Archive of Our Own

November 2020

It was an ordinary day in Ottawa for Yuna Hollander.

She woke up, made breakfast, watered her plants, and checked her emails at the kitchen table. Her husband, David, was away at a work conference, and Shane was at home in Montreal. Outside, the November sun glinted off the frost coating the backyard fence. Inside, the house was quiet. Yuna liked quiet.

She lingered over her morning chores, enjoying the rare opportunity to move through the house at her own pace before her afternoon meetings began. By all accounts, it was shaping up to be a perfectly average day, and she was looking forward to every minute of it. What she hadn't accounted for was the leak in the guest bathroom.

After finishing a load of laundry, Yuna made her usual rounds upstairs. She tucked in loose bed corners, unplugged unused electronics, checked every door, and tested every window lock. Only when she was satisfied that everything was exactly as it should be did she move on to the guest suite. The moment she stepped into the bathroom, her feet flew out from under her.

Her world tilted and she was met with the sound of a loud crack. Pain exploded through her left side. When Yuna opened her eyes again, she found herself sprawled on the tile floor with a damp pile of linen bunched beneath her back. For a moment she simply stared at the ceiling, trying to orient herself.

Then she attempted to move her leg. A sharp, nauseating pain shot from her hip all the way down to her ankle.

"Oh," she breathed.

That was not a good sign. Very carefully, she checked the rest of herself. No blood, no obvious injuries. Yes, her head hurt, but not enough to worry her. Her left leg, however, refused to cooperate.

Yuna lay still and took several slow breaths. This was not the perfectly average day she had planned. 

Fortunately, Yuna always had her phone with her. Unread notifications bothered her on a spiritual level. She answered messages promptly, kept her inbox organized, and considered the little red notification bubbles a form of visual clutter. David routinely left his phone somewhere random in the house. Yuna could not imagine living that way. Today, she was grateful for her habits.

She pulled up her contacts and called David. Straight to voicemail. That was expected. He was probably sitting in a seminar.

Next she called Shane. He didn't answer either. Morning skate.

Yuna knew Shane's schedule by heart. If she somehow forgot it, she also had it color-coded in her calendar. She considered leaving a voicemail but quickly dismissed the idea. The last thing she needed was Shane checking his phone after practice and finding a panicked message from his injured mother. No, definitely not. That would only make him worry.

She scrolled through her contacts instead, searching for someone local. Her thumb paused.

Ilya Rozanov.

Yuna stared at the name for a moment. He lived nearby, and, as Yuna knew all too well, Ilya had a somewhat flexible relationship with morning skates.

Before she could overthink it, she pressed call.

"Yuna?" Ilya answered after a single ring. He sounded alarmed.

"Hi, Ilya. It's just me. Don't worry, I'm okay. I just—"

"Yuna, what happened?" he interrupted immediately. "Is Shane okay?"

"Shane is fine."

The sharpness of his concern made her chest warm despite the circumstances.

"It's me," she continued. "I'm at home alone and I slipped on some water. I think I need a little help. Are you home?"

There was a loud crash on the other end of the line.

Yuna blinked. "Ilya?"

More noise followed. A cabinet door slammed. Something metallic clattered into a sink.

"Ilya?"

"I'm here." He was breathing hard now. "What do you mean you slipped? Did you hit your head? Can you stand up?"

"No. I mean I think my head is fine, I just cannot stand up."

The answer came out more quietly than she intended.

"Oh." His voice changed immediately. It wasn’t calm, it was serious. He was genuinely concerned. 

"Where are you?"

"Guest bathroom."

"Okay." More movement. Footsteps. A door opening. "Yuna, I'm coming."

"Ilya, it's not an emergency—"

"It is emergency."

His response was immediate. Yuna couldn't help smiling.

"I will use the spare key," he continued. "Do not move. Stay exactly where you are, okay?"

"Thank you, Ilya." She said as she shifted slightly and immediately regretted it as pain shot through her leg. She audibly winced. "And don't rush," she added. "I'm alright, really. Please be careful driving."

"Yuna." His tone was exasperated. "You are on floor." Then he hung up.

Yuna stared at her phone. Despite everything, she laughed. Only Ilya Rozanov would sound annoyed at her for being injured.

A few minutes later she set the phone beside her and stared up at the ceiling. The wet towels beneath her had gone cold and strands of her hair stuck to her cheek from the dampness of the leak breaching her body. Her leg throbbed steadily with every heartbeat.

She tried not to think about all the articles she'd read over the years about people reaching a certain age, taking one bad fall, and never quite recovering. It felt dramatic, but lying helpless on a bathroom floor made dramatic thoughts difficult to avoid.

At least someone was coming. That was what mattered. Someone was coming, Ilya was coming. And, thankfully, it wasn't an ambulance. Yuna considered ambulances a necessary evil at best and a personal nightmare at worst. She would be fine and Ilya was coming. 

***

Luckily for Yuna, Ilya chose his fastest car. He arrived in twenty minutes flat. Unluckily for her, the car was somehow even more conspicuous than an ambulance. As she listened from her spot on the floor, she found herself wondering if it came equipped with a siren, too.

The front door burst open. A moment later she heard footsteps racing through the house. The footsteps went up the stairs, stopped, turned around, scuffled a bit, and then quieter footsteps came back up. Ilya turned around to take his shoes off. 

"Yuna?"

Ilya stood frozen. His hair was a mess, his jacket hung half-zipped, and his face had gone pale. For a brief moment he simply stared at her as if he had already lived this moment once before and now he was seeing it again. Like he had been expecting something worse. The realization made Yuna's heart ache.

"Oh, sweetheart," she said softly. "I'm alright."

"Are you okay?" he asked. "Can you breathe? Did you hit your head? What hurts?"

Yuna reached up and cupped his cheek. The tension in his jaw was so severe she could feel it beneath her fingers. He was visibly upset but she could tell he was being brave.

"I'm fine, Ilya. Really," Yuna said as she offered him her most reassuring smile. "I think I hurt my leg and I can't get up. That's all."

His eyes narrowed immediately. That was clearly not all. 

"Can you help me move to the couch properly?" she asked. "Then maybe we can take a look."

Ilya studied her carefully. He was assessing, calculating the damage. When he finally seemed satisfied that moving her wouldn't make things worse, he slid one arm beneath her shoulders and another beneath her knees. He let her head rest on his shoulder. 

"Tell me if it hurts," he said quietly. "I do not want to make it worse."

Then he lifted her as if she weighed absolutely nothing. Despite his obvious anxiety, his movements were careful and deliberate. He carried her through the house with remarkable gentleness, avoiding the puddle in the bathroom and every obstacle between them and the couch. Once she was settled comfortably, Ilya immediately knelt in front of her.

The hockey player in him took over. He checked for bruising, asked very basic questions that should have easy answers. He watched her eyes and tested her responses, looking for signs of a concussion. Yuna found herself oddly touched by how serious he was being. Eventually he seemed satisfied. Everything in his unofficial exam had appeared normal except for her leg.

"I am going to touch your left leg," he said. "I will be gentle, but you need to tell me the truth about how much it hurts."

"Okay."

Yuna braced herself. Ilya placed a hand lightly on her knee and moved downward. The pain was immediate. She hissed through her teeth and jerked away.

Ilya's face fell. "You need hospital."

The words came out almost instantly. Yuna closed her eyes. She had suspected as much. For a moment she sat silently, gathering herself. Then she nodded back at him in acceptance of the situation.

"Okay."

The answer seemed to surprise him.

"Okay?"

"Okay," she repeated. "But first I need to get prepared."

That sounded more like the Yuna he knew. Ilya visibly relaxed.

"You need to drive me," she continued. "I do not like ambulances."

His expression suggested he was about to argue that this was exactly what ambulances were for. Fortunately for him, Yuna continued before he had the chance.

"My purse is in the kitchen. Check that my wallet, phone charger, keys, and medication are inside. If anything is missing, tell me."

Ilya nodded as if this were normal for him, taking direction from Yuna.

"I'll need a change of clothes as well. Go to my bedroom and open the second drawer- only the second drawer- and grab a shirt and a pair of pants. Put everything in the tote bag hanging by the front door."

"The second drawer," Ilya repeated.

"Only the second drawer” she emphasized, her eyes narrowing.

"Only the second drawer" he repeated back to her, in understanding. 

"Good."

He immediately stood and disappeared down the hallway. Yuna watched him go before reaching for her phone. If she was going to spend the day in a hospital, she at least intended to arrive with an empty inbox. One by one, she began cancelling her afternoon meetings.

Ilya made it back to the living room with everything she asked in record time. He sat next to her on the couch, hunched forward, hands clasped together so tightly his knuckles had turned white.

"Let's get in the car," Yuna said gently. "Then I can update David and Shane, okay, sweetheart?"

Ilya nodded. The nod was small and careful, as though he was still afraid something terrible might happen if he moved too quickly. After a moment, he stood. For several seconds he simply looked at her. He really looked at her, taking inventory, breathing, convincing himself she was okay and she was there. She was still Yuna. The silence finally broke when Yuna winked at him.

Then he scooped her into his arms once again. Yuna barely had time to grab hold of her purse and tote bag before he started toward the front door.

"Ilya, your shoes."

His eyes widened.

"Oh."

He glanced down at his socked feet.

"Sorry. I did not want to wear shoes in your house."

The apology was so sincere that Yuna nearly laughed.

"Go put them on."

Still carrying her, somehow, Ilya managed to maneuver himself into his shoes. Yuna watched in amazement. Hockey players really were built differently. Shane had never had to carry her and, well, David couldn’t at his age. But she thinks he might have once a long time ago. 

Once properly dressed, he carried her outside and toward his bright orange Ferrari. Yuna had heard more than enough about the car from Shane over the years but today she decided not to comment on it.

As Ilya settled her into the passenger seat, he adjusted it as far back as possible to give her leg room before gently closing the door. Then he sprinted around to the driver's side. By the time he climbed into the seat, he was fumbling with his seatbelt. Yuna reached across the center console and touched his wrist.

"Ilya, sweetheart, I'm okay."

His eyes flicked toward her, fear still lingering somewhere.

"I'm not dying it's just my leg. The hospital will fix it."

His shoulders lowered slightly.

"You don't need to rush." Yuna squeezed his hand. "We'll both be much better off if you take your time getting there."

Ilya looked almost embarrassed at how much she had to reassure him. 

"Okay."

The car eased out of the driveway, the radio remained off. Neither of them felt the need to fill the silence. Yuna rested her hand on his while he drove. Every so often he glanced down to make sure it was still there.

The moment they arrived at the hospital, Ilya was gone. Before Yuna could protest, he had jumped out of the car and disappeared through the emergency room doors. He returned several minutes later pushing a wheelchair, behind him trailed two large hospital attendants. One carried a blanket and the other carried a bottle of water.

Yuna stared and laughed.

"Ilya."

"What?"

"You brought reinforcements."

"They seemed useful."

The attendants helped settle her into the wheelchair while Ilya hovered anxiously nearby. The moment she was comfortable, he tucked the blanket around her legs, ensuring her safety as if she would fall out of the chair without it. Yuna tried not to smile.

Inside, she handled check-in exactly the way she handled everything else in life. She was so efficient. Every question asked received an immediate answer. She had every document needed already in her purse. She listed off her emergency contacts, one of them being Ilya, the other David. She didn’t list Shane but only because he lived in Montreal and she didn’t want anyone at the hospital to see his and Ilya’s name together. Ilya sat quietly beside her and watched the process unfold with something close to awe. Yuna Hollander could probably organize her own rescue mission if given enough notice.

The triage nurse, however, was less impressive. She was brisk and unfriendly. She poked and prodded without any care. By the end of the intake process, Ilya had decided he disliked her intensely. He did not think she was Canadian, American maybe. 

Yuna seemed completely unfazed. Still, he stayed close enough that their shoulders touched. Not because she needed him there, but because she wanted him there. The realization nestled into his heart neatly. 

When they were finally sent back to the waiting room, Ilya parked himself in the chair beside hers and immediately took her hand again. They sat that way for several minutes. They waited, watching people come and go. This wasn’t an emergency in the way other people had emergencies. They would probably be sitting there for a while. 

"It's going to be a while," Yuna finally said.

"Probably."

She glanced toward the gift shop down the hall and then back at him.

"Would you get me a snack?"

Ilya frowned.

"You will be okay alone?"

Yuna squeezed his hand.

"The gift shop is twenty feet away. I promise I won't run away."

That finally earned a reluctant smile.

"Okay," he said. "But I am coming right back."

As she waited, Yuna opened the family group chat and immediately began typing.

YUNA: Before either of you receive a dramatic phone call from Ilya, I would like to clarify that I am completely fine.

YUNA: I slipped in the bathroom and hurt my leg.

YUNA: I am currently at the hospital with Ilya.

YUNA: It is possible that my leg is broken.

YUNA: Again, I am fine.

YUNA: Please do not panic.

YUNA: Nothing is on fire, nobody is dying, and I am in very good hands.

YUNA: We are waiting to be seen now and I will keep you updated when I know more.

YUNA: Love you both ❤️

A few minutes later, Ilya returned from the gift shop carrying a protein bar, a bag of veggie chips, and a deck of UNO cards. Yuna laughed.

"Wow. How did you know I like UNO?"

Ilya shrugged. "You like to win."

"I do not."

"You absolutely do."

Yuna smiled despite herself.

For the next hour they sat together in the waiting room, playing cards and watching people come and go. By the second game, Yuna was winning comfortably. As she laid down a Draw Four card, she glanced over at him. The color had returned to his face, but something still seemed off.

"Ilya?"

"Hm?"

"Can I ask you something?"

He looked up at her, his game face still on.

"Of course."

Yuna hesitated.

"Why were you so scared this morning?"

His eyes immediately dropped back to the cards in his hands.

"You seemed terrified."

The silence echoed in her ears and Yuna instantly regretted asking. Then Ilya set his cards down.

"My mother is dead, yes?"

Yuna nodded. She knew that much.

"When I was twelve, I came home from school and found her." His voice had gone strangely flat, like he was reciting something he had spent years trying not to remember. "She was alone and next to her was an empty bottle of pills.."

Yuna's chest tightened, her smile turning to a frown.

"I called for her but she did not answer."

The waiting room and the game in front of them faded away. All Yuna could focus on in this moment was Ilya, the pain in his voice.

"My father was not home. My brother was gone." He stared at the floor. "I stayed there with her until someone came." His next breath shook. "It was one hour."

He laughed softly, a terrible horrible laugh.

"It was only one hour, but it felt like forever."

Yuna felt tears gathering in her eyes.

"When I walked into your house..." His voice cracked. "I thought..."

The sentence never finished. It didn't need to because Yuna finally understood.

"Oh, sweetheart."

Her cards slipped forgotten into her lap. She reached for him immediately. Ilya folded into her side without hesitation as though he had been waiting years for someone to pull him close like this again. Yuna pressed a kiss into his curls and rubbed slow circles across his shoulder.

"Oh, Ilya," Her voice broke. "I'm so sorry."

He buried his face against her shoulder.

For the first time since she'd met him, he looked like a child. He wasn’t a professional athlete or a celebrity. He was just a twelve year old boy who had lost his mother. 

"You should never have had to carry that alone. And Ilya… I am so sorry I scared you today."

She waited until he finally looked up at her with his beautiful eyes, red-rimmed and vulnerable.

"I am still here. I'm not leaving you."

The words seemed to hit him harder than anything else she'd said.

"You saved me today." She smiled softly. "You came the second I called. If you hadn't, I would probably still be lying on that bathroom floor trying to convince myself everything was fine."

That earned a watery laugh from Ilya.

"Which," Yuna added, "would have been ridiculous."

"Very ridiculous."

"Exactly."

She squeezed his hand.

"You did a good thing, sweetheart."

Ilya let out a slow breath and rested his forehead against her shoulder for a moment before pulling back to look at her. His eyes were damp.

"Thank you for calling me."

Yuna blinked.

"What?"

A shy smile crossed his face.

"Thank you for calling me." He glanced down at their joined hands. "It is an honor that you thought of me." The sincerity in his voice nearly broke her heart.

"You could have called anyone."

"I did call other people."

That made ilya laugh. Yuna smiled with sincerity at him now.

"But you were the one who came."

Ilya squeezed her hand back.

"I am glad it was me."

***

Four hours later, Yuna and Ilya were finally cleared to leave. Yuna emerged from the hospital wrapped in a walking boot and armed with a pair of crutches. She took three experimental steps and then looked down at herself.

"I feel very fashionable."

Ilya snorted.

"That is not fashion."

"It is in Canada."

"No."

"It absolutely is."

Ilya shook his head.

"This is hockey attire."

That made Yuna laugh all the way to the car. The drive home felt completely different from the drive there. The panic had faded and the uncertainty was gone. Now it was just the two of them talking. They talked without Shane or David, just the two of them. Ilya told her stories about his team in Ottawa. About road trips and practical jokes and locker room superstitions. He spoke more freely than she had ever heard him speak before. At one point the conversation drifted somewhere quieter.

"I think there are others," he admitted. "Like me."

Yuna glanced over. He kept his eyes on the road.

"Maybe not many." His fingers tightened slightly on the steering wheel. "But some."

Yuna understood immediately. She did not press for names because she knew better. Instead she reached over and squeezed his arm.

"That's good."

A small smile appeared on his face.

"Maybe."

"Maybe," she agreed.

For a moment neither of them spoke. Then Yuna found herself imagining a future she hoped would someday exist. A world where Shane and Ilya didn't have to hide. A world where they could walk into a room holding hands without calculating who might be watching. A world where love could simply be love and they could live and she and David did every day.  She hoped they would live to see it and they could experience it together. 

By the time they pulled into her driveway, her phone had begun vibrating nonstop. Yuna smiled and looked over at Ilya.

"Well."

"What?"

"I think Shane finally checked his messages."

Sure enough:

SHANE: Mom, what?

SHANE: Ilya is there???

SHANE: Where are you now?

SHANE: What happened?

SHANE: I can leave after practice and be there tonight.

Yuna smiled as she typed.

YUNA: I'm fine, honey.

YUNA: Ilya and I just left the hospital.

YUNA: I have a boot and crutches, but he is taking excellent care of me.

YUNA: It's only a broken leg.

The response arrived almost instantly.

SHANE: Mom, I'm coming.

SHANE: I'll be there as soon as I can.

"Your boyfriend is dramatic," Yuna laughed.

"He learned from you."

"I did not teach him that."

A few minutes later another notification appeared.

DAVID: Sweetheart, I am so sorry. I was in a seminar.

DAVID: I am glad Ilya was there with you.

DAVID: Can I call you in a few minutes?

YUNA: Of course, my love.

Yuna could practically hear David's calm voice through the screen. David always sounded collected even when he was worried.

Beside her, Ilya grabbed his phone before she could set hers down.

A new message appeared in the group chat.

ILYA: Yuna is very good patient.

ILYA: She is home now.

ILYA: I am going to give her a lollipop.

Yuna burst out laughing.

SHANE: A what?

ILYA: A lollipop.

SHANE: Why?

ILYA: Because she was brave.

Yuna laughed even harder. Beside her, Ilya looked entirely pleased with himself. And as she watched him grin at his phone, Yuna felt something warm and familiar. For a moment she wasn't looking at Ilya at all. She was thirty years younger, sitting across from David in a tiny apartment, laughing until her sides hurt over something neither of them would remember the next day. The feeling was the same. She understood, suddenly and completely, why her son loved him and she suspected she always would too.

Once inside, the house seemed strangely quiet after the chaos of the day. Yuna made her way carefully toward the couch on her crutches while Ilya hovered nearby like an anxious bodyguard.

"I can do it myself."

"I know."

"You are following me."

"I know."

Yuna smiled. Her phone began ringing. It was David.

"I should take this."

Ilya nodded and disappeared toward the guest room to give her privacy. The moment he sat down on the edge of the bed, he opened his phone to an explosion of notifications. Thirty-seven missed messages, all from Shane.

Ilya winced. Then he pressed the call button. Before the first ring even finished Shane picked up.

"Ilya?"

"Yes, moy lyubimiy."

The relief in Shane's voice was immediate.

"Thank God."

"I am here with Yuna. Everyone is okay."

Shane let out a long breath. "I was so worried."

"She called me."

"What?"

"She called me,“ Ilya said as his smile grew. "When she needed help, she called me."

Shane laughed. There was something so openly delighted in Ilya's voice that it immediately calmed him.

"I'm serious," Ilya continued. "She called me."

"Yes, I gathered that."

"No, but Shane-" His voice softened. "She trusted me."

The line went quiet and then Shane smiled too. You could hear it through the phone.

"Of course she did."

For a moment neither of them spoke and they just smiled together, knowing that a next step in their relationship had taken place today. Finally Ilya cleared his throat.

"We talked a lot today."

"Yeah?"

"She is..." He paused. "Even better than I imagined."

Shane's expression softened.

"I know."

"You are very lucky."

"I know." Another pause. Then Shane laughed.

"She's lucky too, Ilya."

Ilya looked down at the comforter beneath him.

"She loves you very much."

"She loves you too, Ilya. She’s lucky because she has you there with her. I’m lucky because you’re there with her."

The words landed hard in Ilya’s chest, causing his eyes to wet a bit.

Before he could respond, Shane continued.

"I'm coming tonight."

"You don't have to."

"I'm coming."

Ilya smiled through the phone and laid back on the bed. He could surrender. 

"Okay."

"Take care of her until I get there."

"I am."

"No, I mean really take care of her. She won't ask for anything."

Ilya laughed.

"I know."

"Just do it anyway."

"Shane."

"What?"

"She is your mother." A grin spread across his face. "She is exactly like you."

That earned a dramatic sigh from Shane.

"Poor woman."

Ilya laughed so hard he nearly dropped the phone. A few minutes later they hung up. The room fell quiet again and Ilya stretched his legs out across the bed and stared at the ceiling. His thoughts drifted unwillingly toward his own mother, toward memories that had felt sharp earlier that day, but for once they didn't hurt quite so much. Because when Yuna had held him in the waiting room, she hadn't looked at him with pity. She looked at him the way mothers looked at their children- as if loving them was the easiest thing in the world. The realization hit him fully then. For the first time since he was twelve years old he felt like he belonged to someone, to a family. 

***

By the time both of them had rested, evening had settled over the house. And they were starving. The only food either of them had consumed all day had come from a hospital gift shop. This was unacceptable, Ilya thought. He marched into the kitchen with purpose and Yuna watched from the doorway.

"What are you doing?"

"Making dinner."

"Can you cook?"

"No."

That was not a reassuring answer. Still, Yuna let him continue. Her kitchen was stocked with enough ingredients to survive an apocalypse because she would always be prepared. Or, she thought she would. She was never prepared for Ilya Rozanov. 

Unfortunately, most of those ingredients were Japanese. When David was away Yuna would stock her fridge with her favorite childhood staples that David didn’t know how to cook. He was, after all, the chef in the family. But his specialty was Italian. 

Ilya stared into the pantry. Then the refrigerator. Then the pantry again. Eventually his eyes landed on a particular can. A grin spread across his face.

"Perfect."

Twenty minutes later, Yuna had been ordered to sit at the kitchen table and stop supervising. She watched him move around the kitchen, humming to himself. The happiness radiating off him was almost contagious and a welcome change from the feeling that was radiating off him earlier in the day.

"What are you making?" she asked.

"You will see."

"Ilya."

"It is surprise."

"You are being suspicious."

"I am being chef."

Those were not the same thing and he knew it. A few minutes later he approached carrying a plate. He set it down with enormous pride. A can of ginger ale followed. Then silverware laid neatly over a napkin. The presentation was surprisingly professional.

"You know," he said, "I made this for Shane once."

Yuna looked up.

"Oh?"

"He liked it very much." A mischievous smile crossed his face. "I think he fell in love with me that day."

Yuna looked down and blinked in confusion.

"A tuna melt?"

"This is not tuna melt."

"No?"

Ilya straightened proudly.

"This is Yuna Melt."

Yuna burst out laughing. The ridiculous sincerity of it made her laugh even harder. Ilya reached across the table and squeezed her hand before disappearing to grab his own plate. When he returned, he watched her expectantly.

She took a bite. Paused. Then took another. She paused again and looked up at Ilya. 

"Ilya."

His face immediately lit up.

"Yes?"

"This is really good."

"Obviously."

"The cheese ratio is perfect."

"I know."

"And it isn't goopy."

Ilya frowned.

"What is goopy?"

Yuna gestured vaguely.

"A bad texture."

He considered this carefully and then nodded.

"Well," he opened his ginger ale. "I do not like goopy either."

Yuna laughed. Across the table, Ilya grinned. They sat like that, eating together until every crumb had been cleaned from the plate, every drop of Ginger Ale had been sipped clean from the crisp can, and every bite of pickle had been had, leaving a small pool of juice on their plates. They weren’t eating as patient and caretaker or mother and son’s boyfriend, they were just two friends enjoying each other’s company- two people who care enough about the other to ease the other’s pain in whichever way they could.

***

By seven o'clock, Shane was still driving. David had managed to rearrange his flights, but he wouldn't be home until morning. The house had settled into a comfortable quiet now with just the two of them. Yuna was beginning to feel restless. She had spent most of the day being cared for, which was not an activity she particularly enjoyed. But more importantly, Ilya was still hovering.

He had relaxed considerably since the hospital, but every sudden movement still made him look up. Every unexpected sound still caught his attention and Yuna watched him carefully, making sure not to spook him further. 

She smiled as an idea formed. 

"Ilya."

He appeared in the kitchen doorway almost instantly.

"What happened?"

Yuna blinked. The speed with which he'd arrived was honestly impressive.

"Oh sweetheart, nothing happened."

His shoulders immediately dropped.

"I am okay."

"You called my name."

"Because I need your help."

Panic returned.

"What kind of help?"

Yuna bit back a laugh.

"Dessert help."

The panic vanished from Ilya’s face.

"Oh."

She pointed toward the freezer.

"Can you get the ice cream?"

"Ice cream?"

"And the toppings from the pantry."

A slow smile spread across his face.

"I like this emergency."

"I knew you would."

Within minutes he had assembled everything on the counter. Laid out in front of them was ice cream, chocolate sauce, caramel, rainbow sprinkles, and maraschino cherries.  And, buried at the back of a container that looked older than both of them combined, a jar of wet walnuts. Yuna added a banana to the lineup. 

"What are we making?" he asked.

Yuna gasped.

"You've never had a banana split?"

Ilya shook his head.

"I don't think so."

For a moment Yuna looked genuinely offended. Then delighted. This was something she could work with even with a broken leg. 

"Oh, we're fixing that immediately."

Ilya caught a new emotion from Yuna in that moment. She sounded almost excited, like she had been waiting years to introduce someone to banana splits. Yuna carefully split a banana down the middle and arranged it in an oval dish. Then she pointed at the ice cream and moved her hand over to the dish.

"You scoop."

"I scoop,” Ilya repeated back to her. 

"You sauce."

"I sauce."

"You sprinkle."

"I sprinkle."

For the next five minutes, Yuna directed the entire operation like a military commander. Ilya followed orders faithfully. By the end, the dessert looked ridiculous. Ridiculous and perfect. Three scoops of ice cream nestled between the banana. Chocolate and caramel drizzled over the top. Sprinkles everywhere. Cherries perched proudly above it all. And a pool of wet walnuts drizzling from the top of the ice cream mountains down into the valleys below the banana. Ilya stared.

"It is beautiful."

Yuna laughed.

"It is a banana split."

"No."

He shook his head.

"It is art. I saw a painting like this at the art museum in Boston once. I will find it for you."

That made her laugh even harder. As they admired their creation, Yuna found herself thinking about the first time she'd learned to make one. It was a summer evening in the kitchen of a childhood friend. She was with people who had become family to her even though they weren’t related. The memory felt close as she glanced over to Ilya. She glanced at the way he was studying the dessert like it was something precious. Some people found their way into your family slowly while others seemed to belong there immediately.

"Come on," she said softly. "Movie time."

Ilya looked up, smiling, holding the dish carefully in both hands as if he were a child learning to walk upright with a bowl of ice cream for the first time. Like it contained something far more important than ice cream. Maybe it did. Maybe the memory they were creating was the important part, the kind of memory a child should have. The kind Yuna suspected he hadn’t gotten enough of. 

***

They settled onto the couch together and Yuna grabbed the remote.

"What do you like to watch?" she asked. Ilya glanced down at his banana split. Then back at her. Then back at the banana split. At this point, Yuna suspected she could have put on three hours of static and he would have been perfectly content.

As she scrolled through the options, a familiar title caught her eye. Immediately she smiled. Shane had loved this movie as a child and she couldn’t remember how it ended. She pressed play. The opening music filled the room and out of the corner of her eye she glanced at Ilya. The television glow reflected in his big bright eyes. His legs were folded beneath him on the couch, the bowl balanced carefully in his lap. He was relaxed and at home. The sight filled her with a strange kind of happiness. She was happy that he was here with her.

As the movie continued, both of them gradually relaxed into the cushions. The day had been so long and so emotionally exhausting. They both were sleepy but not quite there yet. Halfway through the movie, Ilya spoke.

"Can I tell you something?"

Yuna immediately turned toward him.

"Of course, sweetheart."

His eyes remained fixed on the television. Something about that worried her, his blank stare. 

"I have not told Shane yet."

The concern on her face deepened.

"Is everything alright?"

"Yes." A pause. "No." Another pause. "I do not know."

Yuna waited. Eventually he sighed.

"For a long time I have been scared that I am like my mother." The movie continued playing quietly in the background. "I have thoughts sometimes." His fingers tightened around the empty bowl in his lap.

"Thoughts that make me afraid."

Yuna's heart broke. Not because she didn't know, but because she suspected she did, or rather she had for a while now.

"I started seeing therapist." The confession came quickly from his mouth, much quicker than anything else he had said that day. Like he was ripping off a bandage. "Recently."

Slowly, Yuna reached over and took his hand. She sat quietly and let him continue.

"I like her. She is Russian."

Yuna laughed softly. 

"I am proud of you."

His eyes widened slightly, almost as if he wasn’t expecting it. 

"You are?"

"Very."

She squeezed his hand.

"Asking for help is hard."

He looked down at his bowl once again, unable to maintain eye contact.

"I should have done it sooner."

"Maybe." Yuna shrugged gently. "But you did it."

For a moment neither of them spoke. The movie continued to play unnoticed and Ilya entranced with the pool of sticky sauce in his lap. Finally Yuna asked the question she couldn't stop herself from asking.

"Why haven't you told Shane," she asked him. The answer came immediately.

"Because he loves me."

Yuna blinked.

"What?"

"If I tell him now, he will try to fix everything. He will worry."

Ilya smiled now, thinking about it. That sounded exactly like Shane.

"He will become my therapist."

Yuna laughed despite herself. She loved Ilya for understanding that about him, for understanding how Shane’s brain worked. 

"Oh, he absolutely would."

"I know." The smile faded. "I want to understand things first. I want to know what I am saying before I say it."

Yuna nodded slowly. That made sense to her, painfully so.

"I understand. But-"

Ilya groaned. The sound was almost identical to Shane's.

Yuna laughed.

"Hear me out."

He crossed his arms dramatically.

"I'm listening."

"You don't have to tell him tonight. But don't carry it alone forever either. You know how Shane is."

Ilya smiled. Unfortunately, he did.

"If you wait too long, he'll start inventing explanations."

Ilya laughed again, letting his arms drop down now. 

"Terrible explanations."

"The worst explanations."

"Very dramatic explanations."

"The most dramatic."

For a moment they were both smiling at each other. Then Yuna reached over and brushed a curl away from his forehead. This was a gesture so natural neither of them seemed surprised by it.

"When you're ready," she said softly, "tell him."

Ilya swallowed hard and then nodded.

"Okay."

The word came out small. It was honest, it was scared. Yuna understood. 

And as she watched him stare down at his empty ice cream bowl, she had the distinct feeling that he already knew what he needed to do. He was simply gathering the courage to do it.

“I won’t tell anyone but I’m also here if you need someone to talk to about it. Someone other than…Galina was it?”

“Yes,” Ilya said with a smile. “Galina. Thank you.”

***

It was late now. The stress of the day had finally caught up with both of them. Ilya helped Yuna settle into the guest room so she wouldn't have to attempt the stairs on crutches. He made several trips upstairs, collecting everything she might need. Her pajamas, phone charger, medications, and skincare products. Only from the approved drawer, of course. Yuna made sure to remind him of that- twice.

By the time she was settled comfortably beneath the blankets, she was struggling to keep her eyes open. Ilya tucked the comforter around her shoulders.

"There."

Yuna smiled.

"You are very good at this."

"I know."

The confidence of the response made her laugh. Then she pointed toward the floor and looked back at Ilya.

"What are you doing?"

Ilya looked down at the pile of blankets he was arranging.

"Sleeping."

"On the floor?"

"Yes."

"You know there is a couch."

"I know."

Yuna narrowed her eyes. He crossed his arms.

"No."

The answer came so quickly that Yuna nearly laughed again.

"What if you need something?"

"I have a phone."

"What if you fall?"

"I am already on floor. Will be easy to get to you"

That was annoyingly logical. Yuna sighed.

"I am not going to win this argument, am I?"

"No."

"Fine."

A triumphant smile crossed his face. He did not know if he would ever be in this position again so he relished in the moment he had here. Within minutes, both of them were asleep.

***

A little after midnight, the front door opened and Shane stepped inside.

The drive from Montreal had felt endless. Every update from Yuna had helped, but every update from Ilya had helped more. Still, he hadn't truly relaxed until he crossed the threshold. The house was dark and silent. It wasn’t that late though, where were they? Carefully, he made his way toward the guest room. The sight waiting for him in the doorway stopped him cold.

Yuna slept peacefully in bed, her crutches leaned against the wall. And beside her, curled up on a pile of blankets on the floor, was Ilya. Still fully dressed, one arm stretched toward the bed. As though he had fallen asleep making sure she was there.

Shane felt his heart beat faster. God. He loved him. He loved Ilya so much. For a long moment he simply stood there, watching and taking in the sight in front of him. Then he crossed the room quietly and knelt down beside Ilya. 

"Ilya."

Nothing.

"Ilya."

A groan. One eye opened. Then immediately widened.

"Shane?"

"Hi."

The smile that appeared on Ilya's face was immediate and beautiful.

"You came."

"Of course I came."

Ilya pushed himself upright and rubbed at his eyes. For a second Shane considered kissing him. Instead he glanced toward the sleeping figure in the bed and got a little grossed out at the idea of his mother seeing them kiss like that, so intimately. 

"Come on."

"What?"

"Let's go downstairs."

Ilya frowned.

"I am staying here."

"She's asleep."

"What if she needs something?"

Shane pointed toward the baby monitor sitting on the nightstand.

"When did that get there?"

"I bought it on the way."

Ilya stared at him.

"You bought baby monitor?"

"I was worried."

That was apparently a perfectly acceptable explanation. After a moment, Ilya nodded.

"Okay."

Together they slipped quietly from the room. Once downstairs, Shane collapsed onto the couch. Ilya followed immediately, practically folding himself into Shane's side. Shane wrapped an arm around his shoulders and pressed a kiss into his curls.

"Thank you."

Ilya looked up.

"For what?"

"For taking care of her."

The expression on Ilya's face softened once he realized what Shane really meant.

"Of course."

"No. I mean it. Thank you."

Ilya stared at him for a moment. Then he rested his head against Shane's shoulder.

"She took care of me, too."

Shane smiled. That sounded exactly like his mother. 

A few minutes later they fell asleep tangled together on the couch. Upstairs, Yuna slept peacefully. Downstairs, her son and the man he loved slept beneath the same blanket.

***

David arrived sometime before dawn. He slipped quietly into the guest room without waking anyone and climbed into bed beside his wife. The rest of the reunion could wait until morning.

Downstairs, Shane and Ilya slept tangled together on the couch, undisturbed. When they finally woke, sunlight was streaming through the living room windows. For a few moments neither of them moved. Shane simply looked at him, at the soft curls falling across his forehead and the sleep-heavy eyes blinking open.They hadn't had many mornings like this lately, mornings where they could simply exist together. Today they didn’t have any schedules to follow and they didn’t have to hide. They could just be here, together, in the same city. Shane couldn't help smiling.

"What?" Ilya mumbled.

"Nothing."

"You are staring."

"You are beautiful."

Ilya groaned immediately and buried his face in Shane's shoulder. Shane laughed and wrapped his arms around him. They drifted in and out of sleep for another hour, stealing lazy kisses whenever they woke. Eventually the smell of breakfast pulled them back to reality. As did the unmistakable sound of David Hollander humming in the kitchen.

"Oh," Shane said, sitting up. "Dad's home."

A moment later they wandered into the kitchen. David stood at the stove flipping pancakes. Yuna sat at the table with a mug of coffee, directing the operation despite contributing absolutely nothing. Both parents looked up as they entered.

"Good morning, boys," David said.

"Good morning," they replied in unison.

That earned matching smiles from both parents. Shane immediately crossed the room and wrapped his arms around Yuna.

He had been terrified. The moment he'd seen those messages, the long drive, the waiting and not knowing what was happening. It was all finally releasing at the same time. His mom was here, safe at home, complaining about his dad’s pancake technique. It was exactly as it should be.

"I'm okay," she whispered into his shoulder.

"I know."

"You look tired."

"I drove for hours."

"That sounds like a personal choice."

Shane laughed. There she was, his loving and witty mother. When he finally pulled away, his eyes drifted toward Ilya. He was mesmerized by the quiet smile on his face and the way Yuna immediately reached out to squeeze Ilya's hands to greet him as if she’d been doing it forever. 

They sat at the table together, recounting stories of the day before. They  talked about the car, the hospital and the mean nurse, the UNO game and banana splits. They didn’t talk about their conversations because that was just for them, but Shane and David knew. They could tell what transpired that day because it was written all over their faces and in the way they regarded each other. They were happy. 

And Shane couldn't stop thinking about it. Because for years he had wanted the people he loved to know each other the way he knew them. And now they did.

The morning passed by slowly after that. They finished their pancakes and stories. At one point Yuna proudly described the creation of the Yuna Melt.

Shane immediately groaned. Ilya looked delighted.

"The Yuna Melt?" David asked.

"It was excellent," Ilya informed him.

"It was a tuna melt," Shane clarified.

"It was art," Ilya corrected.

That sent everyone into laughter. Shane laughed too, but for a moment his thoughts drifted elsewhere. He thought about another tuna melt in a different kitchen on another day. A day that had almost broken them apart completely. The memory still hurt, but it wasn’t a bad pain. It was a growing pain, a pain that brought them to where they were now. And now, there was a new memory attached to a tuna melt. A memory that had Yuna laughing and Ilya smiling, together as family. That memory hurt a lot less. 

The rest of the day passed slowly and exactly the way all four of them wanted it to. They played cards at the kitchen table, watched a movie on the couch. They argued over what to order for lunch and then stole food from each other's plates anyway. 

At one point David and Shane disappeared upstairs to investigate the bathroom leak while Yuna loudly instructed them from the bottom of the stairs. At another point, Ilya fell asleep with his head in Yuna's lap while she absentmindedly played with his curls and watched television. Nobody acknowledged it because it didn’t need to be acknowledged. It felt natural. 

Shane found himself watching them more than once throughout the day. Watching his mother smile at something Ilya said and watching Ilya light up whenever Yuna laughed. Watching the two of them move around each other with a familiarity that hadn't existed twenty-four hours earlier. The whole thing made him impossibly happy. He'd spent years wishing the people he loved most could truly know each other and now they did.

By evening, the house had settled into that comfortable sort of exhaustion that followed a good day. Everyone was home and safe and nobody had anywhere else they needed to be. Eventually, however, it was time to leave.

Shane and Ilya decided they would head back to Ilya's house for the night and return the next morning. It was only twenty minutes away, close enough that Yuna could still summon them if she needed anything. More importantly, it gave each household a little time to breathe before life returned to normal. Shane tried very hard to appear reasonable and mature about the arrangement, but, in reality, he had spent most of the afternoon looking forward to being alone with Ilya. After everything that had happened, he wanted the chance to properly thank him.

His parents absolutely did not need to know what that meant. But judging by the look David gave him as he grabbed his overnight bag, Shane suspected they already did.

"Ilya, hold on. Before you go, I need to get you something," Yuna's voice echoed from upstairs.

Immediately, all three men looked up.

"You are not supposed to be upstairs," David called after her.

"I know!"

"Then why are you upstairs?"

"Because I forgot something."

David sighed and followed her while Shane grinned. A minute later they reappeared, Yuna carefully making her way down the stairs with David hovering protectively beside her. Clutched in her hand was a small cloth bag.

Shane didn't recognize it. Judging by the look on Ilya's face, neither did he. Yuna stopped in front of him and held it out.

"This is for you."

Ilya blinked.

"For me?"

"For you."

Slowly, he accepted the bag. The room seemed to quiet around him as the men looked at each other, perplexed. He loosened the ties and reached inside. The moment he pulled out the necklace, his breath caught.

"Yuna..."

His voice cracked slightly. The chain glimmered in the evening light. It was simple, golden, clearly loved. 

"Put it on," Yuna said.

"I cannot take this."

"Yes, you can."

"No, Yuna—"

Before he could finish arguing, she took the necklace from his hands and slipped it over his head.

The gold settled against his chest beside the chain he already wore. Beside the pieces of himself he carried everywhere.

For a moment, Yuna simply adjusted it. She made sure it sat properly and looked okay. She didn’t want to cover the chain that already existed, she just wanted to sit beside it. Then she touched the small charm dangling from the chain.

"It means 'forever,'" she said softly.

Ilya looked down at it.

The symbol was unfamiliar to him because he did not speak Japanese. The meaning, however, was familiar. 

"It was mine," Yuna continued. "But I think it looks better on you."

His eyes immediately filled with tears. Yuna reached up and cupped his cheek.

"I'd like you to have it."

The gift didn’t come with a grand speech or explanation. She just simply wanted him to have it. 

Ilya swallowed hard. Around his neck now hung gifts from two women he loved more than he knew how to explain. One who had given him life and one who had given him a place to belong. Before he could stop himself, he wrapped his arms around Yuna and pulled her into a hug.

For Yuna Hollander, it hadn't been an ordinary few days. It had been painful, chaotic, and exhausting. And somehow, all of it had still been perfect. As she stood in the doorway with David’s arm around her waist, she watched Shane and Ilya pull out of the driveway together, and joy settled in her heart.

“I’m so glad you’re okay,” David said quietly, pressing a kiss to her shoulder. “I’m so glad you had Ilya here.”

“I’m glad too,” Yuna replied.

She smiled faintly as the car disappeared down the street. Then, almost to herself:

“He might just be my favorite son.”

David let out a soft laugh, thinking of the day they first met Ilya all those years ago. The laugh felt full, just as their family did.