Missing Hours

Shane doesn’t want to give him the keys to the apartment, but relents the moment Ilya asks if he’s a prisoner here. Ilya is so fucking tired — maybe he already hates Shane. He doesn’t voice his frustration, though — Shane has a lot on his plate, and most time he’s at home he’s teetering on the edge of panic. Ilya no longer hugs him when he starts rocking and mumbling to himself. His feelings toward his jailer are already too conflicted and confusing without layering intimacy on top, but he does feel guilty about it. What would he have done if his memory were intact? Would the man he was over a month ago curse him and call him useless? Would that man call him a bad husband? Ilya can’t help but feel pathetic and rejected. Shane kept pulling away from him after calming down, and maybe Ilya isn’t handling it in the healthiest way, but god, is he tired of all this. Maybe the problem isn’t losing Shane, but losing himself. “Sveta, tell me how to enable the browser. I also need my Apple ID and passwords — there has to be a way to restore everything. “Ilya, I’m not sure it’s…” “I’m not stupid, I know that some parts of the last twelve years are missing, that I’m apparently am married to Shane Hollander, and I can’t return to Russia. I may not remember, but come on — Hollander is a terrible liar.” “I knew you’d figure everything out.” Yeah, no shit. Ilya can’t shake the thought that Sveta would’ve told him everything already — if not for the Hollanders. “So how do I do it? I’m still struggling with this phone.” “Can’t Shane help you? I’m sure it would be easier in person.” Hearing his husband’s name feels jarring. He refuses to think about him now. “Can I do just one thing without Hollander? Is he holding my leash? I’m so fucking tired of this — I want to do it now, without him.” “Well, you’re the one who married him.” “And now I have to merge with him into one person and forget who I am?”Ilya doesn’t know what their relationship was like before the accident, but being constantly near him — so dependent and yet so politely rejected — is tearing his mind apart.“Do you think spouses are always right? Are you seriously telling me you agree with how Shane and Yuna have been hiding everything from me? I’m isolated from everyone and everything — and not all of it is because of the lockdown.” “I…No, I don’t agree with them. But I don’t want them to think I went behind their backs. We care about you — we love you. But I won’t be the one who has to face the consequences if something goes wrong.” “Sveta. Sveta, please. If you don’t help me, I’ll find another way. I’ll order a new phone or something. I’m going to do this, no matter what. I need you now. Will you help me or not?” “Okay. Okay, yes, of course. But you have to stay on the line with me the whole time — if I hear something is wrong, I’m calling Shane immediately. And you’ll set time limits for all your apps. You need to be serious about your screen time.” “Fine. Whatever. What do I do first?” It takes a while, but with Sveta’s help, he gradually gets back his digital world: his email, the photos saved in the cloud, his notes, his messages, his social media accounts — everything. His photo library is a window into a life he doesn’t remember. Endless happy shots: he’s with Shane, he’s with Anya, he’s with another dog he doesn’t recognize, he’s with strangers whose names are lost to him. There are screenshots of dictionary entries, photos of Yuna and David, a few of Sveta — she doesn’t seem to visit Ottawa often. He has a lot of unread messages and emails, but they are not so important right now. The contrast is jarring: the trapped, resentful man he is now as he is reflected in the darkened screen, and the smiling, contented person in the pictures. It’s like one of them is a fake, but who? “Ilya? You’ve gone quiet. Say something or I’m calling Shane.” “It’s just…” he sighs. “I don’t visit you enough, do I?” “Well, you’re a married man now — you have responsibilities. And I’m still a free bird.” “I miss you.” She’s been his rock all this time, and he worries he hasn’t been hers in years — he turned into a burden, a boulder of nostalgia. The days when he beat up racist bullies for her at school are long gone, and he certainly wasn’t going clubbing with her — he hasn’t taught drunk idiots a lesson in consent in a while. “Tell me if you need anything else. Anything, Ilya. And please don’t do anything stupid.” “Listen, I want to go outside. Would you video call with me while I try not to get lost?” “Are you sure you don’t want Shane for that?” “I absolutely don’t. Sveta, I need space — I can’t go on like this. I’ve been trying to… you know. I’ve been trying to get together with him, and he’s been ignoring me. It’s not even about sex. He treats me like a child. I don’t know what he’s thinking — if he sees me as less of a man because of the amnesia — but if this marriage ends, I can’t let myself end with it. Sveta, I feel so fucking bad — all the time.” “Shane won’t divorce you. Come on, he loves you.” “Well, I’m tired, okay? I’m unhappy, I’m tired, and I need a break. I won’t be trying anymore. I feel so fucking pathetic right now.” “Ilya, trust me — he loves you, and he won’t file for divorce. You need to unwind, and… Well, you get depressed sometimes. It’s possible that you’re going through that now, too.” “Like… like Mum?” “Yes. And you have a therapist. You’ll probably find her number in your contacts — her name is Galina, and she speaks Russian.” “Oh.” “I think you should talk to her. She’s helped you before, and I’ll help you, too. You can rely on me, but you can also rely on Shane. And… I think we all are doing our best — just because it’s not enough doesn’t mean we’re not trying.” “Since when are you a therapist too?” “Piss off. You still need Shane for you citizenship. I don’t want to have to marry you to keep you here — that’s Shane’s job. You also love him, but that’s just a bonus.” “You wish you were married to me — I’m awesome.” “I lived with you for a week — you were such an annoying prick. Shane may be the only one who thinks you’re adorable. I wanted to set you on fire.” Ilya snickers. He absolutely did everything to piss her off — on purpose.

* * *

@IlyaRozanov Missed me? 😉 [pic 1] @hollyandrozy HOLY SHIT HE’S BACK!! THE KING HAS LEFT CONFINEMENT 👑👑👑👑 @gossippageCND Ilya Rozanov just posted for the first time since his accident — seems to confirm the paralysis rumors were false. Thoughts? [screenshot]

* * *

Harris: Shane, you sly dog! You should have warned me that Ilya is back online — he’s broken the internet Shane: What do you mean? He isn’t online. Harris: [screenshot]

* * *

“Ilya-” Shane just barges in — what a way to make him feel like a naughty teenager and not his fucking husband. Fuck. Motherfucking fuck. “You shouldn’t have any screen time!” Ilya’s whole body tenses. He wills himself not to snap. He shouldn’t start. No, he really shouldn’t. “Knock first,” he says instead, his voice low. Shane stops short as if he’s hit a wall. “What?” “Ever heard of knocking?” “I… I’m sorry.” Shane looks absolutely lost — his eyes are wet, but Ilya has never seen him actually cry. He takes a step back, hesitates, then retreats and closes the door quietly behind him. Fuck. That didn’t help. If anything, Ilya feels worse — hollowed out and petty. Fuck, no, that didn’t help anything, and Ilya feels even more like shit. Maybe they need to talk, but he’s afraid he’ll feel worse on the other side of the conversation, and he just doesn’t have the energy for that.

* * *

“So he didn’t tell you anything either… Shane, don’t get me wrong, but we haven’t exactly been open with him. Yes, it was for his own good then — but now that he’s better, maybe it’s time to… I know, I know I wasn’t there. … Shane… Shane, you couldn’t have known how he’d react. Head injuries are unpredictable. But you have to find a way forward, because — judging by how he’s behaving — whatever you’re doing now isn’t working. Have you thought about talking to a… Okay. Okay. I’ll call him. I’ll try to talk to him. But honestly, it’s been over a month. He must be feeling… I know, but the hospital is at capacity and Dr Teller can’t just… Shane. Shane, listen — Ilya’s getting better. Shane…”

* * *

@IlyaRozanov ✂️? [pic 1] [pic 2] @hollyandrozy @IlyaRozanov DON’T TOUCH THE CURLS I AM BEGGING YOU 😭🙏

* * *

He hasn’t remembered anything new. It bothers him, the way flashes of memory and dreams have become so rare lately. Yuna calls. He asks how she’s doing — she’s better, she says, but her sense of smell is still off, and she can’t enjoy her morning coffee like she used to. Then she asks how things are with Shane. “I think you both should talk to someone.” “Like a marriage counselor?” “So you do remember that.” “I googled it.” He can hear the disappointment in her voice. Honestly, he wishes the Hollanders could hear the same in his. What should he say now — apologize? “David is getting released from the hospital tomorrow. He’s really excited to go home.” “Finally. Can you ask Shane to come help you? Maybe stay with you both for a while?” Yuna goes quiet on the other end of the line.

* * *

Shane leaves early to help his dad settle in at home. Ilya video calls Sveta and forces himself outside. It’s better than the time he left his ward, but he still struggles — Sveta’s little comments help him navigate. “Have you talked to Shane?” “Can we not talk about Shane fucking Hollander for one second? Huh? Please.” “But I’m your biggest fan! I ship you so hard. I want my disgustingly happy hockey husbands back.” “Piss off. I just… I hate being treated like a stupid, beloved dog just because I lost some memories.” “I get that. You should really talk to Galina about it.” “I’ve already texted her. We have a video call the day after tomorrow.” “Thank god. Honestly, Ilyusha, sometimes I don’t even know how to respond to the things you say.” One thing has become painfully clear to Ilya: he needs more people. If he were stuck alone with Shane — without Yuna or Sveta just a phone call away — he’d have walked out the fucking window by now. He needs more voices, more faces. Maybe then the static in his head would quiet down. He also needs more independence. He goes out with Anya, and when the streets begin to swim, his sweet dog nudges him gently back toward home if he stops nervously and starts looking around. He goes out a third time that day and returns to find Shane rushing out the front door, wild-eyed. “Ilya!” “Hi.” “I thought you’d left.” “Left where? I only have one set of keys, and I don’t have money.” It comes out harsher than he means it to, but he’s not at his best. He’s just dead tired, and he wants to rest a little more, get some sleep, and do everything else later. The next morning, he finds a wallet on the kitchen table — the cards useless without the PIN codes he can’t remember — along with a second set of keys and an address: their address, the home they shared. He thinks he should say something, but Shane is already gone. He doesn’t return until evening — still refusing to stay at his parents’ place. It’s easier to navigate now. After a walk with Anya, Ilya opens his phone again. In his notes, there is a list of products that Shane likes and dislikes, several plans that obviously fell though, a couple of movie titles. Unfamiliar birthdays are marked on the calendar, as well as the date of the wedding anniversary — there are hearts next to it, and he doesn’t remember, he doesn’t fucking remember anything. Galina is silent about their past sessions and insists on focusing on the present. Ilya tells her he hates Shane, and they spend the hour unpacking that — only for him to feel even emptier by the end. He’s so frustrated he seriously considers smashing his phone against the wall. Of course, he won’t. He still needs it to escape this fucking apartment. He watches a few old Boston–Montreal games, and the way he and Shane played against each other — all that competitive fire and physicality — is so intense he ends up jerking off and then crying himself to sleep. Okay. So, he’s depressed. He finds a “Best of HOLLANOV on Ice” compilation and sees himself kissing the man during an All-Star game — no one even blinked. Ilya must have loved him — he realizes. Ilya must have loved him so much to choose him. He opens his own Wikipedia page and, for the first time, reads past “married Shane Hollander.” Shane’s friend outed them. The same friend Shane still talks to — more than he talks to Ilya now. So Ilya didn’t even make that choice: Pike, the bastard, robbed him of the opportunity to return to Moscow, and he stayed here, trying to move on, trying to build something special with Shane, and for that, Pike gets to be what? A family friend? Maybe Ilya still goes to his house for dinners? “Are you kidding me?”Sveta shouts when he tells her about his conclusion — unexpected. “Shane proposed to you, you said yes, and then you were outed! Are you calling Shane your second choice? For fuck’s sake, Ilya, think before you speak.” Sveta rarely curses, and Ilya is genuinely taken aback. “I don’t get it.” “You do, though! You do understand that you don’t have to come back! The Church doesn’t give a flying fuck about people who die by suicide. They won’t do anything, but you can still pray for her, honor her memory, fund support programs and live your damn life. Shane is your life! What’s not to get?” “Sveta, calm down.” “You calm down!” “You really like him, huh?” “He’s hot and he’s talented. If you don’t want him, I’ll take him and peg him until he forgets your name.” “Jesus. That’s… is that how you talk now?” “I’ll tag team him with Rose if I have to.” “What the actual fuck is happening right now?” He really needs to talk to Shane. If even Sveta is tired of his shit, something has to change.