Chapter Text
Shane feels the pounding headache before he even opens his eyes. He groans and attempts to sit up, only to lay back down immediately after a wave of nausea crashes over him. He reaches over to his phone, only to find the battery completely dead. He runs his hands through his hair, attempting to piece together what happened the previous night.
Oh yeah. Rose had broken up with him. He honestly couldn’t blame her, he clearly didn’t feel the way a person should feel when they are dating a beautiful, kind, and funny woman, like Rose. Shane was shocked at how quickly she had seen right through him.
“Was it better?” She had been so kind and gentle when speaking to him, and Shane felt a hundred times lighter after finally having someone to tell. “Yeah. It… it was better.” Because it was. Is. Everything is better with Rozanov. Ilya. Shane winces as he reminisces on the last time they were together. Rozanov called Shane his first name, and then Shane panicked and left. Then he ran off and started to date Rose, who figured out that he was gay only after a month and a half. She figured him out before he even had the chance to.
As glad as Shane was to finally confide his attraction to men to someone, it also felt like a punch to the gut. He really was gay. He wasn’t just curious, or even bisexual, he was full on gay. Which meant that there was no world in which he could ever be in a public relationship during his career. He would have to either forget about dating, or hide his future partner as a secret.
After he returned home, he attempted to turn on something to distract himself from the knot in his stomach and the lump in his throat. He clicked a random hockey documentary. Just as he had started to calm himself down, to ground himself by focusing on the sport unfolding on the television in front of him, Ilya Rozanov’s face filled the screen. It showed the aftermath of his team winning the Stanley cup. Shane’s face heated as he remembered what had happened the next time they had seen each other after Rozanov won the cup, in that hotel in LA. How Shane put on a show for Ilya, and they spent a few passionate hours together. With a pang, Shane remembered how sad he was later in the night. How he had typed out a text to send to Ilya. We didn’t even kiss. Before deleting it and breaking down, alone and miserable, in his own hotel room.
Tears started to fall as Shane watched Ilya’s happy face, holding the cup. How dare he look so happy and beautiful. Shane thought. It’s his fault I can’t just date women like a normal person. Shane had stumbled, choking on tears, to his kitchen, where he grabbed some vodka bottles from his cabinet.
Had he only bought the fancy Russian vodka because he knew Ilya liked it? Maybe. Had he been keeping it in hopes that Ilya may someday come to his place and be able to have some? Also maybe. But tonight, seeing it only sharpened his pain. Here he was, acting like a lovestruck idiot, holding onto these stupid bottles of alcohol he didn’t even like just so his rival could see it and know Shane thought of him. That he always thought of him.
He yanked the bottles down, pouring glass after glass, letting the disgusting flavor hit his tongue and the burn sizzle in his stomach. He drank and drank, his memory getting hazier and fuzzier as he helplessly searched up video after video of Ilya. Of him scoring goals, of him dancing at clubs, of him laughing. He drank until he threw up, and then he kept drinking.
He is paying for it now, the next morning, as he retches over the toilet. His head feels like it’s being split open. It’s lucky that there’s no practice for a few days. He can nurse his hangover, and return to practice next week, good as new. He stumbles to the kitchen and drinks a glass of water. He thinks about cooking up some breakfast (if you can even call it that, since it’s the middle of the day), but the thought of food brings a fresh bout of nausea, and he has to take several deep breaths to keep himself from losing the water he had just chugged.
He closes his eyes, allowing some feelings from the previous day to resurface. His longing for Ilya. His self hatred. His loneliness. Logically, he knows there is nothing inherently wrong with being gay. He doesn’t see anything wrong with queer couples being happy together. The most negative thing he feels towards them is probably jealousy. But it’s different that he is gay. It might not be wrong for anyone else to be, but he is a professional hockey player. He is in the spotlight of millions of people. No one else in the NHL is gay, as far as he knows, and he really doesn’t want to be the first to come out. It also doesn’t help that the only person he really wants is his arch rival.
He doesn’t even want to think about what people would say, how people would act, if they knew how much Shane longed for Ilya. He doesn’t just want to meet up for casual sex anymore. Shane wants gentle mornings and quiet nights. Whispered words of comfort and cuddling. Not that Shane doesn’t want the sex too. Ilya has always been incredible in bed. He knows just how much Shane wants and when he wants it. He anticipates Shane’s desires and easily and comfortably brings them to fruition. He ensures consent every time and the sex has never not been mind blowing. Shane shudders as he remembers the last time they were together. Before he ran away. They had just spent time with one another, eating tuna melts and watching hockey. Before that, they had intense, passionate sex. Shane feels his cheeks warm up as he remembers how he had been on top, rocking back and forth on Ilya perfect-
Shane jumps as someone loudly knocks on his door, yanking him from his train of thought. His head throbs as the loud noise, and he slowly makes his way to his apartment door. The person just knocks even louder.
“Jesus Christ, I’m coming.” He grumbles as he turns the doorknob. He’s only in his boxers, so he opens the door just a crack.
“What is it?” He says. He’s surprised to see Hayden’s ashen face at the door.
“Dude. What the fuck.”
Shane rolls his eyes as he opens the door, allowing Hayden inside. “I know, I look like shit. You don’t need to tell me.”
Hayden steps in, looking panicked and nervous. “No man, that’s not why I… wow you do look like shit.”
“Thanks Hayds.” Shane plops himself down on the sofa as he pops two ibuprofen into his mouth. He swallows down the pills and gestures for Hayden to take a seat, surprised that he hasn’t just sat himself down. He’s never asked for an invitation before.
Hayden sits at the edge of the sofa awkwardly, fidgeting with his hands, looking unsure of himself.
“Um. So what's up? I have a terrible hangover so I won’t be able to hang out, if that’s what you’re asking.” Shane sighs tiredly, sure that Hayden just wants to drag him to another social outing that he doesn’t want to go to.
Hayden just shakes his head. Shane sits up a little straighter, becoming aware for the first time that maybe something isn’t right.
“Hayden..” Shane says slowly. “What’s wrong?”
Hayden takes a deep breath, as if steeling himself. “You could have told me y'know? Before you told everyone else. Not that you owe it to me or anything! I just… don’t understand why you didn’t confide in me.”
Shane narrows his eyes. “What are you talking about?”
Hayden blinks. “You… you know. Your post last night. I hope I didn’t make you feel like you couldn’t tell me. I mean, I-I was always trying to set you up with Jackie’s friends, you could’ve told me then.” The pain in Hayden’s voice is palpable, but Shane can’t seem to care. Panic is slowly bubbling in his stomach. He feels his face drain of color.
“I-I posted something last night?” He whispers.
Hayden’s eyes widen, and he turns, if possible, even paler. “You… don’t remember?”
Shane shakes his head, his breathing becoming more shallow. “What did I post Hayden?”
Hayden gulps. “I… I don’t know if I can tell you. Didn’t you see all my messages? I’m sure other people messaged you.”
“My phone was dead when I woke up.” Shane gasps. “Hayden. Let me see what I posted. Please.”
Hayden winces as he hands over his phone.
Shane’s world tilts on his axis as he sees it. One post on twitter. From himself.
Shane Hollander (Hockey Player): Why has nnobofy in the nnhl come oit as gay yet? I’m scared that I’m the inly one. If yoiu are, plrease reach ouy to me. I domt wanna be alone.
A jumble of misspelled words typed out by his sad, drunken hand. He had posted it the same day that he, himself, had figured it out. Just a few vulnerable words bring his whole world crashing down around him. He breathing quickens as he hones in on the details. He posted it 11 hours ago. There’s no way that he can undo it. It has over three hundred thousand likes and a hundred thousand shares. There are so many comments. Shane doesn’t have time to look at them before his vision blurs with tears. He throws Hayden’s phone away from him as if it had burned him. His vision darkens as he hyperventilates.
He only knows one thing. He is going to die. He can’t breathe, he can’t see. He’s choking on his tears and his heart is surely beating too fast. He grips his chest and is only vaguely aware of Hayden’s hand on his back, Hayden’s words trying to calm him. He doesn’t understand what Hayden is saying, all he understands is that his career is over. His life is over. He stumbles as best he can to the kitchen sink where he throws up again. He chokes on his vomit as he hyperventilates, causing him to heave and retch over and over until he’s sure there couldn’t possibly be any liquid left in his body. He sinks to the floor and slowly tries to regain his breathing. He feels his hand on the floor, sees Hayden’s face swimming in front of his vision. He closes his eyes and slows his breaths until the ringing in his ears subsides.
“That’s it Shane, just breathe.” Hayden says in a shaky voice. Shane nods, gulping in lungfuls of fresh air. Then Hayden chuckles weakly. “I should’ve known you were drunk. I’ve never seen you misspell anything in your life.” Shane shoots him a look. “Sorry, you’re right, not the time.” Shane looks at the floor and then digs his palms into his eyes.
“Hayden… what am I going to do? I… I only just figured this out myself and now everyone knows. What if they kick me from the league?” He whispers.
Hayden smiles weakly. “I’d like to see them try to kick you out. You carry this team.” Then his face turns into that of a grimace. “I’m so sorry that this happened Shane, it really sucks.”
“What are people saying?”
“Well.. I think a lot of people are confused, since you’re um… dating Rose Landry.” Hayden says awkwardly.
Shane groans. “Oh God. I’m not anymore. She broke up with me last night after guessing that I probably wasn’t into her. Then I came home and… realized she must be right and got blackout drunk.” Hayden nods sympathetically.
“I think more people would be chill if they knew you didn’t cheat on her or anything, that seems to be the biggest thing people are upset about.” He says.
“Are people upset for… other reasons?” Shane asks.
“Well… a few, yes. But y’know, fuck ‘em.” Hayden replies. “No matter what, I’m on your side Shane.” He smiles sheepishly. “Sorry for barging in and being a jerk. It’s really none of my business how and when you tell people.”
“Well, had I been of sound mind and not outed myself, I would’ve definitely told you before telling the whole world.” Shane snorts.
Hayden smiles gratefully. “Here, I’ll make you some soup. Jackie makes it for me when I’m hungover, and I tell you dude, it works wonders.”
The thought of food makes Shane queasy still, but he nods appreciatively anyway. “I’m… I’m gonna call my agent. My phone must be charged a little bit by now.”
* * *
His hands shake as he finally turns his phone on. He is flooded with messages from… well, from everyone. He has about a hundred from his Mom, two from his Dad, several from Hayden, a bunch from Rose, some from a few from different teammates, from his coach, from random people on instagram, and (his heart jumps a little at the sight), about fifteen from Boston Lily. He has about fifty missed calls, one from his coach, forty from his Mom, one from his Dad, four from Lily, two from Hayden, three from Rose. Nothing from his agent, Farah yet. He assumes that she is waiting for him to reach out to her. Before he reads any of the messages, he decides he’s going to call Farah. She will know what to do.
She picks up on the second ring.
“Hey Shane. I’m glad you called. I know this whole thing is a shitshow, but I’m grateful that you decided to contact me before making any further statements. Forgive my bluntness, but is what you posted true?”
Shane gulps. “Hey Farah. Yes… it’s um… It’s true. God, I’m so sorry. This is such a mess.”
Farah’s voice is kind. “It’s okay Shane. Don’t worry about me, it’s you we gotta focus on right now. Given the… wording of the post, am I correct in assuming that you were.. Not of sound mind when you uploaded that tweet?”
“Yeah, I was blackout drunk. I didn’t realize I even posted that until this morning when Hayden almost broke my door down.”
“Oh Shane. I’m so sorry. This is such a horrible situation. No one should come out before they feel ready. This must be so hard for you. I hope you know that I’m here to support you through anything.”
Shane attempts to swallow down the embarrassing emotions that have begun to well up inside him.
“Thank you Farah.” He whispers. He clears his throat. “What… what am I supposed to do?”
Farah gets right into business mode. “Well, as I do not believe there is any going back from the post, I recommend we upload a statement as soon as possible. But before we get into details of that, I need to ask about what the situation is with Rose Landry. That seems to be what people are most torn up about.”
“She.. broke up with me yesterday, after she figured out what I was before even I had. She was really sweet about it, but that’s why I got so drunk, because I realized she’s right, I am… gay.” Shane hesitates on the last word.
Farah nods. “I recommend for your statement that we address the fact that you and Rose broke up mutually and that you intend to remain friends.” She looks at him apologetically. “I’m sorry you didn’t get the time you deserved to process this. I can write up the statement if you’d like, and email it to you. If it sounds good, we can post it.”
Shane nods. “Sounds great, Farah. Thank you so much for.. everything. I’m sorry this is such a disaster.”
Farah smiles. “I told you not to worry about me. This is what you pay me for, right? Leave it to me. Take care of yourself Shane, okay?” She says kindly.
After hanging up, Shane slowly clicks on his Mom’s texts. They start out shocked and then melt into something frantic, begging Shane to call her back and to know that she loves him. His Dad’s messages are more simple.
Dad: Hey Shane. Saw your tweet. I just want you to know that your Mom and I love you no matter what.
Dad: Call when you get the chance. ❤️
He scrolls through his teammates messages, but a lot of them are just statements of:
What the fuck Shane?
Is this true?
Dude, what is this?
His coach only has one message: Meet with me in the office before practice next week.
Shane’s eyes threaten to burn with anxious tears, so he closes them tight and tries to regulate his breathing again.
He opens his eyes after a minute and shakily clicks on the messages from the one person he wants to talk to right now.
Lily: Hollander holy shit
Lily: Are you okay? What is going on
Lily: What happened to Rose Landry? Are you not together anymore?
Lily: Please pick up.
Lily: I just want to know if you are okay.
Lily: Are you drunk? You never get drunk
Lily: Did something happen?
Lily: Shane
Lily: Please answer
Lily: I need to know that you are okay
Lily: People are freaking out
Lily: When did you realize you do not like Rose?
Lily: Text me when you see this
Lily: I need to know that you are alright
Lily: Please call me Shane
Shane desperately wants to call Ilya. He’s not sure if he has ever wanted anything more in his life than to hear Ilya’s voice right now, speaking words of comfort. He wants to tell Ilya the words that he’s sure are true. The feelings that he’s sure he’s feeling. But rationality catches up to him before he can press the call button. First of all, Hayden is downstairs right now, cooking soup. He’s probably almost done, and likely wouldn’t take too kindly to hearing Shane crying on the phone to Ilya fucking Rozanov. Second, Shane is sure he’d do something stupid if Ilya called right now. Like beg Ilya to come be with him. And Ilya might do something even stupider, like actually fly to see him right away. Thirdly, if Ilya was spotted at his apartment, there's a chance that paparazzi will catch him, their secret would be out immediately, and he doesn’t think he could handle being both outed as gay and people finding out about him fucking his arch rival in the same day. So he swallows his longing, gathers up his courage, and calls his Mom instead.
“Oh Shane. How are you doing honey?” Yuna’s voice fills the room, and Shane allows her words to wash over him before responding.
“Um. Not… not good. I…” It feels tedious saying it for the third time in an hour, but he knows it needs to be said anyway. “I got super drunk last night. Rose had broken up with me because.. She figured it out before I did. She kinda came out for me. So I was sad and got drunk and.. and I didn’t know I even posted anything until Hayden came to my door this morning.” His voice shakes. “Mom… What am I going to do? Farah is writing a statement right now but… I only just figured this out for myself and now everyone knows.”
His Mother’s voice is exceedingly gentle. “Shane. I’m so sorry this experience was taken from you. And… I’m sorry you didn’t feel like you could tell me what you were dealing with. Things will probably be hard for the next few weeks.. But I think this will be good in the end. It’s not healthy to pretend to be something you aren’t. Lying isn’t who you are. Even if it takes some time for people to understand, I know you, and you are brave and strong, and you can and will get through this. Your Dad and I believe in you always, and I’m sure many other people do too. And who knows? There’s probably a few fellow hockey players who will feel so much safer because of this. I just need you to know that we love you Shane, forever.”
Shane smiles shakily. “Thanks Mom. I love you too. Could you tell Dad that I said I love him?”
“Oh he's right here sweetie, I think he’s been eavesdropping.” Yuna snickers.
“Ok that is not true Shane, she had you on speakerphone. I love you too bud, no matter what.” David says.
Shane smiles, soaking up the feeling. Maybe things will be okay after all.
* * *
A few hours later, after Hayden hugs Shane goodbye, with his stomach full of delicious soup that he could actually keep down, Farah sends him an email. Shane opens it anxiously, and takes a few deep breaths before reading.
Last night, during a moment of struggle, I uploaded a tweet that shared a personal and intimate detail of my life. What was meant to be a time for self acceptance and personal reflection turned into an accidental confession. I did not have a clear mind when I shared it. I ask for privacy and respect during this difficult time. I have never let my sexuality affect my performance on the ice, and my achievements show as such. As for the situation with Rose Landry, we mutually decided to separate before this incident, but intend to remain friends.
Shane reads it a few times over. It’s concise. Simple. He sends Farah a short email back, thanking her, and stating that he will upload the response soon.
Then, he finally opens twitter. His notifications box is full. So many likes. So many comments. He had several personal messages from people too. He clicks on those first.
He is shocked to see Scott Hunter’s message at the top. He clicks on it, eyebrows raising higher and higher the more he reads.
Scott Hunter (Hockey Player): Hey Shane. I just wanted to say that I’m so impressed and happy that you came forward and came out. I’ll always be here if you want to talk about it. I’m sure that the sentiment, even if you weren’t sober when you sent it, has made an incredible impact on many people. I know it made an impact on me. You are so brave. Thank you for sharing that part of yourself, even though I’m sure it’s been very hard.
Okay, that was weird. Nice of course, but Shane definitely didn’t expect that from Scott. He scrolls through more messages. Rose responded to it as well.
Rose Landry: Holy shit Shane! Are you okay? Call me when you can. I can make a statement if you’d like. I’m here for you ❤️
There’s a few more personal messages from other players, but Shane just scrolls back to his post, and finally opens the comments. About half are talking about Rose. They are wondering if Shane cheated on her. About thirty percent are words of encouragement and acceptance and love. Twenty percent are mean and homophobic. They say things that make Shane’s stomach churn and his eyes burn. People calling him disgusting. Some are saying he probably watches his teammates changing. Others saying he’s going to burn in hell. A few calling him slurs. He scrolls until he can’t anymore. With shaky hands he copies Farah’s statement and posts it. He deletes the tweet from the night before and silences all of his notifications before finally clicking back onto Ilya texts. He reads them and then rereads them. Over and over. He rests his forehead to the top of his phone and closes his eyes. He can’t do this alone. He needs to call Ilya. He doesn’t want to be by himself in this. He wants to hear Ilya’s voice. He wants Ilya with him. Here, right now.
He steels himself, and finally presses call.
Ilya answers immediately.
“Sha- Hollander.” He breathes.
Shane’s voice breaks. “Ilya.” Ilya’s breath hitches at the first name. “I fucked up. I really fucked up. I think I just ruined my career.”
“...Shane. Listen to me. You ruined nothing, okay? You are too important to hockey league. They would not kick you out for being gay. That would be.. what is the word? Unfair treatment due to differences?”
“Discrimination?” Shane supplies.
“Da. Yes. Discrimination. They cannot do that. There are… laws to protect you, yes?”
“Yeah… I think so, but I don’t know Ilya. What if no one signs me ever again?”
Ilya snorts. “People will sign you. You are second best hockey player in league.”
Shane huffs out a laugh. “Asshole.” Suddenly, he is embarrassed by the swell of emotions he is feeling. His longing for Ilya. His loneliness. Another feeling he doesn’t want to name. Hearing Ilya’s voice calmed him instantly. His simple explanations and easy banter put Shane at ease immediately. He’s horrified as tears begin to fill his eyes. After possibly the worst day in his life, all he wants is Ilya with him.
Before he can cover it up, a sniffle escapes him. He tries to clear his throat, but Ilya isn’t fooled.
“Shane. Moyo solnyshko. Please do not cry.” Ilya’s voice is so affectionate that Shane can’t hide the choked sob that escapes him.
The words tumble out of Shane before he can stop it. “Ilya. Today has been the most embarrassing day of my life. I got blackout drunk last night because Rose broke up with me and I realized that I’m gay and I missed you and then I outed myself to the whole world without even remembering doing it. Suddenly everyone knows my biggest secret and… and people have been so mean Ilya. It’s so dumb but I feel so disgusting and alone.”
“Shane…” Ilya begins.
“And the worst fucking part of it all is that the whole day, the whole time… all I wanted to do was talk to you. I couldn’t stop thinking about you and how much better I’d feel if you were by my side. Holding my hand. Cuddling with me. Comforting me.” Shane sobs. “I know I ran away last time, and I’m so sorry for that. But… before that… It felt nice. It felt like.. maybe we were something.”
Ilya is quiet for a moment, before whispering, “Yes. It did.”
“And.. It was nice Ilya. I… don’t think I can pretend I don’t like you anymore.”
“Shane… I-”
“Ilya. I-I’m going to ask for something selfish. If you want to walk away, you can hang up and never talk to me again and pretend this never happened but.. I want you here. I know you’re far away but I just.. Need you with me right now.” His voice breaks. “Please come see me. I don’t want to be alone.”
Ilya’s breath hitches. “Ya uzhe v puti. Podozhdite menya.”
Then he hangs up.
Shane receives a location request a minute later and his heart swells. All that’s left to do is to wait.
* * *
Four hours later, there is a knock on Shane’s door. He flies to the handle and practically yanks Ilya in before a single word can escape his lips. Shane grips Ilya tightly, inhaling his scent.
“You’re here.” He whispers.
Ilya pulls away so he can look at Shane’s face. He raises a hand to gently brush some of Shane’s hair off of his forehead.
“Of course I am here.” He whispers. “I could not leave you alone when you ask for me like that."
Shane gives him a watery smile and grabs Ilya’s face gently. “I… I missed you. I’ve been missing you. For months. I’ve felt so horrible about the way things went last time and-”
“Shhh, is okay. I am just happy that you asked me to come.” Ilya hesitates. “I missed you too Shane. I thought… after you got with Rose that you would forget about me. That you did not want me anymore.”
Shane literally snorts. “Me not wanting you? From the moment I saw you, I’ve never not wanted you.”
Ilya smiles at Shane, and runs a thumb across his cheek. “Me too. I have never not wanted you. Your freckles are just… neotrazimyy. Irresistible.”
Shane feels his face heat up. He leans forward and carefully presses his lips to Ilya’s, who responds with enthusiasm. They kiss gently, slowly, lovingly, for some time. When they finally pull apart, Shane feels like he’s melted into a gooey puddle. He takes Ilya’s hand and they walk upstairs together.
“Lay with me tonight?” Shane asks.
“Of course, moy lyubov.”
Shane smiles. “And… you’ll stay?”
“I do not run away. Unlike some people I know.” Ilya teases.
Shane huffs and climbs into bed as Ilya strips into just his boxers. When Ilya climbs into bed with him, everything feels right. He snuggles into Ilya’s chest and Ilya wraps his arms around him. Shane puts his hand on Ilya’s cheek and strokes his face with his thumb. Tears well up in Shane’s eyes again.
“What is wrong?” Ilya asks, his eyes full of concern.
Shane just shakes his head, and begins to plant kisses all over Ilya’s face. On his nose, his cheek, his forehead, his hair, his jaw. Ilya sighs into the contact, wearing a silly smile on his face. If Shane wasn’t so happy to have Ilya here, he’d be embarrassed about how sappy he was acting. But when Ilya is here in his arms, it’s hard to care.
“Ya tebya lyublyu.” Ilya whispers. Shane doesn’t understand, but he feels warmth spread through him nonetheless. He runs his hands through Ilya’s hair, and before he can stop himself, the words slip out.
“I love you.”
Both Ilya and Shane freeze at the same time. Shane turns bright red as Ilya’s jaw drops.
“Holy shit.” He whispers.
Shane is terrified immediately. He shared too much. He spilled too much. Just as he begins to be sure that he’s lost Ilya forever, Ilya speaks.
“I love you too Shane. I love you so much.”
There’s a beat of silence, and then they crash together, gripping each other as if letting go would mean certain death. Shane cries in relief into Ilya’s chest as Ilya cries into Shane’s hair. They hug so tight that it’s almost painful, and when Shane pulls away, he is greeted by Ilya’s tearful smile, and everything makes sense in the world.
“How could we let this happen Ilya?” He whispers.
“We are very stupid. And irresponsible.”
Shane chuckles. He snuggles back into Ilya’s arms.
“I love you Ilya.”
“I love you too Shane.”