Chapter Text
Ilya felt his heart drop as he heard something from the kitchen.
“But Ilya-” Shane’s voice.
“Well Ilya isn’t you, is he Shane?!” Yuna’s voice.
Followed by a gasp and a loud crash—it was glass breaking. Ilya immediately rushed to the kitchen.
Shane lay on the floor, hands holding up him in a pile of glass shards. He looked upset as he looked up at his mother and blood slowly seeped from his hands. Yuna’s expression mimicked his own as she too was frozen, her eyes welling up along with his. The scene unfolding in front of Ilya was not a pretty one, but he didn’t have time to think or wonder. His body was on autopilot and he immediately rushed to put himself between Shane and the aforementioned threat—his mother.
“Ilya wait,” Shane brushed the glass on his hands off into the trash can next to him as he held onto Ilya’s arm to help himself up, “I know this looks bad, but it isn’t!” But Ilya wasn’t focused on what Shane was saying, only calculating what his next move was going to be in that moment.
What happened? How did Shane get on the ground? He studied Yuna’s face—she looked guilty. She had pushed herself to the corner of the kitchen and was anxiously biting her nails. Her eyes flickered from Shane to the puddle of water to Ilya and back to Shane—what had she done to him?
“Ilya, please calm down,” Shane laid a hand on Ilya’s shoulder, “This really isn’t what it looks like. It was an accident-”
“An accident?” Ilya spat, turning to Yuna.
His father had done this many times—his mother always had so many “accidents” (as did he and his brother). She would tell him she had fallen while doing the laundry or tripped on a book in the hallway nearby.
”Mama, what is that?” Ilya pointed to his mother’s cheek. A purple bruise marred her skin, causing her to wince as she smiled back at him.
“It is just a bruise, Ilyushka. Nothing more,” Irina bent down to engulf her son in a hug, “I tripped into the big cabinet.”
As he got older, “I tripped into the big cabinet” was no longer believable. He had begged, pleaded with his mother to be honest with him, that he knew where she got her bruises from. He knew that the big cabinet didn’t leave varying marks and distinctive handprints in its wake— and eventually, Irina began to tell him a sort of truth. “I tripped into the big cabinet” became “Your father...but it was an accident”. She always excused his hits towards her, saying that it was nothing and that she could handle it.
”Why does he do it, Mama? Why does he hurt you?”
Irina sighed as she sat back on the park bench she had escaped to after another argument. Ilya nursed an ice pack where his father had pushed him for trying to “interfere”—the push was meant for his mother but he got in the way. She looked at Ilya, “I do not know, honey. It is his way and something he does,” she wrapped an arm around him and pulled him close, “But you should know that you should never step in like that. I can handle him, you cannot—you should not. You and Alexei are my children. You are 8 years old, my darling. That is not an age to be looking after anybody, let alone me. And your brother is only 12, you are both so young-”
“But I don’t like it! He shouldn’t hurt you, he should protect you!” He folded his arms, “Papa always says that men are supposed to be strong and that I should protect you. So why shouldn’t I?”
“There are many things you cannot understand, my love. Why your father is this way is one of them, but perhaps you may when you’re older.”
“Are you saying I might become like that...?” Ilya looked at his mother, horrified, “That I might hit my wife?”
“Oh no, Ilyushka you are too kind for such a thing,” she smiled softly at him, “It is a different kind of understanding. An understanding I cannot explain, that you are just going to have to feel.”
When he met Yuna and David, he was of course very nervous. He did not have a good relationship with parents, especially fathers, and he found that his brain was immediately calculating the quickest and best escape route should something go wrong. When Shane and Yuna went outside, he felt himself stiffen as he tried very hard to talk to David about something—to convince his mind that David was (hopefully) not a threat to him or Shane. That they were safe. That they were going to become home.
Now in front of him, that trust had been lost. Shane was pulling at his arm and Yuna was staring at him like her heart was breaking and he remembered where he was. He was in the Hollander kitchen, in front of Shane, between him and his mother because...
Ilya’s head lowered and his shoulders hunched. He was devastated. He had grown to love Shane’s home, “Don’t do this.”
“Ilya-”
“I heard what you were talking about earlier. I know this is my fault,” he bit the inside of his cheek as he tried to calm himself down, but the anger was clear in his voice, “But that is my burden to bare. Don’t take it out on Shane, he has done nothing,” his voice wavered again, “He is good. He does nothing but try to please everyone around him at the cost and expense of himself—do not do this. You do not do this to him.”
“Ilya,” Shane begged, “Please let her explain, Ilya. Let me explain,” Shane tugged at his sleeve, “I promise. I know exactly what you’re thinking and that is not what happened. My mom didn’t hurt me.”
“But your hands,” Ilya took them in his arms, “Your hands are bleeding.”
“My mom and I were having a stupid argument about my health,” Shane breathed, “She’s concerned that I’m overworking myself. I disagreed, we bickered—I mentioned how much you do and so she that’s why you heard her yell,” Shane lifted his hands. The bleeding had stopped, thankfully, but they’d need some bandaging later.
“But the glass? You were on the floor, you looked scared.”
“My mom didn’t notice the glass on the counter and ended up knocking it over. I got startled and stepped backwards, but ended up slipping on the water. That’s how I ended up there—I was just surprised, I wasn’t hurt.”
Ilya looked to the side, embarrassed. Of course Yuna wouldn’t hurt Shane, it all made sense. It was quite literally just a misunderstanding and he had taken things the wrong way. He had acted rashly, behaved rudely. There was no way that Yuna wasn’t angry at him now.
“Ilya,” Ilya turned from where he stood to face Yuna, who was leaning on the corner of the counter and looking up at him, “Thank you.”
“What?” Ilya looked at her confused and riddled with guilt, “Do not thank me. I realize now it was just misunderstanding. I am sorry for being stupid, I know you would never hurt Shane.”
“Old habits die hard, dear,” Yuna replied. Ilya felt himself grow warm at the name, “You were protecting my son and that is something you will never have to apologize for, ok?”
“But, Yuna-”
“But nothing, Ilya,” she wiped her eyes and leaned up from the counter, “You have nothing to apologize for. Absolutely nothing. If anything, I’m sorry for making you think I hurt Shane.”
“I did not mean to get so aggressive, I wasn’t thinking.”
“And that’s fine, no apologies, right?”
“Right,” Ilya didn’t look convinced, but Yuna didn’t push.
“Good,” she said, turning to her son, “Shane.”
“Mom.”
“I’m sorry I yelled and about the glass, I really should have been more careful. I just- you know I worry. You’re working yourself to the bone.”
“I know you mean well, Mom. I’m sorry for reacting so strongly,” Shane reached forward to hug his mother, “Talk more about this later?”
Yuna nodded, “Talk more about this later,” she enveloped Shane in a hug, “I’ll go get the first aid kit, we really need to take care of those hands.”
Ilya stepped forward, “I got it.”
Yuna looked like she wanted to protest, but decided to let things go. Ilya was grateful that she didn’t push—his brain needed (and he did too) to take care of Shane so that he could register him being safe. Yuna left Shane to Ilya, who led Shane to the bathroom across the hall to bandage Shane’s hands.
“You know she meant it, right?” Shane said, wincing as Ilya began to clean the blood, “You have nothing to apologize for.”
“I know, but I was being so unreasonable,” Ilya muttered, “I should have known she would never lay a hand on you, but I just reacted. My mother-” Ilya paused, choking on his words, “My mother had many ‘accidents’. I walked in and all I saw was that.”
“That’s understandable,” Shane looked at Ilya with love in his eyes, “But Ilya, you can’t always do that.”
Ilya perked up, “What? What do you mean I can’t always do that? Do what, protect you?”
“No, put yourself in danger for me,” Shane muttered, “If my mom actually was doing something, if she was actually hurting me, she’d hurt you too. And I can’t have you throwing yourself between me and something that’s trying to hurt me like that.”
Ilya was silent, putting away the first aid kit before moving up to where Shane was sat on the closed toilet. He placed his hands on Shane’s face, kissing his nose, forehead, and then lips before resting his forehead against his, “Shane,” he whispered, “I cannot do that.”
“Ilya, if something happened to you because of me...”
“I do not think you understand, sweetheart,” Ilya said, looking at Shane with watery eyes, “I cannot do that. I will not do that, ever.”
“But Ilya-”
“No buts, Shane. I will always defend you from whatever, wherever, whenever, from whoever. Your safety is not, what is the word for discussing?”
“Negotiable?”
“Negotiable, yes. Your safety is not negotiable, if there is danger I find way to protect you. You are your own person, yes, but you are also my husband who I love.”
“We’re both so stubborn,” Shane sniffled, holding onto Ilya’s waist, “I know that no matter what I say there’s no stopping you.”
Ilya smiled back, holding his face ever tighter, “I know there’s no stopping you from protecting me either,” he thumbed away the tears on Shane’s cheeks, “We protect each other, we love each other.”
“We’re partners, Ilya—two stubborn ones, but partners, husbands, married nonetheless.”
“Yes, indeed,” Ilya helped Shane up (despite his protests, but Ilya just really needed to hold him) and they exited the bathroom to their room and climbed under the covers to get some rest.