Chapter Text
Shane’s POV:
March 1, 2020:
Shane has spent the last 4 years of his life trying to get over Ilya Rozanov. He tried (and failed miserably) to date women, and after Rose forced Shane to come to terms with his sexuality, he tried to date other men. The problem with dating other men: no one knows he’s fucking gay (except his parents), and Shane Hollander couldn’t really walk into a gay club without everyone finding out the MLH golden boy likes men. Shane was terrified of being found out because he could lose the one thing that has made his life meaningful: hockey. The only thing Shane had ever loved more than hockey was Ilya Rozanov, but he messed everything up. Ilya tried to have a moment with Shane, but Shane decided to freak the fuck out and walk away from the only person who had made Shane feel loved. Shane tried to reach out to Ilya after Ilya’s father died, but the text had gone unanswered. After he came to terms with being gay, Shane couldn’t bring himself to reach out to Ilya ever again. He was too embarrassed and ashamed of his actions, and frankly, he didn’t want to get rejected. It’s not like Ilya ever reached out to Shane either, and Shane took that as a sign to try to move on with his life.
Shane really tried to move on from Ilya. He went to therapy, hung out with friends, and built a strict routine, but Shane couldn’t seem to get Ilya Rozanov out of his head.
Shane was in his bedroom packing for his flight to New York for the game against the Admirals when Hayden called him. Shane answered the phone while he was looking at his closet, trying to figure out what he needed to pack.
“Hey Buddy, what’s up?” Shane said as he grabbed 4 pairs of dress pants from his dresser.
“Have you seen the stuff about COVID? It seems to be getting worse every day, man,” said Hayden.
Shane could hear the twins yelling about which movie they wanted to watch in the background of the call, and he could hear Jackie trying to get them to compromise. He heard Hayden trying to calm them down before he moved to a different room.
“I don’t know, I’ve heard it's kind of like the flu. I don’t think it’s gonna be a big deal, and I’m just trying to figure out how many pairs of dress pants I need to pack for this fucking road trip,” said Shane as he put Hayden on speaker phone and threw his phone onto the bed.
“I’m just worried about Jackie and the kids. What if a lockdown happens while we're on the road and we can't get back? What if we can’t finish the season? I’m just kind of freaking out about it,” said Hayden.
Shane hadn’t thought about the implications of COVID on the hockey season; he had been too worried about trying to make it to the playoffs and win another Stanley Cup. Truly, he hadn’t even been following the news around it. The only things on Shane’s mind were hockey and fucking Ilya Rozanov.
“I don’t think it will be that bad, Hayd. I haven’t seen a major panic about this yet, and the MLH will do anything to make sure we are still playing hockey.”
“You’re right, man. I just don’t want Jackie to get stuck with 4 kids by herself, and I started to freak out. Are you ready for the game? You’ve been kind of out of it the past couple of weeks.”
Shane had been out of it since he played Boston at the beginning of February. It was never easy to play Boston since the tuna melt incident, but the last game was particularly hard. Ilya seemed to be on him the entire game, but he hadn’t said a single word to Shane. It drove Shane insane; Shane wanted to reach out after the game, but his pride got in the way. He didn’t want to seem pathetic. It had been over 4 years since they last hooked up, and obviously, Ilya had moved on with his life. Shane saw the tabloids with all of Ilya’s endless hookups. Ilya was doing just fine without him, and Shane didn’t want to seem desperate.
“Yeah, I’ve been focused on trying to win us another cup, which you should be worrying about too,” said Shane as he folded each pair of pants to put them carefully into his suitcase.
“Yeah, yeah. I just want to make sure you’re taking care of yourself. Speaking of which, did you reach out to that girl I mentioned a couple of weeks ago?” said Hayden
“That is the opposite of what I should be worrying about right now, Hayd. I don’t have time for distractions this season.”
“Man, I haven’t seen you date anyone since Rose, which was four fucking years ago. It’s not healthy. You need to get back out there; maybe it will help you loosen up.”
Shane knew he should try to date someone else, but he didn’t know how to tell Hayden this without telling him he’s gay. Shane didn’t want to come out, and truly, he didn’t know how to tell anyone without feeling guilty for lying about his sexuality for years. Shane’s parents figured it out a couple of months ago when he had a breakdown in front of them. The conversation with his parents was brutal, but he felt lighter after telling someone (besides Rose) about his biggest secret. Shane just wasn’t ready for someone in the hockey world to know he was gay. He wanted to keep his professional and private lives separate.
“I don’t need to loosen up right now. I need to focus on my game and win another cup.”
“Okay, okay. I’ll let it go for now, but Jackie and I are worried about you, man.”
“Let’s worry about winning this game tomorrow and making it to the playoffs. After we win a cup, we can start talking about my dating life.”
Shane didn’t have any intention of actually keeping this promise. He wasn’t in a position to tell his best friend one of his darkest secrets, and he hoped Hayden would just let it go for now.
“Okay, I’ll see you at the arena. Also, you should only need 2 pairs of dress pants for this trip,” said Hayden.
“Thanks, I’ll see you then.”
Shane hung up the phone, took two of the pants from his suitcase, and put them back into his dresser. After he finished packing his clothes, Shane moved to his kitchen to pack his pre-planned food for the road trip. He knew the nutritionists would provide food for each day, but Shane liked the routine of preparing and eating his own food. Sometimes, the nutritionist didn’t buy the right chicken, and the texture was off. If the texture was off, Shane refused to eat it, so he learned to bring his own food from home.
While Shane was packing his food, he turned on the news on the TV in his living room. He didn’t really watch the news, but Hayden’s worry started to get to him. The news was all about COVID-19, and Shane realized the outbreak had reached North America. He should have been keeping up with this stuff, but his other teammates didn’t seem to worry about it at practice. After watching for a couple of minutes, Shane couldn’t handle any more information. He needed to focus on the game, not a pandemic outbreak.
Shane finished packing his food, grabbed his bags from his bedroom, and headed out the door.
Ilya’s POV:
March 10, 2020:
Ilya had just finished his game against Philadelphia, and he felt on top of the fucking world. After the loss to Tampa Bay three days prior, Ilya knew he had to win against Philadelphia. He scored the only two points of the game, and he nearly had a hat trick towards the end of the third period. As he was taking off his gear, he heard Marleau yelling across the room.
“Let’s fucking go! Roz, we have to go out tonight. Your playing was insane; girls will be all over you tonight,” said Marleau.
Even though Ilya didn’t go out like he used to, he loved going to clubs and talking to gorgeous women. The only thing he would love more than getting drunk is fucking Shane Hollander, but he hadn’t had a chance to do that in 4 years, not since Shane decided to ruin their whole arrangement by freaking out over one small mistake.
“Marly, I do not need good game to pick up girls. My pretty face does all of the talking, but yes, I deserve to get drunk after carrying team all fucking night,” said Ilya.
“Oh, fuck you, Rozy,” Connors said from across the locker room.
“What? I did not see anyone else try to score goal,” said Ilya while walking toward the shower.
“Well, we could have scored if you didn’t hog the puck the entire game. I understand you’re the best player in the league, but you have to let someone else touch the puck,” said Connors.
“What? Roz is not the best player in the league. We all know that’s Hollander,” said Marleau as he was taking off his shoulder pads from across the locker room.
It was rare that someone brought up Shane in the locker room, and the sting of Shane’s name never seemed to hurt Ilya less over time. Ilya told himself he was over it. He and Shane had never been anything; it was just sex, at least that’s what Ilya told himself. Shane was just a good fuck whenever it was convenient for them, and Shane fucked their arrangement by overreacting to one small mistake Ilya made.
Instead of dignifying that comment with a response, Ilya made his way to the shower. As the water rolled down his shoulders, Ilya thought about Shane and his stupid fucking freckles. Ilya had gotten over Shane the same way he got over any situation, fucking as many women as he could. Ilya loved sex, so he tried to have it with as many people as he could. None of the women seemed to satiate the need to fuck Shane, but he couldn’t bring himself to reach out to him. After Shane ran out of his house, Ilya tried to convince himself it was fine, and it truly was fine until he saw Shane all over Rose fucking Landry. Ilya was convinced Shane was gay until he saw all of the tabloids talking about the MLH golden boy and America’s sweetheart prancing all around town with big fucking heart eyes for each other.
Ilya couldn’t get over how stupid he had been to think Shane would never find someone else to sleep with. At least Shane could show Rose off to all his friends and family; Ilya couldn’t be that for Shane, but it didn’t hurt him any less. Ilya truly thought he was over Shane, but after one stupid comment from Marleau, Ilya was right back where he started 4 years ago, pining after a man he could never have.
After thinking about Shane for far longer than he should have, Ilya finally left the shower and walked back into the locker room. Ilya must’ve been in the shower for longer than he thought because all of his teammates had left. He got to his stall and changed into his dress clothes, so he could go home and get ready for the night. Ilya knew he would feel better after fucking a beautiful woman and getting far drunker than he should. Before he left the locker room, he sent a quick text to Marleau to confirm his plans for the night.
Ilya: Which club are we meeting at tonight?
Marleau: A friend of mine invited us to Icon
Marleau: Many hot women
Ilya: ok
Ilya left the facility and walked to his bright orange Corvette, which he bought a couple of weeks prior. He threw his bags in the backseat and played Bad Bunny’s new Album. He played his favorite song, "La Difficil," and found himself thinking about Shane. After Shane started dating Rose, Ilya convinced himself it was just a fling. Shane and Rose would break up in a few months, and Shane would come crawling back to Ilya. Ilya had hoped they would break up before the 2017 All-Star game, but the opposite happened. Shane had brought Rose fucking Landry with him, and Ilya had to watch Rose hang herself off Shane the entire weekend.
It had started at the bar on the first afternoon of the weekend when Shane walked in with his hand around her waist. Ilya swore he could taste blood in his mouth from how hard he had bitten his cheek with rage. It was one thing to see Rose and Shane together on TV, but he had to watch them with his own two eyes. After he spotted them together, Ilya slipped out of the bar before Shane could see him. Ilya had gone up to his room and punched a hole in the wall. He couldn’t believe Shane wanted to rub his new relationship in Ilya’s face.
The worst part about the whole weekend: Ilya and Shane were on the same fucking team. Ilya had decided to ignore Shane beyond playing with him. They practiced, talked logistics, and played the game, but they didn’t talk about the last time they saw each other. Ilya knew it was better this way. Shane could move on with his life, marry Rose, and have a picture-perfect family.
After the All-Star game, Ilya kept thinking about deleting Shane’s number. There was no reason why he needed to have “Jane” in his phone when he knew they would never hook up again. Even if Shane reached out, Ilya wouldn’t respond, or at least he convinced himself he had enough self-control to restrain himself from texting Shane again. After staring at “Jane’s” contact for far longer than he should, he couldn’t bring himself to delete the contact.
After ruminating on the 2017 All-Star game, Ilya finally got back to his apartment in the suburbs of Boston. He needed to stop thinking about Shane Hollander, so he quickly entered his apartment to get ready for his night out. He dropped his bags off near the door and walked to his bedroom. He changed into a pair of black jeans that were a little tight but showed off his incredibly toned thighs and ass, and a mesh, white shirt that tightened around his biceps. As he walked in front of the mirror, he knew he looked good, and he knew he had to get laid tonight. If he had any hope of stopping thoughts of Shane, he needed to have sex with the hottest woman in the club. After staring at his outfit for a couple of minutes, Ilya pulled out his phone and ordered a car to Icon to get his night started.
As Ilya walked into the club, he knew this would be a good night for him. The women were hot, the music was good, and everyone seemed to recognize him. The bouncer hadn’t even asked him for an ID, and he showed Ilya to the VIP section, where a majority of his teammates were already seated. As he slid into the booth, one of the defensemen on the team asked him about his plans for the small break between games.
“I don’t know, probably find woman who wants to fuck around for couple of days. Maybe watch movies, eat shit food. The usual,” said Ilya.
“I don’t know how you find women who want to spend time with you. You’re the biggest asshole I have ever met,” replied the defenseman.
Before he could respond, a server came to the table to ask what he wanted to drink. Ilya ordered a bottle of Stolichnaya Elit because it was the only Russian vodka the place offered. After the server walked away, he turned to the defenseman to respond.
“Women like asshole. I am direct, and I do not play game with them. They know we fuck, we watch movie, they go home, and I do not text them. Is very easy,” said Ilya.
“Yeah, okay. Montreal Jane got a lot of texts from you for almost 6 years. Whatever happened to her? I thought she would lock you down for sure,” said Marleau from across the table.
Ilya hated it when Marleau brought "Jane" up in conversations because it made him think of Shane and all the times they had flirted over text, and Ilya had already thought about Shane more times than he needed to tonight.
“Got too clingy. I do not want to talk about past when I am looking for future women tonight,” Ilya said.
As Ilya talked, the server came back with his bottle of vodka. He poured himself a heavy glass and downed it. If he wanted to enjoy tonight, he needed to get drunk and needed to do it fast. After he finished the first glass, he poured himself another and turned to his teammates.
“Let’s hit the fucking dance floor before all the beautiful women are taken,” said Ilya as he moved to get up from the table.
A remix of the song “Break My Heart” by Dua Lipa was blasting through the speaker, and Ilya got up and walked directly towards the dance floor as he made eye contact with a beautiful blonde woman. He walked towards her, and she immediately recognized him. He leaned close to her ear and said, “What is a beautiful woman like you doing all alone?”
She leaned in closer and said, “Waiting for my dream man to come and sweep me off my feet.”
“Good thing I am here,” Ilya said with a smirk he knew women loved.
He moved behind her and finished his drink, then handed the glass to one of his teammates standing nearby. With his hands free, he wrapped them around the blonde woman’s hips and swayed along to the beat of the song. They danced for a couple of songs, and Ilya got increasingly handsy. At the end of the next song, he turned the woman around and kissed her. The kiss started as a brush of lips, but as she wrapped her arms around his neck, he opened the kiss. He swept his tongue across her bottom lip, and she opened immediately. They made out on the dance floor, and Ilya got impatient. He wanted to show this woman all of the tricks he’s learned over the years. He kissed along her neck and moved up to her ear.
He whispered, “Should we get out of here?”
He waited for her response when he felt a hand on his shoulder. He turned to look at who was interrupting an obvious intimate moment when the woman gasped, and Ilya felt a sharp sting of pain on his face. This stranger had punched him, hard. Ilya could taste blood in his mouth and looked at the man, and the man yelled, “What the fuck are you doing with my girlfriend?”
As Ilya put his hand on his face where the other man had hit him, he said, “Well, she didn’t mention having such ugly boyfriend when I came up to her.”
The woman immediately went over to try to hold her boyfriend back, and Ilya walked away. He usually didn’t back away from a fight, but he didn’t feel like dealing with this shit tonight. He went back over to the table and drank a teeming glass of vodka. He downed the glass, and he decided he didn’t want to be in this club anymore. He pulled out his phone to call a car, grabbed his jacket, and left the club without telling anyone goodbye.
As he walked out of the club, the alcohol hit him all at once. He usually didn’t get drunk from a couple of glasses of vodka, but he forgot to eat after the game and drank almost half the bottle of vodka in the span of 1 hour. As he waited for his car to arrive, he pulled a pack of cigarettes out of his jacket and lit one in his mouth. While he leaned against the wall, he thought about Shane and how much Shane hated it when Ilya smoked. Ilya liked how much Shane seemed to care about his health and well-being, even if it was annoying as fuck. Before he could get too deep into his head, his car pulled up in front of him. He threw the bud of his cigarette on the ground and headed for his car.
He climbed into the backseat and greeted his driver, who didn’t seem in the mood to talk. The silence was fine with Ilya until he found himself thinking about Shane Hollander again. Ilya was drunker than he thought because he hadn’t thought about Shane this much since his father died.
After his father died, he was surprised to get a text from Shane.
Jane: Sorry to hear about your loss. Hope all is well with you.
Shane really was a fucking asshole. Ilya hadn’t heard anything from him since the tuna melt incident, and he wished Shane had just left him alone. The pity was worse than no text at all, and Ilya decided it was time to delete Shane’s number. Shane was fine and happy with Rose Landry, and he no longer needed Ilya to fulfill any of his needs. Without Shane’s number, Ilya didn’t need to think about Shane anymore, and he could just move on. Ilya had deleted the number without a second thought.
In the back of this Uber, Ilya wished he hadn’t deleted Shane’s number. He wished he could call Shane and demand an explanation. Why didn’t Shane care about Ilya? Why did Shane start dating Rose? Why didn’t Shane try to talk to Ilya after he and Rose broke up? Why did Shane run away after Ilya tried to show how much he cared about Shane? It was stupid and irresponsible, but Ilya needed an explanation. Ilya opened his phone and started to search for flights to Montreal. His team didn’t have a game until next week, and he didn’t have practice for three days. He could go to Montreal, ask for an explanation, fuck Shane, and be back in Boston before he had practice. It was perfectly reasonable and rational.
As he searched for flights, the driver pulled into his driveway. Ilya thanked his driver and stumbled out of the car; he walked up to his door and punched in the code. He opened the door, took off his jacket and shoes, and walked into his bedroom. He sat on his bed and continued to search for flights. It was currently 1 in the morning, and the next flight to Boston was at 7 am. If he packed quickly, took a shower, and ate some food, he could leave for the airport in enough time to make his flight. He booked the flight and stumbled to the shower; Ilya took off his clothes and let the hot water consume him. Ilya needed answers from Shane, and he would get them in person.
After his shower, he changed into a pair of grey sweatpants and a black hoodie. He packed a few pairs of pants, a few pairs of underwear, and a few hoodies. He would only be in Montreal for a full day, and he didn’t need anything besides the essentials. Ilya didn’t even think about booking a hotel room, but he realized he could do that in the morning when he was sober. He planned to see Shane as soon as he set foot in Montreal. He finished packing his bag and looked at his phone. It was 3 am, and he still had time to make some food before he needed to leave for the airport. He made a sandwich with whatever food he could find in his fridge, and he grabbed his bottle of vodka out of the freezer. He poured a glass, ate, and thought about his plan when he got to Montreal.
Ilya was drunker than before by the time he got into his Uber to the airport. His Uber driver asked him what airline he was flying, and Ilya told him. He sat in the back of the Uber and realized this might be the stupidest fucking idea he’s ever had. What if Shane didn’t want to talk to him? What if Shane wasn’t home? What if Shane refused to open the door? Ilya wrestled with the weight of Shane rejecting him, but he realized he didn’t care enough. Ilya wanted answers, and he wanted them now.
As the Uber pulled up to the terminal, Ilya stepped out of the Uber and grabbed a bag from the trunk. He walked into the airport, and he checked in for his flight. Ilya made his way through security, and he found his gate. He had 20 minutes before his flight took off, so he walked to the closest bar and ordered a glass of vodka. He slowly drank the vodka as he scrolled through his phone, and he remembered the global pandemic. Ilya didn’t keep up with a lot of American news, but he knew COVID had made its way over to North America. He didn’t think it would turn into a big deal; besides, Ilya never got sick. He would be completely fine even if he did get COVID, and the league wasn’t worried about COVID yet.
Ilya finished his drink, and he boarded his plane. He booked first class, so he could sleep the entire flight. Ilya didn’t realize how exhausted he was from the game until he sat down, and he immediately fell asleep. Next thing he knew, he felt a hand on his shoulder. When he opened his eyes, he saw a flight attendant in front of him.
“We landed in Montreal, sir,” said the flight attendant.
“Sorry, must’ve been more tired than I thought,” said Ilya.
“All good, but we do need you to deboard,” said the flight attendant.
“Yes, of course,” said Ilya.
Ilya stood and grabbed his bag from the overhead compartment. After a full hour and 30 minutes of sleep, Ilya started to sober up, and he realized he probably just made the biggest mistake of his life. Why the fuck did he decide to book a flight to Montreal to see Shane? He walked off the plane and prepared to go through customs. He knew customs would be easier now that he had American citizenship. He finally applied and was accepted because of how long he had been playing hockey in America.
He made it through customs in 15 minutes, and he walked toward the exit. As he was standing outside, he ordered an Uber to Shane’s place. He never realized he had memorized Shane’s address until he had to plug it into the app, but he was grateful. If he flew all the way here and couldn’t find Shane’s house, he would have been mortified. The Uber arrived in less than 3 minutes, and he loaded his bag into the trunk and climbed into the backseat. The driver didn’t seem to recognize Ilya, which he was extremely grateful for. How could he explain being in Montreal? He shouldn’t be here in the middle of the season without playing a hockey game, but he decided to be a big fucking moron and booked a flight to see a man he hadn’t seen in 4 years.
Ilya didn’t talk during the 20-minute ride, and he was grateful to see the driver pull into Shane’s driveway. Ilya thanked the Uber driver, and he opened the trunk and grabbed his bag. Ilya walked toward the door, hoping Shane would open it.
Ilya made it to the door and knocked. After about 30 seconds, the door whipped open. Shane was standing in front of him in a fucking medical mask.
“What the actual fuck are you doing here, Rozanov?”