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Svetlana snuck into Ilya's apartment, typing in the code and listening to the familiar beep as the lock unlatched. She slipped in and shut the door, wandering into the kitchen and grabbing a Coke from the fridge. They weren’t her favorite — she would have preferred a beer — but it would do.
She drifted through the apartment, taking in the generic decor that had clearly come from a designer. She made a mental note to tease him over that.
She picked out the few things she knew came from Ilya. His first MLH goal-scoring puck sitting prominently on the shelf in the living room. A weird little stereotypically-Russian figurine of a bear wearing an ushanka. The nature pictures that were clearly taken on a phone, some blurry and out of focus and seemingly taken all at the same location. She focused on one, a clear lake with a lone bird floating out in the distance. A duck?
She grew bored of looking at his knick knacks and settled on the couch, turning on the TV. The rest of the game in Montreal was playing. She watched for a while before deciding she was too uncomfortable in her street clothes to relax. Ilya would have some basketball shorts for her to borrow, and she could see if her favorite sweatshirt to steal was in the closet.
Decision made, she went into Ilya's bedroom and dug around for clothes. She found a pair of shorts but it looked like the sweatshirt was missing. Svetlana frowned. She wondered if maybe it was Jane's favorite too, if maybe it was at her place. She grabbed another random one and began to make her way out of the room when she spotted a stuffed dog wearing a red sweater tangled in Ilya's unmade bed.
Svetlana paused. It was new, or at least new to Svetlana. She'd never seen Ilya with a stuffed animal, let alone this one. She wondered if it was a gift from Jane. It was a bit adorable that Ilya clearly slept with the thing. She grabbed the little dog on a whim, taking it out to the living room with her. They could keep each other company while they waited for Ilya to get back.
They watched the rest of the Montreal-Tampa game together, cuddled on the couch. After that ended she turned the TV off and decided to take a nap while she waited for Ilya. Svetlana was almost dozing when she finally heard the lock turning in the front door. Ilya entered, looking exhausted. He didn't even look up at her as he trudged in. He was on the phone.
"I think I need… you know," he muttered. He was quiet for a moment as he listened to whoever was on the other end of the call. His face softened for a moment then pinched as he shook his head, like he was trying to shake something off. "Yes, yes, I am very brave and you are so proud. Are you free this weekend or not?"
Silence while Ilya listened.
"Okay," he said, voice losing all of its previous heat. "I am… sorry. For snapping. I worry if you are too soft, I will— and I would rather not be like that alone right now."
Silence again. Svetlana waited, realizing that this had gone on entirely too long without her making her presence known to Ilya. But now she felt frozen to the couch.
"No, you know we cannot tonight. You have obligations and I will be okay. I am tired, I will just go to sleep. Promise."
Ilya started walking closer to the living room and Svetlana pressed herself as low as she could into the cushions.
He stopped a few feet from the back of it.
"Я тебя люблю." I love you.
So that definitely had to be Jane.
The call ended and Svetlana wondered how to make herself known. Ilya still hadn't moved, and Svetlana became paranoid as the silence dragged on that Ilya had seen her and was stood frozen knowing that she had eavesdropped on his conversation. He was so secretive about his relationship with Jane.
But then he sighed and Svetlana relaxed. He still didn't know. She decided she would pretend to be asleep and he could "wake her up" himself.
She expected him to make his way around the couch finally, and she closed her eyes quickly to feign sleep.
But instead he went into the bedroom. Svetlana listened to him open his dresser drawers, the sound of the sink in the en-suite bathroom running for a few seconds. Then it was quiet for a minute and Svetlana wondered if he would stay in the bedroom, if she would have to get up and go in there, make herself known. Really, she should have done that to begin with.
Then there was a rustling sound from the bedroom that steadily increased in volume. Then two thumps, like something soft hitting the floor.
"What—" she heard Ilya say in Russian. The rustling sound resumed a second time before abruptly stopping. Silence fell again.
"I cannot find Anya," Ilya said. There was real distress in his voice. Who was Ilya talking to? And who was Anya?
Svetlana froze, remembering the little dog in the red sweater currently tucked under her arm. The rustling sounds, that had sounded very much like bedding being thrown around.
"I don't know, she—" Ilya cut himself off. He sounded near tears. Surely this couldn't be about a little stuffed dog? "She was in my bed, I— where is she?" The last part was hissed out in Russian.
It was quiet for a moment as, Svetlana assumed, someone on the end of the phone spoke to Ilya. There was a sniffle and a shudder.
"No, I have not checked rest of apartment yet. But she never leaves bed," Ilya murmured. It sounded garbled like there was something in his mouth. "Okay. Just… stay on phone until I find her? I know I said—"
A beat of silence.
"Yeah. I know. Thank you."
Ilya's footsteps left the bedroom. Svetlana cringed, knowing Ilya would come in here next. On the phone with Jane still, near tears, because he thought he'd lost a gift that Jane had likely given him, when really Svetlana had kidnapped it.
She didn't think he'd be as happy to see her as she had hoped.
She feigned just waking up as Ilya came into the room, mostly for his sake. She knew he'd be mortified if he knew she had heard everything since he got home.
He came to a screeching halt as he saw her. His cross necklace was in his mouth, phone held loosely to his ear, eyes wide and desperate. But he wasn't looking at Svetlana. It was like she wasn't even there.
"Anya!" he gasped, necklace falling out of his mouth, rushing forward and snatching her from Svetlana. His phone went forgotten in his hand. Svetlana could see a sliver of the screen, the letters "Ja" visible.
A tinny male voice buzzed. Ilya was distracted, holding onto the dog like if he ever let go again he'd lose her forever this time. His eyes were shiny with tears.
"Ilya?" Svetlana said quietly.
He blinked up at her and one of the tears fell. He didn't seem to notice.
"I think someone is still on the phone," she said quietly.
Ilya looked down at the phone in his hand, raised it back to his ear. He cleared his throat. "Um, I have to go. I found her. Svetlana had her."
Svetlana heard the male voice respond in a surprised intonation but could not make out the words.
"Will be okay," Ilya said. He glanced at Svetlana anxiously then away again just as quickly. Now that he was calming down from his initial panic over his dog — Anya, apparently — it seemed apprehension was taking its place. "Bye," he whispered.
He pulled the phone away and hung up, sliding it slowly back into his pocket. He swiped a hand over his cheek.
"Have you been here long?" Ilya asked. Now that he was off the phone, he slipped naturally into the Russian they spoke to each other in.
"Maybe an hour. I watched the rest of the Montreal game, stole some pajamas. Decided to nap on your couch with Anya once I realized you were going to take forever."
Ilya flinched when Svetlana said Anya's name like she'd slapped him. He held her tighter, protectively.
"A gift from Jane?" she asked, nodding at the dog.
Ilya nodded slowly.
"Cute. She's a good nap partner," Svetlana said. "I understand why she is important to you."
Ilya's shoulders moved an inch away from his ears. Still taut, but guard coming down slightly.
Svetlana grabbed the remote and flipped the TV on, feigning a large yawn and wiping fake sleep out of her eyes. She looked at Ilya when he just stood there, staring at her. "Are you going to sit?"
Ilya sat down. There was a faraway look in his eyes. The dog remained cradled protectively in his arms. Svetlana did not let her eyes linger.
Memories were connecting together in her brain like fragments of a shattered stained glass window reassembled to reveal the full picture.
Ilya had always had these… moments, when they were growing up. He'd get quiet and shy, speak in a way that had Svetlana instinctively responding more tenderly. It wasn't often, and Svetlana had never considered mentioning it even though she had always silently noted it.
This was that.
Svetlana had no intention of grilling him about Jane when he was like this. Male voice or not. She crawled closer to him and he tensed, but she just laid her head on his right shoulder. He remained stiff and she pulled away for a second.
"You're not injured, right?" she asked, looking up at him in concern. He quickly shook his head. She leaned back down. She looked down at his lap, at Anya, still clutched tightly in his hands. His fingers were rubbing the hem of her sweater. "Bad game?"
"Bad week," Ilya muttered back.
"Mm," Svetlana hummed, putting a hand on his leg and rubbing it soothingly with her thumb. "I'm sorry, sunshine. It's over now, yeah?"
Ilya nodded. She felt his body loosen slightly, his head rest against hers.
"Glad you are here," he said. Then, quieter, "I didn't want to be alone tonight."
"I'm glad I'm here too," she said.
They sat there quietly while highlights reels of the night's games played on the TV. Ilya's game played and Svetlana watched a clip of Ilya from earlier taking a solid punch to the face and dropping his gloves.
"Ilya! You said you weren't injured." Svetlana sat up slowly so Ilya would have time to lift his head off of hers. She sat up and took his face gently in her hands. There on his left cheek, the faint beginnings of a reddish bruise. Svetlana had thought his cheeks were just especially rosy tonight, possibly from exertion.
"It's fine," he said, trying to pull away. "Svetlana… don't—"
"Hush," she said firmly. "I'm getting ice for this, I can see the bruise coming in. Then you are going to bed."
Ilya looked despondent all of a sudden.
"What?" she asked. Ilya looked away, cheeks turning redder. "No, no, sunshine. Look at me," she said, turning his face gently until he met her eyes again. His were slightly damp. "Tell me what is wrong."
"I don't want you to go," he whispered.
"I'm not going anywhere, silly," she smiled. "I will be sleeping in your bed with you and Anya. Hopefully that is okay with Jane."
She threw him a wink and he loosened, smiling softly. She smiled back and booped his nose. He let out a quiet sound, almost like a — no, completely like a giggle. Ilya giggled.
"I'm going to go get your ice. Wait right here."
As she was in the kitchen she heard Ilya's whispering voice. She peeked back in the living room and saw Ilya whispering to the little dog in his lap.
Svetlana melted. He was so gentle like this. He’d never been able to be gentle while they were growing up.
She came back with the ice and held out a hand for Ilya. She led him to the bedroom and nodded at the bed. Ilya climbed in and Svetlana situated the ice pack so that it was resting on his cheek without having to be held there. She then went into the bathroom to brush her teeth. She found a spare toothbrush and took her time getting ready for bed, listening out for any noise from Ilya.
She came back out to find Ilya nearly asleep, little dog under his arm and mouth working around his necklace. Svetlana frowned, worrying about how safe that was. But she didn’t feel that it was her place to say anything.
Svetlana came over to his side of the bed and plugged Ilya's phone in for him. When she did she saw the name Jane on the notification screen. Her lips twisted into a soft smile.
"Ilya," she said. "I think you should text Jane to let her know you're okay."
Ilya's eyes were closed. "You," he mumbled.
"Me?" she blinked. Usually Ilya was so protective over his phone.
"Just don't read texts," he sighed, eyes still closed.
"I won't," she said immediately. "I will just text Jane."
She let Ilya unlock his phone with a clumsy swipe and opened the text thread from Jane. She didn't scroll, but she couldn't help but see Jane’s most recent message.
Are you sure you don't want me to come down tonight? I won't mind. I love you so so much mon 🥬
Svetlana smiled. Her fingers quickly tapped on the screen.
ilya is okay, staying at his place tonight to make sure xx svetlana
She was about to lock the phone when the typing bubbles popped up. She hadn’t finished debating whether to wait when the phone buzzed in her hand.
Thank you Svetlana. I know you're not doing it for me but it means a lot nonetheless.
She looked up at Ilya, already breathing the deep sighs of sleep. His necklace in his mouth, dog tucked under his arm, face resting on the ice pack. He looked peaceful.
Svetlana had the ridiculous urge to snap a picture and send it to Jane. That would definitely be crossing a boundary, though, and she figured Ilya especially would not be happy with her.
She hearted the message and locked Ilya's phone.