Ilya is 3 now. He loves playing with mama. They are picking flowers outside when he sees Alexei. He rushes to him and offers him the prettiest one, tall and golden yellow with pink on the outside. Alexei doesn’t even look at it and shoves him to the side. His father is right behind, an angry look on his face. He pats his head and goes inside. There’s loud noises. He looks at the ground and the flower is destroyed. His mama is hugging him and that’s when he notices he’s crying. ‘Forgive him’ he hears her say, ‘he doesn’t know how to do better. Maybe we can make him a drawing to cheer him up.’ At night he goes to Alexei’s room to give him the drawing but he doesn’t go in. He notices some bruises on his wrist, like he sees in mama sometimes. He wonders if she noticed.

Mama is lying in bed. She had been there with her eyes open for a few hours, the way she is sometimes, when he went to her. She’s petting his hair now, it’s nice. ‘Have I ever told you about the boy I dated before I met your father?’ He hears her talk about a man who’d scream at her and hit her. She tells him about leaving him. She seems so small, her eyes are on the ceiling, her voice goes on. He closes his eyes and hugs her. ‘What is wrong with me to keep choosing this? How can they sense it in me?’ She is the strongest person he knows. He can hear Alexei turning up the volume of the TV in the living room.

Ilya started hockey lessons. He loves how fast he can go, it’s like he’s flying. His father goes to see him sometimes, it’s the only time he’s seen him smile at him. He prefers when he goes with mama, she always tells him he’s the best. The coach is talking to his father now. He has his ear to the door but he can’t make out any of the words. When his father opens the door he doesn’t say a word. Later, he takes him out to eat ice-cream and tells him he’ll be the best no matter what it takes. It doesn’t feel good like when mama tells him, it feels like an order.

Yesterday kids at school made fun of him for playing with flowers. They say he’s like a girl with pretty curly hair. But they don’t say it kindly like his mama when she tells him he’s beautiful. They say it with fists and kicks that left a bruise on his tummy. So he decided, today he will not be going to school. Mama finds him in bed, he tells her he’s scared. ‘Yes, it’s scary,’ he hears, ‘but you’re brave.’

He’s alone at school today but he prefers it that way, no one bothers him. He sees a girl coming his way and he wants her to leave. He will not be rude though, so he just makes a silly face at her. She beams, takes his hand and says ‘you’re such a stupid boy, I’m Sveta’ They are running now and he never wants to stop. He thinks he loves her.

Alexei has been watching TV for over an hour now. He promised Ilya he would play with him, so Ilya decided to turn it off to remind him. He’s chasing him through the house now, but he’s not mad, he can hear him laughing. He turns back to look at him smile, when his father opens the door. It hits him and he falls to the floor. He’s never seen his father so angry. Two punches followed by a whimper and his brother is on the floor. ‘You should know better, you can’t let him do whatever he wants.’ ‘Yes papa, thank you papa.’ His father leaves without looking at him. Ilya reaches for his brother, he wants to comfort him, but gets shoved away. There’s blood on his shirt now and an ache on his ribs. Good, it’s him who deserved to get hurt.

He’s going home from school when some older boys show up. He knows they are trouble. They are going after him, and he’s running as fast as he can when Alexei shows up. He can rest now, Alexei will always protect him.

He’s trying to skate but his legs are too heavy. He’s too hot and too cold at the same time. His head hurts. Keeping upright is hard but he knows if he sits down, he will not be able to stand up again. He throws up and his coach is calling him. He will be calling his parents. ‘Please don’t, please don’t’, he dreads seeing his father’s face if he has to leave early. It’s his mama who picks him up. The way home is hard, he’s too tired. She helps him get into bed. He’s burning up. ‘He’s lazy and a liar, you can’t believe everything that boy says, you’re turning him too soft,’ he can hear his father’s voice on the phone. His mama comes back. She gently rubs his back, his face, his wrists. ‘No Ilyusha, he loves you.’ He falls asleep.

His father is screaming at mama. He can’t make out all the words but it’s enough; ‘sissy, soft, you’re ruining him.’ He grabs her and pins her down, red, angry face so close to hers. He’s at his father’s back, tiny fingers trying to hold his hands; he’s in the air now, being taken to the bathroom. He locks Ilya in there. He can hear everything in the other room. ‘I’ve calm down, papa. Thank you, papa.’ He opens the door now, he can leave. He’s on his mama’s bed, can feel her making soft circles on his wrist. Later at night, when he can hear his father snoring, he goes into their room. He crawls to his mother’s side and notices she’s looking at him, tears in her eyes that won’t fall. He lies on the floor and holds her hand, watches her as she falls asleep. It becomes a habit; he always has to check on her.

Alexei broke a window playing football. He’s not breathing right, words scrambled on their way out of his mouth. ‘You have to tell him it was you. He won’t hurt you.’ Ilya can still see his father’s hand on his arm.

Ilya got punched today, some boys at school who didn’t like him. Sveta is helping him clean his wounds like she has done so many times before. Alexei sees him and Ilya feels a little safer. ‘When will you learn to toughen up? Such a fag.’ Sveta kicks his shin.

Word gets around that Ilya is the best at hockey. He’s bigger now, stronger. Boys don’t mess with him anymore. He’s learned that he can be loud and mean, and everyone wants to be around him. He’s never felt more alone.

His father is going to hit his mama, he’s sure. He raises his hand and Ilya holds it. ‘Stop.’ His father is looking at him, twists his arm. It hurts but he doesn’t show it. It gets him to stop. ‘My sweet guardian angel, you will always protect me,’ his mama tells him. ‘Promise me you’ll always be my sweet, soft boy. He can’t take that from you.’ He turns his head away from her, tears running down his face.

He’s beating records now. He can hear his coaches saying he’s the best they’ve ever seen. He remembers skating for the first time with his mama. He will get her out of here, he will be the best and make sure they will escape.

His mama spends days on her bed, not moving, barely eating. He talks to her one day, asks her if she’s ever thought of leaving. ‘I can’t leave you Ilyusha, you’re my reason to stay.’ ‘Take me with you,’ he doesn’t say.

His mama is having a good day today. They spent the whole morning together like when he was little. They have to go to school in the evening, Alexei is receiving an award. It’s almost time, he’s changed his clothes. His mama is napping but he’ll have to wake her. She won’t move, she won’t breathe. She’s holding her necklace, he’s holding her. There’s a ringing in his ears, he can hear a high, ragged sound but he can’t tell where it’s coming from. His father is in the room now, telling him to move. His feet won’t cooperate. He gets pushed away. ‘This was an accident,’ his tone brooks no argument. In his own room, he realizes his throat is raw. He looks at his hand and sees the cross staring at him. ‘You’re free now. You should have taken me with you’, he doesn’t say.

Alexei won’t look at Ilya anymore. Ilya keeps practicing and he’s getting better and better, no one can compare to him. Alexei won’t look at him. His father brings him to parties, introduces him to all the right people. He will be a star. ‘I have to keep him in line, he gets lazy otherwise.’ Alexei is in a bathroom somewhere hooking up with a girl and doing coke. He still won’t look at him. Ilya gets more and more popular. Alexei will join the police, like father did before. His father won’t look at Alexei.

He meets Sasha. He likes him. He’s fun and Ilya can be fun with him. People enjoy when he’s fun. Sasha can be soft too, in his own way. Ilya appreciates that, he hasn’t been soft in a long time.

Ilya starts hooking up with girls sometimes and he’s having fun. They like that he doesn’t care and when he’s a little mean. He prefers Sveta though, they can cuddle afterwards.

He sleeps with Sasha and that’s a different rush. He feels unstoppable. He’s the best, even Sveta thinks so, and she knows more than anyone else.

He knows he’s good but now he’ll have an opportunity to show it too. Shane Hollander thinks he can’t see right through him, but he won’t act so nice once Ilya beats him. He knows what he’s like, perfect, golden boy, from a perfect, golden family. He’s not used to competition. But why does he seem genuine then?

Hollander is good. Not as good as him, but good. Playing is fun again. And he’s learning that teasing him is even more fun. He keeps thinking about him, but that’s only because he’s not used to having someone on his level.

He gets drafted first. He is the best like he promised his mama. He escaped, but he isn’t free.

Hollander is a surprise. He’s never had this much fun with anyone else. He’s a risk and that’s part of it. He keeps feeling wrong-footed, he doesn’t follow the same script as everyone else. He hides so much and yet he’s so genuine. He can’t stop poking him, and poking him, and poking him. And Hollander lets him. Seems to like it. It’s exhilarating.

He needs to be pushed, to be teased, to be touched. But he also craves gentleness and softness. Ilya can give him that without it being more.

He sees his face on a stupid ad. He wants to text him. He had a good practice today. He wants to text him. He’s making friends, and going out. He wants to text him. He texts Sveta instead.

Hollander wants him, that’s clear. And that’s good, he’s used to being wanted, he likes being needed. He can give him what he wants. He can make it fun, so Hollander will keep coming back.

Ilya is back in Russia. His father is getting sicker, Alexei is unbearable, only talks to him to ask for more. Ilya almost hit him today. He really is his father’s son.

Ilya needs Hollander, wants to text him. But he’s reminded of the poison that is his family, he’s reminded of the risks. He won’t risk Hollander.

He wins the Stanley Cup. He escaped, but he still isn’t free. ‘For you Mama, it was always for you.’

Hollander still wants him and it gets easier to breathe. He likes how he reacts to his teasing and it’s good sex, that’s the only reason. No point in stopping, it’s just having fun and they both clearly enjoy it. He won’t ruin him though, he won’t get close, there’s no reason to. Ilya dreams of an escape, but he will just keep hanging around for as long as he wants him to.

It keeps being fun. He’s never felt more alive. Playing is better than ever. He goes out, his teammates like him. He’s popular, everyone wants him. He’s not hooking up with random people as much but that’s because he’s feeling better than ever, he doesn’t need it as much anymore, and that’s the only reason.

He wonders what Hollander is doing, what he's eating, what he's reading. He collects little pieces of information, how he looks when he focuses, how he talks to reporters and how he chirps on the ice. He wants to know.

He’s counting down the days to meeting Hollander. He’s texting him. He thinks it would be good to hang out with him more, outside of sex. He wants him to stay the night. He wants him to drink the ginger ale he bought for him. He wants to cook him a meal and he wants him to eat it. He wants to kiss him. He wants to hold him. He wants and wants and wants.

He learned that he can’t want things a long time ago, but he’s stupid, it takes too many times for it to truly sink in. Every time he sees Shane with her, he’s reminded of the same lesson. He wasn’t made to have, only to give.

He knows Shane wants him, he’ll just have to accept that it’s only for this. He can be fun, he can give him that.

Seeing Shane again is better and worse than he could have anticipated. He can’t stop looking at him. Maybe he can have him again, and without her, which is better than he imagined.

Shane wants more, but he doesn’t understand. Ilya isn’t that, he isn’t big and fun and laid back, he’s broken, and small, and scared. He can’t want that, so why does it feel like maybe he can?

His father dies and he has no reason to see his brother again. It should be freeing, he’s not sure why it doesn’t feel that way.

He calls Shane, he always wants to talk to him. For once, he is the one who wants more, more, more, but he’s learning to be happy with what he gets.

He can’t breathe. He wants to go to him and hold his hand. He’s not moving. Is he breathing? He needs to get to him. His feet won’t cooperate. He gets pushed away. Everything his heart touches dies.

He’s fine and smiling and relaxed. He is okay. He will be okay. He wants to comfort him. He wants to give him everything he asks for. He can’t tell him no, but he doesn’t know how to make this possible.

Scott Hunter is kissing a man and he hopes. Maybe he will be free.

"No, I didn't make a list." 

"What, you're gonna do shopping with no list?" 

Shane shrugs with one shoulder as he pulls into the parking lot. "I just thought we'd see what they have, you know? I haven't been to one of these since I was a kid."

Ilya hums as Shane parks the car and unbuckles his seatbelt. The minute stretches long as they wait for the other to make the first move.

Ilya breaks it and reaches over to reassuringly squeeze Shane's shoulder. The muscles are tight under his thumb and pointer, tensed until Shane slowly relaxes under Ilya's hand. Ilya turns Shane's chin for a close-mouthed kiss, and Shane hums into it for one moment before pulling away. His nose wrinkles in distaste before he opens the door and gets out.

Ilya pops a mint into his mouth from the stash in the glovebox before getting out, giving an exaggerated stretch as Shane rounds the car. He doesn't miss the way Shane's eyes flash down as his shirt rides up. 

"Nope." Shane says in response to Ilya's smirk, grabbing the reusable bag from the backseat before marching towards the market entrance, not waiting for Ilya to follow. 

Ilya catches up when Shane is at the first stall, inspecting the rows of tomatoes and carrots like he'll be tested on them later. Ilya smiles in hello to the vendor sitting in a plastic chair in the corner of the stall, propping a chin on Shane's shoulder and reaching over to grab the closest vegetable. 

"Wow, what are they feeding cucumbers in Canada?"

"That's a zucchini, Ilya." Shane grabs the one from Ilya's hand and one more from the stand before dropping it in the bag, passing a bill to the vendor before shrugging Ilya off his shoulder and moving on. 

Ilya wanders away from Shane to stroll the other stalls, stopping to browse rings made from sterling silver and embedded with tiger's eye or amethyst. He spends an embarrassingly long time at one stall smelling all 28 candles for sale, internally comparing each scent in accuracy to the picture on the label before moving onto the next candle as the vendor smiles wanly at him. He compensates for the loitering by buying one that smells plant-fresh with a name he can't pronounce, cradling it in one hand as he turns to look for Shane. 

It doesn't take him necessarily long to find him again. He's standing in front of a stall full of what looks like scraps of wood, talking to the owner. As Ilya gets closer he can make out the rigid line of Shane's shoulders and his knuckles pale where they tightly grip the bag's handles. Ilya steels himself for an encounter he's not fond of having, but when he draws up to Shane's side he can see that Shane is smiling, though it's close-lipped and tight at the corners.

The vendor- an old man with more coarse white hair on his upper lip than on the top of his head - barely spares Ilya a glance and continues telling how everything is handmade from driftwood, that he personally collected while on walks with his grandson, and handpainted with varnish, and did he mention that it’s all driftwood-?

Finally, Ilya gently cuts him off, saying that they would take one of the large picture frames. "For the cottage, no?" He turns to Shane. "Or perhaps over the fireplace."

Shane furrows his brow. "We don't have a fireplace." 

Ilya shrugs. "We will build one then." 

"Oh, are you two gay?"

Immediately, Ilya turns back to the vendor, his hackles rising. A million possible phrases teeter on the tip of his tongue, yes, they are gay. So what? He feels Shane go still beside him, and can sense the hundreds of internal walls they've spent years dismantling ready to rebuild at a moment's notice. 

The vendor doesn't seem to notice their discomfort as he finishes wrapping the frame in paper. "My grandson is gay! Wonderful. That'll be forty-five dollars.” He gives a wide smile.

"The sign says sixty." Ilya points out as Shane fishes out his wallet. 

"It'll be forty-five." The vendor says again with a well-meaning wink. Shane silently hands over three $20 bills and waves it off when the old man starts to fish in his register, shifting the produce bag to Ilya so he can take the frame in both hands as they trek it back to the car. 

"We could have paid forty-five." Ilya says as he opens the hatchback so Shane can load it in. 

"We're millionaires, Ilya." 

Ilya shrugs. "Yes. But we could have paid forty-five." 

"Didn't know you were such a Scrooge." Shane closes the hatch, grabbing the produce bag back from Ilya and heading back to the market. 

"As long as Scrooge is hot, I don't mind." Ilya follows, reaching his hand out to trail from Shane's elbow and down his forearm to thread their fingers together. Shane doesn't verbally acknowledge the gesture, but his hand squeezes back. 

It's a different vibe, now, then when they had first entered the farmers market. It's still new, being out in public as a couple. In the early morning in rural Ontario, there wasn't a high chance of being recognized amongst the elderly couples or mothers with a gaggle of toddlers in tow, but every step outside was a step forwards for them. The decade of secrecy had taken its toll, and some days, Ilya's first instinct was still to hide when someone in public deduced that he and Shane were together. He felt that draw in Shane, too; the moment of hesitation in the car as he gathered his courage. 

Now, Shane doesn't let go of Ilya's hand as they dodge the other patrons as the market slowly filled, bringing him alongside the fruit stalls as they pick out a carton of apples and cherries. He keeps their fingers entwined even as he inspects the peaches, brushing his free hand along one and gently prodding for bruises. He has to let go of Ilya to load up their bag, and to distract his hand from feeling cold Ilya takes the opportunity to pay. As soon Shane picks out enough peaches and Ilya's wallet returned to his pocket, their hands find each others again.

The market has filled in the hour they have been there, bubbles floating by from a machine as children giggle at the sight. A busker is playing a rendition of some pop song on their violin, and Shane roots around in his pocket for loose change awkwardly with one hand to drop in the open violin case as they pass, and Ilya's heart feels so, so full. 

It brims up and over when Ilya tugs Shane behind a food cart selling lemonade, the smell swirling around them with the lingering scent of peaches.

"Ilya, what-" Shane's weak protest dies as Ilya draws him in for a kiss. His glasses nudge against Ilya's cheek as he immediately reciprocates. Ilya sweeps his tongue in as Shane’s mouth opens on a soft sigh, tasting warmth and the muted remnants of toothpaste. He cups Shane's jaw to deepen the kiss further, the stubble that Shane lets linger in the summer scratching against his fingertips.

"What was that for?" Shane asks when they finally part, his eyes slowly fluttering open. His nose is red and his lips are wet, and Ilya feels a pull in his gut that has nothing to do with the fact that they haven't had breakfast yet, and all because he is married to the beautiful man in front of him for the rest of his days.