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It was all because of pride night.
Shane hated pride night. It was too different, it made players’ hockey sticks pop in a way that was distracting, it took the attention off the game and put it where it shouldn’t be. It always left him feeling wrong, off-kilter, like everything had been tilted just five degrees—not enough to be overt, but enough to notice.
And usually, Shane could take it. Usually, he could swallow his discomfort and grin and bear it, but this year, he was just so angry. This league wasn’t accepting of gays. They didn’t accept all sexualities. For one night, they put on a show to play pretend, and then spent the other 364 days of the year ignoring their players spouting slurs. Shane was so unbelievably frustrated that he knew this league would never be accepting of him if he came out, and yet they were reaping the benefits of their performative allyship. All for a quick buck. A buck they made off of sweeping queer struggles under the rug.
And usually, Shane could ignore that too. But he couldn’t anymore. Because he saw how the league’s homophobia rippled out. He saw how young queer kids thought they wouldn’t be welcome. The league was pretending it was all fine, let their players use colorful tape one game of the season and acted like it cured homophobia.
Shane also saw Ilya. He saw the way Ilya was sad at the prospect of pride night, at the knowledge that they’d just keep hiding. And Shane couldn’t fucking take that.
So, after the game on pride night where Shane admittedly did not play his best (those damned colorful sticks kept stealing his attention off the puck), Shane was put in front of the press. He had a few prepared answers for their pride-related questions.
“Why didn’t you tape your stick as a show of allyship?”
“I’m very particular about how I tape my stick. I find the colors of the pride tape very distracting, so I don’t use it.”
“Do you believe pride night is a good way forward to accept more people?”
“It’s important that everyone knows that hockey is for everyone. No one is exempt because of their sexuality.”
“What steps do you think the league could take towards more acceptance?”
Shane was exhausted. He didn’t fucking know, okay? He was just one fucking person. He was tired from the game and overstimulated from all the colors. He just wanted to forget about pride night. Forever.
He answered diplomatically, “I’m sure there are lots of strides we can make towards more general acceptance towards all minorities. I’m not the expert on that, though.”
“What are your feelings on pride night?”
And Shane knew the right answer. He knew the media-approved answer. He should have said the media-approved answer. He almost did. Hell, he thought he was saying it until he heard the words coming out of his own fucking mouth.
“I hate pride night. It’s just a distraction and we just don’t need it.”
So, yeah. Shane fucked up. He knew that. He could own that. He didn’t know how to fucking fix it, but he could at least acknowledge that he’d made the mistake. Of course, Twitter was also happy to remind him.
jessica.byers I never would have thought Shane Hollander of all people would be homophobic
penguinininin “we don’t need it” sir you’re evidence that we fucking do
ajatdollywood I’m actually so upset wdym Shane Hollander is homophobic???
jameswilson26 It’s good someone said it ! Gays don’t belong in sports !
loverly #shanehollanderiscancelled #cancelshanehollander
So. Shane knew he made a mistake. He couldn’t even really argue when their PR team told him that he’d be sitting down with his coach and assistant captain for a press conference. He didn’t know why it couldn’t just be a fucking Twitter post, but he knew he couldn’t fight it. He was just relieved Hayden would be there beside him, even if he was wracked with guilt that his best friend had been dragged into this, but Hayden had always been vocal about his support for the queer community, so the PR team thought he’d be a good addition to the conference.
Shane sat in his stuffy, uncomfortable suit in front of dozens of cameras and as many reporters, about to tell the world that he wasn’t homophobic, he promised.
Theriault sat beside him, trying and failing to hide his distaste. He’d shared with Shane that he agreed, he hated pride, though for different reasons than the ones to which Shane admitted. Not that he’d needed to vocalize that. Shane had known Theriault was as anti-queer as they came.
The press conference began too soon. Someone introduced the three sitting up at the raised table. Shane tried not to vomit.
He began his prepared statement and tried to inject sincerity into his tone, but each syllable fell flat.
“I want to apologize for the statements I made last week regarding pride night. The LGBTQ+ community has a long and storied history of repression and exclusion. It is important as a league to push for the acceptance of this community. We have a long way to go and I am always learning. I did not mean that pride night is unimportant or a negative occurrence.” Shane paused. His false words felt like glue in his mouth, cloying and thick and impossible to speak past. He looked down at his paper with his pre-approved statement printed in black and white ink. And he just couldn’t fucking do it. Not this. Not anymore.
Before Shane knew what he was doing, his fingers were crumpling up the paper on the table.
“I can’t do this,” he muttered.
“Shane,” Hayden hissed in warning.
“I can’t,” Shane said again. “I can’t pretend this is okay. I can’t pretend this is right. I’m done.” He looked out at the sea of cameras and reporters. A resolve built somewhere within him. Shane plucked it up, molded it into enough courage to say, “I’m gay.”
Hayden made a sound like he was punched. Theriault went stiff, frozen. Shane tried to find a part of him that cared, but he couldn’t.
“I’m gay,” Shane said again. “I’ve always been gay, and I will always be gay despite how hard I tried to change. And believe me, I tried. I spent my entire life trying to change myself so I could be a part of this league. And you know what, I do hate pride night. Sure, the visibility would probably be nice if I didn’t know for a fact that most players using the rainbow pride tape are the same guys who’ll call me slurs behind my back. Except for the ones who’ll be brave enough to say it to my face. So, yeah, forgive me if I’m not exactly willing to help this league celebrate the same thing it’s made me hate about myself for my entire fucking life.”
On Shane’s left, Hayden awkwardly turned his head away like he didn’t want anyone to see his face. He pressed his hand to his cheeks, swiping across his face rhythmically over and over. On his right, Theriault was quickly turning an alarming Shane of red.
“And you know what else?” Shane continued, because if he was tanking his career today then he may as well put it all on the table. “You know how many Asians there are in this league? One. Fucking one. Me. And I feel that pressure every time I fucking breathe. What does it mean that I’m Asian and gay and autistic? It means fucking everything. Do you get that? It means I don’t fucking belong in this league. It means I never would have gotten as far as I did if anyone knew what I was. Being Asian, they could forgive as long as my name sounds white enough, but a retarded faggot?”
“Shane!” Hayden shouted in surprise. Shane ignored him.
“But you know what, I don’t have to be any of those things on the ice. I don’t have to think about the color of my skin or the shape of my eyes or how many players I’ve heard ask if I can even see the puck with how small they are. I don’t have to think about all the social cues I miss or how I have a meltdown if I’m too warm. And I especially don’t have to think about how much I like sucking dick or having another man’s cock in my ass!”
“Shane,” Hayden hissed again. At this point, Theriault was purple. Shane thought he might be having a medical emergency.
“None of you will ever understand what it’s like having to choose between doing what you love, which is the only thing you’re good at, and being who you are. None of you will understand how it feels having to choose between having a boyfriend and having a career.
“I know after today my career is over. No one’s gonna want the fag on their team. Why else do you think no one has ever come out? I guarantee you I’m not the only one. There have been generations of men who have played hockey. None of us have ever felt safe enough to come out. That is, those of us who didn’t feel like they’d been pushed out of this sport before they could go pro.
“So, yeah, I don’t like pride night. The colored sticks are distracting and overstimulating and it just throws me off. And I resent everything this night stands for. Pride night doesn’t mean this league supports gays, it means they know what will happen if they don’t. If this league actually wanted to support the queer community, maybe they’d start cracking down on the slurs used in the locker rooms and on the ice and by the fucking coaches.”
At this, Theriault somehow turned even more purple. The color would’ve been pretty if it wasn’t for Theriault’s face in the middle of it.
“I’m sick of pretending I’m someone else. I have given every part of myself to this league even though I know they’ll toss me aside the second they learn I’m gay. But I don’t care anymore.” A lie, but Shane had to pretend it wasn’t. Otherwise he didn’t know how he’d carry on with his life.
“And if anyone has anything to say about it, I'd like to remind you to look at my stats before you decide to mouth off. I’m objectively the best player in this league. I’m the top scorer and the fastest skater. I hold half the records in the MLH. I led this team to two back-to-back Stanley Cups. And I did all of it while I was getting fucked by another man.”
With that, Shane shoved his chair backwards and stood. He walked off, tugging on his constricting tie as he went. He couldn’t think about what he’d just done. He didn’t think he’d be able to keep breathing if he did.
All his fucking life, all Shane did was perform. He performed for his teammates, he performed for his friends, he performed for his parents. He performed for the media. He performed for the world. He performed for himself. He’d always said every word they’d want to hear, every phrase that would create a perfect sound bite. He’d always known, deep down, it wouldn’t be enough if they’d known who he really was. And now they knew.
Shane’s career was over.
Holy fuck, his career was over.
There was so much more Shane wanted to do. He wanted more cups. He wanted to play until the day he died.
Fuck, he wanted hugs from his goddamn boyfriend, but Ilya was in Boston, safe from the mess Shane had just created.
Shane left the arena as fast as he could. He avoided everyone he could possibly run into and made it to his car. He shut his phone off and peeled out of the parking lot.
***
Fortunately or unfortunately, Hayden refused to let Shane be alone. He spent nearly ten minutes pounding on Shane’s door before Shane finally gave in and let him inside. Hayden bullied him back to the couch from which he’d just gotten up and tucked him in there. He gave him water and put on a hockey game, then spent a while talking on the phone.
Shane let himself get distracted by the game on the tv and pointedly did not think about his tanked career.
“Alright, buddy,” Hayden started after a while. He sat beside him and gave him a gentle smile. Shane recognized that tone as one Hayden had often used with his children. “Your parents are on their way. They’re about an hour away still. J.J.’s been handling the team for a bit. Jackie’s taking the kids to their grandparents’ so we can be here with you.” He paused, his mouth open like he wasn’t sure if he should say what he was about to say. Eventually, he continued, “You know I support you, right? Like, completely. You’re my best friend, man, and whatever makes you happy makes me happy.”
Shane considered immediately putting that to the test by telling Hayden that his boyfriend was his supposed arch-nemesis Ilya Rozanov, but he found that he wasn’t able to say it right now. Not when Hayden was his only ally.
“What are people saying?” He asked instead.
Hayden sighed. “Don’t worry about that.” Shane raised a brow at him, and Hayden easily gave in. “Fine. Most people are really supportive. They’re sad that you felt you had to hide. They’re worried what the fallout will be for you. But people are supportive.”
Shane nodded. He tried to find relief in Hayden’s reassurance, but he couldn’t.
“I’m really proud of you, Shane. I know that must have been hard.”
Shane tried to give him a smile. He didn’t know if he managed it. “Thanks, Hayd.”
Hayden nodded. He sat there awkwardly for a minute before he blew out a jet of air. “So. Gay, huh? And you’re autistic?”
Shane glared at him. “Don’t start.”
Hayden held his hands up in surrender. “Alright. But if you ever wanna talk about it…”
“I know,” Shane said. “But it’s fine. I usually talk with Rose about this stuff.”
Hayden considered that. “Oh. So is Rose, like… your beard?”
Shane shook his head with a rueful smile. “Uh, no. Rose was my last attempt at being straight.”
Hayden grimaced. “Oh. Right.” He drummed out a rhythm on his lap with another drawn out, “Right.”
“Hayden. Do you need something?”
Hayden cringed. “No! I just… I’m gonna be honest, I dunno what to do for you. But I’m not leaving you alone.”
Shane was suddenly overcome with an emotion he couldn’t quite name. “Thank you,” he got out, his voice gruff.
Hayden smiled. “You’re welcome, dude. Always.”
***
Shane had a feeling he was driving his boyfriend insane ignoring his messages, but Shane was here and Ilya was there, so he didn’t have to deal with the fallout of that right now.
At some point while Shane was ignoring his own boyfriend’s existence, JJ, followed soon after by Jackie, came by with takeout from a local vegan restaurant with Shane’s favorite entree there. Shane resolutely did not cry when he saw it, but it was a near thing.
Rose arrived after she finished filming for the day. Shane was beyond relieved that she was filming a movie in Montreal. She was the only one who’d already known his secret, one of two people in the entire world. She reamed him out for not answering her texts or phone calls, then pulled him into a hug and didn’t let go.
His parents got there not long after her. Shane let them hug him and tried not to cry.
“I’m sorry,” Shane told them, swallowed by his parents’ joint embrace. “I tried so hard to change but I couldn’t help it.”
“Oh, honey, no,” Yuna said softly. “You are perfect just the way you are. My perfect boy. I love you so much.”
“Nothing you could ever do would disappoint us,” David said next. “You’re our son. You don’t need to change, Shane. All we want is for you to be happy.”
Shane sagged further into his parents. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner.”
Yuna shook her head. “You don’t owe us anything, Shane. We love you. Nothing will change that.” She pulled back and looked at him with a smile.
“Alright. What’s the plan?”
***
There was a gentle but insistent knock at the door. Shane was going to move, but he was comfortable cuddled between Jackie and Rose. Hayden went to get it instead.
“Holy fuck,” he hissed, “it’s Ilya Rozanov!”
Shane shot up off the couch. He darted for the door, practically shoving Hayden out of the way in his haste to open it. Because surely he was wrong, surely Ilya wasn’t here, surely—
“Ilya,” Shane breathed.
Ilya scanned Shane’s body like he was cataloging everything he saw, using a mental checklist to make sure Shane was okay.
“Hi.”
Shane reached out and tugged him inside. Ilya stepped past the threshold and shut the door behind him just in time to catch Shane when he fell into his arms.
They embraced for a while, Shane’s face buried in the crook of Ilya’s neck. Eventually, Ilya spoke: “You are second best player.”
Shane pulled back. “Alright, you can go back to Boston—”
Ilya bullied Shane back into a hug, making Shane laugh. Shane didn’t think he’d laughed since he first slipped and was honest about pride night to a reporter.
Shane sighed as he settled against his boyfriend again. “I’m scared.”
Ilya nodded. “Is scary. But you are brave.”
Shane shook his head. “I’m not.”
“You are,” Ilya argued gently. “You are bravest, strongest person I have ever known.”
“I don’t feel brave.”
He could feel Ilya’s smile as he replied, “Brave people never do.”
Shane held him tighter. “I feel like I’m gonna die.”
Ilya pressed his cheek to Shane’s, then leaned back. “Shane. Look at me.”
Shane reluctantly moved his face away from the crook of Ilya’s neck. It was difficult, but he made himself meet his boyfriend’s gaze.
Ilya smiled at him. “You’re still breathing. Your heart is still beating. This did not kill you. And it will not kill you. It will not even touch you. You are Shane fucking Hollander. This will not be the thing that gets you. I know it.”
Shane felt something within himself crumple. He followed the feeling and sank to the floor, curling into a crouch at Ilya’s feet. He pressed his face somewhere around Ilya’s hip and wrapped his hands around his calves. Ilya buried a hand in Shane’s hair and stroked his fingers against his scalp. Shane mumbled, “I just want to play hockey. I don’t want the rest of it. I just want to play.”
“I know. But no one is taking hockey away from you.”
“Not yet,” Shane grumbled.
Ilya sighed. He tugged on Shane’s shoulder. “Come sit. Let me hold you, yes? My little Кошмар для СМИ.”
Shane looked up at him. “I dunno that one.”
Ilya grimaced. “You won’t like that one, I think.”
Shane gave him a deadpan look. Ilya just grinned. Shane rolled his eyes and let Ilya tug him to his feet. Ilya pressed a chaste kiss to Shane’s lips, so quick that Shane barely had time to reciprocate before Ilya was pulling away to look at him. Shane tried to hide his bashful smile, but Ilya gently took hold of his jaw and kept his face angled upwards. Shane stared up at him, his heart squeezing at the loving look Ilya gave him.
“Ugh.”
Shane’s head snapped to the right, finding Hayden’s disgusted face.
“You guys really just stare at each other like a pair of lovesick puppies?”
Shane’s face burned. Jackie snorted.
“I think it’s cute!” Rose said fondly. “They’re adorable!”
Shane’s cheeks somehow warmed even further. Ilya, smug as any man could be, replied, “Yes, we are very attractive couple.”
“That’s not what she meant, Ilya,” Shane hissed.
“Yes it is,” Rose shouted.
Shane groaned and very nobly did not face plant directly into his boyfriend’s muscular chest. Really, the effort to resist the impulse deserved an award.
Ilya guided Shane back to the couch and gently pushed him down. Shane let him, suddenly weary from the day.
He sighed heavily as Ilya sat beside him. “So. What now?”
Ilya hummed. “Well, I don’t think our plan to wait until retirement will work anymore.”
Shane groaned and shoved himself into Ilya. Ilya took the hint and wrapped his arm around him, squeezing tightly. Something in Shane finally calmed, like he’d been vibrating until Ilya hit the off switch.
“You were going to date in secret until you retired?” Yuna asked, her voice hard.
Shane stiffened. Ilya squeezed him harder. God, Shane fucking loved this man. Shane had fumbled his way through an explanation of deep pressure therapy once and Ilya never let it go since.
“We did not see other options,” Ilya explained carefully. Shane could hear the nerves in his voice.
“What, so you were going to wait ten years to come out?” JJ asked. “No offense, mon ami, but this sounds like hell.”
Shane glared at him. “Well, what the fuck else were we supposed to do? We’ve been pitted against each other since before we’d even met. We’re on rival teams. And no one in the league has ever come out.”
“Until now,” Hayden offered very unhelpfully.
Ilya hummed. “Yes, this day has been very surprising. But, see, malysh, I told you Scott Hunter was gay.”
Shane sat up, dislodging Ilya’s arm around him. “What the hell are you talking about?”
Ilya’s brows shot up. “You don’t know?”
“He’s been off his phone,” Yuna explained.
“So you tell him,” Ilya argued. He muttered something in Russian as he dug into his pocket. “Scott Hunter, Ryan Price, and fucking Troy Barrett of all people have all come out. Also Eric Bennett and Brandon Wiebe.”
Shane stared at his boyfriend. “What are you talking about?” He repeated, aghast.
Ilya shrugged, but there was no mistaking the pride in his eyes or his voice as he explained, “You gave people what we needed: courage.”
Ilya pulled something up on his phone, then showed it to Shane. “Scott Hunter’s post. The others are boring. Not that this one also is not boring, but I think you will like it. You are also boring.”
Shane rolled his eyes at the dig but took the phone and read over the post.
mlhscotthunter I hope things will change in the MLH after today’s historic press conference. It’s not every day that the best player in the league bears his heart to the world. I am so proud to call him my friend. And Shane Hollander is right about a lot of things he said today. But I’ll just comment on one thing for now. He’s not the only one. I love you, Kip. Please remember to bring home more blueberries. I ate them all.
Shane scanned the post once, twice, a third time, then a fourth for good measure. “I don’t get it. What…?”
“There is this one, too,” Ilya said. He scrolled for a moment before he found the post he was looking for, then presented it to Shane.
brandonwiebe I wish I had been able to do this sooner, before retirement. I wish I had had the bravery that Shane Hollander has. But I am proud to say he’s not the only one. I always have been and always will be bisexual.
“I don’t get it,” Shane said again. “I was stupid and impulsive.”
“Yes, I am rubbing off on you in more ways than one.”
Hayden made a wrenching sound while Rose cackled. Shane’s nose wrinkled. “Ew, Ilya, that’s gross.”
Ilya rolled his eyes. “That is not what I meant, Hollander, get your brain out of the sewer.”
Shane blinked at Ilya. “You mean ‘get your mind out of the gutter?’”
“Whatever.” Ilya shoved his phone back into his pocket. “I was waiting to see what you said before I posted anything.”
Shane shook his head, the meaning of Ilya’s words lost on him for a moment. Then, he felt the bottom of his stomach drop. “You mean… you want to come out?”
Ilya nodded. “I do. We can maybe even be out together.”
Shane’s vision nearly blacked out at the notion. He didn’t think it would fully compute that he was well and truly out for a while. “I don’t… I don’t know…”
Ilya shrugged. “It’s okay. I can come out on my own. We don’t need to tell the world about us. We can keep this to ourselves.”
Suddenly, this was the dumbest thing Shane had ever heard. “Why the fuck would we do that?”
Ilya blinked at him. “I thought… you were not ready?”
Shane shook his head. “I’m not. I’m not ready for any of this. But I’m done hiding. No more pretending, okay? We can finally be us now. And if you’re going to come out either way…”
“I am,” Ilya confirmed. “I want to. There is nothing left for me in Russia.”
Shane grit his teeth as he digested this. “So… we’re doing this?”
Ilya grinned and pulled his phone from his pocket. “I know exactly what to do.”
Shane scanned his boyfriend’s face, suddenly wary of what he was planning. “Why do I get the feeling this is going to be a disaster?”
“Because it will be,” Ilya answered simply as he tapped away on his phone screen. “People will be outraged that they will never have a chance with us.”
Shane leveled Ilya with a look, wholly unimpressed. “That is not what I meant and you know it.”
“No?” Ilya looked up at him with wide eyes, the picture of false innocence. He softened and took Shane’s hand. “It’s okay, Shane. Things will be difficult. But we will have each other.”
“And if you lose hockey?” Shane pressed. “You said it yourself, you wouldn’t be able to go back to Russia. What if you lose your work visa because of this?”
“He can claim asylum,” Yuna spoke up. Shane looked up at his mother, who already had her game face on, looking like she already had a dozen plans and was drafting a dozen more backups as she spoke. “It’s a humanitarian issue. The US should grant him asylum status.”
“Or you could marry him,” Rose said.
Shane sent her a glare. “What the fuck, Rose?”
She grinned. Ilya regarded her like he’d never seen her before. “Maybe I don’t hate you.”
“Ilya!” Shane hissed, though he didn’t think he was heard over Rose’s cackling. Ilya grinned at Shane, looking all too pleased with himself. Then, his face lit up, and his eyes grew moist. He reached for Shane’s face, pressing his hands to his cheeks, squishing his face. Shane shoved his hands away, but Ilya just did it again.
“Shane!” He said excitedly.
Shane did his best to nod. “Yes?” He slurred.
Ilya pressed a quick kiss to his puckered lips. “We can have pictures!”
And that? Shane didn’t think he could be blamed for having to kiss him about it. He shoved Ilya’s hands away again and reached for him, tugging him into a kiss. He kept it chaste, considering their audience. Ilya held onto him with desperate hands, clutching at his hair and his hoodie, stifling sobs against his lips.
“I love you,” Shane whispered, their lips brushing as he spoke.
Ilya made an aborted sound as he failed to suppress another sob. “Fuck, I love you. So much.”
Ilya tugged Shane against him. He tucked his face into the hollow of Shane’s throat and simply held onto him. Shane rested his cheek on Ilya’s head and let his eyes flutter shut.
“We can take pictures now,” Ilya said, voice muffled. “And we can keep them. I can have pictures of you on my phone.”
Shane’s heart twisted. Ilya just sounded so fucking happy. He sounded relieved. Like this was the only thing he’d wanted, and he was finally being gifted his dream come true.
Shane just had to kiss him about it again. He tugged Ilya up by the hair and pressed another kiss to his lips, this one considerably less modest than the one they’d shared before. Shane couldn’t really find a part of him that cared.
They could be a normal couple now. Sure, they’d have to be long distance for most of it, but they still had each other, and they could still love one another out loud without a care about who saw. The world would know that Shane was the one who’d gotten Ilya Rozanov to stay. The world would know Shane’s heart had belonged to this man since he was seventeen years old.
“Okay, can you two calm down before clothes start flying off?” Hayden’s voice asked.
Shane jerked back, embarrassed, and tucked his face into Ilya’s neck to hide his blush. Ilya, of course, had no such hesitations, and just grinned at the other man.
“Sorry you do not know passion, Pike.”
“Fuck you, I have four kids.”
“Ilya.” Shane raised his head to glare at him. Ilya wisely closed his mouth. He softened as he looked at Shane.
“I can’t wait to tell the world how much I love you,” he said softly.
Shane gently knocked their foreheads together. He let his eyes shut as they simply breathed together. Ilya rolled his head to press a sloppy kiss to Shane’s cheek. Shane couldn’t quite suppress his smile as he tilted his head to meet him for a quick kiss.
“I should call Sveta before I come out,” Ilya said. “If I don’t tell her first, she will murder me.”
Shane nodded. Ilya stood and excused himself, heading to Shane’s bedroom for privacy.
“He knows where your bedroom is?” JJ asked.
Shane rolled his eyes. He gulped as he cast his gaze around the room, trying and failing to gauge how everyone felt from their faces.
“So…” He started awkwardly. “Ilya’s my boyfriend.”
“You pulled,” Rose said sagely.
Shane wasn’t entirely sure what this meant, but he at least hoped it was supportive.
Jackie smiled at Shane. “Are you happy, hon?”
Shane couldn’t help the little smile that grew on his face. “Yeah. Yeah, I really am.”
Jackie nodded once. “I’m happy for you.”
Shane ducked his head. “Thanks.” He was still quite nervous. The two people he’d expected would offer him their unwavering support had, in fact, done as he’d hoped. But the others? Their silence was stifling.
Ilya was back a moment later, offering Shane a nervous smile as he sat beside him. “Sveta is very happy for us.”
Shane’s cheeks warmed. “Good.”
“So,” Ilya said, drawing out the syllable. “What now?”
Shane shrugged. “I don’t know.”
Yuna piped up, “I have something.”
Shane tensed. He knew now his parents didn’t mind about his sexuality, but his choice of boyfriend was still very much up in the air. Ilya rested his hand on Shane’s thigh, a small but significant gesture that soothed Shane probably more than it should have.
Yuna’s eyes tracked Ilya’s hand. She faltered, just slightly, but recovered fast enough that Shane could almost pretend it didn’t happen in the first place. Almost.
Yuna settled on the end of the couch, much closer to Ilya than Shane ever expected to see his mother get willingly. She tapped on her phone, then held it out to Shane. Wary, he took the offered phone.
It took a moment to process what he was seeing. Maybe because he’d never entertained the thought that this could happen. Maybe because he couldn’t believe his mom was the one offering it to him, after so many years of her openly hating Ilya.
It looked like she’d taken quite a few photos, candids from just minutes ago. In the first set, their foreheads were resting together, their eyes closed, blissed little smiles on both of their faces. The next few told the story of Ilya turning his head to plant a sloppy kiss on Shane’s cheek, Shane’s huge grin on full display as Ilya’s hands cupped his jaw. Then, their lips pressed together, smiles so wide they couldn’t even engage in a proper kiss.
Shane had never seen himself so damn happy. And getting to see Ilya, loved up and giddy as he smacked kisses to Shane’s cheek, it was a high Shane had never before experienced. Shane was certain nothing could feel as good as this. Not winning the Cup, not making it into the Hall of Fame, nothing. No amount of fame, money, or awards could ever live up to how it felt seeing the man he loved overjoyed just by them existing together.
Ilya took the phone in gentle hands, his face like sunshine as he took in the photos. “I love them.”
“You said you don’t have pictures together,” Yuna said as if the offering needed an explanation.
Ilya blinked a few tears from his eyes. He pressed a finger to the phone screen over Shane’s freckles. “They are perfect.”
“I can send them to you both.”
Ilya nodded enthusiastically. “I will have new wallpaper.”
Shane’s brain did a quick hard reset. Because for the first time ever, they could entertain the idea of being an actual normal couple. They could be each other’s boyfriends without worrying about being outed. They could take pictures together. They could—
Shane reached for his phone and unlocked it. He ignored all of his notifications as he navigated to his contacts. “We can change our contacts.”
Ilya immediately abandoned Yuna’s phone in favor of digging his own back out of his pocket. “I am putting so many emojis next to your name.”
“Don’t you dare put an eggplant.”
“Well I wasn’t going to but now I will.”
Shane elbowed Ilya, immediately earning back a jab to the ribs. Shane added a string of emojis to Ilya’s name, including a poop emoji, simply because he felt like it.
“There,” Ilya pronounced. “Shane Hollander, Love of my Life. And we never have to hide again.”
Shane took a deep breath and sighed it out. He just couldn’t believe it. He got to be open and out with the man he loved. He didn’t have to worry about anyone finding out about their relationship or whether they would be outed in a truly spectacular fashion. They were the ones controlling the narrative now.
Shane watched over Ilya’s shoulder as Ilya sent the pictures from his mother to himself, then opened Instagram on his phone. He created a post, then carefully selected six pictures. First, one that came out in the CCM photoshoot that he’d had saved on his phone. Then, one that wasn’t in the official release, one where they’d been grinning and laughing as they’d struggled to stay in character. Their eyes were bright as they looked at each other, their grins aimed at one another. Shane had never seen this picture before. He wished he’d had it.
Third, Ilya selected one of the selfies he’d gotten when they presented the award together back in 2014, one where Shane knew Ilya was feeling him up just out of view from everyone watching them.
“You kept those?” Shane heard himself ask.
“Da. You look like angry little kitten. Very cute.”
“Fuck you, I do not.”
“You do,” Ilya argued easily. Shane rolled his eyes and watched as Ilya then selected three pictures from the ones Yuna had taken. One with their foreheads together, one with Ilya pressing a kiss to the side of Shane’s grin, then one where they were kissing.
Ilya gave Shane a look, his eyebrows raised as he gestured at his phone. “You approve?”
“That depends,” Shane said slyly. “What’s the caption gonna be?”
Ilya rolled his eyes. “Oh, I was going to tell everyone how much you like sucking my dick.”
“Ilya!” Shane hissed, casting a glance at his stricken mother.
“You say it first, Hollander.”
“Shut the fuck up, Rozanov.”
Ilya shook his head in annoyance and began typing a caption. Shane followed along, still dubious.
From hours before our first kiss to today. I love you, солнышко. мой Кошмар для СМИ. I cannot wait to take more pictures with you.
Shane swallowed against the wave of emotion his words elicited. “Good. I, uh… I like that.”
Ilya pressed a lightning quick kiss to Shane’s cheek. “Good?”
“Yeah. Post it.” Ilya took a deep breath. He pressed the post button, waited for his feed to refresh, then turned off his phone altogether once it was posted. Shane, meanwhile, was too nervous to wait and immediately snatched up his phone. He found Ilya’s account on Instagram and navigated to the comment section.
showcasebean what the fuck has happened here today wdym the biggest rivals in hockey history are together
xlizzylizzylizzylizzyx WHAT DO YOU MEAN THEYRE THE CUTEST COUPLE EVER
hahahahahaley Dude did he really call Shane ‘my media nightmare’ in Russian I’m screaming 💀
clearcutboots The MLH is getting gayer by the minute and I’m thrilled
penguinininin Hey Rozanov what do you mean when you say 'hours before our first kiss'? What do you mean?? WHAT DO YOU MEAN?????
shanehollandersleftpinky Does this mean I have to like Ilya Rozanov now 😩😩😩
Shane chuckled at the last comment. He quickly commented just three red hearts under Ilya’s post, then put his phone down.
“We did it.” Shane’s voice sounded as dazed as he felt. “We came out.”
Ilya hummed. “We did.”
“What now?”
“No clue.”
Shane settled into Ilya’s side. For a moment, he just reveled in how different today was from yesterday. He was out. His friends and family knew. The world knew. He had Ilya by his side. Everyone knew that Ilya Rozanov was a taken man, and Shane was the one who’d gotten him.
Shane hid his grin in Ilya’s shoulder. Things could be okay. After all, today was a lot different from yesterday.