Isa_yr



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    “Hollander.” Shane’s head snaps back to his left. Ilya is much closer, pace slightly hurried. “Come here.” His voice sort of mimics the way one would talk to an animal paralyzed in fight-or-flight. Shane is not sure what to make of that.

    He slowly turns his head in the opposite direction, where his vision tunnels on the door for the stairwell. It almost glows like a special item in a video game, like a hint. Without giving himself time to doubt, he bolts.

    “Wha- Hollander, what the fuck!” Ilya shouts in audible disbelief, and Shane distinctly hears matching thuds of frantic footsteps behind him; Ilya is chasing after him. Shane runs faster, positively sprinting at this point. He’s the fastest skater in the NHL right now. He can do this. He flings the door open and bounds down the steps two at a time, hitting the walls with each turn of a corner. If he eats shit on this filthy floor and embarrasses himself in front of Ilya, he thinks, he’ll never let himself see the light of day ever again.

    or alternatively, in which Shane accidentally sends the text, and Ilya chases after him. Like, actually chases after him.

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    21 Jul 2026

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    Cliff watches him squeeze the phone between his cheek and shoulder, lifting the jersey over his head as he continues to talk, a bit distracted now by the multitasking.

    “And was good practice, you know, for when I am your husband."

    Immediately, the locker room goes dead silent. And so does Rozanov, in fact.

    In which Ilya accidentally calls himself Shane's future husband in the middle of the Bears locker room. Worse still, they're not even dating yet.

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    21 Jul 2026

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    “Ilya, what are we gonna do?” Shane says.

    Ilya finishes whatever he has been doing on his phone, and tosses it gently to the bed beside him. He crosses the room to Shane, stands in front of him, squeezes into his shoulders with his big hands, rubbing them like he means to warm them up.

    “Looks like we will have a little vacation,” he says, with a big obnoxious grin.

     


     

    Boston and Montreal are sent to Paris to play against each other in an exhibition series in January 2017. Ilya and Shane decide to stay in Paris for one more night. Just one more night, so they can talk. Maybe finally understand each other.

    They aren't expecting a volcano to erupt in Iceland and close all the airspace in Europe, leaving them stranded there. Together.

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    18 Jul 2026

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    Ilya is not going to steal Shane Hollander's dog. That would be illegal. And wrong. And someone would probably find out and make Ilya give him back.

    So. Not stealing.

    But there is nothing wrong with giving Chernysh all the pats and treats that he deserves, is there?

    Nothing wrong with encouraging Chernysh to spend more and more time at Ilya's house until he doesn't even remember who Hollander is.

    Because Hollander is stupid and boring and does not deserve a dog as good as Chernysh. No, he doesn't, does he? Because Chernysh is the best boy in the whole world, yes he is.

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    10 Jul 2026

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    Shrugging one shoulder far more casually than he possibly feels, Ilya says, “I like both. Is secret, okay?”

    “Okay,” Hollander says, voice cracking.

    He doesn’t say anything else. The air’s so heavy around them that it feels like being in the middle of a scrum, the weight and heat of all those bodies pressing down on you. Danger always feels like hockey; it’s the most dangerous thing Ilya knows, except for this. Everything dangerous in his life involves men’s bodies and just how close he can get to them. Closer than he probably should.

    A year after mysteriously dropping out of the 2009 draft, Shane Hollander is signed by the Boston Raiders, right behind Ilya Rozanov. Having the two biggest stars in the league on the same line is great for Boston — but playing alongside their worst rival was never exactly in Shane or Ilya's plans. Especially not when staying away from each other starts to feel just as impossible as getting along.

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    06 Jul 2026