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Ilya liked puzzles more than he let on. In fact, Ilya loved puzzles. The quiet routine. Sorting through the pieces, edges first of course. Then slowly filling the center methodically. Matching colors and connecting through lines of patterns. Referencing the box every so often. When Ilya was finally, finally given entry into Shane Hollander’s life, into his family, puzzles were an unexpected, quiet comfort.
“And mom texted you about dinner tonight, yeah?” Shane asked. Ilya heard a car door close softly in the background of the call. He and Shane had been calling regularly after practices. Ilya was still adjusting to Ottawa life, and talking to his boyfriend daily - on the days they couldn’t be together in person - was grounding.
“Yes Shane. I am Yuna's favorite son, you do not remember?” In this adjustment to Ottawa, Ilya had become a frequent visitor in the Hollander household. Once Yuna and David wrapped their minds around exactly how much Shane and Ilya completed each other, Ilya nestled into the family dynamic easier than anyone had expected. Even more so after his departure from Boston. Ilya visited as much as his busy travel schedule would allow. He’d never miss an opportunity to watch a Metros game, to watch Shane excel again and again, in the comforts of his parents living room.
Shane started his car. “Yeah because all you do is compliment every meal they make you and talk about how pretty I look on the ice.” He huffed out a laugh.
“I am not allowed to talk about your skating now? This is how you make parents like you, no? Praise their son.” Shane could hear the smile creeping onto Ilya’s face through the tinniness of the call.
“Just focus on my actual plays, and not my beautiful freckles, when you talk to them okay? It’s embarrassing!” Shane’s attempt to mimic Ilya’s accent is endearing, rolling the R longer than necessary. Ilya let out a chuckle. He loved this man.
“Your freckles shine so bright when you are scoring hat trick.” He insisted. Ilya only really talked about Shane’s physical beauty when Shane was there to blush about it. He liked Shane’s embarrassed scowl whenever he said anything remotely romantic about his looks, about his body, when they were anywhere within earshot of his parents. He’d never try to do the same to Yuna Hollander. Not that she would be embarrassed, per se, but it felt slimy to talk about Shane’s looks when Shane wasn’t there to flick Ilya hard on the arm in defense of himself. On the many occasions Ilya sat in the Hollander living room to watch a Metros game, Yuna and Ilya really did just discuss the hockey of it all. He loved listening to Yuna rant and snark at even the slightest slip ups from other players. Shane’s love of the game made more sense to Ilya every time he saw Yuna’s eyes flick around the screen. The fire, the heat, the love of the ice -- it was genetic.
“Whatever asshole. Tell mom and dad hi for me.”
“Fuck Toronto. Tell Dallas Kent he sucks.” Ilya loved to watch a Metros game, but especially when they got to win games and send pricks like Dallas Kent home crying. Fuck that guy.
“You know I won’t.”
“I know.”
“I miss you. Six days is still too long.” Ilya could hear Shane’s engine cut. In six days they’d be back together again. In six days Ilya would reward Shane for every goal he scored in tonight’s game. In six days, Ilya would have the man he loved in his arms again and everything would fall back into to perfect. Six days was a lifetime away.
“Soon, moya lyubov.”
“I’m home. I’ll text you after the game?”
“And I will tell you all the dirty things I will do to your body in six days.”
Shane chuckled. “I love you.”
“Ya tebya lyublyu moya solnyshko.”
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The knock was soft on the door. He hated to use the doorbell here, it felt too formal. Ilya was still getting used to showing up at the Hollanders alone. It had been months since his move to Ottawa, but through the craziness of being a professional hockey player, he was still building the domesticity muscle of his relationship. For Shane, of course, he wanted to make a good impression like all good boyfriends should. But for himself even more so. And creating that, for the benefit of both them, meant maintaining his spot as the favorite son of the Hollander family. Ilya couldn’t hold it all in his hands yet, but he grasped onto what he could for now. It’s a funny thing, the feeling you feel inside your chest when you push past the debilitating fear.
The door opened with a confident heir. No doubt Yuna was on the other side. She smiled immediately.
“Let’s embarrass Toronto tonight, yeah?” Yuna pulled Ilya through the threshold into a hug.
“Fuck Dallas Kent.” Ilya smiled into Yuna’s hair. It was nice -- to feel this again. The loss of his mother followed him everywhere, and crept onto the back of his neck into the corners of his vision when things in Ilya’s life felt particularly misaligned. Yuna Hollander’s hugs had felt like getting dressed to face the wintery cold outside. The biting was still there, but every hug was a new underlayer inside his downjacket.
“Fuck Dallas Kent!” She echoed. Yuna released Ilya from her grasp and padded back to the kitchen. Ilya followed, his interest already piqued by the delicious waft creeping into the foyer.
The Hollanders were particularly good at homey. The simplicity of it all. The warmth. Ilya’s ears were met with something sizzling as he walked into the kitchen.
“How can I help?” He asked. Ilya loved to cook, but Yuna was a beast. All of Shane’s eagle eyed efficiency in hockey, Yuna reflected onto a stove.
“I’ve got this handled, but thank you,” She turned and patted his shoulder, a slight upturn of genuine gratefulness in her smile. “Go start that puzzle with him, he’s been excited about this new one for a while.”
Ilya followed her gesture towards the dining table, and found David dumping a box of pieces onto one head of the table. Ilya approached the space with a small smile.
“Only 1000? I thought by now we would be onto at least 3.” He teased toward David. This wasn’t the first puzzle David and Ilya had done together. It was becoming somewhat of a ritual for his visits. David was a devoted puzzler -- there was always a card table set up in the living room or his office with a project puzzle. A piece or two in passing, with more meticulous attention in the evenings. David finished puzzles quickly. Whenever Ilya came over for a visit, however, David would insist on starting a fresh one, just for the two of them.
“I saw this one and couldn’t resist.” David offered Ilya the lid. An almost sheepish look flashed across David’s face, but fleeting before Ilya could internalize it. Game Day at the Zoo it was titled. A Boston Raiders themed puzzle, of all puzzles, where all the animals of the zoo were dressed up head to toe like Raiders fans.
“Raiders games always seemed… chaotic in the stands. Like a zoo.” David chuckled, and his eyes shone with warm knowing. “Ottawa fans have that Canadian charm.”
Ilya smiled wide. Boston was a zoo. A zoo he loved, and basked in. But a zoo that wore him down around the edges after a while. Ottawa was an adjustment he was getting used to, but a welcomed one. Something here felt sustainable in places where Boston started to fail.
Ilya sat across from David on the long edge of the table. The pile of pieces to his left, he started to sort. He and David worked mostly in comfortable silence. It was nice, familiar. He didn’t feel the need to be ON. He could just be. Finding a rhythm here, in a place he’s started to call home. Putting together a puzzle with someone was not unlike hockey. It was strategy and trust, and working towards a larger goal. Ilya valued this quiet teamwork with David more than he’d ever let on. At least not yet. Eventually he will open his heart to Shane about his feeling of belonging in this family.
“My mother loved puzzles. She would buy me new one every year on my birthday and we would stay awake until we finished. It’s good for your brain. Putting patterns together. Это полезно для вашего мозга, she would say.” Ilya spoke these words quietly into existence. He was surprised it was coming out so easily. He wasn’t intending on opening up like this, let alone about his mother, to someone who still knew so little about him and his past. Something about being held within these walls crumbled his own astonishingly fast. He continued before he could stop himself.
“She insisted puzzles would make my hockey better. And it did. I started to see these patterns on the ice. Putting pieces together before things happened. Predictable. Like colors and shapes of puzzle.”
David looked at him with a face he couldn’t quite recognize. It wasn’t pity, he knew the Hollander family well enough to understand that a pitiful look was earned, not given out charitably.
“I can tell your mother was a good puzzler, she taught you well,” David gestured to the edge Ilya had begun to build out instinctually. “Always start -- with the edges” Ilya joined in. David let out a chuckle.
“Сначала края. Тогда всё встанет на свои места.” Ilya whispered after a beat. He could hear his mother’s words like she was sitting next to him. Guiding his fingers, placing each piece delicately into the other and clicking them into place. David furrowed his eyebrows slightly, hearing the Russian, but not wanting to pry.
“Edges first, then everything will fall into place.” Ilya translated for him. The tears hit him fast, and unexpected. These memories had been hazy, faded over the years of letting them sit on a dusty shelf. Untouched out of fear. And now, in the embrace that was Shane Hollander’s parents house, he saw them again. And he felt it again.
Ilya hadn’t noticed that David had come to his side of the table and sat down in the next chair until his hand was on Ilya’s back. Light but unwavering.
“I’m sorry if this was upsetting,” David offered. It wasn’t apologetic as much as it was an offer of sympathy. Not that Ilya needed it, he’d endured sad eyes and ginger embraces, so many he’d scream for it to stop. This wasn’t that. This was a father’s offer of stability in the face of a son’s turmoil locked away where he couldn’t reach. Ilya wiped a tear from his eye.
“No, not upsetting just…” Ilya sniffed and placed his hands upturned in his lap. He was grateful. This puzzle had brought her back to him, even just for a moment. And it was so real. David had blown off the dust from his shelf and placed the memory into his hands. Ilya was beyond grateful.
“Thank you.” He finished. He turned to David now, a slight shrug and a small laugh escaping out of him. A laugh that said it’s silly I am crying at your table, I did not mean for that to happen. David’s hand shifted off Ilya’s back and onto his shoulder with a stable, comforting grip.
David dipped his head slightly to meet Ilya’s eyes. “You know we’ve got you now.” Punctuated as a statement, not a question. It was the most sure thing Ilya had felt in a long time. His unending devotion to the love of his life and all that comes with him. And the love of his life’s family’s devotion to him. Shane had made up his mind, and so had they. It was beyond words, what Ilya was feeling in that moment. And over a damn puzzle.
Ilya gave David a nod. “Good.” David said gently, not pushing, just grounded.
“Dinner should be ready in five, let’s turn on the tv so we--” Yuna walked into the room and stopped short. “Oh. I didn’t mean to interrupt.” She glanced at the clearly fragile moment happening in her dining room. Ilya wiped his eyes one last time. David gave Ilya’s shoulder a squeeze -- within it, so many unsaid words -- and the two stood up from the table.
“It’s just I have been smelling such delicious food my mouth started to water into my eyes,” Ilya regained his composure with a smirk. “Let’s eat before I start to leak from my ears.” He finished.
Yuna quickly glanced at David, then back to Ilya. She smiled at him like she could see right through him. Like she could hear every word in his head. She wasn’t going to pry. She’d wait for him to open up, like she knew he would. This was Ilya, Shane’s other half. Of course she’d wait.
“Plate up so we can watch Toronto’s downfall?” She offered to him.
“Yes. Fuck Dallas Kent.” He responded.
“Fuck Dallas Kent.” David and Yuna responded in unison.
The puzzle laid unfinished on the table. Edges first, then everything will fall into place.