Chapter Text
"You know where the silverware drawer is, and then the mugs go over there, same cabinet as the plates," Yuna says, pointing. "Thank you, sweetie. I always forget to unload the dishwasher when David is out of town."
Ilya makes a noise of understanding and starts taking the silverware out of the dishwasher as Yuna washes the pasta pot in the sink. They work in a comfortable silence that Ilya has grown to love over the past several months. He doesn't spend all of his free time at Yuna and David's but they insist he comes over every couple weeks when he's home. Even though they aren't quite his family—not yet, at least, not in the way that they're Shane's—Ilya loves Yuna and David with his whole heart.
Their safe home, where he can be himself, is the only thing getting him through some days when the loneliness and missing Shane becomes too much.
A crash startles Ilya out of his thoughts, and when he realises what happened, both of his hands fly up to the sides of his face and he can feel his heart beating in his ears.
"Yuna, I am so—" Ilya's breath catches when he sees a detailed blue flower on a larger shard of the mug he dropped. It's Yuna's favourite mug, the one David picked out for her on their twenty-fifth anniversary trip. Ilya sees her drinking tea from it regularly, and now she won't be able to ever again.
He feels cold and numb all over, and it takes Yuna's damp hand on his arm to snap him back to reality. Ilya suddenly feels exhausted. Like if he doesn't sit down, his legs will give out.
"Honey, look at me," Yuna is saying, and Ilya manages to raise his head from where he's staring at the mug's remains on the ground. "I lost you for a second there."
"Sorry," Ilya says, and then he can't stop. "I broke your special anniversary mug. I am so sorry. I will fly to Switzerland and buy you a new one. I—"
"Stop, Ilya," Yuna says, using her Mom voice. "It's just a mug."
Ilya blinks at her. Her voice is firm, but her eyes are soft, and she's almost… smiling?
"But it is your favourite," Ilya says meekly. He didn't expect Yuna would hit him like his father might have been, but he assumed she'd at least be mad and at worst, kick him out. "You are not angry?"
"No, sweetheart. I'm sad, because I loved that mug, but it's just a thing. And it was just an accident, Ilya. I still have all my memories and pictures and that stupidly expensive bracelet David bought to remember that trip." Yuna smiles fully now, stepping over the mug's wreckage and leading Ilya away to sit at the kitchen table. "Take a breath. You're okay."
Hot, silent tears run down Ilya's cheeks as he takes in her words. "I am sorry. I am not used to… forgiveness."
Yuna swallows thickly, then scoots her chair closer to Ilya's in order to wrap him in a hug. "I love you, Ilya. I will always love you. You're much more important than a piece of ceramic."
All Ilya can do is try to believe her.