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“Take care of your brother, Alexei.” His mother told him in quiet Russian. Alexei was fourteen. “Promise me.”
When Ilya found her that afternoon, Alexei covered his little brother's eyes the way she taught him to do when their father got violent.
“He shouldn't see this.” His mother had told him. “Ilyusha is too young.”
Alexei had been young too, eight years old at the time, but that didn’t seem to matter.
Now, a little older but no less a child, Alexei stared at his mother’s lifeless body draped across her bed. She could be napping if not for the eerie angle of her hand dangling off the mattress.
The bottle of sleeping pills she asked Alexei to bring her earlier lay empty at her side. As he clung to his brother, Alexei felt with certainty that he had killed his mother as much as she had killed herself.
He would fulfill her last wish, at least. He would protect Ilya.
The planning started immediately. “I will find a way out.” He told Ilya that night, curled up on Alexei's bed together. “There is a good place out there for us.”
It became like a fairy tale between them, a story to tell back and forth that became grander in their imaginations with each horror they survived.
They dreamed first of moving to another city, then farther. They talked of western Europe, even America. Anywhere the shadow of their father couldn't reach them.
Alexei saved every ruble he could. He worked at a grocery store after school and made Ilya visit every shift. Alexei often set him up in the break room with a snack and told him to do his homework. Ilya complained it was boring, but at least Alexei knew he was safe.
As the years went on, it became clear that a professional hockey career was a real possibility for Ilya. Alexei threw himself into his English studies and told Ilya to set his sights on the NHL. He attended Ilya's games when he wasn't working, anything for an excuse not to go home. They hung around the rink afterwards, as long as the staff allowed, practicing English together with Alexei's school books.
When it came time for Ilya to leave, at the tender age of seventeen, for his first World Juniors Championship in Canada, he almost didn't go. “You should not be alone with him.” Ilya argued.
“I can care for myself, mishka. I have double shifts planned at Dmitry's.” Alexei placed both hands on Ilya's shoulders and realized for the first time that Ilya was taller than him now. “This is for both of us. Make me proud.”
Ilya returned with a gold medal around his neck. He didn't ask about Alexei's black eye, just held his brother tight and told him he loved him.
Alexei filled any free time he had at the library. Sofya, an older woman who worked there, helped him use the computers to research visa applications. He made sure he and Ilya had updated passports and hid them away in an old toy box under his bed along with his savings and a few photos of his mother.
When Ilya returned from his second World Juniors with a silver medal, he was dejected. “I am always proud of you, mishka.” Alexei reassured him. Their father would never say so, only ever telling Ilya he needed to work harder.
“We are close now.” Alexei showed Ilya the research Sofya helped him print out. “Get drafted. Next year, we will leave and never come back.”
Their father planned to attend the draft, valuing his son only for the status Ilya could bring him. The night before, Alexei slipped a double dose of laxatives into his food.
“I will go with him, father.” Alexei offered when it was clear he was too sick to spend sixteen hours trapped on an airplane.
“Do not embarrass me.” His father gritted out before shuffling back into the bathroom.
“Yes, papa.” Alexei's bags were already packed, including the old toy box he kept under his bed.
Ilya was drafted first overall to the Boston Bears. It was better than either of them dreamed. Alexei cheered when the announcement was made and embraced his brother as tears spilled down both their faces.
“Now you really are mishka.” Alexei laughed as he swiped his sleeve over Ilya's cheek. “Mama would be so proud.”
The night of the draft, Alexei awoke around two in the morning. In the dim light of their shared hotel room, he could see Ilya was returning, sweaty and wearing gym clothes. Alexei hadn't heard him sneak out.
He had learned years ago not to ask questions. As close as they were, there were parts of Ilya's life Alexei did not know, and Ilya would shut down any time he pried. Alexei let his brother have his secrets. He earned them both their freedom today.
Ilya spent his signing bonus on a fancy two-bedroom apartment in Boston near the Bear's training facility. Alexei moved in with him. Neither of them gave their father their new address.
It took their father a week to realize his sons weren't coming back. After a series of increasingly vicious phone calls, they both blocked his number.
It didn't come with the sudden breath of fresh air Alexei imagined, but rather a slow burn of healing. They both still flinched when a door closed too loudly. Alexei still woke some mornings to find Ilya in his bed, having joined him in the middle of the night after a nightmare like he had done since he was a child.
Freedom was only the first step, it turned out. Now only time would allow the ghost of their father's terror to fade from their lives.
Pain and healing, intrinsically tied, came in unexpected places. There was a Russian bakery a few blocks from their apartment, and when Alexei first walked past and smelled vatrushka, just like mama had made, he nearly dropped to his knees and wept.
It took him two weeks to go inside the store. He brought home a paper bag of treats and left it on the entryway table before going to work for Ilya to find when he got home from practice. Ilya told him later that he could smell it from the hallway and, for a moment, had forgotten that mama was gone.
At the end of Ilya’s first season with Boston, Alexei joined him for the NHL awards in Vegas. His brother seemed to be in relatively high spirits, despite losing the Rookie of the Year award he was nominated for.
At the after party, Alexei chatted with a few Bears players by the bar while Ilya floated from group to group, rallying other rookies to take shots with him and effortlessly charming the older players with his sharp banter.
Ilya truly came alive at a party. Alexei’s eyes tracked him across the room, it had become second nature to watch his brother, and all he could think of was their mother.
When they were young, their parents often hosted friends, family, neighbors, sometimes his father’s coworkers, in their big home in Moscow. In those warm evenings, filled with food and laughter, when he and Ilya would be allowed to stay up well past their bedtimes, the dark cloud that so often filled their home would clear, and the sun would shine through their mother’s smile and her bright laughter.
Alexei fought the urge to follow Ilya when he spotted him slip out a side door, still early in the evening. They were safe now, Alexei reminded himself, he could let Ilya go for one night.
Ilya returned late to their hotel. He was flushed and smiling and telling Alexei about his summer plans to visit a friend. Alexei didn’t ask questions. He just smiled back and told his brother he was happy for him.
They became thick as thieves, spending most of their free time together exploring the city or going out with Ilya's team or just hanging out at their apartment playing video games and catching up on their days.
They were lucky in a way, Alexei thought, that their last thread of home, of family, that they both had to cling to was also their best friend.
When Ilya travelled for games, Alexei found himself gravitating to the Boston Public Library. It was just as grand, and surprisingly even older, than the one he spent so many days in near their home in Moscow.
It was a comfort to find a familiar place. Alexei could spend hours in the quiet there. He became friendly with the staff as well. They offered wonderful recommendations from their well-stocked Russian literature section.
On his way out of the library one Saturday afternoon, Alexei spotted a flyer on the events board. He asked Denise, the front desk receptionist who always worked weekends. She explained the library was hiring a new maintenance worker. Custodial duties, fixing broken shelves, moving heavy totes of books when they rearranged sections.
She asked if Alexei had experience. He told her about the grocery store he worked at since he was fourteen. He was often trusted with maintenance beyond his years because his boss recognized a fire for hard work in him, the same fire he used to forge a way out for him and Ilya.
Alexei also told her about the construction company he had found part time work with since arriving in Boston two years ago. The work was inconsistent, but the pay was decent enough and now there wasn't a power tool he didn't know how to use.
Denise handed him a job application and wished him luck.
The library offered him the job three weeks later. They recognized his work ethic and were charmed by his love of books. He spoke in his interview of how much his library in Moscow had meant to him growing up, minus the more gruesome details, and how he'd like to make a new home here.
He called Ilya to give him the good news. He didn't expect Ilya to answer, he rarely did when he played games in Montreal. Alexei figured he had a girl there. Still, he left a voicemail telling him they would celebrate when he got home.
Alexei was immensely proud of his little brother and everything he had grown into. Now in this moment, he was just as proud of himself. Given the home they grew up in, a darker path may have been the one of least resistance. Alexei chose to become the man he was today. For himself, for his mother, and most of all, for Ilya.
On a quiet day in February, the library's Facilities Director, Jack Byrne, joined Alexei in the children’s room where he was building a new display case for the art program.
“Did I tell ya we’re closed tomorrow?" His boss asked in his gruff Irish accent.
“No. Why?”
“Feck, knew I forgo’ somethin’.” Jack scratched the back of his neck. "Library's closed for Presidents’ Day.”
“Huh.” Alexei hadn’t heard of it. “Which president?”
“All o’ em, I guess.” Jack said with a shrug. “Finish up here, then take off early. Start yer holiday.”
Alexei thanked him with a nod. He grabbed a book on his way out, already planning a relaxed day off in his head.
He stopped at a local Greek restaurant to pick up food and chat with the owner. He thought about calling Ilya to see if he already had dinner, but he played a game against Montreal this afternoon which usually meant Ilya was nowhere to be found.
It was another one of Ilya's secrets that Alexei didn't pry at. He grabbed two containers of little baklava triangles from the counter to add to his order. Ilya could eat his piece whenever he reappeared from his mysterious jaunt.
As Alexei approached the apartment door, he heard his brother's voice. He smiled to himself. Perhaps Ilya's plans fell through and they could share a meal together after all.
Alexei turned his key and pushed the door open. He was shocked to see Montreal Voyageurs Captain Shane Hollander sitting at his breakfast bar. Alexei didn't watch much hockey besides his brother's games, but the man was easy enough to recognize from his various billboards and TV advertisements.
Ilya was standing in the kitchen, handing Shane one of the ginger ales he always insisted on keeping stocked despite neither of them ever drinking them.
It wasn't too odd a scene in Alexei's eyes. Ilya had never mentioned meeting with other captains, but it made sense. They could compare notes, share tips. They would understand each other's position like no one else. Hollander even more so than most.
Alexei had seen the league marketing around their rivalry, starting even before their rookie season, but Ilya never had a bad word to say about Hollander beyond his standard playful chirping. If he actually hated the man, Ilya wasn't shy about complaining.
So maybe they were friends after all. Or, at the very least, respected colleagues. That made sense. That was normal.
So why did Ilya look terrified?
All Alexei wanted was to protect his baby brother. It was what he had done his whole life. Now, he wasn't sure what he was protecting him from, but he knew whatever he was witnessing wasn't meant for his eyes.
“Is a holiday tomorrow.” Alexei kept his tone casual and even, like it was any other day, like Shane Hollander wasn't in his kitchen. “Jack let me leave early.”
Ilya didn't respond, just stared at him with wide eyes. Shane seemed frozen in place, his gaze fixed on his hands folded in his lap.
Alexei took a careful step forward like he was approaching a caged animal. Take care of your brother, Alexei. His mother's final words echoed in his head.
I will, mama. He promised silently to the heavens.
“Alexei.” Ilya pleaded quietly.
“You have always had your secrets, mishka.” Alexei said in Russian as he pat a gentle hand on Ilya’s cheek. “You never have to explain to me.”
He placed the two baklava on the counter between Ilya and Shane and switched back to English. “Is the good one. From Esperia.” He grabbed a fork from the drawer behind Ilya and held up his to-go bag. “I was thinking of eating dinner in the park. Maybe go for a walk.” It was cold out, but Alexei had experienced far worse winters. “I'll be back in two hours.”
As the door clicked shut behind him, he could hear Ilya's hushed voice. “I’m so sorry.”
Alexei only prayed that whatever he had just broken could still be fixed.
Two hours later, when Alexei returned home, Shane was gone and two containers of baklava sat untouched on the countertop.
Alexei knocked gently on Ilya’s bedroom door. “Ilyusha.” Grief was nothing new to them. They could weather the storm together.
Except, Ilya didn't answer. Alexei didn't see him for three days.
Alexei knocked on his door before he left for work each morning and again when he returned home in the evening. He hoped Ilya left the house while he was gone, but he had no way of knowing.
Alexei worried constantly. He thought of their mother and the thought terrified him. Was he killing his brother too?
On the fourth day, Alexei called out sick to work for the first time in years. He knocked on Ilya’s door one last time before leaving on a road trip.
It was a four hour drive from Boston to New York City, where the Admirals would face the Montreal Voyageurs tonight.
Alexei had been there once, cheering Ilya on at an Admirals vs. Bears game last year. He remembered the side lot where staff and players parked and the door Ilya had led him through on a little VIP tour before the game started.
The clock on his car dashboard told him it was still early, so he parked at the back of the lot and waited. As he sat, he considered what he might say.
The fear he had seen in Ilya's eyes played over and over in Alexei's mind. It was the first time that look had been directed at him and Alexei wanted to scrub the feeling off his skin like a physical thing.
There was another moment, a split second just before the two men noticed him, that Alexei fixated on. There was a familiarity, an intimacy, in Shane’s relaxed smile and Ilya's languid posture as he leaned over the counter. Alexei swore their fingers brushed when Ilya handed him that ginger ale.
It wasn't explicit, but Alexei knew what he saw. He knew from the moment he walked through that door. It was not the first time Alexei suspected his brother liked men. He had always been unusually close with his coach's son.
Perhaps that informed Alexei's stance on not prying at Ilya's secrets. It was dangerous, with their father, with their country. If he had been caught before the draft, it would have burned their best bridge to get out. Ilya would have known that too.
Alexei tried not to think about it, about his baby brother having even more reasons to be afraid. He considered reaching out so many times. He felt ashamed now that he hadn't, but he never knew what to say. Keep hiding. Keep lying. I'm sorry to put another burden on your shoulders.
Their father taught them to be a man in his image. A vision of violence and greed and domination. Alexei wasn't interested in being the type of man who ruled his house with fear, who bent others until they broke, so long as it served him.
Alexei and Ilya were their own type of men. They were shaped by the memory of their mother, her love, her kindness, her humor even at her worst. He saw her in Ilya every day.
If their mother’s light guided Ilya here, who was Alexei to call him wrong. He would not lose the only real family he had left to uphold the stale bigotry of his father.
A large bus with tinted windows rolled into the parking lot. Alexei jumped out of his car immediately and quickly spotted Shane amongst the players who were slowly unloading.
“Shane Hollander!” Alexei called in his thick Russian accent. Shane's head whipped up to find him. He looked disappointed, and a bit frightened, to find the voice didn’t belong to the man he was clearly hoping to see.
A tall woman in sunglasses and a dark suit, team security no doubt, stepped between them.
“It's okay, Maria. I know him.” Shane jerked his head to the side and started walking without another word. When they were on the other side of the parking lot, out of earshot of his team, Shane finally spoke.
“You’re his brother, right?” Shane didn't meet his eyes.
“Yes.” Alexei said. “He does not know I'm here.”
There was an unspoken understanding not to say Ilya's name. It was too dangerous a piece of information to let slip even with no one around to hear it. How had Ilya lived with this secrecy for so long?
“You shouldn't be.” Shane said.
“I am worried for him.”
Shane's eyes snapped up at that. He looked like he wanted to ask a question then thought better of it. His gaze turned back to his teammates who were shooting him curious glances from across the parking lot. “It's over.”
“Why?” Alexei could guess the reasons, but he still had to ask.
“It never should have started.”
“If it makes you happy,” Alexei tried.
Shane cut him off. “It doesn't matter.”
“Bullshit.” Alexei swore gruffly. If his brother's heart was on the line, he wasn't backing down. “Ilya has been through hell. What are we surviving for if not to be happy?”
“Do you mean…” Shane hesitated. “About Russia? About your family?”
Alexei nodded.
“He never talks about it.”
“Neither of us do.”
Alexei stopped a moment to take Shane in. He had dark circles under his eyes. His hands fidgeted at his sides.
“He misses you.” Alexei hoped Ilya would forgive him if he overstepped. He looked back at Shane's team finally leaving him behind to file into the arena. “I would never tell anyone. You are safe.”
“I should go.” Shane started to back away. “Thank you.” And then he was gone.
Ilya was in the living room when Alexei arrived home late that evening. His hair was wet from the shower. The smell of roasting meat and warm spices wafted in from the kitchen.
“You are feeling better?” Alexei asked. Ilya rounded the couch in an instant and practically tackled Alexei to the floor. He had to put a steadying hand on the wall to keep them both upright.
“Thank you.” Ilya gripped him tight. “Also, I am buying us a duplex.”
Alexei laughed. The weight of the last few days finally lifted. His brother was safe. “Good. I love you, mishka, but I do not want to hear my baby brother and his boyfriend.”
Ilya grinned widely and flopped back onto the couch. “You are sure? You could learn something.” He draped his arms out casually. “We are very talented.”
Alexei took his shoe off and threw it at him.
The duplex was close to the Bears training facility and an easy train ride to the library. Alexei moved into the left side, Ilya the right. It was probably healthy to have their own spaces, but Alexei couldn't help the quiet anxiety in the back of his head at even that slight distance from his brother.
They traded keys from day one and still spent much of their free time together on one side or the other, so it wasn't a surprise when one day in late 2013, Ilya burst into Alexei's living room unannounced.
Alexei looked up from the book he'd been enjoying on his day off just in time to see Ilya's phone flying into his lap. He caught it clumsily and turned the screen towards himself to find an open email from the Russian Ice Hockey Federation.
The email congratulated Ilya for his selection as captain of Team Russia for the 2014 Olympics in Sochi. It was a great honor, one he certainly couldn't turn down.
Ilya paced back and forth radiating anxiety.
“I can't," His voice was strained. “Alexei, I can't.”
Alexei marked his page, set his book aside, and stood. He placed calm hands on Ilya's shoulders to stop his pacing and said firmly, “You can.”
Ilya sucked in a sharp breath. Unshed tears threatened to spill from his eyes. “I am terrified.” He confessed quietly. They hadn't been back home in three years.
Alexei squished his brother's face between his hands and grinned. “You think you are going alone?” Ilya's face lit up with hope. “We will face this together, mishka, like we do everything.”
Alexei took three weeks off work to travel with Ilya. Everyone at work was excited for him because he never took time off. They were even more excited when he said he was going to see his brother compete in the Olympics. He mentioned Ilya occasionally at work, but up to that point none of his coworkers knew that his baby brother was the Boston Bear's captain, the Russian Terror himself.
Alexei booked a hotel room just outside the athlete's village. It was surreal being back in Russia, even though they were nowhere near Moscow. Ilya was the only person he had spoken his mother tongue with for years, aside from his occasional visits to the bakery by their old apartment, and there was a comfort in being surrounded by it again.
While Ilya settled in with his new team, Alexei wandered down a bustling street of shops. The many Russian signs and voices warmed him against the February cold. Of course he was mainly here to watch Ilya play, but he had been making a list in his head of all of the things he missed that he needed to experience while he was here. He knew he wouldn't get the chance again.
A pub door opened to Alexei’s left, letting out the soft Russian pop music that was playing inside. Alexei could go for a drink, he decided. The lighting inside the bar was dim. Exposed metal pipes snaked across the ceiling. Dark leather chairs and couches scattered around the floor, filled with happy, drunk people.
Alexei ordered a kvass and sipped it slowly. The last time he tasted one he was eleven, when his father allowed him a sip of his drink. Alexei had immediately spit it out as a child, and his father had clapped him hard on the back of his head for the mess. Now, Alexei found the slightly sour taste refreshing as the alcohol warmed his throat and pushed away his darker memories.
He leaned back against the bar and looked over the crowd, no doubt filled with athletes from various sports and fans excited to watch the games. His eyes landed on a group of familiar looking men at the other end of the bar who were wearing a mix of Team America and Team Canada jackets.
Alexei recognized a couple of Ilya’s teammates and maybe a captain or two from other NHL teams from nights out with Ilya after games. One man stood out to him amongst the crowd. Alexei offered a subtle nod and raised his glass in cheers when Shane met his gaze.
Shane downed the last of his beer, then muttered something to one of his Canadian teammates before making his way to the bar. He stopped next to Alexei, keeping a carefully measured distance, but close enough to talk over the music without having to lean in.
“He mentioned you would be here.” Shane said after ordering another drink. Shane faced the bar, Alexei faced the crowd. At a passing glance, it wouldn’t be obvious that they were talking to each other.
Alexei grinned. “Of course. I would not miss this.” His smile faltered as a grim thought came to mind. “Will you see each other while you are here?”
Shane’s eyes darted around, checking his teammates were all still on the other side of the bar. “I don’t know. We’ll both be busy.” His cheeks turned pink from something more than just alcohol.
“You should not.” Alexei said firmly, and Shane finally turned to him. He chose his words carefully. “It is not safe here.”
Shane’s drink arrived from the bartender and Shane slumped heavily against the counter as he took it. Alexei wondered how often they got to see each other. Boston played Montreal five, maybe six times a year. Shane and Ilya had both become regulars at the annual All Star weekend. Ilya had a small window of free time in the summers, after playoffs ended and before preseason started, in between brand shoots and all his other obligations.
For the past three summers, Ilya took a trip alone to visit a friend in Canada. The first time it was only for a few days. Last year, Ilya was gone nearly two weeks. There was no doubt in Alexei’s mind now, he was going to see Shane.
Alexei had never focused much on love in his life. He had seen at a young age how badly a marriage could go wrong, and his time always felt far too occupied to consider such indulgences. Still, he could imagine the pain of a constant pull on your heart when something you loved was an entire country away.
“Have you tried solyanka?” Alexei asked casually. Shane just stared at him. “You can never find it in the states.” He grinned and pointed at Shane’s beer. “Solyanka is hangover soup. Good after a night of drinking.”
“Oh?” Shane asked, struggling to follow why Alexei was giving him a lesson on Russian food.
“There is a place not far from here that sells it. Give me your phone.”
Shane gave him a curious look but relented in handing his phone over. Alexei typed a quick text message then pulled his own phone out of his pocket when it dinged. “I will text you the address. If you see my brother there, say hello for me.”
Shane blinked down at his phone screen, reading and re-reading the hotel address and room number. “Is just to see each other.” Alexei warned playfully. “Do not have sex in my room.”
Shane nodded once as he turned bright red, before returning to his group.
Alexei didn’t tell Ilya the plan, just invited him over for dinner that night, because he thought Ilya may try to run away if he knew. Plus the bewildered look on Ilya’s face when Alexei revealed Shane Hollander after a knock on his hotel room door was priceless.
“Alexei, what the fuck!” Ilya growled.
“How long you think you can keep your boyfriend from me, hm?” He asked Ilya in Russian, but switched to English for the word boyfriend just to watch Shane turn pink. “I want to meet him properly.”
Ilya let out a frustrated groan. “We're not- shut up!”
“Oh, you’re not?” Alexei grinned and raised an eyebrow. As much as he loved Ilya, he was mentally rubbing his hands together at the opportunity to embarrass his baby brother. He turned to Shane. “How long have you been sleeping with my brother?”
“Alexei!” Ilya snapped.
“What? You say you are not boyfriends, but it has been years, yes?”
“It’s not like that.” Shane interjected.
“You,” Alexei pointed a finger at him, “have not answered my question.”
“It’s been a while.” Shane mumbled, eyes fixed on the floor.
“Since we moved here.” Ilya relented with a huff. “Summer before rookie season.”
“So you are dating for years.” Alexei confirmed.
Ilya shook his head. “Not dating.”
“Do not fool me, mishka.” Alexei cut off any more nonsense. “He is the one you spend your summer trips with, yes?” Shane and Ilya both turned pink. “This is not casual.”
He started unpacking food containers onto the hotel’s coffee table. “Come.” He waved Shane over as he sat on the couch. “I want to know you. Share food with me.”
Ilya sighed dramatically, then stepped forward. “Fine.” Ilya sorted through a few containers then pushed one in Shane's direction. “You will like this one, Hollander.”
“Should I call you Rozanov now?” Alexei asked sarcastically.
Ilya grit his teeth and rolled his eyes. “No.”
“No?” Alexei poked his brother in the ribs, pleased with Ilya's annoyance.
“Shane is fine.” Ilya ground out, then turned to Shane and asked hesitantly, “Yes?”
“Yes. Yeah. That- that's fine.” Shane looked just as nervous. “Ilya.”
“Shane.” Ilya repeated as they mirrored each other's shy, dopey smiles.
Alexei rolled his eyes fondly. He didn’t think he’d ever seen his brother so happy.
Alexei had never watched so much hockey in his life. Shane joined him a few days later to watch Ilya battle against Latvia. The Canadian team had won all their games so far, but Russia was struggling.
“Look at their goalie.” Shane pointed out, leaning across the empty seat they left between them. “His left knee is hurting him.”
Alexei focused in on the player squatting in Russia's net and tried to see what Shane saw. The player's stance was lopsided, barely noticeable without someone pointing it out. Alexei winced as the goalie shifted his weight to his right leg just as Latvia sent the puck flying over his left shoulder.
“Latvia sees it too.” Shane settled back in his seat, his mouth downturned in a disappointed frown. “They're targeting his left side now.”
Alexei’s shoulders were tense by the time the final buzzer sounded, ending what should have been an easy victory for Russia against the much lower ranked team with a score of 4-2 for Latvia. He knew Ilya would be punishing himself later as he always did after hard losses.
“That’s too bad.” Shane sighed when it was over. “I was hoping to face him in the finals.”
“It’s not his fault.” Defending Ilya had become a reflex for Alexei. He wondered what their father’s reaction would be, wherever he was watching from, and Alexei knew he would be watching, if only to fuel his hatred and find another reason to complain.
Alexei flinched at a memory of sitting in the back seat of their father’s car after one of Ilya’s junior hockey games following a similar defeat. Their father had torn into Ilya for being lazy, for embarrassing him. It had killed Alexei not to intervene in the moment, but he knew it would have only made it worse for both of them.
What did Shane expect of Ilya? Certainly, for someone as skilled as Shane was, he must like having a partner who could match his level. Would he think less of Ilya for the loss?
“Of course not.” Shane’s words brought him back to the present. “He carried that team. He did everything he could.”
Alexei nodded and turned back to the ice as his vision went blurry with tears.
Some of the weight that had been so heavy on Alexei’s shoulders for years began to lift. He felt his burden lightening since their dinner with Shane. They weren’t alone anymore, Alexei realized, and despite every obstacle they would face, Ilya was in good hands.
Alexei didn’t expect to see Ilya for a while after the game. He would give him space, let him drown his sorrows with his teammates or push his exhausted body through a work out until he collapsed.
Instead, Ilya grabbed him in the hallway and pulled him into an empty equipment room. Alexei had already said goodbye to Shane and parted ways as the crowd exited the arena. Ilya was still half dressed in his hockey gear and shining with sweat from the game.
“Papa is here.” Ilya’s voice was urgent and scared as he gripped Alexei’s arm tightly. Alexei’s blood ran cold.
“Did you see him? Did you talk to him?”
Ilya shook his head. “Polina called me. She said he is looking for us.”
“Polina?” Alexei didn't know their stepmother even had Ilya's phone number. Their father remarried shortly after their mother’s death, but Polina had never been much of a presence in their lives, taking no interest in her new husband’s traumatized teenage sons.
Alexei and Ilya had no interest in her either, and they all came to a silent agreement early on to interact as little as possible. Polina never seemed happy with their father, who would be, but she got what she wanted from him, access to his money. Alexei didn’t care about protecting his father or any inheritance that they may have otherwise gotten, so he simply left Polina to her own devices and worried about his own goals.
“She calls sometimes.” Ilya shrugged, trying to cover his nerves and embarrassment with nonchalance.
“Since when?”
Ilya wouldn’t look at him. “A year ago, maybe.” He answered quietly. “She says papa is sick.”
Ilya explained their father stopped working last year, and as his medical bills rose and his savings dwindled, Polina reached out to the best money source she knew. Alexei wasn’t convinced their father was even sick. Apparently, Polina only ever gave vague answers when Ilya pressed her for details over the phone.
Ilya wrapped his arms tightly around himself. “It was easier just to send the money than to fight.”
“Oh, Ilyusha.” Alexei cupped a gentle hand on his cheek. Ilya had always been soft, in a way their father punished him for, but which Alexei had always found brave. “I wish you had told me.”
They planned to confront their father as a united front. There was no way Grigori wouldn’t find them, so they picked a quiet cafe to meet at and Ilya called Polina.
Alexei’s lungs were in his throat as they approached the cafe. They hadn’t seen or spoken to their father in four years, but they weren't scared children anymore. They had money. They had green cards. They had each other.
There was a sharp intake of breath as Ilya spotted him first. After all these years away, Gregori looked nothing like the intimidating man who had terrorized them and their mother. He looked old and frail.
“Father.” Alexei nodded curtly when they reached the table he was sitting at with a young woman who was not Polina.
His father’s eyes were cold and distant as he looked over Alexei. Alexei wondered how different he looked himself since the last time they had been face to face. His father almost seemed not to recognize him.
“The staff here are useless.” Gregori huffed in irritation as he shifted restlessly in his chair. “Why is our food not here yet?”
Ilya and Alexei exchanged confused looks. The woman placed a calm hand on their father’s arm. Her jacket opened slightly as she moved and Alexei saw the edge of a plastic badge clipped to her shirt. “We have not ordered yet, Grigori. Say hello to your sons first.” She gestured for them to sit.
“I’m Anna.” The woman introduced herself when their father only grunted irritably in response to her prompting. “Polina hired me to look after Grigori.”
Anna filled in all the blanks that Polina had left unanswered. Their father had dementia. He was declining rapidly. Polina, who was rarely around, hired a nurse to care for him.
Alexei suspected Polina was already out hunting for her next husband. He couldn't blame her. Gregori was not an easy man to be around even at his best.
“She just left him like this?” Ilya's anger surprised Alexei.
Alexei reminded him, “So did we.”
They ordered their food to go and followed Anna back to Grigori's hotel room, a suite with two adjoining bedrooms, to discuss their father's health in private.
They researched the company name on Anna’s badge to confirm she was legit. The company was highly rated, so at least Polina did one thing right.
Anna was calm and professional as Ilya and Alexei grilled her. When they were satisfied that this wasn’t another one of Polina’s schemes, Ilya asked about the money. Apparently, Polina had been using about half of what Ilya gave her to pay for Anna’s services. God only knows what she was doing with the rest.
It wasn’t a shock to Anna. “My patients are always in a vulnerable position. Some families take advantage.”
“What do we do?” Even though Anna was close to his own age, Alexei felt like a child asking a grown up for help.
Anna reviewed their options, and even recommended a couple financial advisors she trusted from past experience. In the end, Ilya set aside a generous sum of money in a medical trust. Anna could take what she needed. Their father would be set for years.
“When he is gone,” Ilya said, “Polina can take whatever is left. I don't care.”
Anna nodded as they all stood. She shook both their hands and thanked them.
A dark and twisted part of Alexei thought he may have taken some satisfaction in the idea of his cruel father rotting away alone in a nursing home. But he was glad they did this. If anything, the act of mercy felt like a gift to their mother. She always saw the best in people, and she would want her sons to choose kindness, even when it wasn’t deserved.
When they reached the door to leave, Alexei turned back and said for the last time “Goodbye, papa.”
Grigori looked up and for a moment seemed to find some of his lost energy. He pointed a stern finger at Alexei. “Bring your mother something sweet from Dmitry's. She is being awful today.”
It took every ounce of Alexei’s strength to close the door behind him without another word.
They barely made it back to Alexei's hotel room before tears poured down both their faces. Ilya doubled over, leaning back against the closed door as a wretched sound was pulled from his throat.
Alexei held him for a long time, kneeling on the ugly carpet of his hotel room. It wasn't the catharsis either of them hoped for, but at least it was over.
On the day they were scheduled to leave, Ilya met Alexei in his hotel room.
“We have one more person to say goodbye to.” Alexei told him as he handed over an envelope with two plane tickets from Sochi to Moscow.
Their mother’s tombstone was in a small graveyard beside an old stone church surrounded by trees. The frozen ground crunched beneath their feet as they approached.
He and Ilya used to visit her often, and Alexei's chest ached anytime he wondered over the last few years if she missed them as desperately as they missed her.
“Hello mama.” Ilya greeted as he laid down a bouquet of flowers. “I'm sorry we have not visited.”
They caught her up on their lives. Ilya smiled brightly when he told her he was drafted number one to the Bears and told her stories of all his teammates he wished she could meet.
Alexei spoke about his work at the library and about the bakery he found that made vatrushkas almost as good as hers.
Alexei brought her a framed photo of him and Ilya. It was from after a game in Boston, taken by one of Ilya's teammates. In the picture, they had their arms wrapped around each other's shoulders, smiling brightly at the camera.
Alexei wanted her to see the men they had grown into, and the joy they had found. He wanted her to have a way to keep her sons with her because he and Ilya both knew they weren't coming back.
After nearly an hour sitting in the cold dirt telling stories, Ilya placed a gentle hand on her headstone. “I'm sorry we could not get you out too, mama.”
The thought had crossed Alexei's mind so many times over the years. Every forward step was weighed down with the guilt that it could have been the three of them instead of just two.
It took Alexei a long time, and a couple books on survivors' guilt, to finally recognize that they were too young and they couldn't have changed anything.
Alexei covered Ilya's hand with his own. “She would be happy we got out, at least. And that we have each other.”
Ilya blinked back tears and nodded. “Can I have a minute alone with her?”
Alexei stepped away to give Ilya privacy. He walked the church grounds and let the crisp winter air fill his lungs.
There was a small pond downhill from the graveyard where he and Ilya used to sit after their visits when they needed a moment of quiet before going back to the storm waiting at home.
Alexei sat now by the edge of the water and watched the movements of little fish dart under the frozen surface. He was impressed anything was still alive in the frigid cold.
Ilya found him twenty minutes later and swapped places by the pond, so Alexei could have his own moment alone to say goodbye.
He took the winding path slowly back up the hill, considering what he needed to say. When he reached his mother's grave, he stood in silence with her for a moment.
Alexei told his mother he loved her, then he told her he kept his promise. “We can both rest easy now, mama.”
___________
Ilya took a separate flight home from Moscow. He felt a surge of freedom at having finally cast away his father's shadow. He was also struck with the realization that life was short.
He had been wasting time with Shane, pretending he wasn't in hopelessly deep. Ilya drummed his fingers nervously against the plane's arm rest. He felt like he couldn't breathe until he saw Shane.
He landed in Montreal and rented a car to drive straight from the airport to Shane's place. Ilya didn't have a plan, didn't know what he would say. He just knew he needed to see Shane, needed to hold him in his arms.
As soon as Shane opened the door, Ilya forgot any English words he might have said and instead simply kissed him, slow and desperate. He tried to tell Shane everything through the kiss. Shane's hands clutched the front of Ilya's jacket as Ilya's arms wrapped tight around him, pulling Shane in as close as possible.
When they broke apart, Ilya pressed their foreheads together and tried to calm his racing heart. The words that had been turning over and over in his head the whole plane ride tumbled out before he had any sense to control them. “Ya tebya lyublyu. I love you.”
Ilya had been saying those words in his head for too long, always biting them back to keep himself safe. It didn’t matter anymore. Shane was all that mattered.
Shane, wide-eyed and flustered, replied with a quiet “Holy shit”, followed quickly by “I love you too.”
Then they were kissing again, messily through laughter and tears. Ilya felt a million pounds lighter. Shane was his. And he was Shane's. Finally.
The two men startled suddenly when the sound of someone clearing their throat behind Shane cut through their cloud of happiness.
Shane sheepishly pushed the door open wider to reveal his parents sitting at his dining table. “They came over for lunch.” Shane was bright red as he gestured vaguely into his home. “To celebrate me getting silver and everything.”
“Hi.” Ilya gave a little wave.
It turned out Shane's parents were, unsurprisingly, wonderful, and they welcomed Ilya with open (if slightly confused) arms.
“So you're the reason Shane’s been smiling so much lately.” David Hollander said with a knowing smile.
They stayed late into the afternoon, asking questions and getting to know each other. Yuna asked about their plan for the future and looked apprehensive when Ilya said they didn't have one.
“We'll work on that.” She said with a nod and Ilya could see the wheels already turning in her head. Her expression softened when she said, “We're just glad you boys are happy.”
Ilya's throat tightened as he fought back tears. He was feeling raw after saying an early goodbye to his father and a final goodbye to his mother. Being with Shane for real meant he couldn't go back, not that he was planning to anyway.
Ilya took Shane's hand under the table. He was glad Shane's family knew now, like Ilya's did. He knew what a relief that was. Of course, Alexei had known for a while, but yesterday Ilya got to tell his mother about the man he'd fallen in love with. Ilya only wished she could have met Shane, but he felt her spirit with him every day, so in a way she had known him all along.
After Shane's parents left, Ilya stayed. In the middle of the night, Shane shook Ilya awake and rolled out a multi-year plan in the quiet dark of his bedroom. As Shane got more excited, he spoke far too fast for Ilya's half-asleep brain to translate, but he got the gist.
Move to Ottawa. Start a charity and a public friendship. Come out one day. Love each other forever.
Ilya was touched. Shane was making plans for him, for them, to have a life together.
“Ottawa has some great libraries.” Shane said. Ilya gave him a curious look as he tried to keep up. “I just mean, Alexei will like it there. If he decides to move with you.”
Ilya's chest swelled with so much love he couldn't help but pull Shane down on top of him and kiss him all over. “I love you.” He said again, because he could. Ilya wanted to say it every day for the rest of his life.
___________
“This is too much.” Alexei said for at least the fourth time. He and Ilya were in Ottawa, standing on the front lawns of two adjacent houses, each with a For Sale sign posted at the ends of the driveways.
“Do you think we could build a tunnel between them?” Ilya asked gleefully. He had been ignoring Alexei's protests ever since he set his mind on making sure they were next door neighbors in Ottawa.
“You would need an excavation permit.” Alexei was only about sixty percent sure Ilya was joking about the tunnel.
Ilya waved him off. “This is perfect.” He stood with his hands on his hips, a grin splitting his face, as he surveyed the homes.
“You don’t need to take care of me, mishka. I can handle myself.”
Ilya turned to him with an uncharacteristically sincere face. “You didn't need to take care of me either, but you always did.”
The sting in Alexei’s eyes and the sudden bubble of emotion rising in his throat were overwhelming, so he said as a distraction, “We should put a pool in the backyard.”
In an instant he was swept off the ground, Ilya's arms wrapped tight around his torso as he lifted and shook Alexei with excitement. “You are saying yes!?”
“I'm saying yes.” Alexei chuckled. “Now put me down.” When he was back on solid ground, Alexei squeezed a hand on Ilya's shoulder. “Thank you.”
“You know,” Ilya started casually, but his eyes glinted with playful mischief, “I heard the Centaurs are looking for a new facilities manager for the practice rink. You should apply.”
It would be nice working in the same building as Ilya, but Alexei was probably way underqualified. “Maybe. I’ll look at it.”
“I gave your resume to the director.” Ilya started walking briskly towards his car. “You have interview on Monday.” He called with a wave as he got in the driver’s seat. “I will text you details.”
Alexei shook his head with a laugh. He really loved his little brother.