Oh hello

shane’s hoodie hanging in the front closet because last time he visited he was late and running out the door back to montreal, forgetting the time as they tried to soak up every second they could get with one another

there’s two sets of plates in the cupboard, two bowls, and two mugs. but one set is obviously used far more than the other

the empty spare rooms ilya uses for “storage” is really a cold reminder of a family waiting to be made, empty walls where pictures of family vacations should be

everywhere ilya looks in that house is a promise for the future. but every time he turns around it feels like that future is further and further away

"Is Shane okay?" Was Yuna's first question.

"Yes," David was quick to reassure her. "He's fine. He's great."

"David," Yuna said worriedly, hand on his bicep. "Is Shane okay?"

"He really is. I promise, sweetheart. I would tell you if he wasn't," David promised her because he would. "But I - he was - he's probably going to be headed over here soon."

"Why?" Yuna started to get more worried, despite her husband's reassurances. "David, what happened? Did you two fight?"

David did interrupt his silent retreat but Yuna couldn't imagine Shane getting into a fight with his father over that.

"No," David caught her eyes. "Do you trust me?"

"Of course."

"Then please don't ask. I saw something I shouldn't have and I - I want it to be Shane's choice if he tells us. I promise you he's safe. We didn't fight. He's - he might be upset with me, but he's okay."

Yuna searched his face for another moment before she slowly nodded.

She had an idea of what David might have seen.

She had considered that Shane's 'silent retreat' might not be the complete truth. She also recognized how upset her husband was at unintentionally learning something about their boy that he wasn't ready to share.

"Okay," Yuna pulled him in for a hug. "I'll make some tea."

"I feel so horrible."

"Shane loves you, he'll understand," Yuna said.

"I hope so," David pulled back. "I can make the tea. Shane will probably want some if he comes over."

He used to make Shane hot chocolate after nightmares, or doctor visits, or difficult practices. When he was a teenager, he started asking for tea instead.

Yuna, sensing David needed something to do, said, "use the new one my aunt sent us. It takes a little longer but I think Shane will like it."

~*~*~

"So, what did you see," Yuna asked her husband as they watched their son and his boyfriend, Ilya Rozanov, drive away.

"I wondered how long it would take for you to ask," David smiled.

"Hush you," Yuna glared. "Like you wouldn't be curious. Unless, god, did you walk in on-"

"No," David stopped her. "They were just walking up from the dock. I would have left but when I noticed it was Rozanov - or Ilya, I mean - I was just frozen there."

"Then how did you know they were, you know, together?"

"Well they kissed on the porch," David winced. "And Ilya..."

"Ilya what?"

"He, uh, had his hand on Shane's…bottom."

Yuna and David stared at each other for a few seconds before Yuna couldn't take it anymore, smile spreading across her face and burst out laughing, hand gripping her husband’s shirt to hold herself up.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," Yuna laughed out.

"Yuna!" David admonished but he was laughing too. He reached out to steady her. "It's not funny!"

"When you put it that - that way!" Yuna tried to gather herself. "Ilya Rozanov. Ilya Rozanov. I can't believe it."

"He's a sweet kid," David was still smiling, thinking about Ilya standing awkwardly by his son, happily eating pasta, saying he'd leave the team that drafted him for their Shane.

Yuna softened. "He really is. He looks so much younger in person."

Sometimes he catches himself watching them like they're a particularly intriguing nature documentary that someone left playing on the TV: the easy way they move around each other, unthinking. How they operate as a unit, always. Their uncanny ability to sense what the other is thinking, their shared unspoken language that they communicate to each other with just a look.

More than that, he watches the way they touch each other - yuna's hand briefly running over David's shoulders as she walks past where he's sitting in his armchair; David absently tucking a strand of hair that's escaped from Yuna's coiffed bun behind her ear at an award's ceremony; Yuna's pinkie curled around the belt loop of David's jeans as they walk back to the car after making a pit stop on the way to the cottage to buy groceries; David's big calloused palm covering Yuna's where it rests on the white table cloth of the fancy restaurant Shane took them all out to; Yuna fastidiously tucking the label of David's jersey that was sticking out at the nape of his neck; hands on waists, the small of backs, on knees and thighs. Searching hands, always seeking contact. Not possessive or even particularly conscious, just,,, content. Touches whose only purpose is to touch.