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When he closes the hotel room door he angles himself to go to him quickly. He goes to kiss Hollander, but he hides away slightly which surprises Ilya. He’s just hugging him, hiding his face into his collarbone. Is he crying?
“Hollander?” He asks, he’s out of his element here.
“Hm?”
“Do not cry.” They’re in a hotel room and who the hell knows who is on either side. The walls are always paper thin.
“Not crying.” Okay. Well, he definitely is. He rubs his hands up and down his back.
“Hey, no. What is wrong?” He hears a shuttered breath by his ear. Hollander’s hands feel desperate, like he wants to cry into Ilya’s skin. He kisses the side of his head for any bit of clarity.
“Hollander.” He says it softly, like it will change the current predicament he’s in. The hands squeeze the fabric of his shirt faster, pinching it almost as he clings to it. Eventually one of his hands moves up hollander’s spine in order to cup the back of his head.
“Do you need me to call someone? Maybe text someone?” He offers after they’ve been standing there for god knows how long.
“No.” Is squeaked.
“You have to tell me what is wrong.” He feels the head shake of no in the crook his neck.
“Can I do something?” Hollander’s hair is beginning to feel sweaty at the base of his neck. Ilya worries the longer he holds him without calming him down the worse he will be.
“Can we lay down?” It’s barely above a whisper, barely audible in his ear. It’s an easy request though. He pulls him towards the bed. When he fells him sag into his arms after he sits on the edge he debates what he should do.
“You are going to make yourself sick.” He warns, he’s not sure if it’s for himself or its for Hollander, but it sounds like a bad time. He pulls him closer, hoping if he lays down a little like he requested maybe the crying will lessen. He can’t think of the last he sobbed like this, he can’t imagine what has happened in order to cause it. He leaves soft kisses on his head.
“Please tell me what is wrong.” He wants to plead with him to know, despite being scared of the answer himself. He doesn’t get an answer.
“I know, I know you are sad. It is okay.” Hollander won’t look up at him despite Ilya’s best efforts.
“Is okay. You are okay.” When he moves a bit to sit up more he’s feels Shane straddle him. He can at least rock from this position. He tries to jump every barrier when thinking what to do. He looks around the room like it will have an answer.
“We are here, at hockey conference. Is stupid, but we get to see each other. I missed you.” It feels like a big confession, it’s not really. Ilya does miss him, but he’s never admitted it like this. Usually it’s after sex.
“And we are in hotel room right now. You can see stars out of the window. It is cold in here. Are you cold?” It’s chilly, usually Hollander has it warmer.
“Ilya?” Holy shit they’ve never said each others first names.
“What is wrong?” He still is cupping his head, rocking or he guesses more so swaying, back and forth. He feels Hollander move a little, letting go his next with one arm despite still clinging. He wishes he could walk back and forth with him, a deep memory tells him hollander would like it.
“I don’t know.” It’s more heartbreaking than Ilya expected. Ilya figured there’d be some sort of reason for this type of crying. It feels like gut wrenching sobs that shake through his entire body.
“That is okay.” He can feel Hollander’s arm adjust and he guesses he’s wiping his face of maybe? When he feels the hand not move or wipe tears, his head still plastered he realizes what he’s doing.
“Whatever helps.” He whispers, hearing Shane try to calm himself down, fingers in his mouth. “Whatever helps you.” He states to him it’s working, so, whatever works.
“Ilya?” Is whispered, he can’t think of a time he’s ever heard his voice sound so young and unsure. Hell even when they were seventeen.
“What?” He says back gently. He feels Hollander back out, shaking his head no like he feels stupid for what he has to say. “Hey, no, what is wrong?”
“Stay?”
“I will stay as long as you want me to.” He feels him open his mouth to speak, close it, debate, before opening it again.
“Can you tell me a story?” Fuck he would tell him anything if it meant he’d calm down.
“What type?” He now realizes he cannot think of a single story.
“I don’t know, one your mom used to tell you. A bedtime story.” Shane flushes somehow deeper like he’s embarrassed.
“Um, I will translate slowly.” He has to reach into those deep parts of his mind that he can’t really think of the English translation. “There was a king who had to go to a far off place, he told the wife do not leave part of the castle because she would be hurt.”
“Why would she be hurt? That’s not safe, why leave?” He sounded like he cared at least.
“Shh. Listen.” When he touches his finger to Hollander’s mouth he giggles, he loves that sound now. “She didn’t listen, leaving her room. The evil witch captured her and turned her into the prettiest white goose, you know they hiss.” His mama used to hiss when the queen was goose, he remembers that.
“Isn’t that swans?” Yeah he didn’t like any water bird really, so hell if he knew.
“It might be, but it’s a pretty goose, remember that. The witch disguised herself as the queen while the real queen had three babies. The goose queen told the babies do not speak to anyone in fear they would be killed. As two of the babies slept a third was awake, when the witch came to see them she would call to the babies. The third one, who was not asleep, answered. The witch found the babies and killed them in the castle. When the queen found them-”
“The mama goose or the witch?”
“The mama goose. When the mama goose found the babies she cried and cried. The witch told the king-”
“When did he get back?”
“You know, I don’t remember. Doesn’t matter. The king is confused why the mama goose is so upset. She’s quacking and hissing at the king hoping he understands. He orders her to be captured, only the king himself can get her, she flies into his hands! When she does she transforms into her beautiful self and the king knows he has been tricked by the witch. They get magic water to sprinkle their dead babies with and the dead baby gooses turn into alive beautiful children. They took apart the witch for her trick and everyone lives happily ever after.” Shane is looking around the room, at Ilya, around the room again. He looks mischievous then, small smile formed.
“I think I know why Russians are weird.” He smiles now.
“Hey! Is good story! Everyone lives happily ever after.” He poked at him to hear that giggle again.
“Except the witch!”
“She tricked them. She got the best ending.”
“They dismembered her?”
“And set her on fire.” He keeps giggling then, “what? Is my story not good?”
“No, it’s the best.” He loves how soft he looks, how he wears a little smile now despite how long he was upset for, he looks just happy.
“It better be.” He kisses his head and Shane looks like he melts to the touch.
“Thank you.”
“Are you okay now?”
“A little better.”
“Oh, baby, you’re okay.” Soft kisses and he doesn’t know why Hollander freezes some.
“I’m not a baby.” Is nearly choked out. Ilya notices something at the same time though, an enjoyment it looks like.
“Yes you are. It’s okay baby. You’re safe and happy and tired.” He rocks him gently, a glossy far off look is staring back at him.
“We lost today.” It’s whispered again, like it’s a secret.
“Is that what has baby upset? Oh, baby, always tomorrow. We will beat you, but there’s always game after that.” That giggle rings in his ears again. Ilya touches his face gently, trying to ignore how he sucked his fingers and how young he looked.
“Can you stay?”
“I can stay.” He assures him, happy when he nods and tucks himself against him.
“Can you tell me another story?”
“Only if you don’t laugh this time.”
“I promise.” Ilya knows it’s not a promise Shane intends on keeping; he tells him another story anyway.