everyone I love miserable. I want to see you to laugh as they joke about how you're keeping me in the doghouse and how I made a dick of myself and how I'm so fucking whipped."  

"I do have you pretty whipped," Shane said, playing with the curls at the nape of Ilya's neck. Ilya smiled into the crook of Shane's shoulder.

"You do," he nuzzled in, offering a quick kiss before pulling away to look at Shane, "is it selfish?"

"Is what selfish?"

"To want to stop feeling guilty."

Shane considered this for a moment.

"No, I don't think so. I don't think you need to feel guilty, really. You're being hard on yourself," he said thoughtfully, and Ilya thought about pointing out the irony in this before dropping it. "I mean, maybe you could've drunk a little less or had your car valeted as soon as you got there. But also maybe if you'd stayed sober and driven home that evening .. Maybe it would have been you who rolled the car," Shane's tone wavered, as though he was afraid of manifesting it into the universe. 

"Maybe thinking about 'maybe' is a bad idea," Ilya said. Shane shrugged. 

"I can't pretend I wasn't angry at you," he admitted, still fiddling with Ilya's hair.  "I'm not anymore. Not angry-angry at least, more like low-level pissed off."

In Ilya's opinion, that was business as usual, but he wasn't going to point that out. Shane grinned wryly.

"Business as usual, right?"

Ilya laughed. God, he loved this man so fucking much.

"You scared me," Shane told him softly. "I was mad at you for losing your stuff and getting so drunk. I was a little, I don't know, embarrased? I don't think that's the right word, but there was a point where my parents were just laughing and talking about what a crazy day it had been and I just felt like all this pain from this morning had nowhere to go. I'm so glad it didn't though, you don't know how happy I am, Ilya, and how relieved I am but I .. I guess I know why you feel guilty, but you didn't do anything. You could've done a few things different, I guess, but you didn't. I am desperate for things to go back to normal. You want to joke about it, right? I do too. I want to not be scared you're not there when I open my eyes and I want to stop feeling like I need to check you're still here and alive."

"Shane, I will do whatever it takes to make this normal for you again. You want me to literally sleep on the roof like snoopy-dog, like the guys said? I'll do it."

Shane chuckled and gave him a small, delicate kiss which made Ilya's heart flutter, "it'll happen, I'll be okay again. Just give me a few days. You really don't have to grovel or anything, I was kidding when I said you were in the doghouse. Mostly."

Ilya gave Shane a wicked smirk, "so you don't want me on my knees, begging for forgiveness?"

"Okay, a little grovelling wouldn't be unwelcome." Shane returned the smirk but it faltered slightly. Ilya frowned and prodded his cheek.

"What is wrong?" 

Shane seemed to consider something for a moment before giving Ilya a small, sad smile, "I'm fine, Ilya."

"Liar."

"Ilya - "

"Tell me what's wrong."

Shane hesitated but eventually relented, "I'm still thinking about the guy who crashed and I know you said we'd send flowers and donate to a charity, which is nice, but he'll have a family and the police will be knocking on their door and," Shane's eyes were starting to glaze with tears, "trust me, it's the worst thing in the world. My parents hadn't arrived yet but I didn't want to long it out so I just made them tell me. I was alone."

"Sweetheart .. "

"They told me they were waiting on a positive ID but they were assuming it was you .. but, it was almost like there was this part of me that kept stubbornly insisting that for something this big you'd tell me yourself. You'd come and tell me you'd died, because you wouldn't let me go through it alone. Stupid, right?" 

"No," Ilya hushed him. "I would have gone insane the moment that I thought something had happened to you. I have no idea how you made it through the day." A realisation had hit Ilya like a tonne of bricks. The reason why he wasn't able to imagine life without Shane became very apparent. It wasn't his brain in self preservation mode, it was his brain telling him you can't imagine because you'd just follow where he went.

"Wishful thinking got me through," Shane admitted. "Or not so wishful thinking, I guess. I pretended you weren't dead for a little bit."

"Glad I didn't disappoint you."

"I really am okay," Shane said, quickly wiping his eyes. "This has been a nice morning, I'm just dwelling I guess and, just I'm still a little scared .."

"Scared I'm going to disappear?" Ilya guessed. Shane's lingering touches had not gone unnoticed and he hadn't been kidding when he said he'd checked if Ilya was alive several times. 

"Yup."

He took Shane's hands in his own and kissed them as if departing a sacred vow. Because it was. He pressed more kisses to Shane's hands, vowing every breath in his body and beat of his heart to his husband. 

"I'm with you, Hollander, now and forever."

"Yeah, I know."

"Say it."

Shane looked up at him. His eyes were shining with tears again, but there was a familiar warmth to them.

"You're with me, now and forever."