HAPPY ILYA ROZANOV DAY, EVERYONE! • June 15, 1991

OKAY I have been sitting on this and here's what I have for you:

Shane Hollander smiling so so wide after his first goal as a Centaur and it's legitimately pure coincidence that the camera angle captures his husband in the background, jumping up from the bench and pointing and grinning

Ilya Rozanov apparently comparing zucchini at the farmer's market in a manner that would look perfectly innocent if not for his husband's face

the pair of them, from the back, walking out of a bar with Shane's hand in Ilya's back pocket

chatting with Jackie Pike, Shane's chin on Ilya's shoulder and his arms wrapped around his middle while Ilya holds both their drinks

Ilya Rozanov on the bench with a medic taping his fingers, the other hand holding on to Shane Hollander's jersey while Hollander opens a bottle of Gatorade for him

Shane Hollander crouching to tie Ilya Rozanov's skates in the locker room before a game

stretched out on a blanket on the Boodram's lawn, apparently deeply absorbed in watching Milo build a tower out of his toys

a blurry photo of Shane Hollander flailing as he is pushed into a hotel pool

lifting up their shirts and pushing down the top of their sweatpants to show off matching, dark purple bruises from hip to ribs

passed tf out on the Hollander's sofa with Yuna just within frame holding a thick blanket

Rose Landry gracefully descending a set of stairs at a charity gala and completely ignoring both pairs of hands offering to steady her

Maybe it got to the last day of filming S2 and they sat on the balcony of their apartment in Toronto after the wrap party, not wanting the night to be over. Neither can remember who made the first move; if you ask either of them, they say it was the other, but it does it really matter? One minute they were talking, the next they were silent, and then the eye contact finally won. Hell, maybe they moved like magnets at the same time. All they remember is the surge of relief of knowing that it wasn’t just me! He felt this all along too! Finally they’ve caved to it all. And it’s just how they imagined it would be! Also the next morning K got offered a gig hosting Ink Master Canada, so she’s all good too (we are good feminists and want her to be happy, we would not leave her like that).

OK great. Now they’re a couple. They can finally do normal couple things. They decide to take that trip interrailling around Europe that they’ve always talked about. And it’s so wonderful for it to be out in the open! Not having to edit themselves, no longer thinking, have I been gazing at him just a little too long? If this was a regular guy friend, would I have my palm on the small of his back? Because now they’re Together, just like they dreamed of for over a year. It’s perfect. It’s all so perfect!

Except… being in a couple is… well it’s being in a real relationship. Yes, it’s finding the cute boulangerie to buy almond croissants to eat in bed in your Airbnb studio in the 16th arrondisment. And it’s having someone to lovingly massage sunscreen into your back on the beach at Sitges. But it’s also getting lost in Rome on a 32C day, and your phone signal dying so you can’t use Google maps, and you both think you know the way back to the hotel… and you’re not willing to concede that it’s not your way, so you get lost, and and you’ve run out of water and you’re so thirsty and your feet hurt, and bickering because I SAID IT WAS LEFT DOWN THERE and he never listens. Or one of you (“it wasn’t me, HUDSON, you booked the room!”) not having read the instructions for check in and it’s not until 4pm and what are you supposed to do with your bags until then? Or getting to the Ufizzi and not having pre booked tickets and you can’t just get in on the day (“I did say that didn’t I Concon? I did SAY?”)

You spent months idealising this person, and how you were both made from the same stardust. And they still give you butterflies when they take what seems like hours to set up the right shot of the leaning tower of Pisa, because it’s so endearing, it’s so them. You love them so much, you really do. So you really don’t want to admit to your friends, the ones that you’ve gone on and on about them to, that they’re also… quite annoying. And they say things like “it doesn’t really matter if we miss the Eurostar, we can just get the next one, can’t we?” “Ummm no, I told you when I booked the tickets they’re the advanced purchase fixed time ones”

I guess my sandbox thought for the day is can we put them through real life post-polycule hudcon domesticity?

ANON I'm crying this is so perfect. my dream of hudcon interrailing has come alive. them trying to fight for their lives on the Italian train system ('we have time to get food Connor the train isn't for another fifteen minutes' cue them running up the platform at 14:13 for the 14:15 to Bergamo while the train conductor is judging them). falling asleep and missing their stop and waking up in Vienna. ('you PROMISED you would set an alarm!'). booking everything last minute because 'that's when you get the best deals' and ending up in a Soviet-era concrete apartment in Berlin which smells of mould and has a mattress on the floor. booking a suspiciously un-reviewed place in Barcelona and waking up itching from bed bug bites and being snappy at each other all day because of it ('I told you this is why we should have booked a hotel'). renting a car to drive around the alps and finding everything is basically closed for the off season so no apres-ski for them.

Happy Birthday Ilya!

What the fuck is this??????????

Folks: you CANNOT censor trigger tags. When you block a tag, it doesn't block other "spellings" of it. Writing it as "r@pe" or "r4p3" means that someone who has "tw rape" as a blocked tag will still see that post because you didn't wanna say the word rape. You are hurting people. Do not censor words, because people do not have those filtered out.

On the one hand, it's one of the days he can most keenly feel the loss of his mom. He misses the way she would wake him up by pulling his ears – one tug for every year of his age – and then hand him his gift. He misses the way that she would always sneak him a second gift right before bed so that he wouldn't be sad about this birthday ending.

On the other hand, they're also a good reminder that life is better than it has been for a long time. Instead of the cold, perfunctory, "Happy Birthday, Ilya," he'd get from his father (if he was lucky), his team have always celebrated him. He's always had a pile of gifts left outside his locker to surprise him, he's always been taken out clubbing, never once having to buy a drink for himself.

His favourite thing has always been the happy birthday text he gets from Shane every year, going back to long before he was his boyfriend. He's never missed a single one, and they're a good encapsulation of how much their relationship had changed over the years:

Happy birthday.

Happy birthday Rozanov.

Happy birthday Rozanov.

Happy birthday Rozanov. 🎂

God knows if you'll actually get this, it's been literal fucking months, but for what it's worth, happy birthday. Hope you're okay.

Happy birthday Rozanov. 🎂🎉

Happy birthday Rozanov. Remind me to give you your 'gift' next time we're together. 😉

Happy birthday Ilya. I'll see you soon. Counting down the days. ❤️

On his first birthday as Shane Hollander's boyfriend, he finds that he's looking forward to waking up to this year's birthday text almost more than anything, and is disappointed when there isn't one. He figures Shane must just be busy and he'll text when he's finished with whatever he's got going on. Ilya carries on with his day, finishes his workout, showers, but still there's no text from Shane.

Now he's starting to panic. He's always gotten Shane's birthday messages first thing in the morning. Has something happened to him? He doesn't want to message in case it's nothing and he makes it sound like he's desperate for Shane's birthday message (as much as he kind of is), so he ends up scouring the news sites for any sign that something might have happened to him. There's nothing.

Feeling a little pit in his stomach at the idea that Shane might have forgotten his birthday in the first year of being his boyfriend, he makes his way to the living room, deciding that he'll watch the rest of the cup final that he and Shane were too busy sexting during to finish watching the night before. He's just sat down on the couch when he hears the knock on his door.

No way. Surely not?

But it is. There, right there, close enough to reach out for, is Shane, carrying an overnight bag, holding an enormous gift box, and wearing a slightly nervous smile.