Rating:

Explicit

Archive Warning:

Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Category:

M/M

Fandom:

Heated Rivalry (TV)

Relationship:

Shane Hollander/Ilya Rozanov

Characters:

Ilya Rozanov, Shane Hollander, Irina Rozanova, Yuna Hollander, David Hollander, Hayden Pike, Svetlana Vetrova, Cliff Marlow | Cliff Marleau, Scott Hunter (Game Changers), Kip Grady, Rose Landry, Grigori Rozanov, Alexei Rozanov | Andrei Rozanov, Zane Boodram, Galina Molchalina

Additional Tags:

Alternate Universe, Slice of Life, Irina Rozanova Lives, Shane Hollander Loves Ilya Rozanov, Ilya Rozanov Loves Shane Hollander, Growing Up Together, Ilya lives in Canada, Language Barrier, Mental Health Issues, POV Multiple, Friends to Lovers, Fluff, Domestic Fluff, Family Issues, Trigger warnings in chapter notes, Teen Rating for Chapters 1-7, Consensual Underage Sex, Alternate Universe - Teenagers, Explicit from Chapter 8, Underage Drinking, Underage Smoking, Homophobic Language, Angst, Childhood Friends to Lovers, Alternate Universe - Childhood Friends

Language:

English

Collections:

HR, Favs, Ilya and Shane

Stats:

Published: 2026-02-14 Completed: 2026-07-06 Words: 100,050 Chapters: 13/13

New Beginnings

Summary

“English is… is not first language,” the woman said quietly. Her accent was thick, and unmistakably Russian.

“Oh, sorry! I’m speaking too fast, aren’t I? Sorry,” she took a breath, and held out her hand. “I’m Yuna,” she repeated. The woman took her hand quickly, her hands bony and delicate.

“Irina,” she replied, before gesturing for Yuna to sit with her. Quickly, Yuna did. “Sorry, I have not been in Canada long.”

“No problem at all; welcome to Canada! Is that your boy?” Yuna asked, gesturing over to the child that had similar hair to Irina, which was poking out from under his helmet. He was taller than Shane, though his little hockey outfit still seemed to still dwarf him. He had a serious look on his face, but his eyes were light as he watched the other boys play. He was tapping his stick on the ice, clearly itching to get into the game.

“Ah, yes,” Irina nodded, taking a few seconds to translate the question, “Ilyusha.” Irina looked over at her son, a small smile on her face. “Is my Ilya.”

Or: Ilya and Irina move to Canada for a fresh start when he is six years old. He meets Shane Hollander at ice hockey practice, and they grow up together (and of course, fall in love).

Notes

This fic is completely inspired by the amazing artwork by verlierer-is-lost on tumblr . Please have a look <3

This is a AU in which Ilya and Shane grow up together in Canada. Please note the tags will change and this fic will contain consensual underage sex.

Original photo used for story cover can be found: here.

Chapter 1: Age Six

Chapter Notes

It’s just another Thursday for Yuna, watching Shane in his ice hockey class while she skimmed the page of the book in her lap, not really taking in the words but keeping her eyes on her son. He’s skating in between cones at the moment, his stick held firmly in his grasp as he carefully moved the puck between the targets. He was by himself at the station with one of the assistant skaters, but he hasn’t seemed to notice, or even care. 

Shane was always outside of the group; it’s not obvious, if you weren’t here every week, but Yuna could see it. He just never seemed to bond with any of the other kids in his class. Or at school. It worried Yuna more than she let on, but David kept telling her she just had to give him time to find his people. She thought he would find it at ice hockey, since it was his favourite thing to do, but no luck. At this point, Yuna would be happy if Shane could just find a person. 

The problem was, even at his young age, Shane was doing exceptionally well in his class. He did stand out from the other boys, and the coach was already keen for Shane to stick with the sport, maybe even getting him playing with the older classes. Yuna was supportive, of course; but she was sure her enthusiasm had rubbed the other parents the wrong way, as they never invited her to sit with them, hence the book. But it didn’t matter - she was there for Shane, and she would never hold him back to make someone else feel better.  

However, there is something different today, because sitting a few rows ahead of her at the seats closest to the ice, was a new parent. A young woman, younger than Yuna, was sitting there, her curly dark blonde hair spilling out from under her hat. Her hazel eyes never left the ice, a small smile on her face as she watched one of the boys play; Yuna hadn’t noticed the new kid in the class. The woman was fiddling with her necklace in her hand, which Yuna assumed could be a nervous trait. 

Yuna didn’t know what made her get up and move down to the woman… a part of her just wanted to introduce herself, before she would undoubtedly join the clique of parents.  

“Hi,” Yuna said brightly, mentally cursing herself when the woman jumped. “Sorry, hi! I didn’t mean to scare you. I’m Yuna.”

The woman’s brows furrowed, an annoyed look on her face. Retreat Yuna, retreat. “Sorry for bothering you, I just wanted to say hi, my son is in this class, as well. Anyway, I’ll-”

“Ah… sorry, English is… is not first language,” the woman said quietly. Her accent was thick, and unmistakably Russian. 

“Oh, sorry!” Yuna repeated, feeling flustered. “I’m speaking too fast, aren’t I? Sorry,” she took a breath, and held out her hand. “I’m Yuna,” she repeated. The woman took her hand quickly, her hands bony and delicate. 

“Irina,” she replied, before gesturing for Yuna to sit with her. Quickly, Yuna did. “Sorry, I have not been in Canada long.”

“No problem at all; welcome to Canada! Is that your boy?” Yuna asked, gesturing over to the child that had similar hair to Irina, which was poking out from under his helmet. He was taller than Shane, though his little hockey outfit still seemed to still dwarf him. He had a serious look on his face, but his eyes were light as he watched the other boys play. He was tapping his stick on the ice, clearly itching to get into the game. 

“Ah… yes,” Irina nodded, taking a few seconds to translate the question, “Ilyusha.” Irina looked over at her son, a small smile on her face. “Is my Ilya.”

“He is the spitting image of you,” Yuna said, cringing at  herself when she saw the confusion come over the other woman’s face. “Ah, sorry - you and Ilya,” she gestured to her Irina, and then her son, “you look the same.”

“Is hair,” Irina said, touching her curly hair. It was more than that, Yuna thought privately, but she didn’t voice this. “And… your…”

“My son, Shane.” Yuna pointed him out, a proud smile on her face. Shane had moved to the goals, carefully shooting the puck into it with the coach. He was totally focused in his own world, ignoring all the noise around him. Yuna was so proud that he could have such focus at his age. All the other kids seemed to be there for fun, and sure, Shane was too, but his approach to fun was different. “He loves hockey. We’ve had him on the ice since he could walk.”

The words seemed like too much, again, even though Irina seemed keen to speak to her. “He is very good,” Irina said, nodding. “Ilya play in Russia. He was always best in class, his coach was sure he could make big in hockey.”

“Maybe he will be good competition for Shane,” Yuna joked. 

“Maybe,” Irina shrugged, a small smile going on her face as she watched Ilya finally get a chance to play. Yuna nearly missed how Shane had finally taken notice of the other boy in class. “I want him to have fun, yes? Is right word?”

“Yes, it is.” Yuna confirmed with a nod. 

After class, Yuna and Irina headed around to the locker rooms to help the boys out of their skates. Shane was already in his usual spot, waiting for Yuna. He greeted her with a wide smile, and Yuna gave Irina a small wave as she went to help her son. She couldn’t help but overhear them talk - Russian was such an interesting language to hear, after all. 

“Mama! Ty videla menya na l'du?” Ilya asked, practically skipping over to Irina. Irina’s smile brightened and went down to her knees to give him a hug. 

“Ilya, ty byl velikolepen! Tebe ponravilos' na uroke?” Irina replied, stroking his hair.

“Da, no ya poka ne mogu ponyat' instruktsiyu.” Ilya muttered to her. 

“Ty tak i sdelayesh', moya lyubov'. Prosto poka chto sleduy primeru drugikh parney.” Irina told him, her tone soft. 

“Ostal'nyye mal'chiki ne tak khoroshi. Za isklyucheniyem etogo mal'chika,” and then, Ilya was pointing over to Shane. Shane hadn’t seemed to notice, but Yuna did, and would love to know what Ilya was saying. Irina looked over and her smile widened.

"Yego zovut Shane, Ilya." Irina told him, saying Shane’s name slowly. That made Shane look up. 

“Da, on mne skazal. U nego na litse zvozdy.” Ilya said, and while neither Hollander had any idea what he had said, it made Irina laugh. She gestured for Ilya to sit next to Shane, kneeling on the floor by Yuna as she helped take off his skates. 

“Ilya says that Shane is, er, very good. But now, he said Shane has stars on his face.”

“Stars on his…” Yuna thought for a moment, before it clicked. “You mean his freckles, Ilya?” Yuna gently touched the freckles covering Shane’s cheeks and nose. Usually, Shane would be pushing her fingers away, but his eyes were glued on Ilya. Ilya, who nodded quickly when she guessed right. 

“Da!” Yuna could guess that meant yes. 

“Well, that’s a nice name for your freckles, Shane.” Yuna said, pulling off the final skate. Shane just hummed in agreement, but the smile never left his face. They said goodbye to Irina and Ilya, and headed for their car. 

“Mummy, will he be back at our next class?” Shane suddenly asked; it took Yuna second to work out who he was talking about.

“Ilya?” she looked into the rearview mirror to see him nod. “Yes, I think so. He seemed to have fun.”

“... Okay,” Shane said softly, giving nothing else away, except for the hand that touched his freckles. 

*

Shane was in luck, because at the next class, Ilya was in the locker room, getting his skates tied, his helmet held in his hands. Irina was with him, of course, and smiled in what looked like relief at the sight of them. 

“Shane!” Ilya shouted, waving at him. Surprisingly, Shane waved back.

“Hi, Ilya!” He said, before tugging at his mum’s sleeve. “Mum, get me ready quickly so I can go out with Ilya.”

“We’ll be as quick as we can.” Yuna promised, directing Shane to sit with Ilya. Ilya turned to Shane and began to talk to him in Russian, which obviously Shane couldn’t understand, but it didn’t stop him from nodding along as if he did.

“Hi,” Yuna said to Irina - Ilya was ready now, his helmet clipped in place, but he was still too busy talking to Shane to have gotten up from the bench and onto the rink. “How are you?”

“Good, yes.” Irina said, pulling her curls out of her face. 

“You want to get a coffee?” Yuna asked Irina. “Instead of sitting by the rink? The cafe has windows, so we can see the boys on the ice.” Yuna waited for Irina to process the words; she was used to doing it with Shane, sometimes. Irina nodded, before cursing in Russian.

“I did not bring cash,” she said apologetically, but Yuna was already waving her off.

“I’ve got this one, don’t worry!” Yuna led Irina to the cafe - it was a bit dated, and the coffee always left a funny taste in her mouth, but it was also like a second home.  “Shane was happy to see Ilya,” Yuna said, once they had their coffee. 

“Yes, Ilya too. Ask me all week about Shane. I think he was bored at home.”

“Home?” Yuna asked, cocking her head to the side. “Was he not at school this week?”

“Ah… not yet, I am finding it… difficult to do paperwork.” Irina made a face, and took a sip of her coffee. “Lots of words, I do not understand. I do not want to do it wrong.”

“Oh, well, I can help with that.” Yuna offered, thinking of how her own parents struggled with English when they moved to Canada. “So… is it just you and Ilya at home? Shane is an only child too.”

There was a pause, but this time, Yuna wasn’t sure if it was because Irina didn’t understand what she was saying. “No,” she said, looking down at her coffee. “Ilya has older brother. But he lives with his father.”

“Oh… that can’t be easy,” Yuna said, a frown on her face. She couldn’t imagine not having Shane living with her. “Are they in Canada, too?”

“No, back in Russia. He would not leave his papa.” Irina’s jaw was clenched. “Was difficult, to go without him. But better for us here, I think. I hope Alexei will change his mind, when I am more, er…”

“Settled?” Yuna offered, and Irina nodded. Yuna didn’t want to seem pushy, but she wanted to understand this situation better. “So, are you married?”

“We are, but he is… no good for me. He is not nice man. Not to me or Ilya.” Irina said carefully, but she didn’t need to say anything else. This wasn’t the first woman Yuna had encountered that had a piece of shit for a partner. She was once again so thankful to have David. “We come here, because we have friend who plays ice hockey in America. He tell my husband that Ilya could get career in hockey, but we should move to Canada to get a head start. Husband does not like this, but I insist I go, for Ilya.” Irina looked up, her face pinched. “Do I make sense to you?”

“Perfectly.” Yuna confirmed, sending her what she hoped was a relaxed smile. “I heard Russia has a good hockey league too?”

“Yes, it does. But our friend… he can see I also need out of Russia.” Irina admitted. “So he has helped us move. We see how we get on, in Ottawa. Maybe we stay.”

The two mothers don’t say anything for a moment, just look out onto the ice where their boys are standing together. Although Ilya can’t speak a word of English yet, he is saying something to Shane, gesturing wildly with his stick in one hand. And Shane? He’s actually not paying attention to the coach for once, and has his head thrown back with laughter. Yuna swallowed, because she realised she really needed Ilya and Irina to stay, because she had never seen her son at such ease with another child. 

“You know what, why don’t you come over for dinner this week? You and Ilya? We can do your paperwork then.”

“To your house?” Irina checked. “Will, er… your husband be ok with that?”

“Yes to my house, and yes  - David will love to meet you both.” Yuna nodded, a smile on her face. Shane had never had a friend over before, and Yuna was starting to understand that Irina really needed a friend right now. 

*

David has never seen Yuna so nervous, nor Shane. Every room Yuna cleaned, Shane was behind her, making sure everything looked right. Even his room was spotless, his tiny trophies that he had won in his mini ice hockey games carefully lined up. Yuna had kept saying she wanted the evening to go perfect. 

The doorbell hadn’t even had a chance to ring before Shane was announcing loudly that their guests had arrived.  He hovered by the door, his fingers twisting together with either nerves or excitement. Maybe both? However, even when David encouraged him to open the door, it ended up falling to Yuna. 

“Irina, Ilya, hi!” Yuna welcomed them in, her smile bright. “Welcome, come on in - this is my husband, David.”

“David, hello.” Irina said softly, shaking his offered hand before nudging her son forward. “Thank you for having us.”

“Hello, sir.” Ilya said, the English words awkward. He was standing so straight it was unnatural, his hands clasped behind his back.

“Just David is fine, Ilya.” David replied, sending him what he hoped was a kind smile. Ilya just blinked up at him, as if he wasn’t sure if calling him by his first name was allowed. “Do you like pasta? We made that for dinner.”

“Pas…ta?” Ilya said, breaking up the word. His confusion seemed to snap Shane out of his nervous state. 

“Look,” Shane said, and then, like it wasn’t a big deal, took Ilya’s hand in his and dragged him to the kitchen. The adults watched the ease of children, who didn’t share a language, finding a way of communicating like no barrier existed. “Dad, can you take the pot down to show Ilya?”

“Uh, sure, kid.” David said, following them over and taking the lid off the pot, carefully lowering it so the two boys could peer into it. Ilya made a pleased noise.

“Mama, eto spagetti!” Ilya said, looking over his shoulder with a wide grin.

“Ah, thank you - Ilya likes that.” Irina said as she handed Yuna her coat. 

They ate before they handled Ilya’s paperwork for school; the boys had gone to play in the garden, some kind of game with sticks that may have started as hockey but could now be some kind of pirate game. Yuna was on paperwork duty with Irina, which left David to wash the dishes and watch them from the kitchen window. He had never seen Shane so relaxed and just being a kid. 

He joined the ladies back at the table to top up their glasses of wine, and thankfully, Yuna seemed finished with the paperwork. Irina was looking a bit teary eyed; Yuna had mentioned she had issues with her husband, which is how she ended up in Canada. He was sure all of this had been too much for Irina, with such a young child and being in a foreign country, alone. Before he had a chance to speak and offer Irina more help, it seemed like once again his wife had read his mind. 

“You know… you and Ilya are welcome over any time,” Yuna said slowly. “We can help, with learning English. And French, too, if you want.” Irina was shaking her head, and Yuna and David shared a worried look - maybe they had overstepped. 

“You are angely,” Irina said suddenly, her voice choked. Although it was said in Russian, Yuna figured she had called them angels. “We are lucky to have met you.”

Yuna leaned over and covered Irina’s hand with hers. “My son was lucky to have met yours. Really, I’ve never seen Shane so taken with a friend before.” 

Before the mood could turn too sombre, David cleared his throat. “A toast, to new beginnings.” David said, after he had topped up their wine glasses. The three parents quietly cheered, while their sons played loudly outside, oblivious to struggles around them, as they should be.

Chapter End Notes

So chapter one is up! I kinda want to do one chapter = one year, so there will be so time skips in that regard. Please let me know if you liked it, that would be amazing.

Translations:

"Mama! Ty videla menya na l'du?" = "Mama! Did you see me on the ice?"

"Ilya, ty byl velikolepen! Tebe ponravilos' na uroke?" = "You were amazing, Ilya. Did you have fun in your class?"

"Da, no ya poka ne mogu ponyat' instruktsiyu." = "Yes, but I can't understand the instructions yet."

"Ty tak i sdelayesh', moya lyubov'. Prosto poka chto sleduy primeru drugikh parney." = "You will, my love. Just copy the other boys for now."

"Ostal'nyye mal'chiki ne tak khoroshi. Za isklyucheniyem etogo mal'chika." = "The other boys aren't as good. Except for that boy."

"Yego zovut Shane, Ilya." = "His name is Shane, Ilya."

"Da, on mne skazal. U nego na litse zvozdy." = "Yes, he told me. He has stars on his face."

"Mama, eto spagetti!" = "Mama, it's spaghetti!"

Chapter 2: Age Seven

Chapter Summary

Shane and Ilya become best friends who constantly hold hands. Irina's mental health suffers, but this time, she isn't alone in dealing with it.

Chapter Notes

Please note: depression and emotional abuse is mentioned in this chapter, and the effects it has on not only the person suffering from it but the people around them. Postpartum depression is also briefly mentioned.

David could hardly remember their lives before Irina and Ilya, but it was clear they had been missing something until the two had become a constant part of their routine. Shane especially seemed a lot happier to have found a best friend in the Russian boy, even with their limited communication. He was still just as focused when playing ice hockey, still determined to be the best, but he now had competition, and that pushed him to be even better… and to also have fun with it. The coach was very pleased with both boys' performances. 

While Ilya waited for his school placement to go through, Yuna invited Ilya and Irina over to their home for some English lessons. She was lucky, since she was self employed as a charity consultant, that she could move her schedule around to suit her new study group. She had taken it very seriously, buying workbooks and English phrases. David thought it was sweet of her to put in so much effort, but that was Yuna Hollander - once she had a focus and a project in mind, she was all in.

Irina and Ilya came over most days, around the afternoon. They were both very determined to learn English. Ilya was picking it up pretty fast, and would trace the alphabet carefully in his books. Irina was better at speaking English, but was slower on the alphabet, but honestly, Yuna was sure they were doing better than she would, if she had to learn Russian. Yuna had also given Ilya a heap of Shane’s old school books, and fictional kid stories he wasn’t interested in anymore. Ilya loved reading them, and always interrupted the story to ask Yuna what Shane liked about the books. 

Shane also loved interrupting the lessons, on the days it was David’s turn to pick him up from school. He’d leap out of the car and run straight into the house, taking a seat at the table with Ilya and “helping” with his lessons. But Shane’s version of helping was getting Ilya to repeat the phrase in Russian, saying it slowly to himself until he somewhat said it right. It delighted Ilya, but completely detailed the lessons. However, Shane especially loved the days when Yuna would come and pick him up, because Irina and Ilya would tag along, and that seemed to make his day. Sometimes they would stop by the park or the shops on the way home, to get snacks, and most of those times, the boys would hold hands.

It wasn’t a big deal - usually, it was because one of the boys wanted the other’s attention, and neither had a perfect grasp of each other's native language to simply say what they wanted. So if Shane was distracted, Ilya would reach out and tug his hand, gesturing at whatever he was desperate for Shane to look at. And in turn, Shane would take hold of Ilya’s hand to make him look at Shane while he spoke, giving Ilya time to translate it and attempt to reply. They just… didn’t let go afterwards. Irina never mentioned it, so neither did the Hollanders.

The stars must be aligned, because after two months, Ilya finally got confirmation that he has gotten a school placement. Because they are just on the cusp of the catchment area, it meant he was getting to attend Shane’s school. Not only that, he actually ended up in the same class. The boys were practically bouncing off the walls when Irina told them. 

So they end up meeting most mornings to walk to school together, hands grasped (until they reach the school) and ignoring their parents who walk behind them, lost in their own conversation. It is a lovely routine that they’ve all settled into. It’s on one of these morning walks that Irina quietly told David that she has booked to go back to Russia during the school break, so she can visit her son. And for Ilya to see his father, though that is mentioned like an afterthought. Her face is rather blank as she said it, but David doesn’t question it, because Europeans can be rather stoic. 

“I had to tell Shane off today,” the teacher told David one day after school. She doesn’t sound annoyed about it, but this must be a first for Shane. He can’t help but wonder how his son handled it. 

“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that,” David said, wincing. “What happened?”

“He was talking in class with Ilya, but Mr Hollander, it’s actually a good thing! I’ve never had to tell Shane off before, so it’s nice to see him just being like any other kid.” She patted his arm. “Ilya has really helped him come out of his shell.”

And so, David hadn’t worried, and life went on. Until the next time he was on ice hockey duties, and had said their goodnights to Ilya and Irina. “Daddy, do you ever yell at mummy?” Shane asked once he got in the car. He was halfway through the snacks Yuna had packed for him after hockey practice. David quirked an eyebrow at the question. 

“No, Shane. Do you ever hear me and mummy yell at each other?” David replied. Certainly, he and Yuna argued, what couple didn’t? But they didn’t shout, if they could help it. Not only was it just something they didn’t typically do, but Shane really didn’t like loud noises and could get upset easily, which actually helped stop their disagreements from boiling over.

“Hm… no,” Shane replied after he swallowed his crisps. “Do you make mummy cry?”

“Of course not, Shane.” David replied, his tone slightly concerned. What kind of question was that? “Why are you asking that?”

“Ilya said his daddy makes his mummy cry,” Shane shrugged, looking out the window, oblivious to the shock that was on David’s face. “And he yells at them, a lot. Ilya thought you just didn’t like to shout at us in front of him.”

David swallowed, keeping his eyes firmly on the road. Fuck. Yuna hadn’t gotten a lot out of Irina about her husband, but Ilya seemed to be more open about it, at least with Shane. “Well, we don’t yell at each other, do we? And if we make someone cry, what do we do?”

“Uh… say sorry?”

“That’s right, because it’s not nice to make someone cry, on purpose or by accident. But not every family is like that.” 

“But why would Ilya’s dad want to make his mum cry?” Shane said, mostly to himself. David glanced in the rearview mirror for a second, to see his face twisted in confusion. David couldn’t think of an answer suitable for a child, so he said nothing, but turned up the radio ever so slightly. 

David didn’t tell Yuna about the conversation until later that night when they were in bed. They spoke in hushed tones, even though Shane had been asleep for hours. This didn’t feel like a topic that should be spoken about so loudly. 

“Oh, that poor boy.” Yuna said softly, a look of pain on her face. “I’m so glad they are out of Russia.” 

“For now,” David reminded her, a frown on his face. “Irina said they are going back for summer. Do you think we should… say something?”

“What can we say?” Yuna sighed. “Her other son is still there, she wants to see him. We just need to make it clear we’re a safe space.” 

Privately, David thought it was important that he showed Ilya that real men didn’t treat their loved ones like that, too. But he kept this to himself. 

*

In the lead up to the summer break, Ilya and Irina seemed restless and stressed. It wasn’t entirely obvious at first - they were running a bit late for school or hockey practice, nothing too out of the ordinary. But Yuna couldn’t help but notice that Ilya’s was starting to wear the same clothes in a row, like Irina hadn’t done any washing. Irina herself looked thinner than usual, with bags under her eyes and her curly hair almost limp around her. Yuna said nothing, but kept herself as cheerful as possible, chatting Irina’s ear off at the school gates and at the rink. 

And then, Ilya didn’t come to school. Or practice. 

It wasn’t enough to make the Hollanders panic, because Irina didn’t owe them an explanation if Ilya was off from school or practice, but it just didn’t sit right. But then, Ilya didn’t go to school the next day, either. 

Shane had already felt unbalanced without Ilya at school or at the rink - in fact, it had been his worst lesson in a while without his Russian counterpart. But when the third day with no Ilya crept upon them, Shane outrightly refused to enter the school until he could get Yuna to promise to stop by Irina’s tiny apartment later that day to check in on them. At least Yuna had an excuse now, without appearing too overbearing. 

She didn’t go first thing, as Shane had wanted, but headed home to make up a pot of homemade chicken noodle soup. It was something she always made for Shane and David when they were sick, and showing up empty handed didn’t feel right, especially as she was coming without an invite. She drove and parked outside Irina’s home - it was a tiny flat they were renting, but the neighbourhood was nice. The blinds were closed, which wasn’t a good sign considering it was nearly midday, but it just made Yuna more determined to knock, which she did. She waited a minute, before knocking again. 

“Yes?” a voice came through the door - Ilya. He sounded wary.

“Ilya? Hi, honey. It’s Yuna, Shane’s mum. I just wanted to see if you and your mum were alright.” The lack of response had Yuna biting her lip. “I brought you guys some soup - chicken noodle. Shane loves it.”

There was still nothing, but then slowly, the door swung open. Ilya was looking up at her with a frown on his face. He looked tired, but not sick. He did look like he could do with a good shower, however. The whole air in the apartment felt stale. 

“Thank you, Mrs Hollander.” Ilya said, holding out his hands for the tub. “Is kind of you.”

Yuna, however, didn’t hand it over. “Is your mum here, Ilya?”

Ilya froze, but slowly nodded. “Da, but she… she is not well.”

“Oh, that’s not so good.” Yuna said sympathetically. “Can I come in and see her? I can check if she needs anything from the pharmacy.”

“Ah… no, is not kind of sick that you can fix with lekarstvo.” Yuna had no idea what that word meant, but she figured he meant medication. He looked over his shoulder at a closed door, before back to Yuna. He looked nervous. 

“Ilya,” Yuna said, her tone a bit firmer. “I’m not going to leave until I can see your mum, alright? I won’t stay long, but I need to make sure she is alright. Friends do that, don’t they?”

“Friends,” Ilya repeated softly, fidgeting as he considered her words. With a sigh that didn’t sound right coming from a seven year old, he nodded and let Yuna in. Yuna exhaled softly, relieved he didn’t throw a tantrum, and handed him the soup. With her hands free, she patted his head instead of hugging him, even though she felt like he could use the hug. 

“Can you put that in the fridge for me?” Yuna asked him as she headed to the door he had looked at. Ilya was frowning again, but did as she asked. Quickly, Yuna knocked on the bedroom door, before opening it slightly. There was hardly any light, except for the gaps in the curtains that streaked yellow lines over the bed.  “Irina?” Yuna called out, trying to keep her tone light and her worry tucked away. “Ilya said you were in here, is everything ok?”

“Yuna?” she said, her voice rough from disuse. There was movement, and then a lamp flickered to life. Irina was sitting up in bed, her eyes wide and red, as if she had been crying. Her hair was a mess, her skin dull. She was a shell of the woman that Yuna had met at the rink all those months ago. 

Yuna came in and shut the door, coming over to Irina and sitting on the bed, a worried frown on her face. “Irina, what’s happened? Are you sick?”

“Yes… and no,” Irina admitted, fresh tears in her eyes. “Is a problem, I have. My mind… sometimes it won’t work. I cannot do normal things,” then, she was really crying. “I cannot look after my son.” 

“Oh, Irina,” Yuna reached out and took her hand, holding it firmly. “Have you felt like this before?”

“Yes… back home,” Irina said, her voice cracking. “I think I worry about going home, about seeing Grigori. It makes me feel,” she paused, thinking of the word. “Shut down? Every task, is so difficult. I cannot get out of my bed. But my son needs me.” Irina wiped her face. “When this happened in Russia, Grigori… he would call me lazy, stupid, but I cannot help it. I wish I did not feel like this.”

“Of course you don’t,” Yuna told her firmly. “And he’s wrong, Irina. You aren’t lazy or stupid. I felt like this after I had Shane, and I needed a lot of help to feel like myself again, to be there for my son. It didn’t mean I was a bad mother, or a bad person - just someone who needed some help.” Yuna squeezed Irina’s hand. “And Irina, me and David are here to help. Whatever you need.”

Irina is crying again, but thankfully, she is nodding too. “I just need some help with my Ilyusha. He has been looking after me so well, but my baby needs to go to school, and to see Shane.”

“Shane is desperate to see him, as well.” Yuna told her with a smile. “How about if Ilya comes over tonight and we can take him to school and to practice? That will take off some of the pressure about getting up if you aren’t feeling up to it. And I can stop by tomorrow afternoon, to check in? We can always go out for lunch, or just for some fresh air.”

“You would do that for me?” Irina asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

“For you, and Ilya. We care about you both very much.” 

“What did I do to deserve you, Yuna? I can never repay your kindness.”

“You already repay us; Shane is like a whole new boy, thanks to you and Ilya. Now, how about you go shower, and I can get lunch sorted?” Irina nodded, and with one final squeeze, Yuna let her go and headed back to the living room. She can understand, sort of, why Shane and Ilya hold hands so much - it is a comforting link. 

“Right,” Yuna said, coming out of Irina’s bedroom and clapping her hands together. Ilya had been hovering by the door, but jumped at the noise. “Ilya, I need your help.”

“Help?” Ilya walked forwards as if to go into Irina’s room, but Yuna stopped him with a gentle hand on his shoulder.

“Yes - your mama is going for a shower.” Yuna told him, “I thought we could clean up a little in here, and get the soup ready. What do you think? Can we do that before mama is ready?”

He took a moment to process the words, before he nodded firmly in the way he did on the ice when he was focusing. “Da! I will help!”

So Yuna set a timer on her watch for ten minutes - it always worked on Shane, to make it a little competition, and sure enough Ilya was off like a rocket. Yuna took care of the kitchen, wiping down the counters and cleaning out the rotten food, reminding herself to take the litter out when she left. Ilya took care of their living room, folding the blankets and sorting the pillows. They highfived when they managed to beat the timer, and by the time Irina joined them, the soup had been heated up and split into three bowls. Irina shot Yuna a grateful smile, her damp curls darkened to brown. 

They spoke about Shane, an easy topic, especially as Ilya wanted to know what his best friend had been getting up to in his absence. He seemed pleased to hear Shane had become grumpy without him. “Ilya, how would you feel about doing a sleepover with Shane tonight?” Yuna asked softly, as they finished their soup.

“Sleep…over?” Ilya queried, a blob of soup on his chin. 

“Ilya, u tebya budet nochovka. V dome Shane.” Irina said, leaning over to wipe the soup off of his chin delicately. “Will be fun, da? Shane has games you can play.”

Ilya looked up at his mother, a frown on his face. It didn’t seem right, for such a young child to look so worried. “No ty nuzhdayesh'sya vo mne, mama.” Ilya grumbled, leaning into her hand. 

“Oh, my love,” she smiled sadly at him. “I do need you, da, but you have been looking after mama for days. You need to go to school, and maybe after that, go skating?” Her hand moved to cup his cheek. 

“And, if you stay tonight and go to school, that means I can take your mama out for lunch tomorrow.” Yuna said, hoping Ilya would understand that she would check in on Irina tomorrow. Ilya looked over at her, an unhappy pout on his face. “And think about how happy Shane will be to see you!”

That seemed to do the trick. Irina helped Ilya back clothes for school and his school bag, pressing a kiss to his head and hugging him for a long time, before they headed to Yuna’s car. They spent the afternoon baking cookies to pass the time, and then the pair walked to the school to pick up Shane. Shane was, of course, ecstatic to see Ilya, and even more happy to hear he was staying over.

“You can stay in my room, Ilya,” Shane was saying as they walked home. At some point, Ilya had taken his hand as he rattled off sentences in a mixture of English and Russian, swinging their joined hands when they got hyper at the idea of the sleepover. Sure enough, after stuffing themselves full of cookies and playing video games, they had crashed out in Shane’s bed, sleeping back to back on his bed (even though Yuna had set up an air mattress in Shane’s room for Ilya). 

The next morning, Ilya was ok, until they were sitting down for breakfast. Two thick tears rolled down his cheeks, as he tried to force his pancakes down. Shane didn’t say anything, but reached out with his free hand to wipe at Ilya’s face and then took his hand in his. Yuna and David didn’t comment on Ilya’s tears, knowing that the boy would hate that. He was probably worried over Irina, or guilty he had had fun with his best friend while his mother wasn’t well. 

After dropping the boys off at school, Yuna picked Irina up from her apartment, pleased to see Irina was actually ready and waiting for her. She looked as tired as she did yesterday, but she was out of her bed, which was progress. They got lunch, and then went to do a food shop. Yuna offered to do a better clean of Irina’s apartment, but she had that determined look on her face, and insisted she would do it herself and get the apartment ready for Ilya.

“Would it be ok if Ilya stayed with you one more night?” Irina asked. “Just so I know I am ready for him.” 

“Of course,” Yuna said, smiling. “Honestly, I think if I tried to split them right now, you’d be stuck with Shane, too.”

Later, Yuna met David at the rink with the boys, watching as they skated wildly around the rink while her husband kept to a more sensible pace. There was a lot of hand holding again, which Yuna wasn’t entirely sure what to make of it, but something in her chest warmed at the sight. Yuna met them by the lockers, giving each of her boys a hug - perhaps giving Ilya a tighter one. 

“So, your mama asked if you could stay over another night, just until she can get your house looking lovely again. Is that alright?”

“Is my mama ok?” Ilya asked first, as Shane pretended not to watch him from the corner of his eye. 

“Yes, she is.” Yuna promised. 

“Then yes, please, I like to stay.” Ilya confirmed, smiling when Shane cheered. 

“You know, Ilya, you can stay with us any time. Especially since you’ll be going back to Russia soon.” Yuna said as they walked to the car. “So, what are you boys thinking for din-”

“What do you mean you’re going back to Russia?” Shane interrupted, his voice upset. Yuna and David shared a look, because oh boy, it had been a while since they had heard their baby this distressed. 

*

It had taken a lot of explaining to Shane that no, Ilya wasn’t moving back to Russia, but he was going over there for some of the summer break because his brother and dad lived there. And yes, Ilya’s mum was going with him, even if Ilya’s dad wasn’t always nice to them. While Shane felt somewhat soothed that Ilya wasn’t going to move back permanently, he had become very anxious over the idea of Ilya's dad. He couldn’t (or wouldn’t) explain it, but Ilya seemed to take on the responsibility for trying to keep Shane from worrying, maybe because he had told him so much about what his dad was really like. Ilya made sure to challenge Shane on the ice, continuously scoring goals against one another at practice and outshining the other kids. Ilya had also taken to staying over at the Hollander’s home at least half of the week, so they were spending as much time together as possible. The balance seemed to work for Irina, who still had the odd “off” days, but with the support from the Hollanders, was finding herself more prepared for seeing her husband. 

The day finally came for Ilya and Irina to catch their flight back to Russia. David and Yuna insisted on driving them, dragging a reluctant Shane with them, who didn’t say a word in the car ride, even as Ilya tried to engage him in conversation.

“You want present from Russia?” Ilya tried. 

“No, Ilya.” Shane replied. 

“A otkrytka?”

“He means a postcard, Shane.” Irina translated. 

“No, it’s ok.” Shane said with a sniff. They got parked and the suitcases out, and the group headed into the entrance of the airport. Irina did a final check for their passports, while David nudged Shane to say goodbye. 

“Bye Ilya, bye Mrs Rozanova.” Shane murmured, looking down at the ground. Ilya made a displeased noise and dropped his backpack on the ground, grabbing Shane’s chin and tilting his head up until their eyes met. 

“Ya budu skuchat' po tebe.” Ilya told him seriously, before pulling him in for a hug. Shane seemed to freeze in his hold for a moment, before melting into his arms and hugging him back just as tightly. The adults shared a look over their heads - this was going to be a long summer without the boys together. While they still embraced, Yuna slid over to Irina and handed her a piece of paper.

“It’s got David's work email address on it.” Yuna told her. “If you need to come home - well, back to Canada, or if Ilya needs to come home, just let us know. We’ll see what we can do. Don’t feel like you are stuck.”

“Oh, is very kind of you,” Irina said, tucking the paper into pocket. “I hope this will be a nice visit home, I cannot wait to see my Alexei, but… is good to know, we have friends who care for us.”

“Just tell him about all the fun Ilya has been having in Ottawa,” Yuna told her encouragingly. “I’m sure he will at least want to come and visit. Ok, Shane, time to let go.” Neither boy moved, so Yuna prodded Shane’s back. “Shane.” 

Shane sighed loudly, but stepped out of Ilya’s hold. Before he could get too far away, though, Ilya snagged his hand and squeezed it. Then shot him a cheeky, toothy grin. “Will be back to beat you on the ice, don’t worry!”

“No way,” Shane laughed, his voice sounding thick. “You wish, Ilya.” 

Just as they turned to head through security, Shane shouted out; “Maybe a postcard would be nice!”

The car ride back home was quiet - the radio was on, but it felt muffled. Yuna had looked back a few times to Shane, to see him wiping at his eyes, his face scrunched up. “How about we stop at Tim Hortons for dinner, just as a one off?” Yuna asked, smiling when she saw Shane look up in interest. He would be alright - and hopefully, so would Ilya. 

*

Shane had been signed up for an ice hockey summer camp - it was suggested by his coach that he went, because sometimes talent scouts would drop by to watch the games. It was a perfect distraction for Shane, and he actually made another friend called Hayden, a cheerful boy that did enough talking for both of them. 

“I mean, he’s not Ilya,” Shane told her on one of their drive’s home. “But I like him, he’s funny. He doesn’t bug me for being quiet.”

They hadn’t heard from Irina, which was both a good and bad thing. Yuna just kept thinking they were having a great time and didn’t need to check in. Shane seemed to be less optimistic, but no longer asked his dad if he had heard anything. They had promised to pick up Irina and Ilya from the airport, the date clearly marked on the calendar that Shane checked every day, quietly counting under his breath. He seemed happier, the closer they got.

Finally, it was time to head to the airport - Shane had been up since five that morning, even though they weren’t needed at the airport until late afternoon. When they got there, Shane scanned every face coming in from arrivals, frowning when they simply weren’t his best friend. 

And then, all of sudden, Ilya was in front of them, shouting Shane’s name. Had he gotten taller? Maybe it was his haircut, his curls a lot shorter and less boyish. The boys ran right into each other's arms, Ilya practically lifting Shane off of his feet. They were both talking over each other, and then laughing and trying to speak to each other again. Yuna gave Irina a hug, feeling her thin frame; her whole body seemed smaller than what it was when she left. But, she was here, she had coped with being in her husband’s presence. She was stronger than what she knew. 

“Alexei did not want to come,” Irina told her, her voice heavy and tired. “He wanted us to come home, but… the summer was enough. I was so ready to come back to Canada, as was Ilya.” 

Before Yuna could reply, Ilya was jumping back out of Shane’s hold. “Ah!” Ilya was digging in his pockets, frowning, before producing a crumpled piece of paper. He handed it to Shane, who unfolded it until he saw the photo of Moscow on the front. “Your postcard! Izvini, I did not get a chance to send it.” 

Shane was holding it like it was the most precious thing in the world, and then he looked at Ilya. His expression didn’t change. There was a pang in Yuna’s chest, because she knew that was how she looked at David, and had no idea what that meant for her son.

Chapter End Notes

You guys, I cannot thank you enough for your engagement in chapter one! I hope chapter two was still fluffy enough while dealing with Irina's mental health. Please let me know your thoughts and I will hopefully have another chapter ready soon! I'm on tumblr under the same username so hmu if you wanna talk hollanov <3

Translations:

"Ilya, u tebya budet nochovka. V dome Sheyna." = "A sleepover, Ilya. At Shane's house."

"No ty nuzhdayesh'sya vo mne, mama." = "But you need me here, mama."

"Ya budu skuchat' po tebe." = "I'll miss you."

Chapter 3: Age Eight

Chapter Summary

Shane gets reading glasses, and somehow, disaster strikes. David gets to be there for Ilya. And we finally get some Ilya POV!

Chapter Notes

Warning for mention of: physical abuse, racism and stereotyping.

The call had come just after lunch from Principal Crowell’s secretary, just as David had sat back down at his desk. She wasn’t giving much away over the phone;  just confirmation that Shane had been involved in a fight, that he was fine, no broken bones, but it was school policy for children to be collected after any kind of physical altercation. After some pushing, she did confirm that Ilya was also alright, because there was no way he wasn’t involved - “Although it isn’t really your place to ask, Mr Hollander, you aren’t his parent.” - and then David was getting out of there. 

He pressed the call button on the office door, waiting to be let in by the secretary. The door was half glass, and David could see Shane and Ilya sitting on the plastic chairs, right outside Crowell’s office. Ilya’s face was one of thunder, with his eyebrows furrowed paired with a scowl that made him look so much older than eight. He also had a smudge of dried blood over his nose and upper lip, and a bruise on his cheek. His arms were crossed over his chest, his knuckles were bruised. Shane was next to him, slouched in his chair, looking close to tears. He had a bruise on his chin, and in his hands, were his glasses, split in two. 

Hm, ok. 

Shane had gotten reading glasses this week, which wasn’t a bad thing, but if you heard him go on about it, you’d think it was the end of the world. He had been pretty good at hiding his issues with reading, and it wasn’t made obvious until their teacher called them to ask if there was a reason why Ilya was reading to Shane in class. After speaking to them both, in which Shane tried to make up some lie about Ilya just reading to him to practice his English while Ilya nodded slowly along, the truth did eventually come out - Shane was struggling to see the words clearly in front of him. He could work it out, but he was having to lean back and it was hurting his eyes. 

So he had gotten his eyes tested (Ilya too, for good measure), which confirmed he needed reading glasses. He had basically had a meltdown at the news, which was pretty out of character, and Yuna and David had felt a little unsure of how to calm him down, except for just letting him rant and moan all the way back. At least Ilya seemed to know how to handle their son when he was in this kind of rage. 

“What hockey player do you know wears glasses?” Shane had grumbled once they got in the car. 

“Are you going to be reading on the ice?” Ilya had asked, an eyebrow raised. The silly question had at least made Shane laugh and shove his arm. 

“Shut up, Ilya. You know what I mean.”

“Shane, is just glasses.” Ilya shrugged, taking Shane’s hand in his and lacing their fingers together. Yuna and David just shared a smile at the sight, because really, they were so used to it. Ilya seemed to know exactly when Shane needed physical touch, probably better than Shane himself realised. “They just make you look pretty.”

Shane’s face went an interesting shade of red. “I don’t want to look pretty, Ilya. I’m not a girl.”

“Glasses make you a girl?” Ilya snarked back, holding on tighter when Shane tried to pull his hand away. “Oh! You’ll be like Superman! Will be like disguise, yes? Shane Hollander during the day, superhero ice hockey player at night!” 

They were all laughing now, and the whole car felt lighter. “Who does that make you, then?” Shane said after his laughter had died out. 

“Obviously Lois Lane,” Ilya replied, his smile turning into a grin when Shane went red again. 

Shane had only gotten his new glasses at the start of the week. They had given a note to his teacher to make sure she would tell him to put them on in class, because he was still wary about wearing them. Seeing them broken in two had David frowning. The buzzer rang out and the door was released, so David pushed it open. Ilya looked over at him as he approached, a muscle twitching on his face, but he still said nothing. David greeted the secretary and headed over to the boys, crouching down in front of them both.

“Hi,” he said softly. “Want to tell me what’s been happening, before we go in?”

Shane looked at him, his eyes filled with tears that he was refusing to let fall. “It doesn’t even matter,” Shane said, his voice rough. “Mr Crowell is just going to blame us, anyway.”

“I hit first,” Ilya murmured, relaxing his arms so he could rub at his sore knuckles. “But asshole deserved it.”

“Ilya,” David warned softly, in case the secretary overheard. “What did they do?”

“He was making fun of Shane’s new glasses,” Ilya told him, his eyes darting to Shane’s broken glasses and back to David. “Saying all Asians wear glasses, and then… then he said that it didn’t hide Shane’s eyes.”

“Shane’s eyes?” David repeated, confusion in his tone. 

“Da, and then he used his fingers to pull his eyes to the side,” Ilya made a face. “I don’t want to show you, but he was making fun of Shane. That’s when I hit him.”

He clearly wasn’t going to say anymore, and David wasn’t going to push him, so he just nodded instead. He actually wanted to give Ilya a hug for standing up for his son dealing with shitty racist behaviour, but he felt it was best that he wasn’t seen to be encouraging any kind of fighting. 

“Shane?” David prompted gently, wanting to hear his side of the story. 

“... Ilya summed it all up,” Shane said, rubbing the broken parts of his glasses between his fingers. “He was making fun of my glasses, and my eyes. Ilya hit him, and he went down pretty quick. His friends tried to hit Ilya back, so I got involved, and one of them punched me here,” he tapped his chin. “And then my glasses went flying off, and got broken. I’m sorry, dad.”

“Don’t be,” David said, before cringing. “About the glasses, I mean. We can replace them.” Damn, he wished his wife was here instead of him, she would know how to handle this, because he certainly wasn’t going to give them trouble for sticking up for themselves. “Where was your teacher when this was happening, may I ask?”

“She was with another reading group-” Shane started, but cut himself off when the Principal’s office door swung open. A few boys with adults left without glancing their way, though Ilya did scowl at one boy in particular. David could guess he was the one that had started it. 

“Ah, Mr Hollander, come in… no sign of Mrs Rozanova yet?” Principal Crowell said as he approached. David had never had to meet him before, but already he felt like he wouldn’t like him. 

“She has just started a new job,” David said, standing up. Irina had managed to get herself a part time job at her local grocers. “She might take longer to get here. But I’m happy to wait.” 

“I can’t wait all day,” Crowell said gruffly. Yeah, David didn’t like him. “Come on then boys, let’s go.” 

The boys stood up and headed in, their bodies tense. Ilya wasn’t meeting anyone's eyes when he sat down, David on his left and Shane on his right. Shane, however, was trying his best to look at Crowell, who looked particularly fed up. 

“Now… I’ve spoken to the other boys, who were beaten pretty badly,” Crowell shot Ilya look at that, which had David sitting straighter in his chair. “From what I understand, this whole fight started when Mr Rozanov-”

“Ilya did not start it!” Shane argued back, not letting the Principal finish. It surprised both Ilya and David. 

“Excuse me, Mr Hollander.” Crowell barked, shooting him a furious look. “You will get your chance to speak once I’ve had mine, alright? I’ve not quite decided if you are due a detention, but if you interrupt again, I can assure you that you’ve made that decision for me.”

Shane said nothing more, but he was clearly gritting his teeth, his hand closest to Ilya clenching. David was sure, if they were anywhere else, they’d be holding hands right now. 

“Now, as I was saying, the boys said that Mr Rozanov was the one that started all this nonsense, meaning not only did you cause an incident, Ilya, but you also interrupted the lesson. And you, Shane, must you always follow Ilya so blindly? Your teacher was very surprised to see you were involved in the fight.”

“Can the boys explain to you what happened, Mr Crowell?” David said pointedly. This man clearly liked the sound of his own voice. Crowell looked like he wanted to snap at David, but thought better of it. 

“Yes, Mr Hollander, they can. Shane?” 

Shane sat up in his chair, forcing himself to take a deep breath. His fingers were tapping nervously on the arm of the chair, even though he didn’t seem aware he was doing it. Ilya turned to look at him, giving him silent encouragement. 

“Ilya did not start the fight at all, sir. Yes, he did hit first, but that boy was making fun of my new glasses, which are now broken,” he gestured to the broken glasses in his lap. “And he also made a racist gesture, about my eyes. And he said all Asians wear glasses-”

“What you said just made no sense - you claim Ilya didn’t start the fight, but admit he threw the first punch.” Crowell snorted, making David blink; was he just going to ignore what Shane had said, about the racist remark? What, did Crowell really think the boys would make up the reason as serious as this, just so Ilya could cause a fight in class? David felt heat creep up his neck, the way it did when he felt himself losing his patience.  

He knew men like Crowell, who wanted to brush everything under the rug when faced with behaviour they didn’t really condemn, but had to act like they did. Who saw boys like Ilya, an immigrant and Shane, a mixed race child, as the easy way out. David could bet that the conversation the other boys involved in the fight hadn’t been anything like this. Had they even gotten into trouble?

“Ilya, you understand that there are rules at school, especially against fighting?” Ilya’s nod was nothing more than a jerk. “Maybe things were different in Russia, but here, we do not solve problems by fighting. Even if I believe the boys were making fun of Shane’s glasses, you threw the first punch. I expect you to go straight to a teacher instead of using your fists, like some hooligan. I won’t have that happening again in one of my classrooms, because I will put you in detention until the end of term, do you understand me?”

Ilya looked up; his eyes were wet, but David knew they weren’t tears of upset. “I won’t let Shane get bullied. If you want to punish me, fine, but I will stand up for him.” 

“I don’t think there is any need for any punishments,” David cut in, before this could go any further. “I’m glad you have spoken to all the children involved, Mr Crowell. I think Ilya and Shane understand that they should go to an adult instead of fighting; and I am sure the boys involved were spoken to about how harmful it is to make fun of someone’s appearance, and how disgusting it is to stereotype. After all,” David looked directly at Crowell, whose face was rather red. “It wouldn’t be a good look, if the school management found out that an incident of this nature had occurred on school grounds, and nothing had been done about it.”

“... Of course,” Crowell grumbled. “Which is why I won’t be taking this incident any further with either of you, boys. But if I catch you fighting again, it will be straight to detention. Understood?”

“Yes, sir,” the boys said in unison. Crowell showed them to the door as he thanked David for coming in and collecting them, when the reception door burst open. Irina rushed in, her curls wild and her face red, like she had been running.  

“Ah, Ilyusha! Shane!” Irina said, pulling both boys into a hug. “Are you alright, boys? What happened?”

“Why don’t we fill you in back at our house,” David said, eager to get away from Crowell and his judging stare. 

Instead of talking about it in the car, David spoke about his work day, even though it had hardly been interesting. Irina had nodded along, but kept shooting the boys a worried look over her shoulder. For once, they were rather quiet in the backseats. They arrived home, just as Yuna is finishing up her call with her latest client. 

“David, is that you?” she called out as she exited her tiny office. She was smiling, but it dropped when she saw… Well, everyone she cared about coming through the door. “What is going on?” 

Ilya and Shane explained what had happened to both of their mothers, and then handled their fretting and complaints over how Principal Crowell had handled the whole situation. The boys, including David, had to talk down their mothers from marching straight back up to the school and giving the man a piece of their mind. Yuna ended up roping Shane into helping her and Irina make dinner - it was nothing fancy, but Shane had sort of perfected making up the side salad. He had been a bit hyper fixated on eating well, since one of the older hockey boys had told him about his diet, but David and Yuna weren’t going to stop him from picking healthy choices. 

Ilya, however, headed outside to the garden. David gave it ten minutes before following him out. He was sitting on the old rope swing that David had thrown up years ago for Shane. He wasn’t swinging on it and his hands were tightly grasping the worn rope by either side of his head. He had that annoyed look on his face, which had taken David a while to understand wasn’t annoyance at all, but usually meant Ilya was thinking hard about something.

“I don’t like fighting,” Ilya said, instead of a greeting. “It makes me think I am like my papa. He is not nice man.” David nodded slowly, sitting down on the grass with a slight grunt. Jeez, when did he get so old?

“I think the difference is, Ilya, is that you were fighting to protect someone you care about,” David replied, keeping his eyes on the fence instead of Ilya, hoping that he would talk without feeling watched. He made a mental note that the fence needed to be repainted at some point. “Whereas I think your dad may pick fights with the people he should care about.”

“Yes…” Ilya said, his voice tired. It was the way he sounded when Irina wasn’t in a good place. “He can be, er…” David waited while Ilya remembered the right word, “violent? He is careful, though, to not leave…” Ilya was struggling again, and gestured to his cheek.

“A bruise?” David filled in for him, his stomach tight. 

“Da, yes. Because it would ruin our image,” Ilya rubbed his bruise absentmindedly. “He is very high up, in police. He is very annoyed we live here, and not Russia. He thinks mama is making him look bad. He does not care about my opportunities in ice hockey. But I like it here, and not being with him, or my brother. But then I do that, I fight, and I think maybe part of him is here.” David felt Ilya’s eyes on him, so he looked back. “It is silly, da?”

“No,” David said, his heart aching for this boy in front of him. “It’s not silly.  You are a good kid, Ilya. In fact, you are a fantastic kid. And having one fight isn’t going to change that.” David told him firmly. “Maybe just keep your anger on the ice, as much as you can. And when you can’t, make sure whatever you're fighting for counts, ok? You aren’t here to start fights, but if you need you, you finish them.”

Ilya nodded slowly, before exhaling loudly, his shoulders losing the tension that had been stuck between them since David had picked them up from school. “Don’t tell Shane about my papa, please.” Ilya said, suddenly very serious. “He gets upset when I talk about Russia. I don’t want him to panic.”

“It stays between us, Ilya.” David promised, and he meant it - he wouldn’t even tell Yuna, because she would undoubtedly try and take some kind of action. “And if you ever need to talk, you just come to me, ok?”

“Over a puzzle?” Ilya said, his tone a bit lighter as he fell back into his usual teasing. Ilya had found it hilarious when he saw David’s puzzle collection, and always insisted on helping him when he had one out. 

“Always over a puzzle,” David said, standing up with another soft groan and clasping Ilya on the shoulder.

They headed inside, Ilya heading to the kitchen to offer his services, and then plastering himself to Shane’s back as he finished the salad, trying to steal the salad spoons from his hands and succeeding. They acted silly, with Shane tucking his arms behind Ilya’s back and letting Ilya be his hands, until Yuna chased them out to wash up. The five of them ate dinner, chatting about Irina’s funny colleagues and customers and firmly not discussing the school day. 

“Mama, are you ok if I stay here tonight?” Ilya asked, after he and Shane had loaded up the dishwasher. Shane was hovering behind him, a hopeful look on his face.

“If Yuna and David say it is ok,” Irina replied, but David was already nodding. Really, Ilya never had to ask. The boys shared a large smile, before Shane announced they were going to play video games for an hour before bed. Ilya went to his mother, hugging her tightly and accepting the kiss she placed on his forehead, speaking so fast in Russian David had no hope of trying to decipher it. 

But before Shane could turn to head upstairs, Irina called him back into the room. He blinked, but came into the room, almost shuffling in shyly. Before he could think, Irina had him in another hug for the second time that day, and was pressing a kiss to his forehead. Shane went red, but leaned into her hug, a small smile on his face.

“You are good friend to my Ilya,” Irina told him once she released him. “Thank you for not letting those boys beat him.”

“I didn’t do much,” Shane said quickly. “I’m sorry Ilya got into a fight in the first place, over my stupid glasses.”

“Not stupid glasses,” Irina replied seriously, as Ilya came up to them. 

“He was very brave,” Ilya said, sliding his arm over Shane’s shoulder and tugging him into his side. “My hero, my Superm-oof!” 

Shane had elbowed him, but he was laughing. “We’ll be upstairs if you need us!”

“Lights out by nine, Shane!” Yuna called up after them, before picking up the wine bottle and giving it a little shake. “A top up, Irina? David can take you home.”

“Oh, why not.” Irina smiled, holding out her glass. “Though if our boys go into professional hockey, we cannot drink every time they end up in a fight, we’ll never stop.” 

*

Ilya would never admit it, but he had been extremely nervous when he saw Shane’s dad walk into the school’s reception area. He had never seen David angry or upset before, not like he had seen his own father, but he thought this might do it. If anything, the fact that Ilya was part of the reason Shane had ended up in a fight would be enough to cause the man to scream at him.

But, it never came. Instead, he listened, understood why the whole fight had happened, and had stood up for them in the face of Principal Crowell. If it had been his father called to school over fighting… Ilya shuddered thinking about it, because it would have gone a lot differently. 

He remembered when he and Shane could have limited conversations, discussing their fathers. It was the first time Ilya truly understood his father was a bad person. He didn’t have the words at that time to tell Shane he was so lucky to have a dad like David. 

They climbed into Shane’s bed after getting changed and brushing their teeth, ignoring the spare bed that had been permanently set up in Shane’s room. He can count on one hand the amount of times he has actually slept in that bed. He knew it was weird, but he just slept better next to Shane. He thinks it is why he can never feel rested in Russia - that, or just sleeping under the same roof as his father is enough to keep him on edge. 

“You know, next time someone says something about either of us, about my glasses or your accent,” Shane said as he twisted to turn off the lamp by his bed, knowing his parents would be straight upstairs if they saw the light was still on. “We just ignore it, entirely. As if they don’t exist.” 

Ilya had sworn Shane to secrecy about any of the comments he dealt with at school. He would hear the other kids mocking his Russian accent, and the way he struggled to pronounce words. It drove Shane mad, and he did tell the other kids to shut up, but it could still happen occasionally. He just didn’t want his mama finding out and getting upset about it - she had enough on her mind as it was, and she was doing really well with this new job. 

“I can’t ignore it,” Ilya said, poking Shane’s side until he swatted his hand and turned to face him. His best friend shot him an annoyed look, which just made Ilya grin and think of an angry kitten. 

“Why not? You tell me to ignore it when you are getting picked on…” 

The question had Ilya swallowing and glancing at the door to confirm one of their parents wasn’t suddenly going to barge in. Then, he reached out to trace his fingers over Shane’s freckles. Shane froze, his eyes wide as he watched Ilya, but he didn’t move away. He never did, when Ilya touched his freckles. 

“Because I like your face, and I do not like anyone making fun of it.” Ilya told him honestly. “I like your stars,” he said, sweeping his fingers over Shane’s freckles. Shane always blushed when he called them his stars, and he did not disappoint. “I like your eyes, and I like your glasses. And… I know you don’t like it, but I do think you’re pretty, and I won’t let some idiot make you think you’re not.” 

Ok, phew, he said it, and not in a joking manner. But he had a million things to say if Shane didn’t take it well. Instead, his best friend sent him a shy smile, and reached up to take Ilya’s hand in his. “I like your face, too. And I do like that you stand up for me, even though I don’t like you being hurt. And… I really like your accent.” Even in the darkness of the room, Ilya could swear he could see how red Shane had gotten at that confession. Luckily for him, Shane couldn’t see how red he was, either. But he was worried he could feel how fast his heart was beating. 

It was just a good feeling, to know he and Shane were on the same level, whatever that level was. He sometimes imagined Shane and himself like Yuna and David, even though they were both boys. He never told Shane that, though. He could just hope that this feeling between them never went away. 

“Moy pomidor,” Ilya teased.

“What does that mean?” Shane asked, poking Ilya’s stomach when he began to snicker. “Ilya!”

They finally fell asleep after a hushed guessing game about what Ilya had called Shane, their arms wrapped securely over one another, anchoring them together. After David had dropped Irina home, they headed quietly upstairs, pausing to check in on the boys. 

“I’m glad they have each other, in whatever way works for them.” Yuna whispered softly, before carefully shutting the door. “But David, I’m worried about it, especially for Ilya. Maybe we should talk to Irina.”

“Maybe we should speak to the boys first, when the time is right.” David countered as they headed to their room. “Just in case we have it wrong. They might just be overly affectionate.”

Yeah, even saying that out loud was laughable. 

Chapter End Notes

I actually had this written basically written long before posting started, hence why I have posted this one so much earlier than planned - I think chapter 4/age nine will take a little longer as I currently have ideas for it but nothing written down! This chapter was a particular favourite to write, I hope you liked it too, and enjoyed getting Ilya's POV - the older they get the more POV focus will be on them!

Kudos, comments and all that jazz are so appreciated <3 hit me up on tumblr

Chapter 4: Age Nine

Chapter Summary

Ilya and Shane have their first fight.

Chapter Notes

Hockey practice had been heating up recently. They were getting to that age where if you wanted to do hockey for a living, you really had to focus on the game, because eyes were starting to turn to the younger age groups. Nothing was guaranteed, of course, and there were a lot of kids who were great players, but Shane wouldn’t risk a talent agent passing over him because the day they came to watch one of their competitive games, he was messing around. 

The coach was pleased with his dedication, and Ilya’s. They were clearly the two best players on their team, which Ilya loved to chirp the other boys about. When they played together, they were seriously unstoppable - they didn’t even need to communicate, Shane was always where Ilya needed him to be on the ice, and Ilya was the same for Shane. Because of this, however, the coach liked to make them play against each other often, to keep their skills sharp against an opponent on their level. 

It was actually really fun, because neither of them held back; if anything, their competitiveness got worse. Ilya also chirped Shane constantly, but Shane found it endearing rather than annoying. The boys always said it was Team Hollander versus Team Rozanov, and usually they picked sides. Some people preferred Shane’s way of leading, compared to Ilya’s; they were both rather different when they were naturally appointed the leaders. Shane was more focused, leaning hard into the strengths of his teammates and gently correcting where he could. Ilya was louder, would push his team hard but got the results, and would keep their energy high the whole game. Shane sometimes felt exhausted just watching him. 

Someone who constantly drifted to Ilya’s team when they were told to split into groups was Cliff Marlow. He was as tall as Ilya, and was definitely going to grow up to be huge - he certainly felt huge when he was ramming you into the boards. He and Ilya got on like a house on fire, and while Shane liked Cliff, he just didn’t match his loud mouth personality. 

However, much to Shane’s joy (and for some reason, Ilya’s dismay), Hayden Pike, the friend he had made from summer camp, had moved to Ottawa and had joined his hockey team. Hayden was great, and he always went on Team Hollander, chirping fiercely back at Ilya and Cliff whenever possible. They played well together, as they had done at camp, and Shane enjoyed having another friend on the team. 

Life really couldn’t get any better for Shane. Every day was like a high, and he never wanted it to end. And then, Svetlana moved to town. 

Svetlana Vetrova was the daughter of Sergei Vetrov, a famous NHL goalie who had just signed a three year contract with the Ottawa Centaurs. She had also become the bane of Shane’s existence. 

It wasn’t that Svetlana was a bad person - really, Shane didn’t have a bad thing to say about her. It was her positives that made Shane’s stomach churn with anxiety. Firstly, she was from Russia, and it turned out she had grown up with Ilya and knew everything about him, including things Shane didn’t know, like Russian music that she and Ilya both loved, while Shane didn’t care much for music at all. Secondly, she could obviously speak Russian, which delighted Ilya to no end. In fact, they often spoke Russian to each other, and in front of Shane, which really annoyed him but he never dared voicing it. Thirdly, she was completely clued up on all things hockey, since her dad was a famous hockey goalie - in fact, he had been the one that had helped get Irina and Ilya out of Russia. Fourthly, she was a very pretty girl, with beautiful curls and sharp eyes. That seemed to sting Shane the most, because… well, they were just different to look at, weren’t they? She was so pretty, she stood out, and Shane… Shane was just plain looking. (And he was a boy.)

Svetlana usually hung out at the rink when they had practice, so she and Ilya could go back to her house when they were done. Today was no different, and as they walked back to the car park with Shane trailing behind the two Russians who were deep in conversation, laughing about something. Usually, Ilya would have gone to Shane’s house after practice, and maybe they would have played some video games or hung out with his parents, watching whatever was on tv. Maybe his dad would have got them all to do a puzzle, or another kind of board game. 

It sounded boring, even in his head. 

“Shane,” Svetlana said suddenly, making him look up. “You will need to come over to my house one time, da? With Ilya? You can meet my papa! Ask your mama.”

Shane forced himself to smile and mutter out an agreement, knowing he would never ask his mum about going over. Ilya shot him a quick smile over his shoulder and went back to whatever they were talking about in Russian. The smile dropped from his face as soon as they weren’t looking at him. 

This went on for a few weeks, and Shane felt Ilya was being pulled away from him, each day. He didn’t come over as often anymore, and always their conversations seemed to somehow end up on Svetlana. Shane felt like he was the only one who was noticing these changes, and felt he was curling into himself, trying to cut himself off from the hurt and pain that Ilya was unintentionally causing him.

He couldn’t be Svetlana. Shane knew Ilya only told him what he wanted him to know about Russia and his dad, he couldn’t speak Russian, and he wasn’t a girl. He couldn’t be the obvious choice. And really, he couldn’t fault Ilya if he didn’t find Shane pretty or interesting anymore. He would just have to get used to being downgraded to Ilya’s friend, not his… whatever he used to be.

If only his heart could catch up with his head, that would be great. 

*

They had both gotten bikes for their birthdays - Yuna and David had paid half of Ilya’s when Irina admitted her husband had started withholding money he sent them in an attempt to get them to come home, leaving her tight on cash. This led to an agreement that the boys could cycle to and from school, as long as they followed the same route that they always walked, which was always busy with other school kids and parents, and they had to wear their helmets. If they were caught without them, they would be stuck walking with either Irina or Yuna again.

So they stuck to rules, usually getting competitive on who could cycle the faster home. Ilya was currently the champion. But today, they weren’t racing each other, just cycling along at a steady pace… and not saying a word to each other. It has been like this all week. They parked their bikes on the side of the Hollander’s home, shouting out a hello to Shane’s parents before heading straight upstairs.

“Alright, enough of this.” Ilya demanded once they were in the safety of their room, the door shut firmly behind him so Yuna and David couldn’t overhear. He sat himself down on what was meant to be his bed, hating that he felt unsure if he should sit where he actually slept. “What is going on with you? You seem mad that I’m here.”

“I’m not mad,” Shane said, sitting down on Ilya’s side of the bed, keeping his eyes on the rug beneath his feet. “I just thought you’d maybe be spending time with Svetlana instead. You haven’t come home with me for ages.”

“Yes, well, I’m here now.” Ilya said, throwing his hands up at himself. “But is no fun being here if you are giving me the silent treatment.” Shane muttered something under his breath at that, which grated on Ilya entirely. “What was that?”

“I said if I’m boring you, I won’t force you to hang out.” Shane muttered, finally looking up. His expression was unreadable, which Ilya wasn’t used to - he could always tell how Shane felt. “Go and hang out with Svetlana if she’s more fun.” 

“Svetlana is good friend,” Ilya snapped, shooting Shane a glare as if daring him to disagree. Shane made a noise of frustration and got up from his bed to stand over Ilya. 

“I never said she wasn’t, Ilya! I just didn’t realise she was a better friend than me!” Shane said, his voice getting louder on each word, his hurt leaking through. It took him a moment to even realise he had said the words that were making him feel so insecure. 

“I never said that, Shane! She is just… different, ok? I can speak my mother tongue with her, she understands Russia, she is funny, she has been my best friend for forever-”

“But you’ve been my best friend for forever!” Shane shouted, hating how pathetic it sounded but Ilya had to know it was true. 

“Yes, I know. I am your best friend, and you are mine. But I also have Svetlana.” Ilya now stood up, towering over Shane, making him feel even smaller. His face was giving nothing away, and Shane just wished he would show something other than anger. “Is not my fault, that I am your only friend.” Ilya said, not meaning the words to be harsh, but he was struggling to think of how to say it. He always lost his grasp of English when he was upset.

But it was the wrong thing to say, entirely, because Shane gasped. The gasp seemed to take all the energy out of the room, and mentally, Ilya was kicking himself at causing Shane such hurt. He just couldn’t explain that Svetlana was a different friend, that he loved them differently. Svetlana was one of his best friends, yes, but Shane was everything. 

Maybe he should have said that, instead of the stupidity that he had said instead. 

“That’s… that is not even true,” Shane lied, his eyes stinging. “I have Hayden. He’s been a better friend than you have for weeks. He actually wants to spend time with me.”

The mention of Hayden seemed to crack something in Ilya, but it was too late. He reached out to take Shane’s hand, but Shane jerked out of his hold and took a step back, shaking his head. “Can… can you go home?” Shane asked, his voice tired. “I don’t want to fight anymore.”

“Go home?” Ilya repeated, as if he had heard him wrong - hoping he had heard him wrong. But Shane just nodded, his eyes dropping to the floor as he reached up and put the string of his hoodie into his mouth, biting down hard to stop him from saying anything else. Ilya wanted to wait him out; he really wanted to pull him into a hug, to say sorry for upsetting him, to explain himself better and to help Shane with his insecurity. But… he also wanted to respect Shane’s need for space, even though he had never known Shane to need space from him. 

He swallowed, glancing around their room - Shane’s room, his mind helpfully reminded him - and started to grab the various items he had left there. The last thing he picked up was his school bag, which he swung on his shoulders. He did one more pause, but Shane hadn’t even looked up.

“I go now,” Ilya said, swallowing around the lump in his throat and heading to the door. His eyes were beginning to sting, his vision blurring. He didn’t even stop to say goodbye to Yuna or David, which was so rude but he couldn’t face them right now. He was disappointing everyone and he didn’t even know how. 

He ran out the front door, running around to the side of the house to get his bike. He didn’t bother with his helmet and was peddling down the street so fast, that by the time David had gotten outside to see who had just left, he could only see Ilya’s golden curls lit up in the fading sunlight.

“It was Ilya,” he said once he got back inside, a frown on his face. “He was cycling at some speed. Did he say he was going home?”

“No, he didn’t. Shane, where is Ilya going?” Yuna shouted up the stairs. When they got no response, they headed upstairs. “I thought he was staying over-oh, Shane, what’s wrong?”

Shane was sitting on his bed, his hood pulled up over his head. He wasn’t making a sound, but the tears were streaming down his face. He looked heartbroken. Without thought, both Yuna and David had their arms around him, Yuna gently shushing him and David rubbing his back. 

When it came clear that Shane wasn’t ready to talk, David carefully pulled himself away from his family. “I’ll call Irina, and make sure Ilya got home ok.” David said softly, squeezing Shane's shoulder and leaving the room. 

*

The house is quiet in ways it hasn’t been in years. Shane poked at his food in front of him, a permanent frown on his face. Yuna and David were doing their best to act like nothing was wrong, but even they couldn’t help but notice the empty seat on Shane’s left. It was just wrong, not having Ilya’s presence in their home, with his stories and his laughter. It was almost like he had taken Shane’s voice with him, when he went to spend time with Svetlana. 

Jeez, it had only been a week since their fallout, but it felt like a month. 

“So,” Yuna said, when they ran out of conversation, “are you looking forward to practice tomorrow?”

“Yeah,” Shane said, though he sounded like he’d rather do anything else. “This is our last practice before we go against other teams, so… it’s exciting.” 

“It sure is,” David said, overly cheerful and making Shane cringe. “How about after practice, we take Ilya and his mum to get pizza?” 

It was quickly obvious to Shane’s parents that that had been the wrong thing to suggest. Shane stiffened at the mention of his best friend, and dropped his fork loudly onto his plate. “I think Ilya will probably be too busy with Svetlana,” he muttered, before pushing his chair back from the table. “May I be excused?” he asked, but before his parents could reply, he was already walking away from the table and stomping up the stairs. After a moment, they heard his bedroom door slam shut. They shared a look, not even having to voice their concern over their son’s behaviour. This upset and bad mood was starting to feel like it would last forever.

In his room, Shane was lying in the dark, his covers over his head even though he hadn’t gotten dressed for bed yet, since it was so early. But he just wanted to sleep, to just move on from this day and hope his head was in a better place for tomorrow. 

But he couldn’t stop thinking about him: Ilya. His mind was racing about what he could be doing at Svetlana’s house - he was probably having a blast at her fancy house, with her famous dad, and getting to speak Russian together. They were probably making jokes about Shane in Russian, about how weird he was. Or… or Ilya wasn’t thinking about him at all. Shane honestly didn’t know what would be worse. 

He sighed shakily and turned over in his bed, grabbing the pillow from Ilya’s side and tugging it over his face, blocking out the sliver of light coming from under his bedroom door. He held it tight, even though it felt nothing like Ilya, or even smelt like him anymore. He just missed his best friend, and felt so rocked by his absence. He wasn’t sure if he would ever feel ok again.

Meanwhile, Ilya was thinking of Shane, and was just as unhappy. He was hanging out with Svetlana at her house, an old hockey game on the tv and their homework spread out on the coffee table, though they had stopped pretending to be working on it thirty minutes ago. Svetlana had finally managed to get the truth out of Ilya as to why he and Shane had fallen out.

“So it is my fault,” Svetlana said in Russian, her tone thoughtful rather than upset. 

“No, no one is at fault here.” Ilya said firmly, before wincing. “Well, except for me. I shouldn’t have said that, about it being his fault I am his own friend.” Although from the sound of it, Hayden Pike was a great replacement. 

“Probably not, but you are his only best friend.” Svetlana said, not unkindly. “But… I think you liked that. Having Shane all to yourself. And he liked it too.” Ilya looked over at his friend, a frown on his face. She wasn’t wrong, exactly. Ilya liked the bubble he and Shane lived in - he just never expected it to burst over Svetlana. “Look,” Svetlana sighed, pushing her curls over shoulder. “Shane has never understood your life in Russia, right, because you stopped telling him about it. Even the good parts of it, like me. So when I appear, and I understand everything about your life, he must feel a bit unbalanced and thrown off. That is what he feels insecure about, because you will know everything about his life, while he can’t say the same about you.”

“But I do that because he gets upset when I talk about Russia, about my family.” Ilya argued. “I don’t want to be the reason he is worried, or sad.”

“But that is what happened anyway,” Svetlana said slowly. “Plus… you know what we are like. Sasha used to get so mad at us, because he felt we were excluding him. We are a lot, sometimes. And we have been speaking in Russian in front of him, which keeps him from joining in our conversations.”

“True,” Ilya couldn’t help but pout. “He just won’t understand how good it is to speak to someone in your native language when you no longer hear it, except from your mother. It is refreshing.”

“I know,” his friend patted his back. “But when we only speak Russian, he is getting to experience how you felt when you moved here, and couldn’t understand instructions or basic words. That does feel isolating.”

Ugh, it was so annoying when Svetlana had to be right all the time. “So, what do I do, Sveta?”

“The first step is to apologise for your comment, because you don’t want to hurt him, yes? But you don’t apologise for having me as a friend. You both need to have other friends around you - it doesn’t mean you care for each other any less, it just means you stop acting like an old married couple before you are even teenagers. And we make adjustments - when it is just us, we can talk in Russian. When Shane is with us, we speak in English.” 

“When did you get so clever?” Ilya asked dryly, grinning when she shoved him.

“I’ve always been this clever, Ilya. You’ve just forgotten since you moved.” Svetlana went back to her homework, before poking his hand with her pencil. “And I want to hang out with Shane more. I want him to know I am not the enemy. And you should hang out with this Hayden, yes?”

“No, please no.” Ilya groaned loudly, “Hayden is the worst.”

*

Ilya had a game plan - he was going to grab Shane before the start of practice, hug him very tight until he complained about it, and then apologise for his stupid comment. He was then going to inform him that he and Svetlana were friends, yes, but that did not change the importance of Shane’s presence in Ilya’s life. And he was going to insist the three of them hang out, in whatever way Shane wanted to, and then he was going to do a sleepover and count each and every one of Shane’s freckles. Except, he had forgotten that Shane would be running late - he had a dentist appointment, and only got onto the ice as warm ups were ending. 

“Ah, Hollander, you’re here! Good, warm up fast and then get into teams, boys!” the coach shouted out. Cliff was over to his side before Ilya could reach Shane, pulling him to the other side of the rink.

“Usual formation, boss?” Cliff asked, a grin on his face. Ilya just nodded, not in the mood to give his usual energy to his team. He just wanted to talk to Shane. He skated up to Shane when it was time to start the game, but before he could even open his mouth to say hi, the puck was dropped, and Shane had won the face off. Ilya, of course, went skating after him. 

And then, before Ilya could blink, Cliff had crashed into Shane, slamming him into the boards. It was a brutal hit, the kind that made Ilya exhale sharply as if he had been on the receiving end of it. But Ilya came to a halt when he saw Shane go down, and not get back up.

A few colourful curse words raced through his head as he skated over to Shane, his eyes wide. Shane still hadn’t gotten up. Why hadn’t he gotten up?

“Shane? Shane!” Ilya shouted as he reached him, but he was quickly pushed back from him by one of the assistant coaches. Instantly, Ilya looked to the seating area, waving widely to get Yuna’s attention. He could feel his heart beating wildly in his chest, panic gripping him tight and refusing to let go. He didn’t even register that Hayden and Cliff had started fighting behind him, his focus was entirely on Shane. 

Within seconds, Shane was lifted off the ice and back to the locker room, and Yuna was out of her chair and running around to meet them. Ilya caught sight of his mother waving him over, and he raced to her, feeling himself crumble the closer he got. 

“Oh, Ilya, it will be ok.” Irina told him when he reached her, landing in her arms with a sob. “My darling, Shane will be ok.”

Shane had come to while he was still at the ice rink, but he was instantly complaining that his head was really sore, and his vision was blurry. He also had no idea what had happened to him. Yuna has taken him straight to the emergency room, David meeting them there, and he was assessed quickly and confirmed to have a minor concussion. The doctor checked his eyes, but he was satisfied that his pupils were normal and so he didn’t need to stay over at the hospital. He was sent away with pain killers; however, the Hollanders had clear instructions that if his head felt worse, or if he started to be sick, he had to come straight back. And - the worst news - no hockey for at least three weeks. Shane had felt well enough to complain about that, but the doctor was clear - if he didn’t take the time to rest properly, he could end up doing himself more damage. 

“And then you will end up staying in here, son,” the doctor told him firmly. So he had gone home, had a small nap in his dark room and was awoken for a light dinner, and then ended up straight back in bed again. He had felt so out of it, he hadn’t even thought about asking his parents to let Ilya know he was ok. 

The next day, Shane had awoken to the smell of flowers. He thought he was dreaming it, or this was a weird new symptom of his concussion, because that smell hadn’t been there last night.   

“What the…” Shane said, sitting up slowly with a wince. Ouch, his head still hurt, but it definitely felt duller than yesterday, which he was sure was a good sign. The room was still dark, but even he could make out the bunch of lilies carefully resting in a vase by his bed. And there was no mistaking the boy standing next to them.

“Hi,” Ilya said, his voice so soft. His expression looked so fragile. “I… I am sorry, did I wake you?”

Shane blinked up at him for a few seconds, before a smile broke out on his face. “Your flowers did,” Shane said. “If those are from you.”

“Da,” Ilya gestured to them. “I wanted to come see you last night, but my mama called yours, and she said you were sleeping and had to rest. So my mama took me to her shop, and we got you lilies. She said it would make you feel better.”

Shane hadn’t heard that flowers could heal concussions, but he did think Irina had been trying to make Ilya feel better. 

“Cliff is really sorry, by the way.” Ilya said, wringing his hands. “He didn’t mean to hit you so hard. You’ll be pleased to know Hayden tried to fight him as soon as you went down.”

Shane felt himself grin. “Hayden’s a good friend.”

“Ugh, he’s just ok.” Ilya said with an eyeroll. 

“I’ll never understand why you don’t like him,” Shane chuckled, then winced. Ilya noticed it immediately. 

“What can I get for you? Water? Do you have medicine?” Ilya was fretting around the room, before he found Shane’s water bottle and handed it to him. Shane took a sip, but then gestured to Ilya’s side of the bed.

“Will you lie down? I think watching you move around is hurting my brain.” Ilya hesitated for a moment, before he carefully got into his side of the bed, careful not to jostle Shane. Shane lied back down, staring up at his dark ceiling. He used to have glow in the dark stars up there, and he kind of missed them. “Thank you, for the flowers. That is really sweet of you.”

“Is nothing,” Ilya said, before clearing his throat. “You… You really scared me.”

“Sorry,” Shane said, his eyes closing. He just wanted to let Ilya’s voice wash over him, because he missed hearing him so much. “I can’t even play in the game next week. So annoying.”

“That doesn’t matter, they’ll be other games. I just want you to be ok,” Ilya reached out and carefully took Shane’s hand. “I want us to be ok.”

Shane turned his head slowly, waiting until Ilya met his gaze. Ilya looked so nervous, and it made something in Shane break. “Me too,” Shane whispered, squeezing his hand. “I’m sorry, for making you think we weren’t. I just was dealing with my own stuff, and took it out on you, and Svetlana.”

“No, Shane - I haven’t been fair to you, or considered your feelings. I didn’t do everything I could to make you feel comfortable, and I’m sorry about that.” Ilya swallowed thickly. “I’ve really missed you.”

“I’ve missed you too,” Shane said, and carefully laid his head on his shoulder. “I’ve missed this. I’ve been sleeping like rubbish since we fell out.”

“Me too,” Ilya admitted, rubbing his thumb over Shane’s hand. “We could go back to sleep, for a bit, then get breakfast?”

“Sounds good…” Shane said, his voice already floating away as he felt himself be lulled back to sleep. Perhaps Ilya’s presence was the best medicine. 

Outside of the door, Yuna was smiling softly, carefully sneaking back downstairs. Her son was in safe hands. 

*

Shane was still not cleared to play, which was insanely annoying since it meant he was actually missing their first game against another hockey team. But he has come to watch, of course, with his parents and Irina. Ilya had been nominated as the captain, and Shane (while totally jealous) was cheering for him loudly whenever he was on the ice. Shane never really got the opportunity to just sit and watch him play, and honestly, he was killing it on the ice. Shane didn’t think the grin had left Ilya’s face since he got out there, and really, neither had Shane’s.

“Oops, it has already started! Sorry, hi!” Svetlana said brightly, as she sat down next to him. Shane jumped at her sudden appearance. “My mama was late dropping me. How are you?” 

“I, er, I’m fine.” Shane blinked at her, feeling horrendously awkward. And, if he was honest, guilty. He had avoided Svetlana so much, and here she was being nice to him. He was about to do the polite thing and ask how she was, but she was already talking again. 

“I am sorry about your head bump,” she said, before looking out onto the ice. “You would rather be playing, yes?”

“Yes, definitely. But it’s nice that I get to watch Ilya - and the team.” He added quickly, feeling his face go red. 

“Yes, the team, of course.” Svetlana said in that all-seeing way that freaked Shane out. “You know, I would never say this to Ilya, but I do worry about how the team will do without you on the ice.” 

“Really?” Shane chuckled nervously. “Everyone is really good.”

“Hm, not like you and Ilya. See, like that-” Svetalana gestured over to the ice. “How did your teammate lose the puck like that?”

“He isn’t keeping his eyes on his surroundings.” Shane said, and without thought, the two of them were commentating the whole game. Svetlana was completely clued up on hockey, and her comments on the play had Shane laughing loudly. 

From the ice, Ilya watched his two best friends talking and laughing from the viewing area. He felt himself smile, relief coursing through his veins. Things would be ok. He and Shane would be better than ok. 

“Good shot,” Hayden said as he skated past Ilya on his way to the bench. 

“Yeah, maybe you will learn from it and try it yourself one time.” Ilya automatically chirped back. He would work on being nicer to Hayden, some day, but not today.

Chapter End Notes

A week ago I was panicking because I didn't know what to write for age nine and then I threw out over 5k words HA.
I didn't want to focus too much on the apology, because kids that age fall out and get over it quickly. How did you like Svetlana, Hayden and Cliff being part of the story? Also, I know Svetlana is different in the books and they aren't childhood friends, but I just love their dynamic so much in the show I wanted it to be reflected here <3

Thank you for all your lovely comments, they honestly inspired me to get this chapter out! Next chapter will have a bit more of relationship development, I hope you'll enjoy it!

Chapter 5: Age Ten

Chapter Summary

Ilya and Shane sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G. Scott Hunter makes a guest appearance!

Chapter Notes

It was a Saturday night, and for once they were hanging out at Ilya’s home, since his mum had the night off. Svetlana had joined them after hockey practice, which is something Shane had gotten used to over the past year. Svetlana was hilarious, full of wit and was as good at chirping as any hockey player. Her dad, although a terrifying Russian man, was also incredibly cool and was happy to tell Shane and Ilya stories of playing in the NHL. And, it was pretty awesome to go to the Centaurs stadium and know the goalie. It just made Shane more determined to become a real hockey player.

Svetlana had brought a movie with her, and while Ilya had carefully made their popcorn in the microwave, Svetlana was trying to teach Shane how to say “I like popcorn” in Russian. This was something both Svetlana and Ilya had started to do frequently with Shane, and he enjoyed that they were attempting to teach him, though he felt painfully slow with picking it up. 

“Say it slowly,” Svetlana instructed. “Mne nravitsya popkorn.” He tried to say it, definitely only pronouncing the word popcorn right since it was basically the same. But Svetlana still beamed and nodded at his attempt. “Not bad! Now say, u Ilya krasivyye glaza.”

“Sveta,” Ilya cut in, carrying two bowls of popcorn. “Enough. Get your stupid movie on, da?” 

Shane was already settled on the couch, in his usual spot. Svetlana smirked but did as she was asked, and went to sit on the armchair with her popcorn bowl. Ilya handed Shane the last bowl, before he too settled on the couch, on the opposite side. He threw a thin blanket over them, and once they were covered, Ilya had his feet pressed against Shane’s, like always. 

“Put the popcorn in the middle, Hollander,” Ilya said, patting the space they had made between their feet. “No hogging.”

They didn’t speak much when the movie was on, because Svetlana would shush them. Admittedly, it wasn’t their kind of film - Ilya loved action movies, particularly The Fast and The Furious film that had come out this year, while Shane wasn’t too bothered by movies. He sort of preferred documentaries on nature, or hockey. This film was some sort of romantic comedy, with the two characters finally realising their feelings for one another after years of being in each other's lives. The final scene was them kissing pretty passionately in front of their family and friends, the movie fading to credits while romantic music played.

“Well, that was just ok.” Svetlana commented dryly. She stood up from the chair with a stretch. “I need to go to the bathroom. Will your mama still take me home, Ilya?”

“Da,” Ilya nodded, and gestured over to his mum’s closed door. “Just let mama know you want to go home.” 

They watched as she left, Shane picking out the smallest pieces of popcorn still left in their bowl. He felt bad if he indulged in snacks, but he would always eat if Ilya made it. “What do you think about that?” Ilya asked Shane suddenly. Shane blinked, trying to understand the question.

“About what?”

“Kissing.” Ilya looked over at him. “Kissing girls.” 

“Oh…” Shane frowned, thinking about it. He could only think about kissing his mum, which he didn’t think Ilya meant. “I don’t think about it, really.”

“No?” Ilya wasn’t letting it go. “Do you think about kissing anyone?”

Shane swallowed thickly and looked away, his shrug not as nonchalant as he liked. “I dunno, Ilya. Do you?”

“Yeah,” Ilya said, sitting up. He had that look on his face, the one that Shane would usually tease him about and tell him to stop thinking so hard. But this time, Shane didn’t say anything, just watched. “My brother always talks about kissing girls, when I go back to Russia. He said girls know if you are a bad kisser.”

“I don’t know what that means,” Shane admitted - how was someone good or bad at kissing? It was just pushing your lips together, right? Why did people even like doing that? Svetlana came back into the room, grabbing her coat and shrugging it on.

“Svetlana,” Ilya said, looking over at her. “Have you ever kissed anyone?” 

“Hm, I kissed Sasha once…” she said, sorting her curly hair once her coat was on. “Just to try.”

“Was it good?”

“It was… ok? But Sasha didn’t like it much.” Svetlana gestured towards the television. “It was not a kiss like that.”

Ilya’s mum appeared from her bedroom, her curly hair tied up into a messy bun on her head. She liked to give them space when Ilya had friends over, and had been reading in her room. “Time to go, Svetlana?”

“Yes, please.” Svetlana said, now putting on her boots. Irina nodded and looked over at the boys. 

“I will be back in half an hour, ok? Tell me the rules.”

“We don’t answer the door, we call 911 if there is an emergency, we do not attempt to cook anything.” Ilya rattled off. “I have my key if we need to leave. And…” Ilya gestured to Shane. Without thinking, Shane rattled off his home phone number. Ilya grinned at him, before looking back at his mum. “And we know the Hollanders phone number if we need them.”

Irina pressed a kiss to both Ilya and Shane’s forehead while Svetlana shouted goodbye. Once they heard the door lock behind them, they looked back at each other. Silence settled over them, not uncomfortable, just… heavy. 

“Who do you think your first kiss will be?” Shane asked, rushed, his voice low. 

“Not Sasha,” Ilya joked, but his voice was quiet. “Should we… I, no, forget it.”

“What?” Shane felt his heart beating fast in his chest, like he was on the ice. Ilya shifted, and Shane watched, transfixed as his cheeks turned pink. Ilya muttered something quickly, causing Shane to tilt his head. “What did you say, Ilya?”

“I asked if you… if you wanted to practice,” Ilya was red now, though his eyes were sharp and met Shane’s gaze. “Kissing, I mean.”

“Oh,” Shane breathed, blinking rapidly as he processed the question. He didn’t want to seem too eager, but having Ilya as his first kiss had him feeling excited and nervous all at the same time. He definitely wanted to do it. “Yeah, ok.” 

Ilya moved quickly, sitting up on the coach and crossing his legs under him. Shane copied his pose, so that they were inches away. Ilya was still taller than Shane, having a recent growth spurt, and he tilted his head down so their eyes could stay connected. Shane couldn’t look away even if he tried.

“Yeah?” Ilya asked again, causing Shane to nod. Ilya licked his lips, Shane glanced down for a second to see it, before looking back at Ilya. He felt his own face go red in anticipation. “Ok, cool.” Ilya said, and if Shane could talk, he would tease Ilya for how uncool he was currently being. Neither of them moved for a moment, the silence only broken from a car passing by on the street, when Ilya suddenly exhaled sharply. 

And suddenly, he was leaning in, his lips puckered. Shane felt his eyes flutter shut, and then, Ilya’s lips were on his. Soft, still a little wet. He should have licked his own lips, which must have felt dry. Their noses were squished together, and… and it felt nice. Not what Shane had been expecting, but not in a bad way - just a bit tingly on his lips. 

“Was that ok?” Ilya asked as he pulled back ever so slightly. Shane nodded again, feeling Ilya’s curls brush his forehead. 

“Yeah, I think. Did you like it?” 

“Yes,” Ilya confirmed, and Shane felt himself relax. “You taste like popcorn. But… that kiss in the movie was different. They moved more, or something.”

Ilya was right, but Shane really had no idea how to kiss like that. Feeling bold all of a sudden, Shane leaned in again. “Let’s practice,” he said, his lips brushing Ilya’s, before carefully trying again. 

They had no idea of how much time had passed - they would break apart, to either laugh when their noses smashed together or if it got kinda gross, which it sometimes did, but beneath it all, Shane felt his whole body tingling. He wasn’t sure if kissing anyone would make him feel like this, or just Ilya, but really, Shane only wanted to ever kiss Ilya, so he didn’t have to worry about it. 

They had been practicing again for a minute, really starting to get the hang of it, when the front door suddenly burst open.  “Mama!” Ilya practically squeaked, jumping up from the couch and flying back from Shane. He was completely red, his eyes wide. Shane turned to face the front door, where Irina still stood frozen, her expression unreadable. 

“We were… it was just…” Shane tried to explain, but realised nothing he could say would explain that. He suddenly felt like they had been caught doing something really, really wrong. It was the same feeling he had when they had been taken to Principal Crowell’s office after fighting at school. He was totally about to be taken home. Maybe Irina wouldn’t want him hanging out with Ilya anymore. 

“Do you boys want ice cream before bed?” Irina suddenly asked, letting the door slam shut behind her and heading straight over to the kitchen. “I think we still have some. Ilya, put the movie back in its case, please. Let’s put on a tv show, yes?”

Ilya and Shane shot each other a wide eyed look, before Ilya quickly wiped his lips and went to do what he was told. Shane sank back against the couch, his face entirely red. In fact, he didn’t think his face changed colour until they were both crammed into Ilya’s bed, which could barely fit both of them now. They didn’t kiss again, or talk about it, but they both thought about it. 

*

They got better at being careful, when they wanted to ‘practice’. The easiest time to kiss was after school, when they could take the bikes and go off the agreed path they had promised they would stick to. They didn’t go too far away - just down a few streets until they reached a bunch of garages behind some houses. No one was ever around, and they would carefully go between the garages, out of sight entirely, and kiss. Shane was pretty sure they were getting really good at it - he certainly liked it. It was still a bit weird sometimes, if their tongues accidentally touched, or if a bit of spit was left on their lips, but it was sort of being the only thing Shane could think about.

They still kissed at home, but they agreed only to do it when they were sure their parents were asleep. Ilya had said Irina hadn’t mentioned what she saw to him, but he wasn’t willing to risk being caught again. 

At school, they had to be really careful, because it was so busy that anyone could see them. Sometimes, they would only have a few minutes to practice, crammed into a toilet stall just in case anyone came in. A part of Shane kind of enjoyed the risk, though he would never tell Ilya, who would probably try and be riskier. The only place Shane was firmly against practicing was at the rink - because if there was one thing Shane knew, it was that hockey and boys kissing was not allowed. 

And so far, they had been safe - excluding the blip with Irina catching them, no one else seemed aware they were doing this. And that was important, because while Shane didn’t really know what they were doing, this change between them felt important, and he wanted to protect it as much as possible. 

“You’re thinking too loud,” Ilya murmured, pressing a small kiss to his cheeks - or really, his freckles. They were hidden in their usual spot between garages, in their own little world. “We need to go back soon, or your mum will come looking.”

“Sorry,” Shane said, reaching up to put his fingers in Ilya’s hair, like the girl had done in the movie. Ilya leaned into his hold, making Shane smile. “Can we stay for a few more minutes?”

“Hmm,” Ilya pretended to ponder the question, snickering when Shane poked his stomach. “I think we can stay a few more minutes, yes.” 

Their lips pressed together again, and they made every minute count. 

*

It wasn’t often that Yuna and David had a date night - between Shane and Ilya’s school and hockey schedule and their own workloads, by the time they were settled for a Saturday evening, they were just about ready for bed. They would share a bottle of wine between them, and Yuna would typically end up having to wake David up from the couch, although he would swear he was just resting his eyes.

Sometimes the boys would join them in the living room, to watch a typical weekend game show. Sometimes they would just stay upstairs, playing on Shane’s video games and only appearing in the kitchen to grab snacks or juice. It wasn’t often they went over to Irina’s apartment, because she was usually stuck on a Saturday closing shift at the store, but on the rare occasion Shane was there, he said they usually did some Russian baking. Yuna and David had been gifted some kind of honey cake one weekend, and it tasted amazing. 

But David had won a raffle at work - dinner for two at some high end steak restaurant that they hadn’t been to before, and it came with an expiry date. Irina had tried to get her shift swapped, but no one was willing to work a Saturday night. Thankfully, it hadn’t taken Yuna long to locate a babysitter. 

Scott Hunter was a well known face around the ice rink; the teenager was well on his way to making ground in the world of hockey. In fact, he would have been away to start in the Junior league for Canada, but he was going to be moving back home to New York, as his mother wanted them closer to family. Yuna had no doubt he would find his feet within the American Junior league once they were settled. Until then, Scott would help out with some of the classes, including Shane and Ilya’s. Shane hung onto every word from Scott, taking his advice and corrections and mentally imprinting the information onto his brain. Ilya was a bit of the opposite; if Scott tried to give him any criticism, Ilya seemed to chirp at him. Relentlessly. It was pretty impressive for a ten year old. 

So when Yuna was considering the list of people that could be trusted with the boys for a night, Scott skating out on the ice had to be some kind of sign from above. 

“Sure, I’ll babysit Shane. He’s no bother.” Scott said when Yuna caught him leaving the rink, on the way to his beat up looking car. 

“And Ilya?” Yuna pressed, seeing a flicker of doubt cross Scott’s face. She instantly wanted to defend Ilya, which was absurd, because Scott hadn’t even said no yet. 

“Right… Ilya too. How long will you be out for?” Scott asked. “I’m trying to think if I’ll need an extra pair of hands.” 

“I’ll speak to them both before we go out, they won’t terrorize you.” Yuna replied, a small smile on her face. “Really, Shane will make sure Ilya is on his best behaviour, when he hears you are coming over to visit. Don’t worry about eating beforehand - we’ll leave money for pizzas.”

And then, it was Saturday. Shane had tidied his room twice, nervously chewing the string of his hoodie as he critically looked at the house. Ilya had come over late morning, Irina dropping him off with a kiss and what sounded like a stern warning in Russian to behave (Yuna didn’t understand it, but she knew a mother’s warning when she heard it). Ilya had been rolling his eyes at Shane’s fussing, and was purposefully moving things out of place to annoy him, which was getting a lot of snappy whining out of his best friend. 

“It’s just Hunter,” Ilya grumbled as Shane straightened the pillows on the couch around Ilya. 

“It’s Scott Hunter, he’s going to be a famous NHL player one day!” Shane argued back. “This has to be perfect.”

“So will we,” Ilya muttered, before hooking his leg around Shane’s shin and forcing him to fall onto the couch with a squawk. “Shane, number one Hunter fan, please chill out. We can go out on our bikes, da? Cool you down.” Going out on their bikes was now code for kissing at the garages.

“I am chill,” Shane argued, but shouted upstairs to his parents that they were going to go out for a bit. And yes, they would wear their helmets, though Ilya would probably take one off once they were out of sight from the Hollander’s home. He was getting too cool for safety - Shane totally blamed the Fast and the Furious for that. 

That night, Scott’s arrival was signaled by his noisy old car pulling up to the Hollander’s home. Shane and Ilya both watched from Shane’s bedroom, and without thinking, Shane took hold of Ilya’s hand and squeezed it tight to dispel some of his nerves. Ilya rolled his eyes again, but squeezed him back.

The handover was quick, with Yuna calling the boys downstairs to confirm in front of Scott that they would listen to him and behave, Shane agreeing confidently while Ilya mumbled out a promise to be good. They watched Shane’s parents leave, before Scott turned to the boys. Shane was looking at him earnestly, while Ilya’s expression had slipped into his usual cheeky expression. 

“Should we order pizza?” Scott offered, before Ilya could start his usual chirping.  “Shane, do you have video games?”

Shane and Ilya set up his PS2 in the living room, while Scott ordered the pizzas. He had never really understood their friendship; except for the fact that they were clearly the best two players in their mini league, their personalities were completely different. Shane was a reserved kid, thoughtful and quietly desperate for praise. Ilya was loud, brash, and always seemed to be on the move. He took direction, but not without adding his own thoughts onto the end of it, and didn’t need to be told he was doing a good job - he already knew it. It just didn’t make sense.

But here they were, and this is how Scott had always known them to be - completely inseparable. In fact, the only time they seemed to be apart was when Ilya went back to Russia for some of the summer holidays. He wondered, privately, if they would manage to maintain their closeness as they grew up.

The pizzas didn’t take long to arrive, and they took a break in their gaming to eat it in the kitchen. So far, the boys had been actually pretty well behaved. Although, if Shane got too caught up in listening to whatever story Scott was sharing about hockey and joining the Junior league, Ilya would repeatedly kill his on screen character until Shane started paying attention again. 

“So,” Ilya said after he finished his first slice. His hazel eyes were full of mischief, a sight Scott sadly knew too well. “Do you have a girlfriend?”

“No,” Scott said dryly. “Do you?”

“Not exactly.” Shane seemed to choke on his pizza when Ilya said that, so Scott handed him a ginger ale. 

“Not yet, anyway.” Scott muttered - he was sure Ilya would be extremely popular with the ladies when he was older. Shane, too, though Scott was sure he would be more humble about it. 

“So… no girlfriend,” Ilya mused; the smile on his face that was usually reserved for chirping.  “Funny, I swear I saw you kissing someone in your car at the rink.”

“Ilya,” Shane muttered in warning, but he was looking at Scott in interest, too. Scott felt his face go red, and told Ilya he was wrong. 

“Oh, must have been someone else who has your crappy car.” Ilya said, nodding along with a smirk. 

They played video games, until it was nearing half nine, which Yuna had told Scott was firmly getting ready for bed time. “Right guys, time to head up to bed.” Scott braced himself for Ilya to complain about being told to head upstairs, but he just grinned and nodded, like he’d been waiting for Scott to say it all night. Shane shot him a look, but nodded quickly, getting up.

“Ilya just sleeps in my room,” Shane explained quickly, a slightly nervous look on his face. “I mean, we have a guest room, but he hasn’t slept in there before.”

“Ugh, sure.” Yuna hadn’t told him that, but honestly, if he managed to get them to stay upstairs and in bed, he didn’t care where they slept. He headed up with them to make sure they brushed their teeth, and wished them both a good night. 

When Scott headed upstairs around an hour later to check that the boys had actually gone to bed, he was pleased to see all the lights were out. He had sort of been banking on Shane following the rules, and keeping Ilya in check. He had left the door slightly ajar, just so he could listen in for any chatter, but there was nothing.

Well, there wasn’t nothing - Scott blinked, and leaned closer to the door. 

There was the soft, wet noise of kissing, Scott was sure of it. The noise surprised him so much he took a step back, making a floorboard groan loudly. He heard a flurry of movement: light footsteps rushing over the floor, the sound of a duvet being put into place. Scott counted to five in his head before peering into the room. Ilya was pretty good at fake sleeping from his mattress on the bed by the window - his mouth was open just enough, his arms thrown over his pillow as if he hadn’t moved for hours. Shane was turned away from the door, but he was obviously tense, and didn’t even look like he was breathing. Scott said nothing, but just closed the door softly. 

He didn’t let himself think until he was downstairs again, exhaling loudly once he was back in the living room. Not exactly. Yeah, that was one way of putting it.

He tried to sit down on the couch, but soon found himself pacing, his mind racing. Would he have to tell Yuna and David, because he was a responsible babysitter? What if they got mad, or upset? Shit, Ilya was from Russia, what if his mother disowned him over this? Oh fuck, Scott couldn’t be the reason that Ilya and Shane didn’t see each other anymore. Plus, this wasn’t just about them getting in trouble - being gay and in hockey was a recipe for disaster. Scott could attest to that. 

Panicking by himself was getting him nowhere. He walked over to the phone, and dialled the number he knew off by heart. It rang for a few moments, before it connected. 

“Tom Brown Arena,” hearing the voice instantly soothed him. “Kip speaking, how can I help?”

“Hey, you.” Scott murmured. “How’s your night going?”

“Scott! I didn’t think I’d be hearing from you,” Scott could hear Kip grinning through the phone. “I thought for sure the two ten year olds would have overpowered you.” 

“Just about,” Scott felt himself smile. “Is the rink busy?”

“It’s disco night, of course it’s busy.” Kip worked in the cafe part of the rink, and he had to do a late shift during the weekly disco night. “So, how are the kids? Behaving?”

“Yeah, not too bad actually. They even went to bed no bother,” Scott sighed. “But I think I know why. I… I went to check on them, and I think they were kissing.” 

Kip didn’t say anything for a moment. If it wasn’t for the music in the background, Scott would have thought he had hung up. “Are you sure that is what they were doing?” 

“Sure sounded like it.”

“Oh boy,” Scott could picture Kip now, leaning against the counter, rubbing a hand over his eyes. “Do you think Shane’s parents know?”

“I’ve got no idea - I mean, they must know how close they are, but that doesn’t automatically mean they think they are kissing each other. But I know Yuna and David pretty well. They don’t seem like the homophobic type, but what someone appears on the outside doesn’t always align with how they feel on the inside.”

Kip made a humming noise in agreement. “Well, do you think Ilya and Shane know you caught them?”

“I don’t think so… Ilya was doing a really good impression of being asleep. Shane could use some practice.” Kip laughed at that, and it made Scott feel lighter.

“Look… you are in a unique position, you know how difficult it can be discovering that side of yourself when you are young. But it is even harder when you know how badly they want to play hockey, and how that sport is not welcoming to people like us.” Kip’s voice was soft, thoughtful. “You don’t have to say anything, Scott, because they are going to find out how hard this all is without you mentioning it to Shane’s parents. Let them have this for now, yeah?”

“You know I love you, right?” Scott said suddenly. They had said it a few times, but it felt so important to say it right now. He was trying to imagine if he had known Kip for forever rather than two years, and how different those early teen years would have been when he realised how different he was to everyone else around him. Kip had been his safe space, the only person that could make him feel normal. 

“Right back at you,” Kip replied, his tone full of fondness. “Look, I better go and finish closing up so I can get out of here on time.”

“Can I pick you up after I’m done here? I don’t want you getting the bus this late at night.”

“Aw, my hero.” Kip cooed, and promised that he would wait for him at the rink. They said goodbyes. No one knew, of course, about him and Kip… Although the way Ilya was hinting, he certainly seemed to think he knew something. No one had connected the dots about Scott really wanting to move to New York, since that was where Kip would be moving to study. He knew for certain that he would follow Kip wherever he ended up in the world. And Scott hoped Ilya and Shane could be that for each other, if that’s what they wanted to be. So, his decision was made - he would keep their secret, without them even knowing about it, like their gay guardian angel. 

Ugh, this would have been great blackmail material to stop Ilya from chirping him constantly. He was so lucky Scott was the bigger person. 

*

David hadn’t been expecting it, which was sort of silly of him. He had an idea in his head that Shane and Ilya could end up becoming something more serious, of course, and was happy if they did; but he just hadn’t expected them to move onto this stage already. He thought they at least had until they were teenagers to worry about things progressing from hand holding and cuddles. 

He had been driving home from work earlier than usual, thanks to a quiet Friday afternoon and a very kind boss who told him to head off. There were loads of kids walking back from school, so many that David was sure he wouldn’t see his own son or Ilya. He happened to glance down a road turning right, which would take him off the path home, when he did spot them. Both laughing, pushing their bikes instead of riding them towards a side street. David frowned and signaled to turn right. Just where were the boys going? 

By the time David had caught up with the two, they had already made their way down the side road, which seemed to be a dead end to a few garages. David didn’t bother to turn the car down the path, and instead stayed on the road since there was no one driving behind him. Ilya had Shane pressed to the front of one of the garage doors, their faces bent close together. Shane had a hand curled into Ilya’s jacket, a grin on his face. David began to roll down his window, away to shout over to the boys to get their attention, when suddenly they were kissing. It was gentle and definitely not a first kiss. And… It was pure love.

Shane broke the kiss off, saying something to Ilya and pulling him down towards the gaps between garages. Before either of them could look his way, David took off. He drove straight home to just… process this new development. In fact, it had taken him all night to finally tell Yuna what he had seen. 

They hadn’t been sure how to approach it with Irina; she was an amazing mother to Ilya, of course, and Yuna and Irina were practically best friends. But they truly had no idea how she would react to the news of Shane and Ilya kissing, and what it could mean. The Hollanders were aware of the laws around being gay in Russia, and from what Irina had told them, the Rozanov family were not the kind of tolerant people regarding homosexuality. However, Irina had never seemed uncomfortable over the boys closeness, and she had mentioned some of the people at her work were gay…

Either way, it didn’t matter - David had seen Ilya and Shane kissing, and it wasn’t right for them to keep this from her. Even if Irina was upset, they wouldn’t just let Ilya disappear from their lives; he would always have a place in their home. It was nearing the summer holiday, and in a few weeks, Ilya and Irina would be heading back to Russia. Because of this, the boys were spending every second with each other, and were currently out on their bikes to meet up with Hayden. They had invited Irina over for a light dinner, and had moved outside to enjoy the late evening sun, with strawberries and a bottle of wine between them. 

“So… we have something to talk to you about,” Yuna said, meeting David’s eyes for a moment. He reached out and took her hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. “About Shane, and Ilya.” 

“Oh?” Irina popped a strawberry in her mouth, and gestured for them to continue.

“David was driving home early one day, and he saw the boys, well, kissing. And not in a pretend way. From the looks of it, this isn’t the first time they’ve done it.” Yuna was saying it all in a rush, but she couldn’t help it. Irina was frozen, staring at the Hollanders with an unreadable expression. “We’re totally fine with it, though it is a bit unexpected since they are young, but they’ve been so close since they first met, and we love Ilya. Of course, it might be nothing, but maybe we should think about giving them the talk, about taking things slow and respecting each other-”

Irina made a noise, almost like a gasp and sob, which had Yuna stopping. David looked over at Irina, alarmed. Oh no, this was going horribly wrong.

“Irina-”

“I’m sorry,” Irina said, her voice cracking. “I… I should have said this, months ago, but I didn’t know what to say.”

“Irina?” Yuna repeated, her tone concerned. “What is it?”

“I saw my Ilya and Shane kissing,” Irina admitted. “I had taken Svetlana home, and I came inside and they were kissing, on the couch. They both looked so scared, and so I didn’t say anything.” Irina’s face crumbled at the confession. “Which was wrong, but I was so surprised, and I thought maybe it was just a one-off. They are so young, maybe it means nothing.” Irina looked at them both, her eyes wet. “But maybe, it means everything.”

“Oh, Irina,” Yuna reached over for her hand and took it, giving it a gentle squeeze. “I think it does mean everything to them. I noticed it when Shane was seven, the way he would look at Ilya like he hung the moon. He’s never stopped looking at him like that.”

“Ilya is just the same,” Irina replied, managing to smile. “Shane is his world. I think that is why he gets so grumpy over Hayden, stealing his attention away. And when we are in Russia with no one else around, all he tells me is how much he misses his Shane.” 

They stopped talking at the sound of the gate opening, and then their boys were coming through, helmets still on as they pushed their bikes. Both of their cheeks were red from their race home, and they were laughing. 

“You need to be nicer to Hayden,” Shane was scolding Ilya, but the grin on his face took out the sting of it. 

“I’m lovely to Hayden,” Ilya said back, his tone cheery. “Is not my fault, he is worst skater and slowest on his bike. Hi, mama!”

“Hello, love.” Irina said, letting go of Yuna’s hand to accept Ilya’s side hug. “What is this I am hearing, that you were not being nice to Hayden?”

“Is all lies,” Ilya told her solemnly. Shane just rolled his eyes, saying hi to his own parents before announcing he was heading inside to get some water. Ilya followed behind him without prompting, like he was Shane’s own shadow. 

“We will talk to them about it after we get home from Russia. Is that ok?” Irina asked, watching the boys from the kitchen window. Shane was filling up a glass of water from the tap, and Ilya had his arm around his shoulders. They took turns drinking from the glass, Shane squawking when Ilya filled his mouth with water and shot it at his head like a water fountain. “I don’t want Ilya to worry when we go back. He has enough he has to hide.” 

“Of course,” Yuna nodded. “Whenever you feel it is best, we’ll follow your lead.”

The boys joined them outside, their attention turning to the large bowl of strawberries on the table and their chatter bringing the adults' conversation to a stop. A few months, and then they would be able to talk to them about what all this meant, finally.

Chapter End Notes

You know when I started this, the plan was to like 1000-2000 words per chapter. Editing down is NOT my strong point.

I hope you liked this chapter, and this new development in their relationship. I made Scott and Kip the same age and older than both Shane and Ilya, because I had to sneak them in here somehow! Yes, everyone lives in Ottawa, sorry it's just the place to be.

Next chapter is going to have a bit more exploration into the boy's starting to understand their own sexuality (not super in depth because they are still kids, but hormones and identities are starting to take shape, ya know?)

Also, how cool would it be to have Scott Hunter as your babysitter?!

Kudos, comments and bookmarks are always appreciated. I gotta say, the comments are so wonderful and really keep me going. Have a good one and I will see you next time! Feel free to hit me up on tumblr

Translation:

"U Ilya krasivyye glaza." = "Ilya has nice eyes."

Chapter 6: Age Eleven

Chapter Summary

Ilya and Shane's relationship is tested when it comes to girls, with Ilya convinced Shane doesn't like them the same way he does. Shane isn't sure at all, since he's never kissed a girl, but when the rink is being used as a location for a movie, Shane may find out the answer to that question when he meets Rose Landry.

Chapter Notes

Shane had been bouncing on his feet as they waited for Ilya and Irina to come through arrivals, even when David put his hands on his shoulders in an attempt to calm his son down. They had been at their cottage for most of the summer break; it had been inherited from David’s parents, but it had needed a lot of work done to it to get it modernized. The project had actually been good for Shane, keeping him focused on painting and helping with decorating rather than the absence of Ilya. It was a place Ilya and Irina hadn’t been to yet, but from the way Shane was talking, he was rather determined to get them here. 

“Once we decorate the guest room,” Shane said, poking at the fire at night, relaxing with his parents after a day of hard work. “Irina can stay with us.”

“And what about Ilya?” David asked, a small smile on his face when Shane rolled his eyes.

“In my room, obviously.”

Obviously. 

They had only gotten back to Ottawa a few days before Irina and Ilya were due to come back to Canada, and Yuna had been putting Shane to the rink as much as possible to burn off his excitable energy. But finally, the day was here… and well, so was Ilya. He had grown again, which had David really wanting to know what the Russians were feeding their kids, and his hair had been cut short again, shorter than Ilya liked it. It made him look older than an eleven year old. 

Shane grinned widely and began to wave over to Ilya - as soon as he was spotted, Ilya dropped his bag and ran over to Shane, picking him up and spinning him in a big circle. 

“Hi,” Shane said, pressing his forehead against Ilya’s - before promptly remembering that their parents were right there. He stumbled out of Ilya’s hold, laughing awkwardly and letting Ilya take his hand. “I missed you. How was Russia?”

“Who cares, I’m home.” Ilya said softly, and he couldn’t help but pull Shane in for another hug. Irina had caught up, holding Ilya’s dropped bag, and shared a look with the Hollanders as they greeted each other. The talk was going to have to happen, sooner rather than later.

They gave the boys a few days to reconnect, before Yuna had spotted them kissing behind the shed; their lie about Ilya tripping over a plant pot and falling onto Shane’s face was just pitiful. She called Irina at work, and they agreed that tonight was the night. Yuna had been preparing for this all summer; while Shane helped David with most of the renovations at the cottage, she had been researching and pulling together information. Yes, it would be awkward, but if they were doing this, they were doing it right the first time around. 

Irina came straight to the Hollanders after work, a nervous energy around her, and her hand playing with her necklace. Thankfully, the boys had been outside in the garden and hadn’t picked up on it. 

“We are just going out on our bikes!” Ilya shouted from the garden, both his and Shane’s helmets in his hands. Shane was in the shed, pulling out said bikes.

Yuna appeared at the back door. “Actually, can you boys come in? We need to talk to you both.”

They both froze at that, looking at each other with wide eyes. There was definitely a silent conversation happening between them before they both shuffled inside. Irina was sitting with David on the couch, her face expressionless but her eyes warm. David was sitting awkwardly, as if he didn’t know if he should relax or sit as straight as possible. Yuna took the armchair, while the boys just stood in front of the fireplace, Ilya with his hands clasped in front of him and Shane’s stance wooden. 

“Ok,” Yuna exhaled loudly, pushing her hair behind her shoulder. “Boys, I want to make two things very clear to you before we speak, ok? The first thing is that everyone in this room loves you both so much, no matter what. And the second thing is, if you think I’m going to believe Ilya tripped and fell onto you, Shane, then you must also think I was born yesterday.” 

“Born… yesterday?” Ilya said slowly, unfamiliar with the saying. 

“It means you think I am naive, Ilya. Easily fooled.” Yuna cocked her head to the side. “So… is there anything you want to tell us, before we start?”

Shane and Ilya looked at each other, Shane looked particularly pale. Not a word was spoken for a moment, and David couldn’t take the silence. “Look… we are well aware that the two of you are interested in one another in ways that go beyond just friendship.”

Shane made a choked noise at that; instinctively, Ilya reached out to take his hand, but for once, Shane flinched back. “I’m sorry,” Shane blurted out, looking down at his feet. “Please don’t be upset with us.”

“Upset?” Irina asked, a worried look on her face. “Shane, no one is upset. We just don’t want to have any big secrets between us.”

“I know,” he croaked, and rubbed his eyes. Ilya made a noise of concern, and shuffled closer to him. “I know it’s not… normal. I know it’s not a thing hockey players can be, or in Russia…” Ilya flinched at the mention of his home country, looking to his mother and then quickly away again. 

“Ilya knows what he can and cannot say when in Russia,” Irina said confidently. “We spoke about things before, and he knows how to be safe. But Russia is small part of his life, now - this is home.” Canada, the Hollanders home, or Shane? It wasn’t clear what Irina meant, but somehow all of the answers were correct. 

“Shane,” David said, a sad look on his face. “This is normal, regardless of what people say. Don’t worry about hockey right now, ok? Just focus on the people in this room.” David waited until Shane looked up at him, his eyes wet. “We are all happy that you have found each other - in whatever way you two want it to be. But you are starting to go through hormonal changes, things can go move quickly, and you might want to start experimenting with se-”

“Dad!” Shane practically yelled, a mortified look on his face. “Please don’t say what I think you are going to say.”

“Well, if you aren’t comfortable with the word, you certainly shouldn’t be doing anything relating to that yet.” Yuna murmured, and when David gave her a pleading look, she kept going. “This is just a talk about making smart choices, ok? You only get one body, and you need to treat it with care. Now…” Yuna pulled out a folder from under the armchair. She opened it, and on the front was the words printed very clearly: LGBTQIA+, SAFE SEX AND RESPECTING YOUR BODIES. Shane felt his eyes widen in horror, while Ilya’s seemed to widen in interest. “I pulled together a few documents for us to discuss.”

“But mum,” Shane squeaked, “we know where babies come from. We also know two boys can’t have a baby.”

“This isn’t just about that,” Yuna said firmly, even as she saw David going a bit red. “It’s about when you are older and want to do more together.” Yuna put as much emphasis on the word ‘older’ as possible. “When the time comes, you will be responsible for making good choices that consider both yourself and your partner.” 

“My partner will be Shane,” Ilya interjected; Shane folded in on himself even more at that. 

“That’s lovely, dear, but we don’t know the future - things might change, and I want you both to be prepared for that.” Yuna said; it was like kicking two puppies, the way they looked at her when she brought up that real possibility. “Ok, so let’s start with the importance of communication, before we talk about any kind of penetration.” Shane made another horrified noise, and his hand found Ilya’s. They took a seat on the ground next to the coffee table, accepting their fate. 

In the end, they get through it as a family. Everyone was red in the face at the end, and they don’t go as in depth into conversations they don’t need to yet, but Shane and Ilya both promise to speak to their parents if they have questions. They don’t let go of each other the whole time, and when they finally have dinner (with Ilya still giggling over the word penis and butt) they even share a tiny kiss on purpose in front of their parents. They’ve all taken big steps tonight, but one particular sentence sticks with Yuna long after she has gone to bed. 

“I know it’s not a thing hockey players can be.” Shane had said, and deep down, Yuna feared he was right. 

*

David finished work early on a Thursday now, because he took the boys to hockey practice since they had moved up to the next level of hockey program. It’s straight after school, so no break for the boys, but usually they are dying to get to practice. Typically, they both pour themselves into the back seats of the car, shoving their school bags in. David will ask how school was, and get the usual complaints about their homework or what kid annoyed them that day, while they start on the pile of healthy food that Yuna always buys them as pre-practice snacks. 

Today, however, is different. 

He can spot Shane first, stomping his way to the car. His face is pinched in that way that David knows means he is either fighting tears or wanting to shout at someone. Maybe both. He didn’t sit in the back as he usually did, but in the front - it was so unexpected that David had to move his own bag and books off of the chair. 

“Hi, Shane.” David said brightly, though he can’t help but sound confused. Shane muttered a hello, and sat down, pulling on his seatbelt and crossing his arms. “Where is Ilya?”

“Don’t know,” Shane replied, looking out the window. 

“Oh?” David turned to look at his son, a frown on his face. “Is everything-?”

“He’s there,” Shane said, watching Ilya appear by the car in the rearview mirror. Sure enough, Ilya is slowly walking over to the car. While he is usually quite stoic, his eyebrows are furrowed in a way David has only usually seen on the ice. He can practically see the thunderclouds over his curly hair. 

Ilya opened the door with force, throwing his bag into the back. “Hello, Mr Hollander,” he said, his accent thicker than usual. Something has upset him, and it may be the other occupant in the car. 

“David is just fine, Ilya.” David reminded him, even though it has been a while since he was referred to as ‘Mr Hollander’. “How was school today, then?”

The question is clearly the wrong thing to ask, because both boys flinch at it. Shane exhaled loudly through his nose and covered his mouth with his hand, as if that is the best way for him to avoid answering. 

“Was fine,” Ilya said lowly, slamming the door shut and looking away. Neither of them touch the snacks. David didn’t drive off straight away; part of him wanted to ask them what had happened, because clearly something had happened, but neither of them seemed to be willing to talk. So David just nodded, and pulled away from the school. 

It was about a twenty minute drive to the rink. He can’t think of a time when they drove in silence. Even when Ilya didn’t have the best English, they still found a way to talk to each other - David had no idea how they did it, but they just clicked like that. Which is why this silence felt so deafening. Around ten minutes in, David had to put the radio on; it is still quiet, because Shane doesn’t really care for loud music, but it does ease some of the tension in the car.

That is until Ilya sighed loudly, enough to make David glance at the mirror to look at him. “You didn’t wait for me,” Ilya said, a scowl on his face as kept his eyes firmly on the passing scenery. David knew the question wasn’t directed at him. 

Shane’s shoulders bunched up at his voice. “I thought you would be busy,” Shane said, his voice tight. 

Ilya groaned, a hand rubbing over his face. He took a moment to answer. David barely breathed, scared he would interrupt. This felt important. “Shane, it was a dare. Not even my dare.”

Ok, context. That is helpful. Not to Shane, apparently. 

“Yeah, you sure looked upset over being part of it.” Shane muttered. 

“It was just a kiss! With a girl in our year!” Ilya said, his voice getting louder. “There is nothing wrong with that, is there?” 

Shane jerked around to face him, anger in his face. But as he turned, he seemed to remember his dad was there, and it made him freeze. David keeps his eyes on the road, but if he could, he would look at Shane with understanding. Because it can hurt to see someone you love kissing someone else, even if it was innocent. 

“No,” Shane said, his voice now wobbly, and yeah, David can tell he might cry. “No, there isn’t. Whatever, Ilya. Kiss all the girls you like.”

Ilya must hear the upset in his voice, because he looked back at Shane, his face softening slightly. Shane just turned away, keeping his head tucked down on the window so he doesn’t have to look at anyone. Ilya sighed softly again, and didn’t say another word.

The car had barely stopped moving before Shane hopped out, going to the car’s boot and grabbing all his hockey gear. He headed straight into the rink without waiting for either of them - David and Ilya hadn’t even left the car yet. They just sat and watched as Shane headed into the building. 

David sighed softly and twisted so he was facing Ilya. Ilya met his gaze, his face impassive. It didn’t look right on such a young kid. “It was just a kiss, a dare by her friends. Just a tiny kiss, nothing more. But I did it.” Ilya said. “I didn’t think it would upset him so much. It was just for fun.”

“And that’s ok, Ilya.” David responded. They had never said they were boyfriends, even after the talk they had months ago, and it did sound innocent enough. “Really, Shane just… he sometimes needs time to himself to process things, y’know? He has always been like that.”

“Yes,” Ilya nodded, his eye twitching. He leaned forward, his eyes darting to the window and then back to David. “I notice pretty girls, I like them. I didn’t mind kissing her. But…” his cheeks, ever so slightly, went pink. “I think Shane is pretty too, the prettiest person I’ve ever seen. And I like… I like kissing him the most.” Ilya worried at his bottom lip. “I do not want you to think I am, er, looking for other options.”

“I get it, Ilya. I certainly don’t think you are doing that.” David said quickly, even as relief flew through his body. He wasn’t sure how he would have managed to support Shane if Ilya had decided he preferred kissing girls over him. 

“I don’t think Shane likes girls, like I sort of do.” Ilya murmured.  “But I won’t kiss girls, even if it’s a joke; not if it makes him upset.” 

“Ilya, you’re both young. You might want to kiss girls again. Shane might want to kiss girls, or… or other boys.” David felt it was important to say, because you couldn’t make these promises to yourself when you were just eleven. Things could easily change when they hit their teenage years. 

Ilya’s face darkened at that; obviously that thought hadn’t crossed his mind. “No,  I only want to kiss Shane. And I think Shane would only ever want to kiss me, too.”

“You’re probably right. Just remember, without the kissing, you are still best friends.” David smiled encouragingly at him. “Just give him time, and he’ll come back to you, ok?”

“Ok,” Ilya agreed, though he still looked a bit sad. They headed into the rink together; usually David would sit in the cafe and get a coffee and read the New Yorker while they played, but today he sat in the stands, keeping an eye on them. Being on the ice seemed to help melt some of the tension, with both boys having an outlet for their energy. They broke off into teams, with Shane and Ilya playing for the same side. When Ilya set Shane up for an assist and the puck went flying into the goal, they celebrated as if nothing had happened. But David could see the layers to the celebration: the way Ilya hugged Shane tight, the blink-and-you’ll-miss-it way Shane knocked their helmets together… Yeah, David was sure they would be fine. 

On the ice, as they lined up to do final shots at the net, Ilya spoke in a low tone to Shane. “You know, it is really not a big deal,” Ilya said, taping his stick against Shane’s. “If you kissed a girl like that, I would find it funny. I wouldn’t be worried it meant something.”

“You’d find it funny?” Shane asked with a raised eyebrow. Although he was feeling calmer, it still hadn’t felt funny to look up and see that girl kiss Ilya. “You wouldn't feel hurt?” 

“Sure,” Ilya shrugged. “Maybe you should kiss a girl, to see it means nothing. Svetlana would totally kiss you.” Ilya knew this because Svetlana would always mutter in Russian how cute she thought Shane was. 

“Ilya, you are missing the point about why I was upset.” Shane grumbled, skating forward as the line cleared in front of them. 

“Ah, because you don’t like girls like that at all?” Ilya leaned down slightly. “Because you only like me like that?” 

“Will you shut up?” Shane hissed. “I’ve just not… kissed a girl to know how I feel.” And really, it still held no appeal to him.  

“I tell you, Svetlana will kiss you when we next hang out.” Ilya teased. “Then you see. Unless it turns out you have a thing for Russians, then I may need to fight her.”

They took their shots, the puck sinking effortlessly into the net. “Who’s that?” Shane mused, noticing a girl coming onto the ice, which was weird because class was still technically in session. She was surrounded by a small team of people, but someone was skating over to their coach, gesturing frantically at the girl, and then at the team. The coach looked completely confused, but was slowly nodding along.

“No idea,” Ilya said, barely giving her a glance. He hooked his stick around Shane’s and pulled him over to where the rest of the team were doing their cooldowns. Shane couldn’t help but glance over at the girl a few times, wondering who she was. She was doing practice skates in a small part of the rink, and one of the people she was with was filming her, while the other directed her. The coach blew his whistle, praising them for their hard work and telling them to clear the ice.

“Shane, can you stay back for a minute?” the coach asked. Shane frowned slightly but nodded, and Ilya also came to a stop. “Ilya, you can go ahead and get changed.” Ilya didn’t like being dismissed, but he shrugged at Shane and skated off. 

“Shane, do you remember that we said the rink was going to be closed for a few days, because there was some filming going on?” Shane nodded - he remembered it was going to interrupt their lessons next week, which was annoying. “Well, that girl over there - that’s Rose Landry. She is the actress for the scene, they are going to do some kind of montage of the main character growing up or something.” Shane kept nodding, still completely unsure what this had to do with him.

“Anyway, the scene is meant to have a male skater in it for a pairing skating competition, except the boy who they hired has broken his ankle and obviously can’t do it. They need a replacement fast, and they need someone roughly the same size as him who can actually skate without needing lessons. I suggested you.”

“Me?” Shane gaped at his coach. “But I can’t do figure skating!”

“Shane, you can skate. Rose is going to be doing all the fancy stuff, you just need to be a movable prop as far as these guys are concerned. Come on, go over and say hi, and I’ll speak to your parents. Who is here with you today?” 

“My, er, my dad.” Shane muttered, as he pushed along to where Rose was standing. She was already watching him, and gave him a wave as he slowly made his way over. Jeez, he felt so awkward and he hadn’t even spoken to her yet. 

“Hi,” the girl said brightly. Her eyes were warm, and for some reason, it made Shane blush. She held out her hand. “I’m Rose.” 

“Hi, I’m Shane,” the words were mumbled, and he suddenly became very aware of how sweaty he was as he tugged off his glove to shake her hand. What was he even meant to say right now?

“I was watching you skate with your team. You are really good.” Rose was clearly used to leading conversations, which Shane was extremely grateful for. “Way better than me. I’ve been trying to get as much practice in when I found out I got the part, but it’s a lot harder than it looks.”

“Oh, I’m sure you are doing great,” this was more comfortable ground for Shane. “Have you done much skating before?”

“No, but my family are big into hockey - we’re from Michigan, so I’ve always gone to games when we can. It’s a bit harder now, since I’ve been working a lot and moving around so much. I’ve never had a role about ice skating before.” Rose looked around at her team, before leaning in. Shane felt himself go red at her closeness. “I don’t know if I’m allowed to tell you, but Sarah Michelle Gellar is playing the older version of my character, how cool is that?”

It would be cool, if Shane recognised the actresses name. Ilya would know who it was. But Shane still smiled and agreed it was cool. Rose was actually really nice; Shane hadn’t felt this comfortable around someone new since… well, probably since Ilya. 

“Look, I know they’ve sprung this on you, but I really hope you’ll consider it. It will be fun! If you consider long hours and constant retakes fun.” Shane laughed at that, and Rose beamed. “But we’ll be suffering together, and hey, it will probably get you out of school for a few days.”

“I’ll think about it.” Shane promised, already tempted to agree. After all, it would be kind of amazing to say he had been in a movie, even if it was a tiny insignificant part. 

“Shane, you have to do it.” Yuna said, once they were home and sitting down for dinner. “This is a fantastic opportunity for you to get a head start on your future career.” 

Ilya was poking at his food, a bit of a pout on his face after he had heard the offer Shane had been given again. He wasn’t jealous that he hadn’t been asked, even though he would have been amazing. He was actually happy for Shane to get the opportunity out of everybody on the team. But… the idea of Shane spending time with that pretty girl made his stomach twist.

He was being stupid, because it was only a stupid routine they had to do together. But after their talk, and how much Shane kept going on about how lovely Rose Landry was, he was a bit concerned that something could happen, right after Ilya had been encouraging him to kiss a girl at least once. Which, again, was stupid. Ilya was pretty sure there wasn’t any kissing in figure skating routines. But it didn’t mean that a star struck Shane may want to try kissing a sort of famous actress. The rest of their team had been chirping at Shane when he told them that he had been offered the role, teasing him that Rose was going to be his girlfriend. Hayden had been the most excited, telling Shane that this could be the greatest love story ever. He stabbed a bit of his chicken with more vigor than required as he remembered that. 

“I mean, it will be kind of cool to say I’ve been in a movie.” Shane mused, unaware of how quiet Ilya was being. “And Rose is really nice, and funny. It could be fun.” Yes Shane, you said that a hundred times. 

“Did you talk to them about what Shane will get paid for stepping in?” Yuna asked David, who shook his head. “David! We need to know these things before we agree! And I’ll need to call the school, maybe whoever they have to tutor Rose can work on Shane’s school work at the same time.”

“Here,” David slid the card over he had gotten from one of the crew. “Maybe you should handle this, I’m not good with this stuff.”

Yuna took the card, reading over it twice before getting up from the table, her food not finished. “I’m just going to make a quick call, won’t be long!” Yuna called, heading to her home office. David just shook his head fondly - he should have known to give her the card after dinner. 

That night in their room, Ilya had tried to make himself relax as he and Shane got comfy on their bed, trying to not think of Rose Landry. But it was sort of impossible, when Shane wouldn’t stop going on about her. 

“You know she played a kidnapping victim when she was eight? She’s done like, ten movies already.” Shane said, after he had looked her up on the family computer. “With loads of famous people, but she’s totally down to earth, and funny-”

“You said that already,” Ilya couldn’t help but interrupt. He forced himself to smile and pat Shane’s side of the bed when Shane looked over at him with a raised eyebrow. “Come on, I’m tired.”

Ilya gave Shane a deep kiss because he felt like it, not because he was jealous at all, and pulled him tight into his arms. “My Shane, the movie star.” Ilya cooed in his ear, smiling when Shane giggled and tucked his head until Ilya’s chin. “How will I survive school without you, hm? You are abandoning me.” 

“No fighting without me,” he heard Shane mumble back. “It’s just a week, Ilya, then we’re back to normal.”

“When have we ever been normal,” Ilya said as he rubbed Shane’s back. But the word stuck in his head: normal. Shane could be normal with Rose Landry, couldn’t he? And in a week… Well, Shane might like normal. 

*

As soon as Shane was signed up to be Rose’s partner on the ice, Ilya hardly saw him. School was awful without him - which Svetlana said was really dramatic, but she went to a private school so what did she know? He stayed over twice at the Hollanders, but Shane didn’t get home from the rink until much later than when school finished, coming home for a late dinner and practically falling into bed, mumbling about how busy his day had been, but how much fun he was having. Ilya held him close, but he found that he couldn’t sleep because he couldn’t stop thinking about Shane and Rose on the ice; Rose holding onto Shane for balance as they laughed and skated, how romantic it could be. 

He hung out with Cliff after school one day since the rink was still shut. It was actually the first time he tried a cigarette, because Cliff had stolen one from his mother’s purse. They struggled to get it to light, and once they did they coughed and spluttered, handing it back and forth until it was done. Ilya didn’t know how he felt about it, but he did enjoy being bad and doing something he shouldn’t do (and something Shane would definitely not approve of). He didn’t go back to the Hollanders that night, or the following night, but it didn’t mean he stopped thinking about Shane.

In fact, the thought of Shane caused Ilya to do something else bad that week - on a whim, he forged a note from his mother, claiming that Ilya had an appointment that Friday afternoon. His teacher took it without questioning it, and so that afternoon, Ilya cycled over the ice rink. He just had to see Shane once, just to see if his fears about Rose Landry were correct. He had to brace himself for what this meant for their relationship. His imagination was leading him down some dark paths, and an even darker part of his mind was hoping he would show up and see Shane and Rose not getting on at all, though he would never admit to wanting that. 

The best view of the rink that he could get from outside was by the large bins, so he parked his bike next to them in case he needed a quick escape. He clambered up onto the bins, kneeling down low until he was sure no one had spotted him (especially Yuna, who had to be around here somewhere), and peeked through the window. He could see straight out to the rink, and his eyes instantly found Shane. He was wearing some kind of black sequined top and matching trousers, and he annoyingly looked amazing. His hair had been carefully styled with gel in a way Ilya had never seen him wear before. Rose stood next to him, her dress matching the style of Shane’s clothes, her hair pulled back into a bun with glitter in her hair. They looked stupidly good together, and the thought of it made Ilya want to be sick. They weren’t doing anything yet, just skating around as they seemed to wait for a few cameras and lights to be moved. But then Rose must have said something, because Shane was laughing. It was like someone had stabbed Ilya’s heart. 

All of a sudden, the door next to the bins opened, slamming into the bin with the force. Ilya gasped and rolled off the bin, landing in a heap next to his bike. The force of it had him groaning, and he couldn’t get to his feet fast enough to cycle away. Thankfully, it wasn’t someone from the production team or Yuna. 

“What the…” Kip blinked down at Ilya, a trash bag in his hand. “Ilya? What are you doing hiding behind the bin?”

“Er, hello.” Ilya wheezed as he got to his feet, wiping his palms on his jeans to get the little pieces of gravel out of his hands. He squinted up at Kip. “Why are they making you work when the rink is closed?” 

“Oh, because it’s a lot more convenient for all these film people to get their coffees and lunch from us, rather than going through catering.” Kip replied, though he said it with an eyeroll. “So I’ve been forced into it, basically. It’s not so bad, but everyone seems to forget this isn’t a Starbucks. Are you ok?”

“I’m fine,” Ilya grumbled, which wasn’t true at all. “I just… I haven’t seen Shane all week.”

“Ah, I get it.” Kip murmured, lifting the bin and throwing the trash inside. 

“No, you don’t.”

“Try me,” Kip raised his eyebrow at Ilya. “You think I have no experience of how difficult it is to be away from the most important person in your life, wondering what they are up to?”

Ilya felt his eyebrow twitch, but forced himself to grin. “Is Hunter really the most important person in your life?”

“Yes,” Kip said firmly, never one to get flustered when Ilya tried to be cheeky. He knew that they couldn’t be out, but Ilya had hinted enough times that he knew something was up, and Kip wasn’t embarrassed about loving Scott. “He’s in New York, one of the most famous cities in the world, and is going to be drafted to a hugely famous hockey team and become famous. I have no idea what he is doing when he is out with his team, his friends… but you know what I do have?”

“What?” Ilya asked, his expression a bit helpless. 

“Trust,” Kip told him softly. “I trust Scott, even if he can’t tell anyone about me, even if there are easier options. I trust that he is waiting for me in New York, and I trust that he isn’t going to forget about me. Because I know I’m the most important person in his life, too. And I know we’ll be reunited soon.”

Ilya nodded along slowly, exhaling. Kip was right, which was annoying - all he had to go on was trust, and if he couldn’t have that with Shane, then what did they have? “Have you seen them?” Ilya couldn’t help but ask. “Shane and… and the girl. Have they been-?”

“Shane has been extremely professional, and so has Rose.” Kip replied, easing some of the worry in his stomach. “I think they are getting on great, and yeah, maybe Rose has a bit of a crush. But they aren’t here dancing around and saying how much they love each other. There hasn’t been any kissing, Ilya.” Kip put his hand on his shoulder. “There has been the occasional hug. So, please go home, and trust in Shane, alright? The rink is opening again like normal on disco night, and then it will be back to your normal classes.”

“You won’t tell Shane you saw me here, please?” Ilya hated to add the please, but it felt necessary. “Or Yuna?”

“You were never here,” Kip confirmed, giving his shoulder one more squeeze before gesturing for him to leave. “Now, I need to start on the afternoon coffee orders, so go on.”

“Scott Hunter doesn’t deserve you,” Ilya shouted over his shoulder as he pedalled away. Kip just smiled and shook his head.

Inside the rink, Rose and Shane were instructed to have a break, which they were both more than happy to do. Rose had overheard about the rink opening again to the public for the rink’s disco night, and was quizzing Shane about it. 

“Is it fun?” Rose asked, sitting on the bench with a tired groan. Shane had felt rather silly in their matching outfits the first time they had put them on. He was ready to hang up the costume for good and get back into his hockey jersey. 

“What, the disco thing?” Shane questioned, and when she nodded, he shrugged. “Honestly, I’ve never gone. I’m here so often for practice, I don’t come for anything else.” Plus, the idea of the loud music, the darkened rink and the crowds of people on the ice made his skin crawl. 

“Well, that’s not very fun.” Rose teased as her hairstylist sorted her bun. “We should go! I’m flying back home on Sunday, so it would be a fun send off for me. What do you think? Up for more dancing with me?”

Shane felt himself blush; you would think he had gotten used to skating with Rose, but just the reminder of being in close proximity to her had him going red. He was sure the make up lady carefully brushing his face with powder helped cover it. “If you really want to - we can see how good your skating is when we are doing a routine. Can I invite some of the team?” By that, he really meant he wanted to invite Ilya, because he had hardly seen him all week and was missing him like crazy. 

“Hey, my skating has gotten a lot better!” Rose argued with a laugh. “Yes, it would be great to meet your team, especially Ilya.” Before they could talk more, their break was up, and they were back onto the ice. 

*

Ilya wasn’t sure what to make of Shane’s invite to the rink’s disco night. He had been interested in going before, but he also knew it was really not Shane’s thing, and the fact that Shane was going because Rose wanted to go was rubbing him the wrong way. But he has no reason not to attend, and so he asked Cliff and the new kid on team Connors to come along. He made it clear to Shane he would meet him there, needing some time to mentally prepare himself for meeting Rose. Although he had been working on trusting Shane and his feelings, he didn’t want to make a fool of himself if it turned out Shane returned Rose’s crush. He couldn’t embarrass himself in front of all these people, in front of Shane, and definitely not in front of Rose Landry. 

By the time Ilya got there, the rink was already busy. The boys had shot off, skating like idiots, leaving Ilya to scan the ice in an attempt to find Shane. When he found him, however, he wished he had never spotted him. Shane was in the middle of the ice, carefully spinning around Rose, keeping his hands on her hips like they had done in their routine in case she lost her footing. Rose was laughing, her hands on his shoulder. Ilya didn’t move over to greet them, just watched. 

From the middle of the rink, Shane hadn’t spotted Ilya. But when he saw Cliff skate by with a quick “Hey, Hollander!” he figured Ilya must have arrived. The thought made him stupidly happy. 

“Ok, so maybe I’m not quite the professional skater I was pretending to be,” Rose joked, the different coloured lights jumping on her face. Shane just laughed and got them to stop moving. “Hey, I was speaking to Miles - he was the boy that originally had your part. I sent him that photo of us in our costumes, and he said he was so jealous.”

“Of me?” Shane asked; he figured it would be disappointing to get a role and then not be able to do it.

“No, of me!” Rose smiled warmly. “Miles said it wasn’t fair that I got to work with someone so cute.”

“Oh,” Shane was suddenly glad for flashing lights that covered his blush. “Really?”

“Yes, really.” Rose’s eyes felt so intense, staring into his own. “I think you’re really cute, too. And I’ve loved working with you. It felt like fate, y’know?”

“I…” Shane was at a loss of what to say. “I’ve loved working with you, too.”

“I’m going to miss you, when I go home.” Rose admitted. 

“I’ll miss you too,” Shane said, but then froze when Rose was suddenly leaning in. It was just a brush of her lips, hardly a kiss, but it was enough. Shane pulled back immediately, cringing when Rose blinked up at him in confusion. 

“Sorry, I… I really like you, Rose, you’ve been amazing to work with.” Shane repeated, his voice raised over the music when all he wanted to do was whisper. “But… I don’t like you like that. Jeez, sorry, it’s really not you, I don’t like any girls like that.”

And there, he had said it. Out loud. To Rose Landry, of all people. A quiet part of his mind felt soothed with his acceptance. Because he really didn’t like girls like that, at all. But he really liked a particular boy like that. 

“Oh…” Rose took a moment to collect her thoughts, and in that moment, Shane pictured every possible awful scenario. Rose shoving him away in disgust, screaming at the top of her lungs that Shane was gay, making everyone at the rink look at him and know he was different. He was about to pull away prior to that happening, but before he could, she moved in and hugged him. Bewildered, Shane wrapped his own arms around her. “Thank you for telling me! I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have tried to kiss you. I hope we can still be friends?”

“Yeah, of course we can.” Shane laughed, feeling relieved. He began to look around the ice, trying to spot Ilya, but the crowd was so busy. “Can you excuse me for a minute?” Shane asked her, and at her nod, he was skating away from her and in between people. 

After a few turns around the rink, it was clear Ilya wasn’t on the ice. With a frown, Shane came off and changed quickly into his sneakers so he could go searching for him. Shane headed to the cafe area, where Kip was working. Without saying a word, he gestured to the door that led to the bins outside, as if he had been expecting to see him. Sure enough, there was Ilya, sitting on a turned over crate, a frown on his face. 

“Hi,” Shane said, standing awkwardly next to him. “Are you ok? What are you doing out here?”

“I just needed some air,” Ilya said, not looking at him. “Are you having fun?” 

“Er, sort of.” It wasn’t as bad as Shane had first thought it would be, but he was pretty sure he only had another hour in him and then he wanted to go home and cuddle Ilya. “Are you?”

“... No,” Ilya admitted. “Shane, I’m sorry that I kissed that girl. I get it now.”

Shane startled at that; he hadn’t expected Ilya to bring that up, of all things. But then it clicked as to why.  “You saw Rose kiss me?” Shane questioned. 

“I saw you both kiss, yes.” Ilya nodded, swallowing. “And… it hurt. But if this is what you want, then… then I will try and be ok with it.” But already, Ilya knew he would never manage to be. This felt like the beginning of the end, and the worst part was, it still felt like it was all his fault. Shane hadn’t said anything, which just added to his pain. No doubt he was trying to think of a way to soothe Ilya about their new normal, but it didn’t come. Instead, Shane got to his knees in front of Ilya, huffing in what sounded like amusement when Ilya refused to meet his gaze. 

“I already know what I want,” Shane confessed, sliding his hands up and connecting them behind Ilya’s neck. “And it’s not Rose, and she knows that too. But if you… if you want to kiss other people, then-oomf!”

His words were swiftly cut off when Ilya pulled him into a desperate kiss, a kind of kiss they had never had before. Shane hadn’t been expecting it, and he ended up falling backwards onto the dirty ground, Ilya getting dragged on top of him. It hurt, but Shane didn’t care, and was laughing even as Ilya cursed and apologised. 

“Are you ok? You didn’t hit your head?” Ilya was asking, all concerned. It warmed Shane in a way he hadn’t felt all week. “You aren’t seeing two of me, are you?”

“No, thankfully.” Shane teased, pulling Ilya down for another kiss. “I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve missed you too,” Ilya admitted. “It was a hard week for me. I thought it would just be like how I miss you when I am in Russia, but it was harder, knowing you were here and not seeing you every day.”

“I know, I hated coming home and being told you weren’t there.” Shane kissed his nose, his jaw, whatever he could reach. “I’m glad we can be normal again.”

Ilya wanted to tease him like he had last week about them being anything but normal, but the words felt trapped on his tongue. Because they were normal, just two best friends that had become more. Ilya was pretty sure this was love, and he never wanted it to go away. 

“Come and meet Rose,” Shane said suddenly, wiggling until he got them both back on their feet. “She has been wanting to meet you all week. And then come dance with us, with me.” 

“You hate that in, in there.” Ilya argued. “You have never wanted to go.”

“I know, but… I know you have wanted to go to this for a long time.” Shane smiled shyly at Ilya. “And I want to do it, because you do. I mean, I don’t wanna go every weekend, but, you know.”

“I know,” Ilya pressed another kiss to Shane’s cheek, his nose brushing along those perfect freckles. “Fine, let us go meet your leading lady.” 

On the way back in, Kip met Ilya’s eye and winked at him. Ilya couldn’t help but grin back. Things would be ok, as Kip had said it would be. And as Ilya had said, Scott Hunter really didn’t deserve someone as wonderful as Kip Grady. 

Chapter End Notes

I swear, the people who said "don't edit down"... my creative brain heard you loud and clear. How was this 7.5k?!

I hope you enjoyed this chapter! I originally had planned for this scenario to happen when they were in their teens, but I felt that as Shane and Ilya develop their relationship, this question wouldn't be asked because they will enter a committed relationship. But it still felt important to highlight their own understanding of their sexualities, with Ilya understanding he likes both boys and girls, while Shane can discover he just likes boys.

Also, the next chapter is going to be a difficult one, so I didn't want to kick the characters again when they are already going to go through some hardships (nothing too bad, promise, I am keeping this story as fluffy as possible!). Please note while I sort of know what the next chapter is going to look like, I've not started working on it so I'm not sure when it will be out, but I will get onto it!

As always, thank you so much to each of you who comment, bookmark and hit the kudos button. It needs to be studied how much focus and energy it gives me. As always, I'm on tumblr, feel free to hit me up!!

Chapter 7: Age Twelve

Chapter Summary

“We aren’t going to Russia this summer,” she said in that careful, clipped tone she used when she was trying to not let her true emotions show. Shane had looked over at Ilya, his eyes lighting up with glee at the announcement. He was already thinking about it - how Irina and Ilya could come to their family cottage, they could go exploring, gather fire for the wood, and maybe Shane could pretend that this was their cottage, which they were definitely going to have when they were older.

However, Ilya hadn’t looked as excited as Shane at the announcement. His eyebrow twitched, his mouth turned down into a frown. Shane was about to take his hand and remind him that this was a good thing, but Irina continued before he could do that.

“Instead, my older son and my… Ilya’s father has decided to visit us for a few weeks in Ottawa.” Oh. No wonder Ilya wasn’t looking too thrilled with the news.

Chapter Notes

trigger warnings for chapter: grigori rozanov (lol), aggressive behaviour, emotional/mental abuse, threat of physical abuse, homophobic behaviour, bullying and mention of a character considering overdosing. They do NOT go through with this. Tags have been updated where needed.

It should have been the best news Shane had heard since he met Ilya. Really, they should be bouncing off the walls when Irina came over after hockey practice to tell them the apparent good news.

“We aren’t going to Russia this summer,” she said in that careful, clipped tone she used when she was trying to not let her true emotions show. Shane had looked over at Ilya, his eyes lighting up with glee at the announcement. He was already thinking about it - how Irina and Ilya could come to their family cottage, they could go exploring, gather fire for the wood, and maybe Shane could pretend that this was their cottage, which they were definitely going to have when they were older. 

However, Ilya hadn’t looked as excited as Shane at the announcement. His eyebrow twitched, his mouth turned down into a frown. Shane was about to take his hand and remind him that this was a good thing, but Irina continued before he could do that. 

“Instead, my older son and my… Ilya’s father has decided to visit us for a few weeks in Ottawa.” Oh. No wonder Ilya wasn’t looking too thrilled with the news.

“Well, that sounds very nice, and it will be lovely for you to show Alexei your life in Canada,” Yuna said, after a moment of silence. She was smiling, but her eyes held worry in them. “I’m sure once he gets an idea of what Canada is like, he’ll be wanting to stay here.” No one mentioned what Ilya’s dad would do, if that were the case. 

“I hope not,” Ilya muttered, making a face when Irina told him off in Russian. Shane had been practicing hard with understanding his Russian, and he was pretty sure it translated to something roughly about being nice to Alexei when he was here. 

Shane knew that Ilya still didn’t tell him everything about his time in Russia, but he was getting better at sharing the dark parts of his trip home. How his father would make fun of his curls and call him a girl, before insisting that Ilya cut his hair as short as possible. About the hockey practice he would attend when he was there, to show his father that his skill hadn’t been lost in Canada, but how his father claimed he still wasn’t good enough and the coaches would be mean. How his brother would pick on him the whole time, hating him for taking their mother away from him, even though it had never been Ilya’s choice. And, he would talk about how thin his mother would get, trapped in the house with his father, who was determined to get his wife back to Russia through manipulation, pointing out her flaws and Ilya’s and deciding they were all her fault.

Ilya could handle it. His mother could, too. Because there was always the promise that it would come to an end. His brother and father stayed in Russia, and Canada was his safe haven, his true home. He could keep the two worlds separate, and keep Shane away from this dark part of his family; because Shane just could never understand it, nor would Ilya ever want him to. His parents were amazing, while Ilya only had half of that. 

But there was no stopping it. Irina was always using the summer visits to Russia to beg Alexei to at least try spending time in Canada, just to see if he liked it, and somehow his father had managed to use this plan to his advantage. There was no good reason for them to come to Canada except to disrupt their home life.

And if they found out about Shane, about their relationship at all… Ilya simply couldn’t risk that.

Shane, however, didn’t seem to need to be told this. “We need to not be… be like us when they are here, right?” Shane asked the group. He didn’t sound upset over it, just cautious. 

Irina nodded, her face a bit pinched. “Yes, my dear, I’m sorry. They know you are best friends, but it would be better if Ilya’s papa didn’t know about anything else.”

Shane nodded firmly, the responsibility settling onto his shoulders. It seemed they both had the same goal over this visit - to keep one another safe. It was going to be a long summer. 

When the day arrived for Grigori and Alexei to arrive, Irina went with Ilya to the airport to meet them. She had rejected David’s offer of using his car to pick them up, as she was so worried about her husband’s potential to be rude to her friend. Ilya had gotten a quick haircut; not as short as his father liked, but his curls were tamed and pulled back, as were Irina’s. They hadn’t spoken much this morning - Ilya had gotten more and more agitated as the date for their arrival crept closer, with only Shane seeming to keep him happy. Irina was aware she was being overly positive about the visit, but she had to be, because she missed her older son desperately and needed this to go well. 

Their arrival was met with awkward silences, with Irina pulling Alexei into a tight hug which he only half returned, while Grigori only looked over his youngest son with a critical eye while Ilya stood as still as a statue. Once he was done, he turned to his wife and gave her the same look. Irina didn’t handle it as well as Ilya, and seemed to stoop over the weight of his stare. 

“This is how you dress to collect us?” Grigori finally said in Russian, unimpressed. “I have not seen you in a year, and you dress like a slob?”

“These are just my clothes, Grigori.” Irina said stiffly. “I have nothing fancier.”

They got a taxi to their apartment, Grigori and Alexei making detrimental comments out of the window as Ottawa came into view. Ilya already felt like his nerves were fried, and it had hardly been an hour. As the taxi pulled away after dropping them off, Grigori had looked disgusted at the outside of their home, and openly laughed when Irina opened the front door and invited them in.

“You are kidding, aren’t you? This place is tiny.” Grigori practically sneered. “There is hardly any space for a mouse, nevermind you two. I cannot be expected to stay here all summer.”

“We like it,” Irina snapped back, unable to hold back. She loved her home, even if it was small. “But you know, if this is too small, you should consider restarting your payments to me. Maybe then we could get something better.”

“I am not paying for you to run off to another country under the guise of supporting Ilya’s career.” Grigori said back, a warning look in his eyes that had Ilya’s eyes dropping to the floor. “Russia is the best place for him to learn how to play hockey, not Canada.”

“Canada is the home of ice hockey,” Irina argued. “Already, scouts are taking notice of his skill. He is one of the best.”

“Who cares if he is one of the best,” Grigori snapped. “He should be the best. He is hardly a winner if he shares the spotlight.”

As his parents fell back into their typical arguments, Ilya spotted Alexei slipping into his room. He followed after his older brother, a frown on his face. Alexei could never be trusted with his stuff, and had the tendency to steal from him. 

“What are you doing?” Ilya asked, his words sharp. Alexei was looking over his desk with mild interest. 

“Your room is like a shoebox,” Alexei replied, ignoring the question. “If I am staying here, you are on the couch.” 

“That is hardly fair,” Ilya complained, crossing his arms. “Mama has borrowed a mattress for you from my friend’s house, she didn’t say you could have my bed.”

“So you use it,” Alexei shrugged, picking up a workbook off of Ilya’s desk. Ilya snatched it back, quickly - he was sure he had doodled ‘I R & S H’ in a heart in that book. “Sleep on the floor, for all I care. I am taking this room.” 

Ilya really wanted to hit his brother, but he knew things were already tense between his parents. He didn’t want to add to his mother’s stress. Privately, he just wanted to be in the Hollander’s home, holding Shane tight and leaving this nightmare behind. 

*

Ilya had never felt so nervous for a hockey game before in his life. He was usually the overly excited one in the locker room, trying to get his nervous teammates to match his energy and prepare himself to play as best as he could. But today? He was quiet, reserved and everyone on the team picked up on it instantly. 

It had been over a week since his father and brother had arrived, but it had felt like a month. Ilya had hardly seen Shane, with practice being his only opportunity to spend time with him. The rest of the time, he had been dragged around with his family to go sight seeing, listening to their nasty comments about Canada, and about him. He was tired, agitated, and constantly felt the urge to scream. He had lost his bedroom to Alexei, of course, and annoyingly his mother had just let it happen.

She had been doing that a lot, just going along with Alexei’s demands without complaint. Like today, for example; Alexei had complained loudly that he didn’t want to go and see Ilya’s hockey game (which didn’t bother Ilya, because all interactions with his brother so far had been hostile), and Irina had given in, promising that they could spend the day together instead. It drove Ilya mad, especially as that meant that his father had been the one to go and watch him today. Really, Ilya had wished no one but the Hollander’s were in the stands watching him play. 

“Are you sick?” Hayden asked, a confused look on his face. Ilya had been so lost in his thoughts that he hadn’t even heard him come over. “You’ve usually knocked your helmet against mine like, ten times already. And told me not to ruin the game.”

“I’m fine,” Ilya said, but the words felt wrong in his mouth, and he knew no one believed him. 

“Hey,” Shane said quietly, nudging his shoulder gently into Ilya’s. “You have nothing to be nervous about, ok? You are going to kill it out there, and he’s going to have nothing bad to say. You are amazing, Ilya.”

“Thanks,” Ilya muttered, trying to cling to the small feeling of joy he got when Shane complimented him. This was just another game, and the team were good. They could do it. He could do it. 

They skated out, and Ilya purposefully didn’t look out into the crowd - he really didn’t need his father throwing him off right now. They played the game, with Ilya playing the hardest he had ever done. Shane scored two goals, and Ilya managed to get one cleanly into the net. They won the game, and the relief that Ilya felt was insanely high. He was grinning all the way off the rink.

“Ilya? Your dad is at the door, he’s asked to speak to you,” the assistant coach called through the locker room door. Ilya beamed and walked to the door, prepared for his father to congratulate him on playing so well, to see that his skill had only improved since being in Canada. He was going to be proud of him this time.

Ilya felt so stupid as soon as the locker room door swung shut behind him. His father had a nasty look on his face, his eyebrows furrowed. Ilya instantly felt himself standing straighter, his heart beating wildly.

“This is the best you can do? How have you gotten worse since you started playing in Canada?” Grigori asked in Russian, which Ilya was stupidly grateful for. If his father did this to him in English when everyone could understand it, it would be so much worse.

“I scored a goal today, sir.” Ilya responded, looking down when his father shook his head.

“But that little friend of yours scored two. He is the better player, isn’t he? Say it, Ilya!” Grigori was yelling now, clearly uncaring of the looks they were getting. He never cared, when he felt he was in the right. 

“He is the better player.” Ilya repeated, his voice void of emotion. 

“Yes he is, and he shouldn’t be. You play like you are lazy, just showing off as if anyone in that crowd cares about your name.” Grigori leaned in close to Ilya. “All you did today was prove you are nothing. You’ll never make a career out of this if you continue to play in Canada, mark my words. You need discipline and correction, not a pat on the back for showing up on the ice and playing like rubbish.” 

And, for the first time, Ilya wanted to say so? So what if he didn’t have a career in hockey, that wasn’t the end of the world. Going back to Russia full time was. But he knew better, and stayed silent. 

“I will be speaking to the coaches back home, the ones you have during summer. I will tell them about your failings here today, and I will ask them to start an improvement plan, because I won’t let you drag my name into the dirt with your pathetic playing. Understood?”

“Yes, sir.” Ilya nodded once, feeling shame coil in his gut. “May I go and get changed, sir?”

“Be quick about it,” Grigori warned. “I want out of here, so people cannot look at my failure of a son.”

When Ilya came back into the room, the locker room was deathly quiet. Some of his teammates were looking at him in open shock, while the others were politely keeping their gaze averted. It took a moment for Ilya to remind himself that they hadn’t understood any of it (except maybe Shane, but Ilya wasn’t looking at him at all), but obviously they had heard the yelling and the tone. How privileged they all were, to never have had to deal with that in such a public space. 

Ilya swallowed past the lump in his throat and forced himself to walk back to his stall, going back to packing his bag. He had just put his sweaty socks in his bag when arms wrapped tightly around him, one arm over his shoulder and the other coming from around waist, the hands resting over his chest. 

“Shane,” Ilya said, his voice choked. Shane had a rule about them being too close at the rink, and while they had sort of slipped up last year when they kissed outside the rink after the whole Rose Landry thing, they hadn’t done anything stupid like that again. But Shane just hung on tighter, his forehead resting on the back of Ilya’s neck. And then, surprisingly, another pair of arms surrounded them. Ilya tiled his head to the side in surprise as Cliff hugged him too, swiftly followed by Hayden. Before he knew it, he was in the middle of a pretty sweaty hug pile, with arms and heads everywhere. No one said a word, but no one needed to. Ilya felt his eyes sting with tears, but they didn’t fall. But a smile did grace his face, which felt like the second win of the day. 

*

Yuna couldn’t help but worry over both Irina and Ilya. She knew how hard Irina had worked over the years to handle her depression, knowing to reach out to Yuna if she needed the extra help. And Ilya was thriving, no longer burdened by the need to look after his mother. But she was worried that this could all be unraveled with Grigori’s presence. Yuna didn’t trust him at all, and she had to meet him for herself to let him know that Irina had people who cared about her in Canada, who wouldn’t let him bully her into going back to Russia. So, a week after the boy’s hockey game, Yuna arranged for the Rozanov family to come over for a small barbecue. Irina had been quick to agree when Yuna had called her about it, relief in her voice. 

The arrival of Grigori and Alexei was awkward, to say the least. Shane had told her about what had happened with Ilya and his father after the game, and it had taken everything in her to not storm around to Irina’s home and confront the man. She knew that would do nothing to help, and she was desperate to see Irina and Ilya, which wouldn’t happen if she confronted Grigori. But she certainly was going to mention it, whenever she got the chance. 

There was no warmness to the two Russian men, and they looked around her home as if it was beneath them. But Yuna didn’t let them spoil her hosting, and if anything, acted friendlier to them, just to annoy them. Irina looked a bit thin and pale, as if she hadn’t been sleeping all that well. It reminded Yuna of how she saw her, all those years ago when she was struggling to get herself out of bed. Ilya had a permanent scowl on his face, and he seemed twitchy, as if he didn’t know what to do with himself. It was so strange, to see him so uncomfortable in what Yuna liked to think of as his second home. Even his interactions with Shane were off, neither of them meeting each other’s gaze for too long, as if any eye contact would tip off to Ilya’s father then they were practically in love. 

She had tried to get Irina by herself to check in with her, but without fail Grigori or Alexei would appear by her side. So, Yuna decided to turn the conversation onto them, whether they liked it or not.

“So, how are you liking Canada so far?” Yuna askedGrigori, Ilya quickly translating for him without being asked. 

“Canada is… nice,” Grigori settled on, his English limited. Alexei couldn’t speak English much at all, but nodded along all the same, although from the looks on his face Yuna didn’t believe him.

“Good,” Yuna turned her smile onto Ilya. “You must be so proud of how well Ilya can speak English. I helped teach him, but he’s a bright boy, he picked it up no bother.”

While Yuna had thought the praise would have lit Ilya up, a frown came onto his face, and he didn’t translate straight away. When Grigori seemed to snap at him, he repeated it in Russian, not looking at his father. Grigori snorted at the words, and responded in Russian. Ilya flinched at his words, but dutifully repeated what he said.

“He said you are too polite, that he knows I am lazy.” Ilya told her, causing Shane to stiffen next to him. Yuna could feel her own expression change before she could stop it, and a flash of heat rolled through her body as she felt anger at the words. Calling Ilya lazy was an insult, and Yuna was more than ready to defend him. 

Irina, sensing the change, quickly spoke up. “I’ve been taking Alexei to lots of tourist spots, trying to show him how amazing Ottawa is. We’ve done a lot of museums, but they aren’t really Alexei’s thing, especially as a teenager.” Irina leaned over, smoothing a hand over Alexei’s head, which he flinched away from with a scowl. “Any suggestions on what else I can show him, Yuna? David?”

Yuna didn’t reply straight away, still annoyed at Grigori’s comment and partly annoyed that Irina wasn’t responding to it. But when she looked at her friend, seeing the pleading look on her face, she forced it down. She didn’t want to cause Irina any more issues than what Yuna knew she was currently already dealing with. She had promised her that she would support her while Grigori and Alexei were here, and starting a fight over a comment would be the opposite of that.

“Maybe you could take a trip out to Gatineau Park,” David suggested by the grill, saving his wife from having to answer. He had barely been able to interact with Grigori and kept himself focused on the cooking, unable to force himself to be kind to a man that he knew was a monster hidden under a smile. “It’s beautiful, especially this time of year.”

The conversation changed to landmarks in Moscow, which Alexei excused himself from pretty quickly. He smirked as he passed Ilya, which had his younger brother frowning. What was Alexei up to? Ilya waited outside for two minutes, before he too quietly excused himself. Shane shot him a confused look, but Ilya waved him off as he headed inside. He looked around the ground floor of the house, and when his suspicions were confirmed, he went upstairs. The door to Shane’s room was open, and Ilya knew he wouldn’t have left it that way with Ilya’s family in the house, so he went straight in there.

Sure enough, Alexei was in there, looking at a framed photo of a six year old Shane and Ilya, tiny in their hockey gear. Yuna had taken the photo a week after they had met each other, and their grins were ridiculous. Shane always kept the photo on his bedside table, and Ilya felt his heart sink when he realised he hadn’t hidden it. 

“What are you doing up here, Alexei?” Ilya asked in Russian, keeping his voice low so the adults weren’t alerted. “There is a toilet downstairs you can use. Get out of Shane’s room.”

“You know, papa thinks I should go into the police, just like him.” Alexei said, ignoring his brother’s question. “I’ve been trying to learn from him, tricks of the trade, you know?” Alexei turned around slowly, a pleased look on his face. “Detective work, looking for clues.”

“What are you on about?” Ilya snapped, frustration leaking through. “Go back downstairs, Alexei, before I tell mama you are sneaking around up here!”

“Ah, but what will you do if I go downstairs and tell papa all about you and Shane?” Alexei said, his voice as soft as butter. Ilya felt his insides freeze at the words, but forced himself not to react outwardly. He couldn’t let his face confirm anything.

“Shane?” Ilya scoffed. “He is my best friend, you idiot, I think papa knows that already.”

“Oh, maybe that is true,” Alexei hummed, putting down the photo frame and gesturing to Shane’s wardrobe. “But you seem to have left a lot of clothes at your best friend's house. Before you try and say they aren’t yours, I can see they are Russian brands. Tell me, little brother, do you sleep in Shane’s room when you stay over?”

“No,” Ilya lied, feeling his palms begin to sweat. “There is a guest room here, I use that. Stop being weird.”

“I don’t believe you,” Alexei told him softly. “Even in this home, you are in plenty of photos, like you are family. I bet you want that, don’t you? In fact, I know you want that…” Alexei slipped his hand into his pocket and pulled out a small piece of paper, flicking it down onto the floor by Ilya’s feet. Ilya didn’t move for a moment, confused, but reached down and picked up the crumbled up paper. With another quick glance at his brother, Ilya carefully pulled back the paper. 

His insides no longer felt frozen; they were suddenly alive with heat, fear curdling his gut. Because there, ripped from his workbook, was the doodle he had tried to hide. In a heart, his initials and Shane’s. The silence was deafening in the room, and while Ilya tried to desperately find a way to explain this away, he realised he couldn’t even think of a decent lie. And the worst part was, that even though he knew the truth was extremely dangerous, he never wanted to lie about his love for Shane. 

And then, all of a sudden, the object of the conversation appeared. Shane stood in the doorway of his room and looked between Ilya and Alexei, a frown on his face, clearly seeing the tension between them.

“Your mum asked me to find you two, the burgers are ready.” Shane said, shuffling slightly. “Is everything ok?”

“Tell your boyfriend everything is fine,” Alexei continued to speak in Russian, ignoring Shane completely. “And if you don’t want me to tell father about what a little freak you are, you are going to start listening to my instructions. Because let me tell you, Ilya,” Alexei couldn’t help but sneer as he said his name. “There is no fucking way I am moving to shit hole Canada to keep you or mama happy, understand? Father wants you home, and you are going to tell mama that is what you want, too.”

If this was anyone else giving him such a stupid ultimatum, Ilya would have laughed straight in their face to think they could tell him what to do. But he felt it, the part of him that was never strong enough to stand up fully to his brother or his father, the weak part that his father always said he got from his mother. And Alexei had found his true weakness; his relationship with Shane. His brother knew that Ilya would do anything he could to keep Shane safe. He opened his mouth to force out an agreement, even though it killed him to do it, when Shane cleared his throat, drawing attention back to him. 

“What is going on, Ilya?” Shane asked; he had recognised some of the words Alexei had said, but not enough to follow the conversation entirely. Wordlessly, Ilya handed Shane the piece of paper. Shane glanced down at it in confusion, opening it up. Silently, he looked over it, the only change in his expression was an eyebrow twitching. 

“You want to be a detective, Alexei, right? Ilya told me that before.” Shane asked, looking up at Alexei, an almost smug look on his face. He sometimes had that look when an opponent on another team underestimated him. “Here’s a clue for you - never hand out your evidence.”

Alexei’s pleased look changed into one of uncertainty, not able to fully translate Shane’s words. Shane used his confusion as a chance to escape; in the blink of an eye, Shane had turned and ran out of the room, the piece of paper still clutched in his hand. He wasn’t as fast off the ice, but he still took off like a rocket, and was practically flying down the stairs.  

“Come back here!” Alexei yelled in Russian, racing out of the room after Shane. He only got to the top of the stairs when Ilya crashed into him, stopping him in his desperate chase. 

“You don’t hurt him, do you hear me?” Ilya screamed in Russian, feeling Alexei land a solid punch on his ribs but refusing to let go. “He is not a tool you can use to tell me what to do! You always had a choice, Alexei, so you won’t take mine away! And you know what? I’ll always choose this life,” he shoved Alexei hard against the wall. “I’ll always choose him!”

“Father is going to kill you,” Alexei yelled back, grabbing Ilya’s arms. “And you deserve it, you freak of nature!” 

“Ilya, Alexei!” Irina screamed as they tumbled down the stairs, still clawing at each other. Alexei landed on his back with a grunt, and Ilya wasted no time in raining down his fists onto his older brother, hitting his face and chest. “Stop it! Boys, enough!”

Suddenly, Ilya was grabbed by the back of his hoodie and thrown off of his brother. He landed in a heap on the floor, breathing heavily. Between them stood their father, furious in a way Ilya only ever saw behind closed doors.

“Enough, boys!” Grigori snarled, the voice having his whole family cowering. “You dare embarrass me? I will deal with you both when we are out of here. Fighting like animals, bringing shame to my name-”

“Papa! He attacked me,” Alexei said in broken English, wiping at his bleeding nose. 

“That’s not true!” Shane lied, his voice firm. “Alexei started it. He was going through my stuff, and Ilya told him to stop. He tried to hit me first, but Ilya stopped him.”

“Alexei,” Irina said, her tone full of disappointment. “Just what were you thinking, going into Shane’s room?” 

“Mama!” Alexei screeched, before switching to Russian to complain that Shane was a nasty liar. Ilya was tuning it out, however, as he slowly got to his feet.

Wow, Ilya had choked at the idea of lying, but Shane didn’t even blink when he did it. Although his body was aching, Ilya felt his spirit lift inside. Shane glanced over at him, and for the first time in weeks, Ilya wasn’t scared to hold it. Alexei hadn’t won this round. Even if he did tell his father, he had nothing to prove it, thanks to Shane. His mother would never expose him, even if his father demanded answers. It was nice to know that Shane was just as determined to protect him, as Ilya was with Shane. 

Meanwhile, the paper heart was currently turning to ash, tucked between the hot coals of the barbecue. David hadn’t even blinked when Shane had handed him the paper and whispered for him to burn it, watching over it as Shane had then turned and told Irina and Grigori that Alexei was fighting Ilya. They agreed to call it a night when Alexei became outraged at being forced to take the blame for the fight, with David packing up burgers for the Rozanov’s to take home with them. No one spoke on the drive back, but Grigori made up for that once they were home.

*

Irina had told her husband a white lie, that it was her turn to take Shane and Ilya to practice, with Yuna and David both stuck at work. In reality, David usually took the boys to this practice, but Irina had quietly organised this with the Hollander’s. It gave her a reason to be out of the house, somewhere that Grigori or Alexei wouldn’t follow her, and would give her some much needed time alone to gather her thoughts.

She had tried her best to be positive about this visit, even with the dark shadow of her husband hanging over her, causing her to feel foggy in her head. The only good thing about that was his insults stung less, but it made it hard for Irina to feel anything. Everything was just numb. And Alexei… she had done everything Alexei asked of her, even if it had meant Ilya wasn’t always getting what he wanted. It had been a difficult balancing act that she knew she had gotten wrong. If she was honest with herself, these past few weeks it had felt like everything she did was wrong. Her clothes, her hair, her attitude, her home… everything was just not up to anyone’s standards. 

It was tiring - the kind of tired that lingered in your bones. But she didn’t have time to let her feelings overwhelm her, not when she was running out of time to convince Alexei to stay. But she just needed these two hours to herself, to let her think of her next steps. 

“Hey, Irina… can I speak to you for a minute?” Kip asked as he put her coffee down. Irina looked up at the teenager - young adult now, really - a smile on her face. It dropped slightly at the serious look on his face. 

“Yes, of course. Is everything ok?”

“Well…” Kip looked around, before taking the seat opposite her. “I noticed you weren’t at Ilya’s last game, was that Ilya’s dad who was here instead?”

“Ah, yes - Grigori. I was spending time with my other son, they’re visiting from Russia.” Irina had really wanted to come to Ilya’s game, but she felt guilty when Alexei said it felt like she was picking her younger son over him, again. They had spent the day shopping, even though Irina was already at her credit card limit. She just wanted Alexei to be happy. 

“Right, well, I thought it was best that you know, he was overheard by a lot of people, screaming at Ilya after the game.” Kip said awkwardly. “Maybe Ilya or Shane told you already, but it just seemed really aggressive. If I had heard it, I would have thrown him out of here.” Kip must be able to tell from Irina’s shocked expression that she wasn’t aware of it. “Sorry I just… I thought you should know.”

“Kip… can I ask a big favour from you?” Irina asked, shame crawling in her gut as she said the words. He must think she is an awful person, asking for a favour now. But Kip just nodded, gesturing for her to ask. “Will you please take Shane and Ilya to the Hollander’s after practice? I need to talk to my husband, and I do not want Ilya there.”

“Of course,” Kip nodded. “That’s not a problem at all.” 

“Thank you,” Irina said, her voice low. “I’ll go now; tell him I will pick him up later.” Her coffee was left on the table, untouched.

She went through a hundred emotions on the way home - disgust, rage, upset and concern over what Grigori had done to Ilya. To embarrass her son like that, make him feel small when his team had won and Ilya had scored a goal… no, the feeling she had now was just anger. How dare Grigori come over here and disrupt their lives like that? How could Irina let him do that to them, to try and poison the life they had built here?

This was it. She was asking for a divorce today, and forcing Grigori to go to a hotel until his return flight. Ilya didn’t need Grigori in his life; David had stepped into that father figure the first year they had met each other. She had played the role of Grigori Rozanov’s wife for too long - it was time to remember who she was again. 

As soon as she had gotten into her home, she had told Alexei to go to Ilya’s room - and then had snapped at him when he dared to moan at her over it. After a moment he went, a strange look on his face as if he was just seeing her for the first time. “I cannot believe you would embarrass him like that,” Irina yelled in Russian, her eyes furious. 

“He embarrassed me with that awful play,” Grigori said back, his tone full of aggression. It used to be a warning sound for Irina to back off, but this time, she didn’t care. She was so sick of Grigori. 

“He scored a goal, his team won!”

“But he wasn’t the best!”

“Who cares?” Irina said, her voice practically a screech. “It is a team sport, and he is twelve years old! If you come down so hard on him, he’ll stop enjoying the game.”

“It’s not about fun, it is about winning,” Grigori shook his head, his face almost red with rage. “What kind of nonsense are you speaking, woman? Having fun? You’ve been in Canada too long.”

“No, but I think you have.” Irina said, pulling off her wedding ring and slamming it onto the table between them. Grigori stared at it, not saying a word. “I am done with this, Grigori. You come over here and make our lives hell, you pick and pick at that wonderful boy like it is fun to destroy his spirit. This marriage has been over for years. I want out.”

“Out?” Grigori spat, coming right into her face. “You hear the disrespect coming from you? You agreed to marry me, you foolish woman, you do not get to leave me. Are our vows a joke to you?”

“I only agreed to it because you gave me no choice!” Irina yelled back, the words that she had never thought she would have the strength to say pouring from her mouth. “You used your power to control me, you got me pregnant and knew I had nowhere to go. But I broke free from you the moment I stepped onto Canadian soil.”

Being handed the truth so bluntly was not something Grigori had ever had from Irina, and his way of handling it was to take it out on her home. He was practically snarling as he picked up her belongings - photoframes, her house phone, her lamps - and slammed them off the walls until they broke. Her books were opened and pages ripped out, her television screen was damaged when the remote slammed against the screen. This was Grigori, all over. A baby when he didn’t get his way. Irina did nothing to stop him, because she knew he was just waiting for her to lay her hands on him, so he would have the excuse to do it back. Her items could be replaced, but the way Grigori hit always had her in danger of not getting back up. 

“If you want this,” Grigori said, his face nearly purple with rage. “I’ll make it so you or Ilya can never come back to Russia. You know I have that power. I’ll make it so you never see Alexei again. I’ll marry and find a woman that knows how to be a mother. Is that what you want?”

“You know he can hear you, yes?” Irina said, gesturing towards the closed door. “He can hear you destroy my home and threaten me! Do you think you are teaching him how to be a man? A husband?”  

But Grigori kept on speaking as if she hadn’t said a word, heading to the bedroom. “You were a terrible wife, embarrassing - the excuses I had to make to my peers when you were in Russia, unable to leave your bed, so lazy!” Grigori was yelling as he was throwing his clothes into his suitcase haphazardously. Irina didn’t bother to respond, and just kept her focus on the wall where a picture of Alexei and Ilya used to hang, her vision doubling with unshed tears. “A trait you have passed onto my youngest son. Thank God I didn’t let you ruin Alexei, as well.” 

He appeared at the door, his suitcase slamming over the destruction on the floor. Irina didn’t even blink when he snatched her ring from the countertop, or when he shoved her out of the way.  

“I will arrange a flight back for Alexei and I as soon as possible,” Grigori said, forcing himself to relax before heading to the street. “I never want to see your face again. You better hope you never have to leave Canada,” Grigori looked over his shoulder at her for a final time. “Because if I catch you in Russia, I will make you pay for it.”

And with that, the door slammed open, and Grigori Rozanov walked out of her life. Irina barely had time to breathe before another door was opening. “Did papa leave?” Alexei asked, shuffling out of Ilya’s room. “Where is he going?”

“Alexei,” Irina said softly, reaching for him. But she stopped when her son took a step back, shaking his head. She then noticed he had his travel backpack on his shoulders. “Alexei, it’s over between your father and I. But please, put your bag down - I want you to stay.”

“No, mama.” Alexei said, looking down at his feet. “No. I am going with him.”

“But darling,” Irina said, her tears finally falling, failure clutching at her heart. “Look at what he has done. He is no good for you.”

“No, but neither are you.” Alexei snapped, meeting her gaze. “You left Russia for Ilya, for his dream! What about me?”

“I wanted you to come, Alexei, I still do. But I couldn’t stay in Russia anymore, not because of you, but because of your father.” Irina replied, reaching for him again, desperate for him to understand. “Ilya didn’t make the choice to leave, I did. Please don’t blame him anymore.”

“But there is nothing in Canada for me, mama! You did this so what, Ilya can go on to be some kind of famous hockey player?” Alexei practically slapped her hand away from him. “You left me behind, because what? I have no talent, I am not worthy of your time?”

“No, Alexei!” Irina choked out, hating that arguing with him was just like arguing with Grigori. “That is not true at all. I love you, so much-”

“But just not enough as Ilya,” Alexei interrupted, shaking his head. “I will never be enough, for you or for my father. No, don’t touch me!” Alexei warned her, taking a step back. “I want nothing to do with this family. You know what I tell people? That you are dead, because it is easier trying to explain why you left me. I never tell them I have a baby brother, who stole my life, who I know is a freak with a little boyfriend.” Irina gasped at that, but before she could shut Alexei down, he was grabbing his jacket. “I don’t want to see either of you again. Now, I am leaving with papa, and I don’t want you to follow me. Understood?”

And then, her first born was walking out of her life, following in the footsteps of his father. The door closing behind him felt so final, and while part of her head was screaming at her to go out and chase him down, another voice was telling her to not make it any worse, which inevitably she would. At least Ilya was safe. He was with the Hollander’s. He would always be safe with them. Alexei was with his father, and while that wasn’t safe, it was a better option than her, because she knew that, deep down, she wasn’t a good mother. Maybe not even a good person. 

She had no idea how long she had been standing in the middle of her living room, but when she came to herself, the sky was a lot darker. The fog in her head that she had been desperately trying to ignore was back, but it no longer felt trapped in her mind. She looked around her destroyed apartment, not even recognising it as the home she had lived in for six years. Her sanctuary, destroyed. The darkness seemed to creep closer to her, the fog pulling at her from every angle. Irina stumbled to the bathroom, the only room that seemed to have survived Grigori’s rage. She opened the cupboard above the sink, looking for… for anything. Anything to stop the fog from catching her and pulling her under. She opened pill bottles, not thinking or caring about what they were actually for. 

Before she could put any in her mouth, she let the cupboard swing shut, which forced her to look at herself in the mirror. She didn’t even recognise herself. How quickly she had allowed herself to deteriorate, all because her husband had come to town. Weak, Irina. You’ve always been too weak for Grigori, for Russia, for Alexei… even for Ilya. 

Before she could continue to spiral, there was suddenly a loud knock at the door. It stopped as quick as it had happened, to the point that Irina thought she had maybe imagined it, but then it started up again. Thump, thump, thump. 

A small, broken sound escaped her lips as she forced herself out of the bathroom, away from her reflection. She couldn’t stand the sight of the failure that occupied her body anymore. She just wanted the banging to stop, and to sleep it off. She would tidy later, carefully hide her husband’s destruction and make sure the apartment was nice again for Ilya. 

But… maybe Alexei had come back. Maybe he had changed his mind. With a deep sigh, she wiped her face with her free hand, and shuffled over to the door. She opened it just a crack, peering around the door. It wasn’t Alexei, but the two people on the doorstep still had her biting back a sob. Yuna and David stood there, both looking concerned, though Yuna had that look in her eye she got when she felt like the referee made a bad call. 

“Hi, I’m so sorry for us barging over, but when Kip dropped off the boys, we couldn’t sit there and wait to see if you were ok. If you want us to go away that’s fine, but I don’t want you to have to do this alone.” Yuna said, looking around Irina to see if she could spot Grigori. “Are you alone, sweetie?”

The pet name broke her, and another sob escaped her mouth before she could stop it. In a haste to cover the noise, she raised her hands to her mouth, dropping the open pill bottle as she did, the white pills spilling over the ground. Yuna watched them fall, and without waiting, took a step into the apartment. She pulled Irina into her arms, holding her tightly as she took in the mess around her.

“I’ve got you,” Yuna said, rubbing her back. “Oh honey, did Grigori do this?”

“Ilya?” Irina managed to gasp out, not answering the question. “Is… is he-?”

“Kip is with them, and Scott, he’s in town for the weekend.” Yuna soothed her. “He is ok, Irina, he’s safe. David, can you get some water? And a wash cloth? Sweetheart, is Alexei still here?”

“No,” Irina sobbed out, shaking her head. “He… he went with father. I-I told him I want a divorce, and… well, you can see how he responded.”

“We’ll get this place cleared up,” Yuna told her, wiping her face with the damp wash cloth when David handed it to her. “We’ll help you get your divorce sorted out. And… we’ll help you with anything else you need.” Irina didn’t need to ask what she meant - they had both seen the pills on the floor, they knew her head was a mess. But when she looked at both of their faces, she didn’t see judgement, or disgust. Just concern.

Irina had forgotten that she had people that cared about her. She fell back into Yuna’s hold, letting her tears out, trying to grasp onto the feeling of hope that she hadn’t felt in weeks. 

Six Weeks Later

It had taken a lot of convincing to get Irina to get professional help, because it was simply not something she had done before. But she had found herself in a horrible loop since Grigori and Alexei had left without seeing her or Ilya again, and she knew it was worrying Ilya. He had started not wanting to leave the house again, because he admitted to Yuna he felt like he was abandoning her. It let Irina know she was not doing as well as she thought she was. So she would try, for Ilya. Because he was her world.

It was just one appointment, to start with. If it wasn’t for her, she didn’t have to go again. 

“Irina?” a voice called out from the open door; a middle aged woman appeared at the door, her Russian accent not heavy but obvious in the way she said Irina’s name. 

Irina sat up, swallowing nervously. She had almost managed to convince herself that this waiting room was for something else, for someone else. Yuna, who of course told her she would come, squeezed her hand in encouragement, a silent promise to wait for her. She took a moment to breathe, before squeezing back and standing up, heading to the door. 

“Hi, Irina. I’m Dr. Galina Molchalina. Take a seat, get comfy.” Galina said, closing the door behind her. “It’s nice to meet you.”

Chapter End Notes

LET ME JUST SAY IT BEFORE YOU DO... I HATED THIS CHAPTER. It honestly sucked the life out of me, I struggled to find a flow I liked and this was the best I could do. I just want to write about my boys kissing but I also always needed chapter twelve to be a pivotal point for Irina and Ilya, because this is SUCH an important age for Ilya.

Now... when this fic was just a twinkle in my eye, I had originally planned for Irina to face the same fate as in canon, and for Ilya to be forced to go back to Russia. Shane and Ilya would then be reunited in Saskatchewan before the International Prospect Cup final. I know, how cruel, right?! When I then started writing I knew this wouldn't be the same outcome, but I still did not settle on what I would do here. I couldn't have all the scenes of this chapter happen in Russia, because the whole point of this story is that Ilya and Irina live in Canada. So I had to get Grigori and Alexei (sorry idk why they changed your name for the show but I'm keeping it as Alexei) to Canada.

I rewrote this chapter like 100 times. Drafts of Irina overdosing, drafts of Alexei outing Ilya and Shane, I even had a draft that introduced Harris! But this was the best version I could settle on. Am I happy with it? Nope. Am I glad I pushed through and got it out? Yes. I totally understand and appreciate why writer's need editors now!

Next chapter we will be back to our regular scheduled fluff - keep an eye on the warning tag as it may change as we enter the teenage years!

Love you all for sticking with me, and a big thank you for giving this story over 700 kudos, that is insane!! I appreciate all your wonderful comments, kudos and bookmarks <3

Chapter 8: Age Thirteen

Chapter Summary

In the months following his family’s visit, Irina’s mental health steadily improves with therapy and medication, though she occasionally struggles with depressive episodes. Ilya, however, develops a strong sense of responsibility for her wellbeing - so strong that it begins to disrupt his own life. He feels guilty spending time away from her and convinces himself that he must always be near in case she has another breakdown.

With a trip to New York coming up, Ilya has an internal battle with himself between love and fear, causing unexpected anxiety. And Ilya is starting to realise that what he first thought he really wanted to do in the future, doesn't seem as exciting anymore.

Chapter Notes

PLEASE NOTE THE ADDITIONAL TAGS AND THE CHANGE OF THIS FIC FROM TEEN TO MATURE.
In this chapter, there is mentions of two underage teenagers consenting to a sexual experience - if you aren't ok with that, please don't read!!

Life hadn’t gone completely back to normal in the following months after Grigori and Alexei left Canada. Ilya had come to stay with the Hollander’s for two weeks, just to allow Irina time to focus on her mental health without needing to worry about getting Ilya to school or practice. They still saw each other constantly, and a few months down the line, Irina was doing a lot better - the combination of getting the right medication and the weekly appointments with Dr Galina had done wonders for her mental health. Sure, she still had her sudden mood dips when getting out of bed felt like an impossible task, but now she had ways of supporting herself when she felt like that. And, of course, she always had David and Yuna, ready to help her and Ilya.

Ilya had tried his best to step up and be there for his mama, ready to catch her whenever she felt at risk of falling. It was hard sometimes, because Ilya felt that to succeed in that, he had to be one step ahead of his mother’s moods. And that meant spending much more time with her and keeping a close eye on her. He had been realising that he was selfish, spending so much time at Shane’s home like he lived there, leaving his mother by herself for too long. He wouldn’t make that mistake again. 

So, at least, it looked like things were ok on the surface - and Ilya was trying very hard to make sure it looked that way. He didn’t want Shane to worry, or David and Yuna. He could handle this. 

Currently, he was sprawled out on one the couches in the Hollander’s living room, whereas Shane was sitting on the floor in front of him, their homework covering the coffee table. Shane had been trying to get Ilya to join him to get it done, but Ilya was ignoring all attempts until Shane approved one of one of his pet names for him. Ilya always liked it when David called Yuna “sweetheart” and she just responded, knowing that the pet name was for her. His father had never called his mother anything other than her name, or something offensive, and Ilya didn’t want to be like that. 

“How about… darling?” Ilya pondered, the string of his hoodie popped into his mouth, chewing on it as he considered it. Shane shook his head, leaning his head back against the sofa so he could peer up at Ilya, his glasses framing his eyes in a way that had Ilya’s heart beating hard in his chest. Shane had really no idea what his glasses did to Ilya.

“Ugh, no, only if you said it in Russian.” Shane responded, screwing his nose up. “Maybe not even in Russian, actually.”

“Sweetheart?”

“Definitely only in Russian. Anyway, my mum kind of has dibs on that pet name.”

“True, but it suits you, because you get some of your sweet heart from her.” Shane sent him a big smile at that. Ilya could see David outside in the garden, cutting the grass. A grin spread on Ilya’s face as he reached out to pet Shane’s hair. “How about gazonokosilka?” 

“Gaz-what?” Shane, fed up with craning his neck, got himself to his feet so he could look down at Ilya, a confused look on his face. “What does that mean?” 

Ilya grinned cheekily up at him, before gesturing to the window. “Lawnmower. I think it’s sweet.” Shane rolled his eyes at that, snorting at the thought of Ilya somehow thinking that was a sweet thing to call him. It was only slightly better than pomidor, because last time Shane checked, he was not a tomato. 

“No? How about baby?”

“I’m not a baby.”

“You could be my baby, though.” Ilya cooed up at him, loving the flush that covered Shane’s face. 

“Or… we could just try out ‘boyfriend’?” Shane asked, a small, nervous smile on his face. Ilya reached out and put his fingers through the belt loops on Shane’s jeans, tugging him closer until Shane toppled down so he was lying on top of Ilya. Ilya let his forehead rest against Shane’s, humming as he considered the word. 

“Boyfriend, hm? I don’t know if we are that serious.” Ilya said, though his grin was so wide it hurt his cheeks. Shane snorted, leaning down to press a kiss to Ilya’s neck. 

“How about I just call you Rozanov, then?”

“No, I like boyfriend.”

“How do you say it in Russian?”

“Vozlyublennyy,” Ilya told him, moving his head to look down at Shane, his boyfriend! Shane repeated the word until he got the pronunciation right, which had Ilya rewarding him with a slow kiss. 

“Are you staying tonight?” Shane asked, his hands resting against Ilya’s chest, rubbing slowly. “We could go out on our bikes, maybe go pick up some snacks, have a movie night upstairs…” The flush on Shane’s face seemed to promise more than just watching a movie. Ilya opened his mouth to agree, but then he remembered his mama would be finishing work soon, and then heading home. To an empty house, with no one there to talk to - with no one there to make sure she was ok. 

“Ah… no, dorogoy, I promised my mama I would go home tonight.” Ilya lied, hating that he was doing that to Shane, but he just couldn’t explain why he felt he had to be at home. It was like an itch in his brain, that could only be scratched if he went to see his mother. 

“Oh… ok,” Shane nodded, his face twitching as he processed that Ilya wasn’t staying over again. It had been happening more often these past few months, and while Shane didn’t want to come across as whiny, he couldn’t help but feel weird about it, because things had… progressed. They had never made set plans to do things, but they shared a bed. Their bodies responded to that, because holding your boyfriend at night and waking up in each other’s arms had certainly woken up another body part without fail. 

They had laughed it off the first few times, handling their arousal separately because they were still learning their own bodies and didn’t feel the urge to explore each other yet. But a few weeks back, Shane had woken up in Ilya’s arms, and didn’t pull away automatically to avoid him feeling his arousal. After a few careful kisses that woke up Ilya, Shane had whispered an important question to him.

“Can we try something?” Ilya had nodded at that, his eyes warm. “Will you tell me if it’s ok, or if you want me to stop?” Ilya promised that he would. 

And so, they had carefully rocked against each other. They kept their pajamas on, and didn’t let their hands wander, but they kissed the whole time. It had felt amazing, and somehow made them feel even closer, which Ilya didn’t think was even possible. And they had taken every opportunity to do it again, Shane biting his lip to keep himself quiet so his parents didn’t overhear them, but Ilya was sure they knew something was up (then he had had to laugh to himself because certainly something was up). 

They had spoken about progressing things from just rubbing off against one another to potentially touching each other. Ilya had felt nervous excitement over the thought of it, and was glad when Shane admitted he felt a bit nervous too. But they were really good at communicating with each other, about what felt best, and truthfully? Ilya could not imagine exploring this new side of his body with anyone else. He had heard his brother talk about sex, and doing stuff with girls, like it meant nothing. But having the chance to be this close to Shane? It just felt like pure love. 

“It’s not that I don’t want to, ah, watch a movie with you,” Ilya told him, and he knew Shane had caught what he was trying to say when his flush became even more red. “Why don’t you come over to mine, da?” 

“I can, but there is hardly any room on your bed for you, never mind me as well.” Shane reminded him - Shane had always had a double bed, which was such a blessing, while Ilya had the smallest single bed in the whole world. “You can always stay over another time, when you are free.”

“Of course,” Ilya agreed, though his stomach twisted at the idea of leaving his mother alone. What if she needed him, and he wasn’t there? How could he live with that guilt, knowing he was having a wonderful time with his boyfriend and his family, while she was alone?

“Now, let’s try out pet names for you.” Shane teased, and Ilya was incredibly thankful for his boyfriend moving on from the conversation.

“I want you to only address me as handsome from now on. Oh, and beloved, maybe even Prince Charming-” Shane smothered his requests with a kiss, though it felt funny since they both couldn’t stop grinning. 

The next time Ilya did stay over at Shane’s house, it was because Irina had asked him to as she was covering a late shift at her work and wouldn’t be home until very late. Ilya had seemed very thrown off by this, and had constantly asked her mother if she was sure. He hadn’t been able to relax, which Shane picked up on, but he kept telling him everything was fine. 

That night, they had stayed up making out, but Ilya hadn’t felt that he could switch off his mind to get himself truly lost in Shane’s touch. He kept waking every hour, completely worried about his mother getting home, and then getting home to an empty house, and what if she had had a horrible shift at work? What if people had been rude to her all day, and she was upset, what if she had been crying at home, feeling alone?

His stomach felt twisted, not in the way it could feel if he was going to be sick, but something else. He sometimes had this stomach problem when he was in Russia. He hated that it seemed to follow him here. Ilya watched the clock on his bedside table, and as soon as it hit six o’clock, he was sliding out of Shane’s arms and finding his change of clothes. 

A few minutes later, he heard movement from the bed. “Ilya?” Shane whispered, patting the empty side of the bed. 

“Morning,” Ilya whispered back, pulling his shirt over his head. “I’m sorry, did I wake you?”

“... What time is it?” Shane asked instead of answering, confusion in his tone. He sat up, squinting to see Ilya in the dark room. At this point, Ilya was sitting on the bed, pulling on his socks.

“Really early,” Ilya replied, not looking at him. “You should go back to sleep.”

“I’m so confused,” Shane said, blinking at his boyfriend. “Are you leaving?” 

“I’m just going to check on mama,” Ilya told him, as if that were part of his normal routine at six in the morning on a school day. 

“Going to… what?” Shane rubbed his eyes, trying to will himself into making sense about what Ilya was saying. “Is everything ok?”

“I think so, yes,” Ilya nodded, leaning forward to press kisses over Shane’s face, particularly on his freckles. Shane tried to not let the kisses distract him. “But I just want to check. I can come back afterwards, so we can go to school together?” 

“Um,” Shane reached out, grasping the back of Ilya’s neck before he could pull away. Ilya didn’t seem to want to meet his gaze. “Ilya, I feel like I’m missing something. Are you ok?” 

Ilya didn’t speak for a moment, instead leaning his forehead against Shane’s. Shane waited out the silence, knowing Ilya needed it to gather his thoughts. “I just need to go and see her,” he whispered to Shane. “Because I cannot concentrate if I don’t. I cannot explain it, Shane, so please don’t make me try.”

“Should I wake up my parents? They can drive you-”

“No, please don’t. If they ask… just say I forgot my school bag, ok? Please?”

“... Ok,” Shane said, though this felt like something he shouldn’t keep from his parents. But the look on Ilya’s was one of pure stress, and Shane didn’t want to betray him when he looked this vulnerable. “I’ve got you, Ilya. I won’t say a word.” The for now was silent, but it was there. 

A week later, they were out as a group for dinner; Ilya had ordered the largest burger on the menu, claiming he was a growing boy at the look Shane shot at him while he ordered the healthiest option on the menu, which was salmon on brown rice.  

Shane had kept his word and not mentioned to his parents the real reason why Ilya had left his house so early that previous week. However, he still wasn’t sure what it had been all about either, because all attempts to get Ilya to talk about it had been shut down. Well, not shut down per say, but Ilya was really good at changing the conversation or distracting him with kisses. Other times, Ilya simply wasn’t there to talk to, always rushing home with claims of a stomach ache. Shane had told him he could, of course, stay over even if he wasn’t feeling well, and had shyly offered to look after him if he was sick. Ilya had softened at that, but he was firm: he wanted to stay at home. 

“So,” David said after their waitress had left the table, a large smile on his face. “I’ve got to admit, there is a reason why we asked you both out for dinner. I managed to get three tickets to the New York Admirals game against Boston - we can see Scott on the ice and do some sightseeing. What do you think?” David directed that question at Ilya. 

“That sounds nice, David.” Ilya said, a little confused as to why his mother and himself would be invited out to hear the Hollander’s were going to New York; maybe just to prepare them to not see them, which would suck. “You will need to bring me back a souvenir, Shane.” 

“Ilya, the other ticket is for you!” Yuna laughed, reaching over to pat his hand. “I’m sitting this one out, it’s a boy's trip only. It’s just for the weekend, but if you have fun, we can always plan to go back.”

Ilya lit up at that - a trip to New York, a place he had never been? It was the city that never sleeps, with its amazing buildings and the Statue of Liberty. And he would be with Shane, their first trip away together, to watch boring Scott Hunter play. To go to a place that no one knew them… they could maybe hold hands, maybe even kiss in Times Square and just be themselves without worry of anyone they know seeing them. Shane was grinning at him, and Ilya could only imagine that he was thinking the same thing, though he was probably having nicer thoughts about Hunter. He had been so impressed when Scott had been drafted, and he had been mentioning how awesome it would be to see Scott playing during his rookie seasons. 

“Oh, what a kind offer!” Irina said, her voice breaking the spell over Ilya. It was like he had suddenly been dunked under cold water, and his eyes snapped to her, reality washing over him. She kept talking, but Ilya couldn’t focus on what she was saying, not when his mind was suddenly racing. What had he been thinking? Even though he wanted to, of course he couldn’t go - what if his mama needed him? What if she had a bad time but he was away in a whole other country?

“Can I think about it?” Ilya asked suddenly, speaking over his mother. She turned to look at him with a surprised expression. “About the trip?”

Shane, who hadn’t looked away from Ilya, couldn’t stop his expression twisting when Ilya said that. He quickly looked away when Ilya met his gaze, blinking fast and scrunching up his face slightly. Their parents looked at each other in surprise, a whole conversation happening between them without uttering a word, before Yuna squeezed Ilya’s hand again.

“Of course, sweetie. You think about it and let us know.”

The next day, Ilya should have been at hockey practice, but instead he had begged to stay at home, holding his stomach and complaining that it hurt too much to play. Irina had agreed to let him stay at home and had called Yuna to let her know, but she knew she could no longer avoid quizzing her son on his sudden illnesses. 

“You know, Shane is going to be really sad if you choose not to go,” Irina said softly in Russian, her hands gently patting Ilya’s curls. They were curled up on the sofa, and Ilya had shuffled around until he was lying with his head on her lap, practically melting under her gentle touch. It did calm him, being in her presence, even if he wished Shane was here too.

“What, to practice?” Ilya murmured back, his eyes shut. “I said I have a sore stomach, mama.” 

“I mean New York, Ilya.” Irina tapped his cheek. “It is so nice of David to invite you to go with him and Shane. You’ve never been to New York before. And you know, I don’t know if I’ll ever afford to take you away on an exciting holiday.” 

“I don’t need you to take me on exciting holidays,” Ilya said, turning his face so he could look up at his mother with a frown. “I just want to spend time with you.”

“You already do,” Irina reminded him, smoothing back his hair. “But I’m worried you are going to stop doing anything you enjoy, just to spend time with me, my love. Like missing practice today.”

“I wasn’t feeling well,” Ilya said firmly, though he moved his gaze from his mother’s knowing look to the ceiling. 

“I know, but there have been a few Thursday and Saturday practices when you’ve suddenly come down with a stomach bug that seems to disappear when you get home. And the school noted your attendance has dropped, when I have days off, with the same sick feeling you said you have today. And… Well, you haven’t been staying over often with Shane, have you? I usually have to drag you home. It’s a pattern that I’ve noticed, have you?” Irina’s hand stilled in his hair when she asked the question. Ilya fought the urge to lift his head from her lap, even though he felt that sick feeling come back to his stomach. The one he always felt when he left his mother’s side. But he shouldn’t feel like that right now, not when she was here, talking to him. Perhaps it was what she was talking about that made the sick feeling return, then. Ilya kept quiet, and so Irina continued. 

“I speak about you often, when I have my appointments with Dr Galina. She always asks after you. I tell her how proud I am of you when I see the young man you are turning into. How kind he is to his boyfriend, how much he values the family we made here. But I also say that I can see how much worry he has taken on this past year,” her smile fell, ever so slightly. To make up for it, she began to pat his hair again. “I know it is the stress I put you under, when I was… very unwell. I know it has scared you, Ilyusha.”

“That’s not true,” Ilya lied, sitting up so he didn’t have to look at her, his heart thudding loudly in his chest. He felt so exposed, like his mother had been peeling back his layers and he had only just noticed it. “I have been feeling a bit funny, yes, but that was when papa and Alexei were here. It’s fine now.”

“Darling, don’t you think those feelings would have faded by now, if it was just to do with your father and your brother?” Irina asked him gently, laying her hand on his knee. “I am not saying it didn’t start with their visit, but I know it got worse after I… well, after my breakdown.” 

“It wasn’t a breakdown, mama.” Ilya said, hating to hear his mother talk down on herself. “You just had a difficult few weeks.”

“Ilya, I had a breakdown. It wasn’t my fault, but it still happened to me.” Irina said firmly. It had taken her a long time to accept what she had gone through for years, and remove the blame - and Grigori’s voice - from her head. Acceptance had been difficult, but forgiving herself had been harder. Galina had taught her the importance of accepting what she had gone through, rather than down playing it or trying to act like it had never happened at all. “But I worry that while I’ve been so focused on getting myself better, we haven’t really spent time talking about how you are feeling.”

“I’m fine,” Ilya said automatically, like he had done to Shane for weeks now. “There is nothing to talk about.”

“Darling, don't shut me out.” Irina said, her tone was firm, but underneath it, Ilya could hear the worry. “We have never spoken about that night, not really. Or the fact that you stayed with the Hollander’s for a few weeks. You just… seemed to go back to normal,  but I think you were just acting like that to make me feel ok. But missing practice and not hanging out with Shane and Sveta so much, this isn’t you, Ilya. Your worry has turned you into a hermit.”  

“Ok, so maybe I do feel worried, but can you blame me?” Ilya snapped back, unable to keep his cool any longer. “I overheard Kip and Scott when Yuna called them that night after they left to go and check in on you. I heard them talking about how Yuna didn’t know if you had taken any pills or not.” Ilya wiped his eyes quickly, the sudden appearance of tears shocking him; it was like they had been in hiding, waiting to fall for months. “I am not stupid, I know what they meant. And now you are taking pills given to you by the doctor, and I worry what it all means. I worry if you have a bad day, I will come home and I will…” Ilya stopped himself, unable to say the words of his biggest fear, as if saying it out loud would cause it to become true. But Irina didn’t need him to say it, she knew exactly what was terrifying her son. She pulled him into a firm hug, which he melted into, and allowed her son to cry out his worries and frustrations. 

They didn’t speak for many minutes, just Irina rocking Ilya gently like she did when he fussed as a baby, humming a lullaby gently to him. She only stopped when she felt his breathing go back to normal.

“Ilya, I want you to trust me,” Irina murmured into his curls. “Because I will never lie to you, my love. I am doing a lot better, and I am ok to be by myself. I have a brilliant support network around me, so if I ever do feel like my mental health is not in a good place, I know what to do. I am sorry I ever let it get so bad again that I’ve made you feel anxious over leaving me alone, but this is not your burden to bear. You are thirteen - you should be off having fun, playing hockey, kissing Shane, just doing what teenagers do. Not stuck in this apartment with me, worrying over me like you are the parent and I am the child, right?”

“I just don’t want you to feel alone,” Ilya admitted. “Because if you… if you aren’t here, I am going to be alone, mama. Yes, I have Shane, I have Yuna and David, but no one can replace you.” 

Hearing that broke her heart; she was finally being faced with the reality of the thought she had had months ago, that her son would be better off with the Hollander’s - without her. She made a mental note to talk through this with Galina when she next saw her so that the fresh wave of guilt wouldn’t overcome her progress.

“Here, I want you to have this.” Irina said as a sudden idea came to her. She unclasped her necklace and put it onto Ilya before he could stop her.

“Mama, no, that is yours-”

“Hush,” Irina said softly, patting the cross where it now lay on his chest. “You see, now you have a piece of me with you all the time, ok? If you are ever worried about me, you just hold this in your hand and remember that I am surrounded by people who are looking out for me. And,” she reached up and took his chin in her hand, giving it a small wiggle until he met her gaze. “You remember that your mama is Irina Rozanova, and she moved to a whole new country with her baby for a better life, and she intends to keep living that better life with you. Ok?” Ilya managed a weak laugh, and a small nod. Irina smiled widely at him, leaning forward to press a kiss to his forehead. “I love you, Ilyusha.” 

“I love you too, mama. So much.” 

“And if you still have this funny feeling in your stomach, if you still feel anxious, I will help you get through it.” Irina told him firmly. “Maybe Dr Galina could help.”

“Maybe, if I need to.” Ilya agreed - he would like to meet the doctor who had made his mama so much happier. Maybe, she could help him, if the feeling didn’t go away. Although, he already felt a bit lighter from having the difficult conversation with his mother. 

“Now, what do you say we head over to the Hollander’s later?” Irina asked, settling the blanket back around them. “And we can hear more about New York.”

He still felt a little unsure over the trip, but the idea of going on an actual holiday with Shane was starting to feel more exciting. His first trip with his boyfriend. “Sounds good.”

*

The weekend trip to New York had been all the boys could talk about once Ilya confirmed he was going, and it seemed like no time at all until it was time to get their flight to New York. Ilya had hugged his mother for a long time - usually, when they were going to the airport, they were traveling together. But Irina had whispered assurances to him in Russian, made him promise to pick her up a souvenir, and she and Yuna had waved them off. As soon as they were on the flight, Ilya and Shane were holding hands again, like they had always done when they were younger.

As soon as they got to New York, they wasted no time at all in hitting up all the tourist spots, David dutifully taking photos on his digital camera. Ilya loved looking back at them; he and David eating hotdogs (Shane had refused because he could not get around eating food from a street vendor), all three of them at the top of the Empire State building, Ilya pressing a kiss to Shane’s cheek while he smiled with his eyes closed in Times Square. It had been chaotic, in ways that Ottawa could never be, but Ilya loved it. He would catch himself sometimes, a sudden feeling of guilt stabbing through him when he thought of his mother, but he would just hold her necklace for a few moments to calm himself down. 

Shane, on the other hand, had found New York exciting but slightly overwhelming. It was loud, and there were people everywhere, and everything was pretty dirty. But, he did enjoy that no one would look twice at Shane and Ilya holding hands, simply because they were just faceless people in the crowd. He felt strangely confident, knowing that no one knew him here. He could just be himself, and be Ilya’s boyfriend. 

They had gotten to Madison Square Garden as early as possible, Shane wearing the new Hunter jersey he had gotten specifically for the trip, even though Ilya teased him as soon as he put it on. Ilya himself had put on a New York Admiral’s cap, stating he was too loyal to Ottawa’s team to wear anything else. Soon enough warm ups started, followed by the first puck drop, and Shane tracked Scott the whole time he was on the ice. Rookies didn’t always get on the ice often, but Scott seemed to already be finding his stride, and even scored on goal, which had Shane on his feet. Ilya had followed up quickly to cheer with him, although he would completely deny it to Hunter if he ever found out about it. 

“That was amazing,” Shane sighed after the game as they slowly made their way out of the stadium. The Admirals had just won by one goal, but a win was a win, and the crowd around them were buzzing after the victory. Ilya had his arm wrapped around Shane's shoulders, keeping him close in the crowd. 

“You aren’t too tired, are you?” David asked them both as they made their way outside. “I organised a little surprise for you guys, to meet an old friend, but if you want to go back to the hotel-”

They both disagreed, not feeling tired at all, especially when David just kept telling them to wait and see who the ‘friend’ was. They headed to the subway, hopping off after a few stops and heading to… a bar? David double checked the sign outside it, but nodded and muttered to himself.  “Kingfisher, this is it… ok boys, head on in.” 

They did as they were told, looking around the cosy looking bar with interest. It wasn’t that busy, which was probably why the bartender looked over at them straight away. “Hey man, sorry, no kids are allowed in here after eight,” the man called from behind the bar, which Ilya only just noticed had the rainbow pride flags decorating it.

“It’s cool Kyle; these are my guests I was talking about!” 

“Kip!” Ilya beamed after hearing the familiar voice. Sure enough, it was Kip, waving over to them. He looked great, and weirdly grown up, even though it had only nearly a year since he had seen him. Ilya had been silently disappointed when Kip had made the big move to New York, the same way Shane had been disappointed when Scott had left.

They were sitting in the booth near the back, practically hidden away from sight. They were listening to Kip’s stories of how he was getting on being in New York. He had two jobs; one in a smoothie shop, and he worked part time at the Kingfisher bar, but said he hung out here a lot, too. Speaking of the bar, he could tell Shane had been trying his best to not look around, but it was intriguing to be around something that was part of their identity, even if Shane felt a little uncertain at being around it. 

Kip was just telling them about his classes when someone cleared their throat next to their booth, causing them all to look over. “Oh no,” Ilya groaned, while Shane gaped, like he was seeing a celebrity, which was pushing it. 

“Nice to see you too, Ilya.” Scott said, sliding into the booth next to Kip after greeting Shane and David. He gave Kip’s arm a gentle squeeze as he settled in beside him, his eyes flickering out to the bar area in an uneasy way. But really, Ilya would be surprised if anyone noticed them here, and with his cap on low over his eyes, no one would easily identify him. It clicked as to why Kip had sat them here; so no one would see Scott Hunter in a gay bar. 

“We are here to see Kip,” Ilya told him, crossing his arms. “The fact that you have just shown up uninvited, Hunter, is rather rude.”

“Ignore Ilya,” Shane said quickly. “I thought you would be out celebrating with your team after your win.” Shane beamed at Scott, which annoyed Ilya for no reason. “Congratulations, by the way; it was an amazing game! Your goal was awesome.”

Ilya pretended to be surprised. “Wait, what? Hunter, you were on the ice? I didn’t even see you!”

“Oh my God, you were at my team’s game tonight.” Scott said, his tone pinched. “To see me play.” 

“Ilya,” Shane nudged his side, but he was grinning, especially because Ilya was sounding like himself again. “Scott is literally in the NHL, stop trying to act like that isn’t the coolest thing ever.”

Shane launched into questioning Scott about his experience of being drafted as if he were some kind of journalist. What was the team like? How was he finding the pace, the routine? Were the coaches nice? To give Scott a break from the interrogation, David asked Shane to go up to the bar with him to help him get them all a fresh round of drinks. Shane had pouted, but nodded along, practically bouncing on his feet as they made their way over to Kyle. 

“I’m surprised he has not asked you about your schedule,” Kip teased as they watched them walk away. “Though there is a good chance Shane has it memorised.” 

“Hey, maybe I should quiz him,” Scott grinned. “If he can name all the different cities I’m visiting this month, I’ll be impressed. There are quite a few.”

“... Wait, what?” Ilya asked, blinking up at Scott. “Are you away practically the rest of the month?”

“Well, yeah - we’ve got a lot of away games, and in between that there are the awards.” Scott gave him a funny look. “It’s a pretty hectic schedule, but it’s normal.”

“And Kip, are you going with Scott?” Ilya asked, looking between the two of them with a frown on his face. 

“I wish I could just jet around, but no - I’ve got classes and a job here. Plus, Scott isn’t out, because, you know, hockey culture.” Kip reminded him softly, picking up on Ilya’s upset even if the teenager hadn’t realised that was what he was feeling. “But we’ll talk as much as we can, and Scott is back for a while before he has to go again.”

“Oh, right.” Ilya slumped back in his chair, his frown deepening. He wasn’t sure why it bothered him so much. He knew travel was part of the job as a hockey player, of course, that is how it all worked. But he had never given it real thought as to what it looked like in reality. How would he feel, being on the road for most of the year, living in hotel rooms and having to schedule in when he could see his family?

He felt dread slide over his body when he considered that it was also extremely unlikely that he and Shane would be drafted to the same team. How often it would it be that they really got to see each other, if that happened? One of them could end up in America, a whole other country. Fuck, what if Ilya had to go to America, no longer near his mother… What if she needed him, because she was having a bad day? What if it would take him hours to reach her? What if that would be too late?

And Shane… maybe he would be ok with the distance to start with, but what if it all got too much? What if he found comfort in someone else, when he realised Ilya wasn’t actually enough? That would destroy him, because losing Shane meant losing the family he had found in Canada. He would just become someone Shane used to know, a childhood friend, a nobody.

“Ilya?” Scott asked, concern in his voice. He quickly schooled his features into something closer to nonchalance, but the two men in front of him weren’t buying it. “Are you-”

“Here we are,” David said cheerfully, putting down the tray carefully onto the table, Shane sliding in beside Ilya. His hand found his knee and gave it a squeeze. “What did we miss?” 

“We were just talking about Scott traveling for the next few games,” Ilya said before the other two could even talk. “I think it is the perfect time for Kip to find a new partner here in New York.”

“Thanks, Ilya.” Kip snorted, before sending Scott such a love struck smile that it had Ilya fake gagging, though his heart wasn’t in it to commit to the bit. “But I think I’m all good with what I’ve got.”

They didn’t stay long after their drinks were finished, because David had promised Yuna to not have the boys out too late in New York and because Scott was naturally shattered after playing that night, rolling his eyes at Ilya’s chirps about him being old. Shane finally plucked up the courage to ask Scott to sign his jersey, blushing the whole time he did it, especially when Scott told him he would have fans asking him to sign his jersey whenever he made it into the big leagues. Ilya hadn’t said a word at that, but his smile was tight.  

As they headed up in the elevator from the hotel lobby to their floor, David gave them both a firm look.  “Now, as a reminder, I’m just next door in 1411. The door that connects our room is unlocked, so if you are being too loud, I can come in at any time. I am trusting you both by keeping the door closed, alright?”

There was no way Ilya was as red as Shane, but he definitely knew his cheeks were at least a little bit pink. They both nodded, with Ilya forcing himself to speak out loud and promise they would behave, though his heart was thumping in his chest as he thought about what counted as behaving. After saying goodnight to David and listening to the muffled noise of his television through the wall, they had both gotten ready for bed; Ilya had pushed the twin beds together as soon as they had gotten into the room, because there was no way they weren’t sharing a bed if they could help it. 

However, once they got into bed with only the small lamps by the bed on and their own television playing some kind of late night talk show, the mood didn’t seem as relaxed as it did at home. 

“Is it too weird?” Shane asked, his eyes flickering to the door as if David was waiting to burst through it.

Ilya just shrugged, pressing kisses to Shane’s freckles, his whole body jolting because Shane’s freckles did something to his brain. “Is it weird at home?” Ilya murmured, pulling back to give Shane a chance to think. 

“No, but… I think he knows what we’re doing.” Shane whispered, poking Ilya’s side when he snorted in an attempt to smother his laughter. 

“Hm, I think you are right.” Ilya said, wrapping his arm around Shane’s waist, and resting his chin on Shane’s shoulder, smiling when Shane’s arm wrapped around him in return. “We can just go to sleep?” Ilya could separate their beds again, if it made Shane feel better, even if he just wanted to hold Shane and not freak out over their future. 

But Shane’s arm tightened around him when he asked the question. “No, let’s just keep the TV on. I’m overthinking it.” 

Ah, maybe Shane was feeling a bit nervous of them being naked in front of each other. It was nothing new - they had shared a room for years, and a locker room, Ilya knew what Shane’s body looked like and vice versa. But he understood that this was different, and meant something different. 

But this is where Ilya could step up and soothe his worries. So he reached up and took Shane’s chin in his hold, gently turning his head until Shane was looking down at him. He leaned up to press their lips together, only deepening the kiss when Shane opened his mouth, their tongues rubbing together in a way that they had perfected. 

At Shane’s soft moan, Ilya let his hand drop from his chin to rub slowly over his chest the way Ilya liked to do it to himself, feeling his boyfriend’s breath hitch at the sensation. He didn’t make a big deal out of pulling back to pull his own top over his head, reattaching their lips before Shane could do it too, in case he felt pressure to do it just because Ilya did. However, he was pleasantly surprised when Shane reached out to touch him with eager, curious hands, his nerves alive wherever Shane touched with his fingertips. 

“Shane,” Ilya whispered like a prayer against his lips, leaning down to press kisses to his neck. Shane tilted his head to the side automatically, biting his lip to keep himself from being too loud. “Shane, do you want to take your top off?” 

“Uh, yeah,” Shane whispered back, leaning back slightly. His cheeks were a beautiful rosy colour, his freckles highlighted from his blush. Ilya could stare at them all day. With another kiss to Ilya’s lips, Shane leaned back and quickly pulled off his top… and then folded it, like he always did. He carefully put it on the ground next to the bed. 

Ilya couldn’t help but grin, which made Shane squint at him. “What?”

“Nothing, I just love that you folded your top right now.” Ilya admitted with a snicker. “Yuna trained you so well.” 

“Don’t talk about my mother right now,” Shane groaned, but he was grinning back. Their lips met again with familiar tenderness, both of their hands explored each other, getting bolder when they heard and felt the other respond positively to the touch - a hitched breath, a cut off moan, the push into each other’s touch. It was overwhelming, but Ilya couldn’t get enough. In fact, he was getting a bit worried at how close he was already feeling.

“Is this ok?” Ilya asked, leaning his forehead against Shane’s to calm himself for a moment. 

“More than ok,” Shane confirmed, rubbing his nose against Ilya’s with a small smile on his face. “I’m… I’m ok, if you want to do more.”

Ilya did a mental happy dance in his head at those words, but tried to play it cool and nodded in agreement. He stared into Shane’s eyes as he pulled down his boxer shorts, not the whole way, in case he needed to pull them up if David knocked on the door - he wasn’t risking him seeing anything he shouldn’t. Shane exhaled as he dropped his gaze downwards, his eyes widening as he took in the sight. Before Ilya could speak, Shane leaned and pressed a hard kiss to Ilya’s mouth, sliding his own pajamas down until he was also bared. Ilya glanced downward, and had to count to ten in his head again when he felt his arousal spike. 

“Can I touch you?” Ilya whispered, his voice barely audible.

“Please,” Shane whispered back. Ilya reached down, and Shane had to bite his lip. “Oh,” Shane groaned, leaning his head onto Ilya’s shoulder. “That feels good, Ilya. Let me-” and then Shane was touching him, and suddenly Ilya had to really concentrate or this was going to be over in an embarrassingly short time. 

Their hands moved, not quite perfect and yet still it was everything. Ilya desperately leaned forward to kiss Shane, though it was more of their tongues just touching and rubbing against each other than a proper kiss. Ilya leaned back for a moment, releasing his hold on Shane to quickly spit into his hand, Shane copying him when he felt how much better it felt against him. Their hands moved frantically, and Shane had to put his mouth to Ilya’s bare shoulder to bite down, smothering his groans. 

“Oh fuck, Shane, Shane I’m-” Ilya groaned, pushing into his hand as he felt himself spill, jerking in Shane’s hand. Shane whimpered, and then Ilya felt wetness cover his own hand. They breathed heavily into each other’s skin, Shane pressing kisses to Ilya’s shoulder while Ilya rubbed his cheek over Shane’s hair, breathing him in. “That was amazing,” Ilya whispered, closing his eyes for a moment and just enjoying the come down. 

“Ugh… now the sheets are all gross.” Shane muttered, looking down with a frown. Ah, it seemed that Shane did not get the memo to just enjoy the moment. Ilya’s shoulders started to shake as he tried not to laugh, and dragged Shane towards him, away from the mess. But Shane was still whining, so Ilya got up and grabbed their tissues to clean up their hands. He was left with only the edge of his bed in Shane’s need to avoid any wet patches, but he didn’t care; he just wanted to hold Shane and never let go. 

They had taken another leap into their relationship, and it had just felt right. Ilya never wanted that feeling to go away. 

Halfway through the night, Ilya woke up to the loud sound of sirens going past on the street below. He wasn’t used to such noise, since Ottawa was a city that did sleep, not like New York that seemed to have no grasp of time. Shane made a small noise in the back of his throat, still on Ilya’s side of the bed, drooling all over his pillow. Ilya smiled at the sight, though his stomach twisted with that feeling of anxiety again when he thought back to Scott and Kip’s conversation with him earlier that night. 

Would this be a look into their future? Hotel rooms when their calendars aligned, secret hook ups because they couldn’t be out? Would they even be better off pretending to not know each other at all?

The thought had Ilya pulling Shane tighter against his chest, needing to feel every part of him. Because if that was the future, Ilya didn’t want it. Screw going professional if it meant losing everything else. Shane sighed softly in his sleep, rubbing his head against the pillow, causing Ilya to hold his breath until he was sure he hadn’t woken up. Because he was worried, if Shane did awaken, that Ilya would blurt out all his worries. And he was seriously worried Shane wouldn’t get it, because while it was easy for Ilya to pick Shane over hockey, he didn’t know if Shane would do the same. And who was he, to demand him to pick between them? 

What was he even thinking? Going professional was years away for them both - really, it was stupid to think about it too much right now. He just got freaked out over nothing. Everything would be fine. Without thinking, Ilya reached out and touched his mother’s necklace from where it lay on his chest, forcing himself to take deep breaths. 

He managed to fall back asleep, but his dreams were a mess - he was on a street in New York, the crowd never ending and so much taller than him. He was shouting for Shane, for his mama, but he could never find them. He was lost, alone, and helpless. 

Chapter End Notes

Hi, sorry, clearly I'm not done finding ways to stress out Ilya. I promise next chapter I am going to keep it light as much as possible - in fact, chapter fourteen was kind of one of these scenes I had written months ago, so it should be a fun one!

I hope you liked the exploration of Ilya's own mental health here, my poor boy... even though this was, of course, the better outcome when compared to the canon event, Ilya still has not walked away unscathed, and it will continue to be a theme going forward, especially as he weighs up exactly what he wants to do with his life. But to be honest, I need to actually plan that out, so we'll see where it goes from here.

I know thirteen probably seems young for them to be doing too much sexual stuff, but remember that a) these two have never been normal for about each other and have basically been an item since they met and b) they have basically no boundaries in the sense they've also shared a bed for years and c) I only probably have a few chapters left and I want to write their first time before the end of the story!!

Also, a big thank you to my friend in IRL and online for letting me moan to you over the chapter progression, and sorry again for the minor heart attack I gave you when I pretended I would end this story by killing off Ilya (I WAS KIDDING DON'T WORRY ILYA IS SAFE WITH ME). This chapter is dedicated to you because you've had a rough day.

Guys, also a big thank you for your wonderful comments on last chapter - it had been such a hard one to write but was all worth it to read your kind words. It means the world to me :) so thank you!! I would love to hear your thoughts on this development for Ilya.

Also, I really had only planned for Scott and Kip to be a one chapter cameo, how do they keep popping up?! To be fair, I don't think we will see them again, so goodbye Scott and Kip <3 thank you for your service in this fic as gay guardian angels.

Chapter 9: Age Fourteen

Chapter Summary

Shane and Ilya dive headfirst into the classic teenage rite of passage: attending a house party and lying to their parents.

Chapter Notes

Please note the rating has changed from mature to explicit!

Warnings for this chapter: homophobic slurs and language, underage drinking and smoking, underage oral sex, teenage boys being idiots.

Yuna is not a prude, not by any stretch of the imagination - what she got up to as a teenager with her various boyfriends would run circles around whatever Shane and Ilya were getting up to in their very committed relationship. While the mum side of her brain was concerned over what they were doing at their age, she had to trust that they were both moving at a pace that was comfortable for both of them. And really, if she had been that worried, she would have insisted on different rooms once puberty hit. 

While she wasn’t entirely sure what they were doing behind closed doors, they had certainly gotten a lot more comfortable about displaying their relationship in the safety of their homes. Yuna knew Shane was strict about what they did outside of the house, especially at hockey and at school, but behind closed doors? It was a completely different story. 

Puberty had hit Ilya like a ton of bricks - David had always joked about what Russians fed their kids to make them grow like that, but Yuna was starting to question it herself. Ilya had a noticeable growth spurt, growing what felt like a foot over night, leaving him lanky but already his muscles were beginning to fill him out. He was taller than his mother and was nearly taking over Yuna and David in height. His voice was deep, his face all sharp and angular, and he was sure he was going to be able to grow a beard soon, which Shane told him was just wishful thinking. But in fairness to Ilya, he had gotten hairier everywhere else; his armpits, his chest, his arms and legs. He certainly didn’t look like your typical fourteen year old. 

Shane was having a more gradual development, still shooting up but not to the same extent as Ilya. His voice had broken too, though it wasn’t as deep as Ilya’s, and he certainly wasn’t as hairy as his boyfriend, either. But while his changes were more subtle, one thing was for certain that both Yuna and Ilya could agree on - Shane was handsome. Not that Ilya wasn’t, of course, but if for whatever reason hockey didn’t work out for Shane, he certainly could be a model, with his big brown eyes and freckles. It did annoy him when he was getting chirped at by competing hockey teams, when they referred to him as the “pretty boy”. But it annoyed Ilya more, and he had no issues with slamming them into the boards whenever he heard it with a grin on his face. 

So yes, they were both growing up at an alarming rate, and were acting very adult with each other. In fact, it was like they were determined to prove her point as she headed to the kitchen to grab a fresh cup of coffee, she had to pause at the door at the sight in front of her.

“We’ve got enough for a tuna melt,” Shane mused, totally at ease with the way that Ilya was draped over his back, as well as the way that Ilya’s hand was tucked under the waistband of his shorts. In fact, Shane didn’t seem to mind that his boyfriend was more interested in chewing on his neck than what was in the fridge.

“Oh, hello Yuna.” Ilya said, having the courtesy to lift his mouth from her son’s neck, but his hand stayed firmly put. Shane didn’t even look up from the fridge as he continued to dig into it; their recent growth spurts turning them into endless pits for food. Even Shane, with his careful diet, was constantly sniffing around the kitchen for snacks. 

Yuna just smiled at them both and moved around them, heading for the coffee machine. She hoped the reminder that she was home would stop anything from progressing too much, but she wasn’t even sure the threat of a parent walking in on the pair was much of a deterrent anymore. 

What really worried Yuna the most was how comfortable Shane and Ilya were at playing house. She was glad to see how at ease they were with intimacy, and she knew that only came when you started to have a physical relationship with someone you loved. She just hoped they were remembering they were fourteen, not twenty four. She didn’t want them getting ahead of themselves, nor getting too certain that they had the whole world figured out. 

Irina was a little more relaxed about the changes to Ilya and Shane’s relationship, because Ilya seemed to be much more like himself again - joking around, holding Shane close when he could, finding the joy in hockey again. He had even been going out with his other friends, like Cliff and Svetlana much more often. Sure, he still had his moments, much like she did, but it was better. 

Shane had stayed over the night before, crammed into Ilya’s bedroom. Irina was determined to get him a bigger bed, simply because the single mattress hardly fit Ilya anymore, not with his recent growth spurt. Her handsome son, no longer a baby but not quite a man yet. She had just opened her bedroom door, ready to get breakfast started, when she caught Shane halfway out of the bathroom, without a towel on. 

“Oh shit,” Shane squeaked, reaching down to cover himself. “Irina, I’m sorry! For swearing, and, yeah-” Shane shouted as he ran to Ilya’s room, slamming the door behind him. Irina had just looked on in amusement; she had been so focused on how her own son was growing up, she hadn’t considered that Shane was also becoming a man. And by the sight of the patch of dark curls that he had been trying to hide behind his hands, Irina couldn’t understand how she had missed it. 

Her boys were growing up. Why did she already miss the two six year olds that felt like they had only been here seconds ago? Was it weird, to feel nostalgic for children that were in this very house, but just in grown up bodies?

There were murmurs coming from behind Ilya’s door, before she heard her son laughing loudly, while Shane was snipping something back. A few seconds later, Ilya was opening the door, a large grin on his face. 

“Sorry,” Ilya was snickering as he shut the door behind him. “He forgot to grab a towel and he’s now so red I was worried he was going to explode. Are you cooking breakfast? I’m starving.”

David had possibly been the most exposed to Shane and Ilya’s next step in their relationship, through no fault of his own. He had taken to pausing before entering a new room, even going as far as knocking if he thought the boys might be in the room. 

He was under no illusion that they weren’t making the most of any quiet time they had to… well, be with each other. And while David was completely comfortable with that, of course, he had once had the misfortune of his mother walking in on him with his first girlfriend. It had completely scarred him, the way she had shrieked and yelled at him. And while he would never react like that if he did see something, it certainly didn’t mean he would be seeking it out. 

He swore it could have only been two minutes since he had headed upstairs when he realised that he had left his phone charger in the kitchen. Shane and Ilya had been out for most of the day with friends, and he hadn’t heard them come home, hence why he didn’t pause as he usually did.

That turned out to be a big mistake. 

They must have come in through the back door, which made sense as to why he hadn’t heard the boys return. Ilya was standing with his back to David in front of the kitchen island, which Shane was perched on, his legs wrapped around Ilya’s waist and his hands tangled in his curls. Ilya had one hand under Shane’s top, the other holding the back of his neck firmly as they moved together. There was no gentleness in the way they were kissing, not the way they usually kissed in front of their parents; no, this was a lot more heated than usual, and if David didn’t break it up now, he was pretty sure he would never be able to look at his kitchen the same way again.

“Boys,” he said in that firm, but slightly pleading tone. “Not where people eat.”

In fairness to them, both Ilya and Shane sprung apart immediately. Ilya cleared his throat and wiped his mouth, while trying to subtly adjust himself in his shorts. Shane was bright red as he slid off the counter top, not meeting his dad’s gaze as he stuttered out an apology. 

“Sorry, we did not think anyone was home.” Ilya said, and while it always pleased David to hear Ilya refer to the Hollander’s house as home, he still had to be the ‘firm dad’ here. 

“Even if no one is home, the kitchen is off limits, ok?” David thankfully found his charger, and turned to Shane. “You wouldn’t like it if your mum and I-”

“Ah, ok! I get it!” Shane yelped, covering his ears and racing upstairs, Ilya following behind him like there was an invisible rope keeping them attached. 

*

Shane had never felt so nervous in his life. He had to let go of Ilya’s hand twice already just to wipe his sweaty palms on his shorts. He had never been to a party like this before, which he didn’t think was weird - they were only fourteen, after all. But Ilya seemed to think they were falling behind on the social scene; something Shane was sure hadn’t been a problem for Ilya before. 

Shane didn’t know how to explain it, but the whole thing made his stomach twist in ways that made it hard to eat. In fact, he had hardly managed to choke down his toast this morning, thinking about their plans to sneak away to this party. Ilya had told Irina that he was going to hang out with Shane, and Shane had lied and said he was going to hang out at Ilya’s home. Instead, they had gotten on the bus and off at the closest stop, when Ilya had taken his hand and started dragging him along to find the right house. 

“Shane, come on,” Ilya said, taking hold of his hand again. Shane was good at reading him, and could tell he was excited but nervous. Could Ilya tell he only felt the latter? “We don’t want to be too late, da? Everyone will already be drunk.”

“I’m not getting drunk,” Shane said quickly. Ilya gave him a soft smile, and pulled him into his side so he could throw an arm over his shoulders. Ilya had just had another growth spurt, and while Shane was appreciating the way Ilya could tower over him and definitely looked older than fourteen, it made him feel even more like a kid. He was so out of his depth. 

“No, dorogoy, I do not want you to get drunk either.” Ilya said, smacking a kiss on the side of Shane’s head. He meant it - Ilya was hoping to have a few beers, maybe vodka, but he didn’t want Shane to get drunk, not with the older guys and girls there. Shane still hadn’t realised how pretty he was, and it was a bit of a problem. “We are just going to have fun, for a little while. And when you want to go, you tell me, yes?”

It would be really shit of Shane to ask if they could go home now. He would really like to tempt Ilya back home, maybe so they could… well, do stuff together. Fun stuff. But maybe he could dangle the promise of more to get him to leave after an hour or two.

“We’re here,” Ilya said, pulling him out of his thoughts. He gave Shane’s shoulder one last squeeze, before dropping his arm and ringing the bell. The noise behind the door was loud, and Shane cringed at the thought of being surrounded by it. 

The door swung open, and there stood a grinning, sixteen year old Victor St-Simon, who was practically a wall of muscles. They knew him from the rink, of course, but more than that - Svetlana was currently seeing him. Not that her dad knew that, because if he did, St-Simon probably wouldn’t be hosting this party right now. 

“Ilya, come on in!” Victor said, taking a step back and gesturing for them to step inside. The music was blaring, but thankfully, the house wasn’t too packed. “Svetlana said you were stopping by! You’re Shane, right? You are a big hot shot down at the rink.”

“Thanks for letting us come,”  Ilya said with a wide grin; Shane forced himself not to shrink behind him, and said hello to Victor like a normal person. “Is Svetlana here?” 

“Yeah, course she is.” Victor pointed through to the backyard. “Most people are hanging outside, some are in the pool. Drinks are in the cooler. Svetlana will keep you right.” Victor gave them a wink, before he was pulled away by some guys, shouting something about the music. Ilya, without thinking, reached out for Shane’s hand again, pulling him along and trying to keep him anchored to him. Ilya was scanning the large yard, taking in the people dancing, the drinks… even some of the guys were smoking. Yeah, he was glad he had managed to talk Shane into coming, this was going to be fun. 

He spotted Svetlana from the pool, her feet were dipped into the water as she chatted to some girls. Ilya dragged Shane over, shouting out to his friend. 

“Ilyusha, you made it!” Svetlana cheered as she stood up, throwing her arms around Ilya. Ilya returned the hug, but one handed, as he still hadn’t let go of Shane’s hand. “Ty zhe ne skazala mame, chto priyedesh' syuda, pravda? Potomu chto ya skazala pape, chto yedu k tebe.”

“Konechno, net, Sveta, ty chto, dumayesh', ya glupaya?” Ilya fired back, grinning as she rolled her eyes and pulled Shane in for a hug, too. 

“I am most glad to see you, Shane.” Svetlana said as she pulled back, a smirk on her face. “Vy budete derzhat' Ilya pod kontrolem.”

It took Shane a moment to think as he translated, before figuring out that she meant that he would be able to keep Ilya under control. “Uhm, ya v etom… ne uveren?” Shane replied, his accent making the words clunky as he responded that he didn’t know about keeping his boyfriend under control. By the way Ilya and Svetlana beamed at him, however, he had been understood.

“Right!” Svetlana clapped her hands together, before pointing over at a large cooler by the pool. “Beer is in there, spirits are in the kitchen. Victor has banned anyone from going upstairs but I refuse to use the downstairs toilet with this many people here, so feel free to go upstairs if you need to.” 

Ilya was already dragging Shane over to the cooler, a grin on his face as he opened it. It was packed to the brim with bottles, and Ilya chose one at random. “If there are spirits inside, I bet we can find you a ginger ale.” Ilya told Shane gently as he saw the worried look on his boyfriend’s face. 

Shane was, admittedly, not having the worst time ever. He knew some of the guys here from the ice rink, not very well, but they seemed to know about him. They also knew Ilya too, and were encouraging him to chirp at some of the guys there for their amusement, which Ilya was more than happy to do. Svetlana had mentioned that Hayden and Cliff had been invited too;  Ilya then amused them by pretending that he was going home if Hayden did show up. Shane nursed his ginger ale the whole time, never leaving it anywhere, while Ilya seemed to constantly have a beer in his hand. Shane had a sip of it, when Ilya offered - it certainly didn’t taste as nice as a ginger ale, and he had no idea how Ilya had managed to drink so much, but he supposed it wasn’t the worst taste in the world. 

Svetlana had pulled them over to speak to a group of her girl friends, which was oddly intimidating. Once she mentioned that Shane had been in a movie with Rose Landry, all the attention turned on him, which was horrifying. 

“I wasn’t in a movie with her,” Shane said weakly as they demanded to know more. “Well, I was, but I was only in the final cut for, like, ten seconds.” 

The girls didn’t care if it was only ten seconds, however, and asked him hundreds of questions about the filming process, about Rose, if he was going to do more movies. That was an easy no - it was hockey or… well, it was sort of hockey or nothing. 

He didn’t realise straight away that Ilya was no longer by his side - in fact, he lost track of Ilya for around ten minutes, which made him feel extremely awkward. He waved the girls off, muttering about finding his friend, and then went looking. But no matter where he went, Ilya just wasn’t there. It wasn’t until Shane was making another round of the garden that Ilya stumbled back through from the wooden gate, with Victor and Svetlana.

“Hey, where have you been?” Shane asked, relief in his tone. Ilya grinned at him, leaning heavily into Shane - he had to put his hands onto Ilya’s shoulders to steady him. Fuck, how much had he had to drink? 

Ilya leaned down to try and swipe his lips across Shane’s, which was such a stupid idea when anyone could see them. But even as Shane leaned back to avoid it, he couldn’t help but catch the whiff of smoke from Ilya. “Urgh, please tell me you weren’t smoking? Ilya, that’s gross.” Shane said sternly. Drinking was one thing, when Ilya was clearly already wobbly on his feet, but smoking too? 

“I just had one, kotenok.” Ilya grumbled, his voice low. Shane felt himself flush, and was insanely glad no one spoke Russian here, because if they heard Ilya calling him kitten he would have no idea how to explain it. “Are you alright, my Shane? Please tell me Pike has not appeared yet.”

“Ilya,” Shane snorted, shaking his head. “Come on, let’s maybe get you some water?”

Just as they were heading inside, though, a shout stopped them. A teenager was standing there with his empty beer bottle, waving it over his head. “Spin the bottle! Come on idiots, get in a circle! Sit down!”

Oh, fuck no. Shane bit his lip, trying to slide past the guy. “Ilya, let’s not do that, come on.” Shane muttered; they had both dealt with seeing each other kiss someone else, and Shane knew it would ruin their mood if they had to witness that right now. 

“Aw, does the baby not want to play?” the teen mocked. Shane could feel himself go red when he realised who it was that was talking - it was Dallas Kent, one of the older guys from the rink and had a reputation for being an asshole. But before he could open his mouth to respond, Ilya knocked roughly into Kent’s side, causing him to drop his empty beer bottle. 

“Don’t call him baby,” Ilya warned, his voice in that tone that let Shane know that trouble was brewing. He also noticed Ilya didn’t say a baby, just ‘baby’. Crap, he really should have made Ilya stick to the one beer. 

“Hey,” Shane said, grasping Ilya’s wrist and tugging it. “Let’s just go inside for a bit, yeah?” 

“Yes,” Ilya said, but his eyes hadn’t moved from the teenager in front of him. Kent was just sneering at them, not as intimidated as he should be. He was clearly drunker than Ilya. 

“Aw, is the baby your little girlfriend? Your little bitch?” Shane stiffened at that, mentally cursing in his head when he saw Ilya stand a little straighter. “Oh wait! I know you two fags from the rink, right? You are the weird Russian, and you’re… Shane, right?” Kent took a step forward, and poked Ilya’s chest. “Should change his name to Jane if you’re gonna treat him like your little-”

Shane tried to tighten his hold on Ilya, but it was too late - Ilya was already slamming his fist into the idiot’s face.

*

They got inside Victor’s house once they had managed to break Ilya and Dallas apart. Svetlana and Victor had been a great help, because Shane had struggled to hold Ilya back when he was that enraged. Jeez, he was such a hockey player. Despite Dallas being older, Ilya had managed to knock him on his ass and get a good few hits in before being pulled off him. Annoyingly, Ilya had also gotten his nose hit in the fight, and it hadn’t stopped bleeding yet. 

“Bathroom, upstairs.” Svetlana instructed them once they were inside. “Try not to bleed everywhere, Ilya!”

“Come on,” Shane grumbled, pulling Ilya upstairs. He got into the bathroom first, grabbing the hand towel and running it under the cold water. Ilya shut the door behind him, his hand still pinching his nose as he breathed noisily through his mouth. 

“Sit on the toilet, you idiot.” Shane muttered with no real heat in his voice, turning off the tap. Ilya did as he was told, watching Shane with slightly hazy eyes. “How bad is it hurting?” 

“Hm, not so bad. My knuckles are a little sore.” Ilya said, his voice sounding funny since he was pinching his nose. Shane took over from that, pinching his nose with just enough pressure for it to help and pressing the cold compress above it. 

“You won’t feel it if you are drunk,” Shane scolded softly, leaning over to turn the tap back on. “Here, put your hands under the water.”

Ilya did what he was told, hissing slightly as the cold water touched his bruised skin. He held it under there while Shane muttered to himself, letting his eyes slip shut for a moment. It was nice to be taken care of, even if it was sort of his fault he had gotten into a fight in the first place.

“-Did you hear me, Ilya?” Shane’s voice had him opening his eyes again, blinking up at his beautiful boyfriend. He focused on his freckles, which had come out darker in the sunshine. Fuck, he wanted to kiss each one of them, those little stars on his face.

“Sorry, say it again?” Ilya asked, turning off the tap; his hands were freezing now. He let them rest on Shane’s hips, rubbing over the pointed hip bones. 

“I said why did you have to hit him? I said just to go inside.” Shane repeated, using the towel to wipe gently at Ilya’s face, frowning when some of the blood refused to shift.  

“I will not let anyone talk to you like that, Shane. And he used a slur. Fucker deserved it.” Ilya responded, his hold tightening on Shane. He was worried that if he wasn’t holding onto him, he’d go back downstairs and finish Kent off.

“This is just why we need to be careful,” Shane sighed, putting his fingers under Ilya’s chin and turning his head to the side. “Maybe… maybe we’re too obvious.”

Ilya made a noise of disagreement in the back of his throat, pulling Shane a step closer to him. “We are not obvious at all, Shane. If I had it my way, I would have spent half this party making out with you in front of everyone, just so they knew you were mine.” 

“No way would I let you do that, even if we were out.” Shane snickered softly, letting his fingertips drag over Ilya’s cheeks, careful not to poke his sore nose. “I don’t think I’d like people watching us.”

Slowly, Ilya got up, so that he was towering over his boyfriend, shuffling them over until he could lean against the sink. “Hm, I think you might a little, because then everyone would know that I am yours.” Ilya said, smiling at the thought. 

“You are lucky you’re already injured, or I’d be punching you.” Shane joked, leaning in to press a small kiss to Ilya’s cheek, right next to his mole. 

“Hm, how lucky am I?” Ilya murmured as he turned to press kisses into Shane’s neck, wincing when his nose was nudged. Shane let his hands drop to Ilya’s side, half pushing him back, half keeping him close. 

“What are you getting at, Ilya?” Shane asked, even though he was pretty sure he knew. And by the heat that curled in his stomach, he wasn’t against it, even though he should be.

“Well… I defend your honour, no? Would be nice to get a reward.” Ilya purred, his hands sliding down to hold Shane’s waist. He had meant what he had said about wanting to kiss Shane in front of the other people at the party, to show off, yes but also to show that he didn’t care about their opinions. But now, with the privacy of the bathroom and Shane being so close, taking care of him… well, he wanted more.

And how hot would it be, to say they had fooled around at a house party?

“You didn’t need to defend me, Ilya.” Shane repeated, his voice low. When he pulled back slightly to meet his boyfriend’s gaze, his eyes were dark with arousal. Ilya grinned back, even when the movement hurt his face. “How could I even reward you?”

“Hm… how about this?” Ilya leaned forward, pressing a chaste kiss to Shane’s lips before he whispered, “How about you get on your knees for me, in this bathroom?”

“You’re insane,” Shane breathed out a laugh, even as he rocked forward. Ilya swore he could feel Shane getting hard, or maybe it was just wishful thinking. “You suck my dick on this filthy bathroom floor, how about that?”

They had been exploring what they could do with their mouths for a few months now, trying to find out what felt good but it turned out, basically everything did. Shane was still worried his teeth were going to get in the way, so he had been a bit slower when going down on Ilya, trying to get used to the feeling in his mouth and not gag when he went a bit too deep. Ilya had been learning too, but he didn’t seem to have such an issue with gagging or his teeth. Shane was pretty sure Ilya had been practising, probably on a banana, but he wouldn’t admit it. 

Either way, they both really enjoyed it, and Shane loved doing it to Ilya. Even if doing it right now was a seriously bad idea, it was sort of exciting - the thought of it had Shane twitching in his shorts.

“Oh, I would, but my face is a little sore for that.” Ilya reminded him, feeling his heart skip a beat when Shane’s eyes softened. “I can still take care of you, though.”

“Oh yeah?” Shane said, in a flirty way that drove Ilya wild. 

“Look, I locked the bathroom door, and the bathroom floor isn’t that filthy...” Ilya teased, causing Shane to snicker. Before Ilya could talk anymore, and before Shane could listen to the sensible voice in his head telling him that this was a seriously bad idea, Shane pulled him in for a kiss. 

It didn’t take long for the kiss to get heated; the adrenaline from the fight was still pumping through their veins, and all that talk had left them both feeling hot. Shane only stopped kissing Ilya when he made a small gasp of pain when their noses brushed, and before he knew it, he was falling to his knees.

“Blyat,” Ilya whispered when Shane pulled down his shorts. Shane shushed him, but had a smile on his face when he took hold of Ilya’s cock, pumping it for a moment. He exhaled slowly, trying to focus as he licked the slit of his cock. Ilya’s taste was familiar now, even though the first time he had done this, he wasn’t sure what to make of the salty taste. But now, it was just all Ilya, and Shane couldn’t get enough of it. 

He opened his mouth to let the head rest of his tongue, swirling his tongue in a way Ilya really liked, before opening his jaw more to let Ilya push carefully into his mouth. He felt his gag reflex kick in, so put his hands onto Ilya’s hips, stopping him from going any further. He reminded himself to breathe through his nose, and began to carefully move his head back and forth. Ilya was breathing heavily, and when Shane looked up at him, his eyes dark and his lashes framing his eyes so perfectly, Ilya couldn’t help but moan, his hand going to rest on Shane’s head, not forcing his movements but keeping him steady. Shane felt himself gag slightly, but tried to cover it up - Ilya hardly ever gagged anymore, and he could definitely take more in his mouth than Shane. He was determined to get better at this. 

“Ilya, be quiet,” Shane murmured as he pulled back, giving his boyfriend a few pumps while he caught his breath. Ilya tilted his head back, looking up at the ceiling and trying to breathe deeply, because he was so close to finishing. Taking his eyes off of Shane was a bad idea, however, because he didn’t see Shane going back down on him, but suddenly he was back in that warm, wet heat, and it had him moaning so loudly that Shane hit his thigh to quieten him down. 

It didn’t take more than a few clumsy head bobs from Shane before Ilya suddenly felt himself lose control. He usually warned Shane when he was going to come, but he didn’t even manage to get the words out of his mouth before he was suddenly finishing. With a gasp, he tried to pull back to avoid Shane getting a mouthful, but he ended up shooting all over Shane’s face. Shane made a noise of surprise, quickly shutting his eyes when Ilya’s come landed over his eyes, his cheeks, his freckles. 

“Oh, fuck!” Ilya gasped out, hating how hot that was. The image in front of him was going to be imprinted on his brain forever. “Ah, shit - Shane, m’sorry. Was too good, I didn’t think I would go so quick,” Ilya groaned, reaching down to help Shane up. 

Ilya looked around for something to use to clean him up, which was when Shane felt a towel rub against his face. With a wince, he figured that Ilya was using the one with his blood on it. Shane pulled the towel away from his face and moved Ilya to the side, turning the tap on and splashing water on his face, rubbing his skin until he was sure the evidence was all gone. Shane pulled back, pulling up his top to wipe his face, before meeting Ilya’s gaze. Ilya was watching him, still holding the bloody towel, biting his lip - clearly trying not to laugh.

But then Shane was laughing, partly because he couldn’t believe he had just given Ilya a blowjob at a freaking house party, and partly because he can’t believe Ilya had just totally come all over his face. If it was on his top he was going to need to steal one of Victor’s, because no way was he walking around in a come-stained top. 

“Sorry,” Ilya repeated, pulling Shane back into his arms as Shane continued to snicker. “You are getting too good at that, I didn’t even get a chance to warn you. Are you good?”

“Hm, more than good.” Shane murmured, leaning into Ilya’s hold. “But, uh, if you could hurry up and touch me, that would be great.”

“Would have been hot if you had come just from having me in your mouth,” Ilya muttered, even as his hand trailed down Shane’s chest to cup him through his shorts. Shane gasped, pushing into his hand; he wasn’t sure he would last long at all. 

“Ilya, touch me properly,” Shane groaned, glad when Ilya didn’t even bother to tease him like he normally did. He just pushed down Shane’s shorts just enough to free him, and took him in his hand. He had barely begun moving, his lips going to Shane’s neck with the full intention of sucking a bruise into it, when there was a noise from behind the bathroom door. 

“Shane, Ilya! Are you guys-oh my fucking god.” Shane froze in Ilya’s hold, only not flying back to clasp onto some of their dignity, because Hayden had just burst through the door of the bathroom. Holy shit, holy shit-

“Give us a moment, Pike.” Ilya barked, and without a word, Hayden slammed the door shut again. Shane stared at Ilya with wide eyes, panic completing overtaking him, while Ilya stared steadily back. 

“The bathroom door wasn’t locked, Ilya! Holy shit, you told me it was!” Shane hissed, reaching down to tuck himself back into his shorts, his boner completely gone. Ilya was trying his best not to snicker, but when Shane hit his arm and told him to shut up because it wasn’t funny, he let himself laugh.

“I think we just broke Hayden’s heart,” Ilya told him as he straightened himself up the best he could. His nose was starting to hurt now, but he wouldn’t complain about it. “You didn’t see his face, Shane. He looked devastated that I had you in here like that.”

“Just shut up, Ilya. That wouldn’t have happened if you had locked the door,” Shane groaned, taking a seat on the toilet now, tucking his head between his knees. Ilya reached out and rubbed his back, his laughter dying out when he realised how upset Shane actually was. “We’re fucked, we are so fucked. What if he hates us?” Shane whispered, looking up at Ilya. “What if he tells the team?”

“Shane… Hayden might not be my biggest fan, but I am pretty sure he is yours.” Ilya told him, moving his hand to rest in Shane’s hair. “He is not going to out us, ok? He is not a bad person. Just a bad hockey player.” Ilya really wanted to say that he was done caring if they were outed - it was selfish, because he knew how much it mattered to Shane. But deep down, Ilya kind of wanted that worry taken out of their hands. If they got outed, maybe it would affect their future careers, maybe it wouldn’t. 

Or maybe Ilya just didn’t care as much because he no longer felt so enthralled with the idea of going professional anymore. 

“Ilya, don’t say that right now.” Shane complained, even as he forced himself to stand up. “We should… we should go talk to him, in case he’s freaking out. We can’t let him leave before we speak to him, at least.”

Luckily, Hayden hadn’t left - even if he had planned to run out of there, he wouldn’t have gotten far as Svetlana had caught him at the top of the stairs and had dragged him into Victor’s room. When they both left the bathroom, Svetlana called them over from the open door. Hayden was sitting on Victor’s messy bed, his eyes wide and his face paler than usual. He looked up when they entered the room, his eyes flickering between them like he didn’t actually believe what he was looking at.

“... Look, Hayden, I’m sorry you saw us like that.” Shane started, when the silence stretched on for too long. Hayden made a choked noise in the back of his throat while Ilya scoffed.

“I’m not sorry; I am sorry you do not know you should knock before entering a bathroom.” Ilya replied, crossing his arms. It didn’t really have the same effect with his nose still bright red. 

“Well, I learnt my lesson, didn’t I?” Hayden muttered, shaking his head. “I always knew you two were close, but I didn’t… I mean, you and Rose seemed to have chemistry.”

“Rose?” Shane blinked, before laughing, even as Ilya stiffened beside him. “Oh, Rose was great, but… yeah, it’s sort of always been Ilya.” 

Hayden gaped at that, before a hurt look crossed his face. “And you never said to me? Like, never once thought to let me know? I keep pointing out nice girls for you to date, Shane!”

“Oh, really?” Ilya raised an eyebrow at him, unimpressed. “You never do this for me.”

“I wouldn’t force a nice girl to go out with you, Rozanov, that’s why.” Hayden fired back. 

“Right, ok, stop it.” Shane said firmly, in what Ilya called his ‘captain voice’. “You know now, Hayden, and now you know why I am not interested in dating anyone.”

“I only know now because I found out by accident, not because you told me.” Hayden said, the hurt evident in his tone. Shane mentally sighed, because his best friend was right. 

“Hayden… I met you through playing hockey. You know what the attitude is towards people like me, people like us.” Shane gestured to Ilya as he said it. “I didn’t think you were homophobic, but I didn’t want to pressure you with our secret either. I mean, Ilya just beat the shit out of Dallas Kent because he called us slurs, and he doesn’t even know about us. It’s just that normalised, right? So even because you now know, I would seriously appreciate it if you didn’t tell anyone about us. Please?”

Hayden looked at Shane, his eyes flickering over to Ilya with a frown. Shane felt his heart sink - he wasn’t going to be able to promise them to keep it quiet, was he? Fuck, the whole team would know before the weekend was even over. Not only that, he had probably just lost his best friend. Annoyingly, he felt his eyes start to string, and real regret for ever coming to this stupid party wash over him.

“He better be worth all this trouble, man.” Hayden finally said, shaking his head softly. “But yes, of course I won’t say anything, Shane. I love you, man. Rozanov, you are still an asshole.” Hayden responded back, before rubbing his eyes. “Fuck, I need a drink or something. This has been a lot to process.”

“You really should have gotten here sooner - most of the beer is done, the last I checked. However, I was keeping this for later,” Svetlana announced, going through her bag. She pulled out a bottle of vodka with a Russian label, which had Ilya perking up. “The good stuff, da! But I think we need it now. A drink to friends, and to keeping our friends secrets.” Svetlana looked at Hayden when she said, which had him quickly nodding. She then located some questionable looking shot glasses from around Victor’s room, which had Shane making a face when she poured the clear liquid into it. 

They clinked their glasses together, and Shane just watched as everyone tipped back the shot, like it was nothing. Not wanting to be caught standing around with the shot, he forced the alcohol down his throat… and started to cough straight away. God, that shit burned and didn’t even taste good, why did anyone drink this?

Ilya was rubbing his back as he coughed, even though his knuckles were a total mess. Crap, Shane would have to wrap them up. 

“Let’s go home, baby.” Ilya murmured, leaning down to brush his lips over Shane’s. Shane tried not to jerk away, feeling himself flush as he looked over at Svetlana and Hayden.

Getting home had been a bit of a nightmare - they had ended up missing the bus, and instead of waiting around for the next one, they had decided to walk home (Shane hoped it would sober up Ilya, which it sort of had). Ilya had perked up again after the whole fighting and outing to Hayden, and every time they passed an alleyway, Shane was getting pushed into it and kissed within an inch of his life. Shane only fake complained when Ilya did this, laughing against his mouth and telling him to focus on creating a believable story as to why Ilya had busted his nose and knuckles. 

They decided it would be safer to head back to the Hollander’s, because they had more opportunity to sneak around Shane’s parents. If they could just get upstairs and stay there, there was a good chance they wouldn’t get in trouble. Shane could just shout down to them that they had decided to stay at Shane’s so they could play video games. A believable, not complicated lie.

Except when they got home, the plan was instantly derailed. Irina had saved up enough for a small, ancient car earlier this year… and it was parked in the Hollander’s driveway.

“Oh, fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck-” Shane whispered as he came to a complete stop. Ilya didn’t notice and bumped into him, steadying Shane with a mumbled apology. 

“What is it?” Ilya asked, before he too saw the car. “Oh… we are very fucked.” Ilya said solemnly. “Do you think we have time to-”

Before he could even finish speaking, the front door swung open. Yuna stood there, an expression on her face that neither of the teens had ever seen. She looked murderous. 

“You two better get inside before I drag you inside.” Yuna said, her voice clipped. Shane felt his shoulders drop, but quickly did as he was asked, not ready to risk testing his mother to see if really would drag them in. Ilya quickly complied. They were directed to the living room, where both David and Irina sat, their expressions grave. Irina looked like she may have been crying. 

“Sit down, boys.” David instructed, his voice lacking his usual warmth. They both sat down robotically, staring at their parents with wide eyes. “Do you know how worried we’ve been? When Irina called us to check if Ilya was going home for dinner, and we told her we thought you two were at her house, do you know what that felt like?”

“Sick,” Irina muttered, causing Ilya to look at the floor. “I felt so ill, not knowing where either of you were - realising you had lied to us. Where were you both?”

“Just hanging out with some friends from the rink,” Ilya said quickly. “Was nothing bad.”

“Right,” Yuna huffed, crossing her arms over her chest. “Nothing bad, Ilya? Is that why you both stink of alcohol and cigarette smoke?”

“No, not Shane!” Ilya said, shaking his head as his hand found Shane’s. “I drank, yes, and I did smoke, but Shane didn’t.”

“I had a shot of vodka,” Shane admitted, unable to help himself under his mother’s piercing stare. “I’m sorry.”

“And what happened to your face, Ilya?” David gestured to the hand holding Shane’s, which was bruised. “Did you get into a fight, son?”

Ilya swallowed around the lump in his throat; disappointing his mother was bad enough, but feeling it from the two other people he considered his parents was just awful. “Someone was making fun of Shane, then both of us. He called us fags, so I hit him. Not my best idea, but he deserved it.”

“Who was it?” Yuna demanded, but Shane shook his head.

“It doesn’t matter, mum. Look, we’re so, so sorry. We just wanted to go, but we know we shouldn’t have gone, and we definitely shouldn’t have lied. It was a bad idea and we won’t do it again.”

“Oh, I agree, it won’t happen again.” Yuna frowned. “You think no one in this room hasn’t done stupid stuff as a teenager? We aren’t here to control your lives entirely, and I like to think we are pretty fair with you both. Not everyone would be comfortable with their teenagers sharing a bed. But the fact that you couldn’t even be honest about where you were today just shows that you are both a lot more immature than you realise.” Ilya and Shane both shrunk back into the couch when Yuna said that, especially when Irina nodded in agreement. 

“What if something bad had happened? What if there was a fire, or an emergency? What if Ilya had gotten really hurt when he was fighting, and had to go to hospital? We wouldn’t have known, because we didn’t know where you were.” Yuna’s voice was steadily rising. “Until you have children, if you ever do, you will never know the panic we all felt when we realised we didn’t know where you both were. Every scenario went through our heads - were you kidnapped, were you injured somewhere, did you just run off? We checked the places you usually hang out, and it was only when we went to the rink one of the older boys told us about a party he was sure you were both attending. Do you think it was nice, for us to be so panicked, while you two were partying?”

“No,” they said in unison, their voices barely above a whisper. Shane felt sick to his stomach, while Ilya was so pale Shane was worried he was going to be sick.

“We’ve let you two play at being grown ups - being together as you are with no real boundaries, thinking you are ready for the real world when you have no idea what it’s like. We did that, because we thought we could trust you. But you’ve proven today that this trust can be broken, and it is going to take a lot of making up to get it back to where it needs to be. So Shane, you are grounded for a full week.”

“As are you, Ilya.” Irina told him firmly. 

They both glanced at each other, unsure what to say. They had never really been grounded before. 

“Which means you will see each other at school, and at practice, but other than that you are to be at home. No bike rides, no hanging with friends, nothing. You can help around the house.” David said, looking between them. “And that means at your own houses. If Irina needs to work late, myself or Yuna will go over to be with you, Ilya. But you need some time away from each other to really understand the gravity of your decisions today.”

The confirmation that they would be separated from each other was what seemed to tip them over the edge - suddenly, they boys were clinging to each other, their expressions shocked. 

“But we’re really sorry!” Shane tried to argue, his eyes filling with tears. “If you need to ground us, fine, I can be grounded for the rest of the month, but let Ilya come stay here!”

“No, Shane.” Irina replied as she stood up. “It is hardly a punishment, if you get to spend time together. It will do you both some good to have a week apart. You can really think about how you won’t do something as stupid as this again.”

“But-” Ilya started, but was swiftly cut off. 

“Ilya Rozanov, yesli vy popytayetes' posporit' so mnoy pryamo seychas, eto zaymet dve nedeli.” Irina cut him off, her eyes narrowing. Ilya instantly closed his mouth. “Say goodbye to Shane, and please get anything you need from his room.”

Their goodbye was pretty pathetic; you’d think Ilya was getting sent back to Russia the way they hugged and kissed each other, their cheeks wet with tears. Shane watched from the front door as they drove off, Ilya staring back at him until they could no longer see each other. David patted his son on the shoulder, a grim look on his face. 

“Come on, Shane. Let's get some dinner, and then we can look at the list of chores I’ve written up for you to keep you busy this week.” Shane just nodded, too upset to speak.

A whole week without Ilya? He hadn’t done that in so long - he was sure he was going to die. 

*

Shane had tried pleading, no, begging with his parents to change the rules around being grounded - he had once again tried to ask them to ground him for a whole month, or even two, if Ilya could just come over. He had been firmly shot down, but his mother lost her cool when he asked if they could just ban him from the rink for a week, instead. 

“Shane, I’m only letting you go to practice because I don’t want to stand in the way of you getting all the practice you need for your future career. But if you ask me again, I will make it a month that Ilya cannot come over.” 

He had shut up after that, and although the pout never left his face, he took the list of chores his dad had made up for him and focused on that. His room was cleaned out, with items to get donated carefully piled up outside the lobby; he helped clear out the garage and shed, even though he had sighed loudly when he had to move Ilya’s bike, his eyes looking wet but the tears never fell this time. He cleaned the cars, helped with the gardening, even painted the fence. 

Now… his parents would never claim Shane did any of this quietly; he huffed, he moaned and when he did bother to talk to them, he only spoke to them in short, grumpy sentences. But still, Yuna and David were firm - they had to be, for their son’s sake. 

Ilya was taking the punishment a bit better. While he was obviously not happy about it, he had never once tried to argue with his mama about it, and instead had adopted a rather stoic expression. Twice, David had come over to supervise him, which had actually been nice. David had quiet, calm energy and had brought puzzles, so the night had passed quickly. 

He still missed Shane like crazy, of course. Sleeping in bed by himself just felt wrong these days, but he glumly supposed he had to get used to it, if he still went pro and had to be living apart from Shane. The thoughts had never left him; even though he tried his best to not let the worry sink in, it was still present in his mind, like a dark shadow that was determined to overcome him. 

They tried to make the most of the time they did get together while at school, although Shane had become even more paranoid at how easy Hayden had caught them, so it was all very careful touching and kissing. There was of course, none of that at the rink, and their parents were quick enough to whisk them home before they could even look longingly at each other. 

They were at the rink now, finishing off their cooldowns. Dallas Kent had apparently not been at the rink all week after their altercation; Ilya wasn’t sure if it was because he was that hurt, or if he was just trying to avoid him. He really hoped it was the latter. Yuna was meant to be taking him home (dropping Shane off at his own home with David first, of course) and waiting with him until his mama was finished work. Shane had been grumbling about it the whole of their practice.

“I mean, it’s what, tomorrow we can start hanging out again?” Shane sighed as he unclicked his helmet, his hair sweaty underneath. Ilya really wanted to kiss him. “If the hanging out ban lifts at midnight, I’m happy to stay up and head straight to yours.”

“I don’t think your parents will be pleased about that,” Ilya snorted, though his heart ached at the thought of Shane doing that just to be with him. “But tomorrow, if we are in the clear, why don’t we get up early and go for a bike ride? We can maybe go and get breakfast at McDonald’s.”

Shane made a face at the idea of breaking his diet, but huffed out a small laugh. “Fine, just this once, I’ll eat one of your gross McDonald’s breakfasts. And then we are getting some time alone, ok?”

“Ok, solnyshko,” Ilya nodded, a small smile on his face. “I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve missed you too, so much.” Shane murmured back, a slight flush on his face. Hayden skated past them, paused for a minute to look between them, before shaking his head.

“How did I miss it… you are literally making heart eyes at each other,” he muttered, before following the rest of the team off the ice. Shane snorted at that and went to follow him, sending his boyfriend another small smile as he did so. 

“Hey!” a voice said from behind him, making him jump up straight. The voice was loud, but didn’t sound aggressive - still, Dallas Kent somehow had friends at this rink, and maybe he had sent someone to beat up Ilya. It was one of the older guys, though Ilya couldn’t remember his name. He had dark curly hair and light brown skin, and warm eyes. 

“Sorry, you probably don’t know me - I’m Zane Boodram.” Boodram held out his hand for Ilya to shake. Ilya took a moment before he took off his glove so he could take it. Boodram was smiling, and seemed relaxed, so Ilya forced himself to do that too. “You’re Ilya, right? Rozanov?”

“Yes,” Ilya said, his eyes flickering over to the door that headed to the changing rooms. Shane was probably wondering where he had gotten to. “Can I help you?”

“No, man, just wanted to say thanks for knocking Kent on his ass, he is such a prick.” Boodram snorted. “I was at the party, but I missed the fight. Apparently you had him crying basically straight away.”

Ilya shifted on the ice, an unsure feeling of pride mixed with unease swirling inside him. “I do not like to fight, but a man I see as my papa told me years ago I should only fight if it’s worth it. And he was being a fucking dick, so…”

“Right on,” Boodram nodded. “Well, I just wanted to say thanks, and to let you know that most of the people at the rink think it’s brilliant.”

“Zane!” a voice yelled; the next class was starting, and it was a group of younger kids, piling onto the ice on shaky skates, but waving wildly over at him. Zane waved back just as enthusiastically. 

“You, er, do coaching?” Ilya queried. 

“Sort of, Hunter totally started the tradition of helping out with the younger classes.” Boodram said, looking back over at Ilya. “He did some of your classes, right?”

“Ugh, yes, was very annoying. Old man could hardly keep up with me.”

“Oh really?” Boodram laughed, the sound practically echoing around the rink. Ilya suddenly realised that he really liked Zane. “You know, if you aren’t doing anything right now, we could really use another assistant coach. We were using Kent, but, well, you beat the shit out of him.” Ilya snorted at that. “So he’s out, which is honestly a good thing - he was terrible with the kids. But you know, since it’s your fault we are down on our number of helpers…”

“I am technically grounded,” Ilya admitted, feeling like a child just saying it. “But my mama is at work; can you let me call her, and see if she is ok for me to do this?”

“Yeah, no worries dude!” Boodram nodded. “We’re just going to start with some warm ups; if you don’t come back on the ice I’ll assume it’s a no, alright?”

Ilya agreed and skated off the ice, not over to the changing areas but to where Yuna was still sitting in the stands, still grabbing her jacket and bag. “Yuna, I know you were meant to be giving me a lift home, but I’ve been asked if I can stay back and help with the next class. Can I call my mama’s work from your phone and check if that is ok?”

Yuna raised her eyebrow at the request, but handed Ilya her phone. “I was going to drop Shane off with David and then go back to yours, but if the class goes on until your mother is finished work, maybe she can pick you up from here?” 

It took a moment for someone to pick up, and then to get Irina, but sure enough, his mother’s voice came through. “Ilya? Are you alright?”

“Yes, mama.” Ilya replied, before explaining he had been asked to stay back and help out. His mother agreed, and Yuna spoke to Irina to confirm the arrangements for Ilya getting home.

“Ilya, why are you still on the ice?” Shane asked as he joined his mother’s side. Ilya gestured over to Boodram and the younger kids on the ice, explaining what he had been asked to do. Shane’s face brightened, the way it did when he had an idea.

“Mum, can I help too?”

“Definitely not. You have enough things to do at home.” Yuna said as she hung up her phone, giving Shane a sharp look at his loud groan. “Ok Ilya, your mum will come and collect you once you’re done, so just stay here. Any problems at all, and you just get the coach to call me, ok?”

“Bye, then.” Shane muttered, heaving his equipment onto his back. Ilya wanted to tell him how cute he was when he pouted, but he didn’t think his boyfriend would appreciate that.

Ilya made his way back over to Boodram, confirming he would stay. Boodram introduced him to the head coach, and then to the group of children. They had to be around eleven or twelve, and were quick to get started on their warm ups. 

“That’s Troy,” Boodram mentioned, gesturing to one kid with a scowl on his face, not quite taking part. “Kent had taken him under his wing, but I had expressed concern to the coach about it. Might be good if you spent some time with him today - but, er, maybe don’t mention you beat up Kent.”

“I wouldn’t tell him that,” Ilya snorted, but took off towards Troy. Troy saw him coming, his blue eyes tracking Ilya across the ice. “Hello, Troy is it? I’m Ilya. I’m helping out today.”

“Where’s Dallas?” Troy asked rather than saying hello. He couldn’t be more than twelve, and already seemed to have a chip on his shoulder. 

“Ah, Dallas was a bit silly last weekend, he tripped and fell on his face multiple times.” Ilya told him solemnly; the way Troy squinted up at him, he was pretty sure he didn’t buy it. “But you’ve got me, as a very special guest to help out instead. What position do you like to play?”

“Forward,” Troy said automatically, standing straighter. “Usually right wing.” 

“Ah, I could tell, you have the look of a right wing.” Ilya nodded wisely. “Well, perhaps we can work on passes, Mr Right Wing? Let’s see what you’re made of.” 

It took the whole lesson, but he thinks Troy finally warmed up to him, even cracking a reluctant smile at Ilya’s jokes. He wasn’t sure how Kent had been coaching him, but both Boodram and the main coach were praising how well he worked with Troy. 

“Seriously,” Boodram said as they tidied up the equipment after the lesson ended. “Usually Troy drops gloves at least once a lesson.” Ilya shot him a look, because why would you turn on your own teammates like that? “And sometimes the language he uses is terrible - well, typical for hockey, but for his age? It’s not right. Kent always encourages him to do that, he thinks it's funny.” 

“That’s fucked up,” Ilya muttered, shaking his head. “The whole point of this sport should be to have fun, especially at this age.”

“Exactly,” Boodram nodded, a knowing look on his face. “So… Can I count on you to help out with this class again? It ends straight after your class, so you’ll already be here, and I know a few other kids that would love your guidance.”

Ilya paused, a look of surprise on his face. “You want me back to help?”

“Dude, definitely. You were great out there, with the kids. And I could tell you enjoyed it too. So why not? I’d love to give Kent the boot and replace him with you, anyway. It’s like you are beating him up all over again.”

Boodram was right; Ilya had really enjoyed helping out with the class. In fact, now he was thinking about it, he had found this a lot more fun doing this than his own practice. Yes, he loved playing hockey, of course he did, but seeing the grin on Troy’s face when he nailed a pass brought him a lot more joy than the goal he had scored earlier. 

“If my mama is ok with it, then yes, I’ll help out again.” Ilya promised, smiling when Boodram clapped him on the back. 

The next morning, Ilya was up far too early for a Sunday - he was that typical teenager that loved to lie in, but this was the day that he could see Shane again. And they already had plans! 

“Just because your grounding is over, Ilya, doesn’t mean Shane’s parents haven’t extended his,” his mama warned him, yawning around her hand. “Call his house first, before you go to meet him anywhere.”

Ilya did as he was told, practically bouncing on his feet as the phone rang. After five rings, it was picked up. “Ilya,” he could practically hear his boyfriend’s smile through the phone. Ilya felt his own lips tug up into a grin. “Your mum said you aren’t grounded anymore, right?”

“Da,” Ilya said in confirmation. “And you?”

“I’m all good, too. I have promised I’ve learnt my lesson, and honestly, I have - this week completely sucked. I told my dad we were going to get McDonald’s, but he said he can just make us all a cooked breakfast at home; your mum too, if she wants to join. Eggs, bacon, sausages… does that sound ok? Sorry, I know you probably wanted a McDonald’s.” 

“Sounds better than McDonald’s,” Ilya reassured him, and he meant it. “Let me ask mama,” Ilya pulled the phone away from his mouth as he asked, and beamed when Irina confirmed they would both attend. “Da Shane, we’ll be there. See you soon, dorogoy.” 

With the promise of a David Hollander cooked breakfast, Irina and Ilya got ready pretty quick, and were over to the Hollander’s home in around twenty five minutes. Before they had even gotten out of the car, Shane had the front door open, a large grin on his face. As soon as Ilya was through the door, Shane had him pulled into his arms, squeezing him tight. Ilya laughed and held him even tighter, burying his face into Shane’s neck.

“You’d think you two haven’t seen each other every day at school and at practice,” Yuna said dryly from behind them, giving Irina her own welcoming hug. 

“It wasn’t the same,” Shane complained, leaning up to press a quick kiss to Ilya’s lips, grinning when Ilya tried to follow his lips. “Come on, the food is ready, then we can go out on our bikes.”

Perhaps being grounded had been a bit of a blessing in disguise, Ilya mused as he took a seat by Shane, grabbing his hand as he did so. While it had been awful to be apart from his boyfriend, it had shown both of them that they didn’t want to be separated for too long. Maybe, Shane was already considering how much worse that distance would be if they both had careers in hockey. Maybe he was already thinking if he was really ok with that. Ilya hoped he was, because he didn’t want to be the bad guy by bringing up his own anxieties about spending so much of the year separated. 

He just wanted this, he realised as he looked around the busy kitchen, the radio playing low as the chatter took over. David, in his “Kiss the Cook” apron, Yuna and his mama catching up (this week must have been a bit of a punishment for them, too), and his beautiful boyfriend reminding his dad exactly what he wanted on his plate. If he could freeze this moment and live in it forever, he would. 

“So,” David said as he put a full plate in front of Ilya, with all his breakfast favourites. Shane’s plate was smaller, because he refused to indulge in any ‘fatty’ foods. “What was this I was hearing about, with you helping out with coaching?” 

Ilya beamed, and began telling them how the class had gone, and that he had signed up to do it again. Things would be ok, Ilya was sure of it. 

Chapter End Notes

So this was one of those chapters that I had an idea for at the very start (you know... when I thought chapters would be 1-2k long, remember how foolish I was), so I was so glad to get to finally get to flesh it out!! I knew I wanted them to go to a house party and get their asses grounded for it, hahahaha. Also, longest chapter yet, whooooooo!

Thank you so much for all your lovely comments on the last chapter! I'm really glad you are all enjoying the direction of the story, especially as we start to look towards the end. As always, your kudos, bookmarks and comments, it is always appreciated.

A super big thank you to mialeksovich for beta reading this chapter and for generally dealing with me throwing ideas at them basically every hour of every day. You are an angel <3

Translations:

"Ty zhe ne skazala mame, chto priyedesh' syuda, pravda? Potomu chto ya skazala pape, chto yedu k tebe." = “You didn’t tell your mother you were coming here, right? Because I told my dad I was going to yours.”

“Konechno, net, Sveta, ty chto, dumayesh', ya glupaya?” = “Of course not, Sveta, do you think I’m stupid?”

"Blyat." = "Fuck."

"Ilya Rozanov, Yesli vy popytayetes' posporit' so mnoy pryamo seychas, eto zaymet dve nedeli." = "Ilya Rozanov, if you try and argue with me right now, it will be two weeks.”

"Solnyshko." = "Sunshine."

"Dorogoy." = "Darling."

Chapter 10: Age Fifteen

Chapter Summary

The boys experience a few different firsts: first therapy appointment, first time, and first heartbreak.

Chapter Notes

Chapter contains consensual penetrative underage sex, ye have been warned.

Present Day

Everything had just gone wrong, and Ilya had no idea what to do to fix it. 

He watched as Shane was swallowed up by the crowd, hoping that he would turn around and see Ilya was still standing there, waiting for him to come back. Wishing that once he saw the look on Ilya’s face, that he wouldn’t run from him or his words. He felt like he had blown it entirely; all these months of preparation, of baring his soul to a stranger about everything in his life, had been for nothing. In fact, his worst fears had just happened - he had been truthful to Shane about what he wanted, and Shane hadn’t handled it well. Not at all. 

If he could go back in time and force himself to never confront his feelings, he would do it; if it meant he would never have to see that confused, devastated look on his boyfriend’s face, then it would be worth it. Because Ilya was very aware that he had just hurt Shane; unintentionally, yes, but he was still the reason for it. 

But it was out there now, and there was nothing Ilya could do to take it back. He felt his own eyes sting, and hastily turned and walked the opposite way, even though his legs were desperate for him to run after Shane. His mind was racing, and he had no idea where to go. He pulled out his phone and went to his contacts. It took him a minute to find the right person, because his vision was so blurry. 

Finally, he found her, and pressed call. He held the phone to his ear, thinking how absurd it was to be surrounded by happy people while his life was falling apart. 

“Hello, Ilya,” the voice was a little tinny over the phone, but still recognisable. “You’re lucky to catch me, I was about to leave the office. Is everything alright?” 

“Galina,” Ilya choked out, wiping his eyes. “I fucked up.”

His therapist didn’t say anything for a moment, and Ilya was scared he was about to get rejected again, because Galina probably didn’t actually care about his teenage problems outside of their hour appointments every two weeks, did she? Before Ilya could force himself just to hang up, Galina spoke.

“I’m sure you haven’t, Ilya. Look, I can’t hear you very well, there is a lot of background noise. Can you go somewhere quieter? Or I can stay at my office, if you’d like to see me in person.”

“You said you were finished for the day,” Ilya pointed out, though he started heading to the exit of the fairground. “I… I can just book an appointment for when you are next free.”

“I’d rather not wait,” Galina replied, which meant Ilya must sound extra pathetic over the phone. “That’s already better, Ilya. Ok, tell me what happened.”

*

Six Months Earlier 

He had booked the appointment on a whim; at least, that was what he was telling himself. He ignored the fact that he had saved up the money he had gotten from delivering papers in the morning, and the money he got from parents when he stayed back to help their kids improve their hockey skills. He also ignored the fact that he had memorised the phone number for the office after he saw it on his mother’s paperwork. 

It was after practice with his own team, after there was excited chatter in the locker room that a scout was coming to the rink to look out for future players for the World Junior Ice Hockey Canadian team. He could have dealt with that, but the look of pure excitement on Shane’s face had gotten Ilya frantically calling the number on his new mobile phone in the toilets at the rink. He had booked an appointment, and here he was.

He hadn’t told anyone - as far as Shane, the Hollanders and his mama were concerned, he was just at the rink coaching. He couldn’t be honest with them even if he tried; the words got stuck in his throat, clogged with fear and anxiety. It was why he had been desperate enough to make this call, though the longer he stood around in the quiet waiting area, the more he was regretting this decision. 

Before he could bolt, the door to the office opened, and the lady who stood behind it waved him in. “Hi, Ilya, come on it, take a seat.” Galina said, thankfully in Russian - his mama did say she always did their sessions in Russian, which he liked. It felt like it was even more private.

Ilya did as he was asked, awkwardly looking around the room. There were no windows in here, and while he knew that would be off-putting for some people, he liked knowing that there was no chance of anyone seeing him in the room. His mind was racing with the idea that Shane, for some reason, would walk by and see him in here. Ridiculous, he knew that, but he couldn't help it. 

“Er, this one?” Ilya asked back in Russian, gesturing to a comfy looking chair. Galina nodded, taking the seat opposite him. His gaze narrowed in on the notepad and pen that seemed to appear out of nowhere in her hands. 

She must have felt his eyes on her, picking up on his nervousness. “It’s just for me to take notes, Ilya. Usually points that I would like to cover with you again. I know it can feel awkward if someone is writing while you are talking, so I promise I’ll try to minimise that. Would you like anything to drink before we start?”

“Erm, no, thank you.” Ilya shifted in the chair, trying to force his stiff body to appear relaxed. Fuck, what was he even doing here? This was so stupid. He was sure no one else around him felt like they had to run off to a therapist to complain that he didn’t want to pursue an opportunity that thousands would kill for. 

“Alright, well. I am Dr. Galina Molchalina, I came over to Canada to study and become a psychologist and never went back. I’ve been practising for around… wow, it will be around twelve years now. I believe in a person centred approach, which means I let each client be the lead in the sessions, and the support I give them should be tailored to their personal needs. Is there anything you want to ask me at this stage?”

Ilya shook his head, wondering if he had somehow failed a silent test by not having anything to ask Galina. But Galina didn’t write anything down, so maybe not. “Alright, would you like to introduce yourself to me?”

“But… you already know who I am,” Ilya said, a bit awkwardly. “I know my mama has spoken about me before. Probably about some of the things I am going to talk about, actually.” 

Galina tilted her head to the side, considering his words. “Obviously I cannot tell you about my sessions with your mother, but yes, I know of you. But I know things from your mother’s perspective about her son. The Ilya in front of me, who booked this appointment, may be an entirely different person than the person she described. Even her perception of your situation may not reflect how you truly feel about it.” 

“You think I lie to my mama?” Ilya asked; there was no heat in his voice, but genuine curiosity. 

“I think everyone perceives things differently, adding their own personal beliefs and bias subconsciously.” Galina replied evenly. “And I think that children do not always tell their parents the complete truth, even for the smallest things. I certainly told my parents half-truths growing up, leaving out the information I didn’t want them to know. It’s part of being a teenager.” Galina let the pen tap against the notepad in a steady rhythm. “And I feel comfortable saying this; because I have prior knowledge of some of your life experiences, I believe you wouldn’t tell your mother everything you feel in fear of upsetting her.”

Ilya sat up straighter at that, his throat feeling tight because she hit the nail on the head, within five minutes of speaking to him. “She has been doing so well,” he said quietly. “I worry that my concerns… over my future, over my relationship, will cause her to go into a bad place again.”

“I understand why you would be worried,” Galina leaned back in her chair, and made a note so quick in her pad that Ilya was sure if he had blinked he would have missed it. “You’ve had to handle a lot at a very young, impressionable age. And I do not just mean your mother’s mental health breakdown when you were twelve; I also mean the times you had to go home to Russia. While I only have your mother’s account of this, I can only imagine how difficult it was to go back to somewhere that should feel like home but was purposefully unwelcoming to you.”

“I am here to talk about my future,” Ilya cut in quickly, not wanting to talk at all about Russia, or his father or brother. Why would that have any significance to what was going on now? 

“I know, Ilya, but I want to prepare you - some of the questions I may have for you may make you think back to Russia. You would be surprised at how often our past shapes our future, and we may need to discuss some parts of your earlier childhood to help support where you are now. Does that make sense?”

“Sort of,” Ilya looked to the side, blinking quickly when he suddenly felt tears sting his eyes. It had been steadily building as she had talked, but he had no idea why they had come now.  “I just want to know what to do. I mean, the whole reason for coming to Canada was for me to play hockey, to be the best. My mama gave up her whole life in Russia, she left Alexei behind for me to do this. And yes, she has said that was not the only reason, she needed to get away from my father, but I remember how much she argued and pushed for us to come here. And it’s not like I do not have the skills to do it, I do, which is even worse. Everyone expects me to get drafted, Shane expects me to go professional.” Ilya swallowed thickly. “I’m letting him down, without a clear idea of what I am going to do instead.” 

Galina made a few more notes, before meeting his gaze. “Thank you for being honest with me, Ilya. I promise I will be honest with you too. I want to manage your expectations, and by that I mean that I am not here to tell you what to do,” Galina told him softly. Ilya felt his heart sink at that, but tried not to let the feeling show on his face. “Because you know what you need to do. You know that you need to be honest with Shane about how you feel, before the scouting process picks up. You know he will take it hard, and you know it is best to give him as much time as possible to process this. What I am here to do is to help you handle your feelings of anxiety around doing this, so when this conversation happens, you will not let these emotions control your words.”

Ilya just nodded, blinking and cringing as he felt the tears hit his cheeks - was it normal to cry in front of a stranger? He was feeling embarrassed, but also relieved at saying the words that had been running around his head. “I understand, thank you,” he said, clearing his throat when his voice cracked. 

“Ilya,” Galina was holding out tissues for him to take, a gentle smile on her face. He understood exactly why his mother felt at ease with her. “We do the hard work now, to make sure our future works out the best way possible. I never promise my clients that everything will go the way they want it to, but I will be here every step of the way, ok?”

“Yes,” Ilya nodded again, taking the tissue to wipe his eyes. “I’m willing to do the hard work. Especially for Shane.”

“Well then, let’s get started,” Galina replied. “How about we start at an easier place, and build up to speaking to Shane? For instance, have you spoken to your mother about how you have been feeling?”

“Sort of,” Ilya sighed loudly. “I do not know if she will care that I do not want to be professional, and I’m worried if she thinks I have wasted her life and her relationship with Alexei, for something I am no longer interested in pursuing?”

The hour passed quickly as Galina gently prodded Ilya into speaking about why he didn’t want to go professional, and without giving himself time to think about it, Ilya booked a follow up appointment in two weeks time. 

Five Months Earlier

“Very good, Luca.” Ilya said, beaming as Luca and his tiny stick managed to complete the drill. Luca, an adorable six year old, beamed right back, his two front teeth missing (thankfully not from hockey, just from losing his baby teeth). “You are going to be the youngest player to go professional, aren’t you? What team will you join?” 

“The Ottawa Centaurs,” Luca said, coming to a stop by Ilya’s side. Ilya knew it was wrong to have favourites, but he had already told Shane that if Luca ever needed adopted, they were taking him. Shane didn’t even laugh about it, because he knew his boyfriend was dead serious. 

“Well, with you on their team, they may have a chance at the Stanley Cup,” Ilya told him in a fake, serious tone. Luca was nodding along, like the weight of winning the cup was already on his tiny shoulders. “I see your mama and papa, Luca - we must be out of time. I’ll see you in class, ok?”

“Ok, Ilya. Thanks!” Luca said, leaning in and surprising Ilya with a tight hug around his middle, before skating off. Ilya was sure he was smiling like an idiot as he waved him away. 

Luca Haas was one of the kids that Ilya was giving one to one lessons with - he didn’t do this a lot, but a few of the parents had just gushed to him about how well their kids responded to him, and offered to pay him for the hour. Honestly, Ilya would do it for free, but what teenager would turn down cash? He had been hoping to save up for driving lessons, but currently, the money was funding his sessions with Dr Galina, who had kindly already offered him a discounted rate. 

The rink was opening up to the public skate time, so Ilya made sure to put the equipment away before everyone piled out onto the ice. He was just coming out of the equipment cupboard when he felt something tap his shoulder. He turned, his eyebrow raised. 

“Mama?” Ilya said, but leaned into her half hug, even though he was confused. “I wasn’t expecting you.”

“I know, I got away from work early. You’ve been spending so much time here, I wanted to come and see you.” Irina said, smoothing down his curls. Ilya felt guilty at that - because if his mama had done this any other day, he may have been at Galina’s office. “I saw you with that boy, you did so well with him.”

Ilya felt his eyes brighten at that, the guilt being pushed down. “That is Luca! He is brilliant, da?” 

“He reminds me of you at that age,” his mother said, before holding up her other hand to show she was holding a pair of rented skates. “Do you have time for another lesson, Coach Ilya?” 

Ilya felt almost giddy getting his mother out onto the ice with him - she hadn’t done this in a long time, because skating had become more competitive rather than for fun, and Ilya felt annoyed at himself for not asking his mother to do this sooner. But after a few minutes of watching his mother trying to move but nearly falling over twice had him snickering. 

“You shouldn’t be laughing at your poor mother!” Irina told him, but she was laughing as well as Ilya pulled her along on the ice. “I honestly have no idea how you do this and chase a puck around.”

“It’s easy,” Ilya replied back, letting go of her hands when she managed to keep herself steady. “Come on, if my baby group can do it, so can you.”

They stayed for the whole session, and by the end of it, his mama could actually stand by herself. She couldn’t really move without his help, but she was no longer falling over as soon as Ilya let her go, so that was a win in itself. Ilya helped direct Irina over to the bench so they could remove their skates. 

“That was fun, and a little terrifying,” Irina said, bent over her skates. “It doesn’t feel like that long ago I was helping you unlace your skates. I’ll never forget you calling Shane the boy with stars on his face.”

Ilya felt himself smile, not embarrassed at all - he had accepted a long time ago that Shane’s freckles had absolutely captivated him from the moment he had met him. “He tries to compare my moles to constellations,” he said, grinning. “I don’t think it works the same, but it’s cute.” 

“And how are you and Shane?” Irina asked, switching to Russian - something she always did when she spoke about their relationship in public (really, Ilya shouldn’t have said all that constellation stuff in English, but he was just sick of not talking about his boyfriend). Ilya glanced over at her, trying to gauge her expression - was his mother implying something was wrong? Had Yuna said something? Oh fuck, maybe Shane said something to his parents about their relationship, about Ilya. Maybe they all knew something had changed with him, and they would find out about Galina.

“We are… good?” Ilya tried, before mentally shaking himself. “I mean, we’re more than good. Nothing has changed, if that is what you mean. Why?”

“No reason, darling. I was just checking in,” Irina said, putting her hand on Ilya’s shoulder. “You are at a tricky age, both of you. I just didn’t know if all the extra coaching was because there was something else going on.”

Well, she was sort of right. Ilya finished tugging on his shoes, thinking of what to do, what to say. Galina had been supporting him with getting comfortable about being honest with the people important in his life, and had gotten him to realise that he couldn’t bottle up his own emotions forever just because he was worried over how others would handle whatever he had to say. If he didn’t make room for his emotions, he would forever be controlled by them. 

“Something else is going on, sort of.” Ilya forced himself to say as they headed to the exit, near the cafe. Irina turned to look at him, his eyebrow raised. “Not with Shane, with me. And hockey.”

“Has someone been upsetting you, on the team?” Irina asked straight away, her eyes narrowing. Ilya sometimes forgot she could be such a mama bear. 

“No, mama, of course not. It’s not the team, it’s…” Ilya was struggling to find the words, and felt the urge to clam up and laugh it off. But he wasn’t putting all this work in with Galina for nothing.  “Would you be disappointed?” he managed to ask, the words coming out in a rush. “If I decided… maybe to not try and go professional in ice hockey?” 

Irina looked completely surprised at his question, which had Ilya deflating. “Ilya… why would you ever think I’d be disappointed?” Irina finally said, which gave Ilya a bit of hope that his mother wasn’t about to have a meltdown over this. 

“Because you moved here, for me. So I could have great opportunities.” Ilya said, taking a deep, steadying breath, like he had practiced with Galina. He wouldn’t let his emotions stop him from speaking. “And I worry that if I do not go on to try and have a great hockey career, I am letting you down. I feel like I am letting papa win, like I am proving his point that we should have stayed in Russia.”

“Oh, Ilyusha,” Irina whispered, and tugged him into the café. “Come, sit down, I think we need to talk about this properly.” 

She ordered them both hot chocolates, which were never that great from the café here, but they did the trick of being a comforting drink. Ilya ended up admitting a lot more than he had originally planned - about how he first realised that while he loved playing ice hockey, he didn’t think it could make him happy, not the way it made Shane happy. He admitted he had not always been honest about being at the rink, and finally told her about his appointments with Galina. While his mother was surprised that he had been going to her therapist, she at least didn’t seem annoyed by it, which Ilya was thankful for.  

“While I would never let you hold yourself back because of my mental health,” Irina told him, their hot chocolates finished at the café empty except for the two of them. “I would hate for you to force yourself down a path that may impact yours. My love, you know what I told Yuna the first time I met her? I told her that I wanted you to have fun when you played. Yes, I know you can easily get drafted, but the moment this doesn’t feel like fun anymore? Then it’s not worth it. You will make me proud no matter what you do, Ilya, so do not let yourself believe that all your worth is wrapped up in ice hockey. And I’ll never regret us making the move here - I know I always said it was for your career, but you know I needed to get away from your father. This move was just as much for me as it was for you.” 

“I’m scared to tell Shane,” Ilya admitted. “We’ve always spoken about our careers, and I haven’t mentioned anything to him about this. I mean, we met because of ice hockey, it has completely shaped our lives. He doesn’t handle change well.” Ilya shifted in his chair, glancing out onto the empty ice. “What if he doesn’t like me the same way, if we lose the thing that we have in common?”

“Ilyusha, you need to give Shane more credit than that.” Irina told him, taking hold of his hand and giving it a comforting squeeze. “What you and Shane have is a lot more than stupid ice hockey, yes? He might be a bit upset, but he will understand. This won’t change your relationship, my love. And those appointments with Dr Galina? I am paying for them, ok?” Ilya opened his mouth to argue, but Irina gave him a look that had him shutting up pretty fast. “You are meant to be saving your money for driving lessons, Ilya! I will pay for your appointments, and that’s that.” 

*

Three Months Earlier 

It was the start of the summer break, and they were heading to the Hollander’s cottage for the next two weeks. 

“We’ve got our phones with us,” Shane was saying as he slung his large bag over his shoulders; he had insisted on carrying the heavier stuff, since Ilya had hurt his ribs at their last game. “Dad walked out with us yesterday to see where we are camping, so he knows exactly where to find us. We promise to text you when we arrive and when we are going to bed, and in the morning.” 

“And you will call us if there is anything wrong, ok? Even if it is something as silly as getting scared.” Yuna said, looking between them with a stern look on her face.

“We aren’t going to get scared,” Shane replied, fighting the urge to roll his eyes. Even if they were, there was no way they were going back to the cottage. Because their parents didn’t know was the real plan for this camping trip, and the only way Shane would let them be interrupted was if there was some sort of natural disaster or, like, if there was suddenly a serial killer on the loose in their neck of the woods. Even that last one might not put him off entirely.

Because tonight, he and Ilya were going all the way. Shane honestly couldn’t stop thinking about it. Ilya was going to have sex with him tonight. Their virginities were going to be completely gone, and they were going to lose it to each other, and it was going to be perfect. Seriously, Shane had been planning this night for over a month now. Because neither of them had wanted to do this the first time at home, when any of their parents could arrive home and ruin the whole experience. But they also couldn’t just book into a hotel or something, so this idea was the best one they had. 

They had found time to prepare for tonight. Ilya had bought lube, and they had had a go at fingering each other. While Ilya had found it to be just ok, Shane had realised very quickly that they should have been doing this part a long time ago. 

“Seriously?” Shane had gasped out after having one of the most intense orgasms of his life. Ilya had managed to get two fingers into his hole, and had pushed him over the edge when he had put his mouth on his cock. Shane would have felt embarrassed at how quick he had finished if his brain didn’t feel so pleasantly scrambled. “You don’t think that is the best feeling ever?” 

“Hm, I liked it, but not the way you do,” Ilya grinned, leaning down to press feather light kisses against his neck. “You love it, Shane.”

Shane bit his lip - would it be weird to say he loved Ilya more than getting fingered? It didn’t really feel like a romantic way to express his feelings. They had said they loved each other before, but in a casual way. Shane wanted to express it clearly to his boyfriend, to make sure he knew the weight of the words. But honestly, with the way he was feeling, he sort of felt like he was lying; being fucked by Ilya’s fingers was life changing. 

“I think you’ll love it, when it’s your cock inside of me.” Shane whispered, biting his lip when Ilya’s eyes darkened at his words. It didn’t take him long to get his boyfriend off after that.

“Right, come on, we want to get there in plenty of time to set up the tent.” Shane said, just as he and Ilya were pulled into tight hugs by his parents and Ilya’s mum. Really, you’d think they were going to another country, not twenty minutes down the road. 

Everything was going to plan - the spot by the lake was still empty, and the sun had only just started to set. Between the two of them, setting up the tent didn’t take too long, even if they bickered over which pole went where, and Ilya pretended to forget to pack the pegs, which was not as funny as he thought it was. While Ilya sorted the inside of the tent, or what he had now taken to calling their “love tent”, with sleeping bags, blankets and pillows, Shane had built them a small fire, being careful with it. No way was an out of control fire ruining their evening.

Ilya joined him just as the sky was starting to turn red, the sun seemingly disappearing into the lake. “So we're just going to sit and stare at the fire?” Ilya asked Shane, as if he was missing something. By the way he was leering, Shane could imagine exactly what he thought he was missing right now. Shane rolled his eyes at his boyfriend and prodded at their fire with a stick. 

“We aren’t having sex near the fire. Go into my bag, I packed you marshmallows.” 

“Aw, so sweet.” Ilya pressed a kiss to Shane’s cheek, and then went digging into his bag. A second later, he heard Ilya snickering, and holding up something that definitely wasn’t the marshmallows. “Whoa, Hollander, do you think we have enough?” Ilya was fully laughing now, waving the condom packets in the air. 

“Oh my god, shut up.” Shane said, but he was laughing too. “I just don’t want any mess in the tent!”

“Oh yes, poor tent,” Ilya agreed, leaning over to kiss Shane, the condoms still in his hand. Finally, he joined Shane properly, marshmallows in hand. Shane handed him a stick and leaned into Ilya’s side, feeling so content. He felt so lucky, to be there with Ilya, to have found the right person at a young age. He knew how rare that was, and Shane knew he never wanted to lose it. After all, every aspect of their lives were entwined together, and even if they couldn’t be totally open about it, it just made these moments mean so much more.

“You know I said me and my parents have camped here before?” Shane said, and when Ilya nodded, he continued. “I always got it in my head that one day, I would buy this land,” Shane admitted, watching Ilya completely fuck up toasting his marshmallow. Seriously, half of it had fallen into the fire. Wordlessly, Shane handed him a new one. “You know, if we got drafted and made really good money.”

Ilya nearly dropped the new marshmallow straight into the fire at his words, which had Shane snorting. “Oh?” Ilya finally said, when he got the marshmallow on the stick. He kept his eyes firmly on the fire, probably to avoiding fucking up for a second time. “What would you build here, Mr Real Estate?”

Shane rolled his eyes, but he was smiling. “Obviously a cottage, but like… just for us. I’d like something modern, but not ugly. Wooden, but with lots of windows, so you still feel part of nature. Of course, we’d have a few guest rooms, for when your mum, or Svetlana or Hayden come to visit. But it’s just, like ten or so minutes away from my parent’s place, so maybe your mum would want to stay with them. And think about it, you could totally put a little dock out here. Oh, and we’d have a rink built out here, too, so we could keep up our practice during the summer break." 

“You think that far ahead?” Ilya asked him quietly; Shane couldn’t work out what expression he was making, but Shane nodded along, hoping Ilya wasn’t too freaked out, but Shane had sort of planned out their lives together. 

“I do, about us.” Shane admitted with a shrug. “It’s the one thing that feels certain, you know?”

“I know.” Ilya nodded, leaning in again to kiss him, dropping the stick and marshmallow into the fire as he did so. Shane opened his mouth to complain - they did have a limited amount of marshmallows with them, after all, but the push of Ilya’s tongue into his mouth had him moaning instead. Without thinking, he climbed into Ilya’s lap, his hands sliding over Ilya’s broad shoulders and up to curl in his hair, tugging his boyfriend’s head back for better access to his mouth, and because he knew Ilya loved getting his hair pulled. Ilya’s own hands slid over his waist, resting onto his ass and squeezing, which had Shane practically panting in his mouth. He rolled his hips downwards, letting their steadying growing erections rub each other through their shorts. 

“Shane, let’s go in the tent,” Ilya whispered against his lips. Shane took a moment to take in one long, steadying breath, and nodded. He stood up, taking Ilya’s hand, and they went into the tent. Ilya had set it up perfectly - it was still cramped, but Ilya had put up battery operated fairy lights all around the top of the tent, casting it in a warm light. Their sleeping bags had been rolled out and left open, with two blankets and pillows paid out on top of them. Shane snorted at the large bottle of lube that was resting there; it just screamed I’m about to have sex with my boyfriend!

For once, they took their time undressing each other - Ilya covered every piece of skin he revealed with gentle kisses, paying particular attention to Shane’s chest. When they were both naked, with Shane laying back against the pillows and blankets and Ilya down between his spread legs, he felt his first shot of nervous excitement. Ilya had paid close attention to his dick, practically getting Shane to the edge of coming and had only stopped when Shane said he wanted to come when Ilya was inside of him. The words had spurred on Ilya, who had one of Shane’s legs over his shoulder, two of his fingers scissoring inside him carefully. Each brush against his prostate had Shane gasping loudly, twisting in the blankets and pushing back on the digits. 

Fuck, he loved this - he loved the feeling of Ilya’s fingers inside of him, of the anticipation of what was to come. He was pretty sure only Ilya would ever make him feel this way. Looking at Ilya’s face, the open lust on it as he watched his fingers disappear into Shane, the kiss he would sporadically leave on the leg thrown over his shoulder, it was suddenly too much. He had to say this, before Shane told him to fuck him. 

“Ilya,” Shane said, a bit sharply. Ilya stopped moving, but didn’t remove his fingers - he was scared he had done something to hurt Shane, and didn’t want to yank his fingers out. 

“Are you ok? Want me to stop?” Ilya asked, but Shane shook his head. 

“No, sorry, please don’t. I just… I love you so much, Ilya.” Shane whispered, smiling shyly up at him. “I know you know that, but I just wanted to remind you.”

“Ya tebya lyublyu,” Ilya whispered back, carefully leaning over him to press a gentle kiss to his boyfriend’s lips. “Always, Shane. I love you.”

Shane kissed him back, before he playfully bit Ilya’s lower lip. “I want you to fuck me now, Ilya.” 

“One more finger,” Ilya said back, grinning at Shane’s annoyed huff. “I do not want to hurt you, Shane. Indulge me.”

Shane did, because while he was aware Ilya was doing an excellent job in prepping him, he also knew that all the prep in the world wouldn’t stop his first time from hurting a little bit, and he would do anything he could do to avoid that pain. 

It took Shane three times to tell Ilya he was ready for his boyfriend to reach for a condom. Shane sat up at this point, kissing Ilya hungrily as he opened one of the wrappers, rolling it down Ilya’s cock and grinning when Ilya hissed at the contact on his neglected cock. Shane grabbed the lube next, moving his hand up and down Ilya’s erection just to hear him pant in his ear.

“Do not make me finish right now,” Ilya said, swatting his hand away. “Do you still want, Shane? I won’t be upset if you say no.”

Shane leaned back, letting his legs fall open, his heart thudding loudly in his chest. “I still want.” Shane promised, gasping when he felt the blunt head of Ilya’s dick against his hole. It already felt a lot bigger than his fingers, but that didn’t scare him. He trusted Ilya to be careful.

“You will tell me to stop, if it’s not ok, yes?” Ilya said, his own heart racing. He couldn’t believe he was actually about to be inside of his boyfriend, and while he was dying to get into his tight heat, he was also terrified about hurting him. 

“Fuck - yes, I will, Ilya. Please-!” Shane said, trying to push down, before gasping loudly when he felt Ilya push forward. He didn’t get inside straight away, the tight ring of muscle resisting his pushing, but suddenly, it all gave way, and Ilya could inch his way inside. 

And holy fuck, he was not ready for how this actually felt around his dick. Halfway in, he had to stop moving, scared he was going to shoot before he had even gotten a chance to move. He took a few deep breaths with his eyes closed, counting to ten in his head to calm himself down, and only opened his eyes when the wave of arousal had simmered down. 

“Is this ok?” Ilya practically choked out, leaning down closer to Shane’s face - he had his eyes shut too, but was nodding erratically at Ilya’s words. “I’m, ah, I’m going to keep moving-”

He pushed in all the way, and they both groaned at the feeling of Shane clenching around him when Ilya brushed his prostate. Ilya didn’t move again, peppering Shane’s face with kisses and trying to think about anything other than the feeling around his dick or the primal urge to start thrusting. 

“You ok?” Ilya murmured, resting his forehead on Shane’s. Shane let out a shaky breath, and moved ever so slightly, the tiniest wince on his face.

“I feel… so full,” he responded, his eyes fluttering open, the usual sharp brown almost hazy now. “Ilya, move. Fuck me, please.”

And who was Ilya to deny him that, when he asked so nicely? With a groan, Ilya rolled his hips back and forth, only speeding up when Shane’s moans started to get louder. Fuck, he didn’t think he would manage to last long, not when the feeling was this intense and Shane was whimpering in his ear. Ilya turned to capture Shane’s lips into a filthy kiss, swallowing his moans until they were just vibrating against his tongue, and reached down to take Shane’s cock in his hand. 

The feeling of getting fucked by Ilya and his dick being touched was making Shane lose his mind. He knew he was being loud, even with Ilya’s tongue down his throat, and he was starting to push back to meet Ilya’s thrusts, his cock nailing his prostate like this wasn’t their first time doing this. From the desperate noises and frantic thrusts Ilya was doing, Shane knew he couldn’t be far from finishing either. Then Ilya twisted his hand around his cock, right at the head where he knew Shane was sensitive, and fucked him so hard he saw stars. With a choked groan, Shane was coming, his release hitting his chest in wide spurts, his back arching with the intensity of it. 

When he came back to himself, he was aware he was lying back against the pillows, feeling completely blissed out. Ilya had sat up straighter, grasping his legs and putting them both over his shoulders, his curls damp with sweat as he moved in a feverish way into Shane’s hole. Shane moaned softly at the sight and feeling, almost feeling like it was just too much, but he couldn’t get enough. His hand came up this chest, lazily rubbing at his own semen, and the sight had Ilya cursing. His thrusts went wild, before he stopped, fully inside Shane and grunting as he came, his hips jerking slightly as the shocks went through him. 

For a moment, the tent was only filled with their heavy breathing as they stared into each other’s eyes, processing that they had just had sex for the first time. Then, Shane smiled up at Ilya, who carefully took Shane’s legs down from his shoulders.

“We are definitely doing that again,” Shane murmured, wincing ever so slightly when Ilya pulled out of him to deal with the condom. 

“Are you ok? Sore?” Ilya asked in concern, and embarrassingly pushed Shane’s legs up to his chest while staring intently at his hole. “You look puffy, shit.” 

“Ilya!” Shane used his foot to push against Ilya’s chest so he could close his legs. “I’m ok, maybe a bit sore, but it was nothing like the horror stories of people’s first time. You took excellent care of getting me ready, and it felt amazing. I’m serious about doing it again, like, now.”

Ilya didn’t answer him straight away. There was a look on Ilya’s face; it was one Shane had seen before, especially after his mum hadn’t been well that time Ilya’s dad and brother had come to Canada. It usually clued Shane in that something big was on Ilya’s mind, but he wasn’t ready to discuss it now. Shane knew he had to be careful when he wanted Ilya to talk to him - you almost had to treat him like a scared animal, careful and slow, to show you weren’t a threat; to show that you just wanted to help. 

Shane raised his hand to gently push back Ilya’s curls, letting his hand rest on his boyfriend’s neck. When Ilya met his gaze, he smiled softly at him. “Hey,” he whispered, keeping himself relaxed. “You look like you’re a million miles away. You ok?”

Ilya didn’t reply straight away, and a second later, he opened his mouth. Shane braced himself for whatever his partner would say - maybe he didn’t enjoy it, or Shane had been too noisy? But then suddenly, there was a sharp howl from outside. Ilya cursed loudly, shooting up with a look of pure fear on his face. Shane relaxed once he realised it was just a loon.

“What the fuck was that?” Ilya asked, his eyes wide. 

“A loon - come on, you must have heard one before.” Shane snickered, leaning back against the pillow. “It probably thought the noise you were making was some sort of mating call.” 

“A loon? It sounded like a fucking wolf!”

“Well it’s just a bird,” Shane laughed, reaching up for Ilya. “Come on, I’ll protect you.” 

“Stupid Canadian wolf bird…” Ilya just shook his head, a small smile gracing his face.  “Look, what you said before… I’m fine, moya lyubov.” Ilya whispered back, leaning down so he could gather Shane in his arms and hold him tight. “I do not mean to look a million miles away - I am exactly where I want to be.” 

*

Present Day

“Dude, I have a big favour to ask.” Hayden said, leaning into Shane’s space. Shane leaned back automatically, crinkling his face in slight disgust as he caught a whiff of Hayden. The game had been hard going, and Hayden was yet to hit the showers yet. “Like, a pretty big one, but I feel like you owe me.”

“You are saying a lot of words, Hayden.” Shane muttered, pulling off his final skate. “But you aren’t actually explaining anything.” Ilya had just come back from the shower, and he shouldered into Hayden to make him stagger back a bit from Shane’s space. It probably looked like Ilya was just being a bit of a dick, but Shane shot him a grateful look. 

“Fuck off, Rozanov. Anyway,” Hayden thankfully didn’t lean in again, but he did drop his voice ever so slightly. “Look… I’ve been sort of seeing this girl, real cute, called Jackie.”

“Ah, your imaginary girlfriend,” Ilya said, pulling his top over his head. Shane quickly forced himself to keep his face neutral when Hayden rolled his eyes. “You’ve told us all about her many times, but as we still have never met her, I do not believe she exists, Pike.”

“How do you put up with that, seriously?” Hayden said to Shane, trying his best to ignore Ilya, but by the way his face was going red, it wasn’t working. “Well, we had an agreement today - if our team won tonight, we were going to go to the carnival tomorrow afternoon. Like, a proper date, y’know? But I sort of, er, panicked, and I mentioned you and Ilya were going anyway, because I didn’t want to look too interested, right?”

“Oh my god,” Ilya was snickering now, not even attempting to hide the fact that he was listening in. “You are terrible at this, Hayden.” 

“Well, sorry I’m not like you two idiots and mated for life at the ripe age of six.” Hayden sneered over his shoulder at Ilya, while Shane shushed him, looking around the locker room to make sure no one else was eavesdropping. “Look, she already texted me - she was watching the game, by the way, so she is real. She said she is looking forward to seeing me tomorrow… and you guys, too.”

Shane made a face at that - firstly, Ilya had his coaching class tomorrow for the younger years, and there was no way he would miss that. Shane had been taking up running, and then he liked to have a chill out afternoon with Ilya. The idea of going to a crowded carnival, where everyone is hyped on sugar, bumping into him and yelling, and going on rides that look like they are being held together with tape and nothing else, with all that gross processed food sounded like Shane’s idea of hell. 

“I don’t know, Hayd. We kind of have plans. Wait, is she expecting us to be like…” Shane leaned in, his face a bit pink. “Like doing a double date with you guys, or are we meant to be just two friends hanging out?” 

“Well, I’ve not said anything, but Jackie isn’t stupid - she asked if she should bring girl friends for you two, and I laughed.” 

“Hayden!” Shane snapped, feeling red all over now in a mix of anger and embarrassment. “Don’t laugh!”

“What? It is funny. Though it would have been funnier trying to watch you two fumble with girls.”

“I would never fumble,” Ilya replied, tying his shoelaces now. “And anyway, it will be funny enough to watch you fumble with a girl. I cannot believe you are asking us to come as back up for your date.”

“I’m not!” Hayden snapped, crossing his arms and lowering his voice. “Look, don’t come if you can’t, I’ll say you both could no longer manage, even if that makes me look like a right creep. But have you two even been out together for a proper date? Like, ever?”

Shane and Ilya shared a thoughtful look - they did everything together, more or less. They went out for family dinners, and they went out on their bikes sometimes, still. Really, they practically lived together. It had always been like that. But had they ever actually arranged a proper date together? Well… no, they hadn’t. For Shane, it had never felt necessary. For Ilya, it had always felt like a step that would stress out Shane. Two best friends can go out on bikes, hang out, whatever. But if they went to a restaurant, dressed nicely, just the two of them? He knew Shane would never relax, feeling like everyone in the place was watching them. 

Maybe… maybe they should change that. 

“I’m going to shower,” Hayden muttered as he pulled off his gear, leaving it in a pile on the floor. “But think about it, ok? We’re meeting at two tomorrow. Just text me.”

They agonised over the offer all night, before Shane finally agreed to do the stupid double date - Hayden was, actually, a perfect excuse if anyone saw them together, because going as a group felt a lot safer than admitting you were there with each other.

So they met Hayden at the entrance of the sketchy looking carnival, the bright lights and the loud music already assaulting Shane’s senses. Shane had been reminding Ilya of their usual rules for being in public - they wouldn’t do anything that could be considered couply. Ilya had been a bit quieter than usual when he said this, but he did nod along, so Shane figured he was alright. Hayden looked pale, his eyes wide and, sweetly, he had a bouquet of flowers in his hands.

“Aw,” Ilya cooed at him as they approached. “Is this for me?”

“Oh fuck, why did I even mention this to you.” Hayden said, shaking his head. “If this is going well, I am splitting up from you two, I do not need his fucking chirping the whole time.”

“I think you are scared I am going to steal your imaginary girlfriend,” Ilya decided, a grin on his face. Shane was about to elbow to tell him to shut up, when another voice cut in.

“Sorry, you’re not my type.” Jackie said, materialising at their sides, causing Hayden to jump. She was a very pretty girl, with light brown hair that was carefully curled, and such a kind smile that Shane instantly felt at ease with her. 

“You haven’t even gotten to know me yet!” Ilya said back, though his eyes were bright with glee. “Jackie, right? Blink twice if Hayden has forced you to hang out with him. I can already tell you are much too good for him.”

“Ilya,” Shane shook his head, but he was smiling as he offered Jackie his hand. “It’s nice to finally meet you, I’m Shane.”

“Oh yeah, Hayden has told me loads about you!” Jackie grinned, shaking his hand. Ilya bet he had, and couldn’t help but snort. The noise made Jackie look at him, and her grin widened. “And lots about you, Ilya. Though I don’t think I should repeat that.”

Oh, Ilya liked her a lot. Hayden better not blow this. “Hayden, is there anything you want to give Jackie?” Ilya asked, his voice light. 

“What?” Hayden said, his face going red. “What are you trying to say, Ilya?” From that reaction, Ilya was sure there was plenty that Hayden wanted to give his not-imaginary girlfriend.

“Dude, your…” Shane gestured to the flowers in Hayden’s hands, which he then hastily handed over to Jackie, red as a tomato. 

They entered the fairground, Jackie instantly taking Hayden’s hand as they headed over to the games. Ilya couldn’t help but feel envious at that, at how easy it looked, and how no one cared. In fact, everyone here was so wrapped up in their own bubbles, Ilya was sure they wouldn’t even notice if he took Shane’s hand. Without giving it another thought, Ilya reached out and took Shane’s hand in his, starting to lace their fingers together. Before he could even hook one of their fingers together, Shane had snatched his hand back, looking around his with wide eyes. When he was sure no one had seen their two second hand holding, he shot Ilya an annoyed look. 

“What are you doing?” Shane muttered, shoving his hands firmly into his hoodie to create a barrier between him and Ilya. It stung, more than Ilya ever expected it to. 

“Nothing,” he heard himself reply, his voice sounding far away. “Never mind.” 

They stuck with Hayden and Jackie for a little while, but Hayden kept giving them signals to get them to clear off, clearly no longer needing his wingmen to help him give a girl compliments. So, they bid farewell to the couple and went off on their own. They weren’t talking much, which wasn’t that unusual, but Shane could obviously feel something was off. So, he stopped at a game called Skeeball, and nudged Ilya’s side.

“I bet I can score the most points,” Shane said, a smile on his face. “Maybe I’ll win you a prize.”

“No chance,” Ilya forced himself to laugh. They bought a game, and annoyingly, they scored exactly the same. To try and break the tie, they played again, with the same outcome. The teenager who was in charge of the game just rolled his eyes when he heard Shane say they should go again, and held out a small box of prizes. 

“Just pick something, both of you, then I can go for my break,” the teen muttered. The box of prizes were shit, and definitely not worth the money they had spent playing. But Ilya picked out a purple plastic ring, so Shane picked out a pink one. “Thanks for playing.”

As they walked away, Ilya silently held out the purple ring to Shane. Shane blinked, looking up at Ilya as if he wasn’t sure what he wanted. Ilya rolled his eyes fondly, and quickly shoved the purple ring on Shane’s pinky finger, hoping he could understand what he was hinting at. That this was what Ilya wanted with Shane, some time in the future. But of course, Shane’s worry instantly ruined that. 

“Ilya-” Shane said, slamming his hand down to his side, his voice already hitting that panicked note, but then Ilya was really rolling his eyes and walking away from him. Jeez, they couldn’t do anything in public now, could they? “Ilya? Wait up.”

Ilya did slow down ever so slightly, but made a sharp right towards the Ferris wheel. Shane made a face - he had wanted to avoid any of the rides at all cost, but Ilya was already joining the queue, so he followed him. The Ferris wheel was small, and they barely fit into the seats, but soon enough they were rising in the air… and then stopping, right at the top. Shane frowned, glancing down to the ground, where another attendant was coming up to the ride with a mop. 

“Sorry guys, someone has been sick - we’re just going to clean this and then we’ll have you moving again!” the voice called from below.

“Urgh, gross.” Shane muttered, leaning his head back against the ride. Ilya said nothing, and didn’t even seem phased that they were stranded at the top of the ride, his eyes still staring ahead. “Oh, uh, here…” Shane reached in his pocket and pulled out his own pink plastic ring, holding it out rather awkwardly to Ilya. Slowly, his boyfriend turned his head to look at it, an unimpressed look on his face. Shane couldn’t help but feel he had missed something important. “Can I put it on your finger?” 

Ilya didn’t move for a moment, before holding out his hand. Shane sent him a small, grateful smile and slid it onto Ilya’s hand. Then, feeling bold, he took hold of it. He thought that was what Ilya would have wanted, but his hand was limp in his hold. 

“Oh, so now it is ok?” Ilya muttered, looking ahead again. Shane frowned at his tone.

“What is it, Ilya? What’s wrong?” Shane asked, trying to keep his own frustration out of his voice. 

“This is what is wrong,” Ilya looked down at their hands, before sliding his own free. “These… rules, when we never used to have any. We used to hold hands all the time and you never cared, Shane. Why has it gotten so complicated, just being us?”

“It’s always been complicated,” Shane answered back, staring at Ilya. It was so hard, when he gave nothing away. “I mean, yeah, things were sort of easier when we were younger, because it’s cute when two friends hold hands. But if we do it now, people notice, and they have opinions on it.” 

“And that matters because?” Ilya asked, finally meeting his gaze. His eyes were hard, but beneath that, Shane could see the hurt. “I don’t give a fuck what people think or say about us, Shane.”

“Yeah? Well, you will care if it impacts your career.” Shane couldn’t help but snap - why were they even arguing about this? Ilya knew all this. “You know we aren’t going to get far if we’re known as the queer hockey players.”

“I don’t want to live a lie for my career,” Ilya finally said, his voice rough, like he was trying not to cry. “Not if it means I cannot live my true life with you. I couldn’t give a fuck about going professional, Shane. I mean it.”

Shane just stared at him, feeling like someone had pulled the rug from underneath his feet, or like someone had shoved from off the very top of this stupid ride that still wasn’t moving. He suddenly felt trapped, and hated it, because nothing was making sense.

“You… you don’t want to play professionally?” Shane gaped, the words sounding so wrong in his mouth. “Ilya, are you insane?”

“Insane about you, yes.” Ilya said automatically, before rubbing his eyes. “Fuck, Galina said not to do it like this.”

“Galina?” Shane tried to place the name, before it clicked. “Your mother’s therapist? You… you’ve been speaking to her?”

“Yes, because I’ve been struggling with this feeling for a while,” Ilya was admitting everything now - it was like now that he had said he had no interest in being a professional player, everything else had to come out now. “And I was struggling with how to tell you. I thought you might react badly.” 

Shane scoffed at that to cover up the hurt, and tried his best not to prove Ilya’s point, but he was so thrown off that he barely had a grasp on his own emotions. Fuck, when would this ride get moving so he could get off of it? “How long have you been thinking about this, Ilya?”

“.... Since we met up with Hunter and Kip in New York,” he admitted slowly, wincing at Shane’s gasp. “I just didn’t want to think about it too much, because we were in a good place. But when he told me about his schedule, and when I thought about never getting to see you if we joined different teams, I just knew that was not what I wanted. Shane,” he leaned in earnestly. “I love you, Shane. Not the fucking NHL, you.”

“I love you too,” Shane said automatically, but his voice was so soft he wasn’t even sure if he had said it out loud. “You… you knew you didn’t want to go pro, when we were thirteen?”

“... Da. Well, I wasn’t sure, but the more I played, the more I knew. I enjoy hockey, and I am a great player-”

“-exactly! So why don’t you-”

“-Shane, please, let me finish. I know I could go pro. I know the scouts have already noted my name. But the games aren’t giving me the same joy anymore, not when it feels like just a big lead up to some career I don’t want, not when it will keep me away from you. But I love helping out with coaching the kids, to watch them improve and be confident and enjoy the game like I used to. I think I want to do something like that.”

Shane seriously couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “You’d throw it all away… your talent, the chance to earn seriously good money, to be a famous player, to coach kids?”

“You are missing my point,” Ilya said, his voice frustrated. “I don’t give a fuck about the fame or the money, or that I’m really good at the game. Is no use to me if I am miserable, because the man I love is stuck on another team, maybe a whole other country, and I can only see him a handful of times during the year when our schedules align. I want to see my mama, your parents, without time restrictions. I don’t want to have to count down the days to see you, for just a few hours. And… and what would that even look like, Shane? Think about it; if you aren’t even comfortable holding my hand now, do we just need to act like we are friends? Or is that even too risky?” Ilya reached out and took Shane’s hand again - Shane only noticed now it was shaking. “I don’t want a career built on secrets and lies. The league isn't worth that.”

Oh, but it was to Shane. Clearly, Ilya had thought about this a lot more than he had, and now he felt so fucking stupid. He had always fantasied about his career, with joining a team and getting a Stanley Cup. Stupidly, in his head, Ilya had always been on that team. It had never even occurred to Shane that they wouldn’t be together. But Ilya was right - of course he was. They would never get drafted for the same team. They would hardly ever see each other. They would still need to pretend not to love each other. And still, Shane wasn’t ready to drop his future plans, not like Ilya was. All he had ever wanted was hockey, but now he felt like he had to choose. Fuck, he wanted to go home. 

“Shane, are you ok?”

“No,” Shane muttered, looking down at the ground again. Fuck, were they still cleaning up? Shane could hardly see, because his vision was suddenly blurry. “Why aren’t we moving yet? How long does it take to clean up some sick?”

“Shane-”

“-Do you think I’m selfish?” He suddenly asked, looking sharply at Ilya, even as the tears began to pathetically fall. “You do, don’t you? Because I… I still want my career. I want to play. I don’t want to come out, Ilya.”

Ilya flinched at that, but tightened his hold on Shane’s hand, rubbing his thumb back and forth over his knuckles. He kept catching the ring he had placed on Shane’s finger. “I don’t think you are selfish, moya lyubov. I understand, and I knew that you would still want this.”

“But what do we do?” Shane whispered, the tears relentless. “Ilya, what do we do?”

“I don’t know,” Ilya replied, feeling completely wiped out from being so honest. And he was being truthful - he had no idea how they moved forward now. “I love you so much, but I… I don’t know if I can be a secret forever. I can’t just pretend to be your friend. I just want to hold your hand again, love you openly, have a life with you… and not see you be so terrified about that.” 

“I don’t know if I can do that,” Shane muttered, nearly yelping when the ride suddenly moved. “Oh, thank fuck. Let us off, please.” Shane said once they reached the bottom. He practically tumbled out of the ride, not looking back at Ilya. “Look, I… I need to go home, ok? I’ll speak to you later.”

“Shane,” Ilya reached for him, before dropping his hand. They were back in unsafe territory, and Shane was already drawing attention with how upset he was. “... I will call later, ok?”

Shane nodded, pulling his hood up and over his head, practically running to the exit. Ilya felt his own eyes prickle with tears - why did it feel like he had just lost everything?

Chapter End Notes

Wow I convinced myself I had writers block but it turns out I just felt bad about making Ilya and Shane confront each other about what the future actually looks like. I hope you found the style of this chapter ok - it is different from the others and won't likely make an appearance again, but I was really struggling with the layout and this seemed to work best. Also in one version of this story I had Hayden knock up Jackie and they had a total teenage pregnancy - it had absolutely nothing to do with the story so that won't be making an appearance! Don't ask me why I even thought of it, I think it's just because they have so many kids I was like there is a pretty good risk Hayden would get Jackie pregnant ;_; sorry Jackie.

I also cut a scene with Svetlana here, but she will be making an appearance next time :) Also, sorry for not making a bigger deal of the "I love you" part, I feel like this is something they've probably been saying to each other since they met but Shane is doubling down on it now because he really needs Ilya to know that he is in it for life now.

So yes, Ilya has finally told Shane that he doesn't want to go professional - I have thought about this like 1000 times. Part of me is like he should go professional, not be held back by his fears, etc, but something Connor always said has stuck with me: Ilya doesn't really care about hockey, this is just something he is good at. So if we remove the reason for pursuing hockey - to escape Russia and his family, and to not give him the same drive to escape by keeping Irina alive, then what real drive would Ilya have for the brutal schedule and life professional hockey players have. Just to play with Shane isn't enough when it is more likely he wouldn't be drafted on the same team. I hope you can see my thinking here.

So sorry for the sad cliff hanger! Who doesn't love some teenage angst?!

A big thank you to everyone who has interacted with this fic so far, your comments, kudos and bookmarks are always loved. Catch you in the next chapter :D

Chapter 11: Age Sixteen

Chapter Summary

Absence makes the heart grow fonder.

Chapter Notes

It had been a tough few months since Ilya’s untimely confession to Shane about not wanting to go professional, and sadly, things hadn’t gotten any easier as time went by. Ilya was beginning to think that Shane was going to break up with him, and he just didn’t know how to tell him. It wasn’t that Shane was being mean to him, but he carried this tiredness around with him these days, that seemed to weigh down his being. He lost his usual spark, the one that was quiet and reserved for those closest to him, and just seemed to be going through the motions these days. Ilya was pretty sure it got worse when he was around, and he hated that, knowing he was the cause. It made the demons in his head get louder, telling him that he was poison to those he loved, how he rotted everything he touched. 

He had been thinking that it was coming for weeks now, and instead of growing a pair and just asking Shane if that was what was going to happen, Ilya had tried to keep things light and make everything a joke, overcompensating for their dullness. The worst part was he couldn’t help it; if they tried to talk about things seriously, like when Shane stiffly asked if he had thought about what he might like to study, instead of thinking about it and answering truthfully, he would just shrug.

“Maybe a course on what makes Canadians so boring, hm? Oh, or maybe something to do with studying space?” Ilya tried to reach for Shane at that point, even though Shane wasn’t laughing. He never did anymore.

“Space?” Shane said slowly; Ilya nodded while his brain was screaming at him to shut up.

“Da, like the planets. I am very well acquainted with Uranus,” it was a terrible joke, and an even worse pick up line. It was as bad as some of the stuff Cliff would say to girls, then be surprised when they didn’t seem flattered by it. But luckily for Ilya, he wasn’t surprised at all when Shane shoved his hands off him, scowling.

“I’m glad you are taking this seriously, Ilya.” Shane snapped, and well, that was that. 

To try and combat the overwhelming feeling that his life was starting to spiral rapidly out of control, Ilya had been going out a lot more with some of the older guys from the rink that he coached with. Boodram was great fun, actually, and he made sure that Ilya stuck to a one drink limit, because he joked that he was sure Ilya’s mama had some Russian mafia connections and would make him disappear if he let her baby get drunk. It was fun to switch off his brain for a few hours, to not think about all the what ifs that haunted his future. A guilty part of his mind reminded him that it also meant he didn’t have to think about Shane’s disappointed face for a few hours as well. He just didn’t know what to do to make this better.

The problem was that when Ilya decided to try and be serious about their plans, it somehow made it all worse. Because everything they thought about to make it work, simply didn’t. It was far too easy for one of them to pick holes in the other’s plans.

“So, if we wait until we know where you are getting drafted, I can look at schools there.”

“But what if I get drafted to an American team?” Shane had said, watching him with a frown. “You aren’t going to move to, like, Florida. You want to be close to your mum.”

Which was very true; Ilya had no desire to leave Canada. But the idea of Shane going to America by himself was an awful thought.

“So I fly back and forth,” Ilya shrugged, though he knew that was a stupid suggestion. “Is no big deal.”

“You won’t be able to afford to do that, and who is to say you’d even get into a school in Florida, or if the schools there are even good.” Shane argued back, crossing his arms. “And anyway, you’ll be too busy studying for all that travel.”

“Why the fuck are you so sure you’d be going to Florida?” Ilya snapped back. “Fuck, Shane, we don’t even know if you will be drafted!”

Shane scoffed at that, clearly hurt, which was never Ilya’s intention. “So what, now we’re doubting my skill? You know this is my fucking dream, Ilya.”

That argument had only ended with Yuna coming upstairs and telling them to cool off, with Ilya heading out with David for a while to help pick up the groceries. When he had come home, Shane’s eyes were red, but he didn’t mention the fight or the fact that they had no idea what to do, and so neither had Ilya. 

He had spoken to Galina at length about this, and had actually been a dick to her about it all - blaming her for not making things worse, not better, while she calmly reminded him that she was not here to wave a magic wand and fix all of his problems, that it was a process. Ilya had scoffed at that and told her he wished he could take it all back. 

“So let’s pretend that you never told Shane,” Galina said, watching Ilya pace back and forth in her office. “You decided to keep what you were feeling all to yourself, you let the whole incident at the fairground go. Shane has no idea what you are thinking or feeling. Do you think that Ilya would be feeling better than you do, at this moment in time?”

“The Shane in that world would still be happy,” Ilya murmured, finally slumping into the free chair. 

Galina shook her head. “That wasn’t the question I asked, Ilya. Would you feel better?”

With a sigh, Ilya shook his head. “No. I do not feel happy right now, and I still feel anxious about the future… but it was a relief to be honest to Shane, even if I hate where it has left us.”

Galina nodded, writing as she did. Ilya had offered Shane to come with him to one of his appointments, but he simply wasn’t ready for it yet. Galina had told him not to push it, not when Shane was already feeling uncertain with everything. A therapy appointment was only successful if the person wanted to be there. 

They were at their best when they weren’t actively talking about their plans and instead were tumbling into bed with each other, trying to fuck their frustrations and upset out of each other. And while it didn’t really make them feel any better about the future, Ilya found himself craving these moments more and more. Not just because having sex with Shane was amazing - it was his favourite thing to do - but because this was the only time that he felt close to his boyfriend. Outside of their bedroom, they weren’t touching as much. It was like Shane’s fear of being found out had creeped into their safe spaces and was forcing them apart. No more kissing because they just felt like it, or curling up on the couch together, or a hand finding its way under the other’s clothing just to touch their bare skin. It was as if strangers had occupied their bodies and didn’t know they were meant to be in love.

So Ilya poured all his love into Shane when they got a moment together. He felt it back from Shane, through his touch and his whispered begging for more, for it to be harder. Even when he didn’t stay in bed to cuddle, muttering about having a shower as soon as they were done. 

It was the only thing keeping Ilya going at this point - he knew that beneath it all, hidden under the upset and uncertainty, that some version of their love was still there. Even if he felt some days that Shane was going to call it quits, or that Shane couldn’t feel it, Ilya clung to that feeling like it was a safety ring in the middle of a stormy sea, keeping him afloat. Ilya would never be the one to walk away, not while that tiny, flickering spark still existed. 

*

It had been a while since the Hollanders had had to drive Irina and Ilya to the airport, and while it had never been a particularly fun activity, the mood in the car was suffocatingly sad. Svetlana’s family had moved to Boston a few weeks ago, as her father’s contract had finished with Ottawa. He had considered retirement, but signed up with Boston for two more seasons. After that, he planned to relocate back to Russia, although Svetlana was hoping to stay in the States and study. Kindly, they had invited Irina and Ilya to visit - Shane as well, but he had politely declined. The scouts had really started to notice him, and he couldn’t afford to miss practice or a game when the interest in him had really peaked. It was an easy excuse, and meant he didn’t also have to say that he was terrified that if he did go, there was a chance that all he and Ilya would do was argue. Maybe that would cause Ilya to break up with him, in Boston of all places. He just didn’t want to risk that, or ruin Ilya’s trip with his presence. 

Yuna and David were sat up front while Ilya, Shane and Irina were crammed into the back of the car. Shane was staring out the window, his face carefully emotionless and gaunt. Yuna had been worried over her son for weeks now - he had lost some weight over the past few months, from what Yuna expected was from stress. She had tried to talk to him a few times about it, but he shot her down so quickly, and got angry if she spoke about it. David had quietly told her to stop, worried that making a bigger deal out of his weight loss or disordered eating would make it worse. 

Ilya didn’t look much better. While he hadn’t lost a lot of weight, his eyes were the biggest giveaway to his inner turmoil. The bags under his eyes had steadily turned purple, his skin ashy and his curls practically limp around his face. He didn’t smile as much anymore, and Yuna missed seeing it. It was like someone had stolen the light right out of Ilya, leaving behind a quiet, uncertain person in his place. 

Yuna and Irina had tried to fill the silence, but even they had to admit defeat when the boys barely took part. They just sat like statues, their hands clasped together and resting on Ilya’s thigh. They may be physically close, but mentally, it was like they were already a hundred miles apart. 

They got out of the car, the boys automatically letting go of each other as they shuffled into the airport’s entrance. Irina did a final check to make sure they had their passports, though she was really delaying to give the boys a chance to say goodbye. 

Shane was still staring down at the floor, even though Ilya was looking at him with such a look of longing that Yuna felt like she was intruding just witnessing it. With a soft sigh, Ilya put his backpack down on the ground, and tugged Shane into a hug. Shane stiffened for a moment, before he practically went limp in his boyfriend’s arms, reaching up to hug him back. Ilya tucked his head into Shane’s neck, just for a moment so he could press a very quick kiss to the skin there, before pulling back.

“Ya budu skuchat’ po tebe,” Ilya murmured, taking a small step back. Before he could get out of Shane’s hold, however, Shane tightened his grip on Ilya’s arms, stopping him for a moment longer.

“I’ll miss you even more,” Shane said, his voice a bit choked. “Say hi to Svetlana for me.”

“I will,” Ilya promised as Shane’s hold on him dropped. “Should I bring you back some Boston Raiders merch?”

Shane forced himself to laugh, shaking his head. “No thanks.” 

They finished their round of goodbyes, Irina holding Shane in a tight hug, murmuring in his ear to take care of himself. Just as his mama headed to the check in desk, Ilya felt that he couldn’t walk away from his boyfriend yet. He remembered the first time he had to do this, all those years ago, when Shane looked just as heartbroken that they were being split up for the summer. 

“Ya tebya lyublyu,” Ilya whispered, his expression one of worry. He had been desperate to get out of Ottawa, to escape from his worries for a bit, but now being faced with the reality of leaving Shane behind while things still weren’t good? It felt like a bad idea. “It’s just a week, Shane.” 

“Ya tozhe tebya lyublyu,” Shane replied back with a sad smile, even as Ilya’s heart skipped a beat when he replied in Russian. “I know. Maybe this will be good for us, a bit of distance.” 

“Right,” Ilya nodded, though his stomach twisted at the thought. This would be good practice, maybe. For the bleak future they had to look forward to. Ilya glanced over his shoulder, before looking back at Shane. “I better go.”

“You better,” Shane said, the smile still forced on his face. Ilya nodded once more, desperate to pull Shane in for a goodbye kiss, to let him feel how much he loved him through his touch. But he couldn’t, not here. Instead, he quickly reached up and unclasped his mother’s necklace. Shane, of course, was shaking his head, knowing exactly what Ilya was doing. “Ilya, no, don’t. That’s yours; well, your mums, I can’t take it.”

“She gave it to me to wear whenever we are apart,” Ilya reminded Shane, who stood still as Ilya clasped the necklace around his neck. “We aren’t apart on this trip, but you and I are, so… there. Keep it safe for me, da?”

“I will,” Shane breathed out, looking down at the crucifix around his neck. “I promise.”

“Good.” He stood there for a moment, hoping Shane would say more, but the silence stretched for too long. So he forced himself to walk over to his mama and told himself not to look back. If he saw Shane getting upset, he would never board the plane. 

It was so hard to know you loved someone, but that love wasn’t enough to solve all of your problems. 

Ilya was pretty quiet on the flight over, sharing one of his headphones with his mother so they could both listen to his music - it saved him having to talk about how awful he was currently feeling. He tried to not let the mood follow him to Boston, but every time he tried to not think about it, his mind would instantly leap back to Shane’s upset face, and so the feeling firmly stayed.

Seeing Svetlana did, however, raise his spirits ever so slightly. As their parents greeted one another, he picked her up in his hug, spinning her in a circle as she laughed and hit him on the back.

“Put me down!” she complained, though she was only faking it. When he did, she pressed two kisses to his cheeks, a grin on her face. “I’m so glad you could come! It is so weird not having you in the same city anymore. Now, don’t be mad, but I actually have a surprise for you.”

Stupidly, Ilya thought she was going to say Shane had actually flown out and somehow gotten there before them, but he mentally shook his head at that absurd thought. “What is it?” Ilya asked, as she dragged him into the house. 

“It’s not a what, it’s a who.” Svetlana said, wiggling her eyebrows as they came into the large living room. “Ilya’s here!”

The teenager that was in the living room must have been as tall as himself, but had straight dark brown hair, which was cut to show off his sharp features. His eyes were dark too, with a glint in them that Ilya could only describe as mischievous, and a small smile on his plump lips. A part of Ilya’s brain realised that he knew this person, but he couldn’t place who they were, or how Ilya had met them.

“Hello, Ilya. Do you remember me?” the boy asked in Russian; as soon as he spoke, his tone light, that it clicked for him.

“Sasha?” Ilya raised his eyebrows, before looking at Svetlana who nodded, biting her lip. “What the fuck are you doing in Boston?”

“Papa is still good friends with Svetlana’s family,” Sasha answered, walking over to them, his eyes never leaving Ilya’s face. “When he told my father this was going to be his final contract playing in the NHL, he thought it would be good of us to come over and wish him luck.”

“I thought it would be a nice surprise,” Svetlana said, nudging Ilya. “You two haven’t seen each other in what, four years?”

“Five,” Sasha corrected her softly. “The word in Moscow is that your mama had run off with another man, and you refused to leave her side, and that you decided you wanted this man to be your papa now. That’s why you never come home.”

Ilya couldn’t help but snort; he wished his mama had done all that. “I’m sure my father acted completely heart broken over that,” he said dryly. 

Sasha cocked his head to the side, smirking. “Oh yes, so sad that he’s already gotten remarried.”

“Sasha,” Svetlana hissed as their parents came into the room, joined by Sasha’s father - Ilya’s old coach. That man had been a brutal teacher, and Ilya was going to do everything he could to not discuss his change of career with him, because he would never hear the end of it. Plus, he didn’t want his own father knowing about it just yet. “You shouldn’t have said that.”

“Why not? Ilya can handle it,” Sasha’s gaze was burning a hole into Ilya, but it wasn't a threatening look, not like ones he got on the ice from the opposition. Instead, he seemed entirely interested in how Ilya would handle it. “Besides, once my papa gets drunk, he will be speaking about it loud enough for Grigori Rozanov to hear about it back home.”

That did cause the teenagers to laugh, and before they got a chance to talk further, Ilya was being pulled into a strong handshake from his old coach, as Sasha was tugged into a hug from his mother. 

They had dinner at Svetlana’s beautiful new home, all Russian dishes which had Ilya feeling a bit homesick for a place that hadn’t been home in a long time. Sure enough, Sasha’s papa got rather drunk and was starting to talk about Grigori’s new wife, but it didn’t phase Irina. In fact, she was firmly telling them all to look out for her. 

“I was lucky, to have a friend notice that I was in a bad place,” Irina said, glancing over at Sergei, who tilted his head in acknowledgement. “I don’t know what would have happened if I had never left.”

“I would have gotten your son onto the World Juniors team for Russia,” his coach mumbled, his face red from the alcohol. “Not one of the little shits I teach now has anything close to his skill.”

Sasha had quickly ushered his father to bed after that, and while the table split up and headed to the living room, Svetlana had pulled Ilya away. 

“So, we’ve not had a chance to talk,” Svetlana said, closing the door to the guest room he and his mother were staying in. She had snuck them two glasses of wine, handing one to Ilya the moment he sat on the bed. “How is everything with Shane? I thought I would have to tell you off for texting him the whole time, but you’ve not even checked your phone, or mentioned him.”

“Well, I am hardly going to talk about my boyfriend in front of the whole table, am I?” Ilya grumbled, sipping the wine. “And it would be rude to text with company.” 

In reality, he had only texted Shane to confirm they had arrived safely, and Shane had replied, saying he hoped they had a good time. What else was there to say, at this moment? Svetlana could sense there was more behind it, because of course she could. “Ilya, are you guys ok?” she asked, her voice full of concern.

Ilya sighed, and began to tell her everything. From not wanting to go professional, to the stupid way he had blurted it out to Shane, to how shit things have become between them. He finally admitted his worry over Shane breaking up with him, which had Svetlana shaking her head, her curls bouncing as she did so.

“Ilya, no. Shane won’t ever do that,” Svetlana argued, putting her empty wine glass next to Ilya’s. 

“Svetlana, you don’t know how bad it has gotten between us.” Ilya murmured, swallowing thickly. “I really don’t know what I am going back to, if there will be anything to go back to.”

Svetlana pulled him into her arms, whispering promises that things would be alright. Neither of them noticed that Svetlana hadn’t closed the door properly - it was open, just a crack. And outside in the hallway, returning from sending his father to bed, was Sasha, listening intently. 

*

“Darling, aren’t you going to eat a bit more?” Yuna asked, a frown on her face. Shane was already up with a plate, scraping his leftovers into the bin. “You must be starving after the game.” 

“No, I’m good,” Shane said; truthfully, he hadn’t felt hungry in weeks. Food was practically tasteless to Shane, as were most things. Unless it was hockey or sex. Those were the only two things that he felt he had some control over these days. Yuna shot David a look while Shane wasn’t looking, hoping he could clock their son’s apparent disinterest in food. David gave her a slight nod, confirming he had caught it. 

“Did you have fun today?” David asked, trying not to frown at Shane’s half-hearted shrug. 

“Yeah, I guess. Why?”

“You just didn’t seem to be ok out there.” His dad admitted. 

“What do you mean?” Shane asked, frustrated. Why couldn’t his dad just spit out whatever he was trying to say? “We won, so of course I’m ok.”

“If you say so…. you know, at that last game, Ilya seemed to have fun,” David’s tone was light, even though he knew he was starting a dangerous conversation. Shane was still very prickly over discussing Ilya and hockey. 

“We didn’t even win that game,” Shane said, leaving his plate in the sink instead of washing it. Neither of his parents called him out on it. That game had been one of their worst, and Shane hated that it could be because their chemistry on the ice was changing too. 

“I know, son,” David said carefully. “But sometimes winning isn’t everything.” What David really wanted to say was that Shane didn’t seem to have any fun today at all, even with the win, but that felt like it would be a step too far when he already knew Shane was feeling fragile. 

He was right, because instantly the urge to snap back that actually, yes it was was on the tip of Shane’s tongue. “Oh well, as long as Ilya was having fun,” Shane muttered under his breath instead. 

He always found unexpected change difficult, and this one had been particularly hard. It wasn’t like he was going to force Ilya to change his mind and suddenly want to get drafted, he wasn’t a horrible person. But it did piss him off how quickly everyone else seemed to accept that Ilya wasn’t interested in making a career out of hockey anymore, as if they always knew this was going to happen. Even his mum, the most hockey obsessed person he knew, had said she was excited to see what Ilya decided to do, as if hockey hadn’t just lost a generational talent. It made his reaction to Ilya at the fairground feel entirely unreasonable, almost childish… and, it made him feel completely excluded.

If Ilya had been thinking about this since he was thirteen, why hadn’t he said anything? They were meant to be partners in everything. Shane never kept secrets from Ilya, even if they were embarrassing or upsetting. And Shane had spoken to Ilya about this before, when he purposefully wouldn’t tell him things about his dad or Russia. Shane wanted to be there for the difficult conversations, even if it upset him. He wanted his voice to add value to Ilya’s life, the way his voice did to Shane. 

Instead, he had confided in a stranger, probably saying that Shane was a shit boyfriend since he hadn’t picked up on all the signals Ilya had most likely been sending him for years. He was definitely going to be saying that Shane was a shit boyfriend for continuing to care about being out and having a career in the NHL. 

And yeah, Shane felt like a shit boyfriend, but he was firmly hiding behind his defence that Ilya had never once thought to inform him of the rather big change of plans that would affect both of their lives. His defensiveness was, admittedly, making him second guess Ilya. If he could keep something so big from Shane for years, what else was he hiding? Or worse, faking? 

He felt his stomach twist at the thought, and was glad he hadn’t finished his dinner, otherwise he might be throwing it back up. 

“Shane,” his mother’s voice had that warning tone to it. “You can’t stay angry at Ilya forever.”

“I’m not,” he snapped, turning around to face his mum, a flash of anger pulsing through him. “Fuck, why am I the one always in the wrong right now?” 

“No one is saying that, Shane.” His dad said, trying to jump in before a full blown argument happened. Shane and Yuna were far too alike when it came to arguing, and it got them nowhere. “We just don’t like seeing you upset and not being able to help you.”

“If you want to help me, just… just stop making me feel like the bad guy!” Shane said, his voice getting louder. “I’m sorry I can’t handle change as quickly as you guys, but pretending that Ilya not wanting to get drafted is a great thing is not helping me. No one seems to think it sucks, apart from me, so I can’t talk to anyone about how I feel without someone trying to put a positive spin on it, like there is one! And mum, being told to stop feeling a certain way doesn’t help. I was so excited for our future together, and now it feels like it’s all been taken away from me.”

“Why?” Yuna asked, trying to keep her tone calm. “Because of this one change?”

“Because as much as Ilya says he doesn’t want our time to be limited together, it still will be.” Shane said, crossing his arms. “If I get drafted, I could end up anywhere. Ilya will stay in Ottawa, or go to University in some other city, and we still won’t see each other. And then, he’ll meet someone with a stable schedule, who has time for a proper relationship and isn’t too fucking scared to be out, and then-”

“-Shane,” David cut in, standing up from the table. “Shane, take a deep breath.”

And fuck, it wasn’t until his dad said it that he realised needed it. He sucked in air, rubbing his chest over the panic that felt was curdling in there, the real reason that he was so upset. Because in all honesty, it didn’t matter that Ilya didn’t want to go professional - it didn’t change the very obvious fact that their relationship was going to dramatically change, and not for the better. And there was nothing Shane could do about it.

Before he knew it, he was surrounded by his parents, their arms wrapping around him like an anchor point. He couldn’t see out of the cocoon they had him in, and finally, he let himself cry about it all in the safety of their arms. He was glad that they didn’t try and make him feel better, or try to be positive. He just wanted them to share in his misery, just this once. 

Over in Boston, Ilya was trying his best to get over his gloom and just enjoy spending time with Svetlana - and, well Sasha too. They did all the tourist stuff, of course, and got a tour of the Boston Raider’s training facilities, but also made a point to look at some of the colleges Boston had to offer. Not only was Svetlana sure she would end up staying here to study, but Sasha admitted that he was hoping to get out of Russia, too.

“It would be good to see more of the world, not just what fucking Russia has to offer,” Sasha said, when they were all smoking the cigarettes he had stolen from his dad. “Papa won’t care - I have no interest in ice hockey, so what use am I to him?” Sasha stubbed out his cigarette, his eyes bright on Ilya. “What about you, Ilya? Would you study in Boston?”

“Not if you two fuckers are here,” Ilya replied, pleased it got a laugh. “I’ll get nothing done.” He had told Sasha earlier in the week that he planned to study, and Sasha seemed weirdly happy with his response, but he supposed it was probably nice to imagine getting out of Russia. Ilya had been lucky, after all. And really, the flight from here to Ottawa hadn’t taken long at all. Perhaps America wasn’t completely off the options list, especially if Shane moved here.

Fuck, if Shane still even wanted him to move with him. They had barely text since Ilya had arrived, just daily check-ins. Ilya was missing him like crazy, but the lack of messages from Shane made him pretty sure that feeling wasn't reciprocated. 

They headed back to Svetlana’s for dinner; tomorrow, Sasha and his papa were heading back to Moscow, so they were having a rather large celebration tonight to see them off. Ilya had left his phone in his room, and had snuck off during the night to go and check on it, half hoping Shane had messaged him. But when he checked it, there was no response to his last text, asking how he got on at practice. He tried to force the disappointed feeling down, telling himself that Shane could simply be busy, but that led his thoughts down a horrible path of wondering who he could be busy with. 

Someone cleared their throat from behind him, and Ilya nearly dropped his phone in surprise. He spun around, and exhaled when he saw it was just Sasha, who had a bottle of champagne in his hands, which he waved invitingly over at Ilya. 

“Want some? I don’t think Sergei will notice it’s missing.” Sasha offered, grinning when Ilya took the bottle.

“I don’t think champagne is meant to be drunk straight from the bottle,” Ilya muttered, but tilted it back, the sharp bubbles filling his mouth. He handed it back as he swallowed, but Sasha didn’t take a drink of his own, and instead seemed to watch Ilya swallow. 

“Were you expecting a call from someone?” Sasha asked, gesturing at Ilya’s phone. Ilya automatically glanced down at it, as if expecting to see Shane’s name light up his phone. 

“Ah, no.” Ilya said, shaking his head. “Just checking in on things at home.”

Sasha kicked the door shut behind him, putting down the bottle and sitting down on Ilya’s bed, a contemplating look on his face. “By home, do you mean Shane?” 

Ilya froze at the mention of his boyfriend, his eyes snapping to Sasha’s face. “Did… did Svetlana say something?” Ilya asked, keeping his tone steady. 

Sasha shook his head. “No, I overheard you talking about some guy called Shane. I figured he wasn’t just a friend, but you didn’t sound happy about things.”

“We’re just…” Ilya paused, unsure how much he wanted to say to Sasha. He didn’t think Sasha would out him, or anything - this past week, he was convinced that Sasha might actually be gay. But still, he was so used to not being able to talk about this with anyone outside of his very small circle of trusted people, that it felt strange. 

“It’s ok,” Sasha said, holding up his hands. “You don’t owe me any explanation. I just wanted to know if you were ok. I don’t like seeing you upset.” 

Ilya looked away, glancing back down at his silent phone. “We’re going through a rough patch,” Ilya admitted, though it hurt to do so. “I’m struggling with keeping us a secret, but he wants to go professional in hockey. He’s scared if we don’t hide, his career won’t happen, which I completely understand. But it’s not easy, thinking about how long that could be. We used to be very open with our affection, and I guess I am sort of missing it.”

Sasha nodded, distractedly playing with the top button of his shirt until it popped open. “I understand, Ilya. A guy like you shouldn’t be forced into the shadows - you are very kind, funny, and very handsome.” Ilya snorted at that, but Sasha continued on. “It’s not all about Shane, you know. He should be showing you off.”

“That’s not Shane’s style, exactly.” Ilya replied pointlessly. “You know how it is, Sasha - ice hockey has the same attitude as Russia, except it hides it better behind fancy words like inclusivity and promises to do better. I just wish we wouldn’t let an establishment like that control our lives, you know?” 

“Yeah,” Sasha said softly, letting the room fall into silence. He reached out for the champagne, and took another swing of it, offering it to Ilya who did the same. “You know, I really missed you, when you stopped your summer visits. I would ask Svetlana about you all the time; I think she found it really annoying.”

“Oh yeah?” Ilya glanced at Sasha, a small smile on his face. Even if Sasha hadn’t magically solved his and Shane’s current problems, it had been nice to be honest with another person about his relationship and for it not to end in disaster. 

“Mhm,” Sasha hummed, shuffling until his thigh was pressed directly against Ilya’s. “I kept hoping that you would just show up again, but of course you didn’t. I would wonder all the time about what you would look like, as you grew up.” His tongue darted out to lick his lips. “You look better than I could have ever imagined.”

Suddenly, Sasha was leaning in, his eyes fluttering shut. Ilya didn’t move for a moment, his brain too busy shouting what the fuck is going on at him, before he moved his head at the last second, Sasha’s pursed lips landing on his cheek instead. He jumped to his feet to get some distance between them, exhaling loudly, before he began to laugh. He was aware it probably made him look absolutely insane, but once he started, he couldn’t stop, his shoulders actually shaking with the effort. 

He hadn’t laughed like that in a long, long time and it actually hurt his insides. Before he knew it, his eyes were wet with tears, rolling down his cheeks like an overflowing tap with no end in sight. It wasn’t that he was mocking Sasha for trying to kiss him, even though it probably looked that way to the rather disgruntled teen still sitting on the bed. No, it was just that Ilya had sudden clarity about Shane.

Because it didn’t matter where Shane went in the world - whether they were a few miles apart or separated by hundreds, if they were out or not… it just didn’t matter. They were so busy worrying over how the future looked, and why? Because they were completely gone for one another, and they had been idiots to think that not being by each other's sides constantly would change that. Sasha just showed him that there were other options out there, but it didn’t even occur to Ilya to explore that. Because he simply wasn’t interested in anyone else, he only wanted his boring, glassing wearing, hockey obsessed boyfriend with a weak backhand. Shane was the only one for him, and he was worth the wait. 

“Sorry,” Sasha said stiffly as his laughter died down into small chuckles. “I shouldn’t have done that.” 

“Thank you, Sasha.” Ilya said, a relieved smile breaking out on his face. 

Sasha, trying his best not to pout at the rejection, sent him a confused look. “Thank you for what?”

“For helping me realise what I want,” Ilya replied, grabbing the champagne bottle, tipping it back. He reached out to drag Sasha up, squeezing his arm to show that there were no hard feelings. “Come on, let’s rejoin the party before Svetlana starts looking for us.”

Back in Ottawa, Shane was playing Call of Duty with Hayden online, his dinner that he had taken up to his room sat cold and untouched on his desk. So far, the game was acting as a good distraction from the lack of Ilya around him. It had only been a few days, but they had barely been texting - Shane was desperate to give Ilya space to enjoy his visit with Svetlana, without being bogged down with Shane’s issues. But it had been so difficult, not to pick up his phone and call him, to cry down the phone that he missed him so much and was so, so scared about what was going to happen. 

“So, Ilya is back in like, two days?” Hayden asked him through his headset, before swearing loudly as his character was sniped. “Shit! Revive me Shane, revive me-”

“I’m coming!” Shane hissed, trying to be mindful that a sniper had nearly taken out Hayden. “And yeah, he is.” He tried to sound nonchalant, but in reality, he had set a countdown on his phone to the exact time Ilya’s flight would leave Boston. 

“Have you decided what you guys are going to do?” Hayden said, his character standing up just as Shane saved him, only to get shot again. “Oh, you motherfucker.” 

“It’s not up for me to decide,” Shane muttered, dutifully saving Hayden again. “It’s just a lot, y’know? I didn’t see this coming.”

“But dude, how not? Even if Ilya wanted to be drafted, it would be super unlikely you’d get the same team.” Hayden reminded him; Shane had half a mind to shoot Hayden’s character, because yes, he got it, he had been stupid to imagine this happy world where he and Ilya went on to win the Stanley Cup in the same team. “Your worries aren’t unique, you know. If I get drafted, Jackie and I might end up in different cities!”

“I get that, but me and Ilya haven’t been apart like, our whole lives.” Shane replied back, trying not to sound grumpy. “I remember being at hockey practice, not really making friends but wishing I could, and then he just… appeared by my side. He couldn’t speak a word of English, or French, but it didn’t matter. We got on from the moment we saw each other.” Shane exhaled, his eyes not leaving the screen even though he really wanted to check his phone to see if Ilya had reached out. “If I get drafted, I feel like I’m going into it completely alone.”

“Well, that’s just not true.” Hayden replied, though they both stopped talking when they were suddenly surrounded by the enemy. “We’re all still going to be there for each other, and you are mad if you don’t think Ilya is going to do everything he can to be by your side, or as close to it as possible. Fuck, I’m low on ammo.”

“Ilya shouldn’t run around after me, though,” Shane said, as they loaded up on bullets. “I want him to be happy.”

“Trust me dude, he’s happiest when he is running around after you.” Hayden snorted. “He just wants the ability to do that, y’know?”

“But what if he meets someone else?” Shane asked, while his character was shot by another fucking sniper. The fact that they managed to shoot him directly though the heart was bitterly ironic. “If he goes to a University, he’s going to meet someone better suited for him.”

“Ugh, are you seriously going to make me say nice things about your stupid boyfriend?” Hayden groaned as his character was also killed. “Shane, he is disgustingly in love with you. I mean it. You are both so head over heels for each other that you cannot see that you idiots are the answer to your current problems.”

“What do you mean?” Shane asked, pretty convinced that whatever Hayden was on about had actually been Jackie’s original thought, because Hayden usually wasn’t this clued into relationship talk. 

“Look, it comes down to this - if you get drafted, and have some amazing career in the NHL, will it all feel worth it without having Ilya at your side?” Hayden asked, in that firm way of his that had Shane genuinely pausing. 

Because would it be? Maybe he won all the awards, became a captain and get whatever team he joined to the playoffs; maybe he could even win the Stanley Cup. But if Ilya wasn’t there in the crowd, with his parents and Irina, cheering him on or waiting for him at home, that smile on his face that said so much more than any words could ever say, would any of that even matter?

Shane knew it didn’t. He wanted all of that, of course, but not at the cost of the love of his life. He told Hayden all that, which had his best friend gagging down the mic to him, and then telling him very firmly that if he wasn’t Shane’s best man at his and Ilya’s wedding, he would riot. 

They finally called it quits around midnight, when Yuna had appeared at his door and threatened to take his xBox away for being so loud. He said goodnight to Hayden and got himself ready for bed, tiptoeing from the bathroom back to his room to avoid his mother’s glare. 

Before he switched the lamp off, he couldn’t help but look over at the framed photo of himself and Ilya that he had placed on his bedside table. They were tiny and beaming in their hockey gear. It was crazy for Shane to think that that photo was taken ten years ago, when they could barely speak a word to each other, but just knew that they were destined to be friends. He wondered what that version of Ilya and Shane would say to them right now. They would probably call them both silly and tell them to just kiss and make up. He smiled softly at the thought, and without thinking, he opened his bedside table drawer. 

Inside it was an old hockey book he had gotten years ago, which he wasn’t really looking for. It was what he had tucked carefully into the pages that was important. He found the first lily petal, carefully taken apart and dried before being carefully put between the pages. They were from the flowers that Ilya had given him when he had gotten that concussion after Cliff rammed him on the ice. He flipped a few pages until he found the next item he had hidden in the book. This one he pulled out, studying the faded photo of the Red Square, with Saint Basil’s Cathedral in the distance. The postcard had been crumpled when Ilya had given it to him nine years ago, but Shane had treasured the first gift he had gotten from him - he still did. He let his fingers brush over the picture, remembering the relief he had felt when Ilya returned to him from Russia.

It had always been difficult, those summers apart. But they had survived it - even if some days had been hard, or if the distance felt like it was too much. Because they always knew that, at the end of it they would be together, and it would be like nothing had changed. If anything, the distance only made them stronger and more devoted to each other. 

The two rings they had won at the fairground were still exactly where he had left them, usually hidden under the hockey book but currently lying in plain sight. He lifted them out now, placing them both in the palm of his hand even as he felt his heart was being squeezed. The necklace around his neck seemed to burn where it lay against his chest, as if trying to wake up his heart to what it already knew.  

Shane wanted to hit himself, because why had he let himself become such an idiot about this? He was looking at evidence of their love for one another, which wasn’t going to suddenly change just because they wouldn’t see each other every day. And besides, this time would be easier - they could call each other, and they could Skype. If he could survive weeks of no contact when Ilya had had to go to Russia, then they could do this.

“I love you so much,” he whispered to the rings, wishing his boyfriend was here to hear him say it. “And I’m so sorry, for not being a better support to you. We’re going to make this work, because I refuse to let us fall apart over this. This all means nothing with you, Ilya.”

A voice in his head that sounded like Ilya told him that he should probably wait until Ilya was actually back to say all those things. So Shane carefully put back the rings, and the book, and looked over their photo together one last time. He wondered where they would be in the next ten years, but for once, it was a hopeful thought. 

Before he finally went to sleep, he grabbed his phone and opened his chat with Ilya. He didn’t think twice about texting him this time. 

Shane

I hope you’ve had a good time in Boston, but I can’t wait for you to come home :)

*

There was a permanent smile on Ilya’s face the last two days of his trip to Boston. He never bothered to tell Svetlana about Sasha attempting to kiss him, and genuinely wished him well when he left with his father to catch their flight. He had made the most of his time with his best friend, and he was going to miss her terribly, but they were already making plans to catch up again. 

“And bring Shane next time,” Svetlana said, patting Ilya’s chest as their taxi pulled up. “No excuses, Rozanov.”

He was practically bouncing on his feet as they boarded the plane back to Ottawa. His mother picked up his complete mood change. “You seem happier,” his mama said as they settled in their seats. “Are you looking forward to going home?”

“Yes,” Ilya replied honestly as he pulled out his phone, grinning when he saw Shane had messaged him; he had a game tonight, so it would probably just be David picking them up from the airport, but then they were having a big family dinner together. Ilya had already tentatively asked if he could stay over, which Shane had eagerly replied confirming he could. They had agreed that they had a lot to talk about, but that it could wait until tomorrow, after they had gotten a good night's sleep. 

Ilya

Good luck moya lyubov, score a hat trick for me <3 

Shane

No promises! Have a safe flight home :) <3 

As the plane began to take off, he gave his mother his iPod and headphones, focusing instead on exactly what he wanted to say to Shane once they landed. He looked out the window, watching as the sunset changed the sky into a red haze. He wanted to make it clear to Shane that he could be comfortable with them not telling the world they were a couple, maybe until Shane got past his rookie year in whatever team he ended up joining. He had no doubt in his mind that Shane’s skill on the ice would mean that his team would keep him, even if they weren’t exactly thrilled with the person he fell in love with. Maybe, if he found people on the team he could trust, they could know first. Test the waters that way. 

It couldn’t be forever - Ilya didn’t think he would manage that. But it didn’t have to be right now, and Ilya was more than ok with that. 

He was daydreaming about going to Shane’s games in his jersey, and getting totally ahead of himself as he tried to work out what the press would call him (he wasn’t really a WAG, but he would happily take the label if that was what they gave him) when the plane was suddenly hit really bad turbulence. The whole aircraft seemed to shake with it, and instantly, the seatbelt signs came on overhead. Irina pulled out her headphones, sending Ilya a wide eyed look. 

“Is ok,” Ilya was already telling her, even as he buckled up. “Just bad turbulence-”

Even as he said it, the plane practically shook again, before suddenly dropping. Everyone screamed at the sudden descent, and Ilya put his arm in front of his mother to stop her slamming into the chair in front of her. Ilya looked around wildly, trying to understand what the fuck was happening. The pilot’s voice crackled over the speaker, but in the panic, Ilya could hardly hear him. Did he say something about the engine, or the wing? 

“What is happening?” Irina shrieked as the plane tried to stabilise, but Ilya could hardly hear him over the blood rushing in his ears. The oxygen masks fell into his vision, causing another round of screams, and before he could blink Irina was forcing it over his face, tightening it until the strings were cutting into the side of his face. 

Ilya realised with terrifying clarity that there was a good chance they weren’t getting off this flight alive. It poured over him like icy water, as if his body was trying to freeze him, to not let him struggle at the inevitable. He only snapped out of the feeling when he realised that it meant he would never see Shane again. 

Shane, the love of his life, the person he wanted to marry one day, would never see him again. He had just been fantasising about going to his future games, cheering him on, and all of a sudden that future was being taken away from him. Before he could think, he had his phone out, gripping it so tightly so it didn’t fall out of his hands with the way the plane was shaking. He wasn’t even sure if it would reach him, but he had to try. He had to let Shane know his feelings, to not let the words die with him. 

Ilya

You are the best thing in my life.

I love you. Always. Maybe from the first time I saw you, the boy with the stars on his face.

I am only thinking about you right now. A million memories. Thank you for those. 

Whatever happens, I am with you. Safe in your heart. I believe it. 

It didn’t feel like enough, but the plane turned sharply to the left, and his phone flew out of his hand and onto the ground. He wouldn’t get a chance to look for it. His mother had broken out into prayer, her Russian so quick that the words blurred together, but Ilya joined her, praying to whoever was listening that they would survive this, and that Shane would be ok if they didn’t.

“I love you, mama.” Ilya said, grabbing hold of her hand and linking their fingers together. “Thank you, for everything.”

“Ilyusha,” Irina wailed, before they were told to brace for impact. 

*

It was the first time in a long time that Shane had felt happy being out on the ice, and he knew that it showed in his gameplay. He had managed to get a hat trick, as per Ilya’s request, and even though his body ached, he was still full of energy. His dad had left halfway through the game to head to the airport, which hopefully meant by the time he got out of here, Ilya would already be back home.

Fuck, he couldn’t wait to see him! 

Once he was showered and changed, he turned on his phone to text Ilya about his hat trick and to let him know he was heading home, when his phone buzzed with four notifications from his boyfriend. He looked over the texts Ilya had sent him, a confused look on his face. They were very sweet, sure, but a bit odd. No, not odd… just out of place. He didn’t know what Ilya meant. He was about to reply when the changing room burst open. His coach was there, a worried look on his face. 

“Shane, can you come out here? Your parents need to talk to you.”

He did as he was asked, pocketing his phone with a frown on his face - because sure enough, there was his dad, while his mum stood back, her phone to her ear.

“Dad?” Shane came to stand next to him, an edge of worry creeping into his voice when he took in his shaky his dad looked. “What are you still doing here? Weren’t you going to pick up Ilya?”

His dad swallowed at that, before gesturing for Shane to head into his coach’s empty office. “I did go, Shane, but there was… an incident, on Ilya and Irina’s flight. Airport security had me turn my car around.”

“What?” Shane frowned, hating how his palms were getting sweaty. “What happened?”

“We aren’t sure yet,” his dad said softly, placing a hand on his shoulder. “All we know so far was that their plane was reported to have engine failure, and had to make an emergency landing. But-”

Shane was already shaking his head, unable to hear anything other than “engine failure” and “emergency landing”. He gasped loudly when he realised that this is why Ilya had texted him that. Oh god, Ilya. 

He shrugged off his dad’s hold and reached for his mobile with a shaking hand, calling Ilya. It rang out. He tried again. Straight to voicemail again. Shane practically flinched when he heard Ilya’s voice, telling him not to leave a message because he’d never listen to it. He called again.

“This is Ilya-”

He hung up, and tried again.

“This is Il-”

Again.

“This-”

“Shane,” his dad took his phone away from his ear, a worried look on his pale face. “Shane, stop it. Listen to me, for a second.”

“He’s not picking up,” Shane said instead, tears rolling down his cheeks. “Dad, why isn’t he picking up? Oh my god, he can’t be, dad, I was going to marry him one day, do you know that? This isn’t happening, this isn’t fucking happening. I’ll give up hockey, I’ll never go on the ice again if it means he is ok, please-”

“Shane,” his dad grabbed his shoulders, holding him steady even though his own eyes were wet. “Shane, he’s ok. Your mum just got Irina on the phone - everything is ok. Ilya is a little bruised but that is all. They are still at the airport, just getting checked out by the medical team. Ilya lost his phone on the plane, that is why he isn’t picking up. Breathe, Shane.” 

Shane tried to, he really did, but he could hardly take in air as he sobbed loudly, collapsing into his dad’s arms. His heart was beating so fast in chest, and he was pretty sure he was ready to throw up. It was terrifying, how quickly things could change - in a matter of seconds, Shane was sure he had lost the most important thing in his life. All he could think about was how stupid they had been, fighting these past few months, when things could change in the blink of an eye.

He would never take for granted his time with Ilya again, not ever. If he had to choose between his career and his partner, he knew who he would pick, a million times over. 

Yuna appeared at the door, her hair a mess that meant she had been pulling her fingers through it, her mascara ran down her cheeks. But she smiled, when she saw Shane, and held out her hand to him. 

“Let’s go and get them, darling. They have been cleared and don’t need further treatment.” 

The drive to the airport was tense. Yuna had joined Shane in the back of the car, hugging him to her side and petting his hair as tears continued to stream down his face. He was silent except for tiny hitches in his breathing, his body shaking every so often. His mind was racing as he realised he had been very, very close to having no future with Ilya at all. He wasn’t sure he would be ok until he saw Ilya in front of him.

He was going to tell Ilya that he would always come first, no matter what. 

They parked, and the Hollanders rushed into the arrivals area. It  was like chaos inside, with so many people milling around, families being reunited and even a few reporters from the local papers, speaking to what Shane assumed had been passengers on the flight. He scanned their faces, but he couldn’t see Ilya or Irina. His heart was beginning to race again, thanks to the crowd and the adrenaline, and just when he began to feel hopeless, his dad made them stop. 

“There,” David said, pointing into the crowd. Shane’s neck snapped up, looking desperately towards where his father was pointing. He saw no one for a moment, just a sea of people, but then there was a gap. 

“Ilya,” Shane choked out, breaking out of his mother’s hold. He broke out into a run, fresh tears rolling down his cheeks. “Ilya!”

Ilya looked up just in time, his arms opening wide to capture Shane into a hug, stumbling back with the impact of it. His shout had made people look and stare, but Shane just didn’t care, not when he could hold his boyfriend again. He looked up at him, reaching up and cupping Ilya’s face in his hands, trying to see that he was ok. Ilya looked a bit pale, but he was here, whole and alive, and smiling down at Shane, even as his own eyes watered.

“Sweetheart,” Ilya murmured, tightening his arms around Shane’s waist. “I am so sorry for scaring you. They only just managed to find my phone and give it back to me.”

“Don’t be sorry,” Shane replied, a wobbly smile on his face. Ilya is here, he is ok, he’s alive. “Are you ok? Your mum, where is she?”

“She’s with your parents,” Ilya replied, leaning down to press his forehead against Shane’s, unable to help himself. “We’re both ok, a little bruised, a little shaken up. It didn’t look good up there. That's why I sent you those texts… I didn’t want to risk you not knowing how I felt about you.” 

Shane felt fresh tears race down his face, but this time Ilya reached up with one hand to brush them away, shushing him softly. “But you could have… you might have never known how I feel about you,” Shane said, his voice thick with emotion. “You wouldn’t know how sorry I am that I’ve been so difficult these past few months. How excited I am to see where you study. You might not have known how much I love you, Ilya, and how my future doesn’t matter if you aren’t in it.” 

“Shane,” Ilya whispered, his own voice deep as he tried to keep himself in control and not bawl like a baby in arrivals. “You don’t need to apologise to me. I know it’s been difficult, but this has only made us stronger. You are my everything, Shane, and no amount of distance will change that. You are stuck with me for life,” Ilya tilted his head, a small smile on his face. “You got that, Hollander?”

Shane didn’t bother replying; instead, he leaned up to crush his lips against Ilya’s, not caring that they were kissing in front of a crowd. Ilya responded as enthusiastically, tugging Shane as close as possible as Shane’s hands tangled into Ilya’s hair, keeping him close. Their noses bumped as they moved, Ilya’s tongue swiping over Shane’s bottom lip until his lips opened, their kiss deepening as soon as he did it. Even though they were a mess, with wet faces and their bodies shaking with adrenaline, this kiss was perfect, and it was everything. 

It was a promise that they were going to be alright, regardless of what life threw their way.  They were in it together, for the long game, and they wouldn’t let anything doubt their future. 

They didn’t notice the photographer from one of the local papers watching them, raising their camera and taking a few, sharp photos of the two of them kissing. It was a nice scene, with the chaos behind them but these two boys in a world of their own, just relieved to be reunited. Maybe it would make it into the small article the paper might run for their online news section, maybe not - it wouldn’t exactly be on the front page of the website. The photographer moved on, not sparing another thought to the two, nor the weight of the photo he had taken. 

Chapter End Notes

Translations:
"Ya budu skuchat’ po tebe." = "I will miss you."
"“Ya tebya lyublyu." = "I love you."
"Ya tozhe tebya lyublyu." = "I love you too."

Yay they are all good again!! As if I I could keep them a part forever ;) I also had to get the plane scene in here somehow, I hope none of you saw it coming mwhahahaa. We all need a lil near death experience to keep things interesting...

Also I had no intention of having Sasha in this story, and then I think someone commented ages ago saying they were interested in how Sasha would be used in the story and then I made it my personal goal to get him in here somehow! Sorry Sasha for making you shoot your shot and get rejected :(

I hope you enjoyed this chapter, just a heads up the next chapter will technically be the last chapter, with the 13th one being an epilogue (but the way I can't edit to save my life it will probs be like 20k looool). Why am I getting emotional at the thought of this ending? ;_; my lil babies.

I always appreciate your bookmarks, comments and kudos <3 thank you so much for interacting with my story, see you in the next one!

Chapter 12: Age Seventeen

Chapter Notes

TW: author doesn't know shit about how hockey works or how people get drafted.
Real TW: homophobia, disordered eating and depression

Things had been looking up for Shane and Ilya in the following months after the scare of the plane incident. The funny thing was that nothing really changed in their lives, and yet it was clear to anyone that knew them that they were back to being a codependent, practically married couple. Ilya still played with their local team, but he was doing even more coaching than before. He had also started driving lessons, and had his test booked for the next month. Shane wanted to learn too, but begrudgingly he realised he couldn’t do everything at once. He practically lived on the ice now; he was there every morning before school, and straight after classes ended. School had practically become a second thought, a particular annoyance that interrupted his time practicing. He was sure his parents would have been getting on at him for his lack of interest in anything but hockey if he wasn’t already such a hot topic within the hockey circles.

The scouts had taken notice of him a long time ago, but he was no longer being watched with mild interest - these were scouts from different major teams, coming all the way to Ottawa to watch him play, taking notes and filming his performance. Some of them were congratulating him at the end of games, praising him on his goals and telling him to keep up the good work for the NHL Combine. They spoke at length to his coaches, and once she had them cornered, to Yuna. She was slotting into the role of manager with ease, and honestly, Shane was glad she was doing it. He had no idea how people did this without a mum like Yuna. 

Now, they definitely weren’t just there for Shane - they were lucky to have so many great players on their team. The scouts did seem devastated to learn Ilya wasn’t looking to go professional, but still took note of him, just in case he changed his mind. Hayden and Cliff were definitely getting noticed, too, but even they joked that when the scouts showed up, they were Shane’s fangirls. 

The latest hot topic was the World Junior Championships, in which there was a lot of conversation around who would be picked to play for Team Canada - Ilya was still not technically a citizen (although he and Irina had now applied for proper citizenship) so he couldn’t be picked, nor did he want to be. Shane was sure he would be part of the team, but what he really wanted was to be captain. It should mean that he was secure in being the number one draft prospect pick, which had been his dream since he first hit the ice. 

He was put forward by his club to attend one of the selection camps, which had him playing directly in front of the national team coaches and scouts. It was sort of like a smaller version of the All Star games, with different tests on skate speed, their stickhandling and accuracy. And of course, a full game of hockey, in which Shane scored a hat trick. He was feeling big headed, but he knew he had been the best on the ice. He deserved to be picked, and to lead the team. 

The call came in some afternoon during school hours - his coach called Yuna, who ended up pulling Shane and Ilya out of school early to celebrate the news: Shane was going to be representing Team Canada at the World Juniors, but not only that, he was the captain of the team! It was everything he had hoped for, and the grin never left his face. 

They had gone out for dinner once Irina and David finished work, and then they had ended up back at the Hollanders - when their parents had opened their second bottle of wine for the evening, Ilya snuck Shane upstairs, pressing him against the wall halfway up to his room to make out with him, giggling like they were thirteen again. Once they finally made it into their bedroom, Ilya pulled Shane into a tight hug, before leaning down and giving him a filthy kiss that was all tongue. He pulled back for air, a pleased look on his face when he took in Shane’s pink cheeks and slightly puffy lips. 

“I’ve been wanting to kiss you like that since we found out,” Ilya said, his voice rough. Shane grinned up at him, leaning up to press a kiss to Ilya’s chin. It was rough - he needed another shave, but Shane sort of liked how it could feel against his thighs. 

“Are you going to come and watch me play?” Shane asked, looking at Ilya through his dark lashes.  

“Of course I am,” Ilya murmured, leaning down and giving into temptation to bite Shane’s neck. At his boyfriend’s pleased hiss, he rolled his tongue over the mark. “I am going to be cheering you on very loudly, so loud you’ll hear me from the ice.”

“You really shouldn’t distract me on the ice,” Shane murmured, a grin on his face when Ilya pulled back to give him an incredulous look. “Keep your shouting to a normal level.”

“No, I refuse.” Ilya shrugged, grabbing the top of Shane’s sweatpants and pulling them down. Shane shivered as the cool air hit his skin. “Maybe you should practice fucking my throat so good that I can barely talk, hm? Then I won’t be able to make the most noise in the arena.” 

And who was Shane Hollander to not accept such a generous offer? 

Ilya had just dropped to his knees and pressed a chaste kiss to the tip of Shane’s rapidly hardening dick when his phone began to ring. Shane cursed softly, reaching down to the sweatpants that were bunched around his ankles to fish out his phone.

“Ignore it,” Ilya pouted, giving Shane’s dick a small pump to get his attention back on him. 

“It might be important,” Shane muttered, squinting at the screen. “It’s Hayden.”

“Definitely not important, then. Shane,” Ilya groaned, when his boyfriend answered anyway.

“Hey, Hayden.” Oh, Shane was completely ignoring him now, which simply wouldn’t do. Ilya stared up at him, but he was sure Shane was purposefully avoiding his gaze. “Thanks man! I know, it’s crazy but exciting. We’re going into training camp pretty much straight away, so I won’t be at our practice.  Yeah… I recognise some of the guys' names from other teams, but not everyone.” Shane continued to prattle on, and Ilya got bored waiting. Shane’s dick, which had nearly been poking his eye out was starting to flag, and Ilya refused to let that happen. So he leaned in and took the tip of Shane’s penis into his mouth, sucking the head the way Shane liked it. 

Sure enough, Shane let out a gasp at the feeling, his hips rocking forward into the wet heat of Ilya’s mouth but then pulling back. “Ah, uh, sorry Hayden, one sec.” Shane hit the mute button, staring down at Ilya with complete shock. “What are you doing?” Shane hissed, his cheeks rosy. “I’m on the phone with Hayden!”

“Da, I was here when you answered it.” Ilya gave him a shit eating grin. “I am sort of in the middle of something, Shane. Can I get back to what I was doing?”

“But… I’m on the phone,” Shane repeated, glancing between Ilya and his phone. “What if he hears?”

Ilya hummed, pretending to think about it. “Looks like we’re both going to practice being quiet.” Ilya smirked.

“This is such a bad idea,” Shane whispered, even as a jolt of arousal shot through him at the thought of having to be quiet while Ilya sucked him off.  

“Want me to stop, moy kapitan?” Ilya practically purred, leaning in to nuzzle Shane’s crotch. Shane’s dick practically leapt at the touch, and Shane had to bite his lip so quickly so he didn’t moan out loud. 

“Fuck,” Shane was shaking his head before he could think. “No, don’t stop.” 

Ilya sent him a toothy grin, pressing another kiss to his tip. “Better get back to your phone call,” Ilya whispered. He didn’t take Shane back into his mouth until his boyfriend had the phone back up to his ear, holding his gaze even as Shane apologised for keeping Hayden on hold.

He spent time with just the head in his mouth, rubbing his tongue on the underside of Shane’s dick, trying to keep himself from ruining the tight seal he had made by smiling at Shane’s hitched breath. He didn’t move on until Shane had to speak, and when he opened his mouth to reply to whatever Hayden was going on about, Ilya relaxed his throat and took Shane down until his nose was resting in the neat curls around his length. Ilya himself was already hard from having Shane in his mouth; he had to press the heel of his hand against his own dick that was straining against his jeans to get some relief when he heard Shane stutter out his reply.

He bobbed his head, hollowing his cheeks as he sucked, loving the way his jaw began to ache. He didn’t let up though, and just went faster when he felt Shane’s legs begin to tremble.  

“Y-yeah… hm? Oh, fuck.” Shane grunted, his eyes closed. “No, sorry! Not you, j-just uh… tripped over Ilya’s shoes. Stubbed my toe.” Ilya chuckled, the vibrations going straight through Shane and setting his nerves on fire. “Ah,” Shane gasped, his free hand tangling in Ilya’s curls and pulling on his hair, the way Ilya liked it. It had him moaning around his length, palming his dick even harder. “Oh, uh, Hayds? Can I call you back?” It seemed Shane didn’t wait for a reply, hanging up the call and throwing his phone back towards his bed. “Fuck, fuck, fuck-” Shane groaned, rocking his hips into Ilya’s mouth. “I’m coming, Ilya-”

Ilya didn’t pull back at the words; he kept his tight seal around Shane’s length, his throat swallowing everything that Shane gave him. He only stopped when Shane stuttered out he was too sensitive, and slid out of his used mouth. As he gasped for air, a pleased grin on his face at how hard Shane had come, his boyfriend dropped to his knees in front of him, his eyes blown wide with arousal. They leaned in at the same time, the kiss wet, with Shane tasting himself still in Ilya’s mouth. 

“Why was that so hot?” Shane laughed breathlessly when he pulled back for a moment.

“Hm, because you like to be bad.” Ilya teased him. “And I love messing with Hayden.”

Shane just snorted at that, and leaned in to kiss Ilya again. “I love you,” Shane whispered against his lips. “Thanks for supporting me with this.” He hoped Ilya knew he didn’t just mean World Juniors - he meant with still being here, even when they’d had such a difficult year. They both still didn’t have everything figured out, no more than they had this time last year, but at least they were now on the same page, ready to face the challenges ahead together. 

“Always,” Ilya said, and he meant it. He pressed another kiss to Shane’s cheek, before nodding over at Shane’s room, resting on their bed. “Are you going to call back Hayden and act like I didn’t just suck your brain out through your dick?”

Shane laughed at that, before he pushed Ilya back until he was lying out on the floor. There was a mischievous look in his brown eyes. “In a few minutes,” was all he said, as he reached for Ilya’s belt. 

*

Of course, with all the attention on Shane Hollander, the projected number one draft pick for the NHL, not all the attention he got would be positive. 

r/NHL_Draft 

Shane Hollander - photo real or not? 

beradbraaaaaad_12

so, i know this is going to sound really weird and i might be totally wrong, but i am writing a paper on how local news is adapting to having an online presence and what it means for its consumers (exciting i know ;_;). i’m based in ottawa, so obviously i have been using local ottawa newspapers as my source (so much easier for me to interview people for the paper to see if they are using the online services over printed). i am also, obviously, a big hockey fan, and shane hollander is a hot topic around here in terms of getting drafted. i was pulling out info for a questionnaire and was reviewing an article about that plane that had engine failure last year, and i noticed this photo was included with the article… 

[ottawa_boston_plane_article.jpg]

am i insane or is that shane hollander, fully kissing some guy?? no judgement here, but unless shane hollander has a secret twin, i think that is him. 

link is included below so you can see the source, just to promise i am not making it up!!

puckyou01

holy shit that is definitely shane hollander

putmeinthesinbin

omg well done for ending his career before it’s even started lmao. good spot. no way any team is gonna want a gay guy in the locker room. 

goalie_girlfriend

@putmeinthesinbin shut the fuck up, have u seen that guy on the ice??

putmeinthesinbin

@goalie_girlfriend sorry but im just saying what we’re all thinking, would you want a guy like that on your team?? they don’t need the distraction. the pride nights are enough. 

dk4743743

i totally stumbled across this post by accident but i feel like it was fate! i currently go to school with shane hollander (although he has been out for half the year for hockey obvs) and the guy he is kissing in the picture is his “best friend” ilya rozanov. everyone at school has suspected for a long time that they are together, but they’ve never outrightly said it. weird guys, tbh. hardly interact with anyone else, always attached to the hip. major gay energy. this photo does NOT surprise me. 

Overnight, the post got more clicks, more comments and upvotes. The majority of the comments were downright cruel, and it seemed that anyone who had ever interacted with Shane or Ilya were there to chip in their opinions and stories, painting Ilya as a brute for fighting at parties and claiming Shane was socially inept. The fabricated truths got mixed in with even worse lies, and suddenly it was a complete free for all. It didn’t just stay on the subreddit, and spread like wildfire into all areas of NHL discussion forums over the website. There were calls for Shane to lose his captaincy for Team Canada, with commenters already deciding that his presence would cause a complete distraction for the rest of his teammates, and that was followed by a huge debate if it was even safe for Shane to share a locker room with them. 

It was completely uncontrollable, and the worst part was that Shane and Ilya had no idea. It was only because of Hayden’s panicked call to Ilya rather than directly to Shane that they even found out anything was wrong. The call came in the morning, when Shane had gone out to his ridiculously early morning skate and left Ilya in bed, trying to get another half hour of sleep.

“What the fuck do you want, Hayden?” Ilya groaned, after the second call came through. “Is fucking Sunday morning.”

“I know,” Hayden snapped - it sounded like he was already up, and like he had been running. “Are you at Shane’s? Is he home?”

“He’s out at the rink,” Ilya said, rubbing his eyes. “What the fuck is going on?” 

“So, you know that website Reddit?” Hayden said, his voice panicked. 

“Is some fucking forum website, da? For asking questions or something.” Ilya murmured, rolling back over and letting his eyes fall shut again, half tempted to go back to sleep. 

“Right, but someone… someone posted something about you, and Shane. A photo. They were asking if it was real or not.” 

That had Ilya sitting up, suddenly feeling very much awake. “What photo, Pike?”

“One of you guys at the airport, like, after your plane had that emergency landing.” Hayden told him.

Ilya didn’t say anything for a moment, a frown on his face. “We didn’t take a photo there. It can’t be us.”

“Ilya, it’s definitely you two.” Hayden argued back. “I saw it, and it’s real. The press must have taken it, and it was published online. It’s completely blown up on Reddit but I bet it will start cropping up on other pages. Look, I’m nearly at Shane’s, let me in. Yuna needs to see this to do some damage control.”

Ilya didn’t need to be told twice. He got up, throwing on clothes and knocking on Yuna and David’s bedroom door. A few moments passed before David opened it, still looking half asleep. 

“Ilya, you ok son?” he asked, but the look on Ilya’s face told him that no, it definitely wasn’t ok. 

“I’m sorry, but can you and Yuna get up? There is this… this photo online, and it’s bad.” Ilya said, swallowing thickly. He felt disappointed in himself, and he didn’t know why. “Hayden called about it, he is coming over.”

By the time Hayden got there, everyone was up, but Shane was still not back. It felt strange, to be standing around in their pajamas, looking completely dishevelled. Even Hayden, who had just finished pulling off his many layers, was only in his pajamas underneath it all. Ilya would have laughed if the kitchen wasn’t already thick with tension. 

Yuna had her laptop open, with different tabs open from different subreddits for hockey, each one discussing the photo. Hayden told them not to read the comments, but Ilya couldn’t help himself. He had social media, of course, and he knew people felt invincible posting online, but some of these comments were just disgusting. All kinds of homophobia and even racism. Ilya never let people’s shitty attitudes affect him, but the amount of it even made his stomach churn. 

Fuck, there was no avoiding it - they had been outed, and every single fear they had was coming to life. There was no way the NHL would remain unaware of this ‘scandal'. They were so fucked. Even Yuna, who was always so composed and always knew what to do, looked stunned. What could she do to fight this mob? Where did you even start to stop this story, when it was reaching so many avenues? 

Ilya felt his worry turn to dread when he heard the front door open, the sound of Shane taking off his boots taking over the silence. The four of them shared a panicked look, but before anyone could speak, Shane appeared at the door, his cheeks rosy thanks to the cold but still beautiful and so unaware that his life was falling apart. 

“Hayden?” Shane looked around the kitchen in confusion, before his eyes saw the screen. They widened in shock at the photo, even as Hayden hastily tried to close the tab. “What… what the fuck was that?"

*

The past two weeks had been the worst of Shane’s life. All the excitement and buzz around his upcoming career had been turned into something sour, as if Shane had been deceiving the NHL and the hockey community. The interest from the different teams had died down completely, so fast that Shane had felt like maybe he had dreamed it in the first place. He had to have a very humiliating chat with the coaches for Team Canada, confirming that the photo was real, and then having to prove that he could still be the captain, that all this negativity hadn’t impacted his game. 

And he never let it, even when his teammates could barely look at him at practice, nor when the usually noisy locker room was as quiet as a library now. When the tournament started, they consistently won thanks to Shane pulling most of the weight and scoring the most, but it didn’t seem to matter as much as it used to. Not when the press after each game commented on how well the team were performing, despite the scandal. He had been firmly told he was not to do any press after the games, which wouldn’t have bothered Shane because he wasn’t quite media ready yet. But it did bother him now, because it made it look like he was running away from everything.  

Although Ilya was originally going to come with David and Yuna to see Shane play, they had both decided it would be better for him to stay back. It wasn’t what either of them wanted, not at all, but Shane was worried that the press would try and seek Ilya out, or they would be photographed together again and start even more drama. It wasn’t worth it, not when Shane had the weight of the hockey world on his shoulders with control over his future slipping quicker and quicker away from him. But fuck, he missed his boyfriend’s presence - Ilya never seemed to bow to the weight of being outed, not at school or on the ice. In fact, Shane was pretty sure he was ok with everything, because he simply didn’t care what anyone thought. Shane wished he could be the same, but in truth, he cared so much, because this was going to completely affect his future. 

He hated how disgusted he felt with himself - something he would never tell anyone, even Ilya. This was everything he had feared, coming to life. He felt like he couldn’t trust anyone outside of his circle, in case more fake stories cropped up about him online, and the stress was eating him up. But he couldn’t afford to let himself fall apart. He knew if he got first place at Worlds, that this would be a twisted sort of redemption story. Maybe the world could forgive the fact that he was in love with a boy if he led the team to a victory. Sure, he could still kiss being the first draft pick goodbye, because the NHL couldn’t be seen to be encouraging gay players, but he could settle for second. 

That desire drove him more than anything at each game, and Shane knew he was an unstoppable force. Wherever the puck went, Shane went with it, shaking off being checked like it was nothing, even though his body was slowly turning abstract colours thanks to all the bruises he was collecting. His coaches were quietly pleased with him, while his teammates seemed to grudgingly accept that he was their best player. They appeared as a strong unit, showing that there was nothing wrong with their dynamic on the ice, but off ice? Shane was left completely alone, totally isolated from the group. He didn’t think that everyone hated him on the team, but right now, being seen near him was like career suicide, so he was left alone. 

Thankfully, he had his parents there to keep him positive and focused, and most importantly, he got to call Ilya every night. They’d talk for hours, about everything and nothing. Tonight, Shane was in a particularly good mood, even though his body and mind were feeling completely dead. Tomorrow, he would be playing against Russia in the final tournament to decide the championship. He was so desperate for the win, he could almost taste it. 

“Russia will play dirty,” Ilya mused over the phone. “They will go in aggressively to try and take you out. They know your team is weak without you.”

“They aren’t all bad,” Shane replied, staring up at his ceiling. He really should be getting some sleep right now, but his body was too buzzed with anticipation of the match tomorrow - and knowing he would be heading back to Ilya soon. 

“I watched. That Comeau guy? He purposefully didn’t pass to you, twice.” Ilya grumbled, making Shane smile despite it being true. “He could have cost you the game.”

“Well, it’s a good thing I don’t need Comeau to win.” Shane snorted, then rubbed his eyes. “I shouldn’t have said that about my teammate.” 

“He is a fucking asshole, everyone at home thinks so too.” Ilya replied back. 

“How is everything at home?” Shane asked, biting his lip as he asked the question. 

“Eh… had a bit of trouble with some of the guys on the team,” Ilya admitted after a moment. Shane exhaled sharply at that. “Just two of them, guys we don’t even hang out with. Hayden and Cliff sorted them out before I even got to say anything, though. Though now the joke is that those two are also our boyfriends, so…”

“They wish,” Shane snorted, but his heart wasn’t in it. There goes another safe space. “Do I even want to know what they said?”

“Why does it matter? It’s all noise, Shane. Don’t give it another thought.” 

But Shane knew he would. He couldn’t stop thinking about what people were saying, good or bad. It made him want to scream. “I should go to bed,” Shane murmured to Ilya, instead of admitting how much it was still eating him up inside. 

“You should,” Ilya replied back. Shane let his eyes flutter shut, away to wish his boyfriend a good night, before Ilya cheekily asked; “What are you wearing right now?”

Shane snorted loudly, his eyes opening again. “What do you think? Boxers and one of your tops.”

“Hm… take the boxers off, but keep the top on, da?” Ilya’s voice had dropped to the low tone that, predictably, had Shane’s cock twitching. He didn’t get to sleep for another twenty minutes, but the orgasm he shared with Ilya over the phone certainly relaxed his mind enough to get him to sleep. 

The next day, after a grueling final practice with his team, they were finally getting ready to face Russia. They hit the ice for warm ups, Shane focusing entirely on his body and not the eyes on him, and listened to the last minute advice from the coaches. He was feeling good, focused and determined - he had to win this.

“Sosun,” the Russian captain spat out as they bent over for the face off. Shane knew Russian, but he didn’t know that word - but the way it was said, he was sure it was a slur. He didn’t react, but he did bite down harder on his mouthguard, forcing himself to keep his eyes on the ice. 

The puck was dropped, and Shane had sped off with it before the other captain could even attempt to steal it from him. The game went like that - brutal and tiring, with neither team making much progress. Shane finally scored in the second period, just managing to take a risky shot when it was clear that neither of his teammates were even close to supporting him. He was checked pretty hard into the boards so he didn’t even see the goal, but the horn blasting to signal it was enough to make him grin. He didn’t have much celebration with his team - they never did, when he was the one that scored, but it didn’t bother him. He just wanted this done, and he was now one step closer to his win.

Russia went on a pure attack after that, targeting Shane the way Ilya knew they would. He gave as good as he got, however, even though he couldn’t help but notice the lack of help from his defenders. Frustratingly, the Russian captain scored with thirty seconds to spare in the second period, equalising them. 

“We aren’t letting them have this,” Shane muttered to himself from the bench, wiping the sweat off of his face. “This is Canada’s win.”

The third period was possibly the hardest game of Shane’s career. He played like he was possessed, taking a pass from Comeau before his teammate was barrelled into the glass by a Russian defender. Shane had a second to aim, to think, but for a split second a path cleared for him: a perfect shot. 

But as he pulled back his stick to take the shot, the other captain appeared at his left, in an attempt to steal the puck. Shane had to twist to avoid getting taken out, but the sudden jolt had him losing his balance - and abruptly, he was tripping over his own skates and crashing down hard on the ice. He was so unprepared for it that his head bashed hard against the ice, his helmet protecting him from the worst of it but still causing him to gasp out. Time felt like it had slowed down entirely, and cold dread filled his chest.

He had fallen. Shane Hollander had tripped over his own fucking feet.

The noise of the arena came rushing back to him all at once - the blare of the horn as Russia scored. He forced himself up, even as his eyes burned with frustrated tears and his mouth tasted like blood - he had cut the inside of his mouth on his guard. It wasn’t over yet; they still had three minutes to play, but Shane felt his heart sink, already feeling like a loser. He couldn’t even look at his teammates, but he felt them glaring at him. 

The game went on, and even though Shane tried, there was no hope. The Russians went on full defence, not giving him an inch to even attempt another shot to at least equalise them. When the final horn blew, signalling the end of the game, Shane could have broken down. Instead, he forced himself to remain stoic as they lined up to wish the winners congratulations. 

“Vot chto tebe dostalos', pidor.” The other captain hissed to him as they bumped fists. Shane blinked, understanding these words entirely, and felt frozen even as he left the ice. That's what you get, faggot.

This was it now, wasn’t it? His life would be filled with slurs, on and off the ice. He would never be more than his sexuality. His love was a weapon, something to be used against him. Shane considered himself a strong person, mentally, but a few weeks in and this was already breaking him. He just wanted to disappear, and to let the world forget all about him. 

The locker room was muted as they got changed. Shane took a moment, just sitting down and forcing himself to breathe through the disappointment and the pain. He just had to get through the celebrations tonight, and then tomorrow, he’d be back with Ilya. 

“Was that on purpose?” Gilbert Comeau asked, breaking the silence in the room. Shane looked up from his skates, unsure who the question was being directed to - and raised his eyebrow when he saw Comeau was looking at him.

“Was what on purpose?” Shane asked, unsure of what the hell he was on about.

“The fact that you tripped,” Comeau clarified. The whole room froze at the question, including Shane. 

“What?” Shane finally managed to ask, feeling his heart beginning to thud in his chest, his palms sweat. He felt like he had just been challenged to a fight. “Why the fuck would I trip over on purpose?” 

“Oh, come on.” Comeau sneered, crossing his arms. “We all know your boyfriend is from Russia, you probably wanted them to win from the start.”

Shane stared at Comeau, unable to believe what the fuck he was hearing. The fact that he would be accused of throwing a game for his Russian boyfriend was insane; he knew he had let down his team with his fall, and not only that, his country. He didn’t need speculation that he would do something like that on purpose.

“Are you crazy?” Shane snapped, standing up. “You think I’d purposefully go to second place? I wanted us to win, I did my best for that to happen-”

“Right, you play amazing right up until the final game.” Comeau snorted, shaking his head. “I knew you’d be a fucking liability.” 

Shane went to take a step forward, seeing red at the brazen way Comeau was talking to him. The competition may be over, but Shane had been his captain, and had scored the most out of everyone in this locker room. Before he could take another step, an arm reached out to grab him, stopping him in his place. 

“Let’s not do this right now,” Drapeau, their goaltender, said gruffly. “Seriously. It’s shit that we got this far to come second. Let’s not give the press any stories that our team dynamic was the issue by having a fight in here.”

“But you guys don’t believe I threw the game, right?” Shane demanded, looking around the room. No one met his gaze, or said a word. It was like a punch to his gut - the silence was an answer all in itself. 

He didn’t stay for press, or for the team final celebration dinner - he got an earlier flight home with his parents after telling them what the team were saying. His mum was furious, and his dad was so concerned that he looked ill over it. Shane hated how much this was affecting everyone around him, and he spent the whole flight back fighting tears. 

It wasn’t until he was in Ilya’s arms that he let himself completely break down. He thought crying it out would help, but once the control of his emotions left him, it felt like something deeper inside him broke and it wouldn’t be so easily put back together. He just felt like he couldn’t face anything right now, not when simple errors could be twisted into something about his sexuality or his relationship. He simply didn’t want to be perceived. If he could exist in the shadows, he would. Instead, the closest he could do was staying at home. 

He took a break from playing with his junior team, even though his coach and teammates had come around to his house to see him and convince him to rejoin. His compromise was going to the rink an hour before it opened for practice with Ilya and one coach, but the idea of being back on a team and the pressure that came with it was just so unappealing to Shane. He missed it, of course, but what he really missed was his life before the leak. 

“You really should come back and play with the team properly,” Ilya said to him - they had been lying in Shane’s room, watching a movie, but neither of them had been paying much attention. Ilya had brought a sandwich up for Shane to eat, but in the past hour, he’d only managed a bite. Ilya was itching to tell Shane to eat more, but when he had done that last week, Shane had nearly bitten his head off. 

Ilya didn’t think Shane noticed how little he was eating these days. Irina had tried to make Shane some of his favourite Russian snacks, which he had been grateful for but had hardly touched. Yuna and David were constantly cooking meals that followed Shane’s strict diet, but he was still so uninterested in what was put in front of him. Even with Ilya making them food, he picked at it like a bird. 

And to begin with, Ilya got it. Shane was depressed, whether he realised it or not. The uncertainty around his future had made his life completely unstable, which didn’t suit someone like Shane. He needed plans and structure to function. But without that? He lost control of everything, even something as simple as eating.

He had told Galina about his worries, and about Shane’s steady weight loss. Her advice always remained the same: keep him included, keep his self-esteem high and do not comment on how little he ate. The latter was starting to get harder, especially when he could feel how skinny his boyfriend was getting. 

“They don’t need me right now, not when I’m like this.” Shane replied back, gesturing down to himself. “I’m not at my best.” And oh god, he needed to be at his best. What was the point if he wasn’t?

“You are still you, Shane. Your skill hasn’t disappeared because you got second place.” Ilya told him gently, rubbing his side. “If you don’t want to go on the ice with them yet, how about we have dinner with Hayden and Jackie?”

The idea of a restaurant had his already empty stomach churning. “Let’s put a pin in that idea, ok?” Shane said instead, reaching over to take Ilya’s hand and putting it over his chest. “I just want to be with you right now. I like just playing one to one, ok?” 

“I know, me too.” Ilya whispered, pressing a kiss to his neck, the worry bubbling inside him in a way that it hadn’t since he was thirteen. “But, Shane-”

He was interrupted by Yuna shouting them both from downstairs, which was maybe a good thing. He didn’t know what he was about to say; how worried he was about Shane’s mental health, his lack of appetite… how Ilya would happily take a step back for Shane, if it meant he would get better. Though with how needy Shane at the moment, he didn’t think that was the answer. Shane didn’t move, and only did when Ilya grabbed his arms and forced him out of bed. 

“Yeah, mum?” Shane asked as they shuffled into the kitchen. Yuna held out her phone to him, a forced smile on her face - she had been working nonstop, trying to keep the channel of communication open with the different teams that had previously expressed interest in Shane. Ilya knew that since the photo leaked, all communications had practically stopped, except for polite messages thanking Yuna for her emails that let her know she was getting nowhere with the different franchises. 

“It’s Scott Hunter on the phone, honey. He just wanted to speak to you, to see how you were doing.” Yuna told him brightly, even as Shane shrank away from the outstretched phone. Ilya poked him in the back, and only then did Shane take the phone with a sigh, holding it up to his ear and wandering into the living room with it.

“Hey, Scott. Thanks for calling…” Shane’s voice was hardly louder than a murmur, and Ilya strained to hear him. 

“Did he eat anything with you?” Yuna asked him when it was just the two of them.

“Hardly anything,” Ilya replied back, frowning when Yuna’s face crumbled. “I looked up some ideas online - if we have dinner together, we just put all the food in the middle of the table, so he is picking his own meal out. It might make him more willing to finish it.”

“But what if he still doesn’t eat enough?” Yuna replied, pulling her hand through her fingers the way Shane did when he was stressed. 

“Is better than nothing,” Ilya sighed. “Don’t worry, Yuna, we won’t let him waste away.” They didn’t get a chance to discuss it further, however, as Shane came back into the kitchen, taking a seat at the dining table with a groan. 

“What was Hunter saying?” Ilya asked, taking the seat to Shane’s right. 

“Ugh, nothing much, just telling me to keep my head up. He said that he knows some teams still want me. He’s been talking me up to the Admirals, but… well, we’ve not exactly heard from their management team, have we?” Shane leaned onto the table, his face resting on it. “I think he was just being nice. Maybe I should just withdraw,” Shane muttered. “That will save me the humiliation of not being drafted at all.” 

“Shane,” Yuna said, crestfallen. “Don’t say that. You’re still going to get drafted.”

“Mum, come on - I know how hard you are working, but let’s be honest, no one is getting back to you, are they? I’ll be the last choice,” Shane said, sitting up and shaking his head. “And everyone will know why, and I know that it just means no one actually wanted me on their team.” He felt his eyes sting. He could already imagine how isolating the locker room would be; he knew rookies would go through some sort of hazing as a rite of passage to joining the team, but he didn’t want to think about how they would treat him. He couldn’t decide if it was better or worse if they picked on him over ignoring his entire existence.

It just wouldn’t work on the ice - Shane had seen enough games when it was clear that the team just weren’t clicking, for whatever reason. He would end up taking the fall, and then would be used as a cautionary tale as to why gay men shouldn’t be included in ice hockey.

“Shane, stop it.” Ilya could clearly see his mind spiralling, as it had been doing since they were outed. “Stop letting them win.”

“They have won,” Shane snapped, standing up abruptly from the table. “I’m a fucking loser.” And with that, he stormed up the stairs and back to his room, leaving Yuna and Ilya behind with their worry.

*

It had been two months since Shane’s second place win at Juniors, and Ilya was slowly losing his mind. He just didn’t know what to do anymore, and even with Galina’s assurances that at his age, he shouldn’t know what to do, it did nothing to soothe him. Shane’s eating was still all over the place, he still wasn’t back playing with their team, and worst of all, he had lost his spark. His determination, his drive, everything that made Shane was practically gone now, muted under his depressed state. And while Ilya would never give up on the love of his life, he could feel himself begin to burn out, which terrified him even more - if he wasn’t ok, who would look after Shane?

Ilya had just gotten back to the Hollanders after a coaching session with Luca, and felt completely disheartened when he found Shane the way he had left him - still in bed, the curtains still closed despite the sunshine, and the soup he had brought him before he went out half eaten. But still, Shane’s face cracked into a smile at the sight of him, and he lifted his covers to invite Ilya back into what Ilya had dubbed (but of course never said to Shane) his “den of despair”. Before he could even move though, his phone began to buzz, cutting through the silence in the room.

It was Boodram, who had been signed with the Ottawa Centaurs last year, calling him. He excused himself to take the call, nearly stumbling out of Shane’s room in his haste. “Hey man,” Bood said, his usual cheerful voice more sombre. “How are you? How’s Shane?”

“Eh, not so good.” Ilya admitted as he raced downstairs and out the backdoor. He closed it behind him, walking down into the garden. “Shane is not doing well - he really needed the win at Worlds, you know? Second place does not feel good enough right now.”

“I get it,” Bood sighed. “I saw he’s gone down on the prospect ratings, which is such bullshit. They’ll argue it’s because he placed second, but he practically got that team to the finals by himself.”

“Yes…” Ilya looked up at Shane’s window, frowning. “It doesn’t help that he’s not playing on the team at the moment. He keeps saying he’ll rejoin when he is ready, but then he says that he is thinking of dropping out of the draft entirely. We’re all begging him not to do that, because it just feels like he’s letting all those assholes win. He deserves to be drafted, even if he doesn’t believe it.”

“Whoa, tell him not to do that,” Bood replied firmly. “Look, what are the chances you can get him down to our rink? I know management wants to talk to Shane, do you think you can convince him to come down?”

“I don’t think he can deal with a whole lot of people,” Ilya murmured. “But I can try.” He had to, as a last resort. 

“Leave it with me. We’ve got a new coach, Brandon Wiebe. Good guy, he was pretty pissed off with how Shane was getting treated. I can see if he can meet Shane, just one to one. You work on getting your boy to agree to it.”

Ilya agreed, hanging up. A year ago, Shane would have probably crnged at the idea of going to speak to the Ottawa Centaurs management team - they were notoriously the worst team in the NHL, and whatever rookies ended up going there were usually pitied. But maybe, they were exactly what Shane needed right now. At least Ilya could trust Zane to look after him. 

He didn’t approach the subject of meeting with the Centaurs straight away - Shane was having a particularly bad time, and all Ilya was caring about right now was making sure he was eating and drinking. They stayed in bed most of the time, Shane tucked in Ilya’s arms while Ilya murmured stories to him in Russian. It didn’t matter that Shane couldn’t understand it all, not when Ilya’s voice practically became white noise to him. When it hit the third day, Shane made an effort to get himself up and dressed and join everyone downstairs for breakfast. Although all he drank was a smoothie, Ilya could have wept in relief at seeing the empty glass. 

When Shane had a few steady days, including going out with Ilya just for a drive around town, complaining about Ilya’s driving with a small smile on his face, Ilya felt it was time to talk.  “So… I caught up with Boodram a few days ago, over the phone.” Ilya said, parking the car outside his home. His mama was working late, so they were taking advantage of a free home (and it gave Yuna and David a break from worrying, at least for the night). 

“Oh yeah,” Shane was reaching down to release his seatbelt. “How is he getting on?”

“Loving it,” Ilya said, reaching over to take Shane’s hand in his, ignoring his boyfriend’s raised eyebrow. “I think he’s glad he got drafted by the Centaurs. They have a few new faces in their structure, it seems to be working for them.”

“Well, not that well.” Shane said dryly. “They are still bottom of the league.”

“Hey, give them a chance to improve.” Ilya snorted, trying not to feel worried over how Shane would react. “He was asking about you, actually.”

That made Shane frown, even though he knew Zane wouldn’t be asking about him in any negative way. “Oh yeah?”

“Yes, moya lyubov. Well, I should say the Centaurs new coach was asking about you. He would love to meet you.” Ilya paused, watching Shane closely. “How would you feel about that?”

Shane looked away, an unsure frown on his face. “I don’t know, Ilya…”

“Why not?” Ilya asked softly. “Shane, all you’ve been saying these past few weeks is that no team will want to sign you. Now I have one that wants to speak to you because they are interested in signing you. Isn’t this what you want?”

“It is, but… but things have changed, haven’t they?” Shane snapped, rubbing his eyes. “The Shane the NHL was interested in isn’t me anymore. Now I’m just the liability that can’t be trusted in the locker room.”

“Fuck, Shane, it’s time to control the narrative.” Ilya snapped back, a scowl on his face. “You know every time you say that shit, you are just letting them win. You are basically telling them that you agree that you don’t belong in hockey. You are telling the world that our relationship is a problem, and it’s not!”

“Don’t put the pressure on me, Ilya!” Shane said, trying to tug his hand free from Ilya’s hold, but Ilya refused to let go. “It’s ok for you because you were happy not to go professional. You can do any job that keeps you out of the spotlight. I can’t, and I was ok with that, but not when the spotlight is so fucking harsh that my skill will always be second to my love life!”

“You think I can just hide away from the spotlight, just because I am not signed to a team?” Ilya shook his head, pulling Shane’s hand to his lips and pressing a kiss to the back of it. “Shane, I am your partner; I was the guy you were kissing in that photo, if you remember. I am always going to be known as Shane Hollander’s boyfriend, no matter where I go or what I do. But you know what? I am going to own it, even when people hate it.” Blue eyes met wide brown ones, and Ilya smiled. “Epsecially when people hate it, actually. Because you are worth more to me than their words, right? I am over the moon to be your partner, to be the person in that photo with you, because I want to be in every photo with you. Shane, I am going to be at as many of your games as possible with the other WAGs, and I am going to go out on the ice when you win a Stanley Cup and kiss you in front of everyone. I am not scared to do this, I am excited for it. Because we’re together in this, for better and for worse. But let’s at least try the better option first before committing to the worse one, please?”

“... I don’t know if you will count as a WAG,” Shane said, his voice breaking with the rush of emotions he felt. Fuck, he loved this man so much. What had he done to deserve him?

“I will be the King of the WAGs,” Ilya replied back, leaning over to press a kiss to Shane’s lips. “So, can I call Bood?”

“... Fuck, call him before I change my mind.” Shane groaned, but there was no heat behind it. Ilya beamed, and quickly did as he was told. Thankfully, Bood picked up after a few rings, and after a few back and forth quips, Ilya was hanging up with a grin on his face.

“Ok Hollander, you’re up! Put your seatbelt back on, we are heading to the Tire Centre.” Ilya whooped, turning the key to start the ignition.

“I can’t go now,” Shane yelped, looking down at himself in his comfy clothes. “I look like shit, Ilya!”

“You look sexy,” Ilya replied back, pushing Shane’s hair back from his face. “Look, the rink is empty for tonight. Is just the coach. I know you are going to overthink this unless we do it now. And then we’re going to go grab some snacks, and then we are going to have lots of sex. Ok?”

“I should really speak to my mum,” Shane said, but pulled his seatbelt back on. 

“We call her afterwards,” Ilya promised, pulling back out onto the road. He felt a grin split out onto his face, and turned up the radio. “Don’t get in your head over this, Shane. You’ve got this.” 

Ilya kept talking to him the whole time, words of affirmation that rolled easily from his tongue. Shane tried to keep his nervousness at bay, not overthinking that he should be dressed in a suit and tie to meet the coach, not his ratty old sweats. He wasn’t even sure what they were really meeting about, and being so unprepared was making him anxious. But Ilya annoyingly was right - if he gave himself enough time to think about it, he’d back out. 

They pulled up to the visitors entrance, the security letting them in after a quick call to the front desk. Ilya parked, looking over at the arena and then back at Shane, who was looking rather pale.

“Bood said just to head to the main office; Brandon Wiebe will meet you there.” Ilya said softly, reaching over to rest a hand on Shane’s leg, which was starting to bounce. “I’ll wait for you, ok? I’m right here if you need me. I love you.”

“I love you too,” Shane whispered, shooting his boyfriend a wide eyed look before forcing himself out of the car. With each step his dread grew, as did his doubt - he was kidding himself here, wasn’t he? He was going to get in there, and he’d probably be asked probing questions that would confirm he was gay, and he’d never hear from them again. 

He just made it through the door before he gave in the urge to run back to the car, and tried not to flinch when he saw a man waiting for him, which could be none other than Brandon Wiebe. He seemed pretty young to be the lead coach - Shane was pretty sure he had only just retired from his own NHL career, in which he had played for Detroit. He had a handsome face, with an easy going smile on his face which Shane tried his best to return. 

“Hello, Mr Hollander.” Brandon Wiebe held out his hand for Shane to shake, not phased at all by his casual state of dress or wide eyed look. “Thanks for agreeing to meet with me.”

“It’s great to meet you,” Shane tried not to mumble, shaking the offered hand. He tried to keep the forced smile on his face, because he didn’t want to seem rude. “Thanks for having me here, on such short notice.”

“No, thank you for coming. I’ve been hoping to get in touch with you sooner, but it’s been a bit hectic here. When Boodram had said he had reached out, I was a little annoyed, because there are proper ways of doing this, but never mind. Let me give you a tour of the place before we talk, alright? It’s best to do it when the rink is a bit more lively, but this late on, no one is going around.” Wiebe said, turning around and walking into the main lobby with Shane dutifully following behind him.

“I got to do a tour once; my friend Svetlana’s dad was the goalie for the Centaurs, but that was years ago.” Shane finally stuttered out as they made their way to the main desk. 

“Well, not a lot has changed.” Wiebe said, handing him his visitors pass. “Come on, I’ll give you a tour anyway. It will give us a good chance to talk.”

They walked the building, Wiebe pointing out each room that the public never got to see, Shane nodding along. The building was thankfully empty as promised, with no players or extra staff going around. They paused as they got to what was meant to be the trophy room - it was, admittedly, barren, with only a few things placed inside. 

“I’m hoping to change that,” Wiebe said, gesturing into the room. “The Centaurs have had a difficult run for a long time. The timing has never felt right for the guys, y’know? We need some fresh blood to stir it up. Boodram is doing a good job of it, but we just need a final push to get the team taken seriously again.”

Shane just nodded, unsure of what to say. They ended up in the family room, and Wiebe offered Shane some coffee, but forewarned him it was a bit like drinking tar. Even though it sounded gross, Shane agreed to take a cup so he didn’t seem awkward. He sat down on the couch closest to the window, giving him a view of the empty rink, the Ottawa Centaurs stupid logo imprinted on the ice. 

“Now,” Wiebe said, sitting across from him with a firm look on his face. “I’m not going to pretend I don’t know what’s been going on with you. You aren’t stupid, Mr Hollander; you know how the league treats people who don’t fit their requirements. You were already making waves because you are a better player than the white boys. That would have ruffled feathers already. But with the photo, well, that’s just another layer that you have been burdened with.”

He couldn’t help but wince at the mention of the photo - he wondered if he would stop reacting to it. “Right,” Shane muttered, unsure what Wiebe wanted him to say. He took a sip of the coffee, wincing at the taste.

“Told you it wasn’t very good,” Wiebe murmured, a flicker of a smile on his face. “I’m going to be real with you - you’ve been a hot topic, and not in a good way. There has been a lot of pressure from above, and it seems that a lot of teams have completely forgotten about your skills on the ice, and the fact that you came second at the World Juniors, not second last. You lead that team during an incredibly difficult personal period of your life. Not a lot of people could do that; most of the guys contracted on NHL teams couldn’t do that, not even with all the years of experience behind them.” Wiebe leaned back in his chair, watching him. “I just wanted to make it clear to you that the Centaurs haven’t forgotten about your skill, Mr Hollander. We have the fourth overall pick this year, and we intend to pick you.” 

Shane stared at him, unsure how he felt. Part of him wanted to sob in relief that it wasn’t all over for him, before it had even started. Part of him still felt like it was all over by being drafted to the Ottawa Centaurs, which was an awful thought and he hated that he even felt that way, after everything. Scarily enough, Wiebe seemed to read his mind. 

“Look, I’ve said it already, the Ottawa Centaurs aren’t a good team, not yet. We aren’t seen as a threat, and we certainly aren’t selling out any of our games. I know the reputation we have, but I know that reputations can change. Like yours, for example. You aren’t going to be signed with this photo hanging over your head, or just be known as the ‘gay player’. Ottawa wants you because you are extremely talented, and we think you are exactly what we need - a hometown hero. And let me make it clear,” Wiebe sat up straighter, as did Shane. “In my team, there is no room for homophobia, or racism. I won’t let you just put up with it, because ‘that’s just hockey’ - if anyone were to give you shit, they’d be out of here before you even had your skates on. You understand me, Hollander?”

“Um, yes sir.” Shane stuttered out. This was all a bit overwhelming, but he was trying his best not to show it. He was pretty sure he was failing. “So… so you’re ok, with me, being…” he couldn’t even say the word ‘gay’. It got stuck in his throat, threatening to choke him. 

“Yeah, kid.” Wiebe nodded, not needing him to finish. “And it’s not just me. Zane Boodram has been talking you up since he was drafted. And since all this came out, he’s been telling me all about your partner.” The word ‘partner’ made him blush, and he glanced down into his cup. “They’re good friends, right? They used to do coaching together. Boodram says he could have gone pro as well.”

“He could have, but he didn’t want to.” Shane replied, risking a glance up to Wiebe. “He loves playing, but he doesn’t want to be away from home so much. And he was worried if he got signed to another team, we’d hardly see each other.”

“Smart man,” Wiebe paused, letting the room fall silent for a moment. “And the distance won’t bother you? Being away from him, when we’re on the road?”

“I mean, yeah. But this is just part of the job,” Shane shrugged. “Ice hockey is all I’ve ever wanted to do, and Ilya is very supportive of that.”

“Good. It’s a demanding job, but we’ll be here to support you through it, too.” Wiebe took a sip of his coffee, before a small smile graced his face. Shane couldn’t help but return it. “I’d love to meet Ilya, sometime.”

Shane laughed softly, pulling his hand through his hair, feeling a bit more relaxed in the man’s presence. “He’s outside, actually. He drove me here. I think he wasn’t going to let me out of the car unless I agreed to come here.” 

“Oh really?” Wiebe waved his free hand over to the door. “Why didn’t you say so? He could have joined us for the tour! Why don’t you go and get him?”

“Um, right now?” Shane asked, once again feeling like the rug had been pulled from under him. Meeting with his potential new coach and said coach meeting his boyfriend felt like a lot.

“Sure kid, why not?” Wiebe was smiling properly now. “He’s got to have good stories about Boodram’s coaching. The way he goes on about it, you’d think he had led a group of ten years old to a Stanley Cup victory.”

So Shane quickly made his way outside, practically running to the car. Before he had even reached it, Ilya was coming out, a frown on his face.

“Everything ok?” Ilya asked, looking around as if expecting a mob to be following Shane to the car. “Is someone chasing you?”

“All good,” Shane laughed, a bit breathlessly. “Sorry, just - the new coach, I told him you were waiting for me, and he told me to come and get you. He wants to meet you.”

“Really?” Ilya said, a small smile gracing his face. “This is a good sign, then?”

“Very good sign,” Shane nodded, and without thinking, took his boyfriend’s hand. “He’s hoping you have funny stories about Boodram coaching.”

“Oh, I have plenty.” Ilya snickered, letting Shane lead him back inside. 

An hour later, they were heading back to Ilya’s car, two matching grins on their faces. Ilya had instantly taken to Wiebe, and was more than happy to tell him all about Boodram  - and embarrassingly throw in some stories about Shane, too. They both left feeling lighter than they had in weeks, like for once the world wasn’t ending. 

He had promised Wiebe that he would go back to playing in his team, and that he would start preparing for the NHL Combine. He had also promised to reach out to them for help with media training - it hadn’t gone unnoticed to the teams that Shane had been kept away from the camera during World Juniors, which may have seemed like a good idea at the time, but ultimately was affecting his image. Sooner or later, he’d be in front of the camera and reporters, and he had to be prepared for their probing questions. 

“He seems nice,” Ilya said, opening the passenger door for Shane, which had his boyfriend rolling his eyes even with a pleased smile on his face. “I like him a lot. I’m glad he wants to prepare you for the media. It feels like you are already signed for them.”

“Yeah,” Shane agreed once Ilya was sitting in the driver's seat. It probably wasn’t a good idea to think like that - anything could change in a few months, but Shane was already trying to picture himself wearing the Centaurs jersey. As they drove away from the rink, the idea didn’t seem as unappealing anymore. 

“Thank you for taking me here. For… looking after me so well, these past few weeks. I know it's not been easy.” Shane swallowed, feeling a small lump in his throat. “I know I’ve not been easy. But you never even asked for a break from me.”

Ilya glanced over at Shane, before offering his hand. Shane instantly took it, resting it on his thigh. Once their fingers were laced together, Ilya gently squeezed him. “Never, moya lyubov. In sickness and in health, right?” Ilya said lightly, but he meant every word. “If the rest of my life was spent lying in bed with you, I could live with that. Maybe I’d just force you to take showers more often.”

Shane laughed, squeezing Ilya’s fingers. “I didn’t smell that bad, did I?”

“Just a little stale,” Ilya snorted. They came to a stop at a red light, and Ilya took the time to study Shane. “I know Wiebe said about going back to practice, which I think is a great idea. But can I ask something from you?”

“Anything,” Shane said, nodding.

Ilya swallowed, but pressed on. “I think it would be a good idea to maybe speak to someone about your eating habits, Shane. I’ve been really worried about you - we all have. You’ve lost weight you didn’t need to lose, dorogoy, and I know you didn’t mean for it to happen, but I don’t want stress to make you ill. You need your strength, if you are going to be the best hockey player, da?”

Shane didn’t say anything for a moment - he had always been a bit particular about his eating habits, especially when he really wanted to take going professional seriously. When he got stressed, his appetite was the first to go. He didn’t even notice it happening; he just simply didn’t feel hungry, and most of the food he forced down didn’t taste right. He never got the signals from his body that he was hungry or lacking in any nutrients. He knew that wasn’t exactly normal, but from the look on Ilya’s face right now, maybe it was a bigger deal than Shane had originally thought it was. 

“I will,” Shane promised, and he meant it. “And… if I do get signed with the Centaurs, I’ll make sure the team doctor knows, too. Maybe… maybe I could speak to Galina, maybe she will help me.”

Ilya let out a small sigh of relief. “Thank you, Shane. I know it is difficult, but I can be with you. We’ve got this, moya lyubov - together.”

They fell into a comfortable silence, the radio playing some song that Shane didn’t know, but Ilya was nodding along to it. For the first time in a long time, the future didn’t feel so bleak or out of reach. They were finally ready for their new beginning.

*

“... Welcome back to the 2009 NHL Draft! We’re here in beautiful Los Angeles, and the excitement in the room is off the charts. Now, we’ve discussed a few players here today, but we’ve yet to talk about Shane Hollander. Despite the controversies surrounding him, he is an undeniable talent on the ice. What do you think, Robbie? Are some of these teams absolutely crazy to pass up on having him drafted to their team?”

“I’ve got to say yes, Alex. Hollander probably has the best hockey IQ we’ve seen in years, and his playmaking abilities are something else. I think it’s important to highlight his performance at the NHL Combine, and how he handled the media questions regarding those controversies. You would forget that this kid just recently turned eighteen; he answered those questions like he’s been handling the press for years.”

“Right, and that’s what makes the situation so complicated. On one hand, you have a player with elite potential, yet he’s faced some scrutiny off the ice from not only the league, but hockey fans all over the place. It’ll be interesting to see how the teams approach him during the draft tonight. Now, I’ve got no doubt he’ll be drafted in the first round, but who knows which team will take the risk with him.”

“Our eyes on the ground have confirmed he is here with his partner, Mr Ilya Rozanov. Now, to give Rozanov credit, it takes a lot of strength to stand by someone during tough times and be in a spotlight that he didn’t ask for. But if anything, it just goes to show that Shane Hollander isn’t going anywhere, and neither is his relationship. He’s shaken up the league before he’s even joined it!”

“He certainly has. Folks at home, like him or hate him, Shane Hollander’s career is going to be one to watch. Now, it looks like the Montreal Metros are ready to announce their pick…”

It hadn’t taken Shane long to get focused back into the world of hockey. He worked hard, rejoining his team and going back to all available practices. He had had a few appointments with Galina, something he wished he had done sooner. She had found that his disordered eating may be something out of his control, and to do with what she suspected was part of his suspected neurodiversity. They were still investigating that, but the more they spoke about it, the more things made sense to Shane. He wasn’t worried over potentially having a diagnosis for this; in fact, he was starting to feel like he was finally understanding himself. It made him more confident, more certain of himself and his boundaries. He told Ilya that weirdly, it helped him grow up.  

He spent time with the PR team with the Centaurs, getting better at redirecting questions about his relationship back to his skills on the ice and what he could bring to the team. It helped him sail through the NHL Combine, and had made him feel ready for this moment. 

The first three names of the draft pick had already been announced, which had his mum scoffing; she was still angry that Shane wasn’t the first pick, but Shane wasn’t as bothered by it anymore. He knew what his future looked like, and as long as he had Ilya by his side, then he couldn’t wait for it to get started. 

“Are you doing ok?” Ilya murmured to him, as the third pick cleared the stage. 

“I’m all good, promise.” Shane replied, as the Commissioner headed back out onto the stage. “This should be it.” 

“Announcing the selection for the Ottawa Centaurs, one of Hollywood’s youngest upcoming actresses, please welcome to the stage Rose Landry!” 

“No way,” Shane said, a grin breaking out over his face as the place roared with applause. He hadn’t been made aware of this.

“Oh, fuck no.” Ilya groaned, even though Shane was sure he was just kidding. “Every time I see her face on a poster, I feel sick.”

“Stop it,” Shane snickered, and took Ilya’s hand. “This is it, isn’t it? Holy shit, it’s really about to happen.” 

“Cameras, Shane.” Yuna hissed over to him, though her own smile never dropped. 

“Good evening LA,” Rose said into the microphone, once the noise had died down. She looked as beautiful as ever, and it startled Shane to realise how much he had missed her. He really should have kept in touch better, especially because she was definitely doing this for him. “Wow, it’s pretty amazing to be here! You probably don’t know this about me, but I’m a pretty big hockey fan.” The crowd cheered again. “You also probably didn’t know that the closest I got to being an ice hockey player was when I booked a role as an ice skater, which I filmed in Ottawa. I was a pretty terrible skater, but luckily, I had an amazing co-star that helped keep me on my feet. So when the Centaurs reached out for me to come tonight, it only felt right for me to be the one to announce their pick.” Shane sat up straight now, gripping Ilya’s hand so hard it had to hurt. 

“The fourth pick of the 2009 Draft for the Centaurs is, Ottawa born and raised, captain of the 2008 Junior team for Canada, Shane Hollander!” 

Shane stood up, pulling Ilya up by their clasped hands. He did it… he got drafted. He got fucking drafted to Ottawa. All of a sudden, it really didn’t matter that he wasn’t the first pick, or that he got outed by some idiot called Brad on fucking Reddit. Everything had been a blessing in disguise, leading up to this very moment. He was going to be exactly where he needed to be. 

Before he could think, his mum had pulled him into her arms, openly weeping. That was quickly followed by his dad, and then Irina, who was speaking to him in such rapid Russian Shane had no chance of following. And then suddenly, Ilya was back in front of him, his own eyes wet but the smile on his face blinding. 

“Get up there, moy zvozdnyy mal'chik.” Ilya said, pulling him in for a tight hug. “Don’t leave the lady waiting!” 

“I love you,” Shane told him, not caring that all the cameras were on him, nor the other people in the room. Ilya was the only thing that mattered. 

Ilya grinned, and gave him a gentle push. “I love you too, but please get up there before Ottawa changes their mind.”

Shane laughed, and began to head to the stage, his hand coming up to touch his chest. Hidden under his suit was the plastic ring Ilya had won him at the fairground, which he had put on a chain. Ilya was wearing his own one, put onto the chain with his mother’s cross. Ilya may be in the audience, but Shane knew he was really there with him on stage.

Every road leads home, and although Ottawa was ready for their hometown hero, Shane knew that home would always be wherever Ilya was. “For better or worse,” Shane whispered as he reached the stage. It was time for the next chapter of their lives.

Chapter End Notes

wow so i HATE this chapter and honestly it nearly ended me. this is not my best work i am aware, but this was the best i could do and after 1000 edits i was like TIME TO GET IT POSTED. i think the trying to get my head around how hockey actually works when you get drafted, plus just not enjoying writing a depressed shane was hard. i originally wasn't going to include the draft part but i was bumming myself too much and wanted it to end on a positive note <3

i know some of you didn't want them outed, but the theme of this chapter was that sometimes life does NOT go the way we want, but that can sometimes be exactly what we needed. yes, it's horrible they got outed, but shane is already on a team that accepts and wants him - no canon suffering like he got from montreal! and he gets to be in ottawa, which is still with his family and ilya!! ilya, who he gets to love openly without any hiding! and yay, ilya can start his WAG life <3

also, i tried to do as much research as possible but i just feel like if you aren't living n breathing hockey you aren't going to get all the details super correct. i didn't even know the NHL combine was a thing until a few weeks ago! also didn't realise that the teams could invite celebrities to announce their pick, which is why i threw rose back in there.

also, i don't use reddit, so forgive me if i got any of that part wrong. i tried ;_;

so next chapter is the epilogue!! that one will have good vibes only :D we are going to do a lil time jump so please don't be alarmed.

always THANK YOU for your comments, kudos and bookmarks - they never fail to make me smile. i am seriously going to miss interacting with you guys when this is finished ;_;

Chapter 13: Epilogue - Age Twenty Three

Chapter Summary

Every new beginning comes from some other beginning's end.

Chapter Notes

It was a sell out night at the arena, which still had some of the veteran Centaurs management and players in disbelief. The change hadn’t happened overnight, of course, but steadily as the team’s performance had begun to improve - which Ilya could smugly say was thanks to his boyfriend. It was almost like their fans hadn’t wanted to risk their team doing so well by showing up for them, as if entering the arena would break the spell over each goal they made. But this season, things were definitely different - Ilya could feel it around him, could practically hear the buzz of electricity jumping around him. He loved being part of it, knowing exactly why that was.

Two young teens stopped in front of him, gaping. Ilya grinned at them, which Shane had called his “salesman” smile, whatever the fuck that meant. He shook his collection bucket at them, which proudly said OTTAWA CENTAURS COMMUNITY IMPACT, with the stupid logo Ilya had grown fond of right in the middle.

“Good evening, gentlemen. Nice jerseys, good choice.” They were both wearing the new Hollander jerseys, which had the well earned ‘C’ on the front. It was why the place was filled with excitement - their hometown hero, the driving force behind the team, had finally been given the title of captain. 

“Could I interest you in providing a small donation to the Ottawa Centaur’s Community fundraiser? We are currently sponsoring Ottawa’s Animal Rescue shelter.” Ilya gestured behind him, at a board he had decorated with one of his interns. It had photos of different dogs that could be fostered or adopted, each named after one of the Ottawa Centaurs. He had been begging Shane if they could adopt ‘Shane Howlander’ because he felt that their dog, Anya, could use the company. Shane was still firmly at no, but Ilya had planned to drag him out when they did the press for the shelter and planned to change his mind then. 

Things hadn’t exactly gone to plan for Ilya, but in ways that he knew the universe sometimes knew what was best for him. He had started to study at Ottawa University, a course on teaching English as a second language. He had been inspired, really, by Yuna - the English lessons she had given his mama and himself had been a massive help in getting him settled in Canada (yes, she had gotten teary-eyed when he had told her that). But a year into it, and Ilya was struggling. He just never seemed to find his place in university, with the people there or with the course. He had first chalked it up to doing it without Shane by his side, and told himself to push through with it; but he had made himself promise to speak to Galina about it, if he felt like it was becoming too much.

Shane, however, seemed to know him better, even when he tried to put on a brave face. One night, when he got back to their place after he had been at the rink all day, he told Ilya about their new recently drafted rookie - some kid fresh out of Russia with extremely limited English.

“I know you are busy with your classes, so, feel free to say no. But I thought it would be maybe a good idea if you could teach him English? Management has already said they’ll pay you to do it. They think he might feel a bit more settled doing it with you, since you’re connected to the team.” 

“Ah, yes, as the King of the WAGs.” Ilya had teased, but his voice was deep, considering it. 

Shane had rolled his eyes at the nickname. “You know you are the only person who calls yourself that, aren’t you?”

“Solnyshko, you are not in our group chat. It is literally my name in there.”

So Ilya had agreed to it, dropping out of his course (before telling his mama or Yuna, because as predicted they were upset that he had done it), and had taken a small contract with the Ottawa team to help settle in their rookie. Of course, they hadn’t read the small print about said rookie moving in with them for a few months, which Shane had quietly hated, but Ilya hadn’t minded. Because it also meant that Ilya would go to the training sessions, and getting to watch Shane on the ice was always thrilling. And he got the joy of chirping everyone while he sat back with his feet up. 

As the rookie needed less time with Ilya, Ilya would speak to the office staff - the people who never got the real credit for running the show behind the scenes. He befriended lots of people, and it even got to the point that if he wasn’t there, the staff would complain to Shane about missing him. On one particular visit, Ilya had made a point in cornering the community team, which did the outreach work for the community. He had been asking if they would fund the rink that he and Shane had trained at to get some new equipment, because the kids he still coached were using gear that had to be older than hockey itself, and not all of these kids could afford new things.

He had made such a good pitch, not only had they done it, they had offered him a job with them. And, well, here he was a few years later, loving every part of his job. 

“Um… yeah man, we’ll donate.” The teen stuttered out, nudging his buddy. Quickly, they emptied their pockets with all the spare change they had.

“Thank you so much!” Ilya beamed, but raised an eyebrow when they didn’t move on. 

“Look, sorry if this is weird, but can we take a photo with you?” The braver of the two asked. Ilya had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep himself from snickering. While he was pretty sure none of the other WAGs had ever been asked to take photos with fans, it happened to Ilya a number of times. 

“No problem, just make sure you get a photo of the board behind us, alright?” Ilya agreed, bending down slightly to get in their selfie. 

Ilya had sort of his own following with the Centaur fans. He loved interacting with people, because not only did he get to promote the work his team did through the Centaurs Foundation, but he also got to hype up how amazing Shane was to fans wearing his boyfriend’s name on their backs. In fact, he was so popular with the fans that he even had his own hashtag on social media, which was #ilyaspotting. He rather enjoyed the terrible angles people slyly took photos of him around the arena. 

The teens hastily thanked him before scurrying off. Ilya shook the bucket slightly - it was starting to get heavy, which was a good thing. The Centaurs had promised to match the donations from the public, so Ilya was pushing hard to get the most for the shelter.

“Oh my god, what are you still doing here?” a voice groaned behind him, which had Ilya grinning. He turned to face Harris, the Centaurs social media manager, and one of Ilya’s closest friends. Although Harris was really hired to look after the team’s social media pages, Ilya had managed to get his help with all of his community projects as well. 

“Waiting for you to get a good shot of me and my bucket, of course.” Ilya replied, shaking the donation bucket for emphasis. 

“You are definitely not meant to be on collection duty tonight,” Harris replied. “Or like, any night, Ilya. You are the manager of the Centaurs Foundation, and the boyfriend of the team’s captain. You know it sort of melts the fans' brains when they see you out there.”

“Da, and then they donate more when I take a photo with them.” Ilya beamed, even as Harris shook his head. “It’s all for a good cause, Harris!”

“It won’t be for a good cause when you end up missing the start of first period,” Harris snorted, but quickly took a photo of Ilya. “I bumped into your mum and Shane’s parents inside the arena, and they literally told me to give you this and tell you to hurry up.” Harris shook a jersey at him. “So put down the bucket and get in there. I need to go back and film before the game starts.”

“Alright, I’m going…” Ilya groaned, heading over to the staff area. They scanned their passes, but Ilya didn’t go far in, just around the corridor so he didn’t flash half of the fans still milling around. He pulled off his work top, snickering as Harris wolf whistled, and pulled over Shane’s new jersey. This wasn’t one that was on sale for the fans; it was one of Shane’s real jerseys. Ilya couldn’t help but run his hand over the ‘C’, feeling proud and, as he always did, a pang of longing to be on the ice with him. 

“Want me to say anything to Shane?” Harris offered as Ilya dropped off his top and bucket with one of the interns. He would be heading down to the Centaurs locker room to get a few final shots of the team before they hit the ice. Ilya’s mind instantly went to Shane, wondering how he felt. He seemed so confident before he had left, but even he knew he must be feeling the pressure now. Being the captain was no joke, not when practically all the fans worshipped him like a god. 

“Hm… just tell him to remember what I promised him.” Ilya smirked - that would get him out of his head, at least. “I want a hat trick tonight, if he wants the trick I have planned for him.”

“Wow, I am so not telling him that,” Harris snorted, shaking his head even as his cheeks went pink. 

“You are no fun on game nights. Maybe you should tell the rookie that instead, hm? It might just be the motivation he needs.” Ilya was of course referring to the Centaurs new rookie, and, as Ilya loved to remind everyone, a past student of his - Troy Barrett. Troy and Harris had been making eyes at each other since Troy had been drafted, but no matter how much Ilya prodded, neither of them had made a move yet. 

Predicably, Harris got even redder at the mention of Troy. He waved his phone at Ilya threateningly. “I’m not going to post your photo now,” he told him. Ilya smirked and blew him a kiss. 

“You know, soon enough you will be joining me at the family stands.” Ilya told him as he scanned his pass to go back out, towards the arena's entrance.  

Harris rolled his eyes. “I doubt it, as the social media guy, I’m sort of busy on game nights.”  

“The ‘social media guy’ will be your nickname in the WAGs group chat.” Ilya chirped, quickly heading out the door to avoid Harris’ outrage. 

He headed through to the seating area that was always reserved for the players' families, beaming when he saw his three parents already sitting down. He pressed a kiss to his mama and Yuna’s cheeks, then David’s with a laugh when he asked where his greeting was. The WAGS broke out into a cheer at the sight of him, which had him bowing dramatically. 

Fuck, he loved this group of people so much, it wasn’t even funny. 

“About time you showed up,” Cassie Boodram said, handing him a beer once he sat down. “We were all taking bets to see if you’d be in your seat on time.”

Ilya fake gasped, looking at the different partners and family present. “I would never be late! How rude.”

“Oh, we need to start keeping tabs on how late you’ve been in the past. Jackie, he is terrible for doing that, trust me.”

“Oh, I trust you.” Jackie laughed, rubbing her stomach, which had an XL Pike jersey covering it. Hayden had been drafted to Montreal, but he had been traded to Ottawa, making this his first season with them. He had been glad to get away from Montreal; not only did they suck, but they seemed to hate Hayden because he refused to join in with their homophobia. And as much as Ilya joked, he was glad Hayden had gotten out of there. Montreal hadn’t deserved him. 

“This will be nice for you, Jackie - Hayden may still be the fifteen best player on the team, but at least he is now on a winning team.” Ilya teased, sipping his beer. “And he loves having Shane as his captain.”

Jackie just snorted, shaking her head. “They are lucky you didn’t go professional, Ilya - you would have destroyed players with your chirps.”

“They are very lucky,” Ilya nodded, sitting back in his seat. His hand unconsciously went back up to the ‘C’, rubbing over it. He couldn’t wait for Shane to show them all exactly why he had earned it.

In the locker room, Shane had just finished what he hoped was an impassioned speech with his team, already feeling the weight of his captaincy settle on his shoulders. He was never good at speeches; Ilya would have totally nailed that. But Boodram had backed him up with it, as a good alternative captain should, and the room had been cheering loudly, falling into a chant of “Hol-lan-der” as Harris filmed them. As Wiebe took over, checking in with the different players, Harris slid up to Shane’s side. 

“Look… I told him I wouldn’t say it, but Ilya wanted to remind you about getting a hat trick. I assume you’ll know what that means.” Harris said, giving Shane a knowing smile as he felt himself go red.

It did exactly what Ilya had set out to do, however, as Shane couldn’t help but laugh, breaking up the tension in his body that Ilya usually got out of him by holding him. It was nice to know that Ilya was out there, waiting to see him play. He always felt motivated, knowing the most important person in his world was just beyond the doors to the arena. 

“Don’t worry, I’ve not forgotten.” Shane told Harris, nodding at him.

“Good. And hey, good luck. Not that you’ll need it.” Harris replied, grinning. 

Shane thanked him for that, grabbing his stick and double checking the tape, before grabbing a sharpie. Shane didn’t consider himself an overly superstitious player, but he did this before each game - his own version of good luck that hadn’t failed him yet. On one side of his tape, he carefully wrote out ‘YUNA’, and with a smile, on the other side he wrote ‘ILYA’. He took a moment to look at the two names, to breathe, before he stood. 

Shane began to move around the room, knocking his helmets with his different teammates, checking in with Troy who looked a little pale but otherwise ok. Hayden in particular was ready to go, knocking his helmet a little harder than normal against Shane’s.

“Just like old times,” Hayden told him, his eyes bright. “Except without Ilya chirping at us every second of the game.”

“Oh, he’s still going to do that from the stands.” Shane told him seriously, patting his shoulder. “Come on, better line up. Bood and I are at the back.” 

And before he knew it, the music and lights were flashing, and Shane watched each of his teammates racing out onto the ice to cheers. When his own name was called, he went out to thunderous cheers and applause, nearly louder than the music - and as always, his eyes went to find Ilya’s. They shared a smile, a nod, and then it was time to get into focus. 

*

Shane was no stranger to doing interviews or running ad campaigns that his mother got him to agree to, but filming a thirty minute special at their cottage felt a bit odd. It just felt like a strange invasion of his and Ilya’s privacy, and it had taken Shane a long time to agree to it. He made sure that they were only allowed to film outside of the property, their built in ice rink, one of the guest rooms, and the living room and kitchen area. But before the filming crew had come, Shane had made a point of moving things around that he didn’t want them to see. It wasn’t like they had any sex toys lying around or anything, but some photos and decorations were just for them. 

Ilya had been happy to follow Shane around, moving anything he determined not for the public’s viewing. While he didn’t mind so much, he understood why Shane was protective over these things - after they were outed, privacy became a luxury they apparently couldn’t afford. Anywhere they went, they were photographed, even if it was just going to get groceries or a coffee. The most mundane things became public conversation, and while it wasn’t always bad, it exhausted Shane to no end. He had joked that he wished he could have become a famous hockey player while remaining completely anonymous. While Ilya couldn’t make that happen, he always planned their holidays with anonymity in mind, which is why they spent so much time in Europe. Shane could be pretty anonymous there; just another pretty face in the crowd. It helped take the sting out of the media attention they got at home.

Yuna arrived just before the camera crew did, inspecting the cottage with sharp eyes. She went over the agreed filming they were going to do - shots of the cottage, of Shane doing yoga near the lake, and finishing with them both playing on the ice rink. It already sounded mentally draining, but Shane plastered on a smile when the crew arrived. Thankfully, it was just a small crew of four, which felt a lot less stressful. 

“So lovely to meet you both!” The director of the special, Vanessa, greeted them both. Shane couldn’t help but notice how her gaze lingered on Ilya, her hand left a few seconds too long in his hold. It was a struggle to make himself not glare at her. “Wow, this place is even more amazing in person. Was this your eye for detail?” Vanessa asked Ilya, practically fluttering her eyelashes at him. 

“Oh no, Shane was the real vision behind this place.” Ilya told her, gesturing over to his boyfriend. “He always wanted a cottage here, since it’s so close to his parents. We used to come here as kids.” 

“Save those stories for the camera,” Vanessa winked. Shane balled his hands into fists by his side so he didn’t throttle her. “So, where should we start? Oh, how about a quick tour first, so we can scope out some nice filming areas.” 

“Sure, let me just let the baby in.” Ilya said, turning on his heel and heading to the backdoor. At the shocked looks on everyone’s faces, Shane quickly explained that Ilya meant their dog, Anya, who had been pottering around outside. Anya had been a new addition to their family after Harris had taken her to the rink. She was an incredibly pampered pooch, but neither Shane nor Ilya would have it any other way. 

“I keep telling him not to call her our baby, but I think he enjoys shocking people.” Shane said, shaking his head before cracking on with the tour. 

They filmed the inside, to capture how light and connected with the outdoors the cottage was. They then interviewed them sitting on the couch, explaining why they loved the cottage so much, discussing how much they tried to use it and how it was a refuge when Shane’s season finished. Shane relaxed a bit more as it went on, but every time Vanessa laughed at something Ilya said, he could feel a muscle under his eye twitch.

They got some shots of them on the ice rink; Ilya was still good competition for him after all these years, and made sure to let the camera capture that. Then, Shane did a few solo shots of him doing yoga by the dock, though Ilya nearly ruined every shot by wolf whistling at him, and Anya decided it would be the perfect time to kiss his face, thinking he was playing some kind of game. 

The crew fell in love with Anya, and once Ilya said she could do tricks, they decided they just had to film it. Shane headed inside to give his face a quick wash (he loved Anya, but being covered in dog spit made his skin crawl), and was now just watching as Ilya got Anya to do tricks for the camera. Vanessa began to head inside, leaving the camera crew with Ilya. A petty voice in Shane’s head was wondering why she wasn’t trying to spend as much time with Ilya as possible, especially since Shane was inside. At her bright smile and wave, however, he did feel a little bad for thinking that. 

“I thought I would head in, make sure we’ve not left anything behind.” Vanessa explained once she was at Shane’s side. “He sure loves that dog, doesn’t he?”

“Oh yeah, we both do.” Shane said, a little firm. “We’ve not had her for long, but it feels like she’s always been here. She spends a lot of time with Ilya’s mum, so all her commands are in Russian.”  

“So sweet.” By the sound of it, she hadn’t even listened to what he had said. “So you’ve been together… how long, exactly?” Vanessa asked, watching from one of the windows with Shane. They were finally wrapping up, but Ilya was looking back on the footage with a pleased grin. Then they were thankfully leaving Shane and Ilya alone to have a night at the cottage before driving back to Ottawa the next day. 

“Oh, well… I guess officially, ten years. But we’ve known each other since we were six, and we’ve kind of always been close.” Shane said, rubbing the back of his neck. He wasn’t always so awkward about discussing his relationship, not anymore, but doing it with any kind of press made his skin crawl. One tiny thing he said could be blown entirely out of proportion. 

“Wow, ten years is a long time, considering you are both in your early twenties.” Vanessa turned to look at him, and if Shane didn’t know any better, he would have called the expression on her face devious. “Don’t you ever worry that both of you are missing out on life experiences? The things I got up to in my twenties… Well, let’s just say those years are past you before you even know it, and you don’t get the time back. It must just be a bit odd, to have been with the same person since you were teenagers. And Ilya, he’s pretty vocal about being bisexual, right? But he’s probably never dated a girl.”

Shane looked at her sharply, shocked at how unprofessional Vanessa was being with him in his own property, even though she had been pretty terrible at keeping her eyes to herself the whole shoot today. Shane wasn’t blind to her open interest in his fucking partner. But her words annoyingly hit a nerve, a worry that Shane had buried a long time ago, but still existed somewhere in his subconsciousness. 

“I… I don’t…” Shane started then stopped, at a total loss at what to say. Part of him wanted to demand that she get out of their cottage, but from the look on her face, she probably would love that to happen. He could see the headlines now. So, he kept his mouth shut, looking back towards Ilya who was cuddling Anya in his arms as he laughed with the crew. 

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you. I’m just thinking out loud,” Vanessa said, not sounding sorry at all. 

“I’m not upset,” Shane lied, before forcing a smile on his face. He hoped Vanessa could tell how much he was faking it. “I just hate when people presume they know anything about our relationship. Sure, we might be missing out on some wild times in our twenties, but some people never get to say they’ve been with someone they love for ten years.” He cocked his head to the side, feigning curiosity. “How about you? What is your longest relationship?”

That had Vanessa spluttering, and thankfully, the crew wrapped up just as their conversation ended. They made quick work of getting out of there, and Shane pointed did not say goodbye to Vanessa, but he did make sure that he was holding Ilya’s hand firmly until their van was down their driveway, out of sight and mind forever, hopefully. Yuna didn’t stay long afterwards, pressing kisses to both of their foreheads (and Anya’s, of course) and headed down to their own cottage for the night. 

Ilya, of course, picked up on his mood instantly. “You trying to break my hand, Hollander?” Ilya teased, shaking their joined hands. 

Instantly, Shane dropped it, frowning slightly. “Sorry, my bad.”

“Is ok,” Ilya retook his hand, kissing each knuckle. “You feel a bit dysregulated with having that crew in here?” Dysregulated was a word they had gotten from Galina, but it didn’t quite fit what Shane was feeling. He could have just nodded and agreed, but being honest about your feelings - even when you weren’t sure what your feelings were - were better than dismissing them entirely. That was another thing Galina had taught them. 

“I mean, I didn’t really like them being here, but it wasn’t as bad as I first thought it would be.” Shane admitted, his eyes falling on Anya, fast asleep in her bed in the living room. “I’m glad it was a small crew, y’know? Less invasive.”

Ilya hummed in agreement, dropping their hands in favour of crowding up against Shane’s back and pressing a kiss to the back of his neck. “But…” He said encouragingly, knowing there was more to it.

“It’s stupid,” Shane said instantly, because it was. “Like, so not a big deal. Just… the director, Vanessa? When you were doing the tricks with Anya, she was inside with me, and… I guess she just made some comments, about us being together for so long and from such a young age. About how we were missing out on the best years of our lives by being together, or something like that. And,” fuck, was he really going to say it? “She was making eyes at you the whole shoot, which is so inappropriate considering she is working. And she said you were so vocal about being bisexual, but never getting to date a girl, as if I’m holding you back from exploring that side of you, and it just pissed me off. See, I told you it was stupid.”

Ilya didn’t say anything for a moment; the only sound was Anya’s sniffles in her sleep. “Her name was Vanessa?” Ilya finally said, his voice surprised. Shane tilted his head back to look up at him. Ilya had a puzzled look on his face. “You are sure of this? I called her Valerie when she left.”

Shane laughed at that, so loudly that Anya raised her head to see what all the commotion was about. And just like that, the weird anxious bubble Vanessa had left behind popped with Ilya’s dismissal of her. Her words were floating away from him, taking his worries with them.

“Shane, what do I tell you about people we don’t care about? It’s all just background noise,” Ilya reminded him, kissing his forehead since Shane was still looking up at him. “Who gives a fuck what Victoria thinks, hm?”

Shane didn’t bother to correct him, because fuck Vanessa. “You’re right. I think I was just not prepared for that, y’know? We got so much of that shit when we got outed, the idea that people still think us being in a committed relationship is a bad thing is so annoying. I mean, she was here to film our cottage, not give me shitty relationship advice just because she wanted to sleep with you.”

“Exactly.” Ilya pressed another kiss to his neck. “You know you are the only person I ever want, moya lyubov.” 

Shane smiled, looking back outside the window. The sun had nearly disappeared, as if it was getting swallowed up by the lake. This was always Shane’s favourite time of day when they were at the cottage. “Ya tak sil'no tebya lyublyu.” Shane told him back, the words perfected after years of saying it. 

“... You know, you forgot to tell them that we really bought this land because this is where we lost our virginities to each other.” Ilya murmured in his ear, which sent a pleasant tingle down his spine. 

“Ilya, I didn’t even want them to see some of our photos, you think I was gonna tell them that?” Shane snickered, leaning his head back against Ilya’s shoulder. “Besides, that wasn’t the only reason we bought it! It was a childhood dream of mine to have a cottage here!”

“Oh please, you just want to look out the window and pinpoint exactly where you fell in love with my dick,” Ilya snickered, running his hands up and down Shane’s side, before pointing outside towards a tree. “It was right there! We should put a plaque up on the tree.”

“Ilya!” Shane was laughing again, swatting at his boyfriend’s hands. He turned to face Ilya, reaching up into his curls to pull his head down for a kiss. It was only meant to be a peck, but Ilya sucked his bottom lip into his mouth, and suddenly it was the kind of kiss that took his breath away. He leaned his forehead against Ilya’s cheek as they groaned into each other’s mouths, Ilya’s hands no longer teasing his sides but holding onto his waist, grounding him. 

“Maybe we should go out to that tree,” Ilya whispered, one hand moving down to cup Shane’s ass, gripping the firm cheek. “Would be nice to take a trip down memory lane, yes?”

Shane was nodding before Ilya had even stopped talking, reaching up to grab the front of his top and dragging him to the backdoor. 

*

Coaching was still one of Ilya's favourite things to do. He still did his usual classes, but now he coached entirely through the Ottawa Centaur’s Foundation, which sponsored three public rinks to give children an opportunity to learn how to play hockey that couldn’t afford the classes or the equipment themselves. He still got the same joy he had felt as a teenager, watching the kids do well, to see them find themselves out on the ice and feel that sense of belonging. He loved making sure every class was inclusive and welcoming, opposite to how it had felt in Russia, when his father pushed him to be the best. He didn’t care if these kids never wanted to go professional, or anything like that - he just wanted them to have fun.

A bonus of doing this through his work, was that he could also wheedle the actual players to come down to some of these sessions and provide a bit of coaching. Boodram did it the most with him; he liked to do it for the memories of hanging out with Ilya before he was drafted, and because the kids seemed to hang onto his every word. He was a total natural at it, and the fans loved it. Wyatt Hayes was also great at it, especially when Ilya just couldn’t seem to click with one of their new kids - Hayes turned up and sussed out pretty quickly that the kid was meant to be a goaltender, and had come a few times to help the kid find his feet protecting the net. Troy was also one for helping out, but usually he did it on the days that Harris was going to be filming to promote the work they were doing. The way those two danced around each other made Ilya snort. He couldn’t imagine if he had Shane had been like that, he always knew Shane was the one for him.

Speaking of his better half, Shane was actually attending this coaching session today, which was extra exciting because today the class was at the old ice rink where they had met seventeen years ago. He didn’t come to do this too often; he was extremely busy, of course, but also… he sort of sucked at coaching. He couldn’t explain anything to save his life in a child friendly way. Put him in charge of helping out his rookies and sure, he was the man for the job, but making hockey sound exciting to a seven year old? Yes, it wasn’t exactly his boyfriend’s strong point. It was a lot better if he just showed up to let the kids meet the famous Shane Hollander, signing their jerseys and showing them some of his trick shots. 

But for once, Ilya felt rather nervous before the start of class. Not because of the kids, or because Shane was here, but rather because of their plans afterwards. Ilya was sure he had suggested it slyly enough, without raising suspicion - for them to go downtown, to one of their favourite restaurants, to have a relaxed evening together. 

The rink had been kind enough to let him keep his locker, even after he stopped coaching through them and with the Foundation instead. He didn’t keep a lot in there, except for things he didn’t want Shane to find. He reached into his locker to pull out the ring box, flicking it open to check the ring was there, as if it had somehow disappeared. But no, there it was - a rather plain gold band, but he had gotten their initials engraved on the inside. It just felt more like Shane, more private, expensive but not flashy. He exhaled slowly, counting to five in his head to calm his nerves; the idea of proposing tonight made him feel sick.

It wasn’t like they hadn’t spoken about getting engaged before. If anything, they had spoken about it so much it no longer felt like a big next step in their relationship, but just something they would get around to. He knew it surprised a lot of people that they hadn’t taken that next step; a lot of people assumed they were married. In fact, according to some online shitty sports news page, they had at least been married once, then divorced, and then married again.

In truth, they had never really found the right time to do it. When Shane had first gotten drafted, the press around him and their relationship had been so insane, that they both knew it wasn’t the right time. Plus, they had promised their parents that they wouldn’t rush anything, even though they had been using the rings they had won at the fairground as promise rings. So, they just got used to living with each other first, which was a real test of what married life would be like. And they loved every second of it - the long nights sitting up and talking about everything and nothing, the way they argued because Ilya left his shoes lying around and it drove Shane mad, or how Shane’s skincare took up more than half the bathroom cabinet space and how pissy he got if Ilya moved his shit. It was perfect in its own way, and that’s when they began to discuss getting married again.

But then Ilya had dropped out of his course, and just gotten a new job, so they agreed to wait until he felt more settled. Then they had both gotten promotions, with Ilya taking over the running of the Foundation and Shane becoming captain, and then life continued to get busier. But no, it all stopped tonight - Ilya was going to lock Shane down. He didn’t care if it took them another ten years to get married, he just wanted to show to the world that yes, against all odds, they were still together, and screw anyone for thinking that they wouldn’t last. 

Fuck, he wished he could go back in time and tell his six year old self that he was proposing to the boy with stars on his face, who could play hockey just as well as Ilya. Who made a point of saying hello, when no one else did. That things had worked out more than Ilya could ever hoped it had. 

He shoved the box quickly back into his locker when he heard the door open, but it was just Harris, who was here to get some shots of their captain doing some community work. Harris was aware of his plans to propose; he had only told him, his mama and the Hollanders, and of course Svetlana. Both sets of parents had cried a lot when he told them, which had led to Ilya crying over it and once again being so thankful that this was his life. 

“You ok?” Harris asked in concern. “You’re looking a bit pale, Ilya.”

“Must have been something I ate,” he answered, trying to play off how nervous he really felt. Harris, of course, clocked the attempt. 

“It’s ok to be nervous, you know.”

“Russians don’t get nervous,” Ilya shot back, but he reached out to pat Harris’ shoulder. “I just have to get through this session, then I will feel better. Did you bring posters for the kids?” Ilya asked, gesturing at the stack of paper tucked under Harris’ arm. He couldn’t make out what was printed on them. “Is it for Shane to sign?”

Harris twisted away, ever so slightly. “Ah - yeah, it’s his new photos with the captain jersey on.”

“Oh, give me one.” Ilya held out his hand, making a grabbing motion. “I can put one in my locker, like he’s a pinup girl.” 

Harris just snorted and shook his head. “Maybe if there is any left, sure, you can keep one. Better hit the ice, coach! Shane texted me to say he’ll be here in about ten minutes, but your group is nearly ready to go out there.” 

Ilya cursed softly and closed up his locker, patting Harris’ shoulder as he went past. Sure enough, his group of kids were just finishing getting their skates on. Ilya waited on the ice for them, giving them each a fist bump as they made their way out. He started with warm ups that were just games, getting them to race with him, where he gracefully pretended to lose each time. When they were ready, Ilya directed them to all collect a hockey stick, but didn’t go into the passing exercise he had planned for the first half of the session. Instead, he had them all stand in a line while he stood facing them, tapping his stick on the ice, a habit he had formed since he had been put to practice.

“We have a very special guest joining us today.” Ilya reminded them, smiling as some of the kids whooped at the reminder. “Do you remember who it is?”

Sticks were raised in the air instead of hands. “Shane Hollander!” The kids all began to say, excitement evident in their voices. 

“Oh, that guy? I meant my good friend Harris.” Ilya said, gesturing over to Harris who was sitting in the stands. “What is so special about Shane Hollander, hm?”

“He’s the captain of the Ottawa Centaurs!”

“He’s the best player ever, he’s got the most points and he always wins at the All-Stars games-”

“No, no, this cannot be true.” Ilya replied, shaking his head. “You see, the Shane Hollander I know, well, he played in this rink with me. And while his skating was ok, I was definitely the better skater.” One of the kids snickered at that, while another kid was furiously shaking their head; clearly a die hard Shane Hollander fan, which delighted Ilya. “And his backhand is very weak, even to this day. And he snores very loudly.” That had the kids cracking up - even the die hard fan was fighting a giggle. 

“Oh, wow. High praise,” a voice said dryly behind him. Ilya turned around to beam at Shane. He looked so handsome and very put together for just helping out with the kids, but he figured Harris had told him to look presentable since he was filming. He had on his new jersey, which did stupid things to Ilya’s heart. “I don’t even snore, you’re the one that sounds like a bear.”

“That is a lie,” Ilya shook his head, pulling his hands on his hips. “You know Harris is filming you, right? He will show the whole world Captain Shane Hollander is a liar. Not a good look, Mr Golden Boy.” 

Shane just shook his head, coming onto the ice. He seemed a bit slower than usual, and in all honesty, anxious. He knew Shane wasn’t the best with kids, especially a group of them, but he never thought he would be genuinely nervous over it. His boyfriend could face some of the toughest players in the league and feel more confident over it than a group of kids that idolised him. 

Speaking of, Ilya turned to face the kids, surprised that they had been so well behaved and not attempted to swarm around Shane as he had expected them to do. But actually, as he and Shane had been talking, the kids had put their sticks down on the ice. In their hands was a piece of paper, with an individual letter printed out onto it. Ilya realised that this is what Harris must have been carrying for them, but it definitely wasn’t photos of Shane in his new jersey. 

“Will you… marry me?” Ilya read out slowly, not quite hearing what he was saying. He read it silently to himself again, whispering the words and letting them settle into his mind. And then it clicked. 

He turned to face Shane, a look of pure shock on his face, because there was no way this was happening. Shane had already dropped to one knee, his brown eyes staring up into Ilya’s, his freckles standing out under the fluorescent lights of the rink. In his hand was a ring box, just like the one Ilya had, except this ring was different. It was a gold band, however within the middle of the gold ring was a smaller band with what Ilya assumed was green opal, that went the full way around the ring. It was beautiful; still minimalist, but with the spark of colour that Ilya could imagine Shane spent hours agonising over. 

Speaking of Shane, his poor love looked even more nervous, but had tried to school his expression into something that didn’t outwardly show it. But Ilya knew it. He knew Shane so well, but even so, he hadn’t seen this coming. 

“Ilya,” Shane started, his voice quiet. Ilya’s heart began to beat loudly in his chest, and that was only at the mention of his stupid name. “I’ve been wanting to do this for a long time, but I could never seem to plan the perfect moment. But then I realised I was doing it all wrong, because every moment is perfect with you, and I want to keep having more perfect moments with you, but as your husband.” Shane’s voice had steadily gotten louder as he spoke, more sure of himself, but even he paused to exhale, his eyes closing for a moment to compose himself. Ilya reached out, just letting his fingertips rest on Shane’s shoulder, a silent sign of support. When Shane next opened his eyes, his eyelashes were wet with tears.

“I have loved you since the moment I met you on this ice, Ilya. I maybe didn’t understand it then, but I just knew you were going to be my person forever, and the idea of that never scared me. And I know it’s not always been easy, with hockey and with Russia, but somehow we’ve made it work and only ever come out stronger. There is no one else I’d rather have by my side, through the highs and lows.” Shane’s voice cracked, and Ilya reached out to wipe a tear that was rolling down his cheek, while entirely ignoring the fact that he himself was crying now. 

“And I know this just feels like the logical next step, because we’ve got a house, a dog, a life together.” Shane let out a chuckle as Ilya cracked a smile at the mention of Anya. “But this isn’t about logic for me, or because this is what we’re expected to do. This is about how much I love you, and how I want to keep loving you every single day, loudly. I want to show everyone you are mine, and in return, I am entirely yours. Even when hockey is over with, and you aren’t coaching anymore, and we’re going grey. I want you to be the person by my side at every next step, for it to be you who is holding my hand through it all.” Shane swallowed, lifting the box higher towards Ilya. “Ilya Grigoryevich Rozanov, will you do me the honour of officially becoming my better half, my husband?” 

Ilya let the words rush over him, sinking into his skin like a warm hug. He had dreamed of this day, even years ago when he privately imagined himself and Shane being like Yuna and David, happily married. Of finding a place, a home that he belonged to, not just within his mother’s arms, where he was loved fully with no boundaries. And although Ilya could not believe that Shane had beaten him to propose by a few mere hours, he had already known his answer to this question for longer than the ten years they had been officially together. 

“I have no plans to go grey,” Ilya told him, his voice deep with emotion. “And I am so very annoyed at you for stealing my thunder.”

Shane blinked up at him, a pinch of confusion on his face. “Um… does that mean-?”

“Yes,” Ilya cut in with a laugh, reaching down to pull his fiancée to his feet. “It means yes, Shane. Of course I will marry you!” 

There was a loud cheer from the children and from the stands as their lips met. Ilya couldn’t help himself and dipped Shane, his arm around his waist to keep him steady on the ice, grinning into the kiss when Shane gasped at the action. They both came up laughing, and with a shaky hand, Shane slid the ring onto Ilya’s finger. They took a moment to look at the band on his finger; Ilya’s face was starting to get sore from smiling so much. Ilya held up his hand to the kids, who were all whooping loudly and smacking their sticks on the ice, the paper signs on the ice now.

“You got Harris to help you?” Ilya asked, turning back to take Shane’s hands in his. 

“Yeah, I knew I couldn’t pull this off myself.” Shane replied honestly, gesturing over to Harris. “And, well, I had other people to help out, too.” He could see people behind Harris, who seemed to be jumping up and down and waving wildly over to them. 

“Mama… my mama is here,” Ilya said, looking over at the figures that were next to Harris. He waved back at them wildly, an impossibly larger grin splitting out on his face along with a fresh set of tears.  “And your parents, Shane!” 

“I didn’t want them to miss it,” Shane told him, wiping at his own face. “Svetlana is going to be here tonight, she’s flying in. Hayden is in the stands with Jackie, and Bood and Cassie.”

This was all so overwhelming; he had no idea how Shane was coping with it all. But he was sure it only helped that his fiancée only had eyes for him. Ilya tugged him back in for a deep kiss, hoping Shane could feel his love for him through his touch. Even with all their years together, Ilya was certain he had never felt this amount of love for the man in his arms. Nothing could top this feeling, not ever. 

By now, their parents had joined them on the ice, and his arms were now full of his mother who was openly weeping. Yuna and Irina switched sons, with Yuna pulling him in for a tight hug and kiss, finally ending with David in his arms who seemed to be crying the most. 

“You’ve always been my other son,” David said into his shoulder, not ready to let go of him yet. “But this has just made it official. I’m so happy for you both.” 

Harris was coming out onto the ice now, a lot more careful about it since he still had his phone in his hands. The sight of him suddenly gave Ilya an idea - after all, the people on the ice were also well aware of Ilya’s original plans to propose, and while Harris was still here and filming… Well, Ilya simply didn’t want to waste the opportunity. 

“Wait, Harris, don’t stop filming yet!” Ilya said, waving frantically over to Harris. Harris, who had just been away to put down his phone, gave him a confused look but did as he was asked. Ilya turned back to Shane, grinning. “And you! You stay there and don’t move, ok? Not a muscle off this ice.”

“Ilya, what?” Shane spluttered as Irina wiped at his eyes with a tissue. Ilya gave his shoulders a squeeze, then darted off the ice. He raced to his lockers, even in his skates, and quickly pulled out the ring box. Before he headed back out, he took a moment to look at himself in the mirror. His face was flushed and wet with tears, the blueness of his eyes was standing out so vividly thanks to how red his eyes were. His hair was a mess, and he couldn’t believe that he had just gotten engaged wearing the stupid Ottawa Centaur’s emblem on his staff top. But what was more stupid was the big, beaming smile on his face that he couldn’t seem to stop. 

He looked like a complete, happy mess. He didn’t try and fix a thing before heading back out. 

He made it back to the ice, and grinned when he saw Shane had followed his instructions, even as he looked entirely confused at what he had been asked to do. Hayden, Jackie, Bood and Cassie had joined them now, though thankfully they were keeping the kids entertained on Ilya’s behalf. 

“I told you I was annoyed that you stole my thunder, da?” Ilya said, holding up the box and wiggling it. Shane’s eyes widened at it, looking between it and Ilya’s face. “Tonight, at dinner, I had this whole plan, and I had a great speech prepared. But no, you just had to do it first, didn’t you?”

“I wasn’t trying to steal your thunder! I was being romantic,” Shane laughed, giving Ilya a shove. Ilya shoved him back, before gesturing at Harris to keep the camera on them both. “I thought it was nice to propose where we met, and I know how much you love the kids you teach, so I had to get them to help.”

“It was,” Ilya admitted, taking hold of one of Shane’s hands and squeezing it. “Much better than my dinner plans, but still, let me propose to you too, please?”

Shane laughed again, but it was much softer this time. “Ok,” he whispered, squeezing Ilya’s hand back. “Let me hear it.”

“You better say yes,” Ilya whispered back to him, as he got down on one knee. 

*

The house was quiet in a way that Yuna still wasn’t used to. Although Shane and Ilya had moved out as soon as they were old enough, renting a one bed apartment closer to the Centaurs training rink, they used to come back often, usually with bags of laundry because they still could not work out how to use their own washer and dryer, or because they wanted some real home cooked food. Irina had found the quietness of her own home difficult to start with, which gave Yuna some comfort - although Irina had been used to Ilya being at the Hollanders most of the time, it felt strange to have a bedroom that was no longer occupied with her son’s things. But even those fleeting visits home had stopped, once they stopped acting like teenagers and more like young men. Now, they had given up on doing the laundry themselves entirely and just paid to get it done, and they had moved into a beautiful home that Ilya had declared their “forever home”. 

It was true that the years would fly by without her being aware or prepared for it. She missed the boys so much it hurt, even though they were thankfully both still in Ottawa, and she saw them often enough. But she would never see seven year old Ilya sitting at her table again, practising his English with his brows furrowed as he sounded out a word. She would never experience Shane carefully putting the photo of him and Ilya in a frame for his room, his cheeks red as he did it. She wouldn’t ever look out into her garden again and see the boys pulling out their bikes, chirping each other loudly and planning to do races. 

It was stupid, she knew that. But what wouldn’t she give to go back to one of those memories, to relive it all and know how precious every second was.

She was so lost in her thoughts that she didn’t hear the car pulling into their driveway, nor the noise of keys in the front door. She did snap out of it when she heard Shane’s voice, however. 

“You are such a pain in the-ow!” Shane said, which was followed by the noise of paws thundering on the wooden floors. Anya came racing around the corner, barking with joy as she saw Yuna. She leaned down to pet her fluffy ears - while she loved her four legged granddaughter, she did wonder if one day they would decide to have kids of their own. They were so young, of course, but Ilya usually didn’t let Hayden get a head start on anything. 

“Ilya, be nice to Shane.” Irina scolded her son. Sweetly, Irina had her arm tucked into the crook of Shane’s elbow. Her scolding had Shane grinning behind her back at his fiancée. Ilya put up his middle finger, which didn’t go unnoticed by his mother, who attempted to swat his hand. “Ilyusha! So rude!”

“Mama, Shane has you wrapped around his finger,” Ilya complained. He beamed when he saw Yuna, and raced over to her, hiding behind her. “Mama Yuna, I am being picked on.” 

“No you are not,” Shane replied, snickering. “Hi, mum. Where’s dad?” 

“Oh, he’s just getting out a bottle of the good stuff, since this is a special occasion.” Yuna said, turning to press a kiss to Ilya’s cheek. 

“Why, did something happen?” Ilya preened, holding up his hand to show off his ring. Shane shook his head, swatting Ilya’s hand.

“How have you become more annoying since we got engaged?” Shane asked, grinning when Ilya grabbed his hand and tugged him forward. 

“I have no idea what you mean,” Ilya replied, and before their mothers knew it, they were play fighting like kids again. 

“Not in the kitchen,” Yuna reminded them, like she had done a hundred times. At least some things never changed. As they moved to the living room, David appeared with a bottle of champagne, an amused look on his face as Anya joined in her parents wrestling match. 

While she would always cherish memories from the past, she knew right now she was looking at the future. She looked over at Irina and smiled, knowing she was thinking the exact same thing. 

“I’m so glad we spoke to each other that day.” Yuna told her softly. Part of her would love to go back to that time, to tell her not to worry about Shane making friends or fitting in. That he was in safe hands, with the new kid who couldn’t speak a word of English yet and called Shane’s freckles stars.  

Irina nodded, her eyes a bit wet. “Me too, Yuna. Me too.”

Once Ilya and Shane settled down, they toasted the newly engaged couple, David trying to say a few words but ended up getting so choked up, Yuna came to his rescue.

“To your new beginning, together.” Yuna finished, clinking their glasses together. Shane and Ilya beamed and repeated it, taking a sip of the champagne before sharing a kiss. 

They were only just getting started.

Chapter End Notes

Wow… I actually don’t know what to say! I cannot believe an idea that would not leave me alone is now complete! I started this with a draft idea about Ilya getting into a fight when someone picking on Shane for wearing glasses, with them going to a house party, and now we’re a complete story!

I firstly want to say a massive thank you to everyone who has read and supported this story. I am truly blessed with some of the most wonderful commenters, and the absolute joy when you see the same names pop up and being like, yay, they stuck around with me! It has meant the world to me and I am going to miss interacting with you guys now this is done :( I would also like to say if there is a comment I have not managed to reply to, I am so sorry, but please know it has been read and completely appreciated.

Another big thank you to mialeksovich, I am very glad we took the next step in our friendship to admit we have AO3 accounts so I could moan to you about story progression! You have been an amazing help to me and just an amazing support when sometimes I couldn’t find the will to finish a chapter.

A final thank you to Shane and Ilya, especially in this little world. A lot of you have mentioned you have found something healing with this story, and as the author I can confirm feeling the same way. Childhoods aren’t perfect, nor do I think I’ve written these two to have a perfect childhood, but there is something healing about reading scenarios that are like: “hey, this was a really tough thing to experience, but just look at how you can grow and still find yourself after it”. Thank you to Irina, as well - not a ghost haunting the narrative but leading it.

Characters I am sad that didn’t get a guest appearance:
Harris, yes I know he was in the epilogue but I tried to get him in the story sooner! He was originally written to have made an appearance when they were 12, and was going to have filmed Grigori being nasty to Ilya and then showed it to Irina, but it got cut.
JJ! I kept waiting for an idea where he would fit in, but then the roles would either be too small so I would give it to someone else. And then I got to the end of the fic and I’m like where is JJ… Sorry dude.
Ryan Price. I didn’t know the other characters super well when I started, so in the first draft he was the guy who has the house party when they are 14. Until I actually researched the character and was like wow he’d rather shoot himself then host a party, so he got cut.
Fabian - same as JJ, I kept being like where can I put you, but there was no natural space for Fabian :(

Final storylines that didn’t make the cut but you might like to know:
Irina and Alexei do end up reconciling. This is partly due to Alexei getting his girlfriend pregnant when they are both young, and his father kicks him out because of it. Irina goes to Russia to support her son (this is something her and Ilya have a big fight over, because he is so worried about her going to Russia alone and the fact that he feels Alexei has only reached out because he needs money). She then goes back over to Russia twice a year to see her granddaughter, her son and his partner.
Ilya does not reconnect with Alexei, though his mama tells him Alexei would love to make up with him. He doesn’t trust him when he says he is “ok” with Ilya being with Shane, nor does he want Alexei leeching off of Shane’s money.
Irina is pretty content with being by herself, but she is surprised when she finds herself interested in a coworker. That part isn’t too surprising, but what is to her, is that the coworker is a woman. She first thinks it's just friendship, but when Yuna is like “is it like how we are with each other?” she realises it is a lot more than that. She hasn’t told Ilya or Shane yet, because it might not be anything and Ilya is very protective of her, but yeah, Irina was totally gonna end up with a girlfriend.
Scott comes out two years after Shane and Ilya are outed, the same way as pulling Kip out onto the ice for a smooch! Scott then writes an article in a sports magazine which praised Shane for how he didn’t let the awful way he was treated stop him from following his dream, which in turn became an inspiration for Scott to take the leap and live his authentic life openly. (Think of it as a full circle moment, from where Shane idolised Scott to him doing it later on!)

And that is all my silly ideas that had no real place in the main story. Jeez, I will miss this AU! I am sure I am not done with Hollanov stories, but I have no proper stories planned out yet. Hopefully if I write something new, I will see you there too <3 As always, I am active on tumblr (same username) so feel free to hit me up there!

Once again, thank you :)