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“You forgot flowers,” Ilya says, holding the bouquet of various shades of green and pink. They picked it out together with help from the florist. Ilya chose the lilies.
“Oh shit, yeah,” Shane curses, hands occupied with white wine and car keys. He secures the wine in the car and notices a sad smile on Ilya’s face as they put on their seatbelts.
His hand finds Ilya’s cheek.
“You don’t have to come,” he says softly. He has said it before, but right now he feels the need to say it again.
“Is okay. I want to,” Ilya says. “Yuna would be mad at me.”
Shane smiles fondly.
“No she wouldn’t,” he argues.
“I know,” Ilya almost whispers.
Shane leans in and kisses him before he starts the engine.
Ilya cradles the flowers in his arms for the whole journey, making sure they don’t get damaged on the tight turns.
The whole car is filled with the scent of lilies and roses and whatever else is in there and the scent is so strong it’s making him a little nauseous.
It’s a beautiful bouquet, he knows Yuna is going to love them. Knowing her, the vase is probably already filled with water, waiting.
Shane notices Ilya playing with the Happy Mother’s day greeting card attached, absentmindedly digging his nails into the sharp edges on the paper.
“Did your mom like flowers?”
Ilya smiles because he knows Shane always notices.
“Yes, she loved them,” he says. “She always had fresh flowers.”
“Your house must have smelled nice.”
Ilya nods and looks out of the window and the cars passing by.
“She liked purple.”
Shane rests his hand on Ilya’s thigh at a red light, stroking his thumb over the knee.
“Last time I gave her flowers was at funeral,” he says, voice low and so so small.
Shane’s heart aches.
“We should stop by the flower shop on our way back. Get something nice for her. I’m sure we have a vase somewhere,” he says.
“Okay,” Ilya says and it sounds shaky.
---
“My boys!” Yuna practically yells as her and David greets them by the door.
“Happy mother’s day,” Shane says as she hugs him.
“Thank you. Oh are those for me?” She asks, looking at the flowers in Ilya’s hands.
“Of course,” Ilya says.
“This is why you’re my favourite son,” she says as she hugs him tight. “They’re beautiful!”
“Hey, they’re also from me!” Shane protests.
Ilya smirks.
“But mostly from me, Shane was not good at picking flowers. He doesn’t know how to match colors.”
“Why do you two always team up against me?” Shane sighs, but he can’t help but smile when he sees the twinkle in Ilya’s eyes.
“Now you know how I feel,” David says fondly as he reaches for the wine.
---
The flowers sit front and center on the dining table in a beautiful vase as they eat and drink and laugh, and Ilya wishes his mom was here.
He wishes she could have been a part of his and Shane’s life the same way Yuna and David are. Family dinners, hockey game nights, birthdays.
He wishes his own dead mother didn’t cast shadows on Yuna and Shane. Because it does, even when Shane tells him a thousand times it doesn’t, he knows it does. Everyone is treading a little extra carefully today, and he understands the sentiment, appreciates it, but he wishes he didn’t need it.
He wishes he could visit her grave with purple flowers.
“Ilya, more wine?” David asks, and Ilya realizes he’s been staring at the vase for too long.
“Yes, thank you.”
Shane foot finds his under the table and Yuna’s eyes do this thing that reminds him of Shane in the car, and suddenly it’s too much.
“Bathroom,” he says with a forced smile and stands up.
He doesn’t go to the bathroom, instead he walks into the garden, lighting a cigarette on the way.
He lets out a big exhale, smoke disappearing with the wind. He just needs to calm down, get it together. It’s not like it’s his first mother’s day without a mother.
He hears footsteps behind him.
“You know how I feel about smoking,” she says, voice light and teasing.
Ilya smiles.
“You sound like my husband.”
“I won’t snitch today,” she says.
They stand there for a while, in silence. Ilya feels a hand on his shoulder, it feels like a mother’s touch.
“She liked these,” he says and points at the lavenders.
Yuna smiles.
“You know, we have so many flowers now, they’re all blooming. I think a couple of our lavenders would look nice in your house,” she says and Ilya feels tears prickling at his eyes.
“I know I’m not your mother, but if you ever need a mother’s hug-” she shrugs.
Ilya can’t help but feel lucky despite everything.