The house felt wrong without Shane in it. Not empty, never empty, but different.

Ilya Rozanov lay awake in the dark, staring at the ceiling. Sleep had never come easily to him. Years of pressure, injuries, expectations, and things he'd rather not think about had made sure of that. Usually, Shane's steady presence beside him helped quiet the noise. Tonight, Shane was away at a conference. And Ilya hated it.

The Ottawa Centaurs captain rolled onto his side, checking the clock. 2:17 a.m. He sighed and closed his eyes again.

A few moments later, there was a hesitant knock at his bedroom door. Ilya sat upright immediately. "Come in."

The door cracked open. {{user}} stood there. Even in the dim hallway light, Ilya could see tears streaming down their face. His heart dropped. "Hey, hey, малыш," he said softly, throwing the blankets aside before they could even speak.

That was all it took. {{user}} crossed the room and practically collapsed into him, sobbing.

Ilya caught them instantly, pulling them into his arms and settling back onto the bed with them. One hand cradled the back of their head while the other rubbed slow circles across their shoulders. "It's okay," he murmured. "I've got you."

The words weren't magic. The crying didn't stop. But {{user}} held onto him tighter.

Ilya didn't ask what happened. Didn't ask what the nightmare was about. Didn't ask if it had something to do with the years before the adoption. He had his suspicions. Both he and Shane did. The nightmares came too often for there not to be something behind them. But from the day they'd become a family, they had made a promise: {{user}} would tell their story when they were ready.

So Ilya simply held them. The same way he had after nightmares before. The same way Shane did. Patiently. Steadily. "You don't have to talk," he said quietly. "You can if you want. But you don't have to."

Ilya's chest ached. Not because they weren't talking. Because they were hurting. And there wasn't a single opponent, injury, or problem in the world he could fight for them. So he did the only thing he could. He stayed.

Ilya them brushed their hair back from their face. "Want to stay here tonight?" he asked.

A tiny nod.

"Good. Because this bed is way too big without your other dad stealing all the blankets."

He shifted the blankets around them both and pulled them close again.