Chapter Text
This day was always a weird one for Ilya. It was the anniversary of his first time meeting his in-laws, Yuna and David. The 15th anniversary this year, to be specific.
Ilya loved Yuna and David with his whole heart. They had welcomed him into their family so wholly and completely that Ilya saw them practically as his own parents now. That day, 15 years ago, had probably been the best day of Ilya’s life up until that point. Although it had now been surpassed by his wedding, winning the cup with Shane, the birth of their daughter, and many other moments in parenthood and marriage, he thought it probably still ranked in the top ten.
So why was it so hard for Ilya to open his eyes this morning, to clear the fog in his mind and the heaviness of his limbs? Why couldn’t he bring himself to wiggle out of his husband’s warm arms and start a pancake breakfast for them and their six year old daughter, like he did most mornings at the cottage?
Him and Shane had talked about it once, years ago. The thing was, as much as Ilya loved Shane’s parents, he couldn’t help but think of his own. Every year when he remembered his first meal with the Hollanders, he thought about what Shane’s first meal with the Rozanovs might have looked like, in some other universe.
What would his Mama have said? She would have loved Shane, Ilya was certain. He thought maybe she would have hugged him right away, before saying anything. Or maybe she would have complimented his freckles or parroted one of Ilya’s hockey jokes, to ease the tension. She was thoughtful like that, Ilya remembered. Sometimes he felt like he could practically feel her ruffling his hair to make an anxious Shane giggle before leading them into the house for tea.
Ilya missed his Mama.
He missed his Mama all the time, every day, but especially on days like this when his head was filled with thoughts of the life she should have lived.
So this morning, with the early sun streaming through the cracks in their curtains, he made no move to rise, simply settling deeper into the covers and Shane’s hold. Shane felt him shift, and still half asleep against Ilya’s chest, brought a hand up to Ilya’s cheek, smoothing gentle circles with his thumb.
Ilya cracked his eyes open just enough to see his love’s face. Shane in the morning was one of his favourite Shanes, sleep rumpled and soft, eyes always full of love and sweet adoration for Ilya and for waking up together. Just for Shane, he managed a small smile, a tiny quirk of his lips, as Shane whispered,
“Goodmorning baby,” At the sleepy sound of Shane’s voice, Ilya let his eyes droop shut again.
“Goodmorning,” he managed in return, letting his arms tighten slightly in a silent ‘I love you’ that he didn’t quite have the energy to speak right then. It was okay. He knew Shane understood.
His sweet, loving, thoughtful, Shane.
Depression wasn’t logical, and grief didn’t always make sense. But his Shane was there for him, to hold him and love him, every day. The good ones and the bad.
Ilya’s Mama would be so happy he had someone who loved him like Shane did. Someone who would take care of him when she couldn’t.
Ilya’s Mama would have loved Shane.
Ilya sniffed, quietly, trying not to let Shane notice as a tear leaked from the corner of his eye. But then another followed, and another, and Shane was wiping them gently with his thumb, and then kissing them from Ilya’s cheek. Shane’s touches were feather-light as Ilya’s chest shook beneath him.
Shane whispered sweet soothing nothings to him until his breathing calmed, and then took Ilya’s face into his hands and looked into his eyes.
“We’ll sleep in today, okay Ilyusha? Eva had a busy day yesterday, she shouldn’t be up for a while still.”
Ilya nodded, his movements small and slow, but enough for Shane. He pressed a kiss to each of Ilya’s eyelids, and then maneuvered them onto their sides, spooning against Ilya’s back and gathering him into his arms again.
Ilya’s breath shuddered as Shane kissed the crook of his neck.
“I’m here, baby, I have you. I’ll stay until Eva wakes up.” Ilya sniffled again, and Shane rubbed his hand along his chest. “Shhh, it’s ok Ilya, go back to sleep,” he soothed, “I love you so much”
And so, wrapped in the warmth of his husband’s love, Ilya drifted back into sleep.
He dreamed of his Mama.
As an outsider looking in through a haze, he saw her sitting at the island in the cottage’s kitchen. Eva was comfortable in her lap, colouring a picture. Every few minutes she would twist her little body in Irina’s arms to show off her art. Irina would smile and kiss the crown of her head, murmuring sweet compliments to the proud little girl.
Shane was puttering in the kitchen, making breakfast no doubt. He was chatting to Irina, and while Ilya couldn’t make out the words, muffled by the fog he was hovering in, he could see that his Mama was happy, and his husband was happy. They would laugh every once in a while, and smile at each other. Irina even threw her son-in-law a wink once when she saw him scooping a little extra sugar into Ilya’s coffee - making it extra sweet, just how Ilya liked it.
Ilya’s heart was full. He knew he was dreaming, but the little picture of his family was too perfect, too pure. Everything he wished his Mama could have had. Everything he wished she could be here to see. He tried to take a step into the kitchen to join them, to kiss his Mama’s cheek, compliment his daughter’s artwork, hug his husband. But as he moved towards the scene, the fog broke and Ilya awoke with a start and a little gasp.
He sighed, slowly letting out the air in his lungs, and rubbed his hands over his face. He reached to Shane’s side of the bed, seeking his husband’s comforting touch, but found it empty, although still warm. The soft murmur of voices drifted to Ilya’s ears from downstairs, then. Two voices, not the three he had dreamed of. But nonetheless, those voices were his life, his heart his soul.
He gingerly peeled the covers off his body, pulling on his favourite of Shane’s hoodies before slowly making his way downstairs.