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When Shane entered the bedroom, his eyes landed quickly on his husband. Ilya was curled up on his half of the bed, still shirtless and in his boxers from the night before, lying on his side with his back to the door.
As Shane got closer, he could see Ilya’s phone in one of his hands, the other side pressed into the mattress so he didn’t have to hold it up with both hands.
Energy conservation.
His phone was on, but it wasn’t in use. Ilya stared blankly at his lockscreen. He didn’t speak when Shane sat down on the edge of the bed next to Ilya’s head. Shane could obviously see Ilya, and he knew he was in the room, but for some reason it felt empty. It didn’t feel like Ilya was there. Shane felt like he was alone in the room.
He reached out to run his fingers through his husband's golden curls, which earned a long blink from Ilya. Then another.
There was something so intimate in the silence. In the lack of need to fill the air with words. In the strength of just Shane's presence for Ilya.
Since he wasn’t actually using it, Shane gently pried Ilya’s phone from his fingers and placed it on the night table. Ilya’s hand that had held the device dropped onto the bed; limp like the rest of his body.
It broke Shane’s heart to see him like this. So sad. So hurt. This wasn’t the first time he’d gotten like this, but yet every time feels like the first. Shane doesn’t know what to say or do. He just wants to fix it. He wasn’t there to be an easy solution. To take away his husband's pain and make him better. Shane thrived when he had control. He needed it. And depression? Especially someone else's? It was completely out of his control. It was unpredictable.
“My mom taught me this term. Kokoro no kaze. I think I’m pronouncing it right?” Shane said out of nowhere, breaking the silence. “If I’m correct, it’s a cultural term in Japan for depression.”
Ilya didn’t move his body, but his eyes lifted to look at Shane.
“It translates to “a cold of the soul”.” Shane added, still combing his fingers through Ilya’s hair. “I think that’s a more beautiful term. A better one, at least.” He said, his hands moving to Ilya’s back and waist. “Come. Sit up. I know you can.” He encouraged.
With a deep sigh, Ilya’s body finally moved. Slowly, but surely, he sat up, back against the head board. The husbands were now sitting facing each other on the bed.
“There he is.” Shane said with a smile, caressing the Russian's knee. “Anyways, back to what I was saying. I think “a cold of the soul” is a more fitting way to describe what’s going on. Because what you have, Ilya, is temporary. It comes and goes. You know that.” Shane reminded. “And I know right now, when you're in it, it feels like you’ll be stuck here forever. But every time, it does pass. It goes away. You get better. I know at the moment it’s hard to remember, but that’s why I’m here. To remind you. This is quite literally just a cold for your soul. A hiccup.” Shane shared, never looking away from his husband's face. He was steady. Solid. Grounding for Ilya.
“So, here’s what’s going to happen. As hard as it may be, we're going to move to the couch, okay? Change of scenery. You can get all comfy, and I’ll bring you something to eat. I’ll open the emergency Nutella. Whatever it takes.” Shane chuckled, trying to lift the mood. “And then we can rot on the couch all day long. Together. Me, you, and Anya. And if you want to talk, we can talk. And if you don’t want to? We don’t have to. Okay?”
Ilya let out a small deep breath, like he was gearing up for something. “Okay.” Ilya said, voice quiet. That earned a proud smile from Shane, who stood up and held out a hand for his husband, who took it gently. Ilya slowly stood as if he had never done it before and was testing the waters. He took a deep breath once he was finally upright, preparing himself for the task of getting downstairs and to the living room.
After a particularly bad episode in the past, Ilya explained to Shane that a depressive funk makes Ilya feel like he is living and breathing in Jello.
It’s hard to take a deep breath because it feels like there's something pressing against his chest, weighing down on him and preventing him from breathing fully. It’s hard to walk or even move his body because of the amount of energy it takes him to move through the jello. Everything is just so draining. The simple task of brushing his teeth which requires him to move his arm back and forth becomes too much for him to handle. His muscular and large arms turn into soft and malleable noodles.
He explained to Shane that these episodes change your way of being. Of thinking. Of perceiving things. They change everything. He struggled to explain it fully to Shane. Not only was English not his native tongue, but depression was also not something easily explained. Especially because it varies from person to person, and if Shane were to have depression, it would feel different for him and also present differently for him, because it’s exclusive.
It’s also hard to explain because it's hard to understand, even as the person who has it. There aren’t really words that come close. Even the analogies used can’t perfectly describe the experience. And that was something Ilya hated. He hated that no matter how hard he tried to explain, or how hard Shane tried to understand, his husband would never be able to truly get it. To truly understand. To know exactly what it feels like to be Ilya during these episodes. It killed him. He wanted Shane to know him fully. Every piece and part of him. Good and bad. Shane was his life partner. He felt like his depression bridged a gap between them. Something they couldn’t share in understanding. But hey, maybe that was just Ilya’s depression talking.
He never knew how to tell the difference between a normal thought or a depressive thought. Because even if the depression wasn’t currently in the driver's seat, it could unconsciously be in the back seat. Maybe it always lingered. Was it always there? Was everything just his depression? No. He’s spiraling. That isn’t true. Right?
One by one, step by step, he made it down the stairs and into the living room, Shane's hands never leaving his body. He felt like he was dangling on the edge of a cliff, about to plummet to his death, but he was somehow attached to a harness.
Shane was the harness.
Shane got Ilya settled on the couch, leaning against the armrest and tucked under blankets. Anya leaped onto the couch and stood on Ilya’s legs. She shoved her nose under Ilya's hand, and when he didn’t react, she just nudged it harder. She kept going until he finally gave in and curled his fingers into her fur. She smiled, tongue hanging out while she panted. Shane smiled before adjusting the blanket again. It didn’t need to be adjusted, but Shane needed something to do. Shane then scurried to the kitchen to whip something up that he thought Ilya could stomach.
He cut up a banana into slices and coated each small slice with a dollop of Nutella. He put every piece onto a plate before bringing it to where his husband sat on the couch.
Was it healthy? No. Did it make Shane's stomach lurch? Yes. But it was one of Ilya’s favourites, and he was currently just focused on bribing his sad husband to eat. He could survive a meal without a protein source. God knows he has before. Shane was a stickler for healthy eating. His husband, on the other hand, was not.
Shane didn’t realize that he had been holding his breath until he saw Ilya swallow the first piece. He slowly ate the slices one by one, like it was a task, not a leisurely activity.
So the Nutella didn’t work. Great. Shane wasn’t quite at a panic level yet, but he could definitely get there if he wanted to. He needed to come up with another idea. Something drastic. Something to pull Ilya out of this funk before it got any worse.
That's what led him to pull out his phone, put his volume all the way up (which was not something he did often as he was a man with sensory problems), and pressed play on the song “Diamonds” by Rihanna, which was their wedding song. He placed his phone on the coffee table, and started making a fool of himself, dancing around the living room the way Ilya does with Hayden's children. He also made it a point to sing along to the lyrics as loud as he could, acting quite out of character on purpose.
If he couldn’t cheer Ilya up, he might as well confuse him? That could work, right?
He scooped Anya off Ilya's legs and rocked her back and forth in his arms as he sang and danced. “You are going to give her shaken baby syndrome.” Ilya suddenly said, which surprised Shane, but he couldn’t let it show. He didn’t want to make a deal out of it and cause Ilya to retreat back into his invisible depression shell.
“No I won’t.” Shane scoffed.
“Yes you will.” Ilya quickly answered.
“Okay, so stop me?” Shane threatened with a smile.
“Shane…” Ilya sighed from the couch.
“Stop me. I dare you.” Shane pushed.
Ilya sighed again and slowly stood up, his feet somehow holding up his body. He reached out for Anya, but Shane pulled away and stepped back.
Fuck. This meant Ilya would have to take a step.
And so, he did.
And Shane stepped back again, swaying his hips.
Which caused Ilya to take another step to follow.
And that cycle kept repeating, until Ilya cracked a small smile finally, reaching out for his dog again.
“Shane, just give me Anya.” He pleaded.
“She wants to dance. If I give you her, you have to dance with her.”
“I’m not going to dance.”
“Then you don’t get to take her.” Shane shrugged simply.
“Fine. Give me my girl.” Ilya huffed.
Shane reluctantly handed Anya over. He didn’t know if he fully believed his husband. Ilya then gave him the most pathetic turn he could have. He just stepped in a circle.
“Bullshit. That was horrible.” Shane scoffed. He then inched closer to put one hand on Ilya's hip and the other on his shoulder. He began to sway gently, moving Ilya with him. “Kinda like how we danced at our wedding.”
“Kinda?” Ilya laughed.
“Okay, maybe not. But still, you know what I mean.”
“I don’t deserve-”
“Don’t finish that sentence.” Shane said quickly, cutting him off. “Because it’s bullshit. And you know that. Because you deserve the world Ilya, even if your brain tells you otherwise. I am telling you, okay? And my opinion is the only one that should matter. Right now it’s the most sane and trustworthy.” Shane grinned. “I love you with every ounce of my being. There is nothing you could ever say or do that would change how I feel. I love you as a whole, and that includes the highs and lows. Everything. Even this furball you brought home one day.”
“She is not furball.” Ilya retorted with a grin.
Shane smiled, moving his hand that was on Ilya’s shoulder to his face, thumb caressing his cheek.
They were going to be all right.