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Summary
When he walked out of Rozanov’s house, he thought it was finally done. He didn’t expect that he would need to wake up every day and do it again and again.
Missing pieces from the Rose-era.
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When he walked out of Rozanov’s house, he thought it was finally done. He didn’t expect that he would need to wake up every day and do it again and again. How it sometimes feels like he’s still there, in the heartbeat right before he left.
Later, during his uber ride home, as the city lights flicker across his lap, Shane scrolls down to his text thread with Lily. He ignores the familiar pang, and types out, if you weren’t a hockey player, what would you be? He tries to picture Rozanov as a salesman or a lawyer, all easy, sleazy charm. But he can’t imagine him as anything else. It’s one thing they share; if they weren’t hockey players they would be somebody else entirely. Maybe that’s a relief. There’s just this version of them. And only this ending.
Slowly, letter by letter, he deletes the message.
———
But he appreciates the confirmation that he’s doing the right thing. After all, nobody knows him better than her. Down this path lies happiness. Down another path lies something else entirely.———
“I really want this to work,” he says, folding her hands into his, and he does.There’s possibility here, a whole life he had started to believe wouldn’t belong to him. If he gets a choice, he chooses this.
———
A drop of chocolate fell on Rozanov’s chest, disappearing into the constellation of moles and freckles swirling down the length of his body. Shane resisted the urge to trace shapes between the moles with his tongue, the way he used to lie on the grass and hunt animals in the clouds. The heat was making him crazy, giving him fever dream thoughts.He opened his mouth to ask which of them should shower first, but Rozanov cut him off.
“Shhh. This is good, no? These were always my favorite. My mama used to give me money to buy them, even when my papa refused.”
Shane tried to hide the surprise on his face. Most of what he knew about Rozanov came from wikipedia and the articles he poured over for competitive advantage. Years and years of circling each other and he was left with almost nothing but this: the way Ilya’s body moved across the ice, the way his body slammed into his. That he loved ice cream.
But maybe he should have known better than to be surprised. Rozanov won games because he zigged when you expected him to zag.
———
Some nights, he dreams of the ice. Not a rink, manicured and shaved down to glittering perfection, but a lake spanning out before him. The crisp blue bite of the air. A cold puck rippling across the surface. His body moving down the ice the way it was born to do. A crowd in the distance, cheering.Some nights he dreams of other things. He doesn’t think too much about those dreams.
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Bookmark Notes:
Gorgeously written story in the time Shane and Rose are dating and Shane is denying himself joy