Page 111 of Two for Roughing

Mark Tungsten: You are the only currently active Muslim player in the league, though, correct?

Denisov: Yes, that’s true. But we all face intense scrutiny. Just looking at what happened to Kilian [Howard], it’s clear that not all fans or—if you’ll excuse me—reporters view our private lives as private. I try to keep my faith out of the public eye because I don’t enjoy being scrutinized for my personal life.

Mark Tungsten: Thank you for being so candid. Just one more question, and then I’ll let someone ask about the clinic the power play put on yesterday, if you don’t mind. You mentioned Kilian Howard’s recent coming out. Is his sexuality at odds with your religion?

Denisov: Not at all.

Top comments:

stickstickpuck: cry more on this one, bro. You get paid seven point five million a year to play hockey, that’s gonna garner you some public interest.

firecrackers_spark: Really glad to hear Denny supporting Howie right back after Howie stood up for him earlier this year! Worst team, best locker room.

(From pregame media with Damir Denisov, Chicago @ San Francisco, 12/31/2025)

Damir hadn’t packed a prayer mat.

Of course he hadn’t packed a prayer mat; he hadn’t been in the habit of praying regularly for the last twelve years or so. A week of occasionally reincorporating the practice into his life didn’t make up for the long period of negligence, and he also hadn’t had time to find a travel-sized mat.

Damir hadn’t shifted into suddenly strict adherence to salat. He prayed once a day, usually in the morning, though rarely perfectly on time for Fajr at dawn. He wasn’t about to start finding local mosques on the Fridays they spent on the road either. To him, the letter of the law meant less than the spirit of incorporating belief into his life.

So, he slipped out of bed and showered, relishing the ache from being fucked. He wasn’t sure he wanted to repeat the experience often, but perhaps occasionally. As a reward, maybe, when Kilian had been very good.

When he was clean and dry, Damir took one of the fluffy, white unused towels off the rack, pulled on a pair of boxer briefs and returned to the main room. He had his phone in one hand, toggling open the app to tell him what direction Mecca was, so he didn’t notice Kilian had woken up until a great, whooshing sigh of relief left him.

“I thought you left.”

Kilian was bleary-eyed, sitting up in the sheets with his hair a frizzy mess. Damir couldn’t help but smile at him.

“No, of course not. I was just going to…” Damir trailed off, looking down at the towel and the phone in his hands. “I was going to pray.”

“Oh. Um, do you want me to…go?”

“No, it’s fine.” Damir laid out the towel facing east. He wondered idly how far he’d have to travel before the app pointed him westward to pray to Mecca. Past the international date line perhaps? He put his phone on the table and got to his knees.

He regretted not telling Kilian to leave as he started, the singsong of the words slipping past his lips in time to his movements. He couldn’t lose himself in the repetition of it quite so well with the prickling awareness of Kilian’s eyes on the back of his neck.

Still, he forced himself through the whole of the prayer, breathing deeply though his own thoughts until he could crystallize the things he was thankful for: his own and his family’s health, the team’s current success, Kilian.

When he finished, he was smiling.

“That was really nice,” Kilian told him as he got to his feet and draped the towel over one of the chairs. “No clue what you said, but it sounded great.”

Damir sat at the end of the bed. “Allah is great, blessed is his name, and so on and so forth. Honestly, I don’t think about the words much anymore.”

“So you say the same thing every time?”

Under the covers, Damir found one of Kilian’s feet and rested his hand over the ankle joint. Such a simple joy, to have license to touch. Such a great joy all the same. “Yes, the words and the movements form a sort of ritual.”

“Cool.”

Kilian fell silent, looking at his hands folded in his lap.

Damir waited.

“I guess…” Kilian took a deep breath. “We need to talk about what this, us, means for you. For us.”

“Yes,” Damir agreed.