Shoequeeny



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    Ilya was nineteen when he moved to the US. Nineteen years of Russia. Over half a decade of Russian summers after that to re-up. His brain, Shane knew, operated in Russian.

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    15 May 2026

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    “Expecting company?” the person calls.

    There’s no way.

    He knows that voice—has heard it in his bed, and on the ice, and in his dreams—but he hasn’t heard it this closely and alone in years.

    For a split second, he thinks no one will be there. That Svetlana was right, and becoming a recluse was making him crazy.

    When Ilya finally does turn around, Shane Hollander is standing there, looking at him warily.

    “Ilya?”

    The ghost is back, only he speaks, and he’s not really a ghost at all.

    Or, Shane and Ilya never speak again after the tuna melt debacle and Shane marries Rose. Seven years later, news hits that they are getting a divorce. Somehow, Shane shows up on the doorstep of Ilya's remote cottage, with only a duffel bag and a small hope. For Ilya, time has changed both nothing and everything.

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    10 Apr 2026

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    06 Apr 2026

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    03 Apr 2026

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    "He said it was just a stronger edible," Wyatt says. "Apparently it was supposed to be super natural, and relaxing and rejuvenating, not the weak Canadian shit, and—"

    "You say a bad word, Hazy," Ilya interrupts, pointing a tiny finger at him.

    "Right." Wyatt winces. "Sorry, kid."

    Rejuvenating. Shane turns the word over in his mind a few times, while readjusting Ilya’s little body in his arms.

    Jesus fucking Christ.

    -

    or, with the help of some mysterious russian candy and a very loving husband, ilya rozanov heals his inner child.

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    29 Mar 2026