Archive of Our Own

Yuna wasn’t at a loss of words for his son’s confession, she wasn’t surprised that Shane was gay. To her, there was nothing wrong with it and it certainly wasn’t a disappointment. He was, and always would be, her long-awaited and madly loved son and nothing would change because Shane was exactly the same person he had been before this confession.

What surprised Yuna was the person beside her son, she still couldn’t understand what Shane Hollander and Ilya Rozanov had in common. The two couldn’t be more different: in character, physically, in terms of responsibility, and professionally. Yuna didn’t want to be superficial, but given the image she’d always had of Ilya Rozanov over the past ten years or so, she couldn’t picture him alongside Shane.

“Rozanov, I have to be honest with you,” David said, breaking the silence between the four of them, “you’ve always had a certain reputation, with women I mean, so I can’t…” he reached out a hand towards Yuna because David knew too, “we can’t understand…” he couldn’t finish the sentence, with his index finger he pointed first at Shane and then at Ilya.

Yuna didn’t miss Shane’s furrowed brows, as if he didn’t understand his father’s point, as if the situation were so logical that it seemed impossible to have any doubts.

“Dad, what’s there to understand?” Shane replied defensively.

Out of the corner of her eye, Yuna noticed a movement hidden by the table. Ilya had moved his arm slightly towards Shane’s. He had most likely just placed a hand on his leg to reassure him, to ask him not to raise his voice, to calm him down.

Yuna felt the first piece of this incredibly complicated puzzle fall into place.

“You’re right, Mr Hollander,” Ilya replied, “my reputation is undeniable and I understand your doubts-”

“You don’t have to explain anything, Ilya,” Shane interrupted again.

Ilya turned to him giving him one of the sweetest smiles Yuna had ever seen. Hell, not even David had ever looked at her like that.

The second piece of the puzzle fell into place beside the first.

“I’m bisexual: I’m attracted to both women and men, which is why I can’t deny my reputation. It’s undeniable. But I’ve never felt anything like what I feel for Shane. I’ve never loved anyone in my life the way I love Shane, there’s never been anyone else. He’s the only one.”

Yuna felt her eyes sting and her throat tighten. The way Ilya Rozanov had answered their question, their doubts, so politely and sincerely, declaring the love he felt for Shane, for his Shane, had moved her.

Perhaps her mind had been too clouded by the superficiality with which she had always viewed this boy, perhaps in her mind the persona had always existed rather than the person itself. But Yuna had never had the chance to think otherwise: Rozanov was her son’s rival, every year they battled to score the same number of goals, to be nominated for the same awards and see who would take home the trophy. Yuna felt like a truly superficial person, but what else was she supposed to think about apart from her son’s career?

Shane turned his head, fixing his eyes on Ilya’s, a hint of a smile well hidden but held back with an effort, then swallowed as if to find the courage to say the following words.

“Me too, just one. Only him.”

Yuna saw the third piece of the puzzle fall into place and this time it was a large, important, central piece.

She had spent so many years focused on making her son’s life the best it could be with the best sponsors, the best contracts, the best team, the best connections with influential people that she had completely lost sight of… Shane. She had done all this for her son, she wanted the best for him but she had stopped to listen to him. The idea that Shane had kept something so big and important from her for almost ten years and maybe more made her feel like a mother who had failed in her role.

She couldn’t look Shane in the eyes without feeling a tremendous, overwhelming sense of guilt: how had she managed to push her son so far away that he didn’t feel comfortable talking and opening up to her about something so important?

Shane was far more important than hockey, than any contract, than any interaction with famous people, than any team or extra training or prize. Yet, over the course of her life, Yuna felt she had lost her way. That she had lost Shane.

She didn’t want to make this confession about herself or a personal matter because for the first time Shane was looking his parents in the eyes, confessing not only a great truth about himself but also the love he felt for another person. Yet Yuna couldn’t help but think of how much Shane had suffered over the years, of how much support he would have received not only from her but also from David if only they had both focused a little more on Shane. If only they had known.

Ilya Rozanov couldn’t take his eyes off Shane, his hand still firmly resting on his leg. The pieces of the puzzle all came crashing down on Yuna: they could be day and night, the sun and the moon, two completely different athletes but with the same goal, yet what was between them was real and special and so palpable now that Yuna felt stupid for not having realised it. It was so obvious, everything was clear, and if she only stopped for two seconds to reflect every time Rozanov was mentioned Shane’s behaviour was a huge clue to Yuna’s blind eyes.

Her little boy, her Shane, had opened his heart to another person and that person had opened their heart to Shane. And they both fallen in love. Isn’t that what a mother, a parent, hopes for their child? That they love and be loved with all the strength in the world?

Yuna felt her eyes fill with tears. Making an excuse, she rose from the table and went out through the back door of the kitchen. The cool air of that late summer afternoon was a huge relief, a welcome respite after the conversation that had just taken place. She didn’t have to wait too long before she heard the door behind her open and close, and she didn’t even have to wonder who it was because she knew that her now not so little boy had joined her.

“Put this on, it’s a bit chilly this late in the afternoon,” Shane said, holding Yuna’s cardigan in his hands, his arms outstretched as if inviting her to put it on and so she did.

“Thank you,” Yuna smiled, then, for no reason, looked away as soon as she noticed Shane’s eyes on her.

She could feel the thoughts racing through Shane’s head, just as she saw out of the corner of her eye that he was torn, his lower lip between his teeth and his hands clenched into fists inside his trouser pockets. Yuna didn’t want any of this, she didn’t want to see her son in this state, so she turned, ready to speak, but Shane beat her to it.

“I need you to know… Mom, I need you to know that I tried,” his voice trembling slightly, “I really, really, really tried but I couldn’t help it,” Shane’s voice broke completely, the tremor becoming more noticeable, “what I felt with Ilya… I couldn’t feel with anyone else and believe me I forced myself not to think about that feeling that came back every time we saw each other. Until I couldn’t pretend any longer, until even he couldn’t pretend any longer and anymore, and even though we were both absolutely terrified we opened our hearts. But believe me, Mom, I tried.”

Yuna’s heart shattered into a thousand pieces, Shane’s words had completely devastated her. Knowing that her son was suffering so much behind his parents’ backs, that he was giving them smiles and happy moments whilst inside he was facing one of the most complicated and difficult struggles ever, destroyed her.

“Oh, Shane…” she whispered, her throat tight and tears ready to spill, “you’ve got nothing to apologise for, nothing do you understand?” the first uncontrollable tears began to fall, “look at me… look at me, honey.”

Yuna took Shane’s hands, urging him to turn towards her, more tears fell from her eyes when she managed to see her son’s face: the strained expression of someone fighting against himself not to give in to the emotions clearly etched on his face, tears welling up behind his eyes. Yuna felt as though she were dying.

“Look at me Shane,” Yuna tried to smile now that she had Shane’s full attention, “I’m so proud of you. I couldn’t have wished for a better son than you. You haven’t let me down, and you haven’t let Dad down either. You don’t have to apologise, honey, do you understand?” a silent sob escaped Shane’s lips, “we’re proud of you, Shane.”

Yuna stroked Shane’s cheek, her thumb wiping away as many tears as possible. Shane’s head rested against Yuna’s hand almost as if to absorb as much warmth and love as possible.

“I love you with all my heart, Shane. You’re my son, you’re part of my heart,” Yuna sniffed, “I have to apologise to you. I was so focused on your career, on helping you pave the way for a comfortable and peaceful life that I didn’t realise I’d lost you along the way. I’m sorry you didn’t feel safe or comfortable sharing this part of yourself with me and with Dad. We should have done more and I apologise for that.”

“Mom…”

“The thought that you’ve been suffering all these years without being able to confide in us breaks my heart into a thousand pieces. You didn’t deserve this… forgive us, Shane.”

Shane stretched out his arms and wrapped them tightly around Yuna’s waist, enveloping her completely, a gesture that reminded her of when he was little and used to have bad dreams at night and he needed as much comfort as possible to forget the bad dreams. Immediately Yuna’s arms reached out towards Shane’s shoulders, holding him as tightly as she could and pulling him as close as possible, one hand running through his hair.

“I love you, Mom,” Shane said, resting his forehead on Yuna’s shoulder, “and you’re forgiven, both of you.”

A soft laugh escaped from Yuna’s lips, it was impossible to hold back the smile just as it was impossible to hold back the tears.

“Oh honey, I love you so much. You’re my son and nothing and no one will change the relationship we had and will have. Okay?”

“Not even Ilya Rozanov?”

Yuna burst out laughing and for the first time that day she laughed from the heart. She noticed that Shane’s shoulders were rising just like hers, her little boy was laughing.

“Not even Ilya Rozanov, no.”

“Are you sure?”

Yuna pulled away from the embrace, their arms were still wrapped tightly around each other but this way they could look each other in the face, and for Yuna, that was essential.

“I won’t deny that it left me a bit perplexed, speechless. But during our chat at the table, with the four of us, I realised I’d been too superficial. I’ve always seen Rozanov as your number one rival, I’ve always seen the persona in him, not the real person,” Yuna resumed stroking Shane’s cheek, “I couldn’t have been more wrong. I owe him an apology too.”

“He’s more than the persona he shows to the whole world,” said Shane, his eyes shining, “it’s all a mask, a performance. But with the right person he takes that mask off and reveals his true self. It took him years, it took us both years, but now that I know him I can’t help but appreciate and admire his strength. He really is a good and decent person mom and I tried not to fall in love with him but…”

“You can’t control the heart,” Yuna concluded for him, “I can’t wait to get to know your Ilya better.”

Shane rolled his eyes and turned away from his mother.

“Mom, please.”

“What? Can’t I refer to Rozanov as your Ilya now? Isn’t that right?”

“Yes, but… it’s… it’s weird, okay?” Shane’s cheeks flushed instantly and not because of the cool breeze that had picked up.

Yuna began massaging Shane’s shoulders and then his arms, his gaze, still furtive and embarrassed, was that of her Shane again. Her heart still felt heavy in her chest but having managed to clarify a few things with Shane made it feel a little lighter. All that remained was the disappointment she felt towards herself, she would work on that because it was her problem.

“Okay, so explain to me… do we have a plan?” asked Yuna. Shane shook his head. “Right, then we’d better go back inside and talk to everyone.”

Shane began walking alongside his mum, his hands in his pockets as always but his shoulders were more relaxed. Yuna couldn’t help but feel a sharp pang in her heart at the sight of him, her son, who’d been so afraid to come out to his parents and now with a considerable weight lifted from his shoulders. She took his elbow, urging him to stop, one foot on the step and the other still on the lawn.

“I’m really proud of you, Shane. I hope you realise that nothing has changed for me and Dad. We’ve always supported you and always will, because you’re our son and we love you.”

Shane smiled, taking Yuna’s hand in his and squeezing it gently.

“I know,” he said simply.

And with their hands still clasped, they went inside to join their other halves.

─ .✦

David didn’t miss a single expression on Shane’s face when he saw Yuna get up from her chair and walk out of the kitchen door. His eyes were wide, a hint of terror in them. Rozanov’s hand was still on his leg.

“I need to sort this out,” Shane said, getting up from his chair and taking Yuna’s cardigan in his hands.

A brief hesitation before leaving the dining room, his eyes shifted from watching Rozanov to David, unsure whether to leave them alone or follow his mother into the garden. Then he gently placed his hand on Rozanov’s shoulder, his fingers brushing against his neck as he moved them slightly to make more contact.

“You’re okay?” he asked. David couldn’t help but watch them, observing how much tenderness there was in those gestures, in those words.

“Go to your mom don’t worry about me,” Rozanov smiled. With a slight nod of his head, he rested his chin against Shane’s fingers, still resting on his neck, then whispered hoping David wouldn’t hear him (but David did heard him), “I’ll be fine.”

Shane smiled softly, then after a deep sigh left the house and joined Yuna.

Silence fell in the dining room. Rozanov looked everywhere except straight ahead, where David was sitting, his eyes fixed on Rozanov. And he knew that Rozanov knew, and he knew that look was making him feel uneasy, intimidated. But David just wanted to understand, to observe, to figure things out, not to be an asshole. So he cleared his throat and, after downing the remaining vodka in his glass, began to speak.

“So, you and Shane uh…” He didn’t know what to say, he didn’t know how to start a conversation in a situation like this.

Rozanov turned his head, his eyebrows furrowed as he tried to work out what David meant by that half-sentence. David wanted to understand it too, so he sighed and put aside whatever discomfort he felt to speak openly. Perhaps that was the right choice.

“Look I’m not against you two. I love and will always love Shane because he’s my son and in my eyes he’ll never be any different from how he was a few hours ago when we still knew nothing,” David rested his hands on the table, “the truth is that perhaps we were very superficial in judging you, that’s the reason for our reaction. But it’s just a reaction driven by the bond we share with our son. Every parent wants the best for their child and we are no different.”

A veil of sadness had briefly settled over Rozanov’s face, which he immediately shook off by shaking his head. David didn’t want to make assumptions, not after spending all these years painting Rozanov as the person he most likely wasn’t-indeed, wasn’t at all. So he simply observed, set this small piece of information aside, this minor incident, and moved on.

“I don’t know how I can reassure you other than by telling you that my intentions with Shane are very serious. I’ve never fallen in love in my life, and what binds me to Shane is a feeling I’ve struggled to accept, and which, when it presented itself forcefully before me, I could no longer avoid,” Rozanov’s honesty was palpable and David was left speechless, “if you give me time, I’ll show you that I’m not just that hockey player everybody talks about I’m… more.”

The way Rozanov… Ilya (he could call him that now, setting aside all formality) had spoken and uttered the words of that last sentence made David’s heart ache. Of course they themselves had raised doubts due to their own blatant superficiality, but knowing that Ilya felt obliged to show to his boyfriend’s parents just how different he really was off the ice as if this weren’t an option for him, as if in the eyes of the whole world Ilya Rozanov were just the same asshole both on and off the ice, gave David a strange feeling he couldn’t quite put his finger on.

And now that he saw him with his own eyes, his real eyes, Ilya Rozanov was nothing more than a twenty-seven year old boy, kind and courteous and good-natured and well-mannered, polite and friendly. David wasn’t looking at the asshole Rozanov, but simply at Ilya.

“You don’t owe us anything,” David replied, “the only thing we ask for is mutual respect. Whatever’s going on between you two is none of our business, the important thing is that there’s respect and… love.”

God, David couldn’t wait to have Yuna back in that room. Not so that he wouldn’t have to speak to Ilya anymore but because she was the one in the couple who knew how to speak and handle any situation. David felt he was rambling, without any clear connection, perhaps he was even confusing Ilya, he was getting it all of this wrong.

Ilya nodded, a veil of sadness on his face hidden by a faint smile: he couldn’t have appeared more human than that. David, and Yuna, couldn’t have been more wrong. David’s paternal instinct might have taken over and prompted him to ask what was wrong with the sentence he’d just uttered, why the sudden realisation that he owed them nothing as parents had saddened him or simply made him think of something else, but he stopped himself just in time before standing up and saying anything more.

“Fancy a walk around the house? I reckon those two out there will be at it for a while yet," David didn't know what he was doing.

Ilya stood up and began to follow David around the house. Yes, David really didn’t know what he was doing but perhaps distracting Ilya from that sad, albeit fleeting, thought was the right thing to do.

“We bought this house over twenty years ago and over the years we’ve carried out some renovations, mainly on the upper floor. We like that the ground floor is small and cosy, we’ve got everything: a dining room, the kitchen, a fairly spacious living room and at the back there’s the bathroom. Almost every room has a big window overlooking the garden, so it’s easily accessible,” yes is was official David certainly didn’t know what he was doing but Ilya was following him closely.

“It’s a very nice house,” added Ilya, focused on examining an unfinished puzzle on the living room table.

“I should have finished it last night but I couldn’t find the right pieces to carry on,” David said scratching his head, “so I lost all my focus and gave up.”

Ilya stepped closer, examining the jigsaw puzzle and the original picture closely, then turned his head towards David and pointed at the table with his index finger, David nodded. A soft “mmh” escaped Ilya’s lips as, with fingers that seemed expert, he slowly moved the jigsaw pieces, grouping them according to a logic David couldn’t fathom.

“The puzzle pieces shouldn’t just be sorted by colour but also by shape,” Ilya replied to David’s unspoken question, “it’s easier to complete a puzzle with the pieces sorted by shape because you know exactly where to find them and where to place them, and the colour helps a lot.”

“Oh…” David remarked as Ilya moved and fitted the pieces together, completing a section that just the day before had seemed impossible to David, “wow… are you a puzzle expert?”

Ilya shrugged, that sad look returning to his face.

“When I was little and in my spare time I used to help my mom, the puzzles helped her relax and I relaxed too. It was our hobby.”

David couldn’t take his eyes off Ilya, his tone of voice and facial expression were screaming at him to ask more, to probe and learn and understand. But it was much more than that, it was perhaps a subject Ilya didn’t yet feel comfortable talking about, too personal to share with what was, in effect, a stranger. But that was another piece of his very personal puzzle called Rozanov that he set aside, always ready to look at it again, waiting for the main, missing piece to give the whole picture its final meaning.

“I’ve got another one if you like, in fact, perhaps you should give me a hand because it’s very complicated. Don’t ask me why but I got carried away when I went into one of those shops that turn your photos into whatever you want, and I chose a puzzle,” David opened the door of the living room cabinet and pulled out an excessively large and bulky box, the image of a lake at sunset with a jetty in the distance and trees and rocks on either side clearly printed on the lid of the box, “It’s a photo taken from the garden at Shane’s cottage. I liked it so much that I had to turn it into a puzzle. But the colours are too similar, it’ll be really tricky to make it come together.”

Ilya looked at the lid of the box with a faint, gentle smile, as if that image, the image of Shane’s cottage, was healing him from a sudden sadness he’d felt just minutes earlier. David wasn’t sure but he knew that for Ilya, too, that cottage was one of the many remedies for his inner turmoil. Just like Shane.

“We can give it a go,” he said, shrugging and looking him in the eyes, his smile drawing them in, “if we use the method I told you about earlier, maybe we’ll manage to figure it out. Difficult but not impossible,” young, light-hearted, free, human, completely different from any image of this boy he’d conjured up in his head.

He liked him. It was definite.

David liked Ilya Rozanov.

Before him stood the real Ilya, the version his son had fallen in love with and now he understood why.

“But we should finish the first one, Mr Hollander, otherwise there’s no room to start the second.”

“David,” he corrected him with the sweetest smile he’d managed in the last few days, then held out a hand, “call me David, Ilya. You’re family now, and in a family we don’t use formalities.”

Ilya swallowed and shook “David”’s’ hand, his face seemed ten years younger and suddenly standing before him was a young boy with wide, dreamy eyes. Dreaming of what? David could only imagine. Dreaming of contact? Affection? A familiar figure? A parent? A father?

Ilya’s hand was firmly clasped around David’s, steady and warm, as if he didn’t want to let him go, as if he had found an old friend on his path, someone who was incredibly important to him and whom he had missed terribly and so that contact could not and must not be broken.

The contact.

David hesitated before plunging into the utter darkness of that strange and intriguing interaction, he gently pulled Ilya’s hand closer and placed the other hand on his shoulder. A series of small pats accompanied by a sweet, encouraging smile.

A parent.

Ilya responded to those pats with an equally gentle smile, his eyes glistening more than before and his breathing so calm that David wondered if he was still breathing. But did Ilya seem… at peace?

A father.

David didn’t think twice and, with his hand still on Ilya’s shoulder, pulled him into an embrace, very clumsy and very awkward, but that was the intention. He felt Ilya’s body stiffen at the sudden contact but only after feeling David’s hand stroke his back Ilya visibly relax. His arms still awkward, not knowing where to put them, he tried to return the pats and rested them on David’s shoulders. The embrace didn’t last long, just long enough to give Ilya’s body a chance to relax and realise that he no longer had an enemy in front of him or someone for whom he had to go to great lengths to prove himself. He had David. He was just David.

David had finally understood, perhaps he hadn’t quite cracked the Rozanov code, but he’d grasped most of the hidden information. And he had a lot of questions but he couldn’t ask them. Perhaps not today, or in the days to come, their relationship needed to grow stronger before he could start digging deeper and bringing to the surface sharing memories, traumas and life experiences. But in his eyes, Ilya Rozanov was no longer that person. He was just a boy with a complicated life and some now very obvious shortcomings. He didn’t yet know how to go about it or when to start but David felt he had to show this boy something.

If he needed a father figure, David was willing to take that step forward.

For Ilya.

─ .✦

Ilya doesn’t remember ever sitting at a table with his father without a plate of food in front of him and an awkward atmosphere hanging between them, accompanied by a deafening silence. He doesn’t remember ever exchanging a word, in their home the rule of silence prevailed during lunches and dinners. That’s why it felt strange to have someone beside him who was interested in what he had to say, asking for more and seeking his advice.

Mr Hollander… David had taken his advice, sorting the jigsaw pieces by shape and then by colour to make them easier to find and put in place.

It was a method his mother often used, he’d never had the courage to pick up a puzzle again because the memories rushed straight back to her, to her focused yet relaxed face, to her long, slender fingers expert at selecting the right piece to place in the exact spot.

Many times he had lost himself in watching her, admiring her beauty. And when the feeling he had for her, when the love seemed to pour out of his body became too much and uncontrollable he would throw himself onto her shoulders, embracing her and holding her close, eliciting a sweet laugh from Irina.

“Moya lyubov,” she would say, clasping Ilya’s small arms in her hands, “ty vsya moya zhizn’.”

You are my whole life.

Irina’s serenity and happiness in those moments, shut away in her hobby room, sitting at a table with a puzzle in front of her and Ilya by her side, their laughter and their teamwork in completing as many puzzles as possible, were the only beautiful memories Ilya cherished in his heart. But he found it very hard to bring them to the surface because doing so only made the longing he felt for his mother grow stronger.

But when he saw David, looking very awkward, trying to strike up a conversation with him about puzzles, something inside Ilya’s chest clicked, leapt forward. What were the chances that his boyfriend’s father shared the same passion as his mother?

He couldn’t stop the memories from flooding into his mind all at once, but this time, unlike the others, they didn’t weigh him down. So he let David in on a little trick and was surprised by his reaction.

And so there they were there, sitting at the table completing together the puzzle that David hadn’t managed to finish the night before. David began telling him about how many other puzzles he had in Ottawa, at home, both finished and yet to be started, and how he’d inherited this passion from his father, who’d inherited it from his father, and so on, and how he hadn’t been quite successful with Shane. He let slip, "luckily I’ve found the perfect partner to share and enjoy this hobby with," a phrase that might have meant nothing but to Ilya it meant everything.

David Hollander was an awkward, curious man, Ilya had read the unspoken questions on his face more than once. He was more than certain that when they were left alone, a veil of panic hung over him, unsure of what to say or do when faced with his son’s boyfriend. But he had behaved decently, kindly, honestly, sweetly. He wasn’t as boring as he’d thought and had jokingly told Shane, quite the opposite in fact. Ilya thought that Shane and his father shared so many good qualities.

Ilya knew this, he knew it wasn’t yet time to give in to strong emotions but he couldn’t calm his heart as he saw himself sitting at the table with David, completing a puzzle and chatting about this and that. Was this perhaps a father figure? Was this how parents, how fathers, behaved towards their children? He had grown up in total silence, amidst serious, scrutinising glances, in the cold, without a pat on the back or a kind word from his father. This new bond with David was strange, and yet Ilya craved it, and his heart knew it.

He stared as David fitted the last four pieces of the jigsaw together with a hope he’d never felt before: could this be his future? Would he too have a father figure to look up to? Someone to lean on, talk to, confide in, and spend peaceful, quiet and quality time with, completing puzzles or going for a walk? How was it possible that all this was happening to him? How was it possible that he had been so lucky, not only to have found the love of his life but also a family ready to welcome him and give him the affection he had always lacked?

“We’re done!” David shouted, arms in the air in a victory sign, Ilya smiled and clapped lightly.

David, still smiling, began patting him on the shoulder clearly happy to have completed a puzzle that had been driving him crazy. He stood up from his chair and picked up a piece of glass from beside the cabinet, which he placed on top of the puzzle. Ilya helped him secure the frame and they both took a step back to admire the work they’d just finished: the puzzle depicted a vast ocean, its colours blending into the blue of the sky. It was a soothing sight.

“We’ll hang it in the guest room later,” he said placing a hand on his shoulder, “or wherever Yuna wants,” he hastened to add and Ilya let out a chuckle.

Yuna. He couldn’t wait to meet her. Although he couldn’t hide that tinge of dread that approaching someone like Yuna, serious, determined, strong, brought him. She was, after all, Shane’s mother. She’d planned his entire career, so he knew he’d stepped in the way and thrown a spanner in the works. But after meeting David, he couldn’t shake that feeling of curiosity.

David still had his arm draped over Ilya’s shoulders when they both turned, drawn by the sound of the kitchen door opening, to see Shane and Yuna hand in hand and smiling.

Ilya’s heart burst, or rather was on the verge of doing so, and his eyes began to burn and shine. Later, he would flood Shane with questions to find out what they’d said to each other in the garden but for now seeing them so calm and smiling was all Ilya needed to breathe yet another sigh of relief, to give his heart and mind a respite, to tell himself “we’re heading in the right direction.”

Shane met Ilya’s gaze and a huge smile spread across his face, letting go of Yuna’s hand he stepped closer. With David’s arm still around his shoulders, Ilya wondered if it would be inappropriate to ask him to take it away because he wanted to hug Shane, his Shane.

“Everything okay?” Shane asked, his fingers brushing against Ilya’s arm, then his wrist. Ilya took his hand, intertwining their fingers, he needed to feel his warmth, he needed his touch.

“I’m fine,” he replied, nodding, his eyes growing increasingly moist.

David stepped away from his side and reached out to Shane, pulling him into an embrace. Words were superfluous, only contact and the awareness of what they both felt. Ilya felt like a third wheel, he felt like he was witnessing an intimate moment reserved only for the father-son dynamic. He was surprised to feel a twinge of envy, but more than envy, he felt joy and relief knowing that Shane had a father, parents, by his side who were so good and loving to him.

“Ilya!” he heard Yuna shout from the kitchen, “wash your hands and come join me in the kitchen so you can help me with dinner.”

“Are we going to make the guests cook now?” asked Shane, pulling away from David’s embrace.

“Guests? Do you see any guests?” Yuna came out of the kitchen, an apron tied around her waist and her arms crossed, “David, do we have guests?” she asked with a sweet smile.

David placed his hand on Ilya’s shoulder again, squeezing it gently before saying, “No, it’s just family.”

Ilya felt his throat tighten and his eyes sting even more. He couldn’t understand where he was finding all this strength not to burst into tears. It was all too much, did he really deserve this?

Ilya nodded towards Yuna and headed for the bathroom, he remembered where it was from David’s brief and awkward tour. He was so distracted by his own thoughts and by trying to calm his emotions that he didn’t notice Shane behind him, his arms around his waist, holding him as tightly as he could, then a kiss between his shoulder blades and his chin resting on his shoulder. They were watching themselves in the mirror, both their eyes glistening and the sweetest of smiles framing their faces.

“Are you sure everything’s okay?” Shane asked again, clasping his hands on his hips.

Ilya wiped his hands and took Shane’s in his, turning in his arms, a tender, sweet kiss on his knuckles before guiding them up to his face.

“They’re so kind to me, and understanding, and supportive…” a sigh, “I think I’ve already became part of the family.”

Shane’s eyes widened even more, his red cheeks framed by his wonderful freckles.

“You are family,” he told him, a kiss on his chin, “you are my family.”

Perhaps Ilya deserved what was happening in his life, perhaps he deserved Shane’s unconditional love, just as he deserved to become part of his life and get on well with David and, who knows, even with Yuna, given that they hadn’t spoken yet. But perhaps Ilya deserved this happiness, he deserved a second chance in life, he deserved to experience the warmth of a family and to be surrounded by affection and love.

“I love you,” he whispered before pressing his lips against Shane’s, a quick kiss because he certainly didn’t want them to be caught making out in the bathroom.

But Shane cupped his face in his hands and pulled him towards him, kissing him again, prolonging it for seconds, minutes. A kiss that tasted only of love, of passion, feelings.

“I love you so much, Ilya, always,” Shane pulled away and wiped Ilya’s lips with his thumb, making them both burst out laughing.

“How do I look? Red-faced? Frustrated?” asked Ilya, trying to smooth his hair. “I have to meet your mom and I don’t want her to realise that I’ve just finished making out with her son in the bathroom.”

Shane burst out laughing, resting his forehead on Ilya’s shoulder, that was the sweetest sound to his ears.

“You're gorgeous,” Shane said looking him in the eyes, his fingers running through his curls.

Ilya’s heart was racing, he was madly in love with Shane, his Shane. Ilya leaned down to give him one last peck on the lips and then stepped out of the bathroom followed by Shane, who stopped in the living room with his father to admire the puzzle they’d finished earlier.

“Mrs Hollander,” Ilya hesitated as he entered the kitchen, tense as a violin string.

“Oh, Ilya, honey, call me Yuna,” she said, stepping closer and taking his hand.

“Okay, Yuna,” he smiled, trying to return the handshake.

Ilya noticed that Yuna was transparent: whereas a few minutes earlier David had been trying to hide his endless questions, Yuna had them all written all over her face. He knew she was going to ask him something, he knew she wanted him in the kitchen to talk and get to know him better.

“Ilya, I need to apologise to you.”

That wasn’t exactly what he’d been expecting. He’d been prepared to be flooded with questions, clarifications and curiosity about his past and his family. But an apology? So it was a serious conversation?

“For what, Mrs Hollander?”

“No, Yuna please.”

“Yes, I’m sorry, Yuna,” Ilya had to get used to the informal tone when speaking within the family.

“I’ve been very superficial towards you. I saw your persona rather than the real person you are, so my judgement came very naturally.”

“Yuna, you don’t need to apologise-”

“Yes, I do,” she interrupted, squeezing his hand, a smile that was both sweet and melancholic, “I’ve always prioritised Shane’s life, I’ve always worked hard to ensure he had a comfortable, peaceful and tranquil life, full of great opportunities and connected to big names. Anyone who stood in his way was my number one enemy and you gave me a hard time, I won’t lie.”

Both Yuna and Ilya chuckled, the conversation seemed and was serious but it didn’t weigh heavily on them like Ilya thought. Evidently, in families, when discussing important matters, one could do it so calmly without fearing for their’s life.

“But you were and are a boy just like Shane, with ambition and talent and you deserve exactly the same things that Shane gets and I hope he gets, nothing more and nothing less.”

A strange warmth spread through Ilya’s chest, those were extremely sweet and kind words to be directed at him.

“My other apologies are for the stupid insinuations about your private life. What you do behind the walls of your own home is certainly none of my business,” Yuna raised her eyebrows, the smile still on her face, “but here I’m speaking to you as a mother and I’m just asking… just…” a sigh, her eyes glistening with tears she was struggling to hold back, “we’re talking about Shane and he’s my child. I mean, no, he’s a grown man and he can do exactly what he wants, but I’m just asking…”

Ilya understood and, after sighing, squeezed Yuna’s hand again.

“I wasn’t joking earlier when I said I’ve loved and only ever loved one person in my whole life. Shane is a special person, the only one who’s managed to break through my enormous barriers and get into my heart. It took us a long time to realise this and to let ourselves give in to the feelings we have and always had for one another. So I don’t know how much this will reassure you but my intentions towards Shane are the best,” his throat tightening again and his heart clenching in his chest, “I care too much about Shane to ever hurt him.”

Because Ilya knew what Shane’s parents’ fear were even if he had never experienced anything like this, his father had always been cold and distant, indifferent to his life. The only thing he cared about was hockey but whether Ilya was well or not wasn’t a priority for him. As for Alexei they never got on well with each other throughout their lives and they haven’t spoken since their father’s funeral, and perhaps it was better that way, he had kept his word.

The only gentle, warm figure had been his mother Irina. But so many years had passed since the last time he’d heard her voice and felt her warmth in a tight embrace that he couldn’t remember what it felt like to be seen as a son. A mother’s love.

Yuna stroked his face, her eyes still glistening, and Ilya felt that missing warmth. She was looking at him with the gentle eyes that only a mother can have, he saw gratitude and understanding and warmth in them, so much warmth.

Yuna cleared her throat, clapping her hands.

“I’ve got a job for you: grate the mozzarella we’re having chicken parmesan tonight.”

“One of my favourite dishes,” Ilya said, smiling and taking the mozzarella in his hands.

“I know,” Yuna smiled again, “a little bird told me just a moment ago.”

Ilya’s heart felt as though it were about to burst from his chest, overflowing with love for Shane and his family. Perhaps he needed to stop dwelling on the ‘what ifs’ and see things as they were: he had become part of a loving, kind family where he didn’t need to put up protective barriers, remain silent, or watch his every breath for fear of upsetting someone. He had become part of a family that admitted its mistakes, apologised, and through its actions made it clear wanted to improve, that it was on his side.

For the first time, watching Yuna cut up the chicken and explain the recipe, Ilya was feeling at home.

“Come here, Ilya,” Yuna said, fastening an apron around his waist, “now I’ll explain step by step what you need to do.”

Ilya’s memories of being in the kitchen with his mother are vivid. He remembers that those moments took place during a particular time, when silence and tranquillity reigned in the house because his father was away on business. So his mother would lift him onto a chair and together they would set about creating the tastiest dish or dessert.

With Yuna by his side guiding him through the next step of the recipe, he couldn’t help but think of those moments. And as the minutes ticked by and their time together grew, Ilya could sense Yuna warming up and becoming increasingly at ease with him, treating him exactly like a son: gently scolding him for adding too much pepper or for forgetting the salt in the tomato sauce. Her tone of voice was gentle and she playfully nudged him, pretending to want to take her place back to continue cooking. And in the background there was laughter and nonsensical tales of everyday life: now Ilya knew that a certain Josephine had rung her doorbell to give her a basil plant, whilst the previous week she’d brought her a chocolate cake that David had polished off in two days.

Ilya replied with a smile and a laugh, adding to the conversation cooking anecdotes he’d learnt from his mother suggesting an original recipe for Russian salad, a very typical and famous dish that many people get wrong. Yuna got carried away and made him promise to write down the recipe or rather “let’s go shopping together and you’ll show me how to make it properly.”

It was all too perfect, all too good to be true. But this had become Ilya’s life: he’d been given another chance and he’d seized it with both hands.

Every now and then, he would look for Shane and always find him in the usual spot: on the sofa with his father, watching a film and discussing it, and he could do nothing but thank him silently.

“Thank you for finding me. Thank you for choosing me. Thank you for fighting, for yourself, for me, for us. Thank you for helping me break down my walls and for helping me to love and to be loved in return. Thank you for taking me by the hand and showing me what else life has to offer to me. Thank you for loving me. Thank you for giving me a family. Thank you for making me feel as though I belong somewhere again, in a place, to someone.”

Ilya loved Shane madly, hopelessly, immensely. And he was grateful to him, and he loved him, and he was certain he would be with him until his last breath.

─ .✦

Shane had his eyes fixed on the TV, his father sitting beside him as he explained which other films the lead actor in the film they were watching had made, and he was almost certain that from his expression he looked convincing and appeared calm when in reality he was going insane.

That day didn’t seem real: coming out to his parents didn’t seem real, opening up and crying whilst hugging his mother in the garden, shedding his fears and terrors, didn’t seem real, leaving his boyfriend alone with his father and finding them minutes later hugging and satisfied at having completed a puzzle together didn’t seem real, seeing Ilya, his Ilya, in the kitchen with his mother, laughing and chatting whilst they cooked one of his favourite dishes, didn’t seem real.

It felt like a dream from which he would wake up any moment, only to realise that nothing had changed, that he was in his cottage in bed with Ilya clinging to his body, still in the closet, fearing to be discovered by his parents and that they would not accept the person he had chosen to be with and continue living his life alongside.

But that wasn’t the case because after the initial shock it seemed they had both understood and accepted not only his relationship with Ilya but Ilya himself, and that was perhaps the most important thing.

Shane knew that Ilya didn’t have a good reputation, not only because of the way he behaved on the ice but also because of things off the ice, such as seeing different women. Although he didn’t want to, this irritated Shane a lot at that time when he still hadn’t found the courage to explore his feelings towards Ilya, and since things between them weren’t serious, why get annoyed? Yet he felt a sharp twinge in his stomach whenever he read the news online or overheard gossip in the changing rooms, and he would spend their next meeting giving all of him to Ilya, as if to show him just how well they suited each other and how Shane alone could be enough for him. Ridiculous behaviour, especially from someone who couldn’t bring himself to admit he had feelings for that person.

But as time went on, Ilya’s mask slipped further and further until, in Shane’s presence, he suddenly stopped wearing it altogether. The person people knew as Ilya Rozanov was completely different from his Ilya. The tough-guy, womaniser, asshole act was all a sham because Ilya was so much more: he was a sweet, kind, thoughtful, likeable, funny guy. Shane had never laughed so much with anyone as he did with Ilya, no one had ever given him stomach cramps from laughing so hard. And no one had ever paid him as much attention and care as Ilya did: before, during and after sex. He remembered the details, he was curious and he would sit quietly listening to him ramble on about hockey or whatever else.

It was easy to scale the walls of his heart, terribly frightening but easy, because all Ilya wanted was to be loved and all Shane wanted was to love Ilya deeply and with all his being.

That was why his parents’ questions had irritated him, because their insinuations about Ilya’s life, about Ilya himself, were completely wrong. Ilya wasn’t a character, Ilya was a person with a heart and emotions and a unique personality (he had to admit that) but he was intriguing, charming and interesting. Ilya was so much more than the asshole the whole world had decided to paint him as and his parents needed to understand that.

“As for Ilya,” David said interrupting Shane’s train of thought, “he’s a good guy. I didn’t want to ask him questions because we don’t know each other well enough to get personal and I didn’t want to force him, but he seems like a good guy to me.”

“I’m glad you’ve managed to see him for who he really is,” Shane looked away from his father, “give him time and he’ll open up.”

“He can take all the time he wants,” David patted him on the knee, “I think I’ve realised what baggage he’s carrying on his shoulders. For my part I hope I can show him that… that he can count on me.”

Shane’s eyes began to burn, tears welling up, ready to spill over and roll down his cheeks. It was perfect, all of it, which was why it didn’t seem real.

“Thanks dad,” was all he could manage to say in a hoarse voice, using all his strength and concentration not to collapse onto the sofa in his parents’ cottage.

“Five minutes and it’s ready!” Yuna shouted from the kitchen and Shane wasted no time getting up from the sofa and joining his mother and her boyfriend in the kitchen.

He found them side by side, both wearing aprons, and there was a rather large stain of sauce on Ilya’s. The aroma was inviting, salty and sweet, and looking around Shane realised there was a plate on the table with a dessert he’d never seen before.

“What’s that?” he asked curiously, moving closer. From the other side of the table, Ilya joined him, smiling and wiping his hands as he replied.

“Medovik, it’s a traditional Russian dessert,” he said, clearing his throat, his eyes still fixed on Shane’s, “my mother and I used to make it often.”

Shane felt a thud in his chest, as if his heart had stopped for a few seconds. Instinctively, he reached across the table, took Ilya’s hand and squeezed it tightly. They didn’t need words because their eyes were speaking for their mouths: Ilya’s eyes were thanking him whilst Shane was telling him he was there for him.

“Your father picked up these honey biscuits the other day in a little shop that sells local products from all over the world, and as it happens, they’re Russian! It was Ilya’s idea and I couldn’t say no to him. And what sort of dinner is it without a dessert to finish?” explained Yuna as she arranged the chicken parmesan they’d both made onto the plates.

Shane wanted to turn the table over and take Ilya into his arms and hold him tight, and kiss him hard, and stroke his hair whilst looking him in the eyes, making sure he was really okay, that this sudden change hadn’t shaken him, that his parents had really treated him well and that he liked them. He merely squeezed his hand, before letting go and helping his mother carry the plates into the dining room.

Once seated at the table, Shane hoped to go as unnoticed as possible as he slowly and deliberately moved his chair closer to Ilya’s. He didn’t yet feel confident enough to behave as he usually did when they were alone. After all his parents were sitting opposite him but the thought of having dinner with Ilya so far away from him was driving him mad. If his parents had noticed, they certainly hadn’t said it, but Ilya did notice and appreciated the gesture squeezing his knee lightly under the table.

His body was shaken by shivers at that touch, a touch he had missed so much. Ilya’s warmth and his hands, his presence just a few centimetres, if not millimetres, away from his body. Shane couldn’t bear to be without him anymore.

Dinner continued in a relaxed and cheerful atmosphere, with Yuna and David regaling Ilya with stories about his childhood and teenage years. About how, at the age of five, he’d nearly set the cottage on fire because he wanted to understand how a lighter worked, and how, immediately afterwards, David decided to give up smoking for the fear that Shane might actually set the cottage alight. Or of the time Yuna stood up and applauded during an award ceremony for the student with the best grades, making Shane blush in front of all his classmates.

Shane was afraid, fearful, that recalling the wonderful childhood and adolescence he’d had with his parents might cause Ilya some pain in his chest. But when he looked at him, he saw no trace of pain on his face, truly, his eyes remained gentle and curious, and he kept asking questions, wanting to know more and sometimes shared some of his own anecdotes. And on those occasions, all three of them would sit and listen to him.

It didn’t escape Shane’s notice that the anecdotes were all about his mother, and when he spoke of her, his face would light up and his tone of voice would soften. His hand lay firmly on Ilya’s thigh, as if to tell him that he was and would remain there beside him, listening and interested, that all of them were.

Ilya seemed relaxed, at ease, as if he’d always been part of the family and this gave Shane’s heart a wonderful feeling, a gentle warmth, an unceasing surge of emotions and love for the person sitting next to him. Because Ilya deserved all of this.

“Shall we try Ilya’s dessert?” asked David, rubbing his hands together and smiling as he looked Ilya straight in the eyes.

“Don’t get your hopes up too high, I made it with the ingredients I could remember and what you had at home.”

“I'm sure it’ll be delicious anyway,” Shane said squeezing his leg again.

“Shane Hollander? Are you sure you want to eat a dessert?” a smile spread across Ilya’s face.

“Only if you made it,” Shane’s eyes sparkled, Ilya swallowed visibly, the smile still on his face.

“Why, if I’d made it you wouldn’t have eaten it?” Yuna interrupted the moment.

Shane pretended to think about it, and then “No,” he said curtly.

“Right, I’ll make a note of that thank you son,” Yuna feigned offence as she helped David clear the table.

“Don’t listen to her, Shane. She doesn’t remember but you’ve always eaten her cakes,” David shouted from the kitchen.

Yuna shook her head as she picked up the cutlery left on the table and joined him, muttering to herself, “He turns down his mother’s dessert but not his boyfriend’s.”

That sentence, heard by both of them, hung in the air as they still looked into each other’s eyes. His mother had just called Ilya his boyfriend, the situation was decidedly surreal. Shane wanted to jump up from the table, throw open the windows and start shouting because, yes, it was true: Ilya Rozanov was his boyfriend, and his parents had accepted him, approved of their relationship and they loved him just as much as he loved him. Or perhaps not, because the love Shane felt for Ilya was far stronger, deeper and more intense than what his parents most likely felt.

“Your boyfriend?” Ilya whispered, moving his face slightly closer.

“Do you see any mistakes, Rozanov?” Shane moved closer too, just a few centimetres separating them.

“Mmm…” Ilya planted a fleeting kiss on his lips, causing Shane’s lips to curve into a sweet smile, “No, I don’t see any mistake. I’m your boyfriend.”

A wave of heat washed over Shane’s entire body, how was it possible that just that one sentence had caused such a reaction? He felt as though he were on fire.

Shane moved closer, heedless of where they were, and pressed his lips against Ilya’s, one hand reaching up to caress his cheek with his thumb. It was so wonderful to kiss Ilya, it always had been ever since their very first meeting. But kissing him at the table in his parents’ cottage, with David and Yuna in the kitchen washing up the dishes, no longer hidden but out in the open and in the presence of others was something that went beyond his comprehension, beyond wonder, he could touch it with the tip of his finger the freedom to simply be himself.

“I love you so much,” Shane whispered as he forced himself to pull away from Ilya’s face, “I’m so happy. Are you happy?”

Ilya looked at him with those eyes, his eyes, large, gentle and glistening, brimming with endless emotion. Shane could see tears welling up at the corners. A smile trembled on his lips but he couldn’t bring himself to wipe it away. He took Shane’s hand and brought it to his lips, kissing every single finger with devotion.

“Terribly happy,” he replied.

If only they weren’t in his parents’ cottage Shane would have already thrown himself on top of Ilya and covered him entirely with his body, wrapping his arms and legs around him and feeling the frantic beating of his heart against his chest. But he couldn’t do that, or rather not yet, so he simply stole another kiss from him before hearing the sound of his parents’ footsteps behind them.

The dessert Ilya had made was delicious, David ate almost half of it, earning each time a scolding from Yuna though she accepted the dessert twice, first cut up and then offered by Ilya. Shane savoured his portion, feeling his taste buds open up and celebrate.

Shane couldn’t control the wild pounding of his heart as he watched the scene: his smiling parents showering Ilya with compliments, not just for the dessert but also for the dinner, with Yuna proudly pointing out that he’d cooked it all by himself, and Ilya, embarrassed with flushed cheeks but happy, tremendously and madly happy, at the warmth he was receiving.

When silence fell at the table because everyone was busy eating the dessert, Yuna put down her fork breaking the moment of peace.

“We need to sort a few things out,” she said, pointing first at Shane and then at Ilya with her index finger, her expression suddenly serious, “we need to get a statement in case anything happens or leaks or you feel ready to come out. Something simple and straightforward, without revealing private and intimate details to the whole world, because nobody needs to know when and why all this started. But we need to be prepared because we don’t know what might happen.”

At those words, a slight panic washed over Shane, the day had gone far too well. They’d been laughing and smiling and getting on so well that it felt like normality. And yet Shane had forgotten he had to face reality: his parents knew, they loved Ilya and approved the relationship and that was fantastic but the whole world still saw them as rivals. The whole world didn’t know about Ilya’s bisexuality let alone that Shane was gay. Everything they were going through was a huge secret, hidden away in their bubble of happiness, unable to live in the real world.

“Mom, stop…” said Shane, raising his hands, “I don’t think either of us is ready to… come out,” he dared to glance at Ilya, who nodded in agreement, “not after what happened with Scott Hunter. Don’t get me wrong, his gesture was almost heroic and I didn’t think something like that was possible but the idea of having to do something like that myself… I don’t know… I don’t think I’m ready yet.”

Shane felt Ilya’s hand rest on his forearm, then his fingers slip between his and clasp it, intertwining their fingers. It was the first gesture of affection made in front of his parents and whilst a few minutes earlier Shane would have pulled his hand away in embarrassment, now he was clinging to it with all his strength because he needed it.

“I’m not saying you have to come out, Shane,” Yuna said gently, “just that you need to be prepared. Anything can happen, and we, you, need to be ready.”

A lump formed in his throat at the very thought of being discovered by someone, of seeing his face and Ilya’s in the newspapers or online with people speculating and talking about them using the usual disgusting epithets. Shane didn’t want that. And his mother was right: they needed a plan and be ready because the world outside that cottage was cruel and wicked. But the idea that such a thing was necessary, the idea that he couldn’t live peacefully and openly the love he felt for Ilya, not only because they’d been branded as rivals for years but also and above all because they were two men, created a feeling of sadness, despondency and injustice in his chest.

Ilya squeezed his hand again, pulling him away from his usual thoughts.

“I think your mother is right,” he said, his face losing all the cheerfulness it had possessed him just a few minutes earlier, “and although for me, at this point, it’s irrelevant what stance I take because I have no ties to my family or home, I’d still like to wait before coming out because…” a bitter laugh escaped his lips, “excuse me… what I’m trying to say it doesn’t make any sense but before making this major change in my life, I’d like to just… don’t get me wrong I have no intention of returning to Russia, nothing and no one ties me to that place anymore and I don’t want to set a foot there again, but…” Ilya seemed to be struggling and Shane understood, he’d grasped his point, and a sharp pang of pain struck his stomach.

So he turned slightly in his chair, taking Ilya’s hand in both of his, his thumbs stroking the back of it. Because Shane understood.

“You don’t have to apologise to us, honey,” Yuna spoke up first.

“We understand son, and we get what you’re saying and we’re totally on board,” added David.

“I think I need to say goodbye to my mother one last time before starting this new chapter of my life,” Ilya whispered, lowering his gaze, as if embarrassed by those words, afraid, as if showing those emotions were forbidden.

Well, perhaps it was forbidden at his own home, but not here. Not in front of his parents, not in front of him, not in the warmth and comfort of this home and family that had already become his own.

“I think you’re right,” Shane said simply, “we’re focusing too much on me and my reaction and fear of what people might say, of how the hockey world will see me afterwards, will see us. When what you’ll have to face, or will face if anyone were to find us out, is far more serious. And it scares me, more than what might happen to me.”

“Shane…” Ilya tried to interrupt.

“I don’t want anything to happen to you, I don’t want you to be in any danger. That terrifies me more than telling the whole world that I’m gay.”

Silence fell over the room. Shane knew his parents were staring at them but he couldn’t tear his eyes away from Ilya’s, and he couldn’t help but squeeze his hand, trying to give him as much warmth and support as possible.

“What do you suggest, Hollander?” asked Ilya, his voice trembling slightly, “to keep me out of danger you have to stay as far away from me as possible but at this point I object it because I have no intention of seeing you only a couple of times a year. That’s not what I want.”

Shane couldn’t believe they were having this conversation in front of his parents, but by now he’d crossed the line of embarrassment.

“Would you be considering to move?” Yuna’s voice was a reminder that they weren’t alone.

“Absolutely,” Ilya didn’t hesitate.

“Take this with a pinch of salt but I’ve heard that the Ottawa Centaurs are desperately looking for a star player for their team, a game-changer and someone who can motivate the whole team. The board are fed up with the stalemate, they want to take a leap forward,” Yuna rested both hands on the table, her face wearing her serious manager’s expression, “I can look into it if you want, I can ask the right people if they’re interested in offering you a contract or even just considering it. Ottawa is only two hours from Montréal, and we live in Ottawa so you wouldn’t be always on your own and you could see each other every weekend.”

That was the best solution Yuna could come up with, it was incredible that Shane hadn’t even thought of it. It was brilliant, it was practical, it was perfect. Having Ilya just two hours away, seeing him whenever he wanted. They could spend the weekend together, training and matches permitting. And his parents lived in the city so they could be close to him and shower him with affection, just as, surely, they were dying to do.

But this meant asking Ilya to make a huge change: moving to a different city, a different state, leaving his friends behind and switching from a strong team to one in ruins was too much to ask.

“Two hours from Montréal?” he asked, as if that were the most important part of the whole conversation.

“Ilya,” Shane brought his attention back to himself, “it’s a huge change to make, I can’t ask you-”

“You’re not asking me anything, I’ll do it,” he said, resolute and firm.

“Ilya…”

“Perfect, then. Tomorrow morning I’ll contact Stephen, he’s Boodram’s manager and he plays for the Centaurs, and I’ll ask for all the relevant information then I’ll let you know. In fact, give me your phone number and email so I can get in touch with you directly and, if necessary, I’ll put you in touch with the team itself. If I’m not mistaken you’ll be a free agent next year, right? Well, that could be a great help to us.”

Yuna was like a river in flood, she’d already planned everything out and Ilya was listening to her intently, nodding at her words. Shane felt as though he were in the eye of a storm: too much information, too many changes, too many important topics not discussed in enough depth. He felt panic slowly rising within his chest as Ilya and Yuna continued their conversation.

It wasn’t that he didn’t want Ilya by his side, if it were up to him he’d move in with him in that same moment without wasting any more time. Shane couldn’t wait to spend as much time as possible with Ilya, and after confessing his feelings to him it would be impossible to go back to living as they had for the past ten years. Seeing Ilya a couple of times a year? With the immense, deep love they both felt for each other? No, impossible. But the idea of Ilya being ready to turn his whole life upside down whilst Shane simply stayed in the same place as always seemed wrong, unfair.

All this would maybe lead Ilya to harbour resentment, because a relationship is built on compromise and it isn’t fair for only one person in the couple to make them. And Shane didn’t want any of that, he didn’t want to tear Ilya away from Boston, from his friends. He didn’t want to relegate him to Canada in a team far inferior to the Raiders. A competitive spirit trapped in a team lacking the basics. A person used to winning, now forced to endure defeat after defeat whilst waiting to build a team capable of climbing the league table.

Shane didn’t want to be the cause of all this. As much as he loved Ilya, and vice versa, hockey was also important in their lives: they had worked hard for the careers they had at that very moment, they had fought for titles and awards and for their reputations with endless hours of training, gritting their teeth when both body and mind were begging for a break. Years of sacrifice to achieve the life they had now. And Ilya had not only to take a step back but to start his career all over again.

Shane’s chest tightened violently and his head began to spin rapidly, breathing felt laborious and his eyes couldn’t stay fixed on a single point. He was having a panic attack, in front of his parents, in front of his boyfriend. He tried not to let on as he moved his chair back slightly to rest his forehead on the table, his arms in his lap. But it was in vain because Ilya’s eyes didn’t miss a single movement.

“Shane?” he asked, moving closer. “Shane?” he continued when he received no reply, but how could she answer when no words came out of his mouth?

Then a hand on his back, warm and soothing, massaging gently, and another on his leg, squeezing lightly.

“Shane? Hey, Shane, can you hear me?” Ilya’s voice was worried, he could only imagine the panic etched on his face.

“Yes,” he managed to say in a whisper.

“What’s going on, moya lyubov?” Ilya’s hands continued to massage and touch Shane’s body to remind him of his presence and Shane thanked him mentally.

“I’m having a mini panic attack, don’t worry about it, give me two minutes and I’ll be fine,” he tried to play it down.

“Oh, baby…” Shane felt warmth on his head, he barely registered Ilya’s lips leaving a kiss on him, “It’s all right, we’re all fine. We’re here with you, you’re not alone. Your mom’s here, your dad, your family, your boyfriend… it’s all right, we’re all here, you’re fine.”

Those words comforted him greatly, so much that he managed to lift his head and look Ilya in the eyes. The panic was still evident on his face but he was desperately trying not to show it offering him a gentle smile.

“I can’t ask you this,” Shane finally said, “I can’t ask you to turn your life upside down and change it completely by switching teams, states, homes, and friends, whilst I stay exactly where I am now. It’s not fair, it’s not right, I can’t ask you this, Ilya, and I don’t want to be the cause of any second thoughts,” Shane blurted out, lifting that enormous weight from his chest, “I love you too much to ask you to do all this.”

“You’re not asking me, Shane,” he said, stroking his face, “it’s something I want to do because the thought of not being able to see you whenever I want and be close to you drives me insane. I care about hockey just as much as you do, about my career and the trophies, but you’re worth more than anything. I can put up with all of this as long as I have you by my side.”

“What if you end up regretting it? What if the team really is as disastrous as they say, if the work you’ll have to do is so difficult and at times impossible that it makes you think of how lovely and simple and perfect your life in Boston was? I don’t want that frustration to spill over onto me, onto us. I’ll say it again: I love you too much for asking you to do this.”

“And I love you too much to be away from you,” Ilya’s eyes began to shine, “I’ve chosen you, Hollander. I’ll accept whatever is offered to me just to be near you. This is final. I need you, and if to have you I have to move to Canada and join a team on the brink of collapse, then so be it. The important thing is that at the weekends I can get in the car and drive to you in two hours. That if we’re both have a day off, we can see each other in a few hours. Don’t ask me to go back to my, our, old life, don’t ask me to see you every few months just so I can keep playing for one of the strongest teams in the NHL. I don’t care: I just want you.”

The guilt in Shane’s chest eased slightly, overwhelmed by those sweet, love-filled words. Ilya loved him just as much as he loved Ilya, their feelings were the same and both would do anything for the other. And it was a choice Ilya had made consciously. Shane would do his part, decisively and without a doubt. Not because he felt obliged to prove anything to Ilya but because it was only fair to share compromises. That’s what a healthy couple should do.

Shane sighed deeply, closing his eyes and nodding. He felt a gentle warmth on his lips, recalling the kiss Ilya had just given him, which he had appreciated because it had calmed him. The kiss, the hands, the sweet words, Ilya managed to pull Shane out of his moments of panic reassuring and calming him. How could he give him up?

Ilya placed a hand in his hair and, stroking it gently, turned his gaze towards Yuna saying, “So be it. Ottawa. I’m in.”

Shane didn’t have the courage to lift his face and meet his parents’ gaze, not after the words they’d just exchanged, not after the panic attack and Ilya’s kiss. A small part of him still felt the need to hide away somewhere, he had the instinct to take Ilya by the hand and drag him to a safe place far from everyone, keeping their love a secret.

But this was the right place, this was his parents’ cottage and Shane was fine. They loved him, and he loved them. Nothing had changed.

So he looked up and found two smiling faces, Yuna’s hand reached out and squeezed his shoulder.

“Everything will be alright, son,” David told him.

“And we’ll be on your side, always,” added Yuna.

“And Ilya won’t be alone, we’ll be in Ottawa and we can meet up whenever he wants.”

“You’re just saying that because you do fancy spending an afternoon together doing a puzzle?” replied Ilya with a smile.

The room filled with laughter, the tension eased and everything was back to normal.

“I say no to Ottawa if you’re going to torture him, leave him in alone,” said Shane protectively.

“How can you say that? Your father has finally found an heir to pass on his passion for puzzles and I’ve found a son who’s definitely good in the kitchen and at baking. I’m sorry, Shane, but you’ll be so jealous back in Montréal!”

Shane knew that Ilya had heard and understood, just as he had.

A son.

And perhaps the decision to move to Ottawa depended on that too. Shane was sure and couldn’t blame Ilya for it.

It was half past eleven in the evening when both Shane and Ilya approached the front door, they’d spent the whole evening chatting about this and that, describing Ottawa to Ilya and how it was different from Boston but still very welcoming. Yuna promised to show him around and take him to the most beautiful places, and David had already set him the task of helping to sort out the guest bathroom upstairs.

And Ilya nodded, excited, happy, hopeful that this could be his life

“You can take this at home with you,” said David, holding out a fairly large paper bag to Ilya.

“Oh no David, it’s yours,” Ilya raised his hands, “I’ll help you finish it every time I come to visit.”

“What is it?” asked Shane, but he was ignored.

“I insist, Ilya, I think this should be yours.”

Ilya didn’t protest and took the bag from David, thanking him.

“See you soon, then?” asked Yuna, “I’ll write to you as soon as I have any news.”

Yuna and David watched as they both got into the car, then closed the door behind them turning back to the house.

Shane started the car and sighed deeply, still in disbelief at the day they’d just had. Ilya’s hand reached up to his neck, massaging it gently with his long, strong fingers.

“Everything okay?” asked Ilya.

“Everything’ll be alright, won’t it?”

“As long as we’re together, yes.”

“I want to be with you.”

“Thanks for the info, Hollander, I hadn’t realised,” he said with a smile.

“You asshole. What I mean is that I want to be with you.”

Ilya looked at him with tender eyes and leaned in, planting a kiss on his lips.

“I love you,” he said, “and I want to be with you too.”

“I’ll do anything to protect you, you’ll hate me for how anxious I’ll be.”

“Calm down, mama bear,” Ilya joked, kissing his lips again, “you just need to be yourself. I want Shane Hollander, no one else.”

“Ilya… if anything were to come out, if your life were in danger, if you couldn’t go to your mother's grave and say goodbye to her, I…”

“Hey, hey, hey…” Ilya cupped his face in his hands, his thumbs massaging his freckles, “stop thinking negatively. Nothing will happen, I’ll manage to say goodbye to my mom and I’ll stay here with you. And everything will be fine,” he pronounced the last sentence slowly, as if to make sure Shane fully understood the words and their meaning.

“Okay,” he replied, sighing deeply.

Ilya leaned in closer and began to kiss him, calming him and banishing the dark thoughts from his mind. Ilya was good at this, fucking good. And Shane needed it, so he wrapped his arms around Ilya’s neck and held him tight, pulling him even closer, savouring him, trying to become one with his body and soul.

“Shall we go home?” asked Ilya in a hoarse, low, sensual voice, full of promise.

“Let’s go home, to our home.”

Ilya planted one last kiss on him before settling properly into his seat, waiting for Shane to start the engine. His hand clasped firmly in Shane’s, resting on his lap.

“What did my father give you?” asked Shane curiously.

“A present,” he replied vaguely.

“Ilya…?”

“Are you jealous?”

“Why should I be?”

“Because your father’s only known me for half a day and he’s already given me a present?”

Shane snorted and rolled his eyes, how much he’d missed this Ilya.

“Fine. Okay. Don’t tell me.”

“We can use this present together.”

Those words didn’t make much sense, not to Shane’s twisted mind, and he needed more information.

“Oh…”

“Izvrashchenets, it’s not what you think.”

“Did… did you just call me a pervert?”

Ilya burst out laughing, then left a kiss on Shane’s hand.

“It’s a puzzle,” Ilya replied to his curiosity.

“Oh… a puzzle… wow...”

“It figures your cottage, your garden and the lake at sunset, my new favourite place in the world. We can start putting it together once we get to the cottage and then hang it up somewhere, or I can take it to Ottawa so I always have a piece of this place with me.”

Shane wanted to cry, he wanted to stop the car and throw himself at Ilya, hugging and kissing him and looking into his eyes, trying to show and express as much love as possible.

“We’ll do it together and I’ll help you hang it up when you’ll find a home in Ottawa,” he said, squeezing his hand, that was all he could do for the moment.

“Ya ochen’ schastliv,” he heard him whisper, “ya s neterpeniyem zhdu nachala etoy novoy zhizni s toboy.”

(I’m really happy, I can’t wait to start this new life with you.)

Shane didn’t understand, but it was enough to look into Ilya’s face to know that his Ilya, his boyfriend, was at peace and happy.

And that was the most important thing for Shane.