( by the time the metros and raiders game rolls around, Ilya isn't really sure where he and Shane stand. they've started to text again, too stubborn to let go even though they both know they should, but there's still an undercurrent of something that's off. like an out-of-the-blue text of 'that play against hunter was elder abuse' is the 'i miss you so fucking much' that it's meant to be.
he shouldn't be happy when shane and rose break up because the tabloids are assholes about it to shane, but he'd be lying if he said he wasn't.
he is happy for this game, unlike the last two. he's back on the ice, back in his element, even if the montreal crowd boos the second he's on the ice. )
Hi, pretty, ( he drawls low between them, winks before the puck drops because ilya rozanov plays dirty if he has to to win the face off. he cackles as he skates off with the puck, knowing hollander looks like an angry kitten once the shock has worn off. this time it feels different on the ice, feels like something is right by the time they've played the first period. playing against shane hollander has always been one of ilya's favorite things on the ice, has always made him feel alive. this time it doesn't hurt. this time every time they battle for the puck, every time they brush past each other feels like before.
the raiders win and ilya's grinning because he scored the last two goals, got one in right before the buzzer to take the raiders to victory.
he's riding the high after even if he skips drinks with the guys, instead catching a cab to the familiar building with the murder alleyway. )
You need to get access code thing so I don't have to wait outside to be mugged,( he texts when he's there. normal. fine. not like he wants to buzz out of his skin and touch shane again after they'd played like that, like them. shane had wanted to talk and they-- they need to figure this out. ilya wants to figure it out. except he wants it to actually work which feels like a fucking pipe dream, like an impossibility because of hockey and russia and ilya's dying father. and if they do the smart fucking thing, this is it and he wants one more moment before that to ride the high before the crash. )
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Date: 2025-12-16 12:27 am (UTC)he shouldn't be happy when shane and rose break up because the tabloids are assholes about it to shane, but he'd be lying if he said he wasn't.
he is happy for this game, unlike the last two. he's back on the ice, back in his element, even if the montreal crowd boos the second he's on the ice. )
Hi, pretty, ( he drawls low between them, winks before the puck drops because ilya rozanov plays dirty if he has to to win the face off. he cackles as he skates off with the puck, knowing hollander looks like an angry kitten once the shock has worn off. this time it feels different on the ice, feels like something is right by the time they've played the first period. playing against shane hollander has always been one of ilya's favorite things on the ice, has always made him feel alive. this time it doesn't hurt. this time every time they battle for the puck, every time they brush past each other feels like before.
the raiders win and ilya's grinning because he scored the last two goals, got one in right before the buzzer to take the raiders to victory.
he's riding the high after even if he skips drinks with the guys, instead catching a cab to the familiar building with the murder alleyway. )
You need to get access code thing so I don't have to wait outside to be mugged, ( he texts when he's there. normal. fine. not like he wants to buzz out of his skin and touch shane again after they'd played like that, like them. shane had wanted to talk and they-- they need to figure this out. ilya wants to figure it out. except he wants it to actually work which feels like a fucking pipe dream, like an impossibility because of hockey and russia and ilya's dying father. and if they do the smart fucking thing, this is it and he wants one more moment before that to ride the high before the crash. )