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Ilya was 5 years old when he learned that he could not cry in his fathers presence without endangering his mothers safety.
He saw the bruises that appeared on his mothers body every time his father had seen him cry. His mother didn’t complain. She didn’t tell him to stop. She didn’t need to, she probably didn’t want him too. He stopped crying anyway because he could not stand the sight of her being hurt. He didn’t understand it, he didn’t understand why him being sad or hurt or angry hurt his mother but it didn’t matter. He stopped.
It worked, she stopped having new bruises because of him being sad but she seemed to have noticed that he stopped crying too because she could tell when he was sad. Somehow she could always tell when Ilya was stopping himself from crying to make sure his mother wasn’t hurt again. Everytime she gave him the same sad look. Like she wanted him to cry. He didn’t understand why his mother wanted him to cry if it hurt her.
Ilya was 8 years old when he saw his mother get hit for the first time.
Ilya had been awake long past his bedtime, thinking about hockey, unable to sleep when he snuck downstairs to the go to the kitchen and get a glass of water when he heard angry whisper shouts from the kitchen. Ilya knew he should have gone back to bed but was curious so he snuck closer and saw his father hit his mother for the first time.
It was then he understood why the bruises had been more and worse after he’d been crying. He was smart enough to put two and two together. His father didn’t want him to cry so he had hurt his mother to make him stop. Ilya felt his small heart break at the thought of his mother taking hits just to let him cry. He felt proud at having noticed and being able to stop.
He felt angry and helpless because he didn’t know how to help his mother this time. He could only watch as his father hit her over and over again. Ilya knew it would bruise. He knew it would bruise and he couldn’t do anything but stand there and watch. He felt sick to his stomach at his own inability to do anything.
Ilya was 12 years old when his life changed forever.
Ilya had been the first to get home that day, he shouldn't have been, he knew because his father was supposed to be home early but he had gone straight to some bar after work. So Ilya had been first. He had been the one to find his mothers corpse on their kitchen floor. He was the one who called the ambulance. He was the one who cleaned up the pills that had scattered on the floor.
His father had been so mad at him that night. He had been so angry that Ilay was sure that it would be the first time hit him. It wasn’t but Ilya was pretty sure it was the closest he’d ever get. He made Ilya swear he would lie when asked about what happened. It was an accident. He had been told. It was an accident. It was an accident.
Ilya knew it wasn’t. He knew and he blamed his father. He blamed himself. He blamed the world for taking away his only good thing in the world. The only kind thing. The only beautiful thing. Yet even as he hated himself he didn’t do anything but follow his fathers direction. When asked it was an accident. Ilya got that so drilled into him that he didn’t expect he’d ever tell anyone the opposite.
Ilya was 12 years old when he had to bury his mother because his dad and brother refused to.
Ilya refused to let his mother be forgotten. He refused. His father wasn’t going to bury her, he was going to throw her away and Ilya would not let that happen. His brother was no help. So as soon as he possibly could he grabbed the urn and buried it in the woods behind their house.
In the clearing that she had always loved where she had taken Ilya as a child. There by the rock they used to watch the sunrise there he buried her. Using the stone as a marker. He knew she deserved better but he couldn’t do better. He’d go past it almost everyday just to make sure nothing happened to it and then every Saturday morning he’d watch the sunrise there.
It hurt sitting there alone the first time, still angry and sad. But he let himself cry for the first time since he had noticed the bruises. He poured everything into his Hockey after that. If only because when he was on the ice he didn’t have to think about anything but the next play. Nothing but the puck and when the other thoughts resurfaced he made himself come up with chirps.
He started running, he started doing weight training. Anything to be anywhere but at home. He couldn’t stand being there anymore. It was so empty. It was so dark and Ilya would never forgive himself for being one of the reasons there was no longer a light living there. If only he had done something. If only he had stepped in. If only.
He knew it was useless to think like that so he didn’t. His mother had once told him that when she used to skate all of her bad thoughts disappeared and there was nothing but her, the music and the cold air in her hair and around her body. She had told him that all of the bad thoughts went away and there was only the next move, the next step. Ilya hadn’t understood then, he did now. She had looked so truly happy when she talked about skating that Ilya wished she had gotten the chance to see it himself.
Ilya was 13 years old when he kissed Sasha the first time.
They were both drunk from a stolen bottle of vodka that Svetlana had taken from her dad. He wouldn’t notice. It wasn’t the first bottle they had taken and it wouldn’t be the last. Their collective parents drank enough to forget just how much of their liquor disappeared.
It had been a dare, a joke from the girl, but they had done it anyway if only to have a laugh. But it felt nice, it wasn’t his first kiss. It wasn’t for Sasha either. But it was the first kiss that made him feel like he couldn’t get enough. Like he was an addict. He enjoyed kissing girls, He knew he did but there was something more thrilling, more dangerous about kissing another boy.
Sasha agreed. They both still kissed girls, they both still enjoyed it but after that first kiss they both kept coming back for more. Sometimes they invited Svetlana too. She wasn’t against it either. They only did it when they were alone or when they knew they wouldn’t be caught. More often than not in the woods when it was warm enough.
Ilya was 15 years old when his brother caught him and Sasha having sex.
They had been stupid, and horny and far too cocky with not having been caught in the year since that had been having actual sex. They were supposed to be home alone but they were too focused on each other to hear his brother come home early. His plans having been cancelled. His brother had slammed the door open and then just stared for a moment, Ilya and Sasha had frozen before scrambling to look even slightly presentable.
His brother had beaten him up after and Shasha had legged it out of there leaving though the window. Ilya didn’t blame him. Alexi threatened to tell their father anf Ilya knew he was as good as dead if his father found out so he reminded Alexi that in only a few years he was going to go professional with the Hockey and that there would be huge amounts of money to be found there.
Alexi had stopped and considered it. Before nodding and telling him that he better cut that shit out and that as soon as the paychecks started coming he owed him money. Ilya only nodded.
Him and Shasha didn’t stop, they only got sneakier but also more careful. They had let their guards down once and they weren’t going to again. They made sure they always had decent covers and that there was no one that could possibly catch them. It got old really quickly though and more work than it was worth. So eventually they just stopped. They didn’t see the point.
Ilya was 16 years old when he met the love of his life for the first time.
Ilya was smoking against the wall during the WJs and then there came the most gorgeous boy Ilya had ever seen. The first thing he noticed were the freckles sprinkled across the boy's cheeks. Ilya found himself wanting to connect them like they were stars. He wanted to find the constellations hidden on the boy's cheeks. His eyes were dark and warm like they could warm his frozen heart.
Ilya knew this boy was pretty, he knew he wanted to kiss him. He also knew this was Shane Hollander, the captain of the team he would play in the finals, the boy he had been compared to constantly for the last few months or year. For the first time since Sasha he felt himself wanting more.
That first interaction had been the spark that caused the fighter to light in Ilya's heart. He hadn't even noticed at the time. He hadn’t noticed that even drawing that first interaction Shane Hollander had started doing the impossible. He had managed to start the flame that would melt the icy walls built around his heart. One look, one touch, one smile. That was all. Ilya craved more. Then after the gym after the shared water bottle. Ilya became truly obsessed. He needed more of this boy and he was going to get it. If he had to arrange it himself he was going to get it.
Ilya was 18 years old when he and Shane hooked up the first time.
He did end up arranging it himself but it worked and he didn’t mind in the slightest when at the end of the day he had this beautiful boy now, officially, a man on his knees for him. Even as he left at the end he knew he would never be able to get enough of this. He already wanted more and he didn’t know what to do with that.
He felt warm, that was new. He felt warm in a way he hadn’t since his mother died. He didn’t think about it. He focused on the game, on the ice. He knew though that even if they said it was a first and last time ot wouldn’t last. He’d seen it on the other as well. They would do this again. Ilya knew that. He would make sure of it.
For the first time in years Ilya felt like there was something good in his life again. He pretended that it was hockey or that it was finally having someone who could match him skate for skate.
Ilya was 18 years old when he fell in love with a boy his age who matched his skill on the ice and had the prettiest freckles in the world.
He should have been able to understand the warmth he felt when he was around the other. He should have understood why he pushed him to want to be better. He should have understood why he found the way he skated as if he was dancing across the ice so hypnoticing.
When he watched Hollander evade, turn and then score he couldn’t help but be reminded of how it looked almost like he was dancing. It made him think of his mother. He wondered then if his mother would be proud of him. If she was looking down at him and could think, that’s my son. He’s come so far and he will go even further.
He saw his mother in his warmth, in his brightness, in his smile. He also saw her in his sadness, in the darkness that sometimes swirled in those dark eyes and Ilya wanted to erase it.
Ilya was 19 years old when he realised he would inevitably have to choose between Russia and Shane Hollander one day.
It hit him when he was watching a Monteral game, it hit him that if he ever actually wanted to have a future with this man who was so incredible then he would have to give up his home. His family.
He wouldn’t miss them necessarily but he still cared, they were his blood and if he didn’t have them then, at the end of the day, he would have no one.
He pushed that thought away, he wouldn’t have to choose because there was nothing happening between them besides sex. There were no actual feelings involved unless you counted the dislike they had for each other.
Even as he thought this he felt a tug at his heart that called him a liar, he ignored it. Because what else could he really do? Even if there were feelings, Ilya would choose Russia over a man every day. He didn’t have a choice.
Ilya was 21 years old when he realised he would always end up choosing Shane.
He was so wrong, he was lying to himself, he knew that but that didn’t stop him. He tried to ignore it. For the most part it worked. Even so as he watched those freckles he was hit with the urge to do anything for this man.
He knew he would not have to choose yet, he knew that and yet if the choice had to be made tomorrow he knew deep down in his heart that there was nothing he wouldn’t do for this man. He would choose Shane when the day came. He knew that in his heart where the icy walls now had started cracking and the flame was quickly turning into an inferno.
He knew the choice would come and he knew what he would choose but that didn’t make him stop lying to himself about it.
Ilya was 26 years old when he said I love you for the first time in his mother tongue since he was 12.
Ilya had not said those little three words since the day he buried his mother. He hadn’t had reason for it. Then there he was on the day of his fathers funeral saying them to a man who didn’t even know what he was saying.
He said them in the open, he said them out loud for the first time since his mother and it felt right. Like I meant something. It also felt ironic, that the first time since his mothers death was the day they buried his father, the reason for his mothers death.
I said them because he meant them whole heartedly for the first time ever in that way and because it was the first time he really loved something since she died. It felt right to say them in his mother tongue the first time. It felt like he was honoring her in a way.
Shane didn’t even know their significance but he knew and that was enough.
Ilya was 26 years old when his father died.
Ilya didn’t cry, he didn’t even really feel sad. His dad had given him a lot, he had given him the opportunity to play hockey but he had also given him walls around his heart. He had given him the inability to trust adults. He had given him the expectation that love was conditional.
That it was fictional, that it wasn’t real. He knew better now, his walls had started to crumble and he was terrified over what that would mean but he tried not to think about it.
Ilya was 26 years old when he saw the love of his life almost die.
Ilya has not felt fear to that degree since he found his mither motionless on the floor. Now Shane was motionless on the ice and all Ilya could do was try to get to his side. Try to see if he was still warm, if he was still breathing if he was still alive.
It was one of the worst days of his life. St-simon had to drag him to the bench while the medics worked. Ilya couldn’t hear, he couldn’t think, he couldn’t see. He knew he was alive but he didn’t feel like it. He felt like he was dying.
He felt like his heart was shattering all over again. Once again he hadn’t been able to do anything to stop it, he had only been able to see it happen as if in slow motion. He didn’t even know if he played for the rest of the game. He didn’t care about the game anymore.
Why did the world have to keep taking away his light? Why did it keep taking away life's beauty? Why did it keep trying to take away happiness? He didn’t understand. He didn’t understand what he’d done to deserve it. Maybe it was life's way of saying he was cursed or that he didn’t deserve it.
It didn’t matter in the end because he survived, he was lucky, it could have been so much worse than it actually was and for once Ilya thanked the world. The universe. For letting him have this. For showing that he could not give this amazing man up.
Ilay was 26 years old when he burned all of his bridges in Russia.
He didn’t even feel bad about cutting all the bonds he had. He didn’t feel bad when he told his brother to fuck off. He didn’t feel bad punching him in the face. He didn’t feel bad walking away.
He felt like for the first time in his life he could breathe without feeling like the world was on his shoulders. For the first time he felt like he could finally be happy without any strings attached. Without any looming shadows.
He visited his mother, one last time, because he had a feeling he would never be able to go back to Russia after this he sat by her grave and watched the sunrise one last time over the both of them and didn’t feel like he was drowning anymore.
He grabbed a smaller stone and put it in his pocket, one day he would do something with it but for now it was a physical manifestation of his mothers memory. Just like his crucifix.
Ilya was 26 years old when he saw Scott Hunter kiss his boyfriend on live television.
He felt like he had stepped into another universe was his first thought, the second was why are they hot and the third was i want that. Ilya stared at his screen motionless for several just watching his muscles not remembering how to work.
Then he was on his feet out of the room and calling Shane all at the same time. He could have that. He knew he could. He knew this was the moment that mattered. This was what he’d been waiting for since he was 19, this was that moment.
Ilya was 26 when he decided to be selfish for the first time in his life.
Ilay was 26 when he finally chose Shane Hollander