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It didn't happen much, but sometimes Shane drifted away, lost in thoughts. His eyes were unfocused on the laptop screen, and he wasn't actively seeing anything. There were too many emails that needed his attention. He needed to call the garage to have his car checked, because it was making a strange noise and it was long overdue for some maintenance. There were at least two other calls he needed to make, and outside this office there was a camp full of kids that needed to be cared for. The list of things to do was too long and it was all floating around in his head. It made him freeze up, unable to start with a task.
The camp was a big success. This was their second year, and they had a lot of applications, even for the next year. The kids seemed happy, and they'd had no trouble finding volunteers to help them.
In theory, Shane knew he should feel happy. He had just finished his first year at the Ottawa Centaurs, and they had a good team. It was incredible to be playing with Ilya, and a team that accepted them. Ilya was also feeling a lot better these days. He was still seeing his therapist, and there were still bad days, but he wasn't feeling as depressed as he had been a year ago. They were good, they were living in the same house, they had Anya, things were good.
Still, Shane couldn't help but feel anxious sometimes. Now that wasn't a rare trait for him, there were a lot of things that made him anxious. People who were late for their appointments, walking barefoot through the house and feeling crumbs and sticky spots on the floor, clothing tags that had sharp edges, the list went on. But being anxious about those things was different to the anxiety he felt when he thought back about Ilya's depression. Sometimes when he drove home, he was afraid he would find Ilya back in the depressed state he had been in.
Shane regularly felt guilty that he hadn't picked up on it sooner. That he'd been so occupied with himself that he left Ilya to suffer alone. Ilya never blamed him, but Shane couldn't help it. And he felt so wholly unequipped to deal with Ilya's feelings. He didn't know what to do or say to make him feel better, and feeling powerless wasn't something Shane wanted to feel.
Realizing that he'd been staring at the laptop for over ten minutes now, without doing anything, Shane shook himself out of his thoughts. He closed the laptop; emails could wait for now; and left the office.
The sun was bright, it was warm outside, and the first thing Shane heard was the yelling of kids. Ryan Price and Wyatt Hayes were outside with a group of kids, playing a game of soccer. With the ice rink being the size that it was, and the number of applicants much higher than expected, they had to divide the group. Not all the kids could practice on the ice at the same time, but they seemed just as happy to chase around a ball instead of a puck.
The warm sun, the happy sounds of kids playing and the fact that everything seemed to be running didn't help Shane's uneasy feeling that something was wrong. He continued walking, entering the ice rink, following the sounds of kids laughing and screaming.
The ice was filled with miniature versions of the hockey players Shane encountered on the ice all the time. They raced across the ice with their small legs and toppled over every now and again. Ilya stood in the middle of the rink, towering far above all the kids.
“One by one!” Ilya yelled across the ice. “Make a line!”
Giddy with excitement, the kids started making a wobbly line. The first one skated towards Ilya and then proceeded to drop down on the ice, flat on their back. Ilya used a hockey stick to twirl the kid in a circle on the ice. The kid let out excited screams and giggles.
A smile broke out on Shane's face.
“Now skate a lap around the ice,” Ilya ordered.
The kid got up and started skating and was quickly replaced by the next kid in line. One by one, they dropped down on their back and let Ilya twirl them around with the hockey stick.
The bad feeling Shane had felt, started floating away the longer he watched Ilya. Ilya was good with the kids — Shane had noticed that before, that one time in a pool in Florida — and he seemed to have loads of energy, while Shane sometimes felt tired after spending just an hour with the kids.
Ilya noticed Shane looking and rewarded him with a big smile. Shane felt his heart flutter; he loved him so much.
One of the kids skated up to Shane. “Mr. Hollander?”
Shane dropped his gaze to the kid. “Yes?”
“Will you come skate with us?”
He really wanted to but there were emails waiting to be answered, so he shook his head. “Not today. Tomorrow I will join you on the ice.”
The kid beamed back at him. “Alright. Thank you, Mr. Hollander!”
“Everybody grab a stick and a puck!” Ilya yelled.
The kids flew over the ice to where the equipment was kept. Ilya skated to where Shane was standing.
“You're good with kids,” Shane praised.
“They listen better than you do,” Ilya retorted, eyes sparkling.
“Maybe if you twirl me around with a hockey stick, I'll listen.”
“I'll do something else to you with my stick,” Ilya muttered.
Shane's eyes widened. “Ilya, there are kids around.”
Ilya leaned forward so he could speak directly into Shane's ear. “I'll say it in Russian, they will not understand.” Then he was gone, skating back to be the responsible hockey instructor once more.
Shane watched for a few more minutes before going back to the office to finish his work.
***
Later that night, they were lying in their bed, sheets twisted around them, Ilya on his back with his eyes closed and Shane on his stomach on the pillow next to him. Anya emitted soft snores from where she was curled up on her dog bed.
Shane remembered how he had been feeling that morning. His walk and the moment with Ilya had helped him feel better and that had lasted the rest of the day, but that didn't mean they were gone for good. And he could still feel the ghost of those feelings.
“Ilya?”
Ilya hummed, eyes still closed.
“You will tell me if you're not feeling well, right?”
Ilya opened his eyes and turned to look at Shane. “Why are you asking?”
Averting his eyes, Shane shrugged. “It's just—” He paused. “You seem to be feeling better lately but I didn't notice you were struggling before. And I don't want you to hide it, but I also might not see it.”
“Shane,” Ilya said.
Suddenly, there was a lump in Shane's throat, and his eyes started to well up. He wanted to say something, but he knew he would start crying as soon as he said something.
“Shane,” Ilya repeated, voice soft and gently. “Come here.”
Turning his head to look at Ilya, Shane found him looking back with soft eyes filled with love. He shifted into Ilya's outstretched arms.
Ilya wrapped both arms around him and Shane tucked his face into his neck. “I feel good,” Ilya whispered. “But I promise, I will tell you. We are not keeping secrets anymore.”
Shane nodded against Ilya's skin, a few tears leaking out. “I'm sorry,” he mumbled, “I shouldn't cry.”
Ilya hushed him before Shane could talk any further. “Don't be sorry,” he said gently. “You help me, I help you. We're in this together.”
Shane swallowed away the lump in his throat. “I love you, Ilya. I don't want to lose you.”
Ilya's arms tightened around him. “You're stuck with me,” he promised. “I love you too.”