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Shane is brushing his teeth in the sink and notices something that is plugging it up as his toothpaste doesn't go out of the drain once he spits it out.
He closes his eyes and winces upon feeling a slimy piece of hair.
Wait, hair?
Hair in the bathroom sink?
And it wasn't facial hair or pubic, so what was it?
He opened his eyes.
It was strawberry blond hair that belonged to a head.
Ilya's.
He disposed the hair in the bin and once washing his mouth with mouthwash he went into the living room of his cottage and asked him:
"Hey Ilya, I see some hair in the sink and-"
He flatly cuts him off, saying with little to-no emotion, "It's mine."
"Oh." Shane said as he asks him, "Have you been losing it."
Ilya pulled a face and folded his arms, leaning back on the sofa he was sitting on, "What does it look like Hollander?"
"You've been losing it?" Shane asked, raising his eyebrow. He didn't know the point Ilya was trying to make.
"Yes." He nodded as Shane's stomach churned. Poor Ilya was all he could think.
But then he accidentally blurted out, "How?"
He shouldn't be so nosy and he hated it. Why did it just come out of his mouth?!
Thankfully Ilya knew him too well and dryly said with a shrugged, "Stress."
There was silence as Shane still felt guilty.
How much stress was he under that it was causing him to lose his hair?
Ilya didn't deserve this.
Luckily they were in Shane's families cottage, away from everyone, he just hoped he dad didn't pop in unexpectedly like last time. Although that was on Shane because he really should've checked his phone.
Shane sat down next to sofa and embraced him without even speaking.
Ilya laid his head on Shane's lap as he tenderly stroked Ilya's back.
The silence did finally break as he heard Ilya murmur, "Hollander, I don't want to be like my father."
"At all." He added, his voice cracking and Shane felt a few of Ilya's tears run down the fabric of his trousers.
He hated seeing him like this.
Shane knew a bit about Ilya's family and it was messy, his mother seemed to be the only one that Ilya was close to. Only one person, and she's dead. That was just depressing.
"Come here." Shane said as he lifted Ilya up and propped him on his lap, sitting up. He then rubbed his back again as Ilya rested his head over Shane's shoulder, "We can get a trip to Turkey."
Turkey, usually known for it's hair transplants, Turkish delights and...Shane couldn't think of anything else, but the flag was cool.
Ilya was confused as he sniffled, "What will Turkey do?"
Was he not aware?
"It's famous for hair transplants." Shane explained, still confused on how Ilya was confused.
"It is?" He sniffed as Shane handed him a tissue to blow his nose.
Shane kissed him on the neck and patted Ilya's hair, "Yeah, now don't worry your little thinning hair."
He was meant to say "head." Fuck. He hoped Ilya didn't take offense to it.
Ilya gazed at him and grinned, "What you are saying is so stupid, it is making me feel better."
Shane kissed him again as Ilya blushed, "That's my job."
He wasn't so upset as he was a few minutes ago. His job as being the one who says stupid things was making Ilya better. That was a win in his book.
Ilya smirked, "Your job is to be a smart hockey centre."
He smooched Ilya on the lips and then said, "But I can also be your stupid boyfriend."
Ilya placed his hand on Shane's shoulder, the one where he laid his head on only a minute before, shook his head and muttered with a smile, "Ты очень глупый." (You are very stupid.)
He still didn't know an ounce of Russian except for, "Father" and a bunch of swears courtesy of Ilya.
"Did you say something?" Shane asked.
Ilya lightly kissed him on the cheek, "I said, you are very smart."
He couldn't wish for a better boyfriend.
"Aww, thanks." Shane blushed.