devinwolfi | fic: super rare - game changers series (reid)

Title: super rare
Ratings & Warnings: Past MCD, Spoilers for The Long Game (Game Changers #6)
Fandom: Game Changers - Reid
Relationship(s): Shane Hollander/Ilya Rozanov (past)
Character(s): Shane Hollander
Summary: In 2021, the Centaurs' plane went down. In 2027, Shane is ready to retire.

Also on AO3 and beagoldfish

Shane sits at the desk. Cameras click, conversations fizzle. "Hey guys." He cracks open the bottle of water. "I'm sure you can guess why we're all here. I've got some other stuff to say though, so, buckle in." He places a small notebook on the table. "First things first, I'm retiring." Immediately the room buzzes with noise, he ignores it. "Yeah. I mean, I'm 36. I've got a few cups." They all share a laugh. He has seven. "I think it's a good time. But that's not what I'm really here to talk about. There's something..." He holds up the book, flashing its nondescript cover to the room.

"Um," Shane starts. "It was presumptuous of me, at the time, and definitely reckless. I started writing in," he opens the cover, "April 2017." He looks at the cameras and microphones, not faces. "Ilya's father died of dementia. Sorry, I don't know if that's public knowledge. And I was recovering from an injury. No playoffs that year, had a lot of free time." The notebook is creased through the middle, thread binding worn and weak. They are all looking at him strangely.

"We didn't take pictures or anything. Made sure to delete all of our texts. I guess I just wanted, I don't know, reassurance. A record, in case I ever had any reason to doubt, or if we couldn't," he clears his throat, "remember. He was worried about getting sick like that, after seeing what it had done to his father. He never said it, but he was." Hereditary. He folds the notebook between his hands, the source of the crease, a soothing habit he'd developed over the years, when actually reading the contents had been too much.

"The full timeline is in here, the real one. The one no one knows. Just us, or, just me, I guess. Two can keep a secret, right?" He says, sardonic. The press are uneasy now. "I met Ilya Rozanov in 2008, at the world juniors. Again at the draft, juniors again. We started seeing each other the summer before our rookie year." He doesn't watch their reactions, just listens to the sharp inhales. "Safe to say, we didn't stop." He takes a swig from the bottle and watches the table warp through the plastic.

"I know that might not sit well with some people. I know it raises questions of loyalty and game fixing. Did I ever let him score, did he let me score? I just want to say up front, nothing like that ever happened. Hockey came first, for both of us, always. Hockey is my life, it was his life, his ticket out of Russia. Plus," he can’t help but smile. "I loved beating him. He was so good, probably the best, better than me, maybe. We loved to compete, we pushed each other. The rivalry was real." He laughs, "trust me.”

"Anyway, yeah. 2010. A few hours, here and there, during the regular season. As for his reputation, that was definitely true. The girlfriends I had, that was real too, just. We saw each other when we could, when it was safe."

He looks at the room again. Mouths hanging open, pens twitching on pads, waiting for him to say more. "I don't want you to think we were just... y'know. I mean I guess it started out that way but, it wasn't just that. I loved him. I still love him, right now, in this moment, with all of you. Partners, boyfriends, whatever. Engaged to be engaged, if you want to be technical about it, you know how it is." He flips through the book, not reading, but feeling the pages, listening to the crinkling sound they make.

"We weren't really," he makes air quotes, "official, until 2017. It took me that long to come to terms with myself and what we were. That I was already in love with him. That I was gay," his eyes flick over the group, "which is sort of an open secret these days anyway. He stayed at my cottage the summer after Scott Hunter came out. He met my parents." Shane takes another sip of water.

"Ilya went to Ottawa, for me, so we could be closer." He takes a slow breath. "We started the Irina Foundation together. We wanted to let people forget about the rivalry, so that it wouldn't be such a shock by the time we finally..." He gestures to the room, the cameras, the people recording with their iPhones. Many of them aren't meeting his gaze. "But things don't always turn out the way we expect."

"My instinct is to be selfish. I want to keep him, and our life together, to myself. Ilya didn't want that. He wanted to be out. The first out couple to play for the NHL. He wanted the big wedding, kids, dogs, and cheesy Instagram posts." Someone in the crowd laughs, light. "Even if it meant never being able to compete for Russia again or getting forced out of the league altogether. He was waiting for me to be ready. Which is why I'm making you all listen to this today."

"Ilya Rozanov was an asshole.” More laughter. “He had that stupid bear tattoo and did jigsaw puzzles with my dad. We were together, as far as I'm concerned, for almost eleven years and he was probably the love of my life. He challenged me to be a better player and a better man. He was my rival as much as he was my best friend. I am who I am today because of him. The cups, the medals, all of it. We never got the real wedding, or the kids, but I did get a dog, and now I get to share this part of him with all of you because he never got the chance.” Shane caps the water bottle.