Chapter Text
When one thing went wrong in Ilya's life, it always seemed to turn into a domino effect. Until the entire line was collapsing, and he was left to pick up the pieces.
Messing around with Shane had been a bad idea. A terrible idea. Sure, he was the one who kissed Ilya first, but Ilya should have left it at that.
He had just been so… upset. Jealous. Angry.
And for no good reason, really.
Shane was allowed to have other friends. Svetlana had told Ilya that over and over and over again.
But that didn't stop the jealousy from bubbling up inside of him. Bubbling and spilling over, making everything sour and wrong.
Ilya had never felt that way before. He didn't care when Sasha had other friends, he didn't care that Svetlana had other friends.
He didn't understand why Shane was different.
Hayden Pike.
Ilya hated the guy the first time Shane mentioned his name.
Was Ilya not good enough? Did Shane need a new friend to fill the void?
Ilya knew that wasn't fair. He had other friends. He got out, he got around. Why didn't he hold himself to the same standards that he did Shane?
It didn't matter now. Because Ilya had fucked up. And now Shane wasn't talking to him.
Ilya was at Svetlana’s apartment. He was lying with his head in her lap, sulking. It had only been twenty-four hours since Shane texted him last.
They were watching his Toronto game.
“I still can't believe you told him we were dating,” Svetlana said without looking up from her phone.
Ilya groaned. “I was upset. I wanted…”
“You wanted to make him jealous. Which is stupid. Because it's not like he's dating his friend. What's his name? Pick?”
“Pike.”
“Pike. It's not like he's dating Pike. They are friends, and they've been friends for. What? Three months? And how long have you been friends with Shane?”
“Eight years..”
“Yeah. You need to calm down.”
Ilya just groaned, pushing himself to sit up. He dug the heels of his palms into his eyes, taking a deep breath. “I didn't like the way he looked at him.”
“How Pike looked at Shane?”
“No. Other way around.”
Svetlana rolled her eyes. “How did he look at him?”
“Like he looks at me!” Ilya threw his arms up in the air.
“I doubt that. I have seen him look at you. He looks at you like you hung the moon.”
Ilya flopped back against the couch, arms over his chest. Pouting, he knew, but he didn't care. This was so stupid.
His head was swimming and his chest was hurting. It was all just too much. Too many complicated feelings that he didn't understand.
Growing up, after his mama died, Ilya had sort of shut down. His house was one without any laughter. Thinking about it now made him feel cold and dark. Like an old, leaking basement.
He wondered how different things would be if his mama was still around. If she had stayed with him, would he still be this confused?
No. He didn't think so. She would have helped him. She would have taught him how to love more gently, how to handle the crushing feeling of it all. And she would have loved Shane, so much. She wouldn't have let Ilya push him away.
Ilya looked up at the screen. Shane had just scored the winning goal. He looked so good out on the ice. He looked so happy.
March 10th 2011
good game
Ilya's phone rang. He stared at the caller id on the screen. The dominoes were falling over.
-
Catching a flight to Russia was the last thing he wanted to do. At the very, very bottom of his list.
But his father had a health scare. Alexei wasn't doing shit. And Ilya had a few days off. So, really, it was the only time he could go.
On his way to the airport he typed to Shane. Then deleted it. Then typed something else. Deleted again.
Shane didn't even know that Ilya's father was sick. Would he be upset at Ilya for not telling him? Even if he wouldn't be, Ilya didn't need to give Shane another thing to worry about.
It wouldn't take too long. Ilya would only be gone for two days. And clearly Shane wasn't talking to him anyway, so would he even notice?
Still, Ilya needed to say something. Shane said that they would talk later, but he still hadn't reached out.
March 11th 2011
im sorry
are we ok?
Ilya doubted that he was going to get a response. At least not right away. It was one in the morning. He hadn't gotten any sleep.
He sighed and put his phone into the bin to get scanned by security. Then he dug out his passport, having to show that and his work visa in order to get through. It was a headache. At least they didn't pat him down this time.
The flight was long and terribly boring. Ilya couldn't sleep the whole time. He was worried about a million things. And somehow his father was still at the bottom of his priorities.
Ilya wasn't exactly sure what had happened. Alexei had never been the best at— well, anything. But especially explaining things.
“Dad fell.”
Ilya had stood up from the couch abruptly, scaring Svetlana in the process. “What do you mean dad fell?”
“He fell. His nurse had the day off. I was on my way over there. He was only alone for an hour.”
Ilya rubbed his hand over his face. “You left dad alone like this?”
“I didn't think he would fall!”
Ilya had cursed under his breath. “Okay. Are you bringing him to the hospital?”
“Yes. But I can't stay with him there.”
“What the fuck? Why not?”
“I have more important things to do, Ilya!”
“You're-” Ilya caught Svetlana's eye. She was telling him to calm down. He took a deep breath. “Is he allowed to stay there alone?”
“In this state? Probably not.”
So now Ilya had to deal with it. Honestly, a part of him wanted to just let it be. To let the bastard die in that hospital.
He was terrible. He was cruel. He was the reason that mama had to go so soon.
But he was still family. So, for some reason, Ilya felt a heavy guilt pressing down on his chest whenever he thought about letting him go.
Ilya got off the plane with Svetlana. He had insisted that she didn't need to come with, but of course she pressed for the opposite.
Maybe it was for the best. Ilya wasn't sure if he could realistically do this alone. Not when everything was coming down around him all at the same fucking time.
They walked through the airport, then stepped out into the chilled air.
“Who is picking us up?” Ilya sighed, setting down his suitcase. He adjusted his coat then. It was fucking freezing for March.
“Sasha,” Svetlana looked down at her phone, then looked up with squinted eyes.
Ilya froze. “What? I thought he was in France?”
“He is back for a few weeks. And, he has a car. Relax, Ilya.”
Ilya did the exact opposite of relaxing. He grabbed his phone out of his pocket and unlocked it.
0510
It was almost eleven pm now. Two pm for Shane. Maybe he would get an answer now?
March 11th 2011
miss you
Ilya stared at his phone for the next three minutes. No response came. He shoved it into his pocket.
A car pulled up not long after, and Ilya felt his fight or flight kick in. You'd think he was getting chased by a bear the way his heart started to race and his blood rushed and roared in his ears.
Svetlana opened the passenger door and climbed in. She leaned over and kissed Sasha on the cheek, he kissed back.
Ilya put both of their suitcases in the back before he slid into the back seat. He stayed sort of curled in on himself. Arms over his chest tightly, blocking himself off.
“Ilyusha. It's nice to see you,” Sasha said.
Ilya just stared at him.
Luckily, Svetlana was happy to break the silence. And continued to carry the conversation as they drove to the hospital.
Ilya was dropped off at the hospital while Sasha came Svetlana went to drop their things at the hotel. Visiting hours were over, anyway, so only Ilya was going to be allowed inside.
He checked his phone before he went in. Still nothing from Shane.
So he went in, mood a tad more sour. He talked to the woman at the front desk. And after filling out an obscene amount of paperwork, he was let up.
His father was asleep when he walked in. Ilya was grateful for that. He was too tired to have a conversation. He was too tired to be yelled at.
But he did sit there for a while. A nurse came in and gave him another clipboard of things to fill out. Annoying, but it gave him something to do. Recalling the family medical history distracted him from everything else terrible in his life.
Even after the paperwork was finished, Ilya sat there. He didn't know why. But he felt rooted to that uncomfortable plastic chair.
The air in the room was stale. It was cold. Everything was white and bright and sterile. It was eerie and uncomfortable, yet Ilya felt like he could fall asleep. He was so beyond exhausted. The turnaround with the jetlag was going to be his personal fucking hell.
Only when his phone buzzed did Ilya snap himself out of his daze. He pulled his eyes away from his father and looked down to the screen.
Svetlana.
March 12th 2011
are you coming
yes
we are outside
We. Great. Sasha was still around.
Ilya didn't have a real reason to hate Sasha. He didn't do anything specifically.
Ilya had just grown up. And Sasha hadn't.
The last Ilya heard, Sasha still did… whatever he wanted. He went to parties, he drank a concerning amount, snorted coke until his nose bled.
And, sure, back then it was fun. But they were adults now. Sasha couldn't live off of his father's money forever.
They also had a history together. More sexual than romantic. Actually, only sexual. So Ilya wasn't sure why he felt so.. off. Maybe it was just everything else pressing on his shoulders.
With a soft sigh, Ilya stood. He would be back in the morning to deal with this. To talk to his father's doctor, to get some answers.
He stared at his fathers body for another moment before he left.
Ilya made his way down the stairs and through the hospital until he got to the front door. He got in the back of Sasha’s car without a word.
“Is he okay?” Svetlana asked.
“Fine,” Ilya nodded once. “Stable, anyway. I will go back in the morning.”
“Okay,” she said. “We are all sharing one room. It was the cheapest. Two beds, one couch. I am not taking the couch, so you boys can figure it out,” she said, waving her hand dismissively.
Sasha opened his mouth.
Ilya cut him off. “I will take the couch.”
Then he took out his phone again. Still nothing from Shane. Ilya's chest ached.
March 12th 2011
how are you?
call me later?
Ilya didn't care if the phone call would cost him a hundred dollars. He needed to hear Shane's voice right now.
Ilya needed to be held by him.
The sound of Shane's breathing and his heartbeat were Ilya's favorite sounds. For months he had fallen asleep to them, and for a few months after he had trouble sleeping without them.
He kept his phone open until they got to the hotel. Then he shoved it into his pocket.
The room was… fine. It was the closest hotel to the hospital, and their cheapest room was still pricey. Yet somehow, mediocre in every single way.
The two beds didn't look any more comfortable than the couch. So Ilya couldn't complain too much. He sighed and took his phone out of his pocket, setting it on the table next to the couch.
“I'm taking a shower,” he said. Ilya grabbed clothes from his suitcase before locking himself in the bathroom.
He showered off the smell of airport and hospital. He scrubbed himself down until the hot water turned cold, then got out and dried off with the shitty hotel towel. Ilya pulled on a pair of sweatpants and his Montreal sweater. Something he wouldn't wear outside of the hotel room, but it brought him comfort.
Ilya grabbed his phone from the couch cushion when he came back out. He didn't bother to look at his texts. He was tired, and he knew there was nothing there. He plugged in his phone and laid down, and was out the second his head hit the flimsy pillow.
The day was busy. Ilya was woken up early to a phone call from Alexei.
“Why aren't you at the hospital?”
Ilya sat up, rubbing his face. “I landed not even nine hours ago. I needed to-”
“You need to go back. I am not going.”
Ilya groaned. He hung up without a word.
It was non-stop after that. Ilya went to the hospital. Svetlana came up with him this time, and thank god for that. Because his father was awake. And not in a good mood.
Ilya spent most of the day in silence while his father scolded him. Insulted him.
Why did you come here? You should be practicing.
Where is your mother? She can't even visit me in the hospital?
Why aren't you in school?
Am I going to be late for work?
Ilya only answered some of his questions. Other ones he ignored.
His fathers condition was worsening. The fall didn't help, and he would probably need a walker now. And still a full time caretaker.
Ilya couldn't afford a real nurse anymore. Not this year. Not until he got his next check, anyway. So he was going to have to persuade and bribe his idiot brother to do it. Just for a few months.
There were a lot of forms handed to him. Ilya was running on four hours of sleep and far too much coffee, and the words were swimming off of the pages. Svetlana helped where she could.
By the time visiting hours were over Ilya was too tired to do anything. Sasha picked up him and Svetlana. They dropped Ilya off at the hotel, deciding that they were going out for dinner.
Ilya passed out on the creaking couch.
The next day Ilya visited the hospital for a final time. He needed to get back to Boston. It would give him an extra day to fix his sleep schedule before his next game, and he needed that desperately.
Ilya managed to convince Alexei to take care of his father, paying him half of what he was paying the actual nurse. It wasn't a perfect solution, but it was temporary.
And once everything was figured out, and Ilya was leaving the hospital, he was finally given a few free seconds to breathe. To think.
And he thought about Shane again.
Ilya took out his phone to check his texts. Nothing. He frowned. It had been, what, three days?
March 13th 2011
shanya please call me
*MESSAGE ERROR*
Ilya's brows furrowed.
Shane?
*MESSAGE ERROR*
“Sveta,” Ilya grabbed her arm and tugged her over. He shoved his phone at her. “My texts to Shane will not send.”
She raised an eyebrow. She grabbed his phone. “Uh, yes, Ilya. You have him blocked?” She showed him the screen.
Blocked? Why the hell would Shane be blocked?
“I did not block him,” Ilya grabbed his phone. He unblocked Shane immediately.
Svetlana was silent for a moment, then her eyes widened ever so slightly.
Ilya stared at her. “Svetlana.”
She put her hands up in defense. “Hey. When he grabbed your phone I didn't think-”
“Sasha? Sasha did this?”
She was silent.
Ilya was pissed off.
When the car pulled up, Ilya got into the front passenger seat. “What the fuck, Sasha?!”
Sasha leaned back slightly. “Woah. What's your problem?”
“You went on my phone?”
“I was adding my new contact!”
“How did you even-”
“I saw your password.”
Ilya had to take a deep breath. He needed to calm down before he knocked Sasha's teeth out. “And you blocked my friend?”
That made Sasha laugh. Laugh. “Friend? When I opened your phone and saw the texts, I figured he was your ex. You were texting him so desperately. It was a little embarrassing, Ilya. I was trying to help you.”
“Help me?”
“Clearly he doesn't want anything to do with you. I am saving you the trouble, Ilya.”
“You don't know anything, Sasha. He is my best friend he-”
“Best friend? Is this your fake email friend? Still?”
“He is not-”
“Clearly he is. If he's not answering you.”
Ilya got out of the car. If he didn't, he would have given Sasha a black eye and a bloody nose. “Fuck!” He shouted, in English this time. He paced back and forth on the hospitals sidewalk.
Svetlana rolled the window down. “Ilya. Get back in the car.”
“No.”
“Ilya.”
Ilya didn't really have another choice. They had a flight to catch. He took a few more deep breaths. And after making Svetlana get into the front, Ilya silently got into the back.
He was silent for the rest of the drive. Thinking. Worrying. Wanting to die.
Ilya didn't say a word to Sasha as he got out. He didn't even say anything to Svetlana. He grabbed his bag and went right to the ticket counter.
“I need to change my flight.”
Ilya sat in the airport terminal for a flight to Montreal. He was staring at his texts with Yuna. Reading them over and over again.
March 13th 2011
mama
is shane ok?
Sweetheart are you okay?
Shane said you didn't answer his calls?
he called me?
i have been in russia
Is everything alright?
yes fine
where is shane?
Still in Montreal
ok. tell him to stay
Alright
Should I tell him you're coming?
no. i do not want him to run
Have a safe flight, sweetheart
The plane ride, though about the same amount of air time, felt longer than when Ilya was going to Russia.
Luckily he managed to sleep this time around. But that was only because his body was too exhausted to fight it any longer. And when he woke up he didn't feel very rested.
They landed and it was around seven pm in Montreal. Ilya had a car waiting for him to take him to Shane's place.
When he got there, Ilya didn't bother knocking or ringing the bell. He just simply walked up to the door and punched in the code.
2002
Error.
Did he change it?
0615
Click.
Ilya had to take a breath. He pushed the door open.
The lights were on and there were… there were people in Shane's living room.
Ilya recognized Hayden Pike right away. And he wanted to throw his suitcase across the room to hit him in the head with it. The other guys, Ilya assumed, were others on the team. He recognized J.J. But that was it.
Shane looked up, like a deer in headlights. He stood up.
Ilya could tell that he wanted to rush over. He could see the way Shane’s feet shuffled forward before he held himself back, clenching his fists.
“Why the hell is Rozanov here?” J.J. said. He, along with everyone else, looked taken back. Understandably.
“How did you even get in?” Hayden added.
Ilya wanted to punch him. He opened his mouth, but closed it when he saw Shane finally coming forward.
Shane placed both hands on Ilya's chest and pushed him back. “Stay here,” he said over his shoulder to his teammates.
Then Ilya was being pushed. Back into the hall and around the corner, away from everyone's eyes.
“Sh-” Ilya started. The words were stolen from him. Literally.
Because Shane was kissing him. Shane's hands were on his face, holding him firm and still as he kissed him.
Ilya kissed back. Of course he did. His own hands came up to wrap around Shane's wrists. His eyes felt hot and they burned with tears.
Shane pulled away first. “What the fuck?” He said.
“Shane-”
“You fucking blocked me?” He wasn't yelling. He couldn't. But he was whispering very angrily. Ilya hated it.
“No. Sasha blocked you. He took my phone and-”
“Sasha? Why was Sasha in Boston?”
Ilya paused. Fuck. “No. I went to Russia?”
“What?!” Shane yelled now. Definitely alerting his teammates in the other room. “Why the fuck were you in Russia? Why didn't you tell me?”
“You were not answering me anyway!”
“I was-” Shane stopped. He didn't have an argument, Ilya knew. “Why were you in Russia?” He said instead.
Ilya sighed. He let go of Shane's arms. “Can we not talk about this right now? Your teammates are definitely listening,” Ilya muttered.
Shane paused. “Oh. Yeah. I can- let me get rid of them,” he said.
“And what is your excuse for me being here?” Ilya raised an eyebrow.
“We’re friends. We wanted people to know anyways, right?”
Ilya's heart shuddered in his chest. “Right.”
“Stay here.”
Shane rounded the corner again to talk to his teammates. Ilya wasn't really listening. His mind was buzzing and he was so tired.
After a few minutes everyone was passing Ilya in the front hall as they left. They all gave him weird looks, but he didn't really care.
The door clicked shut, and Ilya felt a tugging on his arm. He went willingly, allowing Shane to drag him into the living room.
He was pushed down onto the couch. Shane sat next to him.
“Why were you in Russia?” Shane asked again.
Ilya sighed. “My father. He is sick. I needed to go and take care of it.”
Shane frowned. “Sick?”
“Yes. Dementia.”
“Oh. Ilya, I'm so sorry.”
“Do not be. He is a piece of shit.”
“He's still family. And, you went all that way. So you must care a little bit.”
Ilya was silent. He looked down at his lap. “I guess.”
Shane slid closer. He wrapped an arm around Ilya's shoulders, and Ilya leaned into him.
“Why did Sasha block me?” Shane asked after a moment.
Ilya groaned. “I do not even know! He is just a fucking asshole. Only thinks about himself.”
Shane squeezed him. “Am I unblocked now?”
“Oh my god, Shane. Yes. Of course. I am so s-”
“Don't,” Shane shook his head. “I'm… I'm sorry. I'm sorry for not answering your texts. I was.. freaked out?”
Ilya sat up a bit. He turned so he was facing Shane. “I said we can forget about it.”
Shane stared at him. “No.”
“No?”
“I was…” he sighed. Shane turned so he was facing Ilya, too. “I was worried that this was… that this was nothing to you. You just broke up with Svetlana and I thought maybe I was just some sort of… rebound?
“I was scared. Because I don't want to lose you. I can't lose you, Ilya. You're- fuck. You're my best friend. You're everything to me. So I thought if I could just ignore my feelings they would go away and-”
“Shane. Breathe.”
Shane took a deep breath. He wasn't looking at Ilya now. He was staring down at the small space between them. “I found your letter.”
Ilya tilted his head. “My letter?”
“The one you gave me for … Christmas? The one I lost?”
“Oh.” Right. Ilya had forgotten about that. Fuck.
“I love you,” Shane said.
Ilya sort of flinched at the words. “Oh.”
“And I'm not just- I don't want you to think how I would think. I don't want you to think that I'm only saying that because I read the letter. I've loved you for years now.”
Ilya nodded. “Okay.”
“Stay here.” Shane was getting off of the couch and leaving the room. Ilya didn't move.
Shane loved him. Shane loved him.
Oh god. Did he forget to say it back?
When Shane came back, he had a small stack of papers in his hand. He passed them to Ilya. Ilya raised his eyebrow.
“What is this?”
“Those are the emails I sent to you. When you were gone.”
Ilya looked down.
One by one he read the emails. One by one they got harder to read due to the tears flooding his eyes.
“You guessed my favorite color,” Ilya murmured.
“That's your takeaway?” Shane said, sounding a little exasperated.
Ilya looked up. Shane was crying too.
Ilya set the papers off to the side, careful not to crumple them. He was going to keep them forever. He leaned forward, then, reaching up to cup Shane's face.
“I love you,” he finally said.
Shane broke, the tears finally falling. Ilya's fell, too.
When they kissed this time it was softer. It was sweeter. It had the tinge of innocent youth that they never got to truly experience together.
It was loving. Nothing but loving as they both tried to pour their emotions into it. The emotions that could never be put into words.
-
The NHL awards in June were a mess.
It was the first public appearance Ilya and Shane made together after the world found out that they were friends.
Best friends.
That they had been for a long time.
An interviewer had asked Ilya about his rivalry with Shane, and he had broke. Told her that Shane was the furthest thing from his rival. That they had been best friends since they were children.
Of course she laughed. No one believed Ilya until Shane confirmed it in an interview a week later.
And then the playoffs started. And they weren't together since. Not for hockey, anyway. But Ilya had been hiding out in Montreal ever since Boston was out of the playoffs.
They were both up for Rookie of the Year. But Ilya knew Shane was going to get it. Because, he wouldn't admit it out loud, but Shane was the better player. Of course he was.
Their stats were always close, always chasing after each other, but Shane had the passion.
They arrived together at the awards, Yuna and David in tow. After this, he and Shane were going to spend a couple of days in Ottawa. Yuna missed having them both around.
After that, Ilya wasn't sure. They only had about two weeks of true free time before they were needed back at work. Maybe they would stay in Montreal. Maybe he would drag Shane to Boston. Maybe they'd take a trip somewhere.
Shane won the award. And Ilya cheered for him the loudest. That still surprised some people, those who thought that their whole friendship was some sort of PR stunt.
They did shots with some of the older players after. And it was fun.
Ilya ignored the phone calls from his father and brother.
At some point he and Shane were shoved together for an interview.
“Shane Hollander and Ilya Rozanov. It's so good to see the two of you together! Have you missed your time on the ice?”
“Yes,” Ilya answered.
“We've seen each other since,” Shane added.
Ilya hadn't expected that.
“So, are the rumors true? You're good friends?”
“How are they rumors if we both confirmed it?” Shane asked. Ilya had to hold back his laughter.
“I just mean, it's not all a joke?”
“No,” they said at the same time.
“And how long have the two of you been friends?”
“Eleven,” Ilya said.
The reporter was silent for a moment. “But you were in Russia?”
“Yes.”
“Then…”
“Email,” Shane said. “We were friends over email, until… two thousand and nine. We met in person.”
Silence again.
Ilya took that as an opportunity to grab Shane's elbow and drag him away. “We will go enjoy the party now. Thank you!”
-
They spent their few days in Ottawa, and the rest of their summer break in Boston. Shane finally got to meet Svetlana, and they hit it off surprisingly well.
They said goodbye at the airport, and Ilya had to try his best not to kiss Shane there.
He still wasn't sure what they were. They never specified.
They were just… Shane and Ilya. Ilya and Shane.
They were best friends. And they were in love. And they kissed and they fucked around.
Ilya hadn't been with anyone since getting home from Russia. He was just Shane's, now. And Shane was his.
Russia. Ilya had to go back there for a week before preseason shit started. And it sucked the whole time. He texted Shane whenever he wasn't busy, called him whenever their schedules lined up.
Ilya's father wasn't getting any better. They guessed he had five years, as most.
But Ilya had gotten his check. And told Alexei to fuck off, because clearly he was useless.
He made sure his father had a new nurse before flying home to Boston.
October 6th 2011
Goodluck tonight!
you too
I love you
i love you more
No
October 7th 2011
call?
Call 03:45:16
October 8th 2011
Goodluck I love you
if i score a hat trick..
will you call me
I'll call you anyway?
can we have phone sex
Oh my god
Go play your game.
Call 01:33:27
October 15th 2011
Holy fuck
Are you okay?
That looked bad
Ilya
yes shanya
just concussion
Stop getting into fights!
your mama said the same..
October 27th 2011
can't wait to see you tonight
After I beat your ass
fuck you
Hope so
November 1st 2011
come back
miss you
I miss you too
November 9th 2011
Call?
Call 04:17:13
November 19th 2011
call?
It's late
sleep on the phone?
Call 10:23:59
November 21st 2011
See you tonight :)
i love you most
I didn't even say it!
yes but i am telling you
I love you mostest
fake word
For New Years Eve, Ilya was in Montreal.
At Hayden Fucking Pikes party.
This was probably the last place on Earth he wanted to be. But, Shane was there. So he would stay.
His sweet, sweet Shane. Who was currently talking to Hayden's wife, Jackie, and holding a baby. Ilya couldn't help but note how good he looked like that.
Ilya liked Jackie. They had done dinner, the four of them, the last time Boston played in Montreal.
It went… fine.
Ilya hated Hayden a little less. But he was pretty sure Hayden hated him a little more now.
As it got closer to midnight, everyone started to get in pairs. Shane attached himself to Ilya's side.
This was the year. Ilya was going to do it this year. He was going to kiss Shane at midnight even if the world was about to explode.
“Ilya, can we go outside?” Shane asked.
Ilya looked at him. They had about two minutes to midnight. “Outside?”
“Yeah. I left something in the car. I need it.”
“Right now?”
“Ilya.” Shane gave him a look.
Who was Ilya to refuse those eyes?
Shane dragged Ilya outside into the winter air. No one really noticed as they left. Or, if they did, no one said anything about it.
“Shane, it is cold. Can we-”
“We have jackets on,” Shane cut him off.
Ilya rolled his eyes. “You are so stubborn.”
“You love me.”
“Yes.”
Shane spun to face him. He took both of Ilya's hands. Ilya held them, lacing their fingers together.
Shane smiled at him. “And I love you.”
“I know,” Ilya said softly.
Everyone in the house was counting down. Loud enough that Ilya could hear them from out in the driveway.
Five.
“I've been wanting to do this for the past two years,” Shane said.
“Do w-”
One.
Shane grabbed Ilya's face and kissed him.
They kissed until they were breathless, until the cold winter air around them was heated.
“I love you,” Shane murmured against Ilya's lips.
Ilya was smiling so hard it hurt. The cold but at his rosy cheeks and made his eyes burn. “I love you mostest.”
Shane laughed. “I thought that was a fake word?”
“Only when Canadians use it.”
“Fuck off.”