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Everyone who knew Ilya deeply enough feared for his safety, especially the Hollanders. Which was why, during the first forty days the Orthodox mourned their beloved Yuna & David didn’t let Ilya out of their sight, for his protection, but also to soothe their own grieving hearts.
It had been an accident, a simple and unfortunate cascade of events, a stressed young mother trying to pacify her crying baby daughter who lost control of her car and hit and instantly fractured Shane’s neck.
The only grace, there had been no pain, just a swift death.
But swift was not the grieving, not for the world crying for the greatest hockey player of the past few decades, nor for those who loved Shane the most.
Yuna, David and Ilya grieved together.
Ilya had lost Shane and since that damn day he had also lost his love for the puck.
But he did not kill himself, as his therapist feared upon reading the news.
No, he wanted to give the Hollanders time to heal, for yet another loss would crash them even more.
Ilya had waited out of love for the parents who adopted him.
But today was the day.
That same morning they had all gone together to the small cemetery near the house Shane had grown up, and there they mourned the first anniversary since Shane Hollander-Rozanov was taken away from their world.
It had been a surprisingly warm and sunny spring day. They held hands. They cried. They ate, honoring Shane’s Japanese heritage but also the Orthodox traditions Ilya grew up with.
And now was evening, the sky clear, the cottage an island of peace, unaware of the upcoming end.
Ilya was alone, his need for solitude finally accepted —trusted— by Yuna and David.
Anya nowhere in sight, left safe with Hayden.
Hayden.
Ilya knew Pike was going to hate him, the man who had resisted the tears of four loud children and their eternal demands for a puppy. But Ilya also knew Hayden was going to respect his last wish and take care of their, Shane & Ilya’s, little baby girl until the end. Of course there was also Troy, but Ilya wanted to piss off Hayden one last time. With a heart full of gratitude.
The letters were ready.
One for Hayden and Jackie.
One for Sveta.
One for the Centaurs, his teammates and friends.
Ilya had even written one personal letter to Luca, aware the young man would need it.
And then there was a last one, a letter written to Yuna and David, a letter full of love and gratitude, but also apologies for breaking their hearts one last time, and hope they would understand the joy his own heart was feeling at the idea of going back to his Shane.
There was no other way.
There was no Ilya without Shane.
Irina had died out of despair.
Ilya was dying out of love.
Shane was gone and now Ilya was ready too.
His eyes were resting for one last time on the dark lake, sparkling under the moonshine, the loons loud and heated, ready to mate.
Ilya laughed at the thought. Was there an after life where he could keep mating with the love of his life? He hoped so.
The vodka was perfect, chill.
The fire was also perfect, warm and crackling.
The bottle of pills full. Open. Ready.
“Are you waiting for me moya lyubov'?” he whispered to nobody.
Silence stretched and Ilya smiled.
“I’m coming.”