Chapter Text
“And with the second pick in the NHL draft the Montreal Metros choose … Shane Hollander”
An eruption of cheers came from all around him as Shane walked up to the stage. Shane was excited, but he was second overall. Second. To none other than Ilya fucking Rozanov. He had come second to him at World Juniors six months ago and was itching to face off against him this upcoming December.
It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fucking fair. Ilya Rozanov was gorgeous and really good at hockey. He was aggressive on the puck and was a fast skater. Sure he couldn’t match Shane’s accuracy but that was a deadly combo nonetheless. Shane had never really liked anyone or felt a strong attraction to them at least. He wasn’t a virgin and he had dated people, but he had just never felt that strong poll towards someone. Of course the first time he feels this way it would be toward Rozanov.
Shane snapped back to the present. This wasn’t the first time Rozanov had consumed his thoughts and honestly he hadn’t really left them in the past six months. Shane had kinda floated through the niceties and congratulations of the day. He didn’t love talking to people. Shane had been overwhelmed all day by the amount of people and talking so now he just stood silently next to his mom nodding along and only replying with simple yeses and thank yous. He hated events like this. Shane felt they distracted him from the game. He could be practicing right now but no, he had to listen to Metros’ leaders talking about how diverse and progressive the organization is. This shit was all so forced. Shane’s grandparents were both from Japan but his mother had been born and raised in Montreal. To say she was excited about him being signed to the Metros was an understatement. She would have supported him no matter what, but it was definitely a bonus.
Shane was done with listening to people talk about him to him. He looked around to find an escape and locked eyes with Rozanov. He was standing up on the second floor. Rozanov looked like he wanted an escape too. Shane froze. No matter how much he hated him for beating him at Juniors or going first overall, Shane had to admit that Ilya Rozanov was the most attractive man he had ever seen. His hair wasn’t super long but it had enough length to loosely curl and frame his face, and god his face. Rozanov smirked down at Shane. That bitch.
Shane excused himself from whatever conversation his well intended mother had dragged him into. He spotted the restroom sign and cut through the room as quickly as he could. As the door swung closed Shane checked under the stalls. Good he was alone. He pressed his forehead against the cold mirror and tried to center himself. He hated feeling like this, like he wasn’t in his body, like he wasn’t in control. Shane did his best to keep his breathing steady, the cold was already helping him regain control of himself.
When he finally opened his eyes he saw something behind him in the mirror. No, not something, someone. Fuck. He turned around and of course. It was fucking Rozanov. Shane leaned back against the counter. How long had Rozanov been standing there? Better yet how long had Shane been gone.
“Hollander.” Rozanov said it flatly but there was a glimmer of concern in his eyes. Shane didn’t want his concern.
“Rozanov.” Shane nodded at him and turned to the door but Rozanov stopped him.
“You are good, yes?” He seemed to genuinely care and Shane didn’t know how to feel about that.
“Yes.” Shane looked back at him before slipping out of the bathroom.