Chapter Text
Svetlana Vetrova
I just dropped him off.
Please look after him for me.
I know you will.
I just feel like a piece of my
heart is walking away.
Svetlana: I’ll be waiting for him in
Boston.
Svetlana: Don’t worry, I’ll take good care of him.
Thank you.
~24 hours later…
Ilya sends Shane a quick text, just to confirm that he’s landed in Moscow safely and that he’ll call him later if he gets a chance and if it’s still a decent hour for Shane.
But nearly immediately, Ilya is swept up into meetings with lawyers to figure out who gets what portion of his father’s estate, and he has to deal with Polina and Alexei being upset with Ilya’s judgement, no matter what he says or chooses to do. Ilya doesn’t want to be doing this, but Alexei and Polina have never been very financially responsible, so of course it falls to him.
Then, conveniently after the estate is dealt with, Polina and Alexei each have “things” they need to take care of, thus leaving Ilya to deal with the details of his father’s coffin and his burial plot and other various funeral arrangements. Ilya feels…remarkably unattached. He’s here in Russia, and he’s aware of that and he knows that but it’s almost as if he left a piece of his heart—his soul—back in Montreal, which maybe he kind of did.
Time slowly ticks away, the proceedings taking longer than he wants them to and the paperwork takes a painful amount of time to be processed. Ilya just wants to stand in a field and scream. It’s a bad idea if he’s being very honest, but he has to admit, it would probably feel rather refreshing to him.
But through it all, Sveta sticks by his side. She helps shield him from the worst of the paparazzi and patiently takes over talking to the executives when Ilya starts to shut down. He doesn’t know what he would’ve done without her here to pull him through this. And he knows that Shane’s in his corner from across an ocean. He knows it’s not possible, but he has a few moments where he turns expecting to see Shane come around the corner or to be sitting quietly on the bench next to him. Even if Real-Shane’s not able to be here, the little flashes of Pretend-Shane act like a cooling balm to his fried nerves.
It’s okay.
Ilya knows he’ll get through this.
He knows he will.
Because he has to.
He has to make it through this to get back to Shane.
– – –
Another 24 hours later…
Ilya did not get to call Shane last night, and it’s looking like he might not get to tonight either. This family dinner—that’s mostly made up of his father’s and Alexei’s friends—feels like it’s stretching on forever. But no one is even paying attention to Sveta and him, they could easily leave now.
As if she could read his mind, Sveta whispers to him, “Do you want to get out of here?”
Ilya nods quickly and she adds, “If anyone is to ask, I feel dizzy so you’re ensuring I get home safely.”
Ilya nods. He and Sveta stand together and he places a gentle hand at her lower back, barely touching but just enough that it makes no one question that Ilya and Sveta are leaving now. Of course, no one stops them because why would they care? Sveta’s driver pulls up to the corner, and Ilya opens the door to help her inside.
“Ты идёшь?Are you coming?” Sveta asks as she slides into the backseat.
Ilya shakes his head. “No, I am going to take a walk, make a phone call.”
Sveta nods in a silent acknowledgement of sorts. She knows exactly who he’s calling and he doesn’t even have to say anything aloud. Ilya closes the car door and then watches as the car glides away from the curb towards where he knows that the Vetrov estate lies. Ilya really does need a walk, he needs to talk to Shane.
– – –
Shane is sitting in bed reading a new hockey biography when suddenly his phone starts buzzing next to him on the bed. The caller ID lights up with ‘Lily.’ Shane immediately scrambles to pick up the phone, hitting accept before the second ring is even finished.
“Hi,” Shane whispers softly into the phone.
“Hello,” Ilya’s voice responds. Shane can hear the sheer exhaustion in his tone.
“Are you okay?” Shane tries.
Ilya’s voice sounds so hollow, it breaks Shane’s heart a little when he says, “Yes…maybe...no…probably not. My father was buried today.”
“I know that was probably hard and a lot of mixed emotions. I’m sorry you had to deal with that. Did you at least have Svetlana with you?”
“Yes, Sveta has been very…helpful in making sure everything gets…done. Sorry, English is hard today,” Ilya mumbles.
Shane sits up a little straighter in bed before saying, “I have an idea. It might help, but I don’t know—what if you told me what’s on your mind in Russian? Maybe I won’t really get it, but that way you can just explain it in a way that makes sense to you?”
“Okay,” Ilya quietly agrees.
– – –
In Russian, Ilya says, “Russia hasn’t felt like my home in years, not since my mama swallowed all those pills when I was 12. I didn’t understand what I did wrong at the time because my father hated me so much, so surely there must have been something wrong with me that also made my mother feel like she couldn’t be here anymore.
But then I got older, and I learned that it probably wasn’t entirely my fault. Maybe some part of it was—I don’t know. Moscow is all I have left of her. But I hate it here. I hate it so much, and I never want to come back, but that also means leaving all the pieces of her that are buried here, that exist here, behind permanently. Sometimes I think that it’d be worth it. But I don’t know.
Sometimes I feel the way my mama used to—sad, very sad, like the world decided to put more weight on your chest than you can handle. Some days I understand why she left this world. But since Vegas, I see the point of everything. I want to live for moments of us, I want to live to spend every possible moment in your orbit, I want to live to never leave you.
Fuck.
Fuck.
I’m so in love with you that it’s killing me. Sometimes I wonder if maybe the way you look at me is because you feel the way I do, but I don’t know why you would love someone as imperfect as me with you being as perfect as you are.
But I wish I knew how to tell you I love you. I wish I knew how to ask if you had the choice would you choose me every time? I would hope so, but maybe that’s not true. Maybe you don’t care as much as I do. I just wish I could find the courage to tell you and just see what happens. Even if you told me no and asked me to let you leave. I would let you leave even if it breaks my heart into tiny pieces forever. I would give you the world if you asked for it.”
Then, Ilya switches back to English as he stands to pace around the mouth of the pink tunnel that he had found to quietly hide from the light snow flurries and the wind. He says, “Okay, I am done.”
“Do you feel better?” Shane asks over the phone.
“Yes, thank you Shane,” Ilya whispers softly.
Shane responds, “Of course, anything for you, sweetheart.”
– – –
The next morning…
Ilya goes early, before anyone else is likely to be awake and heads to visit the cemetery. In the yard, there’s two headstones, side by side, one made of brand new marble: Ilya’s recently buried father, and another smaller headstone, made of a much older, more weathered stone: Ilya’s mother.
Ilya kneels in front of her grave. Then, in a quiet voice that no one can hear unless you’re right next to him, he starts talking, “Hi, Mama. I wanted to come visit again now that Father has been buried. At least he can’t hurt you in death even if his coffin lies next to yours. But also because I don’t know if I’ll ever be coming back here. I fell in love with someone who happens to be a man and my supposed biggest rival. You’d like him though, Mama. He treats me so well, I don’t know what to do with it. And I’m learning how to treat him right.” Ilya feels his eyes well up with tears. “I have your necklace and took the one photo Father kept of you. I found it while cleaning out his bedroom for the estate workings. I’ve put the apartment in a trust for my niece that only she can access at 18. I wish things were better, but they’re not. So, this is goodbye to you, goodbye to Moscow, and goodbye to the memories of the physical space you and I shared. I love you, Mama.”
Ilya stands and turns towards the waiting car at the curb. He slides inside and Sveta immediately extends a hand out towards him, and he takes it. They rest their hands in the middle between their seats.
They’re going home. They made it out of Moscow.