Reheated Rivalry

He’s so happy and proud and warm. He feels safe in a way he never knew was possible in this lifetime. The knot slowly uncurling in his stomach is from a fear that was unrealized.

Ilya presses his lips to Shane’s damp hair and strokes his fingers across the freckles on Shane’s shoulder. Each one is his favorite, he thinks. Except for the ones that adorn Shane’s nose. Those are his real favorite. 

The feeling of tears rises up in Ilya’s throat and he physically shakes his head like that will knock the sensation away. He should be happy. This is silly. But-

“This is my actual fucking nightmare,” he recalls Shane saying earlier. 

Ilya’s stomach had dropped at those words. He had moved past it because Shane needed him in the moment. His sweet, brave boyfriend being forcibly and suddenly made to tell multiple secrets to his parents. But now, in the dark and the quiet, the fear Ilya had felt in that moment feels painful behind his ribs. 

A tear slips from the corner of his eye and after that, another. For awhile Ilya lays silent until he’s worried Shane will wake up. Then, he carefully gets out of bed, pulls the sheets up around Shane and presses a pillow under the arm Shane had had wrapped around him.

He goes outside by the fire pit. It’s cool but the stars are bright above him and the air feels good on his cheeks. 

Ilya presses the heels of his hands into his eyes until spots swim before him. But the fear, the relief, the adrenaline continues to boil up in his throat. 

He’s unsure how much time passed when he hears the back door slide open.

“Baby?”

Shane is standing there in only his shorts, a blanket falling off one shoulder, hair tousled and eyes sleepy.

Ilya feels a rush of affection so strong he almost wants to cry some more. 

Shane comes to stand beside him, cradling his face and squinting down at him in the darkness. 

“What’s wrong?” Shane whispers. 

He wipes his thumbs across Ilya’s cheeks and clambers into his lap. 

“Is fine,” Ilya says quietly, he looks up into Shane’s concerned face and tries to look convincing.

“Is not.”

“I am happy,” Ilya insists. “I just-“

Shane pushes Ilya’s curls away from his face, kisses his forehead and his temple. He waits. 

“I was scared.” 

There’s a short silence and Ilya finds that his hands are pressing hard into Shane’s waist as he holds him. He tries to loosen his grip. 

“Why?”

“You said ,” Ilya looks away. “You said it is your nightmare.” 

Shane inhales sharply and immediately starts to say, “I wasn’t talking about you.”

At the same time Ilya says, “I know it was not about me but it felt like it could be. For a minute. Maybe I am not worth all of this.”

Shane pulls Ilya’s face back to his and kisses him gently. Fervently. 

“Ilya.” 

Arms wrap around his shoulders and Ilya is engulfed in the blanket too. He presses his face into the curve of Shane’s neck.

“You’re worth everything,” Shane whispers. “You are everything.” 

Ilya nods against the skin, already made damp from his warm breath and the cool air.

He’s not sure he believes that but he believes that Shane means it. 

He pulls back to look at Shane again, strokes his thumbs up and down his sides.

“I love you.” Ilya says, making sure to hold Shane’s gaze. “I am proud of you.”

“Proud of us,” Shane corrects. 

“Of us,” Ilya agrees.

They make their way back inside, fingers linked and Ilya feels like every inhale is reaching a place that’s been deprived of air for so long he can’t remember the last time he took a full breath. 

He lets Shane gather him to his chest, fuss over the blankets, and arrange his curls out of his face. 

I have another idea. What if you played for Ottawa?

connor storrie as ilya rozanov in Heated Rivalry (2025) 🏒