Work Text:
February 2018
***
She gets a call at 4 pm on a Saturday.
“Hi Sveta” Ilya greets her and she immediately knows from his voice that something’s wrong “I sort of need your help”
“What happened?”
“I got a tiny but injured during practice today and the hospital won’t release me without somebody to accompany me. And the rest of the guys are flying out tonight”
“Shit” Sveta swears. Ilya so rarely gets hurt, but it always throws her “How bad is it?”
“Not bad” Ilya says vaguely, and it gives her an even bigger scare. His definition of “not bad” can mean anything from a scratch to a spinal injury.
“I’ll only be out for a week” Ilya clarifies.
That doesn’t sound too bad, so Sveta stops fluffing and drives over to pick him up at the hospital.
Ilya is sitting up on the hospital bed, his hockey undergarments still on. There is a thick bandage around his left forearm and a small patch on the right side of his forehead, surrounded by a bump that’s already turning deep purple. He’s favouring his left side like it might be hurting.
“The hell happened?” Sveta asks flabbergasted. She’s seen a bunch of hockey injuries in her life, and this doesn’t look very typical.
“It was fucking stupid” Ilya explains grumpily “I got distracted for a moment and let St Simon almost get me against the boards. I managed to recover but I slipped and we both crashed into Davis. … His skate sliced my arm as he fell down, even through the protective gear. And I hit my head on the side of the board as I went down.
“Does he have a concussion?” She asks the doctor in English. It’s a team doctor that she’s met before.
“No concussion” the doctor reassures her “it’s just a flash wound and a bruise. That said, he bled a lot from the cut and head wounds are always unpleasant. You might experience dizziness and headaches for a few days. Best if he’s not alone at night”
“What’s the damage on the arm?” She asks next. If there are cut tendons…
“Thankfully there is no muscle damage, but it’s pretty deep. We put 30 stitches in. That will have to come out next Friday. Again, it’s not critical, shouldn’t even scar, but it’s going to hurt like a bitch while it heals”
“And his side?” Svetlana asks
“Nothing’s wrong with my side” Ilya mutters and she shoots him an unimpressed look.
“Also, just a bruise” the doctor confirms “You should just ice it for the next 24 hours”
“We are sending you home with a supply of pain killers. Take one every 4 hours or so. Protect your arm from water until we take the stitches out. Avoid washing your hair for the next 12 hours as well, please, until the wound scabs”
“And I’m really out of commission for a whole week?” Ilya ask clearly unhappy “You are benching me because of a simple cut?
“I’m afraid so” the doctor “Look, Ilya, if we were in the playoffs like last year, I’d have considered risking it. But we are not. You just bled half a pint of blood on the ice. I’d rather we lose you for a couple of non-critical games next week than have you get dizzy or tear your stitches during the game and lose you for longer, ok?”
Ilya winces at the word “lose”. He hates the idea of losing anything. He looks like he’s about to argue but Svetlana jumps in.
“I agree” she says firmly and ignores the glare Ilya shoots her way.
“Don’t be an idiot” she adds in Russian as she helps him off the table “Do you really think that your team is so useless without you, asshole, they can’t beat freaking Columbus and Buffalo?”
***
Ilya looks pretty miserable on the drive home and tries to shoo her away when they arrive: “You probably have better things to do”
Svetlana looks at him like an idiot he is and ignores him.
She recognises this kind of mood, when Ilya is so unhappy with the world and so disgusted with what he perceives as his “weakness” that he can’t allow himself to be cared for like he deserves to be. She knows where it’s born from and who’s to blame. She just don’t know how to fix it.
She sets Ilya up in the shower, helps him wrap his arm in plastic film to protect it and reminds him to not get water into his head wound for now. He hisses unhappily - he hates having dirty hair.
She waits for him in the bedroom when he comes out in a towel around his hips and helps him to the bed. He sways a little, but his gaze remains clear. She hands him over a pair of shorts, but Ilya shakes his head.
“Can you get me something from the second drawer?”
The second drawer is sparce with just a few items of clothing in it. She fishes out a simple pair of black sweats.
“A t-shirt too?” She asks.
Ilya tends to run hot and he isn’t a big fan of t-shirts preferring to be bare chested or in a tank top. But right now, he just nods and Svetlana helps him put the clothes on. They look worn, rather than freshly laundered and she wonders if they are actually Ilya’s.
Afterwards, Ilya settles in the living room, hunched in the corner of the sofa with an icepack for his ribs.
“Are you ok?” Svetlana asks him as he picks listlessly at a sandwich. She should cook him something nice, but right now it feels like it’d go to waste.
“Yeah” Ilya shrugs “I’m fine… It’s just…” he shrugs “It’s stupid…There was a lot of blood. I thought for a moment…”
He turns away. She gives him a minute and then comes closer and drops a kiss on top of his head.
It’s always a bit scary to see Ilya vulnerable.
***
A call comes at around 6 pm, following a string of text messages. Ilya struggles to get up but Svetlana shakes her head and leaves the room herself giving him as much privacy as the open plan house would allow.
She hears soft voice, Ilya’s voice a kind of gentle that she hasn’t heard in years. The conversation, however, sounds a bit like interrogation.
“30 stitches”
“No, no concussion”
“Just for a week”
“Yes, I know”
“Don’t you have a game to focus on?”
“No, not alone. Svetlana is here”
“Yes, she will stay with me”
“Ya tebya Luybluy”
“Okey”
***
It’s something they don’t really talk about – Ilya’s relationship with his “Jane”. Shane Hollander…
The first time they see each other after the summer, Sveta is awed by the soft happiness that seems to light up his entire being. She sees the peace and steadiness that suddenly that she thought were lost forever when he was 12 years old.
Svetlana doesn’t ask questions. She knows Ilya would feel bad lying to her or deflecting like something fundamentally beautiful hasn’t happened in his like. But it’s evident that that he and Shane Hollander are in a relationship and that it’s a serious one.
Of course, she wonders. About the relationship and what it’s like. About their future and what it can hold in their unique situation.
But she doesn’t ask. She knows and Ilya knows that she knows and they leave it at it.
She comes back to the room after she hears the conversation finish. Ilya seems lighter, calmer. He smiles a bit more. They settle to watch the game.
***
The Montreal vs New Jersey game wraps up at 9 pm. Montreal wins 3:1.
Ilya gets a text 15 min later that Svetlana sees on his phone.
Jane: “How are you feeling?”
She watches Ilya type the reply.
Lily: I’m ok. Congrats on the game. Pity it wasn’t a hat trick”
He gets a middle finger emoji back. Then there is nothing.
An hour passes with Ilya checking his phone increasingly more often. Then another. He’s clearly waiting for more messages, a phone call. Neither come.
Svetlana does mental math. Shane Hollander wouldn’t call until he’s out of the arena, it’s too risky. So, 30-40 minutes to shower, get changed, get out. Maybe he has some post-game debrief as a captain, though those are rare, typically saved for the next morning and fresh minds. Maybe he wants to get to the privacy of the hotel room first.
An hour and a half in, Svetlana is starting to get pissed off.
And look, she knows there is no reason to be dramatic. Ilya is not gravely injured or anything. He doesn’t require medical attention, and he’s already reassured his boyfriend that he’s all right. But Svetlana also knows that if the roles were reversed Ilya would be calling and messaging, likely getting in the car to drive over to New Jersey to fret over his injured partner. Ilya would do it without even thinking and apparently his boyfriend doesn’t dim the occasion big enough to call.
By 11 pm there’s been no message yet and Ilya is spiralling.
Svetlana can see it in his glassy eyes, in his hunched taut posture and she can get a pretty good guess about what’s happening in his head. She’s seen this kind of spiral before and she hates it. Hates the kind of self-loathing it brings where every single thing gets turned by Ilya’s mind into a failure.
And there is plenty of fodder to use tonight.
He’s gotten injured during a practice and got clearly spooked by what ended up a mundane type of injury. He’s been put in a situation where he has to ask others for help. He’s supposed to be on a plane with his team right now, but instead he’s got to sit the next 2 games out, potentially jeopardizing his team success. And the person who is supposed to care about him, whose opinion he cares the most about, is not even around for a quick call.
It doesn’t matter that despite being light, his injury has been scary and painful. It doesn’t matter that the games he’s going to miss are not that critical and his team has a high chance of winning them anyway. It doesn’t matter that stupid things happen during practice all the time and there was no fault of Ilya’s in this situation.
The voice of reason doesn’t matter right now, because it’s being drawn out by the voices that have been in Ilya’s head for far longer and that are far more powerful. And every minute that fucking Shane Hollander doesn’t text or call, is the minute Ilya’s getting further and further lost in the world where everything is his fault and he doesn’t deserve love and affection.
“You should take your pain medication and go to bed” Sveta insists placing the pill bottle and water in front of him. It’s been a few hours since the hospital and the drugs must have lost its potency long time ago.
Ilya shakes his head and glances back at his phone. Great, she thinks, punishing himself with pain now.
She pops down next to him, just in case Ilya wants physical contact, but he stays hunched on himself alternating between staring blindly at the TV and glancing at his phone..
After a few moments he pulls out his phone again and after a moment hesitation types out.
She glimpses the message before the phone gets frown back on the sofa, face down
Lily: Call me when you can?
A new rage builds up inside of her. She hates the idea that Ilya of all people has to beg for affection. Again. After a lifetime of not getting what he deserves from his family, he now has to repeat the cycle with his lover?
If Shane Hollander doesn’t get his shit together by tomorrow morning, she’s going to find his number and give him a piece of her mind. (She won’t. Ilya will never forgive her butting in this relationship. But she’ll be so tempted to!)
Finally, Ilya lies down in the sofa, concedes to having a throw around him. He puts his phone under a pillow and closes his eyes. The long day, the shock of an injury and the blood loss must finally catch up with him because he falls into a fitful sleep not even 15 minutes later. Svetlana can see his eyelids moving, can see soft tremors going through his body, a crease of frown on his forehead.
Svetlana stays up checking emails and reading about the game. Most commentators applaud Hollander’s game today, his singular focus.
At half past midnight Ilya phone pings. His frown deepens, but he doesn’t wake. She considers alerting him but can’t bear the weight of his disappointment if the text isn’t from Hollander, but someone else like his coach or his teammates.
She is in the kitchen grabbing a glass of water and contemplating whether it’s worth waking Ilya up to finally get him to bed when she hears the whirl of somebody entering a code and a second later the front door buzzes open.
She barely has a time to panic at the intrusion before Shane Hollander enters Ilya’s house and quickly shuts the door behind him.
Svetlana’s mind runs a different kind of math - 30 min to shower and change, 30 min to the airport, 1.5-hour flight, 30 min from airport to Ilya’s apartment. That’s excluding all the waiting times. He must have cut it very short.
For a moment they just start at each other– her at the kitchen counter, him in the hall, a bag in this hand. The Canadian is the first to break the silence.
“Hi” he says shyly “I’m Shane Hollander” he hesitates for a moment and then extends his hand.
“Hi, Shane Hollander” Svetlana says as she steps forward and offers her own hand. His hand is soft and warm skin calloused in a familiar way “I’m Svetlana”
Up close he’s even more gorgeous than on TV - perfectly proportioned body, thick dark hair, full bottom lip and huge soulful eyes. She understands immediately why Ilya fell so hard.
He’s also just as awkward as he comes across on TV. For a moment he just stands there shuffling, not quite meeting her eyes.
“I… “ he clears his throat “I’m sorry to disturb you so late. I texted Ilya but he must be asleep and I realised that I didn’t have your number…”
He runs out of stream in the middle of the sentence and suddenly gets a deer-in-the-headlights look as if he just realised that he’s speaking to a virtual stranger in the middle of his arch-rival kitchen. At1am in the morning. In the house, to which he clearly has the entry code.
“I mean…” he looks like he’s about to hyperventilate “You…”
Svetlana takes pity on him “It’s ok” she says “I know all about you, Jane”
“Right” apparently Shane Hollander looks even more gorgeous with a deep blush going up his cheeks “Ilya said you probably do. He…” Just as suddenly his attention diverts and he looks around as if realising that the owner of the house is nowhere in sight.
“He just fell asleep on the sofa a few minutes ago” Svetlana explains and can’t help adding “He’s been waiting for your call”
Shane Hollander making it from New Jersey to Boston in record time because Ilya got hurt goes a long away in rehabilitating the last few hours; but she’s not going to let him of the hook just yet.
“Oh” the Canadian says as his eyes fly wide open. Quickly he drops his bag, kicks off his shoes and heads towards the leaving room area.
The moment his eyes fall on Ilya - looking ridiculously small stretched out on the enormous sofa, face mashed into the corner, his injured arm awkwardly pressed against his chest - Hollander face goes through a million of small impressions.
“Oh, baby” Sveta thinks he whispers under the breath as he kneels next to the sofa and reaches for his boyfriend.
The moment his hand touches Ilya’s face the blond man shots up and turns around.
“Hey” Hollander whispers gently.
“Shane?” Ilya’s voice sounds disoriented “What…? Where…?
“I have tomorrow off, so I hopped on a plane to Boston straight after the game. I wanted to see you”
“Shane” Ilya repeats reverently and the impression on his face…
“He’d walk barefoot on broken glass and endure any kind of injury, she thinks, if it means that Shane Hollander will just show up out of nowhere like that” Svetlana thinks and… It’s so damn scary to see Ilya so open and vulnerable.
Ilya grabs at Hollander’s arm and drags him into a kiss, then another before pressing their foreheads together and closing his eyes. His arms go around Canadian’s shoulders, while Shane’s hands cradle his face. The scene is so intimate that Svetlana finds herself turning away.
She thinks that both of them are whispering “I love you” in Russian before she leaves them alone.
She can hear the murmured voices and the sounds of more kisses. She catches remnants of the words that Ilya normally hides - I was scared, I worry I’m going to miss games, it hurts.
At some point Hollanders voice turns from gentle cooing to serious questioning. Svetlana uses the moment to return.
“And you are sure there is no concussion?” The Canadian asks with a frown on his face “What kind of meds did they prescribe?”
“Hollander” Ilya whines “Let’s play doctor when I’m actually up for it, yes?”
Shane Hollander face scrunches and he suddenly looks like an angry kitten. Ilya’s face splits into a delighted grin.
“He doesn’t have a concussion” Svetlana says “but he needs to watch out for dizzy spells because he’s lost some blood. He needs to ice his side. And he’s been prescribed pain meds that’s he’s refused to take”
She motions to the glass, a pill bottle and a melted ice pack on the table by the sofa.
“Traitor” Ilya throws her way in Russian and pouts.
“Ilya” Hollander says softly and a little reproachfully. The corners of his lips turn down.
Svetlana watches fascinated as Ilya Rozanov, all 6 feet something Russian bear, with his hood attitude and cocky smile, just folds like a house of cards.
He takes the pills while Svetlana fetches a new ice pack that he accepts despite having steadily refused it the whole evening.
“Off to bed” The Canadian instructs and again Ilya follows. He leans on the dark-haired man as he shuffles into the bedroom. Svetlana doesn’t know if he’s really feeling weak or he’s just milking being dotted on.
She wishes them good night and disappears into the guest bedroom herself.
***
The next morning she’s already in the kitchen when they wake up. She hears rustling and murmurs from the bedroom, the sound of bathroom door opening and closing and then Shane Hollander appears in the kitchen, hair sticking out, wearing the black t-shirt that Ilya had on yesterday.
He stops dead as he sees her.
“Morning” Svetlana says and watches half a dozen of expressions pass over his face, none of them looking very pleased.
“Good morning” he says sounding as awkward as human beings could. He’s avoiding meeting her eyes.
“I’m making eggs” She says neutrally, “How do you like yours?”
“I don’t normally… “ He still hasn’t moved a muscle, and his eyes are darting all over the kitchen “Whatever you are making is fine”
“Right” she turns towards the stove, a little thrown. He seemed fine with her presence last night. But maybe he just had other things on his mind.
It occurs to her that he might not like it. Another person, somebody that he must know Ilya’s been intimate with, behaving so familiar in his kitchen.
She’s had boyfriends like that, people who looked at her relationship with Ilya and deemed it too close, a threat. Her own response has always been a swift rebuff, but then again none of her relationships have ever come even close to how important this one is to Ilya. She doesn’t say anything.
She can hear Hollander moving around the kitchen now, shuffling quietly, opening the fridge, the cupboard. After a moment he signs and stands awkwardly at the head of the counter.
“Can I… “ he clears his throat “Help you with anything?”
He sounds annoyed as fuck, but Svetlana chooses to ignore it.
“Sure” She says cheerfully “I have not started on coffee yet”
“Right” he shuffles towards coffee machine and gets busy. It’s a relief, because at least there is something to break the fucking tension with.
She’s plating eggs when Ilya enters the kitchen. He looks sleepy, a messy halo of hair around his head, chest bare.
“Why the fuck are you so loud?” He yawns grumpily.
“Good morning to you to” She shoots back and gets a mild Russian curse in return. Ilya’s the least morning person she’s ever met.
Still yawning, Ilya walks up to Hollander and tries to drape himself over his back. The dark-haired man jumps and steps away. His eyes flick towards Svetlana and then he turns back towards the coffee machine.
“Go, sit down” he says sounding almost angry “You shouldn’t be standing”
Ilya sighs and steps away, face dropping in an unhappy frown. It cuts through Svetlana’s heart, bringing back the irritation from last night.
“Don’t do it” She wishes she could tell Hollander “He’s had enough rejection in his life. Don’t punish him like that.”
Despite the request Ilya is clearly waiting for Hollander to sit down first and when he does, he perches on the bar stool next to him but keeps a good foot away. He’s careful not to touch the Canadian. Hollander straightens in his seat but doesn’t move away.
***
The rest of the breakfast passes just as awkwardly. Shane Hollander stares down at his plate, picking up on food, but not really eating it, a look of complete detachment on his face. Ilya sits in a chair, a lazy bored expression on this face that tells her he’s hiding his feelings. Nobody speaks. It’s one of the strangest mornings of Sveta’s life and she’s had some very strange mornings.
As soon as she finishes her eggs she gets up and goes to her bedroom to get ready for the day. She’s meeting a few clients to show them a few car models that’s just arrived from Italy.
“Right, I’m off” she says as she goes back to the living room. Ilya and Hollander are still sitting a foot apart. Ilya looks a bit more relaxed, but Hollander jumps up at the sound of her voice.
Great… just great…
“Should I come back here in the afternoon?” She asks casually.
She doesn’t think Ilya should spend the night on his own just yet and she’s not sure until when Hollander is staying. But she’s going to take his lead here. Whatever is happening between him and Hollander, it’s clear as day that Ilya just wants some time with his boyfriend. And she hopes with her gone the Canadian can get over his panic or jealousy or whatever the hell it is.
“Nope” Ilya says exactly as she expected “No need, we are all good”
To her surprise, instead of looking relieved, Shane Hollander frowns.
“I… I have to leave first thing tomorrow morning. Like five am” he looks between her and Ilya unhappily “Ilya really shouldn’t be alone for now”
“I’m fine, Hollander” Ilya argues and shoots Svetlana a look that implies he’s absolutely not a fan of her returning. He knows she’s not going to be offended. They are used to maintaining their friendship through physical distance and if right now Ilya needs her to fade into background, she’s happy to do it.
“You got dizzy in the bathroom just a few hours ago” the Canadian says firmly and turns to Svetlana. He’s not quite meeting her eyes.
“I hate to impose” he says as if he’s asking for a huge inconvenience “but I’d hate to leave Ilya alone. Would you mind staying another night?”
“Sure” Svetlana nods. She feels more confused than ever by the exchange and wonders if she’s read Shane correctly this morning or if his perceived resentment was actually something else.
***
She texts Ilya in the mid-afternoon, after her meeting is done, fully prepared to not show up if he insists.
When he doesn’t reply for a half an hour, she drives back to his house. After a moment’s consideration - should she ring the bell – she just uses the code to open the door. Until Ilya tells her otherwise, she’ll continue behaving as she normally would.
The house is quiet and for a moment she wonders if it’s empty. But she doesn’t think that the two of them would have risked going for a drive in Boston, not together.
She finds them on the sofa in the living room instead.
Shane Hollander is sitting in the corner reading something off his phone. Ilya’s fast asleep with a blanket around shoulders, his head in Hollander’s lap and his face pressed into Shane’s stomach. Hollander looks freshly showered, dressed in grey sweatpants and sweatshirt that she’s pretty sure actually belong to the Russian. He seems almost relaxed now, one of his hands drawing slow circles in Ilya’s hair.
“Hi” Shane says quietly. He looks at her a bit warily, but his hands don’t leave Ilya’s body, so she guesses whatever his issue was it’s been at least partially resolved.
“Hey” she greets back “How’s he doing?”
“Tired and in a bit of pain, but not bad” He drops his phone on the table and brings his hand up to rest protectively on Ilya’s bare shoulder.
“Good. Can I get you anything?” She asks “I grabbed some groceries on my way”
“No, I’m good for now” he motions at the can of ginger ale in the side table. Another mystery gets solved. She wonders if Shane Hollander knows that there’s been a six pack of ginger ale sitting Ilya’s fridge since something like October 2018.
Svetlana goes into a kitchen to grab some water for herself and then perches on the arm of the couch. Ilya doesn’t even steer. He looks deeply asleep, his body completely relaxed and motionless, in a way she hasn’t seen in forever. It seems that Hollander helped him wash his hair and the semi-wet curls catch on Hollander’s fingers on each slow motion. Forehead to nape and back again – never breaking contact with skin.
“He likes resting like that” Hollander says with impossible fondness in his voice “He should be in bed really but… you can’t force him to do anything”
“Bullshit” Svetlana thinks “you can force him to do anything you want with a touch of your finger or your smile or your frown”
“His mom used to do it” she explains instead “he would put his head in her lap, and she would pet his hair”
The images from the past come at her. Irina and Ilya snuggled under a blanket next to a New Years Tree.
“Oh” Shane Hollander looks down and his arms tighten around the Russian as if trying to cradle him protectively. His face goes through another flurry of small expressions that reveal to Svetlana that yes, he does know about Ilya’s mom, and, yes he knows exactly how important this is. Good.
“Not many people have since then” she adds, just to drive her point across.
“No, I…” Hollander swallows and says very quietly and seriously “I gathered something like that”
He looks up to meet her gaze finally, and she’s surprised to see that his eyes are actually wet with tears.
“I’m sorry I was so awkward this morning” he says suddenly “I’m not… I’m not very good at this…” he looks sideways “at people overall, I guess. At situations like that. Not when I’m not … not when I’m not ready for them”
Svetlana nods.
“It’s fine” she says as kindly as she can “It’s probably feels like a lot, letting somebody else know about the two of you”
Shane Hollander nods seriously and then admits “I’m discovering that I’m not very good at sharing him either”
“You don’t need to share him with me” Svetlana says firmly “I don’t know what he told you, but he and I have never been like that”
“I know” Hollander nods “I mean... Of course, I’ve been jealous of you. He suggested he could marry you once, for fuck’s sake. And you are so gorgeous…”
Svetlana’s brain short-circuits for a second at the simple compliment. She’s pretty sure Shane Hollander means it as an objective fact though, that he only cares about vis-à-vis Ilya.
“But it’s more than that” He continues sadly “You know him. And you can be here for him in ways that I can’t, not now” his face scrunches as if in pain ““I sort of hate it.
“But that’s on me. I just want you to know that I’ll try to do better. You are so important to Ilya” he says simply “I don’t want to mess it up”
Svetlana thinks about his words, rearranges her perception of the morning. Plays the scenes back and finally recognises dissociation and regret that she took for resentment and jealousy.
“You don’t have to apologize” she says simply “You and I don’t know each other. And as you said, Ilya is important to me. I promised a long time ago that I’ll always be there for him. He loves you more than anything in the world and I should try too”
His lips curl into a soft hesitant smile and he nods, looking delighted and relieved. He’s so different form Ilya in so many ways, but there is something deeply honest about him that she recognises. Something that used to be part of Ilya as well before he learned to hide it like a champion.
She smiles back and for a while there is nothing but a peaceful silence between them.
Finally, something he said registers in her brain. “He talked about marrying me?” She asks surprised. Never ever since they were 8 years old has this topic ever been raised between her and Ilya.
Shane Hollander pouts. It looks adorable. She imagines Ilya looses his fucking mind every time he sees this look.
“To be honest, he mentioned it when he talked about becoming an American citizen” he explains Ilya’s idea
“Ah, well, of course I would” she admits “if it helped to keep him safe”
Shane nods and for some reason looks pleased: “I also think he wanted to get a reaction out of me. Spur me into actions maybe? He’s mentioned you before a couple times when he tried to understand where I stand”
“What a fucking idiot” She shakes her head. Seriously, for somebody so perceptive, Ilya can really suck at communication.
“Oh, he’s an asshole” Shane smirks fondly and she feels a strange sense of kinship towards him.
“He can be one, for sure” She shrugs “It must be hard sometimes - loving him” She’s never found it to be the case, but then her and Ilya are not exactly normal.
Shane Hollander's eyes shot up to meet hers, looking absolutely shocked.
“No!” He says quietly “it’s not hard at all. It’s so easy to love him. He’s so… gentle and kind and wonderful. He loves so… he has such a huge heart”
He says it like a fact, like it’s not a surprise, like it’s something that everyone who met Ilya would know.
And the thing is… It’s easy for her to recognise that Ilya is like that because she’d known him when all these qualities were so close to the surface. But Ilya has done such a phenomenal job hiding himself from the world in the last few years, that it shocks to realise that someone else sees him too. That somebody else truly sees and accepts him.
She hopes he says it to Ilya as well. She hopes that if he does, than overtime his voice and hers will finally shut down other voices that try to convince Ilya of something different.
“It’s just hard to hide … this… us” Hollander admits and his body curls a little around the man in his arms, hands tightening in Ilya’s hair. It looks like he’s trying to protect his boyfriend from the world “It’s had to pretend like I don’t care about him”
“Well, you don’t have to pretend in front of me” Svetlana points out
“I’ll try to remember it” Shane Hollander says seriously as if he is recording the fact in an internal spreadsheet. Sveta wonders if that quiet seriousness and honesty is another one of Ilya’s undoing when it comes to this man.
The man in question seems to have slept peacefully through their entire conversation and he sleeps through the doorbell ringing five minutes later.
“Could you get it?” Shane asks her, “I ordered something and then realised that I won’t be able to just open the door to pick it up”
Svetlana gets the door and is faced with a huge delivery box.
“What’s that?” She asks as she dumps it in the living room
“Just some first aid stuff” Shane Hollander explains “Ilya doesn’t have anything. Like at all. I don’t know how he copes with things when he gets injured”
“Through willpower” Sveta explains schooling her face in a Slavic way “like a proper Russian man”
Shane snorts way more sarcastically than she expects from a polite Canadian boy and looks down fondly at the man in his lap.
“Does he have a favourite food when he’s sick?” He asks after a moment. Svetlana realises that his hands never stopped carding through Ilya’s hair.
“Beef stroganoff with mashed potatoes” Svetlana explains “I actually grabbed some ingredients on the way”
“Can you show me how to make it?” Shane asks eagerly “Ilya just makes fun of me every time I ask him to teach me how to cook Russian food”
“Sure” it’s gotten dark outside already and they might as well start on dinner.
Carefully Shake climbs from under his boyfriend and slides a pillow to replace his lap.
“Vse ok*” he whispers in Russian when Ilya grumbles in his sleep. He tags the blanket up and tucks it around the Russian man “Spat**’”
Svetlana freezes in shock “Do you speak Russian?”
“I’m trying to learn” Shane’s face reddens “I’m very bad at it though”
***
Before they start on the dinner, Svetlana watches Shane unpack all the medical supplies he ordered and place them carefully into the medical cabinet that previously contained only a pack of band aids and a bottle of Advil. He then carefully folds and dispose of the packaging.
Most of the supplies are somehow related to everyday traumas of hockey players - pain meds, gauze, heat pads, plastic covers sleeves. Alongside it there is a full flu/cold set of medication.
“That’s a lot” she shakes her head and wants to tell him that Ilya is not going to bother with half of these things.
“Yeah, well, we are hockey players” Shane shrugs and takes a couple of photos of the cabinet “I’ll have to email him the list with instructions” He murmurs absentmindedly and then adds with a grumble “On the off chance he’s actually going to bother using any of it
Svetlana tries to hide a grin.
***
“Why learn it then?” Svetlana asks sometime later. They are standing next to each other at the kitchen counter. They have not been talking much, beyond a few cooking instructions, but the silence is comfortable, peaceful.
“What?” Shane Hollander seems to be focused on slicing garlic with surgical precision.
He’s not a person who ever does things lightly, Svetlana gathers. He asks for detailed instructions for each step of the process. He look like he’d rather be taking notes but doesn’t refrain from doing so because he doesn’t want to make it weird. Sveta takes a pity on him and promises to send him a proper recipe.
“Russian” Svetlana clarifies “Why are you learning Russian?”
He shoots her a slightly surprised look. Like it should be obvious.
“Well, it just seems unfair that I can always speak in my native tongue and he can’t. He… His English is so good now, but it’s still hard for him sometimes when he’s tired or upset. I don’t want him to feel like he’s always got to be the one to struggle”
“You are going to be the death of him, Shane Hollander” Svetlana thinks “and you aren’t even going to realise it”
“It’s a nice thing to do” Svetlana acknowledges simply
“Well, I’m not sure I’ll ever manage” Hollander shakes his head “Russian seems incredibly hard. It’s so different and I don’t have enough time to do it properly
“You don’t have to speak it perfectly” Svetlana shrugs “Ilya would have understood you anyway”
This does not sit right with the Canadian. Apparently, his perfectionism stretches way beyond hockey and cooking.
“Did I say it wrong earlier?” Hollander asks and sees the answer in her face “What should I have said instead?”
She’s too Russian to pacify him with fake reassurances.
“You should have said «спи» or «поспи еще немного»” Svetlana explains and watches as Hollander practices the unfamiliar sounds. He makes her repeat the words a few times and explain the difference. Then he thanks her in that honest way of his.
The kitchen is very warm now, filled with the sound of the beef stew simmering on the stove and the smell of food. Hollander finishes off cutting garlic and takes over mashing the potatoes with the same level of intense concentration. Svetlana chops vegetables for the salad.
Every once in a while, Shane asks her to tell him Russian word for the things they are using – fork, bowl, tomato. Svetlana patiently teaches him the words, corrects how he pronounces them.
Someday, if this peaceful understanding between them lasts, Svetlana might tell him other things about speaking Ilya’s language. Like how he should have texted last night. How he can’t let Ilya dwell in loneliness. How he needs to watch out for the voices in his stubborn blond head.
It’s not time yet. But maybe some day it will be. Or maybe Shane Hollander will discover it on his own or get Ilya to explain it himself.
Because if there is one thing she learned over the last couple of hours is that Shane Hollander might actually know how lucky he is to have the love of Ilya Rozanov.
***
Eventually, just as the food is cooked, Ilya wakes up and stumbles into the kitchen.
“What’s this smell?” He asks eagerly
“Beef stroganoff” Shane explains “Svetlana has been teaching me how to make it”
“You shouldn’t listen” Ilya quips “she’s a terrible cook!”
“Fuck you” Svetlana throws “I’m a better cook than you are!”
“You both seem to be allergic to following any kind of recipe” Hollander grumbles under his breath. She’s slowly realising that despite his shy demeanor, Shane Hollander has a bit of a sarcastic streak.
Ilya grins at his boyfriend with delight that tells her he knows about it and absolutely loves it.
From the way Ilya’s arms twitch it’s clear that he wants nothing more than to drape himself all over his Canadian. That if she wasn’t in the room and this morning didn’t happen there would not be even an inch of space between them.
Instead, Ilya stands a few feet apart and leans on the counter.
Hollander shoots a quick look into her direction and then crosses the distance to his boyfriend, hooks an arm around his waist and guides him to sit down at the counter. He presses a soft chaste kiss on his mouth. Ilya face splits into a soft smile, like he’s received a gift that he’s been waiting for a little longer than he’d have liked.
She got them all wrong, Sveta realises. It’s not that Shane punishes Ilya with lack of affection - it’s just that he’s honestly so awkward that he’s got to work up to sharing intimate moments around others. And it’s not that Ilya fears his wrath, it’s that he’s respectful of his boundaries and gives him space and time to get comfortable. That he was upset this morning at missing out on intimacy with his boyfriend, but he wasn’t really worried about it being withdrawn indefinitely.
“Your boyfriend is very cute when he’s trying to follow instructions” she says to Ilya and gets exactly the reaction that she expected.
“You can’t have him” Ilya pouts and draws Shane by the waist to press against his side “he’s mine”
Svetlana raises her hands jokingly as if backing off “I’m just saying!”
“There is no just. You think he’s attractive” Ilya turns to Shane “I told you. She thinks you are hot. She doesn’t know that you are terrible at fucking women. And that you are addicted to my huge… “ The last of the sentence gets muffled by Hollander’s hand flying to cover his mouth.
“Oh, my fucking god” Hollander whispers horrified and hides his face in Ilya’s curls “you are such an asshole!”
Svetlana bursts out laughing.
***
They eat the beef stroganoff at the large kitchen table that Svetlana, a stark contrast to this morning. The conversation flows easily. Ilya makes a silly show of praising the food, but he eats two helpings and Svetlana knows he’s absolutely delighted by the idea of people he loves cooking for him.
Afterwards they settle down in the living room again, pretty much in the same position as before. Ilya parks his head in Shane’s lap and wiggles his toes into Svetlana hip. He looks so happy and carefree that Svetlana heart hurts.
“Do you want to watch the game?” Shane asks a little hesitantly. As if he knows that it’s a sour spot for Ilya, missing a game when he’s not literally dying. He’s played with bruised ribs before and she’s sure that he would have played tonight too if he were allowed.
But Ilya doesn’t seem to mind right now so they switch on Raiders - Columbus game. It’s not supposed to be very exciting. Frankly, it’s probably going to be a doozy.
“Tell me if your head starts hurting” Shane whispers to Ilya, caressing his face and Svetlana watches in silent amazement as her friend nods obediently.
Watching hockey with Shane Hollander is just as interesting as Svetlana predicted it would be. He’s laser focused on every move, whispering under his breath and clearly taking mental notes on certain plays.
“Rogers is doing well” Hollander comments on Ilya’s rookie “I can see how you managed to integrate him into the team”
Ilya jokes something back, but Sveta sees that he’s pleased. With Shane’s praise and with the game overall. It’s obvious that Raiders first line is weaker without him, but it’s not so critical that their game collapses. It’s exactly what a captain like Ilya likes to see when he’s not able to be there.
Hollander seems surprised at the first comment that Svetlana drops, then attentive at the second. Soon the two of them exchange quiet quips. Svetlana is more direct, bordering on offensive. Shane’s always respectful, hesitant to make predictions, but still honest with his analysis. He becomes a bit less subdued the longer the game goes and the more he learns about Svetlana’s approach.
After the first tense minutes, Ilya is content to just watch and listen to them, a relaxed half-smile on his face. Every once in a while, he tags at Shane’s hand around his shoulder and tilts his face upwards asking for a kiss. Hollander obediently leans forward and pecks him on a cheek or lips every time. He still looks a bit awkward, but he doesn’t glance in her direction every time anymore.
It’s a good thing. Svetlana is not a very sentimental person by nature, but she is sure her face looks all mushy every time she sees the affection between those two.
Sometime during the second period Ilya demands attention in the middle of the intense play and instead of leaning forward Shane shushes him and puts his finger on Ilya’s lips and makes him wait.
Ilya pouts and then bursts out laughing.
“What?” Hollander looks down, that angry kitten face of his back on.
“I just thought what would happen if Yuna was here too”
Hollander chuckles.
“My mom” he explains to Svetlana “she’s really serious about hockey”
“Really serious” Ilya drawls affectionately. It sounds like he is close enough with Shane’s parents and Svetlana hopes that it helps. She hopes that somebody else gets to see them like that.
***
“I wish I didn’t have to leave tomorrow” Shane says after the game is over “But we have two home games next week. I need to be in Montreal”
“I could come to you instead” Ilya says “To Montreal. I only have a doctor’s appointment tomorrow lunchtime and then I’m free until Friday”
Shane bites his lip.
“You can’t fly to Montreal in the middle of the season when you are on sick leave. People will wonder if anybody spots you”
“I can drive” Ilya offers. Svetlana recognizes the tight bite in his voice. Now that the possibility of spending 3 days with his boyfriend is here, he doesn’t want to miss it. Having seen the two of them together Svetlana understands it.
“Ilya, you can’t drive 5 hours to Montreal. Not with your head wound and arm”
“I can manage it. I drove in way worse conditions. I’d like to spend time with you”
“And I’d like you alive” the Canadian states firmly “So, no. It’s not an option”
“I could drive you” Svetlana offers when it looks like Ilya is about to argue “and then hopefully you are well enough by Friday to drive back”
The look Ilya gives her is such pure gratitude that her eyes hurt. He looks not much older than 7-year-old boy she met on a playground all those years ago.
“You wouldn’t mind?” Shane turns to her and she can see hope in his eyes as well
“No, not at all” she reassures them
“We’ll fly you back of course” Shane assures her but Svetlana waves him off.
It’s not like money is a problem for her. And even if she had plans, she would have cancelled them for this. For opportunity to get Ilya cared for and loved for a few extra days.
***
Svetlana could never sleep through the sound of somebody preparing to leave in the middle of the night. It’s a muscle memory from the childhood of a hockey player’s kid, hundreds of mornings of watching her own dad packing for roadies in the early morning hours. So, come five am she wakes up and rolls out of bed.
She passes by Ilya’s bedroom and peaks through the open door. Shane Hollander leans over Ilya’s form sprawled over the bed. His fully dressed already. He says something softly and caresses Ilya’s face, leaning over to kiss him softly, once, twice. She turns away and pads barefoot towards the living room.
Finally, after a few minutes Shane Hollander finally emerges from the room, bag in hand. He startles a little bit at seeing her and she sees something heartbroken in his face for a moment, before it’s replaced with a quiet relief.
“I…” he looks at her for a moment “Thank you. So much”
“It was good to meet you, Jane” She returns and enjoys his quick smile “I’ll see you on Tuesday”
After Hollander leaves, she drops by Ilya’s bedroom. He’s lying on his stomach; face smashed into the pillow on Hollander’ side of the bed. He’s sound asleep.
Svetlana smiles and goes back to bed.