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Ilya Rozanov woke up tired. This was not a new happening for him. He dreamt of his mother every night, reaching for her, even though he knew he would never quite reach her. He had realized a few weeks ago, that he had now known Shane longer than he knew his own mother. He wanted to tell Shane that, of course he did. But Shane couldn't understand why that mattered. Shane had never had to live without his mom. It was a given that Yuna would be cheering him on from the stands at every game. Ilya's mother never got to see him get drafted (first overall, as he would constantly remind Shane), Irina never saw him win the cup, and she never saw him get married.
Ilya loved Shane so much. Probably since the first time he ever saw his stupid freckles. He loved him, and he wanted to be honest with him, but he couldn't even be honest with himself. The dreams were getting more frequent, hurting Ilya more and more.
Shane knew something was off. He knew Ilya better than Ilya knew himself. Or he thought. He'd always been able to sense when something was wrong with his husband, and recently, it seemed like there wasn't anything right with him. Shane was skating around on thin ice trying not to make things worse for Ilya. But after weeks of it, he couldn't take the half-way silent treatment and the distant look in Ilya's eyes when they fucked.
Shane was a ball of anxiety. The atmosphere of their shared Ottawa home was tearing Shane apart. He knew Ilya would deny anything being wrong. He was Russian, nothing affected him. Or something like that.
He found Ilya in the hammock outside, twirling his thumbs around his mother's crucifix and chain. Shane thought that maybe Ilya's mother had something to do with the way he'd been acting lately. An anniversary maybe? The day of her death, or maybe her birthday. Shane was sure he would've known if that was the case, but with the withdrawn way Ilya had been acting, he questioned it.
"Good morning, moya lyubov," Ilya greeted Shane as he slid into the hammock next to him, curling into a ball with his head resting over his husband's heartbeat. "Hi," Shane made a sort of choking noise as he said it. Shane tried to gather all of his courage, and failed before the words started spilling out.
"Are you okay? I've noticed that you're, like, distant? Like pulled away from me? Are your sessions with Galina still helping because we could find someone else, or you could go more often or.."
Ilya knew Shane had something important to say from the look in his eyes when he sat next to him. His husband's nervous ramblings trailed off as Ilya repositioned himself to look Shane in the eyes.
"I am.. maybe okay. But maybe not." Ilya said, his hand going to the small of Shane's back. Shane's eyes were locked on Ilya's mouth, silently willing him to tell him more. "Galina is helping, but sometimes I get sad and there is nothing to be done about it." Ilya said, his husband's sad eyes making it harder to say what he needed to say. "I have been missing my mother. She died when I was twelve, you know?" Shane nodded, confused as to why Ilya was telling him something he had known for quite some time now. "And we have known each other," A small sigh came from Ilya's lips, "13 years now."
Fuck. How had Shane missed this? Why hadn't Ilya told him until now? Ilya had known Shane longer than he knew his own mother. Shane would be distant too.
"Oh, sweetheart." Shane whispered, hand cupping Ilya's cheek. "I am sorry I didn't realize. Are you feeling okay?" Of course he wasn't, Shane thought. But what else could he say?
"She would have loved you, so much. Like me. I know I've said it before, but she would have. And thinking about her being gone, but me having you, it's been taking little pieces of my heart. If that makes sense." Shane nodded in response, though he wasn't exactly sure what he meant. "I've been having dreams," Ilya started, "Dreams about my mother. She sits in this hammock, reaches out to me, but by the time I reach her, she's gone. I would do anything to hold her hand again. And I keep being reminded that I can't." Ilya looked like he was going to cry. He would lie if anyone asked, though.
"Is that why you've been distant? You don't think you could tell me about your dreams?" Shane knew he shouldn't phrase it that way, but what else could he say?
"Not that I can't tell you. Maybe that I don't want to."
"You don't want to? What, be honest with me? Tell me what's going on in your head? We're married Ilya, we have to tell each other what we're thinking or this won't work." Shane was getting defensive, as if he wasn't already on guard from the start. And Ilya's eyes went dark.
"I want to tell you things, Shane." But you wouldn't understand, he thinks. "But it's hard to explain how I feel when your mother is alive and perfect and here. Because you can't fully understand how I feel." Ilya's words weren't meant to hurt Shane, but they did. Shane knew how different things were for the two of them in relation to their parents. Ilya's were gone, and Shane's were 30 minutes away with heavy traffic. Shane wouldn't be able to understand if he tried. But god, he wanted to try.
"I know, Ilya. But I want you to tell me how you feel, even if I can't understand it." Shane thought that would be the best way to go about things. "I love you, and I want to know about the things that hurt you, even if they don't make sense to me."
Ilya was silent. Not a good sign. Shane wished he could put his forehead to his and read his thoughts.
"You know I love your parents, yes?" Ilya asked. "Yes, of course. And they love you. Probably more than me." Shane joked back. Ilya winced. Not the right time. "I love your parents, but." He paused. Shane stomach was a knot again. "But they are not mine. And they may be better than mine were, but they are not my parents, and sometimes when I'm with them, I get jealous. Like why couldn't I have had a father like yours? A mom who is still here?" Shane hadn't seen that coming. He'd never had to worry about his parents not loving him. Even when he was scared to come out, it wasn't because he was afraid they wouldn't love him anymore, it was because he didn't want them to see him any differently. And they didn't. It was unconditional, and as simple as that.
But Ilya had things very differently. With everything Shane knew about Ilya's father, if dementia hadn't killed him, Shane would've. And Irina, she was perfect, kind, loving, and dead. Shane didn't want Ilya to be jealous of his relationship with his parents, but after Ilya had said it, he realized how obvious it must have been. Ilya loved David and Yuna. Shane was blind to think anything other than Ilya having wished that for himself growing up.
Shane felt awful. He didn't know what to say. He was lucky. His parents were the people in the world he loved the most, except for the beautiful man right in front of him. So beautiful, and so sad. Just like Ilya described his mother in front of the fire at the cottage. Words were evading Shane, and the look on Ilya's face made him sick to his stomach.
"Ilya, my parents love you. There's no reason to be jealous," Shane could tell from the switch in Ilya's facial expression that this was the wrong thing to say.
Ilya sat up, the hammock shifting with the movement of his weight. "You don't understand. I knew you wouldn't." The words hit Shane like a brick. "Then help me understand!" Shane's voice raised without him meaning to.
"My parents are dead! I wasn't enough to keep my mom alive, and my dad was... fuck, your parents are perfect, Shane. And I want that." Ilya yelled. He wasn't sure exactly why he was yelling. It wasn't Shane's fault that he had great parents. He was just so much luckier than some. Luckier than Ilya. And that killed him. Shane was defensive, it wasn't difficult to bring out that side of him. Reason went quickly out the window when Ilya raised his voice.
"What do you want me to do about it, Rozanov?" The use of his last name with such venom cut Ilya to his core. "I want you to know how it feels. To lose the one person who cared about you, and be stuck with someone as evil as mine for your father. But I really fucking hope you never have to understand that, Hollander." English was starting to fail Ilya, and what was meant to be a retaliation came out more as a desperate plea.
They were both standing now, Ilya about to storm away and cry until his body gave out. Shane was red in the face. He thought Ilya was okay, he knew he got sad, but he thought he was past this. Maybe he never really would be. Shane thought of his parents, how much they loved Ilya like a second son. But that wasn't enough to undo what Ilya's father did to him, what losing his mother did to him. Shane was regretting everything he had said, and he wanted to pull his beautiful husband into his arms and tell him that everything would be okay. Shane closed his eyes to take a steadying breath.
And Ilya was gone when his eyes opened.
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"Ilya!" Shane called out, filled with regret. Why did he say that? Why did Ilya run away? How long had he closed his eyes for? It must have only been just a moment. Overwhelmed, Shane wanted to fall to his knees. He took towards the house yelling his husband's name, but he wasn't there.
Fuck. Ilya knew this was wrong. But he was in his car and soon he was going 80 miles an hour and his anger was building in his chest.
Shane didn't mean to say that. Neither did Ilya. Neither of them wanted it to go that way. Shane just wanted Ilya to know he was there for him, that he would listen when he wasn't okay. But he didn't listen. He was too quick to judge, too quick to say things he would regret.
Ilya didn't know where he was going. He knew all he wanted was to be with his husband. So why was he flying down the back roads in Ottawa, the opposite direction from Shane?
Ilya didn't believe in God. No further than the crucifix he held to his chest. But that was more of a believe in a mother's love than anything else. But still, he hoped to God that Shane would be okay. Ilya loved Shane more than anything, anything but his mother.
Beautiful, beautiful Irina. So strong, so kind, so full of light. Her fire put out by settling for the meanest man Ilya had ever known. Ilya's father told him it was an accident. Only twelve years old and still he knew the empty orange bottle next to her lifeless still-manicured hands, was no accident. She wanted to leave him.
Irina left Ilya. Left him with Alexei and Grigori, no love left for him except hockey. Shane never experienced that. The longest Yuna had ever left Shane was probably to go to the grocery store and get him ginger ale. The worst thing David ever did to his son was probably grounding him for a day. Nothing like how Ilya grew up. He wanted to tell Shane that their language barrier wasn't Russian to English, but more of the differences in how they were raised. Ilya didn't know how to get out of his own way. Neither did Shane. But Shane had Yuna and David, and Ilya did too, now, but the damage had already been done.
"Ilya?" A voice rang out. A female voice.
Followed by a man's voice with the same curious tone.
Ilya closed his car door. Arms wrapped around him quickly. Did he look that rough, like he needed a hug that obviously? It was no secret that all Ilya wanted was a mother's love. Even if it was Shane's mother and not his.
"What are you doing here?" Yuna questioned. "Is Shane with you?" A little bit of a stupid question if you'd ask Ilya, clearly the car was empty. Ilya hadn't intended to end up here. It was an act of God, he supposed. If he could believe that.
Shane was dumbfounded. He didn't know what to do. He'd called Ilya more times than he wanted to admit. No answer of course. He couldn't just get in his car and follow him, he had no idea as to where he'd gone. Was this it? Some stupid argument because Shane doesn't understand the way Ilya grew up? Was this what would end them? Shane wanted to pray, but he didn't know how.
After what felt like an eternity bent over the toilet bowl with nothing coming out, Shane was sitting on the couch, tears in his eyes, hand clasped together when the phone finally rang. He picked it up faster than the thought possible. Not Ilya.
The screen read "Mom". He didn't want to answer. He wasn't in the mood, especially not after his relationship with his parents being the exact reason his husband was gone from him. But he was polite, and he loved his mom, so he answered.
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"Ilya, are you okay?" David's voice broke through Ilya's daze. "No," There was no point in lying to them. "Did something happen with Shane?" Yuna questioned, ever the fucking detective. "Yes," Ilya whispered, scared to speak it into existence. He sat in silence for another minute, maybe a lifetime, before whispering again, "We had a fight," Obviously.
"What about?" David asked, his hand on the top of Ilya's back. "You," Ilya whispered like the word would kill him if he kept it in. He ignored the puzzled looks on his in-laws faces.
"It should have been nothing, but somehow I think it was everything. I told him sometimes I get jealous of him having you guys. He wasn't upset that I said it, I don't really think. But he didn't understand where I was coming from. Then we both went too far and... and now I'm here and he's not." Because I'm an awful husband, Ilya wanted to add. He kept that to himself, thinking if he said it, it would be true.
"Can we call Shane? He's probably worried himself sick by now." Yuna knew her son well, and Ilya knew she was right. Jealousy twinged in his chest. He wanted what Shane had, a mother like his, a father like his. Ilya nodded, eyes fixed on something far away. He knew he'd probably taken his husband halfway to an aneurysm leaving the way he did, but he wasn't thinking. What's new?
"Shane," Yuna's voice washed over Ilya. At least he answered. Ilya could make out bits and pieces of the conversation. Shane sounded like he was crying. Ilya felt sick. Shane needed his mom right now. But so did Ilya. And he didn't have his mom, but he had Yuna, and he knew that was the next best thing.
David had his hand on Ilya's shoulder, a wonderful, grounding presence, not unlike his son's. Ilya tried to consider himself lucky. He had a wonderful husband, a wonderful husband who was probably sick to death over him at that very moment. He had Shane's parents, Shane's parents who cared about him so much, who considered him a second son. He let himself think, just for a moment, that this could be enough. That Shane's parent's love was close enough to still having his mom around, to having a father who loved him. Just when he felt calm for the first time all day, Yuna handed him the phone.
Shane's voice was shaky. His engine roared as he started his car. His mother's voice soothed him. "Ilya is here, he's okay," Shane could practically hear Ilya shaking his head at that through the phone. "Tell him that I love him, that I'm sorry," Shane felt desperate, terrified. "Tell him yourself, sweetheart,"
And he'd never been happier to hear his husband's voice. Except maybe after Florida. "Hello," Stiff, but okay. Not lying dead in a ditch, not ready to divorce him. Not quite yet, at least.
"Ilya," Shane practically melted. "I'm so sorry, I know I can't understand what it was like for you, and I'm sorry I blew up on you like that, I should've just listened, I'm so.." Before Shane could say he was sorry for the third time, Ilya interjected. "I know," Voice steady, accent heavy, "It's okay, moya lyubov, I promise. I am sorry for yelling, I should not have."
Shane let out a little pitied chuckle, "How do we keep ending up like this?" Ilya gave the same choked laugh back, "Language barrier? Maybe I should learn French. Then we can argue like real Canadians," Shane was sure both of his parents could hear his sigh of relief through the phone. Same Ilya, joking to put Shane at ease.
"I love you, Ilya. Je taime,"
"Ya tebya lyubyu,"
"I'm driving there now, if that's okay." Shane said, realizing only now that maybe Ilya needed time alone with Yuna and David.
"Of course is okay. I will see you soon," Ilya handed the phone back to Yuna. He whispered a soft thank you to his mother-in-law, a million unspoken words caught in his throat.
"You know we love you, Ilya, right?" He nodded to David, "But we understand that we aren't the parents you grew up with. And we are very sorry you had such a hard time. But we're here for you now, for anything you may ever need," Yuna pressed her left hand into David's, and her right hand to Ilya's. "Motherly advice, a hug - if you ever wanna play catch," David interjected. Ilya chuckled. "Thank you," He was as sincere as he'd ever been.
"And I know I'm not your mother, but I know she would be so very proud of you. As a player, as a man, as a husband, as a son. You are a wonderful man, Ilya." Tears welled in Ilya's eyes. All he could do was nod and smile a tearful down-turned smile.
Ilya remained on the couch, waiting for his husband. Shane's parents made their way to the kitchen, fixing something for their two sons.
When Shane stepped into his parent's house, he felt overwhelmed again. Nothing new for him, of course. Stepping into the living room, he saw his husband with tear stained streaks down his cheeks. Within a second he was by his side, wiping his sadness away, kissing his perfect face, whispering how much he loved him.
"I am sorry I overreacted. I love your parents, I am glad to have them," Was the first thing Ilya told Shane. "Don't apologize, I love you. I'm sorry that I can't understand where you came from, but I will always try to," Ilya eyes went to his husband's lips, then they were on him. A tearful kiss of forgiveness, neither of them understanding who was forgiving who, but knowing that it was okay. They were okay. And they always would be if they had each other.
"Your parents are cooking," Ilya said as they pulled apart for air. "For their two sons," He quoted. "Your family is better than I could've ever asked for," And although that was a good thing, tears still fell down Ilya's cheeks. "It's hard to let myself be happy without her, but I want to be. Yuna helps,"
Ilya didn't miss his father, only anger remained there. But he missed his mother every day. And Yuna's love for him only complicated that sadness.
"I think, you can be happy without your mother here without it tainting the time you did have, if that makes sense?" Shane supplied. "Da, it's just.. not so easy done as it is said." Ilya's reply came with a nod from Shane, as much as he itched to correct his husband's phrasing.
"I am hungry," Ilya said, standing and extending a hand to Shane. Shane gladly took it, and followed close behind him to the kitchen.
His parents seemed slightly uneasy, as if afraid they may set off another argument. But Ilya and Shane sat happily next to each other, and they let out a joint sigh of relief. David continued slicing vegetables, as Yuna stirred a pot that contained some kind of stew. Ilya was too hungry to care. And Shane didn't realize that he hadn't eaten all day until right then.
The family of four sat in peaceful silence until their meal was ready, and Yuna extended the wooden spoon she had been stirring the stew with to Ilya's mouth for him to taste. It was perfect, and the gesture threatened to make Ilya start crying again, his grip on his husband's right thigh tightening. "Vkusnyy," Ilya sighed. Shane's mother looked to him for a translation, Shane lighting up at knowing the word, though he would never say exactly how he came to learn it. "Delicious," He supplied.
"Great, let's eat!" Yuna clapped her hands together, spooning the stew into four bowls. Ilya pretended not to notice that he received a bowl with an extra scoop of meat. Yuna knew him well. Just as she knew Shane well, Shane whose bowl was mostly broccoli.
The four of them shared one of the best meals of Ilya's life, not too much conversation, but enough to know he was cared for, that he would always have a place in Yuna and David Hollander's home, even without Shane. His eyes were glossy the whole way home.
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Shane didn't want to ride home in separate cars. He had no choice. All he wanted was to be close to his husband, to remind him how much he was loved, and make sure he never forgot how amazing he was.
Shane knew Ilya would get sad just like his mom did. He also knew that Ilya had a better husband than his mother did, that Ilya was taking his medication every day, and that Ilya had wonder in-laws who would drop-kick the entire human population off of the Earth for him.
Ilya knew all of this too. It's why he knew he would never end up just like his mother. He knew she was not weak, and he also knew that he was stronger than her. Both things were true. His mother, so beautiful, so cursed. She never had a Shane, or Yuna, or David. Maybe if she had, if she hadn't been with Ilya's father, she'd still be alive. Ilya couldn't let himself think of that too much, or he would cry again. And Ilya did not like to cry.
Shane didn't like to cry either. He knew Ilya thought he was so pretty when he cried, but Ilya thought he was pretty all the time. Shane was more susceptible to the aches of the world, anyways. His parents showed him nothing but love, and one day he woke up and that wasn't the entire world.
Ilya's mother was so soft and sweet with him. Then she was gone, and Grigori had never been harder on him. When he was a little boy and needed love, he got an outburst and vodka to nurse the wounds. Then he left Russia and he was tough, strong, like a turtle shell. That's what he would say. So maybe his upbringing did him some good, but he'd trade all of that for a fraction of the love his husband got.
But he didn't have to. From the moment he introduced himself to David and Yuna, they showed him nothing but kindness. Their unconditional love for their son extended to the person they thought he had hated for years, no questions asked. A home cooked meal and the most kindness he'd received in years, that's what they always gave him.
They also gave him the love of his life. His sweet, beautiful Shane that would be at home to welcome him with open arms. Up or down, Shane was always there for Ilya. Even if he couldn't understand why Ilya was the way he was, why Russia was such a cruel place, why his home made him that way, Shane was always there to listen.
Ilya followed behind Shane on the rocky path up to their Ottawa home. As Ilya pulled in, he saw Shane slip into the house. When Ilya opened the door, his husband was there, arms metaphorically and literally wide open for him to fall into. And fall into them, he did. "I love you, Shane. Like how I love my mother, with no conditions," Shane may have sniffled slightly, or maybe Ilya was hearing things. He wasn't sure with just how tightly his face was pressed into Shane's chest. "I love you. Unconditional, like how my mom and dad love us."
The "us" was enough to bring Ilya to tears again, Shane leading him carefully up the stairs to their bedroom, laying him down then crawling in next to him, hugging him tightly, and whispering, "Tell me more about Irina? Please?"