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  1. It’s perhaps the sweetest Svetlana has ever known Ilyusha to be. She has always been granted access to the more affectionate side of Ilyusha, the one that he rarely shows to anyone else, but it was never anything compared to this. This tenderness, this adoration, that he gives so freely to Shane. It’s like her best friend is a completely different person right now, and she starts to wonder if maybe she was wrong earlier. Maybe, instead of being too boring for Ilyusha, perhaps Shane Hollander is giving him the space to become something soft. Something without walls, or masks, or armour. (Or, 5 times people doubt their love for each other, and 1 time they are certain of it.)

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  2. hollandershole🕳: are they smiling at each other???? ↳hollandershole🕳: oh my fucking god what is going on sufferingcensfan: did rozanov just swing for hollander then stop when he realised who it was? hollanovtruther: not fighting his man? i know that’s right�

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  3. “It’s not new,” Shane admits. “The gay part or the relationship part?” “Both?” Hayden’s jaw slowly drops until he’s wearing such a goofy expression that Shane can’t help but laugh again. (Or, Shane gets to come out on his own terms for once.)

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  4. “My husband won’t like you touching me like this.” “Husband, eh? You’re married?” Ilya can feel the sleepy rumble of the man’s voice against his back. He presses further into it, folding his own hand over the one that’s splayed against his stomach, and slotting their fingers together. “Yes. He will be very sad when he finds out I am in bed with second best hockey player in NHL.”

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  5. Shane is used to feeling fuzzy with Rozanov. Like he’s floating higher, higher, higher. But this - this isn’t that. Shane isn’t floating, he’s falling. Sinking down, down, down below, into darkness. It feels like there are waves crashing over his head, cold and sharp like needles against his skin, and when he does manage to breach the surface for a moment, he’s met with thick fog and a starless sky. It feels sort of like a concussion, but not. There’s no pain, just…haziness. Just a gaping, empty feeling, right in the centre of his chest. (Or, Vegas rewritten.)

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  6. It kind of looks like junk, at first. Just a random collection of items, like the lost property box at the arena for things the cleaners find after games. But Shane quickly realises that the collection isn’t random at all. No, this is a box of memories. Ilya’s memories of Shane.

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  7. He used to visit his mother all the time when he was in Moscow for the off-season. He’d take bouquets of marigolds and sunflowers, and he’d decorate her grave with them to try and brighten it up. He’d even placed a little solar powered lantern there for nighttime, so she wouldn’t feel so frightened of the dark. It’s silly, probably. He knows she isn’t really there; knows that nothing is left of her but bones, by now. But still. Ilya had left it there anyway, just in case. He’ll never get to visit his mama’s grave again.

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  8. “Yuna, David - my husband just said he doesn’t love me anymore.” “I did not say that,” Shane argues, when he notes the disbelieving expressions on his parents’ faces. “I said we can’t get another dog.” “Exactly,” Ilya wails, throwing his arms up in the air. “Is same thing!” (Or, 5 times Ilya calls Shane his husband, and 1 time Shane calls Ilya his husband.)

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  9. It feels like he’s holding the entire world inside his heart. Ilya loves him so much. An impossible, unbelievable amount. It swells inside of him, warm and cozy, like a little pocket of sunlight lodged beneath his ribs. This love is the most gentle thing Ilya has ever known, and he can’t believe he gets to keep it. (Or, a perfect afternoon at the cottage.)

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  10. He learned how to play the role they all wanted to see him in - learned how to wear the mask. But not with Ilya. Shane has never had to tone himself down for Ilya, never had to make himself smaller or quieter or more palatable. He has never had to shrink so that he is easier for Ilya to hold.

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  11. Having a child is like having a second heart beating outside of your body. You carry them, and you hold them in your arms for the very first time, and you soothe them when they cry. You protect them, and keep them safe, and you try and instil them with all the skills and attributes they need to succeed, to thrive, to be happy. You do that for as long as you can…as long as they will allow you. And then you let them go. You send them out into the world, and hope with everything in you that it doesn’t break them.

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  12. The want tears through him like a hurricane, entirely unconcerned with all the destruction it might leave in its wake. Right now, tomorrow doesn’t matter. Right now they don’t have to consider the consequences of this reckless night they’re about to spend together; a night where all their unspoken rules are being tossed out the window in favour of simply letting their bodies be honest. They can figure all this out later, but now…now Ilya needs Shane naked and writhing beneath him before he combusts. (Or, what happens in the hotel room in Florida.)

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  13. Through the haze of darkness and body heat and drunken partygoers, all Shane could see was Ilya. His eyes were fixed on Shane and Rose: the way she touched him, the way she kissed him, the way they moved together. And the look on Ilya’s face - the agony in his eyes - pierced Shane like a blade through his heart. It made him want to peel his skin off; made him feel ashamed for having a body that had been touched by someone other than Ilya.

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  14. Shane kisses the soft green-blue veins beneath the pale skin of his wrist. Feels the flicker of Ilya’s pulse against his lips, steady like the wings of a butterfly. He tastes like salt and skin, and something else just beneath the surface. Something sweet and delicate. A gentle, hidden thing - something the rest of the world doesn’t get to see. They get thrown punches, and bruised knuckles, and hissed warnings. Shane gets this.

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  15. He wanted to take it back instantly. Wanted to swallow his name down, down, down, shove it back into his heart where he’s been hiding it for - god - years. He wanted to go back in time a few seconds, to just before the moment when he ruined it all. He’d call him Hollander, instead. He’d whisper something sweet in Russian so Shane would never know - so Ilya could speak his feelings into existence without Shane hearing them. He’d do anything at all to fix it. (Or, Shane leaves. Then he comes back.)

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  16. “Ilya,” Shane whispers. “Ilya, baby, can you open your eyes?” He’s met with silence, and the frantic tremor of his heart turns into an earthquake. The ice beneath him seeps into his veins and freezes his blood. Panic claws at his chest, scaling his ribcage like a ladder and lodging in his throat. He can barely breathe around the terror. “Ilya, you need to open your eyes. You need to look at me.”

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  17. They had so many years of love and joy, so many tender, vulnerable moments that they were never allowed to capture - never allowed to keep. “We don’t have any pictures together, Ilya,” Shane repeats, his voice frantic and desperate and almost pleading. “We’ve loved each other for a decade and all we have to show for it is-“ “-us, Shane. We have us to show for it. Our life, our love, our home that we have built together.”

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  18. “My - it’s my,” Shane pants, his hand flapping like Ilya’s sometimes does when he’s searching for an English translation that he can’t quite remember. Shane’s heart squeezes painfully. “He’s-“ He wants to say my boyfriend is on that plane. He wants to cry, and throw things, and scream the love of my life might be dying while we stand here. But he doesn’t. He can’t. His voice can’t find the words, can’t find the strength to speak, and even if he could - would he? Would Shane tell the whole world that for him, it has always been Ilya? Will only ever be Ilya? (Or, the plane scene in The Long Game goes a little differently.)

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  19. He’d known that this thing between them - this thing that he wasn’t allowed to want, but couldn’t ever imagine giving up - was already so much more than it was ever supposed to be. But when he’d left Ilya’s hotel room that night, with his heart still racing and his thighs still shaking, all he could think about was that they hadn’t even kissed. Not once.

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