Rating:

Explicit

Archive Warning:

No Archive Warnings Apply

Category:

M/M

Fandoms:

Heated Rivalry (TV), Game Changers Series - Rachel Reid, Game Changers | Heated Rivalry - All Media Types

Relationships:

Shane Hollander/Ilya Rozanov, Shane Hollander & Ilya Rozanov

Characters:

Shane Hollander, Ilya Rozanov, Hayden Pike

Additional Tags:

Modern AU, Ilya is famous, Shane is not, Secret Relationship, Consent King Ilya Rozanov, Ilya Rozanov Loves Shane Hollander, Shane Hollander Loves Ilya Rozanov, Notting Hill-coded, Except she was really mean to Hugh Grant in that movie, Actor Ilya Rozanov, Bookstore owner Shane Hollander

Language:

English

Series:

Part 2 of The Rom-Com Multiverse

Stats:

Published: 2026-05-15 Words: 39,482 Chapters: 5/5

Celebrity romance

Summary

No matter the trope.
No matter the universe.
No matter the setup.
They find each other.

Chapter 1: First meetings

It was quiet on Tuesday morning when Shane made his way downstairs, carrying his customary coffee mug with him, wrapped in his favorite fuzzy fleece jacket to stave off the cool October morning. It was only a few steps from his front door to the faded blue one of Marginalia, which he unlocked easily and pushed open.

The sun was just coming in the shop windows, a few swirls of dust circling in the air from the breeze of the door opening. As he used his foot to slide the doorstop in place, he breathed in the scents of paper, leather, and vellichor, comforting in their familiarity. He made his way towards the back of the shop, pausing to set his coffee down at the front desk, then moving to open the boxes that had arrived at the end of the day yesterday. One was a special order for a researcher at the University of Toronto, who had been searching for a particular text on the history of draft resisters coming to Canada during the Vietnam War. He’d have to make sure to give Professor Gale a call– he’d been ecstatic that Shane had been able to track it down.

There were a couple of newer titles as well, a collection of poems from a local author, a coffee table book of landscape photography in Arizona, and, on a whim, he’d even procured a copy of a romance novel about two hockey players that had gotten popular after having been adapted into a television series recently. If it moved well, perhaps he would stock some of the other books in the series.

He moved around the store, slotting the new books into place and rearranging others, pulling a few titles out to highlight on the center table and rotating some of the travel books out to include warmer destinations as people started to think about temporarily escaping the coming winter. He paused when he came across one of his favorites, a book on Parisian architecture, debating whether it was time to move it to the back, as it had been sitting out for several weeks. He’d never had the chance to visit Paris, and now he so rarely had time off, it was unlikely to happen. He dithered for a moment, then slid it back onto the shelf. One more week. Maybe someone else would find as much joy in it as he had.

By the time the shop was officially open for business, it was looking quite nice, with a few new books displayed in the window and a table of books from local authors arranged right near the entrance. Shane had just pulled the cushion off one of the armchairs placed around the shop to fluff it up when he heard someone enter.

“It’s just me,” Hayden called, pushing back his baseball cap. He had his backpack hanging off of one shoulder and dark circles under his eyes, the classic overworked and underslept graduate student. He worked part time at Marginalia between his classes as well as some weekends and evenings, reading or typing up papers behind the desk between helping customers and occasionally asking Shane to help him find a book to help with his film studies program. It was a real help having him around and Shane was already worried about what he would do when Hayden graduated.

Now that Hayden was here, Shane made his way to the back room. Like the front of the shop, the shelves were meticulously organized, but they reached from the floors to the ceiling and were full of books, many older, dense texts. There was a chair with a broken spring that had been there before Shane had bought the place three years ago as well as a folding table and a few chairs. A few books were perched on the table– new stock that he hadn’t yet had a chance to read. But that wasn’t what he was here for right now.

He slipped in between the shelves to a small basket in the rear, where he’d set aside a few specific items. Inside were a few fiction novels, for the young woman who came in at least once a month looking for something that would make her cry but not feel hopeless. Next were the two most recent issues of The Annals of Mathematics for the retired professor who preferred hard copies to reading online. Shane didn’t normally stock academic journals, but he’d made an exception for Joseph, who always walked around with a pencil behind his ear just in case inspiration struck when he was out and about. And finally, a science fiction novel for the young father who came by once a week on his lunch break. He pulled out the two novels for Amanda, knowing she was due for a visit, and brought them back out to the front just in case she came in today.

It wasn’t very busy this morning which wasn’t unexpected given that it was mid-week. Shane took a morning walk down to Dreamy Drops to pick up a coffee for himself and a cappuccino and cookie for Hayden, who looked like he was ready to fall asleep behind the front desk. The boutique clothing store next door had a new display up, and the stationary store was just opening its doors. Shane made a note to stop in soon for a new order book– his current one was filling up. Hayden liked to make fun of him for using a physical book in the digital age, but Shane preferred it to typing into a spreadsheet.

Unfortunately, his normal route to Dreamy Drops was interrupted by some barricades and several large trucks and trailers completely blocking the road. He peered over them, mildly irritated, but not surprised. A woman with an official-looking vest was standing just inside the barricades. “Sorry,” she said. “Film shoot. If you turn right there’s a detour.” That explained the gaggle of people standing at the barricade, presumably hoping to catch a glimpse of whatever the production was.

Shane grumbled a bit to himself as he followed her directions. This was the second time this month that the roads had been closed. He didn’t begrudge the city allowing shoots here, but he also didn’t love the inconvenience. Nevertheless, he looped around a couple of blocks, ready for his coffee.

“Sorry that took longer than normal,” he said to Hayden, once he was back in the shop. “There’s another film shoot happening on Huron and the whole road was blocked off. Had to go around.” He handed over the cappuccino and cookie, to Hayden’s delight.

“Oh man, is it Hollow Anatomy?” Hayden asked.

“Uh,” Shane fiddled with his coffee cup. “What’s that?”

“You’re not old enough to be this out of touch, Shane,” Hayden scolded. He pulled out his phone and typed something in. He turned his phone around and Shane glanced down to see a very handsome man with blue-green eyes and a mop of curly hair dressed in a white coat, leaning over a shadowed figure in a hospital bed. “It’s by Markus Chang, he just won best director last year. Supposed to highlight a real moral dilemma.”

Shane blinked, not recognizing the director’s name. Hayden sighed and pulled his phone back, then proceeded to read the plot synopsis aloud. “A top army surgeon is tasked with treating a brutal dictator, taking time and resources from other patients. He is torn between his Hippocratic Oath to save every life and the knowledge that every day the dictator lives, hundreds more will die.”

“Sounds… interesting.” Shane took a sip of his coffee.

“You need to watch more movies.”

“I go to the movies. Just not… often.” Shane pulled his glasses out from the chest pocket on his shirt and flipped open the order book to remind himself of what he still needed to hunt down.

Hayden continued to talk about the movie and how exciting it was for such a big production to be filmed in Toronto instead of somewhere like New York and with such an impressive lead. Shane only half-listened as he sipped his coffee.

***

The next day, late in the evening, Shane was on his own, reshelving a few books that he’d been discussing with a customer when the door opened. He turned to acknowledge the newcomer, a tall man with a baseball cap pulled down over his eyes and a dark jacket unbuttoned across broad shoulders, although he seemed a bit hunched in on himself, as if he was trying to be inconspicuous. He pushed the door closed behind him and stopped there, glancing around.

“Hi,” Shane called, pushing the last book into the shelf and entering the center of the shop. The man nodded in response, still glancing around. Not a browser then. “Something I can help you find?”

The man looked up and Shane felt his heart begin to beat faster. He was handsome. Really handsome. And somehow familiar, but Shane was sure he wasn’t a regular. He forced himself to smile and not be quite so obvious about being thrown for a loop by a piercing look and a sharp jawline.

“This place was recommended to me,” the man said. “I’m looking for a couple of books.” He dug into his coat pocket and pulled out a piece of paper. “‘The Crimson Scalpel’, and ‘Bandages and Bayonets’. Do you have them?” His voice was deep and lightly accented.

“Let me just check our inventory,” Shane said, moving towards the front desk, trying not to look as flustered as he felt, gesturing for the man to follow him. Shane pushed his glasses on quickly and poked at the computer– he did use electronic records for some things, thank you very much, Hayden.

“It looks like we have ‘Bandages and Bayonets’ but the other title is, wow, it’s pretty much out of circulation. I should be able to track it down for you, though.” He glanced across the desk at the man, who was removing his hat, revealing a riot of curls that were somehow messy and effortlessly stylish at the same time. Shane’s breath caught in his throat. He was somehow even more handsome now.

“How long would it take?” the man asked.

“Hmm,” Shane pursed his lips at the computer screen. “It’ll take some doing. But I’m confident. Maybe a week?”

“That will do.”

“Great, I just need some info from you.” Shane flipped to a new page in the order book and pulled out his favorite pen. “What’s your name?”

The man tilted his head, smiling almost indulgently at him. Shane waited patiently, then smiled awkwardly when there was no name forthcoming. “You don’t know?” the man said.

“Your name? No, I don’t– sorry, have we met before?” Shane asked, suddenly embarrassed. He didn't remember seeing this man in the shop before. Oh god, had they gone on a date and he forgot? It had been awhile since he went out with anyone, so it must have been quite a long time ago if that was the case. But Shane was sure he would remember someone who looked and sounded like that.

The man’s smile widened. “I must just have one of those faces,” he said. “My name is Ilya.”

“Last name?” Shane jotted it down. The man huffed a little. Shane glanced up. “I don’t– are you… laughing?”

The man reached out in a very proprietary way and straightened Shane’s glasses. He hadn’t even been aware that they were crooked. He immediately felt a blush spread over his cheeks and he glanced back down to his order book.

“Rozanov,” the man– Ilya– supplied, looking a bit apprehensive. The name didn’t ring a bell, but Shane dutifully recorded it.

“And what’s the best way to reach you?” he asked. “Phone number or email?”

“You’re asking for my number?” Ilya sounded amused again now.

The blush was even stronger this time, there was no way Ilya hadn’t noticed it. Shane forced himself to look up. “For the order,” he explained hastily. “So I can let you know when I’ve found your book.”

“Ah, of course.” Ilya hesitated for a moment before rattling off a phone number, which Shane recorded, then read back to ensure that he had it correct. He wrote down the names of both books then looked up again.

“Did you want to wait and purchase both books together? I can hold ‘Bandages and Bayonets’ for you if you like or you can take it with you now. I just have to go find it in the back.”

“Now please, if it’s not too much trouble.” Ilya was looking at him in a way that seemed… soft. He wasn’t sure what to make of it.

“Okay, let me just–” Shane gestured to the doorway to the back area and moved towards it, mindful of Ilya’s eyes on him as he did so.

He breathed out a sigh once he was around the corner not realizing how on edge he had been throughout the whole interaction. He reached to flick on the lights and then went to hunt for the book. Usually, the back of the store was as neat as the front and he had no trouble finding things, but he’d been a bit lax lately. He rifled through a few stacks, then turned around to peek into a box higher up on the shelf. No luck.

He was bending over, moving a few books around to check behind them when he heard that deep voice again, “Did you need help?”

He straightened immediately, realizing that he’d just had his ass in the air in full view of the door that Ilya had stepped through. He wasn’t ashamed, exactly, but it wasn’t the most professional position to be in.

“Oh, um, sorry. Customers don’t usually come back here,” Shane said, straightening his shirt.

Ilya took a step forward, tall and broad and filling up the narrow space between the shelves. “I am not usually a customer,” he said. It was kind of an odd thing to say, but Shane didn’t comment.

“Well, I’m just looking for your book. It’s not where I expected it to be,” Shane brushed a hand through his hair. “We’re in the right vicinity though.”

Ilya nodded and turned to look through the shelves. Shane continued his search lower down. It was silent for a few minutes, just the sounds of shifting books before Shane felt like he should say something.

“Kind of heavy reading.”

“What?” Ilya glanced down from where he was running his fingers along a few book spines, frowning at the titles.

“Those two books. ‘Bandages and Bayonets’ is a pretty practical guide on battlefield medicine in the 19th century, and ‘The Crimson Scalpel’ is by a military doctor during the same time period,” Shane commented.

Ilya smiled. “Yes, it’s, ah, research.”

“Are you a doctor?” Shane asked curiously, shoving a box out of the way to search behind it.

“Not exactly,” Ilya replied. Then suddenly he said, “Is this it?” He extracted a worn book with a tattered cover from one of the top shelves and handed it over.

Shane double checked the title and nodded. “Yeah, that’s it. Good eye.” He gestured for Ilya to head towards the door and followed him back out to the front. He pulled the door to the back room closed behind him and made for the front desk.

“What is your name?” Ilya asked as Shane approached the desk.

“Oh, uh, Shane. Hollander.” Shane reached out and shook Ilya’s hand, feeling mildly awkward that he hadn’t introduced himself earlier. Ilya’s hand was warm and his handshake was firm.

“Nice to meet you, Shane Hollander. You’re the owner?” Ilya asked, releasing his hand and pulling his wallet out of his coat pocket to produce a very fancy looking credit card to pay.

“Yeah. Been open about three years now.” Shane tucked the receipt carefully in the front cover along with a card with the shop info on it, placed it in a paper sleeve, handed it to Ilya and tried to smile without blushing. “Thanks for stopping in. Who recommended this place to you, by the way?”

“My, ah, business associate,” Ilya said, tucking the bag under his arm.

“Well, thank them for me. Glad I could help. I’ll be in touch about the other book.”

Ilya smiled and made his way to the door of the shop. He turned, hand on the knob, and said, “The number I gave you, it’s my personal cell. You can text me.” Then he was gone and Shane was alone and dumbfounded. Surely he’d meant to text him about the book, right? He wasn’t… had he been… flirting? Before he could overanalyze the entire interaction, Shane realized he needed to close up the shop.

***

Shane had their little cart out, moving a few books around later in the week when Hayden made a shocked, high-pitched noise from behind the front desk.

“Hayd?” Shane stuck his head out from behind one of the shelves to see him hunched over the order book. “You okay?”

Hayden looked up, eyes wide and mouth halfway open. “This– you–” he stammered.

“What? What’s wrong?” Shane asked, abandoning the cart and hurrying over to the desk.

Hayden grabbed the book, turned it around, and slammed it down in front of him, pointing accusingly at an entry. Shane peered down at it. “Oh, yeah, that guy came in a few nights ago–”

“Do you know who that is?” Hayden demanded.

“Uh… a customer?” Shane said, confused.

Hayden glared at him. “Shane.”

“He’s ordering a book,” Shane said. “Kind of a creepy topic but–”

“That’s– Ilya Rozanov.” Hayden waved his arms around.

Shane frowned. “Is that supposed to mean something to me?”

“I… genuinely cannot tell if you’re joking right now.” Hayden sat down. “Ilya Rozanov. You know, the big Hollywood A-lister? He’s here in town for that movie, Hollow Anatomy. I bet that’s what those books are for!”

“Oh.” Shane glanced down at the innocuous entry in the order book. That explained a lot. Why Ilya had been surprised that Shane didn’t know who he was and the weird comment about not normally being a customer. He was clearly used to a different level of service. And no wonder he’d been hesitant to give Shane his phone number.

“I can’t believe he came in here. He’s amazing. Might be the next Tom Hanks,” Hayden said. “Can you let me know when he comes back? I want to be here.”

“I’m not letting you gawk at him,” Shane said, thumping the order book closed and turning it back around on the desk. “He’s probably uncomfortable enough as it is.”

“I won’t gawk. I won’t even make eye contact!” Hayden’s eyes went wide and pleading and Shane waved him away.

“Go finish arranging those books and stop fanboying,” he said, gruffly. Hayden scooted out from behind the desk and Shane took his seat, suddenly feeling quite embarrassed that he’d thought Ilya was flirting with him when he’d clearly just been uncomfortable about potentially being recognized, and surprised by his sudden desire to protect Ilya’s privacy.

“Rozanov is seriously talented, though” Hayden commented. “He can do anything. He was in those X-Squad movies, and in that rom com with Noa Hill. Now he’s doing this serious drama. I bet he’s ripped, too. Was he ripped?”

“Hayden!” Shane bit out. “I don’t even remember.”

“Oh my god, Shane, you’re blushing. Is even more handsome in person?” Hayden teased.

“He’s just a customer.”

“You don’t blush around other customers.” Hayden stopped shelving the books and poked his head around to look at Shane more directly. “Hey,” he said, suddenly more serious. “I know you like dudes. It’s okay, you can admit if he was hot. You don’t have to hide it from me.”

“I’m also your boss,” Shane replied, mildly, poking at the computer for something to do.

"You were my friend first,” Hayden reminded him gently.

“Well for now, mind your own business,” Shane said, smiling so Hayden knew that he was mostly joking. Hayden smiled back and returned to the cart.

***

A few days later, Shane had procured a copy ‘The Crimson Scalpel’ and was having it shipped from London to Toronto. It hadn’t been cheap, but he suspected that Ilya had the funds to pay for it. He opened the order book to where he’d recorded Ilya’s number and debated calling from the land line as opposed to texting, as Ilya had mentioned before he left last time.

He swiveled the stool he was perched on behind the desk from side to side before sliding his hand into his pocket and retrieving his phone. He entered the number carefully, double-checking that the digits were correct before opening a fresh text chain.

Hi, this is Shane Hollander from Marginalia. I found your book. It should be here by Thursday.

He read the message over several times. It was innocuous enough that if Ilya hadn’t been flirting, it would make sense for Shane to have messaged him. Now that he knew who Ilya was, it was a bit unnerving to think about texting him. But Ilya had specifically said to text him.

He pressed send before he could overthink it further, then placed his phone facedown and tried to think about something else. His phone vibrated less than a minute later and he ran over to check the response.

Shane sighed with relief. Good, he’d replied and now he had two days to mentally prepare to see Ilya again. And fortunately, or maybe unfortunately, Hayden was scheduled to work on Thursday.

He couldn’t help himself and typed 'ilya rozanov' into the search bar on his browser later in the evening, curled up on his couch under a blanket. There was a whole Wikipedia page and page after page of pictures from magazines, professional photoshoots, and paparazzi photos too. He was originally from Russia and had modeled before getting into acting. His first roles had been relatively small but he soon cemented himself as a genuine talent, scoring big with a role in the X-Squad series. There was a whole interview in Men’s Health about his workout routine for the role where he described eating "a pound of ground beef every day” to bulk up and detailing some of the exercises he found the most useful for getting the so-called 'ass of the century'. Shane told himself that he wouldn’t click on that particular hyperlink but his traitorous thumb betrayed him and did so anyway. He had to put his phone down when several photos of Ilya’s spandex-clad ass populated the screen.

He clicked back to Wikipedia. There was also a list of awards. Shane’s eyebrows raised when he saw that Ilya had been nominated for an Emmy, won a BAFTA, and just last year, was People’s Sexiest Man Alive. He clicked that link without thinking, either, and was treated to a photo spread of Ilya in a series of increasingly provocative photos, starting with Ilya wrapped in a soft, expensive-looking sweater, and ending with him shirtless, cradling a puppy, with a pair of unbuttoned leather pants riding low on his hips. He lingered on the last photo for a few moments before closing that tab.

Between X-Squad movies, Ilya had quietly amassed a diverse portfolio of roles. He’d been in a few comedies, a movie about time traveling dinosaurs, one set in space where he’d been part of a crew sent to rescue someone stuck on the moon, and played a villainous Bratva leader in an action movie that had been praised for its realistic fight scenes. His page stated that he spoke Russian, English, French, and was learning Spanish, was apparently quite musical, playing the piano in his spare time, and also learning ballroom dancing for an upcoming period piece. It was certainly an impressive resume, especially since he had no formal training.

Shane scrolled down the search results, clicking on a link to a video where Ilya was being interviewed on one of the late night talk shows. He was animated and funny, showing the host how to pretend to be floating in space, then discussing the focus that the film had on ‘realistic science fiction’. He talked about the research he’d done for the role, reading the source material as well as reading up on physics, space, and science as much as he could, interviewing astrophysicists and astronauts and working very hard to ensure that, even though it was a work of fiction, it was as realistic as possible.

Back on Wikipedia, Shane scrolled down to the 'Personal Life' section almost on autopilot. There weren’t a ton of details, the section stating that Ilya kept his private life very private, but that he’d been seen at awards shows with men and women, some of whom were also in Hollywood, but no one for very long. So maybe bi then. Shane closed the tab after that, suddenly feeling like he’d invaded, and resolved to treat Ilya like any other customer. He deserved that.

***

Shane was just finishing up with a customer when Ilya entered the shop on Thursday, hat pulled down and sunglasses covering his face. Upon seeing that Shane was occupied, he walked over to one of the side areas, pulling a book from the shelf and reading the back cover.

Once the door shut, Ilya emerged, sliding the hat and sunglasses off again and stuffing them into his coat pocket. His hair was somehow perfect and messy again and Shane had forgotten how he seemed to take up the entire room.

“Hi,” he said, proud of himself for not blushing this time. “Here for ‘The Crimson Scalpel’?”

“Hello, Shane,” Ilya walked forward. “Just in time. I already finished ‘Bandages and Bayonets’.”

“Was it riveting?” Shane asked, reaching under the counter to retrieve the book, still paper-wrapped from its journey across the Atlantic.

“It was… interesting. Battlefield medicine does not actually seem to have evolved as much as I thought since the 1800s.”

“Is that so?” Shane slid the parcel across the counter, rather proud that he’d been able to track it down.

“Indeed. And it was written almost entirely from the perspective of the surgeon, but didn’t include much about their thought processes. I have to wonder if, on some level, they knew that their interventions were as likely to make things worse as they were to help.” Ilya commented.

Shane was impressed. He tried to read every book that crossed his shelves if it was possible. He’d muddled his way through ‘Bandages and Bayonets’ but found that it read more like an instruction manual than a true field guide. He’d also taken a peek inside ‘The Crimson Scalpel’ when it had arrived the previous day.

“I think this one will give you some of that, but frankly, the author seems more interested in his own heroics than describing any moral quandaries,” he said, tapping the paper-wrapped book. “You might read Florence Nightingale’s ‘Notes on Nursing’, and there’s a wonderful compendium on pain management that I came across if you’re looking for something more focused on the patient perspective.”

Ilya was about to answer when Hayden came bustling in from the back of the shop, pushing their little cart. He stopped still when he saw Ilya at the counter, eyes wide. Ilya met his gaze and Shane kicked himself for not remembering to tell Hayden that he was coming today.

“Sorry,” Shane said instinctively. He turned to give Hayden a pointed look. “What if you took your fifteen now, Hayd?” he asked.

“Um. Yes. Sure. I will do that,” Hayden shoved the cart to the side, seemingly unable to take his eyes off of Ilya. Shane stared harder at him and Hayden nearly tripped over his own feet as he made his way to the front of the shop.

“Sorry,” Shane said again. “He, uh, he knows you.”

“Ah,” Ilya glanced down. “What did he tell you?”

“He told me that you’re probably in town shooting a movie,” Shane said, clasping his hands together nervously. “He’s a big fan, actually. And he’s shocked I didn’t know who you were.” He chuckled self-consciously. “Sorry about that.”

“You apologize a lot.”

“Sorry. Yes. That is–”

“Is it a Canadian thing? Or a Shane Hollander thing?” Ilya asked, leaning against the counter as he opened the cover of ‘The Crimson Scalpel’.

Shane stammered, not sure what to say. He wasn’t normally this tongue-tied but those blue-green eyes did something to him that made him forget how to speak English. Ilya smiled, closing the book with a thump and setting it down. “What about those other two books that you recommended? Do you have those?” he asked.

“I… do. I pulled them yesterday just in case. Just–” Shane led him to the back room again, but this time he knew right where to go. He’d put the two books in his ‘regulars’ basket, just in case. He turned to find Ilya right behind him again and he stepped back a little, surprised.

“Do you want to get a coffee sometime?” Ilya asked.

Shane’s heart leapt in his chest again. “You want to get coffee with me?” he asked, hardly believing it.

“It might need to be coffee and a walk. I sometimes have a hard time sitting in cafes,” Ilya clarified.

“Right. The whole… famous actor thing.” Shane tried and failed not to think about all the photos and videos of Ilya that had popped up when he searched his name and felt vaguely embarrassed that he hadn’t realized who Ilya was before. “I know a really good cafe. It’s not fancy but it’s private,” he offered.

Ilya smiled and nodded. “Okay,” he said. “Saturday? I have something early in the morning but it should be done around ten?”

Shane dropped his gaze. “Okay,” he said softly. He could get Hayden to cover the shop on Saturday morning for a few hours. He held out the books to Ilya, unable to think of anything else to say at that moment. Ilya took them, then reached out and brushed his hand down the side of Shane’s face very gently.

“You are very pretty,” he said.

Shane almost choked in response. “I’m sure you’re around pretty people all the time in your line of work,” he responded.

Ilya chuckled. “Perhaps, but not your kind of pretty,” he said. He pinned Shane in place with his gaze, and Shane felt a pleasant sensation in his chest that was quickly overcome with apprehension.

“You are… serious?” Shane finally asked. “I know who you are– you really want to go out with me?”

“Yes,” Ilya said, simply. “I’d like to get to know you. And vice versa.” He looked a little sad and suddenly Shane felt bad for Google stalking him.

Shane followed Ilya back through the narrow space towards the front of the shop when Ilya paused at the threshold. Shane peeked around him to see that several patrons had entered the shop. Ilya took a step back and pressed himself up against the shelves. “Sorry,” he said. “I’d better stay back. Last time this happened there was a bit of a scene.”

“Okay, sure, come out when the coast is clear.” Shane brushed past him and felt a gentle touch on his side as he did so. They were close enough that he could breathe in Ilya’s subtle scent, catching a whiff of something citrusy and spicy. He almost didn’t want to keep moving, but forced himself into the front area, closing the door softly behind him but not latching it.

Hayden was back behind the desk and he gave Shane a meaningful look when he joined him. Shane gave a subtle shake of his head and they turned to help the customers. Shane looked up a few books for people, recorded a new order in his book, and Hayden rang up two purchases. The new order was obscure enough that Shane had to spend several minutes online looking up different editions. It was almost half an hour later when he glanced at the clock and realized that Ilya hadn’t emerged yet. The shop was empty now, so Shane made his way back to the door and poked his head in.

“Ilya?” he asked, stepping into the space.

He found Ilya sprawled over the broken chair tucked in the very back, nose buried in his new book, completely immersed. He didn’t even look up until Shane called his name again.

“Oh, sorry, I… this is amazing. Did you know that Florence Nightingale invented the pie chart?” he asked. His phone was unlocked on his lap where, upside-down, Shane could see an article pulled up about her and Ilya was pointing to a passage in ‘Notes on Nursing’.

“I didn’t know,” Shane replied. “You’re welcome to stay but the shop’s empty now if you’d rather go read somewhere more comfortable.”

Ilya looked around as if remembering where he was, then smiled to himself and got to his feet. Shane hadn’t realized how much taller Ilya was than him until just now. He marked his spot carefully in the book, then gathered the stack. Shane noticed three additional books had been added to the collection. “Do you mind?” Ilya asked. “I saw them and they looked interesting.”

“Of course not,” Shane led them back between the shelves. “But you may need a bag.” He gestured to the pile in Ilya’s arms. One book was precariously balanced on top, so Shane plucked it off and brought it safely with him to the front.

Hayden was sitting behind the counter when they appeared, and straightened at once when he caught sight of Ilya. “Hi,” he said.

“Hi,” Ilya replied, smiling. It was a different one than Shane had seen before. Much more practiced, but still genuine.

“I’m just, sorry but, you’re Ilya Rozanov, right?” Hayden said.

Ilya ran his hand through his curls and grinned sheepishly. “Yeah,” he said simply.

“I’m sure you hear this all the time, but your work in Echoes of Andromeda was incredible,” Hayden said. “I wrote an essay about it. I’m in grad school. Film studies.”

“Thank you,” Ilya said, genuinely. “That was one of my favorite films to make. The cinematographer really nailed the cyberpunk aesthetic.” He looked a little embarrassed, although Shane was certain these kinds of interactions happened to him all the time.

“Hayd, can you grab one of the cloth bags?” Shane interrupted, tallying up the books on the computer. Together, they managed to fit all seven books into the bag. Hayden handed it off to Ilya, who paid without looking at the total.

“So, Saturday?” Ilya asked, eyes on Shane.

“Yeah, Saturday,” Shane said. “Text me if you’re running late?”

Ilya nodded and turned to leave. As soon as the door shut behind him, Hayden slumped over the counter. “God. Kill me. I shouldn’t have mentioned that I wrote an essay about him.”

“I’m sure he doesn’t mind,” Shane said, pushing back from the counter and moving towards the front table to tidy up the display.

“Also what was that exchange before he left?” Hayden was upright now, and he was wiggling his eyebrows suggestively at him.

“Mind your own business,” Shane said, primly.

“I literally cannot. Tell me.”

“We’re having coffee. It’s nothing. Calm down.”

“Are you saying that to me or to yourself?”

“Fuck off. Go take inventory.”

Chapter 2: Dating?

Shane stood in front of the mirror on Saturday morning two shirts in hand, debating between a blue button-down and a more casual white t-shirt. He’d already settled on his favorite pair of jeans, which he happened to know made his ass look good. 

Finally, he put both down and went with his favorite weekend shirt, a maroon henley that had been washed just enough that it was soft, but it still looked presentable. He’d texted Ilya the cafe name and address, but had also said that if it felt too public, they could leave. 

He was early arriving at the Kingfisher, pleased to find that it was mostly empty. He ordered a coffee and sat down at one of the tables near the back, hoping that it might provide a little more privacy once Ilya arrived. He’d brought a book, a novel this time, and dug his glasses out of his pocket. The writing was good enough that he was deeply engrossed and hadn’t even realized how much time had passed until he heard Ilya’s voice saying “Sorry, sorry I’m late,” and the man himself appeared beside him, looking a little harried, slightly breathless, and far, far too good in tight black jeans and a white sweater. 

Shane smiled up at him, “It’s okay, no problem,” he said. “I already got a drink but was thinking about a snack if you…?” 

Ilya smiled and nodded and they went to the cashier together. Shane pointed out a few of his favorite pastries and Ilya ordered one of each, plus a large latte, paying for it all before Shane could say anything. He led the way back to the table and sat down across from Shane, toying with the little number he’d received for their order. 

“I finished two more of those books,” he said, conversationally. 

“Oh?” Shane perked up. “So they were good recommendations?” 

“They were perfect.” Ilya leaned forward. “I didn’t tell you before, but this role is pretty fascinating. Remember when I said I wasn’t exactly a doctor? Well maybe not, but there are going to be a ton of close up scenes of surgery and I want it to be as realistic as possible. So that’s why I was looking for a practical guide. But there was actually a lot of progress made in military medicine in the 19th century, like the idea of using ambulances to move critical patients back from the front lines. And that got me thinking about how war really pushes the boundaries of innovation–” He cut himself off. “Sorry, that’s a lot.”

“No, no tell me more,” Shane encouraged. “I think Hayden told me the synopsis– your character is having to treat a dictator, right? And he’s not sure whether the right thing is to help him or let him die when he’s been murdering people in his own country?” 

“Right,” Ilya said, smiling a bit shyly. 

They continued talking as their pastries arrived and Ilya added far too many sugars to his latte. He was amazed at how easily their conversation flowed, given how little they had in common on paper. 

“I don’t think he should save the dictator,” Ilya said finally, pushing the last bit of croissant around the edge of the plate thoughtfully. 

“Why?” Shane said. “The man’s his patient. He owes him the best care possible without judgement.” 

“Except if he does, he’s letting the dictator go back to killing people,” Ilya insisted.

“He’s not in control of that. The only thing he can directly control is whether he saves his patient,” Shane pushed back.

“Is this the, what’s it called?” Ilya waved his hand around. “Ah, the trolley problem?” 

They continued debating, and while at first Shane had been hesitant to discuss such a heavy topic on a first date, Ilya seemed delighted, and more focused on listening than winning the argument. His eyes lit up when Shane raised a point and his face was so expressive. No wonder he was such a good actor. 

“I guess we’ll see what Sebastian decides in the end,” Ilya said finally, taking a long sip from his coffee. 

“It’s interesting that you talk about him like he’s a different person, like you’re not him,” Shane observed. 

Ilya nodded. “It’s part of what intrigued me about the role. He’s so different from me and I wanted to see if I could fully inhabit someone like that.”

“Have you had any roles that felt like you?” Shane asked, curious, 

Ilya shrugged. “I think all my characters have elements of me,” he said. “It’s hard not to put some of myself into them. But I always look for something that will challenge me. I learned passable French for a role once. In two weeks.” 

“That’s amazing!” Shane was terrible with languages. His French was passable having grown up in Canada, but he’d tried and failed to learn any others despite his best efforts. 

“I mean, it was mostly memorizing phonetically and then thinking how Pepe le Pew would pronounce words for the first few days. But then I really got the hang of it.” Ilya finished off his coffee, then smiled genuinely. “But enough about me, what about you. Tell me about your shop. How did you come up with the name?”

“I guess… I was thinking about how sometimes notes in the margins of books are more interesting than the books themselves. You get to see what someone else thought was important. See the work through someone else’s eyes.” Shane shrugged. 

Ilya nodded emphatically. “I sometimes look back at my own notes when I’m reviewing scripts and it’s amazing how much my opinions change on a second read.” He glanced down at the table and then asked, “And you’ve had it for three years you said?” 

“Yeah, it was already a bookstore before, but more mainstream. Since it’s so close to the university, I thought there might be a niche for specialized books,” Shane explained, toying with his coffee cup. “I hardly had any inventory at first, but business has been pretty steady over the last couple of years and I was able to stop eating instant ramen for every meal.” 

“What did you do before?” Ilya asked curiously. 

“I, uh, worked in tech. It was really good, really lucrative, but I got totally burned out. It was too much work and stress considering we were just optimizing ads. So I cashed out and had enough to move to Toronto and buy Marginalia. Never regretted it.”

“You get to be your own boss,” Ilya said, nodding. “And do something you love.” 

“Yeah,” Shane said, softly. “It was really pretty scary at first. I’d never really run a business before. But word of mouth really helped– isn’t that how you heard about Marginalia?”

“It was. The producer recommended it. And actually, you specifically,” Ilya said. “I wasn’t getting what I wanted out of my character during read-throughs and asked her for a recommendation on a place to get some good books about the time period. I always preferred them over a computer screen to be honest.” 

“Me too,” Shane said. “There’s something about turning the physical pages and marking the spots you want to read again that you just can’t replicate.” 

For the first time since they sat down, Shane glanced at the clock. He felt a jolt in his stomach when he realized it had been almost two hours. Poor Hayden was alone at the shop, and on a delivery day no less. “Sorry, I just saw the time. I’d better get to the shop,” he said, regretfully. 

Ilya nodded and stood to collect their cups, plates, and the tray their pastries had come on. He thanked the staff politely as they exited, pulling his hat and sunglasses on, then turned and very deliberately, took Shane’s hand in his. “This okay?” he asked, looking down at their clasped hands. 

Shane felt warm all over. “Yeah,” he breathed. “It’s great.” Ilya squeezed gently, then turned to walk towards the shop. 

They chatted a bit more as they approached Marginalia and Shane couldn’t remember approaching the end of a date feeling this relaxed. They came to a stop just before the door. “Can I take you out again, later this week?” Ilya asked. 

“Yes, please,” Shane said immediately, heart in his throat. Ilya released his hand and smiled brightly, then leaned in and pressed a quick kiss to his cheek. 

“Have a good day,” he said. “Text me.” And he turned to walk away, leaving Shane very happy and pink in the face in front of his shop. 

***

Ilya’s shooting schedule was grueling but consistent at least. He reliably had time off on the weekends and occasionally managed some time off during the week, so they managed to see each other several more times over the next three weeks, for coffee again and then an early breakfast at Kensington Market on a Sunday before Ilya had to run to a photoshoot. It was strange to think about Ilya working just down the street from Marginalia. When Shane encountered another barricade on his way to Dreamy Drops on a Wednesday morning and was directed to detour, he almost considered joining the crowd that had formed to try and catch a glimpse of the production, which had grown considerably larger now that more people were aware of Ilya being in town. 

Ilya stepped into the shop on Wednesday morning, holding two cups of coffee, smiling shyly at Shane, who was perched behind the counter trying desperately to look like he hadn’t been watching the door like a hawk. Ilya glanced around to make sure they were alone before shedding his usual disguise. 

“How do you get your hair to look like that?” Shane asked as he shook out his curls. “It’s so… soft but also so perfect. Is there some Hollywood hair secret? Do you have a dedicated stylist?”

Ilya laughed. “No, actually, it just does this. Sometimes they put products in it for interviews and it doesn’t seem to do anything. Sometimes it even makes it look worse.” He patted the riotous curls. “I had it straightened once, when I was presenting an Emmy. It wasn’t my best look. But it was fun to try.” Shane made a mental note to search for that hairstyle later. It was difficult to imagine Ilya looking anything less than stunningly handsome. 

“Thanks for the coffee,” he said, belatedly, picking up the cup closest to him and taking a sip. He immediately blanched and set the cup back down, trying not to make a face at the taste. “Ugh, that must be yours.” 

Ilya laughed, loud and genuine. “You do not like pumpkin spice latte?” he teased. “It’s the perfect drink for fall weather!” 

“Too sweet,” Shane replied, reaching for the other cup to rinse the taste out of his mouth. “Not really my style.” Thank goodness, this cup was just black coffee. It was really good, and he felt his heart skip a beat when he saw the Kingfisher logo on it. 

“So what do you do to indulge then?” Ilya asked, taking a sip of his coffee-flavored monstrosity and leaning against the counter. 

Shane considered his question for a moment, thinking about his favorite things. Indulgences weren’t high on his list. “I don’t drink a lot, but I love a good ginger ale. And there’s a gelato place over on Yorkville. It’s amazing. I love their raspberry sorbet in the summer.” 

Ilya nodded, appearing to file that information away for future reference. “What about non-consumables?” he asked, curiously. 

“Ah, well,” Shane thought for a moment. “There’s this Japanese stationary store I really like. They have these incredible pens. They’re pricey but writing with them just feels amazing and I buy them whenever they’re in stock.” He plucked the slim teal pen that was resting in the center of the order book up and showed it to Ilya, then leaned in closer, lowering his voice. “And sometimes I buy books just because I like their covers. But don’t tell that to anyone here,” he said conspiratorially. “And, also, bubble baths at the end of a long day being on my feet.” He leaned back. “You?” 

“Good vodka,” Ilya answered immediately, counting on his fingers. “Ah, fast cars. I used to have a collection out in Los Angeles but I downsized when I started traveling more for work. Pasta, steak, and morning sex.” 

Shane choked on his coffee at the last point and coughed a little, heart racing. “Those sound… interesting,” he tried to say nonchalantly. But the twinkle in Ilya’s eye made it obvious that he’d meant to provoke a reaction. 

Before Ilya could say anything else, the shop door opened and he had to slip between the shelves, taking care not to be noticed. Shane gave himself a little shake and greeted the customer, trying not to think too hard about what he imagined Ilya looked like in the morning. 

Ilya had to leave shortly after for his call time, but he asked Shane if they could have dinner together on Saturday night and of course Shane said yes. 

When Ilya texted him the name of the place he’d picked out for dinner, Shane had to look it up, then frantically searched for the appropriate attire for a Michelin star restaurant. He dove into his closet and dug out the only blazer he owned, shaking out the wrinkles and hoping it would do. Staring at himself in his bathroom mirror, he nervously flattened, then mussed his hair, then flattened it again. He already knew that he probably looked like a slob next to Ilya, who always seemed to have some custom piece on, even if it was understated. A couture jacket or sneakers with some unusual stitching. Shane could clean up nicely when he wanted to, but not at the same level. He sighed as he looked in the mirror. He looked presentable enough that he figured that he wouldn’t get kicked out of the place. 

He was early to the restaurant, and walked around the block to kill some time until their planned meeting time. The neighborhood was much more upscale than his normal stomping grounds, full of high-end boutiques, cocktail bars with moody lighting and men in suits and women in dresses and high heels. As he rounded the corner back to the restaurant, he saw Ilya stepping out of a large black car, looking handsome as always in a black and maroon ensemble. He stepped forward to speak to the driver through the passenger side window. “Sounds good, Bill, see you later,” he was saying as Shane approached. He turned and caught sight of Shane and his face broke into a wide smile, greeting him enthusiastically. 

“Have you ever been here before?” he asked as he led Shane up the steps. “It’s one of my favorite places in Toronto.”

“Definitely not,” Shane said with a laugh. “I went to a steakhouse once with my old firm back in Montreal for a company party but definitely not as upscale.” 

“I think you’ll love it. They even have ginger ale for you, I checked.” Ilya held the door open for him and Shane stepped into the warmly lit lobby. 

The staff clearly knew Ilya and it wasn’t just that they recognized his face. The maître d', a tall woman dressed in all black said “Welcome back Mr. Rozanov, we’re delighted to have you dining with us again,” and several of the waitstaff waved pleasantly to him as they were led to their table. They were seated up on a balcony, away from most of the other tables, probably a special arrangement, Shane realized, to avoid people recognizing Ilya. 

“Do you come here a lot?” Shane asked, as the chairs were pulled back for them and they took their seats. Someone unfurled his napkin for him and he leaned back awkwardly as they placed it on his lap, both hands in the air. He gave Ilya a somewhat frantic look, making him laugh.  

“Not that often. But I came a couple of times when I was shooting a film here a year ago, and then I met my co-star Alonso from Hollow Anatomy here for the first time, too. Since the characters become so intertwined during the movie, we wanted to meet before shooting started to get a feel for each other.” Ilya reached out and took Shane’s hand under the table. “Never with a date before, though.” 

“Have you dated a lot?” Shane asked, in what he hoped was a casual tone. 

Ilya tilted his head. “I wouldn’t call it that,” he said after a moment. “I like people. I like talking to them, learning how they think, and hearing their stories. And I’ve had a lot of causal encounters, which, if you search the internet, have probably been recorded in chronological order somewhere. But dating? Really getting to know someone, not so much. You?” 

“Less of both, really, I guess.” Shane reached down to fiddle with the edge of his napkin, not meeting Ilya’s eyes. “I don’t really do casual. There were a few guys, back during college and then one when I was working at the startup that I dated for awhile but it didn’t last. And the shop keeps me so busy that it can make dating difficult.” 

“I don’t find it difficult,” Ilya said at once. And Shane’s eyes came up to meet his. Ilya was looking very serious.

“And are we…?” Shane trailed off. 

“Dating? I mean, yes. I think so. Probably.” Ilya sat back as someone approached to offer them still or sparkling water. When they left, he looked back at Shane. “Is that what you want?” 

“Do you?” Shane asked, reaching out to grasp his water glass, trying not to betray how quickly his heart was beating nor how his hand was trembling just a little. 

“I want to know what you want,” Ilya replied, calmly. 

“I… sure. I mean. If you want to label it. I like you.”

“I like you, too.” Ilya tipped his glass against Shane’s and they both smiled before glancing away, matching blushes decorating their cheeks. For someone so confident and charismatic, Shane was surprised at how shy Ilya was being about this. It humanized him, reminding Shane that maybe Ilya was feeling as vulnerable, anxious, excited, and exhilarated as he was. 

“So, what’s good here?” Shane asked, looking around to see if they’d be given menus soon. 

“Oh, it’s a tasting menu. That’s why I was asking about your dietary restrictions earlier in the week. They asked when I was making the reservation.” 

“I’ve never had one of those before,” Shane said. “But I’ll be excited to try some new things.” 

Ilya did make sure that Shane enjoyed the meal. The staff explained each dish as it was brought out, even how the chef suggested each one be eaten. They even served him ginger ale in a fancy glass after Ilya ordered it “straight up”. Ilya giggled watching him try caviar for the first time, and he hadn’t expected to enjoy the squab course so much. There was a terrine that neither of them really cared for, but the lightly poached scallop that followed was a highlight. They chatted throughout, Ilya sharing some stories from the set– one of the costumes had been made to completely the wrong measurements, resulting in a delay. Some of the younger cast members had tried to get Ilya to perform a TikTok dance but he’d refused, “I am terrible at dancing,” he explained, but Shane was sure that wasn’t true. Shane told him about a couple of rare books he’d been able to send over to a researcher in Spain, delighted that he’d been able to help. 

By the time they reached the dessert courses, Shane thought he might never need to eat again. They were lingering over cups of tea and the petit fours when he reached out to take Ilya’s hand. “Thank you for bringing me here tonight,” he said. “I’m not sure my wallet will thank me but my stomach is right now.”

“Oh I, ah, already paid.” Ilya smiled crookedly at him. “Sorry.”

“Ilya, you can’t do that,” Shane insisted. 

Ilya leaned forward, looked down at their clasped hands then looked back up at him. “Shane,” he said softly. “I want to treat you, please?” 

He looked so genuine that Shane crumpled almost immediately. “Fine,” he relented. “But can I please get our next coffees?” 

“We’ll discuss it later.” Ilya reached out to drain his tea cup. “Shall we go?” 

The car that had dropped Ilya off was waiting for them when they exited. “Can I take you home?” Ilya asked. Shane debated for a moment. He’d taken the train over since parking was at a premium in this neighborhood. There was no way Ilya could ride the train without being recognized, so he agreed, letting Ilya open the door for him and sinking into the plush interior. 

When they reached Marginalia, Ilya leaned forward and asked Bill to circle the block, then waited patiently on the sidewalk as Shane dug into his jacket for his keys, hands in the pockets of his dress pants. “I had a nice time tonight,” Shane said. “Thanks again. It was incredible.” 

“I’m glad you enjoyed it,” Ilya replied politely. 

“I’m off on Tuesday if–” Shane said at the same time as Ilya blurted, “Would you ever want to–” They both paused, laughing, and Shane gestured for Ilya to continue. He looked uncharacteristically shy. 

“Would you ever want to come to set?” Ilya asked tentatively. “You could see how the movie is getting made. And maybe get some more ideas for books to recommend?” 

“Ilya, that would be amazing. I’d love to.” Shane grinned. “I can’t promise I won’t knock over a light or anything so you’ll have to put me somewhere.” 

“Okay.” Ilya smiled, looking relieved. “I’ll arrange it. Tuesday– you said you’re off?”

Shane nodded, then took a step closer, eyes locked on Ilya’s lips. “Can I…?” He stopped just short of being in Ilya’s space, but then Ilya closed the distance and kissed him. His lips were soft and warm and one arm wrapped around his waist while the other hand gripped his arm gently almost immediately. Shane let his eyes slide shut. Finally. He’d been thinking about this since their first coffee date and it was definitely living up to expectations. He parted his lips tentatively and their tongues touched, deepening the kiss. He let his own arms wrap around Ilya’s waist underneath his jacket, feeling firm muscles beneath the silk shirt and luxuriated in the sensation. Ilya was a fantastic kisser, firm and confident, but not dominating. One of his hands slid up to cup Shane’s chin, gently tilting his head as Ilya curled their tongues together more thoroughly, tasting like the mint tea they’d had with dessert. 

Ilya pulled back eventually, then leaned in again almost immediately, pressing a more chaste kiss on the corner of Shane’s mouth. “Was waiting for that for a while,” he breathed. 

“Yeah,” Shane bumped his forehead lightly against Ilya’s. “Did you want to come up?” he asked, heart in his throat. 

“I really wish I could but I have an early call tomorrow. Four in the morning. And they just sent over some script revisions,” Ilya did look genuinely sad. “I’ll see you on Tuesday, though. Okay?” 

Shane nodded and Ilya kissed him one more time before stepping back just as the car was rounding the corner. He stepped back, pushing his hand through his hair, waiting until Shane had unlocked his door before turning to leave. 

Inside, Shane leaned back against the door, smiling. Raising his hand to his lips, he pressed his fingers there, imagining that he could still feel Ilya’s mouth on his. 

***

On Tuesday, Shane brought along a tote bag with several new books he’d found that he thought Ilya might find useful. One was a historical queer romance set during the same time period as the film, while another was a collection of essays from medical professionals on the ethical quandaries they had faced during their professional careers. 

He approached the barricade that was blocking the road, but this time, when directed to detour he said, tentatively, “Hi, uh, Ilya Rozanov invited me today?” 

The man looked him up and down a bit apprehensively before plucking a walkie talkie from his hip and speaking with someone on the other end. He asked Shane to confirm his name and show his identification before informing him that someone would come to collect him soon. 

The scale of the operation was much larger than Shane expected, and chaotic. People were running from place to place, props or costumes in hand. Shane had to duck to the side at one point to avoid a large set piece that was being carted to a new area. There were trailers that were lined up along the blocked-off road and the grassy field had been converted into an older style park, complete with antique cars. A large green screen had been set up around one corner of the park. 

The PA who had been guiding him around stopped under a tent and pointed Shane to a chair where he’d be out of the way. She offered to fetch him a coffee, which he declined. He was already jittery enough. He sat down, tote bag in his lap, foot tapping against the leg of the chair. There were so many people. He hadn’t realized how busy it would be. She did offer him some headphones, so he would be able to hear the dialogue once the shooting started. 

He eventually caught sight of Ilya, who was leaning down, discussing something with two other people, dressed in a long, dark-colored coat, a vest, silk trousers, and shiny boots. He was toying with a hat in his hands as he animatedly talked to the other two. They all finally nodded and Ilya donned his hat and walked to mark in front of the cameras. Shane heard a call for quiet and then something in Ilya’s face changed and it was like he was looking at a completely different person. There was a tension in his face that hadn’t been there a second ago. He looked weary and tortured, his shoulders somehow seemed smaller as he glanced down at the ground. He walked forward a few paces, then turned back, raised his eyes to the sky, just contemplating. He looked older, somehow. And troubled. 

Another man entered the scene, and there was some dialogue that Shane couldn’t quite make out, but he watched Ilya’s face carefully. It was incredible how different he looked. It wasn’t the setting, the costume, or the carefully styled hair. He was truly inhabiting another person. 

The director called for a cut and suddenly, the Ilya that Shane knew was back. The director gave some notes and Shane took the opportunity to put the headphones over his ears, so he could hear what was happening. When the scene resumed, he was shocked to hear how Ilya’s voice had changed, too. There was no hint of his Russian accent, and his voice was a little higher pitched and so much more reserved than normal. It was impressive how quickly he could fully become this character. 

When the director called out a second cut, Ilya glanced over to the tent and when he saw Shane sitting there, a smile broke out over his face. He waved and Shane returned it, shyly. Ilya hurried over, “Shane,” he said warmly. “You’re here.” He didn’t lean down for a kiss but Shane wasn’t expecting it. He was at work, after all. 

“This is… incredible,” Shane said, gesturing around at everything. “I had no idea what goes into making a film. And, wow, you’re amazing.” 

Ilya ducked his head, but looked pleased. “Thank you. I’ve been working really hard on the accent.” 

“I caught some of the dialogue.” Shane pointed to the headphones. “It’s really impressive– the accent especially. Like you’re a different person.” 

Before he could answer, someone called out Ilya’s name and he waved in acknowledgement. “Sorry, I’d better get back to it. But stay as long as you like. I’ll have a longer break soon, I think,” he said. Then, he reached out and squeezed Shane’s hand gently. “I’m really happy you’re here.” And he was gone before Shane could react, but he reached down to hug his bag a little tighter, feeling warm inside. 

After about half an hour, Ilya did get a break, and showed Shane around properly, introduced him to the director, the producer, and a few cast members, and explained a bit more about the scene they were filming. “Sebastian just tried to recuse himself from the patient because he doesn’t feel like he can be unbiased, but he’s being told that it’s not possible. He’s the only person with the expertise to do it.” 

“Does it make him feel kind of… special?” Shane asked. “To be the only person who can help?”

Ilya glanced at him. “Yes. That’s exactly it. He’s almost flattered in a way, but he loathes the patient. How did you–” 

Shane lifted his tote bag. “I’ve been reading some of your books, and I brought you some more.” 

“Of course.” Ilya smiled warmly at him.

It wasn’t much longer before they wrapped for the day since the sun was beginning to dip low in the sky, and Ilya asked Shane to wait while he changed out of his costume, promising that it wouldn’t take long. He led them to one of the trailers lining the parking lot and let Shane enter first. It was cozy inside, with a large mirror set up, lights lining it, and a chair where hair and makeup were done. A coat rack with costumes lined up sat in the corner. Stacked along the back of the table with makeup, hairstyling tools, and a few spare accessories were books. Some Shane recognized, but others he didn’t. He tilted his head to peer down at the titles. While most of them were clearly research for the film, with little flags sticking out of them, others looked more like something Ilya was reading for pleasure. There was a fantasy novel, a romance, and even a dictionary of gemology. 

“Sometimes I have to sit for a long time while getting ready. They help pass the time,” Ilya commented. 

“Shall I add to the collection?” Shane raised the bag, and Ilya nodded eagerly, stepping closer to take a look at what he’d brought, his hand coming to rest on Shane’s shoulder easily. He was especially intrigued by the period-specific queer romance and left it on the top of the stack as he went to change out of his costume. 

“It’s comforting to think about the fact that we’ve always existed,” he said, as he nonchalantly untied his tie, shrugged off his jacket, and began unbuttoning his shirt. Shane’s mouth went a bit dry as more skin began to be revealed. Ilya didn’t seem to realize the effect he was having, placing the shirt on a hanger and holding it out, asking Shane if he could put it on the rack. Shane didn’t respond right away, distracted by Ilya’s bare torso and strong arms. He tried to look away, then realized it might be more awkward if he didn’t. 

“Shane?” Ilya prompted, oblivious to Shane’s inner turmoil. 

Suddenly, Shane’s brain started working again. “Oh, yes, sure. Sorry.” He accepted the hanger and moved towards the rack. 

When Ilya toed off his shoes and went to unbutton the high-waisted woolen trousers, Shane made a small noise in his throat, making Ilya pause and give him a curious look. Shane went pink and turned around, clutching his now empty tote bag to his chest. “Just giving you some… privacy,” he said, voice a little higher pitched than normal. 

He could hear that Ilya was smiling when he replied, “I don’t mind if you look. Have you seen some of my early modeling photos? Much more scandalous.” There was a sound of fabric moving over skin. 

Shane stared at the wall of the trailer opposite him and didn’t answer right away. He didn’t want to admit that he had seen a lot of photos of Ilya. But he also didn’t want to lie. “I… may have seen some. Not, like a lot.” 

He felt a gentle hand on his shoulder and let Ilya turn him around. He’d pulled on a pair of joggers and they were sitting low on his hips, showing off a defined set of abdominal muscles, and a light trail of hair centered between prominent Adonis lines disappearing into the waistband. Shane swallowed when he thought about what was under the pants, but immediately forced his gaze to travel upwards instead, over Ilya’s broad chest and stunning forearms and biceps to his face, which was a bit flushed. Ilya grinned and posed a little. “You like?” he asked. 

“Y-Yeah, I like,” Shane breathed. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to objectify you. But, uh, wow.” 

Ilya was smirking now. “I like the way you’re looking at me.” He reached out and put a hand around Shane’s waist, pulling him forward a step. Tentatively, Shane reached out and placed his own hand on Ilya’s shoulder, feeling strong muscles beneath smooth skin. 

“How often do you work out?” Shane asked. “And how do you manage to look this way with how much sugar you put in your coffee?” 

Ilya threw his head back and laughed. He was beautiful. He pulled Shane even closer, so he could feel the heat of Ilya’s body through their clothes. “It’s amazing what being paid to work out will do to your gym routine,” he said. Then he leaned in and kissed Shane very gently. Shane leaned in eagerly, eyes sliding closed. He gripped Ilya’s shoulder a bit more firmly, enjoying how strong he felt. Ilya’s hand at his waist slid a bit lower. “Is this okay?” he murmured against Shane’s mouth. 

“Yes, please.” Shane raised his other hand to grab at Ilya’s chest as Ilya groped his ass. A second hand joined it shortly and Ilya pressed Shane up against his front, making them both gasp lightly. 

“Hmm, I suspect you also work out.” Ilya pulled back and gave Shane a appraising look, gripping both of his cheeks in his big hands. 

“Not paid to do it, though,” Shane said, feeling a bit like a damsel on the cover of a romance novel. His breath was coming a bit faster now and he felt almost dizzy. He leaned in to kiss Ilya again, but they were interrupted by a knock on the trailer door. Shane leapt back, grabbing for the forgotten tote bag that had been smooshed between them and tried to look nonchalant. 

A PA stepped in to let Ilya know about some schedule changes for the following day and handed him a stapled stack of papers with the written details and some script edits. Ilya thanked him and he was gone very quickly, but Shane was acutely aware of the fact that they were at Ilya’s workplace and didn’t move to embrace him again. He wasn’t sure how open Ilya was about his sexuality at work and the last thing Shane wanted to do was jeopardize the shoot. Ilya pulled on a hoodie, a puffy jacket, and a pair of sneakers, then donned his baseball cap before smiling at Shane and asking “Can I take you home?” 

It wasn’t a long walk to Shane’s apartment. They talked about the movie and what scenes Ilya was shooting tomorrow along the way. Shane shared a story about finding a tragic romance novel for one of his regulars. Conversation flowed easily between them. As they approached the blue door of Marginalia, they slowed and turned to face each other. Shane stuck his hands in his coat pockets. “Early day tomorrow?” he asked. 

Ilya shook his head. “Actually, I don’t have to be in until eleven. You?”

Shane glanced down. “Not really. Hayden’s covering the shop in the morning. I was going to make some chicken marsala and go wild and open a bottle of wine if you wanted to come up?” he said, casually, as if he hadn’t agonized about what kind of wine to buy at the store yesterday. 

“I’d love that.” 

Chapter 3: Invested

Shane led Ilya up to his apartment, a little nervous because it was small. But it was his and he’d done a lot to make it feel like home. He showed Ilya shyly around the cozy living room with the  couch perfect for curling up and reading, with a lot of natural light, and the well-appointed kitchen that had a compact breakfast bar, an old gas range that was mint green for some reason, a retro refrigerator, and a small table with a red-checked tablecloth spread over it.

“What about your bedroom?” Ilya asked softly, stepping closer to him. Shane smiled up at him and took him by the hand. He led Ilya down the hall to his favorite room. There was a bay window with an assortment of throw pillows cushioning a reading nook, built-in bookshelf filled to bursting beneath it. A few soft lamps cast warm light throughout the room. He’d splurged a bit on his bed, treating himself to a frame from a local artisan, a comfortable mattress, high thread-count sheets, and a luxurious comforter. He turned to tell Ilya about the bedframe, but completely forgot what he was going to say when he saw the look on his face. 

Ilya was looking at him like he wanted to devour him. He pulled Shane closer to him and Shane went willingly, letting Ilya put his arms around him and lean down to kiss his cheek, then down his neck. “Do you have any idea,” Ilya said between kisses. “How hot it was seeing you on set today?”

Shane squirmed in delight, both at Ilya’s words and because his neck was a little ticklish. “Was it?” he asked. 

“Almost made me forget my lines. And when you said that thing about Sebastian being flattered. It made me want to kiss you right there and then.” Ilya’s hands were toying with the hem of his sweater. Shane nodded and let Ilya slide his hands up under the fabric.

“It was hard for me, too,” Shane said as Ilya’s hands began roaming slowly over his torso. “Seeing how talented you are. And then when you were naked in your trailer.” 

“I was not naked,” Ilya said, leaning in to kiss his lips. “But I’ll be happy to show you, if you like.” 

“Yes.” Shane stepped back towards his bed and guided them down to lie on it, pulling Ilya on top of him. He reached down, feeling more shameless now that they were in private, and began tugging on Ilya’s shirt. “Off,” he muttered. 

“But you were so shy earlier,” Ilya teased, even as he sat up and pulled both his shirt and hoodie off at the same time. Shane’s heart began to beat faster at the sight and this time, he let himself stare unabashedly. Ilya grinned down at him, then plucked Shane’s hands from where they had frozen in midair and pressed them against his pectorals.  

“You were at work earlier.” Shane said, squeezing at the hard muscle. “God, your tits.” He brushed the fingers of his right hand over Ilya’s nipple, and then pinched it a little upon hearing Ilya’s pleased gasp.

“Can I see you, too?” Ilya asked, tugging at his shirt. Shane raised his arms, let Ilya tug the soft material over his head, and tried not to cross his arms in embarrassment after Ilya tossed it to the side. He worked out and he was proud of how strong he was, but he wasn’t cut the way Ilya was. However, Ilya’s growl as he leaned down to press kisses down Shane’s chest didn’t seem to indicate any disappointment. 

Ilya kissed his way back up Shane’s abs and began to alternate between pressing wet kisses to his skin and licking closer and closer to his nipple. Shane couldn’t help but raise his hand to cradle his head, fingers sliding through Ilya’s curls. When he finally pressed a sucking kiss over his right nipple, Shane arched off the bed and gasped. Ilya grinned and moved to the other side, glancing up to gauge Shane’s reaction as he bit down a little. Shane groaned and rocked up against him, letting Ilya feel how hard he was getting. Ilya released him and rested his chin on Shane’s chest, looking thoughtful. “So, you like deep kisses. Your nipples are sensitive. And you like my tits,” he listed. “Tell me what else you like.” 

Shane laughed. “Well, I don’t really like pants in my bed,” he said, rubbing their hips together suggestively. 

“Ah, let me see if I can rectify that situation.” Ilya leaned back and reached for Shane’s jeans, unbuttoning them and pulling them down his legs quickly, backing off the bed and standing up as he stripped them off of Shane completely. He reached down to cup himself at the sight of Shane splayed out on the bed, just in tight boxer briefs, tented and already a little wet in front, and socks. 

When Ilya tried to clamber back onto the bed, Shane held up a hand and said, “Uh, excuse you?” He gestured to Ilya’s still-on pants, then again when Ilya raised his eyebrows at him. “I said no pants in bed.”

“Oh, I see,” Ilya smirked. He stepped back and posed for a moment. Shane wished he could snap a photo of him, hair tousled, hip cocked, hands on his waistband. But then Ilya was shimmying out of his pants and he wasn’t wearing anything underneath. Shane’s breath caught in surprise and then he almost choked when he saw how large Ilya was. His cock hung heavily between his legs, long and intimidatingly thick. As he watched, Ilya reached one hand down to stroke himself, clearly comfortable with being on display. “May I join you now?” he asked, voice rougher now. 

Shane reached out with both hands, eagerly welcoming Ilya back into the bed, their lips meeting in a deep kiss as Ilya positioned himself between his thighs, pressing their erections together.

“What about you?” Shane asked as they pulled apart. Ilya ran his hands up and down Shane’s arms, squeezing his biceps, then intertwining their fingers and raising them above his head. “What do you like?” 

“I want to see you come apart for me,” Ilya said, leaning down to kiss him again. “Can I put my mouth on you?”

“God, yes.” Shane relaxed against the pillows, and kept his hands where they were as Ilya kissed down his chest, swirling his tongue around a nipple just to hear Shane moan. He ran his tongue along the skin just above the waist of Shane’s underwear, then looked up, asking for permission. At Shane’s nod, he gently, almost reverently, pulled Shane’s underwear down his legs and tossed them to the side. He sat up for a moment, just looking down at Shane beneath him before diving back in, pushing his broad shoulders between Shane’s legs, making them part further. He took his time between Shane’s thighs pressing several kisses to them, then Shane’s stomach, and the light dusting of hair leading down to his prize, tongue darting out to taste the delicate skin. 

Ilya took a moment to really admire Shane’s cock, pretty as the rest of him, darker than the surrounding skin, and certainly more than a mouthful. He reached out and wrapped his hand gently around it, looking up to meet Shane’s gaze, pleased when he saw that Shane still hadn’t moved his arms from above his head. “Is this okay?” he asked. 

“Yeah,” Shane breathed. “You can– harder.” He threw his head back as Ilya gripped him more firmly and stroked him a couple of times before pushing his cock upward to rest against his abdomen then licked a long stripe up the base, stopping right below the head and swirling his tongue there for a moment. “God–” Shane bit out. He crossed his arms behind his own head and looked down, met with the mouth-watering sight of Ilya gazing up at him, mouth open, tonguing at the head of his cock. The warm breath ghosting over the sensitive skin there was almost too much. And then Ilya dipped his head, sucking just the head into his warm mouth. Shane bit his own lip and tried mightily not to thrust his hips. 

Ilya pulled his mouth off of Shane’s cock for a moment to say, “You can move, Shane. I can take it,” before dipping his head to take him deeper. This time, Shane let himself thrust and pleasure sizzled down his spine as Ilya opened his mouth and accepted him. The only sound for a few minutes was the filthy wet sounds of Ilya’s mouth and the occasional moan of pleasure from both of them. 

Shane didn’t want it to end but he was also perilously close. He reached down with one hand to gently run his hand through Ilya’s curls. “Ilya I–” he cut himself off as Ilya took him particularly deep. “We have to slow down.” 

Ilya let Shane’s cock fall from his mouth and looked up, his lips red from the friction. “I want to see you come like this,” he said, softly. “Is that okay?” 

“I won’t last long,” Shane said, cheeks flushing with embarrassment. “S-Sorry, it’s been awhile.” 

“Don’t apologize. I like it,” Ilya replied. “Can you finish in my mouth?” 

“Y-you want that?” Shane’s cock twitched as Ilya pressed a kiss to the side of it and the little bead of liquid that had gathered the top spilled over and began to trail down the length. Ilya lapped it up, clearly savoring the taste. 

“I want to taste you so badly.” Ilya reached a hand up to caress Shane’s cock gently. 

At Shane’s nod, he dipped his head and engulfed Shane’s cock, gripping the base firmly and moving it up and down in long strokes in tandem with his mouth, spreading the slick from his mouth down Shane’s entire length. Shane could feel every callous on his palm and the curl of his tongue around the head of his cock every time he pulled back. It was exquisite, and he felt the answering tell-tale tightening in his gut. 

“Fuck, Ilya, I–” Shane warned as his back arched and he came, eyes squeezed closed in pleasure. He shot off into Ilya’s mouth, who expertly continued to stroke him while closing his lips around the head of Shane’s cock. He heard Ilya moan at the first taste and felt his hand move as if he could coax even more out of him. It seemed to go on forever. Shane couldn’t remember coming like that before. 

He fell back against the pillows, feeling completely boneless and transcendent for a moment before he forced his eyes open. His cock gave a half-hearted pulse at the sight of Ilya still between his thighs, licking his lips thoughtfully, hand still holding Shane’s cock. He swallowed audibly and Shane thought he might pass out. “Tastes amazing,” Ilya commented. “Sweet like… peaches maybe?” 

“Holy shit,” Shane was breathing hard still, one arm tossed above his head, the other releasing its death grip on the sheets beneath them. “I doubt it actually tastes that good but thank you.” Ilya grinned, crawled up his body and pressed a kiss to his mouth. “Can I return the favor?” Shane murmured against his mouth. 

In response, Ilya grabbed his hand and guided it between them, wrapping Shane’s fingers around his cock. There was already wetness gathered at the head that Shane let slick the way as he stroked down the entire length, making Ilya gasp.

Feeling bold, Shane pushed at Ilya gently, guiding him to lay down beside him on his back with Shane pressed up beside him. He let himself press a few kisses to Ilya’s abs, which he’d been dreaming about since he’d peeked at some shirtless photos on the internet. They were somehow even more impressive in person, if that was possible. 

Ilya’s big hand came to rest between Shane’s shoulders, brushing up and down his back, carding into his hair and Shane reached for his cock again. The girth made his breath catch for a moment, imagining it inside of him. Scooting down Ilya’s body a little more, he dragged his gaze appreciatively up Ilya’s body to his beautiful face. “Can I?” he asked. 

“Yes, please,” Ilya breathed, reaching down to cup Shane’s cheek. “You’re so beautiful.” Somehow that felt as intimate as them lying naked together in bed. Shane ducked his head to hide his embarrassment at the compliment and licked over the head of Ilya’s cock in answer. The drawn out, “Fuuuuck,” above him made him smile. He kissed the tip and swirled his tongue just around the head, teasing. It had been awhile since he’d done this, but he remembered a few tricks. He bobbed his head a little deeper, moving the hand around Ilya’s cock upward at the same time. His fingertips didn’t touch when his hand reached the widest part of Ilya’s cock, sending a shiver down his spine. Ilya’s hand came down to rest on his head and he moaned encouragingly beneath him. Shane continued, carefully gauging Ilya’s reactions to each little movement, mentally cataloguing the things he seemed to like the most.

He had half of Ilya’s cock down his throat when he heard the other man murmuring something, but it wasn’t in English, must be Russian. Ilya’s eyes were half closed and he reached down to cradle Shane’s face in both of his hands, seemingly not realizing that he had lapsed into his native language. Shane smiled up at him, knowing that he must look a sight, hair mussed and lips red. He pushed himself up a little. “What were you saying?” he asked, a little shy. 

Ilya pressed a thumb against Shane’s lips and he opened his mouth automatically, letting the digit invade where Ilya’s cock had been only a few moments before. Ilya moved it in and out a few times, mesmerized. “Your mouth, it’s magic,” Ilya replied. He gently extracted his thumb, but didn’t move his hands from Shane’s face. 

“I might need a little more practice to take all of you,” Shane said, thoughtfully, looking down at Ilya’s cock. “Maybe tonight you could come all over me instead?”

“Fuck, Shane, you will kill me.” Ilya hauled Shane up to kiss him. 

They ended up with Ilya kneeling over Shane’s chest, stroking himself and occasionally thrusting forward into Shane’s mouth until he came. Shane opened his mouth greedily, getting a good taste, while the rest landed on his face and his chest. Ilya panted, watching as Shane ran his own fingers across his chest and sucked them into his mouth. “Tastes good,” Shane said, licking the side of his hand. “Not like peaches though.” 

Ilya laughed and rolled off of him. He made his way to the bathroom down the hall to fetch a damp towel, and came back to clean Shane off. “Sorry,” he said, as he ran it across Shane’s muscular chest. “That got everywhere.”

“I liked it,” Shane assured him, leaning up for a kiss. Ilya set the towel aside and crawled into bed next to him, cuddling Shane against his chest. 

“Wasn’t I promised dinner?” Ilya asked, pressing a kiss to the top of Shane’s head. 

“You distracted me,” Shane grumbled. “Asking to see my bedroom.” 

“Oh it is my fault?” Ilya said, in mock annoyance. “Did you see the way your ass looked in those jeans? A man can only handle so much temptation.”

Shane laughed, then started to sit up. “I can go start the dinner.” But Ilya pulled him back into his arms. 

“Just stay for a moment?” he asked. And Shane let him pull a blanket up around them as they exchanged a few more kisses. 

***

They somehow managed to see each other every day for the next week. Ilya came by the shop early one morning carrying two coffees and they made out between the bookshelves until he had to run to make his call time. Shane went to visit the set again and helped Ilya run lines in his trailer, rewarding him with kisses when he memorized things correctly. Ilya stopped by after closing time while Shane was stocking books and helped him put everything away before Shane led him upstairs again. He dragged Ilya out for a run early the next morning and despite complaining vociferously about being up before the sun, Ilya very nearly beat him on the sprint home. On the weekend, he’d sat in the back room of the shop in the squashy armchair and read three books while Shane worked, occasionally insisting he take a break for kisses. 

They had just finished a delicious dinner at an Italian restaurant and stepped out into the street to a downpour. Shane squinted up at the sky. It had been clear when he’d walked over from Marginalia, but now it looked quite ominous. “I guess I’ll wait to see if it clears up before I head back,” he said, pulling his jacket tighter around himself. 

“You could come to my hotel,” Ilya suggested. “It’s just down the street. I don’t think we’d get too wet. It’s not as homey as your place, but it’s dry.” 

Shane’s heart leaped. So far, he’d only had glimpses of Ilya’s world, seen him on set and stepped past fans with painted signs who were waiting outside the shooting areas. They’d spent enough time in familiar places for Shane that sometimes he forgot how famous Ilya really was. Ilya had been quite embarrassed that they’d needed to request a private room at dinner, but the staff had bent over backwards to accommodate him. He often hunched in on himself when they were out in public together, and frequently wore a hat, sunglasses, and a large coat. Perhaps it was a testament to his acting skills that, so far, he hadn’t been recognized. 

“Sure, we can do that,” Shane said, casually, even though his thoughts were racing. 

Ilya reached out to take his hand and they dashed out into the rain. Even though the hotel was only a couple hundred feet away, they managed to get quite wet on the way. The doorman who greeted them must have wondered what two soaking wet men were doing trying to enter one of the nicest accommodations in town, but when he caught sight of Ilya’s face, he greeted them warmly and ushered them in. 

Shane had walked by the Hazelton Hotel before but he’d never been inside. It was very opulent, furnished in dark wood and lots of marble. It was quiet and the staff were all dressed in dark colors and speaking to each other in hushed voices. He immediately felt out of place in his wet jeans and sneakers, but Ilya walked through the lobby confidently, waving to a few of the staff. “Got caught in the rain, Steph,” he said, laughing. “Luckily it wasn’t for too long.” 

“Is it weird living in a hotel?” Shane mused as they entered the elevator and Ilya hit a button. 

“I’m used to it now,” Ilya said, shrugging. “I’m on the road so much it kind of feels normal now.”

The room they entered wasn’t the type of hotel room Shane had had in mind. Instead of a cramped room with barely enough space to navigate around the bed, they entered into an enormous dining area complete with a separate kitchenette, a large living room with a sectional couch lined by multiple windows overlooking the city, an office area with a large desk, and a separate, enormous bedroom. There was a balcony outside that was lit with soft light, table and chairs neatly arranged on the concrete. A door in the hallway was propped open to reveal a second, equally cavernous room, set up with a couch and two chairs. Shane took a moment to admire the space. “I guess if I was staying in a place like this I wouldn’t mind it so much either,” he said, laughing nervously.

“It’s a lot,” Ilya said, looking a bit self-conscious. “But it was part of the negotiations. And it’s nice to have a place for my team to meet or do interviews.” 

“No cooking, though,” Shane said, poking his head into the kitchenette and seeing only a fancy espresso maker and a small fridge. 

“Well, there’s a chef who sends meals,” Ilya explained, looking more embarrassed now. He stepped into the space and shucked off his wet jacket. “Make yourself comfortable,” he said. “I’m just going to get us some towels.”

Shane walked through the space, happy to see little personal touches of Ilya’s throughout the otherwise impersonal space. There were books stacked on the dining room table, a laptop and a pile of scripts perched on the desk, post-it notes adorning the sides with Ilya’s messy handwritten annotations. There were a few jars of spices on the kitchen island with a box of Russian tea next to them. And draped over one of the kitchen island chairs was a worn flannel shirt, a little wrinkled, but clearly lived in. 

“I take that everywhere with me,” Ilya commented as he stepped out of the bathroom, tossing a towel to Shane. “Sometimes it’s nice to have something that reminds you of home, you know?” 

“Yeah,” Shane said, pulling the towel over his head to dry his hair. “Is it like this wherever you go? This… fancy?” Suddenly, he wondered what Ilya must think of his tiny apartment with the kitchen that barely fit both of them and the shower that Ilya had to duck his head to use when he shampooed his hair. 

“When I’m working, yes. More or less. But when I’m not…” He smiled wistfully. “I have a place in New York, where no one cares about fame, and a small apartment in Paris. It’s just two rooms, but it’s right near the best bakery, and it has a view of the river. I can cook for myself and stroll in the streets without being as worried about being recognized. Your place reminds me of it quite a bit, actually.” 

“Really?” Shane asked, warmth spreading through him at the thought of Ilya considering his apartment like a home. 

“Yes,” Ilya said simply, he stepped closer to Shane and placed his hands gently on his waist. “But it does have one thing that Paris doesn’t.” 

“Oh?” Shane gazed up at him. Ilya leaned down and kissed him and Shane let the towel fall from his hands, reaching up to wrap his arms around Ilya’s neck, returning the kiss with equal fervor. He opened his mouth and let their tongues twine together, making Ilya moan and pull Shane more firmly against him. 

Ilya broke the kiss and pressed their foreheads together, catching his breath. “Can I take you to bed?” he asked. 

“Yes, please.” Shane dove back in, kissing Ilya deeply again. He leapt into Ilya’s arms, or maybe Ilya lifted him? Either way, he wrapped his legs around Ilya’s waist and his arm around his neck and felt Ilya move, walking them into the bedroom, mouths still attached. 

Ilya dropped him onto what might have been the softest comforter he’d ever felt. Shane sat up and yanked his damp sweater and shirt over his head at the same time, then immediately went to remove his pants. 

“Someone’s eager,” Ilya teased, observing him from the foot of the bed, toeing his shoes off. 

“I don’t want to get your bed all dirty,” Shane said, lifting his hips to shimmy his pants off. They were damp, sticking to his skin, so Ilya reached down to help him, stripping them off inside out and taking his boxer briefs along with them. 

“I think we can make this bed much dirtier,” Ilya said, reaching down and pulling his own shirt over his head with considerably less speed. Shane’s hands were already on his pants button by the time he’d tossed the shirt to the side. “You’re so impatient!” He slapped Shane’s hand away playfully and slowly unzipped his jeans, showing just a hint of skin before he turned his back and pushed them down his hips. 

Shane licked his lips as Ilya’s butt came into view. He’d rather die than admit it, but he’d watched one of Ilya’s films recently, paused on a shot of him during a love scene, for research purposes, of course, and determined that the man’s ass simply would not quit. Ilya bent over to pull his pants the rest of the way off and wiggled teasingly in Shane’s direction. “Enjoying the view?” he asked. 

“Get over here,” Shane growled, reaching for him. Ilya joined him on the bed, pushing Shane to lie back against the pillows as he crawled over him, skin sliding over skin. Shane pulled him in for a kiss, gentler this time. “You make me crazy,” he said as Ilya kissed down his neck. “I want you so badly sometimes I can’t think straight.”

“I certainly hope you’re not having straight thoughts when we’re together.” Ilya kissed across his chest and licked across his nipple. 

He was kissing lower, about to move down further, when suddenly Shane said, “Could you fuck me tonight?” 

Ilya looked up. Shane was bright red, staring at the ceiling instead of meeting Ilya’s gaze, looking surprised at the words that had come out of his mouth. “Sorry,” he said. “That was… really direct.”

“Don’t apologize for asking for what you want,” Ilya said, placing his hands on either side of Shane’s head and moving over him. “Of course, I will fuck you if you want.” 

“I’ve just been thinking about it. All the time,” Shane explained. 

“Oh really?” Ilya smiled, intrigued. He leaned down and pressed a kiss to Shane’s forehead, then one on each cheek, and two on his mouth. “Tell me more.”

“I just… you’re probably way more experienced than me,” Shane said, suddenly shy. “I don’t actually do this a lot. So I hope it’s… good.”  

Ilya gazed down at him affectionately, endeared by how quickly Shane had flipped from aggressively stripping off his own clothes to blushing in Ilya’s arms. “I’m sure it will be wonderful,” he said reassuringly. He rolled his hips a little against Shane’s brushing their erections against each other, Shane arched up a little in response, biting his lower lip. Ilya leaned down and kissed him, feeling Shane relax in his arms again as he gave himself back over to pleasure. 

Ilya leaned over to the bedside table and retrieved a condom and new bottle of lube that he’d procured only a couple of days ago. “See, I am even prepared,” he said, waving the bottle at Shane, who smiled and reached for it, removing the little plastic seal and examining the brand. 

“This is fancy shit,” he commented. 

“Nothing but the best for our first time,” Ilya replied, plucking the bottle from Shane’s hands and pushing him back down into the pillows again. “Now, how do you want me?” 

“Can we… like this?” Shane breathed. “I want to see your face.” 

“Of course.” Ilya let Shane pull him down for a kiss. “And you’ll tell me, right? If you want to stop or slow down?” Shane nodded, cheeks pink again, making his freckles stand out. 

Ilya sat back and admired the view, Shane was laid out underneath him, blushing hard enough that it extended down to his chest, cock hard and leaking, strong legs spread to make room for Ilya between them. He uncapped the little bottle and drizzled a bit of the liquid onto his fingers, feeling them slide across each other easily. Slowly, he reached down and tilted Shane’s hips up just a little bit, then searched for the small opening behind Shane’s balls. He petted over it a few times, spreading the lube out over it before probing in just a little. Shane sighed and his cock somehow got even wetter. Ilya reached out and gripped it in his free hand, making Shane moan outright. “Fuck, yes, more please,” he gasped. 

Ilya pushed his finger in further and moved it back and forth a little, feeling Shane’s opening relax just a little more. “Okay?” he asked, glancing up. 

Shane nodded emphatically. “Feels good,” he confirmed. “Can you give me another, please?” 

Ilya removed his finger and gently pushed back in with two. Shane reacted beautifully, breathing in deeply and moaning on the exhale. Ilya probed a little deeper, then pulled back to add a little more lube. He began to thrust his fingers in and out, not roughly, and Shane’s hands flew to his shoulders. “Yeah,” he gasped. “Get me ready.”

“Yes,” Ilya murmured. “I can’t wait to be inside you. You’re so pretty like this.” 

“Like what?” Shane gazed up at him through his lashes. 

“When you let yourself feel good,” Ilya said, speeding up his thrusts and making Shane groan. “Ready for another?” 

“God, yes.” Shane growled in frustration when Ilya pulled his fingers out and released his cock again, but soon enough, three fingers were pushing in and Ilya leaned down to take Shane’s cock in his mouth at the same time. “Holy shit–” Shane couldn’t decide which sensation he liked more, feeling Ilya inside of him or around him. Ilya began thrusting inside of him again and he almost screamed. “Yeah, yeah, stretch me out for you,” he heard himself saying. “Want you in me.”

Ilya groaned around his cock, changed the angle of his hand, and suddenly, Shane was seeing stars as Ilya nailed his prostate. He yelled and clamped his thighs around Ilya’s shoulders and head, but Ilya didn’t stop. Once he’d found the right spot, he kept pressing on it every time he thrust in. Shane let out little moans in time with the rhythm, each hit sending sparks down his spine. “P-Please,” he managed to say. “Please, your cock now.” 

Ilya reluctantly pulled off of Shane’s cock and removed his fingers. “One day I will make you come like that,” he said, reaching for the condom and opening it with one hand and his teeth. 

“I almost did,” Shane said, reaching down to grip his own cock and closing his eyes for a moment. “God your fingers. They’re a lot bigger than mine.” He sighed and released himself, looking up at Ilya, eyes wide and dark. 

Ilya bit his own lip as he rolled the condom on and applied a little more lube to the outside. He pushed Shane’s knees up and gazed down at him. “You still want?” he asked, voice rough.  

“Yes, please, Ilya–” Shane cut off as Ilya positioned himself and began to push in. Shane was tight and Ilya had to pull back and push forward a couple of times. The stretch was intense and inexorable but it felt amazing. “Please–” Shane bit out. 

“Do you want me to stop?” Ilya asked, suddenly concerned. 

“God, no. Don’t stop,” Shane reached out and grabbed his shoulders. “Just… feeling you inside for the first time is a lot, but it’s good. Don’t stop. Please.” 

Ilya pushed forward a little more, letting Shane adjust to the fullness bit by bit. He glanced down to look at where they were joined and felt a jolt of pleasure somewhere behind his navel at the sight. Shane’s hard cock bobbing, glistening with wetness, and his own almost halfway inside. He pushed in another inch and Shane moaned. “All of it,” he whimpered. “I want all of it.” And Ilya couldn’t do anything but oblige. He pushed in the last few inches until he was pressed up against Shane, as deep inside him as he could be. 

Shane gripped his shoulders somehow even harder and gasped, eyes wide. “Did it all fit?” he asked. 

Ilya couldn’t help but laugh. “Yes, sweetheart, you took every inch of me,” he said, leaning in to kiss Shane deeply. Shane was so tight around him, he wasn’t sure if he would survive it. He pulled back just a little and then pushed back in. Shane groaned and lifted his legs to wrap them around Ilya’s waist. “You’re okay?” Ilya asked, moving again. 

“God, yes. Please fuck me.” Shane tried to move himself down but Ilya pinned his hip, pulled out more than halfway, and then thrust back in, making him shout. He was well past the initial discomfort of having Ilya inside him for the first time. Now the only thing he could think about was that fullness and feeling completely consumed. 

Ilya pistoned his hips back and forth, picking up speed, but kept his eyes on Shane for any signs of distress. When he didn’t see any, he pulled out further and pushed back in harder, then again, faster, the sound of skin slapping on skin intermingling with their moans. He hitched Shane’s leg a little higher around his waist and then really went for it, trying to find the spot he’d discovered with his fingers with his cock. When Shane almost screamed and reached out to grab the pillows near his head, he knew he’d found it again, and aimed for it on every inward thrust. “Holy shit,” Shane cried. “Right there, right there–” He tossed his head back, absolutely gorgeous without realizing it. Ilya gritted out a groan and grabbed Shane’s hips more roughly than he intended– Shane would have marks there tomorrow– and tried to get as deep as he could. 

Shane was panting now, little grunts and moans escaping him each time Ilya moved inside him. Ilya leaned down and captured his open mouth in a messy kiss, biting Shane’s lower lip as he pulled back. “Still good?” he asked. 

“Jesus Christ,” Shane groaned. He raised one leg higher, changing the angle just a bit, but enough that Ilya felt like he was somehow able to get deeper. He pushed in as far as he could and then ground his hips against Shane’s instead of pulling out right away. 

“Can I?” Ilya moved one hand up to Shane’s cock and gripped it gently, spreading the slick beading at the head down the shaft. Shane brought his own hand down, covering Ilya’s, gasping. 

“Sensitive,” he murmured. “I don’t know if I’ll last if you do that, sorry.” 

“It’s okay. How about you set the pace then?” Ilya slowly pulled out, groaning at how tightly Shane’s body was clenching around him, then rolled over onto his back, laying back against the mountain of pillows on the bed and gesturing for Shane to climb on top of him. 

“I’m too heavy,” Shane said, blushing and pulling back. 

“You are not. Come here.” Ilya grabbed him bodily and hauled Shane over, surging up to kiss him and pull him close. “You're amazing.” Shane was crossing his arms over his chest and stomach, but Ilya bullied his way past them, guiding Shane’s arms around his shoulders instead. “Will you ride me, malysh? Please?”

Shane buried his face in the space between Ilya’s neck and shoulder, cheeks flaming. Ilya kissed the side of his head and slid his hands down to cup Shane’s ass, murmuring praise in Russian and waiting patiently for Shane to raise his head. Eventually, Shane sat back and met his gaze, looking more determined now. “Okay,” he said in a small voice. “Can you help me, though?”

“Of course,” Ilya reassured him. He slid one hand to Shane’s hip and the other up his back to grip the back of his neck lightly as Shane rose up on his knees, reached back for Ilya’s cock, and guided it to his entrance, bracing himself with one hand on Ilya’s shoulder. He closed his eyes and bit his lip as he sank down slowly. Ilya’s eyes darted between where they were joined and Shane’s face, watching him carefully, grounding Shane with his touch. When Shane was fully seated, he exhaled and blinked a couple of times before smiling. 

“Okay?” Shane breathed. 

“More than okay,” Ilya said gently, stroking down Shane’s back. “You feel amazing. And not too heavy at all.”

Shane lifted himself up a little, hissing at the drag of Ilya’s thick cock inside of him. “Fuu-uhhh-ck,” he gasped, letting himself sink back down, savoring the almost overwhelming fullness. He raised up again, a little further, and this time, Ilya thrust his hips up just as Shane was sinking back down, drawing gasps from both of them. Bit by bit, Shane began to move faster, finding a rhythm that Ilya could match easily, hips swiveling. Ilya huffed out a heavy breath, trying not to lose himself in how good it felt. He reached down and placed both hands on Shane’s hips, relishing the feeling of soft skin stretching over strong muscles as he moved. Shane reached up to brace his hand against the headboard, then he leaned down to kiss Ilya deeply, running his free hand down Ilya’s chest and gripping his pectoral firmly.

There was only the sound of moans and skin sliding against skin for the next few minutes. Shane’s thighs flexed beautifully as he moved himself up and down. Ilya moved up to meet him every so often, but he was transfixed, watching Shane move above him, mouth slack with pleasure. It wasn’t long before he had to lean up to kiss Shane deeply before gasping, “Shane, I’m going to–” 

Shane pushed himself down, taking Ilya as deeply as he could and Ilya tensed, arching off the bed, coming deeply inside of him with a long, drawn-out groan. He gripped Shane’s hips tightly, stilling their movement as his orgasm tore through him. For a moment, a fantasy flitted through his mind of coming deep in Shane without a condom and keeping it there for as long as he could. But they would cross that bridge later. For now, he held Shane against him until he finished, then collapsed back against the pillows. Breathing hard, he reached down and took Shane’s leaking cock into his hand and it only took a few strokes before Shane was crying out and painting Ilya’s abdomen with his spend. His hole spasmed around Ilya’s cock and he almost felt like he would come again from the sensation.

Ilya ran his fingers across his stomach, scooping up a little of Shane’s come, licking it off the digits like a sweet treat. Shane stared at him, mouth agape at how filthy Ilya looked sucking come off his fingers. 

“That was amazing,” Ilya said, once his hand was clean. “You’re amazing.” He embraced Shane gently, mindful that he was still inside of him. 

Shane leaned down and kissed him. He let Ilya slide out of him and then snuggled up next to him, resting his head on Ilya’s chest. 

“Do you mind if I ask…” Ilya said gently, petting a hand through Shane’s hair. “You said you were too heavy to ride me. What made you believe that?” 

Shane didn’t respond right away, but Ilya didn’t push, just pressed a kiss to the top of his head and breathed. Finally, Shane said, quietly, “Just an ex from awhile back. He always said I was too big to bottom and wouldn’t let me ride him like that.” He tried to say it nonchalantly, but he had always been a terrible liar. 

“That’s such bullshit,” Ilya said, suddenly furious at this anonymous man for making Shane feel like he was anything less than stunning. “Where is this man? I’ll hunt him down and–” He stopped at the look on Shane’s face. 

“I know I’m… probably not as beautiful as the people you usually sleep with,” Shane said, thinking of all the men and women he’d seen in photos with Ilya from various gossip sites. 

“You are perfect,” Ilya said vehemently. “Hey–” He put a finger under Shane’s chin and guided his head up to look at him directly. “You are perfect,” he repeated. 

“Okay,” Shane said shyly. Ilya let him drop his head back down to his chest and wrapped his arms around him, pulling him close. 

“Stay?” Ilya asked, hopefully. 

“Yeah.” Shane’s reply was muffled in Ilya’s skin. He snuggled closer and closed his eyes. 

***

Shane woke up early the next morning, as usual, but the bed was unfamiliar and the other side was empty. Rubbing his eyes, he sat up, blankets pooling around his waist as he took in the ornate bedroom. There was a pair of joggers and a t-shirt folded neatly on the bedside table that he slipped on before venturing out into the living area. 

He didn’t see Ilya anywhere in the living or dining area and it wasn’t until he was turning the corner to the kitchenette that he heard voices coming from the adjoining room. The door was propped open enough that he caught a glimpse of Ilya sitting on the couch, looking very put together in a dress shirt and slacks, with shiny boots on his feet, a diamond earring glinting under his curls, and an almost ostentatious watch adorning his left wrist. He was saying something to someone and Shane’s eyes shifted to see a group of people sitting across from him, two cameras pointed at him from different angles. The room was packed, there was an interviewer, several crew members, and at least five other people hovering in the background. Ilya looked at ease, smiling at the camera and waving his hands around, giving animated answers to whatever the question was that had been asked. 

Slowly, mindful not to make any noise, Shane backed away from the door. It was stupid, but it hadn’t really hit him until this moment how famous Ilya really was and how much pressure he must be feeling all of the time. Ilya’s world of high fashion, hotel suites, and cameras was definitely unfamiliar, and suddenly, Shane wondered where he fit into all of that. 

He tiptoed back through the massive hotel suite, searching for his discarded clothes from the previous night. They were still damp, so he retrieved his wallet and his phone, which was almost out of battery and grabbed an empty paper bag from the corner to shove the damp clothes into. He made his way back through the suite, slipped his shoes onto his bare feet, and carefully opened the door to the hallway, checking that no one was outside before letting the door close silently behind him.

As the elevator descended to the ground floor, Shane wondered whether he was overreacting. It wasn’t Ilya’s fault that this was his job and his lifestyle. At the same time, they’d never really talked about their relationship before, or what they both wanted, and suddenly, with an uncomfortable feeling in his stomach, Shane realized that he may just be another person in the long line of casual encounters that the gossip sites loved to write about.

He hurried through the opulent lobby of the hotel, hoping no one noticed how out of place he looked, and out into the street. Glancing around, he turned left to head back home, head down, resolved not to let his emotions run away from him again. 

He took a quick shower when he got home and changed into more work-appropriate clothes before heading down the Marginalia. At least work was always there to keep him distracted. Hayden poked his head around the corner when Shane entered. “Aren’t you off until this evening?” he asked. 

“Thought I’d get some restocking done,” Shane answered, heading straight for the back room. “Everything okay here?” 

“Yeah, it’s been quiet,” Hayden shrugged. “I’ll go grab us coffee if you want to keep an eye on things?”

“Sure, thanks,” Shane called over his shoulder. He left the door to the front area open just in case anyone came in and surveyed the stacks of books with his hands on his hips. There were several new boxes that had been delivered the previous day that needed to be reviewed. But as he looked at the packed shelves, he decided that it was probably a good time to reorganize everything and clean all the shelving while he was at it. 

He cleared a spot on the floor and began stacking books there, a few at a time. The repetitive motions helped him keep his mind off of Ilya. He retrieved some rags and cleaning supplies from the closet and set about cleaning off the shelves as he went. It would be good to have the stock room clean and organized again. If only he could do the same thing with his mind.

It was mindless work, organizing and reshelving everything. So much so that it seemed like only a few minutes had passed before Hayden was poking his head in to say that he was heading out for his afternoon class. Shane clambered down from the stepladder where he’d been cleaning the very top shelves and said goodbye. Taking his cold, half-drunken coffee with him to the front, he settled down behind the counter. The shop was empty, so he opened his laptop and, without even thinking about it, typed Ilya’s name into the Google search bar. 

There were an overwhelming number of articles, mostly press about the new film, with shots and interviews from the set, as well as press for an upcoming awards show. No wonder Ilya had been busy first thing in the morning. There were plenty of gossip sites with candid photos of him strolling around with various people on his arm. And there was a news article showing a Vogue cover that Ilya had been featured on made him pause. Ilya had mentioned a photoshoot just a few weeks ago. He looked amazing on the cover, wearing a corset of all things, that cinched in his waist. Someone had clearly tried to tame his curls but decided to let them be, and there was a leather beret perched at an angle on top. In bold typeface, the cover declared ‘Ilya Rozanov: Breaking More Than Fashion Barriers’. Then in smaller letters ‘The most talked about man in Hollywood wears what he wants, dates who he wants, and has no interest in your opinion about either.’ 

He hovered over the image with his mouse, debating clicking on it to see what the article said about Ilya’s dating life when the door opened and, speak of the devil, Ilya walked in. Shane hastily slammed his laptop shut and stood up. “Hi,” he said. 

Ilya walked up to the counter, looking a little hesitant. “Hi,” he said. “You left this morning.” He said it plainly, without accusation.

“Yeah, sorry about that,” Shane tried to smile. “You seemed busy.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. They had to rearrange my schedule late last night and you were asleep. I hoped it would be done before you woke up.”

“It’s fine,” Shane shrugged, not meeting Ilya’s gaze. 

“Is that why you left?” Ilya asked, carefully. 

“No, no I completely understand the change,” Shane reassured him. 

“But something scared you.” 

“I, um. Yeah, I guess I got a little overwhelmed,” Shane placed his hands on the counter in front of him, willing himself to stay calm. “Our lives are really different. Which is totally fine! I think I just didn’t fully realize. It’s okay now. Sorry, I should have texted you to let you know I left.” 

“Something else is bothering you,” Ilya said quietly. Sometimes Shane hated how observant he was.

“It’s a me problem, not a you problem,” Shane replied, firmly. 

“I want to hear about your problems,” Ilya pressed on. “You don’t have to share, but you’re acting really weird and if I did something I want to know.”

“No,”’ Shane said immediately, shaking his head emphatically. “You didn’t do anything wrong. It’s– I–” He paused, trying to think of the right words. He took a deep breath, then finally said, “I’ve been taking this too seriously. And I just have to remind myself not to get so invested.”

Ilya frowned. “Take what too seriously?” he asked, confused, then a few seconds later. “Oh, you mean… us?” 

Shane nodded. “But like I said, it’s my issue not yours.” 

Ilya leaned forward, placing his hands over Shane’s on the countertop. “Shane,” he said, “We are dating, yes? We said so weeks ago.”

Shane glanced down at their joined hands. “But,” he said softly. “You do this all the time. Probably everywhere you go.” 

“What do you mean,” Ilya said slowly. “Everywhere I go?”

“I just mean. You’re in a different city every few months. You meet people. You’re–” he gestured vaguely at all of Ilya. “It’s fine, I’m not judging you. I just forgot for a while that this has an end date and I need to be more careful about–” He cut himself off. 

Ilya looked at him expectantly. “About what?” he asked. His voice was quiet but there was an edge to it now. 

Shane didn’t answer, staring down at the counter and their hands again. 

“About catching feelings?” Ilya filled in. 

Shane’s hands were sweating now. “It’s not– I’m not saying there’s anything wrong with–”

“You think I do this everywhere,” Ilya said. It wasn’t a question. “You think I go to a new city and find someone and this is just–” He stopped, his jaw was set. “Shane. Look at me.” 

Shane forced himself to look up. Ilya’s eyes were so earnest and he was so beautiful. 

“I have not done this in a very long time,” Ilya said. “And I’m –” he stopped again and looked like he was choosing his next words very carefully. “I don't do things I don't mean. I never have. I thought you knew that about me now.” 

Shane swallowed. “It’s not about whether you mean it now,” he said, which was the most honest thing he’d managed so far. “It’s about what happens when you move on and there’s someone interesting in the next city and I’m still here.” He said it plainly without self-pity, which somehow made it worse. 

Ilya was quiet for a moment, his thumbs moving slowly over the back of Shane’s hands. Finally, he said, softly. “I can’t promise you the future.” 

Shane’s breath caught in his throat. 

“But, I can tell you that I have looked at exactly zero other cities and zero other people since I walked into this shop,” Ilya continued. “When I finished the interview today and you were gone I felt–” He stopped, and his face did something complicated. “It was not a good feeling, Shane.” Shane opened his mouth to apologize but Ilya spoke again. “But here is the problem. I cannot do anything about the things that are in your head if you don’t tell me what they are. I don’t know when you’re scared or when something I do makes things worse. If you just go quiet, then I have to guess and apparently I’m guessing wrong.”

“You’re not–” Shane started. 

“You left this morning without saying anything,” Ilya pointed out. “And if I hadn’t come here today, what would you have done? Just decided that we were done and go back to normal?” 

Shane didn’t have an answer to that.

Ilya exhaled slowly. “I’m not angry,” he said. “I want to be clear about that. I just need you to talk to me. That’s all. Not the edited version or what you think I want to hear, or the version where you’ve already decided what my response is going to be before you’ve said anything. Just–” He lifted one hand from holding Shane’s and pressed it briefly to his own chest. “-- what’s actually here.” 

“I’m not good at that,” Shane admitted. 

“I know,” Ilya said comfortingly. “I’m not asking you to be good at it. I’m asking you to try.” 

Shane looked down at the counter. At Ilya’s hand covering his. He thought about the hotel that morning and the slices of Ilya’s world that he’d experienced now and the way he’d walked himself back from something he’d already let himself want. 

“I know that I do this. Decide how things are going to end before they have a chance to actually go anywhere. And then I protect myself accordingly,” he said. 

“Yes,” Ilya said, smiling. 

“It’s not about you,” Shane said. “Or, well, it is about you. But you didn’t do anything wrong. I saw you this morning and you were so–” He gestured helplessly at Ilya again, “-- and I was standing in your hotel room in sweatpants and it just hit me all of a sudden that I was–”

“That you were what?” Ilya prompted. 

Shane gripped his hand. “More invested than is probably smart,” he said. It cost him something to say it, but it also felt good to say it. 

Ilya didn’t say anything for a moment, then he dropped Shane’s hand and came around the side of the counter, and stood beside them so that they were facing the same direction, leaning against the counter side by side. The shop was quiet and still around them. 

“Okay,” Ilya said. “So now I know. Was that so terrible?” 

“A little bit,” Shane admitted. 

Ilya’s mouth curved up. “I’ll tell you something now. So it’s fair.” He looked straight ahead at the door to the shop. “I am also more invested than is probably smart. For what it’s worth.” 

Shane was quiet, heart in his throat. 

“So,” Ilya said. “We are both being slightly stupid. Together. And the next time something scares you, you tell me. You don’t have to have it figured out or know what you want me to do about it. You just… tell me. Okay?” 

Shane met his gaze and then said, “Yes.” It came out more easily than he expected. 

“Good.” Ilya leaned in and placed both hands on the counter, boxing Shane in. He pressed a kiss to Shane’s cheek and then his mouth, just gentle pecks. “Also you left before breakfast and I had to eat alone, which was very boring so can you come to dinner tonight to make up for it?” 

Shane exhaled and chuckled. “That seems fair,” he said, raising his arms to wrap lightly around Ilya’s waist. 

“I’ll pick you up at seven?” Ilya asked. “I know a place.” 

“You always know a place.” 

Ilya pushed himself back off the counter, pulling out his phone. “Sorry, I have to go,” he said, looking genuinely regretful. He pressed another kiss to Shane’s mouth, then walked towards the door, but then turned at the threshold and looked back. “Shane?”

“Yeah?” 

“Next time. Text me.” Ilya’s tone wasn’t unkind, just clear. 

“Next time.” Shane said. “Okay.” 

Ilya nodded and left. Shane stood in the empty shop for a moment, then he opened his laptop, closed the browser tab that still had the interview pulled up, and went back to work. 

Chapter 4: The other shoe drops

A week later, Shane was coming back from Dreamy Drops. He’d been feeling adventurous today so he’d ordered a cappuccino instead of his normal black drip coffee. When he pushed open the door, Hayden glanced up from his computer, an apprehensive look on his face. “What’s wrong?” Shane asked. Had there been a leak in the back room again? That had been a nightmare to clean up. 

Hayden just turned his laptop around for Shane to see the screen. There, in full color was a photo of Shane and Ilya. It was the two of them on the corner a couple evenings ago, when Ilya was dropping Shane off after dinner. They weren’t kissing, thank god, and the photographer had seemed more keen on catching Ilya’s face than Shane’s but they were standing close in a way that was unambiguous and Shane was looking up at Ilya with an expression Shane found deeply uncomfortable upon seeing it from the outside. 

Ilya Rozanov and Mystery Man in Toronto the site proclaimed. The comments were mostly benign but one jumped out – ‘I know that storefront, it’s in The Annex. Marginalia.’

Shane exhaled and scrolled back up to the picture and the sappy look on his face. God, did he always look like that when he looked at Ilya? No wonder he was so easy to read. “Well,” he sighed, turning the laptop back around to face Hayden. “Guess that’s that.”

“I still can’t believe you’re dating him,” Hayden said, shaking his head. “Not like, because you’re not hot. You can totally get it. If I were gay–”

Shane rolled his eyes and waved him off. “I kind of can’t believe it either,” he said. He dug into his pants pocket for his phone and pulled up his text message thread with Ilya. 

“Hi,” he said.

“I’m sorry,” Ilya said at once. “Usually my security team is better about identifying reporters but they said this one was just someone walking by with their phone. It will probably pass.” He wondered how many times Ilya had had to have this exact conversation. There were probably hundreds of these types of photos of him out there. Maybe other people had been thrilled to be photographed with him.

“Someone figured out that we were in front of the bookshop,” Shane said. “On one of the websites.”

Ilya sighed. “I can send someone to keep an eye out,” he said tentatively.

“No,” Shane said. “Well. I think it’ll be okay. Let me see how today goes?”

“Okay,” Ilya said. “Sorry. Again.” He did actually sound sorry. “I guess I won’t swing by today.”

“Probably not a great idea,” Shane chuckled. “I can come by your hotel later, though?”

“Yes, please,” Ilya said, and Shane could hear him smiling.

They said goodbye and Shane sighed, steeling himself for the day. He and Hayden agreed that Shane should stay in the back as much as possible, just in case someone recognized him.

There was more foot traffic that day, especially for a Monday. Shane heard a few people ask Hayden whether Ilya had stopped in here before, Hayden played dumb, and asked if he could help them find anything. They ended up selling a dozen copies of the hockey romance book, which Hayden thought was hilarious. “Actually, this guy kind of looks like you,” he pointed at the man on the left in the red sweater. Shane squinted down at it, laughed, and then shook his head. “Nah,” he said. “My hair is better.”

By the time they were closing up, Shane was feeling better about the whole situation just blowing over with time. He stopped out into the street and locked the door behind him, said goodbye to Hayden, and headed over to Ilya’s hotel. For once, he was grateful that Ilya was staying in such an upscale place. The staff knew him by now and, if any of them had seen the photo, they didn’t mention it.

He knocked on the door and waited patiently for Ilya to open it. The smile that broke across Ilya’s face when he saw who it was was wide and genuine. He pulled Shane into the room, pressed him up against the door, and kissed him. Shane wrapped his arms around Ilya’s broad shoulders and let himself be swept up, smiling against Ilya’s mouth.

Ilya kissed down Shane’s chest, sinking to his knees, and pressed his mouth between Shane’s legs. Shane barely had a moment to gasp before Ilya was yanking his pants open and taking Shane down his throat. Ilya seemed ravenous, as if he had been thinking about this exact moment all day. He groaned at the feeling of Shane’s cock growing harder in his mouth and began to bob his head expertly, making Shane hunch over in pleasure, pants and underwear only pushed down his hips enough for Ilya to reach his prize.

It wasn’t long before Shane was coming down Ilya’s throat, head thumping back against the door to the room. Ilya swallowed around him, then cleaned Shane off slowly, luxuriating in the taste and making sure he got every drop. He tucked Shane back into his clothes and put everything back the way it had been before grinning up at Shane and saying, “Hi.”

“God, hi,” Shane groaned. “What was that for?”

“Was going to do that to you at the bookstore during your lunch break and then I couldn’t stop thinking about it.” Ilya got to his feet and pressed a quick kiss to the side of Shane’s mouth. “I’m really sorry about the photo.”

“It’s okay,” Shane said, raising one shoulder. “It’s not like you posted it. Plus we sold a bunch of books today so it kind of worked out. Hey, did you want me to…?” he gestured down between Ilya’s legs, but Ilya shook his head and smiled.

“No, that was just for you.”

Ilya took Shane by the hand and led him through to the dining area. There was a fancy bottle of wine, a bottle of ginger ale and two glasses sitting on the table along with a few small plates of food. “I thought you might need to relax a little,” Ilya said. “And since we’re laying low, I thought we could at least have something good.”

They ended up in the living room curled up under a blanket together, watching one of Ilya’s early movies, an indie drama called The Winter Roads. It was a small cast and Ilya’s character was a young man returning to his hometown after his father’s death, navigating grief and old relationships.

“I can’t believe you found this,” Ilya said for the third time after Shane had pulled it up. He was sitting with his arms crossed, looking vaguely uncomfortable. It wasn’t that he hated to watch himself. He was proud of his work, generally, but his early films had been “of varying quality”, he’d warned.

"It took some effort,” Shane admitted. He took a sip of wine and glanced over at Ilya. “It’s not exactly widely available.”

“There’s a reason for that,” Ilya sighed.

“You told me to pick something to watch!”

“I said pick something, not excavate my past.” Ilya was laughing, not really upset.

“You didn’t specify. Also it has good reviews.” Shane scooted closer to Ilya under the blanket.

“It has four reviews.”

“Four good reviews.”

Ilya rolled his eyes and took a gulp of wine. On the screen, the opening credits were rolling. Slower than the big budget films, with a gentle soundtrack playing in the background. When Ilya first appeared on screen, Shane almost cooed. “You’re adorable, and your hair was so long!” he exclaimed. “How old were you?”

“Nineteen,” Ilya said quietly.

“This was your second film?”

“Third. The second one is worse. You will never find it.”

“I wouldn’t say never,” Shane teased.

Ilya gave him a look but Shane was unruffled. “If you try to find it I will never blow you again,” Ilya said, eyes narrowed.

“Okay, okay fine.”

The film was uneven in the way that low budget early career projects often were. The script had soft spots and some of the supporting performances were inconsistent. One character kept changing his accent. But the scenes that Ilya was in were noticeably better than the ones where he was absent. Shane watched without saying anything for the first forty minutes.

Ilya had pulled a pillow onto his lap and was holding it like a shield, occasionally wincing at something on the screen and once even covering his eyes with a hand for a moment before lowering it with a sigh of resignation.

There was a scene, no dialogue, just Ilya alone in his father’s empty house, going through a box of objects. He wasn’t crying, just sitting with the weight of things. Shane leaned forward, put down his ginger ale, and turned towards Ilya.

“Stop,” Ilya said at once.

“I didn’t say anything!” Shane exclaimed.

“You’re about to.”

“I’m watching the film.”

“You have a face. You’re making a face. ”

“This is just my face.”

“It’s your ‘about to say something face’.” Ilya paused, waiting. “Well?” he finally prompted.

Shane watched young Ilya on the screen, sitting on the floor of an empty room, turning a small object over in his hands. The camera stayed on his face for a long time, and Shane could read all kinds of emotion there, captured in tiny microexpressions that passed by almost too quickly to register. Bittersweet nostalgia, sadness, grief, hope, and love.

“You do that with your hands,” Shane said.

“What?” Ilya clutched the pillow tighter.

“When you’re thinking,” Shane gestured to the screen. “Was that in the script?”

Ilya watched his younger self. “No,” he said after a moment. “It just felt… right.”

“It was perfect,” Shane said simply. He picked up his wine glass again and took Ilya’s hand, resting them on top of the pillow shield together.

On the screen, young Ilya was having a conversation with an old neighbor. “You were already doing it then, too,” Shane said, almost to himself.

“Doing what?” Ilya asked.

“The listening thing,” Shane explained, gesturing vaguely to the screen. “The way you listen to people. It’s the same. Like they’re the only person in the room and you’re not planning how to respond, you’re just taking in everything they’re saying.” He turned and smiled at Ilya. “You make them feel special.”

The final scene was of Ilya’s character standing at the same train platform from the opening, bag in hand, departing rather than arriving this time, but a changed person, before cutting to black.

“Well?” Ilya asked, trying to sound casual but failing.

Shane turned towards him. “You are the most watchable person in every single frame you’re in. By a significant margin,” he said, without an ounce of sarcasm. “I can’t believe you were only nineteen.” 

“You might be slightly biased,” Ilya said, cheeks flushing.

“That film didn’t deserve you but you carried the entire thing,” Shane declared. “No wonder you’re going to get an academy award.”

“Don’t say that,” Ilya groaned. “The movie isn’t even done filming yet.”

“I’m calling it now.” Shane leaned over and fixed Ilya with a doe-eyed innocent stare.

“What?” Ilya asked, suspicious.

“I want to see your other early movies,” Shane said,

“Absolutely not.”

“The second one, especially. The one you said is worse.”

“Shane–”

“I’ll find it eventually.”

“It was just a student film.”

“Even better.”

Ilya sighed and looked at him for a long moment, totally unguarded. An expression that Shane had learned to recognize over the past several weeks.

“Why?” Ilya asked finally. It wasn’t defensive, just genuine curiosity.

“Because you were already you,” Shane said. “And I want to see all of it.” He leaned in for a kiss and Ilya vowed never to tell him the name of his second film.

***

A few days later, Shane woke up at home to a text from Hayden with two links included and just a shocked face emoji. He clicked hastily, squinting at the bright light of the phone screen, then gasped and sat up immediately. Someone had leaked nude photos of Ilya. Shane caught enough of a glance to see that they must have been from when Ilya was very young. Feeling sick, he immediately closed the browser window and stabbed at his phone to call. 

“I can’t really talk right now,” Ilya said. His voice was gravely, and Shane wondered whether he had been crying. 

“How are you?” Shane asked. 

“Okay. Not good. Probably bad.” Ilya sounded tired. 

“I’m so sorry,” Shane said, for lack of anything better to say. “Can I come over later?”

“I’m not sure,” Ilya said. “There is a lot of, ah, damage control happening right now.”

“Okay. I understand. I’m here for you, though.”

“Thanks. I’ll text you.” Ilya hung up and Shane somehow felt even worse. 

He refused to read anything about the leak, although he heard patrons talking about it in the store and Hayden had read several news articles after assuring Shane that they didn’t contain any of the photos. He pieced together that a number of photos had been leaked overnight by a single source and the internet was losing its mind about them because they were quite graphic. He didn’t go out of his way to ask Hayden about it, but Hayden did let him know that Ilya and his team had made a public statement acknowledging the photos and asking that people respect Ilya’s privacy. Shane debated logging on and reporting every photo he could find but he didn’t want to see them. Didn’t want to invade Ilya’s privacy like that.

He sent Ilya a quick text at lunchtime asking how things were going and received a short handling things reply. They had planned to meet up later in the day but Shane supposed that wouldn’t happen now. Instead, he changed out the display in the front of the store window and mused about whether he should start carrying more fiction books now that it was getting colder and people were spending more time indoors. 

He had just pulled some baked chicken out of the oven and was tossing some asparagus in the garlic miso sauce when his phone lit up with a text. Wiping his hands on a towel, he opened it to see Are you at home? He quickly typed back. Yeah. And almost as soon as he sent it, the doorbell rang.

He turned the heat off on the asparagus and hurried down the stairs. Ilya was hunched over, face tucked into the collar of his jacket. Shane reached out and grabbed his arm, bringing him over the threshold. He poked his head out to see if there was anyone on the street before closing the door behind him and following Ilya, who trudged slowly up the stairs to the apartment. 

Shane put his hands in his pockets when they reached the living room. Ilya sat down on the couch and looked up at him. He looked exhausted. “Do you want to talk about it?” Shane asked. “Because we don’t have to.”

Ilya sighed. “I–” he paused. “I just want you to know. I was young, only eighteen. And it was difficult to find a steady job. They offered me some money and I did the photos but that was it.” He looked as if Shane were about to yell at him.

“Okay,” Shane said simply. “It would have been okay if you’d done more, too. I’m not going to judge you.”

Ilya put his head in his hands. “God, I don’t know why I let them talk me into the full frontal photos. It’s mortifying seeing them out there.” 

“I didn’t look at them,” Shane said. 

“What?” 

“I didn’t look. You didn’t share them with me, so you didn’t consent, so I didn’t look,” Shane said, shrugging. “Seems pretty cut and dry to me.”

“You might be the only person on the planet that hasn’t,” Ilya said, looking at him disbelievingly. 

“Well I’m sure they can’t compare to the real thing,” Shane said, smiling. “But fuck whoever leaked them. Will you go after them?”

Ilya shrugged and shook his head. “Right now we’re just trying to get them taken down. I know who did it. His watermark was in the corner.” 

Shane came to sit next to him and reached out a hand. Ilya took it and closed his eyes, tears forming at the corners. “I’m sorry,” Shane said. “I can’t even imagine how you must be feeling. But, it doesn’t make me think any less of you.” 

“Really?” Ilya laughed wetly. “It makes me think less of myself.”

“Not at all,” Shane said, seriously. “I think you’re as beautiful and amazing as I did yesterday.” He leaned in and kissed Ilya’s cheek gently. “I made chicken and asparagus, do you want some?”

Ilya sniffled and sat up to take off his jacket. “Yeah, I haven’t eaten all day,” he said. He followed Shane into the kitchen, helped make up two plates, and they sat together in Shane’s little kitchen, knees knocking together under the table. 

“I’m really glad you came,” Shane said as he made them a cup of tea once the dishes were done and they were back at the table. 

“I felt like here would be… safe,” Ilya said. 

“You can stay as long as you want,” Shane said. “Except I have to get groceries tomorrow or we’ll starve.”

***

When they went to bed that night, Shane climbed into Ilya’s lap and kissed all over his face, bringing their mouths together for long, deep kisses that made him feel like Ilya was crawling inside of him though his mouth. He spit in his hand and brought it down over their erections, rubbing over and between them with his talented hands, drawing soft moans from both of them. Ilya came with Shane’s name on his lips and Shane licked their intermingled spend off his own fingers. 

The next morning, Shane woke up to Ilya already on a phone call in the living room. He didn’t say much, just acknowledging things or saying “No, that won’t work,” while he paced back and forth, occasionally stopping to write something down on the pad of paper on the coffee table. He looked up when Shane entered, and he looked miles better than he had the previous night, despite the tense conversation that Shane was sure was happening. He went to start a pot of coffee and peruse the fridge. They’d have to have eggs and toast, he didn’t have much else.

Ilya came in just as Shane was scrambling the eggs and testing the heat of the pan. “Good morning,” Shane said, and Ilya leaned over to give him a kiss. “Okay call?”

“Actually, yes,” Ilya said, sounding lighter. Not quite happy, but not as completely despondent as he had the previous night. “I was on the phone with my agent and a lawyer. They’re pausing the film shoot for a few days to let things settle. In the meantime, we are going after the person who leaked them– I bought them back from him as soon as I started making money, and they’ve made good progress on getting them taken down. I posted on social media about it and the response has been shockingly positive.” He turned his phone so Shane could see his instagram post, simple white letters over a dark background:

I’ll keep this short because it doesn’t deserve more than that.

The photos are real. Sharing them without my consent is a violation of my privacy and basic decency. I won’t be performing embarrassment about my own body for anyone’s entertainment.

For those of you asking, I’m fine. I’m committed to doing the tremendous Hollow Anatomy script justice. The only thing I actually care about is that the people I care about are left out of this entirely.

That’s all. Go find something better to do with your time.

It had been liked almost a hundred-thousand times already and the comments were overwhelmingly supportive. Of course, there were a few nasty ones sprinkled throughout and a fair number of people speculating on ‘people I care about’. Ilya was notoriously private, so the reference, however vague, was giving them something to latch onto. To be honest, so was Shane. It made his heart skip a beat reading Ilya’s words out there for everyone to see. “You’re so brave,” he said. 

“Thanks.” Ilya blushed and put his phone away, then reached up to grab two mugs for coffee from the cabinet above their heads. 

“Are you really okay, though?” Shane asked. 

“Better than yesterday,” Ilya said, honestly. “I’m glad to have a few days to reset. I don’t think I’d be very good at my job right now.” He poured the coffees and handed one to Shane before moving towards the fridge to fetch milk for his own. 

“What were you thinking of doing with the unexpected time off?” Shane asked, curiously. What did super famous people even do to relax? 

Ilya smiled at him. “Well, I was thinking that if it’s okay with you, I could stay here? Spend some time reading and I could even help in the shop. In the back, of course.”

“I’m not going to put you to work,” Shane said, feeling warmth spread all over his body at the idea of Ilya being here for multiple nights in a row, waking up next to him and seeing him for more than a few hours at a time. 

“Well what else am I supposed to do? Lounge on your bed naked until you get back every night?” Ilya teased. Shane almost choked at that mental image. Quickly, he turned to dump the eggs into the pan and moved the spatula through them to keep them from clumping too quickly. 

“Fine, you can come to the shop.”

“And then after. Naked. Bed.” Ilya leaned over and kissed him. “Or maybe… before?” 

“Breakfast first,” Shane insisted. “The eggs will get cold.” 

Ilya did manage to coax Shane back to bed before they went down to the shop. He stripped Shane’s pajamas off and made love to him slow and deep, with Shane’s ankles hooked over his shoulders. “I told you I love morning sex,” Ilya murmured into his mouth. 

“I see why,” Shane gasped back. Ilya was hitting his prostate dead on and he wasn’t sure how much longer he could hold on. 

“You’re so soft and warm in the morning,” Ilya said, pushing somehow even deeper. Shane reached up to clench the sheets above his head, moaning. “I’d love to fuck you one night and then in again in the morning when you’re still wet and open.”

“That can– ah– be arranged.”

“Oh yeah?” Ilya licked up the side of Shane’s neck and bit his earlobe gently. 

“I even have something that could help keep me open for you. If you’re into that.” Shane’s thoughts went to the small collection of sex toys that he kept in a box under the bed, particularly to the little silicone plug that was comfortable enough to wear for an extended period. And on top of them, the printout he’d received in the mail just a couple of days ago.

“That might kill me,” Ilya pulled almost all the way out and then pushed in slowly, making Shane feel every inch. 

“You have to hurry,” Shane said, reaching down to pat Ilya’s hip. “I can’t be late opening the shop.”

Ilya laughed loudly. “I’m balls deep in you and you’re worried about punctuality? God, that's sexy.” With that he began to thrust faster, making whatever retort had been on Shane’s lips turn into nothing but moans. It wasn’t long before Shane was spilling all over himself, some drops even landing on his own face, and Ilya reached his crest shortly after, bending Shane almost in half as he came deep inside of him and licked Shane’s spend off his freckles. 

When Ilya went to clean up and came back with a towel, Shane glanced at him from beneath the arm that he’d thrown across his own face to hide the smile on it. “You know,” he said. “Your plan to fuck me so hard I’m still open the next morning,” Ilya raised his eyebrows at that. “It would probably be better if you didn’t use a condom.”

Ilya’s hand paused from where he was wiping the come off of Shane’s chest, just for a moment. He went back to it soon, then said, feigning nonchalance. “Oh really?”

“Mmhmm,” Shane’s hand came up to cover Ilya’s. “That is. If neither one of us is seeing anyone else. And you have a matching test result to mine.” 

“Malysh,” Ilya leaned over and kissed him. “I love that idea. But your timing is terrible. I just want to fuck you again now.”

Shane laughed and went to go shower. 

Ilya spent an enjoyable morning moving between Shane’s apartment and the rear of the shop. He made more coffee upstairs and brought it down for them around ten in the morning, broke down some of the shipping boxes and lined the scraps up for recycling, organized several shelves according to Shane’s customized version of the Dewey decimal system, and then retreated upstairs to lay on Shane’s couch and read a book. When Hayden came to relieve Shane for his lunch break, he came upstairs to find Ilya asleep, book open on his chest. He opened his eyes sleepily when he heard Shane come in. “Oh, I was going to make lunch,” he said, yawning. 

“I barely have anything to eat,” Shane said. “How about I run out and grab us some sandwiches? I’ll swing by the grocery store on the way.”

“Sorry I can’t go with you,” Ilya said. His agent had made him promise to lay low for a day or two and not to go on the internet. 

“It’s okay, stay here and relax.” Shane pressed a kiss almost absentmindedly to Ilya’s mouth and went to go fetch his reusable grocery bags and the list that was affixed to the fridge door with a magnet. 

It was a crisp fall day out, so Shane pulled a toque over his head as he went to the deli to grab their sandwiches, and then to the nearest market for groceries. He was debating between chicken or salmon for dinner that night when he overheard a conversation between a couple walking behind him. 

“Why would he have had those photos taken if he didn’t want people to see them?”

“Come on, you weren’t ever young and dumb, Claire?”

“Not dumb enough to take my clothes off in front of a camera and pose like that!”

Shane grit his teeth and decided on the salmon. He wanted to turn around and say that Ilya hadn’t had a choice. But he couldn’t. Instead he went to find some shallots and a lemon. 

Ilya came down to the shop again in the afternoon and curled up in the armchair with his tablet to review a few scripts that he hadn’t had a chance to print out yet. Shane bustled in and out, picking up books for customers and to restock the shelves. He smiled every time he saw Ilya sitting there and several times, came over to steal a kiss. 

“Sorry it’s kind of boring for you today,” he said. “But we’re closing up soon and we can go back up.”

“Today’s been great,” Ilya said, earnestly. “It’s been nice to just unplug and relax.” 

“Okay good. But I’m off tomorrow afternoon, so we can spend more time together.” Shane kissed him again and went out to finish closing the shop. 

When Shane climbed up the stairs to the apartment, he could smell something delicious coming from under the door and was treated to the sight of Ilya standing in his kitchen when he opened it, keeping a close eye on the salmon poaching in a pan. A green bean salad was already prepared and had been set to the side. It was quite different to come home to a brightly lit kitchen and dinner already underway. Usually, Shane came home to a dark apartment and wondered whether going to the trouble to cook something time-intensive was worth it. 

Ilya handed him a glass of white wine and said, “Dinner’ll up in about fifteen minutes.”

Shane sat down at the table, which was already set, and watched Ilya move around the kitchen. “You really know what you’re doing,” he commented, taking a sip of his wine. 

“I’ve missed cooking so much while I’ve been here,” Ilya said, wiping his hands on a towel. “It is such a luxury to have a nutritionist and a chef, but sometimes I just want to do it myself.” 

“Did you cook a lot growing up?” Shane asked.

“My mother did,” Ilya said, plating the salmon and spooning the sauce over each fillet carefully. “She’s the one who taught me. Back in Russia.” 

“Is she still there?” Shane asked curiously. “What about the rest of your family?” He realized that they’d never really spoken about their families before. 

“She died,” Ilya said, very quietly. “When I was twelve. My father and my brother are still there. But I left when I was seventeen. My mother always believed that I could do anything I put my mind to. When I said I wanted to be an actor, she encouraged me to pursue it, so I left as soon as I could to come to America and do it.”

“Wait, you came by yourself?” Shane was shocked. “And they let you?”

“My family and I, we are not… close,” Ilya said slowly. “I had to get out of there. Especially when I realized that I was bisexual. I couldn’t stay.”

“Do you still talk to them?” Shane asked.

“Every so often. I send money home for them. They are always asking for more,” Ilya smiled wryly.

“What did you do when you got here?” 

“What all starving artists do. Waited tables and rented a closet as a bedroom in an apartment with four other people,” Ilya laughed. He brought the salmon over to the table and then went back to fetch the salad. “I don’t miss the mice in the hallways of that place but I do miss the way that things were simpler.”

“I bet,” Shane said, quietly, thinking about the media storm that Ilya was waiting out right now. 

“What about you? Your parents are in Ottawa?” 

“Yeah, they are. They weren’t super thrilled when I resigned from my big tech job to open a bookstore, but they understood. And they like visiting Toronto. My mom’s always going on about how much better the Japanese restaurants are here than in Ottawa.”

“She is Japanese? Is that where you get your good looks?” Ilya reached out to brush his fingers across Shane’s cheeks. 

“Half of them,” Shane said, smiling at him. 

“And your dad?” 

“He works for the treasury board of Canada. Gardens a lot. He’s also a really good cook. This is delicious, by the way, what’s in the sauce?”

“Just shallots, white wine, vinegar, garlic, and butter,” Ilya said. “The wine you got is fantastic, it made all the difference.”

“I hardly know anything about wine,” Shane shrugged. 

“I don’t think anyone does, really. Whenever I have to go somewhere fancy I just pick a reasonably priced bottle and pray. But this is good. I’ll try to remember the name.” Ilya picked up his own glass and took a sip. 

They ate in silence for a few minutes before Shane said. “I’m sorry, about your family. Do you miss them?”

Ilya didn’t speak right away. Then he smiled sadly and said, “My mother was great. She was my favorite person. When she died I didn’t know if I’d ever be happy again.” Shane reached out and took his hand. 

“Do you mind if I ask how she died?”

“Suicide.” The word hung in the air and Shane didn’t know how to react. “I found her. Thought she was sleeping until I saw the pill bottles.” Ilya reached up with his free hand to the gold crucifix he always wore around his neck. “This was hers. The only piece of her that I have left.”

“Ilya, I–” Shane stuttered. “I don’t know what to say besides I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Ilya replied, looking over at him. “I miss her. A lot. But I also learned that I can be happy, and that’s what’s important now.” He squeezed Shane’s hand. “Now, tell me what the treasury board of Canada does.”

***

They’d fallen into a comfortable, domestic pattern over the next few days without even realizing it. One of them would wake up first, and start breakfast, then Shane usually had to work and Ilya would either stay in the back area, reading or helping with whatever needed doing. After his late shifts, Shane came home to dinner either in progress or about to be plated. It was nice. But Ilya was going a little stir crazy from being cooped up, anxious to get back to work. 

He cautiously checked his email and the internet after three days. The press around the leak had died down significantly and the photos weren’t on the front page of every news site. His post had been reshared, retweeted, and liked so many times it made his head spin. He did his best not to read the comments and instead got in touch with the film’s producer to determine when they could restart shooting. 

“For once I’m glad for peoples’ short attention span,” he said, putting his phone away. 

“Did they say when the filming might restart?” Shane asked, fiddling with the dish towel that he was hanging up after washing the dishes. 

“A day or two I think. I think we will need to work some weekends to make up the time.”

Shane nodded and leaned back against the kitchen counter. He debated for a moment before remembering what Ilya had said about sharing what he was feeling and then spoke, a little hesitantly. “I really like having you here.” 

“Me too.” Ilya came and stood in front of him, one hand going to Shane’s waist, comforting and warm. 

“I know you can’t stay. And you can’t be stuck inside forever. But it’s been really nice.” Shane leaned in and gave Ilya a gentle kiss. 

“Let’s make the most of the next couple of days then,” Ilya suggested. “Remind me about your schedule today?”

“I’ll be done at noon. Hayden said he could cover the front this afternoon and tomorrow. Actually, he told me to take a break.” Shane’s cheeks went pink. Hayden’s exact words had been ‘you deserve a sex-cation, go, I’ve got it’. But he wasn’t going to repeat that. 

“Oh really?” Ilya’s hand snuck into Shane’s waistband and down to palm his ass. He tilted his head to nibble on Shane’s ear. 

“Yeah,” Shane breathed. 

“Anything in particular you were thinking of doing?” Ilya asked, far too nonchalantly for someone whose fingers were currently brushing over Shane’s hole. 

“Fuck, you have to stop,” Shane pushed him away gently. “I can’t get all worked up before heading down. But… later?”

“Later,” Ilya confirmed, removing his hand obediently. 

If Shane thought that Ilya would behave himself while Shane was at work, he couldn’t have been more wrong. The first photo that Ilya texted, two hours into his shift, was of his bare chest and cut off just below the waistband of his navy boxer briefs, sprawled out over Shane’s comforter. A few minutes later, it was from his abs down, his big hand hooked in the waistband of the boxer briefs, pulling it down to expose the base of his cock. 

Shane slapped his phone down onto the counter top when the second photo came through, face bright red. The customer he’d been helping, Amanda, the woman who came in every week for romance novels, looked mildly concerned as she placed her books into her bag. “Everything okay?” 

“Fine,” Shane choked out. He plastered a professional smile onto his face. “Hope you enjoy those novels.”

“Thanks, Shane. See you later.”

He lifted his phone back up as soon as the door shut behind her and stared at the photo, mouth watering. You’re a menace, he texted. 

I think you like it. Ilya texted back only a few minutes later. 

He let Shane be for another half an hour before texting again. 

No condoms tonight? I want to come so deep inside you that it won’t drip out. 

There was a screenshot attached of test results. Dated two weeks ago. Somehow that was even hotter than the photos. Shane ducked between two bookshelves to catch his breath, heart beating out of his chest, and texted back right away. 

Yes please. You can check the box under my bed for mine.

A few seconds later, Ilya replied, You suck at sexting. 

Shane had totally forgotten what else was in the box with his test results until Ilya texted a series of quick messages one right after the other. 

Holy shit. Shane, you will murder me. 

There are so many options. You are such a pervert. 

Which one is your favorite, the purple one?

It’s still smaller than me. 

Is this the plug you were talking about? 

There was a photo of the contents of Shane’s sex toy box strewn over the bed, Ilya’s hand in frame holding a little silicone plug.

Shane fumbled his phone and quickly replied Oh fuck, sorry I forgot that’s what else is in the box. Then, It took me a while to figure out the toys I liked but I didn’t want to throw them away. 

He paused and then added, Yes. That’s the one I was thinking of. 

Ilya responded immediately Get up here right now. 

Shane glanced at the clock and then grimaced. I can’t, I’m waiting for that delivery. 

I’m touching myself thinking about you using all of these on yourself and you make me wait? Hot. Give me another rule please. 

The mental image of Ilya touching himself sent a shiver down Shane's spine. He typed his reply carefully. Don’t come without me there. 

A few moments later all he received in response was, Fuck. Okay. Hurry up. 

By the time the delivery had shown up and Hayden had come to relieve him, Shane was sure that everyone could see how flustered he was and how hard he was in his jeans. Hayden raised an eyebrow at how quickly Shane packed up to leave, but mercifully didn’t tease him about it. “Have fun,” he called as Shane hurried out the door. 

He took the steps two at a time to his apartment and threw open the door. Ilya was sitting in the living room, paging through a book and making notes on a hard copy of a script that had been couriered over. Shane didn’t waste any time, crawling into his lap, and kissing him hard. “You fucking degenerate,” Shane breathed against his lips. 

“I’m not the one with a box of sex toys,” Ilya answered, laughing. 

Shane didn’t answer that, just set to work licking into Ilya’s mouth and grinding against him. He didn’t waste any time pushing Ilya’s shirt up over his chest, but whined when they had to break apart for him to take it off. 

Ilya pushed himself up and off the couch, lifting Shane with him effortlessly. “Want you in the bed,” he murmured. Shane let himself be guided down the hall to the bedroom, stepping backwards and nearly tripping over his own feet in his haste. He lost his own shirt somewhere near the kitchen and they both stripped off their pants in the hallway. He took a moment to appreciate the tight boxer briefs covering Ilya’s erection before he was pushed backwards onto the bed. 

Ilya crawled over him, dragging his tongue up his abs, then his chest, over a nipple, and then the side of his neck. Shane couldn’t help but giggle a little. Then Ilya pressed their hips together and he was moaning.

“Were you serious about not using condoms?” he asked. 

Ilya pressed himself up and looked down at him. “I wouldn’t joke about that.” He was suddenly more serious. “I’m not dating anyone else. And I’d like to feel you bare if you want that.”

“I want it,” Shane confirmed quickly, leaning up to kiss him, then, feeling bold, he said, in lower voice, right against Ilya’s ear, “I want what you said earlier. About coming so deep inside me that nothing drips out.”

Ilya growled and nipped Shane’s neck gently, then reached down to begin pulling Shane’s underwear off. He yanked them down and pressed a quick kiss over the head of Shane’s cock before stripping the fabric down his legs and tossing it behind him. Glancing up at him, Ilya dipped his head and mouthed at the base of his shaft, right where it met his balls, then licked slowly up the length of it before taking the head into his mouth. Shane reached a hand down and rested it in Ilya’s curls, gripping firmly but not pulling. “Fuck,” he breathed out. 

He thought he might have gotten used to the feeling of Ilya’s mouth on him by this point but something about it felt different every time. Ilya could read him very well now. Knew when he was close and what felt the best for him. And he was unleashing all of them on Shane, completely unmooring him. He slid his mouth down the shaft slowly, moaning as Shane’s length filled his throat, then kept him there, swallowing around him until Shane wondered if he could breathe. When he pulled off, he pressed a little kiss to the tip, making Shane’s cock twitch. 

Shane leaned over to the bedside table to retrieve the bottle of lube and a tiny thrill went through him when he didn’t pick up a condom, too. He leaned forward to kiss Ilya before sitting back, head against the pillows. When Ilya reached for the bottle, Shane moved it out of his reach, smiling. “What if you watch me first?” he asked. 

Ilya sat back, eyes shining. “Yeah?” he asked. 

“Yeah…” Shane licked his lips and uncapped the lube, drizzling some onto his own fingers. Ilya’s gaze was locked on him as he gripped his own cock in one hand, spread his legs, then lowered the other between them and petted over his hole with one wet finger. 

“Fuck, Shane.” Ilya sat back, bracing himself on his hands as he watched intently. 

He pushed his middle finger in, just to the first knuckle. Moved it in and out and then let it come out completely to gather more slick before inserting it again, deeper this time. He was tight, he always was. But he breathed deeply and remembered to relax. It felt good, getting himself ready. And watching Ilya’s reactions only made him harder. 

“Another,” Ilya said softly. 

Shane bit his lip and pushed his ring finger in alongside the other one. He couldn’t get as deep at this angle, but it was enough to make him gasp. He scissored his fingers a few times, delighting in the stretch, then thrust them in and out. It was good, so good, but he wanted to be fuller. 

“Can you…?” He held out the bottle of lube towards Ilya, who took it and quickly applied some to his own hand before pushing a finger in alongside Shane’s. 

“Fuck.” Shane tossed his head back against the pillows. It felt amazing. Ilya could reach much deeper than he could. They moved together, making Shane groan at the sensation. Ilya groaned and grabbed at Shane’s thigh with his other hand, pushing his legs further apart. 

“Next time I’ll use that toy to get you ready,” Ilya said, eyes fixed on their fingers sliding against each other. “The purple one.”

“You like that one?” Shane gasped as Ilya pushed in all the way to his third knuckle, forcing Shane’s own fingers deeper along with it. 

“It’s still smaller than I am. Will be perfect to prepare you.” Ilya sped his hand up, fucking into Shane with wet squelches. 

“Christ,” Shane arched his back. “I think I’m ready.”

“You need one more.” Ilya didn’t stop moving his hand. 

“No, I want to feel every inch of you when you’re bare inside me for the first time.” Shane gazed up at him through his lashes. “Please?”

Ilya cursed in Russian and pulled his hand back. Shane kept his own fingers inside, watching as Ilya opened the lube again and carefully spread it over his cock. 

“Ready?” Ilya positioned himself between Shane’s legs, placed one hand on his leg, pushing it outward, and pressed the head of his cock against Shane’s entrance. 

“Yeah.” Shane barely got the word out before Ilya was pushing in. It was tighter than normal since typically, Ilya insisted on stretching him thoroughly, but it felt phenomenal. And knowing that there was nothing between them made it feel even better. Ilya’s mouth dropped open as he pressed in. Shane huffed out a breath and stretched his arms over his head, pushing down against the headboard and bearing down. 

“It’s so much… hotter. And wetter,” Ilya gasped. 

“Good?” Shane breathed. 

“So good.” Ilya pushed in another few inches, then moved to plant one hand above Shane’s shoulder and the other one against the headboard. “God, I might not last.” He closed his eyes and kept pushing in until he was finally fully seated. He stilled for a moment, just savoring the feeling. Shane flexed his fingers against the headboard and glanced down between them, his own cock bobbing between them, hard and leaking. 

Ilya pulled out partway before shoving back in, agonizingly slow. The drag of his length inside was maddening, making Shane try to push himself down faster and impale himself. But Ilya growled and gripped his hips tighter, keeping him still, then leaned over to press kisses over his chest. He pistoned his hips again, a little faster, then again, speeding up each time. 

Shane threw his arms around Ilya’s shoulders and hung on for the ride as the rhythm of slapping skin filled the air. He caught Ilya’s lips with his own and groaned into his mouth. “You feel so good inside me, stretching me out with your big cock.”

“Make it fit,” Ilya grunted, rutting a little harder and setting his teeth against Shane’s neck. 

“Yes, God, make me yours.” Shane grabbed at Ilya’s hair and yanked on it as Ilya began to thrust somehow even harder and faster. 

“Think you can come on my cock?” Ilya asked, pushing himself up on his hands and hovering over Shane as he circled his hips, looking down at Shane’s cock, which had been trapped between them, leaking freely. 

“Make me come, Ilya, please.” Shane tilted his hips up and hitched his legs up just a little further until Ilya’s cock was nailing his prostate with every thrust inward. He tossed his head back and lost himself to the sensation, thrills of pleasure shooting down his spine. It wasn’t long before he was spilling over his own stomach, completely untouched, eyes squeezed shut and a long, drawn-out groan spilling from his lips. 

“Fuck, you’re gorgeous.” Ilya groaned at the feeling of Shane clenching so tightly around him when he came, then relaxing as he came down from his orgasm.

“Come inside me, please, like you promised,” Shane begged, looking thoroughly debauched, covered in his own come, sweat beading on his brow, and tears in his eyes. And Ilya was helpless to do anything but obey. 

He shoved himself in as deeply as he could, pressing them together tightly. The knowledge that he was about to come inside Shane, leaving a part of himself there, marking him from the inside, was what tipped him over the edge. He breathed out as he reached the crest, bliss overwhelming his entire body as he shot off as deep as he could inside Shane’s body. 

They were quiet for a few minutes, just breathing and coming down from their highs. Shane’s arms wrapped tightly around Ilya’s neck, holding him close. Ilya smelled like the mint shampoo he liked to use as well as lightly of Shane’s lavender scented laundry detergent.

“God,” Ilya breathed, pressing a kiss to Shane’s neck, then his cheek and his mouth. “You’re amazing.” 

“Mm-mm,” Shane shook his head, releasing his grip around Ilya’s neck, hands coming to frame his face. “You are.” 

When they finally parted, Shane hissed as Ilya slowly pulled his softening cock out, wet with his release and lube. “Wait,” Ilya said suddenly, pushing him back down as he started to sit up, intending to fetch a towel. He pushed Shane’s legs apart again, gaze fixed on his hole, which was gaping a little, a small trickle of Ilya’s release already visible. 

“Ilya–” Shane cut off as Ilya’s long fingers probed inside, pushing the fluid back into him and plugging his entrance. His cock gave a valiant twitch despite being completely sated after he’d just orgasmed. 

“I want to keep it there. Inside of you,” Ilya murmured. 

“You can.” Shane gestured vaguely to his box of toys, which was sitting with the top flipped open on the bedside table. 

Ilya leaned over and retrieved the little black silicone plug, turning it in his hand, admiring it for a moment. “You want to stay open for me all day, Shane?” he asked, meeting Shane’s eyes as he lowered the plug to his entrance, thrusting once with his fingers just to make him gasp. 

“Yeah,” Shane panted. “All day.” 

“How many times can you come in an hour?” Ilya asked, conversationally, as he slowly removed his fingers and then immediately pressed the plug up against Shane’s hole, stopping anything from escaping. 

“I don’t– ah– know,” Shane threw his head back as Ilya began to push the plug in. “Maybe, twice?”

“Shall we test that?” The plug was fully seated now and Ilya was looking down at Shane hungrily. 

“Right now? Give me a minute you pervert.” 

Ilya gave him more than a minute. In fact, when Shane stepped out of the bathroom after cleaning himself up, Ilya was in the kitchen, making sandwiches in just his underwear. Shane took a moment to appreciate the view from behind of Ilya’s muscular back, trim waist, and ample behind. 

“What is your glute routine anyway?” he asked, stepping into the kitchen and sidling up behind Ilya to drop a kiss against his shoulder. 

Ilya laughed. “It’s not that special. Just consistency and a lot of squat variations.” He turned around and slipped his arms around Shane’s waist, letting one hand drift down to press against the plug nestled inside of him. “Is it okay?” 

Shane nodded, blushing. It was small enough that he could almost forget that it was there, but every time he moved or shifted his weight, he felt it. The thought of keeping some part of Ilya inside of him was heady, and it had him crawling into Ilya’s lap just a little over an hour later. Ilya obligingly bent him over the arm of the couch they had been laying on and fucked him from behind, a strong hand pressing down between his shoulder blades. He slipped the plug back in as soon as they were finished and licked Shane’s release off of his hand. 

The rest of the day passed in a similar fashion, alternating between lazy relaxation and moments of passion. Shyly, Shane had led Ilya back to the bedroom, guided him to sit against the headboard, then removed the plug and impaled himself on Ilya’s cock, riding him until they were both shuddering. Later, Ilya had guided Shane to straddle him again, but from behind this time, his legs spread over Ilya’s strong thighs, and he’d gripped firmly over Shane’s throat as they fucked, slow and steady. Each time, he asked before he slipped the plug back in, murmuring praise and filth in Shane’s ear. 

It was late when Shane rolled onto his side, gave Ilya a suggestive look over his shoulder, and Ilya slipped in, not needing any sort of preparation by now. “I think you sorely underestimated how many times you can come,” Ilya teased, as he thrust, making Shane shiver. 

The bed was a mess. Shane stood over it, considering whether the sheets should be burned while Ilya was in the bathroom. He stripped them off, balling them up, and was just pulling a clean fitted sheet over the mattress when Ilya re-entered the room. 

“Oh, are we done?” He reached over and began unfolding the flat sheet. 

“I don’t think my ass can handle any more,” Shane laughed. They remade the bed together and Shane let Ilya carefully remove the plug, and watch, fascinated, at the rivulets of fluid that leaked down his legs before he went to shower. 

When they finally fell into bed, Shane didn’t think he’d ever felt happier. Ilya’s arm came to wrap around his waist, and as they drifted off to sleep, he heard Ilya whisper something in Russian against the back of his neck, but forgot to ask what it meant.

***

Their bubble had to burst, of course. A day later, Ilya was due back at work now that the news cycle had moved on. Shane had to practically shove him out the door when he left, promising that they would see each other later between kisses. 

Shane found himself dreamily staring off into space instead of reviewing the order book that morning, so much so that he almost didn’t notice the door opening. 

“Oh my god, it’s you!” A young woman stood on the threshold, mouth agape, eyes fixed on Shane. 

“Uh–” Shane was so taken aback he didn’t know what to say. “Pardon?”

“It’s you! From the photo!” She grabbed her phone and showed him the screen. It wasn’t the photo from before, it was a different one. This time, they were holding hands, and when she swiped to the next one, Ilya was leaning down to kiss him and this time, there was really no doubt. 

“Can I get a photo with you?” She was already opening her camera app. 

“No, sorry. Please don’t–” Shane stepped back. Then he noticed a few more people peering in the shop windows. “Excuse me.” He turned and bolted into the back, shutting the door behind him. 

He pulled up his phone and searched for the photos.This time, they were clearly professionally taken. There were others, too,  from before Ilya’s nudes had been leaked. The final shot was of Shane with his grocery bags, just outside the apartment a couple of days ago. He scrolled down to see comments and links to the first photo, naming Marginalia. The title of the article, Who is Ilya Rozanov’s Toronto boyfriend? made his stomach lurch unpleasantly. 

Hands sweating, Shane texted Ilya, but he was shooting, so he probably wouldn’t get an answer right away. Next, he texted Hayden, asking if he could come by early to cover the front. He’d have to deal with it until then. He just wouldn’t react, not give them any additional fodder. 

Steeling himself, Shane opened the door and returned to the front. He plastered a smile on his face. “Was there something I could help you find?”

It was deeply uncomfortable, seeing people slowing down outside the shop windows. Dozens of people came in, more than most Fridays. Several people approached him, asking about Ilya or whether he was the person in the photo. He played dumb, perfecting his curious but politely detached face and redirected them as much as possible. It was exhausting, but at least several people purchased books. 

When Hayden came rushing two hours later, he gave Shane a sympathetic look before shooing him into the back room. Shane closed the door and breathed out a long sigh before digging into his pocket to check his phone.

Ilya had texted. Shit. I’m sorry. I’m on it. half an hour ago. Shane ran his hands over his face, squeezing his eyes shut. Of course they’d been spotted. Ilya was so famous he had a security team and private drivers. Why did they walk down the street holding hands and kiss outside the shop? 

He sat down heavily on the squashy armchair. It wasn’t that he was ashamed or embarrassed at being with Ilya. Not at all. But this thing between them was so new and fragile, that he’d hoped it could be just theirs for a little while. They hadn’t even had the boyfriend discussion yet, but there it was, splashed over the internet in giant letters. 

He couldn’t help but scroll down to some of the comments on the articles that seemed to be popping up every fifteen minutes. Some were kind, wishing them luck and saying that they looked adorable and happy together. But some were just awful. 

Give me one good reason why Ilya Rozanov would be interested in a literal nobody. 

He’s probably just using Ilya for clout. Watch. 

This is 100% a PR stunt for the film. 

Ilya Rozanov could have anyone in the world and he picks THAT? 

Always thought he was straight. 

First the nudes now, this? Ilya Rozanov is a talentless actor relying on cheap stunts to promote his movie. Stop queerbaiting and learn how to act. 

Even if it’s real, it won’t last. Men like Ilya don’t actually want a relationship. They want the experience and then they go back to normal. 

I found the store– it’s a pretentious indie bookshop that probably charges twenty dollars for a used paperback. 

Shane slammed his phone down onto the table, hands shaking. He shouldn’t have read the comments. The last one in particular really stung. He pushed himself to his feet. It wouldn’t do to just sit around, there was work to do and it wasn’t like he could do anything about the gossip anyway. 

Hayden poked his head in an hour later. “Crowd’s thinned out,” he said. 

“Thanks for coming.” Shane placed the last couple of books he was reorganizing back onto the shelf and dusted his hands off. 

“Are you okay?” Hayden looked genuinely concerned. 

“It’s just… weird,” Shane said, lamely. That one word couldn’t really sum up everything he was feeling. “Wasn’t what I was expecting when I woke up this morning.”

Hayden nodded, then turned to head back out to the front. He paused at the door. “For what it’s worth, though, you look really happy in those photos,” he said. 

Shane tried his best not to check his phone too often as the day dragged on, but around two in the afternoon, it started vibrating so much he thought it might fall off the counter. He snatched it up and saw notification after notification pouring in, mostly tags on Marginalia’s rarely-updated social media accounts, then several texts from his parents. Frowning, he opened the group text with his parents. His mom had said Can you please call us when you get this? And then, only a minute later, from his dad, It’s not an emergency. We’re fine and we love you. 

He flipped to Marginalia’s instagram page, which he kept meaning to update, but the last post was from over a month ago, just a photo of a window display that Shane had thought looked unusually attractive. But there were hundreds of tags all of a sudden and as he read them, his heart dropped into his stomach. They’d named him. Matched the photos to the shop and found him. Even as he read some of the comments, more were popping up. He quickly silenced his notifications and went to check his text chain with Ilya. There weren’t any new messages since earlier in the day. Unbidden, Shane felt anger curl in his chest. It wasn’t Ilya’s fault, but he wasn’t sure what to do right now. This was so far from his world, and Ilya wasn’t texting him. Of course he was at work and had a lot going on, and he’d said he was on it but what did that even mean?

Resolutely, Shane locked his phone and went to the door, cracked it open, and peered out to see if the shop was super crowded. Hayden was talking to a few people at the front desk, smiling easily, but Shane could see the tension on his face. This wasn’t fair to him. He was just doing Shane a favor and now things were out of control. Shane shoved the door open, squared his shoulders, and marched out. There were seven people milling around the store and he could see a few more standing outside. A few peoples’ eyes widened in recognition when they saw him. 

“Excuse me, everyone,” Shane heard himself say. “The shop is closing early today. Please come back another time and we’ll be happy to help you. The door’s that way.” 

“Hey aren’t you that guy?” Someone started to say. 

“Please leave,” Shane said, gesturing towards the door, a fake smile on his face. “We’ve just had a water leak in the back and it needs to be addressed as soon as possible.” He jerked his head at Hayden, who quickly hopped up and began herding people towards the door. 

“What happened?” he asked, turning around after locking the door once everyone was gone and flipping the sign to ‘Closed’. 

“They named me online. Connected the dots with the shop name. I think things are getting out of control.” Shane ran his hands through his hair. “I think it’s better if we just shut down and go home. Try and wait things out. I’m sorry, you shouldn’t have to deal with this.”

“Okay,” Hayden said. “God, I’m sorry. It really started picking up around noon and a few people did ask for you by name. I should have realized.”

“It’s fine,” Shane replied, automatically. Almost as much for himself as for Hayden. “But you may want to wait a little while before you leave.” He stepped up to the counter, pulled out the order book, and paged through it. “I’m just going to call Professor Gale and let him know that he’ll probably need to stop by for his book in a few days instead of tomorrow.”

Despite the closed sign and turning off the shop lights, people were still milling around outside by the time Shane was packing up. Hayden had slipped out and managed to dodge the reporters who were out there, but Shane was sure he wouldn’t be quite so lucky. Why were so many people interested in this anyway? He found himself thinking wistfully about some sort of natural disaster happening that would give everyone something else to latch onto, but then he kicked himself for hoping people would suffer just to save him some inconvenience. 

There was a small alley behind the shop that Shane rarely entered. It was down a narrow hallway with a door that stuck so badly he had to yank it open. But no one was there. He looked up at the fire escape, hands on his hips. This was ridiculous. He was about to break into his own home to avoid the crowd out front all because they’d been stupid enough to kiss Ilya outside the bookshop. Sighing, he reached up to pull the ladder down, clambered up, then ducked under the railing onto the little step outside his kitchen window. He’d left it cracked just a little this morning and was grateful to his past self for doing so. He pushed it open and stepped carefully through the small opening, tugging his bag strap when it got caught on the frame and managing not to trip as he entered the apartment. 

He cleaned up a few dishes from the morning on autopilot, pausing at the mug that Ilya had used for his coffee, sitting in the sink. Earlier, things had seemed good. Really good. They’d had a few days together and he hadn’t wanted Ilya to leave. Now, everything seemed… bigger. And it was happening way too fast. 

He ignored the sea of notifications that were flooding his phone and called his parents, walking into the living room and sitting down heavily on the couch as it rang. 

“Honey?” His mom picked up after only one ring. 

“Hi, Mom.”

“Your dad’s here, let me just put you on speaker–” There was a little muffled fumbling before he heard her say, “Okay we’re here.”

“Hey, kiddo,” his dad sounded calm but concerned. “We, uh, saw some news and just wanted to…”

“Check in,” his mom finished. 

“Yeah. I–” Shane paused, not sure how to explain what had happened succinctly. “Well you saw by now. I’ve been seeing someone. He’s here filming a movie in Toronto. It’s Ilya. Rozanov. He’s an actor.”

“We just saw him in The Longest September. He was great. That’s him?” his dad asked. 

“Uh, yeah. He was doing some research for a new role. Stopped by the shop and we started talking.” 

“That’s great,” his mom said, softly. “Why didn’t you tell us you were seeing someone?” It wasn’t accusatory, just curious. 

“Well, it’s new and… it’s a guy.”

“You know we don’t care… that is, it’s okay. It’s fine that you’re dating a guy,” his dad said immediately. 

“Great, even,” his mom added. 

Shane felt himself tearing up. His parents were trying so hard to be supportive in their reserved, quiet way. They’d always been that way. A bit aloof, but steady and accepting. They’d never really talked about Shane’s sexuality before, not directly. He’d never brought anyone home to meet them, but they’d also always made sure not to assign a gender when they spoke around the idea of him finding someone. 

“Kind of crazy seeing your own name and photo all over the internet, though, right?” His dad was perceptive as always. 

“Yeah,” Shane breathed out. “Kind of crazy is an understatement. We had to close the shop early today.”

“Well maybe it’ll help to get the shop's name out there.” His mom was trying to sound lighthearted. “How are you doing?” 

“I’m, um, not really sure,” Shane said, honestly. “I wasn’t really prepared for this.”

“You looked really happy in the photos." Shane placed his hand over his eyes as he remembered the besotted look he'd had in one of the photos, looking up at Ilya right before they kissed. He did look happy.  

“I do. I am.”

“Tell us more about Ilya.” 

Shane ended up saying more than he meant. He told them about Ilya’s intense focus and how he prepared for roles. How talented he was and how easy it was to forget everything else when they were together. What a good listener he was, and how even after only a couple of months, he felt like Ilya knew him. Understood him. That part surprised Shane when he said it out loud. It wasn’t something he’d fully comprehended before, that he felt like Ilya really knew him. He gave them an abbreviated version of the last few weeks, the frenzy over the nudes, and the chaos of the latest photos. When he’d finally run out of things to say, he trailed off, unsure of how they might react.

“He sounds wonderful,” his mom said. 

“Like a good man,” his dad added. 

“I think he is,” Shane sighed. 

“Have you talked to him about all of this?”

“Not yet. He’s busy I think. First day back on the set after the hiatus.” 

“Maybe you should call him,” his dad suggested.

“Yeah. I’ll see if I can get hold of him.” Shane clenched his hand into a fist on top of his knee, already nervous thinking about that call. 

“We love you. Text us later?” 

“Of course.”

After they hung up, Shane sat quietly, staring at Ilya’s contact information. The problem wasn’t that he didn’t want to talk to Ilya. It was that the conversation was going to require him to say something true. Something that he hadn’t even finished saying to himself yet. 

He’d built this life to be quiet and uncomplicated. He’d left his high-powered job that required him to make decisions every second of every day specifically to have more control over the way his life went. He’d been careful and deliberate. All it had taken was Ilya coming into Marginalia looking for a book to make him careless. And now, reading the headlines declaring them a couple with their names side by side, was too much, too fast. 

He sat for another twenty minutes, trying to think through his feelings before giving up and going into the kitchen to make a cup of tea. 

It was late when he crawled into bed. He’d deliberately ignored his phone and deep cleaned the kitchen that afternoon. He’d been meaning to do it for awhile and an unexpected afternoon off was as good a reason as any. He emptied out the fridge and scrubbed the shelves, got down on his hands and knees and scrubbed floor, and even got out his step stool and dusted on top of the kitchen cabinets. Now his shoulders were aching from bending down at weird angles and even though he’d worn gloves, his fingers smelled a little weird. The kitchen was spotless, but he still felt off. Of course he did. 

His phone was face down on the nightstand. He’d put it that way on purpose, but he was still aware of it. He hadn’t tried calling. Mostly because he wasn’t sure what he wanted to say. It had been nagging at the back of his brain ever since he’d climbed the fire escape and he still didn’t have it sorted out in a way that felt safe to verbalize to another person. He considered something calm, measured, and reasonable and privacy and adjustment. But that didn’t match the turmoil that staring at his cleaned kitchen hadn’t resolved. 

As if it knew he was watching, his phone lit up and vibrated against the nightstand. 

Shane stared at the ceiling for a few seconds before he rolled over and picked it up. 

“Hi,” he said. 

“Hi.” Ilya’s voice was quiet. “I wanted to call earlier but it was a long day on set. And then I met with the team about the, ah, photos.”

“Oh.” Shane wasn’t sure how to continue. He wanted to ask about logistics, about how they planned to respond and whether the photos could be taken down, but now didn’t seem like the time for that. 

“Are you okay?” 

“I’m fine.” Shane’s reply was automatic. And even as he said it, he could tell it sounded like a lie. 

‘Shane.” 

“I mean, I deep cleaned the kitchen.”

“The whole kitchen?”

“Scrubbed the floor for two hours.”

“So… not great then?”

“Better than I was earlier.”

“Okay.” Ilya waited. He was very good at waiting in a way that invited Shane to take time to think. 

“Can I ask you something?” Shane pulled the covers up to his chin, shielding himself. 

“Of course,” Ilya said immediately. 

“The thing they’re saying.” Shane paused. “About what we are.” 

Ilya didn’t say anything, just waited. 

“Is it–” Shane stopped again. “That is. We haven’t talked about it. What we are. And apparently everyone else has just decided and–” He pressed his free hand over his eyes. “I need to know if we’re… on the same page. Before I can deal with any of the rest of it. I need to know where you’re at.”

“Shane,” Ilya said quietly. “What page are you on?”

Shane took a deep breath, removed his hand from his eyes, and stared at the ceiling. “I think,’ he said slowly. “That I’m on the page where… I’d like it to be true. What they’re saying. I think I’ve been on that page for awhile and I’ve been avoiding looking at it directly.”

The line was very quiet. Then, “I am also on that page,” Ilya said. Simple and direct. 

Shane exhaled and smiled, heart skipping a beat in his chest. 

“I’ve been on that page,” Ilya continued. “Since the second time I came into your shop. But I didn’t want to push you towards something you weren’t ready for.”

“You could have said something.” 

“I asked you out.”

“Oh, right.” 

“So,” Ilya’s voice was warm now. “We’re on the same page.”

“Yes. Same page,” Shane confirmed. “The other stuff. The people coming by the shop, the articles, the information they’re digging up on me–” 

“I know. I’m sorry. My team is working on it. “

“It’s not your fault,” Shane reassured him. “That’s not what I’m saying. I’m just telling you that it’s a lot. Today was a lot. And I’m going to need us to figure out how we handle it together. Because, I can’t– The shop is–” 

“I know what the shop is,” Ilya said quietly. “We’ll figure it out. Together.” 

“Okay,” Shane sighed. 

“Okay,” Ilya replied. “But for now, sleep. We’ll talk again tomorrow.” 

“I’m glad you called.”

“I’m glad you answered.”

Chapter 5: It's real

Marginalia stayed closed for the next three days. People gathered outside and peered in the windows, but the sign stayed flipped and the lights remained off. Shane felt like a fool climbing down the fire escape with his hood pulled up over his head the next night but he didn’t want to take any chances. Ilya had arranged a car that he met a block over and made it to Ilya’s hotel without incident. There was a meeting with Ilya’s publicist, agent, and head of security where they discussed safety, drafted statements, and were told not to respond to any comments online or if any reporters approached them without prior agreement. Shane refused to have someone following him around, but agreed to sharing his phone location and staying in touch with Ilya. “It’s not like I go anywhere interesting,” he mumbled. 

“It’s not about that, it’s about keeping you safe,” Ilya had insisted. 

As the more well-known public figure, Ilya had the more difficult job. There were several upcoming press events that he couldn’t skip and he would need to deflect the inevitable questions. They’d agreed that he wouldn’t deny anything, but that he would ask for privacy and not share any additional information. 

“Do you want to address the homophobic comments that have been cropping up?” Ilya’s publicist, Lara, asked, very directly. 

“I’ve never made my sexuality a secret.” Ilya shrugged. “But if it will make Shane feel better, I will.” 

“Let’s just leave it alone,” Shane suggested. “Surely they know that actors can be something other than straight now.”

Ilya had made love to him slowly after the team left, kissing him deeply and telling him how beautiful he was over and over again. Shane had fallen asleep feeling like maybe things were going to be okay. 

They’d agreed that it was safer for Shane to stay in the hotel where there was a doormen, front desk, and security around rather than go back to his apartment, but Ilya had to fly to New York for a Tonight Show appearance and a couple of other interviews. He’d kissed Shane goodbye for a long time and promised to be back as soon as he could the next day. 

He tuned in to the Tonight Show that night, palms a bit sweaty. This was Ilya’s first scheduled public appearance since the whole media circus had started and even though they had rehearsed his responses to the most invasive questions, there was a lot riding on it. 

Ilya looked really, really good. He was wearing dark-wash jeans, a white t-shirt, and a leather jacket that Shane had never seen before. His hair was a mess of curls, as usual, and he had a very fancy gold watch adorning his wrist, probably a Bulova, who he had modeled for in the past. He looked calm and composed, waving to the audience and shaking Jimmy Fallon’s hand before taking a seat, crossing his legs and leaning back in the chair. 

“So,” Jimmy said. “How’s, you know, life?” Everyone, including Ilya, laughed. 

“Oh there’s nothing much happening for me right now, Jimmy. Why, have you heard something?” Ilya teased. The laughs were louder this time and a few people whistled. 

“I do want to give you a chance, if you want to say anything about the various photos and rumors that have been swirling around, to set the record straight.” Jimmy was being uncharacteristically serious. 

Ilya smiled. “Thank you,” he said. “But there’s really not that much to say. I had some photos taken in the past that were shared without my consent and then some more recent photos of me with someone else also surfaced.” He paused, clearly choosing his next words carefully. “The first situation is something I addressed and I don’t have much more to add to that. The second is… more complicated. Not because it isn’t real. It is.” The audience responded with a warm sound that Jimmy let breathe for a moment. 

“So there is someone,” Jimmy said, halfway between a question and a statement. 

“There is someone,” Ilya confirmed. “I won’t say much about him because he’s very private and didn’t choose any of this and he deserves to have that respected. But what I will say is that he is… remarkable. In ways that have nothing to do with me or all of this.” He gestured around at the studio, the lights, and the audience. “And the thing I feel worst about in all of this is that his privacy was taken from him without his consent. The same way mine was. And that’s not something I can fix. I just want to make sure it doesn’t happen again.” His voice was soft, but it didn’t tremble. He glanced at the camera and Shane felt very certain that Ilya knew that he was watching. The audience was very quiet. 

Jimmy nodded, a bit taken aback. “That’s… yeah,” he said, more genuinely than Shane expected. “That’s well-said. Can I ask, and tell me if this is out of bounds, are the two of you okay?” 

Ilya smiled. “We are,” he said, simply. “He’s someone worth being okay for.” 

The interview moved on then, talking about the movie and the upcoming award show where Ilya had been nominated for his role in some other film. It had been barely two minutes, but Ilya’s calm confidence radiated through the screen and Shane felt warm all over when Ilya said that about him. 

Shane’s phone buzzed several times. There was a little heart emoji from his mom and a high-five emoji from his dad. Hayden had texted He’s so into you with a little face surrounded by hearts. 

He texted Ilya after the show ended.You told Jimmy Fallon that I’m remarkable. 

Ilya responded almost immediately. That’s the truth.

You didn’t have to do that. On the show. You didn’t have to say anything. Shane typed. 

I know. Ilya replied. Get some sleep. 

Shane said good night then, put his phone on the bedside table, then picked it up again. 

Shane: I think you’re pretty remarkable too. For what it’s worth. 

He sent it before he could talk himself out of it. Then he put the phone face down and lay in the dark with his heart pounding. The notification came two minutes later: It’s worth everything. Good night. 

***

Shane was itching to go back to work a couple of days later. He didn’t want to hide anymore and he was also generally terrible at lazing around a hotel suite. Ilya had come back from New York, but he’d had to go right back to shooting and barely had time to kiss Shane hello before he had to head to set.

He'd cautiously ventured online and was amazed at how quickly the news cycle had moved on. Hayden texted that he’d walked past Marginalia and the crowd wasn’t nearly as big as it had been initially. Shane spoke with Ilya’s team and they agreed that he could at least go home and water his plants. Ilya told him to be careful and to call if anything came up. They had a car take him the short distance back to the shop and drop him at the back alley again. 

He approached the front door hesitantly. There didn’t appear to be anyone waiting around, but it was still early, far before most people were awake. He stepped a few feet closer and then he saw it. The front window of Marginalia had been smashed in. There was a brick laying on the display cast, wrapped in a piece of paper that had the word ‘faggot’ scrawled on it, 

Shane stood on the pavement and simply looked at what someone had done to his shop when he’d gone to sleep the night before thinking the worst was over, heart in his throat. 

Eventually, he took a photo of the window, with the brick visible through the broken glass, and sent it to Ilya without any words. He unlocked the front door of the shop and went in. There was glass everywhere, but it didn’t look like anything had been stolen. 

He called the police, and then he looked up a local glazier and left a message asking for them to please call him back as soon as possible. He sat down behind the counter and waited. It felt surreal, looking at the shards of glass scattered around and at the ugly word written on the brick. No one had cared if he was gay before, but now, with Ilya in the picture, it mattered.

His phone rang. “I’m on my way,” Ilya said, before Shane could speak. 

“You’re on set.” 

“I’m aware of where I am, Shane. I’m saying I’m coming.”

“No, Ilya you have to stay. There’s nothing you could do here anyway. I’m just waiting for the police.” 

“You don’t have to do this alone.”

“I know. Just… stay on the phone with me until they come?” 

Ilya sighed. “Okay,” he breathed.

The police came and took Shane’s statement and a lot of photos. They didn’t seem hopeful about catching whoever did it, but that wasn’t unexpected. Shane thanked them and made sure they had everything they needed before moving to find a broom and start cleaning up. He texted Hayden to let him know what had happened and received a bunch of expletive-laden messages back in quick succession, ending with a promise to come as soon as his morning class let out. 

The glazier called him back and provided some helpful information. They wouldn’t be able to replace such a large pane of glass right away, but Shane placed an order. He swept up as much of the broken glass as he could and removed the books from the display case. He mused about security and called the local lumberyard to see if they might have some plywood and it turned out that they did and could deliver it later that day. 

Hayden arrived at noon and gave Shane a hug. “It’s fucked up, dude,” he said. And that was probably the best summary of the whole situation. Hayden helped move the display table in front to clear space for when the plywood arrived and did another pass with the broom since there seemed to be glass everywhere. 

They were finally able to board up the window in the afternoon. The men who delivered it were kind enough to help place it carefully in the window and gave Shane instructions on how to keep it in place. It made the inside of the shop very dark, but at least he felt more comfortable that people couldn’t just walk in and help themselves to the books. 

Shane had locked the door and trudged upstairs to his apartment before he burst into tears. He hadn’t been able to cry all day. Not when the police had classified the incident as a hate crime nor when he’d brushed glass shards off a beautiful leather-bound journal that he’d carefully placed in the window. But now, alone in his little apartment above the shop that had been his sanctuary, he let himself cry. 

Ilya called him later, when Shane was looking at reviews of security cameras and debating whether it was worth adding one to the outside of the shop after what happened. “Can I come and help?” he asked. 

“You don’t have to. I handled it.” 

“I want to, Shane.”

“I think I just… need to be on my own right now.” Shane’s eyes were still red from crying and he wasn’t ready for a big conversation right now. 

“Okay,” Ilya said softly, and Shane could hear the hurt in his voice. “Talk tomorrow?”

“Yeah.” 

***

Shane stubbornly opened Marginalia the next day, firmly turning the sign to ‘Open’ at ten on the dot. He wasn’t going to be intimidated into shutting down, even for one day. He brought down a floor lamp from the apartment to brighten up the dim interior of the shop and sat behind the register, sipping his coffee and reviewing the order book like he always did. 

He was surprised when several regulars stopped in, along with some new faces who were more interested in the books than the owner of the shop. It wasn’t the most inviting space at the moment, but they filed in. Amanda bought four novels and said she was sorry to have heard about the window before she left. Professor Gale came to pick up his special order and also mentioned hearing about what had happened. 

Someone had posted a photo of Marginalia’s boarded up window with accompanying text saying “Hate to see something like this because of homophobic idiots. Support your local book shops, folks.” There was also an article– someone had seen the police report and posted a photo of the brick with the slur on it. That explained it, then. 

Business was steady that day, and several people told him how sorry they were about what had happened and wished him well. He was amazed at how many people came in and bought something, and the kind words made the knot in his chest loosen just a little. 

He was getting ready to close the shop, the last few customers having left for the night, when Ilya appeared in the doorway. He was dressed similarly to the first night they had met, in a hat and sunglasses, hunched in on himself. He closed the door behind him and locked it, flipping the sign to ‘Closed’. 

“Hi,” he said, not moving from the doorway. 

“Hi,” Shane replied. 

“Sorry I couldn’t come sooner. It was a long day today,” Ilya stepped forward hesitantly. “And also… I wasn’t sure if I should come.” 

“I’m glad you’re here. I… there’s something I wanted to tell you,” Shane said. He stepped out from behind the counter, walked around in front of it, and leaned back against it. 

“This seems serious,” Ilya joked lamely. 

“It’s not. Or, maybe it is. I just… You told me that I should tell you what I’m thinking. So I’m doing that.” 

“Okay.” Ilya waited again, patient and steady. 

Shane took a deep breath. “This shop is everything I built after I left a life that was wrong for me. It got hurt. And I couldn’t stop it. It got hurt because your world came into mine and did damage. I care about you but I need you to understand how I’m feeling right now.” 

Ilya nodded, hands in his jacket pockets. He didn’t move closer. “I know. I’m sorry. I wish I could undo it, but I can’t. Can you tell me more about how you’re feeling?”

Shane looked sadly at him. “I’m not sure I can do this,” he said finally. “I care about you but maybe we’re just living such different lives that–” He cut himself off, unable to continue. 

“I care about you, too,” Ilya said. “I was hoping that we could give whatever’s between us a chance.” 

“I’m just not sure, Ilya.” Shane sighed and ran his hands over his face. He was exhausted, and at this particular moment, just wanted things to go back to normal. For the shop to be open and for people to be coming in for books instead of trying to catch a glimpse of Ilya Rozanov’s… whatever he was.  

Ilya smiled, but Shane could see tears welling in his eyes. “I don’t think I can do half in and half out with you, Shane,” he said softly. “I’m not made for that.” 

Shane couldn’t bring himself to say anything, not without crying. 

They stood in silence for a few minutes until Ilya nodded and stepped back. He walked to the door and opened it, looked back once to smile at Shane, and then walked out into the cool evening, shutting the door softly behind him. It wasn’t dramatic, and Shane didn’t call after him. He gripped the edge of the counter and looked down at the floor of the shop, wondering if he’d just made a mistake that he’d regret. 

***

Shane tried his best to act normal, brewing his coffee and opening up the shop at the usual time. The glazier was able to deliver the new window a few days later and Shane had his living room floor lamp back that evening. He purchased and installed security cameras inside and outside of the shop. He reshelved books, arranged a new window display and, and tracked down a first edition book for a special order.

Every so often someone would come in and ask about Ilya and Shane would play dumb, but every time he heard Ilya’s name, his heart would skip a beat. He wondered what Ilya was doing, how the filming was going, and whether he was thinking of Shane, too. The wrap date on the shoot was rapidly approaching. He forced himself not to think about Ilya going to another city and meeting someone else. 

Ilya hadn’t messaged or called him since he’d walked out of Marginalia that night. Shane knew it was for the best, but it still made his heart ache, scrolling through their text chain and the photos they'd taken together late at night. He couldn’t bring himself to delete hem, but reading the sweet words that they’d exchanged or even just simple messages like, I’m downstairs or, I’m going by Dreamy Drops on the way to set– want a latte? or looking at the photo of Ilya, sleep-rumpled in Shane's kitchen, made his heart ache. They hadn’t even really been together that long, but Shane was sure that it would be quite awhile before he would move on. So he kept the text message thread and the photos, unwilling to let those go just yet. 

It was a very slow Tuesday morning and Shane was rearranging books on one side of the shop while Hayden was organizing a different one. 

“Shane?” Hayden said, breaking the comfortable silence. 

“Hmm?” Shane replied, absent-mindedly. 

Hayden came to stand by Shane’s shelf, a determined look on his face. “I’ve been patient for nearly a week,” he said. “Which, by the way, is a personal record.” 

“Patient about what?” Shane placed a book back in its proper place and turned to face him. 

“Waiting for you to wake up and go get your man,” Hayden said. 

“Hayd, stop–” Shane tried to wave him away, but Hayden stood firm. 

“Shane. I’ve never seen you as present as you were with Ilya. You were content before but you were happy, really happy with him. You were living instead of just… managing your life.” 

“I don’t want to talk about this,” Shane said firmly. “I’m your boss.” 

“We were friends first,” Hayden insisted. “And friends tell each other the truth. I’m telling you the truth.” 

Shane bit his lip and looked down at the floor. “He said that he couldn’t be half in, half out with me,” he said quietly. “Maybe he doesn’t want me anymore.” 

Hayden rolled his eyes. “If you whistle he’ll come running. I’ve seen how you two look at each other. It’s so sweet it’s nauseating sometimes.”

Shane ran his hand along the tops of the books he’d just reshelved. “The film wraps Friday,” he said. 

“Yes.” 

“That’s three days from now.” 

“I know.” Hayden stepped back and turned to go back to where he had been reorganizing. 

Shane stood stock still for a moment, looking around the shop. Things seemed back to normal at last, which was all he’d been thinking about, but it felt different now. Fine but not happy. 

“Hayden?” The other man made a nonverbal noise of acknowledgement. “Can you close on Friday?” 

Hayden didn’t even pause as he shuffled books around. “Yes, I can,” he said, in a carefully neutral tone. 

***

Shane was pacing back and forth on the sidewalk outside The Hazelton. He knew today was the last day of shooting and that presumably there would be some sort of celebration in the evening– Ilya had mentioned it. So maybe he wasn’t there. He pulled out his phone, wondering whether it made more sense to text or call. 

The doorman noticed him and must have recognized him because he called out, “Mr. Hollander?” 

Shane stopped his pacing, surprised. “Hi, yes, that’s me,” he said. 

“If you’re looking for Mr. Rozanov, he just went up. Are you on your way in?” 

“Oh, yes, I suppose.” Shane let him open the door and smiled awkwardly. He stopped in the lobby and debated whether it made sense to go up or wait downstairs. He veered off the main walkway to one of the little alcoves where there were a couple chairs set up facing each other, a small table between them. 

He pulled out his phone and looked at their text messages. Slowly, carefully he typed, I’m downstairs. Can we talk? and sent it before he could second-guess it. 

Two minutes later, which felt somehow like an eternity, Ilya wrote back Give me ten minutes. 

Shane crossed and then uncrossed his legs. Rested his head on his hand, then sat up straighter. Maybe he should have worn something nicer than jeans and a slightly lumpy sweater. 

Ilya emerged from the elevator with a jacket on and a carefully blank expression on his face. He caught sight of Shane and moved across the lobby towards him. He looked really good. Maybe he was heading out to the party after this. He lowered himself into the chair across from Shane and crossed his legs. “Hi,” he said, simply. 

“Thanks for meeting me,” Shane said. 

“Of course,” Ilya smiled pleasantly. “What did you want to talk about?” 

Shane took a breath. He’d thought about what he wanted to say. Even wrote it down at one point to be sure that the words were correct and accurate. But it all flew out of his head when Ilya’s eyes met his. 

“I just wanted to apologize for our last conversation. I feel like I owe you an explanation. I… I’ve been so focused on building a life that was right for me that I forgot to leave room for things I didn’t plan for. Like you. You were an amazing surprise. I was upset at Marginalia being hurt, but that wasn’t the real reason I got scared.” 

Ilya leaned forward, but he didn’t say anything, just waited, like he always did, patiently, for Shane’s brain to work out what he wanted to say. 

“I was afraid that our lives wouldn’t fit together. That your hotel suites and my tiny apartment above the shop were too different. You being on talk shows and winning awards while I was holed up in the back of the shop sorting through books wouldn’t be… compatible. I don’t know how to bridge it, I think we’d have to talk about it. But I know, with one hundred percent certainty, that I’m more afraid of you getting on a plane and leaving, knowing that I chose not to try for us.”

Ilya smiled and reached across the little table for Shane’s hand. 

“I was not going to just leave,” he said.  

“You weren’t?” 

Ilya shook his head. “I was going to come to the shop tomorrow and ask if you want to come to Paris. I have two weeks of press there and I was going to ask you to come for some of it. Not forever. Just to… see.” 

Shane stared at him, words utterly failing him. 

“I know what it means for the shop. I know it’s a lot to ask, but I wanted you to see the other part of my life, the little flat in Paris, and I was hoping that you would see that you fit in my life, Shane. Not despite your life, but because of it. Your steadfastness, your wonderful brain, your loyalty. All of that. I want it with me. I want you with me.”

“I-I’d have to ask Hayden to cover. Or shut down for a few days,” Shane stammered, only really registering the first part of what Ilya had said. 

“Okay.” Ilya cocked his head and smiled at him. 

“He’ll say yes,” Shane continued, thinking about how wide Hayden would smile when Shane told him.

“So… you’ll come?” Ilya asked, hope shining in his eyes. 

Shane met his gaze and felt himself smiling more broadly and genuinely than he had in weeks. “I’ve never been to Paris.” 

“I know. You told me. I have a list.” 

“A list?” 

“Of bookshops. And architectural tours. There are several good ones. I looked into it.” 

Shane laughed, but tears were also welling in his eyes now.

“And… the rest of it?” he asked, thinking about their lives fitting together and what Ilya had said before about not being able to be half in and half out. 

“We’ll figure it out,” Ilya offered. “Together?” 

Shane glanced down to where their hands were joined, tears really falling now. 

“Okay,” he said. 

“Okay.” Ilya smiled.

***

 

One year, four months later

Shane woke up to an unfamiliar room and had to think for a moment before he remembered where he was. There was a muscular arm around his waist and Ilya was snoring softly in his ear. Shane turned over slowly and pressed himself up against Ilya’s sleeping form, pressing a little kiss to his cheek. 

“It’s too early,” Ilya mumbled, reaching out and pulling Shane closer, sliding a thigh between his legs.

“But it’s a big day for you,” Shane reminded him. “And the designer is coming in two hours.” 

Ilya grumbled and mashed his face into Shane’s shoulder, making him giggle. “I don’t want to wake up. The whole thing is stupid. I just want to stay here and make love to you.” Ilya pressed a kiss to whatever part of Shane was closest to him. 

“I don’t think the Academy Awards are stupid.” Shane wrapped an arm around Ilya’s waist. “Especially since you’re nominated for one.”

Ilya cracked an eye open and smiled. “And you’re here for it,” he added. Shane had arrived the previous night, tired from a full day of travel but delighted by the warm weather in Los Angeles. It was a big deal for him to be here, not just because Ilya might win, but also because Shane was going to be with him on the red carpet. 

He’d elected to stay at home for the Golden Globes and the BAFTAs. There were so many different award shows that he’d almost lost track of them all. But he knew how important the Oscars were and that it was a big deal to even be nominated. Ilya had won at the Golden Globes, but not at SAG-AFTRA. Shane had watched his speech from home and Ilya had blown a kiss to the camera that Shane knew had been meant for him. 

“You are going to look wonderful tonight,” Ilya commented when they were brushing their teeth in the bathroom an hour later. 

“I think everyone is going to be looking at you,” Shane responded. 

“And I will be looking at you.” Ilya wiped his mouth and then leaned over to kiss him. 

It was a frenetic day once the designers showed up with their outfits. There was a final fitting and then last-minute tailoring to be done. Jewellery had to be picked out and minute adjustments made. They brought in a groomer for their hair who barely did anything to Ilya’s but spent an hour on Shane’s, pinning it and spraying various things in it until it fell precisely the way he intended. There were shoes in different sizes to try on and Shane had to practice walking because they were new and the bottoms were slippery. 

They took a break for a quick lunch and Shane was too nervous to eat but Ilya wolfed down a chicken salad sandwich and made Shane eat some grapes. Makeup was applied, but not too much because the artist declared that Shane had no pores. He examined himself in the mirror and he looked… good. Not as effortlessly sexy as Ilya, but he would certainly pass muster. 

Ilya said something in Russian when Shane turned around to show him the final look and had to be held back from kissing him. “You’ll smudge the makeup, Ilya, no.”

“You look beautiful, malysh,” Ilya assured him. “Everyone will be so jealous of me tonight.” 

Shane’s leg was bouncing as the fancy car carrying them to the venue wove through Los Angeles traffic. Ilya reached over and took his hand. “Ready?” he asked. 

“Yeah,” Shane replied. “But also, like, terrified?” 

“I’m sure you will be perfect,” Ilya reassured him. “If you get too scared, tell me and I will do something outrageous to take all the attention off of you.” 

Shane laughed despite his nervousness and suddenly they were there. Ilya pressed a kiss to the back of his hand and then the door was opening and they were climbing out of the car. Ilya went first, naturally, and the camera flashes seemed to double in their frequency and a cheer went up from a very large crowd outside. Shane paused a moment, taking a breath before he followed. 

Ilya was waiting, his hand outstretched. The same patient smile on his face that he had whenever Shane was struggling to put his thoughts into words. Shane only hesitated for a moment before he reached out to take it and Ilya placed it gently over his arm and they started to walk down the carpet together. 

They had to stop for photos every few feet, and they inevitably wanted a photo of Ilya by himself, but every time, he turned to Shane and pulled them back together. Once people realized that they were clearly there together, they started to ask for photos of the two of them, too. Shane tried to remember Ilya teaching him how to smile for these types of photos. “It’s like a soft smile, and don’t squint your eyes even though the camera flashes are very bright,” Ilya had said, squishing Shane’s cheeks affectionately in the hotel room mirror. 

There were interviews, too. As a nominee, Ilya was extremely popular, but he was charming and patient, as usual. He remembered the interviewers’ names, when the last time they’d met and shared funny tidbits about the film or details about his costume, whatever they asked. It all seemed to come so naturally to him. Shane hung back, content to watch Ilya in his element, but then one interviewer made eye contact with him and asked Ilya something. 

“Oh, yes. Did you want to–?” Ilya beckoned Shane over and he pulled him up against his side. “This is Shane.” He sounded very proud. 

“And the two of you are…?” the interviewer asked. 

“Boyfriends,” Shane supplied, thinking back to laying on Ilya’s bed in the Paris apartment, discussing the term and how it was much more preferable to ‘lovers’, which is what Ilya had suggested first. 

If the interviewer was surprised, she didn’t show it. “It must be exciting to have Shane here for such a big night.”

“Having him here is better than winning any award,” Ilya said, warmly. 

“Well, enjoy the evening you two and good luck tonight, Mr. Rozanov.” She waved goodbye to them and Shane exhaled slowly as they walked away. 

“You are a natural,” Ilya complimented, placing a hand on the small of Shane’s back. 

“I said one word,” Shane laughed. 

“To be fair, it’s a very sexy word. Not as sexy as ‘lovers’, though.”

“We are not using that word,” Shane said, emphatically. 

“I do though,” Ilya said. Shane glanced over at him. “Love you, that is.” 

It wasn’t the first time that he’d said it, but Shane’s breath still caught in his throat. 

“I love you, too,” he said, softly enough just for Ilya to hear over the sound of the crowd. 

Everything else seemed to pass by in a blur after the gauntlet of photos and interviews. There was a pre-show cocktail hour where Shane shook hands with so many famous people, his head was spinning. They were ushered to their seats, which were so close to the stage he thought he might be able to see up the host’s nose. 

Shane had tried to watch all the best picture films to be somewhat educated about tonight’s event. But he was really only here for one reason. When the Best Actor category was finally announced, he straightened up and placed his hand next to Ilya’s on the armrest. Ilya hooked their pinkies together and Shane could feel his heart pounding. 

They announced the nominees and Ilya smiled and waved politely at the camera when his name was read off, looking shockingly at ease. Shane held his breath as the envelope was opened and then– 

“Ilya Rozanov, Hollow Anatomy!” 

The applause was thunderous and suddenly, all eyes were on them. He’d done it. Shane turned to Ilya, grinning and, without even thinking about it, leaned in to kiss him. Right there in front of everyone and probably millions of people watching it on television. He could feel Ilya’s surprise, but then he relaxed into the kiss. It broke off sooner than either of them wanted, but Ilya needed to go onstage. 

He looked beautiful up there, smiling at the crowd while he waited for the applause to die down. “Thank you. This film was an incredible privilege to be a part of and I can’t thank our director, producers, writers, crew, and every single person involved enough.” He paused and looked down at the little golden statue. 

“This role required me to understand something I hadn’t fully understood before. What it means to do difficult work in impossible conditions and keep going. Not because the outcome is guaranteed. Or because anyone is watching. But because the work itself is worth doing.” 

He paused for the applause and smiled humbly before continuing. “This role also changed my life in a different, more personal way.” Shane felt his cheeks redden. “It brought me to someone who completely changed my life for the better. So thank you, again. Diya tebya, mama and also for you, Shane.” 

Their eyes met, probably just for a second or two, before Ilya was walking off stage, but it seemed to stretch on forever. Shane’s heart was full and let it be. He’d spent so long managing how he felt, putting feelings in their proper place like the books at the shop, that he’d forgotten that this was an option, just being happy in a room full of strangers with his cheeks warm and his eyes bright and not doing anything about it except feeling it. 

Ilya had said his name. In front of everyone. Without fanfare. The same way Ilya said everything that mattered– quietly and with complete conviction. As if it were simply true and required no other comment. Just his name. Not a label or something that tied Shane to him. 

It was enough. 

He became aware, distantly, of the woman sitting two seats down who was glancing over at him with a small smile. Normally, he might be bothered by the attention, but not now. Instead, he smiled back, slightly helplessly and they both laughed before looking away. 

He thought about Marginalia, which must be closed by this point in the evening. He’d hired a store manager to split duties and a few classmates of Hayden’s to help out, but he was still there as often as possible, opening the blue door early in the morning and watching dust motes swirling in the pale sunlight. It had been a predictable, quiet, small life and he’d loved it. But Ilya had walked in on a Wednesday night and changed everything. And somehow, it was just as good. 

His phone buzzed in his pocket and he took it out. 

Did I embarrass you?

Shane typed back Yes. 

Ilya only wrote one word in response. Good.

Shane sighed fondly. That is not the correct response. 

I disagree. 

Shane just texted back an eye roll emoji.

A few minutes later, Ilya messaged, I’m coming to find you, stay there. 

Shane settled back in his chair to wait. Not nervous about sitting alone in a room full of strangers, just waiting for Ilya. For the first time in longer than he could remember, he had exactly what he wanted and it wasn’t going anywhere. 

He could sit a few more minutes with this feeling. 

Ilya would find him. 

He always did.