Chapter Text
Shane has always said he likes Thursdays the best.
It’s not like they are all that different from the other days of the week, but still. Thursdays had it going for them that they are in the middle of the week, which he swore was easier than the end of the week rush. Thursdays meant math class with Mrs.Cooper, who was secretly his favorite, and no science with Mr.James who he didn’t really like. Thursdays also meant hockey practice.
Hockey practice with Ilya.
Shane has known Ilya since forever. Well, obviously not ‘forever’, since that’s impossible, but Shane couldn’t really remember a time when to the question ‘Who is your best friend’ the answer wasn’t a confident and cheerful ‘Ilya Rozanov’. His mama and Ilya’s mama liked to joke that they were stitched together by the hips the way they never separated. They went to the same school, shared most of the same classes, played hockey on the same team, and spent all their free time together too, which was made easier by the fact that they were neighbours.
Shane loves every second he gets to hang out with Ilya. He was not only his best friend, but basically his only friend, others thinking Shane is a bit weird, but Ilya was never bothered by his weirdness.
(“Ilya?” 5 year old Shane turned towards his friend.
“Yeah?” Ilya asked, not lifting his head from the sand castle he was carefully building.
“Don’t you think I’m weird?” Shane asked, swallowing the weird lump in his throat that appeared when the thought first came to his mind.
“You are weird Hollander.” Ilya answered simply. “We all are. You speak weird because of thoughts. I speak weird because of accent. It does not matter. We are weird together.”
“Oh.” Shane nodded, then with a smile asked one more question. “Can you promise me we will be weird together forever?”
“Ugh, yes, I promise Hollander, if it makes you help with this sand castle. I thought we were supposed to build together.” Ilya begrudgingly agreed, which Shane found amusing. The two continued to build their castle together in comfortable silence.)
Now at 12, Shane can say he loves being weird with Ilya. He can share anything that comes to him with no judgment from the other. He doesn’t have to pretend around him.
The only place where Shane doesn’t feel different from his peers is at hockey practice. Doing it with Ilya only makes it more awesome, but without that added factor, he is still confident in his talent. His coach the other day said that if he keeps on practicing with the same passion as he is now, he will have a bright and promising future ahead of him.
Ilya is also very good at hockey. He doesn’t care as much as Shane, he is not stressed if he misses a practice because something came up, or if he is a few minutes late, but he is still so good. It annoys Shane a little, that his best friend can be as good as him without trying as hard, but then he remembers it’s his best friend, and he is filled with joy that this is another thing they can do together.
Sometimes he dreams that they are all grown up and play on the same team, winning the stanley cup. Wouldn’t that be awesome?
His thoughts are ripped from him thanks to a throw pillow that hit him square in the face, and he quickly looked at the direction it came from, seeing Ilya with his usual smug smile resting on his face.
“Why did you just do that?” Shane asked him, throwing the pillow back at him, but instead of hitting him, Ilya caught it easily.
“You were in your head again, a dangerous place.” He mocked.
“You are an asshole.” Shane shot back automatically.
“What were you thinking about?” Ilyas asked him, placing the pillow back in its place, before Yuna notices its absence.
“Winning.” Shane smiled.
“How predictable. Always hockey, or winning, or that weird drink you beg your dad to buy behind your moms back.” Ilya groaned.
“Wow. Predictable? Big word for you. Have you been secretly spending more time with my dad?” Shane teased him lightheartedly.
“And they say I’m the asshole? It has been you all along, Hollander.” Ilya gasped, clutching at his stress dramatically.
“Okay drama king. Get up or we will be late to practice.” Shane punched his shoulder when he passed Ilya on his way to his gear.
“That’s a ridiculous thought. With you around I couldn’t even be late if I tried. Time freak.” Ilya rolled his eyes, but started to get up from his place on the floor.
“You will be grateful for my ‘time freakness’ when the coach doesn’t make you do extra laps for being late again.”
“You are truly my savior.”
“Somebody has to be.” Shane grinned, and the two of them took off.
***
Ilya didn’t really care about what they were doing, he just liked to hang out with Shane. Sure, playing together on the ice was magical. They were so in sync, almost reading each other's minds during hockey he was sure it looked magical too, but they could be watching a documentum film about the first hockey team or something just as boring, if he would spend that time with Shane he would love nothing more than to do just that.
Especially because that gave him more time away from home.
His home life to put it gently was…well it was definitely not boring. His brother was an asshole, a bully. His father was no better, always screaming at him and his mother. And look, Ilya is young but not dumb or blind, he saw the handprint marks on his mother, no matter how hard she tries to hide them from him.
Oh his sweet mamochka.
Ilya doesn’t love anything as much as he loves his mama. Her laugh, her voice, even just her smile. The ways she makes pies, or the russian folktales she always told him when he was younger, right before bedtime. He and his mama were a unit against his brother and father.
Though lately, she has been quieter and less smiley. One thing about his mama is that she always smiled, especially around Ilya. Smiling was one of the things that made him open up to Shane so quickly, it reminded him of his mama, it reminded him of safety, and love and kindness. So when his mama started to smile less and less, Ilya got worried. Shane’s mom, Mrs.Yuna reassured him that he doesn’t have to worry, sometimes people just smile less, but that does not mean they love less.
(“A smile is a way to express our love, but even without smiles, that love stays in our heart. Especially the love that your mother has for you, Ilya. That is the never ending, never moving kind.”
“But will she smile more one day? If I'm patient?” Ilya asked, quietly.
“I believe so dear. Hug her a little tighter for me tonight, ok?”)
Mrs.Yuna was usually right about things, so he believed her easily with this too.
***
“Mama? I’m home” Ilya called out after he stepped his foot in the house, exhausted from practice, receiving silence as a response. He furrowed his brows in confusion.
His mother was quiet, but never silent. She always had the radio, or the tv playing as a background noise. Other times, she was in the kitchen, the pans and pots clanking together as she hurriedly made dinner for her family.
Today there was no noise in the house.
“Mama?” Ilya called out once again, louder this time. No response.
Maybe she is napping.
Except, his mother never napped. She was awake with the first ray of sunlight up until dawn. Working around the house, tending her garden, talking to the neighbours. She believed in being efficient during the day and sleeping only at night.
Still, Ilya’s instincts made him take his way towards his parents room.
Going up to the always closed door was scary, his father didn’t like it when Alexei or he came into their room. But his father wasn’t home yet, so he knocked, and after not getting any answer, he slowly opened the door.
As he spotted his mother he let his shoulders sag in relief and he let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. His mother was on the bed, facing away from the door, not yet noticing him.
“There you are mamochka! You will never believe what Shane did on practice” Ilya greeted her, then gently shook her shoulder when he got to her side.
“Mama?” Ilya shook her harder when she didn’t say anything back. Maybe she was sick.
“Mama, wake up! It’s not night yet.” Ilya went to the other side of the bed so he could get onto the bed, and see if his mom had a fever.
His mom didn’t have a fever. What his mom also didn’t have was breathing, and a pulse. Though he was not so sure about the second one, because he could never notice others' pulse when they were practicing first aid on each other in school.
But still, she was not breathing.
Panicked, he quickly jumped off of the bed and ran to the house next door, rapidly knocking on the door of his best friend’s home. Shane’s dad was the one who opened the door.
“Wha-oh, hi Ilya. You and Shane just arrived home from practice and you already want to hang out?” David smiled at the young boy.
“My mama isn’t waking up. And she isn’t breathing.” He hurriedly said, tears gathering in his eyes as he was beginning to realise what was happening. His mom wasn’t breathing.
Hearing this, David looked at Ilya in shock, then after he processed the words, he took off running, towards the Rozanov house. Ilya stood there, on the porch of the Hollander’s, frozen in place.
“Ilya? What are you doing here?” Shane came up to him from the living room, when he saw his best friend standing in silence on the porch, looking at his own house with a haunted look in his eyes.
Behind Shane stood Yuna, the same confusion settling on her face as smoothly as it did on Shane’s. They look so similar.
“Sweetie? Is everything okay? Where is your mom?” Yuna asked him kindly.
“I think my mama died.”
***
Ilya didn’t like to be right all that much. Shane got grumpy when he was wrong and Ilya was right. It didn’t matter with his brother if he was right or not, his brother always went after his own head. His father downright hated it when Ilya was right and called him a brat for talking back.
Right now, he hated being right too.
“I called your father, he will be home in a bit.” Mrs.Yuna kneeled in front of Ilya, who was sitting on the Hollander’s couch. Shane sat beside him, staring at him with those worried puppy eyes he sometimes got. Shane’s dad was outside, talking with the police and the paramedics, the sound of sirens piercing Ilya’s eardrums.
“What will happen now?” Ilya asked, throat scratchy and dry from holding back tears.
“I wish I knew sweetie.” Yuna gently ran her hand through his curls, then got up and kissed his forehead. “I wish I knew. No matter what though, you will always have us, Ilya.” She squeezed his shoulder, then excused herself, going outside and joining her husband.
“Do you need anything? What can I do?” Shane asked quietly, voice wobbly.
“No.” Ilya answered, voice monotone.
The two sat in silence for a bit, before Shane spoke again.
“Can I hug you?” Shane asked him, tears gathering in his eyes, and Ilya barely nodded his head in ‘yes’ before he felt Shane’s arms wrap around him tightly, the two friends forced to bury their faces in each other's neck in this position. Soon, Ilya felt a wet sensation at his neck, and he felt Shane trembling in his arms.
Ilya wished he could cry like his best friend does.