Montreal (Ilya’s Version)
As the cab pulled up and Ilya got in, he couldn’t stop thinking about Shane’s soft skin under his fingertips or the way he’d smiled in that stairwell. Kissing Shane on the stairs had been unexpected. Something deep inside Ilya had begged him to feel Shane’s soft lips against his one last time, and he hadn’t thought twice about it. From what it seemed, Shane had liked it too… or maybe Ilya was just reading into it.
Ilya closed his eyes and was left with nothing but the soft sound of the cab’s radio and his own thoughts. Ilya knew he had feelings for Shane, maybe even more than just regular feelings. Maybe Ilya loved Shane. Love was something Ilya hadn’t felt in years, not since his mother had still been there but even that was different from this. He hadn’t known what it would be like to fall in love with someone, but he thought this was what love felt like.
Every text message he got filled him with butterflies and giddiness, like he was a middle schooler again. Every time he was with Shane, he felt calm and safe. He felt an overwhelming sense of relief that he wasn’t alone in this world, even if it was only for a few hours. He felt like he was losing his mind with every kiss and touch. He felt like he could trust Shane with anything, if only he’d open up.
But he couldn’t have anything other than what they had now. The NHL hadn’t been kind to queer players, and it was unfair. Shane also didn’t want to be outed because of his career, which could be ruined by the NHL’s lack of acceptance. But the biggest reason why he couldn’t have Shane was because Shane didn’t love him. Shane loved the idea of him. Outside of getting together after games, Ilya truly believed that Shane wouldn’t want him. His love was unrequited, and it always would be, because Shane would choose hockey over him if the decision ever had to be made. Ilya would always come second.
Ilya felt his eyes burn behind his eyelids, but he willed the tears away. He paid the cab driver before heading into the hotel and going straight for the bar. He had a few drinks before returning to his hotel room, climbing into bed, and staring at the ceiling. The only things on his mind were the freckles on the bridge of Shane’s nose and the kiss in the stairwell that should’ve never happened.
