Chapter Text
Ilya’s POV
“Privet,” he greeted back.
Katerina Rozanova walked towards him. She looked like his brother, and a little like his mother, with the curls. Ilya had them too.
She stood in front of him. Her posture had an aura of confidence; the coat, the military boots, gave her an aggressive tone, but her eyes. Her eyes were kind; Ilya knew kind eyes. The ones that saw and held things with grace.
It had been years since he last saw her, only as tall as his calf. The day she turned six months old, Alexei’s wife had taken their picture together. It was the one in the album. It had been years ago since he had held her.
The turmoil behind his eyes echoed, stuck in a locked room in his head. Probably seen subtly in his face. Held there away, by the very real fact that Ilya missed Katerina, yet he did not know her.
“Thank you,” there was a pause where she swallowed, then continued, “I wanted to say this to you at least once. Thank you, for everything, for years of… school, life, everything I have now, is because of you.”
Ilya’s everything froze. ‘Thank you’, the words hit deep. Maybe it was the idea of someone in his family thanking him that coaxed such a reaction. ‘She had come here to thank him,’ the thought taking a moment to sink down.
She continued “I won’t bother you anymore if you don’t want it. I don’t know what happened when you left Russia, but I assumed it was not pretty. So I can leave and never see you again…”
‘Why leave,’ his brain supplied. ‘I just got you back. Don’t leave,’ his heart always bled more than he could bear.
His head warned against trickery.
Alexei had manipulated his feelings to feed his own addictions. Ilya did not want to repeat such a situation. He did not want Shane to be part of such a thing. The life he had built with his husband should be protected at all costs. Too many already were against it.
Yet Ilya’s heart could not ask if her father wanted more money, or if she came in his behalf, before he asked, “You think you would be a bother to me?”
She just shrugged at him, and his insides wept. Wept for the possibility of additions to his family. He pulled himself together in but a moment.
“What does Alexei think of this? You being here?” he pointed to the ground at the word ‘here’.
“My parents died in a car accident two years ago, so I don’t know. Even before, I would not have known his thoughts,” he inhaled sharply at the news.
His brother was dead. He felt nothing.
“I’m sorry for your loss,” Ilya said automatically.
“And I am sorry for your loss,” she looked at him pointedly, mirroring the words.
Ilya recognized the look. He had seen it reflected for years, as he had screamed on his phone about amounts of money and responsibilities. He understood.
One more thing was left.
“Why come here? Why meet me? You know what they think of people like me.”
“I’m not a homophobic piece of shit. Plus, you look happy, online at least. Happiness is rare; it’s precious. I could never hate someone for being happy,” she smiled at this.
Ilya’s soul cried. If he had wished on a star, this conversation would not have gone this well.
“You just came here to thank me… nothing else,” Ilya muttered. Finally, the situation sinking in fully.
“Nothing else,” she echoed back.
So he decided.
“Come with me.”
She had to meet Shane, and he led her to the other room.
“You know I have friends with me. If I don’t come outside at some point, they will know if you murder me,” she joked.
Ilya, remembering a similar situation from years ago, laughed.
“No, no, I want you to meet someone,” he opened the door and entered.
“Shane, this is Katerina, my niece. Katerina, this is Shane, my husband,” he turned the language to English.
“Hi,” they both greeted each other and shook hands. ‘So polite both of them,’ the thought made Ilya grin.
🏒
In the afternoon, after they all had had lunch and took the three youngsters to the station, they returned home.
Ilya thought of his brother and the fact that he was gone.
“What’s wrong?” Shane asked and slid his hand in his.
So Ilya told him the news of Alexei’s death.
It had been a long time since they had seen each other, the distance even longer calcified in Ilya’s head. By the fact, he never planned to return to Russia.
“The death of him is not really sad. I had already mourned him years ago. It is more of a release, like a ghost who haunted the house. Now there is no more,” Ilya tried to put the feeling into words.
Shane squeezed his hand and kissed his shoulder.
“You’re happy about Katerina though,” his husband told him.
“Very. We will invite her for Christmas,” Ilya smiled.
“I’ll tell Mom,” was the only response from Shane.
It fluttered Ilya’s heart. He loved his husband. So he turned, slid his arms underneath Shane’s calves, and picked him up into a kiss.
Walking towards the bedroom, Shane broke the kiss.
“I know your secret,” Shane whispered to him.
Ilya paused with a questioning look.
Shane laughed. It was like the sun.
“That you’re all mushy inside,” Shane told him lovingly.
“
моё солнышко,
My sunshine
,” Ilya kissed his neck, and Shane giggled.