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“Roz, do you have a minute?”
Ilya looks up from his stall where he’s untangling a new pair of laces for his skates. He can feel himself starting to get frustrated with it, and is considering handing it to Shane, who can focus on these things with intense precision.
Troy stands a few feet away from him, shifting on his feet. Troy’s face is never the most expressive, even though he’s been smiling a lot more now than he used to. Right now, there’s something in it which Ilya quickly recognizes as nervousness.
“Yes,” he says, turning his body towards Troy. Troy’s eyes fall to his chest, where the crucifix and Ilya’s wedding ring dangle between his pecs. He says nothing, and Ilya can see his jaw muscle working. “...did you come over here to check out my pecs?”
Ilya flexes them for good measure. Troy scrunches up his face. “No, dude. Stop it.”
He inhales, and Ilya thinks he’s finally about to say it. But then, Troy exhales in the same manner, his shoulders deflating slightly. “...okay, maybe I can’t do this here.”
Ilya narrows his eyes at him. “Are you going to come out to me a second time?”
“No, you dumbfuck.” Troy shakes his head in exasperation. “Can we like… meet at a bar tonight or something?”
“This is what you wanted to ask me?” Ilya grins at the way Troy rolls his eyes at him. Sometimes, Troy and Shane are so very alike.
“Just… meet me at Monk’s, okay? At seven?”
“Sure,” Ilya tells him. Oh, the curiosity will kill him today.
-
Ilya is on time; being married to Shane Hollander, most punctual man in the world, has rubbed off on him.
He orders some sort of fancy I.P.A. and sits down in one of the booths. Troy comes in a minute later, nodding at him before grabbing his own drink at the bar and settling down into the booth next to Ilya.
“Hello,” Ilya greets him cheerfully, leaning back in his seat, spreading out his arms.
“Hi.” Troy immediately starts fidgeting with the label of his beer bottle. Neither of them is big on small talk, which might be why their friendship works so well.
“Will you tell me now, or will you make up another excuse?” Ilya asks.
Troy huffs, then squares his shoulders. “Fuck off.”
“You asked me to come here, acting all mysterious,” Ilya lightly pushes his palm against Troy’s shoulder, “You know I am nosy queen.” He acts like he has long hair to flip back over his shoulder, and Troy can’t help but laugh, posture finally easing a bit.
He sighs.
“Okay. So. Um.” He sighs again. “When you… when you…” He frowns, then re-starts his sentence. “When did you know you wanted to marry Shane?”
Ilya is taken aback by the question, but immediately, a bunch of puzzle pieces slide together neatly in his head. “Ah.”
Troy stares at the table, thumb running across the edge of the label of his beer bottle.
“Probably when he came hands-free the first time I fucked him,” Ilya can’t resist saying.
Troy scowls at him. “I’m never asking you for advice ever again, Roz.”
Ilya laughs, tapping Troy’s foot under the table. “I don’t know, man. Is big question. Let me think.”
Troy huffs, but says nothing else. Meanwhile, Ilya tries his best to replay almost thirteen years of his relationship in his head. “Is really hard to find one specific moment,” he admits after a while, “It was many… many little things. And we were talking about it because of my visa.”
“That’s not very romantic.”
Ilya shrugs. “It wasn’t just that, it was so many things. Like… I was miserable when he wasn’t around. I missed him so much every day, and all I wanted was to spend time with him. I couldn’t… I couldn’t imagine my life without him.” Troy’s face softens as he listens to Ilya talk. “...and then our plane almost crashed and I think we both realized we couldn’t live like this anymore. Like, Not together.”
“Fuck, man,” Troy says quietly. “...was that when you proposed to him?”
Ilya looks at Troy for a second. This isn’t the first time this has happened; people love to assume things, love to press them into their idea of how gender and relationships work. For most people who ask this, it’s a ‘clearly Rozanov is the man in the relationship’ kinda thing; Ilya doesn’t know if it’s this for Troy, or if he just thinks Ilya would be the one to have the courage to do it first.
“Shane was the one who proposed,” Ilya says, and takes a sip of his beer.
“Oh.” Troy looks surprised for a split-second, then frowns. “...Harris would have my head for assuming.” A fond little smile spreads on his lips at the mention of his boyfriend.
Ilya gives him a grin. “Everyone thinks it was me who proposed, but no, I was the princess who got the ring.”
Troy scoffs, shaking his head.
“Are you thinking of doing it?” Ilya asks him. “You should do it.”
Troy and Harris have been together for a little over three years now, and they’re great together. They just fit together.
Very carefully, Troy says, “I think Harris really wants me to.”
Ilya pulls a face, reeling back. “Do you want to?!”
“Yes!” Troy lets out an exasperated huff, rolling his eyes, then wipes a hand over his face. “It’s just… I get cold feet. It’s stupid as fuck, because Harris is awesome and I love him so much, but it’s…” He huffs again, clearly frustrated. “...I don’t want him to feel hurt about it, and I can tell he’s starting to feel hurt about it.”
“About you not proposing?” Ilya remembers the little message in the group chat a few weeks ago. Troy’s not married.
Troy nods, looking defeated. “It’s like… I shouldn’t make such a big deal out of it, right? But… I feel like… Harris’ family is awesome, his parents are so lovely, they’re still together and you can tell they love each other.” Ilya nods, and thinks of Yuna and David Hollander. “And meanwhile, I… My parents' marriage was a mess, my dad was a liar, and an abuser, and a cheater and an all-around horrible person, it was so bad that I was glad when they finally got a divorce.”
Ilya nods in understanding.
“I’m scared I’ll… I’m scared I’ll turn out like that,” Troy confesses, hanging his head.
Ilya reaches out and squeezes his shoulder. “Hey. You’re already so much better than your dad could ever be, yes? You left him behind.”
Troy hums, avoiding Ilya’s eyes. “I know it’s irrational, but I guess I grew up thinking… if you’re married, that means you’re miserable.”
“Do I look miserable to you?” Ilya asks seriously.
Troy shakes his head.
“Your dad, my dad, they were miserable because they sucked, yes?”
Troy nods slowly, and Ilya continues talking. “Your parents had shitty marriage because your dad was shitty.” Troy’s nodding turns more emphatic, and he scoffs. “But you are not a shitty man, Barrett.”
Troy sighs, clearly frustrated again, but then the fight goes out of him. “I can never stop feeling like Harris is too good for me.”
“Yes, and this is why you will forever worship the ground he walks on! Forever bring him coffee and cake balls.” Ilya tells him matter-of-factly. Troy makes a face like he’s considering this, rolling it around in his head.
“Listen to me.” Ilya briefly pats Troy on the cheek, forcing him to look up. “You are not your dad. I am not my dad. We will do better.”
Troy blows out a breath, but nods. “We’ll do better.” He looks at Ilya for a second, then asks, “Were you worried, too?”
Ilya takes a second to think about it. “A little bit, but not a lot. I was more worried about… other things. My depression.” Troy knows about it; it’s one more thing they share. “But I’m-” Ilya stops himself. This is something he hasn’t talked to anyone about, not even Shane.
“-I’m kind of scared I’ll be a shitty dad like my dad was.”
Troy’s eyebrows shoot up towards his hairline. “What?! No, dude. No.” He shakes his head with so much emphasis that his black hair flies into his eyes. “You’re awesome with kids. All the guys’ kids love you!”
Ilya sucks in his cheeks, biting the inside of them. “I’m scared how it’ll be when it’s not… chasing them around, playing in the backyard or giving hugs. When it’s… bedtime stress or homework or when I’m angry about something. What I’ll be like, then.” The words come pouring out of him like water.
Troy exhales slowly, understanding dawning on his face. He’s quiet for a moment, and Ilya appreciates the fact that he takes his time to think about his answer instead of throwing platitudes at him. “I think the fact that you’re thinking about this kind of proves you’ll be okay,” he eventually says. “And… I think even the best parents fuck up sometimes. I’m really not an expert on this, and maybe you should talk about this with Bood or Nick or someone who has kids… but…” He shrugs. “...you’re in therapy, you’re… you’re reflecting and shit. You’re already doing way better.”
Ilya hums around the stone in his throat.
“Are you guys thinking about having a kid soon?” Troy asks after a moment’s pause.
Ilya scoffs, shaking his head. “No.” Then, “Yes.” Then, “At some point. Shane… Shane isn’t ready yet.” He lets the implications of this hang in the air.
“Woah, man.” A tiny little smile tugs on Troy’s serious face.
Ilya takes a deep breath in, sits up, and shakes his hands out sharply, just once, trying to shake off the heaviness of the conversation. “Yes, look at us, so adult, so serious.” He gives Troy a grin that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Have you picked a ring yet?”
Troy’s cheeks flush. “Roz.”
“Yes, Barrett, come on. You should do it. You know this. I know this. Harris knows this.” He’s glad to direct the conversation away from himself now. He’s already said too much. “Harris is awesome, you are…” He see-saws his hand in the air, “...okay-”
“Fuck you!” But Troy is laughing.
“-and imagine how cute Chiron will be when he is ring-bearer. With little bow-tie, will be sooo cute. Imagine it.”
Troy looks down at the table now, laughs and runs a hand over his face. “I knew you’d react like this.”
“Ah, see?” Ilya softly butts his fist into Troy’s biceps. “Means you came to me because you wanted someone to encourage you. Means you already know what you want.”
“Maybe I do.” Troy lets out a contemplative sigh.
Later, when they say good-bye after a few more beers, Troy bumps his shoulder into Ilya’s. “Thanks, man.”
“I cannot let you fumble Harris, Barrett,” Ilya tells him very seriously.
Troy rolls his eyes at him, reminding Ilya of Shane. “Of course.” He inhales to say something else, but in this moment, Ilya’s Uber pulls up and Ilya uses the opportunity to flee this conversation, feeling awkward about having bared this new part of himself earlier.
“Night, Barrett.”
“Night, Roz.” Troy shuts his mouth, and briefly lifts his hand good-bye.
In the Uber, Ilya’s phone lights up with a message from Troy.
you’d be a great dad, srsly
i mean it
you’re basically already a dad to our rookies, so
Ilya can’t help the grin spreading on his face when he reads the message.
-
Troy’s POV
Troy comes home to find Harris still awake and on his laptop, hair sticking out from running his hand through it, a mug of what is probably coffee next to him on the desk. He’s bundled in his snuggie, which is the silliest and most practical invention in the world: a blanket with sleeves. Harris’ has a dachshund pattern on it; Troy’s has dinosaurs.
The dogs (Chiron and their senior foster, Chili) are spread out in the room behind Harris, wagging their tales as Troy enters but too lazy to get up.
“Hi,” Troy says, and Harris looks up, blinking rapidly as his eyes adjust to the twilight of the room. A smile spreads on his face, and Troy’s heart is seized by the love he feels for his boyfriend.
“Hi, baby.” Harris’ voice is warm as always, and so is his smile. Troy walks over to him and cradles his face in his hands to kiss him. Harris leans into the kiss, letting out a happy little hum. “Did you have a good time with Ilya?”
“Yep!” It comes out just a tad too fast, and Troy can tell Harris notices it. He furrows his eyebrows, and Troy feels himself blush. He schools his features into what is hopefully a mask of neutrality.
“What did you talk about?” Harris asks.
“Why are you still working?” Troy asks.
Harris narrows his eyes harder. “Troy Barrett.”
Troy quickly escapes and moves towards the dogs, leaning down to pat Chiron’s enormous body. “Oh just… this and that.”
“You have gossip!” Harris gasps.
“I don’t!” Troy cringes at how fake his tone sounds. Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. He can’t tell Harris what they talked about, Harris can’t know!
But Harris will also not give up until he gets something out of Troy.
He sends a quick plea for forgiveness up to the heavens.
“Promise not to tell anyone.”
“Promise!” Harris leans forward excitedly, holding a hand over his heart.
Troy exhales sharply. He knows Harris can keep a secret, nosy as he is; he knows this will stay between them. He’s sure Ilya will totally tell Shane about his plans to propose, too, so maybe this will make them even.
“Ilya and Shane maybe want to have a baby.”
Harris gasps, his hands flying to his cheeks in excitement. “Oh!!!!! Oh my god! Oh, that would be so cute!”
Of course Harris is the person who has a normal, accurate reaction to such news: joy. Pure joy, because he’s not as jaded as Troy and Ilya are. Troy loves him for it.
“What are they going to do, adopt? Surrogate?” Harris snorts, “Just adopt Luca?”
Troy grins and shakes his head. “I think the plans aren’t quite this refined yet.”
“They’ll make for great parents,” Harris says with conviction.
“That’s what I said, too,” Troy tells him, sitting down on the floor between the dogs. Chili puts her head into his lap and he scratches her greying snout. “Ilya says Shane isn’t ready yet.”
“It’s a really big decision,” Harris says softly. “I’m sure they’ll come to a mutual one eventually.”
Troy sits there on the floor between their dogs, and looks up at his boyfriend. His boyfriend, who, even when they’re gossipping about their friends, has nothing but empathy, kindness and understanding in his heart. “I love you.”
Harris’ smile turns surprised for a split-second before he replies, “I love you, too, bud.” He sticks out a hand towards Troy, and Troy takes it, but instead of letting Harris pull him up, he uses his strength to pull Harris out of his chair and down onto the floor with him. Harris squeaks, but lets himself be pulled, landing half on top of Troy. Troy wraps his arms around him, and Harris relaxes into him.
And there, on their living room floor with their dogs, the night outside dark and comforting, Troy makes a decision: he will let himself have this. Forever.
-
Ilya’s POV
Ilya lies in bed, staring at the ceiling. By his side, Shane is sleeping with his hands tucked under his chin, and between his legs, Anya is snoring softly. She’s learned to sneak into bed after Shane has fallen asleep, and Shane pretends not to notice.
Shane isn’t ready yet.
Ilya feels shitty for saying it now. Because it’s not just Shane, it’s both of them, coming to a decision mutually.
But.
But.
Ilya is turning thirty-three soon. Realistically, he will retire before forty. And he knows, somewhere deep in his heart, that he will definitely retire before Shane will. Will Shane want to play until forty? Forty-two? Some players stay in the league until they’re ancient; even if Ilya has to admit forty doesn’t sound all that ancient anymore now that he’s in his thirties. Scott fucking Hunter is almost forty, and as much as it pains Ilya to admit, he still looks good on the ice. He wonders if Hunter is considering the same things. At least he has Kip, who is a normal person with a normal career.
He grabs his phone from the nightstand. He can’t sleep anyway, he’s already bothered, so why not make it worse.
Ilya: hey
Ilya: do you think about retiring
To his delight, the two blue checkmarks immediately appear, closely followed by three dots.
Scott: Are you seriously trying to chirp me in the middle of the night? Via text?
Ilya: no, i’m serious. what is your plan?
Scott: Why are you asking?!
Ilya frowns at his phone. He’s going about this the wrong way.
Ilya: Do you want kids?
Scott: WTF Rozanov? You’re being even weirder than usual. Are you having a stroke?
Ilya: no, listen
Ilya: I am asking seriously
Ilya: you are the only other gay hockey player I know who is appropriate age for planning a family also
Scott doesn’t reply for a full minute, the three dots popping up, then disappearing again.
Scott: Are Shane and you thinking about having a baby? 🥹
Ilya pulls a face at the stupid-ass emoji.
Ilya: maybe!!
Scott: And you are panicking?
Ilya: no i don’t panic
Scott: Of course, bud.
Ilya: fuck you
Scott: Kip and I are talking about it, too. But we don’t know yet if we really want kids. Kids are awesome but they’re kind of exhausting.
Ilya can feel himself bristle. Kids are awesome. They’re so fun; Ilya loves kids. He could play with the Pike kids all day long because they’re so awesome. But naturally, not everyone thinks like that.
Scott: I think if anything, we’d be one and done. But I’m still playing, and Kip is about to publish his book, so we have other things going on right now.
Ilya blinks at his phone in the dark. One and done? He wonders if this is something Shane considers, too. Ilya doesn’t want an only child. Shane is an only child, and he’s wonderful of course, but Ilya wants two. At least. Maybe three.
Scott: I imagine it’s harder to make a decision for you since you are both active players.
Ilya: yes is harder
Scott: You could afford nannies, though. Or to fly your in-laws with you to take care of a child.
Ilya feels himself bristling again; he doesn’t want other people raising his children. Yuna and David- okay, yes. But nannies, daycares, babysitters…? Not for the majority of his child’s life.
Ilya: I don’t know if that would feel right
Scott: Hey, I think ultimately, you will have to follow your heart on this one.
Ilya types out a snarky reply but deletes it.
Ilya: this is hard 😒
Scott: You’ll be okay. As long as you and Shane are on the same page.
I don’t know, Ilya can’t help but think, are we?
-
They have a blessed long weekend off, and on Tuesday morning, when Troy enters the locker room, all hell breaks loose.
“Look who it is, Magnum!”
“Watch out, Barrett, there’s a caterpillar on your face!”
“Oh shit, where’s the rest of the village people?!”
Ilya turns, and immediately spots the reason for the brutal chirps: Troy has grown a beard. Well, not a beard.
A fucking mustache.
And Ilya can’t help it: he bursts out laughing.
Troy gives him the finger and turns to his stall.
“Holy shit,” Shane whispers next to Ilya, covering his mouth with his hand. He has a policy of never commenting on someone’s appearance, nice kind canadian boy that he is, but Ilya can tell he’s struggling right now.
“Barrett!” Ilya saunters over to him, and Troy squares his shoulders in anticipation of the chirp which is about to hit him.
“Yes, let it all out.” He rolls his eyes.
“No, hey, it looks great. Great look.”
Troy narrows his eyes at him. The guys are watching this, snickering.
“Getting an early start on the play-off beard, I like it. And if we don’t win cup, you can pursue new career as porn star.”
“You wish,” Troy replies, and gives him a wink.
Ilya grins and leans in so only Troy can hear what he says next. “Did you do it?”
Troy’s smirk turns into a wide-eyed stare. “No! We… you and I just talked about it!”
“Pshah.” Ilya waves a hand around, then squints at Troy. “Is maybe good you didn’t yet because imagine seeing yourself on engagement photos with this on your face for the rest of your life.”
“Fuck you, Rozanov,” Troy laughs, throwing his head back. Ilya notices he seems… lighter. “The ‘stache stays. I like it. Harris loves it. He says it looks retro.” Troy makes a show of running his fingers along the moustache.
“Yes, retro from 70s porno. But-” Ilya holds up a finger and says, loud enough for the others to hear, “We listen and we don’t judge!”
Behind him, Luca groans; the kids hate it when Ilya uses what he calls TikTok language, and naturally, Ilya loves that.
He lowers his voice again. “You have a ring?”
Troy blushes. “No.”
“You get a ring now. Today.” Ilya jabs his finger into the meat of Troy’s shoulder.
“Are you peer-pressuring me into proposing?”
“Yes,” Ilya says freely.
Behind him, Shane calls out his name. “Get dressed.”
Ilya gives Troy a meaningful wink, and then twirls with flair and skips back to his stall, where Shane is fondly rolling his eyes at him.
Quietly, he thinks of how proud he is that Troy is now brave enough to make choices which he knows will make him stand out instead of fitting in.
Even if it’s a damn mustache.
-
They’re in the car driving home, Ilya in the passenger seat.
He’s been feeling weird since the conversation with Troy and his sleepless night. He knows he should talk to Shane, but he cannot bring himself to.
Shane, blessedly oblivious, keeps his eyes trained on the road with a little smile. “So, Troy’s ‘stache, huh?”
Ilya snorts, but there’s no heart behind it. “Yeah. He says Harris loves it.”
“I think Harris would love Troy even if Troy decided to shave off all his hair.”
“Yes, true,” Ilya agrees. And then, because he has to say something, he adds, “Troy is proposing to him soon.”
Shane looks away from the road for a split-second to give Ilya a wide-eyed stare. “Woah, really?”
Ilya nods. “Yes, he told me when we were at the bar. Asked me when I knew that I wanted to propose to you.” He smirks.
Shane huffs. “I proposed to you!”
“Yes, but nobody believes this,” Ilya says.
Shane rolls his eyes. “Because people think you’re the man in our relationship. Because you’re big and mean and russian.”
Ilya groans, but can’t help but grin. “Yes, but in reality I am your little princess,” he teases, and Shane’s tense face softens into a grin. “Maybe everybody thinks I had to be the one to lock you down, but was other way around,” he adds idly.
“I didn’t lock you down, you’re exactly where you want to be,” Shane tells him firmly, pointing his index finger at Ilya in a vaguely threatening gesture. Ilya loves it.
“Yes, I am.” He grabs Shane’s hand from the air and brings it to his mouth, kissing his knuckles. “Anyway, Troy is buying ring today.”
“Ah, that’s sweet.” Shane’s expression has softened. A moment later, it turns thoughtful. “I bet Harris would like something…” He trails off, clearly biting his tone.
“Something what?”
Shane winces. “Something… kitschy?”
Ilya can’t help but laugh. “Shane, you can be a bitch in the car alone with me.”
“I’m not-!” Shane cuts himself off. Ilya knows Shane really likes Harris. Everyone likes Harris. But Ilya also knows Harris is the exact type of gay man who Shane cannot identify with at all. Similarly to Fabian, Harris confronts Shane with a part of queerness that still scares him from time to time; however, Fabian still has the benefit of being, in a weird way, very attractive to Shane (even if he pretends that he’s not). Meanwhile, Shane and Harris are just very, very different from each other. Which is fine, Ilya thinks. But Shane overthinks everything, as usual. And Ilya knows all of this makes Shane feel bad because of his internalized homophobia, et cetera.
“I’m not being a bitch,” Shane grumbles.
Ilya kisses his knuckles again. “Is okay,” he tells him.
“I just mean… I think Harris would like something like… I dunno, rainbow diamonds on an engagement ring.”
“Like the one we saw online, where you said you’d rather not marry me than wear that?” Ilya asks with a smirk.
“Yeah, that.” Shane holds up his hand. “Which is fine if he likes that.”
“Yes, totally,” Ilya agrees with a nod.
Shane is quiet, and Ilya can practically hear his brain rattling.
“What’s on your mind, solnyshko?”
Shane bites his lip, opens his mouth, but nothing comes out.
Ilya takes a guess, which is something he does sometimes. “Are you annoyed because Troy assumed I was the one to propose?”
Shane frowns, and Ilya knows he’s right. “It’s fine.” He pauses, then inhales, and Ilya braces himself for the incoming rant. “It’s just so annoying that people would think that. Even other gay people. Like, we don’t have to adhere to… gender roles.” He gestures. “There’s no man in our relationship.”
“There’s two men,” Ilya corrects from between his teeth, and Shane rolls his eyes at him.
“You know what I mean.”
“Yes, malysh, I know.”
Shane scoffs, clearly frustrated. “Just because we’re both the way we are doesn’t mean you were the one to propose, and then you, I don’t know, knock me up and I’ll stay home with the kids while you go to work, like straight people.”
Ilya really wants to say something witty, but Shane saying ‘you knock me up’ does something complicated to his brain for a second. He blinks it away; now is not the time for horny thoughts. Without thinking because his brain is distracted, he says: “No, clearly I would be the one staying home.”
Shane immediately shuts up, snapping his mouth shut, and glances at Ilya, and Ilya realizes what he just said.
“I mean-”
“You would?” Shane asks softly.
Ilya scoffs, shrugs, holding out his hands to overplay the nervousness surging inside him now. “Obviously, Hollander, because you will play until you are fifty years old.”
Shane’s annoyed face has softened.
Ilya reaches across the middle console, and grabs Shane’s hand again. His heart is beating into his throat now. “I would stay home, Shane, of course. Watch you play on TV with our kids, cheer for you. We’ll get them little jerseys.”
Shane’s soft expression turns into a smile. “God, that’s… that’s so cute, Ilya,” he whispers, and Ilya feels his heart clench.
“Would you like a boy or a girl?” Shane asks softly after a moment of silence.
“I don’t care,” Ilya says too quickly, and Shane’s smile wides.
“Girl, admit it.”
“No, I don’t care, really!” Ilya finds himself smiling so, so widely. “Just… healthy child. Happy.” Then, very carefully, he asks, “What about you?”
Shane smiles ahead at the road. “...if we had a girl, we could call her Irina.” and Ilya’s heart grows a hundred sizes at once, and suddenly, there are tears stinging at his eyes.
Shane takes his hand in his, and brings it to his mouth, kissing Ilya’s palm as they relish the shared fantasy.
Then, Shane speaks again, mumbling against Ilya’s palm. “In a few years.”
And Ilya’s heart falls, deflates, clenches not in joy but in pain now, so unexpected that it physically hurts for a second.
The conversation with Troy replays in his mind.
Shane isn’t ready yet.
-
Ilya just scheduled an emergency session with Dr. Molchalina for tomorrow when his phone lights up with a text.
Troy: what do you think? [4 images attached]
Ilya opens the pictures, dread in his heart slightly lightened by the excitement for his friend.
“Shane!” he calls without thinking.
“Yes?” Shane calls back from the bathroom.
“Come look at engagement rings with me!”
“Oh!” Shane quickly joins him in the living room. Ilya can see the sheen of his nightly face treatment on his skin, can smell the medical scent of it. It’s oddly comforting, familiar.
Ilya angles his phone towards Shane and opens the pictures. They both snort immediately, because ring number one is exactly the one Shane predicted: inlaid with rainbow gem stones. Although Ilya has to admit, it doesn’t look as bad as the one they saw online.
The second one is simple, just a golden band with one single stone. It’s quite feminine, with a single-mounted diamond in the middle. “I like this,” Ilya says quietly, but Shane reaches over and scrolls down on Ilya’s phone.
Ring number three is similar to the second one, just a bit heftier, bigger, more masculine, with a blue stone inlaid into the gold of the ring. “Hmm, boring,” Shane says, but Ilya hums. “Stone is the color of Troy’s eyes.”
“Oh,” Shane whispers, “Okay, that’s cute.”
They keep scrolling.
Ring number four has a broader band, but not too massive, and three stones. The middle one is a light green. It’s framed by a blue one on the left, and a brown one on the right. “For Troy and Chiron,” Ilya says fondly.
“That’s so cute,” Shane whispers, “...and cheesy.”
Ilya snorts.
Shane takes Ilya’s phone from his hands to get a closer look without his glasses, and right when he squints at it, an automated e-mail notification pops up.
[email protected]: Your appointment tomorrow at 5:30 has been confirmed. Please confirm…
The rest of the message is cut off. Ilya resists the urge to rip his phone out of Shane’s hands.
Shane looks up at him with wide eyes. “Did you book an appointment with Dr. Molchalina?”
Ilya just nods, hoping Shane won’t ask any more questions. But of course, there’s immediate concern on Shane’s face. He reaches out, cups Ilya’s cheek.
“Is something wrong?” His voice is so soft and worried, and Ilya wants to rip himself in two.
“No, it’s-” Ilya swallows down the urge to lie. No lying.
“Is it bad again?” Shane’s eyes are so wet and wide. “Sorry if I didn’t notice, I should have paid closer attention-”
“No.” Ilya holds out a hand to stop Shane from spiraling. “I’m… okay. Mostly. It’s just.” He sighs, looks away, lets himself sink deeper into the cushions. “It’s… the kid thing.”
Shane’s concerned expression turns confused. “What?”
“The… baby thing. Us having kids.” Ilya can’t look at Shane right now. “It brings up confusing feelings.”
“Oh.” Shane blinks at him. “Um, I’m sorry.”
“No, is fine.” Ilya wipes his hands over his face. “I don’t know. I need… I need to talk to her. Need to sort it out.”
“Do you want me to come with you?” Shane asks carefully.
Ilya shakes his head. “No. Not… not tomorrow. Maybe next time.”
“Okay,” Shane says quietly. Then, because he can’t leave it alone, “Is it because of your family?”
Ilya scrunches up his face. “Yes, and no. Is just… complicated, okay? I will tell you when I have figured it out.”
Shane bites his lower lip. “Okay,” he repeats, then leans into Ilya, head against his chest. Ilya wraps his arms around him and pulls him close, pressing a kiss to Shane’s head.
“Ya tebya lyublyu,” Shane whispers.
“I love you, too,” Ilya whispers back.
For a moment, they just sit there like this. Then, Shane startles. “We need to text Troy back!”
“Shit, we do.” Ilya grabs his phone, and opens the chat again.
-
Hockey Stonewall 🏳️🌈🏒
Harris: 🥰💍 [image attached: Harris’ hand, engagement ring on his ring finger] [Everybody has heart-reacted to this message.]
Kip: Omg congratsssss!!!! Beautiful ring!
Luca: aw, congratulations!
Scott: Congratulations you two! That’s wonderful. ☺️
Rozanov: i knew this before all of you did, suck it
Shane: What Ilya means to say is congratulations, we are very happy for you!
Luca: hi from yannick and congratulations also!
Harris: Thank you all so much 🥰 I’m so happy! [image attached: Troy and Harris both hugging Chiron, Harris’ engagement ring standing out against the white of Chiron’s chest fur.]
Troy: thanks everyone :)
Kip: do the stone colors have a meaning?
Kip: also, love the stache, Troy
Harris: Yes, the stones match our eye colors and our dog’s eye color 😍🩵💚🤎
Troy: thank you 😎
Kip: that’s adorable. good choice troy
Scott: Very sweet! I also like the moustache, Barrett. It suits you.
Troy: do you hear that @roz
Rozanov: yes yes people with bad taste love your moustache
Kip: [screenshot attached: a pap shot of Ilya, coming out of a club a few years ago, with a mullet and a silk shirt with an obnoxious pattern on] is that so
Rozanov: thank you of reminding me of my best look, maybe I will bring back
Shane: I will divorce you if you do.
Private chat: Troy Barrett
Ilya: good job, you did it
Ilya: proud of you
Troy: thanks, dad ;)
Troy: now it’s your turn 🍼👶