Chapter Text
Ilya was lying on his bed, in Boston, alone.
They had played Montreal the night before. He could still feel the fans screaming after they won. He had texted Shane as soon as he got back home, teasing him as usual. Shane was in a taxi, already making his way to Ilya’s apartment. They had decided, probably a month before, that Shane would have spent the night there. They were both looking forward to it. To have a normal night.
Shane didn’t have anywhere to be the day after. The team would usually leave right after the game, or in the morning. But this time he had decided to stay behind. He made up some excuse about meeting up with some old friends that moved to Boston for college, in search of a better hockey career, the coach had believed him easily. They didn’t have any games the day after, so it’s not like the coach or the team really cared.
But now Ilya was alone, in the bed he was supposed to share with Shane tonight. And he started thinking his apartment might be cursed, because how did it always end up like this. With a few ginger ales in his fridge and a broken heart.
They had always been bad at communicating, bad at understanding each other’s point of view, but they had always listened to each other, always found a way to make it ok. Not tonight though. Tonight they just shouted, they said words they never should have said, they made it impossible for them to come back from this.
Both of them equally fucked up, both of them said things purely to hurt the other.
Then why did Ilya feel so guilty? Why was he more hurt by the image of Shane's eyes filling with tears than he was about his own heartbreak. Why was he so sad about the wrong thing?
***
“You were too obvious tonight, people are gonna find out,” Shane had said while they were still in bed, still panting, still riding that high they would never get used to.
It had pissed Ilya off more than he’d like to admit. It wasn’t true, no one cared, and from the outside it just looked like he was trying to get under his skin, it looked like chirping. Ilya had made sure of that. Why would Shane even think he would ever do something so reckless. Did he think he was stupid? Did he think he would accept to move to Ottawa, to leave Boston? To leave the only place that had ever started to feel like home since his mom–
He couldn’t finish that thought, it would have hurt too much. It would’ve made the tears that were burning in the back of his eyes come out.
He had already left home so young, moved to the other side of the world, alone, barely knowing the language while everyone threw at him complicated words and expected him to answer while looking straight into a camera. He had so much pressure put on him from day one, with no one to lean on, no one to tell him what to do. He had been shit scared for years. And now Shane was trying to blame him for something he didn’t even do.
Maybe the fact he was still coming down from an orgasm wasn’t helping his brain to think clearly.
“No.”
“What?” Shane finally took his eyes off from the ceiling and glanced at him
“I said no, it was not obvious.” Ilya’s voice was cold, distant, he was so tired and he was trying his best to not let his heart crack open in front of him. He didn’t want to fight when they already had so little time together.
“Ilya, I’m not saying–”
“I know what you’re saying. And it does not look obvious. If you are paranoid it is not my fault,” Ilya knew he shouldn’t have jumped on him like that. He should’ve listened and reassured him, he should’ve understood that he’s just scared. He didn’t.
Shane had gotten up from the bed, without a word and had started putting his clothes back on, Ilya followed, shoving a pair of sweatpants on, mumbling a string of angry Russian words.
Shane had felt ignored, judged, he had felt like his feelings and worries didn’t matter. And he was tired too, for entirely different reasons. But still, he had to get out of there.
At first he just planned to walk outside of the room, take a breath, maybe a walk. He needed to have time to think clearly. He needed to reorganise his ideas, he didn’t like the fog that was lifting in his brain, mostly out of anger.
But then Ilya spoke again,
“You are not fucking leaving, Hollander”
The first thought Shane had had been that he was going to do whatever he wanted, and Ilya couldn’t decide for him. Not that he ever did, or even tried to. He wasn’t sure what made him so angry, but he wasn’t thinking straight anymore.
Then they started shouting, loudly. They stopped listening to each other and started pushing words out, hard words, words that two people that love each other should never utter.
Shane was shouting something about Ilya not caring enough, about putting everything else above him. Ilya should’ve answered with a list of times he had put Shane in front of anything. He should’ve reminded him about how he’s leaving Boston for him, about how the only constant in his life was him. But instead he shouted back.
“Maybe it is because you’re not that important, Hollander!” Ilya could see the words landing on Shane’s face one by one, he could see every syllable enter his heart and crack it more and more. That wasn’t true, and it was a horrible thing to say. He would’ve gone to space to bring him the moon if Shane had asked, he would’ve done anything for him. He felt awful, but he couldn’t stop now, especially because Shane shouted back again.
It was a back and forth of loud, hurtful words. It stopped feeling like an argument and it started being a string of words said purely to hurt each other.
“Why are you moving to a whole different country then?! If I’m not that important, huh? What are you even doing here after so many years?!” Shane wasn’t sure where he found the confidence to say all of that instead of breaking down at Ilya’s words.
“I live here.”
“Not the fucking point Ilya! You know exactly what I mean!”
They weren’t sure about who started it, maybe it was how Ilya mentioned being alone all the time, maybe it was how Shane had mentioned Ottawa, but they moved from their relationship to their families,
“Don’t speak about families, Hollander. You with your little picture perfect Canadian family. You have no fucking idea” Ilya’s hears started ringing and he stopped listening to whatever Shane was saying. He heard some bits about it not being the point, about him not seeing his side of things.
“You keep treating me like what I feel doesn’t matter!”
“You are being paranoid! I am not gonna be with someone I have to be scared to touch. Someone I have to think twice before I can look at!”
“You can look at me when we’re alone!”
It was ridiculous, they both knew it but they both kept shouting, until Ilya fell back into old habits, he knew how to hurt Shane, he had done it for longer than he would like to admit. It used to be how he protected himself, it used to be how he made sure Shane never wanted more than he could give. It hadn’t really worked, because Shane had always been able to see past it, but he was too mad now, too upset. He wasn’t paying attention. And if Ilya had to hurt him, it had to be now.
“Maybe it is because you are fucking boring, maybe it is because I stopped having fun about always having to only hide.”
“We always hid.”
“Yes but it used to be sexy, hot secret. Now it is just boring, let’s just stay here and tell each other how we feel, yeah? Boring like you, like you like it. I had to expect it. I had to know. Who could even spend a life being so bored.” It was meant to be a dig at Shane, but what came out sounded more like Ilya was telling him no one would ever love him. Which was ridiculous, because Ilya would spend every day of the rest of his life locked in a box if it meant he got to be with Shane. He would listen to him talk all day long, hanging off every word, making sure he drank up every little detail he could. He would spend the rest of his life doing every boring activity Shane wanted because there was no world in which Ilya would be bored by him. But this was the only way. The only thing that would’ve made Shane leave, that would’ve saved him from Ilya. from someone that wasn’t even able to love him properly.
“Then why are you even fucking spending time with me! If I am so bad, why did you accept to change your whole fucking life! If you’re so miserable with me!”
“Maybe I shouldn’t spend time with you, maybe I shouldn’t have decided to change my whole fucking life for you!” It wasn’t true, Ilya wanted to, Ilya had never been so sure of anything in his life.
“Maybe you shouldn’t.”
No, Hollander please, I take it back, please don’t leave.
Shane’s eyes filled with tears, he muttered some swears probably directed at Ilya, and when he looked back up the anger was gone, leaving behind only sadness and something scarily close to hopeless surrender.
“Then don’t fucking call me again when your dick needs attention. Don’t call me at all.”
And he left. He left Ilya standing there, still shirtless, broken, waiting to hear the front door close before he could break down.
***
And here he was now, half laying on his bed, tear streaks drying down on his cheeks. He didn’t have dinner, he didn’t move at all actually. Since he flopped down on his bed, he hasn’t moved a muscle.
About half an hour before, he had started guessing it was probably time to sleep. He didn’t bother trying.
He hated himself. He hated every single word that came out of his mouth and he hated that he didn’t know how to fix this.
He still had Shane’s location on his phone. A simple thing they had shared with each other after their summer at the cottage. It made it easier to know when they were reaching each other’s houses or hotels. It also calmed both of them in the occasion either of them couldn’t reply to a text for a while. They had never checked it before. Ilya had done it now, in a last pathetic effort of finding a way to get Shane back to him. But it was too late. Shane was at the airport, the little dot moving slowly towards one of the terminals.
Ilya had looked at it for longer than he would like to admit. Picturing him walking around, with the same sad expression on his face that Ilya had seen too many times. The same look he had on his face tonight, moments before forcing his feelings away, before going numb.
Ilya took a deep breath, he couldn’t keep doing this, he couldn’t keep staring at the ceiling swallowing down the lump in his throat. He had to do something. So he grabbed his phone again, unlocked it, and let his thumb linger on the contact name, “Jane” with a love heart next to it. He called him.
Shane didn’t answer. He stared at his phone while it rang. Looking at the name tag glowing on the screen.
Once the phone stopped ringing he picked it up, opened their chat, and with surprising coldness, which was really just numbness, he typed,
“You’re right, you shouldn’t be with someone that makes you so miserable. I’m sorry I can’t be who you need. But I also can’t live a life with you knowing I’m constantly holding you back. I’m also sorry about Ottawa. I truly thought you were it. I truly thought I was going to be with you forever. Please don’t contact me again.”
He pressed send and blocked his number.
Then he ran to the bathroom and threw up.