ok so you cut it in half

hang it in the louvre

chapter ii: shane

shane/ilya • e • 2/3 chapters • 7k / 13.5k total • canon compliant • hr through tlg + beyond

“No,” says Shane, frustrated. “It’s a - thing. Underground. Expensive.” It’s so wild this is just how Ilya lived for years. Shane finds it impossible to not to be able to say what he means, and he’s someone who often takes a moment to say what he means even in English. “I think you need to read Pushkin,” says Ilya. “He can teach you how to reach your full potential as a lovesick guy. Extra romantic. None of this ‘underground’ shit.” “Sorry, do you read Pushkin?” “Of course not. It comes to me naturally,” says Ilya. “You think I got all this by reading books?”

For his part, Ilya has always known how strong Shane is. Obviously. How could he not know? How many times has Shane checked him into the boards hard enough to bruise, his breath a wet heat at his ear? How many times has Ilya seen Shane in the gym, adding weight after weight to his bar and barely breaking a sweat when he lifts? How many more times than that has Ilya felt the ripple of Shane’s muscles under his fingers, gotten intimately familiar with the work Shane puts into looking the way he does, playing the way he does? And yet, after they’ve spent days and days lounging around the cottage, playing video games and waking up when the sun is barely casting shadows, Ilya kind of… lets himself forget. He makes himself unlearn something that the rest of the world can’t see past. Shane Hollander, a fucking powerhouse of a man, one of the greatest hockey players to ever do it. Shane Hollander, rolling over to show Ilya his soft underbelly with an invitation to take a bite.

Mr. Hollander said he would chop the wood himself.

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