Changing profile pics on the daily

It starts off as a joke. Kind of. Basically, when Ilya realises at that airport that he's not going to see Shane, he impulse-sends a MASSIVE bouquet of lillies to the home address he's no longer going to use. Same day delivery. And when Shane sends a photo of the flowers and a string of ???? Ilya just sends back apology flowers. you will not get to choke on big dick. is very sad 😔 and Shane just sends back his usual fuck you.

But then Ilya does it again.

Shane wakes up to a pretty arrangement of dahlias and peonies and he's like okay what are these for and Ilya's still playing this as a joke so he's like for tragic loss last night. very embarrassing. sending condolences 💔 because the Metros lost a game and Shane rolls his eyes but he transfers the flowers to the vase his mom got him when he was shopping for home decor because well. It'd be a waste to just throw them away. And the lillies actually looked really nice there the last time.

But then the flowers. Keep. Coming.

Freesias when Shane loses a game. Chrysanthemums when Shane wins a game (very sexy goal in third period. deserves reward 😘). It gets to a point where Shane starts anticipating the bouquets, expecting them and the cheeky little justification that Ilya sends when Shane snaps a pic.

One day, not even after game day, Shane gets a pretty arrangement of daffodils with just a simple Thinking of you. L. attached as a note, the personalised ones you can pay extra for. Shane has to sit down for a bit after that one.

Ilya never sends him roses, though. Not that Shane's really noticed or anything.

it’s a challenge

that WON’T potentially kill him

which is really in short supply lately.

But have you considered: Ilya can’t drink on his meds.

Imagine them at the club after their first cup win with the Centaurs. Shane is absolutely wasted, having the time of his life, and Ilya is also having the time of his life stone cold sober, cause he gets to see his husband let loose and then afterwards he gets to drive him home and bridal carry him to bed and feed him a glass of water and make him a greasy breakfast the next morning because Shane is hungover. Like, that is his baby!

Imagine the Centaurs at the barbecue passing around a blunt and Shane looks kinda interested actually. He has been depriving himself his whole life, he kinda wants to try. So obviously Ilya can read this on his face and is like: Shanya you can try. I will take care of you, don‘t worry I‘m here. So then Ilya gets to witness Shane getting high for the first time and Shane is absolutely trying to crawl into Ilya‘s skin in front of god and everybody and every single one of the Centaurs. Shane and Harris both get the munchies so now they are standing in Bood‘s kitchen a little after midnight arguing over how to make apple pie. Harris is like: I‘m the king of apples! I know this! And Shane is like: Well. I have never baked anything in my entire life but I‘m still pretty sure I am correct. And then they are both giggling and shoving each other and they end up covered in flour. And Ilya is standing in the kitchen doorway arms crossed stone cold sober, has never been more lucid and present, and thinks: this is the best moment of my life. Like, he keeps complaining to Shane that he misses Vodka, but he doesn‘t. He would not trade this for anything and he knows Shane only lets loose 100% because he trusts Ilya to protect and take care of him.

And then the next morning Ilya wakes Shane with little kisses on his face like: Good Morning Shanya *kiss* can you tell me *kiss* why is there so much flour *kiss* in my car? Hm? *kiss* It‘s all over the seats? *kiss* any idea how that happened? *kiss*

They try to turn practice in to a shirts and skins scrimmage and everyone is like no??? We need our pads??? "What's the point of all of these beautiful muscular bodies if we can't even admire them?"

Actually, that's a lie, you have two: Rebecca, who is fierce and clever and determined and alive; and Sam, who is dead. That doesn't negate who he was, though, and he was smart as a whip and kind and just as stubborn as his sister, and it just brings you to tears sometimes how hopeful he was.

He was. He was hopeful, you insist, to his classmates and teachers and even his sister sometimes. He loved the world and everything in it and he genuinely wanted the best for all of them. He was hopeful, and it burned bright and shining in him, especially against Rebecca's cynicism. He saw the good and the possibilities in everyone, even when he could never see it in himself.

You curse yourself sometimes, unsure if it was nature or nurture that raised him to be so neurotic and tangled in his emotions. You, too, were like that, though having children mellowed it out a little in a way that only time and age and maturity can. He never seemed to reach that point.

And now he never will.

And it's sad and awful and you are grief-stricken in a way that Rebecca is not. You are quiet, and you withdraw further, while she is decidedly not and becomes bigger and more in her raging storm. Driving all night to Goddard in her dusty old truck and hammering on the door of those who sent her brother and your son up into space only to never bring him back, she never once forgave you for staying home.

"How can you just sit there?" She asks, roaring in turmoil with all the heat of a bonfire. "How can you just sit here and water his plants and live with the fact that he was sent up there and died and you did nothing about it?"

And you have nothing to say. What is there to say? "I'm sorry", maybe. "I loved him too, but this is no way to get him back". Perhaps, "How do you think I feel? Do you think I wanted this?", or "What exactly does bringing the whole of Goddard Futuristics down on our house accomplish?"

The house where Sam's room has been preserved, just the way he liked it, for when he came to visit. Rebecca used to move things around, when they were little, just a slight rotation or a book a shelf too high. And Sam would, predictably, explode, but they all knew he still loved her. Nothing could ever stop that.

You wish so hard it makes your heart hurt that it hadn't happened, but what can you do? And the fear that had taken a backseat when your children were born grows, creeping its dark and curling tendrils around every corner of your heart. And so you sit, and you listen, and you cry in the privacy of your own room at night, and you pull out the shoebox of memories and photos from when you had both children safely in arm's reach, and there is nothing you can do it bring him back.