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Those who say miracles don't exist are lying. Or simply have not yet met Shane Hollander.
Ilya knew that loving Shane was the best thing in his life. In those rare moments when he was honest with himself, he also admitted that he might be one of the few reasons he was still alive.
Loving Shane was easy, like breathing. He had done it most of his life, probably since he was 17. There he was, young, stupid, and full of unmanaged anger, when that pretty boy with freckles approached him, telling him off for smoking.
His English was still very spotty back then, and he didn't understand half of what the pretty boy was saying, but he couldn't look away from his freckles. He had no idea about love yet, but in retrospect, that was the moment Ilya's life had changed forever.
He was aware of Shane Hollander before that, of course. There was no escaping Canada's golden child, the generational talent, the so-called hockey prodigy. Ilya was sent to Saskatchewan with one simple order from his father. Beat the young prodigy, whatever it takes.
And he did. First at the Prospect Cup, and then in the overall draft pick. Beating Shane was a high not much else could compare to. Kissing him was definitely in the running, though.
Ilya lifted the cigarette to his lips, looking up at the slowly brightening sky. He had seen many sunrises before, since sleep had often avoided him. He loved the different hues of red and pink as the Sun slowly painted the sky every morning.
In a way, Shane was his Sun. He bathed Ilya's bleak life in a light he long thought had lost. Solnyshko. Ilya's mother used to call him that, back when his life still had light left. Before everything changed on that dreadful winter morning when he was twelve.
Ilya closed his eyes as he felt them burning, his free hand finding his mother's cross. "I found him, Mama," he said in soft Russian. "I found my light again. His name is Shane, and I wish you could meet him. He has the most beautiful freckles, like a tiny solar system. And he is so good, Mama. Somehow he sees the good in me, even when I can't. It's a miracle, how he still thinks I deserve him even after all I had done to push him away. I used to be so angry. At the world for taking you from me, at everyone around me. He softens that anger, makes me so much better. You would love him too, if he knew him, I'm sure."
His cigarette went out without him noticing. He lifted it to his lips again, and then put it down on the deck next to him. Shane hated the smell of cigarettes anyway.
As if sensing his thoughts, there were soft steps coming from behind him, and soon there was an arm around his shoulder and a cup of coffee in his now free hand. Ilya accepted it without a word and snuggled a bit closer to Shane's body, enjoying the warmth in the chilly morning.
"What are you doing up so early?" Shane asked softly, resting his head on Ilya's shoulder.
"I like sunrise," Ilya said, his voice scratchy from the lack of use and his accent stronger after talking in Russian. "I was talking to Mama," he whispered softly.
Shane's arm tightened around him as he pressed a kiss to the nape of Ilya's neck. "I wish I could have met her. Tell me more about her."
"She was beautiful and delicate, national figure skater for the Soviet Union. Brought me to ice rink for the first time when I was 3. Taught me how to skate, but I could never be so nimble on ice like she was. She was flying." Ilya took a shaky breath, sipping his coffee to do something with his hand. "I have her eyes, and her hair. I managed to save one picture of her; everything else was shut away. Like she had never lived. This," he touched his cross," is all I have left of her."
Shane couldn't say anything to that, but this morning wasn't about talking anyway. They said everything important yesterday. This was the time for quiet support and gentle touches.
It was somehow poetic, Ilya thought, that they were watching the sunset in Tampa, and they were watching the sunrise now, dawning on a new era of their relationship. He had gone to Tampa dreading to see Shane, to hear him say he was engaged to Rose Landry, that he didn't need Ilya anymore. Just to learn about how they had broken up, and make up with Shane, finally being able to talk about some stuff.
The Sun was rising over the lake as Ilya closed his eyes again, but this time the tears were not coming. Shane gently took the half-empty mug from his hand and put it down next to them before leaning back on the deck and pulling Ilya onto his chest. His fingers quickly found Ilya's curls, scratching his scalp softly.
In a couple of moments, Ilya was out like a light, safe and warm in Shane's arms.