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Ilya had been off the whole game. He did not play too badly, but it was certainly noticeable. Shane and Bood and Troy kept throwing him concerned glances, but he ignored them and kept playing.
After the game, in the locker room, Shane came up to him, but Ilya just silently shook his head. Shane eyes searched his face for moment, then he just nodded and gave a quick, reassuring touch to Ilya’s arm, before he left to change. Ilya was relieved that Shane did not press the issue, but he knew that they would talk later. Over the years, Shane had accepted that Ilya often needed time to process some emotion before he was ready to talk, but he also had become insistent that they would talk at some point. Even though Ilya could not appreciate it in the moment, he knew it was good for him.
For now, he focused on getting out of the arena and home to Anya, taking great care not to look at his phone when he put it in his pocket. Shane would join the team for a couple of drinks at Monks. After several years of living together, Shane knew when Ilya needed some space.
Ilya got home and took Anya for a walk, his phone like a lead brick in his coat pocket. He did not enjoy watching Anya race around in the snow as he usually did, but mostly stared into space, trying to sort through the tumultuous tangle of emotions roiling in his chest.
His brother had called.
Alexei had called. After nine years of not hearing from him, Ilya did not know how to feel. He wished he could talk to Galina, but she was on holiday and his next appointment was only in two weeks. He did not think he could wait that long.
He considered just ignoring the call. But, truthfully, he knew this was not an option. He would keep thinking about it anyway, he would keep feeling. It had been a long time since he had felt so beside himself. Nowadays most of the time he was good. Stable. But not today.
What did his brother want? Money, as always? Hate? Alexei, even though never really following Ilya’s career except for money, must know that Ilya had told the world in a press conference about the family shame - their mother’s death, her suicide. He would also know that he was married. To a man. His brother had always been a homophobe, like their father.
Did he call to apologize? How he had always treated Ilya? It was close to impossible, but a small stupid part of him hoped. As much as it pained him to admit it, deep down he had always hoped. After all his therapy, he knew that his wish was not pathetic or weak, but confronted with the reality of it, his heart crumbled just thinking of it. No wall made of logic could stand strong against the surge of memories.
Suddenly, he couldn’t get home fast enough.
An hour later, Shane found him on the couch, staring into nothing, Anya sleeping in this lap. He did not know if he found it calming, or stressful, because he wanted to pace or maybe run away and he was trapped. Shane quietly entered the living room and Ilya looked up to meet his eyes. Shane held his gaze for a moment, assessing Ilya’s mood, then he quietly nodded and sat beside Ilya. He took Ilya’s hand in his and Ilya felt a bit steadier.
“What happened?” Shane asked gently.
Ilya did not reply, but gestured to the phone lying on the couch table with his chin. Touching it himself felt about as safe as touching a bomb. Without releasing Ilya’s hand, Shane bent forward, gingerly picked up the phone and unlocked it.
His eyebrows rose as he saw the missed call identifier and his eyes darted back to Ilya’s.
“Your brother?!” Shane could read Cyrillic well by now, and he could not keep the shock out of his voice.
“Yes…” Ilya said with a heavy sigh. He was a mess. He wanted to cry, or laugh at the absurdity, or scream, or… Shane made the decision for him, gently but quickly removing the sleeping Anya from his lap, and wrapping him in a tight hug. Shane was not afraid of Ilya’s mess anymore, in truth he never had been. He was strong and steady. He held him, gently stroked his hair and waited until Ilya’s breathing became calmer. It was the first deep breaths Ilya had taken since getting the call.
He extracted himself from Shane’s embrace after a thankful squeeze and let his head fall back onto the couch cushion.
“Will you call back?” Shane asked.
Ilya shrugged. “I don’t know.”
“Do you want to?”
“I don’t know…” Ilya blinked. “No. Maybe. Probably.” Ilya looked at Shane. “I don’t like him, he is an asshole. But he is my brother, yes?”
“You don’t owe him anything.” Shane said, somewhat more fiercely than necessary. Ilya was touched nevertheless. “You don’t have to call him back if you don’t want to. If he makes you miserable.”
“Fuck. I know… but. I will probably not sleep if I do not call. And he is still my brother.” He sighed, slightly defeated, “and maybe I have been waiting for this.” he admitted.
Shane looked at him in sympathy. Ilya couldn’t take it anymore.
“I will call him.” He said and stood up from the couch, picking up his phone in the movement.
“What, now?” Shane sounded slightly panicked.
Ilya grimaced. “Yes, now. Like ripping band-aid.”
“But… is now a good time in Moscow?” Leave it to Shane to first think of the logistics.
Ilya pressed his lips together, and felt his gaze, his face and his body harden. “I do not care.”
He went to their office to make the call. The most impersonal room in the house. Why was he so nervous? Alexei did not deserve this much … emotion. He pushed everything down, hidden and far away and felt the old anger resurface. Anger at his brother, who hated him. Who was so much like their father. He had practiced this, with Galina, to let go of this anger, and it had worked. But now it was back, howling in his chest as if it never had been gone.
He was not sure it was a good idea to call his brother in this state of mind. Fuck it, he thought and pushed the button. I hope he is busy.
His heart hammered in his chest, and his jaw started to hurt from clenching his teeth, while the phone kept ringing. He was about to terminate the call, when it went through.
To silence.
Ilya waited. He would be damned if he said the first word.
Finally, his brother broke. “Ilya?” he asked. And fuck, if that didn’t conjure up memories that Ilya didn’t need.
“Yes.” His voice sounded raspy through his clenched teeth.
He heard the long release of a breath on the other side of the line and a low “Fuck…” and then nothing.
Ilya was quickly losing his patience, his composure, and seemingly all adult feelings. Instead of just hanging up on his brother, or try to have a normal conversation like he had planned, he asked, “What the fuck do you want?”, sounding more flustered and less in control than he wanted. Always the little brother.
His brother cleared his throat “I… “ Again throat clearing.
Ilya threw patience to the wind and decided to help him along, any good intentions he might have had forgotten.
“Money? How much?” He put as much contempt as he could into his voice.
That provoked a reaction. “Fuck you!” And a tense “No.” Ilya suspected his brother was lying but didn’t call him on it. He didn’t want to give him money. He wouldn’t.
“What then?”
There was the sound of shouting voices, at least one of them female and something that sounded like smashed porcelain.
“Fuck, I need to go.” Alexei said. “Talk later. Pick the fuck up!” And he ended the call, leaving Ilya reeling. Relief that the talk was over, followed by anger, confusion and several other things that he could not name. He decided against throwing the phone against the wall.
“How did it go?”
Shane was sitting in bed, his book open before him, when Ilya joined him. According to Shane’s regimen, he should already be sleeping. The page he was on was the same as last time he had the book open. Ilya dropped on the bed, (very carefully) pushed the book away and dragged Shane into an embrace, feeling instantly calmed by his smell and the warmth and solidity of his body. He wanted to kiss and fuck him until he could no longer think.
But he said, “Weird. Short.” A sigh. “Could have been better. Could have been worse. I could have been better.” He burrowed further into Shane’s chest. “I do not know what he wanted. But we did not shout.” He shook himself like a wet dog, as if to dislodge the memory.
Shane gently tilted his chin up until he could look at him. “Well done.” He said, and fuck if Ilya wasn’t equally embarrassed and proud of the praise. And finally, finally, Shane took his mouth and made him forget how to think.
The next time his brother called was during practice. Ilya called him back after.
“What the fuck. Why do you never pick up, asshole?” was Alexei’s greeting.
“Fuck you. I have a job.” Ilya terminated the call, breathing hard.
That could have gone better.
He did not eat much at breakfast the next day, trying to read a Canadian newspaper.
“You are reading a newspaper?” Shane looked troubled and not a little concerned.
“Yes, is very interesting.”
“Where did you even pick this up?”
“When I walked Anya.”
Shane’s eyes traveled to Ilya’s phone lying on the kitchen counter and back to Ilya, who sighed.
“Yes… he called again.”
Ilya’s phone vibrated and he pointedly ignored it.
Shane reached over and handed it to Ilya. Ilya’s brows shot up when he read the word.
Please.
“What the …” This did not make sense. Alexei had never even said please when he had asked for money.
“Do you want to try to talk to him again?” Shane asked quietly. He squeezed his hand. “You don’t have to, you know.” Ilya really loved his husband.
Ilya groaned and dropped his head onto the kitchen table.
“I don’t know… Is terrible. As soon as I hear his voice, I am angry. Feel like kid again.”
“Should I hold your hand?” Shane grinned and Ilya laughed and straightened.
“No… should not be necessary… I want to try and be more...grown up.”
“Adult.” Shane supplied.
“Yes. That. Should manage, yes?”
Shane raised a questioning eyebrow and grinned. “Should you? I’ve never seen you be adult.”
Ilya stuck out his tongue at his husband, but he felt a little lighter.
“Fuck… I wish I could talk to Galina…”
“You can wait.” Shane offered, sounding (still) slightly put out at the mention of Ilya’s therapist, but caught himself quickly.
“No… no. I will manage.”
He gave Shane a quick kiss and left with his phone.
Ilya was determined to be better this time. He wanted to talk to his brother. He didn’t know exactly about what or how. He just knew that he wanted it to be different. He, and his brother. He didn’t want to the last words they shared to be a fight. He wanted a truce, maybe. Something. To close that open wound once and for all. Ilya might not like his brother, but he was family, after all.
“Since when do you know the word “please”?” he said by way of greeting. Not the nicest possible thing to say, but at least he managed to keep his voice neutral. It was a start, no?
He heard his brother’s grumble, some murmured female words, then a sigh at the end of the line.
“Ilya…”
“Why are you calling me, Alexei?” Ilya made his voice as patient as possible. It almost worked. Tense, but calm. He was making progress.
More murmured words at the other end.
“I… wanted to say something.” Haltingly. Ilya waited.
“Yes?”
“This might come out of the blue…” No shit.
Also, it was worse than pulling teeth. Ilya was trying, but it was hard. Not getting angry, or defensive, or aggressive. However, the obvious difficulty his brother was having just speaking somehow touched something in him. Made him more …exasperated than angry.
Another pause.
The next sentence came out in a rush, sounded somewhat forced, but also, to a degree, earnest. “I wanted to say … You are standing up for mother. Very publicly, but still.” He sounded like he was going to say more, but bit off the last words.
Ilya was shocked into silence. And damn it, now his eyes were wet. It was a lot. For his brother. It was not much, Ilya was still stupidly always hoping for more. But. This was almost a thank you. At the very least, an acknowledgement of their mother, when Alexei had always taken the side of their father. Fuck.
“I am.” Ilya said, his voice rough and teary, but he was beyond caring. “She deserves it.”
Alexei made a short noise that could have been an agreement. There was an encouraging murmur on the other side.
Ilya took a chance. “Thank you for calling. Maybe… we can talk again.”
Alexei harrumphed. “Okay.”
Ilya suddenly was overwhelmed by emotion, and to get things back to normal, he said without any heat. “Good bye, Alexei. And fuck you.”
There was a relieved snort on the other side and a not quite gentle, “Fuck you too, Ilya.”
The call ended and Ilya took some minutes to compose himself.
Then he went downstairs to tell his husband that things were maybe not so terrible. He still might not like his brother, and talking to him was like navigating a minefield and they had not even touched anything related to Shane, and Ilya’s sexuality. Also, he did not know what (or who) had prompted his call, but he would take what he could get and maybe he could feel a bit of an old wound starting to heal.
And hopefully Shane would reward his success at being an adult with mind-blowing kisses and fuck him senseless.
Epilogue
Ilya could not help himself.
So… why? He texted his brother a couple of days later. He did not feel up for another phone call just yet. Maybe texting was …safer. More distant.
The answer was more honest than Ilya had expected. Maybe his brother felt the same. Things are different now. In the family. Your niece is very stubborn and modern.
Okay, that explained some things.
Also, she wants to do an exchange year in Canada. So I need money for her flight and accommodation.
Ilya barked out a laugh, somewhere between amusement and indignation. Things might be different, but also the same.
Fuck you. He replied.
“I would like to meet her though.” He confessed to Shane later with a grin. “She sounds very interesting. Maybe more like me than my brother.”