so my only crime is having niche interests??

The stilted conversation with Marley leaves Ilya unsettled and mildly desolate in a way he does not particularly want to examine or be alone with. He texts Yuna to ask if her invitation is still good and gets an immediate yes, he can come over whenever he wants. 

His agent calls again as he’s driving and a sour mix of guilt and resentment pulses in his gut. Ilya wonders if he’ll try to get Alexei to call the same way he used to get his father to. Not that Ilya will know; he blocked Alexei’s number sitting on the plane back to Boston after the funeral. 

Ilya knocks on the front door and Yuna ushers him inside, saying, “If it’s unlocked, you can come in. Just give a shout so I don’t think you’re a burglar. It’s good to see you, Ilya.”

Ilya cannot fathom simply walking into Yuna and David Hollander’s home like he is Shane, but he keeps that to himself. “I have spent more time in this house than my own for the last week. Are you sure you are not sick of me?” 

Yuna does not laugh; she pins him in place with a look. “Ilya, you have got to stop apologizing for your existence. Okay?” 

It is so far from anything Ilya expected her to say that for a moment he flounders, mouth open with not a single intelligent thing to say. She does not relent or look away; Ilya knows with a deep certainty that she can and will wait him out. 

“Okay,” he manages. “Thank you for invitation.” 

She smiles. “Much better, and you’re welcome. How are you doing? I assume your phone hasn’t stopped ringing.” 

Ilya groans and follows her into the kitchen. “Everyone and their mother has called or sent dm or emailed. I had to put it on do not disturb.” 

“Smart choice.”

“It is only way to make sure I do not lose my temper and say something I will regret to some podcaster with nine listeners."

There is a half-made sandwich on the island that Ilya’s stomach growls covetously at, loud enough for Yuna to hear. “I take it I don’t need to ask if you’d like a sandwich.” 

“Yes, please,” Ilya says. He sits on the same stool he used over Christmas and the repetition of it is something he cannot quite name. It is the beginning of a habit and having habits at the Hollander’s implies continuance, that he will keep coming over and keep sitting in his place. 

Yuna finishes the in progress sandwich and hands it to him. Ilya pauses to sniff it to see if anything is going to unexpectedly make him nauseous and thankfully it just smells very fucking good. He takes a bite and does not entirely suppress a pleasured noise. 

“That good, huh?” Yuna laughs. 

Ilya nods, mouth full. 

She returns the fixings to the fridge and sits down across from Ilya with her own plate. 

Ilya’s agent calls again. He curses in Russian, rejects the call, and flips his phone face down. Yuna frowns. 

“Is someone being over the line too pushy?” she asks. “You don’t have to accept harassment.” 

Ilya shakes his head. “No, it is my fucking agent.” 

She cocks her head. “Have you not talked to your agent?” 

Ilya stuffs the rest of his sandwich into his mouth to buy a little time. He does not like to talk about his family. It is such a long, boring, miserable story where Ilya is pathetic and it only makes people pity him. Shane is the only person he has ever told about a lot of it, because he does not assume how Ilya feels about any of it. 

“I cannot talk to him about this,” Ilya finally says. “He is Russian and very traditional. If I tell him I am pregnant he will — he will definitely not help me.” 

“I see.” Yuna’s expression goes thoughtful. She taps her thumb on the rim of her plate. “It sounds like you need a new agent to me.” 

Ilya honks a very, very stupid laugh. “He has been my agent since I was rookie.” 

Yuna shrugs. “So what? If he’s no longer serving your best interests, you’re not obligated to maintain that relationship.” 

The idea is obviously absurd. Ilya has never really considered firing the man, only daydreamed about it. His father would never have allowed it. Bad enough that Ilya did not play for a Russian team, he would at least have his interests represented by a fellow countryman. 

His papa is dead, though. 

“I would have to find a new one,” Ilya says slowly. 

“True.” Yuna takes a bite of her sandwich. “Shane really likes Farrah. I’m happy to make an introduction, if you’d like.” 

“Probably I should make sure Shane is okay with that first,” Ilya says. 

“Call him.”

”Right now?”

”Or I can. Either or.” 

Ilya suddenly understands how Yuna Hollander made sure her son had a place, even if she had to calmly create it herself. Ilya picks up his phone and, after a moment’s debate, taps video call. 

Yuna comes around the island to stand next to him as it rings. She puts a hand on his shoulder and squeezes gently. 

Shane answers sitting in a hotel bed, glasses on. “Ilya? What’s — oh, Mom. What’s up? What’s wrong?” 

“We cannot just want to say hi to you?” Ilya asks. “See your face in your pretty glasses?” 

Shane’s cheeks redden. “I wasn’t expecting both of you,” he says. “It’s a little weird.” 

“Ilya is a lovely young man,” Yuna says. “I enjoy his company.” 

Shane scoffs. “You completely hated him until my concussion and then you mostly hated him for several more months.” 

“I didn’t know you wanted to spend the rest of your life with him at that point,” Yuna says. 

The red on Shane’s cheeks deepens and Ilya feels his own face get hot. She is not wrong, of course, but for some reason it is very exposing to have someone else know that they want to spend their lives together. 

“Why are you calling me?” Shane asks, with a great effort at dignity that Ilya and Yuna both are not fooled by. 

Yuna takes pity on him. “Ilya needs a new agent. How would you feel if I introduced him to Farrah?” 

Shane frowns. “You need a new agent? Did something happen? Are you okay?” 

“I am fine, lyubimyy,” Ilya assures him. “It is just that if I tell him I am pregnant he will not help me.”

”So he needs someone who will,” Yuna says. 

“Of course.” Ilya can see the wheels turning in Shane’s head, but whatever he is thinking about, he keeps it to himself. “Farrah is great. Go ahead.” 

“I will send an email,” Yuna says. 

Shane nods. “Are doing okay?” he asks. “With the announcement and everything?”

”I am okay,” Ilya says and is a little surprised that he actually is. “It is very annoying to everyone that I say nothing, so.”

”You’re having fun?” 

“Little bit.” 

The three of them chat for a couple more minutes. Ilya wants to ask Shane how <i>he</i> is doing and where his head is at, but that feels too personal for any audience. Then Hayden comes back and Shane says a hasty goodbye and ends the call. Ilya sets his phone down and puts a hand on his belly. 

“What was that you called him?” Yuna asks.

”Lyubimyy?” 

“Yes. What does it mean?” 

“Oh.” Ilya fights the urge to hide his face. It is still so fucking strange for other people to see their private affections. It feels like being caught out doing something ridiculous. “It is just Russian pet name.” 

Yuna cocks her head, the corner of her mouth curling up. “What does it translate to?”

Ilya’s face is very hot. “Like, my love. My favorite.” 

“My favorite,” she repeats, smile fully breaking across her face. “You really do like him a lot, don’t you?”

Ilya huffs a laugh. “Don’t tell him that, he will be insufferable.”