Rating:

General Audiences

Archive Warning:

No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories:

Gen, M/M

Fandom:

Game Changers | Heated Rivalry - All Media Types

Relationship:

Shane Hollander/Ilya Rozanov

Character:

Ilya Rozanov

Additional Tags:

Time Travel, Maybe - Freeform, or - Freeform, dream fic, Fic upto interpretation, Spoilers for Book 6: The Long Game (Game Changers), Hopeful Ending, Mentions of Shane Hollander, Mentions of Zane Boodram, Hopemaxxing, Light Angst

Language:

English

Stats:

Published: 2026-09-09 Words: 1,186 Chapters: 1/1

Finding Hope (in time)

Summary

The Aftermath of the Boxing Day fight

 

or

 

How Ilya Rozanov Found Hope

Notes

this is a very experimental fic for me, first time writing time travel! And it’s also interesting writing the same character in the same fic - but in two very different ways.

This is also the first time I wrote something a little more serious, my first dip into writing something a little more solemn rather than humor and I really enjoyed it

 

Hope you will enjoy reading it as well!

Ps - all the dialogues, even though written in English, are supposed to be in Russian!

Ilya Rozanov felt himself swirling and swirling, like he was sugar being mixed into a cup of tea.

But that was not how it began.

It began with his fight with Shane.

“Would you choose me?”

“You should go.”

“What? No way. Fuck that. Answer the question.”

“No. Go home, Shane. We can talk...later.”

“I don’t want to look at you right now. I don’t want to talk to you. Go home.”

“Would you choose me?”

“I already chose you, Hollander…Go home. Please.”

They had had an abysmal fight with each other. He’d been overwhelmed and annoyed and just so frustrated, he had quietly asked Shane to leave.

He’d gone off into his bedroom and sat on the floor, in the dark, unlighted room, his back against the bed. His face in his hands, he’d let out loud sobs that raked his muscly body with shivers, like he wasn’t a 6 foot tall, giant hockey player. He sat there sobbing like a twelve year old child who had lost his mother, all over again.

When he’d finally stopped, he’d taken a look at his silent phone, where there was a singular text from Shane, and nothing else from anyone else.

He was not in the mood to talk to Shane. Not right now, when anger and frustration and sadness were running high.

And there was no other call or text. Bood had probably assumed he wouldn’t attend, just like all the other unattended team hangouts and bonding sessions.

And now he was here, all alone. And that sheer wave of emotion made him break down in tears once more.

As he cried, he felt dizzy. More than dizzy, he felt the world swirling around him, like a tornado. His head was spinning. The world moved around him in circles and he felt himself moving like sugar being mixed into coffee.

He woke up feeling strangely not nauseated, despite the whirlpool of movements around him.

He was still on the floor or his bedroom, in the same position. But the room was brightly lit. The open windows invited fresh sunlight into the room - it was a summer day all of a sudden, a drastic contrast from the cold winter evening.

Ilya stood up and was met with a mirroring sight.

In front of him, stood a man. It was no ordinary man - it was himself. The same blue eyes, the same muscular body. Hair the same except it was nearly tucked behind the ears and the Ilya in front of him was wearing a tuxedo. White shirt, black tuxedo, gold cuff links - the whole works. It seemed he was getting - married? Surely not?

“You are here.” The better dressed Ilya said plainly, with a smirk. His eyes were rimmed slightly red, but he looked happy about it.

“Who the fuck are you?” The Ilya from the past snapped in Russian, a sneer decorating his usually charming face. He was tired of this cruel mess that was his life.

“I am you.” The well dressed man replied back in Russian, smirking in the mirror as he adjusted his tie.

“Fucking bullshit!” Ilya shouted at him, unable to help himself. A hundred thoughts ran through his head. What was happening? Had he travelled into the future? Who was he marrying? He hoped it was Shane. He hoped the fight didn’t matter.

“Shut up, stupid.” Ilya’s future turned towards him and stared intensely. “I mean well. You must be from Boxing Day, yes? Bad day. But it happened. You travelled six months forward. Fate made it happen.”

“Stop saying sappy shit.” Ilya sneered.

“I can’t help it. I’m getting married.” He smiled and fixed his already perfect curls.

“To whom?” Ilya asked.

“Shane, duh. We have wanted to marry him for a long time.” Ilya replied, grinning ear to ear.

“But - the fight-“

“We talked about it. We were both sorry. And now it’s our wedding day.”

“Oh.” Realisation dawned on the Ilya of the past. He sat down on the bed and stared as his future selves moved around the room as he got dressed and ready for the day.

“Are you still playing hockey?” Ilya asked quietly in Russian.

“Yes. It’s just six months later, not twenty five years.”

“Fuck off. Does anyone else know?” Ilya questioned, annoyed at his future self.

“Everyone knows.”

Ilya’s eyes snapped up at his future self, who was still preening himself in the mirror cheerfully, and rather nonchalantly for someone who was talking to his past self.

“What? How?” He asked, his voice cracking just a little.

“I can’t tell you. Is future stuff. Wait six months.”
His future self told him cheekily.

“Then why am I here? Bullshit stuff. You don’t tell me anything good, just vague things about marrying Shane. Tell me something worthwhile! ” Ilya screamed at his future, his voice dripping with annoyance. He was tired.

The look on his future self changed drastically, from cheerful to serious, in less than a second. He stared at him, unblinkingly and walked over to him without a word, face void of any emotion.

“You’re here because that…day, was the worst fucking day! Everything was fucked. I wanted to die. But this, this - leap of hope, this weird time travel from destiny, from God knows who was the one, one singular thing why I am alive today. I was messed up. I was sad. This gave me hope.” He almost spat the last word out.

Ilya’s mind blanked. He didn’t know what to do and didn’t know what to think. He stared down at the wooden floor emptily.

“Then…what am I supposed to do? Shane’s…gone.”

“Shane will come back.” The groom said, gently. All his fierceness had vanished. His face was soft and protective. “Go home. Sleep. Rest.”

“Is this really time travel? Or am I dreaming?” Ilya asked, like a curious child.

“Whatever you want it to be.” That was the last thing his future said to him, before the world started swirling around him again - an ocean of whirlpool around him. He squinted his eyes and looked around to try and figure out whatever was happening, but to no avail.

His eyes fell short of the force that was consuming him and his vision felt weak against the strength of his surroundings. He was blind to anything beyond the vortex.

His eyes began to grow blurry and powerless, and soon enough his body fell into slumber.

Ilya woke up on his bedroom floor, the side of his neck aching from falling asleep weird. He clutched his temples as he stood up from the floor and sat down on his bed.

He switched his phone and looked at the time. Shane had left two hours ago, yet his heart ached a little less, his anger and frustration had subsided just a little. And he felt a little less tired.

“Weird dream.” he muttered to himself, as he switched on his phone to book an appointment with his therapist, Galina.

Whatever had happened, he had to deal with it. He desperately wanted his dream to come true.