petricor

after dick and kisses

During communion, he crosses his arms and receives a blessing instead. He doesn't go to confession anymore, he likely never will again. He will keep his sins to himself; they are precious to him.

After the service, he goes to the annex and indulges in the free, shitty coffee, mingles shyly with the other congregants. Breaks off a piece of fresh pirozhki, crumbs falling on a papery napkin, lets the babushkas tell him all about their lovely, single granddaughters. Recently, some of the children figured out he plays for the Raiders, shyly coming up to him to ask him to sign their service programs. Then, weeks later, they expect him and bring pucks and silver sharpies.

Sometimes, when gossiping with the women or talking hockey with the men, he has to lean in and ask someone to repeat something, not recognizing a Russian word, and he worries he's forgetting. He thinks to ask Shane if he ever can't recognize a word in English or French, but thinks it's too vulnerable, memory being a strange and painful topic for both of them.

He always leaves earlier than all the others, pocketing one more pirozhki for the road and sneaking out without saying goodbye.

The cathedral is the only place in Boston where he is reminded of home and mama and himself. He goes mostly just so he can be in a room where everyone speaks Russian, where he doesn't have to waste precious energy translating all this stupid English. Sometimes, when he is feeling particularly indulgent, he listens to the singing children and he allows himself to believe. In this brief belief-state, he is deserving of his lover, he will see his mother again someday. It barely lasts a minute, and then the heels of his feet start to hurt in his dress shoes.

“i don’t know, probably that i can have ilya’s photos on my phone now :).”

As Shane and Ilya are going through the box, Ilya pulls out a little Centaurs branded notebook, with "Shane's Fun Facts!" written on the front in sharpie. Ilya is understandably delighted.

"What is this?" he asks, smiling from ear to ear, quickly yanking it out of the reach of Shane who immediately tries to swipe it out of his hands.

"It's nothing," says Shane, but the way his cheeks have gone pink behind his freckles tells another story.

"Uh-uh. It cannot be nothing if you don't want me to see it this badly."

Turning his back to Shane so he can't easily grab at it, Ilya opens to a random page and reads in Shane's 8-year-old scrawl:

Lightning bolts are five times hotter than the sun. That is very hot!

Ilya is grinning even wider now.

"Wow, Solnyshko, that is a fun fact."

"Fuck off," Shane says. He doesn't even attempt to grab it again, just kind of collapses and bonks his head into Ilya's shoulder. "I used to have trouble making friends as a kid. Dad suggested I start collecting facts to use as icebreakers. Y'know, to get conversations going."

"Did they work?" asks Ilya, tilting his head so that it rests on top of Shane's as his husband gives an almighty sigh.

"I think they made it worse, actually."

Ilya turns to another page and reads it out loud.

"Oology is the study of eggs. It's so cool because it looks like there are three eggs in the word!"

"Oh god," says Shane, burying his face further into Ilya's neck.

"I think you knew all the worst kids in Canada," says Ilya, putting down the book and wrapping his arms around Shane. "Those facts would have worked on me."

"Really?" asks Shane, glancing up at Ilya's face to see if he's teasing him, but Ilya is being perfectly serious.

"Of course. You came up to me and started telling me fun facts straight away, remember? 'I don't think you can smoke here.' 'Wow, Rozanov, you are the best player ever to watch.'"

"Fuck off, I didn't say that," laughs Shane.

"Well, it was something like that," says Ilya, pressing a kiss to the top of Shane's head. "So at least the fun facts worked when it mattered, yes? Imagine where we'd be if you hadn't come over to break the ice."

And Shane tugs Ilya even closer.