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Typically, Shane didn’t like his apartment to smell like anything. He liked the air to be clean (his air purifier was always running), and for it to smell like nothing. Just clean, not stale, circulated air. He often found that sometimes the candles his mom liked, or the perfume Rose used, or even the scents found in hotel lobbies that somehow wafted up into all of the rooms and permeated the sheets gave him a headache and sent his nervous system into overdrive.
Which is why he was pleasantly surprised when he attended his first weekend yoga workshop, to find that he liked the smell in the studio. It was light, just faintly drifting through the room, like a gentle caress that Shane leant into. He wasn’t sure exactly what it was he was smelling, but he knew he liked it. So much, in fact, that at the end of the retreat, he found himself shyly approaching the yoga instructor to ask.
“Hi,” Shane said awkwardly.
“Hi, Shane!” the instructor said brightly. She was a petite woman, with blonde hair, who always seemed to look relaxed yet perfectly poised. She was a very good instructor, and Shane had thoroughly enjoyed the day. He told her as much.
“Well thank you! I’m so glad you enjoyed it. You are a great student and I hope to see you back at our next workshop,” she said enthusiastically.
“I actually had a question,” Shane said shyly. “What is it that smells so good in here?”
“Oh! That would be my essential oil diffuser,” she replied with a smile.
Shane looked at her blankly. Her what?
“Look,” she said, beckoning him over to the small table in the corner. “It’s a diffuser. You put distilled - always distilled- water into the receptacle, and a few drops of whatever essential oil you like. Then you just turn it on, and it produces steam, which carries the essential oil’s scent,” she explained.
“Oh,” Shane said dumbly, feeling like he somehow should have known this. “Well it smells really good,” he said.
“I had lavender and eucalyptus in there today. Very calming and grounding,” she replied.
“Yes it was,” Shane said earnestly. “And thanks again for the workshop. It was great.”
“See you at the next one!” she said with a wave goodbye.
When Shane got home that evening, he immediately parked himself on the couch and opened his browser. He typed in “essential oil diffuser” and was immediately overwhelmed with hundreds of options and brands of essential oils.
Before he knew it, it was 11pm and Shane had ordered no less than 3 types of diffusers and about 20 different essential oils. He was excited - maybe he could make his apartment smell as comforting as the yoga studio did.
A week later, Shane opened the door to reveal a smirking Russian wearing a Boston Bears sweatshirt. They had just played against the Bears at home in Montreal, and Rozanov had been in peak form, weaving between players on the ice and scoring 4 goals, absolutely trouncing the Metros.
“Come on in,” Shane said, with a roll of his eyes. He knew Ilya would be insufferable about his win tonight.
Ilya stepped into the foyer and immediately stopped. He sniffed once, twice.
“What?” Shane said, narrowing his eyes at him.
“It smells different in here,” Ilya said, sniffing and looking around the room trying to identify the source.
“What are you talking about?” Shane scoffed, somehow knowing that if Rozanov found out about his diffuser he would never hear the end of it. “Smells the same to me.”
“Mmmm, no it does not,” Rozanov replied. He prowled into the kitchen, still sniffing periodically.
“Aha!” he exclaimed. “What is this?” he said, pointing at the diffuser plugged into the corner of the kitchen counter.
“Uhmmm,” Shane started.
“Is some kind of candle?” Rozanov asked, curiously looking at the diffuser.
“No,” Shane mumbled. “It’s a diffuser.”
“A what?”
“A diffuser. You know, it diffuses - um sort of like spreads - the smell into the air?” he explained. “It uses water and - um - essential oils.”
“What is this, essential oils? Olive oil?” Ilya said, looking perplexed.
“No, dumbass,” Shane replied. “Like lavender or orange or peppermint or…” he trailed off.
“What is the smell right now?” Rozanov asked, inhaling.
“Lavender and eucalyptus,” Shane replied quietly.
“It smells good. Very ah, calm.” Rozanov said, looking at Shane with something akin to softness in his eyes.
“Oh. That’s - ah - that’s good. I’m glad you like it,” Shane said, looking a bit confused. He did not expect this reaction from Ilya.
Shane had forgotten about their conversation regarding his newly found interest in diffusing essential oils until he found himself at Rozanov’s place a few weeks later. Montreal had played Boston earlier in the day, and Shane made the now familiar trek over to Ilya’s house for some much needed quality time. And sex.
He knocked, and smiled when a rumpled looking Ilya came to the door. He had clearly been lounging on the couch, napping on and off, as was the usual routine after a hard-fought game.
Shane smiled, stepping into the foyer, giving Ilya a quick peck on the lips. He toed off his shoes and meandered after Ilya into the living room, plopping down onto his big, sectional couch.
He settled under the blanket, leaning over to rest his head on Ilya’s chest. He breathed in. Then breathed in again.
“Ilya, why does it smell like lavender in here?” he asked, looking up at him. It only ever smelled like men’s cologne or faint traces of the few manly-scented candles Ilya had laying about.
“Oh, that is my new diffuser,” Ilya said, lazily scrolling through movies on the TV.
“You have a diffuser?” Shane asked, surprise leaking into his voice.
“Yes,” Ilya said simply.
“Why?”
“Because I know that sometimes you are weird about smells and so I thought, if this is something Shane likes enough to have in his home, then maybe I should buy one. So maybe it can smell like happy memories and home for you here, too,” Ilya said softly, looking down at Shane.
Shane felt his eyes welling up with tears. How did he ever get so lucky?