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When Shane got back to Montreal after his disastrous night at Il— Rozanov's place he had no intention to go back to his other apartment. After all, he only got that place to meet up with Rozanov whenever his rival was in town, even after years of saying he was going to rent the other two floors, he had only rented the first to a nice kitchen boutique, the other floor unused. The third floor really stayed empty for most of the year and as much as Shane loved Real Estate, it was probably ridiculous to keep that place.
Ultimately, that's why he decided to go back. He finally ended things with Rozanov for good and there was no need to keep that place, but before he contacted a Realtor and sold the place, he needed to make sure it was completely clear. Rozanov never left clothes or toiletries behind, but Shane needed to be fully sure. What if he left a pair of underwear behind and then when he hired the moving company they found a pair of whatever expensive underwear Rozanov wears under his mattress or something? That's why he was going back, no other reason.
However, just as he expected, the apartment was clear of any incriminating items. For some reason, it didn't fill Shane with any relief. They'd been hooking up for over 6 years now, he would've expected at least some small evidence that something happened between them. He tried to remind himself that it was good, no traces meant that they'd been careful and they could continue like nothing happened. The thought wasn't as comforting as he wanted to be.
That's until he went to his living room. After confirming that there was nothing to clear out, he should have left, but for some reason he couldn't bring himself to. Instead, he sat and turned on the TV and checked whatever game was currently live. However, the moment he sat down, he noticed something black under his coffee table. He could count how many times he has sat on this couch, a great amount of them being Rozanov bending him over whenever they'd been too desperate to even reach a bed. He couldn't think of any time where he had dropped anything by his coffee table.
He ignored the game playing and bent to grab the mysterious item. When he realised it was a scarf, he was even more confused. It didn't look like any of the ones he owned and given how thin and cheap it felt, there was no way Shane had used this to stay warm. At further inspection, it finally hit him. The last time Rozanov came here he was wearing a scarf, Shane remembered so distinctly because he never really wore one. Instead, Rozanov's style usually went by the philosophy of less is more. Shane never admitted it out loud, but it was really hot even if it made him wonder if Rozanov was ever cold with his lack of clothes. He had almost made a comment but he was so pissed at their game that all he wanted in that moment it was to shut Rozanov up and be fucked by him.
Now, a month later, he was holding the scarf in his hand and he didn't know what to do with it.
His first thought was that he needed to give it back to Rozanov, but quickly he told himself he couldn't. He wasn't seeing Rozanov again, not off the ice at least. That thought made his stomach turn but he pushed that thought away even quicker. Besides, Rozanov had not asked about it so he totally didn't miss it. Shane was more surprised that he owned a cheap scarf, he would've expected some designer bullshit from Rozanov. He would probably do him a favour if he threw it away.
Wait, no, that's rude, Shane.
However, he couldn't keep it, not here of all places. While it's the least incriminating of items, he had been purposeful at leaving his condo exactly as he found it before his hookups with Rozanov. He looked at the scarf in frustration, he couldn't bring it to his regular apartment in Montreal. Only his parents and occassionally the Pikes went there, and again, it was a stupid scarf so ultimately they wouldn't have thought much about it. Except that it felt like cheap plastic and his mum at the very least would know it couldn't have been something that Shane bought himself.
Who cares if it's rude? The best choice is to throw this stupid scarf away and forget it about it.
Shane didn't throw the stupid scarf away. For reasons he didn't have the time to really get into, he couldn't bring himself to do it. Instead, he brought it to his place and shoved deep in one of his drawers and tried not to think about it. That was weeks ago and now he was seeing Rose Landry, he felt disgusting that he had an amazing girlfriend and yet he couldn't bring himself to throw away some stupid scarf his ex— no, they had been nothing —his past hookup, left behind. He dreaded her finding it, asking him about it even if she had no reason to believe it belonged to Rozanov. He dreaded lying to her because there was no way he was telling her the truth. No, he was taking the truth to his grave.
Instead, he kept pretending everything was fine, which it was. He was dating Rose Landry who he liked and enjoyed spending time with. Finally, he met the one girl that maybe could work for him. Yeah, the sex was showing to be difficult but he was sure it was the stress of this season. Let's ignore that has never been an issue with Rozanov, let's ignore that it always took him an embarassingly fast amount of time to get hard for the Russian. Let's ignore all of that because there was no more Ilya Rozanov, he was dating Rose Landry now. Shane didn't need him anymore.
Of course, it was hard to ignore it when he thought of that night at a club in Montreal. Of all the clubs in this fucking city, Rozanov had to go to that one. Shane had to see him dance and make out with some girl he probably left with. As if rubbing in Shane's face that he also didn't need him, that he was fine. It shoud've made it easier for him, but somehow it was he could think about whenever he kissed Rose.
It's all that fucking scarf's fault.
Shane should've probably feel humilated that his girlfriend— well, now ex — broke up with him and told him he was gay. Don't get him wrong, he was a bit, but mainly for different reasons. He had spent his entire career in the NHL telling himself whatever he had with Rozanov, was just casual. It was, at first, but it hadn't been in a long time, probably for longer than Shane is willing to admit. Baby steps.
However, aside the embarrassment of it all, he felt relieved for once. No longer he felt like lying to himself, no longer he had to pretend that the reason he walked away that evening at Ilya's place had been because he couldn't do it anymore. No, he had ran away because everything had been perfect until then and he was overwhelmed over how much he wanted. And fuck did he want Ilya Rozanov in whatever way he could.
He was going to see him again soon, after several All-Stars where the league had come up with all sorts of ideas to keep them in opposite teams, they finally ran out of ideas. Finally, he was playing with Rozanov and he couldn't deny how excited he was. When he first heard about it, he didn't know how to feel about it. Deep down, he had always wondered how it would be like to play in the same team as Rozanov, no matter how much he tried to bury the thought. Then the news came and he had ended things with Rozanov and the thought of being close to him while still refusing to come to terms with his feelings sounded like a nightmare.
But it wasn't an issue anymore, Shane couldn't wait to see Ilya again, it had been so long and he needed to see him. He needed to talk to him, see if Shane wasn't going insane and he too felt the same that day in Ilya's penthouse. Which is why Shane was at his apartment going through everything his stylist had recommended even though he wasn't sure about some of the pieces. Of course, it wasn't like he knew anything about clothes, that was why he hired a stylist in the first place.
During his short stint dating Rose, he had noticed how well everyone around her dressed and he couldn't lie that it made him at least a little self-concious. Especially when he thought of all the fashionable guys in the league, one being one specific Russian he couldn't stop thinking about even if he rather die than admit it out loud. Rozanov was already insufferable enough, he didn't need to make it worse. Yet, he could at least admit to himself that he wanted to impress Ilya.
It was stupid, he knew it was. Just because he finally admitted that he actually didn't hate Rozanov— and probably never did —it didn't mean that they could be something. They were still hockey players and rivals at that. If anything leaked it could easily mean the end of their careers. He didn't even know what Ilya wanted. He still didn't know what Ilya wanted that day at his penthouse. Did he want to be exclusive? Or was he just as confused as Shane and just going with the flow? After Shane had run away, would he still want something? Or did he just want to end things? Was there anything to end when they hadn't talk to each other in a little over two months?
Before his thoughts could spiral any more, he grabbed onto Ilya's scarf and took a deep breath. He had finally taken it out from his drawer the night Rose ended things, he needed something to ground him and the only thing he could think of was a stupid polyster scarf that in normal circumstances Shane would've hated had it not belonged to Rozanov. He still told himself that he should throw it away, maybe give it back to Ilya when he saw him in Tampa. Yet, he couldn't do any of that. Instead, he had started to sleep with it. Holding tightly to the only physical proof that while they weren't really anything— not in the way Shane now craved —something did happen between them, that Shane had no imagined the past 6— no, the past 8 years.
After Tampa, after Rozanov had joked about going to Fiji, Shane couldn't stop thinking about having him for longer time. He was now certain that Ilya felt the same, or at the very least close to the same. He tried not think too much about that. Even if Ilya reciprocated Shane's feelings, they really couldn't be anything. Ilya had said as much in his hotel room in Tampa. Yet, now that he couldn't deny that he was in love with Ilya, he couldn't stop dreaming about having him in his cottage.
It only got worse after talking to Ilya while he was still in Russia and hearing just how tired he was of it all. He sounded so alone and it wasn't like he had anyone left in Russia, at least no one that mattered, and Shane suspected that had been the case way before Ilya's father died. Ilya even said he didn't want to go back. He had also said that they should get married, to different people, but Shane tried to block that part out. Almost immediately after that he had invited Ilya to his cottage. It was stupid, he knew it was, but he had been holding the stupid scarf while Ilya kept talking about Russia and marriage to someone else, and all Shane could think about was how all he wanted was Ilya safe with him.
He really should throw away that stupid scarf, this time because it made him do stupid things like inviting his not-boyfriend to his cottage in Ontario. But it had been hours since that call happened and he was still holding the scratchy scarf. He didn't dare bring it with him while he was on the road in fear of losing it or someone asking too many questions, which meant that for most of the time Ilya had been away in Moscow, Shane craved the comfort the scarf brought him. Now that he was back in his apartment in Montreal, he never kept it too far away from him. He had drag it to the kitchen, the living room, even kept it in a corner while he went to the bathroom.
Maybe he should accept that if Ilya couldn't be his boyfriend, if whatever they wanted was truly impossible he would refuse to let this scratchy and cheap scarf go. If this is the only memory he was allowed to have of Ilya and this fucked up thing they had, then he would keep it even if Ilya suddenly remembered he left it at Shane's condo and asked for it back. He would lie and tell him he threw it away, anything so he won't get this physical piece of the man he loved taken away from him.
Please, if I can't keep Ilya, let me keep this. That's all I ask.
The next day, when Ilya had call him on Skype, Shane had shoved the scarf under his pillows. The thought that Ilya might see, recognise and then ask for it back had sent him into panic. He couldn't know that Shane had it.
After Shane got hurt and taken out the playoffs, he had finally taken the scarf outside his aparment. It made him nervous, he didn't want to lose it, and he also didn't know what to say if his parents saw him with it and started asking questions. But the thought of being in Ottawa recovering without it made the whole thing sound more miserable than it already was. So when his parents asked if he had anything in his aparment that he wanted them to bring, he mentioned the scarf to someone else for the first time. Of course, he didn't mention that it belonged to Ilya. Instead, he told them it was some dumb gift from one of the guys, but how they won a lot of their games afterward and had keep it as a luck charm. How he was hoping it'd make his recovery less painful. Thankfully, they didn't ask further questions. They were used to Shane's hockey suspertitions.
That's how he spent the following months of his recovery with Ilya's scarf wrapped around his neck or holding it while he went to bed. At this point, any scent of Ilya was long gone, but occasionally, when he was alone, he would sniff it, as if that was enough to bring Ilya closer.
He had been holding the scarf when he saw Scott Hunter kiss his boyfriend in center ice. He was also holding onto it for dear life when Ilya had called him and told him he was coming to the cottage.
Maybe it was a luck charm after all.
Shane brought the scarf with him to the cottage. He did it without thinking twice, he was packing for the cottage and he shoved it with his other stuff without much thought. He was arriving just a few days before Ilya to get the place ready for the two of them and he needed the scarf to sleep better while he waited for the day Ilya arrived. Besides, what if Ilya wanted to sleep in separate beds? Shane hoped he didn't, the point of him coming was so they can spend as much time together as they could. If Ilya tried to take one of the guest rooms he might riot, and Ilya tended to give in whenever Shane asks him for anything. But just in case Ilya suddenly started saying no to Shane, he'd need the scarf to keep him company.
He left the scarf in one of his nightstand drawers before he needed to go pick up Ilya. First, he made sure that it wasn't in the drawer where he kept the lube and condoms since he still didn't want Ilya to find about it. It stayed there for the rest of the week. Just like he had hoped, Ilya had stayed in his room, they rarely spent more than a minute away from each other. If Shane was honest with himself, it was probably closer to seconds than a full minute, though.
However, that was still enough for Ilya to find the stupid scarf.
It was after they came back from dinner with Shane's parents the second time. Ilya needed to charge his phone but he couldn't find his. Without thinking twice, Shane had told him that he had one in the second nightstand drawer. By the time he remembered that the scarf was also there, it was already too late. The moment he was finally facing Ilya, his boyfriend was holding the scarf in his hand.
"What is—" he started until recognisation hit him and then his lips turned into a mischievous smile. "This is my scarf."
"I—" Shane felt the words stuck in his throat, knowing that whatever he said was going to be mortifying.
"Where did you find it?" Ilya finally asked and Shane realised that after everything that has happened this week, there was no need for him to pretend anymore.
"At my condo in Montreal?" It came out like a question, still unsure about how much he was willing to share with Ilya.
"The sex condo?" Ilya smirks widened.
"Oh, fuck off," he groaned but then took a deep breath, "Yes, that one."
"I have not been there since…" Ilya stopped to think and then he threw Shane a look of surprise, "I have not been there since last October. Have you kept it since then?"
"No!" Shane yelled immediately and then felt his cheeks warm up when Ilya looks at him confused, "Well, kind off. But I didn't find out until a month later."
This only made Ilya furrow his brows, "I thought you only went there during our meetups."
Okay, so I guess there's no way to get around this.
"I didn't… Not until— After that day at your penthouse," they hadn't really talked about that day, not since Tampa and even then they both avoided the details, "I missed you. I—I—I know it was me that ran away, I'm sorry about that. It wasn't fair for you, for either of us. But I couldn't stop thinking about you so when I was back in Montreal I went back with the excuse of clearing the whole place up. Of course, there really wasn't anything to clear up, until I noticed the scarf under my coffee table."
"You could have thrown it away," Ilya said, as if Shane didn't think about it but still couldn't follow through. As if he didn't spend months telling himself he needed to get rid of it, but he couldn't.
"I couldn't," he admitted, no longer seeing the point of hiding from Ilya. "I tried, but I couldn't. Look, we've been seeing each other since right before our rookie season. For many of those years we've been seeing each other in that condo. Back then I didn't want to admit it, but it was devastating to realise that there was no proof of us. It was almost like I imagined you and — then I saw that under the coffee table and finally there it was. Proof that you've been there, that I haven't imagined the past few years. Even when I didn't want to admit it, how could I throw that away so easily?"
And here's the thing, Shane had never been one for many words. This was the most he has probably talked since he woke up Ilya in the middle of the night with a plan for them to be together. Ilya knew this, that's why it didn't take Shane by surprise when Ilya dropped the scarf and grabbed Shane for a kiss. He didn't waste a single second to kiss him back.
It started gentle, as if both of them still couldn't believe the other felt the same. But like most of their kisses, it didn't stay like that for long. Suddenly, Shane deepened the kiss and Ilya ran his hands under Shane's shirt. However, before the kiss could go any further, Ilya pulled away and Shane couldn't help but chase his lips as he let out an embarrassing whine.
"Patience, мой солнышко," he smiled before giving Shane a peck, "I have more questions. Where did you keep all this time? I cannot imagine you kept it in your main place in Montreal while you dated Rose."
Shane couldn't help but groan as he cheeks burned bright red.
"You did!" Ilya exclaimed happily and Shane pushed him, but immediately pulled him back, no longer wanting him even a centimetre away from him. "No wonder she broke up with you. You were terrible boyfriend."
"Shut up," he groaned, "I immediately hid in one of my drawers when I brought it in. She never saw it."
"Wow, you kept me like dirty secret," Ilya joked but Shane tensed because he really did. For the past few months after coming to terms with his feelings for Ilya he kept telling himself he was tired of being Ilya's dirty secret but Shane had been doing the same thing to him.
"I'm sorry," he mumbled as he looked down, but then Ilya lifted his face and gave him the softest peck.
"Is okay, we are no longer dirty secret," he smiled earnestly and Shane was so in love.
"I love you," Shane said as he gave him a peck this time.
"I love you too," he then grinned widely, "So, if you kept it in drawer, how did it end here?"
"I said I kept it in a drawer while I was dating Rose, not since," he groaned and Ilya raised an eyebrow while he kept grinning, "You know I didn't. You just want me to say it."
"Of course, it would be cuter if you say it out loud," he was such a fucking asshole, but Shane had never been good at saying no to him.
"I took it after we broke up, but I only kept it in Montreal, but whenever I was there I'd keep it with me around the house at all times," he admitted and Ilya broke into a laugh not too dissimilar from the one in Tampa, "Fuck off, you wanted to know."
"No, no, keep going. When we talked while I was in Moscow, did you—" he cut off Ilya, knowing what he was about to ask.
"I was always either holding it or wearing it," he finished for him and Ilya's eyes widened.
"But it's cheap, and you hate scratchy material," Ilya reminded him, as if Shane forgot his own distaste for certain materials
"I know, but it's all I had from you," he said and then the grin finally dropped from Ilya's lips.
"Fuck, Hollander," he said before pulling Shane into another kiss. This one not gentle at all and Shane happily kissed him back.
"I did not see it when we video called," Ilya said hours later as they both cuddled naked in the bed.
"I quickly hid it under the pillows when I saw your call. I was nervous that you'd see and recognise it. Even more so, I was afraid you'd ask for it back," he explained as he looked at Ilya in the eyes.
"I would not have," Ilya admitted.
"Oh," it's all Shane could bring himself to say.
"But if you did not want me to see it, why bring it here?" Ilya asked again, as if he still couldn't wrap his head as to why Shane would want to hold so tightly onto his cheap scarf.
"I actually brought it with me while I was recovering. Even made a stupid elaborate lie to my parents so they wouldn't ask questions. I'm sure mum didn't believe it for a second but she was probably too worried about my recovery to push further. I sleep with it, well, until you got here. But before that… I realised I slept better while holding to it," he admitted and Ilya hugged him tightly.
"Я тебя люблю," he murmured against the top of Shane's head and he smiled widely.
"Love you too," he kissed his chest before looking up at him with a smile.
"You know," Ilya let out a small laugh, Shane looked at him confused, "I bought that dumb scarf because of you."
"What do you mean? You knew I'd hate the material," Shane pointed out and Ilya laughed a little harder.
"Not for you to wear, for me. I do not know if you remember, but at some point in the last season before this past one you kept nagging me about my lack of clothes," Ilya started, and while Shane couldn't remember that specific night, he did know he had let out his annoyance about Ilya's fashion choices in the past be known, "It was a really cold night. You kept going on and on about how I could catch a cold. I kept reminding you that I'm Russian and your stupid winters did not scare me, but you did not care. It was cute, I would not have admitted then but I liked it when you… cared. So then months later, I found this cheap scarf and I could not stop thinking about that night so I got it. Stupidly, I hoped that you would notice and would be happy that I was staying warm. Of course, you barely acknowledged it when I was wearing it."
Shane didn't know what he was expecting but it surely wasn't that. It took him by complete surprise, but it also hurt him. After losing his mother, Ilya didn't have anyone to care and worry for him. Shane probably was the first person in years to nag him about staying warm because he might catch a cold. Ilya had been so desperate to have someone care for him that when the guy he was in a secret casual— honestly, was it ever casual?— relationship with showed just the smallest amount of care, Ilya had bought a scarf in hopes it'd made Shane happy.
And Shane had noticed it, that's how he was able to recognise it in the first place. But he had been so pissed about the game and deep in denial about his feelings for Ilya that he didn't bother asking about it.
Just then, he made a promise to himself that he would not only take care of the man under him, but also to being as open as he could about it. Ilya had been so alone for way too long and Shane couldn't allow that for much longer.
"I noticed, I should've told you that I did," Shane admitted and Ilya let out a chuckle.
"Is okay, I know now," he said and then give him a slow and soft kiss.
They had to leave for the airport in a few hours, but instead they'd been arguing for the past half hour. Ilya had told Shane to throw the scarf away and well, Shane took it personally. He couldn't believe that he had explained to Ilya just how much the scarf meant to him just a few days ago and he had the audacity to tell Shane to throw it. As it meant nothing, as if it wasn't the only thing of Ilya's he had.
"I'm just saying, I know you hate the material. I could get you better one, one that is softer and does not feel scratchy," Ilya argued but Shane kept shaking his head, refusing to listening.
"It wouldn't be the same and you know it, Ilya," he said angry and holding to the scarf for dear life, as if he was afraid Ilya would tear it from him. "It's all I have."
"It doesn't have to be," Ilya insisted and Shane stopped for a moment.
"What do you mean?" He asked, curious of what his boyfriend was trying to suggest.
"I left some of my shirts in one of your drawers," he admitted, "Ones that I know you like the material of. Even if you do not wear them, the material will not bother you if you held them close while you sleep."
That's when it finally hit Shane, he wasn't being cruel. He wasn't trying to take away the only memory Shane had of him. Instead, Ilya was bothered that Shane had been sleeping with something that in normal circumstances, he would've hated. Somehow, it had him falling even deeper for the ridiculous man in front of him, but also even more frustrated. Doesn't he get it? This not a normal circumstance, this not a regular stupid scarf.
"Ilya, thanks for that, but I'm still not throwing the scarf away," he told him and Ilya furrowed his brows, "It was the only memory of us I had after I left, it was the thing keeping me together when I was thinking of getting you back but worried that I might have been too late, it was the only thing keeping me sane while I was recovering and feeling that whatever I wanted with you was impossible. Now… Now it's the physical reminder that despite all of that, I've always been yours and you've always been mine. That in the end, we figured something out. It'd take us years, probably another decade but this, this would remind me that we came so far. I can't just throw it away like it means nothing to me when it actually means everything."
"You are going to kill me, мой котёнок," he said as he grabbed Shane and smiled widely.
"You're so dramatic," Shane rolled his eyes, but he couldn't stop himself from smiling back.