SunlessGarden

"You could just say it," Shane suggests with a wry smile. He prefers to be told things bluntly and clearly, even when the topic is uncomfortable.

"Right. Things haven't been great between us lately, have they?"

Shane straightens, stomach clenching. He wants to pull his hand back, but Brian is still holding onto it tightly. "I guess so," he agrees reluctantly.

Brian's not about to break up with him, is he?

It would be ideal timing, Shane recognizes distantly. The season is over, he'd have all summer to get over it before he's back on the ice. Or maybe next week would have been better, after the MHL awards in Vegas.

"I think part of the problem is we have so little time together," Brian says, pulling Shane's mind back. "We get frustrated in our time apart, and we take it out on each other."

That's not true, Shane wants to say. Brian's always the one to snap, the one to escalate a disagreement into a fight. But even as he's thinking it, Shane knows he's not being fair. They have different styles of communication, and Shane's bottling up of his emotions is no better than Brian's explosive anger.

"We've also been together for so long," Brian continues. "And I'm afraid we might have fallen into bad patterns."

"Are you breaking up with me?"

The words burst out of him without permission. Shane feels stupid and childish as soon as he's said them.

"Oh, babe," Brian says, squeezing his hand tighter. "Of course not. I love you and I want to be with you."

Relief floods Shane. He manages to give Brian a wobbly smile, which Brian returns, raising Shane's hand to his lips and kissing it.

"I was just thinking... how would you feel about opening up the relationship?"

Shane blinks. For a long moment, he doesn't understand what Brian is saying. It's such a foreign concept to him, a thing he knows other couples do but he never would have thought he'd need to consider.

"What?"

"I think it would be really good for us," Brian says. "Your schedule is so crazy and we can't always line up our free nights. I think this could really take the pressure off for when do find time to be together."

This must be a nightmare. "You want to fuck other people?"

"I want us both to be able to enjoy new experiences. It wouldn't mean we love each other any less. It would just be sex, no strings attached."

"I don't -" Shane's voice catches in his throat. He feels vaguely nauseous. "Are you tired of me?"

Brian pulls back his hand. "Of course not. Jesus, Shane, don't be so close-minded. I know you're surrounded by hockey people all the time and it's a really conservative culture, but open relationships aren't anything unusual. Most of my gay friends are in ones."

"They are?"

"Yeah. And if anything, it brings them closer together."

Shane can't believe he's considering this, but. He's still not over the shock of thinking Brian was about to break up with him. That the person he's been with his entire adult life, the person who's loved and supported him since before he was drafted, could be gone from his life just like that.

If Shane says no, will Brian just break up with him anyway?

"We can try it out," Shane says cautiously. "But I'm not sure - I don't know if I could sleep with someone else."

Briefly, inexplicably, Rozanov flashes through his mind. Shane's heart jumps and he chases the thought away.

Brian gets up, rounding the table to pull Shane in for a kiss. "You're so sweet, but don't say yes just for my benefit. This could be good for both of us. You should at least try."

"...Okay."

Shane can't say he's comfortable with the idea. It feels too much like cheating. But then, he wasn't exactly comfortable with sleeping with Brian at first, either, and that turned out to be one of the best decisions of his life.

Brian smiles at him fondly, stroking Shane's cheek with his thumb. "If it helps, you can think of it like practicing for a game."

The implication sits sour in Shane's gut but he ignores it. Brian's just trying to put it in terms Shane will relate to.

Brian stays the night. Once he's gone, having given Shane a lingering kiss goodbye, Shane pulls up his phone.

He scrolls down to Rozanov's contact. It still feels wrong, but Brian hasn't just given his blessing. He's explicitly encouraged Shane to seek someone else out for no-strings attached sex and if there's one person Shane knows is reliable for it, it's Rozanov.

Besides, it's not like Shane's swimming in other options.

Shane keeps this firmly in mind as he types out his message, ignoring the way his stomach twists in anticipation. He's not excited about this, he reminds himself. This is just an experiment, something he's doing because it will please Brian.

Could we meet up at the awards in private?

His phone buzzes a couple of minutes later with Rozanov's reply.

if you promise not to be a sore loser when i win mvp 😈

+

"She was at the game, wearing your jersey" Hollander says. His cheeks have gone faintly pink. He brushes past Ilya, pausing in the entryway to take off his shoes. "I just figured."

"Jealous?"

"Kind of," Hollander says, but before Ilya can feel too satisfied about that, he adds, "I mean, Brian doesn't really like hockey but. It'd be nice to have the option to invite him."

Not even remotely what Ilya meant.

Then Hollander's statement sinks in.

"Doesn't like hockey?" he repeats incredulously. Is the man aware that he's dating Shane Hollander? "What do you even talk about, then?"

"Fuck you, I like things that aren't hockey."

"Name one."

Hollander glares at him. "I'm not entertaining that."

Which gives Ilya an excellent opening to keep poking fun, but he's more interested in another line of query. "What does your boyfriend like, then? Fucking," he waves his hand, "stocks, or whatever?"

"Not really." Hollander settles on the couch, knees pulled up to his chest. "He's in finance because he's good at it, not because he's passionate about it. He likes baseball, though."

"Ah. So he's boring, this is what you have in common."

Hollander straightens one leg, kicking Ilya in the side. "Did you invite me here just to chirp me?"

"Yes," Ilya says, catching Hollander's foot when he predictably tries to kick him again. He squeezes it once before letting go. "You should be honored, I gave up a guaranteed chance of getting laid for this."

Hollander freezes. "But - you said she's not your girlfriend."

"She is just a friend," Ilya confirms. "But we fuck sometimes. I don't really do relationships."

"I've noticed."

"You've been stalking me in the tabloids?"

The comment is said quietly, and it takes Ilya a moment to parse what it means. He grins.

"Fuck off, no I haven't." Hollander clears his throat, looking off. "Hockey players like to gossip, it's impossible to avoid hearing about you."

Ilya hums, not sure if he believes him.

"Would you want to be in a relationship?" Hollander asks, surprising him. "If you met the right person?"

Ilya shrugs, uncomfortable. "Maybe. I haven't met them yet, so is hard to say."

He looks at Hollander across the couch to find him already staring back. Hollander flushes, caught, but doesn't look away.

It feels like a lie, even if it's not meant to be. Ilya can't picture himself in a relationship, can't picture a partner at least, but thinking about it sparks an ache deep in his chest.

The silence stretched between them, and for once in his life Ilya has no desire to fill it.

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+

"I don't know if I'd call your apartment 'the most private place in town'," Hollander comments dryly.

Despite the sarcasm his eyes dart around as he enters Ilya's apartment, earnestly curious. Ilya feels a little thrill as he watches Hollander toe off his shoes by the door, making himself just a little bit at home in Ilya's space.

"What do you mean?" Ilya asks, sitting down on the couch. Hollander sits next to him, a seat away. Too far, in Ilya's opinion.

"Just with the amount of people you must have brought back here, it must technically count as a public space."

"Wow," Ilya says, delighted. "This is what I get, opening my home to you?"

Hollander rolls his eyes. Then he narrows them at Ilya. "Wait, you didn't bring me back here to...?"

"You are so paranoid, Hollander." Ilya sits up straighter, as it occurs to him just why Hollander might have been acting so off. "Unless that old boyfriend of yours is, ah... out of the picture?"

"No," Hollander says. He looks off, shoulder slumping. "I mean, I don't think so. Fuck, maybe?"

Those last words are muffled, as Hollander rubs his hand over his face. Ilya thinks they should make him happy to hear, considering how long he's been waiting for these kinds of cracks to show, but he can't be. Not with how miserable Hollander looks.

"We had a fight last week," he finally admits. "He hasn't been replying to my texts since. I went to his place but he didn't answer, and I don't know how the fuck I'm supposed to apologize if he won't let me. I don't even know what I did wrong in the first place. And he always fucking does this. He gets pissed at me about something and just ignores me until he feels like it and I never know how long that's gonna be."

Ilya blinks. "Wow."

"Sorry," Hollander says, blushing. "I didn't mean to - I don't really have anyone to talk to about this."

"Not anyone?"

"No." Hollander shrugs, looking down at his lap. "No one else even knows I'm into guys. I'd be fucked if it got out, so."

"Not your parents?" Ilya asks.

Hollander shakes his head. "Some of Brian's friends know about him, but not about us. That's it. Except you know everything, I guess."

Ilya lets out a strangled sound. His chest feels tight, imagining Hollander carrying this all alone for so many years. With this huge secret on his shoulders and his piece of shit boyfriend just adding to the weight.

He's had no one to tell him that this Brian guy sounds like a fucking asshole.

No one except Ilya, who's not gonna waste any fucking time. "This Brian guy sounds like a fucking asshole."

Hollander goes stiff and shit, maybe Ilya could have worded that more gently.

"He's not," Hollander says. "I know I made him sound pretty bad but it's just - we got into an argument, that's all. Couples fight."

"But then ignoring you for days? That's not an argument, Hollander, he is punishing you."

Hollander's cheeks have gone pink, and it's only then that Ilya realizes he might feel embarrassed. Like Ilya is judging him for his poor taste in men, or for allowing himself to be treated badly. As if Ilya doesn't respect him more than the rest of the MHL put together.

"He needs space after we fight. If anything, I'm the asshole for pushing him to make up."

Okay, so Ilya fucked this up. He doesn't know how to fix it; the right words seem impossible to find in this stupid language.

"Alright, if you say," he says, holding his hands up in surrender. "I do not know this man." Then, unable to resist, he adds, "Just that he likes fucking teenagers."

Hollander huffs. "Okay, fuck you."

He makes to get up and Ilya grabs his arm, sick at the thought that Hollander might leave feeling worse. That Ilya would have made him feel worse.

"I'm sorry, I'll stop. Don't leave."

Hollander glares at him but allows Ilya to pull him back down, slumping into the couch.

"You don't know him," Hollander says, as if daring Ilya to repeat himself.

"I don't," Ilya agrees instead.

"He's good to me most of the time."

"I'm sure he is," Ilya lies through his teeth.

Hollander's glare finally softens. "I just - I don't want you to think I'm putting up with something I shouldn't."

A pang goes through Ilya's chest. He hesitates for a moment before agreeing this time. "I don't."

Hollander nods, satisfied.

Well.

This was a disaster. Ilya thinks he may be woefully unequipped to deal with this kind of situation. If he didn't think Hollander would bolt like a scared rabbit he might try to seduce him away from his awful boyfriend but as is, Ilya is up a creek without a paddle.

"Thanks for listening," Hollander awkwardly offers. "Or sorry about ruining your night, I guess."

"You ruined nothing," Ilya assures him. He straightens as something occurs to him. "Give me your phone."

Hollander reaches into his pocket, the movement seemingly automatic because he freezes just as he's about to hand the phone over. "Why?"

Ilya grabs it, and punches in his number. "In case you get into another argument and need to complain. I promise I will be less shitty about it next time, okay?"

Hollander eyes him suspiciously. "Why are you being so nice?"

"I am very nice, everyone knows this."

"You were voted third most punchable in the league last year," Hollander reminds him.

Fair enough. "I am nice to people who deserve it. You may be slow fucking hockey player with a weak backhand-"

"A weak backhand?"

"-but you are a decent person. You deserve to be treated nicely."

Ilya thinks maybe he pushed it too far with that last statement when Hollander looks away, blinking rapidly. He turns his head, pretending to be very interested in some lint on his pants while Hollander pulls himself together.

"Thanks," Hollander eventually says. "You, uh. You too."

Ilya swallows past the sudden lump in his throat and says nothing. He's not a decent person. A decent person would have found a way to actually make Hollander feel better.

At least, Ilya thinks grimly, he's better than fucking Brian.

+

"Wait," Shane says, voice weak.

Brian waits. He looks Shane over, gives him a nervous smile. "Oh. Sorry, I thought - please don't punch me."

Shane blinks, bewildered. "I'm not gonna punch you."

"It's just, the way you were looking at me," Brian says. "I thought there was something there. I'm sorry if I misunderstood."

Shane's heart won't stop racing. He feels like he might be dying. "The way I was looking at you?"

He didn't think Brian would notice. Shane didn't even notice that he was looking at him any differently than he would any other guy, not until this moment, and he feels so stupid for it.

"Yeah, you..." Brian trails off. Something in his expression shifts. He reaches out his hand, cupping Shane's cheek. "Fuck, you're cute. This doesn't have to mean anything, okay?"

Shane doesn't know what to do. He just nods mutely, and lets Brian kiss him.

He's kissed a couple of girls before but it didn't feel anything like this. This feels good, Brian's body big and solid against his own. Shane returns the kiss, feeling clumsy in his inexperience, but Brian moans and parts his lips, tongue licking its way into Shane's mouth.

He pushes Shane onto his back, presses his thigh between his legs. Shane's head has gone fuzzy. They're in a parked car in the middle of a parking lot, anyone could see them. He should tell Brian to stop. Part of him wants to.

He doesn't.

Afterwards, Brian drives him home. He asks for Shane's number, then kisses him one more time before he gets out of the car.

"I'll text you," he says. "We should definitely do that again sometime."

"It was good, then?" Shane asks.

He feels like a little kid, vying for validation, and it's embarrassing but worth it for the way Brian smiles and says, "Very good."

Shane grabs the door handle, then hesitates. "And you won't, uh, tell anyone?"

"It's our secret," Brian promises.

+

Brian does text him. In the light of day the whole thing feels kind of like a fever dream, but one Shane thinks he wants to repeat.

They exchange messages for a little while. It's going good, Shane thinks. It's just casual conversation but there's an undercurrent of they'll do it again sometime that has Shane's heart racing every time he sees Brian's name on the screen.

Then one day, Brian stops responding.

It takes Shane two days and five unanswered messages to realize it, and it hits like a punch to the gut. He scrolls back on their thread but can't spot where he went wrong, what he did to drive Brian off.

A week later, Brian calls.

Shane picks up on the second ring, stomach tight with nerves. "Hey?"

"Hey," Brian says. His voice sounds cold over the phone. "You could have told me you were sixteen. You know, instead of having me find out from some dumb article my friend shared on Facebook."

Oh.

Shane had been so focused on the whole Brian being a guy of it all, it hadn't occurred to him that his age might be an issue. He'd kind of figured Brian already knew. Maybe not that he was sixteen - he's pretty big for his age, thanks to hockey - but definitely that he's not in college yet.

"Sorry," he says. "I, um. Sorry. I didn't think you were gonna kiss me."

"You've had time to tell me since," Brian says. He sounds angry, which Shane knows is fair, but it still hurts. "Jesus, Shane, you could get me in serious trouble."

Shane's heart stutters. "But no one knows, right? No one's gonna know. You said you wouldn't tell anyone."

"Obviously." Brian sighs. "It's just - I could get in so much trouble."

"So could I. If people knew I was - " Shane's voice falters, "if they knew I'd slept with a guy, my career would be over before it began."

Brian huffs out a laughter. "Right, the hockey thing. You know, you also could have told me you were famous."

"It's just a couple of stupid articles," Shane says, face burning. At least Brian doesn't sound mad at him anymore.

"They say you're good, though. Like you'll probably be drafted by the MHL."

"Probably," Shane acknowledges.

"I guess that's why you came across as older," Brian muses. "You don't seem sixteen. Being so focused on your career so early, it kind of makes you grow up faster, doesn't it?"

"Maybe, yeah."

Shane's not sure he agrees. His mom still packs his lunches, he doesn't feel grown up. But he can see why he'd seem it from the outside.

"...I'm sorry," he says again. "I really didn't mean to lie to you."

"It's okay," Brian says. "I mean, it's not, but it is what it is. I just wish I'd known before I started liking you so much."

Something in Shane's chest flutters. "You like me?"

Brian laughs again. The sound is warmer this time, fond. "I probably shouldn't, but yeah, I do."

"I like you, too," Shane admits shyly.

"Fuck," Brian mutters. Then, after a moment, "I want to see you again."

Shane's heart jumps. "You do?"

"I think I'd regret it if I didn't."

It's such a romantic sentiment. Shane is caught off-guard by how much he likes it, to have a boy say something like that to him. It makes the whole thing not seem like such a terrible idea.

"Fuck it. Yeah, let's meet up."

+