Vicambulate



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    “Ilya, what are we gonna do?” Shane says.

    Ilya finishes whatever he has been doing on his phone, and tosses it gently to the bed beside him. He crosses the room to Shane, stands in front of him, squeezes into his shoulders with his big hands, rubbing them like he means to warm them up.

    “Looks like we will have a little vacation,” he says, with a big obnoxious grin.

     


     

    Boston and Montreal are sent to Paris to play against each other in an exhibition series in January 2017. Ilya and Shane decide to stay in Paris for one more night. Just one more night, so they can talk. Maybe finally understand each other.

    They aren't expecting a volcano to erupt in Iceland and close all the airspace in Europe, leaving them stranded there. Together.

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    25 Jun 2026

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    “No vodka?” Rozanov asks, tsking in disapproval but looking amused. “What then? What does the great Shane Hollander want when he does a good job? What is your vice, Hollander?”

    “Hmmmm, mangoes,” Shane sighs out wistfully. It’s not a dangerous allergy for him, but it does mean being itchy and sometimes a little queasy for a couple of days after. Really he knows that he should probably avoid them altogether, but with every other restriction he has and with how controlled he is with his life even outside of that, it’s his one little indulgence, a pressure-relief valve of one bad choice to let some steam off at the end of a season, when he carves out time in his cottage when he can make his annual bad choice and enjoy a few days of wild mango madness before he makes himself buckle back into the restraints he usually keeps his life in.

    He looks up when he hears Rozanov snort.

    “Mangoes?” Rozanov repeats, tugging his shirt over his head. “Really?”

    “They’re good,” Shane defends. “Better than vodka,” he adds, pointedly.

    (shane has food allergies but makes an exception for mangoes) (5 times ilya didn't find out about this allergy and 1 time he did)

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    20 Jun 2026

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    “Ilya,” Hollander breathes, which—Ilya isn’t sure Hollander has ever called him by his first name. Surely he has sometime in seven years of acquaintance? But the sound of it is novel, unfamiliar. 

    And far from unpleasant. 

    Then Hollander says, “Baby,” and Ilya knows for certain that he’s never called Ilya that, because it takes the air right out of Ilya’s lungs and makes his guts twist and fuck, he would have remembered if Hollander had ever called him that. Especially in that reverent tone. 

    It’s nice. 

    Ilya doesn't remember being married to Shane Hollander. Probably, he should tell someone.

    He decides not to.

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    11 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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    27 May 2026

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    Ilya Rozanov doesn’t remember loving Shane Hollander.
    Not the beginning. Not the middle. Not the life they built together.
    But memory isn’t the only way back.
    Because even without it some choices still feel inevitable.

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    22 May 2026