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'Grief is deeper when the sun goes down, and the memories start to rise with the moon and stars' - Francine Rivers
Ilya isn't sure if he's dreaming or if his brain just decided to ascend into the sky with a quick peace out. He walks down a lightly lit hallway with a door slightly creaking open that's spilling golden light onto the walls and ceiling. Some faint part of his still intact mind quietly registers that this place looks familiar, especially as he approaches the door with light scuff marks around the bottom from feet banging into it over the years, and the distant but warm scent of lavender fills his senses with his hand now taking the doorknob and pushing.
Instead of the usual dreading turn that these types of dreams take, of seeing a pale arm limply draped over the tub lid and an orange bottle with pills scattered across the floor like miniature tombstones, he's instead greeted by the sight of a beautiful woman sitting in a chair with a book in her hands.
Her head lifts as gray-blue eyes move from the pages to Ilya, crinkles forming at the corners as a smile stretches over her face. She reaches out, gesturing for him to move and come closer to him, "Moya lyubov." Ilya moves ahead as the sight ahead of him briefly becomes blurry and fuzzy as something inside his chest squeezes painfully with heartbreak, love, and something he isn't quite sure of yet.
Despite being fully grown and well over 200+ lbs of muscle and arrogance, he kneels with one hand reaching out to rest over her knee as hers is gently placed on the back of his head. "Hello, mama." He softly whispers in Russian, feeling his mother tongue glide effortlessly with the words that he's spoken so few times; his voice rasps. Her fingers run through his curls, gently untangling them and smoothing them out with each pass.
"I have little time with you, but oh my son, how you've grown." Ilya thinks he might physically melt hearing his mother speak their tongue back to him, before his senses come rushing back to him and slam full force as questions start to bubble up from within the locked chest in his heart. "How is this real? You are a dream, yes? Why are all my dreams of you so sad? Am I sad like you? Will....." As suddenly as they had approached, they fizzled out in a snap as the one question he'd been dreading to ask himself nearly escaped.
Would Shane still love me even if I'm sad like you?
Irina shook her head as the smile on her face turned a bit sad, pulling her hand from his head to gently hold his jaw as she tilted her son's face upwards. "My son, my warmth and light......I am so proud. So proud of you and your life. You bring honor to the Rozanov name, while many in our family did not." A new scent was starting to prickle at Ilya's nose, a mixture of cologne and sandalwood.
His mother never had anything like that, nor did his father, so where was it coming from? He shook his head as he tried to memorize every inch of her face as her form began to grow blurry. "Mama-please." He felt a sudden panic; even if this was a dream and this projection of his precious mother was a subconscious one, he had to ask. He had to.
Do you approve of Shane? Is he good enough? He's so precious to me, he makes me smile with his boring habits, his boring meal plans and diets, his boring texting, his boring face that makes me feel like I'm worth something more than a paycheck or a poster figure. Shane proposed to me, will you accept him as a Rozanov son-in-law?
It felt like a thousand versions of the same question tried to come out at the same time, resulting in a somewhat childlike groan. Irina softly laughed as she leaned forward to press a featherlight kiss on the top of Ilya's head, pulling her head and hand away. The sandalwood cologne scent was growing stronger as her lavender one dwindled, the golden light that was shed over both of them slowly fading. Ilya nearly broke into tears seeing his beautiful mother fade, yet it wasn't the same helpless or frustrated tears that came with dreams associated with her. Not hopeful, or entirely positive, but something quieter and more profound instead.
She smiled one last time before everything went sideways as Ilya found himself blinking in the sight of Shane's neck and back, facing him with one arm wrapped around his boyfriend, no, fiancé's waist. Ilya took a slow but deep breath, reaching up with his free hand to gently bring the crucifix to his lips in a silent kiss, the ring looped around the string softly bouncing against the metal. Shane, lazily waking from their catnap, stirred and tried to roll over, but failed with the hundred pounds of muscle holding him.
Ilya wrapped both arms around him and pulled their bare bodies close, deeply inhaling the scent he recognized as Shane's again. He lay quietly in his arms and legs for a while as he mulled over his thoughts, letting his brain slowly shift from sleep to being more conscious and awake.
"You're such a hog, let me turn around and see you," Shane grumbled, though there was hardly an ounce of real attempt at moving. Ilya smiled against the crook of his neck, lifting his head to press a soft kiss against a freckle. "Mmm, yes, but you like it when I'm behind." That earned a soft punch against Ilya's thigh as both men snickered, the Russian relenting as he loosened his grasp for Shane to push himself up and roll over to face him. Ilya wrapped his arms back around as Shane loosely twined their legs together, earning a content hum from him as he snuggled back in.
The bed was already a bit of a mess from the earlier excitement, but being here in such a domestic and peaceful scene with Shane cuddling Ilya with nothing but their skin and the bedsheets was heartwarming. "Why are Russians so warm? I thought you lived somewhere cold." He mumbled, pulling back enough so he could make eye contact. Ilya shrugged, a smug smile already beginning to tug at his lips. "Maybe it is because my heart burns for my lover, he's so good at warming me up." If that wasn't enough of a tease seconds after their catnap, he slid his hands down to rest over Shane's hips with a light squeeze.
"Unbelievable!" Shane pulled his limbs away from Ilya as he laughed, pushing himself to a seated position. "There's no way you still have energy after.....earlier AND a nap." Shane gave a slightly motherly look down at Ilya as if this was meant to deter him from doing what he loved doing most in the world besides hockey, and loving Shane. But teasing Shane was a whole new level of enjoyment. "Well, when you have as good a workout as me, as good a diet as me..." He went through a list of everything Shane was doing that he thought might (and probably would) help him during their games, earning a pillow to the face.
"Get dressed, it's not fair to tempt me with your sexy body when we need to figure out dinner soon and all." Ilya pulled the pillow from his face, softly snickering as he sat up as well, immediately noticing how he had gone quiet. With Shane's back to him, it almost looked like he was upset about something Ilya had said to him, and it caused his heart to flip. In a less-than-Russian-manly way, he scrambled over the sheets to be by his side, but noticed Shane holding the ring box. He didn't have his own ring, but rather proposed to Ilya with his and then got his own ring if Ilya said yes (which of course he did, this is Shane Hollander he's marrying).
"I still can't believe you said yes. You looked so shocked, and there were a few seconds where I wasn't sure...." He trailed off, the blush still lingering over his cheeks from just a few hours ago. Ilya took the ring box from Shane's hand, taking his knuckles and pressing a gentle kiss to them. "Yes, and it has been the best decision I could make. Is good." He nearly exploded then and there again at the love that filled his chest, seeing his lover sitting there looking as happy and relieved as he was. Ilya loved being able to be the reason Shane could go from perfect logic and reason with a hundred planned-out scenarios if something went wrong, to blushing and losing track of his words.
Shane was silent for a few moments until he turned to Ilya and pressed a soft kiss to his mouth, even daring to sneak a nip on his lower lip. "But you know what might be an even better yes?" His voice had dropped to that slow and sultry tone that drove Ilya up a wall when used, and it certainly became clear when he felt the blood rush from his head to between his legs, and his heart flipped.
"Yes?" If he wasn't madly in love, he would've hated the way his voice hitched into an almost pleading tone filled with desire. Shane stood up, leaving a hand to rest on Ilya's neck as he smiled, while the distance between them was closed with him leaning in. "If you said yes to drinking one of my protein smoothies for dinner, for once."
Ilya loved Shane, but this blow nearly sent him over the edge into the greatest pits of despair. "SHANE NOOOOOO-"
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An hour later, after Shane showered and left to start making food, and Ilya finished washing and changing, he left to throw on a shirt before pausing at their mirror. He still looked the same as he had during his adulthood in a mature body, an insanely tall and well-defined man with a sharp jawline and piercing blue eyes with light freckles coating his face and neck. However, the lingering darkness that hovered in his eyes seemed lighter, and he didn't find himself scowling as much. Ilya smiled at the reflection, the sight reflecting how much Shane meant to him, and how the hockey player had made such an impact on his life.
My Shane. Mine, not another's. He is mine. His chest warmed at the thought, turning away to grab whatever shirt he found lying around and tossing it on as he walked out to the kitchen. "Please tell me we have real food tonight, not a boring meal prep." The smell that hovered in the air promised otherwise, a mixture of tomato sauces and garlic with basil promised the legendary meal of champions, spaghetti. "This is a perfectly healthy meal since it has carbs, fiber, protein, and-" Shane started rambling off before shooting Ilya a stink eye, turning his attention back to the lightly bubbling sauce.
"And since......spaghetti was the first thing we ate together when we met my parents. Granted, that meeting was horrible in every way-" Shane shivered at the second-hand embarrassment that tugged at his memory as it surfaced. "-but we had it. It was when my parents accepted you, and you got to eat a home-cooked meal for once." Ilya had quietly walked over to Shane as he rambled, wrapping his arms from behind with a tender kiss over the freckles he so adored on his neck. "It's simple and easy to make, but it's grown special to me, what it means and represents for me, and us."
Ilya squeezed Shane as he inhaled deeply, taking in the scent of Shane and the smells of the meal to ingrain it in his deepest memory forever. This is mine, I can have this, and I will have it. "Is true, I haven't had a home meal since I was a boy." His chest did that funny feeling when he spoke of the golden years of his childhood, the corners of his eyes beginning to prickle at the memories. He shook his head to clear his thoughts, squeezing Shane again. "Come, let's eat before my fiancé lets me die of starvation because of his handsomeness distracting me." Ilya released Shane and danced away as he whipped around, brandishing the spoon with a playful glare. "Don't tempt me, I might flick the sauce right onto you."
Ilya shrugged, winking at him as he turned to start grabbing the plates and utensils for dinner. "If only you could flick something else onto me, perhaps my lips next time, yes?" There was a moment of silence until a glob of tomato sauce was suddenly flicked onto Ilya's arm. Both men suddenly broke into fits of laughter, the smallest food fight in history taking place as little bits of sauce were tossed, with return fire becoming bits of garlic or air kisses, once even a meatball soaring across the kitchen.
Shane was still giggling as he tried taking a deep breath to compose himself, waving off and holding up a blue and white striped towel. "I yield, I yield, but only if you can help clean this up. Dinners ready, and you can eat and not die of any starvation." Ilya did a mock bow as he flashed Shane a cocky smile. "I'm so glad to see my lover wants me alive; it's good to see I'm marrying someone good." Shane rolled his eyes as he started cleaning the kitchen, moving pans to the table. "Come on, eat before your ego gets too big and you can't fit in any room."
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Shane and Ilya stayed seated at the table long after dinner finished, quietly talking and occasionally throwing smart remarks to see if the other would blush (they would). It wasn't long until Shane fished out his phone, giving Ilya an apologetic look as he mouthed 'Mom' and answered the buzzing phone in another room. Ilya watched him go with a contented sigh, his stomach full and his head clearer for the first time in months. Figuring he might as well make use of the moment alone, he stood up and moved out to the backyard of their home to find the last bits of the sunset streaking through the sky. He moved to the fireplace that was cemented, taking a seat that stood at the ready. Ilya took a slow breath, lifting his head to look up at the first few stars that began to dance in the sky.
I'm engaged, Mama, to someone good and kind; he's so sweet, and he has the most beautiful soul. I think you would like him. "I think you would like him a lot, Mama. He reminds me of you." He softly whispered in Russian to the sky, feeling a brief lull. Shane had a mother who called him daily and asked about him (and Ilya), reassuring him he was loved regardless of his partner or how well he did in hockey. Ilya wasn't necessarily jealous, but sometimes when talking to his mother, and the only response he got was the stars shining, it made it difficult not to wish he had it like Shane.
"What does that mean in Russian?" A soft voice spoke up, followed by warm hands on his shoulders and a gentle kiss to his cheek. "Ah, just nothing, Shane." Ilya reached up to brush away any mistiness that might be lingering around his eyes, smiling at him instead. Shane sat down, looking deep in thought as he faced Ilya. "Maybe it's nothing, but......I'm here for you, y'know. Even if I'm not the best at it or conveying my feelings, I am."
Ilya nodded, reaching over to take Shane's hand in his. "I know moya lyubov......" He worked his jaw as he tried taking a step forward for them, for not having so many walls up, he might as well, since his therapist suggested it, right? For Shane would do the most uncomfortable, painful, or aggravating thing. For Shane, he would share the most precious part of himself that had been kept locked for years.
"Sometimes.....when I am sad, or my day is hard, I-" He cleared his throat, realizing this might sound a lot sillier than internally saying it out loud. "-I sometimes talk to my, my mother. She is that bright star up there, always there when I need her, and sometimes I just.....tell her about my day." Ilya felt his eyes starting to water again, but made no effort to clear them. "Like today, I was telling her about you, how we're engaged." He fell silent as he waited to see Shane's reaction to something almost childish in nature, feeling a heavy pit start settling in his chest.
Shane sat still as he listened, squeezing Ilya's hand back as he spoke until he nodded and looked up at the sky to the North Star that Ilya referenced. "I see." He stayed silent for a moment as his mind silently worked until whatever happened mentally came to a conclusion. Shane had a small smile on his face as he kissed the back of Ilya's knuckles. "Can you introduce me to her?" He nearly whispered the question, but spoke of it like anyone would when being introduced to their significant other's parent.
Ilya sat dumbfounded as he went over what Shane just said, until he nodded in return as his heart nearly melted at the effort being placed. Oh, Shane, my boring and perfect Shane. "Hey....Mama." He looked up at the star high above them, softly laughing as whatever silent worry was built in his chest about this secret part of him broke down. "This is Shane Hollander, the hockey player I hate." Both he and Shane scoffed at that, the statement long becoming more of a husk than a living rivalry. "He is kind and good to me, and I'm marrying him." He smiled at the star that shone brightly and effortlessly, imagining his mother kissing his head and wrapping him in her arms.
"He's everything I could have ever wanted; he's what I've wanted for many years now. Since I first saw those boring freckles and beautiful eyes. He makes me happy, really happy. Not like when I buy my cars, or fancy drinks, or drinking non-boring drinks that aren't gross protein smoothies." Ilya turned to give Shane a love-filled look topped off with tears beginning to run down his cheeks. "He is the love of my life, and I said yes to marrying him today."
Shane turned his gaze from him to the sky, studying the way the sky was hues of purples and blues until he spoke.
"Hey Irina, this is Shane. I know we just met, and I'm throwing a lot on you by asking for your blessing in marrying Ilya, but.....I love him so much. He pushes me to be better, he makes me irritated, but at the same time, it makes me crazy about him. I can't stop thinking about him, and I haven't been. For 11 years, he's been on my mind. He's there when I wake up, when I sleep, when I went to the store to find him a ring, and when I knelt and faced him with the most terror I've ever felt before he said yes." Shane turned to briefly look at Ilya, his own face wet with silent tears running down, but tears of joy as Shane smiled. "I want to make your son feel the love you gave him for the rest of his life, to make him happy and give him a safe place to be at the end of every single day. Ilya isn't just a hockey player or your son; he's the warmth of my life that keeps me going. So, it's very nice to meet you, but I want your approval. I want you to know that I'm marrying him, not for money, or fame, or gossip and rumors that'll fly, but for Ilya, your son."
The stars twinkled in their blanket of night, high above the two as they silently let the tears fall until they embraced, holding the other fiercely. A warm and gentle breeze flew past them, ruffling their clothes and tussling their hair.
A gentle summer breeze that smelled of lavender.