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He would be the first to admit he was sick in the head. He chased after the quickest release of dopamine, he ran after the next thrill, and all of it so he could feel alive. He was selfish. He was indulgent. He let himself be carried away into the dark depths of hell just to be alive. His latest drug of choice came in the form of scattered freckles and soft, chocolate eyes. Shane Hollander had flipped him on his head the minute Ilya uttered; “On your knees.” And Canada’s perfect boy dropped obediently to take his cock into his mouth. Ilya had been chasing him since. Shane had gotten under his skin the second he shyly scolded him for smoking in a non-smoking area, and he was an itch that he loved to scratch.
They had been at it for years now. Meeting up every time they were in the same city, falling head first into roles that they both craved, but Ilya was man enough to admit to himself it was always leading to more. In the past; Ilya was careful with his one night stands, kept it vanilla, knowing that the person warming his bed would want to leave the minute they came, but Shane was different from the very start. He was addicted to Shane from the first shy smile tossed his way. He tried so hard to bury any emotions toward the man, and tried to bury the itch under his skin when they went too long apart.
Ilya felt he could be himself around him. He lost control around him– in him. He’d dropped after Vegas, he sat in his bed hours after Shane left, and watched the three bubbles appear and disappear under Jane’s contact until they stopped altogether. He let his thoughts spiral as he worked his way through his pack of cigarettes, and let his brain fog over with every sip of vodka.
They fell into bed the following season, the minute they were in the same city, and Ilya had been so careful. He had been holding restraint, but then Shane wasn’t as quick to leave. They weren’t jumping each other in desperation to get off, but in desperation to be close to one another. Suddenly, nobody else was doing it for Ilya like Shane. Then Scott Hunter kissed his stupidly attractive boyfriend on center ice after winning the fucking cup, and suddenly Ilya was throwing caution to the wind as he called Shane and agreed to go to his cottage.
It was a whirlwind summer of knocking down walls that surrounded hearts, and quiet plans being made in the early hours of the morning. Everything was being laid bare, and they made it official. Boyfriends. Dominate, Submissive. In love.
Ilya stared at the door in front of him. He knew it was a bad fucking idea. He knew who was behind the door, but his skin was suffocating. His brain was too loud, and his eyes hurt from how hard he’d cried after Shane left. It wasn’t even bad- logically he knew Shane left satisfied -still he felt sick with himself. The only reason Shane hadn’t stayed over was because he had a ridiculously early flight to Dallas, and the hotel was closer to the airport.
Guilt wrapped around him an hour after Shane had kissed him goodbye with a promise to see him lose in two weeks. Ilya had even laughed as he leaned against his door and watched Shane jog out to his uber. An hour later he felt sick with himself, and pathetically curled in on himself on his couch and sobbed for what felt like hours.
He was a sick man. A perverted freak. What kind of monster got off on hurting someone they were supposed to love? His heart was hammering in his chest, clawing at his lungs, and up his throat just to escape himself. He just needed to see that Shane was okay, the minute he could lay eyes on the other man he’d be pulled back up, and he would be okay again. It was with a shaking fist that he knocked on the door, and he said a silent prayer to his mother that it would be Shane that answered.
He waited with a held breath, his hoodie pulled over his head, and his body just a touch too close to the door. His cheeks tight with dried tears, and his eyes burning with the need to release more. The door cracked open, Shane’s face appeared, his eyes squinting under the bright hallway light, and his hair sleep mussed. “Ilya?” He whispered, and his eyes grew wide taking in the Russian’s appearance. “What the fuck-”
“You are okay?” Ilya interrupted, voice thick with the gag of a sob, and his lips quivering as he waited for an answer.
Shane reared back a little, opened the door a little wide to poke his head out to look up and down the hallway, and then yanked his boyfriend in. Ilya was shaking, but he exhaled a big breath the minute Shane’s hand curled into the front of his hoodie. “Am I? What? What is- hey…hey..”
Suddenly Shane was taking Ilya into his arms and Ilya felt it all break. “Мне жаль...” Ilya whispered against Shane’s neck. “Мне жаль,” He repeated, and he felt a sob rack through his chest. “I am-” He choked on another sob. “I am so sorry, Sweetheart.”
Shane held him tighter, his nose rubbing against his cheek as he pulled Ilya back to look at him, and he held his face far too gently for what he deserved. “What is going on?” Shane asked…and shame was quick to follow the guilt and Ilya felt like he was drowning. “Why- I- I’m okay…”
“I need to-” Ilya shook his head, and he swallowed over the lump in his throat. “Can I-”
“Breathe?” Shane whispered, a hand dropped from Ilya’s cheek to his chest, and he watched as Shane took a deep breath and nodded for Ilya to do the same. Ilya did, a little more challenging, but Shane was nodding. “Yes..okay good.”
“Rozanov?”
Ilya’s eyes cut to the other bed in the dark hotel room, and he stared at Hayden Pike, sitting shirtless, hair sticking up a thousand different ways, and being illuminated by a small bedside lamp. “What the fuck is he doing here?”
Shane bristled. Ilya felt like he was going to throw up. He hadn’t meant- he stared back at Shane with wide eyes and a guilty look, and Shane shook his head. “Hayd-” he put his hand up to stop his teammate’s dramatics. “Just- shut up- let me- okay- uhm-” He looked back at Ilya. “You- you go- okay you go to the bathroom and you-” He looked toward Hayden. “I will explain, just let me handle this.”
Ilya slipped into the bathroom. He sat down on the closed toilet seat and put his head in his hands. He wasn’t sure how he had managed to fuck up this badly, but he was sure Shane was going to come into the bathroom and break everything off. He kept fucking up he shouldn’t have just showed up to his hotel room, he knew they were bunking, and he knew Shane was rooming with Hayden. Yet he still showed up to selfishly seek out comfort, now he was ruining everything. Truthfully it was only a matter of time before Shane figured out how much of a fuck up he was…it was better they broke it off now. Before Ilya got too hopeful about their future.
Shane slipped into the bathroom, his cheeks flushed, and worry etched into his features like he was staring at a bomb about to go off. Maybe that was accurate because Ilya felt so frayed like he was just moments before exploding with too much emotion. “I’m sorry, Baby.” Ilya whispered without looking at him. “Please- just needed-”
Shane leaned back against the door. “What is going on?”
“Am dropping,” Ilya whispered.
“Like...Dom drop?”
Ilya nodded quickly, and Shane softened all over and he was crowding into Ilya’s space and crouched in front of him. His hands were firm on Ilya’s knees, and his fingers were grounding him- chasing the ice away from his veins. “Oh..Ilya.” Ilya was blinking tears away, and Shane was quick to wrap Ilya up in a tight hug. He pressed a kiss to his head where Ilya crumbled and pressed his face into his neck. “You feel guilty for earlier?” Shane asked. Ilya just wished he could read his mind, so instead he nodded the best he could tuck into Shane’s neck. Shane’s hands were soothing up and down his back, and he was pressing little kisses everywhere he could reach. “I’m okay,” He whispered. “I’m okay.” He slowly rocked them back and forth, and he kept reassuring Ilya that he was okay. “You gave me everything I needed after,” Shane said. He pulled them apart so he could look Ilya in the eyes. Embarrassment flooded through him, he looked so weak, and it was pathetic. He could come getting rough with someone, but then he sobbed after?
Earlier when they fucked; Ilya had lost control in the midsts of Shane’s whines and pleas for harder and more, and he had slapped Shane’s ass hard. He had sunk his teeth into the meat of his shoulder blade, and Shane had sobbed and begged for more. Ilya knew his strength, he knew he hit him too hard, and that he was probably bruised. Hell, Shane had walked out of his penthouse with a small limp and a pleasure drunk smile. Still, Ilya had gone too far. It wasn’t just that. Ilya had called him names, degraded him for being a cockslut, and even when Shane sobbed and begged to come, Ilya had denied him. Told him no like had for the last hour, and Shane’s tears and sobs and pleas had only spurred him on like he was some sick freak.
Suddenly, he needed to see the damage had done. “Let me see,” He huffed out around a choked off sob, and Shane stood up out of Ilya’s arms and that was the worst thing to happen. Then Shane was pulling his pants down revealing a red splotch of skin blooming over his ass cheek and down his thigh, already starting to deepen into darker pinks and angrier reds. The bruise would be nasty in a few days, and Ilya whimpered as he reached out to ghost his fingers over it. “моя любовь,” He whimpered, and ducked down to press a kiss against the heated skin. Shane hissed. “Мне жаль..” Ilya jerked back.
Shane reached behind him so he could push Ilya’s hood down and then get a hand in his curls. “It’s just sensitive,” Shane reassured. “I’m okay, Sweetheart.” Ilya bit his lip and tore his eyes away to look up at Shane, and he expected to see disgust written across his face. He only found a soft, fond smile that somehow only came out when he was looking at Ilya. It wasn’t the same smile he shared with his teammates, not the excited and wide goal scoring smile, nor the polite and reserved smile used for post game interviews. It was one only Ilya ever saw when they were alone. Shy, real, and so fucking fond that it shook Ilya’s heart.
“The things I said-” He whispered.
“I liked,” Shane interrupted, and a flush tore up his cheeks to the tips of his ears. “Everything we did. I liked, and you liked. You just crashed hard because I left too soon.”
“Don’t blame-”
“No,” Shane interrupted again. “I’m not. I just think maybe we shouldn’t fuck like that unless I’m staying over.”
Shane wrapped Ilya up in his arms, and Ilya let himself settle there with his ear pressed against his chest. The steady thump of his heart gently soothing his own aches. He let himself feel warm and cared for once in his fucking life. Shane tangled his fingers in his hair, and he gently combed through the individual curls. “Cream?” Ilya asked. “For sore muscles?”
Shane bit his lip and grabbed the cream that was laid out on the sink. He handed it to Ilya, and he took the cream and uncapped it and gently scooped some of the lotion onto his fingers and massaged it into Shane’s bruise. Shane bit his lip and fought off the small moan that threatened to spill. Ilya caught the slight shift, the quiet moment that was so small it could have been missed, but Shane’s eyes fluttered shut and his head bowed slightly. It was such a small thing that he was doing for Ilya. He was handing over control, giving Ilya the reins to take care of him, and allowing himself to slip into his submissive role because it was Ilya who needed it. To show him that he trusted him, that Shane trusted him enough to slip away even after the ‘terrible’ things he had done.
And Ilya was methodical as he spread the cream over the bruise digging his fingers in just the slightest bit trying to massage the area he’d hurt. Shane sighed softly, braced himself against the wall, and let his head droop a little bit more. Ilya leaned forward and lifted his shirt just slightly to press a kiss to each of his back dimples. “So good,” He whispered against Shane’s skin. “My good boy.” Shane let out another little sigh as he nodded, and his eyelashes fluttered against his freckled cheek. “I am so sorry, мой милый мальчик.”
“Thank you,” Shane whispered dreamily. “You always take such good care of me, Daddy.”
Ilya hummed, his head growing hazy at the use of his honorific. He dipped his head to press another soft kiss this time to the center of the bruise. “So good to me,” Shane continued. “You always give me exactly what I need- what I want.”
Ilya set the cream aside, and gingerly pulled Shane’s pants back up and lightly patted Shane’s ass earning a delighted hiss. Ilya could feel the burn of tears, and the gag of a sob at the back of his throat. Shane turned around and hugged him, peppering kisses over his face, and whispering how good he was. “You’re the perfect Dom,” He whispered against Ilya’s eyebrow. Ilya started to feel warm all over, and he nuzzled his face against his chest. “Perfect for me.”
Ilya couldn’t remember when he had ever felt so needy before, but then again the underlying need for Shane had always simmered under his skin. He wanted to be close to him, he wanted to carve out his own organs to create a hollow space to keep Shane harbored safe and sound, and if he could he’d sew their hands together so they could never be apart. “Can I stay?” He asked in a soft whisper.
“Yeah,” Shane smiled as he dragged his hand from Ilya’s curls and down the side of his face. “I should’ve just stayed the night with you.” He stepped back and took Ilya’s hands and pulled him to stand up, and then wrapped his arms around his middle burying his face against Ilya’s throat pressing a kiss there. “Come to bed, Daddy. Let me hold you?”
“Okay,” Ilya whispered with a small nod, as he pulled back and took Shane’s chin between his forefinger and thumb, and Shane pursed his lips in a silent demand for a kiss. Ilya was helpless against his boy.
Ilya wordlessly followed him out of the bathroom and into the main room. Shane led him by his hand, their fingers interlocked, and a blush sitting high on Shane’s cheeks. He tried to ignore that Hayden Pike was sitting on the bed, staring at them as if they had grown two heads, and yet Ilya couldn’t really pull out a smartass jab to throw at him. All he wanted was Shane, and to be in Shane’s arms. No matter how fucking stupid this all was. He hoped Pike had enough brain cells to keep his mouth shut. Fear ran up his spine as Shane crouched down to his suitcase to dig through it, and Ilya and Hayden locked eyes. “You better keep your fucking mouth shut,” Ilya barked as a posessive and sick feeling rose deep within his chest. The urge to protect Shane was too strong, to shield him from any more pain and suffering, and to do what he was meant to do.
Hayden reared back with his eyes wide. “Fucking relax!” Hayden huffed. “I won’t say shit.” Hayden glared at Ilya hard, as if he was trying to explode him with just his mind, and then his lips were curling as he muttered to himself bitterly. “Wake me up at goddamn fucking two in the goddamn morning. No questions asked having a fucking fit, and you’re gonna bite my head off. Fucking please!” Ilya glared at him hard, his own mouth opening to let him know that he could in fact hear him.
Before he could say anything; Shane was back in front of Ilya with a soft smile, and he gently cupped Ilya’s cheek with his thumb sweeping under his tender eyes. “Thank you for protecting me,” He said softly, and leaned up to kiss him chastely on the lips. “You’re so good to me, aren’t you?” Ilya bit his lip and nodded as he leaned down close to tuck his face against Shane’s neck and pressed a little kiss there. “Hayden won’t say anything-” Shane shifted his head the best he could with Ilya against his neck to look pointedly at his teammate. “Right Hayden?”
“Jesus fucking Christ.” Hayden blew out a long breath and rubbed the back of his neck. “Right.”
Ilya didn’t like that he felt so fragile in front of people- let alone Hayden -but Shane was pushing him to the bed. “Here,” He said as he handed Ilya a T-shirt. “You’ll sweat to death in your hoodie and sweats. I doubt Hayd would appreciate you stripping just to your boxers.”
“Please don’t,” Hayden whined. Ilya shot him a glare.
Ilya ached. He hadn’t realized Shane knew him so well, that he wouldn’t be comfortable sleeping in a hoodie and sweats, and he was lending him a shirt that was his biggest one he owned just to fit Ilya. Ilya slipped his hoodie off, watched as Shane picked it up only to tug it over his own head, and really the sight of Shane in his hoodie, cyrillic letters spreading across the chest with the signature Adidas stripes running down the arms, and it was big on Shane. Not dress big, but big enough that it was clearly not Shane’s own hoodie. It was overly baggy on him with the sleeves falling over his hands.
Ilya slipped on the shirt, and then he smiled unabashedly as it fit perfectly. The logo horribly faded, but the image of a sports car and some katakana lettering up the side of the picture. Ilya had thought he lost this shirt some years ago, and honestly he never even considered Shane to have stolen it. He assumed maybe he had left it in Moscow, maybe he had lent it to Sveta, or maybe it was gathered up in some locker room. “You are thief,” Ilya smirked.
“No,” Shane blushed. “Get into bed.”
“This is so fucking weird,” Hayden groaned as he rolled over and shoved his face into a pillow. Ilya chose to ignore him. He was too focused on the way his heart was fluttering in his chest, and the way Shane’s cheeks continued to glow red.
He crawled into bed next to Shane, laid on his side to stare at him, and Shane reached out first to wrap his arms around him and pulled Ilya until he was resting on his chest. “This my shirt, yes?” Ilya asked in a quieter voice. “You took from me some years ago? I looked for it for two weeks.”
Shane pressed his face into Ilya’s curls with a small groan. “Okay,” he admitted softly. “I took it.”
“Stole it.”
“Borrowed it.”
“Thief,” Ilya accused as he pressed a kiss to the hollow of his neck. “Why?”
Shane shook his head, and Ilya pulled back to press another gentle kiss to his chin. “I don’t know,” Shane admitted. “I wanted it.”
Ilya hummed and nuzzled back against him, kissing his neck again, and Shane sighed softly as he carded his fingers through Ilya’s hair and gently scratched his scalp while his other hand aimlessly wandered over his shoulders and back. Ilya felt grounded, a little spacey, and a little needy. He slipped his hand up Shane’s (his) hoodie just to feel the warmth of his skin under his palm, and he idly began to soothe himself by gently drawing shapes and patterns on Shane’s stomach and abs. “You can have it,” Ilya said against his neck. “Can have this one too.”
Shane snorted. “And what will you wear when you leave?”
Ilya chuckled softly and offered a shrug. “My turn to be thief.”
Shane huffed a small laugh and pressed a kiss to Ilya’s head. The room fell into silence, and then Hayden began to snore which earned an annoyed moan from Ilya but was quickly soothed by Shane lazily scratching his back. In the darkness of the hotel room Ilya began to feel less fractured and more whole, and he wondered if maybe he’d only ever feel whole in the arms of Shane. Maybe…just maybe… that would be okay.
Ilya woke to a pressure on his chest, a soft laugh, and teeth grazing his jaw. He moaned softly, and he blinked awake and yawned as he came to himself. He had a lapful of Shane Hollander, who’s hands squeezed at his chest, and his cheeks were flushed as he ducked down to kiss him again. “Time to get up,” he whispered. Ilya hummed happily, his hands found Shane’s ass as he squeezed and earned a hiss most likely from the pressure on the sensitive bruise, but Ilya found his blood quickly flushing down to his cock. He couldn’t help rolling his hips up for some friction. “No,” Shane laughed. “Hayden’s showering, and he takes ridiculously short showers.”
Ilya groaned. “Cockblocked by Pike? Remind me to check him into the boards next week extra hard.”
Shane rolled his eyes adorably. “Never.”
“целовать.” Ilya demanded softly, and Shane smiled all too giddily as he leaned down and pecked Ilya’s lips softly. His hands squeezed Shane’s ass again, and he tried to deepen the kiss only for Shane to pull back just a hair width away.
“Behave,” Shane chastised.
Ilya sighed dramatically and squeezed Shane against before patting his thigh to make him get off. Shane rolled off easily with an easy smile, and just as the bathroom door opened and Hayden walked out fully dressed for the day. “You’re still here,” Hayden deadpanned.
“Yes,” Ilya rolled his eyes. “Sweetheart, do you have an extra toothbrush?” Shane was gathering his own toiletry bag to go take his own shower.
“Sweetheart.” Hayden mouthed as he began packing his own bag.
Shane shook his head. “Just use mine, Ilya.” He handed him a blue electric tooth brush, and Ilya took it with a soft, welling feeling of love. Ilya followed Shane into the bathroom, and he watched appreciatively as Shane started the shower and began to undress. He began brushing his teeth as Shane stepped into the shower. “Should I join you?” He teased.
“Brush your teeth, Rozanov.”
“Your dick wants me to shower with you,” Ilya commented with a flick of his chin toward Shane’s twitching dick, but Shane flicked him off and turned around to hide himself from Ilya’s eyes. Ilya didn’t mind. He liked Shane’s ass just as much if not more, even through the fogging glass, and then he spat and rinsed his mouth and stared at Shane for a few seconds longer before moving to the toilet.
“What’re you doing?” Shane asked as he eyed Ilya’s dick, and he only laughed softly. “Are you pissing?”
Ilya nodded. “Is problem? I had to go? Just piss.”
“Just-” Shane huffed. “I’m showering!”
“Is not like I’m shitting, Hollander. I won’t even flush if it effects the water-”
“You absolutely will!” Shane said sternly. “It’s just-”
“Oh my god,” Ilya whined. “You’ve seen my dick before, yes? I have cum inside you, yes? What is big deal?”
“Ilya!” Shane hissed. Ilya rolled his eyes, made a dramatic show of flushing the toilet, and tucking himself away into his sweats. “It’s just- it’s what married people do.”
Ilya raised his eyebrows toward Shane with the glass door separating them. “Shane,” Ilya said, his own voice sounding love sick to his own ears, and Shane swiped a hand through his soapy hair. “We will be married, no? Just practice.”
“Oh my god,” Shane groaned. “Is this what my life is going to be like? No more peaceful showers?”
Ilya laughed and moved toward the bathroom door. “No, but very relaxing. I promise.” He said as he made an obscene tongue in cheek blow job motion, and then laughed as he exited the bathroom shutting the door behind him.
Hayden was lounging on his bed, flicking through the T.V. channels until landing on the news, and Ilya fought to roll his eyes as he hauled Shane’s suitcase up to dig through it. He fully intended to leave his hoodie with Shane, and the shirt he was currently wearing. He also intended to steal one of Shane’s. He felt Hayden’s eyes on him, a subtle glance over at him confirmed it, and he sighed as he pulled out the navy metro’s crewneck and held it up considering it. “Take a picture, Pike.” He droned bordly. “It will last longer.”
“You guys are really…what? Boyfriends?”
Ilya folded the crewneck and placed it back where he found it and kept snooping. “Boyfriends, partners, yes. Husbands one day probably.”
“Excuse me?” Hayden blanched.
Ilya looked over at him, schooling his features. “It problem for you?” He asked, his voice sharp as a sword's edge. “You said you would not say anything.”
Hayden shifted. “I won’t say anything, but like- dude -husbands?”
“One day,” Ilya nodded. “Have to make Ottawa winning team first, and then definitely probably.” Hayden let out a surprised noise. “You understand if this- us -gets out then he and I are ruined, yes? No more hockey, and no more cups for Metros.” Ilya said.
“I know,” Hayden said. Ilya shook his head; because Hayden would never understand the gravity of their situation he just had to hope Hayden could use enough of his brain cells not to let anything slip. “I just- he’s my best friend, and I want what’s best for him.” Ilya tugged his shirt off and folded it, setting it with the rest of the dirty clothes, he raised an eyebrow towards Hayden. “Not that you aren’t, but fuck man.” Ilya walked toward the bathroom and poked his head in to find Shane drying his hair still naked.
He held up the hoodie to show Shane in a silent question. It was a thick black one, no designs on the front, and no logos. Something almost boring, but incredibly soft and rich with the scent of Shane’s deodorant and cologne. “Yeah,” Shane nodded. “It’s dirty though, I wore it like three times without washing.”
“Идеальный.”
He tugged the hoodie over his head, and shut the door as he adjusted the hood and looked back at Pike. “We have been together since we were eighteen,” Ilya said sternly. “I-”
“Eighteen?!” Hayden blanched. Shane reappeared dressed in a white hoodie, a pair of sweats that still looked nicer than athletic wear, and a pair of thick socks. Ilya’s attention was dragged toward him, and he smiled softly at him and he was pulled toward his boyfriend like a pair of magnets.
“Hi,” Shane grinned, his arms looped around Ilya’s neck, and Ilya’s arms wrapping around his waist holding him tight.
“Привет,” Ilya whispered. He ducked his head and pecked his lips softly. “I should go.”
“Okay,” Shane pouted. Ilya kissed his pout, and then pulled away. “Text me after practice?”
“Hm yes,” Ilya agreed. “Have safe flight.”
“Я тебя люблю,” Shane whispered as he leaned up and kissed him again. Ilya smiled at him.
“I love you too,” He answered. “Your accent is better, very good.” It was with the strength of a herculean task to pull himself away from Shane. He slipped his shoes on, and turned back to look at Hayden Pike who was staring blankly at the T.V. “Pike,” He nodded.
“Rozanov,” He answered with a shy smile.
“I think your friend is- what is word? Shocked.”
Shane laughed. “Goodbye, Ilya. Behave yourself.”
Ilya smiled, stole one more kiss, and then he slipped out of the room.
He used to never really think about his future. He had a vague idea of where it was headed, Hockey for several more years, win a couple of cups, and probably end up marrying Svetlana because she was a safe choice. She was good to him. He could fall in love with her eventually. He’d have a couple of kids, raise them in Russia, and become one of those players that lived in their youth and echoes of ‘Back in my Day’. Or he supposed the other option was a fate like his mother’s, when the sadness finally swallowed him whole and claimed him victim.
Now, he thought of his future and it was warm tan skin, shimmering lake waters, and full bellies with aching cheeks from laughter. It was family game nights, with two matching brown eyes accusing him of cheating, and a firm arm slung around his shoulders and a soft voice coming to his defense. It was a mom and dad choosing him, loving him, and taking care of him. It was waking up to freckle splashed cheeks, and shy smiles as the sun peeked through the windows. It was soft ‘I dos’ in front of the people who knew them best. It was children climbing into their bed, a dog, and the weight of a chosen wedding band on his finger. Maybe the sadness lingered, maybe sometimes it got close to swallowing him whole, but also maybe it was a stubborn man yanking him back to the surface every time he threatened to drop below.