Regaining Paradise

"Ah...I need to tell you something."

Ilya could immediately tell from Shane's tone that something was off. He sounded thoroughly uncomfortable, like the time he'd spent the whole day on-edge only to realize that he'd forgotten to cut the tag out of one of his t-shirts. Ilya fought the urge to try to hug him through the phone. "What is it, malysh?" he asked, trying to keep his tone soothing.

"You should know–I didn't do anything! I just–I think it would be weird, if I didn't tell you. What happened, that is," Shane began to ramble, not making any sense at all.

Trying to comprehend the words, Ilya frowned. "Solnyshko, I do not understand. Take breath, then explain?"

Obediently, the noise of Shane inhaling then exhaling sounded on the line. "Right. Sorry. I just–you know how I told my team? That I'm...you know."

"Gay for my cock, yes," Ilya supplied, smirking.

"Fuck off, you know I didn't tell them all of that," the other man retorted, but Ilya could tell he was smiling a little. "But yeah, I told them I'm gay. Well today...one of them...this guy on the third line...he texted me and...asked me to hook up."

Ilya had to take several seconds to breathe. To manually remind his eyes to blink and his lungs to inhale and exhale. Waves upon waves of possessiveness washed over him, and he fought against the urge to demand names, demand to see the content of the texts. 

He also fought against the urge to murder everyone on the Montreal team, but that was another story.

After gaining a small semblance of control over himself, he ground out the words, "Ah. Okay."

"I didn't say yes, obviously!"

"I know, Shane. I trust you." This, he was very sure of. He trusted his Shane more than anything or anyone in the world. It was everyone else that he was worried about. "What did you...what did you say?" There, that was casual enough, right? It didn't sound like he was planning a killing spree involving Montreal's entire third line, just to be safe?

Shane snorted, which was weird because Ilya had never felt less like laughing. "I told him...I told him that I don't hook up with fellow hockey players."

He blinked, processing. Then, despite everything, Ilya let out a shocked laugh. "Oh? Hollander, I have very bad news to break to you about what I do for work."

Shane laughed as well. "C'mon! It felt like the easiest excuse at the time! Like what was I supposed to say? I can’t say I have a boyfriend, he'd want to know who!"

Ilya was all-out giggling now, completely enamored by the man on the other end of the phone. "Yes, yes, is perfect excuse. Stringe, though. For someone who does not hook up with hockey players, you seem to have a huge thing for wearing my jersey while I f–"

"Oh, fuck off, Rozanov."

They didn't even kiss.

It doesn't matter. It shouldn't matter. It's just sex, right? Kissing isn't required to fuck.

Except that Ilya's always kissed him before.

"Woah." He blinks, not even realizing he's slammed the door to his room shut until he sees Hayden's concerned frown. He's got an apology already on his lips when Hayden says, "You uh - I mean did - want to go out?"

Shane frowns, trying to follow that. Hayden doesn't usually confuse him. It's one of the things he appreciates about him.

"The team's already out, I mean, it's Vegas, right? I know we usually skip, but," he shrugs, "uh, maybe it would do you some good?"

He could stay here, laying in bed next to Hayden and replaying every moment between him and Ilya trying to figure out what part he fucked up, trying to understand what cue he missed or in what way he wasn't good enough that led to Ilya not even being willing to kiss him. Or he could wreck his diet and his sleep schedule and be surrounded by too many people he doesn't know in situations he doesn't know how he's supposed to react in.

It's a depressingly easy choice.

"Let's go," he says.

Hayden makes him wear his jeans even though they're way too tight and Shane doesn't have the energy to argue. He slips on a white t shirt because he doesn't actually care what he looks like and runs damp hands through his hair and tries not to remember Ilya's hand fisted there.

His teammates shout and holler when he shows up, slapping him on the shoulders and shoving shots into his hands. They also keep him firmly sequestered in their group, not giving too many strangers a chance to get to him, so he supposes it evens out.

Except the thing is he doesn't really drink very often and so does not have a good barometer for these types of things.

"Yooo hi everyone! Look who joined us tonight! What finally got you out here with the rest of us?"

There's a phone in his face and he's only vaguely aware of it. He sort of feels like he has a concussion but he doesn't remember hitting his head. "We didn't even kiss."

"Who?" someone shouts.

The voice is familiar, but he can't quite place it. Shane is cognizant enough to censor himself, but not enough to keep his mouth shut. "It's been six months and I did what - what she wanted. But she didn't kiss me. I really - I wanted her to kiss me. She's so - she's really - I like her. I like her a lot. Why wouldn't she kiss me?"

He thinks he hears Hayden shouting in the background. He sounds mad. He tries to look for him, but another person is asking him a question. He's supposed to answer when people ask him questions. It's one of the rules. "Who wouldn't kiss you?"

"Lily," he says, hating how tight his throat gets. "She - she's awful. And great. Mean and sweet and gorgeous, she's really - I like her hair. It's curly. I didn't know I liked curls."

"OKAY!" Hayden shouts, suddenly right next to him, his hands falling on his shoulders. He's angry. He's smiling, but he's angry. Shane doesn't like it when he's angry. "I think that's enough. Turn that shit off." Then softer, not angry at all, "Let's get back to the room, okay?"

"Okay," he says agreeably.

Shane has been in face offs against Ilya for years, even if they didn't have their thing of the ice, he knows his face by memory. Which is why he notices when a mole in the underside of his jaw gets bigger.

It's the 2015-2016 season, middle of the hookup era, and he is trying to get this motherfucker to see a dermatologist, but nothing he says works. Ilya either distracts him or dismisses him with some stupid denial like russians don't get melanoma.

But the mole keeps changing and now its not even the same consistent color and Shane has googled the signs so he says fuck it, I'm gonna make him.

Shane uses his barely active public account to tweet a list of Boston based dermatologist and tags Ilya in each one.

This of course goes crazy with the fans because what the hell? Shane Hollander? Tweeting at Ilya Rozanov? Doctors? This is a very advanced very strange chirp? Is he calling his moles ugly?

The next time the Boston Raiders have a game the media scrum doesn't even try to pretend they came for another thing, they want to know about the Dermatologist Thread.

Ilya, at this point frustrated because his moles are fine, they're perfect, why is this a problem, so he answers.

"Hollander should mind his own businesses, he wants me to visit stupid skin doctor because he sees mole. I have lots of moles, always had, there's no problem here, it's normal mole!"

And Shane is getting out of his own game a few hours later, prepares himself to answer about the fumble in the second period when the media comes, and it's surprised when, instead, he gets shown a clip of Ilya's earlier interview. Now, this fucking reckless motherfucker, Shane explodes.

"You fucking asshole! You want to die by driving a Porsche into a wall be my guest! But you're gonna die of the most stupid thing in existence! A MOLE! A mole you decided not to check even if it changed size and color and it's in your fucking face where we can all see it every fucking face off with arena lights shining right into it! Why? Because you're stupid and you don't want to go to the doctor and you don't respect the sun. You're gonna die from a perfectly preventable thing and then what am I gonna do? I'm gonna be the best hockey player in mi generation with 10 cups and Harts and Conn Smythes and no competition because you're gonna be in the history books as that one promising dude who died from a mole. A mole! Go to the fucking doctor and use your fucking sunscreen."

That one goes viral. That one breaches containment and goes internacional meme viral.

Shane Hollander Skin Cancer Awareness King.

There's "Go to the fucking doctor and use your fucking sunscreen" T-Shirts.

Shane Hollander angry sneering face with the text "RESPECT THE SUN" under it.

Ilya Rozanov gets bullied relentlessly about it, everyone asking if he has gone to the doctor yet. He doesn't answer. Eventually, he appears with a new scar in his jaw where a wonky mole used to be.

rose went "oh yeah, i've dated tons of gay guys. you definitely are one." and shane went "oh thank god, an educated opinion about the matter."

Montreal was resilient and everyone had hurdles they overcame

I love how Poulin is spotting Stacey so that she can catch her if she falls.

Photo cred: La Presse