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Svetlana is a good friend; this, she is sure of.
She knows things about Ilya no one else does, and she will take them to her grave if that’s what he wants her to do. She knows how to balance being a good Russian girl (yes, Papa, I know you said not to go out this weekend, I am staying in to work on something; no, Papa, I have never met her, I do not know what she is talking about) with actually having fun (coke on Fridays and Saturdays only, no kissing girls who cannot keep a secret, no kissing boys who talk too much). In fact, she is so good at balancing those that she has enough time to add the care and keeping of Ilya Rozanov to her schedule too.
He does not make it fucking easy on her, that is for sure.
Sure, she gets some pretty damn good sex out of it, but she knows half the time his head is elsewhere. Trying to get him to actually focus on her has been a challenge for their entire lives; she does not take it personally. When he does remember that he’s supposed to be eating her out or fucking her against the wall, he is great at it.
Svetlana does not really care. She loves him, she always will. Ilya—her Ilyusha—is her best friend. He is—not soft, like the Americans say, but he maybe could have been if the world had been a little bit kinder to him. He is a fool, a romantic. He does not act like it, because that is not how good Russian boys are supposed to act, but Svetlana knows. She has always known.
She had suggested they get married, once. Long before everything. They were children at the time, really, and Ilya had looked at America like it was the only way out of having to be a good Russian boy (which he had not quite mastered the way Svetlana had, not at this age. He liked danger, he had not learned the rule about kissing boys who talk too much).
He had said maybe. Maybe when they’re older. Maybe when he was playing hockey and they could make a love story out of it.
And that—that was the thing that Svetlana would take to her grave for him. That she had suggested a marriage of convenience and he had said he wanted it to be a love story. Eventually Ilya learned to not say shit like that, not in public, and she thinks he might have changed his mind, but that was when she knew they wouldn’t work. He deserved his love story. She could not give it to him, but she could be his best friend.
Then there was Jane. Jane, who Svetlana pretended she did not know about for some time until it got boring to pretend and more fun to tease. Jane, who was a casual fling but who was saved under their own name and not the name of the bar Ilya had met them at. Jane, who Ilya ignored Svetlana for. How rude.
She was not really upset. Whoever Jane was… well. Svetlana is a good friend. She wants Ilya to be happy. Jane is not casual, Ilya is stupid, none of this is news. Svetlana loses out on many good orgasms to Jane, but she is not bitter. There are other pretty men and prettier women who can satisfy her. Ilya will always be her best friend.
Jane cannot have that. Svetlana will let them have everything else, but she is a good friend and Jane has not seen Ilya the way she has. Jane can be his love story but they will not be his best friend, not while Svetlana still draws breath.
(She is maybe a little possessive. It is a work in progress. Ilya deserves someone who will be possessive, when everyone else keeps him at arm’s length.
Or so she tells herself, at least.)
But yes—Jane. Whoever they are, Svetlana knows her Ilyusha is in love. It breaks her heart a little bit. Maybe once she had loved him enough to marry him for love instead of convenience, but that is not the way she loves him now. Now, she loves him enough that the idea of this Jane breaking Ilya’s heart breaks hers too.
And this is why Svetlana is his best friend: because she knows, wholeheartedly, that there is a heart to be broken. That Ilya is not a cocky, womanizing asshole (all of the time), and that he does not trust or love easily. He does casual very well because he knows he is too serious when it comes to love. Ilya is very good at not letting himself get attached, so for Jane to have stayed around for so long—she knows that he is in love.
(Stupid men.)
Ilya Rozanov, a romantic. Only Svetlana could be his best friend because only she would ever believe that.
And—a love story, this is what he wants. 8 billion people in the world and women throwing themselves at him every time they go out, but Ilya wants a soulmate. A lover. Someone to grow old with.
It took her an embarrassingly long time (years! Maybe she is as stupid as the men sometimes) to realize that this Jane, whoever they were, was that person for Ilya. Thankfully, she makes up for it by figuring out quickly that Jane who lives in Montreal and texts Ilya while he is supposed to be inside of her is Shane Hollander. Surprise! Except it is not a surprise, except maybe to men who spend too much time thinking about hockey.
They could learn a thing or two from her. She does not need to think about it every minute of every day to be better at strategy than most of them.
(And she is so humble, too. Ilya does not know what he is missing.)
Of course it is Shane. She tells Ilya this when he thinks he is telling her some big secret, and he chokes on his water.
They are at his house in Boston. It is summer, and Svetlana is only there for a few days but she will always make time to see Ilya. He spends the first ten minutes fidgeting in a way that is not like him and then tells her that the Jane he has been texting is Shane Hollander.
Apparently, “I already know this” was not a good enough answer for Ilya. Svetlana does not know what to do with him.
“How do you—is secret. Was secret,” he says, still coughing slightly, and Svetlana cannot help but roll her eyes at him. Ilya is not stupid and she knows this but he sometimes is determined to prove her otherwise.
“If Jane was girl, you tell me. You always tell me,” Svetlana says. Apparently they are having this conversation in English for God knows what reason. She is not a psychologist. “You tell me, I give you tips on how to make her come, you have nice two to three weeks together and then she send me fruit basket because you are useless without me.”
“Fruit basket?” Ilya looks at her questioningly.
She shrugs. “Is American thing, I do not know. She compliment me on Instagram, maybe. Show me some gratitude because everything you know about women you learned from me.”
He barks out a laugh at that. “Not true.”
“It is a little true,” Svetlana shoots back. “No. We are getting distracted. If it was girl, you tell me. If it was a man, you tell me, but three months later because you are coward who does not remember that I am better than you at secrets. Instead you tell me nothing, and I find out because you jump every time your phone goes off.” She leans against the wall next to her and sighs. “So it is someone you do not want me to know about. Married woman, maybe, but you tell me when that happen because you are so sad afterward. Married man, also maybe. You would still tell me, because you love me. So then I think, maybe you are not telling me not because of what you think but because the other person is scared. You are kind, Ilyusha, this is not a bad thing.”
Ilya doesn’t say anything, but he is no longer meeting her eyes. Svetlana presses on. “So I put the pieces together. Is someone who does not want anyone to know. Someone who would be in trouble if the wrong person was told. And ah, I look at the contact, it is called Jane. Jane, which sounds so much like Shane. Do you think I cannot add two things together?”
“никто не должен был знать,” he replies, and she can't help but roll her eyes again.
“Are we having conversation in Russian now? Ты не скажешь, что любишь его по-английски?” Svetlana huffs. “If that is the case, then it is not me you do not want to find out that information. Is him.”
“Is rest of the world, Sveta,” Ilya replies, irritated. “And you say it like you are so certain.”
“It has been nearly ten years, Ilyusha. Are you not certain?” Her face softens slightly, and she moves from where she's leaning against the wall to take one of his hands and clasp it in her own. “I am not mad at you. Not really. I am mad I am losing out on good sex because of Shane Hollander, yes, obviously. But not that you did not tell me. There are thousand reasons for you to keep this secret, even from me.” She squeezes his hand. “And the most important thing to me is that you are happy.”
“He can send you basket of fruit if you want,” Ilya says, and it's so sincere that it startles a laugh out of Svetlana. “And he knows. That I love him. I say it to him when I stay at his cottage. Over and over again, so he know for sure.”
Svetlana resists the overwhelming urge to pinch his cheek. “Ah, so I am the last person that you tell. Fine. I will not be maid of honor at your wedding because you will forget to tell me but it is fine.”
“We are not… not soon.” Ilya is blushing. She is going to remember this forever. “And you are not last person. I tell no one else. We are not—that. Yet. But I have met his parents, so we are something.”
“Oh, so you meet his parents and you do not introduce him to me. I understand. It is because you are ungrateful little brat,” she says, playfully shoving him. He laughs, and Svetlana is glad to hear the sound. “He owe me ten fruit baskets and dinner. I do not care if you come, I have had enough of you for my entire lifetime.”
“I ask him to introduce you to Rose Landry.”
Svetlana gasps. “And suddenly I forgive you for everything.”
The two of them laugh for a moment, but as soon as it quiets, she squeezes Ilya’s hand again and tilts his face to look at her from where his gaze has drifted away. “I am serious, Ilyusha. If you love him, I want to meet him. You say you meet his family, yes?” Svetlana smiles at him. “Then let him meet yours.”
Ilya frowns. “I do not—”
“дурак, I am talking about me. I do not care about worthless brother of yours. We have not had sex in three years, so I am not girlfriend or fuckbuddy, and I know you are in need of decent family members. I am best thing you have. Best? No. Is not right word. Closest. Closest thing you have.” Svetlana tilts her head, considering. “Best thing too, maybe.”
He shakes his head. “Shane is best thing. You are maybe second, or third after hockey.”
“Ungrateful!” she huffs in mock insult. “Terrible friend. And after I say such nice things about you.”
“She calls me idiot and insists she love me more than my boyfriend, and then she wonders why she is not my favorite thing anymore.” Ilya shakes his head. “Sad.”
Svetlana gasps, not one of the silly dramatic ones, but real, out of shock. “Ah, you say that word! I did not know you knew what it meant, because you never fuck the same person for more than a month, besides Shane. But he is your boyfriend?”
“…You want to have dinner with Shane?” Ilya asks, and it is only because he is looking at her like a sad puppy that she does not tell him that that is a dumb fucking question. It is also not the answer to the question she asked but at the same time, it is. It is an answer.
“You have one relationship and your ears stop working? Yes, I want to have dinner with him. I say that already. If I can have dinner with him and Rose Landry and not you, is preferable, but I will settle for you.”
“Why?”
Svetlana stares at him. He is not stupid, she tells herself. He is not. “Because I want you to introduce me to your boyfriend, Shane. I know hockey Shane. I want to meet Ilyusha’s Shane.”
He is blushing again. It is adorable. She wants to see if he will blush every time she calls Shane his boyfriend. “You will be nice to him,” Ilya says, and Svetlana knows well enough that that is a threat and not a request.
“Am very nice person. I will not bring up that he had so many opportunities to get past defense of Colorado Mountaineers in game last November but he took none because sometimes he is not aggressive enough.” She smiles at him. She is the picture of politeness.
Ilya scoffs. “You do not need to tell him this. I did after game.”
Svetlana cannot help but laugh at that. “Love does not make you soft all the way, hm? Only a little.” He shrugs at that, staring down at his hands. “Look at me. I am not stupid reporter who will say that you throw game for him because he moans pretty for you. I know you, I know you would not do this. Maybe lose a game because there was too much blood other places than your head, but not on purpose. He make you a little kinder. Is not bad thing.” She reaches for his hand again to pat it comfortingly. “Tell me, then. When is best time for dinner with you?”
Ilya mumbles something under his breath that she does not quite understand. She is generous enough to ignore it. After a moment, he says, “Shane will be here in four days. If you stay that long.”
“Ilyusha, all you have to do is ask,” she says, pulling out her phone to rebook her train ride to D.C.. She is supposed to be leaving tomorrow, but the world can wait. Ilya sits there in silence as she does, eyes filled with something like hope.
Within five minutes, her trip to D.C. has been pushed back four days due to a possible business opportunity. It is a lie, but Svetlana is good at those. She sets her phone down and says, “It is done. Tell your Shane he is having dinner with me on Tuesday, no exceptions.”
And ah, there is that little blush he does whenever she calls Hollander ‘his Shane’. How could she have missed this? She wishes they lived in a kinder world, where Ilya did not have to worry about telling her. Where the idea of him having a love story with Shane was not so strange and scary to everyone else. “I tell him to run as far away from Boston as possible,” he says, but Svetlana knows this is not what he means. What he means is, thank you. What he means is, I hope you like him.
“I would find him eventually,” she says dismissively, and what she means is, If he makes you happy, I know I will.
♡
Shane arrives at Ilya’s apartment holding a bottle of wine that he says is because they have a guest, and that is all it takes for Svetlana to decide that he is sweet, and cute, because he did not do that because he was asked (Svetlana would have asked for whiskey) but because he thinks it is the nice thing to do. Ilya is the one who meets Shane at the door; Svetlana is sitting at the kitchen counter with a beer from Ilya’s fridge. Ilya has been quiet as he cooks dinner, so she has not really tried to press him for details about Shane. It is obvious that he is nervous.
She does not know Shane nearly as well as Ilya does, but when he walks into the kitchen, she can tell he is nervous too. The fidgeting he does—it is the same as Ilya’s. She cannot tell who learned it from who.
Svetlana gets up, setting her beer down, and crosses the room to press a kiss to Shane’s cheek and take his hand. “Come, Shane Hollander. We will talk in the living room while Ilya cooks. I have met him a million times, he does not need to be there. I have never met you, so we talk.”
He follows her, and the frightened look he shoots Ilya’s way is also cute. The living room is next to the kitchen, so Ilya can rescue Shane if he decides that Svetlana is not being nice enough (impossible, she is perfect Russian girl who is always polite). She sits down on the arm of the couch and tilts her head at Shane, who sits in the armchair across from her. “You will have to forgive me for bad English. My Ilyusha, he was practice partner, but you steal him from me and now I have no one to talk to anymore.”
Shane starts to stutter something out, but he’s quickly interrupted by Ilya shouting, “Будь доброй, стерва!” at her from the kitchen while she laughs.
“He is telling me to be kind to you,” Svetlana translates upon seeing the confused look on Shane’s face, “but he is calling me not very nice things. As for my English, it is joke, do not worry. I am better at English than Ilya anyway.”
“Your English is really good,” he replies earnestly. “You, um. You live here in Boston, right?”
“Yes. He tells you things about me? Is nice of him. He tell me nothing about you.” Svetlana cannot help but laugh once again at the look on Shane’s face. “Is not a big shock, I can see. Yes, it is common of him to not share things with other people. He does not tell his best friend that he is fucking Shane Hollander. I am betrayed. Very sad.”
Shane furrows his brows, clearly confused. “He didn’t tell you? But…”
“Hm. Is not completely true, you are right. He tell me, but I already had figured it out.” Svetlana drums her fingernails against the fabric of the couch. “You are both brilliant hockey players. You, Shane Hollander, have great strategic mind—which I will only tell you once. You are not very creative, though. Jane sounds so much like Shane.”
He bristles, a bit like an angry looking kitten. “Nobody else questioned it, did they?”
Svetlana makes a so-so motion with her hand. “I am sure many people did. But nobody else know that Ilya Rozanov is bisexual, no? Only me.”
“How long have you known?” Shane asks.
“That he was bisexual? Ah… 13. More or less.” He huffs, and she realizes her mistake. “Ah, you mean how long I know that you are in love. When he kiss you at the All-Stars game, I start to suspect. I do not know for sure until he visit you in the hospital, and I only know he visit you in the hospital after I drag it out of him like pulling teeth.”
Shane looks like he has a million questions, but Svetlana holds up a hand to stop him before he can ask. “Listen, Hollander. It is none of my business. Ilyusha and I have not slept together in a very long time, and I am not jealous of you. I want to meet you because you are important to my best friend, not because I am mad that he is not with me.”
He nods, relaxing ever so slightly. “You’re just…” Shane starts, and she tilts her head at him. “You’re a little intimidating, you know? You and Ilya used to sleep together, you’ve known each other since you were kids, you’ve got, like, a special nickname for him, and you apparently had us figured out before I think I even knew I lo—loved him.” He stumbles over the word, and she chuckles a little. “So, you know.”
“English speakers, they love the words ‘you know’,” she muses, and he laughs a bit at that. “I am a lot intimidating. It is on purpose. Men are very unlikely to say no to scary Russian woman.” That gets another laugh out of him, louder this time. “But you have nothing to prove to me. When I tell you that I am only here because to meet Shane, Ilya’s boyfriend, and not Shane Hollander, it is the truth.”
“I—yeah. Thank you, Svetlana. I’m glad that you’re supportive,” he says, and then cringes. “Wow, that sounded weird, and I don’t totally know why. Um. Thank you for being such a good friend to Ilya. I think he needs one that isn’t me, sometimes.”
“Maybe. But I think he need you just as much. I do not remember the last time I have seen him so happy except for when he is talking about how much he love you. He is scared, because it is scary the situation you are in, but he is so, so happy. And I am so happy to see him happy.” Svetlana reaches for him, holding her hand out and gesturing for him to take it. He does so, though she can tell he is confused. “I like to touch. What is English word—touchy? I think?”
Shane shakes his head, but it is with a smile. “Tactile, maybe. Touchy means… volatile, if you know that word? Like you’re quick to get mad.”
“Mm. Well, I am maybe that too, sometimes. But only with Ilyusha, because he is idiot.”
“What does that mean? When you call him Ilyusha?” The name sounds equal parts strange and incredibly fitting in Shane’s Canadian accent. She can only imagine the things Ilya would do if he heard Shane using Russian nickname for him, so she takes it as her solemn duty to teach him.
Svetlana says, “Is nickname for Ilya, like how he call me Sveta and not Svetlana. It is, ah… mm. You cannot be mad at me for this, but it is what girlfriend or boyfriend would call him, maybe. Or maybe not. Ilya is kind of name where most people just say Ilya. There is fancy English word for it, since I know nickname means name that is shorter.”
Shane looks like he’s thinking for a moment, then says, “Diminutive?” She nods. “That makes sense. Um, but it’s something a partner would call him?” She nods again. Shane looks like he is contemplating either jumping out of a window or kicking her out of the apartment entirely so he can have fun with Ilya. “So, if I called him that…”
The grin that spreads across her face is wicked. “Oh, he would love this. Ah, but do it while I am not here. I know him very well, he will want to have sex with you.”
His face goes red, and Svetlana tips her head back with a laugh, squeezing his hand once more before letting go. “You are cute, Shane Hollander. And I am glad Ilya has you. We go back to the kitchen now, yes? I think Ilya is almost done cooking, and I am sure he misses you very much.”
“I’ve just been in the room over, I’m sure it’s not that bad,” he replies, but the blush painting his cheeks does not die down. She stands up, meaning to go back into the kitchen so that Ilya does not attempt to kill her for monopolizing Shane for too long, but he stops her. “Uh, Svetlana. I know I said it already, but I wanted to say thank you. From what I can tell, Ilya didn’t always have the best support system, and I want to be there for him but I also know that I don’t always… get it. When it comes to his family stuff, and Russia, and all of that. So thank you for being the person he can talk to about all of that.”
She wants to make a joke, tease them for being so disgusting and in love, but his words cause whatever she was going to say to stick in her throat. “You’re welcome,” she says, and Shane just smiles at her. Svetlana thinks she can tell why Ilya fell head over heels for him so easily, when he smiles like that. “He is yours now, is he not? So you take care of him for me.”
“I will,” he tells her earnestly, and she is certain that for the first time she is not alone in caring for Ilya so deeply that it is part of her person. Svetlana is happy to share that responsibility with Shane Hollander.