Living_In_a_Fantasy



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    “Did, uh,” Frankie starts. She sounds faint. “Did you just say your boyfriend?”

    Ilya’s stomach drops. Oh. Oh, fuck.

    He doesn’t know what his face does. There will probably be pictures of this moment all over the internet by tomorrow morning. He doubts it’s flattering, considering there’s a non-zero chance he’s going to throw up all over the microphone.

    Ilya scrambles. Too tired, too shocked at his own brain’s betrayal to know how to fix this. “Blyat,” he spits. Then he laughs, and even he can hear that it sounds more wild than genuine. “English language is hard, yes? I meant my boys, my boys who are my friends. The Centaurs, yes? They are all my boy friends.”

    OR

    Ilya Rozanov has a no-good, very bad two days and accidentally outs himself. He's not having a great time.

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    03 Jul 2026

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    Rozanov made a dismissive noise. “No, no, I will pick you up. Send me your address.”

    “I’m not giving you my home address.”

    “Why not!”

    “Because you’ll probably post it on social media to psych me out before our next game.”

    That made Rozanov laugh. “It is good idea,” he said. Stopped laughing. Started again. Blew out a breath like he had to get himself together. “I might do this to you,” he allowed, “but you have nice boyfriend living with you now. I would not do this to him. You are safe.”

     

    In which Ilya Rozanov adopts himself into Scott and Kip's household and refuses to leave. Kip finds this very sweet. Scott is going to kill him.

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    29 Jun 2026

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    He can’t tell Ilya though. He can’t tell Ilya that his team might not be right for Shane. That this perfect solution is making Shane a worse hockey player, a bad teammate.

    That maybe Shane Hollander of the Voyagers really was his full name. That Shane Hollander of the Centaurs might not exist.

    He can’t say that. He can’t ruin everything. He can’t dim the shine in Ilya’s eyes, the bounce in his step, the color in his cheeks he didn’t have the last few years.

    Ilya sacrificed hockey for their relationship for two years, played on a crappy team and watched Shane win. It’s Shane’s turn to sacrifice, to figure out how to make this work and let Ilya lead this time.

    Or:

    Transitions are hard for Shane. Joining his husband's team turns out not to be an exception to that rule.

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    28 Jun 2026

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    Shane Hollander is a man who thrives on structure, routine, the solid ground of a ten-year plan. Ilya likes that about him, likes the embracing squeeze of having a life organized in tandem with Shane.

    No one would call Ilya a man who thrives on structure. But it’s there, if not in his DNA then in the patterns of his brain. A call-and-response of: they do this, I do that.

    When Ilya’s life is flayed open for the world to dissect, how will they push-and-pull their way back towards what was once a well-organized life?


    “I thought we could go through the schedules and figure out what days we’ll be in the same cities this season, or when either of us have a couple of days off in a row. Maybe make a shared calendar, so we c—”

    “A sex calendar? Your parents are arriving in thirty minutes, and you are proposing making a sex calendar?” Oh, this was delicious. He’d be able to eat out on this for years, if Shane was willing to give him that long.

    “It’s not a sex calendar! It’s just … when we might be able to see each other,” he finished, already sounding defeated.

    “And what are you planning on doing when we are seeing each other? Not fucking?”

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    25 Jun 2026

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    Ilya sits down carefully and takes Shane’s hand. “I am going to ask you something, and I want you to try not to freak out, okay? Take a breath, think about it.”
    That sounds… serious.
    “The Centaurs are having a barbeque,” Ilya says. “I would like to go, and I would like you to come with me.”

    Shane meets the Centaurs. As Ilya's close personal friend slash charity partner from Canada.

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    21 Jun 2026