Chapter Text
July 2003
It’s summer, Ilya is 12 years old and has been in summer hockey camp for the last month. His mom has been there by his side the whole time, cheering him on and telling him how much better he’s gotten over the last few months. It feels like just another normal Tuesday when Ilya wakes up, he makes his way down the hall to meet his mom and head out to camp. As he opens the door a wave of fatalism rushes over him. A dark anticipation of what he has felt coming on for years but could never put the words to was about to be face to face with his reality.
As Ilya steps closer to the bed he can see a hand. A hand that looks so familiar but at the same time feels foreign to him at this moment. Another step forward and he can feel the curls on the back of his neck standing at attention. He doesn’t want to move. He can’t. Somehow despite his mind telling him to stay still his feet are moving, faster and faster until he’s upright next to the bed staring at the soulless body of his mother. He can feel the heat of his tears slowly starting to pour down his cheeks as he opens his mouth to scream. Instead all that comes out is a whisper.
“mom?”
”mom please wake up we need to get ready”
The lump in his throat grew bigger by the second until all he can do is scream half hoarsely as his dad and brother come into the room. Ilya doesn’t know how but he’s now sitting on the floor, his knees pulled so far into his chest he’s making indents on his sternum. He’s paralyzed, frozen in fear.
“this cannot be happening” he whispered
“she cant have left me alone here with them. she didn’t. she loves me she would never leave me alone”
———————————————————-
Three weeks later Irina’s funeral is held. It’s beautiful in an open orthodox church with a small gathering of friends and loved ones. Ilya still feels like he’s dreaming. His mother would not have left him like this he cant accept it. As they make their way home from the church his father and brother berate him about how he was the reason this happened and if he never existed this never would have happened, but Ilya cant hear a word. His face stares out into the bright warm summer day. It doesn’t feel right, it should be cold and gloomy not lively outside.
Ilyas laying in bed trying desperately with everything he has to sleep. It feel like an impossible task right now but eventually his eyes grow heavy and he’s out. He’s jolted awake by someone tapping him on the shoulder. Panic sets in, who is in my room right now?, he thinks to himself. Except when he opens his eyes he’s not in his room at all, he’s in a house he’s never seen sitting on the couch with a small dog at his feet. He spots a mirror across the room not recognizing the person starting back at him. He looks older, maybe about 30, his hair is grown out and he’s wearing a shirt with English words on it he doesn't understand. It takes a few seconds before it dawns on Ilya that he is looking at himself.
A voice starts talking from what feels like a mile away behind him. As he turns around he sees a man, also around 30, a little shorter than him with shaggy black hair and an athletic build. Except this man doesn't have a face, it's all a blur. Ilya rubs his eyes a few times to try and make it more clear to no luck. The man starts to talk and it sounds slightly distorted, like he was talking through a microphone with bad autotune. Ilya has never been more confused. The man is still talking when Ilya realizes he’s talking to him.
“I’m sorry what?” Ilya says “are you trying to talk to me I don't understand”
“Yes” the voice says. “There is something you need to know”
Now Ilya has never believed in love at first sight or a one true love before, that sounded girly and childish. But when the man says the word soulmate Ilya's ears feel like someone just lit a candle next to them.
“Are you understanding?” the voice says
”No I’m sorry can you repeat that again” Ilya mutters
A sigh comes from the mans voice before he opens his mouth again. “I’m trying to tell you I’m your soulmate, and I am so sorry that your mom died but this had to happen for me to be here and let you know. I know this is a lot to process right now but just know that I am out there no matter how far away we are right now we will find each other.”
The voice trails off and Ilya thinks this cant be real. There’s no way a shadow figure of a man? is telling him that he’s his soulmate. Ilya always thought something felt different about him and that boys were always interesting to talk to, but his soulmate being a man. There was no way. Next thing he knows his eyes are opening again except this time he is in his childhood bedroom. Alone. Horribly alone.
—————————————————————
December 2008
It's been five years since his mother has passed and Ilya is in North America for the first time. He’s in Canada to specifically play hockey. He’s gotten very good over the past few years, he may even be the best. But right now he’s standing outside in the cold desperately trying to get his cigarette to light. A boy around his age is starting to walk his way as he fumbles with his lighter a bit more.
“Ilya Rozanov?” the boy says “I’m Shane Hollander.” He extends his hand out for a handshake.
Ilya flicks his lighter one more time and it finally connects. Ilya feels a poignant pull at his chest as he finally inhales his cigarette and extends his hand. This man feels familiar he thinks to himself without a second thought.
“You’re an awesome player to watch” Shane says
Ilya can’t help but feel the corner of his mouth turn slightly upward as he thinks of what to say. Before long their conversation is over and Shane walks back inside. As he steps inside the rink Ilyas cigarette bud burns out sharply. He can’t get it to relight again. A thought bombards his brain before quickly pushing it aside. There’s no way he thinks to himself. There is no way this awkward canadian boy im competent against tomorrow is my soulmate right?
Right?