Archive of Our Own ^beta

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- 1 -

Yuna had been used to the hustle and bustle of hockey mom life for decades: she’d be up by 5 a.m. to make sure Shane was out of bed (he always was), she’d have packed his lunch the night before for him to check before they left (he’d always have done it before she even made it downstairs), she’d make him breakfast that he would hurriedly eat sitting at the kitchen counter, and then she’d do a silent and unnecessary recap of his equipment, left neatly in the entryway. 

Shane had gotten his gameday routine down to a science by the time he was 10 years old, but she still went through the motions every time. 

Today was different. 

Today, there was someone else in the house, and he was bringing only a slightly unexpected amount of change to their routine. 

Yuna had walked into the kitchen no later than 5:15 a.m. to see a tall, blonde man standing at their counter, leaning onto the granite on his forearms as he blearily stared at his phone in his hands. His eyes flew up as she entered the room, slippers swishing against the wood floor. 

Ilya had been a relatively constant fixture in the Hollander home for the better part of six months by now, but it was still like staring down a scared animal as he straightened up, running a hand through his disastrously messy curls. 

Yuna glanced at the counter to see a half eaten bowl of Cheerios, and schooled away her widening smile as she saw the cut up banana, still halfway in the peel, browning next to it. 

“Good morning,” she said, softly moving past him to the coffee pot that was already rumbling to life (yet another thing that she had perfected in her routine). 

“Good morning.” Ilya’s response wasn’t cold, but it was short. Nervous, still. 

She could feel his awkwardness radiating off of him as he shuffled his body to the other side of the counter, avoiding most of the eye contact she sent his way as he ducked his head down. 

“Is Shane up already?” Yuna knew the answer before Ilya could give it. 

Ilya smiled, as she knew he would. It could be the barest mention of her son, and it would always bring a smile to Ilya’s face. 

“Of course.” Yuna shook her head, filling up her coffee cup. “You know, he’s been this way since he was a kid. Always up before me, before the sun, even.” She smiled, remembering younger Shane’s face as he’d anxiously pushed around his own bowl of Cheerios at that very counter, wide awake by the wee hours of the morning. 

Ilya perked up at that, now finally meeting her gaze. 

She took in the man standing in front of her, still awkwardly half-leaning on the counter. 

Upon further inspection, she recognized the shirt he was wearing: it was Shane’s t-shirt from years ago, one that he’d gotten during a charity trip with the Metros. It boasted a faded print of Shane’s number and an alternate Metros logo on the back, with the name and logo of the charity in bold on the front. 

Combining that with the long black sweatpants, he could be anyone. 

But he was Ilya Rozanov. Captain of the Boston Raiders, boyfriend of her son, and mortal enemy of hairbrushes, as it seemed to Yuna. 

“When do you fly out?” Yuna asked, keeping her tone conversational as she sat on one of the island chairs, and she was pleased when Ilya didn’t move. 

“Eight. Shane is dropping me off before he heads to the rink.” Ilya fidgeted with his spoon, clinking it gently against the ceramic bowl, and Yuna hummed, taking a long sip of her coffee. 

It had been a rare long weekend where the two of them had had most of the same days off, and Shane had been the one to suggest that they stay a night at his parents’ home. 

Yuna had a suspicion that Shane wanted Ilya to get more comfortable there before his planned move to Ottawa next season, and had set this up on purpose. 

She didn’t mind. 

Ilya made her feel different things than her son did. Things were very opposite for them, here. 

Where Shane was confident in this home, Ilya walked on eggshells. Where Shane was a loud winner, Ilya was a quiet one. Where Shane was quick to help clean up, Ilya was even quicker. 

He had brought this newness to their routine, and Yuna was a fast learner. 

Ilya would leave a light on in the hallway for Shane, and Shane would turn it off. That’s how Yuna knew they’d both gone to bed.  

Ilya was a night showerer, which meant that Shane would end up sitting downstairs alone for at least 30 minutes. Yuna never felt miffed when Shane’s head would dart up mid-conversation at the smallest creak of the stairs, and she never felt ignored when Shane’s face would light up at the sound of the bathroom door opening. 

Ilya was not a morning person, however. 

Ilya would be sure to place Shane’s running headphones on the entryway table that was now taking the childhood spot of Shane’s hockey equipment, and he’d undo Shane’s shoelaces so he could slip into them easier in the morning. 

Shane would go on his runs long before the world was awake, let alone his parents or Ilya, and he’d always bring Ilya downstairs with him once he’d returned home and showered. 

It was rare that Yuna would catch Ilya up this early, breaking his own routine of avoiding one-on-one time with an ‘adult’ member of the Hollander family. 

It reminded Yuna of herself, meeting David’s family, and never quite belonging there. It made her overwhelmingly sad. 

But then, he’d do something sweet, like wordlessly hand her a dishtowel when he noticed she needed one, or something childish, like throw a crumpled up napkin across the table at Shane during a gentle argument, or something considerate, like bringing in groceries from the car without being asked. 

It felt to Yuna that he wanted to belong there. 

“Do you want me to pack you something to take with you? I used to pack Shane’s lunches on game days. It would be nice to have someone to pack for, again.” She posed her question as casually as she could, half expecting him to immediately shut it down. 

But to her surprise, Ilya’s eyes stayed on her, and she thought she could see his smile grow the tiniest bit. 

“That would be nice, I think.” 

Yuna met his gaze head on. 

His soft blue eyes looked at her, and she could see his fidgeting fingers still twisting the cereal spoon in his fingers, betraying the lasting awkwardness she knew he was fighting. 

Yuna placed her coffee mug down, and purposely passed him on her way to the pantry. She reached out a hand, and gently squeezed his forearm. 

“Come with me and tell me what you’d like. We’ve got plenty of time.”

- 2 -

Christmas was Yuna’s favourite holiday. 

She loved the cooking, the decorating, the gift giving, all of it. 

She used to painstakingly wrap Shane’s presents on Christmas Eve, having hid them for weeks, barely keeping her son from finding them before then. 

She’d sit with her husband afterwards, eyes tingling with happy tears as they’d stare into the fireplace after taking carefully placed bites of the cookies Shane had left out for Santa.

It was everything she’d ever dreamed of, and it was always perfect. 

Now, it was easier to hide presents, since Shane no longer lived with them, but she still did it out of habit (just in case). 

Shane had stumbled across one a few years ago, and while he’d promised Yuna it didn’t matter, that he’d forget, she still felt horrible about it. 

Unnecessarily, maybe, but still. Mothers will be who mothers will be.

She’d spent the better half of December 23rd prepping for Christmas Eve brunch, which had become a yearly tradition in their house once Shane had been drafted to the Metros. 

They’d be adding Ilya to the table this year, and she had to admit that she was excited for them to both be back under their roof. 

Shane had warned her that Ilya wasn’t much in the mood for Christmas, but she had a trick up her sleeve. 

She had done hours of research on Reddit, YouTube, and various cooking blogs to find the most iconic, accurate Russian holiday recipes. 

She’d sourced all the ingredients, written down recipes with painstaking precision, and gone over cooking timelines like a madwoman. 

David helped her when he was asked, but this was Yuna’s project. 

They were due to arrive by 1p.m. on Christmas Eve, and by 12:45p.m., Yuna’s last batch of blini were coming off of the stove. She’d prepared mashed potato pirozhki, and they were sitting on a festive serving platter next to small dishes of sour cream, smoked salmon, and caviar (specially ordered from a Russian deli). She’d even made Olivier salad, which a particularly informative Reddit thread had told her was very popular during Slavic holidays. 

David had raised his eyes when he saw their larger than normal spread, Russian food interspersed with their standard breakfast and lunch staples. “How many hockey players are coming to Christmas, exactly?” He’d asked her, wrapping his arms around her waist, and she’d swatted at him playfully. “Oh, hush. You know how they get.”

She didn’t quite know how Ilya got, but she had hope. 

They heard car doors slam at 1p.m. on the dot, and Yuna’s heart skipped a beat. 

She busied herself with taking everything out of the oven and warmers, and as she heard voices in the entryway, she stirred the pot of sbiten that had come to a soft bubble on the stove. 

“Mom?” Shane’s voice called through the house. 

“Kitchen, baby!” Yuna called back to him. 

She turned to face her son as he appeared in the doorway, and she smiled as his eyes widened, a surprised smirk on his face. 

“Woah, mom. How many other people did you invite? Should I call Hayden and the girls?” Shane’s tone was teasing as he wrapped his arms around her. She closed her eyes, breathing in the familiar smell of her boy, and squeezed. 

“Maybe I overshot. I’m glad you’re both here, your father has been circling like a vulture for an hour.” 

Shane’s laugh rumbled through him, and as he let her go, she could see Ilya still hovering in the doorway. Yuna saw that he wasn’t looking at her, but instead, the counter. 

He was staring at the food Yuna had carefully laid out, and she simply watched as he took a small step into the kitchen. 

Her eyes didn’t leave his face as she watched his own eyes get damp, and Ilya looked at her, an unreadable expression on his face.

“Merry Christmas, honey. I know you don’t celebrate in December, but since you won’t be here on the seventh, I figured we could do it now.” 

Shane looked between the two of them, and then finally looked harder at the kitchen counter. He said something Yuna didn’t quite acknowledge, because she was watching Ilya’s face change at what felt like a million miles a minute. 

She smiled at him, small and gentle, and relief washed over her as he smiled back. His smile was tight, and he was blinking rapidly, and he was nodding his head, dark blonde curls shifting on his forehead. 

“Thank you, Yuna.” Ilya’s words were a whisper. 

Yuna couldn’t hold herself back from stepping towards him, and stretching as high as she could to wrap her arms around him, her eyes burning. 

She felt him as he stiffened, but only briefly. He settled into her embrace with a small sniff, and she could feel him rest his head against the top of hers as she rubbed his back. 

“Thank you, Ilya.” Yuna whispered back. 

She let him stay in the hug as long as he wanted, their bodies swaying gently as the sweet smell of warm spices floated through the air. 

When Ilya finally broke the hug, he was rubbing his eyes with a bashful smile on his face. 

“Sorry. It’s just been a long time since,” he swept his hand towards the counter, “you know. Any of this.” 

Yuna nodded, squeezing his arms with a smile. “Well then, let’s get to it! This food won’t eat itself.” 

Turning back towards the stove, she caught Shane’s gaze. He was staring at her with wide, misty eyes, and she had to look away before she broke into tears of her own.

- 3 -

“Mom! Mom!” 

Yuna startled as she heard her son’s panicked scream, and her eyes whipped up from her book. She looked out the window to see Shane bolting to the top of the hill, slipping in the snow. 

Her eyes widened as she looked at his face, pale and terrified, and she didn’t stop to think before throwing the front door open and meeting Shane on the porch, her book forgotten.
“Honey, what happened? Where’s Ilya?” Yuna kept her voice calm, catching Shane in her arms as he gasped out breaths. 

“He’s down by the lake. We were skating, and he hit a branch in the ice and went down hard, and he can’t move his ankle -  fuck, mom, I think it might be broken.” Shane’s voice was wobbling, and his eyes were flashing with panic as his ashen face stared down at hers. 

Oh, no. 

Yuna didn’t take another moment to think before she was pulling on her boots, slipping her arms into her jacket, and taking off down the hill after Shane. 

Ilya was lying on his back on the ice, arms strewn across his face, and Yuna could see his chest rising and falling as he breathed deeply. 

Shane was kneeling next to him by the time she caught up with him, carding his fingers through Ilya’s hair, and Yuna gingerly stepped onto the ice. 

She saw the branch sticking through the ice as she approached, and silently cursed it as she crouched next to the fallen Ilya. 

He peeped at her through the crack in his arm, and quietly sighed. 

“I told Shane I’m fine, I probably just tweaked it. I promise, I’m okay.” His words were tight, but Yuna knew better than to believe him. So did Shane, probably, and he snorted gently, confirming what she already knew. 

“You said you can’t move your foot, Ilya. That’s like, pretty much the opposite of fine.” Shane was trying to keep his voice firm, but Yuna knew her son. The way one of his hands hadn’t left Ilya’s hair, and the way the other was holding onto his arm, the way his eyes were darting from Ilya’s head down to Ilya’s foot, the way he couldn’t quite sit still… Yuna recognized these signs well. 

The best thing she could do now was take charge only the way a mother could. 

“Listen, honey. We’ve got to take the skate off to at least try and see what’s going on. If it’s broken,” Shane looked up at her as she spoke, panicked, and Yuna gave him a look as she continued, “and that’s only if, we’ll have to bring you into Urgent Care. Best case scenario, we lug you up the hill and you’re confined to the couch for the rest of the weekend.”

Ilya let his arms drop from his face, and she could see his rosy cheeks and pain filled eyes staring up at her.  She let Ilya breathe for a moment, and as he gave her the nod to unlace his skate, he moved to sit up.

“No. Wait. I’m wearing very silly socks.”

Yuna raised an eyebrow, and paused. 

“Your ankle might be broken, and you’re worried about your socks?” Shane asked breathlessly, and Ilya shrugged, ducking his eyes. 

“They’re really stupid socks.” Ilya mumbled, and Yuna continued to reach for his laces. She could see Ilya grab at Shane’s hand as she began unwrapping his laces, and she heard him hiss a soft curse as she jostled his foot. 

Yuna hummed apologetically, and worked slower, glancing up at Ilya from time to time.

“Alright. Skate’s got to come off, baby. Three, two, one, and-” She slid the skate off in one quick, practiced move, and Ilya yelped, a string of Russian pouring out of his mouth. 

She heard Shane inhale, and lean in to press his lips to Ilya’s forehead. 

Yuna smiled to herself, returning to the task at hand. She brought her gaze down to Ilya’s foot, that was in a sock covered in…

Pictures of Shane. More specifically, Shane’s disembodied head. 

Yuna couldn’t help herself. She broke into a fit of giggles, covering her mouth as her laughter echoed over the quiet pond. 

She heard Shane gasp as he caught sight of the sock, followed by a groan. “I thought I told you not to get those.” 

Ilya was grinning up at Shane, and he shrugged cheekily. “I like always having you with me.”

Yuna felt her heart ache as she looked at the two boys in front of her, staring at each other with matching smiles. 

She almost felt bad for having to ruin the moment as she reminded them what she had to do next, and as Ilya steeled himself, she tugged the sock down to expose his ankle. 

Sure enough, it was bright red, and angrily swollen. A gentle finger check later, Yuna confirmed that it probably wasn’t broken, and as Ilya gingerly moved his ankle, Shane let out a sigh of relief. 

“That would have been a hard one to explain to your coach about why you’re out for the season,” Shane muttered, letting Ilya lean against him as he and Yuna pulled him to his feet, and Ilya scoffed. 

“I told you it wasn’t broken. You freaked out for nothing. A little sprain.” Ilya plopped down on the bench situated next to the pond, and Yuna busied herself with gathering the boots that Ilya had left next to the pond. 

Shane and Yuna struggled up the hill to get Ilya into the house - the tall man in between them protesting with every step, Shane snapping back at him, and Yuna silently smiling, her arm wrapped tightly around Ilya’s waist. 

He collapsed into the couch with a grunt as soon as Shane took his coat, and Yuna watched him close his eyes, a flash of pain dancing across his face, betraying his previous nonchalance. His head rested on the back of the couch, and Shane knelt next to him, his hand immediately returning to Ilya’s hair. 

Yuna slipped into the kitchen, heading towards the drawer where she kept all the things necessary for sports emergencies - yet another habit she hadn’t been able to break, even after all these years. 

Returning to the living room and to the task at hand, she wrapped an ACE bandage around his foot, and then a cold gel wrap. 

Shane never left his spot next to Ilya, and both boys simply watched Yuna work in silence. 

She couldn’t count the number of times she’d done this for Shane in his over twenty years of playing hockey. She doesn’t need to anymore (that’s what his professional trainers are for), but the muscle memory is as quick as theirs, even after all these years. 

Yuna handed Ilya a glass of water and two ibuprofen, and patted his leg as she finished. “Let’s get that leg elevated, and then you rest.” She rubbed at his knee as she stood.

 Ilya smiled up at her, small and shy. “Yes, ma’am.” 

He let Shane lift his leg to stuff some pillows under his ankle, and he leaned back into the couch with a sigh. 

Yuna picked up her book from the floor, smoothing down the crinkled pages. 

She turned back to look at the two boys, and saw that Shane had climbed up onto the couch to sit behind Ilya, legs propped up on the ottoman. Ilya lay in his lap, head facing the TV that was now showing ESPN highlights, and Shane’s hand was tracing a path up and down Ilya’s bicep, the other once again tangled in Ilya’s unruly curls. 

They seemed to breathe in sync, their shoulders and chests rising at the same time, moving together in perfect harmony. 

She watched them for a moment, taking in the soft scene in front of her. 

On paper, they were as unlikely as anything. But here, curled together on the Hollander’s ancient couch, it was as if it was always meant to be this way. Yuna supposed it was always meant to be this way. 

Ilya’s eyes flickered over to Yuna, and she blinked, caught. 

He smiled at her, and he didn’t have to say a word. 

Yuna simply returned his smile, and winked.

- 4 -

Yuna often went back and forth with herself over what her favourite seasons were. 

She loved spring, and watching nature return to green as the animals awoke from their hibernation. 

She loved summer, with its heat and the way the world felt so alive and loud. 

She loved autumn, right as the weather turned and the leaves turned into their beautiful shades of orange and red. 

She even loved winter, with its clean, snow white silence and wind that caused an uptick in purchases of her favourite lotion for her horribly dry skin. 

However, her life had really been divided into two clear seasons for as long as she could remember: hockey season, and slightly less hockey season. 

Winter was quickly coming to an end, which meant that spring was fast approaching, and the end of hockey season even faster. She and Shane had already been discussing summer plans, most of which included their weeks at the cottage. 

He’d had a rough season, even though he would never admit that to her.

For the first time in his life, Yuna could tell that he was truly ready for the season to end. Even Ilya was tired this year. 

The two of them were coming to visit that weekend, and Yuna had been in a righteous state. 

David had laughed at her when he caught her wiping down the baseboards, and she had simply thrown the damp rag at him. “It’s just the boys, not the Prime Minister,” he’d said. 

As if she’d let the Prime Minister into her house over her boys. 

She was on her third load of laundry of the day (because of course, every sheet in the house had been slept on in the last three weeks, and she had to do them right then) when her phone rang. Shaking off her hands, she pressed the green button, and then the speaker. 

“Yuna Hollander.” 

“Hi, mom.”

She hadn’t looked at the caller I.D. before answering, and she grinned as her son’s voice came through the line.  

“Hi, baby! How are you? Is Ilya with you?” 

Shane chuckled on the other line. “I’m good. He’s good, and he’s here. Not like, right here. He’s in the gym.” 

Yuna shook her head, still smiling. 

“Well, I can only assume you didn’t call just to chat, so what’s going on?”

Shane laughed again. “You don’t think I just wanted to talk to my mom? What kind of son am I?”

The best one. 

“I did have something to ask you, though.” 

There it is. 

“Shoot, honey.”

Yuna pulled the wet clothes out of the washer, grimacing as small droplets landed on her shirt, and shoved them into the dryer.

“Would you and dad mind if we came a little early?  Practice is optional tonight, and I, um. I just want to get out of here.” 

Yuna paused. Her brain frantically ran through her checklist as she wiped her hands. 

She still had to finish the laundry, reset the guest room and bathroom, Windex the windows upstairs, re-vacuum the entryway and the hallways, then put away all of the laundry, and that was all before starting dinner. 

Shane must have noticed her hesitation, because when he spoke again it was rushed and apologetic. “Hey, don’t worry about it. We can still be there for lunch tomorrow. I promise, it’s totally okay, I-” 

Yuna stopped him with a shush as she cracked open her lotion, and rubbed it over her dry hands. “Absolutely not. Get in the car when you want, and we’ll be ready for you. We are ready for you. We miss you both very much.” 

Shane sighed. “Okay. Are you sure?” 

Yuna nodded to herself, eyes flashing to where the Windex sat next to the laundry room sink.
“Positive.” 

True to Shane’s word, they arrived at the house about an hour before dinnertime.

David had hollered up the stairs when they arrived, but Yuna was busy fighting to get the fitted sheet across the guest room bed to pick up on it. 

She was cursing herself for starting that third load of laundry when she heard footsteps behind her. She straightened up, and ran a hand over her hair. 

Ilya stood in the doorway, smiling reservedly as he carried two small duffel bags. 

“Hey, you!” Yuna grinned, and Ilya dipped his head in greeting. 

“Shane told me to drop our stuff upstairs. He’s coming to see if you need help.”

Shane telling him things he already knew to do, no doubt. 

Yuna huffed, and looked around the room. “I’m sorry it’s not ready for you. The day got away from me, I guess.” 

Ilya shrugged, and set the bags down on the floor. “Do you need help? I’m already here.”

Yuna went back and forth about it. 

On the one hand, Ilya was her guest, and guests don’t need to help with setting up their own rooms. That’s the hostesses’ job, and Yuna is nothing if not a perfect hostess. 

On the other hand… it’s Ilya. 

“I’d love that. This fitted sheet is going to make me pull my hair out,” Yuna admitted, and Ilya smirked as he stepped closer. 

“I don’t know how to fold them. I just toss them in the closet. Shane hates it, but a sheet is a sheet to me.” Ilya grabbed the opposite side of the sheet from Yuna as he spoke, and she laughed as they tugged the corners around the mattress. 

“I can only imagine.” 

Picturing her son being sent into a tizzy about the folding (or lack thereof) of a fitted sheet is about as easy as breathing. 

Yuna had to admit that it was easier with two people, and they set up the bed in comfortable silence. When they were done, she sighed contentedly, smoothing her hand over the crisp pillowcases. 

“Thank you. That was very helpful.” 

Ilya waved off the compliment, but she caught his smile as he turned away. “It was nothing. You’re putting up with us for an extra night, it was the least I could do.” 

Yuna watched him for a moment. 

He always seemed to take things in slowly, his eyes dragging over everything once, and then again, like he’d forgotten it since the first time. 

He was doing that now, with the pictures hung on the wall above the desk. They were pictures of Shane, dressed in his first hockey sweaters, smiling big and wide as he stood next to hockey sticks as tall as him. 

The smiles got tighter as the years went on, more reserved, and he got taller than the hockey sticks eventually. 

Ilya stepped towards a picture, and tapped it gently. 

“What does that mean?” 

Yuna focussed on the picture, and smiled as she recognised it. Shane was eleven in the photo, standing straight, a big smile on his face (though not as big as the year before). It was from his birthday. 

The picture shared a frame with a note, one that Yuna remembered writing well. 

 私の良い子, 

Happy birthday!
Remember to play hard, keep your head held high, and always know that Dad and I are so proud of you! We love you more than the sun. xxx, Mom

“It’s Japanese for ‘my child’, or ‘my baby’. Iiko.”

Yuna stepped closer to where Ilya stared at the photo.

“I used to call him that all the time. Sometimes I still do, when I’m feeling sappy.” She ran a finger over the top of the frame, frowning at the dust that came with it.

“He played this game on his birthday. Just turned eleven, and all he wanted from that day was to win, and he wanted to be the one to do it.” 

Yuna heard Ilya chuckle softly. “Sounds like now.”

She smiled, rubbing the dust from her fingers. “It sure does.” 

Ilya was quiet, and Yuna was about to excuse herself from the room when he spoke up again. 

His eyes never left their lock on the note.

“My mama used to call me Ilyusha.”

Yuna didn’t dare look at him fully, but from the corner of her eye she saw his shoulders soften. 

“We didn’t really use nicknames at home. My father didn’t like it. But she would always call me Ilyusha, even when he was there.” 

Yuna chewed on the inside of her lip. She knew that this was a big step for Ilya to make with her, and she questioned herself about how to proceed. 

She only knew what she knew how to do, though, which is why she stepped closer, and lightly laid a hand on his shoulder.

Ilya glanced down at her, and when she met his gaze, she could see the glitter of a tear in each big, blue eye. 

“I think it’s very sweet.”

Ilya nodded, and the smile he gave her was small and sad. 

“I miss hearing it. Shane says it, sometimes. But it’s… different, coming from a mom, you know?” Ilya shrugged, and Yuna’s heart hurt. 

It had been an intense few months for her, emotionally. 

Knowing the baggage the two of them carried for so long, secretly, and knowing that her son was torn up about it long after it came out was enough to make her cry every night - it did, for a while. 

She’d wake up in tears, thinking about her gentle, tender hearted boy, who’d only ever loved one person. 

He loved this abrasive, loud, imposing hockey player, who was now standing in Yuna’s guest room, misty eyed and quiet under her hand, the complete opposite of himself on the ice. 

He loved Ilya, who loved him, and who had so much love taken from him.

He was standing next to Yuna, who had more than enough to give. 

She made the choice to wrap him in her arms, and he went easily. She could hear voices downstairs, but she ignored them, closing her eyes as Ilya sat on the desk, burying his face in her shoulder.

She rocked him gently, and she felt him let out a shuddery breath. 

She brushed his hair back behind his ear, much as she’d done for Shane thousands of times. 

Yuna let him sit for a moment longer before speaking. 

“I want you to know that I can never take her place. And I don’t want to. But,” she met his eyes as he looked at her, tears glistening on his cheeks, “if you ever need to hear a mama’s voice, I’m right here. Always.”

Ilya nodded, and sniffed once. He pawed at his face, but Yuna was already there, wiping away a tear like it was second nature. 

“You always smell nice.” The words seemed to come out of Ilya’s mouth before he realised he said them, and he pressed his lips closed. 

Yuna smiled. Sweet boy. Sweet Ilyusha.  

“It’s probably my lotion. I’ve worn it for years, and I think by now I should have stock in the company in case something ever happens to it.” Yuna let him go, still keeping a hand on his shoulder.

Ilya didn’t move away as he smiled. “Yes, probably.” 

Yuna sighed, patting him once before stepping away. 

“We had better get going before they send up a search party. Come on, my dear.” 

Yuna started off downstairs, and smiled to herself as Ilya followed her, very close, and not at all hesitantly.

- 5 -

However many times Yuna thought she was done being taken advantage of by her son, there was always something else. 

“I need you to do me a favour.” Shane’s call had started innocently enough, and Yuna had only been half listening as she sat in her garden, wrestling with the weeds that had somehow taken up residence there over the winter. 

She tuned back in when Ilya’s name was mentioned. 

“He’s going to be there alone all weekend, and I just want to make sure he’s actually resting. You know how he gets.” Shane’s voice was only slightly verging on frustrated, and Yuna frantically tried to mentally recap.

Ilya had been taken out of the game with an injury the day before, and Shane was completely across the country. 

She guessed Shane was asking him to make the quick trip over to Ilya’s house and check in on him, and she knew she had guessed correctly when Shane spoke again. 

“The code is the same, but you could probably text him to let him know you’re coming. Or maybe it’s better if you just surprise him, because then you’d know if he actually was doing what he’s told. He’s Ilya, so who knows.” Shane rambled, and Yuna could hear zipping and shuffling from the other line. He was no doubt packing, and Yuna could visualise the tidy stacks and neat go bags in front of him. 

“He’s a grown man, honey. I think he knows his limits.” Yuna was more or less being honest. Ilya was notorious for playing through injuries he shouldn’t, and his heavy land on his shoulder last night didn’t exactly bode well. 

Shane sighed, the sound crackling through the phone. “I know. He’s just been a little dodgy today. I know he’s fine, I just want to make sure he’s okay.” Yuna knew what he meant. Ilya had barely made it through the first period, and he would no doubt have taken that harder than an injury. 

Yuna looked out over her garden. 

She supposed that she had grocery shopping to do in that part of town anyway. 

The weeds would be there another day. 

She arrived at Ilya’s house an hour later, sunglasses perched on her nose, and shopping bags in the backseat. 

She hesitated, her finger hovering over the code buttons on the doorknob, and elected to press the doorbell instead. 

Ilya opened the door only a minute later, a look of confusion and concern lacing across his face. 

“Um. Hi, Yuna.” 

Yuna smiled, in what hopefully felt like a non-threatening, and definitely not Shane-imposed, way. 

“Hi, honey. I just wanted to pop in to see how you were doing. That was a nasty fall.” 

Ilya’s brow raised, and he nodded slowly. She noticed that he was still heavily favouring his shoulder as he stepped out of the way, gesturing for her to enter. 

“Thank you. That’s very nice. I’m doing fine, really. You didn’t have to make a trip over here.”

The two of them looked at each other for a moment, and then turned away with a soft chuckle. 

They both knew exactly who was behind this. 

“Oh, it’s no trouble. Besides, I was going to ask you if you wanted to go somewhere with me anyway, and I figured there was no better time than now,” Yuna pushed her sunglasses to the top of her head as she levelled her gaze back at Ilya (who was absently rubbing at his shoulder, she noted). 

Ilya’s eyebrow quirked up at that. “Go where?” he asked, hesitantly. Even after all this time, there was still a layer of nerves Yuna had yet to completely strip him of. 

Luckily, she was a patient woman. 

“I have some shopping to do, and I wanted to swing by the Asian market. Now that you’re here in Ottawa, I thought it would be nice to introduce you to some places. If you’re too busy, though, we can do a raincheck.” Yuna shrugged, feigning nonchalant. 

She really hoped he would come with her.

Ilya eyed her for a second longer, and shrugged his uninjured shoulder. 

“Okay. I’ll grab my jacket.” 

Yuna let herself grin as Ilya walked away. 

Well. That was easy. 

The Asian market wasn’t exactly bustling when they arrived, but there were enough cars there to make Yuna take a second to rethink. 

She still wasn’t sure how the world would react to seeing Shane Hollander’s mom, and his only recently ex-rival out on the streets of Ottawa together, and especially not alone together at a store.

Ilya didn’t seem particularly worried, however. 

He’d surprised her, and had been consistently asking questions about the area as they drove. She’d answered them as best she could, and managed to do so without completely overwhelming him with information. 

The familiar smell of cleaning solution and ancient spices greeted Yuna as they entered the store, and she smiled at the sights ahead of her. 

Rows of produce, treats, and cookware went as far back as she could see, and she could smell the fish from the sushi counter. The discount tea sets sat in their boxes, the giant barrels of candies and crackers loomed in the corners, the quiet music tinkled overhead as she grabbed a cart, placing her bags inside with a happy sigh. 

“You’re going to love this. Further in, there’s an incredible food court area with the best sushi in Ottawa. Not kidding. This stuff could make emperors sing.” 

Yuna was pleased when Ilya chuckled, and as they walked through the aisles, she would do her best to make note of when he looked at something with extra interest, and explain it. 

“Why so many types of rice? Is rice not just rice?” Ilya asked, holding two bags of what would seem to be the exact same thing. 

“Sushi rice is a shorter grain, and starchier. The starch is what helps it stick together, and regular rice doesn't always have that. Grab me a bag of the blue one, would you?” Yuna moved past the rice to focus on the canned fish, and nodded at the soft thud of a rice bag landing in the cart. 

“Now this, I know. We have lots of it in Russia.” Ilya grabbed a can from the shelf, and smiled down at it. “My mama used to always eat salmon for lunch.”

Yuna paused at the mention of Ilya’s mother. 

Irina. The woman that the foundation was named for, that Ilya rarely spoke to anyone about, save for Shane. 

Now, Yuna knows two things about her. 

“Your mama had good taste. My mother used to make salted salmon for breakfast. Shiozake, it’s called.” Yuna started pushing the cart forward as she spoke. She turned back to where Ilya stood, still holding the can in his hand. 

“Come and drop it in the cart, unless you want to hang onto it all day.”

Ilya gave her a small smile, and placed the can of tinned salmon gently in the cart. 

They wandered for a few minutes, and Ilya began getting bolder with his choices. 

He grabbed a brightly coloured package of ramen from a shelf (“The chickens are calling to me.”), quite a few bags of chips (“Shane won’t even have to know they made it through the door.”), and some suspiciously chunky drinks in clear glass jars. 

Yuna never questioned him, only smiling wider with each ridiculous thing he grabbed. She made sure to even out the junk with some staples, and dropped some extra frozen miso soup pucks in her cart when he joyfully enthused about them being called ‘pucks’. 

As they rolled through the candy aisle, Yuna sheepishly grabbed a package of her own from the shelf. Ilya raised his eyebrows, smirking. 

Yuna sighed, bashfully. “I get these every time I come here. I have to hide them in the house.” She handed the package to Ilya, who inspected it earnestly. “They’re called mocchan dango. They’re like little mochi gumdrop things. You’d love them, I bet.”

Ilya handed the package back to her, and she squeezed it with another sigh. “You have to promise to not tell on me, but I’ll sneak these in the night sometimes. And by sometimes, I mean every night. It’s… a problem.” Yuna tossed the package into the cart, and Ilya grinned.

“I won’t tell. Promise.”

His brightening mood was almost enough, but Yuna wasn’t done yet. 

It was nearing mid afternoon, and she had no idea if Ilya had eaten breakfast, but she was starving. She told Ilya so, and was guiding them towards the food court, when she stopped in her tracks. 

“Oh, good grief.” 

Ilya came to a pause next to her, and laughed out loud at the sight in front of them. 

Across the room, on the TV on the screen, one of Shane’s many TV advertisements was playing. It was an older one, but it still played constantly on Ottawa television. 

Yuna couldn’t help the fond smile that came to her face. 

A quick peek at Ilya revealed that he was wearing a matching one, about as unreservedly as she wore her own. 

He glanced down at her, and she watched a flush raise on his cheeks. 

“I should be used to this kind of thing by now.” 

She nudged him gently. “It’s been years, and I’m still not. I think you’re allowed to ogle, if you want.”

A normal mother wouldn’t love the idea of someone ogling her son, but. Nothing about the last five (or even ten) years has been normal. 

Ilya raised an eyebrow. 

“What is ‘ogle’?” 

Yuna paused, blinking. Then, she laughed. 

“I’ll explain over the best sushi in Ottawa.” 

Twenty minutes later, Ilya was on his second roll, and Yuna was very, very satisfied. 

“You’re right. This is probably the best sushi I’ve ever had.” 

Yuna shrugged, nodding.

“I told you. Best sushi in Ottawa.”

They continued eating in silence for a few minutes. 

“I used to bring Shane here all the time when he was a kid.” Yuna chewed the rest of her roll, and Ilya stilled as he listened. 

“They used to give him this little treat, taiyaki. It’s a fish shaped waffle, full of chocolate, or custard, or whatever they made that day. He’d get so excited every time we walked in. He always made out like a bandit.” 

Yuna could see that boy in her brain, clear as day. 

His big eyes, his gap toothed smile, his mop of hair that he’d shyly duck underneath at the smallest moment of attention. Her perfect, wonderful baby.

She met Ilya’s gaze, and his face was as soft as she’d ever seen it. 

She knew he could tell she’d been back in time, even for a brief moment. 

“Do they still have that here?”

Yuna didn’t have to follow that question up to know why he was asking. 

“Absolutely, they do.” 

On their way to the checkout, she made sure they swung by the pastry counter.

- +1 - 

David pulled into a long driveway, and Yuna smiled as a house appeared from behind a generous hiding of trees. 

Shane and Ilya had settled into their new home in Ottawa over the last week, and had invited them to stay for the weekend (much like they’d done at Shane’s parents’ home hundreds of times). 

Yuna had packed an entire bag full of snacks and treats, with only a small amount of protest from her husband. She was so happy she could burst, and she couldn’t help her grin as she saw the front door open, with Shane appearing seconds later. As the car rolled to a stop, a small brown blur burst from the doorway, and Yuna’s grin widened as she threw her door open. 

“Anya! Hello, baby!” Yuna squealed as the dog threw herself into her legs, wiggling and yapping excitedly. She scratched at Anya’s soft head, letting her lick at her chin with a coo.
“Mom, we’re trying to not let her get used to that.” Shane had approached their car by then, and she scoffed, straightening up. 

“If you think I’m not going to let my granddog give me love, then you’ve got another thing coming.” She stated matter-of-factly, and Shane’s face softened as he looked at them fondly. 

“Yeah, I know.”

Yuna let Shane envelop her into a hug, and she squeezed him tightly, rubbing at his shoulders. 

“Where’s Ilya?” She asked, glancing over her son’s shoulder to check the doorway, and she knew exactly what Shane would say next:

“I should have known you’d care more about your favourite son than me.”

Yuna shrugged, looking up at Shane with a sly smile. “He hasn’t given me as many greys as you have.” She patted his cheek, and Shane rolled his eyes, accepting a bag that his father held out to him. 

“He’s inside. C’mon.” 

Yuna kept her arm hooked around Shane as they walked, chatting about their plans for the front yard, Ilya’s request to have the back patio extended, their mutual desire for an in-ground pool. It was nice. 

Shane had felt like a ‘grown-up’ for years, but this was a step that felt bigger. It was bigger. 

When he’d had the cottage built, it had felt like he was moving away from them, isolating himself. He loved the cottage, and they loved it too, but it felt like somewhere distant from them. 

This place felt like a real, honest home. There were already pictures on the walls, plush blankets strewn around the sofas and chairs, shoes in a neat line on a wooden rack. 

Yuna could smell essential oils drifting through the house, and she knew Shane’s diffuser that she’d gotten him for Christmas was hard at work. She let him bring her into the kitchen, where Ilya was hands deep in a bowl, brow furrowed in concentration. He looked up as they entered, and a big smile lit up his face.

“Yuna and David are here!” he crowed, and Yuna squeaked, releasing Shane in favor of grabbing Ilya’s face, pulling it towards her to press a kiss to his cheek. 

“Hello, angel.” She leant her head against Ilya’s broad shoulder, and heard him hum contentedly. 

She focussed in on what he was working on, and her chest tightened as she saw the neat rolls of sushi rolls resting on a cutting board. 

Shane settled on a stool across from them, David following close behind. “He’s been working on them all morning. There was… a lot of trial and error.” Shane’s tone was teasing, sweet, and Ilya snorted. 

“You’ve been eating them just fine. It’s a miracle there are any left for your parents.” 

Ilya continued on, Yuna still resting against his shoulder, and she watched his fingers work, rolling the sushi with unsurprising dexterity, layering ingredients, tucking the seaweed underneath each roll. 

Her mind flashed back to months ago, when she first brought him to the Asian market in Ottawa. 

After they all ate lunch, Shane offered to clean up. 

“Why don’t you go show Mom and Dad to their room?” He spoke at Ilya, and Yuna watched as they shared a conspiratorial smile. 

Yuna raised an eyebrow, but followed Ilya and David out of the kitchen. 

She already knew which one was the guest room, and had even helped pick out the bedding for the room. 

The door was open as they approached, and Yuna could smell a familiar scent coming from the room. She sniffed, frowning. 

“Did I leave you guys some of those wax melts last time I was here?” Yuna’s question towards Ilya brought his impish smile back to his face. 

“Maybe. There are a few things in here that are new since last time you came.”

Yuna caught a glimpse of the wax melter on the dresser, and then took a fuller look at the room. 

There was a new rug on the floor (the same rug Yuna had in their bedroom at home), new curtains on the window (blackout curtains in the same style that Yuna had installed a few years ago), and a tall bookshelf across from the bed. 

Upon further inspection, the books were almost all familiar. 

Many of the same ones Yuna had read to Shane decades ago sat on the shelves, along with ones they’d read together, even while hundreds of miles apart. 

There were travel books from Boston, Ottawa, Montreal, and at least ten other places in between - places she was familiar with, and places she’d always wanted to go. 

Another shelf held cookbooks and biographies, and there was even a small section of periodicals. The New Yorker, Chatelaine, and Reader’s Digest Canada were the first ones Yuna saw. 

She gasped softly as she saw an entire collection from her favourite author, and ran her finger over the uncracked spines. 

“I haven’t even seen these in stores, yet. How did you get them?” She whirled around to face Ilya, who was leaning against the bedframe, smirking. 

“That’s a secret. But having connections doesn’t exactly hurt.” Ilya shrugged, and Yuna felt love swirl through her as she shook her head. 

“You two are ridiculous. Thank you,” she said earnestly. 

Ilya shrugged again, but he was smiling widely, clearly grateful she liked her surprise. 

He left them alone after that, and Yuna collapsed onto the bed, tears pricking at her eyes as she smelled the laundry detergent that she had been using for years, now a constant in her son’s own home. David sat next to her, and rubbed her thigh. 

“We’ve got some good boys, my love.” Her husband’s words were warm, and she nodded, turning her head to look at him. 

“We really do.” She grabbed his hand as she agreed, squeezing tightly. 

Later, Yuna would wander into their en suite bathroom, and she would find her all time favourite hand lotion, tucked safely in between other products that Yuna could find in her own bathroom at home. 

After dinner, she would find a pair of slippers beside the couch, not unlike the ones she always wore at home, and had been wearing for years. 

When she and David moved to tuck into bed, she would hear a small crinkle under her pillow. She would pull it out, and she would smile as the tiny package of mocchan dango. 

She would end up confronting Ilya in the aughts of the morning.

It was early, and she had woken up naturally, breathing deeply in the still-dark room. 

Sliding out from the covers, she slid her feet into her (new) slippers, smiling at the familiar memory foam padding, and she wrapped herself in a cardigan before quietly leaving the room. 

Anya barely stirred as she came downstairs, her tail wagging sending shakes through her entire body, and Yuna stooped to press a kiss to the top of the dog’s head before moving into the kitchen. 

She could hear the rumble of the coffee pot, already brewing automatically. She smiled as she saw four mugs placed next to the pot, mugs that she and Shane had picked out at Ikea months ago. 

Yuna busied herself with snooping - no, taking stock - through their cabinets, checking for anything she could possibly bring for them next time, or get for them during her trip here. 

To her surprise, there wasn’t much they didn’t already have, including many of the staples from her own pantry. 

“Oh. Good morning.” 

Yuna turned quickly as Ilya’s amused voice rolled through the kitchen, and she put down the seasoning container she was holding with a bashful laugh. 

“God, you’re quiet. There’s no need to sneak around in your own home, you know,” Yuna teased. 

Ilya didn’t say anything else as he crossed to the window above the sink, pulling open the curtains to let in the early morning sun. He stood in it for a moment, staring out at the yard, and Yuna watched his face soften. 

She peeked out the window to see Shane, already awake, lying on his back on his yoga mat. It was part of a brand deal he’d gotten years ago, and Yuna had been thrilled when yoga sets for herself showed up at her own front door. 

“I love getting to just watch him.” Ilya’s gentle voice broke the silence between them.

Yuna glanced from Shane outside to Ilya inside. He didn’t break his gaze, as he continued.

“There have been so many times I would look at him, and felt like I could stare at him forever. I was even jealous of you guys, once or twice.” 

Ilya finally looked at Yuna, a wistful smile on his face. She knew her face had shifted into one of probable surprise, and Ilya laughed. 

“I mean, you guys could do that. Watch him. You could see him, in all his glory, and cheer for him, and love him. I wanted that. So badly, I wanted that. And now…” Ilya turned back to the backyard, the sun speckling through his curls, “Now I can.” 

Yuna stepped closer to him, and threaded her arm around Ilya’s. “Now we can, together.” 

Ilya glanced at her, and nodded, his smile growing deeper. Like two weirdos, they turned back to the window, and watched Shane for a few moments more. 

Yuna cleared her throat after a minute. “I do have one small thing to ask you. Nothing bad, just a question.” She let go of Ilya’s arm as she spoke, and leaned her hip against the counter. Ilya followed suit, raising an eyebrow. 

“I found the lotion in the bathroom, and the slippers. And I noticed the rug.” 

Ilya’s eyebrow stayed raised, but he was smiling.

“That didn’t sound like a question.”

Yuna laughed, waving her hand. “I’ll get there. I was just wondering, did Shane make a list, or something? He had to know I would have brought all those things with me.” 

Ilya looked down, suddenly bashful. Yuna wondered what she could have said, and was going to quickly recover the situation when he looked back up.

“No. I got them. I just wanted you to be comfortable here, like you always do for me at home.”

At home. Even here, in his own house, he still called the Hollander’s home. 

Yuna’s heart was breaking over this sweet, incredibly kind boy standing in front of her. She felt her eyes tingle as she grabbed his hand where it still rested on the counter. 

“That’s why I found the mochi under my pillow. Shane would never have known that.” Yuna couldn’t keep the fondness out of her voice, and Ilya’s cheeks turned ever so slightly pinker as he shrugged. 

“I remembered.”

Yuna was fearfully close to crying, and she pulled Ilya into a tight hug. 

Any other person would have protested by how hard she squeezed, but not Ilya. He melted into her, resting his head on hers like he’d done a million times by this point. 

She sniffed, and Ilya rubbed a gentle hand against her back. 

“Your mama would be as proud of you as I am, Ilyusha.” 

Ilya stilled, but only for a moment. 

He merely gripped her tighter, and there they stayed, gently swaying, heads turned to face out the window. 

✦