Work Text:
December 2022
All the lights in the house were off when Troy Barrett knocked on Ilya and Shane’s door. Shane was in Montreal, visiting Hayden, Jackie, and their kids with Irina and Nikolai. Which meant that Ilya had the house to himself for the couple days they had off between practices and games. When Troy found that out, he invited Ilya to game night his place with Harris and some other members of their team. He knew and understood how much Ilya hated to be alone.
So, when they had started their third game and Ilya hadn’t shown up, Troy had started to worry. All in all, Ilya not showing up to a team function wasn’t entirely unheard of, but it was unlike him not to reach out. All of Troy’s texts went unanswered and his calls were sent straight to voicemail.
His knocks were going unanswered, too, so Troy pulled out his keys and used the spare Ilya had given him over a year ago.
“Ilya?” Troy asked as he stepped inside.
The entryway was dark, and the entire house was eerily quiet. The only sound Troy could hear was the latch of the door closing behind him. Then the stillness settled in again. A pit formed formed in his stomach and shivers climbed his spine slowly.
“Ilya,” Troy called, flipping a light switch and bathing the entryway in soft light. “Are you home?”
He pulled out his phone and brought up Ilya’s location. It showed that he was here—at home—or at least his phone was. Troy started to climb the stairs, trying to mask his anxiety by assuming that Ilya had just fallen asleep. Their last roadtrip had been particularly exhausting, so Troy couldn’t blame him if he’d wanted to get some extra sleep while his husband and kids were away.
When Troy reached the top of the stairs, he heard something that sounded like running water. Intrigued, Troy followed the source of the sound until he was standing in front of the door to Ilya’s bathroom. There was a faucet running behind it, and very dim light coming from under the door. Troy tried the handle, but it was locked.
“Ilya?” Troy asked, knocking on the door. “Are you in there?” He pressed his ear to the door, and heard the soft sound of a body sloshing around in water. “Come on, Ilya, I know you’re in there. Open the door.”
“Go away, Troy.” Ilya’s voice was low, and it sounded…off. Troy couldn’t place it, but it didn’t quite sound like Ilya. It’s like he was haunted.
“Ilya,” Troy said with a sternness that he hoped wasn’t too hard. “Are you okay? Talk to me.”
There were a few beats of silence before Ilya spoke. “I am fine, Troy. Now, go home, please.”
He knew Ilya couldn’t see it, but Troy shook his head. “I’m not going anywhere, Ilya. Not until you open this door.”
“Then you will be here all night.”
Troy had been worried when he got here, and now he was doing what he could to stamp down the panic that was rising in him. Ilya was his best friend, and Troy knew that he had struggled with a lot in his life. He knew that Ilya felt things with a deeper intensity than most. He knew that sometimes Ilya’s mind could be his own worst enemy. Above all, he knew that Ilya was a proud man that didn’t share much with other people. But Troy understood, and he had made a promise to look after his best friend—to protect him whenever and however he could. It had been a silent promise—Ilya had no idea that Troy had even made it—but he didn’t plan on breaking it.
Troy backed away from the bathroom door and pulled out his phone again.
“Hey, honey,” Harris said fondly when the call connected. “You’re on speaker. Wyatt and Bood are still here.”
“Harris,” Troy said as he started to pace back and forth in front of Ilya’s bed. “Take me off speaker.”
There was a shuffling sound, and then Harris spoke. “Troy? What’s wrong. Did you find Ilya?”
“Yeah,” Troy said, but his voice was unsteady, “I found him. Harris, I think something’s wrong with him.”
“Why?” Harris asked. “What’s wrong?”
“I don’t know,” Troy admitted. “He’s locked himself in the bathroom. He won’t talk to me—won’t let me in. I’m worried about him. I know he struggles with depression, and…”
“Do you think he could hurt himself?” Harris sounded worried, now, and Troy could hear keys jangling through the line.
“I don’t know,” Troy said again. “I mean, I don’t think so? Why would he? He and Shane are getting ready to celebrate their first Christmas with their kids. He’s been so happy. Why would he want to hurt himself?”
“Depression isn’t always black and white, Troy,” Harris said. “And Ilya’s a testament to how happy someone can look while they’re struggling.” There was a pause and a grunt, then the sound of a car door closing. “I’m on my way over, but I think you should call Shane. If Ilya really is thinking about hurting himself, he should know.”
Troy ran his fingers through his hair. “I’ll call him. Please, hurry. I love you.”
“Love you, too,” Harris said and then the line went dead.
“I am fine, Troy.” Ilya’s voice came through the door again, and his words sounded slurred, like he’d been drinking. “Do not call Shane.”
“You’re not fine, Ilya,” Troy said, searching for Shane’s contact in his phone. “I know you well enough to know that. If you won’t let me in, I’m calling someone who you will.”
“Fuck you.”
It wasn’t the first time Ilya had said those words to Troy, and usually Troy would just laugh it off because he knew Ilya had meant it as a joke. This was the first time Ilya had said them and sounded like he meant them, but Troy didn’t care. He’d heard worse before, and Ilya would have to be a lot meaner if he really wanted Troy to leave.
“I love you, Ilya,” Troy said as he put his phone to his ear, “and I’m going to help you. Whether you want me to or not.”
-=+=-
Shane was settling into the couch between Ruby and Jade for a movie when he got the call. When he saw the caller identification—that it was Troy calling—his first instinct was to let it go to voicemail because whatever Troy had to say could most likely be put into a text, but he had a nagging feeling in the back of his brain that was telling him to answer.
“Hey, Troy,” Shane said after he’d excused himself into the dining room. “What’s up?”
“Something’s wrong with Ilya,” Troy said, and Shane could hear the worry in his voice.
His heart started beating faster. “What do you mean?”
“Harris and I invited him to game night and he never showed,” Troy explained. “I didn’t think much of it until he didn’t text me back or answer my calls. When I got to your place, all the lights were off and he had locked himself in the bathroom. He won’t let me in.”
Logically, Shane knew that there were probably a million explanations for Ilya to be locked in a bathroom that were totally innocent. Logically, he also knew that his husband’s brain wasn’t governed by logic like his was. It was ruled by his emotions and his impulses. Shane had spent years trying to learning all of them.
“I knew I shouldn’t have come here,” Shane said, more to himself than to Troy.
“What are you talking about?”
“We thought we had it under control,” Shane said. “We thought we’d found a combination of meds that was working, but…he’s been struggling lately. More than usual.” Shane forced himself to exhale, nervous energy beginning to spread through his body. “His nightmares are back. He thinks I don’t know, but when your husband is crying in his sleep—it’s something you notice.”
“Why did you go if you knew he was struggling?”
Shane pondered the question for a moment. “Because he told me he was fine, and I wanted to believe him. And I thought he wouldn’t be alone—that he’d be okay with you and Harris. He’s been working so hard, I didn’t think he’d seal himself off again.” Shane looked up and saw Jackie standing in the doorway. She looked worried. “I made the mistake of not paying attention to not him before and I almost lost him to himself. I’m not doing that again.” Shane dragged the back of his hand across his face. “Stay with him. Keep him talking. I’m on my way.”
“I will,” Troy promised, and then the line went dead.
Shane shoved his phone into his pocket.
“Is everything okay?” Jackie asked.
Shane looked up at her. “Um, no. It’s Ilya, he—I’m sorry. I have to go.”
“It’s okay,” Jackie said. “We understand.”
She tried to place a comforting hand on Shane’s arm, but he was walking away. Through the living room, down the hall, and into the guest room where Irina and Nikolai were sleeping soundly in the travel crib. Carefully, Shane put them in their carriers and gathered the rest of their things. He was so engrossed in preparing to leave that he didn’t notice when Hayden entered the room.
“I’m coming with you,” Hayden said, “and you are not talking me out of it. You are in no shape to drive right now, and whatever is happening to Ilya, I want to help.”
Shane slung his duffel over his shoulder. “I thought you hated him.”
“I don’t hate him,” Hayden said, his face softening. “He may be an arrogant prick who loves getting under my skin, but he is your husband and one of my kids’ godfathers. I may not like him, but I love him. I want to help.” Shane had always believed that the two of them had developed an attachment to one another, but this was the first time either one of them said it out loud. “Don’t tell him I said any of that.”
Shane’s smile only lasted a second before his face went cold again, fear creeping in. “Let’s go.”
Once they had loaded Nikolai and Irina into the car and said goodbye to Jackie and the kids, Hayden got in the driver’s seat and they took off. The drive was silent. Shane’s kids slept, and he was lost in his head—in his fear. Beating himself up over and over for even going to Montreal in the first place when he knew that something was wrong. If something happened to Ilya—if he did something to himself—Shane would never forgive himself. Their marriage was still new and their kids so young. They still had so much left to do, so much left to experience. So many happy memories to create to drown out he noise of the bad ones.
When Hayden pulled the car through the gate, Shane could see Troy’s and Harris’s parked there. The lights in the house were still off, except for the living room.
“Get them inside,” Shane said as he undid his seatbelt and opened the door. “I’ll send Harris out to help you.”
When Shane made it inside the house, Harris was waiting for him in the entryway. Before Shane sent him outside to help Hayden with the kids, he told him that Troy was still upstairs with Ilya. Shane tried to steel himself as he climbed his stairs. His house was deathly quiet. It hadn’t been this quiet since before they’d adopted Nikolai and Irina. It was the same quiet that Shane missed sometimes, but now it just filled him with a growing sense of dread.
He rounded the corner in his bedroom, and saw Troy sitting on the floor with his back to the bathroom door.
He stood up when he saw Shane. “He won’t talk to me, but I haven’t heard anything else.”
“Thank you,” Shane said, staring at the door. “I’ll take over. Harris and Hayden are downstairs with the kids. Will you help get them to their beds, please?”
Troy nodded and then walked past him. Shane approached the door slowly, trying the handle. It was still locked.
“Ilya,” he said, “it’s me. Open the door.”
He heard Ilya curse in Russian through the door. “I told Troy not to call you. You should be in Montreal with Pike and the kids.”
“Ilya,” Shane said again. “I know you are hurting. I should never have gone to Montreal, I’m sorry. Please, let me in.”
Ilya was silent for a moment. “I am scared, Shane. Scared of myself.”
Shane took a breath, trying to calm himself. It wasn’t working. “I know, Ilya. That’s why you need to let me in. Let me help you.”
“I don’t think I can, Shane.” Ilya’s voice sounded broken, fractured. Shane had memorized Ilya’s voice a long time ago, and he knew this wasn’t him. “I’m sorry.”
Shane’s fist pounded on the door. He knew he shouldn’t be getting angry, but he couldn’t help it. They had worked too hard and Ilya had sacrificed too much. Their life together was just starting, and there was no way in hell Shane was going to let Ilya’s mind be the thing that destroyed it.
“Open the door, Ilya,” Shane said through gritted teeth. “Or, I swear to God, I will kick it in.”
When Ilya didn’t respond, Shane took a step back. He knew kicking a door down seemed extreme, but he couldn’t think of what else to do. Every fiber of his being was screaming at him that he needed to get to his husband, and this was the only way he could of how. So, he used his left leg to ground himself and to send all the force he could to his right. When his foot connected with the door, the impact sent shocks up his leg, but wood splintered and the door swung open.
Shane had been trying to prepare himself all night for what he would find when he walked inside the bathroom, but it didn’t do him any good. Ilya was naked, sitting in the bathtub. Because of is stature, his head and shoulders were visible above the lip of the tub and the water barely went up to the bottom of his pectorals. His hair was soaked and stuck to his forehead, and Shane knew he’d been there for a while because he was shivering. The water must’ve been freezing. Sitting on the lip of the tub was a half-empty bottle of vodka and an orange pill bottle.
“Ilya,” Shane said, rushing forward. He dropped to his knees beside the tub, reaching forward to put his hand on Ilya’s shoulder. His skin was cold. “Talk to me. Tell me what’s wrong.”
“I don’t know.” Ilya shook his head. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”
Shane’s eyes flickered to the pill bottle. It was oxycodone. Shane had been prescribed them when he had dislocated his knee over the summer. There weren’t many pills left, but there was enough. “Were you going to take those?”
Ilya looked at the bottle then back at Shane. There was so much fear and pain in them that it made Shane’s heart hurt. “No.” Something in them cracked. “Yes. I don’t know.” Shane moved his hand up Ilya’s neck to his face, cupping his cheek. Ilya nuzzled it softly. “I just…I don’t want to feel anymore. I don’t think the meds are working.”
“Why didn’t you tell me the nightmares were back?” Shane asked.
Ilya moved his head back, away from Shane’s hand. “Things have been so busy with the season and the kids. I didn’t want to burden you. I thought I had it under control.”
“You know you can’t do it alone,” Shane said, fighting back his frustration. He had to keep reminding himself that the Ilya sitting in the bathtub was bent and vulnerable. “You tried that before, and it didn't work.”
“I’m sorry.” Ilya’s voice was small, and it broke Shane’s heart.
“Don’t,” Shane said. “Don’t apologize. I made a promise that I would stand by you, even when things were scary. Even when you’re not yourself.” Shane hooked a finger under Ilya’s chin, lifting his head up. “I love you, Ilya. I’m going to see you through this.”
Shane couldn’t tell if it was a tears or bathwater that was running down Ilya’s cheeks when he looked at him.
“I am a horrible father,” Ilya whispered.
Shane didn’t believe that—not for a single second—but it was clear that Ilya did. “Why do you think that?”
Ilya inhaled, sniffling. His whole body trembled. “I love our children. Nikolai and Irina—they mean everything to me and I still feel like this sometimes.” Ilya’s lip wobbled in frustration. “If my own children aren’t enough to make me want to stay, then what kind of father am I?”
“Ilya, I need you to hear me.” Shane put both hands on either side of Ilya’s face, his thumb wiping tears away. “You are an amazing father. You give so much of yourself to the team every day and you still have some left over for me and them. What you’re feeling, Ilya, you can’t control it. It’s not your fault.” Ilya’s face softened minutely. Shane didn’t know if his words were helping, but it was all he could think to do at the moment. He just needed to keep talking and hope that it would be enough to pull his husband back from the edge. “You wouldn’t let your mother say things like that about herself, and I won’t let you say them about you either. Nikolai and Irina are the luckiest kids in the world to have you as their father, and I will keep saying it over and over until you believe me.”
“I’m scared that nothing will be enough,” Ilya admitted. “That I won’t be able to help it. That I’ll leave you and Nikolai and Irina like my mom left me.”
Shane shook his head. “I will not let that happen.”
“How?”
Shane didn’t quite know the answer for that. “I’m not sure, but I’ll figure something out. First, we need to get you to bed.”
Ilya didn’t fight Shane when he reached for the drain plug. While the cold water drained from the tub, Shane grabbed a towel from the vanity. Neither of them spoke as he used it to dry Ilya off. Starting with his hair, then moving down the entire length of his freezing body. With Ilya still sitting in the tub, it made the process a little awkward at times, but Shane didn’t care. He was going to take care of his husband.
When Ilya was dry, Shane tried to get him to his feet, but he couldn’t. The half-bottle of vodka Ilya had drank made him a dead weight. He was going to need help if he wanted to get Ilya out of that tub and into bed.
“I’ll be back.” Shane grabbed the bottle and the pills and left the bathroom. It didn’t take Shane long to determine who the help should come from—who he trusted to let see Ilya when he was naked, vulnerable, and at his worst. When he made it to the bottom of the stairs, he saw Troy, Harris, and Hayden standing there, looking expectant. “Get rid of these.” He handed the bottles to Hayden. “Troy, I need your help.”
“Anything,” Troy said.
When the two of them were in the bathroom again, Ilya looked at them.
“I am sorry, Troy.” The look on Ilya’s face was self-destructive. Shane knew that face. He was beating himself up on the inside. Shane knew better than anyone how hard Ilya was on himself. “For what I said. I did not mean it.”
“I know you didn’t,” Troy said with a small smile, “but I did.”
Shane didn’t know what they were talking about, but it didn’t matter. The two of them got in position on either side of the tub. With their combined strength, they were able to get Ilya on his feet and out of the tub. Ilya’s arms were slung over their shoulders, using them a props to keep him from falling over. When they got him to the bed, Shane dressed him in underwear and a T-shirt before getting him to lie down under the covers.
“Get some sleep, my love,” Shane said, brushing Ilya’s wet hair out of his face. “Tomorrow is a new day, and we will face it together. I love you.”
The smile Ilya gave him was minuscule, almost imperceptible. It wasn’t much, but it was something. And Shane would take whatever he could get.
“Ya tebya lyublyu,” Ilya breathed, and then his eyes fluttered closed.
Shane pressed a kiss to his forehead before straightening up. Troy was lingering at the foot of the bed, looking just as worried as Shane. Quietly, the two of them left the room and went back downstairs.
“How is he?” Harris asked when they stepped off the last step into the entryway.
“He’s in bed,” Shane said. That battle was over, and Shane’s walls had lowered enough to let the panic creep in. “I’ve never seen him like this. He’s struggled with depression since before we met, but it’s never gotten this bad before.”
Tears slipped out and Shane quickly wiped them away, steeling himself again. He couldn’t break down right now because his husband was already crumbling and Shane needed to be there for him. Not to mention the two seven month-old kids he spent every day worrying about. But Shane would shoulder it all because he had to. It was their deal—Shane and Ilya’s. Whenever one of them should stumble or falter, the other one would be there to pick up the slack. Ilya had done it before, when Shane had dislocated his knee and couldn’t walk for a week. Now it was his turn.
“What happens now?” Hayden asked.
“Now,” Shane said, “we search this house from to bottom. We get rid of anything Ilya could use to hurt himself. Knives, scarves, shoelaces, alcohol. He doesn’t trust himself right now, and I don’t either.”
“You’re putting him on suicide watch?” Harris asked.
Shane nodded. “I am. Until he trusts himself again, I don’t want him to be alone. I’ll call my parents, but aside from them, this doesn’t leave the four of us. Ilya is a very proud man, he wouldn’t want this getting out to the team.”
“Of course,” Troy said. “Whatever he needs, we’re all here.”
“Thank you,” Shane said, flexing his shoulders. “Ilya thanks you, too. Even if he can’t say it right now. Let’s get to work.”
-=+=-
It was almost three in the morning when the four of them finished searching the house. They packed every potential weapon into boxes and stashed them in the storage closet in the basement. Shane locked the door and put the key somewhere only he knew. When Troy and Harris left, and Hayden was asleep in the guest room, Shane went to check on the kids. They were both sleeping soundly, blissfully unaware of what was happening in their home. Shane really envied his kids sometimes.
He didn’t sleep a wink that night. He sat on a chair in their bedroom, watching Ilya as he slept—reminding himself each time he watched Ilya’s chest rise and fall, it meant that he was alive. Shane took comfort in that small truth, and vowed that he would do everything in his power to make sure it stayed true.
Shane hoped Ilya’s sleep would be peaceful, but it wasn’t. Under his lids, Ilya’s eyes bounced back and forth. The muscles in his arms flexed and relaxed repeatedly, and Shane’s heart cracked when he watched the tears start to flow. Shane didn’t know if it the same nightmare it had always been, but it was having the same effect. It was eating his husband, destroying him from the inside out. Normally, Shane loved his husband’s mind. It was a complex and beautiful thing that made Ilya everything that he was. A loving husband, a devoted parent, a dedicated captain. It worked differently than anyone’s that Shane knew, and that was one of the many reasons why he loved it—most of the time. Right now, Ilya’s mind had turned against him, and Shane wished more than anything that he could fix it all. That he could turn his husband’s mind back into the thing he loved.
When the sun started to rise out the window, Shane pulled out his phone to check their baby monitor app. Sure enough, both Irina and Nikolai’s eyes were open, staring into the camera that hung above their cribs as if they knew Shane was watching. He took one last look at his husband, before he left the room to take care of their kids. In their room, Shane changed their diapers and got them dressed. He put both of them on his chest in the baby wrap before he made his way downstairs. He got their bottles ready, fed them in the living room. Giving two babies bottles at the same time was tricky, but he managed.
When they were playing with their toys in their pen, Shane called his mom. The moment she heard the tremble in his voice, she said that her and David were on their way. He filled them in when they got there. Hayden was awake by that point, playing with the kids as if they needed distraction while Shane talked with his parents.
“He was going to take the pills?” David asked.
Shane shrugged. “I don’t know if he would’ve actually done it, but he thought he was capable of it. He’s in such a dark place right now he doesn’t believe that he’ll ever come back from it.”
“Has he talked to Galina recently?” Yuna asked. “Has he been going to his appointments?”
Shane nodded. “He had one last week. He’s scheduled for another next week.”
“And he’s been taking his meds?”
“Yes,” Shane said. “Every day. He has this little day-of-the-week pill box he keeps them in so he won’t forget.” He remembered when Ilya had showed it to him, and Shane had teased him for being an old man. “He’s been so focused on getting better, I don’t know why this is happening.”
Shane white-knuckled the countertop, using his grip and the leverage to keep himself upright. All of this—it was a lot. His composure—his grip on his panic and his emotions—it was starting to crack. He poured what he had left into the crack to fill it.
Yuna put a hand on his forearm. “No one know why this happens. It just does. All we can do is be there for him—help him get back to himself. You need to call his therapist, get him an appointment today. She can work his psychiatrist to get him on some new meds that hopefully will help him.”
Shane scrubbed his face. “I’ll call her.” Then he remembered. “Fuck, I need to call Wiebe, too. We have practice this afternoon—a game tomorrow. I need to let him know that we won’t be there.”
“You should go, Shane.” Shane’s eyes shot to the doorway where Ilya was standing. He looked exhausted, but he had gotten himself out of bed and dressed. It was just sweatpants, but it was something. “To practice and the game.”
“Absolutely not,” Shane said immediately, not even thinking about it.
“The team needs you, Shane,” Ilya said.
“I don’t care.” Shane moved across the kitchen toward him. “You need me more.”
“I will be okay,” Ilya said. “Yuna and David will be here. I will not be alone. You should not have to put your life on hold to help me. Besides, if we are both not there, who will make sure that we win?”
Humor. Good.
“He is right, Shane,” Yuna said from behind them.
Shane’s eyes bounced back and forth between his mom and his husband. “Fine. I’ll go, but I’m calling Galina.”
“That sounds like a good idea,” Ilya said slowly, then he turned away.
Shane watched him as he walked away, noticing the heaviness that seemed to weigh on his shoulders. Normally, Ilya was an imposing man, but now he looked defeated and small.
“Make the call,” Yuna said, rubbing soothing circles on his shoulder blade. “Your dad and I will make sure he gets to the appointment.”
Shane made the call after his parents had left the kitchen to go see their grandkids. When he filled Galina in one what was happening with Ilya, she was able to move some things around to fit him in that afternoon. Shane spent the rest of the morning bouncing between Ilya, who was drifting in and out of sleep, and their kids, who were enjoying quality playtime with their grandparents. When lunchtime came, Shane tried unsuccessfully to get Ilya to eat something—anything—but he pushed the food away, claiming he was nauseous and not hungry.
After lunch, Hayden reluctantly left to go back to Montreal and Shane left for practice. At the arena, Shane lied for Ilya to Coach Wiebe—saying that he had a stomach bug and had been retching since he woke up that morning. There was a look of doubt on Coach’s face, but he accepted the falsehood as the truth and excused Ilya from all team functions for the rest of the week.
Usually, practice and the ice was Shane’s happy place—where he felt the most safe and the most comfortable, apart from Ilya. He was usually unstoppable, out-skating and out-shooting just about everyone on the team. Except for today. Today, Shane was distracted and apprehensive, and it made him slow and inaccurate. He knew how it felt to have his heart live outside his body—he had known that feeling since the first him he’d held his kids in his arms. But now his mind was living elsewhere, too, and Shane wasn’t sure how to function.
“Hollander!” Bood yelled, and Shane snapped out of his head, looking to his alternate captain. He was standing at center ice with the rest of the team, and Shane was on the bench. He hadn’t even noticed when everyone had gotten up. “Care to join us out here?”
“Yeah, sorry,” Shane said, and then he stood up and skated out to join his team.
-=+=-
When Shane got home from practice that evening, his parents had dinner waiting for him. They made Ilya’s favorite: chicken parmesan. When Shane asked if he’d actually eaten any, the grim look he’d received was more potent than words. Yuna filled him in on Ilya’s appointment with Galina. She had worked with Ilya’s psychiatrist on a new medication regimen. They had picked his prescriptions up on the way home with instructions for Ilya to start taking them in the morning.
Shane had gotten back just in time to help his mom with the kids’ nighttime routine. Baths, food, pajamas, stories, and sleep. They had followed the same routine almost every night, except the ones where Shane and Ilya were out of town or at a late game. The familiarity of the process almost made Shane forget about what was happening.
Then he saw Ilya standing in the doorway, watching them silently. He didn’t make any move to enter the room, and Shane didn’t want to push for fear of regress. Every minute Ilya spent out of bed was progress. So Ilya stood there with silent tears and listened to Shane read their kids a bedtime story. He stayed while Shane and his mom rocked them to sleep and laid them down in their cribs. On her way out the door, she squeezed Ilya’s arm and offered him a sympathetic smile. When Shane and Ilya were in their bedroom with the door closed, Ilya broke down in tears and clung to Shane as if he was going to disappear.
“I don’t want to feel like this anymore,” Ilya sobbed, and the desperation in his voice made Shane start crying, too.
“Shh, shh.” Shane ran his fingers through Ilya’s hair. “I’m here. I've got you. I’m not going anywhere.”
Shane suffered through another sleepless night filled with worry and anticipation. In the morning, Ilya would start his new medication. Shane had never considered himself to be a religious person, but he prayed to anyone or anything that was listening for them to work. Shane wanted his husband back—he deserved his husband back. And Nikolai and Irina deserved their father, but most of all, Ilya deserved to be himself again. He deserved to be happy again.
The next night, after the game they lost against Philadelphia, Shane was in the backyard watching the snow fall, looking up at the full moon. He knew there were tears in his eyes, and they had been threatening to fall all night.
He didn’t turn around when he heard the sliding door open, and he didn’t need to look to feel his mother’s comforting presence beside him.
“Are you all right?” she asked.
Shane shook his head. “We lost.”
“You’ve lost many games,” his mother said. “What makes this one different?”
“I needed to win,” Shane said. “I needed a win. Something to go right.” His inhale was sharp as he looked down at the snow-covered ground. “I needed to do something right so I can stop feeling like such a failure.”
“Why do you feel like a failure, Shane?”
“This morning, Irina was throwing a fit.” Shane looked at his mom. “Screaming and crying—the kind of fit that only Ilya can calm down. I was trying everything I could think of, but she wouldn’t stop crying.” Shane was crying now, tears from pent up stress and frustration stinging his face as they cascaded downward. “I can’t get my daughter to stop crying. I can’t get my husband to feel okay. I can’t do anything, and it’s fucking killing me.”
“Oh, Shane,” Yuna said, trying to be comforting.
“There was a moment this morning,” Shane continued, “when Irina was crying.” The dam had broken and he knew he just needed to get it out. “I was getting frustrated because nothing I was doing was working, and for a moment I got angry.” Shane closed his eyes stinging eyes because he didn’t want to see the disappointment on his mother’s face. “What kind of father gets angry at their seven month old daughter for crying? She can’t control it. And Ilya—he can’t control what’s happening to him either. I know that, but I was still angry at him for not helping me sooth our daughter.” Shane’s eyes opened, expecting disappointment from his mother, but he was only met with sympathy. “Ilya thinks he’s the one who’s the bad father and the bad husband, but it’s me.”
His mother put her hands on his shoulders, squeezing hard enough to ground Shane.
“Listen to me,” she said with a soft sternness. “I can not imagine how hard these last couple days have been for you, and I know it’s been hard for the kids, too.” She moved one hand to Shane’s face, making him look her in the eye. “I already have one self-destructive son to deal with right now, please don’t make me have another one.”
She smiled sadly, and it eased a little of the tightness in Shane’s chest.
“So, here’s what we’re going to do,” she said, switching into planner mode. “Your dad and I will take Nikolai and Irina for a few days. That way you can focus all your energy on helping Ilya get better.” She moved a hand to his face. “No one would be able to handle all this on their own—not even you. You are an amazing father and an amazing husband, Shane. I know it’s scary now, but I also know that you will see him through this. This depressive episode, it has a hold a strong hold on Ilya, but you two have a much stronger hold on each other. You’ll get through this.”
Shane closed his eyes and took a few deep breaths to calm himself down. “Thank you.”
“No need to thank me,” she said, shaking her head. “I’m your mom, sweetie. It’s my job.”
-=+=-
That night, Shane actually got some sleep. When his parents had left with Nikolai and Irina, he crawled into bed with his husband and took advantage of one of the rare opportunities to be the big spoon. He had fallen asleep with his hand pressed to Ilya’s heart, his husband’s heartbeat like a lullaby that lulled him into a deep sleep.
When he woke the next morning, the bed was empty, but still warm. Shane sat up in the bed and looked around, seeing the traces of Ilya’s movements around the room. The dresser drawer that was ajar, the light that was left on in the bathroom. When Shane made it downstairs, he heard noise coming from the kitchen.
Ilya was cracking an egg into a sizzling pan when Shane entered the space. Shane had woken up to Ilya cooking breakfast dozens of times, but this time, it felt different. It felt like a breakthrough—like a win.
When Ilya saw him, he smiled feebly, the movement not quite reaching his eyes, but it was more than Shane had seen in days.
“Good morning,” Ilya said. “I’m feeling a little better today.”