anwolf



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    “Game is over,” he says. “You won. I lost. I was annoying. Normal.”

    “That’s not—” Shane starts, then stops, because he actually doesn't know how to finish that thought without sounding like an idiot. His jaw works, teeth grinding together.

    That's not what I meant. That's not the point. You said I was boring and you were right and I need you to say it again so I know where I stand, so I know what you think of me, so I can stop waiting for the other shoe to drop.

    He settles for: “You were kind of an asshole.”

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    24 Feb 2026

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    Shane Hollander is tired of wanting someone he cannot have, and he’s dying as he waits for someone who will not stay. Someone who doesn’t want to stay, not when there are so many others waiting for him. Fun of another variety, Shane left a treat amongst many.

    It’s humiliating. It’s distracting. And it feels like shit.

    He wishes he could erase his feelings, move on as easily. In an effort to gain back control over the ‘situation’ that has become his romantic attraction to a notorious player, Shane attempts at imitating Ilya Rozanov’s methods until he perfects them and becomes as good as keeping it light and casual as his rival.

     

    Or Shane tries to Hoe Phase himself into a self discovery journey to choke and kill his feelings for Ilya Rozanov. Ilya is not the only who suffers from it, but he sure feels like he’s being choked and killed.

    ___
    Story ends after chapter 6 but I keep writing bonus because the hyper fixation doesn’t end.

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    24 Feb 2026

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    His mother’s eyes darken with weariness Shane recognizes instinctually, a grief separate but not wholly unlike his own. A tear makes its way down her cheek, but Shane’s stay put, stubborn, cradled in his lashline like if he doesn’t cry, maybe none of this is as bad as he thinks it is.

    “Just—I just have to ask,” she says. Her voice lowers to a whisper, that ever-steady corner of her mouth wavering as her palm envelopes his cheek. “How long have you been hurting?”

    My whole life, probably, Shane thinks. I'm sorry. I just didn’t know.

    --

    [Or: Shane learns that skill, passion, and meticulous control aren't necessarily immunity, and that rest isn't something he's owed so much as he has to carve out for himself; sometimes with a whisper, sometimes with his pride on the line, sometimes on his hands and knees. And still, regardless, despite—he refuses to give up on this either, even if this time it means believing in himself instead of familiar schedules or rituals. Even if it means his whole life has to change to do it.

    Even if it means having to believe that he's worth that much in the first place.]

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    23 Feb 2026

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    Ilya's face split into a wide grin. It made his eyes sparkle. Shane wanted to kiss him very badly. "Oh. Oh. You are very drunk."

    "I wouldn't say very drunk. I'm normal drunk." Shane corrected, stepping closer to Ilya until they were barely centimeters apart. Shane reached up and wrapped his arms around Ilya's neck. They were so close and he smelled so good. Shane breathed him in for a second. Fuck, he had missed him so badly. It had only been two weeks, but it felt like forever.

    "I missed you too." Ilya whispered. Wait, had Shane said that out loud? Oops. Maybe he was very drunk. "More than you know."

    Or, the transition from friends with benefits to lovers is far from seamless.

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    22 Feb 2026

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    Ilya is wallowing after getting back from Montreal, when there's a knock at his door. Shane Hollander is here, and probably definitely going to break up with him for real.

    or: alternate version where shane flew to boston after his convo with rose, instead of waiting for the all-star game

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    22 Feb 2026