Summary:

After pressing a kiss on Ilya’s lips, Shane tucks himself against his side and meets his eyes. “Feeling okay?” The question presses onto Ilya’s heart. It has the same reasoning behind it as to why Anya is allowed on their bed just this once. It is also why he’d rather sleep through the entire day. Eyes closed again, Ilya nods. He gives himself a few seconds before opening them again. “Is not as bad as long time ago. Feels like I am allowed to miss her now and be happy at same time.” Stern whispers coming from the other side of the door wake Ilya up. The fog of sleep drifts away slowly, yet he refuses to open his eyes. In the back of his head he knows his body won’t allow him to doze off again. That doesn’t stop him from still trying, though. A frustrated groan escapes his mouth as he rolls over and pushes his face into the pillow. The thought of smothering himself with it so he can pass out and sleep some more flickers through his mind. “Anya- no, come here!” Before he can even lift his head, a heavy weight lands on Ilya’s back and pushes an ‘oof ’ out of him. A wet nose is pressed to his cheek, the sound of panting getting closer to his ear. His protest against waking up crumbles immediately. Whilst squinting his eyes open to get used to the light, he carefully rolls onto his back. Anya then once again jumps on top of him. “Pretty girl,” Ilya mumbles as he wraps his arms around her. She excitedly wags her body along with her tail and pushes her nose back to his cheek. He can’t help but fall into laughter, trying to avoid her attempts at kisses. In the corner of his eye Ilya notices Shane watching them. His smile grows even bigger. “Pretty boy.” Shane snorts at that. “She’s been trying to get in for hours,” he says as he walks over and climbs into the bed. After pressing a kiss on Ilya’s lips, Shane tucks himself against his side and meets his eyes. “Feeling okay?” The question presses onto Ilya’s heart. It has the same reasoning behind it as to why Anya is allowed on their bed just this once. It is also why he’d rather sleep through the entire day. Eyes closed again, Ilya nods. He gives himself a few seconds before opening them again. “Is not as bad as long time ago. Feels like I am allowed to miss her now and be happy at same time.” Today marks another anniversary of Irina Rozanova’s death. Throughout the years Ilya’s coping mechanisms have changed drastically. Most of them involving alcohol, fighting or working out until he couldn’t breathe. Afterwards he’d always find his mother’s grave and lie down next to her, falling asleep for a few hours. That isn’t a possibility anymore. Marrying his husband had also meant that he would never be able to go back to Russia. And even though Ilya would make that choice a thousand times over, he feels a bit lost every time this day arrives. Shane presses a kiss to Ilya’s hand, which is closed around the pendant of his necklace. “Go take a shower whenever you’re ready, okay? Then I’ll make you some breakfast.” He brushes a curl out of Ilya’s face and looks at him. The soft smile turns a bit sheepish, a tinge of red creeping onto his cheeks. “I uh-, I also brought a bottle of vodka. And your secret pack of cigarettes - which is far too easy to find, by the way.” For a few seconds Ilya just stares at him. Then he starts laughing, pulling Shane even closer. A wave of serenity washes over him as he breathes out the last giggles. “Hollander, you are terrible therapist. Terrible, awful.” His grin seeps into his voice. He presses a longer kiss onto Shane’s lips and grabs his hand to intertwine their fingers. “But you are the most amazing husband. Thank you.” They stay like that for a while. When the silence in his head starts to turn into a building pressure, Ilya decides to finally get out of bed. “I am going to shower. No healthy breakfast, yes? Is sad day for me, you have to be nice. Yogurt with granola is not nice.” “I would never,” Shane laughs, not even trying to sound believable. They have an unspoken agreement that Ilya tries his breakfast first before making something else. It’s not a huge success. So far, only two or three times he has gotten a positive reaction. Shane is pretty sure all of those had been lies to make him happy, but he’ll gladly play along if that means Ilya eats a healthy breakfast once in a while. After a last kiss, Ilya walks to the bathroom and turns on the shower. The pressure in his head is still growing - breaking down the walls he built for it. By the time his skin finally meets the scorching hot water, he has to put his hand against the wall to prevent himself from falling over. His mind races with thoughts he wouldn’t even dare to speak out loud. Not to Galina, especially not to Shane. The pendant hanging from his necklace finds itself in his other hand as he slowly drops down against the wall. When he is seated, one arm around his knees, he lets his head hang. Ilya Rozanov does not believe a god exists. Just like the fairytales his father had spoiled for him at a young age, Ilya has left that part of his culture and childhood behind. However, he will always revisit the faith he once desperately clung onto just in case. He doesn’t believe it works, he refuses to even acknowledge a god that has taken so much from him. But his mother did and that is all he has left from her. So Ilya prays. He speaks to his mother, apologises to her for everything she had to endure - despite none of it being his fault. He begs her to visit him in his dreams, even if it is in another nightmare. His arms are shaking and his tears blend in with the steaming water as he pleads for her to come back to him. It takes some time for him to calm down again. Whilst he gets his breathing back under control, he washes his hair and scrubs his body with shaky breaths. The fingers that had been clamped around the pendant now carry angry red indents with a pain he ignores. Ilya turns the shower off after what could have been either five or fifty minutes, quickly dries off and puts on black joggers. Back in the bedroom he takes off the bedding and replaces it with clean sheets. Shane had been very persistent in not wanting Anya on the bed, yet still let her go this morning. Changing the sheets so Shane won’t have to worry about them is the least Ilya can do. He throws the old bedding into the laundry basket, slides into his slippers and then makes his way to the kitchen. The gnawing feeling around his heart lessens upon hearing music and soft singing. “I am still dreaming. My husband is almost too perfect.” With a grin he wraps his arms around Shane, who transfers the fried eggs to the avocado toast and then turns around. Ilya holds his face as if it’s made out of porcelain to study the freckles he knows by heart. His own grin softens to a genuine smile after they share a kiss. “What do you mean ‘almost’?” The playful tone in Shane’s voice feeds his expression. He raises an eyebrow at Ilya, gesturing to the plate full of food and the bowl of fruit next to it. “I’d say I’m pretty much nailing this marriage thing.”