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  1. Public Bookmark *

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    “Ilya, what are we gonna do?” Shane says.

    Ilya finishes whatever he has been doing on his phone, and tosses it gently to the bed beside him. He crosses the room to Shane, stands in front of him, squeezes into his shoulders with his big hands, rubbing them like he means to warm them up.

    “Looks like we will have a little vacation,” he says, with a big obnoxious grin.

     


     

    Boston and Montreal are sent to Paris to play against each other in an exhibition series in January 2017. Ilya and Shane decide to stay in Paris for one more night. Just one more night, so they can talk. Maybe finally understand each other.

    They aren't expecting a volcano to erupt in Iceland and close all the airspace in Europe, leaving them stranded there. Together.

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    22 Jul 2026

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    “Nothing, lyubimyy. I am sick. Go to work.”

    “Sick how? Nauseous? Is your chest hurting?” Shane chewed the inside of his cheek. “Are you–”

    “Do not worry, Hollander,” Ilya interrupted, a little sharper than usual. He finally peeled the comforter down enough for Shane to see his face. “Go to practice.”

    Oh. Oh.

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    14 Jul 2026

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    “I fell through the ice, one time,” Ilya murmured, “Skating on a lake. Playing hockey.”

    ”Oh, shit. Really?”

    ”Mhm.” Ilya nodded. He had never spoken about this to anyone. Ever. “It was maybe a few months after my mother died. Skating outside was very normal in the winter.”

    ”Pond hockey,” Shane said, and Ilya could feel him smiling softly against his chest. He imagined a teeny tiny Shane in his teeny tiny hockey gear, skating out onto a big Canadian lake. No wonder he grew up to be such a hockey machine. 

    “Yes. Exactly. Coach thought the ice was thick enough, but…” 

    But it wasn’t goes unsaid. He’d never spoken about this to anyone because frankly, he was embarrassed. Not for falling in, but for still being so fucking affected by it. Of course, it was terrifying at the time. What kind of twelve year old is equipped for that? 

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    14 Jul 2026

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    Ilya could see the best of David and Yuna in Shane. It was magnificent, to see their love reflected and amplified in his fiance, but it also scared him. Was his own father’s crass disregard, his mother’s sadness, amplified within him the same way?

    Ilya cleared his throat.

    ”I think I was unfair to you yesterday, David. I am sorry.”

    David frowned, still somehow managing to look kind. His oatmeal had long been forgotten, though he’d been scraping his spoon around the bowl in the same way that Shane often did when he was too busy thinking to actually eat.

    “Oh, kiddo. You don’t have anything to say sorry to me for.”

    Or: Ilya tries to navigate love, and love navigates its way back.

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    14 Jul 2026

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    They’d had it planned out for at least two months. Well, Shane had, at least. His plan made the most sense: His parents were in Ottawa. They could drive, they had room in the house, and they loved Ilya. 

    Ilya had pushed back. He could drive. He had a big, empty house near the surgery. And he loved David and Yuna, but he could take care of himself. 

    They had argued back and forth for two full weeks, neither willing to admit defeat. But the dentist had been pretty fucking clear that the anaesthetic would be strong, so Ilya wouldn’t be able to drive himself anywhere, or even look after himself, for at least a day. Two days, in some cases, and he’d have pain and swelling for up to two weeks. 

    Ilya has his wisdom teeth removed. The sedatives have some unexpected effects, and Yuna feels like a mom again.

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    14 Jul 2026