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I actually wrote something!
Aug. 20th, 2026 08:43 pmBinaries
ficlet - 691 words
ilya character study, grigori rozanov & how not to be a father
According to his father, the world is made up of binaries. Ilya is good at hockey (except for when he’s not), worthy of parading in front of friends and colleagues, bragging about the skill and discipline he inherited from his father. Alexei is not. Alexei is good at following the rules; he behaves, he listens, he shows respect (he sneaks and hides and lies). Ilya is not.
Ilya wins or he does not. There is no almost, there are no bad days, the team does not matter. At the beginning of his first MLH season, after his first few media appearances, his father calls him; because Ilya wins or he does not, what is this? ‘The team needs to click’, ‘it was a close game’, ‘we were in a rough patch’. Unacceptable. But the team wants what the team wants, and soon enough his father no longer bothers to watch most of his games. Ilya is not winning. Ilya is not good at hockey.
Ilya remains bad at hockey when he loses at the Olympics. His father doesn’t comment on his Cup win. Either he remains bad at hockey—he failed Russia on the world stage—or his father is too far gone to pay much attention. There should be a grey area in there somewhere, Ilya thinks, but his father never sees it. Never will see it probably, with his mind falling apart the way it has been.
Ilya lives in the grey area, in between the black and white. But even after his father dies he catches himself thinking in binaries and yesses or nos. Years with his father are hard to unlearn, even the parts that make no sense.
Irina was alive or she was not. But Ilya watched as she became a living corpse, unable to get out of bed, unable to smile. And then one day, Irina was dead. (How she died was an accident, no other option). Ilya was still alive, but in the days immediately after he wondered if this was what she felt like, right before the end. And he wondered how alive he really was.
Ilya wonders this more often than he would care to admit.
Hollander hates him or he does not. He wonders about this more often than he would care to admit too. Ilya is pissy and rude, then Hollander is pissy and rude, and it just goes back and forth. By the time Hollander morphs into Shane and Ilya says ‘I love you’ down the phone in Russian, Ilya thinks he should be able to stop wondering.
But it follows him. The stretches between grow longer, but it’s still there, lodged in the back of his mind. It follows him to Ottawa, to his big, empty house where the nights feel dark and gray and never-ending and he becomes desperate enough to see a therapist about it.
They are out or they are not. In that, Ilya feels, the grey area is meaningless. Either they can hold hands wherever they want, or they can’t. Either they can go on dates in public or they can’t. Either they can say they love each other or they can’t. Shane thinks the grey area is comfortable, but for once, Ilya is suffocated by it.
Shane doesn’t hate him, but Ilya wonders if they can make this thing work after all. If he’s feeling more like his mother, and he can’t just enjoy the one thing that makes him the happiest.
The plane crashes or it does not. Except it almost crashes, there in the grey area where Ilya lives, but it doesn’t. It ends with an engagement somehow (Ilya’s therapist raises an eyebrow at this) and the promise to come out ‘soon’. Shane swears he means soon, but Ilya wonders, longsufferingly, if he just means before retirement.
They never do get to find that one out.
Anyway, the therapist does help, eventually. And with a husband in his house, and his brain exercises, and a dog, he finds the binaries are easier to ignore. Except of course, which one of them is the better hockey player. That one never gets old.
ficlet - 691 words
ilya character study, grigori rozanov & how not to be a father
According to his father, the world is made up of binaries. Ilya is good at hockey (except for when he’s not), worthy of parading in front of friends and colleagues, bragging about the skill and discipline he inherited from his father. Alexei is not. Alexei is good at following the rules; he behaves, he listens, he shows respect (he sneaks and hides and lies). Ilya is not.
Ilya wins or he does not. There is no almost, there are no bad days, the team does not matter. At the beginning of his first MLH season, after his first few media appearances, his father calls him; because Ilya wins or he does not, what is this? ‘The team needs to click’, ‘it was a close game’, ‘we were in a rough patch’. Unacceptable. But the team wants what the team wants, and soon enough his father no longer bothers to watch most of his games. Ilya is not winning. Ilya is not good at hockey.
Ilya remains bad at hockey when he loses at the Olympics. His father doesn’t comment on his Cup win. Either he remains bad at hockey—he failed Russia on the world stage—or his father is too far gone to pay much attention. There should be a grey area in there somewhere, Ilya thinks, but his father never sees it. Never will see it probably, with his mind falling apart the way it has been.
Ilya lives in the grey area, in between the black and white. But even after his father dies he catches himself thinking in binaries and yesses or nos. Years with his father are hard to unlearn, even the parts that make no sense.
Irina was alive or she was not. But Ilya watched as she became a living corpse, unable to get out of bed, unable to smile. And then one day, Irina was dead. (How she died was an accident, no other option). Ilya was still alive, but in the days immediately after he wondered if this was what she felt like, right before the end. And he wondered how alive he really was.
Ilya wonders this more often than he would care to admit.
Hollander hates him or he does not. He wonders about this more often than he would care to admit too. Ilya is pissy and rude, then Hollander is pissy and rude, and it just goes back and forth. By the time Hollander morphs into Shane and Ilya says ‘I love you’ down the phone in Russian, Ilya thinks he should be able to stop wondering.
But it follows him. The stretches between grow longer, but it’s still there, lodged in the back of his mind. It follows him to Ottawa, to his big, empty house where the nights feel dark and gray and never-ending and he becomes desperate enough to see a therapist about it.
They are out or they are not. In that, Ilya feels, the grey area is meaningless. Either they can hold hands wherever they want, or they can’t. Either they can go on dates in public or they can’t. Either they can say they love each other or they can’t. Shane thinks the grey area is comfortable, but for once, Ilya is suffocated by it.
Shane doesn’t hate him, but Ilya wonders if they can make this thing work after all. If he’s feeling more like his mother, and he can’t just enjoy the one thing that makes him the happiest.
The plane crashes or it does not. Except it almost crashes, there in the grey area where Ilya lives, but it doesn’t. It ends with an engagement somehow (Ilya’s therapist raises an eyebrow at this) and the promise to come out ‘soon’. Shane swears he means soon, but Ilya wonders, longsufferingly, if he just means before retirement.
They never do get to find that one out.
Anyway, the therapist does help, eventually. And with a husband in his house, and his brain exercises, and a dog, he finds the binaries are easier to ignore. Except of course, which one of them is the better hockey player. That one never gets old.
