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“The most recent post was from yesterday —Christmas— and it was of the foosball table Shane had given him. No caption. He scrolled and found a photo of the exercise ball Shane had been balancing on in Ilya's gym. One of the latest puzzle Ilya had completed with Shane's dad. One of Ilya's loon tattoo.
One of the two plastic heart rings, together on Shane's dresser.
Shane realized that most or Ilya's posts were, in weird cryptic ways, about Shane. His entire account was like a secret diary of their relationship, full of inside jokes and little references that only Shane would understand.
And Shane hadn't even bothered to look at it before. Not really.
He looked now. He scrolled until his eyes were so blurry that he had to give up and sob into his hands instead. How could Shane have doubted for a second how fiercely Ilya loved him?”
― The Long Game
One of the two plastic heart rings, together on Shane's dresser.
Shane realized that most or Ilya's posts were, in weird cryptic ways, about Shane. His entire account was like a secret diary of their relationship, full of inside jokes and little references that only Shane would understand.
And Shane hadn't even bothered to look at it before. Not really.
He looked now. He scrolled until his eyes were so blurry that he had to give up and sob into his hands instead. How could Shane have doubted for a second how fiercely Ilya loved him?”
― The Long Game
“It was a tiny bit devastating to learn that none of the changes he’d made in his life—therapy, winning, getting a dog, coming out to friends and teammates about his sexuality and his relationship with Shane, getting engaged—had fixed him. Even with so much to be happy about, he was almost hoping for the plane to crash for real this time.”
― The Long Game
― The Long Game
“Or maybe you watch a YouTube video of your best goals while I blow you?”
― The Long Game
― The Long Game
“Hollanov.”
― The Long Game
― The Long Game
“Ilya loved it when Shane got like this, when he was flying too high to be annoyed or embarrassed. “Do you want to know a secret?” He bent over Shane so he could speak directly in his ear. “I feel like I am fucking a king right now.” “Ilya—” He grabbed a handful of Shane’s hair and tugged his head back. “Do you know how powerful this feels, fucking a king in his throne room?” “Fu—fucking hell, Rozanov.” Ilya wrapped an arm around Shane’s chest and hauled him up, as easily as if Shane were a doll and not a two-hundred-pound man. He held him close, Shane’s back pressed against Ilya’s chest, as Ilya pounded into him. “You are Shane fucking Hollander,” Ilya growled. “If you ever forget that, I will drag you back in here and fuck you until you remember.” “We—we’ll share a trophy room someday,” Shane stammered. Ilya smiled. “Yes. A fucking empire.” Shane tilted his head back against Ilya’s shoulder. “A dynasty,” he breathed. “Oh, fuck, Ilya. I love you.”
― The Long Game
― The Long Game
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