Chapter Text
The moving truck arrived just after eight, carrying half of Shane Hollander's life up a narrow gravel road that disappeared into the pines.
It had been lots of planning, hard work and unwavering determination for change. That was one thing about Shane, he was overly enthusiastic about doing everything just as he planned it out to be and after college that's what he achieved.
He hadn’t gone to a fancy college and he had focused on his degree and stayed home to save money. Every small detail had led him to this moment. Somewhere where he could focus on himself and his business.
He wanted so badly to follow his dad in becoming a hockey player but when it hadn’t worked out for him, no matter how exhaustingly he had tried. He focused on starting the perfect sports apparel company, which he solely focused on from the latter years of high school to his college graduation.
And now at twenty-five, he not only had a successful up and coming business but everything he planned out was finally right in front of him. Somewhere where he could focus on his business but also find some peace of mind.
The air smelled like wet leaves, soil and lake water, and it was perfectly quiet. The kind of quiet Shane had always dreamed of, control he always needed.
And he did it all himself, this place was his own and no one could be more proud of him than his Mother. She always knew he was destined for greatness, whether it was her support from age 4 to 15 on his hockey goals or the change towards his business degree and entrepreneurship.
By nine, the cottage was in chaos, Shane guiding the movers best he could.
Heavy boxes labeled in thick black sharpie littered every room while movers shuffled furniture through the front door, apologizing each time they bumped the wooden frame.
His mother sat on the porch with her hands tucked into the pockets of her jacket, staring at the mountains as if they were something unreal and painted.
"It's beautiful," Yuna whispered.
Shane looked out over the water.
"It is."
His father was already looking over the movers shoulders, patting the walls as if to check for sturdiness, and checking the gutters as if he was a professional house inspector.
"You should clean those before winter." He pointed out,
"Dad."
"What? I'm just trying to make sure you're set before we leave."
His mother laughed softly, getting up to stand next to her husband, slipping her arm through his.
The sound made the cottage feel warmer.
For a moment, the three of them stood together in comfortable silence while the movers worked around them. Yuna reached over and brushed invisible lint from Shane's sweater.
"You'll call us?"
"I will."
"Every day." she said, scrunching her nose.
He smiled, a small laugh escaping his lips.
"I don't know about every day."
She frowned dramatically, her brows knit tightly.
"Then every other day."
His father pointed a finger at him.
"And if you need anything, you ask. Anything. Flat tire, plumbing, money, doesn't matter. You don't have to do everything yourself."
"I know."
"We mean it."
"I know."
Shane was used to his parents being this way, but something about this moment was different than anything before it. It really was the biggest change in Shane's life, his first time away from the safety net he called home. It was exactly what Shane needed, he spent the last twenty-five years at home.
It didn’t make it any less harder to leave.
His mother hugged him before he could protest, she held on longer than usual. When she stepped back, her eyes were wet.
"I'm so proud of you," she whispered. "You've worked so hard."
Cupping Shane’s face in her hands. Shane swallowed around the sudden lump in his throat.
"I'll be okay." He said, resting his hand on top of hers.
"I know you will." She smiled anyway. "I'll still worry."
The movers shut the back of the truck with a heavy clang.
His father checked his watch.
"We should head back before traffic."
Yuna looked at the cottage one last time before letting go of Shane.
“I love you, son.” and Shane shook his head in agreement.
He watched his parents head over to their car, his arms wrapped tightly around his chest. As much as he hated to admit it, he relied on them religiously. He hadn’t had many friends growing up or even during his college days but he always had his mom and dad.
Before they even drove off, Yuna rolled her window down immediately.
"Text us when you unpack."
"I will."
"And send pictures."
"I will."
"And make sure to eat something."
"Mom."
She laughed.
"I love you."
"I love you too."
His father leaned across the center console.
"Love you, kid."
As Shane waved them off, The SUV disappeared down the road until only dust remained hanging between the trees.
The silence returned. Shane stood in the driveway, surrounded by a moving truck and pine needles.
His new life had officially begun.
—
Ilya had watched as this new neighbor said his goodbyes. He even felt a small tinge of jealousy as he watched this mystery man hug his mother.
He muttered something vulgar and Russian between the drag of his cigarette. Before smashing out the flame in the dirty ash tray on the wood frame of his porch.
Ilya wasn't much of the friendly outgoing “welcome to the neighborhood here’s freshly baked goods” kind of man but he also wasn't rude. He thought a possible surprise visit later in the day would serve the man good.
As he walked inside to pour himself a fresh cup of coffee, He picked out his favorite mug and pushed the kitchen curtain open. Taking small sips of his drink as he watched his new neighbor shake hands with one of the movers.
Ilya had a weird spark of interest, it was also probably because the man was well framed and good looking, but he wouldn’t say that off the bat. He’d at least need to see the guy first.
His mug fell into the full sink with a metallic clank and decided maybe he didn't have much patience for waiting. This guy probably had a lot to unpack on his own, and with that he decided a visit would definitely suit him.
Ilya slipped on his sneakers and long coat to counter the wind. He didn’t move too fast, got ready slowly to give the other man at least a moment alone before getting dropped in on.
As he stepped outside, he immediately lit a new cigarette. Stuffing the, probably vulgar lighter in his coat pocket.
The leaves crunched nicely under his shoes, the wind carried the sweet smell of wet soil to his nose and he is once again reminded why he refuses to sell his over-priced, unaffordable home. This view and weather was like no other.
He had been handed down the cottage from the family friend who took him in after leaving Russia. The elderly Russian man was the closest thing he had to family, only his mother could be included in that sentiment. Even without the funds to keep up with the maintenance and taxes, he refused to sell. It was all he had.
He hadn’t even noticed the long walk had concluded until the sound of earth turned to the crunching of gravel. He took one big drag of his cigarette before walking up to the door.
–
Shane was deep in thought, digging through a box in his kitchen when he heard a knock on the door.
He thought maybe it was his parents and that his mother convinced his dad to turn around and try and convince Shane to let them stay his first week here. The thought made him laugh, a smile draped across his face as he opened the door.
To his surprise, a tall athletic man with dark blonde curls and a crooked smile smoking a cigarette was standing in front of him. His smile dropped slightly, the last thing he wanted was cigarette smoke in his new home.
“Could you put that out please.” Shane expressed closing the door to a slight crack, enough to shut off the inside of home to the stranger.
The man laughed and took another drag before throwing it down and stomping it with his sneaker. He was at least nice enough to pick up the butt before saying, “you have trash?”
Shane immediately noticed the man’s heavy accent, his pronounced jaw, his long lashes but Shane snapped out of his trance. He didn’t know whether to kick the man off his porch and invite him for a drink. His face was completely distracting, in every way possible.
“Ilya, I live there.” He spoke again, pointing to the house just past a few big trees.
Shane blushed immediately realizing they had sat in silence for a good few seconds.
“oh, um Shane, Shane Hollander.” He awkwardly pointed at himself, before getting embarrassed again and putting his hand behind his back.
“So, Hollander, can I come in? Or just freeze in cold.” Ilya basically giggled, as if this was nothing but entertainment to him.
Shane quickly looked down as he opened the door for Ilya, choosing to ignore that Ilya called him by his last name.
“Um, I guess I’ll throw that away.” Shane awkwardly smiled holding out his hand, “I’m sorry for the mess. I really haven’t started on much.”
Ilya’s eyebrow raised as he placed the cigarette butt in Shane’s hand. Almost like Ilya was confused by his statement.
“Why sorry? You just moved in.” He said, lingering his fingertips on Shane’s palm an uncomfortable amount of time before finally moving his hand into his pocket.
Shane quickly walked to the nearest trash bag he had left out to throw bubble wrap into. Ilya was nothing more than a really good looking man in his living room, everything about the man confused him but in a good way.
Shane thought, maybe a friend would be nice. Something to get his parents not to worry about him too much.
“What brought you here, Hollander?” Iyla spoke again, breaking Shane out of his trance once more. He needed to stop doing that, stop staring.
Shane quickly brought over one of the few unwrapped chairs and offered it to Ilya, who didn't mind taking the seat.
“I guess work?” Shane’s very untrained facial expressions didn't help his social awkwardness.
“What work?” Ilya raised his eyebrow, the man was clearly trying to pick apart Shane. Trying to see what was underneath that nervous smile.
“Oh um, I run a company. I thought it would be nice to get away from the city, focus remotely on making sure my business doesn’t burn down before it’s mainstream. Especially since we’re looking at getting a buy out from a company willing to keep me on, instead of just canning me with a big check.” Shane stopped for a moment, noticing he hadn’t been looking at Ilya and possibly talking way too much. When he took the chance to look over, the man had his brows furrowed in what Shane could only take as confusion. He looked back at the counter top he had been a little too interested in looking at before speaking again.
“Sorry, um. Why’d you stop by?”
Ilya stood up again, walking over to stand next to Shane.
“You could use help unpacking?” Iyla laughed a little, maybe to make things a little more comfortable.
Shane looked up again, meeting Ilya’s eyes. He wasn’t much for eye contact but they were some really pretty eyes.
He stood up straight, before just nodding. Maybe he shouldn’t scare his new neighbor by talking too much. He looked around at the mountain of unopened boxes and then back at Ilya.
"You don't have to."
Ilya shrugged.
"I know."
Another beat of silence.
"But I will."
Shane couldn't stop the smile that spread across his face.
"Okay."
"Okay."
—
Ilya found his attention drifting back to Shane's face more often than it should have. The awkward smile that kept appearing whenever he spoke. The freckles scattered over his face, Ilya really liked those and the way his cheeks flushed bright pink every time he thought he'd said something embarrassing.
Pretty.
Far too pretty for a man who apologized every thirty seconds.
He was very attractive, and spoke way too fast. Some of the words went untranslated in his mind, but it felt like listening to a sexy woman at a bar. Maybe you couldn’t understand her over the music but she was great to look at.
“Where are you from?” Shane asked as he led Ilya into the kitchen.
Ilya never really liked this question, but he had only been in Canada for four years. His english was broken, sometimes he couldn’t understand what people were talking about. Even better was the fact he hated the thought of Russia.
Russia was never just a place. It was a father he wanted to forget. A brother he wished he'd left behind years sooner. Bruises that had faded from his skin but never from memory.
Canada hadn't been a choice so much as an escape.
"Russia," he answered flatly, Hollander didn't need to know more than that.
Shane shook his head before going on about his idea of organizing the kitchen. A lot of which Ilya picked up by the pointing. Cause what the fuck is a “honing rod”?
Ilya did not spend that much time in the kitchen as it was, nor did his father or brother ever teach him to cook. He only held close memories of his mother offering spoons of food to taste before dinner.
The two got to a nice rhythm, Shane washed every spoon before putting it away.
Every plate, every bowl, even the unopened measuring cups.
Ilya didn't ask why.
The man was clearly strict.
It didn’t take long before they finished the three boxes labeled kitchen. Shane was nothing if not overly prepared with stuff because man did he have a lot of stuff.
“I don't have anything in the fridge yet, but I’d make something for you if I did.” Shane offered while he finished wiping the counter. “I appreciate the help, Ilya.”
Ilya smiled at that. Shane was distracting, even if he was just slightly weird, he was nice and he liked that. Ilya pulled out his pack of cigarettes from his pocket, placing one in between his lips before putting the pack back in and grabbing the lighter.
“Woah! Please don't smoke in here.” Shane said frantically, only making Ilya laugh again.
“You are funny Hollander, I was heading home.” Ilya offered a slight raise of his brow.
A tiny "oh" slipped from Shane before he could stop it.
Ilya couldn't tell whether he'd expected him to light the cigarette in the middle of the kitchen...or whether he'd hoped Ilya would stay longer.
The second possibility was infinitely more interesting.
“Good to meet you Hollander, Tomorrow we do the rest?” Ilya smiled crookedly to keep the cigarette still, before rubbing his hand on Shane’s shoulder.
Shane’s eyebrows raised, and Ilya just switched to a light pat before heading to the front door, grabbing his coat off the chair from earlier.
Shane followed behind quietly, and just watched Ilya leave. Waving back after Ilya turned around to wave goodbye.
He wasn’t sure about Shane Hollander, but he sure didn’t mind him, especially if it gave him something to do outside his normal routine.
Ilya walked the familiar path back through the trees with his hands shoved deep into his coat pockets, the cigarette forgotten between his fingers until ash fell onto his shoe.
He barely noticed.
His thoughts kept drifting back to the awkward man standing in a house full of cardboard boxes, apologizing for a mess no reasonable person would apologize for.
Shane Hollander talked too much, smiled too nervously, blushed over nothing. He washed dishes before putting them away, He apologized for existing.
He was strange.
Ilya found himself laughing quietly under his breath. The sound surprised him. It had been a long time since someone had amused him that easily.
He unlocked his own front door, stepped inside, and looked through the kitchen window toward the neighboring cottage.
The lights were still on.
A silhouette moved between stacks of boxes. For reasons he couldn't explain, Ilya lingered there for another minute before finally pulling the curtain shut.