Chapter Text
Shane loved waking up early, seeing the lake through the bedroom windows, then turning over in bed and finding Ilya beside him. It was something they had never had before—this peace—and now that Ilya was finally there next to him, asleep with his face so relaxed he looked like a kid, Shane never wanted to let him go.
Knowing they would have to part hurt so much that he tried never to think about it.
It was a distant thought. He would push it away, let it drift farther and farther off; it was almost easy when Ilya smiled at him and told him he loved him.
-
Sveta didn’t call often.
They kept in touch, talked now and then, but mostly they saw each other when they were both in Boston. They’d slept together plenty of times—so many through the years—but never let it turn into anything more. Sveta had always been a friend, his best friend. The sex had happened naturally, spontaneously, and it had never meant anything beyond what it was.
So it was strange that she was calling now, but Ilya answered right away.
Shane was stretched out on the couch, resting. They’d spent the day canoeing, then playing soccer, talking, fucking. It had been a good day—like all the days they’d spent together here.
“Hello?”
Sveta’s voice sounded different, and Ilya felt a flicker of worry immediately.
“Is everything okay?”
“No.”
Ilya started pacing back and forth across the living room. A million thoughts ran through his head. He tried to breathe, to steady himself.
“What’s going on?”
Sveta took a breath, and he knew her well enough to picture her expression: head bowed, eyes closed, one hand pressed to her forehead.
“I’m pregnant.”
Fuck.
Ilya dragged a hand through his hair. He knew Sveta wasn’t in a relationship, and that she slept with plenty of people—not that he judged her, of course. It was one of the things they had in common.
“Do you want to keep it?” he asked, because he didn’t know what else to say.
“Yes.”
Ilya closed his eyes. He figured she might not even be sure who the father was. Maybe it was someone she didn’t even know the name of.
She was capable, smart, she had a good job—but he’d known her since she was a child, and he knew that one of her biggest dreams had always been to have a close, loving family. Something neither of them had ever had.
“Do you know who the father is?” he asked, trying not to sound rude.
She didn’t say anything for a while, and Ilya was already about to apologize when he heard her sigh.
“Ilya,” she said, almost accusingly, “I don’t go around sleeping with everyone with no protection.”
“That’s not what I meant, but sometimes it can—”
She cut him off sharply. “You’re the father.”
Ilya’s world collapsed all at once, without warning. He shot a glance at Shane, who seemed to be asleep, then stepped out into the garden.
“Are you sure?” This time, he didn’t bother trying to sound polite.
“Of course, Ilya.”
They had been together the night before Scott Hunter kissed his boyfriend on television, the night before he called Shane to tell him he was going to the cottage. They’d had a little too much to drink, had been reckless, and hadn’t used a condom. It had felt like a kind of goodbye to who they had been up until that moment.
Ilya felt his eyes fill with tears.
“How are we going to do this?” she asked. “I know you’re seeing Jane, and for some reason you don’t want to talk to me about it, but—”
Jane. Ilya almost laughed.
“Sveta, I think—I think we need to talk. I’ll be back in a week, okay? And we’ll talk then.”
“You’re not going to convince me to have an abortion.” She said it harshly, as if she were already certain how it would end. Ilya wiped away a tear.
“I don’t want—Jesus, I don’t want to convince you to do anything. I just want to talk to you, okay?”
“Okay.” Her voice softened a little. “Okay.”
“If you need anything, anything at all, tell me. A doctor, those parenting classes, whatever.” He let out a small laugh through his tears, and Sveta did the same.
“We should go together at some point, you know. Do you—do you want to be a father, Ilya? Because if you don’t, I won’t—”
“Of course. Of course. I’m not a kid, Sveta. I’ll be there. For you and for—” He took a breath. “For our child.” The words felt so foreign, so strange. He was going to be a father.
“Our child,” she repeated, maybe with a smile.
“Are you scared?” he asked, suddenly realizing he’d spent the entire call thinking only about himself.
It had to be terrifying—finding out you were pregnant, knowing the father wasn’t your boyfriend, and still deciding to keep the baby, even accepting the possibility of doing it all alone.
Sveta had always been strong. Stronger than him.
“Scared? I’m terrified. Fuck. I’m going to have to give birth to a baby and then he’ll be here forever, and I’ll have to take care of him and oh my God. Ilya, a child. We’re going to have a child.”
Ilya nodded, even though she couldn’t see him. “Yeah. Fuck.” He swallowed. “I love you, Sveta.”
For a moment, he let himself imagine that it might even have been something beautiful, under different circumstances—finding out he was having a child with her. It would have bound them together. Maybe they would have tried to be a real couple, and maybe it would have worked. It would never have been the kind of love that drove them crazy, but they could have been a family—the kind that lives together, eats breakfast at the same table, shares everyday life.
But he had fallen in love with Shane.
And he had lied to him—told him he hadn’t been with anyone in the past few months.
Now he would have to tell him that he'd lied and that he was going to have a child.