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Shane’s attention is drawn away from the book he’s reading when he feels Ilya shift for the fifth time in less than a minute. Something is bothering him, he thinks to himself as he slowly lowers the book to his lap. He turns to look at the love of his life, trying to gauge what the problem could be. Is it something with hockey? Did his brother reach out to him after all this time? Is he sick? Is it me?
He ignores that last little voice, but it lingers. Doubt.
“Ilya?” He asks, voice low in the dimness of their bedroom. Ilya lets out a shaky breath and turns to meet Shane’s gaze. There’s something almost frantic in his expression, and Shane feels worry seep into him. “Ilya, what’s wrong?”
Ilya opens his mouth, closes it, and then opens it again. “Shane,” he eventually says, his voice strained.
He feels his heart beat quicken in his chest. “What is it, моя любовь (moya lyubov "my love") ?”
“Shane,” Ilya repeats. “You are… You are gay, yes?”
Unbidden, a startled laugh escapes him. “Uh, yeah. I thought we had established that a while ago?” He tries to keep his tone light, but he feels it waver with fear. It’s not just that Ilya asked, it’s how he asked that worries Shane. Why bring this up now? Is Ilya doubting him? Does Ilya no longer feel as he did? So many things run through his mind, and he fights to keep his face controlled. “Why?”
With a frustrated grunt, Ilya shakes his head. “You like men. Only men.”
Shane blinks. “Yeah… That’s sort of what being gay means?”
“I know what it means,” Ilya snaps and Shane’s eyes widen.
“Ilya, wha—”
“So you would not want to be with me anymore then,” Ilya interrupts, whipping his face away to hide his face from Shane.
Stunned, Shane’s mouth snaps shut and his mind grinds to a screeching halt. What? What the hell is Ilya saying? Shane feels completely lost. He must have missed a part of the conversation—it wouldn’t be the first time that sort of thing had happened to him, but it is extremely rare for it to happen with Ilya. He scrambles to think over what just happened, searching for anything he missed or misheard. Something. Anything.
Nothing.
None of what Ilya said makes any sense.
“What are you talking about?” he finally asks, voice soft. Ilya looks so small right now and it makes Shane’s chest ache. “Ilya, what makes you say that?”
Ilya turns his face back towards him and Shane gasps at how frightened Ilya looks. “You are gay, you like men.”
Slowly, Shane nods his head as he reaches out to take Ilya’s hands in his. “Yes,” he agrees. “I got that much.”
“So,” Ilya continues, voice halting. His accent is thicker now than it has been in quite some time. “You would not want to be with me anymore.”
Right… Guess Shane heard correctly the first time but it still doesn’t make any sense to him. “Ilya, I’m not following. What makes you say that? I love you. So much.”
“And I love you,” Ilya replies instantly. “Shane, I—” he cuts himself off with a shuddering inhale.
Shane watches in horror as tears slide down Ilya’s cheeks. He’s overwhelmed with worry, but he has no idea how he can help. He doesn’t know why Ilya is so scared and sad right now. He doesn’t understand. Just as he’s about to say something, Ilya squeezes his hands. “I am not a man,” he whispers.
Shane freezes. “Pardon?”
Ilya takes a deep breath, preparing himself. “I am not a man,” he repeats, this time with more conviction.
Shane feels unmoored. He stares at Ilya, the person he loves most, and finds his world tilting on its axis. Everything he thought he knew is somehow wrong now; nothing makes sense and he doesn’t know what to do to fix any of it. It feels like the ground is slipping out from under him, but he’s sitting motionless on their bed. Distantly, he registers Ilya’s face is twisting with concern—he knows he needs to say something, do something, anything. “Ilya,” he starts, his voice breaking on the edges of the name. “What do you mean?”
“What I say. I am not a man.”
Shane nods slowly, blinking his eyes rapidly in an attempt to bring his brain back online. “Are you a woman?”
That gets a visceral reaction; Ilya flinches back and confusion colours his expression. “What? No, no. Not a woman.”
“Oh,” Shane sighs, relief flooding him. “Oh, well, that’s good. Or, no… Not like—I mean… Women are great! Of course, but I just—”
“Shane,” Ilya cuts in, voice tinged with laughter. “I know what you meant.”
Swallowing, he nods. “Right, of course. Um...”
“I am not a woman, but I am not a man either.” This time, his voice—their voice?—is much more stable.
“So, you’re…” Shane pauses, searching for the term. “Non-binary?”
Ilya smiles a fraction, nodding and looking at Shane. “Yes, that. Like the football player, Quinn.”
“Soccer, Ilya,” Shane automatically corrects and watches as that tiny smile turns into a true grin on Ilya’s face.
“Soccer,” Ilya scoffs. “Is stupid name.”
Shane shrugs, finding himself smiling as he feels more returned to his body. “Well, it’s not like I chose it; that’s just what it’s called in Canada.”
Ilya hums, nudging him with an elbow. “Maybe Canada is stupid.”
“Ilya!” Shane admonishes as Ilya laughs.
“But,” Ilya continues, “Canada has you, so… maybe not so stupid, yes?”
Shane fights against a smile, hoping that he isn’t blushing too hard. “Shut up.”
“Mm… No, I would not deprive you of my very sexy voice,” Ilya teases, leaning close to him. Shane closes the distance, bringing Ilya in for a heated kiss. “So…” Ilya starts as they pull apart. “You are not disgusted?”
“Huh? Why the hell would I be?” Shane asks, genuinely confused.
“Like I said, you are gay and I am not a man.”
Shane brings his hands up into Ilya’s hair, playing with the curls idly, grounding himself with the repetitive motion. “I don’t think it’s as simple as that.”
“No?” Ilya questions. “You are a man, yes?”
That makes him pause. Is he? He’s not so sure. “I—I’ve never really thought about it before... But this isn’t about me right now.”
Ilya blinks. “We will come back to that afterwards.”
“Sure, whatever,” Shane dismisses with a huff. “What I mean is maybe it’s not as rigid as you’re thinking. Why should we push ourselves into boxes that don’t feel right? I love you, I know that. I like the term gay for myself, but I am not going to leave you because you’re non-binary, Ilya. You aren’t getting rid of me. I’m sure there’s plenty of people who use the label gay that are in a relationship with a non-binary person. But even if there isn’t, I don’t care.”
“Wow,” Ilya breathes. “Quite the speech.”
“I mean it, Ilya. You’re mine.” That seems to cut the strings of tension holding Ilya. He collapses down in the bed and Shane holds him tight to his chest. “I love you, Ilya. Always. No matter what.”
“I love you so much, Shane,” Ilya murmurs wetly. “Я тебя люблю (ya tebya lyublyu “I love you”) .”
They stay like that for a while, curled against each other in bed. “How should I refer to you?” Shane asks eventually.
“What do you mean?”
“Like, did you want to change your name? Boyfriend, partner, something else? Are you going to be using they/them pronouns, still use he/him, have a mixture, or something different? Do you want masculine terms, any feminine ones, anything else?”
Ilya huffs. “That is so many words, Hollander.”
“Sorry.”
“Hm… I will not change my name. Ilya is what my mama called me and I like it. I like boyfriend and partner—husband will be better than boyfriend though. I think they/them is cool, but I also like he/him,” Ilya answers. “Just not only he/him, yes? And there are too many terms to know for sure, but I think a mix.”
Shane smiles to himself. “Okay, I can work with that. Are you planning on telling anyone else?”
They hum in thought. “Yuna and David soon. I also want to tell Sveta and Rose. Other than that, I am not sure. It is… Hockey, you know?”
“Yeah, I know. You don’t have to tell anyone if you don’t want to. You can just be.”
Ilya nods. “Yes. Now! Shane, моя любовь (moya lyubov "my love") , shall we talk about your gender identity?”
“Oh god,” Shane groans. He dreads the idea, but there is a part of him that is curious now. “What the hell, why not?”