Chapter Text
After Shane and Ilya started quietly coming out to people around them, Shane's parents, Rose - though neither of those felt quiet or slow to Shane - Ilya told Shane he wanted to tell Svetlana.
“She has already figured out much,” he told Shane. “She knows about Jane and guessed Jane was not a Jane. She knows I am different now, happy in a different way. She knows she and I are friends, we have not been… anything different in many years. She is only person I have left, from before.”
“Of course,” Shane had told him. “Did she know… you know, about your coach's son, from before?”
“When we were younger? Yes, and she kept my secret. She has American passport too, remember, she knows what it is like to go back and forth, she knows it is different to be out in America, that it is secret to be protected in Russia. She will not say anything if I ask her to.”
“I'd like to meet her, someday,” Shane said. “She was there for you when I couldn't be. You know I wish I could have. But she was home with you, when you were home during the summers, and when your father died.”
“You did help me then, you know,” Ilya told him. “You were reason I kept myself in one piece, something to come back to. Russia was not home, then, had not been for some time. Maybe I did not know, but I wanted to come home to you then. Now, I have.”
Shane tilted his head against Ilya's. “I'm glad you came back. I'm still glad Svetlana was there for you. You were not alone.”
It certainly felt like it, Ilya had thought. Being alone in a graffiti-coverage passageway after your father's funeral and pouring your heart out to your lover, who didn't even understand the words, from half a world away certainly seemed like something that only people who were alone would do. But even then, Sveta had figured it out. The only thing left was to tell her who.
Ilya took his phone outside to call her. He was almost completely sure she would not say anything but he wanted to be very sure.
He texted her in their native Russian.
> I have something to tell you. Not an emergency, but something good. Video call if you are free?
She responded almost immediately later.
> 5 minutes, running to my office.
A few minutes later, Svetlana's face was on his screen, her professional demeanor switching to a genuine smile as she closed her office door and put her ear buds in, Ilya's view temporarily of the ceiling as she set her phone presumably on a stand on a table or desk, and sat down in front of it.
She always looked so different, not in a dress for a party or lounging at his house, but a real American businesswoman. Still with more hair and attitude than Ilya had seen of most American women, but Svetlana said it worked because she could sneak attack the men she worked with, they always underestimated her and then were unprepared when she trounced them with her knowledge and her skill. For her colleagues at the business, she was their secret weapon.
Now, she was the comforting face of Ilya's longest childhood friend. She had asked so many times over the last years if he had been seeing anyone serious, even Jane specifically, and he had lied, lied, lied. He wanted to take this call away from Shane because he needed to ask for Svetlana's forgiveness, and he knew it would drive Shane nuts to not know what they were talking about in Russian and he would just worry based on the tone of their voices.
“My Ilyushka!” Svetlana gushed. “Oh. Where are you? It looks beautiful. Is that Boston? Your house does not have those trees.”
“Ah, no. I am at a… friend's house,” Ilya said, flipping the camera to show her the lake in front of him, before back to facing him.
“Well, it looks beautiful, I hope you are relaxing, Ilya. You deserve to be somewhere nice, you have had so much happen.”
Ilya laughed. If only she knew. Well, she was about to, and he told her as much.
“I need you to know, I am very, very happy, Sveta, and I want to tell you why. But to stay happy like this, for now, I need you to promise me you are not going to tell anyone what I'm going to tell you next. No family, no one, it cannot get to the press or anything.”
“Ilya,” her voice softened. “I have never heard you describe yourself as happy, and actually mean it. Of course I want to know, and if it is important to you, of course I will not tell anyone. I am here for whatever you need, always.”
He swallowed and nodded. God, he was turning into a weepy Westerner already, and he laughed as they both looked at each other and tried to surreptitiously wipe tears already forming in their own eyes.
“I also need to ask for your forgiveness, Sveta,” Ilya said, his voice cracking. “I… I have lied to you for many years. I am so sorry. It was… it was a secret for a long time, that I didn't know what to do about it. Even just a minute ago, I lied, but I promise that will be the last time.”
“If you kept a secret for so long, Ilya, I should be the one apologizing,” Svetlana cut in, “apologizing for not being a good enough friend to you, for making you feel like you couldn't tell me.”
This was what Shane had told Ilya his mother had said to him, and Ilya realized they had more in common in keeping their secret.
“Now tell me, before I get on a plane and come shake it out of you, because it might be faster than this conversation, Ilya.”
He laughed shortly. “Alright, I am afraid of you, so I will tell you.” He cleared his throat. He knew he had to be careful in the coming months, he was not safe until he could count on residency protection from either America or Canada, and so this was as close to a personal coming out as he was ever going to get. Here it goes.
“I'm…not at a friend's house, I'm at my boyfriend's house,” Ilya started, and Svetlana's face shone with the radiance of happiness, disbelief, and more tears, to Ilya's chagrin. “You don't know him, but I would like you to someday, but that is part of what you cannot tell-”
“Wait wait wait. I have been dying, Ilya. Please tell me, is it Jane? And I know Jane is not his real name-”
“-yes, it is Jane, you were right all along, and no his name is not Jane of course-”
Svetlana cut in, now their voices overlapping. “Ilya, is it Shane? Hollander?”
Ilya stopped, his own mouth about to form Shane's name. “How- are you actually psychic, Sveta? How did you know?!”
She shrieked with laughter then quickly covered her mouth, glancing across the room where Ilya assumed the door was. “You're just in my ear buds, don't worry, no one can hear you. And yes, you goofball, I guessed. Maybe two years ago? You were never free to talk after some of your home games, I realized it was usually Montreal games, and then I put together it was the same after away games at Montreal, and there as always media around Hollander that you pretended to be bored by and you never did that about anything unless you were trying to pretend you weren't bothered by it and honestly, Ilyushka, Jane? You are terrible.”
Ilya was speechless, and temporarily concerned. “Did anyone else-”
“Oh, god, no,” she said. “I know everything about hockey, remember? I know your games, your schedules, your style, and I know you, Ilya. No else knows all that and knows you like I do. No one else would have been able to put it together.”
Ilya exhaled, put the phone down when he realized he was shaking, and ran his hands through his hair.
Svetlana must have just been looking at the sky and startled when he had disappeared. “Ilyushka, come back, I am still here-”
He tilted the phone back up to see her. “I know, I know. I'm sorry. Sveta. I'm sorry I lied-”
“You already told me that, stop repeating yourself. You deserve more, I always told you that. Ilya, I am happy for you, this is good news today, right? Please, tell me more, I have waited my whole life for you to be truly content, let me be sickeningly happy for you.”
Ilya smiled at her, relief spreading from his chest to his fingers, replacing the tension and dread. He was so used to everyone assuming the worst of him that sometimes it still overrode reason when it came to trying to hold up a useless shield against his best friend.
He tilted the camera to see Shane’s house behind him, and began to tell his childhood best friend how he had fallen in love.
They were talking for so long, Ilya’s battery was running low as the sun’s rays tilted through the trees behind Shane's house. Ilya carried his phone inside, where Shane was in the kitchen, watching Ilya walk up the path.
“How is she? Did it go ok?” Shane asked immediately, coming around the kitchen counter. Ilya nodded, sliding a hand to Shane's waist and holding his phone up flat on his palm.
“She wants to meet you,” Ilya said.
“Right now?” Shane said.
“Yes,” Ilya said. “She speaks English, it will be fine. She… she is the best and the worst, Shane, she guessed all on her own.”
Shane wrinkled his nose. “Jane?” He guessed.
Ilya nodded. “I should have been more clever back then,” he said, chuckling.
“Well, not like we knew we'd be here now,” Shane said. He winced. “Hayden is going to be so mad when he puts together who Lily is.”
“Well, I met Rose, you meet Sveta, one thing at a time, yes?” Ilya said, waving his phone at Shane. “Hayden will probably punch me, I have already accepted this. As long as he does not break my nose.”
Shane took a deep breath and nodded, holding his hand out. Ilya flipped the camera back on and unmuted the call, handing it to Shane as he squeezed Shane's waist, before pushing him towards the slider door.
“Hi, Svetlana,” Shane began haltingly, making his way outside.
“Hello, Shane Hollander, or should I call you Jane?” Sveta asked teasingly, her voice lighter and brighter in English than Ilya's was, her mother's American heritage apparent.
Ilya shut the door behind Shane and watched as his boyfriend settled into a seat next to the firepit, talking to Ilya's childhood best friend. One more brick knocked down in the wall between them and living in the open, one less secret, one more proof that this was real, that it was not a nightmare, their friends and family were happy for them.
Several minutes later, Shane came back inside, when Ilya had settled himself on the couch with a drink. He deserved vodka after all that. Without asking, Shane plugged Ilya's phone into the charger on the counter, grabbed a ginger ale and a water out of the fridge and sat next to Ilya, handing him the water. Ilya did not realize how tense his shoulders were until Shane pulled him back out of his hunched posture over his drink, getting him to set it down and lean back against him on the couch.
“Hey,” Shane said. “I'm sorry, I should not have left you alone.”
Ilya shook his head. “No, is ok, I wanted you to meet her. I did not realize… how much I wanted that conversation. Was maybe a bit like you, when Rose talked to you first time? Just… a lot, all at once.”
Shane ran his hand through Ilya's hair at the nape of his nick, and Ilya about melted into Shane's lap. He could do with a lifetime of this, instead of sneaking out through cold alleys or under fluorescent hotel hallway lights in the middle of the night.
“I liked her,” Shane said. “Svetlana. She's funny, I can see why you are such good friends. She cares about you a lot.” Ilya nodded. “She said she's serious, she forgives you, so stop worrying about it.” Ilya grunted. They both knew him so well. He really was fucked now, and if they ever both ganged up on him together-
“She's happy for us, I can tell.” Shane's voice broke, as if he too couldn't realize that this was real, everyone they chose to tell was happy for them. Someday, in public, it might be different, but so far, they had both come away thinking maybe they didn't have to be as worried as they thought they needed to at the beginning. “I told her to come visit someday. We'll invite Rose. I thought it might be nice to be with people we don't have to hide from, someday.” Shane tilted down to look at Ilya, tilting his chin with one hand. “Is that ok?”
Ilya smiled at Shane, his beautiful freckles, his kindness and pure heart, gently rebuilding the broken pieces of Ilya's life and bringing the good parts back together. “Yes,” Ilya said. “Yes, I'd like that, very much.”