THE NEW SHADOW
THE NEW SHADOW
21. THAT SUNSET
The plane hit the runway hard enough to shake Shane more than it should have. He hadn't slept. Not for a single minute. It wasn't the uncomfortable seat. Or the constant drone of the engines. Not even the flickering light from the aisle. It was his head. His fucking head. It wouldn't shut off. Wouldn't give him a break. Ilya. Always Ilya.
When the plane began slowing down on the runway at Galeão International Airport, Shane already had his seatbelt off before the sign went dark. Impatient. Tense. His chest heavy with everything he'd carried onto that flight. Brazil. He had no idea what he was doing there. And at the same time... he knew exactly.
The heat hit him the moment he stepped through the airport doors. It wasn't gentle. It was thick. Humid. Sticky. Like the air itself had weight. Shane stopped for a second and looked around. Portuguese everywhere. Fast voices, smooth and almost musical. Signs he couldn't understand. People moving with confidence, as if everything around him followed some kind of order he couldn't figure out.
—Okay... —he muttered to himself.
He pulled out his phone. Barely any signal. Perfect. He took a deep breath. Don't panic. Just move.
The taxi area became his first battle.
—Copacabana? —he asked, dragging his suitcase behind him.
The driver looked him over for a second.
—Sim, sim... Copacabana.
Shane nodded even though he wasn't completely sure of anything.
He got in. The door shut. And for the first time since stepping off the plane... he stayed still. Watching through the window.
Rio de Janeiro gave him no time to adjust. It came at him all at once. Chaotic traffic. Motorcycles weaving between cars. Music coming from somewhere he couldn't see. Old buildings mixed with new ones. People walking without rushing, as if time worked differently here. Shane understood none of it. But he couldn't stop looking. And still... his mind wasn't there.
Ilya.
His face.
His voice.
The way he looked at Shane like everything was a game... until suddenly it wasn't.
Shane clenched his jaw.
—What the hell are you doing...? —he whispered, more to himself than as an actual question.
He had no plan.
No direction.
Only one ridiculous certainty: he was going to find him.
The taxi stopped in front of a building in Copacabana. The driver said something quickly. Shane didn't understand a word. He paid. Got out. And stood there staring at the hotel entrance as if it were a break in the middle of all the chaos.
Inside... it was another world. Air conditioning. Relative quiet.
The receptionist looked up.
—Good afternoon, sir.
Thank God.
—Hi... I have a reservation. Shane Hollander.
The process was quick. For Shane, it felt endless. Every second carried weight. Every tiny delay created an anxiety he couldn't explain. It wasn't the trip. It wasn't the language. It was everything that had brought him there.
Key.
Elevator.
Hallway.
Door.
When he finally shut it behind him...
everything went completely quiet.
Shane dropped his suitcase without caring where it landed.
Ran both hands over his face.
And for a moment... just breathed.
The room was spacious. Clean. A window showed a small piece of the ocean in the distance. But he hadn't come here to enjoy any of it. He opened the suitcase. Pulled out clothes without thinking. A shirt. Shorts. Nothing elegant. Nothing planned. He didn't care.
He pulled out his phone.
Still barely any signal.
Looked at the screen again, as if a new message might suddenly be there.
Nothing.
He put it away.
Took a deep breath.
Don't panic. Just move.
He went into the bathroom.
Turned on the shower.
The water came down hard.
Constant.
He braced both hands against the wall.
Lowered his head.
Water hit his back.
His neck.
His hair.
But it couldn't shut off the noise inside him.
Ilya.
Again.
Always.
Images blurred together.
Memories.
Laughter.
Awkward moments where neither of them knew what to say.
Looks that said too much.
Things they hadn't said.
Things they had...
and somehow those hurt worse.
—You're an idiot... —he muttered, closing his eyes.
He didn't know if he meant Ilya.
Or himself.
The water kept falling.
And for the first time during the entire trip...
Shane stopped trying to control what he felt.
The fear.
The anxiety.
The need.
He closed his eyes beneath the water.
He had crossed half the world.
He was already here.
He wasn't leaving without trying.
Shane lifted his head.
Opened his eyes.
Breathed.
—I'm gonna find you.
It wasn't some dramatic promise.
It was more dangerous than that.
It was a decision.
And that... changed everything.
Elsewhere in the city, Ilya slowly opened his eyes. The sunlight coming through the window bothered him more than it should have. His head was pounding. His throat was dry. His whole body felt heavy. A hangover. But not only from the alcohol.
He slowly turned his head.
João was gone.
Ilya didn't react right away.
Didn't ask.
Didn't think much about it.
He simply sat up with the awkward slowness of someone who hadn't completely returned to the world yet... and walked toward the bathroom without saying a word.
His shower was shorter than Shane's.
Colder.
Rougher.
Ilya pressed his forehead against the wall, letting the water run over him without trying to relax. That wasn't why he was there. His mind kept trying to rebuild the night. Pieces. Laughter. Music.
João's body close to his. Too close. His eyes opened suddenly. Annoyed.
—Fuck... —he muttered, running a hand through his wet hair.
He didn't know where his phone was.
He didn't know exactly what had happened the night before.
He didn't know where João was.
And every time he tried to put the pieces together, his mind ended up in the same place.
The bed.
João beside him.
Then...
nothing.
His jaw tightened.
What if something did happen?
He looked away.
No. Not now.
And worse... he still knew nothing about Shane.
He got out.
Dressed without much thought.
T-shirt.
Shorts.
Nothing planned.
Nothing emotional.
He went back to the bed.
Dropped onto it.
And stared at the ceiling.
Until João's grandmother's voice broke through everything.
—Russian...
Ilya turned his head slightly.
She stood in the doorway with that same mix of sweetness and firmness that never required her to raise her voice.
—There's a car outside. They're waiting for you.
He frowned.
—What?
—They said they're from the company... the production team.
Ilya stayed still for a few seconds.
Processing slowly.
Way too slowly.
—João...? —he asked, his voice still rough.
—He left early.
That got a reaction.
Not sudden.
But something shifted.
No phone.
No idea what time it was.
No idea what was going on.
He got up.
Ran a hand over his face.
And without saying much more, walked out.
The car was elegant. Black. Perfectly clean. Far too organized for the way he felt.
—Good morning, Mr. Rozanov, —the driver said in clear English.
Ilya nodded and got in. And that was when it started.
The drive wasn't long. To Ilya... it felt like hours. Rio remained a constant blur behind the glass. Color. Movement. Life. But he wasn't really there.
Don't think. Just keep moving. First the beach. Cameras. Smiles. Instructions. Then the set. Lights. Pictures. More people talking too fast. And now... the television studio.
The contrast hit immediately. Everything was more controlled. More structured. More... professional.
—We'll do the interview in English, so don't worry, —an assistant told him with a friendly smile.
Finally.
Something clear.
Ilya nodded.
Sat down.
Breathed.
Lights.
Camera.
Countdown.
—And we're live in three... two...
Smile. Automatic. Perfect.
—Welcome! Today we have a very special guest...
Ilya listened. Answered. Smiled. But he wasn't there.
—So, Ilya... how has Brazil treated you?
That question finally reached him.
He took the smallest beat.
Barely noticeable.
—Honestly? —he said, leaning forward slightly. —It's been crazy... but in a good way. I didn't expect so much. You have a beautiful country.
This time, the smile was real.
A little.
—In Russia, we don't have anything like this. The energy, the people, the way people treat each other... you live with a lot of joy. A lot of intensity...
He stopped for a second, searching for the words.
—Everything is different. And people make you feel at home.
The interview continued. Smooth. Professional. Correct. Inside... Ilya was still a complete mess.
When it ended, applause came immediately. Lights switched off. Smiles relaxed.
—Great job, —someone told him.
Ilya nodded.
Polite.
Empty.
—Can someone take me back to the house? —he asked directly.
The assistant hesitated.
—Actually... Mr. João Costa is downstairs. He's waiting for you.
That brought him back.
Ilya looked up.
João.
For a second, he saw the bed again.
The missing pieces.
—He's downstairs?
—Yes.
Ilya nodded and stood.
For the first time all day... completely present. He didn't smile. Didn't react the way he had before. He simply got up. Because now... this wasn't production anymore. This was something else.
He went downstairs.
Walked out of the lobby.
Got into the car.
João was behind the wheel.
The drive began without conversation. But it wasn't comfortable. Something between them had changed.
Something neither of them seemed to know how to touch.
João kept his eyes on the road.
Ilya kept glancing at him.
Several times he opened his mouth to speak.
Several times he closed it again.
All he could think about was whether to ask.
What happened last night?
Did I say something?
Did I do something?
—How's your head? —João asked suddenly.
Ilya let out a short breath.
—Terrible. But I ate. Took some pills... drank a lot of water.
He ran a hand through his hair.
—I think I'll survive.
—Good to know.
A faint smile appeared on Ilya's face.
It didn't last.
He looked at João again.
—Hey, I...
João took a second to react.
—Hm?
His mind was somewhere else.
Ilya lowered his voice slightly.
—About last night...
João looked at him.
For a moment, he didn't answer.
Then a small smile appeared.
Nervous.
—About last night... nothing.
Ilya frowned slightly.
João returned his eyes to the road.
—There's nothing to talk about.
Then, quietly:
—Nothing happened.
And he left it there.
Ilya watched him for a few seconds.
Some of the tension left his shoulders.
He didn't ask anything else.
The car settled back into that uneasy quiet.
Then a short sound broke through it.
João's phone.
A message.
João glanced at the screen for barely a second.
Then back at the road.
Ilya noticed.
A few seconds later, he looked at him again.
—You're not going to answer?
—No.
Too fast.
João turned the phone face down.
—Everything's under control.
Ilya raised an eyebrow slightly.
But didn't ask.
João kept driving.
Hands steady on the wheel.
Eyes forward.
Except every once in a while...
they drifted back toward the phone.
Something didn't add up.
Ilya looked out the window.
The buildings were beginning to thin out.
Less traffic.
Less city.
More sky.
More ocean.
He waited a few minutes.
—Where are we going?
—We're almost there.
Ilya looked around.
—This isn't the way to your house.
João breathed out through his nose.
Almost a smile.
—I know.
—Then where are you taking me?
This time, João took a little longer to answer.
He looked at the road.
Then the phone.
Then ahead again.
—Don't worry.
His fingers tightened slightly around the wheel.
—You'll understand soon.
Ilya looked at him.
João didn't add anything else.
The car kept moving.
Until the noise of Rio slowly fell behind them.
Fewer cars.
Fewer buildings.
Just ocean.
João slowed down.
Ilya looked around again.
—Here?
—Yeah.
João turned off the engine.
For a few seconds, neither of them moved.
João checked his phone one last time.
Locked the screen.
—Come on.
Ilya got out.
The sand was warm beneath his feet. The steady sound of waves filled the space the city had left behind. This beach was different. No crowds. No music. A few people far away... enough that it didn't feel abandoned, but few enough that you could breathe.
—My dad used to bring me here when I was a kid, —João said behind him. —It was our place.
Ilya looked at him.
João's eyes were on the ocean.
Ilya didn't answer.
Places like that didn't need explanations.
Then João lowered his gaze slightly.
Breathed.
And when he spoke again, something in his voice had changed.
—Someone's waiting for you.
Ilya turned.
—What?
João didn't answer.
He only looked toward the beach.
Ilya followed his gaze.
A figure.
Far away.
Back turned to them.
The sun falling directly behind him.
Ilya couldn't make him out clearly.
Only a silhouette.
He narrowed his eyes.
Trying to understand.
But his body understood first.
His heart slammed once against his chest.
No.
It couldn't be.
He took one step.
Then another.
And then he recognized something.
The posture.
The shoulders.
The way he stood completely still in front of the ocean.
Something inside Ilya gave way.
—Shane...
It was barely a whisper.
But it was enough.
The figure turned around.
And the world… disappeared.
João said nothing.
He looked at Ilya one last time, lowered his eyes, then walked back to the car.
He closed the door.
And left them alone.
Ilya didn’t think.
Didn’t analyze.
Didn’t hesitate.
He ran.
Shane reacted a second later.
And ran too.
The collision wasn’t graceful.
It was clumsy.
Hard.
Real.
They crashed into each other.
Their arms wrapped around each other desperately.
Like they were already too late.
Like they had almost… almost not made it.
—Fuck… —Shane murmured against his neck. —Fuck…
Ilya didn’t answer.
He only held him tighter.
Buried his face against him.
Breathed him in.
Shane.
Really there.
Right there.
Shane slid a hand around the back of his neck.
Neither of them seemed willing to be the first one to let go.
Until Ilya pulled back just a little.
Only enough to look at him.
He touched his face.
His cheek.
His hair.
Like he still needed to make sure Shane was real.
—What are you doing here?
Shane let out a nervous laugh, still trying to catch his breath.
—I didn’t think too much.
—You crossed half the world.
—I know.
—To Brazil.
—I know that too.
Ilya stared at him in disbelief.
—You’re crazy.
—Probably.
The smallest smile passed between them.
And disappeared almost immediately.
Because there was still too much hanging over everything that had happened.
Shane lowered his eyes.
—I thought you wouldn’t want to see me.
Ilya frowned.
—What?
—After the way I talked to you. After everything I assumed…
He swallowed.
—I found out you were with him and…
Shane shook his head.
—My head did the rest.
Ilya watched him without saying anything.
Shane kept going.
—I convinced myself of things without even asking you. And then I got so angry that every new thing I saw felt like proof I was right.
Ilya looked down.
For a moment, there was only the sound of the ocean.
—I should have called you —he said.
Shane looked up.
—Ilya—
—No. Let me finish.
He took a breath.
—I told you I would text. I didn’t. Then I saw your calls and…
His jaw tightened.
—I was angry. The way you talked to me. You saw one video online and right away you thought the worst.
Shane lifted a hand and brushed his fingers over Ilya’s cheek.
This time, neither of them made a joke.
—Nothing happened with her.
Ilya went still.
—Nothing —Shane repeated. —I wasn’t even close to doing anything.
Ilya closed his eyes for a second.
—I believe you.
The relief showed before he could hide it.
—I didn’t do anything with him either.
Shane looked at him.
—I know.
It came out quieter.
—How do you know?
Shane swallowed.
Ilya held his gaze.
—Because I can feel it. Because I can see it in your eyes. Because after everything… I know I still mean a lot to you.
A small laugh escaped Shane.
Ilya smiled too.
Only for a moment.
But it was there.
Them.
They were still there.
Then, suddenly—
—But you’ve spent weeks imagining me fucking him.
Shane opened his mouth.
—I wasn’t—
Ilya raised an eyebrow.
Shane closed his mouth.
—Okay. Maybe a little.
Ilya let out a tired laugh.
—Idiot.
—Yeah.
Shane smiled.
But this time, Ilya didn’t.
He watched him for a few seconds.
—He has feelings for me.
Shane’s smile disappeared.
There was no surprise.
Only a slight tension in his face.
—I know.
Ilya studied him.
—How?
Shane hesitated.
Then he looked toward the car.
João was still inside.
—I’m not stupid. I’ve seen the way he looks at you. The way he watches you. The way he takes care of you.
Ilya went still.
—But I texted him anyway.
—What?
—João.
—You texted João?
—I didn’t know what else to do.
Ilya kept staring at him, trying to process it.
—When?
—Before I came. And again when I got here.
Shane’s voice dropped slightly.
—I didn’t know where you were. I didn’t know if you would answer me. I didn’t even know if you wanted to see me.
He looked toward the car again.
—But I thought he might know how to find you.
Ilya followed his gaze.
João sat behind the wheel.
Still.
Not looking at them.
Ilya turned back to Shane.
—Shane. I lost my phone. I dropped it at Carnival. I tried to answer your call, but it slipped out of my hand. I tried to call you before. I wanted to answer all your calls before. But I didn’t feel ready. What I saw… it wasn’t easy to forget.
And suddenly, several pieces fell into place.
—He told me.
That landed differently.
Ilya looked toward the car again.
This time, it took him a little longer to look away.
Shane noticed.
He didn’t ask.
Not yet.
Ilya took a deep breath.
—You don’t know how hard it was for me to get on that plane.
Shane looked at him again.
—Then tell me.
Ilya took his time.
—I thought you didn’t trust me.
Shane closed his eyes for a moment.
—I was scared.
—Me too.
—I know.
—No. You don’t.
Ilya stepped closer.
—Nine years, Shane.
His voice cracked.
—Nine fucking years doing this. Hiding. Waiting. Finding any way we could just to be together…
Shane didn’t move.
—And when I can finally call you my boyfriend…
Ilya swallowed.
That time, he had to stop.
Just for a second.
—…I thought you stopped believing in me.
Shane had no answer.
His eyes filled before he could stop them.
—I never stopped believing in you.
Ilya slowly shook his head.
—For a moment, you did.
Shane looked down.
He didn’t argue.
—Yeah.
A wave broke behind them.
—And I’m sorry.
Ilya watched him.
Shane raised his eyes again.
—I really am.
He drew in a breath.
—I’m sorry too. What I did to you wasn’t right. I decided to punish you instead of talking to you.
He exhaled deeply.
—Please forgive me.
Before Shane could even understand what was happening, Ilya dropped to his knees in the sand and took both of his hands. He held them there without thinking about the world. Russia.
Family. Hockey. João. Anyone else. Shane smiled through his tears.
—I missed you.
Ilya’s expression changed.
Completely.
—Don’t say that.
—Why?
Ilya looked away.
—Because I’m trying not to cry.
A broken laugh escaped Shane.
—I already lost that battle.
Ilya looked at him again.
And that was the end of the distance between them.
Shane pulled him back up.
Brought him close.
Slowly.
Wrapped his arms around his back.
Ilya closed his eyes.
Their foreheads met first.
They breathed.
Nothing else.
Then Shane brushed his nose against Ilya’s.
Ilya opened his eyes.
—I missed you too.
And he kissed him.
It wasn’t desperate.
Not yet.
It was slow.
Almost careful.
Like they were rediscovering something they already knew by heart.
Shane held his face.
Ilya wrapped an arm around his waist.
Another kiss.
Longer.
Then another.
Until something they had been holding back for weeks finally gave way.
Ilya pulled him in hard.
Shane responded immediately.
Desire.
Anger.
Relief.
All of it tangled together.
When they finally pulled apart, neither of them went far.
Shane was still brushing his thumb over Ilya’s cheek.
—I thought I really lost you.
Ilya grabbed his shirt.
—Don’t make me feel like that again.
—I never want to.
—Then talk to me.
Shane nodded.
—You too.
Ilya made a face.
—That will be harder.
Shane burst out laughing.
—Asshole.
—Canadian.
—Russian.
And there they were again.
After everything.
Ilya looked at him for a few seconds.
His smile slowly faded.
Not from sadness.
From something deeper.
—I love you.
Shane stopped breathing for a moment.
Not because he had never heard it before.
But because after everything that had happened…
he needed to hear it.
He rested his forehead against Ilya’s.
—I love you too.
Ilya closed his eyes.
Shane ran a hand over the back of his neck.
—And I’m not losing you again.
Ilya opened his eyes.
—Then don’t let go.
Shane shook his head.
—Not this time.
They stayed like that.
No rush.
The ocean behind them.
The sun going down.
A few people in the distance.
For the first time, neither of them looked around to see who might be watching.
It didn’t matter.
For nine years, they had learned how to hide.
That day…
they simply stayed.
After a while, Ilya looked back toward the car.
João was still inside.
—I can’t believe you texted him.
Shane made a face.
—I was desperate.
—João Costa.
—Yes.
—My hockey teammate.
—Yes, Ilya.
—The man you were jealous of.
Shane sighed.
—Are you going to do this all day?
Ilya finally smiled.
A real smile.
—Probably.
Shane shook his head.
—You’re a fucking idiot.
Ilya pulled him close again.
—But I’m your idiot.
Shane looked at him.
—Unfortunately.
Ilya kissed him.
This time, calmly.
Sure of it.
With nothing left to prove.
Because they were no longer trying to figure out who had been right. Or who had hurt the other first. Or who had been more afraid.
After weeks of running in opposite directions… they were finally standing in the same place. And this time, they were choosing each other for one reason only. Because the love was real.
The air inside the car felt strange. Not exactly uncomfortable… but not comfortable either.
João drove with his eyes fixed on the road. Both hands steady on the wheel. Far too focused for someone who knew these streets by heart.
Ilya sat beside him. Shane was in the back. Outside, Rio kept moving to its own rhythm. Warm lights. Music somewhere in the distance. People walking along the sidewalks like the night was only beginning.
Inside the car, no one seemed to know what to say. Not because there was nothing to say. Because there was too much. Ilya stared out the window. Every now and then, his eyes found Shane through the rearview mirror. Shane did the same. Until their eyes met. A small smile. Almost involuntary. João saw it. His eyes went straight back to the road.
—So… —he said after a while— do you guys want to stop by the hotel, get your things, and then go back to my place?
For a moment, no one answered.
Ilya turned toward Shane.
Shane looked at him.
They both seemed to understand the same thing at exactly the same time.
Ilya smiled first.
Shane shook his head.
—João… thank you. Really.
João didn’t answer.
—For answering me. For bringing us together. For everything.
Shane took a breath.
—I owe you one.
João glanced briefly into the rearview mirror.
—You don’t owe me anything. It’s okay.
Shane held his gaze for a moment.
Then nodded.
—Thank you for your hospitality anyway… but I think we’re gonna stay at the hotel tonight.
Ilya turned slightly toward him.
A smile started to form.
—It’s because Shane moans a lot and he doesn’t want anyone to hear him.
—I’m going to kill you.
Shane leaned forward, red all the way to his ears.
—I swear to God, I’m going to kill you, Ilya Rozanov.
Ilya burst out laughing.
—What? João is trustworthy now.
João smiled on instinct.
—Yeah… don’t worry.
He looked back at the road.
The smile disappeared almost immediately.
—The hotel is fine, then.
Ilya was still laughing.
Shane muttered something neither of them could understand.
For a few seconds, the car felt different.
Lighter.
Almost normal.
Until a motorcycle suddenly cut between two cars.
—João!
He slammed on the brakes.
Hard.
The seatbelt dug into Ilya’s chest. Shane grabbed the back of the front seat.
The motorcycle shot past them and disappeared into traffic.
João stayed there with both hands gripping the wheel.
—Fuck… —he muttered.
Ilya looked at him.
—You okay?
—Yeah.
Too fast.
João started driving again.
—I didn’t see it.
Ilya kept watching him for a few seconds.
João kept his eyes forward.
—I’m fine.
This time, Ilya didn’t ask again.
The rest of the drive was quiet.
A comment here and there.
A joke that didn’t go very far.
Shane’s voice occasionally coming from the back seat.
But something had changed.
João spoke less.
And whenever he did, it seemed to take him a second to come back to the conversation.
Finally, the lights of the hotel appeared ahead.
João slowed down and pulled up near the entrance.
He put the car in park.
—We’re here.
Ilya opened the door.
Before getting out, he looked at João.
—Thank you.
João nodded.
—See you.
—Yeah.
Ilya got out.
He closed the door and started toward the entrance.
Shane followed, but after a few steps, he stopped.
Then turned around and walked back to the car.
João noticed him in the rearview mirror and lowered the window.
Neither of them spoke at first.
—João.
João looked up.
—Thank you.
—You already said that.
—I know.
Shane didn’t smile.
—But I needed to say it again.
João looked away.
—You don’t have to thank me.
—Yeah, I do.
Nothing came after that for a moment.
Through the windshield, João noticed Ilya had stopped walking.
Watching them.
Waiting.
Shane looked at him.
Then back at João.
—I know this wasn’t easy for you.
João’s jaw tightened.
—You don’t know anything about me.
There was no aggression in it.
Just a wall.
Shane nodded.
—You’re right.
João looked at him.
—But I know enough.
This time, João didn’t answer.
Shane didn’t need him to.
A few seconds passed.
João looked toward Ilya.
—He loves you a lot. Don’t let him go.
Shane followed his gaze.
Ilya was still there, hands in his pockets, already looking a little impatient.
The smallest smile appeared on Shane’s face.
—I know.
João nodded.
Lowered his eyes.
Then looked ahead again.
—I didn’t do this for you.
Shane watched him.
And understood.
—I know that too.
That was it.
Nothing else was needed.
—Good night, João.
João met his eyes one last time.
—Good night, Shane.
Shane walked back to Ilya.
And together, they disappeared through the hotel doors.
João stayed there.
Alone.
He didn’t drive away.
His hands remained on the wheel.
He stared at the doors they had just disappeared behind.
One second.
Two.
Then he lowered his eyes.
Took a deep breath.
Started the car.
And drove away.
The city was still alive.
João wasn’t.
After dropping them off at the hotel, he drove aimlessly for several minutes.
No music.
No calls.
Just Rio passing beyond the windshield, and one image returning over and over again.
Ilya running toward Shane.
The two of them holding each other in the middle of the sand.
João clenched his jaw.
A traffic light changed.
He didn’t see it.
A horn snapped him back.
—Hey!
Red.
João slammed on the brakes.
The seatbelt struck his chest.
The car stopped far too close to the one in front of him.
He stayed completely still.
Hands gripping the steering wheel.
He breathed.
Once.
Again.
His fingers were trembling slightly.
—Fuck…
He closed his eyes.
He couldn’t keep driving like this.
And then he knew where to go.
When he reached Rafael’s house, it took him a while to get out of the car.
His phone rested on the passenger seat.
The conversation was still open.
Shane.
João stared at the screen.
Locked it.
Got out.
Knocked on the door.
Rafael opened it.
—João.
His expression changed the moment he saw him.
—What happened?
—Nothing.
João walked inside.
Rafael closed the door behind him.
—You look like shit for someone who says nothing happened.
Normally, João would have had something to say.
This time, he didn’t.
He walked into the living room and stood there.
—I took him to him.
Rafael frowned.
—Took who?
João lowered his eyes.
—Ilya.
Rafael’s expression shifted.
He understood.
—Oh. But who exactly did you take him to?
João sat down.
—Shane Hollander.
His elbows rested on his knees.
—When he saw him… he ran.
Rafael didn’t really know who this guy was, but he didn’t ask anything else.
—Ilya ran toward him.
João swallowed.
—And Shane ran too.
He stopped for a moment.
—They hugged, and…
João slowly shook his head.
—That was it.
—What was it?
João looked up.
—I understood.
Rafael waited, listening patiently as his friend—seemingly for the first time since he had known him—fell apart like this.
—I knew he loved him —João continued—. He’d already told me.
A small, humorless laugh escaped him.
—“My heart already belongs to someone else.”
He stared at the floor.
—That’s what he told me.
—So you already knew.
—Yeah.
João tightened his hands together.
—That’s the problem. I knew.
He stood up.
—I knew he had a boyfriend. I knew he loved him. I knew I was getting involved in something I shouldn’t have…
He ran a hand over his face.
—And I kept going.
—Why?
João took a while to answer.
—Because, in some stupid way, without really thinking it through, I thought maybe I had a chance.
Rafael stayed quiet.
—I don’t even know Shane. I mean, I know who he is, but he’s not my friend…
João shrugged.
—Did Ilya ever promise you anything?
João shook his head.
—No.
Again.
—No. There were moments. Looks. Something…
He searched for the word.
—But he never promised me anything. In fact, he never crossed the line. Well, we danced together once… but it was like dancing with a friend. The same way I would’ve danced with you or anyone else.
His voice dropped.
—He never said he was going to choose me.
And somehow, saying it out loud hurt even more.
João sat down again.
—It was me.
Rafael looked at him.
—I let that possibility grow.
João picked up his phone.
—Shane texted me.
—Shane?
—He wanted to find Ilya.
Rafael glanced at the screen.
—And you helped him?
João let out a brief laugh.
—Not at first.
Rafael looked up.
—I didn’t want to answer him.
João hesitated.
—Because if Shane showed up…
He couldn’t finish.
—Your chance was gone —Rafael said.
João closed his eyes.
—Yeah.
Rafael waited.
João swallowed.
—I even rejected one of his calls once.
—A call Shane made to Ilya?
—Yeah.
—That was wrong.
—I know.
He didn’t try to defend himself.
—But then I watched Ilya. All those days. Angry. Lost. Staring at a phone he didn’t even have…
His voice began to fail him.
—And I realized Shane didn’t even need to be there for me to lose.
Rafael lowered his gaze.
A broken laugh escaped João.
—He’d already won before I ever showed up.
The first tear fell.
João wiped it away immediately.
—Fuck.
He breathed.
—So I answered him. He was desperate to find his man.
João looked at the phone.
—I took him to the beach.
His breathing grew heavier.
—Then I went to get Ilya.
Rafael watched him.
—I put him in my car knowing exactly what was going to happen.
Another tear.
—And I still drove him there.
His voice broke.
—I took him to Shane myself.
And that was it.
He couldn’t hold himself together anymore.
He tried to sit properly, but ended up on the floor with his back against the couch.
He covered his face.
Rafael moved closer.
João stayed there on the floor, his back pressed against the couch.
For a while, he said nothing.
He wiped his face with both hands.
Breathed.
—I’ve spent my whole life preparing myself for hard things, Rafa.
Rafael turned toward him.
João stared straight ahead.
—Do you know how much it took for me to get here?
He gathered himself.
—Training. Sleepless nights. Days without rest. Shitty diets.
riends I stopped seeing…
He exhaled.
—Everything.
Rafael listened.
—When I got to Canada and those kids made fun of me… I thought I had to be stronger. When I struggled to speak, to understand, to fit in… stronger.
He swallowed.
—When I thought about my family and everything they expected from me… stronger.
His eyes started filling again.
—I just wanted them to be proud of me.
He looked down.
—So I pushed myself. Every fucking day.
He wiped away a tear.
—I lost friends because of it. People thought I’d forgotten about them. I gave up things I wanted because there was always something else to do, something else to improve…
His voice began to crack.
—And I thought all of that had prepared me.
Rafael frowned slightly.
—For what?
João let out a broken laugh.
—Not to end up like this.
He gestured toward himself.
Sitting on the floor.
Eyes red.
Face wet with tears.
—After everything… love is what finally beat me.
He slowly shook his head.
—The one thing I always thought I could control. The one thing I swore would never bring me to my knees.
Rafael watched him for a few seconds.
—And who the fuck hasn’t suffered because of love?
João said nothing.
—You know what your mistake was?
João looked up.
—You thought that because you survived all of that… you could stop being human.
João looked away.
—That you could train yourself not to feel. Train yourself so nothing could touch you. So you could overcome anything before it ever had the chance to break you.
João pressed his lips together.
The tears returned.
—But look at me.
João shook his head.
—João.
Rafael moved closer and gently took him by the chin.
—Look at me.
João finally raised his eyes.
—You’re human. You feel. You make mistakes. You fall for people you shouldn’t. You get your hopes up. You get your heart broken.
He let go.
—Just like everyone else. That doesn’t make you weak.
—But I shouldn’t have…
João’s voice broke.
—Then none of it meant anything.
—What didn’t?
—Everything.
João opened his hands in frustration.
—Everything I did to become who I am.
Rafael shook his head.
—Don’t say stupid shit.
João looked at him.
—You’re incredible, João.
João lowered his head.
—I mean it. If I were into men, I’d probably be into you.
A small laugh escaped João.
But more tears came immediately after.
—Don’t say that.
Rafael frowned.
—Why?
João took a moment to answer.
—Because he said something like that to me.
Rafael went still.
João swallowed.
—He told me I was the kind of person anyone would want.
Even repeating it hurt.
—And then he told me his heart already belonged to someone else.
João wiped his face.
—You know what the worst part was?
Rafael waited.
—I thought, What does Shane have that I don’t?
There was shame in the admission.
No pride.
—What does he have that’s better than me?
Rafael slowly shook his head.
—That’s the problem.
João looked at him.
—Love doesn’t work like that.
Rafael let the words settle.
—The best-looking person doesn’t win. Neither does the one with the most money, or the one who plays better, or the one with the best personality.
João lowered his eyes.
—Sometimes you meet someone and something just…
Rafael made a small gesture with his hand.
—Happens.
Neither of them spoke for a moment.
—No explanation. No permission. Nobody plans it.
João closed his eyes.
—And that doesn’t mean Shane has something you’re missing.
Rafael waited until João looked at him again.
—It means Ilya loves him.
That finally broke him.
João dropped his head.
His shoulders began to shake.
He tried to hold it back.
He couldn’t.
Rafael moved closer.
—Let it out.
João shook his head as he cried.
—This is going to pass.
—I know.
João struggled to breathe.
—I know it’s going to pass.
He wiped his face, but the tears kept falling.
—It’s just that right now…
He couldn’t finish.
—I know.
Rafael stayed beside him.
After a while:
—Have you stopped to think about something?
João let out a choked laugh.
—Rafa, my brain isn’t exactly working right now.
—Yeah, I noticed.
João gave him a small shove with his shoulder.
Rafael smiled.
Just a little.
—Maybe you didn’t lose one person today.
João looked at him.
—Maybe you gained two.
João’s expression changed.
—What?
—Hear me out.
Rafael settled his back against the couch.
—If you fell for Ilya, that Russian must have something going for him besides hockey and looking like an asshole.
João laughed through his tears.
—He doesn’t look that bad.
—Not the point.
João laughed again.
Barely.
Rafael continued.
—And if someone like him has spent all these years choosing Shane… maybe Shane isn’t just anybody either.
João thought about it.
—What do you know about him?
João shrugged.
—He’s a good player.
—Okay.
—He doesn’t give up easily.
—Good.
João thought again.
—And he doesn’t seem to have any skeletons in his closet.
Rafael raised an eyebrow.
—That’s already a lot.
João lowered his eyes.
Rafael gave him a few seconds.
—So maybe one day you can stop thinking of Shane as the man who took something away from you…
He let the thought breathe.
—and get to know him simply as the person your friend loves.
João looked at him.
—My friend?
—Don’t you want Ilya to stay in your life?
João didn’t answer.
He didn’t need to.
—That’s what I thought.
Rafael rested a hand on his shoulder.
—We spend our lives chasing romantic love like it’s the only way we’re allowed to love someone.
He waited a beat.
—And sometimes a friendship ends up meaning more than we ever imagined.
João stayed still.
The tears were still there.
But something had shifted.
Just a little.
—What if I can’t?
—You can’t today.
Rafael shrugged.
—Probably not tomorrow either.
João breathed out through his nose.
—Thanks for the optimism.
—Anytime.
Rafael smiled.
Then his expression turned serious again.
—But one day, you will.
João looked at him.
—Because I know you.
Rafael gave him a moment.
—Tonight, you’re going to cry. You’re going to feel like shit.
omorrow you’ll probably wake up with your eyes looking like two fucking tennis balls.
João let out a small laugh.
—But you’ll get up.
Rafael squeezed his shoulder gently.
—And little by little, you’ll let go of what was never yours.
João swallowed.
His eyes filled again.
But this time, he nodded.
—Promise me?
João took a deep breath.
Nodded again.
Rafael watched him.
—And until then, feel it.
João lowered his eyes.
—You don’t have to be strong with me.
Rafael let that settle between them.
—Whenever you can’t handle it, you come here.
João looked at him.
—If you need to cry, you cry. If you want to talk shit, we’ll talk shit. If you need me to remind you who you are, I’ll do that too.
Rafael gave him a faint smile.
—That’s what brothers are for.
João tried to answer.
He couldn’t.
His mouth opened, but no sound came out.
And that was enough.
He moved toward Rafael and hugged him.
Hard.
Much harder than necessary.
Rafael was caught off guard for only a moment.
Then he wrapped his arms around him.
João buried his face against his shoulder.
And started crying again.
But this time, he didn’t wipe away the tears.
He didn’t apologize.
He didn’t try to pull himself together.
He simply held on to him.
As if, after spending his entire life learning how to endure everything alone… he had finally understood that he never had to.