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The bar in Montreal wasn’t supposed to matter.
It was just a stop after the game. Music too loud, lights too warm, bodies packed too close together. The kind of place where everything blurred just enough that you didn’t have to think too hard about anything real.
That was the point.
Shane Hollander sat beside Rose, her hand resting easy on his arm, her laughter light and uncomplicated as she leaned into him.
It should have been enough.
It was enough.
And still, something in his chest wouldn’t settle.
Across the bar, JJ and Hayden had taken over the karaoke stage, absolutely butchering Super Bass with a confidence that made it worse.
“They’re so bad,” Jackie said, half-laughing, half-horrified.
“They’re having fun,” Rose said, smiling.
“That’s the problem,” Shane muttered.
Rose nudged him. “You love it.”
He didn’t answer.
Because for a second, it almost worked. The noise. The distraction.
Almost.
Because underneath it all, there was still him.
Ilya Rozanov.
Always him.
“Alright,” Hayden said the second the song ended, already pointing at Shane. “You’re up.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
“No.”
Too late.
He was already being pushed forward, Rose laughing behind him. “Go!”
“You’re supposed to help me,” he shot back.
“I am,” she said. “This is helping.”
He didn’t believe that.
But he was already on stage.
⸻
The mic felt heavier than it should.
The lights were warmer up here, blurring the edges of the room, turning faces into shapes instead of people.
No one expected anything.
That helped.
Shane scrolled through the songs, slower than necessary, like time might stretch if he needed it to.
Then he found it.
Paused.
Selected.
The first note played.
And everything shifted.
⸻
“When I saw you standing there
About fell off my chair
And when you moved your mouth to speak
I felt the blood go to my feet”
Cold air hit his lungs again.
World Juniors.
Outside the rink, snow packed along the edges of the building, breath visible in the night.
Ilya stood a few feet away, shoulders hunched slightly against the cold, flicking his lighter over and over, the flame catching and dying before it could hold.
Annoyed. Focused.
Alone.
Shane had walked up without thinking, drawn in by something he didn’t understand yet.
“You need help?” he’d said.
Ilya hadn’t answered right away. Just looked up.
And there it was.
Blue eyes, sharp and bright even in the dim light, catching Shane like something physical.
The spark of the lighter finally caught, flame steady now, but Shane barely noticed.
Because Ilya was still looking at him.
And something in Shane’s chest had dropped, hard and sudden.
I didn’t know what it was. I just knew it mattered.
⸻
“Now it took time for me to know
What you tried so not to show
Something in my soul just cried
I see the want in your blue eyes”
Locker rooms. Hallways. Post-game chaos.
Every glance that lingered too long before snapping away.
Every time Ilya stood too close, then shifted back like it hadn’t been intentional.
Every argument that burned hotter than it should have.
Every almost.
That look.
The one Ilya tried to bury.
The one that slipped through anyway.
Shane had seen it in flashes. Quick, unguarded, gone before it could be named.
But it was there.
Always there.
You thought you were hiding it. You weren’t. I just didn’t know what to do with it.
⸻
“Baby, I’d love you to want me
The way that I want you
The way that it should be”
Steam curled thick in the air.
The CCM shoot.
Water running over tile, heat pressing in from every direction.
They were too close. Closer than necessary. Closer than safe.
Ilya’s shoulder brushing his. His hand grazing Shane’s side like it wasn’t deliberate.
Except it was.
Their eyes met.
Didn’t look away.
The space between them shifted.
Not rivalry. Not tension.
Something quieter. Something heavier.
Shane’s breath had caught, just slightly.
And Ilya had noticed.
That was the first time it stopped feeling like a game.
⸻
“Mmm, baby, you’d love me to want you
The way that I want to
If you’d only let it be”
That same moment stretched.
The water still running.
The air too thick.
The choice right there, suspended between them.
Step forward or step back.
Neither of them moved towards it.
Not yet. Until “what’s your room number?”
“1410”
“I might knock”
“I might open”
We were already there. We just didn’t know how to admit it.
⸻
“You told yourself years ago
You’d never let your feelings show
The obligation that you made
For the title that they gave”
Sochi. “I didn’t read your boring text”
How did he know it was boring if he did not read it?
Bright lights reflecting off ice and glass.
Vegas rooftops, city glowing below them.
“Not everything is about you, Hollander”
“I thought maybe…”
Awards. Cameras. Applause.
Vegas penthouses.
“We didn’t kiss” texts that got erased.
Everything they were supposed to be.
And still, somehow, they kept finding each other in the spaces in between.
Standing side by side but never too close.
Talking about everything except what mattered.
Carrying something unspoken that grew heavier every time they ignored it.
We built a whole life around not saying it.
⸻
“Baby, I’d love you to want me
The way that I want you
The way that it should be”
“Stay.” Ilya said kissing his jaw
No.
“Okay.” The word had slipped out before Shane could stop it.
Too quiet.
Too real.
It hung there between them, fragile and undeniable.
And for a second, everything felt different.
Like something had shifted into place.
Like he had stepped into something he couldn’t step back out of.
That was the moment I stopped pretending I didn’t want this.
⸻
“Mmm, baby, you’d love me to want you
The way that I want to
If you’d only let it be”
The silence after.
The weight of it.
The way everything changed, even without words.
We didn’t say it. But we both heard it.
⸻
“Now it took time for me to know
What you tried so not to show
Something in my soul just cried
I see the want in your blue eyes”
Now it made sense.
All of it.
Every look. Every fight. Every almost. Every faceoffs.
Every push into the boards.
It had always been there.
He just hadn’t trusted it.
I saw it. I just didn’t believe it could be real.
⸻
“Baby, I’d love you to want me
The way that I want you
The way that it should be”
“Shane.”
The first time Ilya said it like that.
Soft.
Careful.
Like it meant something.
Like he meant something.
That was the moment I couldn’t pretend anymore.
⸻
“Mmm, baby, you’d love me to want you
The way that I want to
If you’d only let it be”
“Ilya.”
Saying it back.
Letting it exist.
And then walking away anyway.
Because staying felt too big.
Too real.
Too dangerous.
I should’ve stayed.
⸻
The last note faded.
The bar didn’t rush back right away.
There was a pause.
Then everything came crashing in.
Voices. Music. Movement.
JJ staring at him like he’d never seen him before.
Hayden wide-eyed.
Jackie stunned.
Rose quiet, watching him in a way that wasn’t confused, exactly. Just… searching.
“That was…” JJ started.
“Dude,” Hayden said.
“You can sing,” Jackie added.
Shane stepped down, shrugging like it hadn’t just meant everything. “It was just a song.”
Rose smiled, but it didn’t fully land. “Yeah.”
Shane wondered if she saw him.
⸻
By morning, it wasn’t just a song.
It was everywhere. Frigging JJ.
Clipped. Reposted. Slowed down.
People guessing who was the blue eyes.
Was it Rose?
Most of them wrong.
Shane’s phone rang.
It was Rose.
He picked up.
“Hey babe” he said absently
“Hey baby. Dinner?”
“Sure” he said dread filling him. He realized that maybe Rose saw too much.
⸻
Meanwhile, in an airport lounge in Boston waiting for their chartered jet heading to a game in Toronto, Cliff Marlow leaned over with a grin, shoving his phone toward Ilya Rozanov.
“You gotta see this,” he said.
Ilya barely glanced at first.
Then he froze. Cliff turned up the volume.
Then he snatched the phone.
Hard.
His Shane filled the screen singing.
His voice.
His face looking lost in memories.
Open in a way Ilya had never seen in public.
And then—
“I see the want in your blue eyes”
Ilya’s breath caught.
Because he knew.
Not guessed.
Knew.
That wasn’t performance.
That wasn’t random.
That this was about Ilya.
Shane was singing to Ilya.
Something shifted in his chest. Sharp. Bright.
Hope.
Before he could overthink it, he was already pulling out his phone.
He pulled up Instagram.
Search for Shane’s private account.
His thumb hovered for half a second.
Then he wrote out: i miss you
And hit send before he can overthink.
He stared at the screen.
One second.
Two.
Then—
Typing.
Immediate.
“call me”
Ilya didn’t hesitate.
Not this time. He walked away from Cliff.
He hit call.
And as the line rang, that feeling stayed.
Hope.
Real.
Finally real.
“Hi” Shane said softly as he picked up.
Ilya finally let out the breath that he was holding since Shane walked out on him.
“Hi” he whispered