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When Yuna was eighteen years old, the most important thing in the world to her was structure.
She couldn’t afford to live her life any other way. She managed herself with a rigid sense of self-control and dependability. She couldn’t trust the world to give her that, so she had to be able to trust herself.
The world was often cruel.
It was fluid, unpredictable, erratic. Things got messy and complicated all too quickly.
Structure was how she made it make sense. She organized the world in the way that she thought it should be. There was a right way for things to be done, a necessary order that Yuna could see clear as day and was determined to put into motion.
The world was often cruel. Especially to people who didn’t deserve it.
When she was young, she floated through the world with no solid ground under her feet. She had to fight for every morsel of control she managed to wrestle away from people who tried to tell her who she was and what she was allowed to be. She promised herself she would never let it define her. She would never allow the world to seize control from her, to push her off her path or make her lose focus. Whatever it threw at her, she would take it and make it hers. There wasn't a problem that didn't have a solution. There wasn't an issue that Yuna couldn't handle.
She needed to feel the ground under her feet. To feel control at her fingertips. To know that she wasn’t going to lose herself in a world of people who would look right through her and walk right over her. She had rules to govern herself by, to keep herself afloat, to keep herself from being washed away in the chaos and unfairness of the world around her.
Yuna was nineteen years old when she met David.
She loved the chill of an ice rink, the echoes of sticks and pucks filling the air, the cheers of her fellow classmates as they watched their team score. Pride filled her chest, that beautiful sense of stability and calm blossomed inside her when she watched her team execute plays that Yuna herself ran through her head. It was there, in that sense of calm, that she met David. At the time, he was number 24 on the team. Hollander printed large and white on the back of his red jersey.
Yuna rememberes him as burly, scatterbrained, and relaxed in a way no one had any right to be.
On their third date, David looked up from his pizza as she paused a hockey game to give her in depth analysis of the team. He was transfixed on her, eyes almost glistening. The look made her fumble her words.
“What?” She breathed, laughing in an exasperated way.
“I like how you think,” he said, almost shyly.
“What?” Yuna said, a little more sharply, for the first time in her life at a loss for words.
David shrugged, “I like the way you think about things. I just- I’ve never met anyone who thinks about all the things you do. It’s cool, listening to you.”
“I just really like hockey.”
“It’s not just hockey though. You’ve got a mind for stuff like this. Figuring stuff out and… planning. You’re always thinking ten steps ahead. It’s kind of amazing to watch.”
“Oh,” Yuna remembers biting her lip, trying to remember what it was she had been saying before that but ultimately gave up and leaned forward to kiss him.
After they got engaged, Yuna planned the wedding with the same intensity and dedication she brought to everything. But the night before the wedding, there was a complication with the florist that Yuna had picked out. Yuna had been on the phone with the flower shop for over three hours but nothing could be done about the delivery. They simply wouldn’t have the flowers Yuna had meticulously picked out after months of planning. It was not her best moment, her chest tight with frustration and throat threatening to close with a flood of tears.
And David, her sweet husband to be at the time, put his hands on her shoulders and gently asked, “What do you need from me?”
Yuna, in a mess of panic and anxiety, shook her head, “I just-”
David nodded, quickly searching for the address of the florist, and grabbed his keys. She furrowed her brows at him.
“What are you-?”
He leaned in to kiss her forehead, “I’m gonna go get the flowers.”
“David, that’s-” She shook her head at the impossibility. He couldn’t drive to the- and pick up all the- and get back-
“Yuna, you wanted these flowers, right? From this florist?”
She nodded.
“Then, that’s what you’ll have.”
Her heart burst that day. She walked down the aisle, surrounded by jade vine flowers that David drove to fill his car with so that she would have what she wanted the day of her wedding.
In his vows, he promised her that it wouldn’t be the last time. Nor had it been the first. He would go to the ends of the Earth to make sure she was happy.
“I know the world isn't always perfect. It isn't always fair. But I’ll be damned if I won't try to make it perfect for you.”
She believed him. The world could be cruel and unfair but then there was David, who held her trust in the palm of his hand like it was the most precious thing in the world.
When Yuna was twenty-four years old, the most important thing in the world to her was her son. And the most important thing in the world to her son was structure.
As Shane grew, Yuna noticed he had inherited her need for a particular kind of logic. He had a certain way of doing things and goddamn anything that got in his way.
“I feel like he’s going to struggle,” Yuna confessed, rubbing a hand over her heart.
David turned to her, cheek pressed against his pillow, “What do you mean?”
“Shane. Today, when they switched his position at practice. How upset he was.” How he cried, threatened to quit altogether. It reminded her of every other little meltdown over things she wasn’t sure upset most other kids she met. Things that used to upset her, too. Certain textures, unexpected noises, routine changes. She'd learn to cope, to suppress, to die inside if it meant appearing put together. She doesn't want him to feel the all too heavy weight of judgemental eyes from his peers the way she did. And it kills her that she knows he already does.
David furrowed his eyebrows, “I mean, it seems like he doesn’t like change that much. It’s not surprising.”
“That’s what I mean. I’m worried. That he’s too much like me. That he’s not…” she searched for the word, “adaptable.”
The world was often cruel.
David stayed silent for a moment, “I think he’s tough. Tougher than most of the kids on the ice. He knows what he wants and he wants things a certain way. We can help him cope with that as he gets older. You know, when things inevitably don’t go his way. But, I don’t think that’s a bad thing. To want structure. Or have strict rules.”
“I don’t think it is either but I don’t want to him to-”
To be like me. Not in certain ways. The world is hard. I don’t want it to be harder for him than it already will be. And it's so hard for him to make friends, as it is, what if-?
“Hey,” David grabs her hand, “Yuna, breathe.”
She nods and takes a breath, exhaling the bad thoughts, the tightness in her chest, the heavy thoughts anchoring her mind.
“You know he’d be lucky. To be like you. To be so put together, both feet on the ground, always thinking ten steps ahead. And you're both plenty adaptable. He’s smart as a whip, just like his mom.”
Yuna laughs, “Hm, just as uptight as his mom, too.”
David doesn't laugh with her, “You know, I’m the luckiest man in the world, right?”
Yuna looked at him the same way she always did when he got sappy. She blushed and ducked her head.
“To have the smartest, most talented, beautiful wife and son in the entire world.”
“Oh, shut it,” Yuna kissed him, the way she always did when she didn't know what to say to him. She pulled back, “You know…” she whispered, “I wouldn't mind if we had one that was like you, too.”
David grinned ear to ear and embraced her. The world always seemed so much more manageable when he held her. Nothing could touch her here. She was safe and sound.
They didn't end up having another baby.
Shane ended up being a little like David, too, in some ways. He definitely inherited his social awkwardness and distaste for eye contact. But he was Yuna’s son, clear as day.
They put all of their focus and love into Shane, put every bit of attention they had to give into him and Yuna wouldn't have it any other way. She thinks sometimes he would have liked a little brother or sister, someone to aid in his social development. Someone to fight off the loneliness that she knew seeped into his soul.
He was so lonely. Even with Rose. He was so lonely.
Until he wasn't.
Until Ilya Rozanov was sitting in her kitchen, eating her pasta and rubbing the back of Shane's neck, mid panic attack.
“We are good here,” he had said. And Shane had eased under his touch.
“Since their rookie season,” she whispered to her husband.
“Summer before.”
Eventually, after the dust had settled and she managed to swallow the hard pill that was Ilya Rozanov in her home, Yuna sat in the living room waiting for David to finish washing the dishes.
“Do you think this is forever?” Yuna asked her husband when ventured back to her. He was drying his hands on his pants in that way that drove Yuna crazy. David clocked her eyes and quickly moved them away, opting to air dry them instead.
“What? Shane and Rozanov?”
“Ilya. He asked us to call him Ilya.”
“Right. I really don't know. But, it seems like it, at least right now. They've been together for almost ten years.”
Yuna clicked her tongue, “But not actually together for all of that. They were just-” Yuna gave David a look which David grimaced at.
“Yeah,” David shrugged, “But the way Roz- or Ilya- was with him today, it seems like he really knows him. They seem so comfortable with each other.”
Yuna nodded. She had to be sure.
Shane was her entire world. If this goes wrong, she needs to know that he’ll be okay. That Ilya won't pick up and leave if things get hard. Or, well, harder. Shane's resilient but sensitive. He's still the little boy who said, with tears clinging to his lashes, that he wasn't bothered when the other kids ignored him on the playground.
Yuna, being the woman she was, wasted no time asking Ilya himself. Making it clear that hurting Shane had consequences. That she was Yuna Hollander and she’d be damned if she allowed her son's heart to be broken. Especially not after learning that she had failed at that for years. She had stood in front of her only son, her pride and joy, and heard him apologize for being who he was. She’d spend the rest of her life making up for that.
“So, Ilya,” Yuna started.
Ilya Rozanov, the big, scary, Russian hockey star playboy, looked at her with eyes that could only be described as terrified.
They were left alone in the living room of Shane's cottage. Shane had left, hesitantly, with David to go outside to inspect Shane's car which apparently had started rattling a few weeks ago. Shane mentioned it off handedly and David had been insistent he check it out. Shane exchanged looks with Ilya and agreed to let David take a quick look.
Ilya looked so small, waiting for her to finish her sentence, biting his lip but steeling his expression to look almost bored.
“You’re moving to Ottawa soon.”
Ilya nodded, “Mhm, it seems like a nice area. The team sucks but I like a challenge.”
“So you don't mind, then? That the team isn't as good as Boston?”
Ilya looked thoughtful for only a second before answering, “Boston was on a losing streak when I was drafted to them. So was Montreal when they drafted Shane.”
Yuna hummed. That was true, even she could admit that as a long time, die-hard fan. “Good point. Still, moving teams is a big deal. Especially when they're in a completely different country.”
“Shane is here.”
He said it with such confidence, like it explained everything in the entire world. Like it was the most obvious answer.
Yuna glanced out the window at Shane and David bent over Shane's car. They'd be out there for a while longer. She decided to jump in with both feet.
“You and Shane have been seeing each other for a very long time now, right?”
Ilya nodded and braced himself.
“Hockey is everything to Shane.” Ilya smiled and nodded, “I’m saying this as his mother, his very protective mother, that if anything ever got out, if you were ever outed, and Shane lost his career-”
Ilya’s face went cold and grim. She continued.
“He'd be crushed. He's very particular, very anxious, very sensitive. Hockey is how he makes sense of things, it always has been. It's the center of his world and if he lost that- I need to know that you will be there with him. To pick up the pieces with him. If things go bad.”
Ilya studied her for a moment. She knew Ilya stood to lose his career too, that he'd never be able to go home again, and that, if he was forced to, something very bad could happen to him. She knew that and would do anything within her power to prevent that from happening. But Shane was her baby. The most important thing in the world to her.
The world was so often cruel.
“My mother introduced me to hockey,” Ilya began. “She gave me my first stick and brought me to my first game. I think she did it to get me out of the house, to get me away from my father. And I fell in love with it. It made me feel important, there was a- um, a spark. I had fun, I didn't care if I won or lost. I liked getting into fights without getting into trouble for it,” Ilya laughed. “And after she died, it was the only way I felt truly connected to her. But eventually, I think it became something to do other than hate my life and snort-” Ilya broke off and muttered something in Russian, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “I was good at it so I did it. I was good so I always won. And if I did lose, it was crushing,” he broke off again and shook his head. “But then I met your son and I felt the spark again. Like I was important. Like I could have fun again.”
Yuna sniffled but stayed quiet.
“When we first met, I thought Shane was very boring.”
She frowned at that but kept herself from mentally calling him an asshole.
“He introduced himself to me, shook my hand, and told me it was a no smoking area.” They both smiled at that, “I told him that he wouldn't be so nice when I beat him and he told me that would not be happening. And then it did, as I told him it would. And the next year, he came back and crushed us. Crushed me. Which had not happened to me before. And I was angry at losing, but when he shook my hand and told me he would see me next season, I realized that losing to him would not be so bad as long as I got to see him next season. As long as I was losing to him. As long as we were playing together, even if we were technically playing against each other,” Ilya loses himself for a moment in a memory that's almost a decade old.
He clears his throat, “Falling in love with your son made me fall in love with hockey again. Being with him feels like winning back to back Stanley cups. Hockey is everything to Shane, I know this. And Shane is everything to me. As long as he wants me there, I will be there. Moving teams, moving countries, being outed, losing my career- these are small things compared to what your son has done for me,” Yuna knew on some level, Ilya was lying here. They weren't small things. They weren't things about which he was apathetic and uncaring. He was terrified, no matter how stoic he molded himself to be. “I know things will not always be perfect, I know our situation is impossible, that something will go wrong. But I promise, I will do everything I can to keep your son safe. His happiness is most important thing to me.”
For the second time in the last 24 hours, Yuna found herself crying. She nodded, sniffled, and took a breath.
Ilya himself looked on the verge of the tears, his throat clearly constricting to keep himself composed.
He looked startled when she leaned forward and pulled him into a hug, wrapping his arms around him and gently laying a hand on the back of his head. She felt him stumble to figure out what he was supposed to do until he eventually settled and rested his hands on her upper back.
She pulled back and looked him dead in the eyes, “David and I will do the same. Not just for Shane, but for you too. I see how much you mean to Shane and that means you're stuck with us Hollanders for life.
He ducked his head, smiling, “I feel very lucky to have found you all.”
She patted his cheek.
“What happened?” Shane asked, looking between the two of them.
David and Shane stood staring at them, confusion plastered on their faces. Shane gravitated towards Ilya, palm reaching and resting on his elbow in concern.
Yuna shook her head, “Nothing, honey. Did you get the car fixed?”
David, seeing that neither Yuna nor Ilya wanted to explain, launched into an explanation. Shane's hand never left Ilya for the rest of the night.
Later that night, David would ask her what truly happened.
She shook her head, “I just wanted to make sure he had good intentions.”
David laughed, “Really? The ole shovel talk?” Yuna nodded. “What's the verdict?”
“I think we're very lucky to have Ilya be a part of our family.”
David smiled and kissed her shoulder.
Yuna was forty-six years old and the most important thing in her life was her husband and her two sons. She slept peacefully in the arms of her husband, knowing that her son had someone he could trust to keep his world together. The world could be cruel, but the weight of it seemed so much lighter when there was someone there to help carry it.