Chapter Text
Ilya didn’t know how that had happened. Honestly, he didn’t. They were fine. Well, not exactly. Their whole relationship was built on fighting. Against each other. Against themselves. Against everything. And they had to hide. Ilya hated that. He hated that he couldn’t tell Shane in public that he loved him. That he couldn’t scream from the rooftops that he was in love with Shane Hollander. He couldn’t wear a jersey with his number on. He couldn’t be proud of him publicly. On top of that, he wasn’t allowed to say that Shane was everything to him. That Shane was his only family, his hope, his happiness, his future.
And now there was no future.
It all started on Wednesday. Ilya had a long day of practice. He was sore; his legs burned from hours of training. Normally, it wouldn’t be this bad. Ilya was used to training. He had played hockey since he could remember. And he was good at it. He knew that; it wasn’t his cocky side showing off how amazing he was. It was as simple as that. Ilya knew he was the best in the league. Well, maybe that wasn’t completely true. He was one of the best. Right after Shane Hollander.
He had worked his ass off since he was a child. His body was practically all muscle. Normally, he could train for the whole day with his eyes closed, focused and sharp. Ilya could do his best without a worry on his mind.
But today was different. He couldn’t concentrate. His skates felt slow, the puck wasn’t going where it was supposed to, his teammates didn’t read his body language as well as they usually did, and the practice was a total disaster. And he absolutely hated it. Since he was transferred to Ottawa Centaurs everyone hoped that things were finally turning out right for the team. That new Captain Ilya Rozanov will lead them to old glory. With each lost game, the hopes of the fans and Centaurs for victory slowly faded away. So after the practice was finished, he wasn’t just extremely frustrated. He couldn’t find the peace hockey usually brought him.
And let’s be honest, he wasn’t known for dealing with his emotions in a healthy way. Years ago, he coped by sleeping around, drinking, and pissing people off. That’s how everyone viewed him. Ilya Rozanov - the playboy, the asshole, the jerk. He was respected as a player, of course. Everybody knew he was fucking amazing when it came to hockey. But as a person? There weren’t many people who liked him. Truly knew him.
And Ilya didn’t make it any easier for others to find out who he really was. He was used to having his guard up, always.
Except for one person.
Shane knew him. Fuck, Ilya sometimes thought that maybe Shane knew him even better than he knew himself. He knew when Ilya needed him. When he was so vulnerable but, at the same time, didn’t have the courage to ask for help. For a hug. For comfort he hadn’t felt since he was twelve, when he found his mama dead, pills spilled around her on the bathroom floor.
So yeah. He was complicated. He was fucked up. And, oh God, he was sad. So miserable that there were days when he couldn’t bring himself out of bed. But he was trying. Every day. Not for himself. For Shane. Because he knew that Shane was the only good thing he had left on this earth.
Ilya loved him with all his heart. The feeling was so strong sometimes it scared him.
Of course, Ilya had a few things in life that he enjoyed. He liked hockey, obviously. He was good at it, and it paid more than well. He had Svetlana, whom he could talk to if he needed to and laugh with. He had a few friends to go out with, and he had his sports car collection that pleased his eye.
But the only thing that could make him truly happy was this slow fucking hockey player with beautiful freckles and a weak backhand who drove this terrible car. And that scared the shit out of him.
Ilya still couldn’t believe it had worked out. Something that started as a fling, as something that was supposed to be just sex when they were too tired to find someone else after game day. Or at least that was what Ilya tried to tell himself so he wouldn’t openly admit that from the moment he saw Shane, his heart belonged to him.
Everybody loved Shane. He was sweet, polite, always ready to help others. He was shy, but in a sweet way that made Ilya’s heart ache from all the emotions he didn’t even know how to name. Ilya would sometimes call him boring just to see his cheeks turn pink and his stupid, beautiful freckles become even more visible.
Ilya didn’t think Shane was boring-boring. Not in the way people usually meant it. No, Shane was boring as… safety. As a calm summer morning, when you’ve just woken up, feeling simply happy and at peace with yourself.
On top of that, Shane’s family was everything people could dream of. Successful parents who praised him and loved him no matter what. Who were… proud of him. Ilya had seen with his own eyes how his parents were at almost every game, every sports gala where Shane was given an award for his contribution to hockey. How they screamed his name and were his number one fans.
It was something Ilya could never have. Not since his mama died and he was left on this earth with a father disappointed in everything Ilya did and a brother who despised him.
And as a hockey player… Shane was destined for greatness. He was probably one of the greatest of all time. There was no other player who could read the game like Shane did. He was a genius on the ice. Moving with speed and strength, yet with grace. He dedicated his whole life to hockey. And it paid off. Everyone on this planet knew who Shane Hollander was.
He was adored and praised, and he was everything to Ilya. Everything.
And Ilya was… well. He was Ilya. Lazy. Disappointing. Inadequate.
So yeah. It was only a matter of time before Shane would wake up and realize that Ilya was never enough, and that their relationship was a mistake. And that didn’t just leave Ilya heartbroken. It left him with no purpose in life.
Because if he couldn’t be enough for Shane. If he couldn’t be what Shane deserved…
What was the point?