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Ilya did not realize when he decided to bring Troy to the Kingfisher during their one night in New York, that the bar was throwing some sort of drag night event. That’s not the usual scene when he shows up here, at a sportsbar, and it takes him by surprise. Not that it would change his decision to come. Ilya is perfectly happy to attend a drag show, and has had fun doing so in the past. Will Troy, though? He’s not sure.

Unfortunately, his concern is proven right but the tight, nervous expression that crosses Troy’s face when they get out of the taxi and see posters announcing the event. 

“Is this where we are going?” Troy asks, eyeing the building.

“The bar that Scott Hunter and Eric Bennett own.,” Ilya explains. “Is nice, sort of.”

Troy stares at the poster. 

“It’s a gay bar. They’re doing a drag show.”

Ilya frowns at him. “Is that a problem?”

Troy looks horrified at the insinuation. “No! No, I mean – I’m just… Just surprised. I didn’t even know you liked Hunter.”

Ilya wrinkles his nose. He does not like Hunter. 

“He is okay. But you are in love with him, so I thought you would like this.”

“I’m not in love with him,” Troy grumbles, but he offers no further objections. He follows Ilya into the bar, pupils dilating with awe like he’s walking onto a foreign planet. It’s not that impressive. Maybe Troy needs to get out more. 

They end up having fun. More fun than Ilya expected them to, actually. Troy seems put at ease when everyone is cool about him being here, welcoming even. They watch the show, crammed in front of the tiny temporary stage the bar has put up. Ilya is pretty free with his tipping and his drinking. Troy follows suit, and surprisingly, Ilya thinks he has more fun than he would have expected. Something about him seems cautiously freer. 

Ilya thinks he knows what that something might be. He just didn’t know it would be so easy to get his guard down. Someone like, for example, Shane has walls like a Soviet prison when it comes to this sort of thing. A part of it makes Ilya a little sad. Or maybe a lot sad. He wishes he could do things like this with Shane.

After the show, Ilya ends up outside the bar, trying to sober up a little. He got a bit carried away and they have a game tomorrow. He drinks water and smokes a cigarette and waits to feel a bit more clear headed. Eventually, Troy joins him and they get to talking. They talk about Dallas Kent and the game yesterday in Toronto and Ilya can tell Troy is skirting around something. 

 “Why did you punch Dallas Kent?” He blurts eventually.

Ah, yes. Ilya had done that. And why not? Barrett has shown up in Ottawa being nothing but decent, despite his reputation, and Kent is a fucking prick. Ilya would punch him again. And not just because he takes the homophobic jokes personally. Though that’s a big part of it. If the League were rid of people like Kent, Ilya and Shane could come out.

“Many reasons,” Ilya says. 

“I know, but why exactly did you punch him? Because I thought it was because he insulted you by saying that you were, like, gay. Or whatever. But then you took me to a gay bar, so I’m pretty confused right now.”

He is rambling. He is tipsy and he is rambling.

“I did not punch Kent because of that,” Ilya assures him. “I am not so fragile.”

He grew up with a brother that said worse every single day. 

“Oh. I just thought, because most hockey players would rather be accused of murder than be accused of liking dick-”

Most hockey players don’t get access to Shane Hollander’s dick, and that might be half their problem. Not that Ilya is willing to share. 

“I am not most hockey players. And I have not ever said I was straight.”

Troy looks at Ilya, blue eyes wide with surprise and something else. Maybe hope?

“What?”

Ilya shrugs, focusing on his cigarette.  “People assume things. They are idiots. Dallas Kent said something hateful about something that is about something he does not know anything about.”

“That’s sort of his whole deal, yeah,” Troy confirms.

And people like him sign the paycheques of people who could make Ilya and Shane’s life very difficult. 

“People like Kent stand in the way of other people being happy. For no reason. I am always glad to punch people like that.”

He just wishes he didn’t have to. He wishes he could just be open and happy. He wishes he didn’t have to hide. He wishes hiding wasn’t so much harder for him than it is for Shane. 

Troy lets out a shaky breath. Whatever Ilya said, it caused a reaction in him.

“Can you keep a secret?”

Can Ilya keep a secret? Hmm.

“Yes. Very well.”

Troy looks like he’s about to puke or cry.

“I’m gay,” he tells Ilya.

Something strange passes through Ilya. It’s a combination of profound joy at being confided in, and profound envy that he can never quite do the same with his friends. 

“You have not told anyone?” Ilya asks. 

“Not really, no.”

Ilya knows the position he’s in. 

“That must have been very hard, in Toronto.” 

“It wasn’t easy.”

“I’m sorry,” Ilya says. And he means it. Would he have chosen Troy’s exact past methods of assimilation? No. But he understands that sometimes circumstances make you act in a way you don’t like and will regret later. 

He’s about to open his mouth to ask if this was Troy’s first time at a gay bar when a handful of queens who had been performing earlier exit out the side of the bar and pass by where Ilya and Troy are standing. One of them gives Troy a little wink as she clicks by, big puffer coat on over her outfit. Troy’s face goes deep red. Ilya can’t help but laugh. 

One of the queens stops in front of them. Ilya doesn’t remember her from the performance. She’s dressed in a costume-y sort of look, more Halloween than drag show, if he’s honest. She doesn’t match at all with the rest of them, in a little pink skirt and top, complete with fingerless gloves of the same pale colour, and no coat or protection against the cold January air. She looks like a very drunk, human-sized pixie.

“Uh, hi,” Troy says when it’s clear the queen is staring at them. 

“Hello, there,” she says in a breathy, distracted voice.

“Were you on stage?” Ilya asks her. He really can’t recall seeing her until exactly this moment.

She shakes her head. “Just observing.”

Ah, shit. A fan. Or even worse, likely. An Admirals’ fan. 

“Hey, look,” Ilya says. “It’s okay. Scott Hunter and I go way back. We are all friendly-”

“I’m not interested in Scott Hunter,” the queen says. 

“Okay…” Ilya frowns. “He is very boring, so I get it.”

“Oh my god,” Troy whispers, embarrassed. 

“What can we do for you?” Ilya asks the queen. A selfie? An autograph? A hug? He kind of thought the drag queens would be the ones getting attention tonight, not the hockey players. It was too lofty a hope.

“You can’t do anything for me,” she says, voice bubbling over with laughter. 

Ilya keeps his expression very neutral. 

“Okay,” he says. “Have a good night, then.”

He would like to focus his attention on his friend who was just in the middle of coming out. Something Ilya wishes he could do properly in return, rather than just vaguely.

“On the contrary,” she keeps going. “I’m here to help you. And you’re in luck, because I think you really need me.”

Ilya looks at Troy. Troy’s eyes are big with concern. His expression seems to mimic Ilya’s thoughts. Is this person insane? 

“Ah, thank you,” Ilya nods placatingly. “But we’re good. Just about to leave…”

“Not without my gift, you’re not.”

Troy fidgets. “We don’t want a gift.”

“What he said,” Ilya adds.

The queen looks at Troy.

“And you don’t need one, handsome,” she says. “You’ve been very honest tonight. Very brave. I think you’re on the way to achieving the happiness you seek.”

“Thank you?” Troy replies nervously.

“What are you saying?” Ilya demands. 

“You’re miserable,” the queen says to Ilya. She shakes her head and clicks her teeth. “And you’re trying so hard not to be.”

Ilya freezes. He wants to argue with her, but it’s too fresh of a wound to deny. He started therapy last month. He’s fairly certain he’s depressed. He’s worried it’s a downhill trajectory that leads him right where it led his mother. He has no idea how to tell Shane.

“Rozanov?” Troy whispers. “Are you okay?”

Ilya ignores him.

“I’m right, aren’t I?” The queen asks, pouting sympathetically. 

Ilya’s lips press together, forming a tight, almost painful line. He’s not going to dignify this with a response. 

“Don’t worry!” The queen claps her hands together. “I can see that you’re struggling to be honest about it. So I’ll give you the gift you need!”

“What are you talking about?” Ilya demands. 

“I am granting you the gift of honesty,” she says with a little flourish of her hands. 

Ilya feels a strange shiver run over his body.

“Wow,” Troy says to mollify her. “Thank you for the gift. We’ll really think about that.”

“I feel different,” Ilya blurts. “What did you do to me?”

Troy looks at Ilya, bewildered.

The queen clicks her heels together like fucking Dorothy.

“Well, good luck!”

Then, without another word, she turns and walks away with a giddy sort of pep in her step. 

“That was fucking weird,” Troy says after she turns the corner, disappearing from their line of sight. “Are you okay?”

Ilya opens his mouth to say yes. He intends to let this roll over him, easy peasy. He’s excellent at pretending he’s not bothered.

“No, not really,” he says instead. 

Oh! That’s not… He didn’t mean to… Uh…

“Hey, that’s okay,” Troy says. “She was intense. I’m sorry.”

“She knew things about me,” Ilya says. 

Why the hell is he talking? He doesn’t need to be talking! 

“Shit,” Troy exhales. “Are you uh… I mean, do you have anyone to talk to about that? I mean… We’re friends. You can talk to me.”

“I have a therapist,” Ilya says.

He can’t help himself. That’s what this is coming down to. He’s unable to stop himself from talking.

“That’s good,” Troy nods. “That’s… I mean, everyone should do that. I should do that.” 

“Yes, but not Galina, because she is my therapist,” Ilya says.

“Yeah, yeah… I’d go somewhere else,” Troy frowns. “Hey, uh… Maybe we should head back to the hotel? It’s been a long night.”

Ilya is very grateful for Barrett. 

“Yes, please,” Ilya says. “I need to sleep this off.”

“Cool,” Troy agrees. “And, just so we’re clear, me being gay is a total secret, right?”

“Yes,” Ilya nods adamantly. “Just like me being bisexual.”

What the fuck is he doing? Why can’t he stop?

“Oh, so that’s…”  Troy nods. “I mean, yeah, you sort of implied it. Got it, top secret.”

Ilya feels sick.

He trusts that Troy will keep his secret. He understands it completely. He’s in the same position. Besides, he’s not the asshole Ilya thought he was when he first showed up in Ottawa. So it’s not a lack of faith in Troy that is his issue right now. The mistrust is directed inward.

Ilya has no idea why he can’t control what’s coming out of his mouth, and that terrifies him. 

✨

Ilya limits his interactions with other human beings as much as possible on the way back from the Kingfisher. He doesn’t talk to their Uber driver. He leaves poor Troy to respond to the driver’s incessant, awkward chatter. He keeps his head down in the hotel, electing to take the stairs instead of the elevator when heading back to his room. He doesn’t call Shane to wish him goodnight. He doesn’t even text him. He goes right to bed, rattled, and hopes he will be more tight-lipped in the morning.

It has to be the alcohol. Maybe he drank something strange. Some stupid North American liquor in his drink instead of  proper Russian vodka. Liquor makes people honest. Magical drag queens do not. Mostly because magical drag queens are not a thing, he is pretty sure. All Ilya needs to do is sober up, play some hockey, and keep a low profile. 

He thinks. 

Unfortunately, the morning does not bring any positive tidings. Ilya still feels strange, but that could simply be nerves. However, the kicker is when he walks to the coffee shop on the bottom level of the hotel and the unwitting barista asks him how he is this morning. 

“Not great,” he says, without meaning to. “Very nervous for today.”

The barista, whose nametag says Brinleigh with little hearts dotting the Is, looks surprised.

“Oh, uh… Because of the hockey game?” She asks. Ilya doesn’t get the sense she actually recognizes him. Someone must have told her there was an NHL team staying in the hotel. 

Ilya laughs. He doesn’t mean to laugh. It’s rude to laugh. Only, the question is so funny. 

“Nervous of New York?” He laughs. “No way! Your captain is old, even if I am sometimes very jealous of where he is in life.”

“Uh, okay, sir,” Brinleigh frowns. 

Ilya pays quickly and leaves a big tip. He feels like an asshole. An asshole with no control of his stupid brain to mouth filter. 

Things only get worse in the locker room before the game. Usually, his team would be looking to him for inspiration. Today, they’ve noticed he’s a bit off-kilter. 

“You look tired, Roz,” Bood says. 

Ilya takes a moment before answering. He physically cannot bring himself to dismiss the concern. He is tired. His mouth won’t form a sentence to the contrary. 

“I am tired,” Ilya manages to confirm without elaborating. He can stop himself from rambling. He’s always been good about saying no more than what needs to be said, publicly. He can regain that skill now. 

“Out too late with Barrett last night?” Hayes asks. “What are you both? Rookies?”

“I have been playing here for a decade,” Ilya answers automatically. 

He sounds like Shane, answering rhetorical questions. 

Troy gives Ilya a strange look. He also finds this answer odd and maybe is thinking of their run in with the mysterious drag queen last night.

“Tell us the truth, Roz,” Dykstra nudges him with his elbow. “Did you score last night? Such a fucking legend with the ladies, man.”

Troy wrinkles his nose at the use of score. 

“No,” Ilya says. The simple truth, and he should stop there. His mutinous mouth keeps going. “I have not had sex with a woman since 2016.”

The locker room goes silent. Everyone looks at Ilya. 

Ilya feels absolutely frozen. He just said that. Why did he just say that? He could have said literally anything else! Except, no. He physically can’t. And it’s becoming more and more obvious that it has nothing to do with alcohol or feeling tired. The drag queen did do something to him.

“Ved’ma,” Ilya curses under his breath. 

“2016?” Bood asks. “Uh, Roz…”

Shit. Fuck. Ilya really can’t afford to answer any more prying questions.

Thankfully, Troy seems to have reached a similar conclusion to Ilya. 

“Funny joke, captain!” He interjects with uncharacteristic volume. “Wow, can you imagine? You, not… Uh, yeah. Ha.” 

This seems to do the trick. Everyone else starts laughing. Troy has broken the tension. 

“Sometimes it’s hard to tell when Russians are joking,” Luca Haas says. 

Ilya nods at that, but keeps his mouth shut. He tries to continue to keep his mouth shut as long as possible. 

This proves challenging when it comes to giving the team a pep talk pre-game. As it turns out, a good pep talk, although a skill Ilya has always prided himself on, is built largely around creative liberties with the truth. Right now, he is incapable of creative liberties.

“I think it is maybe possible for us to beat New York today,” Ilya tells them. “Guaranteed? Definitely not. Likely? I don’t know about that either. But possible? Yes! We have fantastic players on this team, mostly. We just need to find a way to… Click. Yes, click. If we can do that, we probably will not lose as much.”

It’s not winning him any awards for leadership, that’s for sure. The team seems uninspired and a little down afterwards. As though they feel like he has given up on them. He hasn’t. He’s just not able to exaggerate right now.

“That was shit,” Troy tells him afterwards, voice hushed. He pulls him aside, outside the dressing room. 

“I know,” Ilya tells him. “If we lose the game, it is my fault.”

Troy bites his lip for a minute, pensive. He doesn’t disagree. 

“You really can’t lie?” He asks.

Ilya shakes his head.

“The drag queen was actually magical?”

“Witch,” Ilya tells him. “I think she is witch.”

“This is bad for both of us,” Troy says. 

“Worse for me, I think,” Ilya grumbles.

“Yeah, but… You’re the only person I’ve told, so…”

“Hopefully no one asks me, is Troy Barrett gay?” Ilya deadpans.

Troy rolls his eyes. “Yeah, let’s hope you’re done talking to Dallas Kent for a while. Anyway, I think you should answer in Russian if someone asks a weird question.”

Answer in Russian. That is a good idea, if it works. It wouldn’t work for the media – someone could always translate – but it would work for everyone else.

“Try it,” Ilya nods. “Ask me something I don’t want to answer honestly.”

“What does your boyfriend do for work?” Troy whispers, barely audible.

“Khokkeist,” Ilya answers easily. The Russian works! But, wait a second… “I did not tell you I have boyfriend.”

Troy shrugs. “Why else would you not have slept with a woman in four years? I mean, okay, there’s several reasons. But that’s the best one.”

Ilya sighs heavily. “Yes, okay. But he is the most important thing in my life. I cannot lose him because of this stupid spell.”

“I’ve got your back,” Troy promises. “But if that Russian word means what I think it does, you should probably give him a heads up about this.”

✨

They lose the game in New York. It’s not exactly a surprise. Ilya didn’t set them up for success with either his speech or his game play. He was so distracted, so afraid of every comment and chirp pulling a secret out of him, that he played like shit. Hockey and winning are on the back of his mind. On the front? Shane. Keeping Shane’s secret. Keeping Shane from panicking. Because once Ilya explains this to him, it’s not going to be calm. 

He waits until he’s home to call Shane. He knows they’ve both just returned from stressful away trips. Montreal’s went better than Ottawa’s, playing wise, but what’s new? 

Ilya shuts himself in the bedroom to make the call. He considers a FaceTime, then decides against it. He actually doesn’t want to see the look on Shane’s face when he realizes what’s happening.

“Hey, you,” Shane answers the call, completely unsuspecting. “How was New York?” 

“Bad,” Ilya answers without being able to help himself. “Maybe life-changing sort of bad.”

“What?” Shane asks, surprised. “It wasn’t that bad of a loss, was it?” 

“Not hockey,” Ilya says, irritated. “This isn’t about hockey.”

Shane pauses for a moment. 

“Okay, then what’s going on?” 

“I was cursed by a drag queen and now I cannot lie,” Ilya says, story spilling out of him with less context than he would have liked. 

There’s another pause on Shane’s end of the line. Ilya waits anxiously for him to say something.

“Shane?” He prompts.

“Sorry, I’m not sure I heard that right. Maybe the connection is spotty…” 

 “I was cursed by a drag queen and now I cannot lie,” Ilya repeats. 

“Okay, so I did hear you. Uh, what the hell does that mean?” 

“Exactly what it sounds like!” Ilya bursts. “A witch disguised as a drag queen put a curse on me and now I have to answer everything honestly!”

“When was the last time you smoked weed?” Shane asks. “And how much? And where did you get it?” 

Ilya groans. “I am not high, I haven’t been high since Halloween, when we passed around a joint that Bood brought to my house, and I do not know where he got it.”

“Ilya…” 

“I am not crazy!” Ilya snaps. “You have to believe me! If someone asked me about us right now, I physically could not lie.”

“Uh… Okay, it’s not that I think you’re crazy, I promise,” Shane says. “But what you’re saying isn’t possible.”

“I didn’t think so either,” Ilya agrees. “I thought I drank too much. It has been almost twenty-four hours and it is still happening.”

“You’re really serious?” Shane asks. 

“Yes!” Ilya snaps. “I would not joke about something I know will make you have panic attack!”

Another pause while Shane considers.

“So you did cheat at Boggle on Canada Day last summer?” Shane asks. 

“Of course,” Ilya answers. “Shit.”

“Wow. I knew it.” 

 “That’s not fair!” Ilya complains. “Your mother always wins! English is not my first language!” 

“Okay, uh… So let’s say this is really happening-”

“Is really happening, Shane. This is what I am trying to tell you.”

“That would be pretty bad. For us.”

“I know,” Ilya says. “That’s why I am telling you. In case it is not a fluke or something. Troy says I can answer questions in Russian to avoid saying things I want to hide, but that won’t work in every case.”

“Troy?” Shane asks. 

“Yes,” Ilya says. “He was there when it happened.”

“When what happened, exactly?” Shane asks.

Ilya explains the story; how he took Troy to the Kingfisher, did not know or expect it to be a drag night, had a good time, came out to and was come out to by Troy, and-

“You came out to Troy?” Shane asks. “Why?” 

“Because I wanted to tell someone!” Ilya huffs. “Because I want to have friends I can actually be close with, like you have! Because he is in the same position, hiding his sexuality!” 

“Okay,” Shane says calmly. “I didn’t know that about him.” 

“Why would you?” 

“Fair point. So, uh… Troy is…” 

“Gay,” Ilya answers. “Please don’t say anything. I don’t want to hurt him or lose a friend.”

It comes out a little more pathetically than he might have hoped. 

“You know I wouldn’t do that,” Shane says.

“I know,” Ilya agrees. 

“I didn’t… I didn’t know you were, uh…”  Shane struggles to phrase whatever it is he’s thinking. “Hurting that bad to have a friend, I guess. I thought… I mean, I thought you had friends on your team.”

Ilya’s chest feels tight. He’s afraid he might start to cry.

“I do,” he says, truth spilling out of him. “Just… No one around me knows me. No one but you.”

He hears Shane take a sharp breath. 

“I’m sorry,” he says. “I didn’t realize you were struggling with that.”

Ilya blinks back tears. “I never want to be a burden to you.”

“You aren’t! Ilya, are you kidding? You could never be!” 

There are many honest, emotional ways Ilya could respond to this. His stupid curse is giving him lots of options. He manages to say the least revealing one.

“Well, I might be now,” Ilya says. “Since I can’t lie.”

“Right, that,” Shane says. “Okay, so walk me through how that happened.” 

Ilya explains the drag queen and the gift she said she was giving him. Shane listens to the rest of the story without interruption. 

“It sounds like she thought she was doing you a favour, and maybe doesn’t realize who you are,” he observes. 

“It sounds like she is witch,” Ilya says.

“Maybe,” Shane agrees. “But maybe if she knew how catastrophically she was fucking you over, she’d take it back?” 

Ilya huffs. “Maybe. She did not seem cruel. Just… Out of her fucking mind.”

“Right, okay,” Shane says. “So maybe we can fix this before it becomes a larger problem.” 

“Larger than telling my teammates I have not had sex with women since 2016?” 

Shane lets out of a puff of breath. “Jesus. Uh, what did they say to that?” 

“Troy convinced them it was a joke.”

“It’s a good thing you’re always telling jokes, then,” Shane sighs. “We’ve got to get this taken care of soon.”

Ilya can hear the anxious edge in Shane’s voice. He feels guilty he’s causing it. He feels frustrated; he’s the one suffering through this. He wants to make this go away more than anyone. 

“I am sorry,” Ilya mutters.

“This isn’t your fault,” Shane says. “It’s just… You know, a little frightening.” 

“No shit,” Ilya agrees.

“Are you…” Shane struggles again. “Are you scared?”

Ilya pinches his mouth shut. Shane has done enough Duolingo Russian lessons to understand him if he tries to answer in Russian. So he might as well just say it in English. 

“Yes,” Ilya says. 

He clips off the full thought, thankfully. I’m scared this will be the reason I lose you. 

“We’re gonna figure this out,” Shane promises. “Maybe… Maybe skip a practice, and I will too, and I’ll head over there for a bit.”

“You would do that?” Ilya asks. 

“Would it help?” 

Ilya can’t stop himself from answering completely this time.

“It always helps me when you are here.”

“Then I’m coming.” 

✨

Much to Shane’s word, he’s there in under three hours. He comes with a bag of enough things to stay a few days, and the moment Ilya sees him, he’s overwhelmed with relief. 

“I told the team I’m having a family emergency,” Shane says as Ilya hugs him. “I want to get this sorted out with you ASAP.”

“Good thing one of us can still fib,” Ilya mumbles into Shane’s hair.

Shane pulls back and gives Ilya a strange look. 

“It’s the truth, isn’t it?”

Ilya swallows, throat thick. Of course he thinks so. Shane and his family are the only family Ilya has left. But he still sometimes feels like someone on the outside; he’s the secret, the late-comer, the one who doesn’t quite belong.

“Yes,” he manages. 

Shane gives him a worried look, holding it for a moment before exhaling and kissing him. 

“Let’s sit down and figure out our next steps,” Shane says. “I have ideas.”

Of course he does. If there’s one thing Shane can be counted on for, it’s those gears in his head turning. Ilya loves him for it, really. He attacks a problem like everything else in his life; with precision and focus. 

“Please,” Ilya agrees. He wants someone to tell him what to do right now, because he has no idea. 

They end up in Ilya’s living room, sitting pressed together on the couch. Ilya feels like he’s leaning heavily against Shane. Like he’s trying to slip into the space Shane takes up and meld to him. He doesn’t want to be himself right now. 

“I was doing some thinking,” Shane says, scrolling through his phone. “The Kingfisher has to have posted about this drag night on social media, right?”

Ilya nods. “Yes, I would think so. They have good social media guy. Not as good as Harris.”

“I know, I know,” Shane smirks. “Harris hung the moon. Let me look for photos of the event to see if any queens were tagged.”

“You are very smart,” Ilya says. 

“You could have thought of it, you were just panicking,” Shane says.

This is probably true, but still. He’s glad Shane can think for him right now. 

Shane looks through the Instagram page. It’s an odd sight. Shane hates Instagram. 

“This it?” Shane asks, showing Ilya the post, with several slide-through images of the other night and the queens on stage. Thankfully, Troy and Ilya magically do not appear in a single one. They probably have management to thank for that.

“Yes,” Ilya nods. “But I don’t see her.”

Shane frowns, sliding through the photos. “Really? None of them.”

“Really,” Ilya says. 

“That’s not great,” Shane exhales. “There goes my plan.”

“She didn’t perform on stage,” Ilya explains. “I don’t remember her from the show. Only after, outside.”

“Okay, was she alone after?” Shane asks. “Or with the others?”

“With the others,” Ilya remembers.

“Maybe we can ask them?” Shane asks. 

That’s not a bad idea either.

“Okay, give me your phone,” Shane says. “We have to do it from your account.”

“Right,” Ilya mumbles, pulling his phone from his pocket. “Why would my good buddy and charity co-founder, Shane Hollander, be trying to help me?”

Shane takes the phone from him and frowns. “Ilya…”

“Sorry,” he mumbles. “I’m just saying things now. Can’t help it.”

“You know it also just makes more sense if the messages come from you?” Shane asks. “Not your public rival who might be trying to investigate your night life.”                      

“I did not think of it like that,” Ilya says, frustrated that he didn’t. Not everything is about Shane’s fear of being outed. Ilya’s become sensitive to that lately.

Shane gives a little nod, letting it pass. 

“Alright, let’s figure out who we want to message and what we want to say.”

✨

Half an hour and six drag queens direct messaged later, Ilya and Shane are laying in Ilya’s bed. Pajamas on, no funny business. They haven’t gotten any responses back yet. Ilya is still so anxious his stomach feels like it might mutiny. As good as Shane’s plan might be, it could still fail. And then Ilya could still ruin everything they’ve so carefully constructed.

“You’re so stiff,” Shane complains, as he tries to find a comfortable position, snuggled into Ilya, to fall asleep. 

“Sorry,” Ilya mumbles. 

He’s not sure how the fuck else he’s supposed to be, given the circumstances. Certainly not relaxed. 

“Is there…” Shane tries. “Is there something else that you need to talk about?”

Ilya feels compelled to answer, accompanied by a wave of frustration. 

He responds in Russian. “Many things.” 

“What?” Shane asks. 

“Don’t do this,” Ilya pleads. “Don’t make me answer things I don’t want to.”

“I didn’t realize I was,” Shane says, sitting up. “Which is kind of a problem.”

“We do not tell each other every single thing,” Ilya says. 

“But I don’t keep secrets from you,” Shane retorts.

“I don’t do it to hurt you!” Ilya protests. “Shit.”

Shane’s eyes widen. “Wow.”

“I am trying to make things better,” Ilya says in Russian. “I am trying not to lose you.” 

Shane’s understanding of the language isn’t enough to follow.

“Don’t just avoid me with Russian!” Shane grimaces. “That’s not fair.”

“You are making me speak,” Ilya reminds him.

“I’m not trying to!” Shane protests. “I didn’t realize telling me the truth was so difficult for you!”

Ilya wants7 to scream. He wants to cry. He’s afraid to open his mouth. He needs to find a way to communicate to Shane that he’s not lying. He’s not hiding things from him. It’s not like he’s cheating or has a gambling addiction or anything bad. He just doesn’t say everything that’s on his mind always. It’s a good quality! No one wants to hear all that.

Not saying anything is clearly the wrong thing to do. 

“Holy shit,” Shane says, filling in the blanks completely wrong. “You’re hiding something from me.”

Ilya opens his mouth to say no, but he physically cannot. He chokes on the word.

Shane gets out of bed and takes several steps back, away from the message. 

“Fuck,” he says. 

“It is not what you think!” Ilya blurts. He is fairly certain this is the truth so he manages to say it. 

“I don’t know what I think!” Shane retorts. “I didn’t think we kept important shit from each other!”

“We…” Ilya tries to say we don’t, but he can’t. It’s a lie. Fuck. 

Shane waits for a moment. Like he’s giving Ilya one more chance to come clean. Ilya hesitates. He’s not sure which thing to say. 

“Wow,” Shane whispers again. 

He turns and starts walking towards the bedroom door.

“Where are you going?” Ilya asks, crestfallen.

“To sleep in your guest room.”

Ilya’s heart sinks. They have never done this. Not once. They never go to sleep fighting. Even when they do fight, they settle it. Then they usually have sex and go to bed. This is bad. Really bad. All because Ilya won’t just admit…

“I am seeing a therapist!” Ilya blurts. 

Shane stops. He turns back towards the bed. 

“What?” 

“That is the big thing,” Ilya says. “I have been seeing a therapist.”

Shane’s shoulders drop. “Like a psychologist?”

“Yes,” Ilya confirms. “Not the team one. One who speaks Russian.”

Shane rubs his forehead. “Okay, uh… That’s not… She speaks Russian? That’s great.”

Ilya can tell he’s bouncing back and forth between frustrated that Ilya let this build up so much and relieved it’s not something hurtful. 

“Yes,” Ilya says. “Much easier to talk that way.”

“So, it’s been good?” Shane asks. 

“I think so,” Ilya answers. “Slow, but good.”

Shane walks back over and sits on the edge of the bed. 

“Please do not be mad,” Ilya says. “There is no bad secret.”

“I’m obviously not mad you’re going to therapy,” Shane says. But there’s still something tight and on edge in his voice. “How long have you been going?”

“A couple of months,” Ilya answers.

“I’m glad you’re getting help,” Shane says. “If you need it. And that you found someone you can talk to.”

Ilya can hear the touch of hurt in his voice. 

“Shane,” he pleads. “I have told you things I have not told anyone. You know me. Therapy is… Different.” 

“I know,” Shane says. “Why was it a secret though? Why were you so upset at the thought of telling me?”

Ilya exhales. He wants to tell him it doesn’t matter, but he can’t. This stupid fucking curse. 

“I did not want to upset you,” he admits. “Or worry you.”

“I’ve already been worried,” Shane says quietly. “I already told you that.”

It’s true. A while ago, Shane had said he worries that Ilya seems sad. It was a bit of a wakeup call for him. He is sad. So much of the time. Whenever Shane isn’t there. Whenever he feels like his career has tumbled into obscurity; he used to be great and now he is nothing. Whenever he can’t share the happy things in his life with anyone. He’s sad and he’s lonely, and he doesn’t know how to make it stop. 

“I am depressed, probably,” Ilya admits. “I wanted to fix it. I did not want it to be a problem.”

Shane’s eyes widen. “You’re making it sound like something that’s your fault. It’s not.” 

Maybe not his fault. But it’s his cross to bear, isn’t it? His genetics. His trauma. His issues to work through.

“It is more complicated than fault,” Ilya says.

“I know,” Shane says. “But I want to help you. I want to be there for you.”

“You are,” Ilya manages to say. It’s the truth, because he knows Shane is. But it’s harder to say than some of the other truths he’s said so far. Because how can Shane be there and support him if he doesn’t know? It’s a half truth. 

“Why did you think I’d be upset?” Shane asks. 

And isn’t that the crux of it all? The hardest question to answer. One of the things making Ilya sad is the thing that keeps Shane’s entire world in balance. 

Ilya swallows. He keeps his mouth shut.

“Don’t do that,” Shane begs. “Please answer me.”

Ilya looks down.

“I can’t help if you don’t tell me,” Shane says. He’s crying, a little. “I want to help. I don’t… I hate that you were going through this alone.”

“Sometimes all the hiding feels like it is killing me,” Ilya admits finally.

It takes Shane a moment to reply to that.

“Hiding our relationship, specifically?” He eventually asks.

“Hiding everything, Shane,” Ilya replies sharply. “I hide everything! I have to! No one else in my life gets to know me!”

Shane’s expression flashes with hurt. “I-I… I didn’t think about it that way.”

“It is like unless you are here, I am a ghost,” Ilya whispers. “But when you are here, we have to hide then, too.”

Shane looks horrified. 

Ilya shakes his head. “I shouldn’t have spoken. I’m sorry.”

“What?” Shane frowns. “N-no. No, don’t be sorry.”

“I know why things are the way they are,” Ilya says. “Even if I wish they could be different.”

“Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” Shane asks. “I don’t want you to feel like this!”

“It is important to you,” Ilya whispers. His voice feels weak. His soul feels tired.

“You’re important to me!” Shane protests. “Your wellbeing! Your… Your mental health.” 

“I do not want to lose you,” Ilya blurts. “I can’t lose you.”

Shane crawls closer to Ilya on the bed and takes Ilya’s face between his hands. “You’re not losing me. Why would you ever lose me?”

Ilya can feel himself shaking a little. He feels pathetic. He feels helpless. He doesn’t want to answer that question. He’s terrified to speak it into existence. But he can’t say anything other than the truth.

“Why would you lose me?” Shane asks again, clearly sensing what he’s doing.

“Maybe I am not worth changing things for sooner than you want,” he admits.

Tears roll down Shane’s cheeks. He looks so hurt by this statement. Not in an angry way; he just looks sad. Ilya regrets saying anything. This is what he didn’t want.

“You’re worth everything,” Shane says, voice cracking over emotion. “Everything.” 

“Shane-”

“No,” Shane cuts him off. “No, listen to me. I-I’m sorry you would even doubt that I feel that way. I’m sorry I didn’t understand how much this has been hurting you. I thought it sucked the same for both of us. I thought we wanted the same things. I didn’t know.” 

Ilya blinks, holding his eyes closed for a second longer than normal. They did. They did want the same things. They do. Ilya thinks. He hopes. Just… The things Ilya was afraid of, then, he’s not afraid of now. He’s a Canadian Permanent Resident now. He’s on the path to being a citizen. He doesn’t have a reason to hide. The career consequences don’t outweigh the life consequences. Not anymore.

“We can change the plan, llya,” Shane says. “We can… We can come up with something new.”

“You don’t want to come out about us while playing,” Ilya reminds him. As though he might have forgotten. 

“We will figure something out,” Shane insists. “It’s not worth you being depressed.” 

Ilya’s brows furrow. “Is not the only reason.”

“Okay,” Shane nods. “What else?”

Like it’s a checklist of items he can solve for Ilya.

“No reason, just…” Ilya huffs, a little frustrated and sad. “Maybe I am like my mother.”

Understanding crosses Shane’s face. Even in the dark of the room, Ilya thinks he sees him pale a little.

“Are you thinking about that?” He asks, fear clear in his voice.

“No,” Ilya shakes his head, adamant. “No, no. Do not worry. Just… Maybe I could? It could be something I could think about.”

“Okay,” Shane exhales. 

He pulls Ilya into a hug. It’s sort of crushing, but Ilya appreciates the pressure of it. He lets himself crumple a little, face falling into Shane’s shoulder. One of Shane’s hands lands in Ilya’s hair, holding him close. 

“It’s going to be okay,” Shane promises. “We’ll get through all of this. You’re not going to lose me. Ever.” 

“I’m sorry,” Ilya mumbles into Shane’s neck.

“Ever,” Shane repeats, accurately sensing Ilya might not fully be able to believe him. “You’re never going to lose me.”

Maybe Ilya needs to hear it, again and again. Maybe it’s what he’s needed to hear for a while. That all the other things that come along with who they are are worth giving up before him. Because that’s what Shane is saying, right? At least, Ilya thinks. He hopes. He has to hope. He might ruin what they have because of this damn witch, after all. He has to try to believe Shane when he says he won’t lose him because of it.

✨

Ilya wakes the next morning, exhausted and glued to Shane. It’s as though Shane is some great, strong tree, and Ilya is a heap of moss. It’s a new feeling for Ilya. Not so much the being attached to Shane like a symbiotic organism, but the lack of balance in it. He feels weak. He has never wanted to be weak.

Shane doesn’t seem to have any such notions. Or if he does, he doesn’t show it. He keeps a hold of Ilya until Ilya is ready to sit up and check his phone. 

“Did any of the drag queens get back to you?” Shane asks when he does. 

Ilya checks, holding his breath. He’s not sure what the next step is if they haven’t. Where do they go from here?

Luckily, he doesn’t have to wonder.

“Yes!” He announces, relieved, when he unlocks his phone screen. “Two of them responded!”

Shane sits up a little straighter. “That’s great! What did they say?”

Ilya opens up the first message. It’s from a queen whose name is a pun Ilya doesn’t quite get and promises a fantastic Minnie Driver impression. Ilya doesn’t know who that is. 

“Oh,” Ilya says, eyes scanning the message. “This isn’t great.”

“What?” Shane asks. “Why not?”

“The person you are looking for is Lucinda,” Ilya reads. “She’s not actually one of us. Everyone knows her, but no one knows her, if you know what I mean?” 

Ilya doesn’t.

“Is that a stage name or a real name?” Shane asks.

Ilya shrugs. 

“She shows up a lot but she never performs,” Ilya continues. “Is always more interested in talking to the audience. Not sure when we’ll see her again. Said she had plans in Canada after that night at the Kingfisher.”

“Damn,” Shane says. “Canada is pretty big.”

Thank you, Shane. Very astute observation.

“Also, if it’s not too much to ask, is there any chance you’d sign something for my nephew?” Ilya finishes reading. “I think he has a crush on you.”

“Wow,” Shane says. “Great use of an opportunity.”

“I cannot say no to adoring fans,” Ilya smirks. 

Shane rolls his eyes. “Well, they did help us.”

“Exactly!” Ilya agrees. “I will send something.”

“What does the other message say?” Shane asks.

Ilya checks it. “Pretty much the same.”

“Damn,” Shane exhales. “Maybe we can ask them something more specific?” 

“Why?” Ilya asks. “I think it is clear. She has come to Canada to torment me.”

“What?” Shane asks. 

“This witch. Lucinda,” Ilya says. “She is here for me.”

Shane considers this. “I mean, yeah. Maybe.”

“We must find her,” Ilya says. “Unless she finds me first…”

The prospect that this Lucinda is tracking him down as they speak is not lost on him.

Shane nods slowly. “I think I have to accept the fact that she’s obviously magical.”

“I told you,” Ilya says. “Witch.” 

“I’m agreeing, kind of,” Shane says. “I mean, there’s a chance she would be magically following you, yeah.”

“We have to go to every drag bar in Canada,” Ilya says, already tired at the prospect.

Shane frowns. “Do you think she hasn’t narrowed you down to Ottawa? You do famously live here.”

Ilya nods. “Yes, okay. We should start with Ottawa.”

Shane thinks. “We can do, like, a bar crawl.”

The way Shane says bar crawl, Ilya would think he said root canal. Clearly he has never done one. Clearly he was fine with that staying off his bucket list. 

“Yes,” Ilya agrees. “Best way to check the most places quickly."

Shane nods. “Yeah, but I don’t think we can go alone. You’re going to have to call your friend, Troy.”

Ilya cannot believe his ears. 

“What?” He asks. “Troy? You want to do drag bar crawl with Troy Barrett?”

“It’s the only option,” Shane says. “If we go alone, we look like we’re on a date. I know we said we’d adjust the coming out plan, but I’d still rather not do it under duress.”

Ilya agrees with that. That would not be the way for the news to break. Ilya can see the headlines now. Rival NHL captains spotted at several Ottawa gay clubs together, when asked why, Centaurs’ captain admitted to fucking Metros’ captain.

“Troy will know,” Ilya says. “I won’t be able to hide it.”

If he hadn’t guessed already. And he’s not stupid, so he might have.

Shane’s mouth twitches a little.

“You said he wants to help, right? That he’s someone we can trust?” Shane asks.

Ilya nods emphatically. “He is a good person. I know I was worried when he joined the team, but I was wrong about him. Or, he is different than his persona was in Toronto.”

Shane nods. “Then let’s trust him. I’d rather him know tonight, and then the world finds out on our terms.”

Ilya smiles. He gets to tell his friend. 

“Thank you, Shane. I’ll call him.”

Shane takes a steeling breath. “We’re absolutely sure he’s not into you, right? Because if he is and-”

Ilya interrupts Shane with a peal of laughter. 

“Don’t be crazy,” Ilya says. “He has checked me out, sure. But he is very in love with Harris, I think.”

“The first part of that was not comforting,” Shane grumbles.

“We can ask him if you want?” Ilya suggests. 

“Don’t push it.”

✨

“You want me to go to several gay clubs with who?” Troy asks when Ilya calls. 

Ilya sighs. 

“Myself and Shane,” he answers. “Hollander. You know who Shane Hollander is.”

Troy lets out a nervous little laugh. It sounds absurd coming from his usually flat voice.

“Y-yeah. Yes. Um, why would we be doing that, exactly? That exact group of people?” 

“Do you remember how you asked what my boyfriend does for work?” Ilya asks. “Well, now you know. And we need your help finding the witch who cursed me in New York.”

“Shane really is your boyfriend?” Troy asks.

“Yes,” Ilya replies, trying not to sound too happy he gets to confirm it.

“Wow,” Troy says. “I mean, the joke in Toronto was… So I thought, maybe, but it seemed too crazy. Your rival. Wow.”

“Yes, we anticipate this reaction and worse from most people,” Ilya says.

“Shane Hollander,” Troy says again.

“Three-time Stanley Cup winner and Olympic silver medalist, yes,” Ilya smirks. “We are thinking about the same guy, I am pretty sure.”

“Okay, okay,” Troy says. “Shock over. Pulling it together.” 

“Good, thank you,” Ilya says. “We cannot go alone to clubs or it will look like a date. We need you. You are the only person who can know.”

“Instead it’s just three straight guys at a series of Ottawa gay bars?” Troy asks. 

“Shane is out,” Ilya says. “Just quiet.”

“Right,” Troy mumbles. “We’re just hanging out with a buddy…” 

“Yes, exactly,” Ilya says. “For now. I will come out later, I think. Soon. Just not like this.”

“Really?” Troy asks. “You’re going to?” 

“Yes,” Ilya confirms. “We talked last night.”

“Wow…” Troy says. “That’s a huge deal, and… And kind of good to hear, actually.” 

Ilya wonders what Troy means by that. Is he considering it, too? 

“Yes, you could also do this,” he tells Troy.  “Tell Harris you love him, skate off into the sunset…”

“Oh my god!” Troy yelps. “I did not tell you that!” 

“And yet you are not denying it,” Ilya says. “You can lie still, yes?”

“Do you want my help or not, Rozanov?” Troy grumbles.

Well, good point. 

“Please help.”

✨

Ilya will be the first to admit, because he cannot lie, that the three of them showing up at a gay bar like they’re on an undercover mission looks absolutely ridiculous. Ilya is the only person who dresses for the occasion and looks at all like he is leaving the house with the intention of having fun. Shane and Troy seemed to accidentally choose matching uniforms of dark shirts and pants and uncomfortable expressions. Ilya understands why they both look uncomfortable, but it’s a little bit painful. 

Luckily, there aren’t many queer bars that do drag in Ottawa. Well, not luckily. There should be more. More gay bars everywhere, in Ilya’s opinion. But tonight, only having to go to three is lucky. Because going to one makes Shane look a little pale. 

“You are going to be fine,” Ilya whispers, reminding him. “You have already come out to your team. Even if you hadn’t, you are allowed to be here.”

Shane gives him an appreciative look.

“You’re right,” he says. “I sometimes just feel like I’m not, you know?” 

Ilya does know. Sometimes it feels like they each chose a half of themself that has excluded them from parts of the other half. Maybe half the wrong measurement; he’s not half hockey player, half bisexual. But the point stands.

“Well, I can’t lie,” Ilya reminds Shane. 

This seems to do the trick. Shane’s expression eases up a bit. He gives Ilya a little nod, like message received. Ilya hopes he really does believe him.

Ilya hangs in a dark corner of the first club, observing. It’s better this way; Shane and Troy look around, trying to spot Lucinda. If someone bumps into either of them and asks a question, they can lie. Who knows what Ilya will be compelled to say? He feels sort of useless, actually. He just sips on shit vodka and waits. 

“I don’t think she’s here,” Troy says when the three of them reconvene in Ilya’s sad little corner. 

“I couldn’t see anyone who matches the description, either,” Shane adds. “Sorry, Ilya.”

Ilya sighs. “Is okay. First place would be too easy. Fourteen people looked at your ass, though.”

Shane blushes. 

“That’s not what you were supposed to be watching for,” Troy says. 

“Can you blame me?” Ilya asks. “It is a beautiful ass. Of course people want it.”

“Ilya, oh my god,” Shane smacks his arm.

“I can’t tell if he was forced to say that or not,” Troy replies flatly. 

“Should we spend more time here?” Ilya asks, unbothered. “Or go to next bar?”

Shane scratches his head. He looks torn. 

“I don’t know,” he says. “What if we leave and she walks in five minutes later?”

Ilya doesn’t love the sound of that. Do they each need to go to a bar and wait? That sounds way more boring that being together. And frightening, considering all alone Ilya has no one to lie for him. Plus, Shane doesn’t even know what Lucinda looks like! 

“Well, the third bar on our list is the one with the more active scene at the moment,” Troy says, looking at his phone. “According to Instagram location tags, anyway. She might be there?”

“Oh, that’s smart,” Shane says. 

“Who taught you that trick, Troy?” Ilya asks. “Was it Harris?”

Troy glares at him. “Why am I helping you?”

“Stop antagonizing him,” Shane scolds. “It’s a good idea. We should go to that bar.”

“You love it when I antagonize people,” Ilya reminds him. “Mostly you.”

Shane rolls his eyes, but he’s smirking. 

Troy looks at Shane, ignoring Ilya. “You still good to do the driving?” 

Shane nods. “Yep. I don’t like to drink much during the season.”

“Smart,” Troy says. “Smarter than I’ve been, recently.”

Ilya remembers finding Troy hungover as shit one morning and telling him to skip practice. It hasn’t happened again. He’s being too hard on himself. Maybe Ilya should be nicer about his Instagram location tag revelation. 

“It was one time, Barrett,” Ilya says gently. “Do not beat yourself up.”

Troy flashes him a quick, appreciative look.

“Thanks, Roz,” he mumbles. 

“Let’s go,” Shane says. 

Ilya nods. They turn and start walking towards the exit. Ilya is just thinking that it’s been a clean in and out, with no fan run-ins, when a very tipsy woman stops in front of them, jaw dropping. 

“Holy shit,” she says. “Holy shit, holy shit, holy shit.”

Ah, there it is. Ilya looks at Shane. Which one of them will it be? Local captain or hometown golden boy? 

Shane gives a little shrug. He isn’t sure either. 

“Hello,” Ilya says, voice a little tighter than he’d like. “Yes, before you ask, it is us, but-”

“Troy Barrett?” The woman asks. 

“Oh,” Ilya says. “All yours, Barrett.”

Shane snorts. 

Troy looks nervous. He offers her a hesitant smile. Troy isn’t exactly beloved among fans these days. 

“Hi,” he mumbles. It doesn’t look or sound enthusiastic. Poor Barrett can’t exactly rouse false excitement in himself, even when he tries.

“I was so sad when you left Toronto!” The woman bemoans. She sounds very drunk. “You’re too hot to play for Ottawa!” 

“You’re in Ottawa,” Shane observes. 

“Just visiting,” she slurs. 

“Everyone on the Centaurs is more hot than anyone on Toronto Guardians,” Ilya says confidently. “And I cannot lie.”

The woman takes a stumbly step towards Troy. “Can we get a selfie?”

“Oh, not tonight,” Troy says. “Sorry. Trying to have a, uh, private night with friends…”

“Boo!” She complains, but it seems lighthearted. “What about my number? Can I give you my number? I’m visiting my brother here for the whole week.”

She motions across the bar, where two men are chatting over cocktails. One of them is presumably her brother. 

Ilya expects Troy to give a typical, blunt answer. Something that might make him seem like an asshole, but not give away anything else about him. He doesn’t have the social finesse to let someone down gently, Ilya suspects. Not without being way more honest than he wants to be. 

But Troy surprises him. 

“Oh, you don’t want my number,” he says. 

“Yes, I do!” The woman argues.

Troy shakes his head. 

“Uh, nope. My interests are a bit more…” He gestures to the atmosphere around them. “You know…”

Ilya turns to look at him, surprised. He’s fairly certain Shane’s expression matches his own. 

“Oh,” the woman says. The syllable extends three or four seconds longer than it should. “Well, that’s great. Do you want my brother’s number?”

“That’s alright,” Troy says. “I’m good.”

Ah, there he is. Dickish Troy. He’s back!

“It’s your loss,” the woman shrugs. “Like Toronto!”

And then she walks away, clumsily, off in the direction of her brother. 

Shane and Ilya just look at Troy. Shane looks dumbstruck.

Troy shrugs. “Honesty is the theme of the day, right?”

“Wow, Barrett,” Ilya says. “I am impressed.” 

Troy takes a shaky breath. “Thanks. Let’s hope she’s drunk enough to forget I said anything.”

“Now you just have to tell Harris,” Ilya waggles his eyebrows. 

Troy rolls his eyes and walks towards the bar exit.

“If he kills you,” Shane says. “I’ll let him.”

“You would be a very beautiful widower,” Ilya says. 

Shane rolls his eyes and follows after Troy. 

Maybe introducing them was a mistake. 

✨

The next bar, the one Troy flagged as having more opportunities for them, turns out to be the correct choice. It’s alive with a very excitable crowd and quite a number of local queens. If Lucinda is going to turn up anywhere, it will be here. At least, Ilya hopes. He really needs to get rid of this stupid curse. He already accidentally admitted to the bartender that good vodka is in the top five things he misses about Russia, and if he ever goes back, it will be for that and not to see anyone he’s related to. This is too much to say to a poor, unsuspecting bartender on a busy night. 

Ordering the second vodka also turns out to be a mistake. Ilya feels a small, bubbly buzz, and it’s enough to be a dangerous combination with his current truth-telling compulsion. As they search the bar for Lucinda, he feels himself voicing every little thought he has about Shane. It’s sort of embarrassing.

“The lights in here are so pretty against your face,” for example. Or, “I love this song, Shane, it makes me think of you!” Or most problematically, “wow, I wish we were here for fun, because I would love to blow you in this club bathroom.”

Shane might kill him. Ilya might die. But he has these sorts of thoughts running through his head all the time. It’s good to be able to say them. Well, okay. Not the last one. But generally, it feels nice to just say all the nice things he thinks about Shane. God, he loves Shane. 

“I love you, Shane,” he tells him.

Shane gives him a funny look. 

“I love you, too,” he whispers. “But let’s focus, okay?”

“Okay.”

It doesn’t take them too long to find Lucinda. She almost seems to be waiting for them. She’s hanging around in the back of the club, exactly where Ilya would go to lay low. She’s watching them, like she knew they’d arrive. She’s in the exact same pink, gaudy outfit. It’s like no time at all has passed.

“HEY!” He shouts when he sees her. Which isn’t a great strategy for not drawing attention to himself. “LUCINDA! VED’MA! ”

Lucinda crooks her head to the side at the sound of her name. She gives a clumsy little wave. 

“Well, hello there.”

“Do not act cute,” Ilya warns. “Remove the curse you put on me!”

“A curse?” She raises her manicured eyebrows, like the insinuation is deeply offensive to her. “I have never put a curse on anyone, you rude, ungrateful man! I am not that kind of girl!”

Ilya scoffs. Is she fucking kidding?

“I am broken!” He accuses her. “You broke me!”

Shane steps between Lucinda and Ilya. 

“Hi,” he says. “Hello, sorry about him. He’s a little on edge right now. Do you happen to remember cursing Ilya here to only tell the truth?”

Again, Lucinda looks offended.

“That was not a curse!” She squawks. “It was a gift. I am trying to fix his life, not ruin it.”

Ilya lets out a torrent of Russian profanities. Things that he honestly needs to say, but should avoid saying in English. Lucinda looks unimpressed by this, like she can translate it well enough.

“I think what my friend is trying to say…” Troy starts, but loses steam immediately. “Uh…”

“We’re hockey players,” Shane fills in. “Maybe you didn’t know that.”

“Is that right?” She asks, disinterested.

“Yes, famously,” Ilya points out.

“Right, there’s, uh… There’s a celebrity component,” Shane continues. “Which means being forced to answer every question completely honestly is sort of dangerous.”

Lucinda raises an eyebrow.

“What if a stalker asked him for his address?” Troy gives an example.

Ilya hadn’t even considered that. Oh god. What if a crazed fan asks something way too personal? The more Ilya thinks about this, the worse it gets.

“You’re standing here in a gay nightclub,” Shane tries, appealing to her. “Surely you can understand why someone being forced to reveal something private before they’re ready could be traumatic.”

Lucinda looks at Ilya. “Hiding is making you miserable, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” Ilya admits. 

Shane looks at the ground. Troy looks at Ilya. There’s a deep well of empathy and sadness in his gaze. 

“So I am doing you a favour,” Lucinda shrugs. “I don’t see the problem. Eventually, the truth will come out and my gift will wear off.”

“Wait, what?” Shane asks. “It’ll go away?”

“When the problem is resolved, of course,” Lucinda reassures them. 

“I am beginning to think you have some sort of stake in me outing myself publicly,” Ilya grumbles.

“That’s just one resolution,” Lucinda says. 

“Please don’t do this to him,” Shane begs. “It’s cruel. He hasn’t done anything to you.”

Lucinda shrugs, like that’s hardly the point. “I don’t rescind my gifts. And I don’t know that I’ve ever been wrong.”

“Oh, never?” Ilya asks. 

“Never,” she agrees haughtily. “Best of luck.”

Then she snaps her fingers, and right in front of all three of them, disappears. 

“What the fuck?” Shane yelps. 

Troy and Ilya are less surprised. They’ve already experienced her magic, albeit not to this degree. 

“I’m really sorry, guys,” Troy tells Ilya and Shane.

Because he’s realized what this means as well as Ilya. They’re fucked.

✨

Ilya and Shane don’t have a proper conversation about it until they’re alone. They’re back at Ilya’s house and the mood is sort of somber. They’d had a good plan. A doable plan. And it was almost successful, too. Except for the fact that that witch seems determined to fuck with him.

“I’m sorry,” Ilya tells his boyfriend, slumping into a raised chair against his kitchen island with a much needed glass of water.

“You don’t need to be sorry,” Shane tells him. “I’m sorry. This is happening to you. I wish I could have done more.”

Ilya shakes his head. Shane already tried so hard. He did so much.

“You tried,” Ilya reminds him.

“I’ll call Farah tomorrow,” Shane says. “Come up with some contingency plans.”

Ilya nods.

“Sure. Okay.”

“We’ll figure this out,” Shane says. “If we can make it to the end of the season, great. If not, it’s not your fault.” 

He knows that Shane thinks the best thing to do is to wait until  the break between seasons to announce their relationship. It's still waiting, but it's far better than waiting until retirement, the way they had planned before. And if he's being honest, as miserable as hiding makes him, Ilya does agree. Anything that happens mid-season is a liability. Not only does it stand to impact their game, but even if it didn't, people would say it did. Any missed shot, any moment of less-than-perfect play. Better to leave it to the summer, when everybody is watching baseball or at their various vacation destinations, and hardly anybody is thinking about hockey. Not nobody, but significantly fewer people.

And, truth be told, Ilya should be able to finagle the truth until then. He very seriously doubts that anybody is going to walk up to him after a game in the press scrum and ask if he's sleeping with Shane Hollander. The odds aren't nothing, but they're very low. As long as he starts every interview and fan interaction with a rude, blunt statement that he won't be discussing his personal life, he might be okay. It's more likely that his friends on the Centaurs will find out.  They're the people that are more likely to ask him what he's doing on his days off or teasing him about women he might be seeing. As long as Shane is okay with that, Ilya finds the thought to be a bit of a relief. 

“If the team finds out now, nobody will say anything,”  Ilya tells Shane. “I think I can hide it publicly until the summer.”

 Shane nods. “Let's plan for that then. Troy already knows and he seemed to take it fine.”

“He's a good guy,” Ilya says. 

“From everything you said, it sounds like they're all good guys,”  Shane admits. “And I was just too freaked out to trust you on that.”

Ilya takes a deep breath, because he knows that admitting that must have been harder for Shane than it sounded.

“Yes," Ilya agrees. “They are. And I would really like for them to know me.”

 Shane smiles sadly. “Then they will.”

“And you,” Ilya adds. “I would really like for them to know you, as well.”

That makes Shane look even more nervous. 

“Let's take it one day at a time.”

✨

One day at a time doesn't last more than a week and a half.

Everyone on the Centaurs has noticed that Ilya has been weird. Withdrawn and quiet, mainly. He's trying to avoid putting himself in positions that will force some sort of truth out of him. He knows Shane said he could come out to the team, and even tell them about Shane, but he still doesn't want it to be a forced admission. He wants to do it on his own terms. And how can anything be on his own terms, when he doesn't have a choice in how he answers questions? It's a paradox. He knows he has to tell the truth, but being forced to tell the truth is preventing him from being honest.

Unfortunately for Ilya, it doesn't matter for long. A well-played game at home, which should be an occasion for supreme celebration with this steadily improving team, turns out to be the thing that may just ruin him. The morning after they kick Philadelphia's ass, the Ottawa Centaurs’ CMO shows up at practice.

The chief marketing officer, a very stern looking man named Rodney who Ilya swears only pretends to be a hockey fan, almost never shows up to practice. He's more business minded than anything, and only really shows up when there's something important to be discussed regarding the team's image. He's also Harris' boss, but Ilya doubts he would show up for that purpose. Usually, according to Harris, he talks to his superiors over Microsoft Teams calls.

Coach Wiebe talks to Rodney before any of the players. After a short conversation he turns and calls out onto the ice.

“Rozanov, Boodram, Hayes, Haas, and Barrett! I need you over here!”

“Probably not good,” Troy mumbles.

Ilya can't blame them. The guy doesn't have a good relationship with publicity lately. 

“Maybe it's a nice thing!” Luca protests. Bless his little Swiss heart.

“Not if they're inviting me,” Troy says.

“He has good point,” Ilya admits.

“Harsh, Roz,” Hayes says. 

“Nah,” Troy waves it off. He looks somewhat amused. “He's just being honest.”

They all head off the ice to see what Rodney wants. In Ilya's experience, it's usually not something fun. You'd think all the visits to children's hospitals and fun stuff they do on social media would be the good image that their brand wants to focus on. And for the most part, the franchise owners do tend to agree with that. But when the actual C-Suite leaders get involved? It's more like sponsorships and interview talking points. Not the kind of thing Ilya dreams about talking about when he could be on the ice. And definitely not the kind of thing he dreams about talking about when all his media training, as little as he puts it to use, is out the window. Thanks, Lucinda. 

“Morning, boys,” Rodney says, despite the fact that they all have, with the exception of Luca, fully developed frontal lobes. “Great work against Philadelphia last night.”

They all mumble a round of quiet, uncomfortable thanks. They all know they did well. They know why they did well. Ilya isn’t sure Rodney could explain it. He’s not sure Rodney watched. 

“I bet you’re all wondering why I’m here,” he continues.

“Yes,” Ilya confirms.

Troy nudges him. Rodney’s mouth twitches. No one else says anything.

“A national news network wants to do a segment on the team and your projected comeback,” Rodney says. “Tickets have started selling better. Fans are more engaged than any month since we signed Rozanov. The five of you are the players they want to talk to, as well as Coach Wiebe here.”

Coach Wiebe looks resigned. This is his job after all.

Troy looks at Ilya nervously. Ilya’s own feelings echo the sentiment.

“Ah, not me,” Ilya tries. 

“Not you?” Rodney raises an eyebrow, unimpressed.

“Yeah, not you?” Coach Wiebe asks.

How does he get himself out of this without lying? 

“It would be a huge personal disaster for me maybe,” Ilya says, without being able to stop himself. 

Shit.

Everyone stares at him blankly. 

“Are you trying to say you’re shy?” Bood laughs. “Because no one will believe that, Roz.”

Ilya winces a little. “Uh…”

“I think he’s being modest!” Troy interjects.

Poor guy, he’s trying to help, but he sounds stupid. No one would believe Ilya is modest when it comes to the press. Ilya has to bite his tongue to keep from pointing this out.

“Modest?” Rodney asks, skeptical.

“Wants to give the newer team members a moment in the spotlight,” Troy says. “Right, Luca? You always feel really supported and encouraged by our captain.”

Luca looks really confused, actually.

“Uh… Yes?” Luca says. “No, yes. Yes, I do!”

How touching.

“It would be good to give new players more time,” Ilya agrees. Because he actually does believe this. “Haas here is very interesting.”

Luca nods exaggeratedly. 

“See?” Troy says. “So modest!”

“Have aliens snatched your brains?” Wyatt asks Ilya and Troy.

“Sounds like it,’ Wiebe agrees.

“No,” Ilya replies.

“It doesn’t matter if they did,” Rodney replies. “You’re the captain, Rozanov. It doesn't really matter if you want to do this or not. You're going to do it.”

“Well, okay now,” Coach Wiebe says. “That's not really how I like to run my team. And I think Ilya does enough for the Centaurs that if he wants to sit one interview out it's not the end of the world.”

“Thank you, coach,”  Ilya says. 

He feels a weight lifted off his chest. Maybe he's going to pull off another narrow miss. The worst thing to do would be to come out on a talk show against his will. That's definitely worse than accidentally telling his friends before practice or something.

“Then he can sit out the next one,” Rodney says. “This one's important. Rozanov, the people who pay your salary expect you there.”

Anger flares in Ilya’s chest. Of course, he can see Rodney's perspective, as much as he doesn't want to be able to. He has a job to do and Ilya hasn't exactly given a convincing reason why he needs to be absent. Ilya would hope that if the guy knew what he was condemning him to he wouldn't condemn him to it. Unfortunately, that's not how today is going to go. So instead of being understanding and gracious, Ilya cops an attitude.

“Fine,"  he says. “But this is the wrong decision, Rod. When this goes very badly, remember that I told you it would.”

“Is that a threat, Rozanov?”  Rodney asks. He sounds more exasperated than scared. Certainly not like he is considering changing his mind.

“No," Ilya says. “Just a very educated guess.” 

✨

Ilya is smoking a cigarette outside the arena when Troy finds him.

He's fuming still. He feels out of control in every sense of the word. He doesn't even care that Shane would be mad about him smoking. It's one of the very few things he can choose for himself today.

“Are you okay?” Troy asks when he finds him. “Sorry, that's probably a stupid question.”

“Not really. It is a stupid question, but it's still kind of you to ask, Barrett.”

Troy's cheeks flush. “I was thinking… There's still a way we can get you out of this. You could fake an illness or an injury. No one's going to force you to talk if you're vomiting or something. Have you had your appendix removed? It can't be that hard to fake appendicitis.”

These are very well-intentioned thoughts.

“On a regular day I think I could fake any of those things,” Ilya says. “I have learned to lie. But I don't think I could do it in these conditions. That doesn't sound very honest.”

Troy sighs. “Of course, I'm stupid.”

Ilya shakes his head. “ No. You are a good friend.”

Troy's eyes widen. He looks completely thrown off by this. Ilya knows friendship is probably a bit complicated for him after everything that went on back in Toronto. He can't speak on that, beyond calling Dallas Kent a total prick. What he can say is that he appreciates all of Troy’s efforts to help him, even though they really don't know each other that well. He won't forget that. Even if his life blows up on national television tomorrow. 

Troy looks like he's about to respond when the door they’ve both been lingering around swings open. A confused, chilly-looking Harris steps out, clearly searching for them.

“There you guys are!” Harris exclaims brightly. “I've been looking all over for you. Apparently you have a big interview tomorrow, and there's some concern that you might try to mutiny? I've been not-so-politely asked to do a mock interview with you guys.”

Ilya and Troy exchange a glance. A mock interview could be just as disastrous as the real thing. However, it could also help them prepare. At the very, it could give Ilya a good idea of where his weak spots are.

“Okay,"  Ilya agrees. “Good plan, Harris."

“Well, it wasn't really my plan,” Harris shrugs. “But I'm happy to take credit if you like it.”

Troy looks sort of horrified. His cheeks have turned bright red. 

“There's something you need to know first,” Troy blurts.

It takes Ilya a second to clue into what the problem is. And then he remembers; Ilya is forced to tell the truth, and Troy has a specific truth that he does not want Harris to find out about. Even if Ilya hasn't heard that truth confirmed out of Troy's mouth. Yeah, okay, he can see why Troy's a little nervous.

“Okay?” Harris asks, frowning. “What do I need to know before giving you guys a mock interview that's completely unserious and just meant to help?”

“While we were in New York, Ilya took me to a bar and he got cursed by a drag queen to basically just blurt out the most ridiculous answers to questions possible, so if he says anything that sounds like a big secret or just totally crazy, it's because he's cursed. You can't listen to any of it.”

Wow. 

Ilya feels an irresistible need to correct that lie. He manages to say it in Russian. Troy is telling you the exact opposite of the truth because he's afraid I will reveal that he is very into you.

Harris looks dreadfully confused.

“Uh, are you guys okay? This kind of feels like a prank, but if it is, it's not very funny. And I think lots of things are funny.”

“It's not a prank,” Troy says. “Ilya literally can't control his mouth right now.”

“He is telling the truth,” Ilya says.

“That's why you gave my boss hell about doing the interview?” Harris asks.

“Yes,"  Ilya says. “I am worried about what I will say on live television.” 

“Okay,”  Harris says. He still sounds skeptical, but less suspicious. “Maybe we can make a list of questions and see how you answer them? And then we give that list of questions to the talk show as a suggested safe territory? If they want to ask other things, they can ask other members of the team.”

“That's really smart,” Troy tells him. “My bright idea was appendicitis.”

 Harris chuckles a little. “Well that can always be a Plan B. Why don't we start with this first?”

“Sounds like a good plan,” Ilya finds himself saying again. Because it truly is the best thing they've come up with so far. Hopefully it will actually work.

✨

“I'm just going to read off the list of suggested questions we got from  PR. You can take turns answering them, and then we'll look at which ones are better for Ilya and which ones are not.”

Harris has them sitting in his office, like children that have come in for after-school tutoring. 

“Can we make a list of ones I don't want to answer?” Troy asks. “Not because I'm cursed, but because I don't want to do this interview.”

Harris offers him a sympathetic smile. “Sure. We can try.”

The first ten minutes of the fake interview go pretty well. If they stick to hockey-related questions, Ilya does a pretty flawless job. He has enough years under his belt of answering these generic interview questions. If that's all this is going to be, then he'll be able to pull it off. Troy doesn't do as well, mostly because he seems stiff and uncomfortable, even with Harris being the one asking the questions.. Maybe the interviewers will notice that and cut Troy a break. 

It's only when Harris reaches the more personal questions that problems start to arise.

“Being an NHL star involves a lot of time in the public eye and a lot of scrutiny,” he reads off a note card. “How do you, as NHL All Stars, balance your personal and private lives?”

Even Harris blushes a little at this question, which is very interesting. 

“It is excruciatingly difficult task every single day and I often worry I am going to lose one or the other,” Ilya blurts.

Harris just stares at him.

“Uh… Okay, buddy,”  he says. “Maybe we exclude that?” 

“This is for the best,” Ilya says. 

“Are you sure that you're saying ridiculous things that aren't true?”  Harris asks. 

“No, I'm not,”  Ilya admits.

“Yes!"  Troy shouts awkwardly. “Yes, he is!”

 Harris narrows his eyes. “ Okay… Troy, what is your answer to that question?”

Troy looks very uncomfortable. “Hockey is my life?”

He phrases it more as a question than an answer. Harris doesn't look pleased with this.

“Yeah, we're taking that one off your list, too,” he says before moving on to another question. “What do you love about Ottawa?” 

“How close it is to Montreal,” Ilya answers automatically. Then he covers his mouth with his hand.

Troy winces. 

“Big Montreal fan?” Harris asks. His eyebrow is raised with suspicion. They both know exactly what’s in Montreal.

“No,” Ilya mumbles. 

“Okay, what is this?” Harris asks. “Like military super secret truth serum?”

“No,” Ilya says again.

“That would wear off,” Troy sulks.

“I cannot lie,” Ilya tells him. “It is massive problem. Maybe you can guess why.”

“Would you like me to avoid asking questions about it right now?” Harris inquires.

Such a kind offer. Harris could get the truth out of him with one easily worded question. Ilya is sure he's curious. He knows the whole team is curious about his personal life, because he never shares it. But Harris isn't touching it.

Ilya nods. “Yes, thank you. I wanted to tell people myself. Not because I'm forced to.”

Harris gives him a sympathetic smile. “Then no more questions out of me. Let's figure out which questions are bland and safe. Here's a good one! What's your favorite restaurant in Ottawa?"

✨

Obviously, Ilya has to tell Shane about the interview. Harris had sent the PR team the list of questions he thought Ilya and Troy would do best with, but there were no guarantees that their interviewers would actually stick to them. And given that that could lead to Ilya accidentally outing them on national television at 9:30 in the morning tomorrow, Shane deserves to know. 

“That's kind of terrible,”  Shane replies when Ilya explains the situation.

“Yes, I am aware.”

“I mean, not only is it exactly the scenario we wanted to avoid, but being a breakfast talk show, it's also just kind of an inappropriate time to make that kind of announcement.”

“Gay people are too scandalous for breakfast?” Ilya asks dryly. Truly, the hour of the day is the least of his concerns.

“That's not what I mean!”  Shane argues. “I mean those kinds of shows are for, like, weather updates and celebrity baby name debates, not announcing two NHL Rivals have been secretly  seeing each other for a decade.” 

“I'm sorry,” Ilya replies. “Next time I'll have them book me for doing something humiliating on Jimmy Kimmel. Is that better?”

He's being snippy and he knows it. Shane isn't blaming him for any of this. But he feels short-tempered right now. The constant and growing problem of his lack of agency is really weighing on him.

“Hey," Shane says softly. “It's not your fault. I'm not mad at you. The whole situation just sucks. Mostly for you, and I'm really sorry about that.”

Ilya  feels like a dick. 

“I'm going to try my best not to say anything,” he promises Shane. “Harris gave them a list of questions.”

“Even if you do, it's okay. We'll get through it.”

“It's not how I wanted this to go,” Ilya says.

“Me neither,”  Shane agrees. “But we're prepared. We've got this.”

Ilya is not sure if preparation makes him feel better or not, but he knows it's important for Shane.

“Yes," he says, with that in mind. “We are prepared.”

Somehow, though, he just feels horrible about the whole thing anyway.

✨

Ilya approaches the morning of the interview like a man walking to the gallows. He doesn't check his phone. He doesn't do anything. 

His stomach is too nervous to put breakfast into it, which is probably not a good call. He washes his anxiety down with coffee, also a disastrous choice, and then drives to the studio where he's been told to meet the rest of the team.

He wonders what people will think of him after today. Not about him being bisexual or being with Shane. He doesn't care about bigots, and he doesn't care about anyone who thinks they have a right to speak about his love life. His sexuality and his love for Shane aren't things he's at all ashamed of. Even if the whole world was telling him he was wrong for that, he wouldn't hear it. The thing he is worried about is how people will interpret the way he comes out today, if it does end up happening. Will they think that it's cruel that he dropped Shane's business out into the open on a talkshow? Will they think that he's flippant? Will they think he doesn't care as much as he should? He doesn't want people to think he hasn't been trying to protect Shane. He knows that other people's opinions don't matter, but that one sort of does. Especially from the people in their lives. What will Shane's parents think when they see it? Will they think less of him?

By the time Ilya gets to the studio, it's almost time to go on. He's the last of his team members to arrive. No doubt Troy was the earliest, as he almost always is for everything.

“You are late,” CMO Rodney says the moment he spots Ilya.

“No, I am right on time. You do not need to do much hair and makeup with me, I already look good.”

“We tried to call you,” Rodney says. 

“My phone is off,” Ilya explains. “I was trying to avoid receiving calls.” 

Rodney looks at Ilya like he's the worst behaved child in the entire world. Luckily for Ilya, he is very familiar with this look, and practically desensitized to it. Especially coming from men whose opinions he does not value. 

“Go get ready. This isn't funny.”

“You're right,” Ilya grumbles. “Nothing about today is fucking funny.”

 He storms off away from Rodney, and is met by a frantic looking Troy.

“I wasn't late,” Ilya says. Force of habit. Shane would be lambasting him for being late too.

“That's not it,”  Troy says. “Have you been on Instagram today?” 

“No, my phone is turned off,” Ilya says. “I still can't lie. I meant that.”

“Okay, so…” Troy's face pales a little. “Something happened like thirty seconds ago and probably before too long everyone's going to realize it and it's definitely going to come out in the interview.”

“What do you mean?” Ilya asks. “What happened?”

Troy genuinely looks like he's going to throw up. “Check your phone.”

Ilya turns on his phone. His notifications come in in a flurry. There are three missed calls from Shane and several missed text messages. He also gets a series of Instagram notifications.  What the hell happened here?

Ilya can't read all the messages quickly enough so he just focuses on the last message from Shane.

Shane:  I can't reach you so I'm just going to have to do what I think is best. I love you. I'm sorry if this isn't any better than doing it on the talk show.

Panic coils tightly in Ilya’s chest.

“What did he do?” Ilya asks.

“He told the truth,” Troy says. “Before you had to.”

Ilya opens Instagram. He opens Shane's page, which is hardly ever used to begin with. The latest post seems to be a slide of images of Shane and Ilya. Secret photos taken and sent to secure cloud storage, deleted from phones, where people could find them. Photos of them at the cottage, at Shane's parents house, in their hockey camp polos. Even if there was no caption, anybody looking at these photos would absolutely be able to tell, without a doubt, how much Ilya and Shane love each other. There's no mistaking the way they're looking at each other in some of these pictures. Ilya's breath catches just looking at them.

But there is a caption. There is an explanation. There is no room for misinterpretation.

For many years, we have had to sacrifice parts of our personal lives for our careers. And while we are so lucky to play the game that we play, we feel that it is time to stop hiding those parts of us. It's time to share this on our terms. Ilya, I have loved being your rival on the ice. I have loved being your teammate at All Star Games. I have loved being your partner  at The Irina Foundation. I love building a life with you. I'm glad I get to share that out loud now.❤️

Tears are stinging in Ilya's eyes by the time he's done reading. Shane really did that for him. He pulled the trigger on the thing that he's been afraid of for years, so that Ilya wouldn't be forced to accidentally reveal it. By the time he's being interviewed, everyone will already know.

“You okay?”  Troy asks. “ I take it you had no idea he was going to do that.”

Ilya shakes his head, then nods, then shakes his head again. “No, I did not know. But I am more than okay.”

There's such an incredible amount of relief coursing through him. He knows what Shane told him; that he gave him permission, that he forgave him in advance for anything he might have said. But it still didn't stop all the guilt Ilya was feeling about being forced to do that to both of them. 

And, sure, this was still kind of forced out of them. They wouldn't have done it this quickly, if Ilya had not been cursed. But that was still one of the versions of the statements they agreed upon. That was still something Shane chose to press post on. That's still the truth about how they feel about each other. Not just a sound bite from an interview that Ilya  couldn't help but deliver.

“Are you going to be okay to do this interview?” Troy asks. “They're going to ask you about him.”

Ilya grins. “Let them. I'm happy to be honest now.”

“ROZANOV!”

Ilya  and Troy both turn at the sound of Rodney shouting angrily. He's standing a few feet behind them, holding his phone in the air, face red.

“Did you do this?” He demands. 

“No, read the post again, it was clearly Shane,” Ilya replies.

“Not funny,” Rodney says. “I know you didn't want to do this today, but this was a big opportunity to bring some more attention to the team. sell more tickets, bring in more money. You know, the money that pays your fucking salary. Did you really manufacture a reason for us to pull you from the interview?”

“Absolutely not,” Ilya replies. “I don't control what my boyfriend posts.”

It feels so good to say out loud.

“You're going to pull him from the interview for having a boyfriend?” Troy asks. “That's a pretty bad look.”

“Well, we don't have a lot of options,”  Rodney grimaces. “They're going to ask you about it. They're not going to ask you about the team or the city or anything but the fucking captain of our rival team.”

“Hmm,” Ilya considers this. “That is very good point, Rod. You may want to pull me from the interview.”

 Rodney groans. “How the hell do you get away with this shit?”

“This is very poor method of congratulating me on my very hot boyfriend,” Ilya says. 

Rodney's cheeks turn pink. “I'm going to go see if I can get them to guarantee they'll only ask you about hockey. Not a question about Hollander.”

So exactly what Ilya would prefer, then.

“Sounds good to me,” he says.

 Rodney walks away without another word. 

 Troy lets out a breath of laughter. “How did that work out for you?”

“Shane is like a very neurotic, occasionally boring angel,” Ilya says. “This is why.” 

It’s why everything has worked out for him.

✨

In the end, Ilya does end up doing the interview. There's a fight between Rodney and production beforehand over whether or not the topic of Shane Hollander is fair game. The show eventually agrees to keep it about Ottawa spirit and the rise of a historically pretty bad team, finally doing well for once. They don't ask him anything about his personal life. Ilya grins through the interview like a prince. He has everything he wants now.

The hosts of the show get their moment in, though. They ask him a question many interviewers have asked before, and which Ilya has never given a specific answer to. He always comes up with something generic and flippant.

“Many sports fans, especially Boston fans, were surprised when you made the move to Ottawa,” the host starts. “People were saying you could have signed anywhere, why here? It's been a few years, do you finally have an answer for us?”

Ilya can see the glint of anticipation in the host's eyes. She has a guess that probably is closer to the truth than anything Ilya has ever said in an interview about this exact topic. 

Ilya answers with the truth this time.

“Originally, I wanted a team close to Montreal,” he says. “For convenience. But now, I have grown to love Ottawa very much. The best guys in the world are on this team.”

“Montreal?” The host asks. “Do you want to elaborate on that?”

He is sure that this loophole is going to piss Rodney off. But for the first time since that night at the Kingfisher, Ilya does not feel the need to blurt out the entire truth.

“No,” he answers simply. 

And he leaves it at that. 

✨

Of course, it's an absolute shit show. They always knew it would be. There's no way for them to have come out without creating a massive uproar, unless they waited until they faded into obscurity. And that waiting had been killing Ilya. So the shit show is kind of worth it. 

The amount of calls and messages and comments and notifications generally on Ilya’s phone is completely overwhelming. He ignores anything that isn't Shane. He calls Shane as quickly as he can after the interview, rushing back to his vehicle to get the hell out of here. 

“I'm sorry,” Shane answers the phone before Ilya can even get a word in. “I'm sorry I did that without talking to you first. I just couldn't-”

“No, it was perfect,” Ilya interrupts him. “I love you so much. Thank you.”

He hears Shane's relieved exhale through the speaker. 

“I'm really glad,”  Shane says. “I watched your interview. You were perfect. I couldn't even tell anything was going on, other than that one sneaky comment.”

Ilya smiles. “I wanted to say that. I get to say that now.”

“Yeah," Shane agrees. “It's going to be absolutely insane, and we may get in some trouble, but you can say what you want now.”

“This is true,” Ilya agrees. “ I think the curse is gone.  I think I can lie. Hayden Pike is a very interesting hockey player. See!”

“Wait, seriously?” Shane asks. “It's gone?”

“I don't know what exact moment did it, but I think we broke it.”

Shane takes a moment before responding again.

“I think if we can handle a curse, we can probably handle anything together.”

Ilya wipes his eyes. “Yes. I think we can.”