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Ilya laid in bed. Alone.
He was in his and Shane’s Ottawa house, lounging in their huge bed with a heating pad under his back and Anya in between his legs. The large mattress was a purchase Ilya had spearheaded when furnishing this house. He loved the space he and Shane had, loved that despite it, Shane still clung to him through the night.
Right now he was regretting that choice. The bed was cold; it was dark outside, much darker than normal due to a storm blown in, causing clouds to cover up the moonlight and glittering stars across the sky. It hardly matters. The blinds had been shut since yesterday afternoon.
Shane was away in Chicago for a brand deal Yuna forced him to do because it was good for his image and the company openly supported LGBT+ efforts, which they desperately needed in the MHL. Ilya knew Shane didn’t want to go, and frequently complained about it. It was summer, their off time, and he didn’t want to spend it apart from Ilya. Even after a decade together on the Centaurs, he still cherished the two weeks away like it was their first. But it was only a two day trip, and a 3 hour flight so it was whatever.
Ilya knew Shane caught onto whatever weird mood he’d been in before he left. Shane was annoyingly perceptive. They told each other everything, so once Ilya saw he confessed to feeling off. He was fine though, just a little gloomy. Probably the weather, he told Shane. Which was true. He didn’t have a reason to feel depressed, and he was frustrated that something as simple as a rain storm could bring him down like this. He immediately heard Galina’s voice.
It isn’t your fault, or the rain’s fault. It’s just what happens when you have depression, and the highs and lows are normal.
Whatever. he thinks.
Ilya sighs, looking down at Anya between his legs. She laid on her back, paws up in the air and head tilted towards him. She was asleep, chest rising and falling rhythmically. Her soft fur splayed out on the bedspread Shane tried so hard to keep dog hair off of. Ilya huffed at that thought. He checked the time on his phone and grimaced at the 4am that glared back. Shane would be home in an hour or so, and Ilya had hung up their call at 10pm, promising he’d try to sleep. He did try, he thought. He turned off all his screens and drank that floral tea Shane made at night. He laid in the dark, awake, for hours, unable to sleep. He knew he was tired; he could feel the pull of his eyes and the way his head swam after multiple all-nighters. His muscles were sore even though he’d done nothing for two days. He hadn’t even worked out, just gotten up to take Anya out and drink some water. Had he eaten? Ilya thought back over the past two days, scared to find them hauntingly blurred. He remembered dinner before Shane’s plane left, then a snack, then…
Ilya sighed. All he’d done was lay in bed and sigh. He wasn’t even watching TV. Thankfully he had the foresight to put his medication on the nightstand so he would take it without going to the kitchen, so that was a plus. The one productive thing he’d done, besides take care of Anya.
Ilya closed his eyes listening to the soft snores of his dog and the light rain on the window. Anya was an active sleeper, often making small noises while she dreamed. Shane said he and Anya would dream at the same time, and he found it adorable. Ilya found it a bit haunting. He did not dream nicely, often replaying memories of his life in Russia with his father and his mother. On a good night, he would dream of Shane and his pretty face, his soft hands and words. Sometimes those dreams turned into his mother, her pale hands caressing his curls and smoothing out his clothes. On bad nights, it was her pale hands hanging off the bed, a soft “Ilyushka” left on her blue lips. He saw her eyes, once warm and bright, dull and open in her head. The only color in the room came from the amber pill bottle laying empty on the floor. Her usual red lipstick was gone. Ilya always wondered if he would end up this way, especially as a teenager. Now as an adult, he knew that even when he felt like this, he no longer wanted to kill himself. He had Shane, a future to look forward to. He can recognize that his mother truly had no way out, and his life was worth fighting through the waves of dreariness.
But standing at the foot of his parents bed, watching Irina lose her batter was devastating.
Ilya distantly notes he’s dreaming, which must mean he finally fell asleep. The room is too washy to be real, and he feels much too small to be in his thirties. This thought pulls him away, far from his mother and his childhood home. It brings him back to his bed with his dog in his home in Ottawa. For a moment he feels the cold bed and thinks he’s in Boston; a thought that hasn't crossed his mind in years before he feels a hand in his hair and smells the cedar body wash his husband uses. A thumb runs under his eye and he realizes he is crying. Not dramatically, just hitched breaths and silent tracks on his face. Shane leans down to kiss his temple, smoothing the dirty curls out of his face. Ilya winces at the state of his hair. He hasn’t showered since Shane left 48 hours ago, and his curls are slightly greasy. Shane doesn’t seem to mind. He keeps a steady hand on his head and smiles softly at him. Ilya turns slightly to bury his face in Shane’s thigh, taking a deep, shuttering breath. Shane moves his hand to smooth down his back, lightly scratching as he goes. It feels good, calming and Ilya can focus on the light buff of nails on his warm skin. They sit for a while, Shane scratching Ilya’s back while he lays on his husband's lap. Eventually Shane hums and Ilya turns his head slightly, his eyes bloodshot and his waterline stark red. His head is beginning to hurt, probably from not drinking much water. His eyes feel dry and his skin feels sticky and he really wants to shower, preferably with Shane. Shane thumbs his cheekbone and taps the back of his neck as if to see if he’s listening.
“Were you dreaming again?” Shane half whispers, keeping his voice low. Ilya shrugs because truly, he wasn’t sure he’d been asleep. Shane continues, “Was it about your mom? You were crying when I came in, but you didn’t wake up when I said your name.” Ilya opens his mouth to speak, but his throat is thick and his voice fails him. He clears his throat, bringing a hand to rub at his eyes.
“I am fine. I could not sleep, and I tried no screens and tea. Did not work.” Shane shifted on the bed. He turned Ilya from his side onto his back so he could make eye contact; a dirty trick.
“It’s ok. I’m sorry I couldn't call you since I was on the plane, otherwise I would have stayed on with you all night till I got home.” Shane cupped Ilya’s face with both hands, rubbing over his forehead and temples. Ilya loves his husband so much.
“I did dream, yes. About her. Same as always, it will not change. Is whatever.” Ilya looked away dismissively. Shane pinched his eyebrows together, making that face he did when he caught Ilya’s bullshit.
“It’s ok to be upset about it.” Shane murmured. Ilya waved his hand as if he felt indifferent.
“Is whatever. I am fine.”
“Ilya, honey,” Shane stared into Ilya’s soul, eyes bouncing back and forth in his. “Your eyes look like they're swimming in water.” Ilya rolled his eyes. That made his head hurt more.
“Sveta said same thing when I did coke. Said I look like baby raccoon.” Shane glared at Ilya, not letting go of his face. Ilya folded instantly, too tired to even begin to try his feelings. “Fine. I am very sad. My head hurts. I want to shower, but I am too tired because I have not slept since day before you left. All I did was take Anya on walk and fill her bowl.” Shane softened at the admittance, humming in response. Ilya could feel the dried salt on his face and it was pissing him off.
“Did you take your medicine?”
“Da.” Ilya nodded towards the nightstand. “Over there.” Shane leaned down and kissed his cheek, then his eyes and his temple.
“How about you eat first and then we can shower? I haven’t had breakfast and I think if you try to stand in the hot water you’ll pass out. We cab nap afterwards?” Ilya’s stomach clenched at the thought of food. He didn’t feel hungry despite not knowing the last time he ate.
“Mm. Not hungry.”
“That doesn’t mean you don’t need food.” Ilya looked away from Shane again, gaze moving to Anya on the bed. She had fallen back asleep, head on top of Ilya’s ankle. She made soft noises in her sleep, yipping and moving her feet as if chasing small animals around their huge yard.
“I hope Anya has good dreams. If she dreams like I do, I will be so sad.”
“Oh Ilya…”
“I truly wish. Good doggie dreams.”
“How do you dream?” Ilya looked back at Shane, whose face was soft again. He did not deserve to see Ilya not able to sleep and refuse food. He should be with someone happy, someone able to get up while he is gone. But Ilya knows, already, that Shane is where he wants to be. The same way Ilya will always help Shane through anxiety and panic attacks and deal with his weird neurotic tendencies and other quirks, Shane will deal with his.
It isn't really dealing if you love them anyway.
“Sometimes sadly. Other times, I dream of you, and I am happy again.” Shane smiled at his husband's words, a sort of melancholy look. Anya made a silly noise, pulling a huff from Ilya’s lips. Shane kissed Ilya once more. He stood and stretched, back making a satisfying pop as he rose. He helped Ilya stand up, hovering slightly in case Ilya suddenly became a 70 year old man and fell. He told Shane as much, but was grateful as he descended the stairs a little lightheaded.
They ate and showered together. Shane made him choke down a yogurt cup and a protein shake, adding extra high calorie items so he didn’t have to eat as much. They took their time in the shower. Shane washed away the travel while Ilya sat on their built-in bench under the spray. He allowed Shane to wash his hair, double shampoo and conditioner. His poor curls, left dehydrated for so long. Shane laughed at that.
Shane washed the rest of Ilya’s body and his face. Then they sat together on the bench, water cascading down their bodies and into the drain. Ilya felt the darkness slowly ebb away. Not completely gone, but better. He felt energized enough to feed Anya and let her out, brain slightly less loud as he watched her run around the backyard.
The two men settled into bed after Shane made Ilya have another shake and a glass of water. They would have dinner later and Ilya would hopefully feel up to a full meal, but for now he was comfortable laying in bed against his husband and his dog. He dozed, getting slightly better sleep than the past two nights. As he slept, he dreamt of Anya running a muck through the garden and Shane, bright sunny Shane, watching with him from the deck.