Chapter Text
Shane goes into the next season feeling on top of the world. He just won the cup for the second time in a row—a lifelong goal, twice over. He feels great with his team and the synergy that they’ve built. The league loves him. The fans adore him. He has countless sponsors lining up to get a piece of the golden boy of hockey. His parents are extremely proud of him.
And yet, there’s still something missing. Something feels… not quite right, and hasn’t for a very long time, if he’s being honest.
He’s learned a lot about himself in the eight or so years he’s spent in the position that he’s in, both professionally and just as a person. He’s grown a lot from the polite, meek boy that he was when he started.
But there’s an aspect of himself that he’s never fully grasped—an aspect that he’s questioned maybe his entire life, but even more so when he met one Ilya Rozanov all those years ago.
It’s the one facet of himself that he could never quite mold to perfectly meet everyone’s expectations of him, no matter how hard he tried. So much so that he’s starting to think that maybe it just can’t be helped. Or maybe… he just needs to try even harder?
It’s been on his mind even more than usual lately, particularly because of how close he and Ilya have gotten. Over the past year, they’ve shared nothing more than constant texts and Facetime calls, the occasional smile from across the rink like a secret message in a crowded room, and chirping on the ice that would actually sound more like fond banter if anyone was actually paying attention.
But he’s finding it increasingly difficult to attribute it to purely platonic feelings—the warmth that envelops him whenever he talks to Ilya, and the disappointment he feels that they’re not something more. And it’s starting to become a problem.
When he first walked away from Ilya in Vegas two years ago, it was difficult, sure. But realistically, all he was walking away from was a hookup that he cared a little too much about. A hookup that had the potential to be something else entirely, but as it stood was a purely physical relationship. Nothing more.
But now, Ilya is a friend. Now, their connection feels more real than it ever has, the limits imposed by its platonic (and secret) nature notwithstanding. If Shane lets his feelings spiral out of control and he finds himself having to walk away from him again because of it, he would be losing something so much more valuable than a hookup.
If walking away from Ilya then was difficult, walking away from Ilya now feels impossible.
Walking away back then meant feeling the ghost of Ilya’s touch on lonely nights spent in his apartment, missing what they had and mourning what they could have been.
But walking away now would mean feeling his absence the moment Shane wakes up in the morning without a drooling, snoring Ilya on his phone screen because they both accidentally fell asleep on Facetime the night before. It would mean not having Ilya’s gruff 3AM voice talking him through whichever one of his anxieties cropped up for him that night, preventing him from getting any rest.
It’s the kind of loss that Shane would feel everywhere—not just in phantom touches, but something much more pervasive. Something that would permeate his every waking thought.
So he can’t let it get to that point. Ilya’s friendship has become too important to him for him to mess it up by letting his feelings get in the way again, especially when he barely understands them to begin with.
Because what does he even want from Ilya, really? He values his friendship and loves talking to him, but sometimes finds himself wanting more. It’s ironically pretty much the opposite of what they used to have. They went from all sex no talk, to nothing at all, to all talk no sex. And it seems that no matter what it is that they have exactly, it’s just never quite enough. Shane always finds himself wanting more.
But, is that because he’s in love with Ilya? Or is it just because he’s having a hard time reconciling the onslaught of desire that came with their prior entanglement, with the platonic warmth that they have now?
It’s like he tried so hard to compartmentalize, the first time Ilya came to him with the prospect of friendship. He put everything he used to feel for Ilya into a box, sealed it away in the back of his mind, and walked away from it when he walked out that penthouse door in Vegas. He had a year to distance himself from it, so he figured it would be fine.
Then, he put his newfound friendship with Ilya in a fresh box, trying to keep it away from the old box that has been festering in the corner—treating it like something brand new instead of reconciling it with everything that came before.
And that’s where the disconnect and the confusion is coming from. Because the reality is that you can’t just file those feelings away in the deepest recesses of your brain, hoping that they never see the light of day again. If you slice Shane’s head open, you won’t see separate boxes for friend Ilya and Ilya I used to fuck.
It’s more like one big confusing blob of all things Ilya Rozanov—everything Shane has ever felt for him all constantly battling to take up the most space in his brain. It’s an amalgamation of desire and warmth and lust and friendship and yearning and hurt and affection and pain and care and longing and a plethora of other things he can’t even name. And Shane doesn’t know what to do with all of that.
So is he in love with Ilya? Maybe. Possibly. There’s a non-zero chance that he is. But the truth is that he can’t say for certain.
Between struggling with coming to terms with his sexuality at all, and trying to make sense of the mess of things he feels for Ilya, he doesn’t even know where to fucking begin.
In fact, the sexuality stuff and the Ilya stuff feel so closely intertwined that he’s unsure if he can figure one of those things out without having to figure out both. It’s kind of a tall order when the only time he’s ever felt true to his desires at all is when he was with Ilya.
But he wants to try. Because he can’t mess with the delicate balance of their friendship if he’s not even sure what he would be risking it for. He needs to figure his shit out separately before he can even think about the Ilya of it all.
This is the state of mind he finds himself in when JJ gives him a call and invites him out to some random party with supposed celebrities in attendance.
Now ordinarily, it would be an easy skip for him. He would much rather be tucked up in bed reading a book, potentially expecting a call from Ilya who was probably going to talk his ear off about practice that day. He would pretend to be annoyed at his teammates’ antics, but Shane would hear the fondness in the captain’s voice anyway.
Ilya would request to switch the call to Facetime in the middle of his rambling, teasing him about his reading glasses the moment Shane clicks accept. Ah, Professor Hollander, nice to see you again, he would say. Shane would take them off with a huff, and Ilya would whine until he put them back on again.
The conversation would get warmer after that, Shane getting under the covers as Ilya shuffles into bed while asking him about his day—tone notably gentler and sweeter than it had been when he was teasing. They would talk and talk and talk, voices gradually getting quieter until one of them falls asleep. Or both of them. Waking up to the sound of snoring coming from a tinny phone speaker is a treat all on its own.
But Shane always secretly wishes that Ilya would fall asleep first, so he could have an excuse to look at his face without trying so fucking hard to hide the affection that’s always bubbling just beneath the surface. He’s almost certain it always bleeds through his eyes anyway, try as he might to conceal it. He would take off his glasses and end the call once he’s had his fill of unadulterated staring, trying not to wonder if Ilya does the same when Shane falls asleep first.
But that’s exactly the problem, isn’t it? Shane doesn’t like how dependent he’s become on those calls just to feel something. He’s a man of routine, and Ilya phone time has carved out a place in his day just as set in stone as his morning jogs or his bedtime reading or his pre-planned meals.
He can tell himself it’s platonic all he wants, but he’s never fallen asleep on a Facetime call with Hayden, has he? He tried to convince himself in the beginning that this was just going to be like any other friendship, but he should’ve known that trying to have separate Ilya boxes in his head was never going to work.
And of course, when he starts thinking about his feelings for Ilya, the overarching question of his sexuality inevitably permeates his thoughts. He’s definitely not straight, that much has been clear since the moment he let Ilya walk into room 1410.
But a part of Shane—a really big part of him, honestly—is still holding on to the fact that not straight doesn’t necessarily mean completely gay, either.
He’s holding out hope that just because none of the women he’s ever been with hold a candle to those hotel room trysts, doesn’t mean he’s not into women at all. He just hasn’t found the right one, he often says to placate himself.
It would definitely be easier if that was the case. If he just finds the right woman, then he wouldn’t have to untangle the jumbled mess of identity and sexuality in his head.
He wouldn’t have to explain anything to anyone. He wouldn’t have to feel like he’s hiding something, and actively lying, even though it would technically still be just a half-truth. That would be enough; the other half could just stay buried, if he never acted on it again.
He wouldn’t have to tell his mom that there’s yet another thing that’s different about her son in comparison to his peers. Yet another thing that she would have to worry about affecting his brand—as if he hasn’t heard the phrase first Asian-Canadian ambassador and other variations said about him countless times like a fucking slogan, often making him feel more tokenized rather than just plainly accepted.
It’s the type of acceptance that often feels flimsy at best, somewhat reluctant, and definitely conditional on his skill. He’s so damn good at the game that he feels like maybe they chose to overlook something that would normally bother them in favor of taking advantage of his talent. And it sometimes feels like they think he should keep his head down and just be grateful for it. Grateful for the opportunity, despite knowing damn well that he got to where he was based on his own merit.
Would they feel the same about him being queer? Would they offer the same reluctant acceptance as long as he kept playing well? Or would that be where they draw the line?
Truthfully, Shane doesn’t want to find out. He feels enough pressure being in the position that he’s in, and he doesn’t want to rock the boat for the sake of his own self-discovery.
But selfishly, a part of him also yearns to understand himself in this way. Sometimes, this part of him that he’s kept buried feels so all-consuming that he thinks he owes it to himself to figure it out. Maybe then, the hollow ache he feels in his chest—an ache rooted in feeling so disconnected from a significant part of his identity—will finally go away.
But how can he even do that, when instead of doing something, anything at all, in an effort to understand his sexuality more, he’s cooped up in bed on a Friday night waiting by the phone for the guy who incidentally was also the last person he had sex with more than two whole fucking years ago?
Not that it’s the lack of sex that matters, per se. It’s more the fact that he wants to gain a better understanding of himself and his sexuality. And yet, he’s not doing anything about it because he’s, what, hung up on some guy he used to sleep with? The only guy he’s ever slept with, actually. And maybe that’s what needs to change, if he has any hope of ever understanding himself in this way.
Him and Ilya are friends. Nothing more. If he wants to figure himself out, he can’t look to Ilya. Not in this regard, at least. He has to go on this journey himself.
So instead of getting into bed and waiting for Ilya’s call, he gives in to JJ’s invitation.
He tries on three different outfits before he finds one that makes him feel the least uncomfortable in his own skin, puts his phone on silent, and heads to the party not knowing what doors it’ll end up opening for him in the long run.
It feels more like a detour at first, but it ends up being the path he was meant to be on all along. Shane learns why people always tell you to stop and smell the roses.
***
It’s Friday night and Ilya’s call goes straight to voicemail.
What started as phone calls that only came whenever one of them texted wanna talk about it?, has gradually transitioned to regular calls whenever they have the time. Usually after long days of training, sometimes after a particularly interesting game, on nights when they can’t fall asleep, or even on lazy days off as they watch the same movie while occasionally chirping in each other’s ear.
Ilya has become unreasonably glued to his phone. And he doesn’t think it’s the healthiest thing in the world, but he’s willing to bet anybody would act the exact same way if they had Shane Hollander on the other end of the line.
He feels a pang of disappointment that Shane doesn’t pick up, but ultimately it’s not a big deal. It’s just one phone call. He shoots a quick you busy? text before putting a random TV show on and sinking into his couch.
He doesn’t get a response until the day after, but he doesn’t really think much of it.
Jane
Sorry! Was out with JJ and his friends
Lily
Oh? Mr. Party Boy now? 😈
They decide to start a TV show together, and that’s that. The conversation moves on. Ilya doesn’t chirp further about the uncharacteristic night out, all too happy that he’s guaranteed multiple episodes’ worth of uninterrupted Shane phone time for the foreseeable future.
But it is on one unsuspecting day at the team gym that he realizes that maybe he should’ve thought a little more about that night or maybe asked Shane more questions. Because he’s greeted by his teammates showing him headlines of his good friend Shane Hollander spotted with Rose fucking Landry.
They’re all in awe at how one of their own managed to bag a famous movie star, whining about how lucky Shane is. Ilya defensively thinks that they’ve got it backwards—that anyone who gets even a modicum of Shane’s attention should be the one to count themselves lucky. Himself included. But the thought soon gets drowned out by a slew of emotions he’d rather not name.
Tabloids are unreliable… right? This doesn’t necessarily mean they’re dating, they’re just… leaving a restaurant holding hands. Right. Sure. Shane Hollander who has never been seen with anyone romantically in public, leaving a restaurant holding someone’s hand.
Huh.
In all his overthinking about what being friends with Shane was going to be like, not once did it even cross his mind that it might mean having to watch him be with someone else.
It sounds like such a silly thing to fail to consider, but Shane was always so straitlaced that Ilya just forgot to account for this possibility. How was he supposed to know that boring ol’ Shane Hollander—intended in the most affectionate way possible, by the way—of all people, was going to get himself a celebrity girlfriend?
Honestly, he feels a little fucking stupid now. What, did he think Shane was just going to stay single until the world became a better place and they could take their friendship to the next level? What a ridiculous fucking thing to hope for, in hindsight.
Fuck. Maybe being just friends with Shane is going to be much harder than he anticipated.
***
Rose comes into Shane’s life at a time when he didn’t even know he needed her, let alone what he needed her for, exactly. But it becomes clear soon enough.
They meet purely by chance on that rare Shane Hollander night out that JJ dragged him out to, and hit it off immediately. But they fizzle out unspectacularly when Rose quickly notices that their emotional connection doesn’t necessarily carry over to the physical side of things.
And Shane tried. He really fucking did. He liked Rose a lot. More than anyone he’s ever been with—with one obvious exception. And he figured that if he was ever going to be able to mold that piece of him to conform to the rest of his carefully sculpted life, he liked Rose enough to try with her.
If he could make this work, then maybe he didn’t even have to answer all the questions he had about his sexuality. He yearns to understand it, but maybe he doesn’t have to. If he could make this work, then that part of him could just stay locked away in all of the dingy hotel rooms that he and Ilya had shared, never to be unearthed again. It’s his best chance at the normalcy he so craved.
Also his last chance, as it turns out, because Rose sees through the veneer immediately.
It’s initially the most unnerving thing Shane has ever experienced—being confronted about your sexuality by your own damn girlfriend, when you’ve barely even confronted it yourself. But Rose does it in the gentlest way she could, and it really gives Shane the courage to be honest for once in his fucking life.
Rose is direct, but she’s kind about it. It’s the most tender wake up call he could’ve asked for. He doesn’t feel as cornered as he thought he would, if this moment ever came. And it makes him feel safe enough to finally admit what he’s suspected for a long time.
That Shane Hollander is gay.
He thinks he held on to the possibility that he wasn’t completely gay for so long because of just how askew that piece of him felt beside everything else in his life, at least in theory.
Shane Hollander—superstar hockey player, generational talent, role model, all around good guy, perfect son, golden boy. He felt like that part of him just didn’t fit. And he’s spent his entire life sculpting and molding everything else about him just so it’ll all fucking fit.
And there were already aspects of himself that he couldn’t control—things he knew would never actually fit, as the world likes to remind him. He just happens to be good enough at hockey that they overlook it for the most part, even tokenize it to an extent.
So he’s always felt like he was on shaky ground to begin with, that his perfectly sculpted life already took a lot of effort to hold together, even without this one piece that felt particularly out of place.
So he thought he could keep trying to make that one piece feel less askew. And Rose was his last attempt at it, before their disaster of a relationship confirmed what he’s been too scared to accept all along.
That it’s not something to fix. That it’s not something for him to sculpt or mold into something that it’s not, just so it’ll fit the perfect little image of Shane Hollander that everyone has—the image that he stubbornly held on to himself.
That it instead is something to accept and embrace as simply a part of who he is, just like everything else about him. That it’s something that he has no more control over than any of the other things that make him “different”.
And to have even just one person tell him it’s okay... To have someone give him permission to be himself—not that anyone should need permission, but for the longest time he felt like he didn’t have permission. So for it to just be handed to him like it’s something he should’ve never had to ask for in the first place?
It feels like a giant weight being lifted off his shoulders. It feels like letting out a breath he’s been holding for god knows how long.
And Rose instantly becomes his closest confidant, being the only person who explicitly knows this about him. It also helps that she tells him she’s actually bi, but really it’s her unbridled acceptance that gives Shane the comfort that he’s always craved.
The public still thinks they’re dating, and they haven’t really gone out of their way to deny any of it. Shane feels a little bad, not wanting to unintentionally be using Rose as a beard. But it’s not like they ever confirmed their relationship in the first place. People just assumed, and maybe they assumed correctly for a month or two. But beyond that, they just kept assuming.
In reality, all Rose and Shane are doing these days is hanging out every chance they get while she’s still shooting her movie in Montreal. Shane appreciates his time with her so much because she’s pretty much the only person he can really be himself with.
Well… One of two people, maybe.
It’s one such weekend when they’re hanging out at his apartment that he apologizes to her again for the accidental beard treatment she’s getting.
“Shane, I promise I don’t mind. We don’t owe them anything. We’ll only say something if you really want the rumors to stop. Or maybe if I meet someone nice and actually want to do something about it,” she says with a chuckle as she gets comfortable on his couch. “Otherwise, let ‘em keep guessing their little hearts out.”
“You sure?” Shane asks apprehensively as he settles in next to her, placing snacks and drinks on the coffee table, mostly for Rose. He’s not gonna touch anything other than the ginger ale, especially not since the season has started. He turns the TV on at a low volume, since they’re probably just going to talk over it anyway.
He always insists on putting one of her movies on when they hang out—partly to tease, mostly to support. She was initially mortified by the idea, but reluctantly agreed once Shane promised that they would at least stay away from the ones that she thought were really bad. They’re saving those ones for a rainy day, like if one of them is really upset and in dire need of cheering up via playing a drinking game over a truly horrid movie.
“Yes, baby. Honestly, it kinda keeps people off my back too. No one’s looking for dirt on me because everyone thinks I’m openly dating the perfect man,” she says, waggling her eyebrows. “So I’m good, I swear.”
Shane sighs. “Okay, if you’re sure. But tell me if you change your mind, okay? I’m not trying to hold you hostage or whatever. You’ve had enough kidnappings in your lifetime,” he quips, making Rose chuckle. She waves her hand to dismiss the idea.
“All good. Plus, our cover keeps you free to find a man on the DL too,” she teases. “Seeing anyone yet?”
“No!” Shane denies with a chuckle. “The season’s started, Rose. I barely have time to meet up with you, let alone find a man.”
Rose hums, narrowing her eyes at her friend. “For someone who doesn’t have a man, you sure are glued to your phone, though.”
“What? No I’m not,” he rebuts unconvincingly.
“Please. You’re not as good at hiding your blush as you think you are, Shane!”
Shane looks away, trying and failing to hide said blush.
“See, I knew it!” Rose giggles as she lightly pinches his cheek. It’s still a little unnerving for Shane to feel seen like this. But Rose seeing him was exactly what led him to this place where he feels more comfortable with himself, so he’s not complaining.
“Soooooo, tell me about the guy,” she urges as she props up her arm on the back of the couch, resting her chin on her hand, ready to listen.
“There is no guy,” Shane insists. But his phone dings on the coffee table, as if choosing that exact moment just to mock him. He instinctively perks up for one second before realizing that he’s proving her point by doing all that. He tries to school his expression, but it just makes Rose laugh.
“Shane.” She tilts her head and the look on her face says, Hey, it’s me. You can tell me anything.
“Fine,” he relents. “Maybe there is a guy…” He remembers that Rose is literally the only person he can talk to about this. And considering how in his head he’s been about everything, maybe some girl talk with his ex-girlfriend turned friend about his ex-situationship turned friend would actually be helpful. Jesus, what has his love life come to.
Rose squeals. “Tell me everything!”
“I can’t, because there’s nothing to tell. We’re just… friends, I guess.”
“Oh.” Rose’s eyebrows furrow and she visibly deflates as she sees the sad shift in Shane’s expression. “But you want to be more than that?”
“Maybe… I don’t know, actually.” Shane sighs as he proceeds to recount his entire story with Ilya—without naming him, of course. He tells the story as it is, meaning it’s gonna be obvious that it’s another player, but leaves out enough details as to not specifically pinpoint Ilya.
From meeting him when they were teenagers, to only getting glimpses of him once every six months (all very sparse but insanely magnetic), to those charged moments finally culminating in his first time with a man, to their infrequent dalliances ending with Shane walking away after being ignored for half a year, all the way to the friendship that followed.
It feels like a fucking emotional roller coaster, reliving their history like this. He’s never said any of this out loud before, and never even thought about the entirety of those eight years or so like this in one sitting. It’s… a lot.
He can feel himself smile as he recounts those early days, still vividly remembering the nervous excitement in his veins like it was yesterday. He hears Rose coo at small moments like them sharing a water bottle or their shoes touching at a press conference. He feels his heart shatter again as he talks about Vegas and the Olympics, and feels it stitch itself back up as he talks about their current friendship.
“And you love being friends with him, but you find yourself wanting more?”
“Basically. I don’t think I know how to not want more with him, honestly.” He ponders for a moment before just completely unloading everything that’s been on his mind.
“It’s like… Before I met him, I repressed my sexuality for so long that when he first approached me, it felt… freeing. It felt like I finally wanted someone, and they wanted me back. I had been with other people—girls—before that, but I had never felt that kind of pull before. It was liberating. It was all so… new. And exciting. But then it started to feel… contained. Like within the four walls of whatever hotel room we were in was the only place where my desire was allowed. And I haven’t let it out since, because I haven’t been with another man since.”
Rose reaches out to hold his hand, sensing his unease with the subject. He grips it like a lifeline, never having felt this cut open before. It’s terrifying. But the more he lets it out, the freer he feels. So he takes a breath and keeps going.
“And I want to let it out again, now that I feel like I’ve come to terms with my sexuality. I want to feel that way again. And I want to understand it more. But whenever I think about wanting to be close to someone in that way, my mind always drifts back to him. But I can’t do anything about it, because we agreed to be friends. And I don’t want to ruin that. Plus, I can’t even tell if I feel this way because I’m actually in love with him, or if it’s because he’s the only person I’ve ever even allowed myself to look at in that way. Like, are those residual feelings just getting muddled by how close we are right now? Does that make sense? Sorry, I feel like I’m rambling—”
“Hey, don’t apologize. I literally asked you to ramble,” Rose quipped, getting a light chuckle out of them both. “You want my advice?”
“Please. There’s no one else I can talk to about all this, so I’ve been pretty in my head about it.”
Rose squeezes his hand before letting go now that Shane feels more at ease with the conversation. She gives him a small smile that says she’s happy to be his person.
“Well, from what you’ve told me, it kinda sounds like your queer journey so far has been pretty intertwined with this guy. Like, he was there when you were questioning things, he was there for your first experiences with a man…”
Shane nods, signaling Rose to continue.
“And there’s nothing inherently wrong with that. But it can also be… intense. I understand that it can be difficult to separate those feelings that are tied to him, from your own individual desires, when you’ve never let yourself feel them outside of this one person. It’s definitely easy to conflate that feeling with love.”
Shane thinks Rose sounds like she’s speaking from direct experience and makes a mental note to ask her about it later. For now, he lets her continue.
“And who knows? Maybe you are just in love with him. Maybe that’s why he comes to mind whenever you think about wanting to be with someone. But you said you can’t tell for sure, right?”
“Yeah, I don’t know. I’m so confused, Rose. I’ve only just accepted that I’m gay, and I really do wanna understand myself better in that regard. But I don’t know how to do that when my mind is so preoccupied with thoughts of him. Thoughts that I can’t do anything about, because I don’t want to fuck up our friendship. Thoughts that I can’t even tell if they’re there because I’m in love with him, or if it’s because he’s the only person I’ve ever been with whom I’ve actually been attracted to.”
“No offense, by the way,” Shane adds, making them both laugh.
“Oh, none taken, baby!”
Rose continues when their giggles die down. “Well, I can’t tell you how you feel. And it looks like you can’t, either. But I see a couple ways this can go.”
“Okay, shoot.”
“One, you can talk to him and tell him everything you’ve told me. It’s not an outright confession, but if you want to keep figuring things out with him specifically, then you can start with that.”
Shane considers it for no more than a second. “God, no. I can’t do that. I think our friendship’s become too important to me for me to risk it on trying to figure myself out.”
“Okay, I figured you might say that. In that case, there’s really only one surefire thing I can suggest that can help you gain some clarity.”
“Which is…?”
“A little bit of healthy exploration, baby.”
Shane hums, considering it for a moment. It’s definitely something that has crossed his mind before, but he’s always been too cautious about his secret to even spare the idea a second thought.
“That makes sense. But even if I want to learn more about myself in that way… I can’t just hook up with some random guy. What if they out me?”
“I mean, Miles would definitely be down. And he would never out you if you told him.”
Shane snorts. “Rose, I can’t sleep with another friend. My two closest friends right now are both people I’ve slept with—to varying degrees of success.”
They share another giggle at that. Shane’s glad that their disastrous attempts at sex have at least completely evolved to be things they can both just laugh at.
“But yeah, no. No more sleeping with friends.”
“Got it. Well, lucky for you I know theeeee most discreet place to find just the kinda guy you need.”
“I don’t know, Rose…” Shane chews on his lip, still very much apprehensive at the thought of sleeping with a stranger. He’s always so careful about everything, especially this.
“Trust me, Shane. It’s a super exclusive bar—invite only. And the people who work there even sign NDAs and stuff. It’s all very serious. Miles and I have been going there for years. You’re not gonna get outed. It’s just a bunch of celebrities who have the same secret, looking for a place where they can be themselves.”
It feels like a bad idea. He doesn’t exactly feel good about having to trust random people with his best kept secret. But he trusts Rose, and doesn’t feel like she would lead him astray. She’s always made him feel safe. So even if it sounds terrifying, the fact that it’ll be Rose holding his hand through it does a lot to calm his nerves.
“I’ll think about it.” He settles on that, still not completely sure if he’s up to it. But he does feel an undercurrent of excitement at the idea. So maybe he just needs to say fuck it, for once.
Rose perks up at his consideration. “Okay. Just let me know whenever, and me and Miles will take you! Or just me, if you don’t wanna tell him, of course.”
“Thank you, Rose,” he says earnestly before letting his friend ramble on about all the cute outfits they can wear and all the fun times they can have. Things have started feeling a little lighter, having her by his side. He’s so glad he went to that random ass party. He should send JJ a gift basket or something.
***
After being shown the news, Ilya spends the rest of that day in a daze. Shane Hollander was seen out and about holding hands with Rose Landry.
He thinks about bringing it up to Shane, asking him questions. Friends talk about this stuff, right?
But he doesn’t know where to begin. How could he even phrase it without letting any of the jealousy he feels seep through?
So, Rose Landry huh?
Got yourself a girlfriend, Hollander?
I wonder what people would say if we were spotted walking out of a restaurant holding hands. I do not think they would be as nice.
He types and deletes more messages than he can count. Not knowing what the fuck to even say, he ends up deftly avoiding the subject entirely, despite his curiosity eating him alive.
He figures it’s not all that strange, considering they never really talked about relationships even before the headlines. But that’s because there wasn’t much to talk about, at least not on Ilya’s side. All he ever had were random hookups and casual arrangements with friends. And where would he even find the time to start seeing someone now when his screen time has gone up 47% just talking to Shane?
Oh god, has Shane been seeing someone this entire time? Not that he’s not allowed to. Of course he is. Ilya just hasn’t thought about it. But he’s definitely thinking about it now.
How many people has Shane been with since their last time? Is Rose just the first one to go public because she’s famous? Has Shane been with other men since? Ilya feels a brief flash of anger at the thought before he chastises himself for being possessive over someone he has absolutely no right to claim.
The pictures and the comments keep coming, and Ilya can’t help but sift through them all. Neither Shane nor Rose have confirmed anything, but they’ve been seen together so much these past couple months that even Ilya’s yearning ass can’t deny that there’s something between them anymore.
He feels like he’s going insane. But every time he wants to bring it up to Shane, he chickens out. Maybe because the hours he gets to spend talking to Shane are always the highlight of his week, and he doesn’t want to ruin them by bringing up something that will actively hurt him.
It’s a specific kind of pain he’s never felt before, really. Partly because Shane has never been seen with anyone literally ever.
But mostly because it’s a different kind of pain seeing someone you have only ever been allowed to love in secret, be loved so openly.
And no one questions it. The same way no one questioned the girls he used to be seen with at clubs back when he used to frequent them.
And yet, when he and Shane were meeting up in secret, they could never dare to step even a little bit out of line or the consequences would be catastrophic. All they had were stolen moments. Quiet touches. Whispered room numbers. Sketchy back alleyway entrances to buildings. They couldn’t even go through the front door, it was that bad. Even their contact names were a farce, for fuck’s sake.
His traitorous mind chooses this exact moment to remind him that the one time he kissed Shane outside—on the rooftop after he won rookie of the year—he shoved him and walked away. It was dark. No one could see them. He’s pretty sure Shane wouldn’t shove Rose Landry even if she kissed him in broad daylight in the middle of the street.
It’s so fucking unfair. He’s loved Shane for years. Rose has known him for mere months. How come she gets broad daylight, when all Ilya ever got was the darkness of night?
It’s neither of their faults, but it’s infuriating nonetheless.
Ilya just lets the feeling quietly simmer within him until it finally slips out as they’re on the phone ahead of the All-Star Game in Florida, talking about how they’re looking forward to playing on the same team for the first time.
“You think they’ll put us on a line together?” Shane asks excitedly.
“Maybe. Can you even play wing, Hollander?” Ilya teases.
“I don’t have to, Rozanov,” Shane quips right back, the smirk evident just through his voice.
“Ah, I see how it is. You get a stylist and now you have celebrity ego.” Ilya can’t hold back a smile of his own. Teasing Shane has always been fun, but it’s even more fun now that he’s comfortable enough to always play along.
Shane gasps overdramatically. “Ilya. I told you that in confidence. How dare you use it to make fun of me?”
The tone of his voice makes Ilya think of the way Shane would bat his eyes innocently, always rendering Ilya completely useless. Like putty in his hands. It’s a good thing this isn’t a Facetime call—small mercies. Ilya would never fucking win an argument again if Shane kept bringing those eyes out. God, focus, Ilya.
“I can use the information you share however I please, Hollander,” he responds with a chuckle, and continues absentmindedly. “Why did you even get a stylist in the first place? Requirement for having a celebrity girlfriend?”
Shit. That just came out. Ilya was too comfortable joking around with Shane that his brain to mouth filter stopped working for a second.
Well, it’s out there now. Might as well see what he has to say.
Shane has been wondering when Ilya would finally bring it up.
See, he’s noticed a very slight shift in Ilya’s behavior ever since the tabloids started reporting on him and Rose. It’s nothing major, but he’s been just a tad bit grumpier, especially on days when Shane was seen out with her.
He doesn’t want to assume any correlation, but the timing certainly lines up. Not that Ilya has ever asked him about it directly, though. And it’s not like Shane’s about to volunteer that information out of nowhere. It would feel presumptuous to just assume that Ilya would care about his relationship. Although he supposes it’s a normal thing for friends to talk about. He just feels a little weird about it, all things considered.
But he’s not opposed to talking about it, if Ilya asks. So he waits to see if he brings it up. And he doesn’t, not for a long time. Hell, the relationship has already died in the time it takes for Ilya to finally mention it.
“Oh, so you read tabloids now?” Shane teases.
“Can’t help it when your face has been all over my feed for months, Hollander.”
“And yet this is the first time I’m hearing about it?”
They both keep their tone casual, but there’s an undercurrent of awkwardness considering it’s not a subject they usually broach.
“Hm. I did not want to pry.”
“We’re friends, Ilya. You could’ve asked. I wouldn’t have minded,” Shane offers sincerely.
Yes, but it would have hurt, Ilya doesn’t say.
“Okay, I am asking now then. How is your famous celebrity girlfriend?” He says instead.
“She’s not my girlfriend.”
“No?” The relief Ilya feels is immediate and bone fucking deep. He hopes Shane doesn’t hear it in the giant breath he lets out.
“No.” Shane sighs. “I mean, we tried for a while. And she’s great. I love her.”
Ilya bristles at that. He wonders if it’s something Shane feels for him, even platonically. They’ve certainly never said it out loud.
“We’re still friends to this day,” Shane continues. “It’s why the media assumes we’re still together. But we broke up a while ago. We’re just not… compatible, I guess.”
“Compatible?” Ilya’s pretty sure he knows what that means, but he’s curious to hear more.
“Yeah. Not in that way, at least.”
“What do you mean?”
“I…” Shane pauses, carefully considering what he’s about to say. “Ilya, you’re actually sworn to secrecy this time.”
“Sure.”
“I mean it, okay? Not a word to anyone. And no making fun of me, either,” Shane adds with a chuckle to lighten the atmosphere.
“Okay, okay.” Ilya chuckles right alongside him, but assures him earnestly anyway. “I promise, Shane.”
“Okay. Uhhh, she kind of… helped me realize that I’m gay.”
There’s a little pause before Ilya laughs, and Shane wants to be mad at him for it but before he knows it, he’s laughing too.
It makes Ilya press the button to request to switch the call to Facetime. It’s his favorite sound in the world, but he would prefer getting to see the accompanying smile too.
Shane takes a moment to accept, so what Ilya sees instead is a little pout trying to mask the smile that was obviously there just a second ago. The sight is so fucking cute that it goes straight to Ilya’s chest. He doesn’t even try to hide how endeared he is by it, his smile getting bigger the longer he looks at Shane’s lips quivering in an attempt not to laugh.
“I said no making fun of me,” Shane chides, but his ridiculous little angry kitten face drowns out any bite his voice could’ve had.
“I am not making fun of you, Shane.” Ilya tilts his head, endlessly endeared. He wants nothing more than to reach out through the phone and drag his thumb over Shane’s stupid adorable little pout and kiss the crinkles off of his slightly scrunched up eyebrows. If only.
“You were laughing two seconds ago!” Shane scolds, but he can’t keep the smile off his face any longer.
“Sorry, I did not mean to! It’s just…” Ilya starts, clear amusement all over his face.
“Just what?” Shane narrows his eyes, curious what Ilya’s getting at.
“Hm. Just… We did lots of gay things, Hollander. Thought that might have clued you in.”
Shane scoffs in disbelief, but he’s still smiling. They don’t really talk about that a lot; it’s the one topic they’re both a little iffy to bring up. But it’s refreshing to be able to talk about it so casually. “I know, you asshole. But you’re not gay, so.”
“No, not completely.”
“Well, I am. Completely.” Shane takes a breath, grateful for the moment of levity but shifting gears to a bit of a more serious tone. “But I guess I held on to the possibility that maybe I wasn’t for longer than I should have, ‘cause… Well, you know.”
Ilya hums. He does know. They’ve talked about the kind of crazy expectations Shane has on his shoulders, and how much pressure that puts on him. He imagines it must be difficult to accept your sexuality when you don’t feel like it aligns with those expectations.
Ilya’s relationship with his own sexuality is a little different. He’s never tried to deny it to himself like Shane has, just knowing from an early age what he wants. All the external factors at play may have impacted how he acted on his desires, but never his own acceptance of their existence. It’s always been a nice anchor. The world may have been able to dictate what he was allowed to do out in the open, but he has never let it control his innermost desires.
For Shane, he seems to have internalized the external pressures so much that it made the same kind of self-acceptance impossible for him. Until now, that is. Ilya’s happy that he can at least have that. The world doesn’t really give them much, so a little self-acceptance goes a long way.
“Hm. But not anymore?”
“Not anymore. I’m definitely gay.” Every time Shane says it out loud, he feels reaffirmed. He feels just a little freer each time, like a tiny thorn is dislodged from his lungs and he can breathe just a little bit easier. He wonders how many times he has to say it, and who he has to say it to, until every breath can finally feel completely clear.
“I’m proud of you, Shane,” Ilya says earnestly. He might love needling Shane, but he knows how much this means to him, and how hard it must’ve been for him to get here. So he lets himself be nothing but sincere for once.
“Thanks. It’s scary as fuck. But having Rose has been really helpful. And you too, I guess.” Shane clears his throat and briefly looks away at that last admission, always feeling a little bashful when his vulnerability is directed at Ilya.
They sit in that warm feeling for a while, just taking in how grateful they are to have each other in whatever way they can.
“No more celebrity girlfriends for you then, huh?” Ilya quips after a moment, needing a reprieve from all the warm feelings in his belly.
“Nope,” Shane confirms, popping the p.
“Good.” Ilya smiles at his own admission. He’s secretly grateful for entirely selfish reasons, but he can just turn it into a joke later on so he doesn’t have to tell Shane how he really feels.
“Good?” Shane raises an eyebrow.
“Yes. It distracts my team, seeing your headlines. They start thinking they can get celebrity girlfriends too.”
“Right.” Shane shakes his head fondly.
“Wait, how exactly did she help you realize you were gay?” Ilya asks, eagerly going back to his favorite hobby of annoying his adorable friend.
Shane snorts. “Fuck off. I am not going into details.”
They end up talking for what feels like hours that day. Ilya’s glad Shane feels comfortable enough with him to share something so personal, especially knowing just how closely he usually keeps that stuff to his chest.
A part of him wishes he asked about Rose sooner. It would’ve alleviated his pain earlier if he knew that they weren’t even together that long. But he’s a coward, so this is what he gets. At least the wondering is over now.
But he does realize that although he doesn’t have to worry about the Rose of it all anymore, that doesn’t mean this sort of thing won’t happen again. In fact, with Shane feeling more comfortable with his sexuality, it might not be long before Ilya has to deal with stupid jealousy again. What a horrible fucking emotion. It makes him want to brace for impact, just so he can prepare himself for having to inevitably face it again.
But he’ll cross that bridge when he gets there. For now, he can’t wait to see Shane at the All-Star Game in Florida. They’re playing on the same team, and finally have an excuse to actually have friendly interactions on the ice—and maybe even off of it—more akin to the ones they have behind closed doors.
It would be a nice little taste of what they can have in the future, if the world ever decides to let up.
***
Shane feels even lighter after coming out to Ilya. He was originally planning on doing it in Florida, since it felt like the kind of conversation that would be better had face to face.
But Ilya finally asked about Rose, so it all kind of just came tumbling out of him.
Well, all except the fact that he’s actually taken Rose up on her offer to go to that bar. And that he’s been… having a little bit of fun with it.
See, Shane has never been a club person. Or a dancing person. Or a casual hookup person. And he still isn’t. Not really.
But he can’t say that dancing with Miles and Rose until he locked eyes with some hot guy from across the room and eventually went home with him wasn’t a pleasant experience.
But more than that, it’s also been a revealing experience, in terms of understanding how he really feels. Rose was absolutely right about the clarity that a little bit of exploration can bring.
Shane feels like he’s had an epiphany, a few outings later. But it all really started unraveling that first night they went to the bar…