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Ilya has never been someone to seek silence out. He’s got enough going on inside his head that being in a quiet place just makes those voices that never sound like himself that much louder. Voices that mimic his father’s disappointment, his brother’s disgust, that echo a version of himself which is ugly and hated and self-distructive, telling him that he doesn’t deserve anything good. Silences also remind him of words that his mother never said, comfort that feels weak, promises that are never kept.
He enjoys hockey rinks and games and clubs and not being alone, places in which he can’t hear himself think, where the running commentary can’t slither through the rest of his body like ivy; grip hold.
It’s not until he meets Shane Hollander does he learn that silences can be kind.
Shane, who is also no stranger to noise himself, enjoys moments in which he can find that stillness that makes Ilya’s skin crawl. He’s observed him doing yoga out behind the cottage on cool mornings, when the sky is barely awake. He likes cooking dinner without music on, without white noise, just humming to himself as he goes through the motions. He listens to ambiance, too, while working out, if he doesn’t feel like wearing headphones.
The first time Shane plopped down onto the couch with a book in hand while Ilya had the TV on, he found himself reaching for the remote. It wasn’t loud, exactly, he just had hockey highlights running while he scrolled through his phone. He just didn’t want to sit in silence. But now he feels like he should turn the TV off because Shane wants to read.
Shane, seeming to sense his dilemma, offers him a small smile as he puts his glasses on, “It’s okay, I can read with it on.”
Ilya chews on his lower lip, unsure what the right move is. Regardless of Shane being a bit of a people pleaser, they’ve gotten to the point in their relationship where they’re honest with one another. Even if it hurts. He would tell him if he needed the TV off…right? But he also thinks Shane is just being polite. Because he does that.
So Ilya pushes the power button, leans back into the couch and runs his tongue over his teeth as he looks back down at his phone. It’s not completely quiet; there’s the sound of Shane breathing, the refrigerator running in the other room, the wind outside pushing leaves and windchimes, loons and birds voicing their presence, the cottage settling. But he feels antsy within his own skin, like he needs to get up or—or do something.
“Did you know,” Shane turns a page in his book before looking up at him, “that female octopuses will throw objects at males who refuse to leave them alone?”
Ilya blinks. Then, “What?”
Shane nods, a small smile pulling the corners of his mouth, “I watched it on a documentary last night. The one you fell asleep to.”
He lets out a slow breath, his heart rate settling behind his ribcage, “Well if I would have known it was that exciting, I wouldn’t have.”
Shane smirks, pushing his glasses up his nose. Ilya restrains himself not to kiss him immediately, “Can you imagine if I would have started throwing shit at you when we were rookies?”
Ilya’s mouth opens, amusement curling warmly around his heart, “Oh. Because I wouldn’t leave you alone? Ty vso yeshcho plokhoy lzhets.”
“I’m not lying about anything,” And it’s still so hot that Shane has learned enough Russian at this point to respond in English, “You’re the one who was booking shared commercials for us to do.”
He shakes his head, hooking his arm around Shane’s shoulder and tugging until he’s molded alongside him. Shane smirks, pleased he’s won this argument (as if Ilya could win anything against someone who has such pretty freckles), and presses a kiss to Ilya’s jawline. Shane tugs his book along with him, flipping to the next page, resting his head on his shoulder. Ilya presses his nose and lips into Shane’s hair and breathes.
He’s come to appreciate moments like that, moments where it doesn’t feel like the quiet is hurting his eardrums. Shane reading a book alongside him, moving like magnets as they cook breakfast, Ilya tucking his feet underneath Shane’s thigh as they sit outside in front of a fire when the sun goes down, early mornings when they just wake up and lie in one another’s arms, not talking but just being with eachother.
—
Ilya wouldn’t consider himself someone who enjoys hiking, exactly, seeing as how he’s mostly been in cities rather than nature his entire life. But when Shane looks at him with those eyes and that eager hopefulness on his face, he can’t say no. Besides, apparently the view is worth it. Ilya has his eyes on Shane’s ass the entire time they hike up towards their destination, so, he’s already agreeing with that.
But when they reach the top of wherever Shane is leading them, he understands what he means. It’s a series of rocks that you can step out on, almost like a cliff. There’s an expanse of trees that goes outward, creating a horizon, birds flying overhead, bugs buzzing a song that signals the end of summer. It’s tranquil though, peaceful, breeze brushing through leaves and kissing the back of his neck and curls.
He takes a step towards the edge, not too close, but close enough that it makes him feel small in the vastness of what’s in front of him. He hums lightly when he feels Shane come up behind him, wrapping his arms around his waist and hooking his chin over his shoulder. He smells like sun, skin and sunscreen.
Shane kisses his neck, “Worth it, right? How quiet it is?”
Ilya smiles a little, turning his head to press his nose to Shane’s cheek, closing his eyes. Listening. “Sovershennyy.”
Perfect.