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[mountreal]

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screw icons we die like men aka post reveal cottage shennanigans

[bostop]

[ The car ride is mostly silent, but it's pretty much what he'd expected. There's a quiet sort of solace to things as the scenery floats by. Moments in the ride where he'd simply reached out to touch Shane in an attempt to serve as a solid, real reminder that he's here. He's not going anywhere. Shane seems to sit in the acceptance in a way that Ilya can't quite fathom, but in a strange way that's nice, too. He doesn't have to think about it. He just has to be there for Shane.

The worry, the nerves, the reality--that will come. That will wash over them like the waves on the cottage lake where they're returning to, and they will deal with it. They, a singular entity despite being two people. Shane and Ilya. Ilya and Shane.

Ilya reaches over a second time, this time to place a strong hand on the small of Shane's neck, index and middle finger applying a gentle pressure to half-massage the base of his skull while the car turns from paved highway to a gravel lined road. There's a metaphor there maybe, something he doesn't care to dwell on. Poetry and metaphor and all of that junk have never been his strong suit, only hockey. ]

You will be okay.

[ He breaks the silence with a sincere comment that sounds more like an order solely because of his tone and accent: when they get back, Shane needs to relax. Simple. Straightforward. ]

We will drink more. You can tell me more about the charity. We can watch the sunset, and make a fire. It will be okay.

text | post-cottage

[coldcock]

Have you seen my hoodie?
The Raiders one from two years ago?

— text

[coldcock]

( even though they’d made plans for Christmas, New Year, and Russian New Year… this feels like a big milestone for them as a couple: ) The week of 2/12, neither of us have games until Friday

I could come to Montreal