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Ilya smiled as he hopped in his car. He was happy to be getting home. In fact, he was only a few minutes away from home when an unfamiliar song began playing. The lyrics started right away, and he only half listened to them because he wanted to see what the name of the song was and the artist. The curly-haired man liked to know that information so he could go back to it later and look into the artist if he liked the song enough.
Ilya had already paused the song, not even 10 seconds in, so when he stopped at the traffic light, he took a quick look. The artist's name looked vaguely familiar to him: Louis Tomlinson.
He felt like he'd seen the name somewhere before, but couldn't quite put his finger on it. He'd have to look it up when he got home. The name of the song sounded familiar, too, but if Ilya had to guess, that was only because he'd heard a different song with the same name. Yet another thing to look up later, he supposed.
It's been a minute since I called you
Just to hear the answer phone
Yeah, I know that you won't get this
But I'll leave a message so I'm not alone
As the traffic light turned green again, he started the song from the beginning and began driving through the intersection. This time, he actually listened to the lyrics, and he started to get an idea of what this song might be about.
At first, he'd thought it was maybe a breakup song, but when he actually processed it, Ilya realized that wasn't what it was about at all. This wasn't a breakup song; this was a song about losing a loved one. He wasn't sure whether Louis had written this song from firsthand experience with loss, but he could already feel the raw emotion in it.
Ilya immediately started relating this to his own experience. The thought of calling the phone of your loved one just to hear their voice again on the voicemail was kind of heartbreaking. But god knew that if the curly-haired man could call a number and hear his mother's voice again, he'd give anything to do it.
This morning I woke up still dreaming
With memories playing through my head
You'll never know how much I miss you
The day that they took you
I wish it was me instead
The next part made Ilya's breath catch slightly; it felt all too familiar to him. Waking up from dreams that felt all too real, trying to shake off the memories that weighed down his heart.
Dreaming of his mother was painful.
Ilya's brain would conjure realities where she was still alive and well, or choose to torment him with memories of the past. Either way, he would wake up with tears in his eyes and a deep ache in his chest. He hated that often dreaming of his mother, one of the people he loved with his whole heart, was a signal that he wasn't going to have a good day.
On those days, with the memories of his mother so front of mind, it was hard to shake the weight off his shoulders. And it is certainly not hard to think that things would have been better off if it were him instead of her. It was a silly thought, though, truly, his mother would roll in her grave if she caught wind of him thinking that way. Ilya loved his life now; he loved his husband, his dog, his kitten, and he wouldn't want to give it up for anything.
But god, he really missed his mother. He could only hope she knew just how much he missed her…
But you once told me "Don't give up
You can do it day by day"
And diamonds, they don't turn to dust or fade away
Well, god damn, that just had to hit him straight in the chest, didn't it?
"Don't give up. You can do it day by day." His mom had told him something like that once, in Russian, of course, but the sentiment was the same.
It was after a long day of hockey. At the time, Ilya was only maybe eight and had just been chewed out by his dad. He was just a kid, supposed to be having fun playing youth hockey with his friends, but his father seemed determined to ruin it for him. The man didn't seem to know what fun was; he was fully focused on getting Ilya to his "full potential".
That car ride home was brutal; he had just sat in silence and taken the verbal beating. His father never seemed to have anything nice to say to him, but his mother was always there to pick up the pieces. Every time his father yelled at him about not being good enough, his mother would swoop in and tell him to keep going. Her encouragement was really the only reason he kept going, even after she passed.
So I will keep you, day and night
Here until the day I die
I'll be living one life for the two of us
I will be the best of me
Always keep you next to me
I'll be living one life for the two of us
Even when I'm on my own
I know I won't be alone
Tattooed on my heart are the words of your favourite song
I know you'll be looking down
Swear I'm gonna make you proud
I'll be living one life for the two of us
Fuck, if the last bit of lyrics made him feel like the breath was knocked out of him, then this part felt like it was hitting him like a truck of emotion. It had Ilya's eyes burning with tears that were threatening to fall, but he didn't want to cry. 'He shouldn't cry, it was just a song' was what he told himself as emotions bubbled uncontrollably in his chest. He wasn't even a minute into the three-and-a-half-minute song, and judging by how he was feeling, he could tell that he wouldn't be able to stop himself from crying.
Every second longer that Ilya listened to the song, the more he realized that it definitely wasn't a song that he should be listening to while driving. This was definitely a song better listened to at home, or at least somewhere where the tears blurring his vision wouldn't cause a car crash.
The curly-haired man thought about stopping the song at that point, so he wouldn't be crying while driving. He should have probably paused it and driven the rest of the way in silence, but he didn't. Instead, he continued because, despite the fact that this song was making his heart hurt, he didn't want to stop.
I could feel your blood run through me
You're written in my DNA
Looking back in every mirror
I know you'll be waiting
I'll see you againBut you once told me "Don't give up
You can do it day by day"
And diamonds, they don't turn to dust or fade away (Fade away)
Ilya sighed, stopping at the red light and taking a deep breath. He tried to pull himself together, and the heartbreaking lyrics continued. His efforts, however, were fruitless as he felt a tear roll down his cheek. The man took a hand off the steering wheel to wipe the tears from his cheeks. He blinked hard, hoping that it would help the burning behind his eyes, but it didn't; it only made it worse.
When he opened them again, the light was green. As Ilya drove, he checked his mirrors, and he caught his own sad eyes staring back at him in the reflection. The blue of his eyes always got brighter when he cried; he never knew that they did that until Shane mentioned it once, and later, when he looked at himself in the mirror, he saw his mother's eyes in his own. It made him sad sometimes that the only way he could see his mother was in his own face, but it was better than looking into his own eyes and seeing his father.
Ilya took a hand off the wheel again, and instead of bringing it up to wipe his eyes, he brought it to his chest, now oddly aware of the cold metal resting on his skin. He pulled the cross out from under his shirt as he drove, squeezing it in his palm as he took a shaky breath. He tried to let the feeling of the sharp, thin metal pressing into his skin ground him.
So I will keep you, day and night
Here until the day I die
I'll be living one life for the two of us
I will be the best of me
Always keep you next to me
I'll be living one life for the two of us
Even when I'm on my own
I know I won't be alone
Tattooed on my heart are the words of your favourite song
I know you'll be looking down
Swear I'm gonna make you proud
I'll be living one life for the two of us
The blue-eyed man let the now familiar lyrics of the chorus wash over him once more as he lifted the cross to his lips, kissing it before pressing it over his heart with the same hand. Ilya should have both hands on the wheel. It would be what Shane would tell him to do, even if the man always contradicted himself by wanting to hold hands as they drove, but he just couldn't bear the thought. He felt he needed to touch the cross, to feel closer to his mother in this moment.
It was the last piece of her that he had left, and it hadn't left his neck since he received it when he was 12.
More often than not, Ilya could feel his mother with him, or at least he liked to believe she was there. He didn't really know how to describe the feeling, but he knew it wasn't just because he was wearing the cross. Even if he wasn't wearing it, he knew she was around all the time.
Ilya's mother lived on in heart and mind, in spirit, and physically in his DNA, in the blood that coursed through his veins. He was never truly alone because, even when he was physically alone, he knew she was wherever he was, watching him through good times and bad. Ilya hoped that his mother was happy for him, for the way his life turned out, and hoped that she was proud of him.
He liked to think she was…
I promised you I'd do this
So all of this is all for you
Oh, I swear to God, you're living
Through everything I'll ever do
Ilya cleared his throat as if it might help the lump growing there, but it didn't help. It only caused him to let out a strangled sob as tears flowed freely down his cheeks.
If someone asked who inspired his hockey career, there were two different answers. When his father was alive, Ilya had to say it was him; otherwise, the curly-haired man would get an angry phone call. The man would chew him out for being ungrateful for everything he'd done for him. And yeah, sure, he drove him to and from practices and gave him pointers, and told him what he was doing wrong.
But the man never told him what he was doing well, never really gave him that encouragement that he needed.
If someone asked him that same question now, though, his answer would make his father roll in his grave, because in reality, he'd say his mother inspired his hockey career. She may not have been at every practice, but she was at every game, cheering him on. She was always so happy watching him; her eyes would shine with happiness with every pass he made and every goal he scored. That was what pushed him to continue, not his father's tough love, but his mother's constant encouragement and love for watching him.
So yeah, she still lived through Ilya's professional hockey career; she was the main reason he didn't quit. She lived through the Irina Foundation and the summer hockey camps, her name helping people with their mental health struggles and teaching kids hockey. He was sure that was what would make her the proudest.
So I will keep you, day and night
Here until the day I die
I'll be living one life for the two of us
I will be the best of me
Always keep you next to me
I'll be living one life for the two of us
Even when I'm on my own
I know I won't be alone
Tattooed on my heart are the words of your favourite song
I know you'll be looking down
Swear I'm gonna make you proud
I'll be living one life for the two of us
The song was finally almost over, and the blue-eyed man was thankful for that as he listened to the chorus for the last time. Ilya really let himself feel it. His mother was always with him in spirit, but God knew that if she were still alive, she would be with him here. His mother would be at every game to hug him and give him the same words of encouragement as when he was young. She and Yuna would probably be best friends, and of course, he knew for a fact that Shane would wedge his way into her heart.
Fuck, Ilya missed his mother so much it hurt. He wished things could have been different, wished that there was something he could have done to help…
He always felt like there was something, something he could have done, like he could have tried harder to keep his mother happy. Ilya was always more perceptive than anyone ever assumed of him; he knew his mother wasn't okay, even when she faked a smile and insisted she was. But he was a child, the youngest child in a household where no one who could help listened to him, so there was nothing he could do.
Ilya still wondered all these years later, if it were just the two of them together, would she have been happier? Would she be living a life that was all her own? A life that wasn't only kept alive by him.
One life for the two of us
(Ohh, Ohh, Ohh)
I'll be living one life for the two of usWe'll end just like we started
Just you and me and no one else
I will hold you where my heart is
One life for the two of us
Ilya let the rest of the song play out, glad that as it ended, he was pulling into his and Shane's driveway. He was crying, unable to control the sobs that were wracking his body; if he were still driving, he would have had to stop on the side of the road. Ilya stopped his car, turning it off before taking a deep breath to try to calm himself.
It didn't help…
What he really needed was to pull himself together and get inside because Shane was waiting for him. But he couldn't move; he felt like he was stuck in his seat. He wanted to get out of the car, but couldn't go inside looking like this; he was an absolute mess. Ilya didn't want to worry Shane because he was fine and could pull himself together; he was totally okay.
He really wasn't okay; he was breaking down entirely and couldn't rein it in, not even a little bit. Ilya didn't know what to do; he was usually stronger than this, usually more in control. He couldn't remember the last time he'd cried like this. It didn't feel good, it didn't feel like a release, it hurt, not just emotionally, but physically. He kept getting these pangs of tingling pain shooting through his chest when he'd try to take a breath, only for another violent sob to shake him to the core.
Ilya didn't know how long he'd been sitting in the front seat of his car, crying because of a song. He didn't even know that a song could evoke so much emotion. All he knew was that the longer he sat here alone, the more he wanted Shane to be here, holding him.
Shane was getting worried; he knew Ilya would be late today. He had a meeting with Harris about some social media thing, which was why they had driven to and from practice separately today. They had gotten some friendly ribbing from their teammates about there being "Trouble in paradise" because of said arrangement. That didn't really matter right now, though, because his husband had told him about 40 minutes ago that he was heading home from the arena; even with traffic, he should have been home by now.
If Ilya were going to stop somewhere, he would have texted or called to let him know. So yeah, with the lack of communication and how late his husband was, Shane was starting to freak out a little bit. He turned off the stove, grabbed his phone, and walked towards the door to wait on the porch.
What Shane saw when he opened the door surprised him though… he had been expecting a half empty driveway, but he was met with the relieving sight of Ilya's car. The relief didn't stick around for long, though, because another anxiety-inducing thought came to the brown-eyed man's head.
If he was here, then why hadn't he come inside?
So many thoughts were racing through Shane's head right now that were not helping his anxiety about this situation. The hundreds of anxiety-ridden thoughts that were flying through his mind right now could be easily quelled by simply walking up to the car and checking on Ilya. Yet the raven-haired man found himself inexplicably frozen in place, staring at his husband's car from a distance. He only let himself unhelpfully spiral for one more moment before finally knocking himself out of his anxious daze.
Shane rushed over to Ilya's car, standing at the driver's side door. He reached for the handle, pausing as his hand wrapped around the cold metal, as if he didn't want to open the door. He genuinely wasn't sure what was stopping him. Maybe he was just scared of what he'd see when he opened it.
The brown-eyed man didn't have much time to dwell on that thought, though, because the sound Ilya made that was muffled by the car door broke his heart. Shane was quick to open the door now, needing to see his husband. The sight that greeted him was not great. The curly-haired man was hunched over with his arms folded on top of the steering wheel and his head pressed into them. He was shaking with the force of his sobs, tears falling from his cheeks and landing on his pants.
Fuck, what happened? Ilya was fine when they spoke earlier.
"Ilya," he said quietly, clearly not loud enough for the other man to hear over his heaving sobs, so he tried again, a little louder: "Ilya."
Ilya heard Shane this time, looking up at him with his wide, wet, beautiful, bright blue eyes.
"Sh-Shane," Ilya whimpered brokenly, his accent curling around the syllables heavily.
"Baby, come here, let's get you inside," Shane suggested softly.
The curly-haired man nodded, shakily stepping out of his car and practically collapsing into the brown-eyed man's embrace. Ilya's shoulders shook with another sob, chest heaving as he pressed his face into the side of Shane's neck, wetting his skin and shirt. They stood in the driveway for another couple of minutes, still and mostly silent, before Shane managed to get them both inside.
Shane was trying to get Ilya onto the couch, but poor Anya sensed the blue-eyed man's distress as she tried to greet him. She whined, confused about why her dad wasn't greeting her with the same enthusiasm. That only broke Shane's heart even more.
"Anya, it's okay. Your dad is going to be okay, but I need you to stop jumping on him, sweet girl," he said, as the dog sat down and looked up at him with sad eyes.
"I know, I don't like it when he's sad either, but we're gonna help him," Shane said softly, frowning as he guided Ilya towards the living room. He paused and looked back a few steps to see Anya still sitting near the door. "Come on, girl," he added, wanting the dog to follow them.
With that, Anya followed close behind the men into the living room. As Shane sat Ilya down on the couch and sat down himself, he watched Anya. She sat on the ground in front of Ilya's feet and looked at him for a moment before lowering her head to rest on his knee. It was really sweet. Shane wished Ilya could appreciate the comfort she was trying to give, but the man was currently sobbing into his hands and certainly not in any condition to try to comfort Anya.
Shane reached over and petted the dog's head as he wrapped an arm around Ilya's shoulders. This caused her to move over to his lap as he spoke quietly to the man next to him, asking, "Ilya, what can I do to help, baby?"
Ilya spoke with actions rather than words, pressing his body closer to Shane's. Luckily, he had a pretty good idea of what exactly his husband was asking for. "You wanna cuddle Ilya, would that help?"
The curly-haired man nodded, and Shane told Anya to lie down so he and Ilya could get more comfortable.
They lay together on the couch, chest to chest, with their legs tangled and no words exchanged for a while. Shane felt that words weren't right for the moment, so he stayed quiet, periodically kissing Ilya's temple as he gently carded his fingers through his curls and rubbed his back. Soon, his husband's shoulders stopped shaking, his broken sobs quieted, his breathing evened out as he calmed, and his tears stopped falling.
"Feeling better?" Shane asked softly, breaking the silence.
Ilya only shrugged, then gave a light nod against his shoulder.
Shane continued in a careful tone, "Do you wanna talk about it?"
At first, Ilya didn't say anything, only sighing and shaking his head against Shane's shoulder. Then the curly-haired man seemed to change his mind, muttering something that was too muffled to hear.
"What was that, Ilya?" the raven-haired man asked, hoping that his husband would say it again.
His voice was rough and quiet as he repeated what he'd just said in a near whisper, "I-I miss her so much."
Shane was confused for a moment. He missed her? Who was she? Then it hit him, like a defenseman that came out of nowhere on the ice. Ilya was talking about his mother. And his heart broke all over again. The man thought a lot about his mother on down days, when his depression got the better of him, but as far as Shane was aware, today wasn't a down day.
He thought back to this morning. Had he missed something?
Shane could usually tell when Ilya was having a bad day; the man would try to hide it, but it was very obvious. The brown-eyed man may not be the best at reading social cues or facial expressions, but he knew Ilya's tells like the back of his hand. His husband didn't seem sad or withdrawn this morning or throughout the day; he even sounded happy when they were on the phone almost an hour and a half ago. So clearly something happened that shook him up on the way home.
"Hey, Ilya, can you look at me?"
They shifted their positions slightly so Ilya could look up at him, his eyes puffy from crying. Shane hated seeing his husband so sad; it hurt his heart. He felt bad for asking, afraid that it would make him more upset again, but he needed to know why he'd found the man sobbing in his car.
"Can you tell me what happened?" Shane questioned carefully.
Ilya cleared his throat, "Is silly," he said, quietly clearing his throat before continuing, "J-just sad song made me think of her… made me very sad."
"Oh baby, " Shane whispered, caressing his husband's cheek and guiding him into a short, soft, comforting kiss. "It's not silly, people cry while listening to songs all the time. It just means you connected with it deeply."
"Mhm," he hummed as they pressed their foreheads together, another moment of silence enveloping them, until Ilya's stomach broke it.
The sound startled a laugh out of both men, the mood lighening, "It seems someone is hungry." Shane teased with a small smile, "What would you say to some dinner?"
"Yes, dinner sounds good." Ilya nodded.
"Okay, you wanna let me up so I can warm it up?"
Shane could tell that his husband didn't want to get up as he shifted on the couch to let him stand. Looking up at him, he said, "I'm coming with you."
"Okay, come on then," the brown-eyed man said as they walked to the kitchen together, Anya trailing after them.
As he warmed up their food, Ilya pressed himself against Shane, the man's strong arms wrapping around his waist lightly, and his chin resting on his shoulder. They stood in relative silence until Anya whined, which could mean one of two things: that she wanted attention or the food that Shane was cooking. Judging by the way that Anya was nudging, though, he figured it was the first thing.
Shane felt Ilya's head shift on his shoulder as Ilya looked down at their dog. "You should check up on her, she's been worried about you since we came inside."
Anya whined again, and Ilya let one of his arms drop from Shane's waist to pet her, "Is okay, sweetheart, I'm okay," he said softly.
She was insistent, wanting more than a little pat on the head. Shane could tell that Ilya didn't want to detach himself from him, but Anya demanded attention, and the curly-haired man was never one to deny her affection. He nuzzled his forehead into his shoulder, then let his other arm slip from his waist before kneeling down. The brown-eyed man watched as the dog, happy to get Ilya's attention, accidentally knocked the man off balance.
She crawled into the space between his legs now that he was sitting on the floor and began licking his face. Shane was happy to see that the action had gotten a smile out of Ilya, his husband sputtering as he laughed lightly.
"Okay, okay, Anya, daddy's okay." He said, pushing the dog away while scratching behind her ears, "Thank you for the kisses, my sweet girl. They make me feel all better."
"Even better than my kisses?" Shane teased.
Ilya stayed silent for a minute as if he were thinking. "Hmm, no. Nothing makes me feel better than your kisses, Shane."
Fuck, this man knew just how to make his heart melt in all the right ways. Shane watched the blue-eyed man stand up from his spot on the floor and step towards him, clearly looking for a kiss. And he was ready to give him one… then something clicked in his brain.
"Ah, wait a minute." He tutted, placing a hand on Ilya's chest to stop him.
"What?" The other man asked with a pout, "Just want you to gimme kiss, Shane."
"Hm, I know, baby, but Anya's tongue was just all over your face, so I won't be kissing you until your gorgeous face is clean," Shane explained, knowing his husband would understand.
Ilya huffed, went to the kitchen sink, rinsed his face with water, and then quickly dried it with a towel. "Now I get my kiss?" He asked with a small smile.
Shane would have preferred that he had used some soap, but this would have to be fine for now. "Yes, Ilya, come here."
His husband came to him, and he pulled him into an embrace. They held each other for a moment before Shane pulled away and pressed a soft kiss to Ilya's forehead, then the tip of his nose, then his lips. He was cradling the curly-haired man's face in his hands, and he hummed happily into the kiss as it continued. It went on longer than Shane was expecting, not that he was complaining, though. The kiss was soft, and warm, and slow, and so full of love that there was no way in hell he was gonna pull away until Ilya was ready.
After maybe another minute, Ilya did pull away, practically melting into him as he did so. Shane smiled and petted the man's soft golden curls as he nuzzled the side of his head and kissed his temple. "That kiss made you feel better, Ilya?" He asked.
"Mhm," Ilya hummed, nodding before picking his head up and speaking softly, "Much better, thank you, moy lyubov."
Shane blushed. He loved it when Ilya used Russian endearments. "You ready to eat? Food's ready, I bet that getting some food in you will help too."
"Yes, let's eat," he answered simply.
They each made their plates and sat at the kitchen counter together, eating in relative silence. Ilya broke the silence briefly, only to tell Shane that the food was delicious, and that started a short, quiet conversation between the men. They talked for a few minutes about the meeting the blue-eyed man had with Harris, then fell back into a comfortable silence, hands eventually finding each other under the counter.
Soon, they finished eating, cleaning up the kitchen together before retiring to the couch again, sitting, cuddled close under a blanket as they watched a movie. Only a few minutes into the movie, Luna finally made an appearance, showing up out of nowhere and deciding to make herself comfortable on Ilya's lap. The kitten purred loudly as the curly-haired man scratched behind her ears and stroked her soft fur.
About halfway through, Shane was about to comment on something that one of the characters had just done when he felt Ilya slump against him. He looked over to find that his husband had fallen asleep, his head slipping off his shoulder and onto his chest. The raven-haired man knew the whole thing of not waking a sleeping cat, but right now, he kind of cared more about his husband's comfort than Luna's.
The kitten was startled awake as Shane began to adjust Ilya into a more comfortable position. He had been trying to do so without waking the other man up, but the kitten jumping off of him messed up that plan a bit.
"Mmm, Shane… you woke kitty," Ilya mumbled sleepily as Shane continued to guide him until the man was lying on his side, head in his lap, as he carded his fingers through his curls again.
The blue-eyed man hummed in contentment, reaching up for his free hand. Shane grabbed it as he answered, "I know I woke Luna baby, she's fine. Just go back to sleep now, okay."
Shane then looked at Luna, who was now sitting on the coffee table and glaring at him as Ilya responded with a quiet hum, "Mmkay," before relaxing against him and falling back to sleep.
Not even five minutes later, Luna was back, and occupying the small space between Ilya and the edge of the couch, the kitten cuddling against the man's chest. It was still a bit early for either of them to be sleeping, especially Ilya, but he could only imagine how mentally and physically exhausted his husband was right now. Shane should probably just get Ilya to bed. But he looked so cute with the kitten cuddled up against his chest that the brown-eyed man couldn't even entertain the thought of waking either of them.
So he didn't. Shane just sat with Ilya's head in his lap and a hand in his soft curls, smiling because, in this moment, this was the only place he needed to be. The only place he wanted to be.