Chapter Text
Aoifé stepped out from the airport to feel the fresh, crisp air graze against her skin, she was so glad to be out of that dreaded plane.
But the one person she couldn’t seem to escape from was right behind her, ordering Aoifé to her every last step.
That, was Megan. A lady who has stood by Aoifé through all of her foster homes and convent schools, helping her direct from each one to the next.
Megan was a kind, tall and skinny woman with sharp features and a death glare that would make most people shiver, though it strangely didn’t affect Aoifé. Megan seemed to admire her bravery.
“Right, so the taxi will be here extremely soon, around ten minutes. Follow me to the area they ordered to pick us up, okay?” Megan said it like a question, but it was a clear and obvious answer.
Aoifé had her head down, looking at her shoes. She wondered if the things that were considered “cool” back home were also cool here. She slightly adjusted her sweatpants to hide her now horrific shoes.
When suddenly, someone banged into Aoifé.
“Oh, god.” Aoifé panicked, “I’m so sorry.” She frantically apologised.
The person smirked up until he heard her speak, then proceeded to look almost offended and confused that she said anything at all.
Aoifé was weirded out. Were people in Canada just mean? Did she say something wrong? Aoifé looked up to see Megan ushering her to the taxi that was parked a few meters further from her. She rushed in, while Megan put her belongings into the boot of the car.
. . . .
The car was driving through one endless road surrounded by fields, and it reminded Aoifé of home.
“Canadian people are mean.” Aoifé stated, looking at Megan and then out the window, to only get blinded by the sun. She swooped her big sunglasses off from her long, curly black hair and onto the bridge of her nose.
“Well, bad news for you.” Megan sarcastically joked. “The first people to ever officially adopt you as their child, permanently, are Canadian—Kinda.. not completely.”
There had been many phone calls, and an online tour of their home, but Aoifé never got the chance to meet them face to face until now. She didn’t even know what they looked like, and had only heard their voices. They had someone inspect their homes and everything—the usual procedure.
“Besides, Aoifé,” Megan began to reassure her, “You have so much athletic ability, and they don’t even know that yet. I’m sure they’ll be absolutely thrilled.” She added.
“Yeah, thrilled that I know how to play Gaelic football, or Camogie? I doubt they even know what that is.” Aoifé complained.
“Aoifé, don’t lie. You have mastered pretty much every sport that has been shown to you—and you’ve been shown a lot of sports.” Megan began to be in a state of confusion at how Aoifé doubted herself, she was so confident at home.
Aoifé rolled her eyes. “Only because I was bored up my hole! Fat fucking chance you’d catch me laying on my arse all day.” She snapped.
“Watch your language, now.” Megan replied.
“Right, sorry.” Aoifé shoved her hand down the pocket of her sweatpants in an attempt to get her wireless headphones, when she almost accidentally took her Lost Mary out. She panicked and threw it back into her pocket.
(While Megan stopped for the bathroom in the airport once they landed, Aoifé quickly scurried to a nearby pop-up shop and showed her fake ID. And just like that, she had a fresh strawberry ice.)
Aoifé had only started vaping six months ago, while in a boarding school.
I say ‘a’, because she was only there for two.
Megan randomly got her transferred one day off to a convent school, claiming she was told to be on “good behaviour”, like it was a prison.
Aoifé didn’t really care. She knows it sounds cliché, but she got moved around so much she couldn’t get attached to people. Or maybe she had always just forced herself not to, she didn’t remember.
She decided to change the subject.
“Are we almost here? This drive seems to be taking forever.” Aoifé groaned.
“Ah, perfect timing, Aoifé!” Megan replied, “We’re just about to drive in, actually.”
“Wait, what?” Aoifé shockingly answered.
She wasn’t ready for this; to meet them. Aoifé needed more time to prepare, mentally.
Who were her new parents, forever, going to be?
The car jolted to a stop.
“Okay, ‘cmon, Aoifé. Help me get your bags out.” Megan demanded as she unbuckled her seatbelt and proceeded to exit from the backseat.
She could spot two figures talking to Megan through the window. Aoifé couldn’t see much outside, the windows were well tinted, almost like they were a celebrity or something. Aoifé laughed at that thought. She opened her side of the door and peaked to see what they looked like.
No fucking way.
Aoifé couldn’t. She smiled, and she didn’t force it. Aoifé did that a lot with her foster parents when she first met them, mostly to make them feel better. But this? It was real. It did not feel real. I mean, her forever parents are Ilya Rozanov and Shane Hollander?
She loved sport, obviously. Although Aoifé isn’t a huge sportsman or anything, she just keeps up with any that she’s interested in. She was slightly shocked that the two biggest known hockey rivals were taking her in as their own, but she wasn’t fangirling over them. Just sort of.. giddy. In a way.
Aoifé remembered when they had came out as a couple. When they first had the kiss at their All-Star game, Aoifé was intensely gaslighting the girls in her boarding school bedroom one Friday night, showing the same clip repeatedly.
. . . . . .
“Ah Aoifé, would ya feck off. Do they not literally hate each other? Like, what about tha, makes any sense?” Said an unconvinced Louise, A girl three years above her.
“No! Louise, I’m telling you, they’re so in love. It’s actually so fucking adorable.”
“Ok, sure. Hockey nerd over here thinks she knows it all.”
“Eh, people have been saying it. It’s deffo not just me.” Aoifé answered with a smug tone.
. . . . . .
The couple smiled at Aoifé, trying to look calm. However, she did spot them quietly smacking each other’s hands while they were side by side.
Aoifé got her bags out from the boot of the car and began to approach them and Megan as they spoke to one another.
“Mr. Hollander-Rozanov, this is Aoife! As you remember from the paperwork,” Aoifé thought Megan sounded almost robotic.”Aoifé is sixteen, she’s never been adopted— only fostered, she’s quite intelligent, and I think you’ll be happy to know that she’s fairly athletic.” Megan chirped with a smirk, as Ilya chuckled—and Shane crookedly smiled while he raised his brows, almost seeming amused.
“Megan. Stop.” Aoifé hushed. She felt bad, like she was putting them under some sort of pressure.
“Okay,” Megan took out some papers. “Just sign these, and you’ll be ready to go.” She handed them to the couple and they quickly signed.
“Thank you!” Megan turned to Aoifé. “And you, Aoifé.” Megan gave a warm smile with her slightly glassy eyes, as she placed her hand on Aoifé’s. “I wish you the absolute best. You are an incredible person, and I guarantee you will travel far in life. Youare capable of so much, and I’ve only seen the start of your journey. I love you, Aoifé—and I’m so glad to have been able to guide you to all these new adventures, I’m sorry there’s been so many. But, I’m glad we ended up here.”
A small tear rolled down Aoifé’s cheek, facing away from Shane and Ilya.
“I-I’ll miss you, t-too.” Aoifé sniffled, pulling Megan into a tight hug.
Ilya and Shane smiled, as Ilya placed his arm around Shane’s shoulder, gently rubbing it up and down.
They both separated, while Aoifé gently wiped her eyes with her sweater sleeve, Megan walked back to the car, aggressively waving goodbye.
Aoifé waved back, then she turned to face her.. new parents. Shane Hollander, and Ilya Rozanov.
Was this gonna be weird?
“Hi.” Shane smiled. “Do you wanna come inside? We’ll show you around.” He offered.
Aoife nodded her head and they began to walk inside.
She noticed the pile of shoes by the door, so she began to discreetly take her shoes off, carefully.
“So, this isn’t our proper home. It’s a-a summer cottage.” Shane stammered. Aoifé thought he seemed nervous. “Why would he be nervous..? I’m not scary.” She thought.
“We go here to relax when we’re off season, and we wanted to have spare time to help get to know you and settle in.” Shane stated. Ilya butted in.
“Is very relaxing, you will enjoy it a lot. Is maith liom, yes?”
Aoifé was taken aback. How the hell? Why was he speaking Gaeilge?
“Ha.. yeah—I mean—tá. Is breá liom an teach.” She complimented, using simple terms to help them understand.
The two looked confused. She realised “Is maith liom” was probably all they knew. Aoifé, almost comedically, cleared her throat.
“I’ll show you to the guest room, and you can get some sleep if you’d like. Until dinner, obviously. We saw that you have no allergies, is that right?” Shane asked while he directed her to the room, with Ilya following close behind.
Wow, that was alot for Aoifé to take in. She had just had her first and longest flight ever, so all she heard was sleep.
“Em, yep.” Aoifé reassured with a yawn that she was exhausted. She walked into her new bedroom and gently placed down her suitcase and bags to the floor.
“Ok, you get some sleep and we call for dinner later.” Ilya informed, and Aoifé nodded in agreement.
They closed the door, whispering to each other in the hallway, thinking Aoifé couldn’t hear. She giggled at their hushed compliments.
“Shane, she has freckles!”
“I know! Is she fluent in Gaelic?”
Though, she did sigh in disappointment listening to Shane call Gaeilge, Gaelic.
Aoifé got changed. She had to take off her gross outside clothes—no way she’d sleep in that.
Once she was in an oversized black t-shirt, (With a big photo of a monkey smoking a blunt on the back—her hair is hiding it.) and a pair of big basketball shorts, Aoifé quickly collapsed into bed.
Her clothes weren’t fully unpacked, but she didn’t really care about that right now. She needed sleep—even for just an hour or two.
. . . . . . .
While Aoifé was almost completely unconscious, there was a calm knock at the door.
Aoifé’s eyes fluttered open, seeing Ilya peek his head through the door to check if she had woken up fully. She smiled at him.
“Ah, you’re awake. Good. Dinner is ready.” He smirked, to then walk back up to the kitchen.
Aoifé slowly sat upright on her bed. Ilya had left the door slightly open. The smell from the kitchen was amazing. She quickly jumped off the bed and casually sped to the kitchen.
Ilya was already sitting down at the table, and Shane was placing the dinner onto the table that was already set with knifes, forks, and even a glass of iced water. Aoifé viewed this as heaven.
She sat down and examined the food. It was a spicy curry with chicken, rice, and a side of naan bread. Her mouth was practically watering at the sight of it.
Aoifé immediately started eating, and just hoped that they didn’t pray before dinner—she had made a rookie mistake at one of her foster homes before. It’s didn’t seem to go down well with them that time.. But Shane and Ilya didn’t seem to mind.
As she dipped a piece of naan into the curry, Ilya decided to start conversation.
“How was your flight?” He asked.
Aoifé quickly perked her head up.
“Oh, yeah. It was pretty long—but it was also my first flight ever so, I suppose I can’t really complain.” She shrugged. Aoifé turned her head to see Shane’s eyes slowly widen as he heard her speak.
“Sorry, could you please um, repeat that?” Shane questioned.
“Oh, sorry. I know I tend to talk fairly fast.” Aoifé said, now in a slower tone.
“No, it’s not that. It’s just-“ Shane was trying to explain what he meant without sounding mean, but she was also beginning to look impatient. “Where in Ireland are you from?”
It suddenly all clicked for Aoifé. That’s why that guy from the airport looked at her weird! It was her accent! God, she was so used to people just simply understanding her back at home, but she’s in Canada now. She wasn’t offended, though.
“Oh, ha! I’m from Belfast, it’s up north of Ireland.” She chuckled. “The accents are usually stronger up north.”
“I can tell.” Ilya remarked, almost automatically, but in no intention of being mean.
“Ilya, don’t be rude!” Shane panicked.
“I wasn’t!” He explained. “I was just saying is true, I can barely understand.” Ilya said.
“I’m sorry.” Shane sincerely and frantically apologised.
“Seriously, no worries. I get it, it’s not easy to follow sometimes.” Aoifé dramatically swatted her hand around as if she was physically pushing away the accidental remark.
Shane continued on. “So, we know about your family history, but what was Ireland like?” He questioned.
Oh, how she hated the way people here said Ireland. It was everyone, not just Shane. “Eye-are-laaanndd”, it was insufferable.
Aoifé realised. Was. She was probably never going to go back there again.
Aoifé always said that she wanted nothing more than to leave the country, but that was her home. Not anymore. This, this is her home now.
Oh, God.
She didn’t even notice she was crying until Ilya handed her a tissue from across the table. Aoifé carefully wiped her eyes and looked back down again. She was so embarrassed.
Her dinner was practically licked clean, and her glass was empty. So, Aoifé quietly cleared her throat and picked up her dishes to put them in the dishwasher.
Before she went back to her room, she stood infront of the two—who were still sitting at the table, their faces creased with worry.
“Thank-“ It felt like there was a lump in her throat that just refused to leave.
“Thank you, for dinner.” Aoifé clarified, darting back to her room in almost a state of fear.
. . . . . . . . .
She carefully closed the door behind her, and began to stare in the mirror that was hung off the wall—above the hollow dresser.
Aoifé had dark, tanned skin with freckles spread all over her—mainly her shoulders, along her nose and cheeks. With big, brown eyes that Aoifé found boring.
Then her hair. She really cared about her hair. It had been with her through everything. Every house, every school, and now, countries. Long, black, loose curls, that would tend to lighten slightly in the summer. She gently ran her fingers through them.
She was proud of the body she had strengthened. Sure, she wasn’t tall. Which bothered her—Aoifé thought it made her look more intimidating in games, whatever sport it was. Then again, she wasn’t particularly short, either.
That was not what mattered to her. It was her athleticism. Aoifé was built. She was constantly doing any sport whenever possible, and went to the gym the most in the winter—since most sports were off during then, giving her more free time. Aoifé still never missed the opportunity to work out at home, though. She just hated doing it. Running is more fun and private.. enjoyable, even.
The exercise and sport were the only consistent things in Aoifé’s life that she could rely on. GAA wouldn’t tell her to pack her bags in the night and be gone by morning. An evening jog wouldn’t leave her bruised all over.
Aoifé put on her glasses and sat down on the bed. While scooting herself up against the headboard, she rang the only person she would probably ever talk to in Belfast again.
Calling: Louise…
. . . . . . . .
“Hey, Megan. Yeah it’s Shane.” He sighed as he paced back and forth in the kitchen while Ilya did the dishes. Shane put Megan on speaker for Ilya to also hear, but not so loud that Aoifé might pick it up from her room.
“What’s up?” Megan asked from across the phone. Megan’s accent was easier to understand. It was softer, calmer. But Shane strangely liked how Aoifé spoke. Shane proceeded to explain what had just happened moments before.
“Well, you can guess moving to a new country for the rest of your life isn’t going to be easy.” Megan imposed. Shane thought of Ilya. Sure, he wasn’t as young as Aoifé was, but it was still a big change. He thought Ilya would resonate with her slightly more than Shane on this topic.
Megan followed on,“I’m sure she’ll be fine. Aoifé’s a strong girl, but she’s not invincible to emotion, no matter how much she tries.”
That, was what Shane understood completely. The amount of times he wished that words and feelings could just bounce off him rather than to just absorb love, that nothing could ever hurt him if he refused to feel it.
“It probably just hit her that she’s really here. She will grow to love you, this place, I’m confident of that.” She stated.
“Yeah. Yeah, you’re right, Megan. Thanks so much.” Shane responded.
“Ring me if you need anything!” She replied, hanging up the phone.
Shane placed his phone down onto the counter while he leaned over it, burying his hands into his face—then moving them into his hair.
Ilya walked across to Shane from the opposite side of the counter, placing a hand on his shoulder and a kiss to his thick, black hair.
“Is okay, Shane.” Ilya paused. “We should talk to her.”
“She probably fucking hates me, Ilya!” Shane broke. “I could barely understand what she was saying for a minute! God, I feel fucking awful.”
“Hey, no.” Ilya paused. “She has a strong accent, so what? She knows. I have strong accent and you like me.”
Shane’s eyes practically burned through his.
“Ilya, that is not the same.”
“Shane, there’s no way Aoifé hates—you just met her! Fuck.”
“I don’t know. I can’t understand this.” Shane squeezed his eyes shut.
“This, is not simple, sweetheart. She is complicated girl. We don’t know her past. There’s no book for this, no stupid television show, we just have to work through it, yes?”
“I just.. I thought I could be perfect at this.” His voice cracked.
“There’s no way to be perfect.” Ilya placed a gentle, slow kiss onto Shane before he reciprocated with a hug so tight Ilya thought he might suffocate.
. . . . .
“How are ye? How’s eh.. what’s it? America?” Louise quizzed.
“Canada.” Aoifé sighed.
“Same thing.”
Aoifé laughed. They sat in silence for around ten seconds.
“So how is it? Really.” Louise asked genuinely.
“I don’t know. No, that’s a lie.” She corrected herself. “It’s great. This house is amazing. These people are amazing. I just.. I think I’m homesick or something.”
“Bless. I’m sorry, Aoifé. You can call or text whenever, pet.” Louise reassured.
“Thanks.” She felt a bit more comfortable now. Then she realised. “Shit!” Aoifé complained.
“What? What’s happened now?” Louise said.
“I’ve been a huge fucking dick. I freaked out at dinner and just.. walked away. Like a fucking dope.” Aoifé listened in to an animal from outside that she couldn’t quite place.
“Ah Aoifé I’m sure it’s grand. You’ll be-shite. I have to go, I’m sorry. It’s work. Text tomorrow.” Louise quickly hung up.
Aoifé didn’t even get the chance to say goodbye.
She was left with the silence swallowing the room. Until she heard noise from the kitchen.
“She probably fucking hates me, Ilya!”
Everything after that was a blur. She blocked it out purely on accident. Aoifé was still stuck on that.
It was wrong. She couldn’t believe he even considered that. Couldn’t believe she had done something to make him think that. Aoifé’s heart sank.
She thought to go up there, to say something. “I don’t hate you. How could I hate you?” Aoifé decided that she probably wasn’t wanted up there right now. She chose to stay in her room. They needed space from her.
They wanted nothing but to be with her. That’s all they fucking wanted. Her.
The two slowly walked down to Aoifé’s room. Placing a calm knock at the door.
Aoifé walked up and opened it.
“Hey,” Ilya said. “Could we talk?” He asked.
She nodded and moved to let the two into the room, closing the door behind her.
“We just wanted to..” Shane stopped to think how to continue.
“I’m sorry.” Aoifé interrupted. “I just—I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done what-what I did and it was awful.” Her eyes were wide, and glassy.
“What?” Ilya answered. “No, do not apologise.”
Aoifé was crying now. She knew she was crying. She felt it. So fucking much. Her eyes burned.
“I haven’t been.. treated like this. Lived here, or in a house like this. I miss-“ She paused to just sob, while the two of them came closer. “I miss home. Ireland. I just don’t know how to feel anymore. It’s usually just numb. But now it’s everything. I feel everything, too much. And now I’m adopted.” Aoifé smiled as the mountains of tears rushed down her full cheeks. “And it’s great. It’s all I’ve ever wanted.”
The room was quiet.
Shit. She shouldn’t have said anything at all. She never opened up like this to anyone, besides Megan.
But she’s not here.
She wished she was here.
Aoifé felt it so fast. She felt the rush. The rush of warmth, of care, of worry. Of love. All encapsulated into a single hug.
Brought by her dads.
She sobbed in smiles while she dug her head into Ilyas shoulder. Aoifé loosened her grip towards Shane, worried she would strangle him.
They eventually separated, with led to them looking at each other—red faced.
“It’s Gaeilge, by the way.” Aoifé smiled towards Shane. “Not Gaelic. That’s a sport.”
“Oh. I’ll um.. keep that in mind.” Shane chucked with a hint of embarrassment.
Aoifé began to feel full again.