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It hadn’t been a big deal when it actually happened. His mum had sent them the information, Farah had been consulted, Ilya had signed everything that had been requested, and some time later the new passport had arrived at their home.
If Ilya had felt any way about now being a Canadian citizen, it had only been shown as an excuse to get laid or to make dumb jokes. If there were any bad thoughts or worries, he had only (Shane thought with a pang of uneasiness that wasn’t completely fair but couldn’t be avoided), shared them with Galina. But in the back of his mind Shane thought that they still had things to talk about, and he was now facing an opportunity to do so.
They had returned to their place from the cottage that morning, after making the most of their summer before the start of the season, and the whole day had felt blissfully domestic.
While the washing machine was doing its thing and Ilya played with Anya in the living room, Shane had decided to start organizing some of the paperwork that he knew they would need to have at hand at some point in the following month. And he had found Ilya’s Russian passport.
It was useless now, of course. With Ilya having his Canadian citizenship and them not planning on stepping on the country for a myriad of reasons that both hated to think about, there was simply no use for it.
It might even be expired. Shane thought, as he opened it and the serious face of a younger Ilya looked back at him.
He took a shaky breath and couldn’t help to drag a finger over the photo. Ilya hadn’t changed that much physically, any lost teeth or broken and healed-back bones not showing in the grainy image. But it was a younger face. A face that Shane knew still had a father, and regular visits to his home country, and so many feelings that he didn’t know how to express towards an equally confused Shane.
Even through the graininess and the official pose, he could still see the fight and the bravado being Ilya’s pupils. That had not exactly faded with age, just turned into a drive that was no longer used as an armor against the world. Back then Ilya had thought that removing that mask would kill him.
And he looked so young.
Shane went back to the living room, enjoying for several minutes the view of his husband laying on the floor in the middle of a mess of dog toys, egging on Anya to tug harder on the other side of the rope he was holding. He would have hated to break the lovely image in front of him if he wasn’t so sure, deep in his bones, that this was now their normalcy. We get to have this every day.
“Hey, Ilya?”
“Что, моя божья коровка?”
“I found something that I don’t know if you want to keep.”
There was a brief moment of confusion in Ilya’s face until the second he realized what was Shane holding. A curated blank expression dawned on him and he turned again towards Anya.
“It is expired,” Shane continued. “And you obviously won’t be needing it but—”
“Get rid of it.”
Shane had expected it, but he still had a feeling that he should push a bit, so he got closer.
“Do you want to… do anything with it? Like burn it or something like that?”
Ilya finally looked at him in the face, still a bit guarded.
“Shane, why are you suggesting arson?”
Shane sat on the floor leaning his back on the sofa, and Ilya only resisted for a few seconds before moving to rest his head on the outstretched legs. Anya had found one toy that she hadn’t played with that day, happily chewing in front of them.
“It could be like a ritual, something more symbolic that just throwing it in the garbage.”
Ilya hummed as Shane’s hand got deep between his curls, softly petting his head.
“Like viking funeral?”
“I guess.”
“And who has died exactly? Because my parents are long gone, I would have been noticed if Alexei was killed, and as far as I know Russia is still there, on the other side of the world.”
Maybe no one had died, but something had. Slowly but surely with each step and decision that Ilya had taken in the years between that moment and when that passport had been issued. Some (most) decisions had involved Shane, but so many others hadn’t. And all of them had caused that Ilya was now not able to visit his mother’s grave.
Shane focused his eyes on where Ilya’s idle fingers were playing with his cross. “Do you regret it?”
Shane knew it would have been an unfair question if he didn’t knew the answer already. But he needed Ilya to remember.
“Hollander—”
“If coming here,” Shane interrupted him, soothing with his hand the immediate frown in Ilya’s forehead, “if being together was something that you had second thoughts about, it would make sense to cling to something like this. And if these last years had been easy I would understand not even caring about it. But we both know that has not been the case.”
Ilya’s eyes weren’t completely dry, and Shane hated to had made him sad, but during the conversation he had realized why he thought this was important. And Ilya needed to hear it.
“It has been so fucking hard, and difficult, and worth it. And we did it. We survived. You survived all of that and so much more. I just think… I think that since you don’t want to keep the passport, we can get rid of it in a nice way. A purposeful way to honor the you that got us here.”
Ilya moved just enough to kiss him.
They stayed on the floor for a little longer, Ilya loudly thinking and Shane letting him and playing with his hair. He had said his piece and was happy to let his husband do whatever he thought was best.
After a couple of minutes Ilya moved again to give him a small peak.
“A ritual, mmm?”
“Yes, a ritual.” Shane smiled back. “Only if you want it.”
Ilya stared at him a bit longer with his crooked smile. “It’s been a while since you let me set anything on fire.”
“Fuck off,” muttered Shane, pushing him to the floor with the intention of following him to kiss again, but Anya intercepted him and started licking Ilya’s face now that he was closer to her level and Shane just laughed.
After dinner they gathered in the backyard.
The rest of the day had continued sweet and as lazy as Shane Hollander was capable of. He had finished laundry, planned next week's meals, and let Ilya do mostly nothing except play with Anya and join him for a short run.
They had cooked dinner together and talked about Ottawa's rookies before cleaning up and going to their backyard.
Ilya was looking now at the three metallic buckets that he didn’t know they had, filled to the brim with water. Shane had next to them one small fire extinguisher, and was currently turning off the hose. He had placed a fourth bucket on top of a bunch of rocks and sprayed the whole ensemble with water, making sure that the only dry thing was the interior of the empty bucket.
He loved his neurotic husband.
“Do you think we should call the fire department so they are on hold?”
“Fuck you.”
“You do know that this is probably not going to be a bigger fire than when we tried to make that flambéed dessert, yes?”
Shane frowned as he got back next to Ilya. “Should I get a pot lid? Or a blanket to smother anything just in case?”
“It’s perfect like this, мой огнетушитель.”
Shane snorted. “You got the lighter?”
Ilya nodded, removed both the passport and their kitchen lighter from his back pocket and squatted in front of the main bucket. Shane looked around and finally sat on the grass next to him, his hand immediately curling around Ilya’s ankle as a warm presence.
Maybe he should say something, anything, since this was supposed to be important in some way. But Ilya had nothing new to say to Russia, nothing pending for his father. And he had better ways to talk to mum.
So he just took a breath deeper than he had expected and raised his hands over the bucket.
Ilya had rolled his eyes when Shane had forbidden him to use one of his older lighters, the ones that he kept in part for sentimental reasons (he had stolen them from teammates or Sveta over the years) and in part to annoy Shane and threaten him to start smoking again. He was grateful now, as he realized that his hand was slightly trembling as he lit one of the corners of the passport on fire.
The paper ignited quickly, and even if Ilya tried to hold it for as long as he could in just a few seconds he was forced to let it drop to the bucket unceremoniously. It didn’t even make an interesting noise to break the quiet around them.
The sun was setting now, the warm light reflecting over the river at the other side of the backyard.
Ilya stayed squatting, looking at the small fire in the bottom of the bucket, laying his head on Shane’s and remembering the first time he had gotten lost staring at flames with his canadian boy.
He knew that nothing was different from burning the little booklet. That any decisions that he had needed to make were done ages ago and never regretted. But as the pages burned in front of him, he was able to appreciate the idea that Shane had put on his mind. The passport was just a symbol. And as such, it meant absolutely nothing, and so many little things.
He was happy to let some of those things go away in quiet anticlimactic flames.