UnderneathAllTheSecrets



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    Hayden stares, the sight in front of him not quite computing.

    There is the couch. There is Shane on the couch. There is Shane on the couch, sleeping on his back with one arm wrapped securely around the waist of another person sleeping on top of him. The waist of another man sleeping on top of him.

    A man.

    As in, not Boston Lily.

    As in, not a woman at all.
    -
    Or, a prank goes awry and Hollanov is outed even earlier. At least everyone can agree that it’s still entirely Hayden Pike’s fault.

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    02 Jul 2026

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    June 2010. Ilya Rozanov is delayed after the CCM shoot. By the time he gets to the locker room, Shane Hollander is out of the showers and Ilya’s entire plan is ruined.
    Only not quite fully ruined. Hollander invites him to dinner with his parents as a thank you for arranging the shoot and Ilya, in a burst of insanity, agrees. He hits it off with Yuna and David. They all exchange numbers. He and Hollander become friends.
    At no point does Ilya stop wanting more from him.

    June 2016. Ilya Rozanov is a superstar. A Cup winner. An MVP. Women want him, men want to be him. He’s fucking miserable.
    He’s in love with his best friend. He can’t deny it anymore. Only now Shane is dating a movie star and happier than Ilya’s ever seen him. Ilya can’t ruin that for him, can’t ruin their friendship by asking for what he knows Shane can’t give. No matter how much it kills him.

    A charity event in San Francisco. A catastrophic computer failure. A fateful decision to drive, not fly. Two days in a car, just the two of them. Alone. Together.
    Ilya’s sick with excitement and with dread, because how can he keep his secrets with Shane so close for so long?

    What he doesn’t know is that Shane has secrets too.

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    02 Jul 2026

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    27 Jun 2026

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    ...oh,” his mom says. “Oh, honey, you were seeing someone? You never said anything.”

    “It’s-it’s complicated.” He catches the present tense too fucking late to do anything about it, and he barely resists the urge to either groan or slip forward to start beating his head against the coffee table.

    Fuck his fucking life.

    “You’re still…seeing this person?” His mom asks, and the amount of control he can hear her exerting is almost painful. “Who is-”

    “Yuna,” his dad cuts in, voice quiet, “maybe give him a second, yeah?”

    Yeah, Shane agrees in his head. Give him a second.

    Maybe give him a decade while they’re at it.

    (when shane's old fake id falls out of his wallet around his parents, he has to explain that it was to book hotel rooms before he was 21)

    (...and then he has to explain why he needed to book those hotel rooms in the first place)

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    12 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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    10 Jun 2026