Archive of Our Own

Shane and Rose’s relationship had ended on good terms. There was no explosive break-up, no dramatic headlines in the news. If anything, they faded from them just as quickly as they had begun to appear in them. There was speculation as she stopped attending his games, he was seen talking with other women occasionally. They were all platonic, of course, but no one else really knew that.

Still, even as remnants of their relationship dissipated, others clung to the brief relationship much harder than either Shane or Rose had. His teammates had mixed responses, some apologizing over the abrupt way it ended while others teased him for losing out on her. He never really let either get to him, though.

It was Rose who helped Shane come to terms with his sexuality, with the realization that no matter how much he internalized being gay as unacceptable in his world, it wasn’t. He gave her credit for his relationship with Ilya becoming monogamous at last, too. Even if Ilya still wasn’t a huge fan of hers.

Shane considered her such a close friend that most days he forgot they had technically dated at all, honestly. He wished others could forget it, too. Especially his parents. For them, it was the most normal they had seen him act in years, actually taking a break from hockey to get dinner with a nice girl.

“Are you sure there’s no chance of you two getting back together?” Yuna questioned, lips tugging to the side curiously as she probed her son over dinner at their house. “I mean, I know the schedules are tough to balance but if you guys really try—”

“Mom, no,” Shane interjected, shaking his head. “There’s nothing going on with us anymore, I’m sorry.”

He picked up his glass of water, sipping it slowly. He wasn’t even sure how Rose had come up in conversation, frankly. They were just talking about hockey and suddenly his mom was asking about his upcoming game in California, wondering if he’d see Rose while he was there.

“I’m sorry, honey,” she murmured, glancing back down at her plate in an effort to hide her disappointment. “I know how much you liked her.”

He hummed, nodding slightly as he went back to eating. He did like her. Rose was great; she was kind and funny. And even if he wasn’t attracted to her, he wasn’t blind, he knew she was gorgeous.

But his heart only seemed to ache for one, very specific person—a tall, arrogant, Russian man who drew him out of his comfort zone and felt like his own personal safety net all at once. No amount of trying would have ever made him feel about Rose the way he felt Ilya, even if he tried to force himself.

“You’ll find someone again,” David assured his son, giving him a small smile. “I promise somebody out there will be lucky to have you.”

He had seen the way the breakup affected him, making him close himself off even more than usual. Shane had become so reclusive it was hard to even convince him to come to dinner while he was in town to play against the Centaurs tomorrow night. He was always on his phone, always checking texts like one might come through and acting sad when it clearly wasn’t from who he wanted it to be from.

“I know,” Shane muttered, his tone sounding disbelieving even though he tried to act like he believed his father.

It mostly came across like he was just trying to get them to drop the topic more than anything else. Yuna figured the breakup must have been even rougher than she thought originally if he was trying to forget about it and move on this quickly.

“So, uh- next month,” Yuna mentioned casually, trying to change the topic so he might be a little more comfortable. “We’re looking forward to visiting. Our flights are all set, should get in the morning of your game.” Plenty of time to unpack and settle in before seeing him at the rink.

He nodded, filing the information away. “Sorry I can’t pick you guys up at the airport,” he admitted. “Coach wants us getting in two extra practices every week for some reason.” And that included one the morning of their game against the Raiders.

“Practice comes first,” she reminded him with a shrug. “We can just get a cab and settle in before the game. You’re okay with us using our spare key to your apartment, right?”

“Yeah, of course,” Shane replied, twirling some spaghetti around his fork. “Guest bedroom should be made up by then.”

He had nearly asked them to spend the nights they were visiting at a hotel, already having plans with Ilya for the same days they would be in town. But then he realized that it would probably sound a bit suspicious since he never asked them to do that before; they always stayed with him.

Instead, he had reluctantly decided to cut down on his time with Ilya. He was going to spend the night when the team flew in, so they would have at least one evening together at his apartment. Then, he’d leave a bit earlier in the morning and they’d try to get an hour or two after the game when Shane planned to lie about going out with the team.

Once Ilya’s plane left, though, he’d devote the rest of his attention to his parents entirely. It was a good plan, in his opinion. A bit rushed, unfortunately, but he would do his best to soak up whatever time they could get together as best as he could.

She beamed slightly. “Great, we’ll just drop our luggage off and—”

Shane’s phone rang before she could finish her thought and he quickly furrowed his brows before reaching for it out of his pocket. Yuna noticed the way his eyes widened slightly, presumably at the caller ID, for a moment before he started to stand up.

“Uh- sorry, just let me take this,” he muttered, pushing his chair back in and glancing around like he was looking for somewhere more private.

Sliding open the glass panel of the backdoor, he stepped outside, closing it behind him before he even thought about answering his phone. Walking across the patio a bit, he pressed the phone to his ear tightly, hearing Ilya’s voice come through clearly on the other side.

“Would you throw out my curl cream?” he wondered, tone of his voice serious despite the question.

Shane reeled, his eyes widening in confusion. “Would I what?” he replied, perplexed by where the hell that question came. “What cream?”

“My curl cream,” he repeated, like it was obvious. “You know, the one for my hair to keep it all shiny? If I purposely left a small jar of it at your apartment, would you throw it away?”

He squinted, scrubbing his forehead slightly. “I- I don’t know, probably not because you’d come back for it, I guess?” he responded, shrugging. “I don’t really understand the question.”

Ilya sighed dramatically. “You are never online, I swear,” he muttered like it was somehow Shane’s fault for misunderstanding. “There is theory where you leave small things at your partners home and it starts to make it yours, too, yes? Girls leave hair ties and shampoo before actually living together.”

Like a way of micro-moving in, he figured. A blanket here or a pillow there. Small items that brought comfort and made the apartment feel more joint than separate. Ilya had accidentally left a few things behind over the years and usually got them back the next time they were together, but he kind of liked the idea of leaving stuff on purpose, too, now that they were officially together.

Maybe at some point he wouldn’t even need to bring his overnight bag.

“Ohhh, I get it now,” Shane muttered, nodding along for a moment before abruptly pausing. “…I think. Can you say it again without assuming I follow internet theories?”

Inside, Yuna and David watched him pace back and forth a bit in the dim porch light, his expressions shifting so dramatically in such a short span of time they couldn’t look away from him. He rarely showed that much emotion during a conversation, especially not over the phone.

“Does he realize the window is open?” David questioned softly, feeling a bit guilty for eavesdropping. “Should I go close it?”

Yuna grabbed his arm before he even attempted to move, nails digging into his skin through the fabric of his shirt. “Don’t you dare,” she retorted quickly, voice quiet in case it carried through the open window. “I mean…it’s not like he has any big secrets from us or anything, it’s probably just a teammate.”

And she wanted to know what he was talking about, that had him looking so animated for a change.

Outside, Shane pinched the bridge of his nose, still trying to follow Ilya’s train of thought as he walked him through the question a second time.

“If I leave stuff like my hair products or blanket, I like at your apartment, will you freak out and think it’s too much too fast?” he tried to explain more clearly. “Or will it be alright that I have stuff there even when I am not with you?”

Realization dawned on him, probably a bit later than it should have. “Oh, I- yeah, you can do that,” he confessed earnestly. “I mean, it never really did make sense for you to pack and unpack and repack when you visit. You can just…leave some stuff.”

“Yeah? You wouldn’t hide things when company was over?” Ilya retorted skeptically, the sound of shuffling carrying through the phone as he wandered around his own kitchen.

“Well, it’s not like you’d be leaving a picture of yourself or anything, just some things you normally bring,” he responded, pursing his lips. “Kind of like the idea of having stuff that reminds me of you laying around.”

Sometimes, after Ilya visited, he would wait a few days longer than usual to wash his pillowcase. Not that he ever dared to tell him that, but the scent clung to it and he hated to replace it with some generic fabric detergent that wasn’t nearly as comforting to fall asleep on.

“I like knowing it would be there, too,” Ilya admitted, sighing as he leaned over his kitchen counter not quite hungry enough to cook. “What are you doing right now?”

He huffed, smiling down at the deck. “I’m at my parents’ house for dinner, remember? I told you I’d be here until like nine or ten,” he recapped.

“You are there currently? Like in the house?” he muttered, suddenly sounding a bit apologetic, if not worried.

He knew about the dinner, of course. Shane had been looking forward to it, even if he was a bit wary about the conversations that might come up. He just forgot, temporarily, is all. He was a bit lonely and wanted to hear his voice.  

“No, I’m standing outside without a jacket like an idiot,” Shane told him, shoving one hand in his pocket. “Apparently answering questions about your hair.” He rolled his eyes but there was still a fondness in his tone, despite the interruption.

“About our relationship,” he corrected firmly. “And it’s good to know I take precedence over dinner with your parents, makes me feel special.”

He huffed slightly, tilting his head a bit. “You are special,” he mumbled. “But I only answered because I thought you were calling with an emergency since I told you I’d be with my folks all night.”

Ilya hummed slightly, browsing his fridge again for something that wouldn’t take too much effort to cook. “It is one,” he pretended, grabbing something he could quickly reheat. “I missed you terribly.”

“Missing me is not an emergency,” he clarified with a small laugh, shaking his head. “Bleeding or something is an emergency.”

“Oh, so you do not miss me, too, then?” Ilya wondered, tone filled with mock accusation. “You don’t want to hear my voice or talk to me?”

The pout on his lips was so strong that Shane could hear it through the phone. This, he had begun to realize recently, was who Ilya had always been. Someone clingy and desperate to give the kind of affection he was never allowed to in the past. He had always just suppressed it as part of their strange situation for so many years.

And honestly, he’d be lying if he said he didn’t like it. Because he did. A lot. The constant texts and voicemails were nice. He would get out of practice to long voice memos about how Ilya’s practice went or see him send pictures of a book he was reading because he recommended it. It was nice to have such constant contact, even over things that weren’t very important.

Shane sighed dramatically. “Of course I miss you too,” he replied, like it was obvious. “I hate how difficult it is to actually have time to talk on the phone unless it’s practically midnight.”

He tended to be practically delirious when he stayed up that late, usually asleep an hour or two after his night games ended. He had to be if he wanted to feel rested for his morning jog.

Ilya hummed softly in agreement, putting his food in the microwave. “Is that or rarely actually calling you,” he muttered in disappointment. “Hence me interrupting your dinner, I suppose. Sorry…”

“Don’t be sorry, they’ll understand,” he assured him, shrugging. “I’d rather hear your voice for a few minutes than not at all.”

“Can you call me after you get back to your hotel?” Ilya wondered, a bit hesitant to sound so damn needy that he wanted him to stay up later than usual the night before a game just to talk.

But he hadn’t had the chance to call him in over two weeks, and no number of voicemails or memos could ever replicate an actual conversation, hearing him respond in real time or seeing him in his glasses at night.

Shane nodded, even though he couldn’t see it. “Yeah, I can call you,” he promised. “I needed to re-tape my stick, tonight, anyway. You can watch me hyper-focus until I go mute on accident,” he quipped, even though that was entirely true.

He always wrapped and rewrapped it two or three times before deciding he liked it. Sometimes as many as four, which no one on his team really seemed to understand. For some reason, though, it just felt wrong no matter how perfect he did it until he finally got it right.

“Ah, I do enjoy that,” Ilya noted, pulling his bowl of the microwave and cursing at how hot the glass had gotten. “Сукин сын, that’s hot.”

He perked up immediately, hearing the glass rattle against the counter as he dropped it abruptly. “Are you alright?” he asked in concern. “Did you burn yourself?”

“Slightly,” he retorted reluctantly, shaking his hand out to try to get rid of the sting. “Forgot how long the glass was in the microwave, is all. It’s fine.”

“If it’s fine, why are you running your hand under water right now?” Shane responded, hearing the faucet turn on. “I said I expected you to call if there was an emergency, not have one while we’re on the phone.”

Ilya laughed dryly, wrapping a towel over his hand as he winced slightly. “Was not intentional, I swear,” he replied. “It’s my shooting hand, too. I would never burn it purposely, even for you.”

He pressed his hand to his forehead. “Just get some ice for it, or something,” he suggested, biting back a comment about his shooting hand was worth millions to the NHL. “And try not to use it for the rest of the night, either. It’ll heal faster that way.”

“Yes, yes, I know,” he muttered, blowing out a breath of irritation. He was more inconvenienced than in pain, even if there was a little bit of a sting lingering in his palm. “I’ll take care of it, I promise. Just get back to your parents’.”

Shane’s shoulders deflated slightly, nodding a bit to himself. “Okay, just make sure you don’t make it worse or- never mind, you probably know that,” he murmured. “I’ll call you when I leave, alright? I love you.”

He stayed on the line for a second, waiting to hear it back.

“I love you too,” Ilya muttered immediately. “Talk to you later,” he added before hanging up the phone to tend to his burn.

Shane pulled his phone away from his hand, grimacing at the thought of him hurting his good hand. Well, either, technically. But especially the one he shot the puck with. Coach Desjourney would be pissed about it, probably.

Sliding his phone back into his pocket, he opened the back door, walking back inside and sitting down at the table across from his parents. They hadn’t eaten much while he was gone, he noticed, their plates nearly untouched. They were staring at him and seemingly trying very hard not too, as well.

“Everything alright?” his mom eventually asked, keeping her tone light and curious.

He nodded, picking up his fork again. “Yeah, just Hayden calling to tell me about a schedule change, tomorrow,” he replied. “We were going to drive together to the rink, so he wanted to let me know he planned to leave a bit earlier to beat traffic.”

Yuna hummed curiously, eyes flitting down to her plate as she fought the urge to frown or ask a follow up question. She knew that wasn’t true, that her son didn’t talk to any teammate like that. It was the way he would talk to a girlfriend. But the lie slipped out so easily, without so much as an ounce of hesitation.

And there didn’t look like there was much deception in his response, either. Like it wasn’t something he contemplated doing or felt bad over. Just something he did on autopilot. Since when did her son lie? Especially directly to her and David of all people?

“Oh, that’s nice of him to let you know,” she murmured, glancing back up and hesitating for a moment. “He could have told you when you got back to the hotel, though, couldn’t he? You’re on the same floor, aren’t you?”

She knew it was probably wrong, that she shouldn’t be pushing her son to lie to them again. But she wanted to know if he would. Or if maybe he’d take the follow up and use it as an opportunity to come clean.

“Yeah, he’s down the hall. But he’s actually heading to bed early,” Shane replied without missing a beat, digging back into his pasta. “He spent all week with the kids when he wasn’t at the rink, so an away game is kind of like a break for him, honestly.”

Yuna blinked, her heart sinking a bit over how quickly he ran with his first lie, elaborating on it with ease. “Right, makes sense,” she mused, nodding. “Must be tiring to have so many kids and still play professionally.”

“Yeah, but he’s happy,” her son replied, shrugging. “That’s what matters.”

She glanced at her husband for a moment, who was glaring at her like he wanted her to drop the subject. She, frankly, also wanted to drop it. She didn’t like hearing her son lie to her, no matter what the reason behind it.

The rest of dinner, they continued to make small talk. David and Yuna specifically avoided any topic relating to Rose, the breakup, or relationships in general, even if they were curious. It was a morbid type of interest, really. They wanted to know why he had lied to them but also feared the consequences of prying too hard.

If Shane didn’t want to be honest, they certainly couldn’t force him to be. He was an adult, after all. He could choose who he shared information with. Even if they had no clue what that information was or why he wanted to keep it a secret.

Giving him a hug, Yuna forced her best smile as she lingered in the threshold of the doorway and watched Shane leave an hour later. He spent all of dinner talking about hockey or some new renovations he was thinking about making to his cottage when he had time to properly hire someone for it.

And even as he left, he seemed to have that expression on his face while walking towards his car. Nonchalance, like he hadn’t taken a mysterious phone call and lied about it afterwards.

Yuna closed the door behind him, locking it and turning to her husband with a perplexed, maybe even slightly peeved look. “He lied to us,” she stated in disbelief as she crossed her arms. “He didn’t hesitate; did you see it? How quickly he responded to my question?”

David nodded, gently putting his hand on her shoulder and guiding out of the foyer and back into the kitchen to help clean up the dishes. “I saw,” he replied, a mix of disappointment and sadness in his voice. “Can’t understand why, though.”

She shrugged, starting to pick up plates and set them in the sink. “I don’t know, maybe he- did we do something? Ask too much about Rose?” she questioned. “Why would he pretend they broke up when they’re still together?”

Why act like their relationship was over when they were saying things like ‘I love you’ and talking about leaving stuff at his apartment to feel like he had pieces of her around when she wasn’t there. It didn’t make any sense.

David pushed all of the chairs into the table and then reached for a towel to wipe it down. “Maybe the publicity was just too much for them,” he suggested, shrugging as he cleaned the wooden surface. “Maybe they wanted to keep things private and pretending to break up was the best way to do that.”

Yuna scrubbed a sponge over a plate harshly, making it squeak against the glass. “Lying to the public, I would understand,” she clarified. “I know it must have been stressful to deal with the paparazzi, but us? We’re his parents, David. Don’t we even get to know he’s in love that girl?”

Rose seemed nice, she was pretty sure. She didn’t really know much about herself on a personal level, having never met her. She knew she was well-liked among some pretty important actors and that it was difficult to watch one of her interviews without smiling. No wonder Shane had looked so dreamy-eyed on the phone with her.

“At least we know why he’s so withdrawn,” he replied, sighing softly. “He probably doesn’t want to risk anyone knowing they’re still together after convincing everyone otherwise.”

And it also explained why he didn’t want to talk about the breakup, pretending to get over it so quickly. Because they never actually ended it at all. They were probably just trying to get everyone to think they did so they could have the privacy they deserved.

“Should we tell him we know?” Yuna questioned, shaking the plate in her hand to get rid of some water before setting it on the drying rack. “Maybe we can convince him to let us meet her or at least talk about her more in front of us.”

Her husband shrugged, clearly unsure. “Maybe,” he muttered. “He lied for a reason, though. Do you really want him to think we were eavesdropping on a private conversation?”

She furrowed her eyebrows. That was true, she supposed. They had been listening without permission. But it wasn’t like they heard anything bad. It was sweet, if anything, how soft his voice got when he was on the phone with her. And how he worried when she burnt her hand. Yuna hoped it wasn’t a serious injury or anything.

“We’ll sleep on it, I guess,” she murmured, sighing as she started scrubbing another plate.

She wasn’t sure how she would sleep, though, knowing her son was invested in his relationship that he was willing to fake a public breakup to keep the media from meddling in it. That had to be serious, she thought. It wasn’t the kind of things he would do if he was merely infatuated.

He told Rose he loved her, after all. And it seemed to slip out pretty easily, like it wasn’t the first time they had said it to each other.

»»———♡———««

The next morning, Yuna was pretty sure she hadn’t slept more than three, maybe four hours all night. She kept tossing and turning, trying to figure out how she felt about Shane’s lies and what her and David should do about it. She wanted to be upset about the lying, but the longer she considered it, the more she realized her husband was right. Her son had done it out of dedication.

And she couldn’t blame him for that.

But she also couldn’t keep her mouth shut and let him think they were buying his excuses, either.

He didn’t deserve to have an isolating relationship where every moment was forced to be a private one. He deserved to at least have his own family know about it and feel comfortable talking about someone who he clearly loved very much.

Even if he didn’t want to be publicly scrutinized, he should at least be able to show his affection quietly to the people who loved him and wanted him to be happy no matter what.

“I’m doing it, David,” she stated with conviction after spending all night and all morning contemplating. “Don’t try to talk me out of it.”

He sipped his coffee, sitting across the table from her. “Wasn’t planning on it,” he confessed.

Yuna frowned at him, picking up her phone to call Shane. “You’re not?” she questioned dubiously, having expected to at least try to warn her that it might be a bad idea to tell their son they overheard his conversation.

He shook his head. “I already knew you were going to,” he muttered, shrugging. “I just wanted you to think it through, first.”

She huffed, dialing Shane’s number as she glared at him. He knew her too well, sometimes, she felt. That was both a blessing and a curse. But at least she wasn’t trying to talk her out of it or pry the phone away. Calling their son, she put her phone on speaker, propping it by her cheek.

Shane picked up after a few rings. “Hey mom, I’m just walking into the stadium,” he told them.

Oh, right. There was a game and an early practice the Centaurs were nice enough to let them have thee before the faceoff later tonight. She nearly forgot, in all the confusion, that he was here strictly to play hockey and not have them pry into his life.

“We won’t keep you long,” Yuna assured him, glancing across the table at her husband. “Your father is here too, actually. You’re on speaker phone.”

“I am?” he wondered, sounding confused as he treaded through the hallway of the stadium with Hayden beside him. “Why? Did something happen? Are you guys not coming to the game tonight?”

“What? Oh, no, of course we are,” she replied confidently. “We just wanted to um- well, we wanted to talk about last night,” she eventually told him.

There was a short pause where Shane thought back to previous evening, still not following. “I guess I have a few minutes,” he muttered, still perplexed. “What about it?”

Shane slowed down his steps, trying to make it a longer trip to the locker room than necessary. He saw Hayden slowing down too, looking at him with a bit of confusion. Shane just shook his head a bit, motioning towards the end of the long hallway as if giving him permission to walk ahead without him.

“We uh- your father and I were sort of able to…” Yuna trailed off, meeting her husbands’ eyes from across the table. “We heard your conversation, last night. The one you had outside.”

Just saying it brought a guilty feeling to her stomach. Maybe she should have just let David close the window when he suggested it instead of demanding he leave it open so they could hear. In her rather weak defense, she didn’t think they would hear any declarations of love. Just some sort of banter between him and a teammate or something like that.

“You what?” Shane questioned, voice rising slightly.

That wasn’t a good tone, she thought. He wasn’t automatically angry but that was definitely not the sound of someone’s voice when they found something funny or inconvenient. It was disbelief and it seemed like irritation, too. Maybe even panic.

“Not on purpose,” David tried to clarify before he got too upset, not that he would blame if he did. “The window was open, is all. We just caught some of your end of the call on accident.” It was easy enough to convince themselves that was what happened, anyway.

“I- so you were- you heard my conversation?” Shane echoed, stopping abruptly in the hallway and scrubbing his face. “How much of it?”

“Enough to know about your relationship,” Yuna confessed hesitantly. “And we want you to know that we understand why you lied about it, and we’re alright with it. We just want you to be happy and if keeping things between you and Rose a secret is how you want to go about it, then we support that.”

Her son didn’t respond for a while, standing in the middle of the hallway in complete shock and confusion as he processed her words. She was, frankly, afraid she might have done something wrong for a moment. That he was so mad about their eavesdropping that he was going to hang up.

“My relationship with Rose?” he repeated slowly, realization dawning on him.

“How you pretended to break up to avoid dealing with so much publicity,” his father elaborated with an unseen gesture of his hand. “And how you’re still seeing each other more privately.”

Shane wet his bottom lip, brain racing to keep up and find a way he could spin that to make sense. “Right, we- yeah,” he muttered, going along with it. “There was just a lot of pressure on us both and it’s difficult to keep a relationship stable under those kinds of circumstances.”

That made sense, he supposed. It wasn’t like they would hear him saying he loved someone and just automatically assume it was his very public rival of a decade. No one in their right mind would jump to that conclusion. Of course, they would think he was talking about Rose. Who he did love, in some ways. Just very platonic ones, is all.

“It has to be hard, the two of you both being in the spotlight,” Yuna remarked earnestly. “I bet there’s never much time to just be together without having all the cameras or expectations.”

She sure as hell couldn’t live that. She knew her son thought she expected a lot from him, and in some ways she did, but only because she knew he was capable of so much. She was more than proud of who he already was and could never handle the pressure he managed to deal with so well in a million years.

“It does get a bit…overwhelming, I guess,” Shane admitted, his tone more sincere. “We want- it’s just that we can really only be ourselves alone.” Him and Ilya, that was. Even if they didn’t know who was on his mind when he said.

“We understand,” his dad promised gently. “And if that’s how you want to handle things, we’ll support your decision to keep things private.”

“But you don’t have to lie to us about it,” his mom added, her tone slightly urgent, like it was extremely important that he knew that. “You can talk about her or take a phone call in the house inside of hiding on the patio.”

He swallowed, knowing damn well there was a reason he did those things. “Thanks, guys,” he murmured, his words only half-appreciative.

He understood what they were trying to do, of course. But it was so far from the truth that it was hard to make sense of it or respond in the way they wanted him to. He supposed that as annoying as it was to think he now had another variation of Ilya to keep a secret—considering him Lily around Hayden and now Rose around his parents—it was still preferable to the truth.

“Of course, honey,” Yuna muttered softly. “We’re happy that you’re happy, you know that, right?”

“Yeah, I know, mom,” he replied fussing with the strap of his bag as he started walking back to the locker rooms. “I have to go, now, though. Practice and all that.”

“We’ll see you after the game,” David told him. “Knock ‘em dead.”

“We’ll try,” Shane responded, before hanging up. He glanced down at his phone for a second afterwards, just kind of staring for a moment or two as his mind tried to catch up to what they thought they knew.

What the hell kind of implications did their assumption have? Could he have handled that differently, somehow? He supposed he could have corrected them and said it wasn’t Rose. But then what?

They would ask who he said he ‘I love you’ to, and that would lead to either confessing about Ilya or some other lie that they might not even believe. At least this way, they bought the lie since they were the ones to come up with it.

»»———♡———««

Shane had thought, or perhaps just hoped that after his parents came up with their version of the truth, things would settle. But over the next few weeks, things had somehow gotten more stressful for him than when he was withdrawing out of a need for privacy with Ilya.

His mom and dad, while unaware of the fact that they were doing it, kept prying into his life. Into Rose, who was technically Ilya. They asked how she was, thinking it was supportive. That giving him an outlet to actually discuss his relationship was helping alleviate stress when it was actually just causing more of it.

He had to tell them small details about his relationship like the fact that he missed their call or was smiling at his phone because he was talking to Ilya, while trying to never let a detail slip that might give away who he actually was. No masculine pronouns, nothing about hockey.

And he had to slip random facts about her life and her movie into their conversations that he technically knew because they still texted as friends but felt entirely wrong to tell him parents about. That was still absolutely nothing compared to nursing Ilya’s pride when Shane finally came clean about the whole thing a few weeks after it happened.

He had been, rightfully, distraught. And he hid it horribly.

Shane couldn’t say he blamed him. Rose drove a wedge between them before she helped them find each other and it was still a touchy subject for him. He tried, though, to get it. To understand that logically, he couldn’t correct them. That he was hoping to give it a few more months and then try to tell his parents he and Rose broke up for good so he wouldn’t have to keep up with the lies.

Still, Ilya wasn’t thrilled about waiting multiple more months. He had already heard about it for one and that felt like plenty for him. Not even being together seemed to fully make the jealously evaporate, as hard as he tried to forget.

“Does she find it funny?” Ilya wondered, leaning against Shane’s kitchen counter. “Rose Landry.”

He blew out a breath as he sliced some vegetables on a cutting board. “You don’t have to say her full name like that every time you mention her,” he replied, ignoring the question.

He tapped his fingers on the granite. “That is not an answer,” he retorted, eyeing him with a look that made it clear he wasn’t dropping the subject, even if he tried to avoid it.  

Shane set the knife down, glaring at him for a moment. “She thinks- I don’t know, that it’s sweet my parents care so much, I guess,” he admitted, shrugging. “And that it’s sad I’m still stuck pretending like her. That’s all.”

Contrary to what he knew Ilya thought, Rose wasn’t finding the situation humorous or enjoyable, either. She put up with it, doing him a favor by turning down a date she kind of wanted to go on so his parents wouldn’t accidentally read about it and think she was breaking his heart.

But she mostly thought it was unfair that even when he finally came to terms with who he was and what he wanted, he still had to act differently. And it was unfair to Ilya, too, that she was tied to Shane unintentionally while that was a problem he couldn’t have even if he desired it desperately.

“Oh, and I’m sure she’s very distressed over having David and Yuna constantly asking how she is and wanting to have her over for dinner,” he grumbled, crossing his arms as a small pout graced his lips. “Must be agonizing to be cared about.”

Shane grimaced as he went back to chopping vegetables. “That’s not- they’re just being polite since they think I like her,” he insisted. “And you know they’re never going to meet her. I keep telling them her filming schedule is too busy.”

Even when she got a full week off a while back, he didn’t mention that. Letting his parents think he loved Rose was one thing but actually introducing her as his girlfriend was entirely too far. He wouldn’t put Rose or Ilya in that situation. Or hell, himself, for that matter.

“You are entirely too blasé,” Ilya persisted, annoyed. “And I do not believe you, either. I bet she’s amused. Probably the most interesting thing in her life.”

Shane rolled his eyes. “She’s a literal movie star, I highly doubt me using her an excuse to pretend I’m straight is the most fascinating thing she has happening,” he muttered. “But if you don’t believe me, check my phone. I was texting her this morning.”

His eyes shot open. “Aha! You were texting her, see?” he exclaimed, palm hitting the counter. “While I was flying hundreds of miles to see you, you were texting her.”

“You’re here for hockey!” Shane retorted defensively, huffing in disbelief. “I’m just a stop on your way, technically.” Raiders had a game in Montreal, then Vancouver before heading back to Boston.

“Not the point.” Ilya pushed off the counter. “I am snooping through your phone to see for myself,” he stated firmly. “You can’t stop me.”

He furrowed his brows as Ilya walked out of the kitchen and into the bedroom. “It was my idea!” he shouted after him. “It’s not snooping if I gave you permission!”

“Am snooping!” Ilya insisted, disappearing into the bedroom.

Shane scoffed, shaking his head slightly. He supposed that was just something he needed to believe he was doing, for some reason. Putting his knife down, he began placing the zucchini on the baking tray individually to make sure the edges didn’t touch each other, keeping an eye out for Ilya who was still searching the bedroom for his phone.

“Do you want me to help you find my phone so you can snoop?” he called over his shoulder, still organizing the veggies.

“No!” Ilya shouted back. “Snooping is solitary activity.” It didn’t count if he had permission or help.

He chuckled to himself, rinsing his hands off and reaching for his Ginger Ale to take a sip before grabbing some seasoning out of his pantry. He was so focused on sorting through them, looking for the right ones, that he didn’t even realize the front door to his apartment was being opened.

“This feels wrong,” David murmured as his wife unlocked the door with his spare key. “We should just knock.”

“He said to use the spare key when we got here,” she replied, turning it. “What difference does it make if we use it tomorrow afternoon or tonight?”

“He knew we would be here tomorrow; he doesn’t know our flights got cancelled,” he reminded her.

If they could have gotten one for a similar time, they would have. But it was either tonight or the day after they play the Raiders and Yuna would be damned if they missed that game after the season both teams had been having.

Still, he couldn’t help but feel like he should have at least texted his son or something. Things moved so fast he forgot until he was on the plane but once they landed, there might have been time.

Yuna pushed the door open, gently dragging her suitcase inside. The wheels were smooth and quiet, a brand-new set without any squeaks in them, yet. David followed, closing the door softly behind them to avoid scaring Shane. There was no reason to give him a heart attack by letting him think he was being burglarized at nine pm.

“See? He’s probably just in the kitchen,” Yuna murmured softly, putting her purse down on the side table beside the door. “Maybe he’s—”

“Okay, you were maybe telling me the truth,” a voice suddenly called, cutting her off before she could finish her sentence. “At least partially.”

Yuna frowned, the deep, accented voice catching her off guard. Before she could piece together where she recognized the voice from, though, she saw Ilya Rozanov walking through her son’s apartment.

He was barefoot, his hair slightly damp and his clothes casual. Sweatpants and a white T-shirt that clung to him after a shower. And he definitely didn’t see them as he trapsed back into the kitchen like he was the one who lived here, not Shane.

From the kitchen, David heard his sons’ voice ring out, too. “What do you mean partially?” he responded, gesturing at his phone as Ilya showed him something on it. “That’s exactly what I told you.”

“You said Rose was not amused and this text clearly says, ‘this is ridiculous’,” he replied, tone accusatory. “See it? Entertained by the situation.”

“That is not her being entertained!” Shane defended, rolling his eyes again. “That’s her acknowledging how fucked up everything is. It’s sweet of her to be concerned for us; you’re just taking it the wrong way.”

Yuna let go of her suitcase, letting it stand up on its own and making sure it stayed vertical for a bit before she took a cautious step closer. David tugged her arm, pulling her back for some reason. He wasn’t sure why, but part of his brain was telling him not to get involved. At least not yet.

“Oh, I am so sorry,” Ilya mocked, pretending to apologize, putting the phone on the counter, face down. “How am I supposed to be reacting, Shane? Please, tell me how I could respond that would make you happy.”

“I don’t know,” he muttered, sounding a bit exasperated. “I just- you’re in town for one night, Ilya. And I don’t even get to see you as much as usual because my parents are visiting tomorrow, but all you can focus on is Rose.”

And he could understand why, of course. But it wasn’t exactly what Shane wanted to be thinking about during their extremely sparse time together. Not when they could be eating dinner or cuddling in bed or something that was much more enjoyable than bickering.

“That is because she is a big part of our relationship, it seems,” Ilya retorted, not trying to get defensive but doing it by accident anyway. “You love her and tell your parents all about it.”

“What else was I supposed to tell them when they came up with their theory?” he asked, shrugging heavily. “When they question who I’m seeing, what name should I give them? Lily? My imaginary girlfriend that Hayden barely even believes exists anymore?”

“The name is imaginary, I am not!” he exclaimed. “I am right fucking here, Shane, always listening to your parents ask about some woman you don’t even like romantically while I feel like I'm dying inside.”

Yuna’s eyes widened, breaking away from her husband’s grasp as his hand loosened in hers. She stayed quiet, peering around the corner at the two of them as they stood there, wearing comfortable clothes and cooking dinner. Well, trying to as their conflict escalated.

Shane looked distressed, scrubbing his face as he shook his head. “I’m not doing this to hurt you!” he shouted. “Can’t you see it’s killing me too! I feel like I’m fifteen again, dating Jessica to make myself feel normal when I couldn’t stop staring at her brother.”

Ilya froze, sucking in a sharp breath as he saw Shane clench his jaw in frustration. “You are normal, Shane,” he told him firmly, tone softening. “We are normal. There is nothing wrong with us for what we feel.”

Yuna felt her chest clenching with a feeling she really didn’t like, seeing Rozanov step closer to her son, putting his hand on his shoulder and squeezing it as Shane looked away in frustration. What the hell did they feel, she wondered. Something for each other, it looked like.

But that didn’t make any sense. None of this did. They hated each other. They always had. And Shane was with Rose. At least, that’s what she and David always assumed.

Shane glanced back at Ilya, eyes gentling. “I felt backed into a corner and didn’t have any other choice than to go along with it,” he muttered weakly. “I don’t want to pretend to be with Rose anymore than you want to hear me pretend to be.”

She was nothing more than a smoke screen for his sexuality right now, a glorified distraction that all three of them were suffering from. All to try to protect their relationship from Shane’s parents and from the public.

“I know,” he mumbled, wrapping his arms around him more firmly. “It’s not your fault, возлюбленный. I’m sorry I yelled.” It wasn’t fair of him to place the blame when he knew Shane hadn’t meant for his parents to overhear their phone call or draw the conclusion they had.

Shane sighed softly, pressing his face against Ilya’s shirt. “I feel like I’m ruining everything when I’m just trying to protect us,” he admitted. “I don’t want either of us to lose anything.” That included each other.

“You’re not ruining anything,” he insisted quickly, resting his jaw on top of Shane’s head. “I am. I’m making problems where there are none because I am not good with emotions or honesty.”

It just wasn’t how he was raised. Anger counted, sure. But that was an acceptable emotion. Confrontation was allowed, too. Feeling anything weak like sadness or envy was pathetic and letting it show was even worse in his brother and father’s eyes.

“That’s not true,” Shane murmured against the soft material he wore that felt so warm and smelled like him. “You just suck at saying how you feel in English.”

He let out a bitter chuckle, nodding. “Is true, Russian is easier to explain in,” he admitted. “But that’s no excuse. I should still be able to tell you how I feel in your language, too.” He couldn’t always run to his mother tongue and expect things to work out.

“And?” he wondered, pulling away to look at him curiously. “What do you feel?”

Ilya wet his bottom lip, struggling for a moment. “Jealous,” he admitted. “That you could know Rose for such a short amount of time and she can become so important to your parents while I- I have loved you for years and still can’t be known by anyone else.”

David reached out, holding onto his wife as she covered her mouth to suppress the choked sound threatening to escape. A mix of shock and disbelief warring on her face as they both realized what was going on, that Shane didn’t and never had loved Rose. Not the way they thought he did, anyway.

“She doesn’t mean to me what you do,” Shane promised softly. “I don’t miss her all the time, or countdown the days until I see her again, or think of her immediately when something good happens. I think of you, I wait for you, I miss you. All the time.” He always had.

He let out a breath, letting himself hear and fully believe those words. “I know,” he whispered, tipping his jaw up. “I’m sorry I get so…insecure. Is not something I like feeling, I just have a knack for sabotaging everything good in my life. And you are the best thing in it so…I probably try to ruin it twice as often, I think.”

Shane huffed. “That’s romantic,” he mumbled with a sardonic tone, leaning into his hand and closing his eyes for a moment. “I self-sabotage, too, though. It’s easier than admitting that loving you is the scariest thing I’ve ever felt. And also, the most worth it.”

“Fight over, now?” Ilya wondered, practically pleaded, even. “Please say yes, because I have you for one night and don’t want to spend it sleeping with my back to yours.”

He nodded a bit. “Yeah, the fight is over,” he agreed, softly, leaning up to kiss him.

Yuna looked away, catching her husband’s eyes. He looked even more stunned than her, his face frozen on one setting that wouldn’t budge as his eyes glazed over and he held his breath as if even breathing might make things exceedingly worse.

“Good,” Ilya whispered, pulling away and pressing their foreheads together. “I would much rather spend tonight having dinner and cuddling and fall asleep counting your freckles again.”

He chuckled lightly. “Again?” he repeated skeptically. “How many times have you counted them?”

Ilya shrugged, unsure how many times, to be honest. He did it a lot when they were first seeing each other, pretending to be asleep until Shane was and then opening his eyes to stare at them in the dim lighting of the moon filtering through the windows of hotels and each other’s apartments.

“Enough times to know you have one hundred and twenty-nine of them,” he replied earnestly, grazing his cheek with his thumb. “Forty-six on one cheek, fifty-eight on the other, and twenty-five over the bridge of your nose.”

Shane hummed softly. “If I loved you any less, I’d find that weird,” he admitted. “But I also fuss with your cross while you’re asleep, so…guess I don’t have room to talk huh?”

Ilya’s teeth bared slightly, shaking his head. “No, you are equally as obsessed with me as I am with you,” he muttered, a tinge of relief in his voice. “Am forever grateful for that.”

He opened his mouth to reply, but before he could there was a clatter in the hallway. Furrowing his eyebrows, he pulled further away from Ilya, unsure what could have fallen. Something off the wall, maybe. But all his pictures were hung securely enough an earthquake probably couldn’t knock them off.

Walking over to the hallway, Shane froze, his eyes widening in horror. “Mom!” he exclaimed, gaze flitting from her to his father and back again. “Dad! What the hell are you doing here?”

Yuna winced, her fallen luggage laying on the floor behind her. “I- we um…” she trailed off, clearing her throat as she looked at her husband for some sort of assistance.

Was there any possible explanation good enough to explain why they were hiding in their son’s foyer, eavesdropping during a private moment? Again, apparently. Maybe they had a knack for it or something.

David let go of her hand hesitantly, his mouth floundering like a fish for a moment. “We had to take an earlier flight,” he eventually clarified. “We just…forgot to text and then figured you might be busy, so we used the spare key and- we’re sorry,” he stated, getting that part across before anything else. “It’s not an excuse for interrupting you and- and Rozanov.”

Shane’s mouth fell open, glancing over his shoulder at Ilya who had turned stiff, holding his arms over his chest like it would physically protect him from being seen somehow.

“Y-you… I-  Jesus Christ this isn’t right,” he shook his head, retreating a few steps as though Ilya was his safe place instead of his parents. “You weren’t supposed to find out like this.”

Ilya uncrossed his arms, reaching one out to rest it on Shane’s lower back as soon as he was in arms reach. “Breathe,” he murmured to him, more concerned with making sure his boyfriend didn’t have a panic attack over facing his parent’s judgement.

He scoffed, feeling his chest tightening instead of relaxing. “Yeah, not as easy as it sounds,” he retorted, wetting his bottom lip as he stared at his mom who had never in her life looked so guilty before. “They weren’t- and we were supposed to- but now…”

They weren’t supposed to be here yet. He and Ilya were supposed to have all night and the early morning alone together. But now all of that had changed without him even realizing it. That’s what he was trying to get across, failing to make any of the words come out as clearly as he wanted them to.

It didn’t matter, though. Ilya seemed to get it anyway, somehow.

“I know,” he stated, giving him a curt nod as he ran his hand up and down his back to try to soothe him. “It’s alright. If your parents have a problem, it will be with me, not you.”

Ilya might not really know David or Yuna in any official capacity, but he knew enough to know they were good parents. Better than his father had been to him. They wouldn’t reject Shane for his sexuality.

If there was an issue for them to take, it would be over him. Over the persona he displayed so convincingly that they might not believe he had their son’s best interests at heart.

“We- no, no,” David assured them both quickly, shaking his head. “We don’t have any problems with anything, right Yuna?” He didn’t want them to panic or think there was anything wrong with…whatever they were doing.

She nodded. “Right, of course not,” she agreed, stammering through her words a bit. “We were just…surprised, is all. This wasn’t what I thought we’d be walking into tonight.”

“I’m sure that makes four of us,” Ilya muttered, trying to keep silence from lingering.

Shane pressed his hand to his forehead. “I- can you just give me a minute, please, to…process?” he pleaded, still struggling to breathe even as Ilya rubbed his back gently. “I mean, I had it planned, you know? The times worked out so perfectly from when you left and they got here, I made sure—”

“возлюбленный,” he interjected calmly. “You cannot plan for everything; we just have to adjust. Alright? Breathe and pivot.”

Shane nodded, blowing out a deep breath as he tried to compartmentalize everything as quickly as he possibly could. His parents were here, in his apartment with Ilya. They knew about them. Knew something, anyway, even if it wasn’t the full extent.

“Right, I’m breathing,” Shane assured him, his breaths short but steady. “Let’s just uh- sit or something before I faint, please.” Yuna and David nodded but their son didn’t move. “Ilya my legs aren’t moving,” he whispered in a slight panic.

“I’ve got you,” he murmured, hand wrapping around his waist to encourage him to take a few unsteady steps towards the kitchen. “Just sit, yes?”

Practically collapsing into a chair, Shane ducked his head, hiding it behind his hands as his parents sat on either side of him. Yuna dared to rest her hand on his arm, feeling him flinch under the touch as what was supposed to bring him comfort stressed him out more.

“Shane?” she whispered, voice filled with guilt and remorse. “I am so so sorry, honey,” she told him. “For eavesdropping and for assuming you were with Rose because of that phone call.”

She now realized exactly where she went wrong in her assumptions, not to mention how her meddling had unintentionally caused her son more problems than it fixed. That was never her intention. Not for a single moment. She just wanted him to be able talk about the person he loved with her, no matter who that was.

The oven beeped as it finished preheating. Ilya glanced at it. “Um- sorry, is probably bad timing but how long do veggies cook?” he wondered gently, trying not to be too insensitive. “I didn’t eat lunch; am extremely hungry.”

Shane huffed, a choked laugh breaking through his throat as he pulled his hands away from his face. “Half an hour,” he told him, wiping his eyes with his palms. “Put the chicken in too.”

He paused, glancing at his parents. “Do you uh, want chicken parm?” he questioned, gesturing to the tray. “Was planning on leftovers but…there is enough.”

Yuna and David exchanged an awkward glance before nodding cautiously.

“Sure,” David muttered appreciatively. “Thanks.”

Nodding Ilya opened the oven and slid the trays into the oven before setting the timer. He really was starving, in his defense. He had been waiting, so they could have dinner together. The bickering and shock of his parents showing up threw him for a loop, of course. But he couldn’t change that his stomach was still growling.

He pursed his lips a bit as they all sat there in silence. “Here,” he eventually muttered, pushing Shane’s Ginger Ale towards him. “Bubbles are good for upset stomach.”

With another huff, Shane lifted the can to his lips, taking a sip as he bit back tears. “I can’t believe this is happening,” he murmured, setting it down as he took another deep breath in. “I was- I was gonna tell you guys, I swear. At some point. I just…I didn’t know how, yet.”

And he supposed that was his fault, not theirs. He wasn’t ready and hadn’t been for a long time. He kept thinking once he figured out who he was, he could explain it. But he couldn’t. And then he thought he’d wait until he and Ilya were more stable, but that hadn’t worked, either. He was just a coward, he guessed.

David put his hand on his son’s arm, rubbing it up and down for a moment. “Do you want to try?” he questioned, giving him every opportunity to say now. To say that there was something going on but he wasn’t ready to discuss it. They could accept that answer. At least he could.

“I- I don’t even know how,” he admitted, shrugging as he gestured to Ilya. “I don’t know how you happened.” Just that he had come out of nowhere and wrecked everything he was working towards and somehow it didn’t seem to matter very much.

“I do,” Ilya replied firmly. “I met Shane when we were seventeen and I thought he was overly polite and socially awkward. And…I was immediately infatuated from the minute you introduced yourself.”

Yuna felt her heart ache a bit at the tenderness in his words and the honesty in his voice. “So, y-you’ve liked him since back then?” she questioned hesitantly. “What about all that stuff you’ve said publicly about each other?”

He shrugged mildly, eyes landing on Shane with a fond gaze. “Just for the cameras,” he confessed quietly. “To keep people from suspecting the truth from either of us.”

It helped Shane’s piece of mind, too. When they were seen being a bit too nice to each other, like at the All-Star game, it worried him. It made him panic that people might see how fond they really were of each other and start putting pieces together. So, they kept the ruse. The harsh words and public rivalry with each other for the sake of their reputations.

David glanced at his son, who was staring at Ilya with soft eyes. “And Rose?” he questioned gently, not wanting to bring back up a sore subject. They were bickering earlier, over her, after all.

Shane wet his bottom lip. “She’s just a friend,” he confessed at last. “She actually…helped me realize how deeply in love I always was without knowing it.”

That’s what it felt like anyway. He didn’t peace together safety, comfort, the lack of judgement he always felt with Ilya as love. It was hard to tell because he never really felt all of those things before, especially not at the same time, to the point it terrified him so much.

“Honey—” Yuna squeezed his hand firmly in hers. “—You always could have told us this. We never would have judged you for being in love. No matter who it was with.” Even if she had spent the better part of a decade insulting the man her son loved.

Shane sniffled lightly. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, his voice cracking.

She shook her head. “Don’t ever apologize for being in love,” she pleaded. “It’s a wonderful thing; I’ve always wanted you to find someone who makes you feel as safe and happy as you deserve.”

He nodded a bit, glancing at Ilya. “He does make me happy,” he swore to her.

Ilya pursed his lips, looking down. He wasn’t exactly comfortable right now. Being the focal point of anything emotional was difficult for him and they could probably sense that. But he was trying his best to handle it, just like Shane was trying not to let him own feelings eat him alive.

Yuna slid off the chair, wrapping her arms around Rozanov before he could react. He stiffened immediately, surprised and a bit confused, too.

“Thank you,” she muttered to him, squeezing him tightly for a moment before she pulled back. “And I’m sorry to you, too.”

“For me?” he wondered, frowning a bit.

“For making you feel like we would love Rose and not accept you,” Yuna clarified, swallowing harshly as she shook her head. “Anyone who loves our son is automatically someone we care about, even if we didn’t know it.”

Letting either of them think anything else meant she had failed as a mother and she couldn’t stand that thought. Ilya looked a bit caught off guard, but he softened quickly. Even unused to the acceptance, it broke down something inside of him that he didn’t know could be shattered so quickly.

“Thank you,” he whispered. “I’m sorry I couldn’t be…someone more deserving of Shane,” he admitted. “I’m really trying, though, to become him.”

Yuna felt her eyes watering, pulling him back into another hug. This one, he reciprocated, tucking his face against her tightly. She patted his back. “He wouldn’t love you if you didn’t deserve it,” she told him, already positive of that despite not knowing very much about their relationship.

David felt his son leaning on him, brushing his face against the sleeves of his shirt and he wrapped an arm around him, squeezing him closer. “You’ve always been smart,” he murmured to his son. “You know how to pick someone good for you.”

Shane nodded against him, just leaning against his dad for a bit while the wave of different emotions washed over him. Shock, confusion, sadness. Most of all, relief. They weren’t yelling, weren’t judging, weren’t disowning. They were hugging him and crying and asking questions.

Yuna blinked back her tears, finally releasing Ilya from a hug she was pretty sure they both needed. “So, is that guest bedroom still okay for us to have?” she wondered, her throat tight as she tried to suppress some of the lingering emotions.

Shane lifted his head, nodding slightly. “If you want it,” he replied. “Ilya usually…I mean he’s not uh- you know.”

“I think so, yeah,” she murmured in response. “This is your home, not ours. And we just want the opportunity to get to know who you love, Shane. How it all happened and everything.”

He huffed, scrubbing the rest of the tears out of his eyes. “That’s sort of a complicated story,” he admitted.

David squeezed his arm. “We’ve got time,” he assured him. “And chicken parm, apparently.”

Shane laughed, his shoulder shaking slightly as the rest of his emotions flooded him. “Yeah, that too,” he muttered, nodding.

His gaze fell on Ilya, who had begun to look a bit more comfortable after his mom hugged him. That was something he was pretty sure Ilya needed to feel and he needed to witness, too. Just to make sure his mind wasn’t playing tricks on him and that this was all real, all working out without some massive explosion like he always feared.

He had everyone he loved in the same room, and the world wasn’t ending because of it. Quite the opposite, actually. It kind of felt like everything had just restarted all over again, for the better.