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Shane hasn't thought of Ricky Thompson for years.
They were classmates in school and played hockey together until they were fifteen and Ricky quit. He wasn't particularly good but also wasn't bad and didn't genuinely enjoy the sport. His dad was a huge hockey fan and tried to turn his son into a hockey player and failed miserably. The last time Shane saw him, Ricky's girlfriend broke up with him and he was moving from Ottawa to study acting. They weren't close and Shane never made it into his friends list but Ricky was on friendly terms with almost anyone so he went through the effort to texting Shane a few times a year to say hi and share some updates.
Since he was the only one of Shane's classmates who bothered to wish him Happy Birthday and Merry Christmas, Shane was careful to reciprocate his kindness. He knew from their short conversations that Ricky's acting career failed (working in marketing was apparently also fun) and that he had two children, one with his ex-girlfriend and recently born baby boy with his new wife. A happy family indeed, showed the picture Ricky attached to his latest congratulatory message. In it, he stood with his arms around a blonde woman who held a little baby and his daughter stood between them. They all were smiling brightly except for the baby who looked rather offended but still managed to fit the happy family picture.
It didn't come as a shock when Ricky texted him out of nowhere and invited him to join their school reunion. Shane assumed he was tasked with inviting him since he was the only one in direct contact with Shane to make the invitation look more welcoming. When Shane rejected the kind offer via text, Ricky was quick to send him a series of crying yellow emoji to portray how crushed he felt. Apparently they all were coming together, even Melissa and Shane's past crush Gina (Ricky then told him that now he was unsure if it was crush at all since Gina clearly didn't fit the type of now freshly openly gay hockey player but that she was still in attendance). Martin Smith was supposed to be there too, another one of Shane's past teammates. Martin actually enjoyed hockey and wanted to play professionally too but wasn't good enough to be drafted. Frankly, Shane understood from that message that his past classmates were now hoping he would join them and perhaps he could bring his boyfriend too? Apparently they all saw the campaigns with shirtless Ilya flexing his muscles and couldn't wait to meet him in person. They were apparently fans (it wasn't specified whether they supported Ilya's career or his muscles).
Well, what does Shane think? It will be fun, Ricky claimed. A chance to reminisce about the past. They had so many memories to discuss. Surely… wouldn't that be nice?… just to hang out for one night… well, think about it Shane. No need to rush. Give me a call if you change your decision.
Shane couldn't quite figure out what was there to talk about. As a kid, he usually kept to himself and had very little friends. Apart from Ricky who sometimes sat with him during lunch, Shane truly didn't have any memories worth discussing and the things he could remember were usually very uneventful or occasionally slightly sad. He didn't really want to confront Melissa about that nickname she made for him that stuck around until he was fourteen and finally taller. It wasn't like when Ilya told him of his youthful shenanigans when he and group of his friends stole cigarettes and smoked them before they were caught by Ilya's brother. It was perhaps lucky that Alexei didn't really give a fuck and didn't bother to tell any adult about what he saw. But it was that kind of memory that could be mentioned during such gatherings. Unlike Shane's uneventful experiences where he could only share his love for hockey and evenings spent dining with his parents. So no, Ricky surely didn't invite him to speak solely of hockey practices and scoring.
And Shane knew for certain he would not attend.
-.
.
.
Ilya finds out about it soon enough. He's curious, yes, very excited too. He tells Shane that he can't imagine him as a kid, then retracts his statement and describes a scrawny awkward boy with big glasses (yes, Shane admits he wore glasses) and asks to see his pictures. Shane is adamant about not owning any and it's true. He's also glad while Ilya acts a bit disappointed. Unlike Ilya who was at that age almost cherubic with his curls and mischievous smile, Shane wasn't scrawny at all. If he had to find the right words, he would describe himself as a huge egg with glasses and mop of short black hair. When he skated, he got red in the face and rolled around, quicker than any egg should and always scored but didn't paint a pretty picture. He got taller later on and that marked the moment when he stopped being round and chubby and actually started look like a hockey player. It's the version of himself that Shane hopes Ilya will never see. Even his mom refers to his school self as slightly round (in a cute way, she claims but Shane is adamant that she's the only one who thinks so).
"So you were a bit chubby… not big deal," Ilya always claims. "I get chubby during summer." He doesn't understand that putting on a little weight doesn't make him chubby at all and that he only gets slightly bigger and appears more bulky. When Shane's mom talks about him being chubby, she simply means Shane was really fat and didn't have poems written around his round pecks. He was a little piggy then, with a hockey stick and wearing hockey gear and he genuinely hates that version of him. Everyone laughed when he stumbled on the ice, landing on his front and didn't they say he bounced like a huge ball, up and down and to the sides too and it hurt as much as you would expect but his teammates swarmed him and joked that he didn't feel a thing.
That boy haunts him when Ilya brings up the reunion. He looks hopeful. "It's summer," he says. "We have time." He must think that Shane is shy or doesn't want to get out and have some fun. "We can go if you want to. I really want to meet your friends," Ilya continues. He clearly wants to act the part that comes with being Shane's boyfriend. It's perhaps the first time he has a chance to meet people Shane grew up with. Perhaps he craves closure, wants to know the version of partner that Shane keeps hidden. Shane understands it, he felt the same when Ilya introduced him to his Russian friends when they came for a visit, included him, let him see the awkward pictures of a boy he once was. Ilya wearing a bright red cap. Ilya chugging down a bottle of vodka with his eyes closed. Ilya's hair reaching his shoulders, the ends slightly curling as he lies on the couch, one hand raised in the air, his middle finger pointed towards the camera.
"You want to go?" Shane asks him. He ends up in Ilya's lap, one of Ilya's palms already beneath his t-shirt, tracing his spine. Ilya doesn't say yes, not unless Shane wants to. He kisses Shane and his fingers trail into Shane's hair. The kiss leads nowhere and doesn't deepen. Ilya licks the bottom lips, a subtle teasing and then pulls away and pecks Shane's lips and his chin and then tips his head backward.
"I don't want you to think that… that I don't want them to meet you. It's not that."
"Shane. It's okay. I was just curious. That is all." He holds Shane close, chest pressed against chest until two heartbeats melt into a single one.
"You're my boyfriend…"
"I am. It feels nice when you say it." Ilya pulls them down until they are lying. Then follows a long pause during which Shane hears the sound of Ilya's breathing, now loud and fast but very consistent. His palm rest just slightly over Shane's lower back, his thumb tracing circles over Shane's skin.
"Boyfriend," Shane mouths against the fabric of Ilya's t-shirt. He speaks that word with genuine affection. It resonates within his throat, the mere vibration of it intimate and safe. He wonders if Ilya feels the same, if there is a difference between saying it and hearing it being said to address him. He thinks of Ricky and Martin Smith and of pretty Melissa.
"We were not very close," he says. "I played hockey with a few of those guys and Ricky was really friendly. The girls evaded me most of the time but I don't remember being bothered by it." Lifting his head he finds Ilya already gazing at him.
"Ah. So no girls for Shane Hollander even then." A quick smile. Mostly teasing. Shane buries his face against Ilya's chest and taps his thigh. Ilya's fingers slide across his temples and Ilya laughs. It comes from a place deep inside of his chest, very close to his heart.
"I was really awkward… very… well, boring. In love with hockey."
"Is that why you have no pictures? I only saw you as a baby. Yuna keeps that one in her purse."
Yuna loves that photo. Shane is one year old and lying on his back with his legs elevated and pointed towards his shoulders. His chin is shining with fresh spit. He knows that Ilya has a copy of it on his phone but thankfully hasn't found the courage to set it as his lock screen.
"You were so cute… cute and big baby," Ilya chuckles. Ilya was a fat baby too so Shane isn't that bothered. Ilya suddenly wraps his legs around Shane's middle, his ankles crossing and Shane yelps. Now he's not sure where one of them ends and the other begins. Ilya tilts his pelvis, apparently to tease since Shane's been quiet for way too long and Shane kisses a small spot between his collar bones to prove that he's still present.
"I don't think they would want to talk about baby pictures. I think they want to drink and chatter a bit. That's it. Ricky makes it sound romantic but those other times they hung out, it was strictly about drinking as much as they could."
"I could out-drink them," Ilya assures him. Shane doesn't doubt him. If there is someone who could do it, then it certainly would be Ilya.
"I also think they just want to brag they had a chance to spend evening with two professional hockey players. It's good for the pictures." Melissa must be fiddling her thumbs right now, so greedy for any kind of attention. It surprises Shane, the ugly feeling that suddenly raises from his depths. For once, she would be forced to approach him and beg for a picture… just one Shane… I hope it's not too much trouble for you… well, do you remember when we were twelve and I was still really pretty with my long golden hair and you rolled around instead of walking… who would have thought, Shaney?… Shane, could you step away for a moment… you're ruining the fucking picture… we have to take another…
"Who doen't want to brag?" Ilya asks, feigning the disinterest but is very well aware where this is leading. His eyes sparkle with badly contained excitement. "We are hot and rich." He proves his point by kissing the shell of Shane's ear, his breath warm and tickling. Shane shudders, cranes his neck. The next kiss lands clumsily beneath his ear, leaving a wet feeling.
The thing is, most of Shane's problems befall him because of his inability to say no when he doesn't want to do something. That's how he ended up modeling in his underwear and being spokesman for that coffee brand he would otherwise never drink. What makes it even worse that Ilya would understand if Shane told him the reason he is not eager to go. He would say, fuck them then and declare Shane's classmates are on the list of people he hates. He would block Ricky Thompson's number after sending a long message to rant about things that happened in the past. That would be the end of it. Yet once again, no is not what Shane says. It's perhaps because Ilya looks so hopeful, so excited. What is he even afraid of? It's just a couple of drinks shared with his old classmates. Ilya can mingle with them and sate his curiosity and they will tell him that Shane was plain and boring, spent his evenings playing board games with his parents and was obsessed with hockey. So nothing is that different, Shane thinks. Except for Ilya. Ilya is part of his life now.
"We can't stay long though," he says. Words let's do this get stuck inside of his throat. Shane fears if he speaks them out, he will gag on them.
"No… we need to return to bed early," Ilya agrees. "Have mind-blowing sex. I could blow you in the shower."
Shane laughs. Fuck you Melissa, he thinks. Fuck his classmates. Fuck.
"Fuck me," he whispers. Ilya complies.
.
.
.
"This is Ricky," Shane introduces his old classmate. Ricky has inviting round face and looks older than Shane despite being slightly younger. He lets out a good-natured laugh and shakes Ilya's hand. He seems genuinely glad that Shane had time to make it.
"It's been ages, Shaney. I saw the pictures and the magazines…" He waves his hand, the corners of his lip now slightly down-turned. "Nasty… really nasty man. No privacy allowed. Why do they need to take so many pictures of you?" He pats Shane's shoulder in sympathy. Well, yes it was crazy since they were outed but the initial shock is slowly dying down… don't worry Ricky… me and Ilya are fine with it now… yes, it can get annoying.
"That's just how it is but it's still terrible." Ricky pauses. "I am a bad host, am I not? Come, let's grab some drinks for you two. You'll meet the rest inside." He falls one steps behind them as he leads them deeper into his house. Ilya takes a hold of Shane's hand, giving him a reassuring squeeze and then sticks to just hooking their thumbs together. There are at least fifteen people gathered inside. None of them is drunk yet, except for Sara who is already red in face and slightly tipsy. Most of his old classmate greet him with a friendly smile. They introduce their partners, Johnny Walls and his wife Andy and Bianca Mills, visibly pregnant and hanging on her husband's shoulder. "That's Shaney Hollander," she says, caressing her belly with one hand and taking sips from cranberry juice in the other. "It's been so long. You changed too much." She turns to Ilya. "He really used to look different, had shorter hair I think." There's a pause and it seems she soon realizes that it would be tactless to openly state he used to be fat. Her husband doesn't say a word and when the conversation naturally leads to hockey, it becomes clear he's more of a football fan.
"He's such a bore," Bianca tells them. She doesn't know much about hockey either and that little knowledge she has is obviously wrong since she asks Ilya how how likes Boston, a year after his move to Ottawa.
"It was a nice city," Ilya tells her, his smile wide and he clearly means well but doesn't bother to hide his growing amusement. "It was my second home. I barely missed Russia when I moved there."
Bianca blinks. "Russia?" she ask. "Why would you miss it?"
"He's Russian, babe," her husband says.
"That can't be right," Bianca objects. Ilya looks perplexed a bit and even glances towards Shane as if to ask if his accent is gone. It certainly isn't. It's softer, yes and perhaps a bit less noticeable but still very apparent to even an untrained ear.
"It is," Ilya sips his drink, cranberry juice despite being offered vodka. Bianca opens her mouth again… that girl is certainly spouting gems. She seems excited to declare that her grandfather visited Soviet Union once and seems shocked to find out it doesn't exist anymore. Her worldview is forever shattered when she finds out that Russia isn't part of European Union and starts loudly wondering if it's a recent development she missed. At this point Ilya gives up and itches to taste vodka he's been offered before.
"Bianca is a bit… peculiar," Shane whispers to him. She might be a bit dumb but she means well. Her questions hasn't worn him out enough to accept alcohol just yet so he continues nursing ginger ale. "She means no offense."
"None taken," Ilya assures him. Shane smiles, then his smile dims when Melissa spots him among the crowd. She raises on her tiptoes and waves, he expression showing a clear joy.
"Shaney!" she calls out, sickeningly sweet and races towards them. Shane shudders but shakes her hand and makes an effort to start a small talk that turns awkward pretty quick. She's still pretty, he notes, though her hair is much shorter than he remembers. She looks young and good and then turns to Ilya. "I am a huge fan," she says and asks Ilya if he likes Ottawa.
"It can get boring real quick," she laughs. "But it's a nice city. A shitty team though." She glances at their linked fingers, doesn't make any comment though. "I am so happy for you, Shaney," she proceeds to say. "It was quite a shock, that's true." She turns to Ilya when Shane stops engaging in their conversation. There's natural easiness to the way they interact with each other. Melissa has always been charming and funny and really pretty and Shane has always resented her. She's never been friendly but also wasn't directly cruel. Well, until she came up with that stupid nickname for Shane, piggy the hockey player and giggled about it with her group of friends. She later claimed it was meant to be a cute way to address when Shane's mom found out and stormed into the school. Shane apparently took things way too seriously and never learn to keep quiet. That's why you don't have any friends, she told him back then like it was an open secret and everybody knew except Shane. You always ruin the fun piggy… grow up already… snitches get stitches, yes?
"So… Shaney… spill the tea, yes? The last time I checked, you two were the biggest rivals in the league." Melissa makes sure to keep herself angled towards them both though her left shoulder is slightly more rotated towards Ilya.
"It was just for cameras…" Ilya admits to her. "But it was good to watch, yes?"
"Very entertaining. I would have never guessed though." Then she squints and suddenly shakes her head and looks at Shane. "Well, actually… me and a few of my friends used to guess which one of the guys from school was gay. I think most of us were convinced you were deep in a closet. But we knew so little, being only kids at the time. I don't think even you knew back then."
Shane shifts. He takes a gulp of ginger ale to clear his throat. "It was… yes… well, I didn't know yet."
"What made you think so?" Ilya asks and sounds genuinely curious.
"Sometimes we girls just can tell." Melissa winks. Then takes a hold of Shane's forearm and makes herself look like she's Shane's long time friend. "We are so happy for you, Shaney. Truly. You deserve to be happy."
Right. "Thank you," Shane mumbles, all stiff and frankly confused. "I am very happy." He's suddenly pressed even closer against Ilya's side, their shoulder brushing in an intimate gesture. Ilya is wearing a leather jacket and black shirt beneath, effortlessly hot. The collar is low, showing the dip of his collar bones and the line of his throat when he throws his back in laughter. He grows bolder then, perhaps encouraged by Melissa's word and presses a kiss right there against Shane's temple. Shane startles a bit, pulling away slightly but doesn't get far. Ilya is already used to Shane being slightly jumpy in public, pretending not to notice but is resolute in keeping him closer.
"You sure make a cute couple," Melissa gushes over them. "My husband couldn't come… oh well. I don't know if Ricky told you Shane but I got married in the spring." She wriggles her finger, a golden band resting soundly there. "He's a very busy man, is a surgeon." She sounds smug, like this is her turn to goad.
"Have you known Shane for long?" Ilya asks when Shane reacts with a silence and a slightly awkward smile. Melissa hums. She counts it on her fingers.
"Long enough. I met Shaney when we were ten. My brother used to play hockey with him and when we came to pick him up, I got to know his teammates. Then we went to the same class. A lucky coincidence, I guess." Melissa shrugs. "I bet he didn't mention me."
"It's nothing personal," Shane rasps. He must remind himself to breathe even if he can't remember how.
"Shane doesn't talk much about the school," Ilya reveals.
"He was a very quiet kid, always inside his head. You really got fit in the past few years. I still remember how you looked all these years ago."
"Right," Shane says, his voice breezy now. He prays, begs that Melissa doesn't mention the boy he used to be. She does though, lamenting over the fact she doesn't hae any photos from that time. "Chubby Shane," she calls him with a laugh. "He was a bit clumsy but real menace on the ice. We always kept saying that he was a generational talent."
"The second best player," Ilya confirms just to get raise at Shane. "After me."
Shane laughs, then goes quiet and sips from the can in his hand. He feels like he should say something, something like: Melissa you look great or It's been so long right? So how much has changed? But those words won't leave his mouth - it feel insincere and childish and what if they come out shaky and quiet? What if he stutters them out, proving that he never grew up? From an awkward boy to an awkward man.
"Aren't you guys hungry?" Melissa wants to know. If so, they can have some burgers or something smaller or would they prefer something sweet. Sh directs them towards the table, grabs a small plate and asks if Shane wants to grab a piece of chocolate cake. He nearly throws up.
"Shane doesn't eat chocolate," Ilya explains before Shane gets a chance to refuse. He smiles softly and glances at Shane with apparent fondness. "He's following a pretty strict diet." Then he sneakily caresses Shane's hip, sensing that Shane is getting anxious. It's so sweet that Ilya is trying to help even if he doesn't know what is wrong. Shane falls in love with him all over again. These days, he keeps finding out it's so easy to fall in love with Ilya.
"Diet?" Melissa repeats. "So many things changed. Good to know. You loved chocolate cake when we were kids."
Shane hates that she knows it, that she remember such intimate details about him. What she doesn't know is that the last time he ate a chocolate cake was on his twelfth birthday. He will forever remember the artificial sweetness of frosting deep inside of his throat as he stuffed himself full and told his mom it was good and that he loved the taste.
"I can't imagine that. Why did you stop?" Ilya genuinely seems to find it unreasonable that Shane gave up eating cakes, sweets he could understand but not cakes.
Shane shrugs. He finds his voice and is surprised when it comes out stable. "I just ate too much of it," he says. "It never tasted the same afterwards, you know?"
Ilya nods, thinking he does know. He doesn't.
-.
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Then suddenly, at one point of the evening, Rick is holding a class picture and points his finger towards the right upper corner. Shane can't breathe, he really can't. Ilya leans closer in the middle of taking sip from his glass, his lips pulled back from his teeth.
No. It can't be happening. Ilya's eyes light up when he recognizes the boy Rick shows him. "This is Shane Hollander, age eleven," Rick proudly announces. There is a part of Shane that wants to grab the pictures and tear it apart and then grab Ilya and tell him to forget what he saw. Shane Hollander used to be such a sad kid, especially when he was eleven. His hair used to be cut short and he wore big round glasses and had big round cheeks and head like an egg. It didn't matter how much he played hockey, his belly was still round and bulging slightly beneath his shirts and his aunties tried to understand and always failed, muttering between themselves that he perhaps ate a bit too much and that should have smaller piece of cake or perhaps he should skip it altogether. His mom used to say he was simply a bit chubby and that he would soon grow out of it. She reasoned it was because he was short but was only eleven so soon enough when he grows taller, he won't be looking so round.
Chubby. It sounded cute.
His classmates used to call him little pig or piggy. Piggy with a hockey stick and slanted eyes. They resented him because he was apparently a very quick pig and always scored and could use his stick well. That's the version of Shane that Ilya should never meet or see or hear about. Shane is meant to be a pro hockey player, bulky and strong and one of the best on the ice. Shane has a six-pack and great ass and strong thighs.
"That's my Shane?" Ilya gasps, delighted and Shane can't understand why. How can he still be in love? How can he feel affection for that version of Shane?
"Yes! That's Hollander!" Rick calls out and laughs. "He changed quite a bit, didn't he?"
"He used to be so awkward," Melissa groans and hooks her arm around Ilya and stands on her tip-toes to see better. As if she didn't remember meeting this version of Shane. "I remember how he always stood in the corner or kept quiet. When I asked him to borrow me a pen, he started to stutter and his face turned all red." She raises her glass of wine in the air. "God, you remember his birthday party?"
"What birthday party?" Sarah joins them. She's more tipsy than the rest of them. "Our Shaney had a birthday party? I never heard of it, I swear."
She might not remember it but Shane does. He was twelve and convinced his mom to invite his classmates and bake a cake with a hockey stick and a puck. There were colorful balloons and chips and popcorn and muffins and fizzy drinks and paper plates and paper cups that said: Happy Birthday Shane! and he got a new pair of skates, shiny black and clearly expensive and Shane wore his new t-shirt with gray and black patterns and was up for hours making sure it was all perfect when his friends would come and he sent all the invites the week prior and wrote down his name in the left corner and made sure to let them know how happy he was and he excited he was and-
- apparently ballons and colorful plates were for little kids and not for a twelve years old boy. A pathetic mistake, a childish one and the invites made him look a girlish and why the fuck did he use glitter to decorate them and hockey cakes were apparently lame and well, he looked weird and acted weird and nobody wanted to hang around the weird kid who waited hours outside and still no one came and then Shane's dad told him to unwrap his presents and Shane, the little idiot insisted that it would bring bad luck and that his friends are coming. They were just a little late and perhaps he wrote the wrong date or the wrong time and why did his dad looked so sad? They all were coming and it didn't matter the cake was a bit crooked and his mom baked it so his friends needed to taste it and they would understand how good was his mom at baking and he prepared the chips and fizzy drinks and had his cool shirt on, so why… why dad?… was there something Shane missed… were they not coming?
His dad then knelt down and said: buddy, I think it's just us today. Indeed he was right but Shane didn't believe him at first and he screamed and kicked and hated that his dad didn't believe him. He stayed out and waited and the frosting on the cake melted in the meantime and when he came back inside it was getting dark and he was cold and his fingers were curled and tried to be brave but he cried anyway and told his mom he was sorry… I am sorry mom… you tried so hard and the cake is ruined… and she told him it was fine but he still ate it even if the frosting turned into a puddle and there was no longer written HAPPY BIRTHDAY SHANE. He ate almost half of it because who else would eat it then if not him and reminded himself he was a piggy and he ate his cake with a stick and puck and letters A and B while the others were missing and the cake was chocolate and he loved chocolate and he was sorry… he promised to never ask for cake again or for balloons and he was glad when it was over because it mean he would never have to turn twelve again.
"Well, we didn't come…" Melissa says. "I wasn't into all that hockey stuff."
"It wasn't a big deal," Ricky agrees. "Right Shane?" and Martin Smith pours them drinks. "You're not angry at us? We were kids and it was all so lame."
"It's fine," Shane says, all stiff. He wants to say: Fuck you and I waited for hours and no one came. His old classmates acknowledge him with a wave of their hands as if to say: Right, no big deal at all. Piggy with a stick has confirmed it.
"You didn't come?" Ilya repeats and looks horrified and stares at the picture of the fat little boy and looks sad. He caresses the little round face. "But if someone invites you to a birthday party, you must come. That's the rule. You must, well, abide to it."
"Bullshit," Sarah laughs. "Bull-shit, I say. What would we do there anyway? I was not interested in his stick," she snorts and Melissa slaps her shoulder and shakes her head but laughs too. Shane's stick. Piggy's stick. The implication is clear.
"He said he doesn't mind," Ricky adds just as Ilya frowns. "So it doesn't matter." Then adds: "Let's eat! I am fucking starving."
It's clear that Ricky doesn't want things to end up on awkward note. But it might be too late, with Ilya now taken back. "You don't mind, Shane? Is it true?" His accent is more pronounced when he's showing his displeasure. Ilya leans closer, his curls tickling the side of Shane's cheeks.
Shane awkwardly shifts. Everyone stares at him. "It was nothing," he mumbles because it might be the correct thing to say. He doesn't want to escalate things from here and ruin the mood. Why did they mention that stupid party? Do they truly want to look bad? "It was just a stupid birthday party. No big deal." He grabs Ilya's sleeve. "Look. We should grab some food. You were so excited to eat here." There are some snacks on the table in the corner of the room, also opened boxes of pizza now unpleasantly cold. They will manage though. "There's pizza here. It smells good."
Ilya ignores the temptation of the food. "Shane…" He seems less jolly than moments before, helplessly staring at Shane. If Shane doesn't want to discuss it though, Ilya will let go. Shane sighs in relief, hoping that the awkwardness will disperse now.
"The birthday party!" Sarah suddenly exclaims. "I remember now!" Even Melissa tries to shake her head, grab Sarah and drag her away but Sarah is tipsy and gulping down more and more wine after each sentence she speaks. "You made those little invites!" She describes them, waving Melissa away and ignoring Ricky's pleading gaze. Her voice is shrill, excited and her eyes glint. "Melissa showed me the once she received. There was so much fucking glitter," she winks at Ilya. "It was pink and he added colorful stickers of football sticks-"
"Hockey. Those were hockey sticks. Sarah, let's move on-" Melissa tries to interject because she sees Ilya's expression clearly.
"No. I have to finish this," Sarah waves her away. She really shouldn't. There's no one to stop her when she tells Ilya how childish it looked in her hands, her fingertips glittering for days to come. She calls Shane Shaney again and giggles. "I knew for a moment I saw you that you're a fag," she admits, proceeds to raise her glass to make a toast. Ilya sees red afterward. He no longer seems hreatbroken - he's fuming.
"What the fuck?!" he roars. "What the fuck you called him, you bitch?" he snaps, automatically switching to Russian. "How can his name leave your filthy mouth?" Sarah yelps, stumbles back and Ilya charges after her. His jaw snaps open, the glass he holds in his hand suddenly shatters. Sarah starts crying.
"What the fucks...?" she chants.
"Ilya… no… please…"
"This is sick," Ilya says again in English. "You're all sick bastards! How could you…?!" His voice breaks, the emotions flooding out in waves. There's anger and fury and sadness too. "We shouldn't be here. I can't stand them, Shane. You all disgust me." Shane shakes next to him, speechless and mute and he wants to make everything stop. He hates when Ilya gets angry, when he screams even if none of it is directed at Shane. He wants to apologize but also wants to feel his own anger too; instead there is only emptiness. He finds out there is nothing to say. His mouth might just forever stay empty of words. Then Ilya reaches over, holds his hand.
"Let's get out of here," he says.
.
.
.
Later when Ilya drives them home he sounds less angry. That's terrible and cruel. You wouldn't come either, Shane points out. If you were eleven and went to our school, you would have not come. Period. Ilya wasn't an awkward, quiet, fat kid. He had his pretty curls and jokes and he was brave and liked to sneak out and even when his mom died and he stopped joking his friends bought him chocolates for his birthday and they ate it on the side of the street and took him out to see a movie and when he cried they told him they loved him very much and bought a little candle they stick into the ground since there was no cake and he had to lean closer and bent down to blow it and make his wish. Shane knows because Ilya told him when he was feeling honest and it's one of those memories he keeps coming back to and actually likes. In the pictures Ilya looked more like Ricky and Martin Smith; with his cocky smile and curl of his lips and he always talks about all the girls in the class wanted to kiss him and then Anna did and they all werevvery jealous of her and didn’t want to talk to her.
Shane's remark shuts him up for a while when he realizes that Shane might be right. They come home and Ilya speaks up again and crows Shane against the door and kisses him. Ilya is sad and feels awful. He cradles Shane’s face and his thumbs draw circles across the pale cheeks.
"Make me an invite," he demands. "With glitter… and colorful letters… you can write your name in the corner." His voice is devoid of all that previous anger, instead he sounds close to being desperate.
Shane scowls. "It's lame." He's not a kid anymore and it was stupid and it looked stupid and Shane is still mortified.
"Well. Write it anyway. I want to have it, yes? Do it for me, malysh. A little gift."
Shane protests. There's no glitter lying around or colorful paper and it's not even his birthday… can he suck Ilya off?… it's a good idea, bold and Shane wants to do something nice for him too… so can he?… would Ilya want it? Ilya shakes his head and declines the blowjob.
"We can buy glitter," he says instead. "Paper too. Anything you might need. Scissors. Ribbons. Colorful pens." He assures Shane that he can afford it, he just needs Shane to decide what he needs to make Ilya his invitation. It doesn’t even matter it's not his birthday, he can write there the date so that Ilya will remember and he promises he will come. Then he takes a hold of Shane's hands, peppering kisses against his palms as if to prove his point. He decides he doesn't like Shane's classmates anymore, a bunch of pricks and assholes. He dislikes them even more when he discovers the truth about the little piggy with the stick. Shane laughs but Ilya doesn't, instead he manages to gasp soft sounding sweetheart… is that what they called you?
"Yes," Shane admits. He washes his face with Ilya hovering behind him. He was a really fat kid as Ilya must have noticed. His six-pack is still there when he lifts his shirt to check and Ilya ends up on his knees and presses a series of loud pecks against Shane’s belly, just around the belly button. Shane swats him away and intentionally flexes his muscles. Water drips down his face and he prompts Ilya to hand him the fresh towel.
"You were so cute," Ilya claims.
"I looked like an egg," Shane shrugs. "You don't have to try to make me feel better."
"No. Shane. Just no." Then he frowns. "I will kill them all. I swear."
"You won't. I was like a pig. It's not like they were saying something that wasn't true."
"Is that why you insist on that stupid diet?" Ilya looks horrified. Shane pauses when Ilya starts crying.
"It's not true! I eat healthy now. I do it for my health and not because of my classmates," Shane yells and then crosses the room and hugs Ilya. "Don't cry. It’s not bad." Slowly he caresses Ilya's curls and holds back his frown at smelling Melissa's perfume on Ilya's shirt. "I do it for us too, so that we can be together as long as possible. It’s good to be healthy and eat healthy foods." The sweet scent of coconut and roses penetrates his nose and he grabs the hem and makes Ilya raise his arms to get rid of it. "Shower. It's late and you drank beer."
"It was non-alcoholic," Ilya sniffles.
"What? What about that vodka Ricky offered to you?"
"Cheap. I was not interested. Only juice for me. You didn't drink either." Ilya kisses Shane's shoulders and his palms rub up and down his back. Tears get caught in his lashes. "I don't think you are lame. Only a little boring but that's fine because you're the only kind of boring I want in my life. I love you Shane, yes? I love all versions of you. So the next time you have birthday, you can have as much cake as you want and I will love you and even if you don't want to eat it I will love you." He looks crushed with more tears on their way. "It's just you deserve a cake too. I imagine that little boy. Why didn't you tell me, milyi? I am such an idiot."
"Ilya…"
"Worse, worse that than. I am sorry I insisted and sorry for making you go. Shane. If you only told me… Shane. My Shane. They were so terrible to you and I let them pour me drink. Shane. I was supposed to throw punches and call Melissa ugly. What a petty bitch. Ricky and that kid in glasses, no match for me."
"It doesn't matter. It all happened a long time ago. I am over it."
Ilya shakes his head. "What?"
"It means I am not-"
"I know what it means," Ilya cuts him off. He presses himself against Shane, his naked chest now rubbing against his t-shirt. He kisses the underside of Shane's chin and then everywhere he can reach; the hinge of Shane's jaw, his corner of his lips and his freckled cheeks. His nose rubs against Shane's. Ilya's skin is slightly damp from tears. "You can get angry."
"It happened a long time ago," Shane weakly protests. He's stronger than he was when he turned twelve. He melts against Ilya's touch, the palm that slides across the expanse of his back. "It doesn't matter now."
"Are you sure? I think you're still bothered by it…" Ilya pauses. "No one should ever call you piggy. That's fucking disgusting."
"It was a stupid nickname."
"They bullied you!" Ilya raises his voice, then swiftly lowers it. "You are no pig and have never been one."
"I was really fat though," Shane protests.
"No, Shane… listen." Ilya grips his chin, his eyes darkening. He looks dangerous. "Listen," he commands in a tone that demands respect. "How would you feel if someone came to me and called me a piggy? Would you laugh or would you be…angry?" Ilya finishes the sentence after a moment of looking for the right word. "I am angry for you. It's not funny joke and it will never be funny." His hand raises, pats Shane's cheek to deliver his point and then gently caresses it. He observes how Shane's expression goes through numerous changes before settling on something that looks close to understanding. Ilya's thumb draws circles beneath Shane's eye in the meantime.
"I just don't want to think of things that happened so long ago. Tonight was supposed to be fun. I wanted you to go out and I wanted to call you my boyfriend in front of them. It felt right to do it and to hold your hand while their watched."
Shane looks like that admission physically hurts him. "I tried so hard to be normal. I just wanted them to see…" Then he shakes his head. "It shouldn't matter what they think of me. I am not twelve anymore but sometimes…"
This time when he pauses, Ilya remains quiet as well. He assumes Shane needs a moment to ponder about the meaning of those words and what it means to him. He's right, seeing as Shane's expression gradually relaxes and he leans against Ilya. "It shouldn't fucking matter," Shane whispers, his lips brushing the fabric of Ilya's shirt. "So why can't I just-"
"Sweetheart… my sweet Shane." Ilya's hands are suddenly buried in his hair, angling his head but not moving him. "We could egg their cars," he says in Russian. His voice grows more melodic and softer compared to when he speaks in English.
"Car?" Shane repeats the only word he understands, butchering it. Ilya giggles.
"Yes. Just how they do it in the movies. That would be funny. You would not agree, probably." His eyes are damp. His Shane, the love of his life should never ever end up being treated so harshly. The round little boy with huge glasses stares at Ilya from the side of the room and Ilya shifts slightly as if to show him that years later he'll be cradled safely in his lover's arms. He kisses Shane's eyelids and his lips twitch. Shane's eyelashes tickle him, if only lightly. All will be well… you see… I'll keep you safe from the world… it's my promise to you… He seals that words with another kiss and thinks that the boy in the corner looks hopeful.
.
.
.
They celebrate Shane's birthday two months later. The day is split equally, in the afternoon they are joined by Shane's parents and they have lunch. Then after the wine is finished and Shane receives his gifts, Ilya drives them back home. There's a cake waiting in the fridge and Ilya shyly admits he asked Yuna for help. The blue frosting on top says: HAPPY BIRTHDAY SHANE and Yuna added a small heart shape at the bottom. Shane is clearly touched by the gesture and even grabs the knife to cut it into even pieces. He calls him mom afterward and tears are streaming down his cheeks when he thanks her.
"It was Ilya's idea," Yuna tells him proudly through the phone and Ilya shoots Shane a soft smile, taking out the plates and forks. There's a small pause, mother and son say their goodbye and then Shane races towards Ilya. His face is radiating with joy and he kisses Ilya, their noses bumping together. "You…didn't…have…to," he somehow manages to chokes out amidst catching breath between kisses. "But thank you… thank you, Ilya."
"I like making you happy, Shane. It's not hard to do it. I could do so much more for you. Let's start with this…" His sweet confession brings tears into Shane's eyes. They dried up when another kiss starts, Ilya's tongue plunging deep inside of Shane's throat. Shane wants to curl against him, overwhelmed with emotion. No matter how close he is pressed, there still could be less space separating them. He wriggles and tries to make sure that not only their chests but also their limbs are glued together.
Do you know how much I love you?" Shane asks when he gets a chance to breathe. He appreciates that despite Ilya's clear impatience, he manages to hold himself back. As of now, only one of his hands is caressing Shane's bare skin. His fingers are splayed across Shane's lower back directly beneath the shirt, slightly pulling Shane closer. His other cradles Shane's cheek but soon enough slides lower to grab his chin and keep his head locked in place. "You can remind me again," Ilya grumbles. "So that I will remember better." He presses small kisses against the edge of Shane's jaw, nibbling on the pale skin and then soothing the red marks with kitten licks. He's hard and when he notices that Shane is not, he fully leans against him and focuses on kissing instead of taking off Shane's pants. He's also mindful not to try make Shane hard when he clearly is in no mood for it.
"You're thinking too loudly, miliy. I just want to make you feel better, it doesn't matter how." Shane melts against him and Ilya stops kissing him. He can be sweet when he wants to be and tonight is the desire he felt burning beneath his skin turning into something much softer. He must know that Shane wants to touch him but is not looking for sex. Not tonight. So Ilya leads him into the bathroom first and helps him undress. He lovingly presses a lingering kiss above Shane's breastbone and turns on the shower. They wait in silence until the water gets warm and Shane is ushered beneath the stream.
"I am not ashamed," Shane clarifies. "Not of us at least."
"You shouldn't be ashamed at all," Ilya counters and grabs shampoo and misreads the label on it so he uses it as shower gel instead. Then he grabs the shower gel and tries to wash Shane's hair and is confused by the lack of white bubbles.
"I love you," Shane tells him. "I am just afraid…it's all good now. The point is," he continues as Ilya rinses his hair. "That good things don't last forever."
"But they do!" Ilya insists. He instructs Shane to close his eyes so the product won't hurt him. "We will last together." It sounds nice. Shane hopes he's right. There's nothing more he wants.
"Promise."
Ilya looks at him like he's stupid but there's fondness in his gaze. "Of course. I promise."
.
.
.
When Shane turned twelve, he promised himself he will never eat chocolate cake again. He laid curled in bed and imagine himself as a hockey player. I will be strong, he promised himself. I will be quick and the best hockey player out there. It soothed him, the idea that Shane Hollander could turn himself into something more than he currently was. I will win the Stanley Cup and people will be glad to know me. It sounded like a dream to a lonely boy back then. He curled his little hand into fist. One day, there will be fingers laced with his and they will celebrate his birthday together. Shane knew it to be true. Things were bound to get better. He was right but he didn't know it yet.