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— Shane —
All Shane wanted was to enjoy a nice dinner with his parents and boyfriend, and yet Ilya kept cracking jokes about what he usually ate when they were together alone.
Who does Ilya think he is, telling his parents about how weird his diet was? His diet is so that he would perform well in hockey. Unlike Ilya, who seems not to care enough about keeping himself in top shape for hockey.
“David, Shane would drink the same shake every day! Who even makes a smoothie out of kale and spinach?” Ilya says to David.
David chuckles, putting his glass of water down.
Yuna shakes her head, as if she were amused. “At least he’s eating something. He used to eat nothing!” She says.
“His bird food diet is considered something?” Ilya asks him.
That was when Shane had had enough. Slamming his fork down on the dinner table, Shane stands up.
“Moy lyubov?”
“Shane?”
His parents and Ilya look at him, confused, their conversation put to a stop.
“Dad,” Shane says through gritted teeth. “Can I borrow your car for tonight?”
“Sure, kiddo. But why? Is something wrong?” David asks him.
Shane was already by the door, David’s key in hand.
“Nothing,” Shane says, opening the door. “I just remembered I had to do something.” He says dismissively.
“Alright, drive safe…ly.” David trails off when Shane shuts the door.
Shane knows he shouldn’t be treating his parents, or anyone, that way, but Shane would rather do that than the alternative of lashing out. He was already close to.
Once he entered his Dad’s car, Shane took the time to take a deep breath before starting the engine.
Shane is rarely angry. In fact, he detests feeling upset in general.
Being upset means losing control of his bearings, which could mean one small mistake can cause an entire domino effect that would eventually ruin his life in one sitting. Shane does not want to delve further into the thousands of possibilities that could happen from one impulsive decision made from a moment of weakness.
And if he lashed out at his loved ones, what would happen? Would his parents disown him and choose Ilya as their only son? What if Ilya realizes Shane is not worth it and leaves him behind?
Shane gripped the steering wheel tightly during the drive back to The Cottage to ground himself, resisting the urge to veer off and crash into another poor unsuspecting vehicle or a tree. Any option would be good, but he was in his Dad’s car, and in the chance that he’d survive, he might lose his ability to play hockey.
“Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck my life.” Shane cursed when he finally made the turn to The Cottage.
When he enters the house, he leaves his shoes on the rack and walks past his and Ilya’s room for the guest bedroom at the end of the hall, the only one with bedsheets prepared. He finds himself unable to enter the master's bedroom when he’s not even sure if he’s ready to face Ilya.
The moment he locks the guest bedroom door, he falls face-first on the bed, groaning into the bedsheets and wallowing in his own misery.
—
"Moy lyubov, what are you doing in the guest room?" Shane lifts his face from the mattress, squinting at the door.
He was still irritated with Ilya— he didn’t want to look at his face at all.
“Leave me alone, Ilya,” Shane grumbles, planting his face back on the bed, groaning internally. He didn’t want to do this right now. He was too busy being upset. Though Ilya usually helped, he caused his own upset.
Then Ilya asked, “What did I do?”
Of course, Ilya does not remember what he did. He must think that everything Shane does is a joke. So fucking what, his diet is weird? Is hockey not as much of a priority to Ilya as it is to Shane?
He thinks of how humiliated he felt earlier, when Ilya brought up his macrobiotic diet again, and thinks of how his parents began telling Ilya right away how difficult Shane was when he was younger.
What was the end goal exactly?
Eating used to be so— so hard for him.
What was the point of going to dinner if it meant that he’d be mocked for how he eats? Can’t they just be fucking glad that he’s fucking eating?
And now he’s eating, with food he enjoys, that also helps him perform better on the ice, and yet that still isn’t enough?
Ilya must find it so amusing that Shane needs to work hard to maintain his position in the Hockey World.
What does Ilya know of hard work? Naturally gifted, naturally talented, privileged. He may have had a rough upbringing, but Ilya does not understand the struggles that Shane goes through on a daily basis.
Shane had all the odds stacked against him, but he and his mother made it work out, and he became one of the best.
“Please, Shane— Just open the door?”
Damn it.
No matter how irritated or upset Ilya makes him without knowing it, despite all their arguments, no matter how hard Shane tries, he’s still weak for Ilya.
Shane sighs, rolling off the bed, and tiredly walking towards the door, socked feet muffling the creak on the floorboards.
When he opens the door, he keeps his eyes rooted to the ground.
“Shane.” Ilya says his name as if Shane were his entire world. Fuck. This was hard.
“Ilya.” Shane tried his best to feign indifference, hoping that his tone would convince Ilya enough to leave him alone.
Ilya was nervous, and he was shaking. Shane could see that from his legs alone. “I'm sorry... If— If I went too far earlier, Lyubimmy. I didn't mean to go that far, I just wanted—” Shane had to move himself away when Ilya stepped closer to him.
Not now. He was not ready.
“Don’t touch me. I don’t want to be touched by you. Not right now.” Shane shakes his head. He rejected Ilya’s touch because Shane was afraid to see how weak he’d truly be if Ilya touched him.
“Moy lyubov—” Shane deliberately turns his head to look at the side of the door. “A-At least stay with me? Come to bed, yes?” Ilya sounded so hurt, sounded as hurt as Shane felt when Ilya kept talking about his diet earlier.
Shane slammed the door shut, locking it, ignoring the ache in his chest.
His face contorted in pain now that Ilya was no longer there to see it, he rested his forehead against the door, hand on the doorknob.
Every part of him was screaming at him to open the door, to look at Ilya, to talk.
But Shane was not ready, and Shane had always been a coward.
—
Later that night, past midnight, Shane lies awake in bed, unable to fall asleep. No matter how hard he tried, he kept tossing and turning, no matter what positions he tried, his eyes never felt heavy enough to shut.
His mind is racing, and the only thing he can think about is Ilya begging him to let him in, for Shane to forgive him.
Ilya had gone too far during dinner, but Shane knows Ilya far too well to know that he never meant for it to hurt him— he had just gone too far.
Shane's relationship with food has always been a sore topic for him, ever since he was young.
There would be food that he'd love so much for a time, and then one day, dislike it. There would be times his parents would struggle, even resort to begging, just for Shane to eat even just a small bite of their cooking. Times that Shane would spit out or even vomit because he found the flavor or the texture too unpleasant for him to stomach.
Most of all, he did not enjoy how random it all was. Even if his parents asked him to help plan out their meals for the rest of the week, Shane would suddenly not be in the mood or want something else to eat on that day.
It's frustrating for everyone involved.
After his first visit to the dietician, who helped procure a performance diet, all those food issues subsided, or so Shane thought.
He enjoyed eating the same meals every single day, without fail. He only ate different foods when he was out with his team or with his parents, but on most days, Shane found comfort with order and the lack of needing to think about what he would eat or cook because everything was already prepared for him.
But when Ilya came along, Shane needed to learn how to decide what to eat, choose what to cook, and what was good, all over again. His carefully constructed routine is shattered, and now he finds himself agitated whenever Ilya asks what they would eat that day. Shane became stricter with his diet after that.
Shane can't handle change, but trust him, he's trying. He's trying so hard. Ilya was also trying his best to be understanding, but he unknowingly hit a breaking point that Shane, himself, didn't know he had.
And now, Shane fucked himself over once more. He decided to end the evening without kissing Ilya, or saying goodnight, or even hugging him. This is the first argument they've had where they did end up in the same bed in the evening, and it's all Shane's fault for being too sensitive, for not getting skin thick enough to take a joke.
It took a few more tossing and turning before Shane gave up on sleeping alone.
Checking the time, it was already close to 3 am. Ilya would still be awake, probably, watching whatever rabbit holes he fell into on YouTube, or maybe playing his Candy Crush game in full brightness like a psychopath.
Shane sighs, standing up, he walks to the door and unlocks it, making sure to do it slowly so he does not make as much noise.
Looking around the empty hallway, he tiptoes his way to the door of the master bedroom, his socks helping him not make any noise.
Right as he was in front of his and Ilya's door, hand already on the doorknob, he heard it.
The faint sound of sobbing.
Frozen, Shane imagines the image of Ilya sobbing into his pillow, alone, without him to comfort him, or kiss him, or make him feel loved. All Shane can think about is that he caused those tears.
He's the very reason why Ilya is crying alone.
His Ilya, who rarely cried unless he was alone or with Shane.
Feeling his world tip over its axis, Shane falls to his knees outside the room, head leaning on the door. Every instinct is screaming at him to open the door, hug, and kiss Ilya breathless until he forgets there was ever anything to cry about.
But Shane can’t. He didn’t deserve it. Not when he’s the very reason Ilya is crying in their room, alone.
"I'm sorry." Shane's voice cracks, weak. Unheard from all the sobs on the other side of the door.
He fell asleep in the hallway outside the room once Ilya finally cried himself to sleep.
Uncomfortable, cold, and alone.
Like he deserved.
— Ilya —
Ilya and Shane were at Mama and Papa Hollander’s house for dinner that weekend, like they always do during the Summer. A tradition that began after the first time Yuna and David found out about their relationship.
At first, each visit would start with Ilya panicking internally and feeling nervous since these were his boyfriend’s parents, but he soon realized that he had nothing to worry about in the first place. Yuna and David had loved him the moment he showed them how much he loved their son.
They had only grown closer since then, each visit, each summer. The move to Ottawa meant that Ilya spent more time with Yuna and David than Shane did. Being around them healed the aching inner child of Ilya, who was raised in an environment where love was something he had to earn.
And it was through them that he was also able to understand some of the little quirks Shane had. It surprised him how easy it was to love them back.
Yuna’s hockey obsession, David’s skill on the ice, Yuna’s eyes, David’s smile, and the freckles both of them had. Their little parts that made up Shane. How could he not love them as well?
They were the ones he confided in whenever he had questions about Shane that no one else knew the answer to.
And so, during this dinner, when he noticed Shane being nit-picky with the food he and Yuna had prepared, was when he brought up Shane’s eating habits.
It brought him relief that Yuna and David immediately understood what he was talking about and started sharing their experiences with Shane and his weird relationship with food.
Yuna had shared some of the things she had to resort to just to get Shane to agree to eat something. David had shared the many cookbooks he had scourged through just to find foods that is Shane approved.
He was so engrossed with his conversation that the three of them were surprised when Shane slammed his fork down on the table and stood up.
Ilya looks at him in surprise. “Moy lyubov?”
“Shane?” Yuna and David say at the same time.
“Dad,” Shane starts, and from Ilya’s peripheral vision, his fists were clenched as well. “Can I borrow your car for tonight?”
Ilya was confused, watching as Shane made his way to the front door and took his Dad’s key. Was he tired already?
“Sure, kiddo. But why? Is something wrong?” David asks.
“Nothing. I just remembered I had to do something.”
“Okay, drive safe…ly…” David trails off when Shane closes the door without saying another word.
Ilya looked at Yuna and David, who were just as confused.
“Ilya, I thought you had the entire summer blocked off?” Yuna asks him.
Ilya furrows his brows.
“Yes, I’m sure we did. Unless Shane overlooked something.”
“But that is not like Shane at all.” David points out.
Ilya looks back at the front door in contemplation.
—
Ilya did not stay for much longer after Shane had left.
After a few more minutes, he found himself unable to stay when Shane was left all alone in The Cottage.
He bid Yuna and David goodbye before coming back to the house.
When he entered The Cottage, it was quiet, but he did not worry as much because he saw Shane’s shoes in the rack. He thought, perhaps, that Shane must be in the bedroom, getting ready for bed or already asleep, but imagine Ilya’s surprise when Shane was not there at all.
He must be in the guest bedroom down the hall then. All the other rooms had no bedsheets yet because they were just used by the Pike Family when they stayed over a few days ago.
"Moy lyubov, what are you doing in the guest room?" Ilya knocks on the door, hesitant, confused. When he tried to twist the doorknob to open, he found that it was locked shut.
"Leave me alone, Ilya," Shane says, voice muffled.
"What did I do?" Ilya asks.
There was no response, but from the silence, Ilya knew he must have done or said something wrong without realizing it.
"Blyat." Ilya curses when he remembers the small jabs he'd been making at Shane over his diet during their visit to Shane's parents. He had not meant for it to come off that way. He just wanted to point out how odd Shane's eating habits were.
He had just wanted Yuna and David to realize how bad Shane's obsession with his diet had become.
"Please, Shane— Just open the door?" Ilya was not far from begging.
Many times had Shane and Ilya fought, but they had never ended a night without touching, embracing, or kissing each other. Never had they ended a night together so cold.
Hope blooms in Ilya's chest when he hears padded footsteps walk closer to the door, and he is close to smiling the moment the door unlocks and opens to reveal his boyfriend.
"Shane." Ilya says his name like a sigh of relief, but Shane does not share the same sentiment. He's not even looking at him.
"Ilya." Shane says, devoid of any emotion. Ilya must have truly upset him.
"I'm sorry... If— If I went too far earlier, Lyubimmy. I didn't mean to go that far, I just wanted—" In his haste to be closer to Shane, to touch him, he freezes the moment he sees Shane step back from him, dismissive.
"Don't touch me. I don't want to be touched by you. Not right now." Shane shakes his head, his eyes still never meeting Ilya's.
Ilya's heart was pounding painfully against his chest.
"Moy lyubov—" For some reason, his throat hurt, even if he had not screamed. He felt like screaming, though. "A-At least stay with me? Come to bed, yes?" His lips were quivering.
Shane slams the door shut.
He did not mean to hurt Shane— he never wanted to hurt Shane. Truly, he is his father's son, cruel with his tongue, even if it was not intentional.
Ilya rests his forehead against the door, hand holding the doorknob. Every part of him was screaming at him to twist it, to jam the door open.
Just to see Shane, just to talk to Shane.
He lets go, knowing that Shane would likely not want to see him right now.
Ilya fucked up, and he has no idea how to fix it.
Walking to the bedroom, he resists the urge to look behind him as he does. No Shane is walking behind him to look back at. He left the bedroom door unlocked in case Shane changed his mind and wanted to sleep beside him.
Lying down on his side of the bed, Ilya stares at the windows, at first thinking of nothing, then thinking about everything.
He thinks of the first time he had ever met Shane, he was entranced by this awkward Japanese-Canadian boy with a ridiculous amount of freckles. He thinks of the older, aged man that Shane had become, looking at him tiredly, because that’s all Ilya does.
He drains people of their lives like a parasite.
Ilya doesn’t remember when the tears started to pour, but the moment they did, nothing was stopping them.
No matter how hard Ilya tried to stifle his sobs, the same way he had taught himself to do when he was just a child, it didn’t stop. It had only just gotten worse.
Ilya had already lost many things in his life, and it felt like he was losing another part of himself. Ilya felt like he was twelve, seventeen, and twenty-eight all at the same time. The different stages of himself were crying in pain alongside him.
—
Ilya wakes up at 6 in the morning, eyes puffy, and fully exhausted.
When he turns to look behind him, he tries not to let himself feel worse that Shane did not come to sleep beside him earlier that night.
He should have expected it. The empty side of the bed is a reminder of how badly Ilya had fucked up.
Looking at the ceiling, some part of him wishes it would suddenly collapse on him. Maybe end the pain, perhaps. Ilya doesn't fucking know. This might even be the end of his relationship with Shane, all because Ilya had asshole-d too close to the sun.
Couldn't Ilya get more sleep? Try as he might, the sun was already out, and his throat felt parched, dry as sand.
He gets out of bed too fast, so it took him a while to stand on his two feet without feeling the need to hold on to something for support.
Ilya sighs, rubbing the residual sleep out of his eyes before moving to open the door.
He paused. Rubbed his eyes again to see if he was seeing things correctly.
"Lyubimmy?" He croaked, voice still hoarse.
Shane was curled up against the wall right beside the door. It looked uncomfortable, and Ilya winced, knowing that Shane is prone to back pain at times, even if his yoga helps.
Was Shane asleep outside the room the entire night? Why didn't he just enter the room? It's not as if the door was locked.
Shane did not look as he usually did when Ilya would watch him sleep. Shane's eyebrows were scrunched, and he was frowning in his sleep. Shane does not do that. Not when he sleeps with Ilya. With Ilya, Shane always sleeps as if there is nothing to worry about. This Shane is sleeping as if a great weight were thrust upon his shoulders.
Ilya didn’t like this look on Shane.
Ignoring the creak in his joints as he crouched down, he placed a gentle hand on Shane's shoulders and lightly shook him so that he would wake up. "Shane? Wake up, moy lyubov."
Shane does not wake up. What he does instead is rest his head against Ilya's forearm, and his frown disappears, finding comfort in Ilya's touch. Shane was always a light sleeper unless it was with Ilya.
"Fuck, Hollander." Ilya chokes out, moving to kneel on the floor so that he can wrap his arms around his sleeping lover. One arm was resting on Shane's back, and the other was resting on Shane's neck. "I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry for being so stupid, Lyubimmy..." He whispers through the quiet of the hallway.
"Ilya...?" Shane mumbles, having been woken up by all the movement.
Ilya gasps, stopping.
"What... is going on?" Shane asks, confused.
Ilya tightens his hold on Shane.
"Shane, why were you sleeping outside? You could have entered anytime." Ilya burrows his face in Shane's hair.
"I-I..." Shane stammers, still trying to shake his sleep away. "I wanted to go inside... but I heard you crying. I didn't want to go inside knowing that I'm the one who made you cry..." Shane's voice was weak.
Ilya's heart breaks at that.
"Shane, if you ever hear me crying, even if you think you caused it, always come inside, unless I say otherwise. Moy lyubov, waking up in our room without you beside me is torture." Ilya says.
Shane pulls away from him, and for a second, Ilya thought that Shane wanted him to let go.
“It was torture for me, too,” Shane says before grabbing Ilya by the collar of his shirt and kissing him.
— Together —
Shane blinks awake at the sound of birds chirping right outside the windows. He groans, moving to turn around, but finds himself unable to do so due to the pair of arms wrapped tightly around his abdomen.
“Ilyaaa…” Shane whines. “Let me go, I need to move.”
Ilya opens his eyes, icy blue meeting brown.
Shane huffs in astonishment when not only does Ilya not let go, but he also tightens his hold on his waist. Ilya yawns, attacking Shane with the smell of morning breath, making him wrinkle his nose in disgust.
“Seriously?” Shane groans, only to gasp in surprise when he gets nipped in his chest by his boyfriend.
Ilya grumbles, nuzzling his face further into Shane’s chest like a starving man.
They were both nude in bed, but Shane did not feel lust. All he felt was the intimacy of it all. To both of them, who were both well known to have many layers, to be stripped down to only their most vulnerable selves.
The conversation the two of them had after Shane had pulled Ilya into that kiss was long and extensive, to the point that neither of them had the energy to fuck, but it did not matter. They just wanted to feel each other’s skin and warmth after going through something emotionally taxing.
Ilya and Shane had fallen asleep back in their bed, in each other’s arms.
But now, Shane is awake because of the birds, and he wants to change his position to something more comfortable, but Ilya won’t let him.
“Ilya, my back hurts,” Shane complains.
“But I don’t want to let my malysh go.” Ilya pouts, pressing a kiss right on Shane’s nipple.
“Let me change positions before you hound on me again, then.” Shane chuckles, so in love with this child-like man, the other half of his soul. The one who completes him in all the ways that matter.
When Ilya finally lets him go, albeit with great hesitance, Shane only took a few seconds to shift his position before Ilya’s arms wrap and settle around him once again.
Shane smiles when one hand sneaks its way up to grab at his chest.
“You really can’t wait 10 seconds before touching my chest, can you?” He asks Ilya.
Ilya presses another kiss on his shoulder, right on his scar. “I love touching you. I love being with you.” He tells him.
Shane can feel himself melt further into Ilya’s arms at those words.
“I love you so much, Ilya.”
“I love you so much, too, Shane.” Ilya rests his head against Shane’s back.