Chapter Text
Ilya checks his phone after practice, pleased to see a notification from Instagram that he has a message from Shane. He finally nagged Shane enough for him to use Instagram more and they would send each other posts. It was almost one-sided, Ilya by far sent more to Shane than Shane sent to him. Not that he minded, it just made it mean all the more when he did.
Ilya tended to send all sorts of stuff. Videos of cars, videos about hockey, what fruit are you based on your birth month, a random animal with the caption “you”, a photo of cats hugging that said “us”. Shane tended to send hockey posts. Mostly just hockey. And occasionally the random recipe that fit whatever bird food diet he was on. Not that they ever quite looked appealing but he smiled at the “we should try this” message that accompanied them. The “we” meaning that Shane had thought about him, wanted to do more than just have sex with him.
Soon Shane starts mimicking the “you” posts Ilya sent him and shortly after there becomes the occasional “us” post and the first one made Ilya’s heart flutter. He was also pleased to know he had successfully infected Shane’s FYP.
Whatever type of post Shane had sent him this time would have to wait, both because it would be bad if his teammates saw a photo of whatever two animals/characters/colors??? together saying “us” from his so-called “rival” and because (and more importantly) he was still in half his gear and dripping sweat. He’d open it when he got home. He puts his phone back on the shelf as he finishes the rest of practice cleanup and pretends he is not thinking about it.
A shower, a change into clean clothes, a drive home and finally he could flop on his couch and doomscroll. He deserved it. And how could he resist anything from Shane? He was almost giddy to open it. Not that Russians were ever “giddy.” He barely even knew the word.
Shane had sent him a video of a little monkey walking on two legs and the message “you.” Now, Ilya wasn’t entirely sure what Shane meant by that, but the monkey was adorable. Ilya found from the caption that the little monkey’s name was “Punch.”
He went down a rabbit hole from there, forgetting to even respond to Shane. He discovers more and more about Punch the monkey. Every video made his heart ache.
Punch being abandoned by his mother, him clinging to the stuffed orangutan, the other monkeys being mean to him.
Shane was right, he was like Punch.
He knows what it is to lose a mother. The pain of rejection from family. Being too much for others. Being alone. So, so alone.
But Ilya wasn’t alone anymore. He had found his orangutan. He had found Shane.
Shane was his someone to cling to, the someone to rely on as other people started to see him as more than just an annoyance. Just as Punch had his orangutan.
Emotions he thought he had buried deep started coming to the surface. He could feel the almost forgotten but recognizable tingle behind his nose and eyes as he knew he was about to cry.
He hadn’t cried in so long. He almost never let himself. But there was something about this monkey that dredged up old memories. Seeing his situation in this unfiltered, animalistic form.
He lets himself cry. The tears burn in his eyes as they slide down his cheeks. His phone slips out of his hand as he buries his face in his hands. Whatever video of Punch he was on continues to loop next to him but he can’t be bothered to care. He’s gasping for air, his body shuddering as his sobs rack through his body.
What finally pulled him out of it was his phone ringing. He took in a few deep breaths to steady himself before looking at it.
Jane.
“Hello,” he answered, wincing at the rawness of his voice. He hoped Shane hadn’t noticed.
“Ilya? Are you ok?” Shane said, clearly having noticed.
“Is fine,” Ilya huffed.
“Clearly not. I’m coming over. Do you need someone there faster? I can call my mom. Or is it worse? Do I need to call 9-1-1?” Shane's voice climbs with worry as he goes on.
Ilya snorts a little at that. Of course Shane immediately jumps to the worst case scenarios.
“Do not call Yuna. You do not need to come over, you have practice tomorrow.”
“Ilya, I’m coming over. Something is clearly wrong. Besides, practice is in the afternoon. It will be fine.” Ilya can hear the rustling as Shane puts on a jacket and the jingle of him grabbing his keys. He almost misses the “besides, you’re more important.”
The words make him tear up again. Shane must hear the sniffle over the phone.
His voice softens, “hey, I’ll be there soon, ok? I’ll drive like how you drive. I’ll be there before you know it. Just hang tight, ok?”
Ilya is selfish, he knows it. He can’t resist anymore. Even though he knows Shane has practice tomorrow, he just wants to have him in his arms again.
“Ok,” he agrees.
“Ok,” Shane says and the phone call ends.
He sits on the couch a moment longer, staring at the blank phone screen before letting out a sigh and pulling himself together. He drags himself to the bathroom to wash his face, it feels puffy and weird.
Looking in the mirror, he can see his eyes are red. When the light hits just right, he can see the streaks from the tears, cool on his face. He’s not used to seeing himself this vulnerable. He grabs a washcloth and tries to wipe everything away. The tears. The redness. The pain. The vulnerability.
He presses the cloth against his face, letting the coolness ground him. He looks up at the mirror. His crying is obvious but his face is a little less red. He sighs before hanging the washcloth on the edge of the sink.
He wanders to the kitchen. He’ll probably feel better with some food. Or at least it would be a distraction so he wouldn’t start crying again.
He starts pulling out ingredients to make a tuna melt, and as he does, he gets a text message.
“Just checking in. Making sure everything is ok. I am more than happy to come over. We’re here for you. Please let us know if you need anything.” The text from Yuna reads.
Shane was a damn snitch. Not that he could entirely be upset. The text almost sent him over the edge again because oh my god he wasn’t alone anymore.
He gets the tuna melt started on the stove before responding.
“I am fine. Shane worries too much. Thank you for checking.”
Yuna reacts with a thumbs up.
Ilya snickers to himself a little at that. Only old people use the basic reactions. It wasn’t his opinion, it was a fact. He’s convinced Scott Hunter doesn’t even know how to react to messages.
“Let me know if that changes. The offer always stands.”
And yeah, Ilya can’t hold it back anymore. The tears come again. Not as bad as before but he has to wipe them off enough to see to flip his tuna melt. He is so grateful for the boring Hollanders for taking him in, treating him as one of their own.
He steadies himself again so he can finish his tuna melt. He eats it hunched over the pan, cheese and juices dripping down his fingers. The warmth and the familiar flavor are a comfort.
He rinses his hands, wiping them off on a kitchen towel before finding his way back to the couch. He wraps himself in a blanket as he waits for Shane.
He must drift off because he wakes to the sound of a key in his door and Shane’s voice calling “Ilya?”
“In here,” he croaks out.
Shane comes and finds him.
“Oh, Ilya,” he says softly before settling on the couch next to him, arms wrapping around Ilya.
Ilya immediately snakes his arms around him, feeling better as he has Shane to cling to.
“What’s wrong?” Shane says into his curls.
Ilya turns his head up slightly to look at Shane. “Nothing.”
“Don’t lie to me.”
Ilya finds his phone so he can show Shane a video of Punch.
Shane watches it quietly. Once the video is over, he asks, “the monkey…? The monkey made you cry?”
Ilya sighs, not knowing how to explain the situation. “No. Yes. I don’t know.”
“You can try explaining it to me, I’ll listen to you. Or you don’t have to. We can just sit here. Whatever you need.”
“You are too nice to me,” Ilya huffs.
“That’s not true. Now do you want me to listen or not?”
“I take back what I said. You are so mean to me.”
Shane shoots him a glare. “Quit dodging.”
“Ugh. Fine.”
Ilya slides down so his head is in Shane’s lap. Shane moves his hand to Ilya’s hair, playing gently with the curls, his other hand falling to his hip.
“It’s just… I am like the monkey.”
“You’re…like the monkey? How?” Shane questions.
“Yes. Punch. Now are you going to listen? Or ask questions?”
“Sorry, I’ll listen.”
“Good,” Ilya says, going quiet for a second. “He is…lonely. His family didn’t want him. He lost his mother. He’s too much for the other monkeys. He has no one.”
He can feel Shane’s hand tighten on his hip, the other stilling in his hair, but thankfully he remains quiet.
“I just… feel like little Punch sometimes. He is just so alone.” Ilya can feel the warmth of a tear falling down his face.
“But it is getting better. Punch is doing better, I am doing better. He has his orangutan. I have you. You are my orangutan, Shane.”
Ilya sits up so he can put his hands on Shane’s cheeks, Shane’s intense eyes stare back at him.
“I have you to cling to now. I am not alone anymore. I get along better with the other monkeys because I have someone to go back to. Someone who reminds me I can be loved.”
Ilya can see the tears in Shane’s eyes too.
“I love you,” Shane says.
“I know,” Ilya says.
“You can always have me to cling to. You can have me forever.”
“I know.”
They’re both crying and Ilya brings their lips together, a promise of forever. It’s nothing like those desperate kisses they used to share. The stolen moments. This is something that lasts.
Ilya pulls away and they take a second to breathe. Crying and kissing are not a great combination. They’re both wet, snotty messes, and he knows Shane hates it but is tolerating it (for now) for Ilya.
“We should go to Japan,” Ilya says.
Shane starts laughing, “what?”
“To see Punch. Is obvious.”
“Let’s pause on international plans for the moment. How about we just focus on getting ready for bed for right now?”
“Ugh fine,” Ilya says with a smile.
He lets Shane drag him along through their nighttime routine. As much as he loves their sex, he loves these moments too, sometimes even more. He loves these domestic moments, glimpses into the life they will have. He loves knowing Shane will be there when he wakes up.
They get settled into bed and Ilya looks up flights to Japan. Shane glances at it.
“You really want to go to Japan?” he asks.
“Yes. I want to go with you.”
He wants to go everywhere with Shane, experience everything with Shane.
Shane smiles at that and tangles their fingers together.
“I love you, goodnight.”
“I love you, too.” Ilya sets his phone down.
Japan can wait. Everything can wait. He has forever with Shane. Punch will be okay. So will he.