Rating:

Explicit

Archive Warning:

Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Category:

M/M

Fandoms:

Heated Rivalry (TV), Game Changers Series - Rachel Reid

Relationships:

Shane Hollander/Ilya Rozanov, David Hollander & Yuna Hollander, Shane Hollander & Ilya Rozanov

Characters:

Ilya Rozanov, Shane Hollander, David Hollander, Yuna Hollander, Cliff Marlow | Cliff Marleau, Rose Landry, Hayden Pike, Jackie Pike, Svetlana Vetrova

Additional Tags:

Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Forbidden, Secret Relationship, Almost Kiss, Mutual Pining, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, Jealousy, Protective Ilya Rozanov, Explicit Sexual Content, Sexual Tension, Brother's Best Friend as Love Interest, Blow Jobs, Oral Sex, Frotting | Rubbing Penises Together, Hand Jobs, Anal Fingering, Sneaking Around, Anal Sex, Ass to Mouth, Fucking, Sex, Eventual Smut, Friends to Lovers, Jealous Ilya Rozanov, Shane Hollander is Ilya Rozanov's Bisexual Awakening

Language:

English

Stats:

Published: 2026-04-02 Completed: 2026-07-07 Words: 133,924 Chapters: 10/10

Close Enough to Hurt

Summary

Shane Hollander knows three things:
Ilya is off-limits, the kiss should’ve never happened, and ignoring it didn’t make it go away.

Now he’s freshly graduated with one last summer before leaving for NYU - one last summer to keep his head down, avoid old feelings, and pretend he’s totally fine. But after months of radio silence, Ilya is back. And Shane is running out of excuses for why his heart still stutters every time he hears “Hollander.”

One last summer. One unresolved kiss. One disaster waiting to happen.

OR Ilya is Shane’s older brother’s best friend, the boy he’s always drifted toward without meaning to, and now they’re stuck navigating their complicated almost-something relationship under the same roof.

Notes

HEYYYYYYYYYY

Okay so this idea had been on my mind, and I really was going to do a one shot next because I figured I shouldn't write another longer fic yet but..... I already have a good number of chapters planned for this one...

If you read my other fic (which if you haven't, go give it a read!) you know I love intermingling music into my story. So, here's a new playlist link! Each chapter is going to be named after a song title that correlates to that specific chapter and POV in my mind. 🎶This one is:
Crush by Lola Young
CLOSE ENOUGH TO HURT PLAYLIST

These first two chapters will be Shane and Ilya's point of views that lead up to where my story really starts; the summer before Shane leaves for NYU. But I had to get some background in there obviously. I obvi wanted them to get over 18 for my writing purposes, but I had to add some lore and preemptive longing to make it make more sense to me.

I hope you like it!

Chapter 1: Crush

Chapter Notes

CHAPTER 1: Crush

Ottawa has the perfect temperature in June. Not blazing hot, not freezing cold, but just right. Warm enough to feel comfortable wearing just a T-shirt, not hot enough to feel the need to rip every layer of skin off.

It’s just the way Shane prefers it.

Shane sits at his small corner desk in his childhood room, the room that hasn’t changed much from the age of twelve to his now age of eighteen. He just graduated a few days ago, and feelings of nervousness and excitement flood his veins simultaneously. He always loved summer, the freedom to do what he wants, the warm air breezing around him. But this summer is going to be different – he’s reminded of that as he mindlessly stares at his NYU acceptance letter that he’s pulled out of his drawer for what feels like the millionth time since it was delivered three months ago. This summer is the last one he’ll have before moving his whole life to New York.

Okay, okay, maybe that’s a bit dramatic of him.

While Shane does have a quaint little studio apartment already lined up for when he gets there in September, he’ll obviously be back in Ottawa for holiday breaks and all of summer. But like… for the most part, he is moving his whole life. Shane has never traveled just for fun before, so to be living somewhere that’s not Ottawa feels a little overwhelming but still exhilarating. If he’s being honest, the nerves are maybe more about the amount of change that comes with not being so close to his family.

When he was really into hockey, his family traveled anywhere they needed to feed the obsession. The Hollanders were well enough off – David ran a construction company and Yuna managed a few athletes – but for years it felt like every spare cent went straight into hockey. His parents had been disappointed when sixteen-year-old Shane announced he was done. They never said it out loud, but Shane wasn’t stupid, he could tell.

Things just… changed.

It wasn’t abrupt, it wasn’t dramatic; it was something that had been simmering in the background for a long time, something Shane felt bubbling to the surface but kept trying to ignore.

He was good at hockey – great, even. He liked the way he felt when he played. He liked the way people treated him when he did well. He liked the fact that he didn’t have to rely on his not-so-great social skills out on the ice. He liked that he could pour every thought and emotion into the game and let himself be consumed by it, defined by it, and praised for it.

But there was always another side to hockey, one he hated. The vulgarity. The racist “jokes” passed off as chirps. The homophobic slurs tossed around like they were nothing more than a punchline.

One day he walked into the locker room and realized he was surrounded by guys who could turn on him at any moment – guys who probably wouldn’t like him at all if hockey wasn’t part of the equation.

If they knew the real him.

Here’s the thing, Shane always knew he was a little different from the boys in his town. Not outright physically different – except for the snide comments his half-Japanese heritage got him and his “pretty boy” look – this difference was internal. Something fundamental. When he was younger, he tried really hard to deny it, to do anything in his power to be like everyone else. He mirrored his friends, copied his brother, memorized their reactions and mannerisms until he had a whole library of scripts he could pull from whenever he needed to.

He didn’t have a name for the confusing feelings that had followed him for what felt like forever. There wasn’t a neat category he could put himself in, no label that made everything make sense.

But he knew. He always knew there was something different about him.

Confusing was an understatement. For all the things he struggled to name, Shane still had so much in common with the other boys his age. He loved hockey. He played video games the second he got home. He claimed to hate anything “girly” – though, looking back, he can admit that might’ve been projection more than preference.

He was a shy kid – still is, honestly – but the friends he did have brought out a louder version of him. The version that said the same stupid things young boys say, did dumb, reckless things after school, after practice, on weekends. But then, almost overnight, all their attention shifted from Legos and video games to kissing and girls, and Shane felt like he’d missed some massive memo. Like everyone else was in on a joke he didn’t understand.

While the boys his age obsessed over whatever half-naked female lead appeared in a movie – or the video game character with zero clothes and an anatomically impossible body – Shane found himself more impressed by the big, burly male avatar who looked like he could pick up a car and throw it across the city.

Better to keep that one to himself, he decided.

And then there were those awful posters of half-naked women boys hung in their rooms. Shane couldn’t help but audibly gag at them whenever one of his friends would put one up. Even if he were thinking about girls like that, he’d never put something so degrading on his wall. It was honestly a bit creepy.

Unsurprisingly, his brother Cliff – just fifteen then – didn’t hesitate to hang one in his room. Shane remembered that day with a clarity that still surprises him, as if something remarkable had taken place.

Cliff is two years older, and in every way Shane’s opposite.

Yuna and David had tried for years to have a child. They eventually assumed they couldn’t conceive, went through the adoption process, and ended up with a gigantic superbaby they named Cliff after David’s father. So, imagine their shock when, two years later, Yuna’s “random nausea” turned out not to be random at all.

The boys couldn’t be more different from each other.

Cliff was the kind of guy everyone wanted to be friends with. Mr. Popular. Varsity in half the sports the school offered. Always dating the prettiest girls, though they rotated often. And somehow, despite all that, he was still the most genuine, confident, fun-loving person Shane had ever met.

It was unfair, really.

If they were related by blood, Shane would’ve accused him of hogging all the cool, breezy genes, but he could only blame his own awkward, anxious self for that one.

It’s not that Shane doesn’t have friends or isn’t liked, that isn’t the case at all. It just came so easily to Cliff. It always has. And Shane envies that, deeply. Yet another feeling he’s sure Cliff has never experienced.

Sometimes Shane wonders if Cliff had been sent from Krypton, because there is no way they came from the same planet.

Thirteen-year-old Shane stood in the doorway of Cliff’s room, watching his big brother hang a poster featuring a large-chested blonde in daisy dukes and a red button-up that didn’t bother with buttons, holding a hammer that looked fresh off the shelf.

It was completely ridiculous to Shane.

“Do you think she’s ever even used one of those before?” he asked, dripping sarcasm.

Cliff glanced over his shoulder with a mischievous grin. “Oh, I think she’s handled a few hammers in her time.”

“Ew.” Shane’s face scrunched. “It’s kinda gross to have that hanging up, don’t you think? Mom isn’t gonna like it.”

“Ughhhhhhhh,” Cliff groaned dramatically, hanging his head back. “You’re such a little baby. You’ll get it one day, maybe when your little boy balls drop.”

It wasn’t even the jab that made Shane turn beet-red and retreat to his room. It was the laugh it pulled from the fourteen-year-old boy stretched across Cliff’s bed. The fourteen-year-old boy who was always at their house, always chirping at Shane just as much as Cliff did. The fourteen-year-old boy who somehow got under Shane’s skin in a way no one else did, which oddly felt more relieving than annoying. The fourteen-year-old boy who made Shane feel things he didn’t have the language for at thirteen, things he knew better than to examine too closely.

The fourteen-year-old boy named Ilya Rozanov.

Here’s the thing. Ilya was never just “Cliff’s friend.” He slipped into their lives the way a stray dog wanders onto a porch and somehow becomes family. Over the years, he became another limb of the Hollander household – and, though Shane would never admit it then, the one presence Shane felt even in the quietest parts of himself.

He’d been around since Shane was nine, and at this point Shane can’t even imagine what his life looked like before Ilya existed in it. Ilya slipped into his world so quickly, so quietly, that he became an essential thread in the weave of Shane’s everyday life before Shane even realized it was happening.

Even when Shane first met him – the ten-year-old version of Ilya, quieter, sharper around the edges, but still a little shit talker – there had been something about him that instantly pulled Shane in. It was easy to chalk it up to the way younger siblings always felt about their older siblings’ mysterious friends; that explanation was convenient. Safe. It kept Shane from having to look too closely at what those new and potent feelings might’ve actually meant.

At first, Shane couldn’t read him at all. Ilya was reserved, yes, but also a little rude. Blunt to the point of whiplash. Always joking, but never in a way Shane could fully decode, which wasn’t out of the blue for him, but immeasurably more infuriating when it came to Ilya. He never knew if something was meant as a tease or an actual insult, which made calibrating his reaction almost impossible. Nobody threw Shane for a loop like Ilya did. But the more Ilya was around, the more Shane realized that was just… him. The armor. The projection. The way he kept the softer parts of himself buried deep, layers he shoved further and further out of reach as the years went on.

Everyone was kept at arm’s length.

Everyone except – on rare, impossible occasions over the next nine years – Shane.

And even now, at eighteen, looking back on all of it, he still tells himself those moments didn’t mean anything, that they were just weird little blips between a boy and his brother’s best friend. That it was nothing. That it had to be nothing.

Because it was Ilya. And Ilya was a guy. A guy who liked girls.

A guy Shane was never supposed to feel anything about in the first place.

Ilya and Cliff were two grades ahead of Shane, but Ilya was only a year and a half older – a fact Shane clung to without really knowing why. Maybe it made Ilya feel less out of reach. Less like only a part of Cliff’s world and more like… something more adjacent to his own. His personality and charm were basically Cliff 2.0, but with edges that felt sharper, quieter, harder to read.

They were the two people who loved messing with him the most, in the affectionate, infuriating way older boys do that stung for half a second before melting into warmth. When Ilya tossed out a lazy “boring,” it never actually meant boring; it was the way his mouth twitched afterward, like he was fighting a smile. And when Cliff spent an entire day calling him a baby, he’d still stop in Shane’s doorway before bed, tell him goodnight, and say he loved him. That was just how they were.

Ilya stayed at the Hollanders’ house constantly, but after his mom died when Ilya was twelve, he practically lived there. Yuna had even turned the guest room into a room for Ilya. From what Shane remembered – or what he pieced together from hushed conversations he wasn’t supposed to hear – Ilya’s family life wasn’t great. Shane didn’t know the extent of it for a long time. And maybe he still doesn’t fully understand.

All he really knows is that he watched Ilya cry for the first time at the funeral. It felt jarring. Wrong. Like seeing the sun flicker when it should never stop shining. Shane cried harder because of it. Because if Ilya was breaking, then something must have been truly, irreversibly bad.

After that day, Ilya, on the surface, at first look, didn’t appear to change much – same grin, same sharp humor, same bullshit pouring off his tongue. But there was a new hardness around the edges, and the gold cross that had belonged to his mother never left his neck. Shane had actually been the one to get Ilya a chain for the cross; he was scared Ilya would lose it the way he carried it in his pocket everywhere he went.

Most people never noticed the slight change in Ilya. People took and took from Ilya more and more as he got older – his charm, his attention, his energy – without ever seeing what it cost him. He was always the center of the room, always giving, always performing. Whatever crowd surrounded him, whatever girl was on his arm, he knew exactly how to be exactly what they wanted. Exactly the way they built him up to be in their minds.

It wasn’t an easy difference to see, not unless you were looking closely. And Shane was. He always was. Even if he’d never admit it. Even when he didn’t mean to be.

He could see how humor and sarcasm were no longer Ilya being Ilya. They were Ilya standing behind his charisma like a wall, keeping the parts of himself he didn’t want to share hidden. His mother’s cross positioned on his neck like a shield that he touched constantly – a thumb brushing over it whenever his face shifted in a way he hadn’t given permission for, a flicker of grief, or fear, or softness. It always lasted a second before he smothered it with a joke.

Ilya was always naturally charismatic. Even when he was being a little shit, he had a way of turning it into something people found endearing. Teachers liked him, and not because he was a good student (he wasn’t), but because he had that effortless charm that made adults soften and because they genuinely liked him. Not the way they liked Shane because he was a bookworm and a teacher’s pet who would always have his work done on time, would always be the first to be sat at attention. Them liking him had nothing to do with him as a student and had everything to do with him as a person.

Even Mr. Walkowski, the science teacher everyone swore hated teenagers and only got a job at the high school to make their lives a living hell. But somehow Ilya – the kid who skipped class to go to the skatepark or smoke down the street, the kid who never did his work until his grades got so bad he had to do something about it – was still the one student Mr. Walkowski would stand in the hallway talking to as if they were old friends. It drove Shane insane. Ilya skipped class, blew off assignments, and still somehow managed to get away with everything.

It was exasperating how easily things came to him.

Shane always wondered how someone like Ilya could exist in the same orbit as him. How someone like Ilya could be one of the few people Shane felt comfortable around. Comfortable in a way he usually reserved for family, and sometimes not even them. Shane hates being touched, even by his family. It makes his skin crawl with overstimulation, every sound and movement pushing him toward that familiar urge to run. But when Ilya touches him – a simple brush in a cramped hallway, a steady hand at the back of his neck, a quick, grounding embrace – it’s different. It feels like aloe on the world’s worst sunburn. He still doesn’t understand why Ilya seems to actually enjoy, sometimes even seek out, his anxious presence from time to time.

He tells himself it all comes back to Cliff.

It has to.

Because the alternative – that Ilya might see him, might choose him, might care about him in a way that isn’t just “best friend’s little brother” – is something Shane has never let himself believe.

Because that is impossible. Like seriously, impossible. There is actually no way, in any world, in any universe, on any planet, that Ilya Rozanov feels anything more than pity and an obligation to look out for Shane. And if Shane starts to believe that it is anything more… well, he’ll be in more trouble than he already is.

When Shane and Cliff were little, so little Shane only remembers it through Cliff’s detailed retellings, David built them the most amazing treehouse in the old oak they have out back. Allegedly, they slept in it for a week straight once it was finished; it had everything two boys could ever want or need.

For Shane, the treehouse became something else entirely; a refuge, a place where the storm inside him could break without witnesses. Where he could breathe again. It gave him the space to just freak out and be him. All the anxiety and overthinking he usually kept locked tight inside could finally spill out of him, without the fear of being too much for someone to handle. Cliff had stopped going up in it around age twelve, which Shane was secretly grateful for.

Shane had always struggled with anxiety. Sometimes the smallest things set him off – a raised voice, a bad grade, a moment of embarrassment he couldn’t shake. When it happened, he’d run to the treehouse. He didn’t want comfort or advice. He wanted solitude. He just wanted to fall apart in peace without someone telling him, “It’s okay.”

But one night, when he was eleven, he didn’t get that.

He’d been crying before he even reached the ladder, vision blurry, breath hiccupping. Honestly, Shane couldn’t even remember why he was crying. The events of that day overshadow whatever trivial thing had got him worked up. He climbed with shaking hands, practically throwing himself through the door, ready to let out the wail he’d been holding in.

Except… he wasn’t alone.

Ilya sat curled on one of the blue beanbags, knees drawn up, shoulders hunched. His eyes were glossy, not the usual sharp, bright shine, but something rawer. Tear tracks streaked down his cheeks; his hair was mussed like he’d run his hands through it too many times. He looked startled, caught, like a deer in headlights that was trying to figure out where the hell to scatter off to.

Thirteen-year-old Ilya wasn’t supposed to look like that. Not him. Not the boy who never let anyone see him break, even when he had every reason to. The look was familiar though, reminiscent of the boy at the funeral, but this wasn’t that. This wasn’t the same as the boy who watched his mother’s coffin be lowered in the ground, crying in a controlled and still manner while his father’s stiff, domineering hand gripped tightly at the nape of his neck.

No. This was different. This was more raw, more vulnerable. More cracked open in a way that wasn’t meant to be shared with anyone.

Shane’s stomach twisted.

“I- I’m sorry, I’ll go,” Shane blurted, mortified by the sound he’d made coming in which Ilya definitely heard, mortified to have barged into something private, mortified that Ilya might yell at him to get the hell out of here.

He rapidly turned on his heel to leave.

“Wait!” Ilya’s voice cracked, sharp and desperate enough to freeze Shane mid-step.

When he turned back around, Ilya was standing, eyes wide, pleading for something Shane didn’t have the life experience to name. His hands were fisted at his sides, the hem of his shirt crinkled in his grip, knuckles white and shaking. His head was angled down, eyes focused on the floor like he was too embarrassed to look at Shane.

“I… I just don’t wanna be alone,” Ilya said in a quiet, fragile voice Shane had never heard from him. He finally met Shane’s gaze, eyes sadder than Shane had ever seen. “We don’t have to talk or anything, if you don’t want to. I just… I really don’t wanna be alone right now.”

Shane still wanted isolation, his chest still hurt, tears still streamed down his face and his body was trembling – although he wasn’t sure that was because of his previous emotions anymore. But nothing else mattered. Ilya had asked him to stay.

So, he stayed.

They sat side by side, legs barely brushing, staring out the window as the sun dipped behind the roof of the house. The air smelled like warm wood and summer breeze. The silence wasn’t heavy; it was shared.

At some point, whimpers slipped out of Shane, small, broken sounds he couldn’t swallow back anymore. His whole body trembled with them. Suddenly but still slowly, a warm hand found the nape of his neck, rubbing deliberately. Gradually, fingers moved and curled around his own with a gentleness that didn’t match the blunt, sarcastic boy he thought he knew.

The effect was immediate. His body softened, eased, and melted in a way breathing exercises never managed.

After that night, something shifted. Nothing obvious. Nothing either of them would’ve noticed then. But looking back, Shane knows that moment pulled them closer – or maybe it was simply the moment he felt closer to Ilya.

He never really knew what went on in Ilya’s head. He still doesn’t. So he won’t pretend to.

But the nights in the treehouse started happening more often. Not planned. Not predictable. Just frequent. And somewhere along the way, the place that used to be Shane’s escape became something else entirely.

The isolation he once craved turned into craving the presence of one person.

Shane held onto those nights for the next few years, clinging to them long after they started happening less and less. He wasn’t surprised when they stopped entirely; it wasn’t like they were exciting or anything. Though at some point, the silence had turned into real conversations, the kind that made the air around them feel different.

When he was fifteen, Ilya started smoking cigarettes. Shane remembers it so clearly because it was around the time their treehouse moments had come to a startling stop. Instead, Ilya would climb out onto the sloped part of the roof outside of Cliff’s window and sit there with one knee propped up, cigarette glowing between his fingers. The perfect spot to smoke. The perfect spot Shane could see from the treehouse window without even straining his neck.

He hated the smell of cigarettes – the sharp, overwhelming bite of them – but he would’ve put up with it if Ilya had asked. He would’ve sat beside him on that roof or in the treehouse, coughing his lungs out, if Ilya had just said the word. He knew it was stupid, but these incessant thoughts had started breezing past all the security defenses in his mind that were put in place to keep himself from wanting things he knew he couldn’t have.

If asked, Shane would say he was watching the sunset from the treehouse window. But really, he was watching him. The way the fading light caught on the edges of Ilya’s hair. The way smoke curled around his face, softening the hard lines he tried so desperately to keep in place. The way his shoulders rose and fell with each inhale, each exhale, like he was trying to breathe out something heavier than nicotine.

One person. One silhouette against the sky. One gravity he didn’t have the strength to pull himself away from.

He’s not sure when that happened, when Ilya stopped being just Cliff’s best friend and became the thing his thoughts kept circling back to. It was after the treehouse shift, he knows that much. But that shift wasn’t the moment everything changed. He likes to think it was subtle, gradual, something that crept in quietly rather than crashing down all at once.

Emotionally, maybe it was.

Physically… well. He can think of a few moments when his body reacted in ways he didn’t understand at the time. Moments that left him flushed and confused and ashamed, because there was no universe where those reactions made sense.

Not for Ilya.

Not for a guy.

Not for that guy.

But the memories are still there – the way Ilya’s laugh felt like it vibrated in Shane’s chest. The way his voice dropped when he was tired. The way he’d lean back on his hands and tilt his head when he was listening. The way Shane’s throat would go dry when Ilya would saunter into the kitchen with a towel draped lower than seemingly possible on his hips. The way his mind went completely blank anytime Ilya was close enough that Shane could feel the heat radiating off his body.

They were little things. Stupid things. Things Shane told himself he wasn’t noticing, even as they carved themselves into every crevice of Shane’s mind, body, and soul.

He didn’t have the words then.

He barely has them now.

One of the first times Shane really noticed Ilya physically was during one of those unbearably hot Ottawa summers. He’d love to say it was the first time he paid attention to Ilya’s body, but he honestly couldn’t pinpoint when that started. It felt like something that had been happening quietly, gradually, long before he realized he was doing it.

Ilya was one of the obscenely handsome boys Shane had ever seen. Maybe even the hottest person… ever. Even thinking that – letting the thought slip through his mind without a fight – made his stomach twist. It wasn’t weird to acknowledge another guy was attractive, right? Especially someone so far beyond the standard that it felt almost objective. There had to be some kind of loophole for that.

This memory plays in Shane’s head like a rom-com montage: boy sees girl, music swelling, slow motion kicking in at the perfect moment.

Except in his version, it was boy sees boy – and the dramatic soundtrack and slow-mo were courtesy of his own subconscious.

Cliff and Ilya had this friend Zane, whose brother JJ was close with Shane. They’d invited a whole crowd over to swim. Shane and JJ were freshmen; the older boys were juniors. It made sense to combine the groups now that everyone was in high school.

Shane wasn’t comfortable in his body. He was athletic, sure, but being shirtless around so many people made him feel exposed in a way he hated. So, he stayed planted on a sun chair, talking with a couple girls from his grade, pretending he wasn’t hyperaware of everything happening around him.

Ilya, of course, had stripped his shirt off the second he saw the water. No hesitation. No self-consciousness. Just Ilya being Ilya.

He looked older than he was. Older than the other boys. Cliff looked older too, but not like Ilya. Ilya was constantly the topic of conversation with anyone. Women, like actual grown women, stared at him in grocery stores, batting their lashes in ways that made Shane’s skin crawl. He hated it. Hated the way they looked at him like he was something to claim. Or maybe there was another reason Shane hated when people looked at him. A reason he wouldn’t dare dig into.

After splashing around – water basketball, racing anyone who challenged him, diving like he belonged in the Olympics – he swam to the edge of the pool, right in front of Shane. He planted his palms on the pavement and lifted himself out of the water.

Here’s where Talk of the Town by Fred again.. starts playing in Shane’s personal memory.

Cue the slow-mo.

As Ilya hauled himself out of the pool, his arms flexed tight, muscles very visibly shifting under sun-damp skin. Water rippled down every square inch of him; when they reached his torso they moved through every cut outline of his abdominal muscles that caught the light in a way that made Shane’s breath catch halfway out of his throat. His swim shorts clung to him snugly, bulge on clear display, adding evidence to the very true rumors about his size. His curls and shorts were dripping steadily onto the concrete.

Shane heard the whispers, saw the girls beside him flush and giggle. They were all pretty, the kind of pretty Ilya usually liked. The kind of pretty Shane was supposed to like too.

A deep voice cut through his thoughts.

“Hollander!”

Shane snapped his head up to see Ilya standing in front of him, water dripping down, chest rising and falling with the leftover adrenaline.

Ilya held out a hand, fingers curling in a beckoning motion. “Give me your towel.”

Shane scoffed at him. “How about no? Get your own, Rozanov.”

“Aw, come on! Yours looks so soft and warm.” Ilya’s smirk widened. “Don’t you want me to be all soft and warm too?”

His eyes sparkled with something Shane couldn’t decipher, something that made his pulse jump. Shane couldn’t stop his teeth from worrying his bottom lip before running his tongue over the same spot.

Ilya’s eyes tracked the movement.

“N. O.” Shane finally spelled out.

Ilya pouted, lower lip jutting out in the dramatic way he always did when Shane wouldn’t give in. He did it when he wanted Shane’s charger, or a bite of his food, or to sprawl across Shane’s bed when Cliff was busy and Shane was trying to study.

Shane was weak.

Before he could cave, one of the girls – Macy – leaned forward.

“Ilya,” she said, biting her lip and twirling her long blonde hair, “you can take mine.”

Shane’s heart did something he didn’t have a name for. Something that made him want to push Macy into the pool just to get her to stop talking. Something he’d overthink later.

Ilya laughed, which made Macy practically melt, then he turned his full attention back to Shane. He had a mischievous look in his eye, one that made a home in Shane’s chest, feeling like a bundle of nerves yet still with a relief of familiarity.

“Thank you, Macy, but…” He grinned. “I have a towel right here.”

Before Shane could react, Ilya shook his wet curls in Shane’s face, spraying him with cold droplets.

“Oh my God, Roz—”

Shane didn’t finish. Because suddenly he was being smothered by a heavy, wet weight, Ilya’s arms wrapping around him, legs straddling him, pulling him into a damp, chlorine-soaked hug, pinning him against the chair.

“Ilya!” Shane yelped.

Up close, Shane could smell him. The sharp chlorine, yes, but underneath it the familiar woodsy cologne Ilya always wore, and the faint smoky trace of cigarettes. It hit Shane all at once, dizzying. For a split second, he had the insane urge to bury his face in Ilya’s neck and breathe in.

Ilya pulled back, smirking in that devilish way that always made Shane feel unreasonably unsteady and weak in the knees.

“Who needs a soft, warm towel when you have a soft, warm boy?” Ilya teased. “Right, ladies?”

The girls laughed immediately. They would’ve laughed if he’d said anything. He was Ilya Rozanov.

Shane just stared.

Stared at this boy who seemed so effortlessly charming, so unaware of the effect he had on everyone around him – or maybe too aware. Stared because every time Ilya was close – really close – Shane felt that same terrifying, familiar tug in his chest. The one he’s been trying to shove down for years. The one that reminds him what he can in no way, shape, or form have. The one that reminds him Ilya would never feel that way about him.

The one that reminds him just how different he is.

Shane unfortunately was like bait to the bullies in his school. It’s like he has a target on his back that only the biggest douchebags can see.

Gil Comeau played on Shane’s hockey team and was a year older than him. For reasons he couldn’t figure out at the time, Gil always seemed to have a problem with him. It was harmless enough at first, just little digs and throwaway comments Shane knew were better off ignored.

But ignoring them didn’t make the knot in his stomach go away. He didn’t want anything to escalate, didn’t want it turning into something volatile or physical.

He never mentioned it to his parents, and he sure as hell didn’t bring it up to Cliff or Ilya. He didn’t need a full-scale intervention over some guy with a chip on his shoulder.

This one time his freshman year, Shane was waiting in the school parking lot after a football game, waiting for Cliff to get done in the locker room. Ilya would catch a ride with them too, but he would take advantage of Cliff’s post-game shower to flirt with any girl that looked his way, which was – not even being dramatic – all of them.

Shane was leaning against Cliff’s car using his time in a much different way, reading a book about the history of hockey.

The lot was mostly empty. A few students lingered in the main parking area, the ones who stuck around after the game, and a couple of players were still trickling out of the building. But this side lot was nearly deserted, just a handful of abandoned cars scattered around.

Shane wasn’t thinking about anything important. Just the age-old Russian-Canadian hockey feud.

Gil’s voice came from behind him, sharp enough to cut through the quiet lot.

“What is it this time – another book about your ‘heritage’? Gotta keep the brand alive, right?”

Shane stiffened. He didn’t turn around at first, he just closed the book slowly, pulse ticking up heavily in his throat.

Gil stepped closer, the gravel crunching under his shoes. “Seriously, man. You ever read anything normal? Or is it all… cultural enrichment bullshit?”

He said it with an ugly smirk, like he thought he was being funny, like Shane would laugh along.

Shane didn’t.

Gil moved in until his shadow swallowed the light at Shane’s feet. He was taller, broader, and he knew exactly how to use it to his advantage. He knew exactly how to tower over Shane, making him feel small and helpless.

“You know, it’s kinda weird,” Gil went on, voice dropping. “You skate like you’re trying so hard to prove something. Like you’re so fucking desperate to show you belong out there. Like you think you actually belong anywhere.”

Shane’s stomach tightened. He took a half-step away from Cliff’s car without even meaning to, his fight-or-flight responses kicking in and clearly choosing flight.

Gil followed, taking a huge step and cutting Shane’s path off. “What?” he taunted. “Nothing to say?”

Shane’s breath hitched, his fingers curled tightly around the spine of his book, knuckles whitening. He wasn’t sure what he was supposed to do; Gil was so much bigger than him. Shane had fought on the ice – barely – but this felt foreign.

Gil leaned in, close enough that Shane could smell the dirty sweat and cheap cologne that filled the air around him. “Come on, Hollander. Look at me when I’m talking to you, bitch.”

Shane did – just for a second – and that was all Gil needed to square his shoulders, ready to push it further.

Suddenly a voice cut through the lot.

“Hey dickwad!”

Another.

“Back up, Comeau.”

Shane didn’t even have to turn to know who it was. Cliff’s footsteps were heavy, furious; Ilya’s were silent, but somehow way louder.

Gil straightened, the smirk he wore so proudly slipping away.

Cliff’s jaw was set. Ilya’s eyes were ice, the kind of cold that makes Shane’s breath catch for reasons he’ll never admit. Gil didn’t back off when Cliff and Ilya spoke; if anything, he squared his shoulders like he thought he could bluff his way through it.

“Relax,” Gil said, hands lifting in a mock-innocent shrug. “Just talking to your boy here.”

Cliff took another step forward. “Yeah, sure, Comeau. Didn’t look like just talking to me.”

Gil’s eyes flicked between them, then back to Shane like he was deciding whether a show was worth finishing. He chose wrong.

He leaned toward Shane again, voice dropping into something low and insidious. “See? This is what I mean, always hiding behind someone else like the little bitch you are.”

Shane’s breath caught, his fingers tightened around his book. Gil smirked at the way his words made Shane flinch and shrink down.

“Bet you don’t say a word unless someone gives you permission. Cultural thing, right?”

That was it.

Cliff moved first – not swinging, just stepping in so fast Gil had to stumble back to avoid chest-to-chest contact. Ilya didn’t move at all; he just stood there, still and sharp, the kind of stillness that made people rethink their choices.

“Back. Up.” Cliff said, each word hand-carved out of stone, puffing his chest.

Gil scoffed, but it came out thinner than he meant. “What, you two ladies his bodyguards now?”

Ilya finally spoke, voice quiet enough that Gil had to lean in to hear it. “Touch him,” he said, “and you’ll find out.”

Gil’s bravado cracked. His jaw worked, like he wanted to spit something back but couldn’t find anything that didn’t sound suicidal because there was no way Ilya and Cliff wouldn’t beat his ass silly. One of them alone would be enough to send Gil packing for the hills.

Cliff didn’t blink. “Walk away.”

Gil hesitated – one second, two seconds – then stepped back, muttering something under his breath that he didn’t commit to finishing. He turned and stalked off toward the main lot, shoulders tight, pace too fast to look casual.

Only when he was gone did Shane finally exhale. Cliff looked at him first, checking him over without making a big deal of it, knowing Shane would just shut down. Ilya didn’t look away from the direction Gil had gone until he was sure the threat was gone.

Then he stepped closer to Shane, not too close, but close enough that Shane could feel his presence, close enough that Shane’s heart does that stupid flutter it always does when Ilya is near.

“You okay?” Ilya asked.

Not a question. A grounding. The soft version of Ilya’s voice. The one not many people ever hear.

Shane nodded, even though his hands were still shaking. Ilya noticed. Of course he did. He always notices.

He didn’t say anything about it, though. He just reached out, gently prying the book from Shane’s clenched fingers, thumb brushing Shane’s knuckles briefly in a way that makes Shane’s breath stutter in his lungs. He held the book for a moment, like he was giving Shane time to steady himself, then handed it back.

A small gesture. A quiet one. One that comes without needing to be announced or explained.

The kind Shane tells himself means nothing – just Ilya being nice to his best friend’s younger brother. Being nice to the boy he basically lives with. It’s the sort of caring thing Ilya always does with Shane. It’s nothing. It’s base level. Bare minimum.

But it doesn’t feel like nothing. Not to Shane.

Over the next year, Ilya was interjecting himself into more and more situations that were resulting in him fighting. And not just the verbal kind anymore, not the kind where his silence was just as powerful as his fist. The physical kind. The kind that were terrifying to watch. Not because Ilya was ever the one losing, but because the skill and experience he seemed to have from the start was troubling. His fists always left his opponent in a bad state, in a state that couldn’t be ignored by the school, which meant it couldn’t be ignored by his father, Grigori.

For the longest time, Shane assumed the statement, “Ilya’s family isn’t the best” meant they just didn’t hang out, didn’t get along maybe. That they didn’t have the dynamic the Hollanders had, which to be fair, was a lot of families. He would’ve never realized the true reason why until his sophomore year when Cliff and Ilya were seniors.

It was pretty late on a Friday night. Shane didn’t have his phone with him, but when he left the house the clock by the door read 11:13 PM.

It wasn’t usual for Shane to be biking around so late in the night. He has a car, and his bike had honestly just been collecting dust at this point, but he craved the feeling of brisk, cold air blowing around him. Something about biking made him go thoughtless; he could focus on the literal mechanics of it all rather than the all-consuming thoughts that run twenty-four seven in his mind.

He could see a figure walking his direction – he recognized the outline before being able to see any identifying features.

Shane could see there was something off, something about the way Ilya was walking, a slight sluggish limp to it. His leg wasn’t wounded, at least not from what Shane could see, but the limp looked like someone whose body was struggling to keep up with their feet. His whole demeanor felt wrong, even when Shane was still at a distance.

Shane’s stomach fell to the floor when he could actually see Ilya’s face in the streetlight. He still hadn’t noticed Shane, his eyes were blank and fixed on the pavement. Streaks of blood were gushing from his nose, trailing down his neck, staining a large splotch on his T-shirt. His lip was split, which was hard to see with the red already staining the lower half of his face.

Shane had seen Ilya blooded and bruised before, something that wasn’t all that unusual with the routine fights during the past year or so. But this… this was different. Ilya was different. Different in a way that made Shane’s heart do something it hasn’t ever done before. Which is an occurrence that keeps happening too frequently because of Ilya.

When Ilya would finish a fight, no matter how many punches he took, he would still gloat in the victory. Not in a cocky way – well, okay. Maybe kind of in a cocky way. But somehow he was still humble, still charming and rugged looking when he was healing from it. Rugged in a way that Shane couldn’t help but notice. In a way that made his stomach drop low somewhere else. Somewhere else he refuses to entertain or think about.

This wasn’t that. This wasn’t just losing either. This was a side of Ilya Shane had no experience in. It wasn’t one of the things Shane rigorously catalogued about him and stored away for future reference.

Ilya looked… run through. Done. Tried and empty, like he simply had no fuel and nothing left to give. He looked like someone with no destination in mind. Just a blank, withdrawn expression and just enough determination to make his feet keep moving under him.

Shane brought his bike right up to the curb, swiftly jumping off it and abruptly asserting himself into Ilya’s blind path. The suddenness of Shane’s movements made Ilya flinch, something Shane took note of. Nothing made Ilya flinch.

When he looked up, looked at Shane, his eyes were grey, nothing like the soft, shining eyes that usually blind Shane. Shane could feel his eyes starting to burn, his heart beating so hard he felt out of breath, and his head spun trying to figure out what the hell to do. What the hell to say.

Shane brought his hands out, moving ever so slowly, trying not to spook Ilya. He wanted to reach for him, to question him, demand to know what the hell happened and when Ilya will listen to Shane and stop getting involved in the shit he always finds himself at the center of.

“Ilya?” Shane said, voice soft, as steady as he could allow with shaky breaths.

Shane could’ve sworn Ilya’s pupils dilated, just slightly, just enough to be noticeable. Like his own name being said at this moment brought him back fractionally, like it softened something in him that finally gave Shane the tiniest sliver of comfort.

Shane took a cautious step forward. He let his hand reach for Ilya’s arm, and when the reaction to that wasn’t a wince, he allowed his other hand to reach up for Ilya’s face.

“Oh my God. Wha– what the hell happened? Did you get into another fight?”

Shane’s head moved side to side, examining the damage now that he was close enough to actually look. Shane hadn’t really even noticed the way his own hand rested naturally on the side of Ilya’s head, or the way his thumb had a mind of its own when it ran along the cut across his nose.

And he definitely didn’t notice the warm hand that reached out and anchored itself onto Shane’s hip, fingers digging into the bone there.

He didn’t notice that one bit.

“Ilya,” Shane tried again, though it came out cracked and squeaky.

Nothing. Nothing but the loss of eye contact which was there just a second ago.

“Hey,” Shane tried quietly. “Let me take you to the house—”

“No!”

It came out sharp and shocking after the silence. Ilya’s eyes were wide, emotion finally creeping through the cracks. Now both his hands gripped Shane’s sides tightly, something he wasn’t even sure Ilya noticed he was doing. Something that was hard enough Shane was sure he’d have a bruise there in the morning. He didn’t care.

“I— your parents can’t see me like this.”

“They’re not awake,” Shane supplied. “I can clean you up in the kitch—”

“No, Shane.”

Now he really thinks he might cry. Ilya barely ever calls Shane by his name. Most of the time it’s Hollander. Which is fine — the way Ilya says it in the accent that still slips through is enough to make Shane want to melt. Now, if “Hollander” makes him want to melt, hearing Ilya call him “Shane” is enough to make his knees feel like fucking putty. So yeah, it’s a good thing he doesn’t say it that much. Shane wouldn’t be able to contain himself otherwise.

But right now, hearing his name now; he feels like sobbing.

He doesn’t really like to think back on that night, or at least not in detail. It ended with Shane smuggling Ilya up into the treehouse and cleaning him up. Ilya had cried into Shane’s chest, probably the first time Shane had seen him like that since the first night in the treehouse years ago. Even the thought of it makes Shane’s body feel like it might shut down. He can’t even imagine the way Ilya feels.

He told Shane about his brother. About how Alexei always hated him. How he constantly beat down on Ilya, even talked about their mom, called her weak. And his dad — well, Shane cried when Ilya told him about his dad. About how his dad would wail on his mom when she would get in the way of Ilya’s lashing. How once she died, the beatings only got worse. Shane felt guilty for never noticing, but then again how would he? Ilya always seemed so steady and strong, he never let on that anything was happening. Yes, he stayed at the Hollanders all the time, but maybe Shane was too distracted by Ilya’s presence to really dig into the why.

He had left Ilya in there; he had wanted to stay. He would’ve if Ilya had asked. But he didn’t. And when Shane checked the treehouse first thing, Ilya was already gone.

He tries his best just to block that night out. He finds himself getting immeasurably angry and sad whenever the image of Ilya walking on that sidewalk pops into his head.

So he won’t reflect on it any further.

He remembers the night he told his mom he was gay. He hadn’t really even said the word outright, but he implied it. It was clear by the end she understood.

He had come home, stomping through the house and slamming his door behind him. Shane didn’t do that. He wasn’t one to slam doors and make his emotions known to everyone around him. But it had been a brutal day.

Yuna followed him to his room, knocking on his door then letting herself in when he refused to respond. She walked over to his bed, assessing his body language as he lay face-down into his pillow, body aggressively rising as he heaved on the verge of a sob and explained what Dallas Kent had said to him at school.

“Honey, he called you what?” Yuna asked from the edge of the bed, hand lightly grazing his back, trying to soothe him.

“Mom, it doesn’t matter,” he snapped. “Can we just drop it? Please?”

“It obviously matters to you.”

He didn’t say anything, only responding with a loud exhale. Because it’s true. It does matter to him. It matters because he is sick of this. Sick of guys picking on him and fueling rumors that would spread around the whole school.

“What?” she tried to pry.

“I’m just not like the other boys, Mom,” he yelled, sitting up with tears already falling. “I’m not some manly man like Cliff. I’m not charismatic like Ilya. I’m not fucking sexist and vulgar and insensitive like the guys in the locker room. I’m not normal.”

Yuna flinched like his words were bullets.

“Honey, no. Just because you’re not like your brother or Ilya or the guys on your team doesn’t mean you’re not nor—”

Shane was suddenly on his feet, hands rising to his head and running aggressively through his hair. She didn’t get it. She didn’t understand.

“No! You’re not listening,” he said, feeling his eyes burn, his throat hurting from how hard he sucked back the feeling of a wail that begged to come out. “I’m. Different. I don’t. I— I. Ugh. I just… I know I’m different. Okay? Do you get that? I’m not normal. I don’t like… I don’t like girls and I don’t even know if Cliff would like me anymore. If Ilya would. If anyone would.”

She stood now too, trying her best to stay calm and comforting.

“Shane, what are you talking about? Your brother adores you!” Her voice was practically pleading. “And Ilya— I mean, honey, you guys connect in a way that brings me comfort. In a way that’s different from him and Cliff… I don’t know how to describe it. But they both would do anything for you,” she grabbed his jaw, not allowing his attention to shift to the floor, “no matter what. Okay?”

She hugged him tight. He couldn’t see her face, but he could hear the shudder of her breath.

“Ilya has always looked out for you,” she continued. “Cliff too. I don’t think I’ve ever seen so much admiration come from teenage boys.”

They fell into each other’s arms; Shane mostly didn’t know what else to say. He wasn’t ready to say it. Not the word that would be pinned to him forever. That would permanently change everything. So he held onto his mom, and she held onto him, and they stayed like that for a while.

It was after this situation that Shane asked Ilya to stop making himself a variable in the equation of Shane’s school life. Somehow, Ilya had heard about Dallas being a dick to Shane and beat the daylight out of him. While Ilya coming to Shane’s rescue like some knight in shining armor was appreciated and helpful in the moment, it was like the aftershocks of it came back more intense and even more brutal.

Every time Ilya (or Cliff, but really more with Ilya since he wasn’t Shane’s brother) started some shit with whoever picked on Shane, Shane never heard the end of it. About needing someone else to fight his battles. Or on the worse side of things, how he must be paying Ilya in various ways for him to be so protective. Shane didn’t exactly tell Ilya that verbatim, but he landed on asking him to just leave it be and that he’d handle it. That was enough for a good chunk of time.

As annoying and troubling as it was, Shane couldn’t help the heat that always burns low in his gut every single time Ilya defends him.

He pushes the thought away.

It’s just ’cause you’re Cliff’s younger brother.

Shane’s feelings were becoming harder and harder to ignore.

While they were already persistent and distracting – like many messy emotions a hormonal teenage boy would have – they sharpened into something else entirely once Ilya started hanging out with Svetlana.

She’d shown up when Cliff and Ilya were juniors. She and Ilya clicked instantly, and suddenly she was everywhere. At school. At the house. Shane would come home to find her perched on the couch beside Ilya, their heads tipped together over some joke he wasn’t let in on.

Every time, something twisted low in his stomach, a tight pinch behind his ribs. At first it was just a twinge – annoying, but still ignorable. But then it grew. It grew into something sharp, something that felt like it had teeth that sank into Shane’s chest and tugged. And whenever he overheard them speaking Russian together, that twist became a full-on stab. It sounded intimate in a way that made Shane’s skin prickle with jealousy. Private. Like they shared a whole world he could never enter, a language that wrapped around them like a secret.

Not that he was comparing. Because what was there to compare? Because there was nothing to compare. Obviously.

One night, climbing the ladder to the treehouse, he heard it – giggles, breathy and close, followed by the unmistakable sound of lips meeting lips. He froze. The boards under his hands suddenly felt foreign, wrong. He didn’t need to look. He knew. Svetlana and Ilya were clearly hooking up. Hooking up in the treehouse.

His treehouse.

He didn’t stick around. He backed down the ladder so fast he nearly slipped, stumbling into the yard, feeling the heat burn and swell in his eyes for a reason he wasn’t even sure of. He tried to convince himself it was because of the treehouse thing. The thing that was theirs. Their place. Their hideaway.

He knew why he was crying.

He’s known for a long time.

There had been nights where vibes were thrown out, where Shane felt like something more was going on between him and Ilya, more than just the typical brother’s-best-friend and younger-brother dynamic. But one night, one moment, changed everything.

Shane was seventeen and going on his third date with Angela Smith, the prettiest, most popular girl in his junior class.

He had gone on dates before, not that they turned into anything. He obviously knew they wouldn’t turn into anything; he knew what he really desired. But he felt the pressure to conform. To keep the persona and reputation of his brother. To just keep performing till high school was over.

At this point, it was common knowledge that Shane was undatable. That didn’t stop girls from taking that as a challenge. People started to say he was just hard to pin down, started calling him a ladies’ man – which helped rid him of the names douchebags like Gil and Dallas threw his way. He had always been better looking, “pretty boy” being an insult thrown around on the ice, but over the summer he had been using Cliff’s weights a lot, losing most of his baby fat and piling on muscle that his peers most definitely noticed. He had told Cliff he just wanted to get stronger; he didn’t tell him that he needed to fend for himself without Ilya and Cliff there.

Their dates had been good. Angela was honestly really cool, and they had a lot of things in common. In fact, they had a big thing in common, not that he would share that with her. He usually wouldn’t let things get past the first date, but Angela’s parents had just gotten in a nasty divorce, and he wasn’t sure how he was supposed to tell her he didn’t want to date her anymore without adding more stress on her plate. He didn’t want to hurt her. He had planned on taking her on a date then telling her they were better off as friends, his known catchphrase with girls who were interested in him.

The thing about this date was that Angela had been telling the whole school she would get a kiss from Shane. He had skillfully avoided any kind of intimate contact in prior dates – well, any intimate contact ever – but he was properly freaking out about it now that it seemed there would be no plausible escape. When he was younger, he had those small stupid pecks or dare kisses that meant nothing and gave him absolutely no information on mechanics. But those didn’t count. Those weren’t real kisses. Those weren’t the kind of kisses that happened when you picked a girl up for a date and she sat in your car, batting her lashes at you while wetting her lips in obvious anticipation.

He had stupidly looked up a video on how to kiss but was too embarrassed with himself to get further than thirty seconds. He quickly deleted his search history, feeling weird and anxious.

Retreating to his go-to hideout, Shane paced the treehouse, breathing quick and heavy breaths while he tried to listen to music and calm himself down.

What am I going to do? How am I supposed to kiss her?

He felt consumed by thoughts. Thoughts about how he was supposed to kiss Angela when he’s never kissed someone like that before. Thoughts about the whole school finding out what a trash kisser he is. Thoughts about ways he could possibly get out of kissing her. Out of going on the date at all.

Could he call and tell her he was sick? Was it too late for that? Maybe he could have his mom call and tell her he was in the hospital or something. Or maybe he could just pack up his bags and get the hell out of this town and never come back.

His thoughts were interrupted when he heard the hinge on the treehouse door screeching open.

And because God liked playing sick jokes on him, of course Ilya walked in.

Shane was honestly too pent up to care. He kept pacing the floor, doing his damned best to avoid any kind of eye contact with Ilya. Why couldn’t he get his breathing to calm down? It felt like it just kept getting worse and worse. It definitely wasn’t getting better with Ilya just standing there, watching him like Shane was the tennis ball bouncing back and forth during a match.

“Dude, why are you freaking out?” Ilya finally said.

“It’s nothing,” Shane hissed.

“Shane.”

God.

Ilya moved closer to him, reaching out, hand cupping Shane’s neck the way he’s done countless times before. It was what plenty of coaches had done when giving feedback. What Cliff – and Ilya – had done when they consoled him in a mentor, big-brother way. But this was different. This was the way Ilya had held him a handful of times before when Shane was having a full-blown panic attack. The way he assumes Ilya’s mother had comforted him when he was younger. It used to soothe him, grounding him when he felt like he might tip over. But now it just made his stomach flip, the comfort curdling into nerves and a shaky kind of uncertainty.

Ilya was looking right into his eyes, making this moment the first time in the past hour that Shane’s feet had stopped moving. His heart still beat out of his chest, his body was trembling, but looking in Ilya’s eyes made his world stop. Shane tried to zone out and stare at the collar of his shirt to cool down the intensity blazing from Ilya’s face.

Ilya ducked down, forcing his eyes into Shane’s field of view.

“Tell me?” he asked in the sweet voice that makes Shane want to do anything he asks.

Overwhelmed, Shane averted his eyes again, pushed Ilya’s arm, making him release his hold on Shane’s face which was, without a doubt, blazing, and turned around to hide. He took a few hesitant steps forward, facing the wall with his arms crossed tightly, trying to comfort himself and soothe his body. He took deep breaths, trying desperately to steady his voice.

“God, it’s embarrassing. I- I just haven’t… actually kissed someone before. Like yes, I’ve done it off a dare or stupid game or some little playground kiss but not like… on a date, I just, ugh. And before you say some Rozanov remark, I don’t know, okay? I don’t know why.” Shane kept his face to the wall. He could hear Ilya’s steps getting closer behind him, so he continued. “I just… I panic. But I don’t know why, okay. I don’t… I- I just wish I could get it over with. Maybe if I had already done it or-or if I knew what I was fucking doing I wouldn’t be freaking the hell out right now.”

How fucking embarrassing. How embarrassing. How embarrassing. How embarrass—

“Shane,” Ilya said softly.

—ing. LIKE HOW EMBARRASSING! Why would he say all that? Rozanov is totally never going to let him hear the end of this. And he definitely is going to tell Cliff about this. God. They are going to hold this over his head—

“Shane.” Ilya said sternly.

A shiver shot down Shane’s spine. He could practically feel Ilya’s breath at his neck, warm and intimate, like the words had been spoken right against his skin. His pulse kicked hard, thudding in his ears, and his lungs forgot how to work properly. He turned around slowly, every inch of movement electric, until he was face-to-face, chest-to-chest with Ilya.

Shane didn’t make eye contact. His body felt like it was vibrating in a way he’d never experienced, and all he could get out was a measly “wha-” before his breath heaved like he’d just gotten the wind knocked out of him.

He couldn’t possibly look up. How was he supposed to look up? His senses were flooded with Ilya. His strong scent that overpowered every room filled Shane’s nose, making it hard to focus. It felt like lightning zapped his skin when he felt Ilya’s fingertips brush from his wrist up to his biceps. Moving up and down, ever so lightly.

“Shane,” Ilya breathed.

Shane’s hair fluttered from how close Ilya’s mouth was to his face, goosebumps rising on the back of his neck.

Shane’s eyes slid slightly up to meet Ilya’s. They burned with… something. Something he’d never seen yet still felt familiar. Something that had shined through the creases of his eyes before, but not to this caliber.

Ilya’s hands worked up his shoulders, gripping gently, over his collarbone, then up the skin of his throat until he could grip Shane’s chin from underneath with a full hand. He forced Shane’s gaze steady on him and they both just stared, eyes searching. Shane was freaking the fuck out because what was actually happening right now.

“Do you want me to show you?” Ilya said in a syrupy voice that immediately made Shane feel drunk.

“Sho- Show me what?” he barely stuttered out, eyes flickering all around Ilya’s face trying to understand what the fuck was going on.

Ilya smiled – not a smirk – he smiled. Shane knew this difference when it came to Ilya. It was the smile he’d seen basically every day for the past eight years of his life, but this smile… well, this smile felt different. There was something laced in it, something that burned low in Shane’s stomach. His heart was suddenly beating exponentially faster than it was a second ago (which had to be impossible and medically dangerous), his breathing felt like it was catching somewhere between his chest and throat but not quite actually making it out. Why was he smiling like that at Shane?

Ilya’s hands moved down to rest on his shoulders now, thumbs rubbing continuous circles into the muscle there.

“Hollander, it doesn’t have to be a big deal, and it doesn’t have to change anything. I mean… you know I’m with Svetlana, right?”

Shane actually hadn’t realized they were officially together. But also… what doesn’t have to be a big deal?

“Um yeah, yeah I know… but, um, I still don’t understand what…”

Ilya’s expression shifted into something serious now, yet somehow it only made him look more devastatingly confident and more impossibly sensual.

“Do you want me to show you how to kiss?”

Shane audibly gasped before he could stop himself.

Yes.

The word didn’t even feel like a choice. It surged up from somewhere deep, distant and undeniable, forcing its way through the fog in his head. The thought hit him like heat – a furnace roaring to life in his chest, blazing through his limbs, burning in places he’s never felt on fire like this. It was the kind of thought he only ever let himself have in the dark, late at night, when no one could see his face. The kind of thought that had lived quietly at the back of his mind for what felt like forever.

But…

No. No. No. No. NO.

He couldn’t do that. They couldn’t do that. This wasn’t allowed. This wasn’t… anything he was supposed to want. His heart was pounding so hard it hurt. His breath shook and his whole body felt like it was caught between running away and falling forward.

And somehow, in the middle of all that panic, all that wanting, all that impossible confusion—

He gave one, tiny nod.

Ilya’s hand swiftly raised to rest on the side of his face, thumb brushing over Shane’s cheekbone. He smiled to himself – that rare, unmanufactured smile that meant something had genuinely reached him – and his tongue traced his lower lip, leaving a soft sheen behind. Shane swears it happened in slow motion, like most things Ilya does.

Ilya’s eyes moved down, and he stared at Shane’s mouth. His hand found the nape of Shane’s neck and his breathing became noticeably heavy, something Shane wasn’t used to seeing except when he was physically exerted.

Ilya leaned in.

Shane should stop him. He really should stop him.

He didn’t.

He could feel the warmth from Ilya before he could even physically feel him. Shane’s eyes shifted quickly around his face as he leaned, until Shane finally let his eyes flutter shut, brain shutting off the second Ilya’s lips touched his.

It was soft and lasted a couple seconds. But the couple seconds felt endless in Shane’s brain. He catalogued every detail about Ilya’s mouth; the way his lips felt, the wetness mixed with the softness, the tiny purr-like sound that rumbled from between Ilya’s lips and vibrated deep in his chest where it pressed to Shane. His bottom lip fit perfectly between Ilya’s and he could feel the light suction when they interlocked. He felt his whole body react. His hands trembled with the urge to touch Ilya. To reach for him.

Shane can’t lie; Ilya’s lips have always been a fascination of his. How could they not be? The way his cupid’s bow was smooth and dipped low gave him this pout that begged to be kissed. That is definitely not the verbiage he would’ve chosen to explain Ilya’s lips ten minutes ago – not out loud anyways – but now having them pressed against his own… yeah. That description felt right.

Shane kept his eyes shut for a second when he felt Ilya’s lips detach from his, but when he did open them, Ilya was staring right into him. Not at him. Into him. Right through him. Shane barely noticed the way his eyes instinctively flashed to Ilya’s lips until he was biting at his own. When his attention landed back on Ilya’s blue eyes, he saw the smirk appear there before it even registered in the bottom half of his face.

Suddenly, Ilya was leaning in again. And like he was possessed, Shane was leaning in again.

He wanted to taste him again. He could catch the smoky hint of cigarettes and mint on his lips, but Shane wanted to get the taste in full. His stomach fluttered and his mind couldn’t even process what the hell was happening. Why was Ilya kissing him? Who even fucking cares why, because Ilya Rozanov was kissing him.

Cliff’s muffled voice slammed their movements to a halt and drove Shane’s heart from his chest right out of his ass.

“Ilya! Are you up there?” Cliff yelled from outside the treehouse. “Let’s go, the girls are waiting on us!”

Ilya cursed under his breath. “Um, yeah! I’ll be right down!”

They could hear the sliding door shut, and their eyes instantly found each other. Shane had a hard time knowing what Ilya’s face meant. He had never seen it before. He looked… hungry. His pupils were dilated and his tongue poked out between his lips before he rubbed them together, the slickness from his spit glistening off them.

What the fuck is happening?

Shane couldn’t stop the question from ricocheting off every part of his skull. Because he truly wasn’t sure what was going on. His thoughts had gone quiet while Ilya’s lips were on his own – besides the ones that thought things he tried very hard to suppress for so long. But now, he can’t stop the panic that’s rising in his chest. This is way, way, way worse than when he was just freaking out about kissing Angela.

He wants to ask Ilya what the hell that was. Why he would do something like that. Even if he was “helping Shane out,” or whatever excuse he’d tossed out, Shane is pretty sure most guy friends don’t casually offer up their lips for practice. That’s not normal. That’s not a thing.

And deep down – in the place he never touches, never admits, never even looks at directly – he wants to ask if they could do it again.

He never would, of course. He’d rather swallow his own tongue.

His thoughts were spiraling when Ilya looked at him again, and it was that look – the one that makes Shane feel chosen, seen, special in a way he knows Svetlana probably gets all the time. Eyes that pin him in place. A smile that’s half menacing, half promising, like Ilya knows exactly what he just did to him.

“Goodnight, Hollander.”

So. Yeah. That happened.

And the worst part?

Things absolutely changed after that.

Things with Ilya were just… weird. Wrong. Definitely not normal. It was like Ilya had decided to pretend Shane didn’t exist – or at least pretend he couldn’t look him in the eye. Which was ridiculous, because Ilya practically lived at their house. Shane couldn’t escape him if he tried.

He didn’t get it. Why would Ilya offer to kiss him, swear nothing would change – because of course nothing would, he had a girlfriend – and then act like this? It made zero sense. After what felt like the tenth time Shane tried to talk to him and got shut down, he just… stopped trying.

He didn’t have to deal with it long anyway. Within a month, Ilya, his brother, and their dad were off to Russia for the summer. Good, Shane had thought. Good, because it wasn’t fair that he had to tiptoe around his own house just because Ilya decided he wanted to “help.”

But the part of him that still lingers on that cold Friday night a year ago can’t help worrying. Ilya spent most of his time at the Hollanders – and now he was stuck for months with a family who treated him like trash. A family Shane has hated ever since that night. The worry eats at him. Because at the end of the day, he loves Ilya. Not like that (maybe like that, but he’d never admit it), but the way you love someone you grew up with. Someone who mattered.

A few weeks into summer, he convinced himself it was a good idea to text Ilya. Just to check in. Cliff had said he was fine, but Cliff was the kind of guy who asked a question with zero follow-up, which always drove Shane insane.

Shane Hey! I just wanted to see how you’re doing. I’ve been thinking about you a lot. Just worried about you being stuck with your dad. I’m here if you need to talk! 😊

He retyped it a million times, trying to keep it short and sweet, but even his thumbs had trouble not rambling.

He never heard back. Not one text. Not one emoji. Nothing.

Whatever. What-fucking-ever.

After a week of checking his phone like an idiot, the embarrassment curdled into anger. He wanted Ilya to know he was mad. He wanted to ignore him right back, make him chase Shane for once. But he didn’t think Ilya would care.

The summer dragged. Shane distracted himself – hung out with people more than he ever had, made new friends, stayed out of the house as much as possible. Anything to avoid counting down the days until the room down the hall was occupied again.

He tried really, really hard not to think about Ilya. Not to think about how much of an asshole he was for bringing up the kiss and then suddenly wanting nothing to do with him. And yes, Shane had always heard the womanizer rumors – again, he lived with him. He saw the evidence firsthand.

But this wasn’t some random girl from school or customer that came through his work. This was Shane. This was Ilya and Shane. They had always drifted toward each other even when Ilya was more Cliff’s friend. He had always been there for Shane and vice versa. So why now? Why now was he treating Shane like this? Why was Shane the one being punished?

Maybe Ilya just didn’t care as much as Shane thought he did. Ilya always acted like he cared about Shane. Always had actions that supported that theory. But the truth is, Ilya wouldn’t have kissed Shane that night if he truly cared about him. He wouldn’t have kissed him and then ignored him. Ignored him like Shane’s family wasn’t a second home to him.

But he really wasn’t thinking about it.

When summer finally ended, Ilya was back, and it was clear they were both going to pretend nothing had ever happened. The first time Shane saw him, he got the usual “Hollander,” a smirk, and a hand ruffling his hair. It felt different. Or maybe Shane was different. Or maybe Ilya was.

Shane’s senior year blurred by. Half his classes were at the local college, and he spent most of his time studying or with friends, avoiding home. He barely saw Ilya or Cliff – they were working for David’s construction company, and Ilya even had a second job at night. The rest of his time was spent with Svetlana.

Something that deserves the briefest note is the party that happened during winter break that year at JJ and Zane’s house. Shane tries not to think about it because one, he had been extremely drunk and doesn’t even quite remember everything. And two, because it was just another instance where Ilya wanted to play hero and mess with Shane’s feelings. It honestly had just confused him even more.

But the moral of the story was the night ended with him telling Ilya, “It didn’t mean anything to you. It didn’t mean anything to me. So let’s just fucking forget about it, Ilya.”

And that’s what they did, at least when he’d actually see Ilya. It was weird to say the least, but eventually things felt semi-normal. Nothing like they were before, but they could at least tolerate being around each other. It helped that he was barely around the house, even more so after that stupid party.

Shane was still mad. He still had feelings he didn’t know what to do with. It almost felt unfair that Shane was getting so worked up about the whole situation. He knew how Ilya was.

But more than anything, he still wants to feel Ilya’s lips on his own again. Which is a thought he digs into the depths of his being because he has to control himself. He doesn’t want to let himself somehow get hurt by Ilya.

Now Shane has graduated. He just has to get through this summer. Then he’s off to NYU. No more bullies, no more parents hovering, and best of all, no more tiptoeing around his own house because Ilya is always there.

Just one more summer.

Chapter End Notes

Ilya POV next🤭

LMK what you think!!!! I really hope you guys like this one, I actually have a full on prewrite for it which is shocking for me. Still don't have the whole thing planned, not too sure on an ending, but like I said, she's gonna be longer for sure. At least that's what I'm thinking rn, probs 10 chapters minimum.

Also I purposely didn’t use rose and Hayden cause I have them in a different part of the story

Chapter 2: Out of My League

Chapter Summary

Ilya Rozanov knows three things:
He’s not good enough for Shane, the kiss was a mistake he can’t stop replaying, and losing the Hollanders would break him in ways he doesn’t let himself imagine.

Ilya sifts through the memories he’s tried to bury - the nights in the treehouse, the freckles he shouldn’t have touched, the softness he let slip, and the selfish choices he can’t take back. With summer approaching and the promise of being in close quarters with Shane again, Ilya is dreading the one thing he’s wanted and feared in equal measure: being near him again.

Chapter Notes

TW❌❌: physical abuse, suicide, depressive thoughts, homophobic slur (nothing too detailed but still want to warn)

OKAY LAST LORE STOP!

I'm excited to start on the next chapters since they'll be in the present andddddd both old enough for me to sprinkle in spice🫣🤭🤭🤭🤭 My fingers feign to write smut lolololol😝😝😝😝😝

Also just a reminder that this obvi a hollanov fic and while the characters personalities are based on the book and tv characters as well as some canon events, it is also an AU so I’m writing them how I please!!!!

PREVIOUSLY ON CLOSE ENOUGH TO HURT:
-Cliff is Shane Hollanders older (adopted) brother.
-Ilya Rozanov is Cliffs best friend who basically lives with the Hollanders.
-Shane is impossibly in love with Ilya, but he knows that would never happen. That it can't happen.
-Shane knows he's gay, although he doesn't want that to be public knowledge until he gets to college.
-He unfortunately gets bullied, even after his efforts to bulk up, but Ilya and Cliff always look out for him, even when he wishes they wouldn't
-Ilya offers to be Shane's first kiss, causing chaos and anxiety in Shane.
-After a summer of silence, a party with shouted words, and a whole lot of pretending, Shane just needs to get through one more summer with Ilya.

🎶This chapters song is Out of My League by Fitz & The Tantrums
CLOSE ENOUGH TO HURT PLAYLIST

CHAPTER 2: Out of My League

The view of Ottawa from the skate park is always something Ilya admires.

In the early mornings, when the city is still half-asleep and the sky is a soft, pale blue, he likes to sit on the highest ramp and just… watch. There is a calmness here he doesn’t feel many other places. A quiet that doesn’t demand anything from him. A stillness that doesn’t ask him to perform.

It’s strange, really, feeling peaceful when he’s alone. That isn’t usually how solitude works for him. He sits on the edge of the skate park ramp, watching the sun rise over Ottawa. The city feels big and distant and full of people who don’t know him, the true him.

He had moved to Ottawa when he was ten. He and his brother had learned English when they were young because their father, Grigori, had always planned on moving to the States someday. He spoke it well enough. But speaking it and living in it were completely different things. He struggled when people talked too fast, when slang twisted words into shapes that made no sense, when he couldn’t express himself the way he could in Russian. His bluntness, his clipped phrasing, the way he shut down and switched back to Russian when overwhelmed… people mistook all of it for indifference. For coolness. For not caring.

But he cared. He cared so much sometimes it hurt. He just wasn’t the best at verbalizing it.

Back home in Russia, before Ottawa, he had known exactly who he was even being so young. He had a whole pack of friends, and he’d been their natural leader without even trying. He could read people easily, even as a kid. He knew how to give them what they wanted from him. It came naturally. He was a little shit, sure – what ten-year-old boy wasn’t – but his mother, Irina, always said he got that fiery streak from her own father. Ilya had never met that side of the family, but he held onto the idea anyway. It made him feel connected to something better than he was.

His father’s side was the only one he knew. And knowing it came with strings. With rules. With a leash that tightened around his mother, his brother, and himself. His brother Alexei’s leash was the loosest. He was practically a mirror of their father, which earned him some kind of warped approval. Ilya had always hoped they’d grow out of their differences, that age would soften things between them and they could be there for one another. But Alexei made it clear the problem wasn’t time. It was Ilya.

When he was younger, his leash had slack. He’d been a normal kid for the most part. Loud, mischievous, and full of energy, more like his mother than anyone else. She was like light in a dark room, at least when Grigori wasn’t there. Always laughing, always singing, always searching for the good in people. She was quieter than he was, more reserved, though he never knew if that was her nature or something shaped by his father’s controlling hand.

Her leash, though… hers was made of chain. Pulled tight. Restrictive like a prong collar correcting happiness out of her. He wishes he could forget watching his mother lose her light over the years. She tried to stay strong. To not show how bad things truly were, but she could only do so much when married to a man like Grigori Rozanov. It didn’t register to Ilya for a long time how sad she was. Obviously he knew she was sad, but she tried her hardest to shield the boys from seeing it.

Ilya can’t pinpoint the first time his father hit his mother – it had been happening for as long as he could remember – but he remembers the first time it happened to him.

He had been eight, sitting on the floor of his room, curled up by the door, listening to the familiar pattern of yelling and crying. It had gone on long enough that he couldn’t hear his mother’s trembling voice anymore, and something inside him snapped. Or maybe it woke up. He stood, shaking, and walked down the hallway toward the bedroom he hated. The room his mother avoided unless she had no choice.

He’d been crying softly as he walked, which only ever made his father angrier. Emotions were not something to be made anyone else’s issue but your own. If you were weak enough to let it crush you, well then maybe that’s what you deserve.

When he pushed open the door, he saw his mother on the ground, blood at her nose, shrinking away. And when his father raised his hand again, Ilya stepped in front of her without much thought.

After that, the violence split between them more often. His leash tightened. His mother begged for it to stop, but that only ever made things worse. Some nights, he cried into her shoulder, her hand soothingly squeezing at the nape of his neck while he would beg her to run away with him. To leave and never come back.

She never did. And he never stopped wishing she could.

When they moved to Ottawa, the violence had paused, or at least the kind you could see. The shouting didn’t. The sharp, cutting comments didn’t. The tension that lived under Grigori’s skin didn’t. It all simmered there, just beneath the surface, like a pot left on low heat, waiting for the moment it would boil over.

A week after the move, about a month before the start of the school year, Ilya met Cliff Hollander, and he thanks God every day for that. If he could go back in time and kiss his ten-year-old self for picking a fight with Cliff over a lousy swing, he would. Something had clicked between them instantly, like they’d been separated at birth and were finally snapping back into place. Cliff was sunnier, easier, less angsty, but their personalities fit together like puzzle pieces. From that day on, they were inseparable.

That was how Ilya found himself spending more and more time at the Hollanders’ house. At first, it felt wrong. Foreign even. Like he was stepping into a movie set where everyone knew their lines except for him. Families weren’t supposed to laugh together like that. They weren’t supposed to tease each other gently, or eat dinner at the same table, or argue without fear. Ilya kept waiting for the moment someone would raise a hand, for the air to shift into something dangerous, unsettling.

But it never happened.

It took him a long time to let himself trust it. To believe he wasn’t overstaying his welcome. But eventually, the Hollanders’ house became the first place he thought of when he heard the word home. He learned that home wasn’t walls or a roof – it was the people within the walls and under the roof. The ones who made space for you without needing to be asked. The ones who didn’t flinch or groan when you walked into a room.

The Hollanders were that. They still are.

And Shane… well Shane is that most of all.

Ilya remembered the first time he met him, this sweet, eight-year-old who hugged him as a greeting even though Ilya had just chirped at him. Something inside Ilya had reacted instinctively. A pull. A need to protect him, to keep him safe. Make sure nothing bad happened to him the way it always had with Ilya.

The first thing Ilya noticed about him was his freckles. He had never seen someone with so many freckles. He wasn’t even sure if he could name one person with freckles, not when this little Canadian boy stood in front of him with a whole constellation over his face. It had honestly startled Ilya at first. He was only ten years old and had no clue what he was feeling. His stomach swarmed with butterflies, he could feel his heart racing in his chest, and his skin was blazing from where Shane had pulled him into a hug. He didn’t know what this was; he had never felt this way just looking at another person, let alone a boy.

Looking back now at the age of 20, he’s pretty sure he fell in love with Shane right then and there.

Ilya resorted to humor for quite some time after that. Hoping if he was his shit-talking, joking-around self that he was with everyone else, there wouldn’t be any kind of evidence when it came to his true feelings. True feelings that he excused or full-on ignored for as long as possible – even though his subconscious has lingered on one person since ten years old.

It was easy anyway; it wasn’t difficult to get under Shane’s skin. Besides, Ilya loves when Shane gets annoyed with him. His freckles come to life when a fresh blush sprouts on his cheeks, and he makes this little scowl that reminds Ilya of an angry little kitten. He would always tell Shane just as much, getting exactly the face he wanted in response.

People always say Shane isn’t great with others, that he’s reserved, closed off. Ilya always wondered if they only thought that because Cliff is so loud and magnetic wherever he goes. But the Shane Ilya knows isn’t closed off. He’s thoughtful. Quiet because his mind is busy. Quiet because he’s processing, not hiding.

And beneath all of that, Ilya knew one thing with absolute certainty:

Shane Hollander is the sweetest boy he has ever met.

Ilya had never felt comfortable being the softer version of himself with anyone but his mother. His father made it clear that being vulnerable was weakness, that personal feelings were to be just that. Personal.

But somehow this beyond-caring boy with freckles splattered over the bridge of his nose had burrowed himself in Ilya’s mind and set up shop. For some reason with Shane, Ilya would talk about things he never talked about. Not everything. Not at first. Not the true reasons he never took off his armor. But the stupid small things about yourself you want the people you care about to know. And the crazy thing was Shane would talk back.

People don’t usually peg Shane Hollander as anything but a goody-two-shoes, but the kid could be a little shit when he wanted to be. Cliff and Ilya would’ve been offended if he hadn’t absorbed their tricks by osmosis. At this point, the Hollander household could run a weekly podcast titled Chirps 101 without even trying.

Nonetheless, a chirp coming out of Shane’s mouth never quite fits. As cute as he looks trying to act tough, trying to pretend he’s some natural-born shit-stirrer, Ilya much prefers the way he sounds when he says “Ilya” in that sweet, smooth voice. The voice he could listen to for hours, even if Shane is rambling about some “fun” fact or the most mind-numbing historical detail imaginable.

The summer after moving to Ottawa, Ilya broke his arm.

He told everyone it was from a bike accident. He said he’d hit a curb wrong, went flying, landed badly. It was a good, believable lie and one hundred times easier than the truth. The truth being that his father had suddenly remembered his fists did more damage than his words. Though his words had more of a lasting effect.

The cast completely ruined his summer. No swimming. No baseball. No biking. No climbing. No roughhousing. No anything. He hated it. Hated feeling useless, hated watching everyone else do the things he couldn’t. He still would rather tag along than go back to his father’s house.

Having to be left alone with his thoughts made him apprehensive, even at eleven. He sometimes got in these moods where it was really hard to get out of bed, or just hard to really do anything. His thoughts weren’t always the best. After being told you’re not shit for the longest time by people who are supposed to be family, you just kind of start believing it.

One afternoon, a bunch of kids were over at the Hollanders’ place. Cliff and their friends were heading out to swim or toss a baseball around – he can’t really remember exactly what they did, but it was something Ilya couldn’t join in on. He waved them off, doing his best to pretend he didn’t care, and placed himself on the Hollanders’ back porch instead. It was easier to watch from afar than to stand there feeling left out.

He sat with his back against the wall, legs stretched out, listening to the muffled shouts and splashes. He told himself he didn’t mind. He told himself he preferred the quiet anyway.

A few minutes later, the wooden steps creaked.

Shane appeared in front of him, the afternoon sun blazing behind him, outlining him in a soft, illuminating glow.

Ilya blinked at him, confused. “You are not playing?”

“No,” Shane looked around then shrugged, a little too casually. “I’m kinda tired. Can I sit with you?”

He wasn’t tired. Ilya knew that even then. Shane had been buzzing all morning about Cliff saying he could play with the older kids today. It was all he had talked about at breakfast when Yuna asked what the day looked like for them. You couldn’t get him to shut up about it. That’s how Ilya knew he wasn’t telling the truth. But even at nine, Shane was the kind of person who cared quietly, gently, and in ways that didn’t make you feel small. Ways that seemed far too emotionally mature for a kid.

Ilya looked at him for a long moment, something warm and painful twisting in his chest that he couldn’t identify at that age. How did Shane know he didn’t really want to be alone? How could he know? Ilya felt it again, that feeling that he was starting to associate with Shane Hollander. The dangerous feeling that made him feel a weird wave of vulnerability with an aftertaste of shame.

“Sure,” Ilya said, trying his best to choke back the weird and sudden impulse to cry.

Shane sat beside him close enough that their shoulders brushed, their shoes occasionally tapping when they repositioned themselves. He didn’t ask questions. He didn’t try to cheer him up. He just stayed.

For the first time that summer, Ilya didn’t feel like he was missing out on anything at all.

What was super startling were the dreams – the dreams of Shane. They didn’t really start happening until after that summer he broke his arm.

The context of the dreams wasn’t crazy or anything. At first it honestly seemed like one of those dreams where you wake up barely remembering it and then think woah that was so weird why was Shane in my dream? Oh well! But then… it became constant.

Constant enough that he couldn’t deny it anymore: Shane wasn’t just haunting his thoughts – he was living rent-free in his subconscious.

Shane reminds him of his mom in small little ways he really tries not to dwell on. That’s where he thinks the dreams come into play. He also assumes it’s the reason he always naturally drifted to Shane, even before Irina died.

It had been about a year after the broken-arm incident. His mom was gone.

He doesn’t talk about it, even now. It was the worst moment of his life. He knew she was sad, obviously he knew that. He was sad. But he couldn’t have ever known what he would walk through the door to.

He had come home during his lunch (he wasn’t supposed to do this but usually no one was home at the time, so who would know?). Ilya was definitely too young to be doing things like that – to already be skipping class in middle school – but he didn’t really care.

He saw his mom’s car in the driveway when he walked up to the house and instantly felt his stomach sink in the worst way. In the way it does when you remember something terrifying. The air felt different as he approached the door. Stiffer. Stale. Like something God-awful was waiting for him behind those doors.

He wasn’t the one who was supposed to find her. He knows that. He knows she would never have wanted him to see her like that. To see anything like that. But… he was the one that found her. He did see her like that.

Her too-still body lay across the bed – Ilya had thought she was asleep at first. The empty pill bottle barely an inch away from her open hand.

It’s burned in his memory. The memory of his twelve-year-old self reaching for her pulse, trying to pump her chest like he had seen on TV, crying into her neck as he squeezed her in the tightest hug until officers were ripping him away from her lifeless body.

The funeral was hell. It wasn’t what his mother would’ve wanted.

She would’ve wanted a celebration. She would’ve wanted lilies everywhere, not a few roses here and there. Did Grigori even know she hated roses? Did he never notice the lilies she always got fresh from the market?

He seethed when he felt his father’s calloused hand grip the nape of his neck as a way to control Ilya. To control the way he chose to show his emotions. Control the way he felt.

But that was just it. He wasn’t supposed to feel.

The only thing that lets Ilya look back on that day with even the smallest hint of a smile is Shane giving him the gold chain for his mother’s cross. Ilya still isn’t sure if Shane fully understands what that moment meant. Does he realize no one had ever paid attention to him like that before? That Ilya hadn’t said a single word about wanting one? He had just been carrying his mother’s cross in his pocket every day after she died and then suddenly there was Shane Hollander, sheepishly placing a chain in his hand at the end of the funeral and pulling Ilya into a quick – but always comforting – hug before hurrying off after his family.

Ilya had stood there frozen. No one in his life had ever shown him that kind of care. No one except his mother. This was the first time he received something from someone, and it was actually something for him, not just something every other boy would want. Not that year’s most-sought-after toy, but something obtained specifically with him in mind.

He knows it might seem like a small thing. A small trivial gift. But it was never about the chain. It was about the fact that Shane gave it to him without being asked. The fact that Shane had only known him a couple of years and somehow still managed to make Ilya’s heart beat faster than it ever had before. The fact that he still has that effect on him to this day.

His father only got worse after that. All that anger he used to aim at Irina redirected solely toward Ilya instead.

Ilya doesn’t enjoy going home. So he just… doesn’t.

He started staying with the Hollanders more and more after that. Eventually he was barely going home at all, and by then Grigori didn’t even bother arguing or trying to make him stay. Within the next couple months of the funeral he already had a new girlfriend who was about to move in. With no Ilya, it was one less body to deal with. One less problem to fix.

Sometimes, when he’s sitting at the dinner table with the Hollanders or listening to Yuna laugh at something David said, he finds himself wishing they were his parents. Wishing this was his family. In a way, they are – at least, he considers them to be – but he never lets himself believe he’s good enough to be a Hollander. His own mother hadn’t been able to stay, so why would anyone else want him?

He tries not to be angry with her. He knows how hard her life was. He knows she did what she could. But sometimes he can’t help imagining the life they might’ve had if they had just run. If they had just packed a small bag with minimal belongings and left together. Just started over somewhere fresh.

One night, a few months or so after the funeral, everything finally caught up to Ilya, making him unable to push it down any longer. He climbed into the treehouse and let himself cry without worrying about being called a sissy by his dad or a pussy by his brother. And of course, he didn’t end up alone.

Shane came barreling through the door, doing some crying of his own. This is Shane’s place, after all. Ilya knows that. He’d watched Shane storm up here in one of his episodes more times than he could count. He never wanted to push though; Shane was the kind of person who craved isolation rather than company. Maybe, possibly, deep down, Ilya had been hoping Shane would come up here and find him.

They sat together and watched the sunset, and somewhere in the quiet, Shane started crying again. Ilya’s hand moved on instinct, settling at the nape of Shane’s neck, the same comforting touch his mother once gave him. And with the heat rolling off Shane in soft waves, Ilya had to stop himself from tucking in closer, from treating him like the personal heater he suddenly wanted him to be.

They held hands after that – well, Ilya held Shane’s hand – but it didn’t feel strange. It felt right. Easy. Like the most natural thing in the world for them. And once Ilya realized how much he liked it, he couldn’t stop looking for more moments like this, more quiet pockets of time with Shane. Before he knew it, he was slipping into the treehouse more and more often after that night.

Even in those early days, when they barely spoke and simply sat together in silence, Ilya never wanted to go. It took a few visits before he let anything slip, before he allowed himself to be soft in a way he wasn’t with anyone else. He didn’t need his armor there.

Not with Shane. Not in the treehouse.

Ilya had always been on the rebellious side, so it wasn’t all that scary for him when he started to look at boys differently. Well… one boy differently. He didn’t even realize the feelings he had for Shane were different; in some way, they were always there, they just intensified times a million.

The shift wasn’t abrupt per se. He always seemed to find himself thinking about Shane, but he started clocking it more and more. He started catching himself mid-thought and trying to physically shake it out like a dog with water in its ear.

Why couldn’t he shake Shane?

Shane was honestly a little boring. But Ilya knows that boring in the States means something completely different than what he’s meaning. To him, Shane is boring in the way of being stable, certain, consistent. Ilya didn’t have to guess with him. Ilya felt oddly comfortable with him. And well, Shane was a little boring too. The American kind.

That’s not to say Cliff didn’t make Ilya feel comfortable.

Cliff knew things about Ilya too; he had been around too much not to see the cracks. There was only one time Cliff said anything remotely direct about it all, which was, “Seriously though. I want you to know I’m here for you. I’m not gonna press anymore about it or demand a response but… I’m here.”

That’s what made him a great friend. Ilya never would fully break down in front of him, but Cliff still saw it. He still saw the way Ilya’s shoulders tensed scarcely when voices started to raise, when there was a sudden crash of glass or prescription bottle on the counter. He checked in on Ilya in his own indirect way, the way he knew Ilya would respond to with calm instead of dismissiveness.

But it was different with Shane. Shane had a way of making Ilya feel like he was going to word-vomit because of how comfortable he was. He never got like that. He never got to the point where he actually felt like he would start talking about things he avoided like the plague.

He had to force himself to stop going in the treehouse as much around the age of fifteen. It was becoming too difficult for him. Too difficult to be around Shane so closely when Ilya was bound to give something away. Bound to stare a little too long at his freckles, or maybe say something weird and way too obvious.

He couldn’t have Shane. He didn’t deserve Shane. Shane didn’t want him anyway.

But at fifteen, Ilya’s strong teenage hormones coursed through his body, making him not think straight. Sure, Shane wasn’t that much younger than Ilya, but that’s still Cliff’s little brother. Why was he constantly thinking about kissing him?

He definitely shouldn’t be thinking about that. Freckles are one thing. Thinking he’s cute – cause like… come on, it’s Shane Hollander – is one thing. Imagining what it would be like to kiss him was a whole different situation that needed to be locked away in a metal box sealed with cement and wrapped in tape that reads DO NOT OPEN.

But he just couldn’t help it. He couldn’t help slowly noticing things more and more when it came to Shane. The way his eyes twinkled when he got started on one of his hyperfixations. The way the color that bloomed on his cheeks was the darkest when Ilya would run into him in the hallway in just a towel after one of his showers – don’t think he meticulously planned his showers around Shane or anything. He definitely didn’t do that. He doesn’t do that.

Okay… maybe he does it sometimes.

He’s always had a gluttonous appetite for Shane’s attention.

Again, it’s not that there was some abrupt shift; things just intensified by a magnitude he couldn’t ignore anymore. His body was starting to betray him in ways that had him scurrying to his room or the bathroom to calm down.

Smoking was a good excuse for not stopping by the treehouse – not that Shane would have ever asked for a reason. He wasn’t the type to. But Ilya knew Shane could see him from the treehouse. He could feel it. He also may have made sure of it.

If he couldn’t trust himself to be in the small confinements of the treehouse with him, he could at least be greedy and sit right in his line of sight. It took all the strength in his body not to turn around and look right into those big brown eyes he knew were piercing into his back. The ones that always looked at Ilya like he hung the moon himself.

He wouldn’t look. But he would always sense when Shane was there.

He’s secretly always loved when Shane scolds him about smoking. There’s something endearing about it. Something that reminds Ilya that Shane actually cares for him. That he would maybe, possibly, be sad if something were to ever happen to Ilya.

He knew he had probably represented an older-brother figure to Shane. Him and Cliff have always looked out for Shane. They’ve always given him shit like older brothers do. They also make sure to check in on him. They both know the way Shane can get caught up in his own head.

He pathetically doesn’t want Shane to think of him as an older brother. That would make the things Ilya feels for him quite disgusting. Maybe that’s why he feels so much shame about it. He would hate to ruin his relationship with Shane. He doesn’t want Shane to be horrified by Ilya’s uncalled-for yearning.

Sure, he notices these things about Shane. The blushing at Ilya’s shirtless torso had to mean something, right? Or maybe he was just uncomfortable. Ilya always thought he was good at reading people, but sometimes his own feelings for Shane seemed to cloud his ability to read Shane properly.

It doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter if Shane were to feel anything Ilya does. Not even a fraction.

Because it all comes back to Cliff.

And Ilya couldn’t do that to his friend.

Ilya’s always known Shane struggles with kids picking on him. Back in the treehouse days, Shane would cry about not fitting in or feeling “different.” He never said exactly why, but Ilya understood. He’d ask, gently, but he never pushed. Shane didn’t owe him the words until he was ready.

By the time Shane was a freshman, it had gotten worse – bad enough that Ilya finally brought it up to Cliff one night.

Cliff was sprawled on his bed, headphones on, scrolling through his phone when Ilya knocked lightly on the door.

“Come in,” Cliff called.

Ilya slipped inside and dropped into the desk chair.

“What’s up, dude? Can’t sleep again?” Cliff asked, pulling one headphone out.

“Um… no.” Ilya twisted his fingers together. “I heard some people at school talking. Um…”

He trailed off. He wasn’t even sure how to say it. Or if it was even his place.

“Ilya,” Cliff said, sitting up, slight concern in his voice. “What’s going on?”

“It’s Shane.”

Cliff straightened immediately, pulling his other headphone out with force. “What about Shane?”

“I think some guys are giving him a hard time,” Ilya said. “I tried asking him, but you know Shane, he brushed it off. I asked around. Sounds like some of the older hockey guys. Comeau. Kent.”

“Fuck.” Cliff dragged his hands down his face. “Shane doesn’t need this.”

“I just thought you should know,” Ilya said quietly. “Maybe we should keep a closer eye on him.”

“You know he won’t like that,” Cliff muttered.

“What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him.”

Shane noticed their constant presence almost immediately.

At first, it was subtle – Cliff and Ilya hanging in the background, stepping in with a warning if they saw something they didn’t like. But after they saw the way Gil Comeau came at Shane one night after a football game, something in Ilya snapped into place. From then on, he made it his mission to shut down anyone who tried to mess with Shane.

He never understood why they targeted him. Shane was a good kid. Quieter, sure, but not incapable of talking to people. Not deserving of any of it.

The confrontations became more frequent – and more physical – after the first few. Ilya didn’t mind. It felt like he was doing something, protecting Shane in a way Shane would never ask for. And maybe there was a second benefit. Ilya carried a lot of anger from… well, everything. His whole life. He knew it wasn’t healthy, but the rush of acting, of stepping between Shane and someone else’s cruelty, made the noise in his head go quiet for a while.

And he’d grown up around enough conflict at home that stepping into it didn’t scare him. If anything, it felt familiar.

He had already seen plenty of punches thrown in his short lifetime.

Yuna and David don’t know the extent of his home life. They know enough – that his family is dysfunctional and his father is bottom of the barrel. Scum of the earth. He didn’t have to tell them that; they’d met the man.

Cliff knew the basis of his family issues. But he also knew Ilya would walk out and go MIA for a week before actually talking about it in detail. Cliff clued the Hollanders in enough to give Ilya a place, but not enough for them to understand why the sound of a glass breaking sent him into fight-or-flight, why he had such a hard time accepting their help or believing they actually loved him.

Nonetheless, they didn’t pry. They didn’t force him to say anything he didn’t want to share. They were just there for him in a way parents should be for their kids, he’s coming to learn. They gave him a room, a roof over his head, they fed him, they supported him, they’d come to his games when he still played sports. They were equally as hard on Ilya as they were on Cliff and Shane.

He’ll never forget the first time David called him son. Yeah sure, that’s something dads say to their sons’ friends, and it doesn’t always have too much meaning behind it, but the intention didn’t matter. Because Ilya felt it. He thought about it all night.

And reluctantly, Shane knows about his family too. He knows the most out of anyone. Which hadn’t been Ilya’s intention at all. But it happened.

One night during his senior year, he left his father’s house, only leaving behind the loud slam of the front door in his wake – something else for Grigori to yell at him for. The fight was stupid really. Ilya had gotten in a fight at school (shocker), but this one got back around to Grigori because this fight was with Grady Kilworth. The Kilworths were one of those stupid “founding” families that for some reason had influence over everyone.

So, when Ilya walked into his father’s house to grab something quickly, he was met with screaming. By now, Ilya should have known better than to yell back. He should have known things were better off if he just didn’t say anything at all. But what good did that do his mother?

He left the house so quickly he didn’t even have time to grab something to stop the blood that flowed freely from his nose. He assumed his lip was split; he could taste copper in his mouth. He didn’t even have a destination in mind. He couldn’t go to the Hollanders. It was late, he knew that, but he wouldn’t risk Yuna and David seeing him like this. He didn’t want them to think he was some damaged kid who needed pity. Or worse, some kid who was a bad influence on their perfect family. He knew he was. He knew he was running on borrowed time.

He didn’t even realize it was Shane standing in front of him on the sidewalk until his sweet, soft voice spoke his name, pulling him from the fog like a beacon of light. Eventually, he let Shane convince him to come up and sit in the treehouse while he cleaned Ilya up. At the very least, Shane had said.

Ilya had sat on one of the chairs while Shane stood in the space between his legs, using his first-aid kit and a wash rag to clean Ilya’s face the best he could. Ilya had his hand tightly gripped on Shane’s side; he told himself it was because of the sting from the products Shane used – that was just an excuse. He needed something to ground him. And like always, there was Shane.

He could look at Shane like this all night. With Shane so focused on making sure Ilya’s face wasn’t a lost cause, Ilya was hypnotized by his features. He wanted to reach out and caress the worry off Shane’s face. He hated that he was the reason something sour was below the surface of those beautiful freckles.

Ilya broke down that night.

Like a volcano, he erupted and everything came out. His family life, Grigori’s abuse, Alexei’s hatred. He wanted to tell Shane the real cause of his mother’s death. It was something that was taboo in Russia, suicide. So even here in Canada, the real reason had been skillfully hidden and worked around. And therefore, Ilya was never able to talk about the horrible things he saw that day.

He couldn’t poison Shane with that. He wouldn’t burden him with that knowledge.

When Shane looked at him one last time before retreating back to his room, Ilya so badly wanted to ask him to stay. He really didn’t want to be alone. But Shane had already done too much for him that night. He already was plagued with the history of Ilya’s fucked-up family. Now he really knew why Ilya was the way he was. Why he was nothing but a screw-up. Why he didn’t deserve the Hollanders. Why he didn’t deserve Shane.

When Ilya woke up early the next morning, only getting a few hours of sleep, he snuck out before any of the Hollanders could wake.

He kept his distance until it didn’t look like his face got in a fight with the pavement.

David and Yuna surprised Cliff and Ilya with a shared car.

It wasn’t anything crazy; David had gotten a new car, so they got to share his old Subaru Forester.

Ilya had tried to insist he didn’t need to have any kind of partial claim to the car. That was far too generous of them when they had already done too much. Cliff should have it. It should just be Cliff’s. He would inevitably be in the car all the time anyway.

They told him he was making a fuss over something already decided. It turned out it wasn’t so much a surprise for Cliff. David had brought up the idea to Cliff beforehand, who eagerly agreed it was a great idea.

Ilya may have allowed a tear to slip out. He’d deny it if you asked.

Ilya has this memory of one of the first times he drove Shane somewhere, just the two of them. Cliff dropped him off together a lot, or just Cliff, but Ilya felt like he should be included in this. He wanted to help Yuna and David with anything. Shane too, obviously. But Ilya’s motives may have been a little self-serving. This specific memory was Ilya dropping Shane off at hockey practice; it had been during his last season playing.

Shane had been ecstatic when Ilya let him have aux. It was something Cliff wouldn’t allow while he drove. Ilya didn’t mind though; he was used to Shane playing music when they spent time in the treehouse.

Ilya tried his best to focus on the road. He really did. He only allowed small fractions of a second where he would peer over at Shane while he casually sang along to For Cryin’ Out Loud! by FINNEAS, moving his head to the beat, occasionally singing at Ilya dramatically when the chorus played.

His face always hurt after being with Shane. The smile that bloomed there didn’t ask for permission – it simply arrived, every time.

Because honestly, how could he not look at Shane.

When he let himself be the real Shane, the version Ilya isn’t convinced anyone beyond the Hollander household ever gets to see, he carried an aura so bright it was impossible not to stare. Ilya loves every version of him; he’s always known that. But this Shane, the unguarded one, made his thoughts quiet and his heart feel like it was glowing from the inside out.

He wants Shane like this all the time.

He wants to be the one who makes him this soft, this open.

He knows it’s wishful thinking.

But sometimes he lets himself live in the fantasy for a moment longer.

Sex became a pretty good distraction for Ilya.

Something that wasn’t that hard for him to find. He liked feeling wanted. It filled a void. Gave him a distraction from all his thoughts. From all his dreams that were either haunting him with the ghost of his mother or the impossible-to-fill craving he has for Shane.

Ilya met Svetlana his junior year of high school.

Weirdly enough, her father knew Grigori. Apparently, they were friends back in Moscow. Yeah, yeah, crazy world. He had been iffy about meeting her at first; he didn’t really care to meet anyone associated with knowing his father.

But she turned out to be super cool. She spoke Russian, so he relaxed almost immediately. There’s just something about talking in your own language with someone who actually gets what Russia is like - it made opening up happen at double speed.

She cared a lot about the people she considered hers even though she could come across a little cold. Once you knew her, she would fight to the death for you.

They had been a thing for a little while. It was fun, but they just didn’t make sense as a couple. Their relationship wasn’t fair to her. He didn’t deserve her. That’s what he told her the night of their graduation when they sat in a booth at Carol’s Diner.

“I don’t deserve you.”

“You do,” she lightly kicked his foot under the table, forcing his eyes to shift back to her. “But you don’t want me.”

Ilya quickly went to say something, but nothing came out.

“It’s okay,” she reached across the table and rubbed his arm. “I know you care for me. Just… not like you do for him.”

“I- I don’t…” Ilya wasn’t one to be at a loss for words.

“Ilya. We don’t lie to each other, right? So don’t lie to me. I see the way you look at him. I notice the way you tense up when we’re cuddling on the couch and he gets home. It’s okay. I’m not gonna tell anyone.”

Him.

She didn’t say his name. She didn’t have to.

He thought he was doing a good job. He tried to be a good boyfriend. Listen. Be there whenever she needed. Of course have amazing sex. But she still saw through him. She still saw the things he thought he was doing a stellar job at hiding.

Maybe he just wasn’t that good at pretending.

Ilya and Svetlana are perfect as friends. They’re also the occasional lover when they need that sort of release. The outlet with someone familiar and reliable.

Most people still thought they were dating. They still hung out all the time, she still came over to the house a lot, he went to hers a lot, she would come mess around with him when he waited for Cliff at practice, and they obviously were very sexually comfortable with each other. He was happy to let people think they were still together; it didn’t really affect his own hookup pool. And he was extremely happy to let Grigori continue thinking they were dating.

She was also number-one Shane-and-Ilya supporter. Shailya, she liked to call them.

There had been this one night where she insisted they go up to the treehouse.

“Oooo, we’ve never been up here before,” Svetlana playfully called back from the first step of the ladder.

“Hey!” Ilya whisper-yelled, “We can’t go up there! That’s Shane’s place.”

She put out a pouty lip, trying to be convincing. “Oh come on, Ilya.”

“He could be home any minute. Seriously, get down.”

“Then let’s be quick,” she said as she ascended the ladder. “I wanna see the place you’re always going on about.”

With a loud, dramatic huff, he quickly got up the ladder to find her looking around the treehouse. She examined everything closely, looking at all the random stuff Cliff and Shane had kept in here since David built it when they were younger.

“So this is where your not-so-little crush started, huh?”

“Shut up.”

“Oh come on, I’m just messing around with you,” she laughed, pleased with herself. “Now, let’s make out.”

“Sveta.”

“I know you dream about kissing him up here, so let’s just try and get it out of your system. Maybe it’s just this place. Come on, what’s the difference if we do it here or down there?”

He rolled his eyes, but he’d take any kind of distraction he could get. They laughed, they kissed for a while, but it wasn’t going anywhere. She tried to get on her knees, but he just held her in place.

She whispered in his ear, “Are you imagining I’m him?”

He gave her the slightest, most gentle shove of the shoulder. “Oh, fuck off.”

“Oh my God, Ilya,” she laughed. “You’re so easy to work up.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Let’s go, he should be home soon.”

“Fuck, you really are whipped for him, huh?”

He had felt so stressed out the whole night. He felt like he did something terrible. It’s not like Shane even knew he was up there with Svetlana. Would he care? He probably would. But not for the reasons Ilya wishes. Shane’s specific - he likes his things the way they are, and he doesn’t like people imposing on his space. He wouldn’t like that someone was in the place he went to relax. But that’s the only reason he would be peeved. If Ilya let himself think anything beyond that, he was only playing into his own delusions.

The next day it felt like Shane somehow knew. Somehow he knew Ilya had brought someone up there. In his place. Shane didn’t talk to him the whole day, which is a pretty hard thing to do when you share a bathroom. Ilya convinced himself it was his own guilt playing tricks on him.

A month after graduation, Cliff and Ilya started working for David’s construction company. It suited Ilya in a way nothing academic ever had – work he could feel in his muscles, work he could point to and say I did that. He was grateful David took a chance on him; he’d never believed he’d shine in college, so having a real job waiting for him felt like someone had finally loosened the knot in his chest. It also kept Grigori off his back, which was its own kind of relief.

And honestly, the job was good for him. It kept him busy. It kept him moving.

It keeps him from sitting around the house, hoping Shane might walk by or that maybe – just maybe – Shane will want to talk to him.

Ilya was eighteen, freshly graduated, and Shane was in the beginning of his junior year of high school when Ilya eavesdropped on a very private conversation.

Ilya had been walking down the hall to take a quick shower before bed when he overheard Yuna and Shane talking in his room. He knew he shouldn’t have been listening, but he could hear the pain in Shane’s voice and had to investigate further.

“I’m not normal. I don’t like… I don’t like girls and I don’t even know if Cliff would like me anymore. If Ilya would. If anyone would.”

Ilya felt sick.

How could Shane think anything would affect the way Ilya feels about him? That it would affect the way Cliff feels about him. That just wasn’t even in the realm of possibility.

The implication of the conversation wasn’t lost on Ilya.

Ilya spent the whole next day figuring out what had happened. What Dallas said exactly. It was pretty easy to get information; his reputation for seeking out trouble made him pretty persuasive when he interrogated some other guys on the hockey team.

Shane wasn’t even on the team anymore - why couldn’t they just leave him alone? Shane had even put on quite a bit of muscle mass over the summer – another thing that had Ilya feeling crazy – but Shane would never throw a punch. He just wasn’t that kind of person. Not even when he should. It kills Ilya that he isn’t at the school with Shane anymore.

After he heard what Dallas called Shane, Ilya tracked him down after school at the skatepark and gave him some things to think about next time he wanted to mess with Shane.

He got in trouble with his dad for that one; news travels fast when you mess with one of the richy-rich kids – at least he could blame the marks he received on the fight with Dallas.

He felt pretty good about what he’d done. That was until Shane came bouldering through Ilya’s door, anger flashing in his eyes.

When he walked through the door, the first sound that left him was a gasp.

“So it is true,” Shane said, short and pointed as he stared at Ilya’s black eye.

Ilya opened his mouth, some cheeky remark already loaded on his tongue, but Shane was already speaking again, shocking the humor out of Ilya’s body.

“What the hell is wrong with you?”

Huh?

“Do you know how much shit I’m going to get?” Shane continued, red-faced. “No, scratch that, do you know how much shit I’m already getting for this?”

Ilya wasn’t sure what to say; he was pretty positive he beat any unsatisfactory ideas out of Dallas’s head.

“Did Dallas say something?” Ilya was finally able to punch out.

“No. But his whole posse did,” Shane spoke with disdain. “Yeah, Ilya, ’cause didn’t you know? I’m such a pussy I need to unleash my older brother’s friend while I go cry.”

Is that all I am?

“How did you even know?” Shane’s cheeks went even redder, but with realization rather than anger. “Did you um… did someone tell you what he said?”

“No.” He didn’t want Shane to feel embarrassed or like Ilya was thinking of him differently. It was a word boys threw around as an insult without knowing the damage they’d cause. “I just heard that he was being a dick, and I’m the only one who gets to be a dick to you.”

The tightness in Ilya’s chest loosened a little when a small smile crept over Shane’s lips.

It didn’t last long. His serious demeanor quickly returned.

“Look,” Shane said sternly. “Please just leave it alone. I can handle it, okay?”

Ilya thinks about the way Shane cried in his room last night. The way he begged Yuna to listen to what he was really saying. The way he thought anything would make Ilya adore him any less.

Did Shane really expect Ilya to do nothing?

“Okay,” Ilya said. He didn’t want to upset Shane any further.

Shane gave him a small nod before leaving Ilya’s room.

Ilya cringes at himself when he thinks about the treehouse incident. You know, the one where he went crazy and kissed Shane.

He doesn’t cringe about what happened, even though he should never have done that.

He cringes at himself.

“Do you want me to show you?”

He doesn’t know what came over him - or maybe he does, and that’s the problem. His feelings got loud, louder than his sense, and he did what he always does when he wants something too much: he got selfish. He lied about Svetlana, clung to a story everyone already believed because it gave him cover.

He wants to pretend it wasn’t deliberate, but it was.

Because if he didn’t hide behind that lie, Shane would’ve freaked out the second Ilya let the truth slip – that he wanted to kiss him so badly it hurt.

(Who even does that? Who offers to be someone’s first kiss? It sounded like something out of a cheesy Netflix original, and he knew it. He was embarrassingly, painfully obvious.)

Ilya was working desperately hard to come off calm, cool, and collected while the devil on his shoulder pulled on his strings like he was some kind of puppet.

He couldn’t help himself. Shane was pacing, shaking, unraveling right in front of him, and Ilya’s stupid heart decided that meant he had to intervene. Had to help.

At least, that’s the lie he clung to.

He repeated it like a man pleading his case in court, swearing he was innocent even as guilt sat heavy on his tongue.

He’d never admit that it’s really because his self-control is basically a walnut in a windstorm.

But Shane – besides the freaked-out nature – had looked so good. He always does. He was cleaned up though, in a Shane way. He wore a plain white T-shirt, black pants, and some Nike Dunks which wasn’t crazy, but it wasn’t the jeans and a hoodie he typically wore.

Ilya saw an opportunity and fuck was he going to take it.

He didn’t care about being selfish in that moment; he took whatever he could get. He touched the freckles that haunted him in his sleep, and he couldn’t even stop the smile that hurt his face.

He’d been close to Shane countless times.

That part wasn’t new.

But being close to Shane like this? Oh. Oh, that was new. And the way Shane’s big brown doe eyes stared back at him, stunned and unsure, made Ilya feel like he might melt straight through the floorboards.

He licked his lips. Of course he did. How could he not when the boy in front of him looked so delicious. Shane tracked the movement, and that was all Ilya needed. He could feel his breathing start to become heavier; he gripped onto Shane’s neck just to move him the way he desired.

Ilya was hoping it would suck. That this whole thing was just some weird hormonal infatuation.

It didn’t suck.

The kiss only fueled the want that burned through him.

The kiss was probably the most modest, chaste kiss he had ever experienced, yet it still outranked any intimate moment he’s ever had.

It overshadowed everything else so much that he did the most boneheaded thing possible and leaned in again.

Okay so who the hell possessed him and did that? What happened to all these years of restraint? Bending the knee once, okay you know, we’re all human, who could blame him? But twice?! Less than a minute apart – fuck – less than ten seconds apart.

This is the greed they talk about in the bible.

It didn’t even matter that Shane leaned in too. He was just following Ilya’s lead.

Ilya, who couldn’t help himself; it was like his body had leaned in before his brain even caught up.

It was a good thing Cliff interrupted them when he did.

Ilya was shocked he even got words out after that. His whole body felt like a spark that was about to blare into a wildfire. He wanted more. He needed more. He had half a mind to just lean in and take what he wanted.

But he wouldn’t do that to Shane. He couldn’t. He’d already stolen a moment that wasn’t his, a closeness Shane never actually offered, and the guilt of it sat heavy in his chest.

No matter how much Shane looked like he was feeling the same tension Ilya was, he would never dare let himself believe it was anything more than that. More than just some normal human want or a taboo idea about things he couldn’t have.

When he looked at Shane one last time, he couldn’t deny the smile that took control over his features. He tried his best to play it off as a cocky smirk, while forcing the words “Goodnight, Hollander” out of his mouth.

The second Ilya shut the door his heartbeat was so fast he honest-to-God thought his heartrate was going to be the cause of him falling off this little wooden ladder.

He went inside and found Cliff leaning on the counter casually, typing something on his phone before looking to Ilya.

“Was Shane up there?”

Ilya could feel his face get even hotter than it already was, which seemed impossible.

“Um no, I haven’t seen him tonight.”

Ilya has no clue why he lied. It’s not like he didn’t interact with Shane around the house daily. It wouldn’t be weird or some crazy circumstance for Ilya and Shane to be alone together. Especially in Shane’s place.

“Damn okay. I just wanted to wish him luck before his date. He seemed really stressed out about it, I was hoping to talk some wisdom into him.”

“I’m sure he’s fine.” Ilya felt shame slipping in. “Besides, I don’t think he wants your terrible advice.”

“Oh shut up, Roz,” Cliff gave him an eye roll. “Like you’d do any better.”

Ilya’s stomach flipped at that because Cliff has no idea what Ilya just did. How he most definitely didn’t do any better.

“Hey,” Cliff said. “Why do you look so flushed? What were you doing up there?”

“Um,” say something, ANYTHING! “I was just doing some pushups.”

Cliff lifted an eyebrow at that. “Pushups? You fucking show-off. Let’s get out of here, I’ll text Shane good luck from the both of us.”

Ilya grimaced at that.

After that, Ilya had been trying to keep his distance. Trying to put out the idea that oh that’s just Rozanov. Because it is! Ilya did this all the time. It’s not like anything happened with the girls he hooked up with. It’s not like he felt the need to check in with them after and call and text. They didn’t even hook up. It was just a small, informative kiss. So why would he be all clingy with Shane? If he did that, it would seem like more than it is.

And it’s not more than that. It can’t be.

He’s hoping the distance will calm down his thoughts about Shane that make him feel like the town creep preying on his friend’s innocent little brother.

Sure, Shane is only a year and a half younger than Ilya… but still!

And he knows he told Shane nothing would change between them, but that was before the life-altering kiss. That was before he fully understood the gravity of the situation.

How could one small peck change everything?

Ilya already knew what his feelings were at this point - fuck, he’s had them since he was ten years old. But now he did something really stupid. Really stupid. Something really stupid and irreversible.

Because what made him think he had any right to that? Any right to Shane.

Sure. They’re close. He lives at the Hollanders. But he wasn’t good enough for Shane. He’ll never be good enough for Shane.

Shane is the sun, and Ilya is merely a plant that only lives and breathes if Shane graces him with his presence.

And besides that. There was Cliff.

He has to remind himself of that constantly.

Cliff is his best friend. Cliff is the reason Ilya has a home that isn’t under the brutal hand of his father. Cliff is the reason Ilya has Yuna and David. Cliff is the reason Ilya even knows Shane.

And what does Ilya do? Kisses his brother.

God, Ilya is such a piece of shit.

So it’s for the best really.

He has too much to lose. If he keeps being stupid and giving into his feelings, he’s going to hurt Shane. He’s going to give him even more evidence toward how much of a piece of shit Ilya is. And if he did that, he would sure as hell lose Cliff. Yuna. David.

Shane is a risk. Shane is a temptation that threatens Ilya’s entire wellbeing. He can’t lose the Hollanders. He can’t risk everything they have been so kind to give him even though he deserves none of it.

It proved to be very difficult avoiding Shane leading up to his Russia trip. He tried to pick up as many shifts as he could but nonetheless, he did in fact sleep down the hall.

Shane texted him while he was in Russia that summer. Ilya’s heart betrayed him and leaped when he saw the notification. His phone was seriously burning a hole through his pocket. It was all he could think about. His thumbs hovered over his keyboard more times than he could count but he knew himself. If he sent a response, he wouldn’t stop.

So he didn’t.

It was killing him. His own doing. And he deserves it.

The distance was making things even worse. His dreams came back tenfold. He tried distracting himself. Working out, hooking up, going out. But alone in his bed at night only brought him back to one thing. Shane.

He honestly blacked out when he came home and had to see Shane again. He can’t even really remember what he said or did, definitely something dismissive of the whole thing because all he knows is they both seemed to be acting like nothing happened.

Even though he knows that’s what has to happen, it kills him how different things feel. How different Shane seems. Not even in a bad way either. He’s hanging out with more friends. He’s gotten even more into a routine with Cliff’s weights – another thing that’s torturing Ilya – and he just seems to be more involved with things that don’t pertain to Ilya. More things that keep him from the house. Keep him from sitting in the treehouse while Ilya sits on the roof. Keep him from…

Ilya should be glad. He shouldn’t feel any kind of way about it. He has absolutely no right to.

He got a second job on the nights anyway, just some extra income. Him and Cliff want to get a place eventually. Although they aren’t too sure it will be super soon. They have a good thing at the Hollanders. And with Shane leaving for school at the end of the upcoming summer, the awkwardness will soon subside.

His busy schedule also aids in him not having to see Shane twenty-four-seven – or the lack of him at the house, which drives Ilya unreasonably insane. He doesn’t want Shane to be at the house. But he also doesn’t want to see Shane not at the house. Because he wants Shane at the house. But he in no way, shape, or form can be in the house if Shane is also there.

He spends a lot of nights on Svetlana’s floor just to be anywhere else.

It’s all very selfish on his part. He knows it. But he needs to put some space between them for a little. There are already plans with the Hollanders over the summer. Svetlana won’t be here; she’ll be in Russia before – ironically – moving to New York to intern at her uncle’s office there. So he has already planned on returning to his room down the hall from the boy he’s been feigning for like a drug.

There really is no other option in his mind. Space is what they need right now. It’s what Ilya needs.

He needs to clean his palate of Shane Hollander. He has spent half of his life being magnetized to this boy and he’s sure it’s now getting to his head. He needs to pull himself out of this bubble that contains him, Shane, and the feelings that have plagued Ilya’s mind, body, and soul the minute he laid eyes on those freckles.

Over the course of that year, Shane’s senior year, the year Ilya worked himself to the pulp just to distract himself from his own idiotic fantasies, he turned to sex and weed.

He had even gone as far as hooking up with other guys. Him and Svetlana – Cliff too for like a month before he started dating Katie that year – would drive out to the next city over and go clubbing. Not being in their own city allowed Ilya to feel freer to… experiment. Freer to do things he didn’t want getting back to his father.

His hope was that his feelings for Shane, his obsession really, was just an itch. While he was never interested in another guy besides Shane, it wasn’t like he didn’t notice other guys. It’s not like he didn’t let himself stare and appreciate a hot stranger. Hell, he’s flirted with plenty of men – not that he had any intention for things to go further before this year, flirting just happened to be a default setting. It didn’t really matter who was on the receiving end.

He would make eyes at someone, he’d buy them a drink – or vice versa – they’d dance, maybe make out, and sometimes, he would go back to their place.

It wasn’t like it was all that strange to Ilya. He was a naturally sexual being. Like flirting, it didn’t really matter who he was doing it with. The mechanics of it all were obviously different, a large learning curve that came with inevitable awkwardness.

But after enough tries, it was obvious: the physical fix wasn’t the thing he was starving for.

Nothing compared. Nothing made him stop thinking about that one stupid kiss. The one that should have never happened. The giddiness that accompanied the memory was overshadowed by the shame that always followed.

The worst was always the dreams. The dreams he could never pinch himself awake from. He didn’t want to. At least not in the moment.

Afterwards though? Afterwards he is only ever reminded that that’s all it is.

A dream.

There is a party going on at Zane’s house over winter break of Shane’s senior year, and Ilya comes with Svetlana. Cliff is busy with Katie that night, so Ilya takes the sole responsibility of watching over Shane. Not that he had been asked to.

Ilya has been doing his best to keep his distance. They are still in that weird place where they both act like everything is fine, but they definitely don’t feel fine. So he watches from afar and tries his best to seem interested in the multitude of conversations he is being pulled into.

It takes everything in him not to step in and tell Shane to slow down with the alcohol; Shane never drinks like that. But it isn’t Ilya’s place. Who is he to tell Shane what to do?

It isn’t until Ilya hears yelling from the living room that he allows himself to get closer.

When he gets into the room, he can see Dallas and Gil towering over Shane, twisted smiles painted on their faces. Shane is still standing tall, clearly trying his best to stand his ground.

“Yeah, Hollander,” Gil continues his shouting. “How does it feel to be a fag-”

Ilya is shoving Gil to the side before he can even finish the sentence.

“What was that, Comeau?” Ilya asks, crouching over him. “Were you saying something?”

“Asshole,” Dallas says as he takes a step toward Ilya.

Ilya turns to him, his fists not fully raised, but slightly lifted and already white-knuckled. Dallas is stupid, but he is smart enough to keep his mouth shut. Ilya is still going to give them a piece of his mind, make sure they understand the consequences of fucking with Shane, but they are in luck. Ilya is quickly distracted when Shane is nowhere to be found in the room.

Ilya runs out the front door, seeing a tussle of black hair storming away down the street.

“Shane,” Ilya calls out.

Shane just keeps walking. Ilya picks up his pace, turning to more of a quick jog in order to close the gap between them.

“Shane,” Ilya says, finally able to grab his bicep.

Shane yanks his arm out of Ilya’s grip aggressively.

“I don’t understand you!” Shane shouts, clearly letting the things he’s been keeping bottled up out. “You say nothing’s gonna change, then you ignore me completely. You didn’t even respond when I tried to text you. Then what? Now you want to be here? I don’t need your fucking protection. Maybe you should go coddle your girlfriend.”

Ilya is taken aback. “Shane, he called you a-”

“Yeah. I know. I was there, Rozanov.” He looks away, anger on his face, but Ilya knows the look in his eyes. Yes, anger - he is probably the maddest Ilya has ever seen him - but the way tears well in his eyes, Ilya recognizes the pain. The cry for help.

“Just don’t do the thing you always do,” Shane continues.

“What do I always do?”

“Act like you care.”

What?

“You think I don’t care?” Ilya asks, dumbfounded.

“Just go back inside, Ilya.”

For the first time, he doesn’t like the way Shane says his name. He should go inside. He purposefully ignored Shane, didn’t reach out because he wanted Shane to think he was an asshole. He wanted Shane to think that was just the usual thing Ilya did. It is the usual thing Ilya does. It was just a kiss. And that’s all it was supposed to be. Why would one kiss do anything for him. It didn’t.

Except it did.

And now, even though he needs to give Shane a reason to stay away, he doesn’t want Shane to think he doesn’t care about him. That he - Ilya - doesn’t care about him - Shane. It’s Shane. How could he think Ilya didn’t care about him?

“I care about you,” is all Ilya is able to squeak out.

Shane lets out a laugh that makes Ilya want to cower into a corner.

“Well, you sure have a funny way of showing it. You know what they’re going to say. I mean fuck, Ilya, I’m having déjà vu right now. You say you care but you don’t fucking listen. You wouldn’t have done that in there if you cared about me. You wouldn’t have fucking kissed me that night if you cared about me.”

Even though the results are exactly what he intended, Ilya doesn’t like this. He doesn’t like this at all. Because he does care about Shane. Underneath all the vibes and the feelings and the confusing moments that leave him wanting more, this is Shane Hollander. And Ilya isn’t good enough for him. Ilya is just some guy who bums a place to live and sticks around like some guest overstaying their welcome.

He knows that.

But he couldn’t help himself. He loves the Hollanders. He loves Cliff. He loves Yuna and David. And fuck, of course he loves Shane. No matter how crazy that is for him to say. But he does. He always has. And that’s the problem. He’s worked so hard not to give in, even when it makes him feel like he’s going to explode. But he just had to be the selfish prick he was and take from Shane. Shane who was always giving. Always there.

Ilya was just a fraud.

“It didn’t mean anything to you,” Shane spits. “It didn’t mean anything to me. So let’s just fucking forget about it, Ilya.”

Shane walks away. Ilya doesn’t stop him.

He wants to. God, he wants to. But he also knows he lost the right to reach for him the second he let his feelings slip out of the place he’d kept them buried for years. He wishes he could forget the whole thing - wipe his memory clean, Men-in-Black style - and go back to how it was before he’d been so stupid.

But if pretending nothing happened is what Shane needs, then Ilya will pretend. He’ll do anything for Shane. Even this. Especially this.

So, after that, anytime he sees Shane - which is here and there - it’s cordial. Not relaxed and easy like it used to be. Ilya tries his best to seem like the same old Ilya, but even the short bits he sees of Shane make his heart race.

Back to his present-day spot at the skatepark, Ottawa is finally waking up now, the low hum of cars filling the streets, people starting to drift across intersections. Ilya watches the city stretch itself awake.

He knows he needs to go to Svetlana’s and grab some of his things before she leaves for the summer. Needs to come up with something to tell Yuna, who’s been texting nonstop, worried about him. David sees him at work frequently. David isn’t the type to pry, but the quiet comments make it obvious he cares. That he is worried too.

Ilya will figure something out. He always does. He isn’t too concerned about what they’ll say when he finally walks back into the house after only coming by once a week for the last few months. They are always understanding. Another thing for Ilya to take advantage of.

He is more worried about what one particular person will say.

Or not say.

The pretending is almost worse than the truth.

It is going to be an excruciating summer. He knows he needs to talk to Shane - really talk. Not the conversational shit they are doing. He doesn’t know what he’ll say, only that he can’t let his feelings take the wheel again. That was how they ended up here in the first place.

He’s been hiding those feelings since he was ten.

What is one more summer.

Chapter End Notes

NEXT TIME ON CLOSE ENOUGH TO HURT:
-Summer, confrontations, a Hollander family trip, a party that leads to a car parked at a viewpoint, and more...☀️❌🌲🌅

Trying to decide if I am gonna switch POV chapter to chapter or mid-way through the chapter. I'm thinking mid-way but we'll see. I fear I will have to end up splitting the content up that I have planned.

I HOPE YOU LIKE THIS TYSM FOR READING😘🥰❤️🫰🏼

Chapter 3: Ode to a Conversation Stuck in Your Throat

Chapter Summary

Shane and Ilya spend the whole summer getting more confused, and increasingly feral about each other. There’s a family trip, unsolicited advice from a friend, a house all to themselves, and a car conversation that detonates every boundary they’ve been pretending to have.

Chapter Notes

WHEW DOGGY🥵🥵🥵

Guys I did not plan for this chapter to be so long.... I was like 10,000 words will be good... 16,434 words later... I had fully planned to put all of summer in this chapter (there's not too much left but still too much for me to add here), but I obviously can't plan properly. I would've cut it off somewhere sooner, but I literally just didn't want to hehehehehehe🤗🤭

Also we’re moving into alternating POVs. Now go easy on me cause I’ve never done multiple POVs so I’m trying to get the hang of it.

PREVIOUSLY ON CLOSE ENOUGH TO HURT:
-Shane Hollander has always yearned for his older brother's best friend.
-Ilya Rozanov has always yearned for his best friend's younger brother.
-A "practice" kiss turned their relationship to close and comfortable to emotionally catastrophic.
-Almost two years of avoidance, longing, and terrible communication later, they’re suddenly spending the whole summer in each other’s orbit again before Shane leaves for NYU at the end of August.

🎶This chapters song is Ode to a Conversation Stuck in Your Throat by Del Water Gap
CLOSE ENOUGH TO HURT PLAYLIST

CHAPTER 3: Ode to a Conversation Stuck in Your Throat

Shane sits at the kitchen island, eating his eggs and thinking of nothing but Ilya.

Ilya’s only been back home a couple of days, and already everything Shane tried to shove down is clawing its way back up. He hates how many conflicting feelings he still has. He wants to be mad. He wants to be a brat and ignore him. But that would make everything too obvious. Shane’s never been great at hiding his emotions and he refuses to look even more pathetic than he already feels.

He cringes at the memory of that stupid party – the one where he definitely said too much, even if the details are still foggy. If he slips again, it won’t just be Ilya who notices. His whole family will. Cliff will ask questions. And Shane isn’t putting himself in a position to lie to his brother more than he already has.

Not that any of it matters, because Shane’s all talk. Ilya’s presence still turns his spine to jelly. Shame curls in his stomach every time it happens, but it’s like the second Ilya is near, Shane’s want for him overrides every rational thought. He tries to stick to a script, to keep his brain online, but sometimes it lags – slipping back into their old rhythm before he can stop it.

That’s proven the moment Ilya comes down the stairs.

In a towel. Just a towel.

He crosses the kitchen like it’s nothing, tosses a pair of Eggos into the toaster, and Shane immediately drops his gaze to his plate. His pulse jumps everywhere at once — that jittery, post-fight anxiety you get when you care too much about someone who can hurt you without even trying.

The room is quiet.

Then Ilya slurps his coffee loudly. The way he knows Shane hates.

Shane ignores it. Keeps his eyes down.

Another slurp.

Shane’s eyes flick up despite himself, and Ilya is already looking at him.

Shane squints, then looks back down.

The toaster pops. Ilya drowns his waffles in butter and syrup. Shane can’t believe he eats like that and still looks carved from stone. He’s always been built, but working with his hands has made him… broader. Rougher. Very distracting.

“Just say it,” Ilya says.

Shane looks up at Ilya’s smirking face.

“What?”

“You think I don’t know that disgusted face? I’ve seen it plenty of times.”

“Do you know how bad that is for you?”

“Ugh, Hollander. So boring.”

Shane’s smile fades as he looks back at his eggs.

“You’re home,” he says quietly after a second.

“I’m home.”

“For how long?”

“What do you mean?”

“You haven’t really been around the house much,” Shane says, trying not to let the disappointment bleed through.

It’s quiet. Maybe he shouldn’t have said anything.

“I am… sorry,” Ilya says finally. “About the party. I just couldn’t stand there watching Gil and Dallas talk to you like that. I’ve been feeling bad about it.”

Shane freezes. Should he say something? Should he bring up the conversation he only remembers in fragments? He doesn’t find an answer fast enough.

“We have become very close over the years, yes?” Ilya asks.

“Um… well, yeah.”

“You mean a lot to me,” Ilya says seriously.

Shane’s breath catches. He doesn’t know what to say. Of course he knows he means something to Ilya. But Shane desperately wants it to mean more. 

“I didn’t mean to overstep or make anything worse for you,” Ilya continues. “I wasn’t thinking straight. I saw red and I didn’t think about what you’d want. I mean, Hollander, you are…”

What? Shane is what? He hangs onto every word like they’re gold.

“…Cliff’s little brother. I feel responsible to look out for you when he’s not around. You know, like a brother would.”

Oh. Right.

What was he expecting? Why does he let himself get so blinded by Ilya that all reason flies out the window going ninety on the highway? He’s Cliff’s little brother. And Ilya is Cliff’s friend. That’s all they are.

“You and me,” Ilya says. “We’re friends.”

It sounds more like a statement than a question.

“Yeah,” Shane says. “Yeah, we’re friends.”

“I just want us to be okay.”

Shane isn’t sure they’ll ever go back to being “okay” the way they were before. But he nods anyway.

“We are okay.”

“Are we?”

They look at each other for a long moment.

“I’ve missed you, Hollander,” Ilya says.

Shane’s heart clenches.

“I’ve missed you too.”

Ilya smiles, grabs his plate, and walks past him. As he goes, he squeezes the back of Shane’s neck – one firm press, two soft taps.

Heat blooms across Shane’s skin where Ilya touched him.

Why is he like this? Why does he crumble at one touch?

But it’s true. He did miss Ilya. He does. No matter how much he tries to deny it.

Maybe this is better. Maybe having Ilya like this – in his life and talking to him – is better than not having him at all.

Shane isn’t sure how many more mornings with a shirtless Ilya he can survive.

Ilya drives with both hands locked at ten and two, shoulders tight, jaw clenched so hard it aches.

Cliff’s music blasts through the car – Sugar by BROCKHAMPTON – cutting through the static in his head. Ilya keeps his eyes fixed on the road; his posture is stiff, back straight, elbows tucked in like he’s taking a driving test. He refuses to look in the rearview mirror out of habit. If he looks, he’ll see Shane in the backseat. And if he sees Shane, he’ll start thinking again.

He’s already thinking too much.

They usually make this trip for a week or two, but David has work to handle, so it’ll be shorter this year. Still, the next few days feel like a weight pressing on Ilya’s chest.

He thinks about the past couple of weeks – being back at the Hollanders’ house, but not really there. He’s been working long hours, and Cliff too. They both agreed to take more part-time shifts with the construction company for the summer, and Ilya quit his second job. They promised each other they’d take it easy. Enjoy the break.

But that morning with Shane… it’s all he can think about.

He’s relieved, in a way. Relieved that Shane didn’t seem angry. Relieved that they could talk without everything falling apart. But having to hide behind the façade of ‘like a brother would’ tastes foul in his mouth.

There’s nothing he wants less than to be associated with the word brother when it comes to Shane. Ilya, that word, and Shane shouldn’t even exist in the same sentence. But he swallowed it anyway. He said what he needed to say to ease the tension, to reset them back to something normal. Something where he could still flirt lightly, still touch Shane’s shoulder or neck without feeling like he’s crossing a line that’ll ruin everything.

At least, he hopes that’s what it does.

Because he would rather have Shane in his life in any capacity than not at all. He can bear the pain of wanting him. He’s been trying to come to terms with that for a long time. Maybe it’s just a pain he needs to get used to.

“Why are you driving like that?” Cliff asks suddenly, ripping Ilya from his own thoughts.

Ilya’s grip tightens again before he forces his fingers to relax. “What are you talking about?”

“You’re driving like we’ve got the president in the car. Come on, man. Put some stank on it.”

Ilya snorts, the sound sharp and involuntary. He loosens his shoulders, lets his spine curve back into something more human. Color returns to his knuckles.

“Stank on it? Who even says that?”

“I’m trying it out.”

“Well, stop. It sounds like something a middle-aged gym teacher would say.”

“Oh, fuck off. Shane, back me up.”

Ilya tilts his head just enough to steal a glance at the backseat. Shane doesn’t look away from the window as he answers.

“Cliff, do you really have to ask what I think about you saying, ‘put some stank on it’?”

Ilya bites back a laugh, his lips twitching.

Cliff groans. “Seriously, dude, what’s up? You’re making me tense with how worked up you are.”

Ilya risks a quick glance in the mirror and catches Shane’s eyes looking back at him. Shane looks away first. Ilya snaps his gaze back to the road.

“Nothing,” he says. “Just a little tired, I guess.”

Understatement of the century. His stomach has been churning since they got in the car. Since he realized how close he and Shane will be for the next few days.

“Maybe you should do some yoga with Shane when we get there,” Cliff says.

Shane reaches from the back seat, punching him in the arm.

“Hey! I didn’t even say anything!”

“You were thinking it. I could tell by your face.”

“You can’t see my face.”

“I can hear it.”

Cliff scoffs and looks at Ilya. “Shane started doing some yoga shit. I swear eventually his foot is gonna reach the back of his head. I’m convinced he just likes the girl who makes the videos.”

“Cliff, shut up!”

Ilya feels something tighten in his chest. He wonders if Shane will ever say something to Cliff? Will he ever say something to him? Has Ilya made it so Shane will never want to come out? Never want to trust him with that part of himself?

He forces his jaw to unclench, but it locks again almost immediately.

They take this trip every year. The Hollanders have a cottage a few hours away, and usually Ilya’s excited. He loves any time he gets to feel like part of their family.

But this year, he can’t shake the pit in his stomach. The same pit that’s lived there since that night in the treehouse a year and a half ago.

He straightens his posture, rolls his shoulders back, and exhales slowly through his nose.

Time to act his ass off.

Shane is – believe it or not – planning on trying his best to be normal on this trip.

It would be way too noticeable to his family if he and Ilya were anything other than their usual chummy selves. So he keeps his eyes glued to the window, refusing to let himself focus on Ilya’s reflection in the rearview mirror. He can feel Ilya looking at him. It takes every ounce of strength he has not to look back.

But he still slips.

Every time Ilya turns his attention back to the road, Shane finds himself staring. Staring at the curls falling over his forehead, at the way his jaw is tighter than usual, at the way his hands grip the wheel too hard. His jaw looks sharp enough to cut glass.

Shane needs air. Badly.

When they pull up to the cottage, the Hollanders are already climbing out of their own Jeep.

“Oh my, we thought you boys let Shane drive,” Yuna calls out. “Ilya, you usually treat these roads like a raceway. Are you okay?”

Everyone laughs. Shane sees Ilya’s jaw clench hard.

Inside, the house is exactly the same. Their baby pictures lining the hallway, there’s the familiar smell of cedar and old board games pile the shelves. Shane heads straight upstairs to his room, needing a second to breathe.

He barely gets the door closed before Yuna follows him up.

“Ilya needs to stay with you,” she says.

Typically, Cliff and Ilya would share rooms, but since Cliff’s girlfriend Katie is driving herself here tonight and his parents were suddenly super chill and just so cool with them sharing a room, Shane will have to suffer.

Shane freezes. “What? Why? Why can’t he just sleep in the living room?”

“Shane, you know I hate people sleeping in shared areas. I don’t want to be tiptoeing around. What’s the big deal? You two have shared rooms plenty of times.”

“Yeah,” he mutters, “when we were kids.”

She gives him a look, the kind that sees too much.

“Is something going on with you guys?”

“No, Mom.”

“Then what is it?”

Shane doesn’t answer. He can’t.

“Okay, well… then it’s nothing.” She smiles softly and sighs. “God, I love that we can still make time for this trip. Remember that year you got so mad at Cliff for not telling you about going fishing? You were so worked up I thought you’d be in a mood all day. Do you remember what got you to calm down?”

Of course he does. It wasn’t what calmed him down. It was who. Ilya had taken him to the dock himself and taught him how to fish.

“Yeah, Mom. I remember.”

“I swear, you wouldn’t let anyone talk to you. But Ilya’s always been able to get you to calm down. He’s pretty great, huh? I’m so happy you have him, and him you.”

“And Cliff,” Shane adds quickly.

“And Cliff too.”

Shane looks down at his hands. He can’t deny it. He misses Ilya. He misses the way they used to talk. The way he didn’t feel so weird around him.

“Fine,” he sighs. “We can share the room. But he’s sleeping on the ground.”

Yuna laughs, smoothing a hand through his hair and down to his cheek. “I’ll blow up the air mattress.”

When she leaves, Shane sits on the edge of his bed and exhales hard.

He really needs to get his act together.

He’s letting his emotions hijack his entire nervous system, and it’s not healthy or smart. His mom is observant. Being this close to Ilya in a confined space while acting off is a recipe for questions – questions Shane absolutely does not want asked.

He doesn’t want to explain that ever since Ilya kissed him his junior year, his whole world has felt off-kilter. Not just because his feelings intensified, but because something in the air between them shifted. Even when they pretended everything was fine, Shane knew things had changed. He had changed. And it felt like Ilya had changed too.

Had he?

Probably not. Ilya was just helping him out. That’s all the kiss was to him. Shane was stupid for getting upset about it. What did he think was going to happen? That one kiss would magically make Ilya gay? That one kiss would turn them into… what? A couple?

Yeah.

He was being delusional.

It’s tradition that no matter where they go, the cottage or some other family trip destination, they always swim once the sun goes down on the first night.

Summers in Ontario are warm during the day, but the lake water is never exactly comfortable. Ilya never minds. The cold against his skin makes him feel alive, like it shocks him back into his body. Like it reminds him he’s here, breathing, real.

Katie arrives a few hours after them, so the four of them – Shane, Cliff, Katie, and Ilya – wander down the familiar path together. The trees open up to the same little bank they’ve always used, the one worn smooth by years of their footprints.

Cliff and Katie barely last a minute before announcing they’re going “somewhere private,” leaving Shane and Ilya standing alone at the water’s edge.

It usually doesn’t feel awkward.

Tonight it does.

Ilya refuses to let that ruin their tradition. Or at least, he’s going to try.

“Well,” he says, clapping his hands once, “are we gonna swim or not?”

Shane blinks. “Oh. Um… just us?”

“Yes, Hollander. Would you prefer we stand here and admire the view? We’ve swam together before, have we not?”

Shane’s cheeks flush instantly. Ilya feels something warm flicker in his chest. He loves the way the smallest things make Shane’s face glow. Half the time he’s not even trying to fluster him, and somehow it still happens. Like now.

If he doesn’t start undressing, they’ll never get in the water. He wants Shane to join him, but if he teases too much, Shane might bail and head back to the house. So Ilya keeps it casual, or at least he tries to. The brisk air hits his skin as he peels off his layers, and he can feel Shane’s eyes flicker toward him, then away, then back again in quick, guilty bursts.

Why does he feel like this? He’s never been shy about his body. If anything, he’s always been more comfortable wearing almost nothing. He knows he’s built well. He knows he looks good. He’s never had a problem walking around with just a towel around his hips, especially if it meant catching a glimpse of Shane’s pink cheeks.

But right now? He feels exposed. Awkward. A little insecure, even.

What the hell is that?

He takes a slow breath, trying to swallow down the anxiety buzzing in his chest. He doesn’t want it to take over the night. As much as he dreads the tension between them, he’d do anything to have Shane to himself for a little while.

He gets down to his swim trunks and steps toward the water.

“Are you coming, Hollander?” he calls, walking backward so he can keep Shane in sight.

Shane bites his bottom lip and that face he makes when he’s deciding whether to do the thing he wants or the thing he thinks he should appears. Ilya knows that look too well. He used to know exactly when to push Shane. Now he’s not sure he trusts himself with anything involving Shane’s thoughts.

The freezing water wraps around Ilya’s legs, then his waist, then his chest. He gasps quietly at the shock of it.

Ilya watches as Shane slowly takes his layers off. He tries not to stare, he doesn’t want to do anything to spook him back into his clothes, but he allows his eyes to drift to his now bare upper body. The weight training Shane has been doing the past couple years has been paying off. It’s not that Shane was weak by any means; having some muscle was needed if you were going to play hockey and be hurled into the boards, but his body now? Ilya has a hard time not just staring with his jaw on the floor. He isn’t as big as Ilya or Cliff, but his body’s definitely passed “just toned.” He can’t help but think about the push and pull between them. The way he wants to pin Shane’s arms down and-

He forces his gaze away before his thoughts go somewhere they shouldn’t when Shane starts moving towards the water, only allowing himself to look again when Shane loudly sucks in a sharp breath.

His teeth loudly chatter the whole way to Ilya as he wallows in the water.

“Oh my God,” Shane says. “This is terrible. Fuck! I can’t get a full breath.”

He starts heaving, arms flailing around as he starts bobbing up and down rapidly.

“I-I think I’m freaking out.”

“Okay, okay,” Ilya tries to soothe, “Hollander you are having panic attack,” Ilya reaches his hands forward under the water until he feels the soft skin of Shane’s waist. He grips and pulls Shane towards him. “Grab on my shoulders.”

Normally, Shane would argue. This frozen, wailing arms, chattering teeth version of Shane is pliant under Ilya’s command.

Shane’s hands are ice cubes on Ilya’s shoulders but there’s a heat that sizzles under his touch and settles lower in Ilya’s chest and stomach. Ilya pulls Shane’s body against his.

“Put your weight on me,” Ilya murmurs.

Shane’s thighs instinctively tighten around him. Ilya swallows hard.

“Breathe” Ilya whispers.

Their eyes meet.

Shane’s breath is loud in the small space between them. Ilya loops one arm around Shane’s back, holding him up, and slides his other hand up to the back of Shane’s neck, rubbing gently. It’s not the easiest way to keep them afloat, but the way Shane exhales in a relieved manner makes it worth it.

A drop of water slides from Shane’s hair, down past his freckles, and curves around his slightly parted mouth. Ilya’s eyes track it before he forces himself to look back up.

Shane’s breathing slows. His big brown eyes search Ilya’s face.

“You okay?” Ilya asks softly.

“Yeah,” Shane whispers. “I’m okay. Thanks.”

They stare at each other. It’s probably only a few seconds, but it feels like an eternity. Ilya could stay like this – Shane wrapped around him, trusting him – forever.

But that’s a fantasy. A dangerous one.

If he doesn’t break the moment now, he’ll get himself into another mess he can’t get out of.

“We should go back,” he says.

“Oh. Yeah. Okay.”

The moment Shane lets go, Ilya’s skin itches with the loss of contact. He forces himself to move, to follow Shane out of the water and back to their clothes.

As they walk up the trail, he mentally kicks himself. What was he doing? Holding Shane like that? Too risky. He should feel lucky the water was so cold because his body wanted nothing more than to pull Shane closer to-

No. Stop.

What else was he supposed to do? Let Shane panic? Never. It’s instinct to fix whatever hurts Shane. Bullies? Ilya was there. Panic attack? Ilya is there with a steady voice and a grounding touch he doesn’t offer anyone else. He’ll always be there until Shane tells him not to be.

They don’t say much when they get ready for bed. Shane goes through his ten-step routine, and Ilya tries not to smirk when he sees Shane’s eyes widen as he pulls his shirt off. He never sleeps with a shirt on. That’s not changing just because Shane’s in the room.

And from the way Shane keeps quickly glancing over, Ilya doesn’t think he minds.

Shane reluctantly pulls himself from sleep the next morning.

He automatically looks to Ilya’s air mattress, but he’s not there.

He shifts his gaze to the alarm clock on the nightstand. 9:03 AM.

He never sleeps that long, summer or not. But he’s not surprised. He spent most of the night tossing, turning, thinking.

Thinking about the water. About the way Ilya always knows exactly what to do to calm him down. About the way one touch from him turns Shane’s whole body to putty, even in freezing water.

He thought about it all night. Every time he drifted close to sleep, his mind replayed the moment Ilya’s hands found his waist, the way his voice softened, the way Shane’s body betrayed him.

And then, just when he finally felt himself slipping under, he heard Ilya rustling and mumbling in his sleep.

Shane sat up, watching him.

Ilya tossed and turned, making soft, incoherent sounds Shane couldn’t decipher.

Then, barely audible, “Shane.”

Shane’s breath caught. “Yeah?” he whispered.

No response.

“Ilya?”

Nothing.

Why would Ilya be saying his name in his sleep? Was he dreaming about Shane? That made no sense. Shane was overthinking. He’d had plenty of dreams with random people in them and it never meant anything.

Maybe he could ask Ilya about it.

No. That would be stupid. And humiliating. Not for Ilya but for Shane. It would be mortifying to find out Ilya didn’t even remember.

Eventually, his spiraling thoughts dragged him into sleep.

Now, he shakes the syrupy echo of Ilya’s voice from his head as he heads downstairs.

When he reaches the kitchen, he sees Ilya leaning against the counter in a black compression shirt and red basketball shorts. Shane stops dead. How is he supposed to function normally in these conditions? Is he being tested by some higher power?

He considers retreating back upstairs, but Ilya already spots him.

“Good morning, sleeping beauty,” Ilya says, sipping his coffee and smirking at Shane over the rim.

Shane forces his legs to move, heading to the other side of the island. “Good morning. Where is everyone?”

“Groceries.”

“Oh. Okay.”

“You want to run?” Ilya asks.

“Run?”

“Yeah, run. You and me. Around the property.”

“Oh, I don’t know. I’d probably just slow you down.”

“No worries. I want to enjoy the view anyway. Come on, Hollander. It’ll wake you up. And I’d love the company.”

It would be weird to say no. He used to jump at any chance to do something with Ilya. And they’re fine. Shane’s fine. He’d rather have Ilya as a friend than nothing at all.

“Fine. Let me go change first.”

“Of course. Go get all prettied up, Hollander.”

Shane hurries upstairs, cheeks burning. He knows Ilya is chirping him, but somehow it still gets to him.

The run is actually nice. Ilya is clearly going slower than he normally would and even then, Shane is still trailing behind. The view is amazing, and he’s not talking about the trees. The way Ilya’s ass moves in those loose shorts is enough motivation to keep pushing.

By the time they get back, Cliff, Yuna, and David are home and working on an early lunch. Shane and Ilya part ways without a word, and Shane heads straight for the shower.

Later that evening, Shane steps onto the porch and sees Ilya and Cliff sparring – or boxing – or whatever hybrid thing they always do. It’s like boxing mixed with wrestling mixed with self-defense.

“Hey, Shane!” Cliff calls. “Come here!”

Shane approaches cautiously. “What?”

“Let us show you some self-defense moves.”

“Um, no thank you. I don’t think I’m gonna need that.”

“Oh, come on. You won’t have us in New York to protect you. What if a mugger gets you!”

“Fine. Since you’re so worried.”

“Thank you,” Cliff says, smug. “Now, Ilya, put him in a headlock.”

“Wait, what-”

Ilya’s arm wraps around Shane’s neck, the other hand locking it in place.

“Okay,” Cliff says. “Now get out of it.”

“What? I don’t know how to get out of this! Isn’t that the whole point of you making me do this?”

How is he supposed to focus when Ilya’s entire body is pressed against his back? His thick bicep is firm against Shane’s neck isn’t tight, but there’s enough pressure that he can’t wiggle free. Shane hates the way his mind drifts to other things with Ilya’s body pressed against him like this.

“I just want to see how you’d try,” Cliff says.

Shane squirms, grabbing at Ilya’s forearms, pushing his hips back to try and cause pain, but instead he feels something unexpected subtly pressing back at him.

Shane gasps. His whole body goes rigid. Ilya clears his throat right against Shane’s ear.

“Okay, well,” Cliff says, laughing, “I’m not sure what your plan was unless the end goal was damsel in distress.”

Even if the joke is at his expense, the warm chuckle in Shane’s ear sends a shiver down his spine. He snaps out of it quickly remembering where he is, and who is here.

“First,” Cliff continues, “you want to think about the fastest way to-”

“Cliff!” David calls from the sliding door. “Come help me with the steaks.”

“Coming!” Cliff yells. He turns back to them. “Ilya, finish showing him. You’re better at this stuff anyway.”

Shane watches Cliff disappear inside. He can feel every rise and fall of Ilya’s chest against his back. The breath against his neck raises goosebumps.

“If someone has you like this,” Ilya says, voice low, “you need to regain control. Aim where it’ll hurt most. In this case, my gut or balls. Take your left elbow and drive it back.”

Shane lifts his arm slightly, aiming it low.

“To my gut!” Ilya quickly gets out. “Drive into my gut. My balls were just an example.”

Shane does it, but it doesn’t do much.

“You could at least pretend it hurt.”

Ilya laughs, still holding him. “I assure you, Hollander, it didn’t feel great. But an attacker won’t go down easily. Your instinct to grab my arms wasn’t terrible, but you should try for the face if you’re gonna do that. The eyes specifically. Come on, try.”

So Shane does. He reaches up, fingers brushing along Ilya’s cheek, moving toward his eyes.

“Okay, okay, don’t actually poke my eyes out.”

“Sorry.”

“It’s okay. You’re learning. You’re okay?”

“Yeah. I’m good. Okay, what’s next?”

“If you have the right placement, you should be able to scoop your back right foot behind mine.” Shane moves to do it. “Good. Now bend your knees and push backward while kicking your leg forward.”

Shane tries but not hard enough.

“Try again. And actually try this time.”

Shane scoffs. “I was trying.”

“I don’t think so,” Ilya says. “Unless all those muscles are just for show.”

Shane bristles. He’s not as strong as Ilya, but he can without a doubt hold his own.

“Shut up,” he snaps.

“I don’t know,” Ilya teases. “Maybe you’re still just a little kitten at heart.”

“Fuck you. I’m not.”

“Maybe you’d rather curl up in my lap and start pur-”

Shane moves fast. He kicks his foot behind Ilya’s, knees bent, full force back. Ilya loses balance and falls backward, arms flying out to catch himself. Shane lands on top of him, then scrambles up.

“Ha!” Shane shouts. “I did it!”

Ilya chuckles, sitting up with a grunt. “Look at you, Hollander.”

“Yeah. Not a kitten anymore, huh?”

Shane offers his hand. Ilya takes it.

“Mmm, no,” Ilya says. “You will always be a cute little kitten to me.”

Shane immediately let's go, dropping Ilya back onto the ground with an umph.

“How cute now?” Shane asks, turning then marching toward the house.

“Still pretty cute from down here!” Ilya calls from the ground.

Shane smirks to himself as he walks away.

Today’s good. It feels… normal.

Normal might not be the perfect word, but it’s the closest thing Ilya has felt in a long time. It’s relieving. Things with Shane still aren’t one hundred percent – not when holding himself back feels like a shark smelling blood – but talking to Shane in that familiar, lighthearted way feels like coming home.

He can handle the energy it takes not to reach out. Not to drift into Shane’s space. Not to touch him the way he always craves. He can handle it. He’s been doing it for ten years.

He’s grateful he’s always had a charismatic personality. The flirting that slips off his tongue around Shane reads more like banter than anything else.

He hopes it does.

The only issue with the day is that when Shane finally got the self-defense move right and knocked Ilya onto his back, Ilya definitely tweaked something.

It wasn’t noticeable at first, just that dull ache you get from landing weird, but as the day went on, it never improved. He stretched, had Cliff try to crack it, nothing helped.

Now he stares at the leaking air mattress with disdain. It’ll be fine for the night, but he can already imagine the pain he’ll feel in the morning.

Shane hasn’t come into the room yet, so Ilya takes the chance to stretch before bed. He’s spent the whole day trying not to let Shane know his back hurts. Knowing Shane, he’d feel awful, apologizing like he meant to hurt him, and Ilya can’t listen to Shane apologize. Shane never has anything to be sorry for.

Shane’s perfect.

So here he is, laid out on the floor of their shared room, back flat against the hardwood, one leg twisted over the other to stretch the deep, uncomfortable pull in his lower back.

He closes his eyes, breathing through the pain – the good kind of pain, the kind that loosens something tight.

The door latch clicks.

His eyes shoot open.

“Oh!” Shane says from the doorway. “Are you okay?”

Ilya scrambles up too fast, grunting as his back protests. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just some before-bed stretching.”

He rolls his shoulders, trying to ease the leftover tension. His hand instinctively squeezes at the sore spot.

“Are you sure?” Shane asks, still hovering in the doorway. He clearly doesn’t believe him. “Is your back bothering you?”

“No, no, really. I’m fine,” Ilya insists. 

Cliff walks by behind Shane, following Katie to their room. He stops. “Roz, is your back still bothering you? Want me to try cracking it again?”

Shane’s eyes snap to Ilya’s, brows furrowed.

“No!” Ilya blurts, too loud and way too fast. “I’m fine. Really.”

“Really?” Cliff laughs. “Cause you were definitely bitchin’ about it earlier.”

“I wasn’t bitching.”

“Yeah, okay, man.” Cliff claps Shane’s shoulder. “Guess we were wrong about you, Shaney. Not only did you get Ilya on his ass, but you took his back out too.”

Fucking Cliff.

“Anyway,” Cliff says, heading down the hall already, “sleep tight, my little beauticians.”

Shane gives a sweet, automatic “Goodnight, love you,” then shuts the door. He turns toward Ilya, arms crossed, one hip popped out.

“I hurt you? Why wouldn’t you just say that?" Shane asks with his arms out at Ilya in frustration. "Take the bed tonight.”

“No,” Ilya says. “I’m fine. This is why I didn’t say anything. I don’t need the bed.”

“No. You’re taking the bed. I’ll sleep on the air mattress.”

“Shane, I’m fine. Really. You’re not sleeping on this terrible fucking air mattress. You’re grumpy as hell when you don’t sleep well.”

“No I’m not, fuck you!” Shane snaps, cheeks glowing. “Then… um… we can share the bed. I don't mind.”

Shane looks at him so shyly, eyes flicking from Ilya to the floor, back to Ilya, then to the wall.

The idea ignites something hot and reckless in Ilya, but he doesn’t trust himself. Not because he’d ever cross a line but because it’s too indulgent. Too tempting. The bed isn’t tiny, but it isn’t big either. They’d perfectly fit. That’s the problem.

“It’s your room, Shane. I’m already imposing. I can sleep on the couch. Yuna won’t care for one night.”

“Ilya,” Shane says – soft, slow, and devastating – “you’re not sleeping on the couch. That’s literally no better than the air mattress.”

“I just-”

“Just get in the bed.”

Ilya nods slowly. He’s not winning this. Not when the thought of being in the same bed as Shane makes his insides tingle in a way he’s not proud of.

They change quietly, both in shorts and T-shirts. Ilya figures he should probably keep a shirt on tonight.

They slide under the covers, arms pressed together as they stare at the ceiling in silence.

Being this close to Shane without touching him feels like swallowing a hot branding iron. Ilya isn’t a back sleeper – he thinks people who sleep on their backs are psychopaths – but he’ll stay like this if it means skin-to-skin contact with Shane’s arm.

His heart is racing. Alarmingly fast, considering nothing is happening except their biceps brushing. It’s embarrassing how worked up he feels under the covers.

Shame creeps in, and he turns his back to Shane, facing the wall.

“Goodnight, Hollander.”

“Goodnight, Ilya.”

The knowledge that Shane is right here, inches away, nearly drives him insane. He wants to roll over and pull Shane into his arms. He wants Shane to curl into him. He wants to know what it feels like to hold him all night.

He fears he won’t sleep at all with his mind racing like this, but the warmth radiating from Shane’s body behind him is strangely comforting.

Eventually, between the conflicting thoughts and the steady heat at his back, Ilya drifts.

As consciousness slowly returns, Shane feels more relaxed than he has in a long time.

Unlike the other night, he sleeps like a rock. Waking up feels… rejuvenating. Somehow the bed he’s slept in for years feels softer, warmer – like heated blankets are wrapped around him.

It’s not until he shifts that he realizes why.

Ilya’s warm body is pressed against his back. Not just his body but his chest is flush with Shane’s back. One of Ilya’s arms is draped around Shane’s waist, bent so his hand rests right over Shane’s chest.

Oh no. Oh God. Oh fuck.

Shane tries to wiggle out of the hold, but the arm around him tightens instinctively. Ilya’s lips brush the shell of Shane’s ear as he breathes slow and deep, unmistakably still asleep.

How did this happen? When did their bodies drift like this?

Ilya is curled perfectly around him, like their bodies were made to fit this way. Shane knows he should try to maneuver out before Ilya wakes, but for a moment… he lets himself have this. Let's himself imagine waking up like this on purpose. Without panic. Without planning an escape route.

Just… this.

He’s pulled from the fantasy when he hears familiar sleep-mumbling.

“Shane…” Ilya breathes, barely coherent, right into his ear.

Shane’s whole-body lights up. Heat and shock makes it feel like someone dropped a grenade in his chest. How is he supposed to ignore this now? One night could be chalked up to randomness. But two? And in that voice?

And Ilya hasn’t called him “Shane” once since he got home. Only “Hollander.” Hearing his name fall from Ilya’s lips in that dreamy, unguarded tone almost breaks him.

The startle of it all makes him roll straight off the bed. He hits the floor with a thump loud enough to wake Ilya.

“Hollander?” Ilya says, groggy.

Shane pops his head up from the floor. Ilya is sitting up, rubbing sleep from his eyes.

“Hey. Um. Good morning.”

Ilya blinks at him. “You're on the floor.”

“Umm… yeah. Yeah, I was just… stretching.”

“Hm.” Ilya stretches his arms overhead and lets out a long, low moan.

the fuse in Shane’s brain overheats for a second.

“Did you, um… did you sleep okay?” he asks.

“Yeah, actually," Ilya responds on through a yawn. "I slept really well. You?”

Shane feels his cheeks heat at the memory of why he slept so well.

“Sure. Yeah. Nothing special,” he lies. “Did you um… dream about anything?”

Ilya’s eyes do that thing – scanning Shane’s face before locking onto his eyes, like he’s looking into him, not at him.

“Nope. No dreams.”

The disappointed sigh escapes before Shane can stop it. Maybe it really was nothing. Maybe it was just coincidence.

He needs a shower. A cold one. Something to shock him out of his delusional thoughts and wash away the morning horniness still buzzing through him from having Ilya wrapped around him.

“I’m gonna go shower,” he says.

“Okay.”

“Okay.”

But Shane doesn’t move. He just sits there on the floor, staring at Ilya. Studying him.

He had to be dreaming about Shane. Why else would he say his name? Shane wants to press him again, but Ilya already denied it. Still, the thought loops in his head, bouncing around until he can’t-

“Hollander.”

“Hm?”

Ilya laughs softly. “Shower.”

“Oh!” Shane jumps up and scurries out of the room, hearing Ilya chuckle behind him.

The drive home is relaxing.

Cliff is driving with Katie, so it’s just Shane and Ilya. Shane offered to drive since Ilya did on the way to the cottage, but Ilya prefers to be behind the wheel. He needs the distraction. If he isn’t focused on the road, he’ll be focused on… other things.

Shane was acting a little weird that morning, but after his shower it faded. Ilya, of course, had one of his recurring Shane dreams again.

He woke up warm and stupidly happy, like the dream was about to bleed into reality. Foolish. He knows better. Part of him wishes he could shut the dreams off; they only fuel his delusions. But another part of him never wants them to stop. They’re the one place he gets Shane the way he wants him, even if he always wakes up before anything good happens.

Tangerine by Glass Animals plays through the speakers. Ilya watches Shane sing to himself out of his peripheral, only letting himself fully turn his head when Shane looks out the window.

Shane catches him anyway.

Ilya sees Shane’s head turn – and like he’s attached by a string, Ilya’s head turns too.

The road is lined with trees, sunlight slipping through in thin, warm stripes. Shane’s arm hangs out the window, hand slicing through the air. His head sways with the music, lips mouthing the words as he takes in the view.

Shane is breathtaking. He always has been. When they were younger, Ilya didn’t understand the feeling. Only that he was entranced by the freckles scattered across Shane’s face. But the knowledge has always been there. Shane is objectively gorgeous, but it’s more than that. Shane could wear a paper bag for the rest of his life and Ilya would still think he’s beautiful. Because Shane is pretty inside and out.

It’s probably unsafe how focused on Shane Ilya is, but he makes sure to look back to the road enough, using his peripheral as much as he can. If Shane were looking forward, it’d probably look like Ilya was shaking his head like a dog the way he was trying to multitask.

He shifts his focus back to Shane after a look to the road, and right when he’s been looking at Shane for one second, Shane’s head turns towards him.

Their eyes meet.

Ilya should look back to the road. He doesn’t. Not immediately. He holds the eye contact – not for long – but long enough to see something under the surface. To see the look in Shane’s eyes that makes Ilya forget why he can’t have Shane. Why he can’t pull the car over right now, grab Shane by the face, kiss him like his life depends on it, and confess the feeling he’s been holding in.

Shane’s eyes flick to Ilya’s lips.

Ilya forgets he’s driving.

The feeling of tires drifting out of the lane and running over the wake-up bumps makes Ilya snap back into focus and jerk the car back into the lane fully. How had he gotten so distracted? His stomach flips with embarrassment, but all he can think about is Shane’s doe eyes staring at him.

He really needs to get his shit together. He almost ran them off the road just to look at Shane a second longer.

“Sorry,” he mutters.

Ilya makes his eyes lock forward, his hands gripping stiffly at ten-and-two like he did on the drive there. He digs his teeth into his lip every time he sees Shane peer over at him. Shane doesn’t seem to care one bit that Ilya can clearly see him looking – or maybe he just doesn’t realize Ilya can see. Although that just seems highly improbable. It’s hard for Ilya to think Shane would so shamelessly look at Ilya the way he is. He can see the way Shane’s surveying him, the way his eyes look out the top of his black Ray-Bans. 

Or maybe this is normal. It’s not like he’s never seen Shane looking at him before, but he never really lets himself put much meaning to it. Shane’s a known people watcher. It’s something Ilya’s always teased him about in public. He once told Shane he should just go join the conversation if he was going to be staring at them like that.

The past year and a half has been nothing but trying his best not to assign any meaning to the things Shane says or does, but being back in close proximity makes it impossible not to analyze Shane like a bomb he’s trying to defuse without instructions. Every word and every look feels like it might set something off.

He really needs to get it together.

That panicky feeling rises again, the one that started after the treehouse. The one that whispers he should give Shane space. Because everything is coming back to him. Time dulled the feelings – or suppressed them – but they never went away. And being around Shane like this, even if it’s not exactly the same, makes it impossible to think about anything except his want – no, his need.

It’s been there the whole trip. Only a few days, and Ilya’s already plotting how to maximize the rest of the summer with Shane. But that isn’t fair. Shane probably has plans before he leaves at the end of August. Who is Ilya to think he gets to fill any of that time?

Space. That’s probably what’s best. Not like before – not the radio silence or the awkward small talk as if they don’t live together and haven't shared things they’ve never told anyone else. But not like this trip either. Ilya’s insides were warm and tingly every moment he spent with Shane. Even with the fear and shame and anxiety, he was happiest with Shane. Always.

Even when he knows nothing can come of it. Even when he knows he’s being selfish.

You can lead a horse to water, but you can’t make it drink. And Ilya? He’s the horse. The water is anything even remotely logical. And the thing he keeps drifting toward instead is the ridiculous, effortless high he gets just from being near Shane.

Ilya’s pacing his room after they get home that night. Running through every moment of this trip where he almost lost all self-control.

Then Svetlana calls.

“So, anything newsworthy going on?” She inquires. 

“No, not really,” Ilya says dismissively.

“Nothing?” She asks incredulously. “Come on what about the cottage? Three days of uninterrupted time, how was it? How was Sh-”

“Ugh- Sveta, it was fine. Good. Great.”

“Mm yes, it really sounds like it,” there’s a small pause. “Any new Shilya developments then?”

“No, no. Nothing new,” he says before saying the second half through a deep exhale, “I’m just still a fucking idiot.”

“Oh my God Ilya,” annoyance obvious, “tell me something then. I doubt it’s as bad as you’re making it seem.”

“It’s nothing,” he blushes from the way his voice squeaks. “It doesn’t matter. This can’t be a thing. This can’t be anything. It isn’t anything. I’m just gonna give him some space.”

“Space?”

Short and stern, “Yes.”

Another pause.

She starts again, “I still don’t get it. I mean, I honestly don’t think Cliff would be all that mad.”

Ilya stiffens.

“You don’t think Cliff would be all that mad? That his best friend of ten years has been… wanting his little brother,” he let out a breathy, cynical laugh.

“Ilya. Please. Wanting?” Her voice is soft, one Ilya can count on one hand the number of times he’s heard it. “Come on. You lo-”

“Sveta,” he barked callously.

He never uses that tone with her. But he’s fragile right now, and he can’t handle anything bubbling up.

“Okay, well you really need to stop calling him little,” she easily sidesteps his dismissal. “You’re only a year and a half older than him, and he’s turning nineteen in a couple months. This isn’t some creep fest you need to pile onto all the other shame you’re so clearly wallowing in.”

Sveta gets under his skin in a way only she can. Cliff is blunt in a lighthearted way. Sveta serves her point on a silver platter and force-feeds it to you. She’s kind enough not to react to his earlier tone, but he knows she’s about to be brutally honest.

“Sveta, I’m sor-”

“Just listen. Ilya, you are the biggest self-sabotager I’ve ever met. I have listened to you pine and moan, and groan and ‘Oh my God he’s so cute, but he’s too good for me, he’s the sweetest, he’s too perfect I don’t deserve him’ for three years. Three years Ilya,” he can feel his cheeks tingle and heat from the call out. “And I know it’s been happening in your head for a long time before that too. I don’t know, call me crazy or whatever but, he clearly likes you too. I mean, you know I think Shane is so sweet and kind, but the way you describe how he acts or talks or even jokes with you is so far from the Shane I’ve ever seen in the time I’ve known you guys. And that’s coming from someone whose seen him at home where you’d think he’d be the most himself. I just think if you keep throwing this fucking pity party all summer, you’re gonna wake up in September and realize you wasted all this time being a big, stupid, idiot.”

He’s thought about Shane leaving – he’s even looked forward to it for Shane’s own good and Ilya’s own sanity that hangs on by a string – but he never lets himself linger on what that actually means. Shane won’t just be out of the house. He’ll be gone. In New York. Starting a new life. Making new friends. Probably showing people the Shane that Ilya sees.

He selfishly doesn’t want anyone else to see that Shane. That’s his Shane. Except… it’s not.

But maybe Sveta’s right. Maybe he needs to make the most of this summer. The summer before Shane leaves.

What does that even mean?

“Ilya?”

“I can’t hurt him. He’s special. Too important in my life for me to fuck things up and risk losing him. Losing all of them.”

“Then don’t shut him out,” Sveta’s voice almost sounds pleading the way she tries to reason with a mind that’s basically already made up. “You know that’s only gonna hurt him. Hurt you. I mean, look what happened last time. Things were so weird between you guys and it’s all you could think about. You were miserable.”

“I will be miserable if I lose the people who took me in like it was no skin off their back. Like I fit right into their perfect little family. They would be disgusted with me.”

“Ilya. Maybe you should talk to Sha-”

“Shane doesn’t know what he wants,” Ilya finds himself saying.

And that has some semblance of truth to it. At least that’s what Ilya tells himself. Shane hasn’t even come out yet. He hasn’t even been with a guy yet. Well, not that Ilya knew of besides the kiss they shared which Ilya is certain Shane wont be counting towards an actual kiss.

Why would he?

Ilya had been selfish. He knows that. He’s always known that.

But saying Shane didn’t affect him would be the biggest lie he’s ever told. Because everything about Shane reaches him in ways nothing else ever has.

“Just enjoy your time with him. Be the guy he so obviously adores. Things don’t have to get… intimate.”

Easier said than done. He’s already too dialed in on every aspect Shane – emotionally and physically. After just one kiss, he can’t seem to control himself around Shane anymore. It’s like his body gravitates toward him before Ilya can even muster up the thought to say no.  

“Don’t let him leave for college thinking he isn’t special to you,” she tells him. “You’re gonna regret it and then I will have to listen to you bitch about it forever.”

“Fuck you,” he says fondly.

“I love you too.”

Ilya laughs, a genuine one. “Hey. I do love you. And, I appreciate it. Really. But I’m hanging up now because I’m also really annoyed by how well you read me.”

“You’d be lost without me.”

When the call ends, Ilya sits with everything he’s feeling.

The panic is still there, that constant ache he’s learned to ignore until it spikes. But Sveta’s words echo louder.

He clearly likes you too.

He’s not oblivious. He sees the way Shane looks at him. The way Shane trembled when Ilya kissed him yet still leaned in for more. The tension between them can’t possibly be one-sided.

That’s a catastrophic issue.

He can’t have Shane liking him. He can’t have Shane thinking they can be anything more then whatever they are now – even if he wishes they could be. If Shane starts acting like there’s even a sliver of a possibility for them, like Ilya’s worth loving, Ilya will have no choice but to lean in.

And that would ruin everything. It would have to end. And it would break Shane. And Cliff. And Ilya.

He’d have to end it before Shane realized he deserved better.

Because it’s true isn’t it? Ilya doesn’t doubt his ability to love Shane. He knows he would do anything if it meant Shane would inevitably be happy. But Ilya’s not capable of being loved. Not with all the fucked-up shit that runs through his head. Not when the image of his mother’s lifeless body in his dreams sometimes contorts to a reflection of himself.

He isn’t worthy of the love Shane is filled with.

But now they’re halfway through summer, and the best moments have been the ones with Shane. These past few days, Ilya has fallen deeper into the boy he thought he could purge from his system.

He’s foolish for thinking so.

He’s always been a fool where Shane is concerned.

Don’t let him leave for college thinking he isn’t special to you.

That’s what matters most. And of course Sveta had to read him to filth. He’s so conflicted he’s giving himself emotional whiplash bouncing between pulling away and diving headfirst into the deep end that is Shane Hollander.

He wants to make the most of the next couple months. He’ll try to keep his deeper feelings at bay, but he needs this time. He needs Shane to know Ilya will always be there. That Shane can move away, make new friends, even get a boyfriend – though that day will strike Ilya dead – and Ilya will still be there.

Because at the end of the day, it’s Shane.

And Ilya would walk onto a battlefield and take fatal damage if it meant Shane would be happy.

More and more situations keep popping up over the next month after they return from the cottage. Shane is sure Ilya is intentionally trying to get him all kinds of worked up. “Accidentally” bumping Shane in the hallways, chirping him, calling him kid as if he doesn’t know how much Shane hates it. 

Then there’s the moments where Ilya is sweet and endearing in a way that is familiar but somehow still shockingly new. It still surprises Shane after all these years how just words and a look from Ilya have the power to make him feel like he’s going to burst.

It feels like old times honestly. Shane’s missed this. He felt worried at first when they came back home that Ilya would go back to being gone all the time. But he can’t lie, when he heard Ilya would only be working on site a few days a week for the rest of summer, the inside of his lip started bleeding with how hard he bit it to suppress the smile that threatened to appear.

It’s a Sunday morning when Ilya brings home these cookies from some bakery he found on a new route of his morning run – the morning run Shane recently so happens to find himself reading on the porch at the exact time when Ilya gets home. Completely a coincidence though. Obviously.

Anyways, he brings these cookies home and insists that everyone tries them.

Cliff groans as he swallows half a cookie.

“Oh, fuck!” He exclaims, “Shit those are fire.”

“Language!” Yuna scolds.

“Shi- I mean sorry mom. But just try one.”

Yuna reaches for one and splits it, handing some to David, and another piece to Shane.

Yuna and David widen their eyes and make a pleased ‘Mmmmmm’ sound as they chew. Shane can concur that it really is a delicious cookie, although he’s never really been one to audibly communicate how good food was.

“Shit,” David says.

Cliff laughs, “See!”

They all laugh about it, talk more about how Ilya came across the little bakery and where exactly they need to go to get more. After a little time, Cliff leaves for the gym while Yuna and David head out to meet some friends, leaving Shane and Ilya in the kitchen.

Right when Shane decides it’s probably his time to make an exit, Ilya stops him.

“How’d you like the cookie?”

Shane turns from his place at the opposite side of the kitchen with a small playful grin pulling at his lips involuntarily, “What? Two ‘shit’ worthy reviews weren’t enough for your already inflated ego?”

Some people would’ve had some snarky response to his smart-ass comment. Instead, Ilya’s eyes brighten at Shane’s sarcasm, the boyish smile returning to his face the way it always does when he isn’t smiling for show. Shane’s body instantly feels warmer, his eyes can’t seem to look away from Ilya’s upward curled lips.

“Yeah but I wanna know how you like it.”

Shane knows he’s a shade of red that is most likely best described as tomato red. His face feels like flames are licking up his cheeks. The emphasis on “you” makes a warm, weightless flutter stir low in his belly.

“Um, it was good,” he mutters to which Ilya gives a small raise of his eyebrows. “Fine, it was really good. Best cookies ever.”

“Careful,” Ilya takes a few steps forward, not completely closing the gap, but bringing himself to a distance where Shane can see the way his eyes shift into something that looks hungry. “You sound a little too pretty when you’re trying to get on my good side.”

Shane almost moves his hand to his pocket so he can pinch himself because did Ilya really just say that? He can’t really tell if Ilya is messing with him or not. His mind immediately says it’s a chirp – what else could it be? – but the look in Ilya’s eyes make Shane unable to think straight.

Why Shane doesn’t just turn around and walk away? The world may never know. Or maybe the world so clearly knows because Shane is so painfully obvious and is only kidding himself when he claims to not know why he stays standing there, watching as Ilya’s tongue runs between his lips that then rub tightly together, spreading the sheen of spit that glistens over his plush lips.

“Can you not say stuff like that?” Shane mutters, flustered. “You know I’m…”

He freezes when Ilya steps in, just a little closer.

“What Hollander,” a sweet tone – one that Shane couldn’t really tell if it was teasing or something he couldn’t name – in his deep voice. “You don’t like to be called pretty?”

“I- um, I just…”

“Cause I doubt you have not heard this before,” Ilya says, not giving Shane one second without his blue eyes piercing into his skull.

When Ilya’s foot lifts off the ground to take another step, Shane quickly takes one back.

“I have to go,” he says as he basically sprints from Ilya’s presence.

He gets to his room where he lightly closes the door and lets his body go limp against it.

His chest rapidly rises with the effort it takes to catch his breath. He had been called pretty before. But not like that.

His mind spirals, overanalyzing everything about the minuscule interaction.

Through the month Shane adapts as much as he can but that’s how most moments with Ilya end up panning out. They start out like always, their normal back and forth banter that Shane actually feels comfortable participating in, but then sometimes there’s this extremely distinct – maybe only to Shane – shift where Ilya’s eyes go darker, his smile churns something in Shane’s stomach, and his words – the words that tease him, praise him, and compliment him – clear any and every thought from Shane’s head.

It’s infuriating how Ilya continues to find ways to test Shane’s control. There’s no way Shane could act on the feelings he has to push aside, but he can no longer shut them off the way he always so desperately tries to. At this point, he’s accepted that these next couple months would include a lot burning cheeks and unsolicited erections. He’s constantly excusing himself to the isolation of his room to try and calm himself down or in some very shameful moments, taking care of the burning need that has taking over him.  

Just a couple more months.

It’s the end July when Yuna, David, and Cliff leave for their annual summer trip. Yuna and David had traveled to Austin, Texas when they adopted Cliff, so it became tradition for them to take a trip there every year. Shane would go sometimes, but as he got older he opted to stay home to give the three of them time together.

Yuna approached Ilya a couple weeks ago asking if he’d look out for Shane while they were gone – not that she’d ever need to ask that of him.

He agreed, obviously, even taking some time off so he doesn’t have to worry about going to work except a few of the days. Maybe it’s overkill now that he thinks about it. Shane is eighteen years old and will most likely be filling his days with friends and literally anything other than being cooped up in the house with Ilya. It’s not like he needs any extra supervision from Ilya.

Ilya can’t deny he’s excited though. He loves hanging out with the Hollanders as a whole of course, but he’s never been alone with Shane for this amount of time before. Maybe this’ll finally get Shane out of his system. Maybe being with only each other these next couple weeks will make Ilya’s mind come back online from the network error that’s caused by the constant thoughts and dreams of Shane Hollander.

Deep down, Ilya knows he’s being foolish. Deep down, he knows there’s no possible cure for the things he’s feeling. No logic strong enough to override the soft, impossible want he has for freckles and flushed cheeks.

But he keeps wishing all the same.

Now it’s the last week of July, a month away from Shane leaving for New York. David, Yuna, and Cliff left late last night. Shane stayed the night at JJ’s.

Ilya’s on his morning run, replaying Svetlana’s words in his head.

Just enjoy your time with him and be the guy he so obviously adores. Things don’t have to get… intimate.

Intimate. Ilya falls into that tone like it’s muscle memory, and lately he can’t seem to hold it back when it comes to Shane. He’s always had a teasing edge, but now the softness slips out before he can catch it, and every time, he silently swears at himself.

But he can’t stop.

Not when Shane goes pink and bites his lip and trips over his own voice like Ilya’s short-circuited him.

He’s been bantering with Shane the whole last month, and honestly, if Shane were really bothered by it, he wouldn’t keep coming back or asking Ilya to help him with little errands that are indubitably a one-man job. That has to mean something.

Right?

Shane lounges on the couch in the living room.

His attention shifts when Ilya walks into the room, leaning against the wall and just looking at Shane. He’s wearing dark-wash jeans, a black T-shirt with a lower cut, and his hair curls perfectly around his face. Shane quickly shuts his mouth when he realizes his jaw had practically been on the floor. He mentally scolds himself.

“What’re you doing?” Ilya asks, as if he lacks eyes.

Shane shakes the book in his hand and looks at Ilya seriously. “What does it look like?”

“It looks like you’re being very boring.”

Shane scoffs. “Okay, well what’re you doing? Just gonna stand there and stare?”

“Yes,” Ilya says, his eyes moving down Shane’s body and then back up to his eyes.

Shane instantly flushes and looks down.

“We could get dinner,” Ilya says.

Shane raises his eyebrows in interest. His stomach started growling ten minutes ago, and although Yuna left them money, they haven’t made the trip to the store to get groceries yet.

Shane closes his book and leans forward to set it on the coffee table. “I could eat,” he says, glancing back at Ilya’s casual position against the wall. “Where you wanna go?”

“I was thinking K-Town.”

Shane knows his face must look confused, because Ilya chuckles. “I thought you didn’t really like K-Town? Last time we went you were all, ‘Why do we pay so much if we just have to cook this tiny slice of meat ourselves?’”

“Yeah, well…” Ilya’s eyes soften for some reason. “You like it.”

Shane tries to ignore the way his heart flips.

“Oh. Um. Okay. Yeah, let me just go change.”

He hurries toward the stairs when Ilya yells after him, “Feel free to leave the glasses on, Hollander. They’re cute.”

Shane doesn’t say anything back.

How could he.

Ilya sits on the couch, all too happy with himself.

He managed to pay for dinner tonight while Shane was in the bathroom. He knew Shane would’ve protested, that he would’ve insisted they use the money Yuna left, but something in Ilya needed to pay. Something in him told him it was his responsibility. That maybe if it was his money and not Yuna’s, this could mean something more than just dinner.

Again. Foolish. Look up idiot in the dictionary and a picture of Ilya is sure to be there.

Shane’s the one who suggests they don’t part ways for the night. Well, he suggests they watch a movie, and even if he’s sitting on the complete opposite side of the couch, Ilya feels a tingle in the hand that lays flat against the cushion between them. The cushion that Shane’s hand also splays across, a plate of cookies – from the bakery where the workers now know Ilya by name – set between them.

They fought over which movie to watch but end up concluding that Ilya can pick tonight and Shane will pick tomorrow. The idea that they’ll be in the same place tomorrow night makes Ilya heat up from head to toe.

Ilya chooses Baby Driver, a movie he absolutely loves, but also one he’s seen enough times that he can zone out and just watch Shane watching the movie. Watch the way Shane gets so enthralled and focused that he forgets everything around him. Forgets to filter himself the way he always tries to around people.

They talk here and there – Ilya pointing things out he thinks Shane didn’t see, Shane getting annoyed and saying “I know” every time.

“Are you gonna watch the movie?” Shane asks, not even turning toward him.

Uncharacteristically, warmth rises to Ilya’s face at being caught looking, so he tries to come up with an excuse. “You have something on your face.”

Ilya points to the side of Shane’s mouth that actually has absolutely nothing on it. He can’t help but laugh as Shane frantically tries to wipe his face.

Shane finally turns to him. “Did I get it?”

This is where Ilya should say that it’s gone.

That’s not what his hand does.

Ilya leans forward and, as if possessed, his arm reaches over the cushion between them. His thumb brushes the skin along Shane’s bottom lip, then moves over and swipes the side of his cheek.

Shane’s mouth is slightly parted as he looks back at Ilya, a beautiful blush already coloring his face and neck.

Ilya stays leaned forward, eyes locked on the deep brown that threatens to swallow him whole. Shane looks back, neither of them moving.

“Got it,” Ilya says softly, his eyes shifting back down to Shane’s lips where deep breaths exhale from.

This time, when Ilya looks back up to Shane’s eyes, the look he finds forces him to lean back into his place, gluing his eyes to the screen for the remainder of the movie.

When Ilya crawls into bed later and closes his eyes, the familiar blackness is gone. In its place are big brown doe eyes, staring back at him like they never left.

Shane is feeling a lot better about this alone time with Ilya than he originally anticipated.

It’s been a couple days since that first night and honestly… it’s been pretty blissful. He’s forgotten what it’s like to be around Ilya this much. Of course the whole summer they’ve been closer than they have these past couple years, but this is different. This feels like they’re in their own little bubble. It feels way too natural. 

They’ve been hanging out constantly which shocked Shane at first. He knows Svetlana is gone for the summer – thank fucking God – and obviously Cliff is gone too, but Ilya has other people he could go hang out with if he really wanted to.

He doesn’t.

And neither does Shane.

Shane knows he should. He’s leaving in a month and won’t have time to see all the friends he made the past couple years. But if he’s being honest, those friends don’t really know him. Not the real him. So while he’s loved getting to know them and having an escape when he was actively avoiding Ilya, the only friend he truly cares to catch up with before leaving is JJ who's busy during the day with his job.

So, what else is there to do? He really has no other choice but to hang out with Ilya.

They so easily have fallen back into their old ways, with small sparks of something new. Their banter is familiar, but the way Ilya says it makes Shane’s body do this thing he’s not too proud of.

Shane’s in his room on Thursday night sorting through clothes, throwing them all over the floor as he anxiously tries and finds something to wear tomorrow night.

Ilya invited him to go to this party that his coworker Kyle is throwing tomorrow night. Shane was reluctant at first but then realized there was no possible world where he would actually say no.

Right as he looks at the fifteenth outfit of the night, his phone buzzes on his nightstand.

Incoming call:

Cliff

“Hey!”

“What’s up little bro? How’s it going?”

Shane and Cliff don’t necessarily see each other all the time besides the usual small moments you have when two people live in the same house, but it’s been five days now and honestly hearing his voice makes Shane realize how much he misses him.

“I’m the one here in Ottawa, I think I should be asking you that.”

“It’s good, same old same old. Mom and dad are trying to figure out what we’re gonna have for dinner,” he pauses. “How’s Ilya?”

Shane bites the inside of his cheek, “Why don’t you call him and ask.”

“Oh come on Shane, you know him. We text all the time but he’s not gonna actually tell me if somethings up with him. Besides you guys get each other in some weird way I don’t understand.”

“Um, well I think he’s good. I’m sure it sucks not having his girlfriend home for the summer though. He hasn’t really talked about Svetlana much though.”

Theres nothing but quietness from the other line.

“Cliff?”

“What do you mean girlfriend?”

“Svetlana?” Shane says confused. “Ilya’s… girlfriend…?”

Cliff laughs, “Well I mean yeah, I guess you could call Svetlana his girlfriend if that simply translates to yes, she’s a girl and she is his friend.”

“Huh? They’re just friends?” Shane feels shellshocked. “But I thought… huh?”

“They dated but they broke up around the time we graduated. Obviously it all ended well, they’re the kind of people that were made to be friends I think.”

“Wait, when you guys graduated,” Shane asks in disbelief. “But that was the year before my junior year.”

Junior year.

The year of the kiss.

The kiss that Ilya prefaced with “you know I’m with Svetlana right?”

“Yes Shane, very good. Shit, maybe I was wrong about you guys getting each other. I’m not sure how the hell you went this long without knowing th- oh shit. Sorry Shane, Katie’s calling me back and we’ve been playing phone tag all day. Love you buddy.”

“Um, yeah, love you too.”

He hangs up the phone.

Shane is stunned. Too stunned to speak in fact. How had he gone this long not knowing that Ilya and Svetlana weren't dating?

And more importantly:

Why the fuck would Ilya lie about it that night in the treehouse?

Ilya’s been giddy all day.

Ever since Shane said he’d go to Kyles party tonight, Ilya’s been knocked off balance in the best possible way. Something about Shane going to this thing with him that’s supposed to be fun, and light makes Ilya stupidly happy.

This party’s put on by a work friend, so there really shouldn’t be any weird overlap with anyone Shane or Ilya knew from school. There’s no way to know for sure, obviously, but Ilya drilled Kyle their whole shift today about the guest list. He didn’t recognize any names that could correlate to Shane, so Ilya’s going into it with optimism and excitement.

And, like clockwork, a little fear.

Kyle’s really cool and down-to-earth though, so Ilya doubts there will be any issues with the attendees. Kyle’s a year younger than Ilya and – to Ilya’s surprise – is bisexual.

It may not seem all that important, but it’s really interesting talking to someone who likes guys and girls. Ilya has met a variety of queer people, but he’s never been friends with someone who so closely aligns with his own orientation – or the closest thing he thinks he can identify with.

Although, talking to Kyle only confuses him more sometimes.

Kyle talks about how he’s always been attracted to both. That yeah, it was confusing at first, but he always somewhat knew he didn’t have a preference between men and women. That his crushes growing up were all over the place, which made it easier for him to acknowledge his attractions as he got older.

It wasn’t like that for Ilya.

Shane was the first boy to catch his eye, and it was immediate. Confusing, but immediate. The other guys he’s been with were attractive, obviously. Ilya really enjoyed all those times, just as he’s enjoyed the time he’s spent with women as well. But he’s starting to think maybe he’s just Shane-oriented.

It’s a pathetic thought.

He’s downstairs sitting on the couch while he waits for Shane.

He has yet to see Shane today. Ilya left for work before Shane woke up and Shane wasn’t here when Ilya got home.

Ilya hopped in the shower, and by the time he got out, Shane’s door was closed. Ilya assumed he was most likely freaking out about what to wear – a very Shane worry.

He texts Shane that he’s ready whenever Shane is, trying not to rush him but also making sure to reassure him they very much are still going.

Ilya isn’t going to drink tonight. He promised to look out for Shane, and he takes that very seriously. Besides, he wants Shane to let loose, if he wants to. Ilya’s not sure he actually will, but he wants Shane to know he has the option.

Shane’s bedroom door creaks, and the sound of feet patter down the stairs until black hair and brown eyes are standing in front of him.

“Ready?” Ilya asks, looking up at him from the couch.

Shane looks uneasy. “Yep.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah,” Shane says, confused. “Why?”

Ilya decides he’s reading into Shane too much.

“Nothing.” He rises to his feet. “Let’s go.”

The drive there is weirdly tense, and Ilya has zero idea why.

They were completely fine yesterday, and Ilya hadn't even seen Shane today. Did Ilya do something?

He keeps trying to glance over at Shane, who sits in the passenger seat with a stone face. He’s not even singing along to the music the way he always does – the way that makes Ilya almost lose control of the car from how intently he watches.

Just leave it.

Maybe Shane’s just nervous. They’re going to a party where he doesn’t know anyone except Ilya, and Shane has never been one for the social scene. Ilya doesn’t need to make yet another thing about himself.

He just wishes Shane would look at him.

Even once.

Shane’s trying to find his way back to himself as him and Ilya walk into the large house in front of them.

He’s been trying to get out of this weird mood the whole day and he truthfully thought he was making some progress until Ilya saw right through him and asked is he was okay.

Shane kept trying to think of something to say in the car. Nothing came out.

The parties a lot bigger than Ilya said it would be when he listed out all the reasons for Shane to join him. He would’ve said no but the thought of passing up on more time with Ilya was idiotic. If Ilya wants him to be here, Shane couldn’t possibly refuse him that.

It seems like all of Ottawa is here. The house has the capacity for it, it makes Shane wonder what Kyles family must do so that they can afford a place like this. People pack into every corner, and more flood out into the yard and even in the pool.

Ilya turns to him, “Let’s get a drink?”

Shane nods, overstimulation starting to seep in.

Ilya nods Shane forward. Shane has to force his legs to not buckle when he feels Ilya hand lightly guiding him by the small of his back.

His whole body instantly lights up starting in that one area.

The kitchen island is littered with every kind of alcohol known to man, half of them Shane can't even name.

Ilya makes him a drink, ginger ale and vodka, then pours himself just a cup of coke.

Shane raises an eyebrow at him, “Just coke?”

Ilya smiles at him like Shane just recited poetry, not asked a basic question about his drink.

“I have precious cargo tonight,” he says with a pinch to Shane's chin. “I want you to have fun.”

Before Shane can say anything back or even try to decrease the heat in his face, someone walks up to Ilya.

“Ilya!”

“Kyle,” Ilya turns to him. “Your house is insane dude.”

Kyle shakes his head in a shy manner, “Aw shut up. My parents house. I’d never have something this flashy.”

“Yeah, we’ll see about that,” they both turn to Shane. “This is Shane. He’s um-”

“Cliffs little brother,” Kyle concludes. “Yeah I’ve heard a lot about you.”

“Oh,” Shane says. “Good things I hope.”

“Very good things,” Kyle smiles. “Ilya and Cliff really talk you up. Although they never mentioned how attractive you are.”

Shane blushes. He’s unsure if it’s because of Kyles words or the way Ilya’s face contorts.

“Okay, okay. Let’s not flirt with Cliffs brother, alright?” Ilya says flatly. “Shane come on, I’ll introduce you to some other work friends.”

Ilya steers Shane through the crowd, introducing him to a blur of names Shane forgets instantly. Everyone seems confident and comfortable. Everything Shane isn’t right now.

Ilya keeps a hand hovering near him, guiding him through the chaos, and Shane clings to that small anchor more than he’d ever admit.

They talk to a few of Ilya’s coworkers before Ilya excuses himself to go to the bathroom, squeezing Shane’s shoulder before he disappears into the crowd.

Shane tells himself to breathe. To relax. To not be weird.

He lasts maybe thirty seconds before Kyle reappears at his side, drink in hand and a grin that’s a little too knowing.

“Ilya ditched you already?” Kyle teases.

Shane shakes his head. “Bathroom.”

“Ah.” Kyle takes a sip of his drink, eyes flicking over Shane. “You doing okay? You look a little overwhelmed.”

“I’m fine,” Shane lies.

“You sure? Cause you’re kind of adorable like a lost puppy.”

Shane’s face heats instantly. He opens his mouth to respond – or defend himself or say literally anything – but Kyle steps a little closer, lowering his voice.

“Ilya wasn’t kidding. You really are something.”

Shane’s pulse jumps. He doesn’t know what to do with that. What does that even mean? What could Ilya possibly have told Kyle about him?

Before he can figure it out, a shadow falls over them. Ilya’s back. And he’s looking between the two of them like he walked in on a conversation he wasn’t supposed to miss.

“What’s going on over here?” Ilya asks, tone light but eyes flashing warning.

Kyle shrugs, unbothered. “Just keeping Shane company.”

“Right,” Ilya says, gaze lingering on Shane a second too long. “Well, I’m back now.”

Kyle raises his hands in surrender and melts back into the crowd.

Ilya turns fully to Shane. “You good?”

Shane nods, but Ilya doesn’t look convinced.

“You sure?”

Shane swallows, “Yeah.”

Ilya studies him for another beat, something tight in his expression.

“Okay,” he says quietly. “You seem weird.”

Ilya doesn’t push the conversation further. Instead, he nods toward the backyard where a group of people are gathered around a fire pit. “Come on,” he says. “They’re cool. You’ll like them.”

Shane follows him outside, grateful for the fresh air. The noise dulls a little out here, replaced by low laughter and the crackle of the fire.

Someone hands him another drink. He takes it out of politeness, but it just warms uselessly in his hand. He’s not drinking anymore. Not when his head already feels too full.

Still… he’s actually having a good time.

The people are friendly. Easygoing. They ask him questions without prying, laugh at his awkward jokes, and make space for him in the circle. Even Kyle, who drifts back over at one point, is nice – though Shane’s pulse spikes every time Kyle’s eyes linger too long.

He’s not ready for that. Not here. Not in public. Not when he’s not planning on coming out until he’s in New York, where no one knows him and nothing feels so close to home.

Ilya excuses himself to grab Shane a water. Shane watches him disappear into the house, feeling that familiar tug in his chest.

He tries to focus on the conversation around him. He really does.

But then he sees it. A beautiful blonde girl intercepts Ilya on his way back, throwing herself into his space with a laugh that’s too loud and a touch that’s too flirty. Ilya smiles politely, stepping back, but she follows, leaning in again.

Shane’s stomach drops.

He looks away immediately, pretending to listen to the guy beside him talk about hockey trades or something Shane can’t quite fully focus on. His ears ring and his chest tightens.

He hates how fast his mood shifts. He hates that it shifts at all.

He hates that he’s been trying so hard to hide the truth. The truth being that he isn’t excited to be away from Ilya after next month. Not really. The idea of distance is one thing. The reality of it is another.

Because being around Ilya hurts, yes – every moment they spend together makes his feelings worse, sharper, harder to swallow – but the thought of not seeing him every day?

That’s worse.

He stares at the fire, trying to breathe past the ache. He doesn’t notice Ilya until he’s right beside him again, holding out a cold bottle of water.

“Hey,” Ilya says softly, eyes searching his face. “You wanna get out of here?”

Shane nods, and before he can second-guess himself, Ilya guides him through the crowd again, hand warm at the small of his back, and Shane tries not to lean into it. The cool night air hits him like a reset button.

They walk to the car in silence, the kind that feels too full.

Ilya unlocks the car, and Shane slides into the passenger seat, grateful for the quiet. The door shuts, muting the party behind them. Shane figures they’re heading home.

But Ilya doesn’t take the turn he should. Shane notices it immediately. His pulse jumps.

“Ilya… this isn’t the way home.”

“I know,” Ilya says, eyes fixed on the road, voice low in a way that makes Shane’s chest tighten. “Just trust me.”

They drive a little farther, the city lights thinning out until the road curves upward until they pull into a viewpoint overlooking the river, quiet and empty at this hour.

Ilya parks and the world goes still.

It’s quiet except for the sound of Apocalypse by Cigarettes After Sex softly playing in the background.

Ilya turns toward him, studying his face with that same searching look he had back at the fire, “Are you okay?”

“Yeah?”

“You’re being weird.”

Shane rolls his eyes, “You already said that. And I already told you I’m fine.”

“Then why’re you being so weird?”

“How am I being weird? I honestly had a really good time tonight,” hyperbolic, but he did have a good time.

“I don’t know how to explain it. It’s your…” Ilya lifts his arms and gestures all around Shane, “energy.”

“My energy?”

“Don’t get me wrong, I definitely think you had fun. I had fun. But you’ve been in your head since we left for the party. I just really can’t figure out why. Did I do something?”

Yes.

Yes, because his emotions and Ilya are so intertwined that remembering one means feeling the other, and it leaves him exposed in ways he doesn’t know how to hide anymore.

“Cliff told me you and Svetlana aren’t together anymore.”

Ilya just looks back at him confused, no reaction apparent on his face yet.

“Okay?” He shrugs, “What does that have to do with anything?”

Shane uses every bit of confidence to say, “How long?”

“How long, what?”

“How long have you guys been broken up.”

Ilya exhales sharply out of his nostrils as he shakes his head. Is he annoyed? Annoyed that Shane is even asking about this? For once, he’s not deterred.

“Cliff said since you guys graduated. Right before my junior year.”

“Um, yeah technically,” color spreads on his cheeks and Shane tries to convince himself it’s the lighting in the car. “We still fuck though.”

Or because of that.

God. Of course. The usual Ilya. Blunt as always.

Shane desperately looks into Ilya’s eyes hoping to find some kind of answer. An answer to the question:

Why?

“Why’d you lie?”

Ilya hesitates. He never hesitates. “About?”

“About?” Shane can’t stop the sharp disbelieving snort that leaves him. “What do you mean about? You told me you and Svetlana were dating when you…”

Music still plays but the only way to describe the car right now is silent. They stare at each other. The words loaded on Shane’s tongue feeling like a bomb being dropped. No one else is in the car. No one is even parked out here. Shane still looks around before he speaks.

“When you kissed me my junior year.”

“I was showing you how to kiss.”

“By kissing me.”

“Yes.”

Shane decides to drop it, “Why’d you lie about dating Svetlana?”

“Why does it matter?” Ilya raises his voice slightly.

Shane stays surprisingly steady, “Why lie about it?”

“Ugh Hollander because you think too much. There’s no way you would’ve let me help you if I didn’t.”

That literally gives Shane absolutely nothing.

“You didn’t have to help me,” another scoff escapes as he speaks under his breath but still loud enough to be heard, “I’m pretty sure most people don’t get hands on practice for a first kiss.”

“You were freaking out what was I supposed to do?”

He’s only had the one drink but it’s apparently enough liquid courage.

“I’m pretty sure you could’ve done literally anything else if you really wanted to Ilya. And why are all your explanations coming back to me? Why can’t you just be honest with me about how you’re feeling for once. Can you do that? Or is that something I’m no longer trusted with?”

Ilya turns his head completely and looks out his driver side window. It’s tenser than anything Shane has ever felt in his life and at this point Shane can’t tell if more word vomit is coming up or if actual vomit is.

Whatever it is threatens to come out until Ilya whips his head around, breathing heavy as he looks at Shane like he’s carefully choosing his next words.

“Because I wanted to kiss you, Shane.”

Shane.

His name freezes everything – or maybe it only freezes him – and blue eyes search brown ones for something Shane can’t identify, though part of him is already reaching to give it. His throat is insanely dry. Suddenly Shane can’t remember the last time he drank something. A gulp loud enough to be heard over the music makes him look away with scorching cheeks.

It’s been ‘Hollander’ the whole summer. The only sliver of hearing his name come from Ilya’s mouth was supplied by his sleeping mind and Shane hasn’t been able to decide if that’s better or worse.

Because I wanted to kiss you.

The words ring in his ears and he anxiously picks at the skin by his nails trying to find the strength to look at the eyes that’re no doubt waiting. He’s scared to look. Scared because looking at Ilya might be the straw that breaks the camel's back.

“Shane.”

He takes a deep, shaky breath then turns to face Ilya.

Sure enough, Ilya staring at him with that same seriousness he had the night he kissed Shane in the treehouse.

Shane’s voice barely holds, “Say it again.”

Ilya’s eyes flicker. Not away, but down, like he’s bracing himself.

“I wanted to kiss you.”

Shane’s breath trembles, the kind that shakes more on the way out than in. He doesn’t move closer, but something in him leans anyway.

“Then why did you pretend it didn’t mean anything?”

The question lands between them like a dropped match that’s hot enough to burn through every excuse Ilya’s ever used.

Ilya’s jaw works once, twice. When he speaks, his voice is low, frayed at the edges.

“Because it meant too much.”

Shane’s fingers curl against his jeans, trying to ground himself, but it doesn’t help. His whole body feels like it’s leaning toward Ilya even though he hasn’t moved an inch.

He swallows once, hard, “And what are you doing now?”

It comes out quiet, an invitation he’s barely brave enough to voice.

Ilya’s breath catches. His eyes flick to Shane’s mouth, then back up, like he’s fighting every instinct he has, “I’m… trying not to mess this up.”

That’s the moment that shifts the air. Not a confession but a surrender.

Shane’s chest rises on a shaky inhale. He doesn’t move closer, not yet, but he tilts his head just slightly, enough that Ilya can see the choice forming in real time.

The space between them feels impossibly small. And suddenly it’s getting smaller.

Shane doesn’t even realize he’s holding his breath until it shudders out of him. Ilya’s eyes flicker at the sound – not away, but toward him – like the smallest crack in Shane’s composure is something he can’t help responding to.

Shane’s fingers uncurl from his jeans. They hover uselessly for a second, then settle on the edge of his seat, inching him forward without actually moving him closer. It’s instinct more than decision.

Ilya notices that too. His own posture shifts. Barely, but enough. His shoulders loosen, his chin dips a fraction, like he’s bracing for impact or inviting it. It’s impossible for Shane to tell which.

Shane swallows, throat tight and dry.

“Ilya.”

Ilya’s breath catches. His eyes drop, not all the way, just to the point where Shane can feel the attention, warm and terrifying, like a pull.

Shane leans in a little, just enough to make it clear he’s choosing this.

Ilya’s hand slips from the steering wheel, fingers flexing once like he’s fighting the urge to reach for something he isn’t sure he’s allowed to touch.

Their breaths mingle in the narrow space between them.

Ilya’s voice comes out low, rough, careful, “Shane… tell me if I need to stop.”

Ilya’s words hang in the air, fragile and terrified and hopeful all at once.

Shane’s chest tightens. For a heartbeat, he just sits there, staring at Ilya like he’s trying to memorize the exact shape of this moment – the way Ilya’s voice shook, the way his eyes didn’t look away, the way he asked permission like he was afraid of losing him.

Shane thinks. Just for a second. Just long enough to feel the fear rise and then feel something stronger rise with it.

Because he doesn’t want Ilya to stop. He doesn’t want distance. He doesn’t want to keep pretending this isn’t the thing he’s been aching for.

He exhales, shaky and uneven, “Don’t.”

It’s barely a word. More breath than sound. But it’s enough.

Shane leans in, slow, deliberate, like he’s giving himself time to back out and choosing not to. The world narrows to the space between them, to the warmth of Ilya’s breath, to the way Ilya’s eyes soften.

And then the last inch disappears.

Shane leans over the small center consol where Ilya is slightly already leaned forward.

Ilya eyes bounce around his whole face as Shane gets closer until both their eyes are fluttering shut and their lips are chastely touching. It last a couple seconds, it’s a lot like the first one. A test. A question that asks Are you sure?

When they part, Shane opens his eyes to see Ilya’s intently gazing back at him. Ilya’s hand reaches up and cups his jaw.

Shane doesn’t think this time.

He just moves.

He wants this. He wants to feel Ilya’s lips on his again. He wants to forget about all the reasons he’s been counting down the days till the end of August. Because he wants this. Because having Ilya like this is all that’s played in the back of his mind for too long. 

Their lips come together soft but more insistent this time.

Shane follows Ilya’s lead, parting his mouth slightly and kissing more openly with each shift of their heads. He’s never kissed anyone like this. He tries to not let thoughts about Ilya’s experience flood the moment that’s happening in front of him right here, right now.

A whine climbs up Shane’s mouth but there’s no time to be embarrassed by it when Ilya swallows it and lets out a moan of his own right back into Shane’s mouth.

They shouldn’t be doing this. But when Ilya slides his hand to the nape of Shane’s neck for better leverage, Shane doesn’t stop him.

The way Ilya’s hand carts through Shane’s hair, scratching at his scalp makes him docile to his touch. Ilya’s warm tongue swipes along Shane’s bottom lip, asking for permission even when Shane’s purring through his parted lips. Shane – obviously – grants access.

This feels like a dream but when Shane’s right-hand lands on Ilya’s thigh, the hard muscle he squeezes in his palm reminds him that no, this is real.

Their kiss turns deep and heavy the second Ilya’s tongue takes possession of Shane’s mouth. He licks into it like he’s been there a thousand times before, dancing around Shane’s tongue and licking his teeth as if he needs to map out every inch of Shane’s mouth for survival.

When they part for air Ilya pants, “Shane,” which feels like a Molotov being thrown into the pits of his stomach and burning some place lower that he tries to ignore as much as possible.

That burning sends Shane flying over to the driver seat, his left knee squeezing between Ilya’s hip and the center consol while the right one forces space between Ilya’s other hip and the door. It’s an uncomfortable position; Shane’s ass hits the horn trying to sit like a normal person or like he’s maybe done this before as if Ilya isn’t aware of Shane’s barely there experience. His worries wash away when they both giggle and catch each other’s lips while they settle. Ilya reaches a hand down, adjusting so the seat slides all the way back and reclines only slightly giving them more room.  

Shane’s hands spread across Ilya’s chest, admiring the hard exterior of this man Shane’s gone every day for years wanting. He leans down, connecting their mouths again. The kiss is clumsy and full of clattering teeth and exploring tongues.

Shane can feel himself growing hard, and he can certainly feel Ilya growing hard beneath him too. He minimally freaks out not knowing what he’s supposed to do about that. He feels impossibly dizzy.

Ilya pulls back and uses his hand in Shane’s hair to angle him the way he desires. Ilya places a peck on Shane’s nose, the right corner of his lips, the left corner, his chin, and then shifts Shane’s head to the side where he lightly nibbles on Shane’s ear lobe.

Shane has never felt the way he does right now. His whole body feels like a live wire and he pulses with anticipation. He tries not to get nervous over the fact that he doesn’t really know what he’s doing, he just follows the small, pleasured sounds that slip from Ilya’s mouth like breadcrumbs on a trail.

Ilya sucks the skin below Shane’s ear and he’s sure all the blood in his body pools south.

With his head tilted back, Shane moans into the car, “Ilya…”

Ilya gently but quickly jerks Shane’s head down so their lips connect again, tongues immediately moving in sync, Shane’s hands find stability by rubbing up and down Ilya’s chest, feeling the hard body below him.

He lets a hand rest on Ilya’s neck while the other one brushes down his chest, over the hard lines that he can still feel outside of Ilya’s shirt, till his fingers reach the bottom hem of his shirt and rest on the brass button of his jeans.

He wants more. He’s never in his life felt so alive. Whenever people talk about anything sexual or intimate, he never really understands the appeal. Well, he gets the appeal, but it just never appeals to him.

Not like it does right now with Ilya’s hands on him and tongue in his mouth.

Shane eagerly palms down, his hand finding the stiff erection that presses tightly against Ilya’s crotch.

Ilya gasps, “Shane.”

His hand darts to Shane’s, fingers wrapping around his wrist.

They freeze like that, both unsure of their next movements as they look to the other for an answer.

Shane bites his lip then tries to slide his hand forward again.

“Shane,” Ilya says in more of a warning tone this time. “We should stop.”

“I didn’t say stop,” Shane practically whines.

A low laugh comes from Ilya, “Yes, well I am saying we should stop. This is getting,” he moves his head from side to side while rolling his bottom lip in his mouth, “too intense. We should go home. Cool down before we do anything we might regret.”

Shane looks at Ilya for a second longer, he wants to protest. He wants to ask why the hell he’d regret this. 

But he knows Ilya’s right. This is… a lot. And there’s no straight definition to what this is.

Shane nods, even though every part of him is still trembling with the almost of it all. He climbs back to his own seat, legs shaking and heart pounding.

Ilya won't look at him. He exhales, long and shaky, like he’s trying to steady himself too before putting the car in drive and heading home.

Shane can’t stop himself from replaying everything that just happened in his head.

He can’t even believe that just actually happened.

And not for the first time, Shane wonders if they’ve crossed a line they can’t uncross.

Chapter End Notes

GUYS I HOPE YOU LIKE THIS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!😝😝

I am LIVIN writing this rn but omg I feel like this chapter took me ten years to write.

NEXT TIME ON CLOSE ENOUGH TO HURT:
Confronting feelings, bittersweet goodbyes, a New York move, a familiar visit, and more.....❤️‍🩹👋🏼🏙️

Real talk, this^ is subject to change since I have no chill and can't seem to pace myself.

I really am gonna try to do Sunday updates (I say as I post on a Monday) but… we’ll see how that pans out.

AGAIN I hope you guys like this one! 😝🥰🫰🏼😘THANK YOU FOR READING and check out my other finished story THE NAME I WONT ANSWER TO

Chapter 4: It All Comes Back

Chapter Summary

Shane and Ilya spend a week acting like boyfriends, pretending they’re not.
Then Ilya leaves, says the wrong thing to the wrong person, and Shane hears every word.
So much for “finally getting somewhere.”

Chapter Notes

Okay I need to stop saying I'll have things down by certain days because I am so bad at following a schedule... I got called into work today and it threw everything off. Moral of the story I try to update weekly, but I am doing my best lol

Once again, this chapter was not supposed to be so long. I need to plan less things for a chapter I guess lol

NOT FULLY EDITED YET!!! I’m gonna be at work all day so I won’t have a chance to edit till later

PREVIOUSLY ON CLOSE ENOUGH TO HURT:
-Summer days brought Shane and Ilya closer once again
-A trip to the cottage and a time alone in the house made the boys unable to ignore the feelings that are very much still there
-A parked car and a viewpoint led to lines being crossed

🎶This chapter's song is It All Comes Back by Lord Huron
CLOSE ENOUGH TO HURT PLAYLIST

ENJOY, I HOPE YOU LIKE IT!

Chapter 4: It All Comes Back

Words still trip Ilya up sometimes.

He doesn’t really struggle with English much anymore. His accent is still potent, though thicker when he’s tired or upset.

But there’s still times he finds himself struggling to make his mouth move around certain sounds.

He’s never struggled to say four words more than he did with Shane straddling his lap, moaning his name, and palming his very eager erection.

“Shane, we should stop.”

Ilya’s self-control was hanging by a thread and he’s honestly proud of himself for stopping it when he did because truthfully, he really wasn’t thinking much. He’s still struggling to think of much beyond the way Shane sits in his passenger seat, small smile on his lips, just looking out the window enjoying the drive home.

For Ilya, the car ride felt charged. He gripped the wheel to steady the tremble in his hand. The tremble that was trying to persuade his hand to reach over and claim Shane’s thigh. To feel his warmth, grab onto it, and just never let go.

Fuck.

When they reach Shane’s doorway, he turns to Ilya with shy eyes – ones that Ilya has always wanted to reach for – that start at the floor and slowly raise through thick, fluttering lashes. Ilya instantly forgets any and everything except this beautiful boy that stands in front of him.

“Well,” Shane says with a blush already flourishing. “I had um, a great time tonight. So, yeah. Thank you… for that… I guess.”

A smile grows on his lips that shifts his whole face, freckles dancing in ways Ilya hasn’t seen before. A new Shane Hollander look is being catalogued in a folder that has only known the same smiles for ten years.

This smile is different.

God. He’s so cute.

Ilya has a simple, logical response on his tongue to bring this eventful, heart-racing, and… stimulating night to an end.

One that aligns with the part of his brain telling him he’s been a massive douchebag tonight. A real sleaze-ball. A bad friend. The worst.

An easy, simple ‘goodnight’ and about five strides until he reaches his own door, with a wall creating a safe, maintainable distance between their horizontal bodies.

That’s really the only scenario that Ilya’s brain plans for.

But his body has something completely different in mind.

His body becomes possessed by some kind of puppeteer or ghost, and his arm reaches forward gently cupping the side of Shane’s jaw while his thumb brushes over the freckles he longs to caress every time he sees them.

He doesn’t notice the space he’s closed between them. He doesn’t notice himself crowding Shane against the wall in their hallway. He most definitely doesn’t notice when his chest presses against Shane’s. Their foreheads delicately fall together, breath mingling between them in soft exhales.

The devil on his shoulder convinces Ilya he’ll never get a night like this again. He’ll never get Shane like this again. And at this point, he’s accepted that he’s being selfish tonight, what’s one more tally against the night? It’s like breaking your diet; you might as well get some ice cream while you’re at it.

“Shane,” slips from his lips in the quietest voice.

Shane bites down on his lip. Ilya’s eyes quickly track the movement, wetting his own. His hand moves forward to grip Shane’s jaw, angling his head up slightly, giving Ilya easier access to shift his own face down and connect their lips.

While the treehouse kiss and the start of their last one – the one that literally happened thirty minutes ago – were hesitant and testing, this one starts passionate from the second it begins.

It’s gentle still, but something about it is like they already know each other’s mouths, like this is their fiftieth time kissing and not the third. Shane’s body goes limp between Ilya’s and the wall. He feels it when Shane’s hands fist the front of Ilya’s shirt for stability and leans forward into him.

Ilya softly flicks his tongue against Shane’s before retracting it back into his own mouth. Shane’s follows, gingerly swirling in Ilya’s mouth before falling back. Shane follows his next demanding kiss with his teeth biting Ilya’s lip, lightly sucking it.

Oh.

Ilya’s a little caught off guard. The pain turned pleasure zings, instantly filling his already half hard erection that never completely went down from their efforts in the car.

He wants to push Shane against the wall harder. He wants to suck that part of Shane’s neck that made him moan Ilya’s name into the car. He wants to hear Shane say his name like that again.

The small remainder of blood in his brain tells him to stop now. Stop now before he gets himself in the same place he found himself hitting the brakes on not that long ago.

He pulls his head back, creating distance but not much. Their foreheads rest against each other again, Shane’s already quickened panting brushes his face in small bursts.

Again, words are becoming an issue tonight.

This dark, sensual look in Shane’s eyes while he chews the skin on the inside of his lip has Ilya feeling like an animal ready to pounce and he should probably get out of here. Like now.

“Goodnight Shane,” Ilya whispers before turning on his heels quickly and not looking back.

“Night,” he hears breathlessly come from behind him.

He doesn’t look back. He can’t. If he looks back… well there’s no telling if he’d be able to keep himself composed.

And yes.

This is composed for Ilya.

At least at this point it is.

He knows he’s selfish, indulgent.

Shane isn’t his to steal these things from.

He’s supposed to be there for him, watching out for him while the Hollanders are gone with… oh God. With Cliff. Every time Ilya does one of these stupid things – one of these things that feel like instinct in the moment, feel like he’s already doing it before even thinking about it – he immediately thinks of Cliff. Cliff is his best friend, and Shane is his brother. Forbidden fruit. Ilya always tries to tell himself the attraction he feels is just the riskiness of it. His thirst for the things he can’t have.

He doesn’t like to entertain that the only time he truly feels the most himself is with Shane.

What’s he supposed to do now? He can’t possibly sweep this under the rug, could he?

The consequences don’t matter when he can still feel Shane’s lips. When he can still feel Shane’s body on top of his. Feel his fingers grazing his button, his palm reaching for-

Ilya’s mind races. Every time his thoughts drift back to the look of Shane in front of him, the sound of Shane breathing his name, he almost forgets why this whole thing is fucked up. Almost forgets what those years of self-control were for.

Almost.

A smile tugs at Shane’s face the moment he wakes up.

Memories of last night are still fresh in his mind. His body still feeling drunk from nothing to do with alcohol and everything to do with Ilya.

He’s up earlier than preferred this morning. He told JJ they could go on this hike that’s like two hours away. Therefore he reluctantly is eating a quick banana before running to his car to go pick up JJ.

Ilya isn’t up.

Shane’s a little relieved at first. He’s not quite sure how the dynamic will shift.

But later in the day as he’s driving home way later than he had originally planned… the anticipation is now killing him.

He’s not foolish enough to think anything is going to change between them but, like, Ilya kissed him back. And then kissed him again.

He could’ve gone to his room and he didn’t. He kissed Shane.

Shane feels nervous and giddy at the same time. He’s trying his best to be optimistic, but memories of the treehouse kiss cause bile to rise, burning its way up his throat.

He doesn’t want to assume anything. Yeah, Ilya said he wanted to kiss Shane, that it had meant too much, but he also said he’s trying not to mess things up, that they should stop before they regret anything.

Shane doesn’t regret anything about last night.

In fact, he wants it to happen again.

Will it happen again?

“We still fuck though.”

The words ring in his ears as a painful reminder to not expect anything.

Ilya obviously isn’t the type to be tied down, and Shane isn’t naïve enough to think he’s anything special. He can’t set himself up to be hurt like that when he should definitely know better than that. It doesn’t matter the sweet things that made Shane want to follow Ilya into his room last night. As much as last night means to Shane, he can’t assume it means the same to Ilya.

Safer to assume not.

Maybe he should… ask?

The thought of asking makes Shane physically lock up. All the confidence from the night before floated away as he slept.

He doesn’t want to push Ilya away again. Last time Ilya fell off the face of the earth and all they had done was simply kiss – not that anything about that kiss was simple. This time, Ilya had his tongue in Shane’s mouth like he was starving and the left-over lunch in Shane’s teeth was the only food in sight. And God, Shane pounced on Ilya like a lion in the Sahara would on an antelope.

Shane is better off to just act like nothing happened. That’ll be better. Maybe that’ll make Ilya stay.

“Because it meant too much.”

Shane feels like he’s going crazy the way he’s analyzing each word Ilya said.

He takes a shaky breath at the sight of Ilya’s car as he pulls into the driveway. Putting the car in park, he allows himself a second before moving to the front door.

The living room is dim besides light that seeps from the kitchen. There’s no sight of Ilya.

“Ilya?” Shane calls out.

With no response, Shane makes his way upstairs. He can see light creeping out from the propped open door at the end of the hall. As he approaches, he hears the faint sound of two voices.

Usually, Shane would just walk away. As obsessed as he is, he’s learned his lesson about overhearing Ilya doing things he doesn’t want to overhear.

Except, the low rumble of this voice is familiar. This low rumble sounds like-

“Cliff?” Shane says before even fully pushing the door open.

“Little bro!” Cliff exclaims as he stands and pulls Shane into a hug as if it’s been years since they’ve seen each other.

What the hell? What is Cliff doing home already? And where are their parents? Their car wasn’t in the driveway when he got home. Him and Ilya were supposed to have five more-

“Air,” Shane gasps when Cliff’s hug constricts the air from his lungs.

Cliff releases. He looks at Shane inquisitively.

“Did you get taller?”

“Oh my God. Shut up,” Shane sighs. “What are you even doing home? You guys aren’t supposed to be home till next week? Where’s mom and dad?”

Shane finally lets his eyes flick to the head of the bed where Ilya looks at him with an expression that looks a lot like guilt. Kind of like the look of a dog who just took a shit in the house.

“Aw, I figured you guys missed me,” he looks between Shane and Ilya as he plops himself back down on the bed. “Mom and dad ran to pick something up for dinner. They’ll be back soon. So, how was the party last night? Kyle kept badgering me to go like I wasn’t out of town.”

Shane doesn’t say anything. He looks at Ilya hoping for a lifeline, but he only gets a peek at slightly pink cheeks before Ilya looks away.

Ilya’s blushing? That’s… weird.

“Yeah,” Shane finds himself forcing out. “It was good. Fun, ya know?”

“Yeah?” Cliff asks seriously, “Kyle had some good things to say about you Shane.”

Shane’s face immediately burns at the memory of Kyle flirting with him last night. The way Cliff says it almost sounds like he’s implying something, but Shane’s never said anything about liking guys. Could Cliff tell? Did Kyle say something? What exactly were the good things he had to say?

Looking at Ilya doesn’t help. The look on his face resembles the same look he had both times when he shooed Kyle away. A look that has Shane wanting to cower away but also lean into him deeper.

Shane’s palms are starting to sweat now. He tries to wipe them on his pants, but the clammy feeling doesn’t go away so easily.

He looks to his feet, “Um, yeah, he was really nice.”

He can feel Cliff’s eyes studying the way Shane’s feet tap against the ground. Cliff isn’t so obvious in the way he cares. He picks up small things. He cares for you in silent, subtle ways that you almost don’t even notice. That’s how he’s always been with Shane. Him and Ilya were the same but different in that way. Their care isn’t overtly stated, but it’s always there.

“Did you meet anyone cool? I know it was a lot of our work friends but there’s some cool people there. Hopefully Roz didn’t get you into anything crazy.”

When he looks up they’re both staring at him from the bed with different expressions.

Shane has a hard time reading Cliff’s. He looks at Shane like he’s hoping to hear something. Or like he’s expecting Shane to say something. Did Ilya tell him? No. There’s no fucking way he would. And there’s no way Cliff would be sitting there so calmly. Why’s he looking at Shane like that?

And Ilya… well Shane isn’t even going to try and decipher what’s going on there right now. That’s something he can ponder not in front of his brother.

“No, no nothing crazy at all,” Shane says.

Cliff must take the hint. “Cool. Well I’m glad you guys had a good time even though I wasn’t there.”

Shane finds some reason to dismiss himself, one that he can’t even fully remember now. He feels like he’s been abruptly woken up from the best dream ever. Even if Shane had planned to pretend nothing has changed, he was secretly hoping maybe him, and Ilya would kiss again before his family got back.

That maybe they’d have more time to themselves. Time where Ilya shows more and more of himself. The parts where he says things like “because I wanted to kiss you” and “because it meant too much.”

But now their little bubble is popping before they’ve even had the chance to talk about what happened. Shane is conflicted. He wants Ilya so bad. So. Bad. How does he even say that to Ilya? He can’t say that. No. That changes everything. That changes the plan.

The plan to come out in New York where he doesn’t know anyone and doesn’t have to deal with the repercussions of his homophobic peers.

Admitting he likes Ilya doesn’t automatically mean he’s gay though.

Okay, okay. That’s stupid.

If anyone is on to him. It most definitely is Ilya.

But Ilya’s not gay. He likes girls. That much is very clear. So what is he even doing with Shane? Is this all a game to him? Is this just more fun?

It’s hard to take Ilya’s words in the car seriously now that Shane’s not locked in a car full of arousal and the hottest guy known to mankind.

How many other people has he said things like that to?

These thoughts hurt. Shane feels sick at the possibility. He knows Ilya cares about him. He knows that Ilya will always be in his life and he never wants that to change. He just doesn’t know if Ilya wants to be in his life the way Shane wants Ilya to be in his life.

He scurries into the treehouse hoping some quiet will alleviate the paranoid thoughts.

But he also can’t stop thinking about the fact that Kyle had said something to Cliff to make him say “Kyle had some good things to say about you Shane” and now Shane is spiraling over the fact that he is not ready for people in his hometown to know he’s gay.

But no matter how hard Shane tries to calm down, everything circles back to him.

“Did something happen?”

Cliff inquires to Ilya the second they hear Shane's steps descend down the stairs.

“No,” a lie. “I mean, Kyle was being Kyle, but Shane seemed like he had a good time. He told me he had a good time,” a half lie.

Shane did tell Ilya he had fun at the party. And he did tell Ilya he had a good night… but Ilya knows that was most likely not in reference to the party.

Ilya feels like the biggest conman right now. Here he is, sitting on his bed with his best friend, lying right to his face.

“I’m worried Kyle freaked him out,” Cliff sighs.

Ilya really wants to know exactly what Kyle said. He’s too scared to ask too much about anything Shane related. He’s certain if Cliff would’ve seen the way he was looking at Shane, the events of the night wouldn’t have stayed much of a secret.

“Why would Kyle have freaked him out?” Ilya tries to sound oblivious. “Did he say something?”

“Well,” Cliff starts. He looks like he’s holding something back. “I just- I don’t know. You know how Kyle can be. And Shane is…”

Cliff doesn’t finish. Ilya’s stomach sinks. He doesn’t think Cliff’s dumb. And while Ilya had overheard Shane and Yuna that one night, he could put the pieces together that Shane’s not attracted to girls.

It’s not like they ever talk about it. It’s not even something he’s really put much thought into about Cliff knowing until this moment.

“I just worry about him,” Cliff continues. “Maybe I should go check on him.”

Cliff goes to stand up.

“Or,” he starts again before looking at Ilya, “maybe you could?”

“Me?”

“Yeah,” Cliff laughs. “I mean you have a way with him.”

Ilya feels caught. “Yeah… but he’s your brother.”

“Exactly. Would you talk to your brother when something’s bothering you?”

Ilya grimaces, “That’s different.”

“Yeah, oof. Bad example, sorry. But you know what I mean don’t you?”

He does. He knows what Cliff’s trying to get at, but Ilya can’t help the sinking feeling that Ilya talking with Shane won’t do anything to help. He worries it’ll make things worse.

“Yeah, I know what you mean.”

Cliff clasps a hand on Ilya’s shoulder. “So you’ll talk to him.”

Of course he will.

“Of course.”

Ilya knows where he’ll be. It’s been a long time since they’ve been in the treehouse together. Climbing up the ladder is a bit daunting, his heart is racing. Somehow he hopes Shane is in here but isn’t at the same time.

He’s in here.

He’s leaning his elbows on the open windowsill, watching the sunset. Ilya can’t see his face, but the view in front of him is one he could watch every night for the rest of his life.

Shane must not hear him come in – or he does and just doesn’t acknowledge it. Ilya walks over and leans in the same position in the tight space next to Shane. Their arms press together, contact that makes Ilya’s heart flutter, but their eyes stay glued forward.

After what feels like forever of holding his gaze away from Shane, he allows himself to look over.

The colors of the sky – pink, orange, red – all reflect off of Shane’s olive skin. His face is sculpted but it still holds the same boyish face Ilya’s admired for half his life. The freckles on his cheeks glowing under the ambient light.

Shane’s presenting as relaxed but the knot between his brows and the way his foot lightly – but anxiously – taps against the floorboard leads Ilya to believe otherwise.

“Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Shane snaps. It’s not brutal. More like a hiss. He doesn’t even look over at Ilya.

He’s shocked Shane would even attempt to lie right now. Does he really think Ilya can’t tell that he’s not okay?

“Shane.”

He finally looks at Ilya. “What?”

“You’re not fine.”

“Ugh,” Shane rolls his eyes and looks back out the window. “I hate when you do that.”

“Do what?” Ilya genuinely asks.

“Don’t listen to me.”

What? It’s confusing because Ilya feels like all he does is listen to Shane. He is so hyperaware of Shane twenty-four-seven that sometimes he has to manually pull his attention to the opposite direction.

“I am listening to y-”

“You’re not though,” Shane says, turning his whole body towards Ilya now. “You ask me if I’m okay, I tell you I’m fine, then you say I’m not. Why even ask if you know so much?”

“Because I do listen,” Ilya tries for calm and comforting. “I listen to what your body is saying,” Ilya gestures at him. “Because you tell me you’re fine when you’re clearly not.”

They just stare at each other. Ilya isn’t sure why Shane’s upset. Well, he should say he’s not exactly sure why Shane’s upset. There’s definitely a few things that could be the cause.

He’s not sure if it’s because of Kyle being brought up – Ilya is still seething from the way Shane blushed at the mention of him – if it’s because of all of Cliffs questions. Or, if like Ilya, he was upset that their time alone was being cut short.

“You know you could tell him," Slips from his mouth without much extra thought.

“Tell who what,” confusion thick in Shane’s tone.

“Cliff.”

“About what?” Shane’s face goes scared. “Us? What are you ev-”

“No, Shane.” It comes out sharper than he means. “About you.”

“What about me?”

Ilya is actually freaking out now. He really doesn’t want to scare Shane off. He wants Shane to do this on his own but after hearing Shane’s fears about Ilya and Cliff accepting him through Shane’s bedroom door the one night years ago, Ilya wants to reassure him that his sexual orientation would never change his relationship with Cliff or Ilya. Both for different reasons but…

“That you’re gay.”

Shane stands abruptly. His feet start on a furious track, pacing back and forth.

“What? No- no I’m not. Just because we kissed doesn’t mean-”

“Shane,” Ilya is trying everything in his power to bring the energy back down. “Calm down.”

“No. Don’t tell me to calm down. What the fuck Ilya? You’re not gay.”

He gets why Shane’s saying this. He thinks Ilya is assuming based on their own unrestrained moments of weakness.

“No… not completely.”

Shane stares at him with a look that lands somewhere between confused and hopeful, the kind of look that makes Ilya feel suddenly, stupidly transparent. He doesn’t expect a response. Those three words have probably stunned Shane as much as they stunned him – because Ilya still isn’t sure what they expose, or why admitting them feels like peeling back something he’s never let anyone see.

Ilya moves towards Shane again, hand cautiously moving to his bicep, caressing the muscle there.

“He’s worried about you.”

Shane stills for a moment, like he’s carefully considering Ilya’s words. Something takes over the stillness and Shane’s pulling away from the contact.

“God,” Shane exhales. “I’m not- this isn’t- fuck.”

Shane’s face falls into his hands and Ilya has no choice but to reach for him. It’s really second nature at this point. He can’t possibly see Shane in distress and not want to do anything in his power to fix it.

They used to talk about everything. Even when there was silence, it somehow still spoke countless words between them. Ilya can’t help the dreadful feeling that he’s ruined that. That now because of his own selfishness, they won’t be able to get to that place again. That Shane won’t be able to trust him in that way.

He’s worried Shane will pull away, and it’s okay if he does. Ilya gets it. But he’s not going to let it control him. Both of his hands reach out, fingers gripping onto Shane’s shoulders, testing, seeing if Shane will allow the contact.

When he does, Ilya takes the chance to pull Shane against his chest.

Shane’s body shudders against him, small puffs of air and shaky breaths tell Ilya his composure is cracking fully now. He soothes a hand down his back. He nuzzles into the hair on top of Shane’s head. Something he’ll over think later, but for now, he lets himself be engulfed by Shane’s sweet scent.

“You don’t have to say anything,” Ilya says softly into Shane’s hair. “But I’m here for you Shane. I always will be.”

“I’m just… not ready,” it comes out cracked. Ilya’s hands tighten in response.

“It’s okay.”

When Shane pulls back, Ilya’s heart shatters.

Glossy eyes stare up at him like he’s the answer to every possible question that sparks in Shane’s head. They stare into his, searching for something Ilya is certain he doesn’t have but is willing to search the ends of the earth to give him.

Shane’s eyes flicker down to Ilya’s lips and the heat that pools from the night before comes rushing back like lava filling every space in him. He bites his cheek, drawing blood just to ground himself.

Because his body craves the contact, Ilya allows himself to lean forward and connect his lips to Shane’s forehead. He leaves his lips there for a second, eyes closed as he basks in the feeling of soft skin beneath his lips.

He desperately wants to kiss Shane. He wants to kiss that quiver of his lip away until Shane is steady enough to realize there’s nothing he could do or say to make anyone in this family hate him.

This family.

Ilya’s insides twist.

Here he is, once again for the millionth time, staking claim on the Hollanders as he dreams of recklessness and brown doe eyes that he’d commit crimes for.

He wills himself to pull away. Shane’s body leans towards him still, only stopping from the lock of Ilya’s arms on his shoulders.

“I will let you think.”

Shane looks at him, eyes saying everything he refuses to voice – stay, don’t go, don’t break this. Words that would drag Ilya back toward him, make leaving feel like tearing himself away from something he’s not allowed to want.

Shane doesn’t say those things.

“Okay,” comes from him, barely above a whisper.

It feels unnatural to let go of him now, but if Ilya stays any longer, he’s scared of the things he’ll do. The things that felt safe – albeit still wrong, wrong, so wrong – now no longer feel that way when they’re not in their safe, isolated bubble.

He forces his legs to move. He doesn’t come out of his room for dinner. He texts Cliff some lazy excuse about a migraine and instead hits the call button next to Svetlana’s name.

“Ilya?” She answers.

“I’m so fucked,” he sighs.

Because he is.

He is so fucked.

The last month slips by faster than Shane expects.

Maybe because, on the surface, everything feels almost normal again. He and Ilya fall back into their usual rhythm – easy banter, shared jokes, the kind of familiarity that settles into the house like muscle memory. The kind of closeness that should make everything feel easy again.

And it does… mostly.

But underneath that ease sits a quiet, persistent uncertainty he can’t shake. Every time the house empties out or the moment tilts toward just the two of them, Ilya finds a reason to stay in the kitchen a little longer, or drift toward Cliff, or disappear behind a closed door.

It’s subtle enough that no one else would notice. Shane notices. He feels every dodge like a reminder of something they still haven’t talked about, something hanging between them that neither of them seems brave enough to touch.

He can’t help the insecurities that rush through him. Ilya’s really the only real experience he has with anything intimate. Was Shane not good? He knows he’s inexperienced but was he really that god awful?

Shane keeps circling back to what Ilya said in the treehouse.

“That you’re gay.”

The words had hit him like a blow, not because they were wrong, but because they were right in a way he’s spent years carefully trying to hide. Kissing Ilya – being on top of him, feeling wanted in a way he’s only ever let himself imagine in the quietest corners of his mind – dragged that truth into the light whether he was ready or not.

But even with all of that, he doesn’t stray from the plan.

He’s already made up his mind. He’s already run through every possible scenario, every version of coming out he can imagine, and the only one that ever feels safe is the one where he’s in New York. Where no one knows him. Where he can build a life that starts with who he actually is – not who everyone here thinks he is. It’s not that he wants to keep lying. It’s just that he’s not ready for the truth to live in this town, in this house, in front of people who have known him since he was small enough to fit under the kitchen table.

So he holds onto the plan. He holds onto New York. And he holds onto the quiet, foolish part of himself that still wonders what being with Ilya would feel like – really feel like – if he were brave enough to want it out loud.

On the night before he leaves, they have a small gathering for him. Just some family friends and the couple people he’ll actually miss.

By the time everyone’s leaving, Shane finally allows himself to acknowledge the one presence that’s been missing the majority of the night.

Yuna tells him not to worry about cleaning up down here. He’s done all his packing already, boxes filling the hallways. Boxes that contain his life as he knows it. Boxes that will follow him to this new place with endless possibilities. No matter how prepared Shane is, he’s the type of person that insists on triple checking his packing list. He hates the feeling that he forgot something.

He doesn’t check the list.

He climbs the ladder one final time. Not the last time ever, but the last before Christmas, and the distance between now and then feels impossibly wide.

A thin thread of music reaches him as he steps in – Entombed by Deftones, low and blurred at the edges.

Then he sees them. Those blue eyes.

“Found you,” Shane exhales, like the words have been waiting in him.

He walks over to where Ilya is, the same spot against the window where they leaned a month ago.

“Boy of the night is looking for me?” Ilya asks with a sly smirk on his face.

“Of course not.”

They stand there, both staring at the sky. A cool breeze moves around them, but the air between them stays thick, loaded in a way Shane longs to soften.

He isn’t sure if he should ask why Ilya only showed up at the beginning of the night. Shane kept making eye contact with him. It felt like Ilya’s eyes only ever followed him. Something pained behind his expression that Shane couldn’t read.

Then he was gone.

“Are you okay?” Shane whispers, staring at Ilya’s side profile. The way his lips purse like he’s holding something back.

Shane doesn’t want him to hold back.

“I um, missed you. Tonight.” Shane starts again when Ilya doesn’t answer. “I’ve missed you the past month.”

Ilya doesn’t look at him but his eyes falter to the grass. The pained expression from earlier plaguing his beautiful features.

“I’ve been here, Hollander.”

No, you haven’t.

“I know,” Shane tries to stay as steady as possible. He needs this. He needs to have a conversation with Ilya. A real one. One he can hang onto until the next time he sees him. “I just feel like you’ve kinda been avoiding being alone with me.”

“I’m excited for you,” Ilya says, bypassing Shane’s words like he didn’t even speak them.

This time Shane doesn’t respond. He turns his gaze away from Ilya. Wetness prickles in his eyes. He tries to blink it away.

“You deserve somewhere you can be yourself. Somewhere you can start fresh, spread your wings, meet people. You deserve to be happy Shane.”

He turns to look at Ilya now, faces only inches apart as the lean with elbows to the window. Shane isn’t sure what look his face is making, but he knows on the inside he’s being thrown every which way. His body pulses with want. He can’t be this close to Ilya without craving him. Getting a taste of him and then being cut off cold turkey makes the effects of his presence a gazillion times worse.

His eyes search those blue wells that have sucked him in for years. He’ll never get used to the pull he feels to them. The magnetic force that lassos him and reels him closer.

When Ilya’s eyes drift down, Shane follows the shift without hesitation.

His upper body leans forward and stops when Ilya’s hand meets his shoulder.

“Shane.” His eyebrows knot together, the pained expression twisting up, and now Shane can’t tell if Ilya’s mad at him, but Shane’s cheeks are definitely blazing with embarrassment. “We can’t.”

Shane is so fucking confused. He should accept that he’ll never be able to read Ilya. Maybe Ilya just isn’t attracted to him. Shane really tries not to think that. Why would Ilya kiss him multiple times if he wasn’t attracted to him? If he “wanted” to kiss Shane, then there has to be some level of attraction. He can’t just be an opportunity. He knows Ilya isn’t cruel. Even with hookups, he’s never cruel.

That doesn’t really matter to Shane right now because he’s not just a hook up. Ilya’s not just a hook up.

At least Shane doesn’t want him to be.

“If you’re not attracted to me, then why’d you kiss me in the first place?” Shane asks, pacing back and then turning to face Ilya again, a few feet between them.

“Shane, it’s not that I’m not attracted to you. That’s… not even close to the issue.” He moves toward him, palms open, voice gentling. “You’re Cliff’s little brother. That’s the line I can’t pretend isn’t there. And the truth is, I’ve thought about you more than I should. But I can’t cross that line and then look Cliff in the eye. And you-” he swallows, “you deserve someone who can give you everything. I can’t. Not the way you deserve.” 

Shane’s heart threatens to slam out of his chest.

“I didn’t ask you for that!”

Although… isn’t it exactly what he wants?

He wants to have Ilya forever. He wants to have Ilya the way he’s only been given a taste of. The way his body yearns to feel again. Hearing Ilya confirm that attraction isn’t the issue causes Shane’s body light up in a way that makes him want to put Ilya in a death grip and never release.

But he can’t do that.

Ilya’s making it clear he can’t want that.

“I just don’t want to lose you again,” he says, stepping closer. Because really, if he can’t have Ilya the way it feels like he’d destined to, he’ll settle for their original dynamic. Even if it’ll shatter him to see Ilya with someone else one day.

He continues, “I feel like you’re gonna disappear on me.”

“Shane,” he says. “You’re the one leaving tomorrow.”

“Yeah. I know.”

“Enjoy yourself, okay? Don’t hold back.” his hand reaches for Shane’s cheekbone, thumb swiping the skin there. “You’re the best person I know. Don’t be scared to let other people see what I see.”

Shane’s body feels like it’s trembling. His knees are about to buckle from Ilya’s words. He doesn’t want other people. He wants Ilya.

“If I text you, will you answer?”

A small smile jerks Ilya’s lips up. The movement causes warmth to spread around Shane’s chest.

“I’ll answer.” 

“You promise?”

“I promise.”

The morning feels too bright for how heavy Ilya’s chest is.

There’s a hum of activity around the driveway. Doors opening, boxes shifting, voices overlapping. But all of it sounds muffled to him, like he’s underwater. Dread seeps slow and deep into his body, settling in places he didn’t know could ache.

He is excited for Shane. He really is. Shane deserves to spread his wings, to be the version of himself Ilya has always seen shimmering beneath the surface. But excitement doesn’t cancel out the jealousy curling low in his stomach, or the fear that once Shane leaves, the distance between them will stretch into something permanent.

He’s working on that. Or… trying to.

Everyone gathers by the car now. Yuna and David are driving there with Shane – David in the U-Haul, Yuna riding shotgun in Shane’s car. The last boxes are being loaded, the last instructions given, the last reminders exchanged.

Shane hugs Cliff goodbye first.

“Promise me you’ll call if you get in any trouble?” Cliff says, squeezing him so tight Shane’s feet almost lift off the ground.

“I promise,” Shane says into Cliff’s shoulder, his voice small.

“And you’ll tell me about all the crazy shit you get into?”

“Yeah,” Shane laughs, “cause I’ll just be getting into so much crazy shit.”

Cliff pulls him back by the shoulders, eyes serious. “I’m serious, Shane. Call me. Anytime.” His voice softens. “You know I love you, right.”

Shane nods. “I love you too.”

Cliff pulls him in again, holding him tight. “I’m proud of you.”

When they finally break apart, Cliff turns away quickly, hugging Yuna as he lets a small, choked sound escape him. He and Yuna walk off to help David with the last of the boxes, leaving Shane standing alone for a moment.

Then he turns to Ilya.

Ilya is watching from where he leans against Shane’s car, arms crossed, doing his best to project the cool indifference he always wears like armor. He smirks when Shane approaches, pushing himself off the car and closing the distance between them.

“Angry kitten takes on New York?”

Shane scoffs, rolling his eyes. “Shut up, asshole.”

Ilya grabs him and pulls him into an embrace.

Shane melts into him instantly – arms around his waist, breath warm against his neck. Ilya closes his eyes. Just for a second. Just long enough to feel the shape of Shane against him, to memorize the weight, the warmth, the way Shane fits in his arms like he was made to be there. He inhales deeply, savoring that sweet familiar smell.

He wants to kiss him. He wants to tell Shane not to forget about him. He wants to say a thousand things he has no right to say after his restraint last night.

He doesn’t.

“Be careful out there,” he murmurs instead.

“I always am.”

Ilya forces himself to break the hug. Shane leans in and presses a soft kiss to his cheek. It’s quick, gentle, and devastating all at once. It makes Ilya feel weak in the knees.

They stare at each other, still close enough to feel each other’s breath, until footsteps crunch across the gravel.

“Alright, kiddo,” David hollers, shutting the U-Haul with a loud metallic thud. “You ready?”

Shane turns back to Ilya. There’s a hopeful glint in his eyes and Ilya has no idea what to do with it.

“Goodbye, Shane.”

Shane’s eyes gloss over, his voice cracking as he whispers, “Bye, Ilya.”

And just like that, he’s gone. Walking toward the car, climbing in, and pulling the door shut. The engine starts. The driveway fills with dust. The car turns the corner and disappears.

Ilya stands there long after the sound fades, staring at the empty street.

Something inside him feels missing, like a limb he forgot he needed until it was gone.

Shane’s studio isn’t big. It isn’t fancy by any means.

The floor creaks in one corner, the radiator hisses like it’s judging him, and the window only opens halfway.

But it’s his. His own space. His new beginning.

He stands in the middle of the room that first night, surrounded by half-opened boxes and the hum of the vibrant city outside, and for the first time in a long time, he feels something like belonging settle into his bones.

It happens faster than he expects – strangely fast. He doesn’t usually make connections with people as quickly as he is.

New York is loud and alive and full of people who don’t know him, and somehow that makes it easier to be himself.

He meets Hayden in his calculus class. He’s loud and chaotic, but brilliant. He talks with his hands and laughs like he’s never been embarrassed a day in his life. Hayden introduces him to his girlfriend Jackie a week later.

Apparently, they’re in a polyamorous relationship.

Shane hasn’t ever met anyone in a relationship like that. The first few times they jokingly invite him home with them, he locks up so hard he forgets how to breathe. They think it’s hilarious and he learns quickly they just enjoy messing with him. They’re not actually expecting him to say yes.

Rose comes into the picture through Hayden too. She’s roommates with Jackie in the dorms and becomes important to Shane almost immediately.

Rose is… something else entirely. Probably the prettiest girl he’s ever met. She has a soft voice, sharp wit, and eyes that see right through him. She’s sweet, but he’s already seen her put a guy twice her size in his place without raising her voice.

And somehow, none of them intimidate him the way people usually do.

This group becomes his faster than he knows how to process. They’re all freshmen. They all meet up constantly – studying, eating, wandering the city, collapsing into each other’s apartments like they’ve known each other for years.

The first time Rose and Jackie meet him, they ask casually, “So do you have a girlfriend back home?”

Shane freezes. Heart in his throat.

This is it. This is the moment everything changes. This is where he sets the standard for the rest of his college life. This is where he stops hiding.

He has a small freak-out in his head – rapid-fire thoughts, a thousand what-ifs, a flash of Ilya’s face in the treehouse – and then he says it.

“Actually, um… I-I’m gay.”

The words feel terrifying and freeing all at once. Like stepping off a cliff and realizing halfway down that maybe he can fly.

Rose beams. Jackie hugs him. Hayden cheers like Shane just won a championship.

And suddenly, he’s out. Just like that.

No crazy shift. No black clouds and thunder rolling in.

Rose introduces him to her friend Miles a week later. Miles wants to take him on a date.

That freaks Shane out too.

Miles is an aspiring actor. He’s beautiful and soft-spoken but somehow dominant in the way he carries himself. Shane doesn’t know what to do with that kind of attention. He’s never had it before. Not like this. Not so obvious.

He gets a job at the café where Rose works. Their friends come in constantly – studying, gossiping, stealing pastries when they think no one is looking. When they’re not working, they’re studying there. When they’re not studying, they’re dragging Shane out into the city.

He blossoms over the next few months. He laughs more. Talks more. Feels more.

He’s never felt more like himself.

Well… that’s not entirely true.

He’s felt this way before. With someone.

He never used to feel comfortable being social, but being around this group makes him open in ways he didn’t know he could be. It reminds him of the way he used to feel around Ilya, before everything got complicated.

The first time Rose drags him to a club, he’s scared shitless. She sits on his bed while he tries on outfit after outfit until she puts him in something he would’ve never worn back home – or really anywhere. Something bold. Something that shows skin. Something that makes him feel exposed and electric.

He wears it. And he likes the attention he gets.

He doesn’t usually crave attention from strangers. But there’s a void in him that soaks it up. A void he knows exactly how it formed. Exactly who it formed around.

Telling his parents he’s gay is easier.

His mom obviously is already aware of the situation. Although that doesn’t stop tears falling from her face while she rambles about how much she loves him.

David isn’t a man of many words. He just tells Shane he loves him and says, “You’re my son. That’s it. That’s everything.”

And somehow, that’s enough.

Cliff is next.

Shane FaceTime’s him, heart pounding, palms sweating, stomach twisting like he’s about to skydive without a parachute.

Cliff answers with his usual grin. “What’s up, little bro?”

Shane swallows. “I, um… I wanted to tell you something.”

Cliff’s smile softens instantly. “Okay. Shoot.”

Shane hesitates. His throat tightens. His ribcage feels too small for the way his heart pounds with nerves.

“I’m gay.”

There’s a beat and Shane struggles not to fill the silence.

Then Cliff exhales, long and shaky, and his eyes go glossy.

“Shane,” he says, voice thick, “I love you so much. You hear me? So much. And I’m proud of you. I’m proud of you for saying it. I’m proud of you for being you.”

Shane’s breath stutters. He didn’t expect to cry, but he does – quietly, shoulders shaking, relief pouring out of him like he’s been holding it in for years.

Cliff wipes his own eyes. “You’re still my little brother. Nothing changes that. Nothing ever will.”

Shane nods, unable to speak for a moment. “Thank you,” he finally whispers.

They talk for a few more minutes about school, about New York, about how Cliff wants to visit as soon as he can. When they hang up, Shane sits on the edge of his bed, phone still warm in his hand, heart still pounding.

He feels lighter. Freer. More himself.

And then, without meaning to, his thumb drifts to the top of his contacts list.

Ilya.

His chest tightens. His breath catches. His finger hovers over the name like it’s a bruise he can’t stop pressing.

He wants to call him. God, he wants to call him.

He’s been trying not to text Ilya. It feels like self-inflicted torture.

Yeah, Ilya said he’d text back if Shane reached out. But that doesn’t mean Ilya couldn’t text first.

And he hasn’t.

Shane tries not to think about that, but he fails every time.

Because even with new friends, new confidence, new beginnings… there’s still a part of him that longs for Ilya. Still a part of him that hopes things can be different. Still a part of him that wonders if distance might make Ilya realize something too.

He wants to tell Ilya everything – the relief, the fear, the way it felt to finally say the words out loud. He wants to hear Ilya’s voice, wants to know if he’d be proud too, wants to know if maybe, just maybe, this changes something.

But then he remembers the last time they talked. The distance Ilya kept. The line he wouldn’t cross. The way he told Shane to spread his wings, to meet people, to live.

Shane’s thumb trembles. He presses play on Sometimes by Mannequin Pussy instead.

Not tonight.

He sets his phone down on the nightstand, screen dimming to black. He lies back on his bed, listening to the music, staring at the ceiling, heart full and aching all at once.

He’s proud of himself. He’s becoming who he’s always been. He’s opening up, blooming, stepping into the world.

But some part of him – the quiet, stubborn part – still hopes Ilya might one day step toward him too.

For now, he lets the hope sit there.

Soft and small, but alive.

Still very much alive.

Ilya tries to bite back the quiver in his lip, the tear threatening to spill over.

He knew this day would come eventually but knowing that Shane finally said the words he’s been holding in makes something warm and painful bloom in his chest.

Cliff had told him casually one day that Shane called him and came out. He’d been hoping Shane would reach out. That maybe he’d want to text Ilya about how he’s doing, how school is going, if he’s met anyone, or if maybe he’s even met a boy-

He wants to text him. God, he wants to.

It’s mid-October now, and the only glimpses he gets of Shane are the vague, too-short Instagram stories he posts. They don’t do anything to keep Ilya updated. They don’t tell him if Shane’s happy, or lonely, or if he’s thinking about him at all.

Is it bad if he texts first?

Shane seemed like he wanted him to. But is that too much? Is that confusing after Ilya told him there was a line that couldn’t be crossed?

No. It’s just a text. Right?

Ilya

hey :)

He hits send before he can overthink it, then forces himself into the shower so he won’t sit there staring at his phone like a lunatic.

When he gets out, hair dripping, towel slung around his shoulders, there’s a message waiting for him – delivered two minutes ago.

Shane

Hi :)

Ilya’s heart stutters.

He wonders if he should bring up the coming-out thing. Shane would’ve texted him himself if he wanted to talk about it… right? Or would he? It’s obvious Ilya knows already. Their conversation in the treehouse may not have been the most clarifying but that much Ilya knows. What else could Ilya be texting for?

He types before he can talk himself out of it.

Ilya

i wanted to tell u I’m proud of you

for coming out I mean. cliff told me

Shane

Thanks Ilya <3

The tiny heart shouldn’t do anything to him.

It does.

After that initial text, it becomes constant.

Ilya finds himself checking his phone minutes after he last checked it, hoping for another message. They talk about everything. Ilya’s work, how quiet the house feels without Shane, the city, Shane’s new friends.

They talk about how Shane can’t come home for the breaks this year. His job is short-staffed, and as the new guy, he gets the short end of the stick.

When Shane makes a throwaway comment about Ilya visiting sometime, Ilya latches onto it like a lifeline.

It feels stupid. Irresponsible. But he can’t get the idea out of his head.

A plan forms.

One evening, after dinner with Yuna, David, and Cliff, Ilya wanders into Cliff’s room, starting with harmless small talk – work, Katie, the usual.

“Hey,” Ilya says, trying to sound casual. “Can I ask you something?”

“Yeah?”

“How would you feel if we went and visited Shane?”

Cliff perks up immediately. “Really? I’d fucking love that.”

Ilya mentally celebrates. Step one: complete.

“Sweet. I was thinking maybe early December? I have to go to Russia in the spring, so before New Year’s would be best.”

“Fuck,” Cliff groans. “I can’t. Katie’s parents will be in town, and they’ve got us doing all kinds of holiday stuff.”

Damn it.

Ilya really thought this was the perfect plan. Go see Shane, disguise it as something casual, keep Cliff there as a buffer so he doesn’t do anything stupid. Cliff would’ve been a shield. A force field. A reminder of the line he’s not supposed to cross.

“Wait!” Cliff says suddenly, turning to him. “You could just go see him.”

“Me?” Ilya feels his cheeks heat. “Oh, I don’t know, I-”

“Oh, come on. He’s gonna need a piece of home if he’s not getting break off.”

This wasn’t part of the plan. Going alone is… dangerous. Like he’s asking for trouble.

His stomach flips at the thought.

“For me?” Cliff adds.

Guilt hits him hard. Cliff asks like it’s something Ilya would need convincing to do – like seeing Shane is a chore. He has no idea how willing Ilya is. Too willing.

A few days later, Ilya finally texts Shane.

Ilya

crazy idea

Shane

Do tell.

Ilya

what if I came to visit you ?

Shane

Here?

Ilya

no

in space

yes shane

in new york.

There’s no response for a minute. A full minute.

It makes Ilya’s skin crawl. Does Shane not want that? Is he thinking of ways to let him down gently? Is he laughing with his friends about how ridiculous it is that Ilya would even think-

His phone buzzes.

Shane

I’d really like that :)

Ilya’s ecstatic.

They spend some time figuring out the details. Ilya plays down the visit and says he’ll also see Svetlana while he’s there, which is a big fat lie because she won’t even be in town at that time, but Shane doesn’t need to know that.

Shane tells Ilya not to worry about getting a hotel.

Shane

It’s a studio though so it’s not very spacious.

Theres only one bed but I can go buy an air mattress.

Ilya

Hollander

u know we’ve shared a bed before right ?

He waits a beat, heart pounding.

Ilya

don’t waste your money

i can sleep on the couch

He puts his phone down, snatching it quickly when it buzzes.

Shane

I wouldn’t make you sleep on the couch.

I don’t mind sharing the bed.

Ilya can’t help the ridiculous smile that spreads across his face.

He’s not even there yet, and he’s already making bad decisions.

Ilya comes the first week of December.

Shane spends the days leading up to it feeling like his skin is too tight, like there’s a current running under it he can’t shut off. The way they left things was… open. Or maybe not open at all. Maybe it was just Shane who kept replaying the almosts and the maybes and the what-ifs.

He still feels guilty sometimes for wanting his older brother’s best friend. Wanting someone he’s not supposed to want. But ever since they kissed, ever since he felt Ilya’s hands on him, ever since he heard his own name whispered in that sleepy, wrecked voice… the guilt doesn’t stand a chance against the overwhelming need.

He can’t even lie to himself. He was bouncing off the walls when Ilya mentioned visiting. He tried to play it cool, but he knows he failed miserably.

Ilya said he was going to see Svetlana too – something that makes jealousy coil hot and sharp in Shane’s veins – but he’s staying with Shane.

Here. In his apartment. Sleeping in the same bed.

The thought alone has been enough to short-circuit Shane’s brain for weeks. Every night, he falls asleep remembering the warmth of Ilya’s body under him, the way Ilya’s breath hitched when Shane kissed him, the way his name sounded in Ilya’s mouth. He tries not to think about it. He fails every time.

And then the day comes.

Shane hears the knock and nearly trips over his own feet getting to the door. He pulls it open and-

There he is.

Ilya stands in the hallway with a duffel bag slung over his shoulder, cheeks pink from the cold, hair a little messy from the wind. He looks older somehow. Or maybe just tired. Or maybe Shane is seeing him too clearly after the absence.

“Hi, Hollander.”

Shane doesn’t even try to stop himself. He launches forward, practically jumping into Ilya’s arms. Ilya catches him with a soft grunt, arms wrapping around him like muscle memory, like instinct, like home.

Shane breathes him in and for a second, that familiar smell, and everything in him settles.

When they pull back, there’s a moment. A look. Something thick and charged and familiar.

Ilya clears his throat, stepping back like he needs the distance to breathe.

Shane pretends not to notice.

He shows him around the apartment – the tiny kitchen, the too-small table, the bed that suddenly feels like the most dangerous piece of furniture in the world. Ilya listens, nodding, smiling in that soft way that makes Shane’s stomach twist.

“So, this is it huh?” Ilya asks, looking around.

“Yep,” Shane says. “Do you, um, like it?”

He needs to know. He needs to know if Ilya likes this place that’s him. That’s the most Shane anything has ever been.

Ilya smiles at him, “It’s perfect. It’s so… you.”

They walk to the café where Shane works. Shane introduces him to Rose and Hayden and Jackie since they are – of course – all gathered in there. Ilya shakes their hands, polite and warm, but his eyes keep drifting back to Shane like he’s checking to make sure he’s still there.

And weirdly… it feels comfortable. Easy. Like slipping back into something they never really left.

Shane tries not to read into it. He tries not to hope.

But hope has always been his downfall.

They decide to stay in that night.

Shane insists on it, really. Ilya had a flight, then they walked all over the city, and even though Ilya would never admit he’s tired, Shane can see it in the way he rolls his shoulders, the way he exhales when he finally sits down. So Shane makes the call. No going out, no plans, no noise. Just a movie. Just them.

Shane sits on the couch first, deliberately choosing one end and giving Ilya space, giving him the option to sit wherever he wants. It’s a small thing, but it feels huge. Like a test. Like a question he’s too scared to ask out loud.

Ilya walks over, glancing at the couch, then at Shane, then back at the couch.

And he sits. Right next to him. Not on the other end. Not even in the middle. Right there. Close enough that their arms brush.

Shane feels the warmth immediately. A soft, steady heat that seeps through the fabric of his shirt and settles under his skin. He tries not to react. He tries not to let his breath hitch or his shoulders tense or his heart sprint.

But he can’t help the small smile that pulls at his mouth.

It’s stupid, it’s nothing.

It’s everything.

He scrolls through the movie options, pretending to focus, pretending he’s not hyperaware of every inch of Ilya beside him – the way he smells faintly like airport air and cold wind and something warm underneath, the way his thigh presses lightly against Shane’s, the way he leans back like he belongs there.

Shane chooses something random. He doesn’t even know what he picked.

The lights from the TV flicker across the room, casting soft shadows over Ilya’s face. Shane steals a glance – just one – and it hits him all over again how unreal it feels to have Ilya here. In his apartment. In his space. In his life.

He’s missed this. He’s missed him.

The movie snaps Shane out of his thoughts when a sudden explosion of sound makes both of them gasp and jolt. Ilya’s hands, which had flown up in surprise, fall back down… and one of them lands on Shane’s thigh.

Not too high. But definitely not at the knee.

His thumb settles right on the inside seam of Shane’s jeans, warm and steady, like it belongs there. Shane feels heat bloom under that single point of contact, spreading through him like someone lit a match and dropped it straight into his bloodstream. His whole entire body feels on fire, he can feel his breathing trembling.

He doesn’t dare move. Not an inch.

He’s terrified that if he shifts even slightly, Ilya will pull away. That the moment will break, that the warmth will disappear, that he’ll lose this tiny, reckless piece of closeness he’s been craving for months.

So he stays perfectly still, trying to steady his breathing, pretending to watch the movie while every nerve in his body focuses on Ilya’s thumb, his eyes trying their best to look down at his hand without being too obvious.

At some points during the movie Ilya’s thumb mindlessly rubs circles into the muscle under his hand. Shane is pretty sure Ilya doesn’t even realize he’s doing it, at least he doesn’t seem like he knows he is.

Shane is getting properly worked up from this. Ilya’s hand migrates higher and curls in slightly. It’s still strictly on his thigh, but the heat from before has collected in one specific area that would be all too noticeable if Ilya really looks at him. Shane bites down sounds that can only be described as purrs until one slips from his lips unexpectedly.

Shane, like wildfire, excuses himself for a long minute in the bathroom. He doesn’t care what it seems like to Ilya. He doesn’t want Ilya to become aware of how turned on Shane is just from a warm hand on his thigh.

The night is fine after that, it’s quiet and easy. Almost normal. Almost… domestic.

Shane secretly hopes he’ll wake up with Ilya’s arms around him, the way he did once before, but when morning comes, the other side of the bed is empty. He had the best nights sleep he’s had in the last three months he’s been in this apartment. All because he had Ilya warming his bed.

Where is he?

He’s confused until moments later when the apartment door clicks open. Ilya steps inside holding a paper bag, cheeks still pink from the cold. He turns around, rubbing his hands together. He stops in his tracks when he sees Shane sitting up in bed looking at him, most likely wearing a look of confusion and relief.

“I, uh… grabbed breakfast,” he says, lifting the bag slightly.

Shane blinks. “Oh. You didn’t have to do that. I think maybe I should be doing that for you. I am the host after all.”

“You are the host,” Ilya agrees, setting the pastries on the counter. “That’s why I got it. I’m imposing on your space again. The least I could do was grab breakfast.”

Shane’s chest warms at that. At the thoughtfulness. At the familiarity. At the fact that Ilya woke up, left the apartment, and came back with something just for him.

Shane can’t help the small smile that tugs at his mouth as he watches Ilya unpack the pastries. A memory of cookies in the kitchen comes screeching into view.

They go out that night. Rose insists they all meet at TearDrop, her favorite club – and Shane can already feel the night buzzing under his skin.

Shane is changing into some outfit Rose left for him when Ilya calls from outside the bathroom.

“We aren’t twenty-one and I don’t have a fake. Do you?”

“No,” Shane calls back through the door. “They don’t really care at this place. Rose’s friend Miles knows the bouncer anyways so it’s really no trouble.”

Shane admires his reflection. He wears a silk, cream button down that falls nicely on his torso. The first three buttons are undone – a request made by Rose – and he wears tight black slacks that accentuate his ass. It’s not anything too flashy like the outfits some people wear here, but it fits him.

Plus, he wants to look good. The attention he receives from strangers is nice and all but the blue eyes he longs to feel on him are finally here now.

He can feel them glued to him the second he leaves the bathroom.

“Wow,” Ilya says.

Shane turns to him and can’t help but blush under Ilya’s intense gaze.

“Yeah?” Shane asks. “You think I look okay?”

“Okay? I mean Shane, come on,” he chuckles a laugh as if Shane said something truly funny. “You know you’re beautiful.”

He tries to conjure up words, but his mouth is insanely dry all of the sudden and, wow okay, it definitely feels hot in here.

Like mentioned, he’s gotten used to the attention he receives from strangers now that he’s out and more open with himself and others. But this isn’t a stranger. This is Ilya.

And Ilya always finds a way to light him up.

Seeing Shane dressed like that is making Ilya feel possessive.

It’s not like he’s wearing anything crazy. Seeing what some people are wearing as they walk into the club makes Ilya aware that his cheetah shirt looks a little dumb now.

Shane’s friends look amazing too, which adds to his insecurities. Specifically this guy Miles who won’t back off Shane. It’s like every time Ilya looks for him, there’s Miles stuck to him like another appendage.

The worst part is watching Shane giggle and blush at whatever stupid thing he must be saying.

Ilya shouldn’t feel this way. He has no right to be upset at Shane for talking to another guy. They’re not a couple or anything. Ilya made that distinction very clear before Shane left.

But then he let himself slip and hold onto Shane’s thigh. Not even just hold it. He found himself gripping at him without even realizing he was doing it. It wasn’t until Shane let out a sweet, pleased sound that Ilya really noticed.

But then Shane was gone.

And Ilya quickly tried to think of anything except that pretty sound.

He kept drifting closer and closer to Shane during the night, which was proving the whole one bed thing being riskier than he thought. That was the main reason he went to get breakfast. On top of the desperate need to provide for Shane, of course.

Ilya is sitting at a little table on the side of the bar, E.I. by Nelly booms through the club and Ilya is unable to do anything but watch Shane dance with his friends.

Although the shameful parts of him can’t help but feel possessive of his Shane, it’s liberating to see him like this. So free. So open with his body. Him and Rose dance around, singing whatever song comes on with no extra thought to anyone around them.

Ilya smiles.

Ilya wants to join. He wants to pull Shane’s body against his and show Shane how connected they could be. How well they fit together.

Shane whispers something in Rose’s ear while making eye contact with Ilya. He walks over with a hypnotizing swing to his hips. When he gets over, the hair on his forehead sticks to the sweat there, and he lightly pants. Ilya watches the way his tongue pokes out to wet his lips.

He can see Shane looking for something. Ilya holds his water bottle to him, brushing against his fingers when Shane reaches for it.

He zones in on the flush that spreads from the open collar of his shirt all the way up his neck, landing on his cheeks. The red contrasts off the cream color of his shirt and Ilya wants to eat him alive.

He forces his eyes away when he realizes he’s staring at the way Shane’s throat moves while chugging.

He sets the bottle down, smiling a cheeky grin towards Ilya.

“So.”

“So?” Ilya responds.

Shane leans his elbows on the table, smiling at Ilya. He’s pretty sure he sees something twinkle in Shane’s eye. “Are you gonna dance with me or not?”

He’s not a psycho. Of course he wants to say yes. He wants to drag Shane by the wrist and let laugh and have fun and-

“No,” he says instead. “I’m not really a dancer.”

Shane scoffs. “You? The one who would go to clubs a town over all the time with Svetlana and my brother?” Shane rolls his eyes, “Yeah, okay Ilya.”

He turns so he’s leaning against the table, his back to Ilya now.

Shane’s definitely changed. Not in a bad way. But he most definitely isn’t the same sheepish kid he used to be.

“Are you mad?” Ilya asks, still looking at his back.

“Nope.”

“Shane,” Ilya reaches for his shoulder. “I just don’t think that-”

“Excuse me,” some random guy interrupts, moving next to Shane.

Shane looks at him, “yeah?”

“I just wanted to say you looked really hot out there.”

Ilya rolls his eyes.

This guy is attractive if you’re into the alt rock kind of look. He’s tall. Taller than Ilya. Definitely older. He has a tattoo across his neck that Ilya thinks looks tacky as hell, but Shane is looking at him with a look that’s been pointed at Ilya before. A look that Shane shouldn’t be giving to some rando who clearly just wants in his pants.

Neck tattoo’s wearing black jeans and a simple black tee but somehow makes it look elevated. Ilya’s fuming.

“Oh,” Shane blushes and looks down before flicking his eyes back up to the man, “thank you.”

Ilya keeps his eyes plastered on Shane. Studying each reaction closely.

“I’m Rylan.”

“Shane,” he says it with a cute little smirk.

A flash of instinct hits Ilya, raw and territorial, the kind that makes him want to climb onto the table and bare his teeth like he’s staking a claim he has no right to.

“Would you like to dance Shane?”

Shane does something completely unexpected that makes Ilya preen. He looks to Ilya.

He looks to Ilya as if he’s asking what to do next. As if Ilya has any control over the things Shane does. Ilya’s head almost starts to shake. He almost turns to tell Shane no, that he doesn’t want Shane to dance with this stranger that looks way too old to be hitting on a nineteen-year-old.

He keeps his mouth shut.

When Shane realizes he isn’t going to add anything, he looks back to Rylan.

“Sure. I’d love to.”

Rylan smiles a devilish grin that makes Ilya’s stomach churn.

They turn to walk towards the dance floor and Ilya moves around the table with fast feet.

“Shane.” Ilya says moving towards him, grabbing his wrist.

“What?” Shane snaps harshly.

“Don’t.”

It’s all Ilya can get out. It’s all he lets out. He knows he shouldn’t say anything. He knows he has no control here.

“Why?” Shane asks, genuinely asking. Genuinely looking to Ilya for a response.

His eyes search Ilya’s. They plead for him to say something. To say anything.

He doesn’t. He releases his grip.

“Yeah. Okay,” Shane sharply exhales from his nose. “That’s what I thought.” His tone is, well, bratty. “Have fun standing here all-night Ilya.”

He has absolutely no right to feel any kind of way about this especially after just turning down Shane’s original offer to him.

He turns on his heel, leaving Ilya stunned behind him.

It takes everything in Ilya to stay stagnant.

He watches. He studies their movements. The way Rylan laces their fingers together and pulls them forward. The way Shane laughs at every word he says as if he’s some kind of comedian.

He hates feeling like this. He has half a mind to go find someone and distract himself. But that won’t do anything. It won’t do anything for him; he only wants Shane. And it definitely won’t do anything for his chances with Shane.

He watches the way hands that aren’t his caress Shane’s body, the way Shane grinds back into someone that isn’t Ilya. He doesn’t like the way this guy looks at Shane. He doesn’t like the way his hands hold Shane like their intent is to leave marks. He doesn’t like the way he keeps trying to pull Shane’s face towards his even when Shane clearly isn’t entertaining the suggestion.

He can see the guy whisper something in Shane’s ear. He laughs but shakes his head in response.

When he goes to grab Shane's face again, Ilya’s launching himself from his spot by the table, cutting in between Rylan and Shane.

“Okay buddy,” he weakly pushes Rylan in the chest with one of his hands. “That’s enough.”

“Ilya,” Shane warns from behind him. “It’s fine.”

Ilya’s attention doesn’t falter.

“Yeah Ilya,” Rylan mocks, “it’s fine okay? Go back to being a cuckold. Go sit on the sideline and watch. It’s okay,” he says in a condescending tone, “I’ll play nice.”

Ilya full on pushes his chest this time, “Why don’t you back the fuck up dude.”

“Hey look, I don’t mind sharing, really.” Rylan’s hands surrender in the air. “I mean, fuck, he’s pretty. And that mouth? I’m sure his slutty body could take both of-”

Rage burns through Ilya. His hands find a home with this guys stupid black T-shirt crinkled in Ilya’s fists.

“What the fuck did you just say?” Ilya snarls, his right fist lifting.

“Ilya,” Shane says from behind. “It’s okay, really. Please. Just stop, okay?”

Ilya looks back this time. The pleading brown eyes stare at him like kryptonite. He’s never been able to deny Shane – no matter how much he wants knock this guys teeth out.

“Get the fuck out of here. Talk about him like that again and my fist will rearrange your sleazy fucking face.”

Ilya lets him go. Rylan stumbles back a few steps, already turning for the exit.

“Whatever, dude.,” he mutters under his breath as he scurries.

Ilya turns to look at the angry kitten face that stares back at him.

“I could’ve handled-oof-”

Ilya grabs his hand without much thought and yanks him towards the exit.

“Ilya. What the fuck are you doing?”

Ilya doesn’t respond. He can’t. He’s angry. He knows he shouldn’t be. He knows that Shane is allowed to do whatever he wants. But he can’t help the anger that boils from seeing his Shane rubbing against some asshole who only wants one thing from him.

He needs to get Shane out of here.

He needs to get out of here.

And there’s no way in hell he’s leaving Shane.

Shane wants to scream at Ilya right now.

He has every right to do exactly that.

Who does Ilya think he is?

Shane gave him two chances – two chances – to come and dance with him.

After the night before when Ilya caressed him, Shane honestly thought maybe they were moving forward into something. Reopening a door that Shane had been terrified was closed for good. Then Ilya was acting all pouty and not wanting to do anything at the club.

It’s infuriating that Shane has to hear about all the shit they get into when they go out, how fun it is, how Ilya is the life of the party, but then when Shane thinks he’s going to see this party animal Ilya, he’s met with judging eyes.

Shane has a reason to be mad.

What really has him confused was why the fuck Ilya was so mad. Specifically why he seemed so mad at Shane.

He storms through the door of his apartment, shrugging his jacket off and tossing it onto the couch. His hands slightly shake from nerves. He can feel Ilya’s presence behind him. The door gently latching shut.

Shane turns to Ilya, “Why’re you so mad right now?”

Ilya laughs cruelly. In a way that makes Shane feel like he’s being scolded.

“You know Shane, for such a smart kid, you really can be so clueless.”

Kid. God. Shane hates when Ilya says that.

“Don’t call me a kid.” He points his finger at Ilya. “You’re the one acting like a child, throwing a tantrum over… over what?”

Ilya crosses his arms over his chest. “You had a fun time tonight.”

A statement.

“Okay?” Shane asks confused. “Is that a crime? I honestly thought you’d have fun too.”

Ilya just looks back at him with glowing eyes. Shane doesn’t even know what to think. How’s he supposed to think with Ilya looking at him like that, not saying anything of use.

“God, you’re impossible,” Shane sighs as he walks into the kitchen. “I don’t get why we’re fighting right now. Or what we’re even fighting about.”

“We’re not fighting Shane!” Yet it comes out with a raised voice. He follows Shane into the kitchen. “But fuck- you’re driving me crazy.”

“Excuse me?”

Ilya thinks Shane is driving him crazy? Is Ilya clinically insane? He’s the one making all this shit ten million times more confusing.  

“You think I liked watching you dance with some random dude?” Ilya asks, leaning against the counter opposite of where Shane leans against the island. Only a couple feet between them.

Shane would be lying if he said he hadn’t hoped Ilya would get a little jealous of him dancing with someone else. But he wasn’t expecting this.

“I don’t know Ilya,” Shane throws his hands out. “I don’t ever know with you.”

“Okay? What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Oh,” Shane laughs a little crueler than he means. “And I’m the clueless one. Do you really not see how confusing you are? You’re the one who told me to enjoy college. You’re the one who told me that this,” he points between them, “can never happen. You’re,” he steps forward and pokes at Ilya’s chest, crowding him back further against the cabinet, “the one who decided to come here, cuddle up to me during a movie, watch me like you own me or something, then get in the middle of a situation I had completely under control.”

“Oh, under control?”

“Yeah under control. You just think you know everything, don’t you?”

Ilya’s face is only about six inches from Shane now and he’d be lying if he said he isn’t already affected by the closeness. By the musk that comes off Ilya.

Shane knows he’s poking the bear, but he can’t stop. The anger, the confusion, the months of mixed signals, it all crashes together in his chest, hot and overwhelming.

Ilya steps closer. Shane doesn’t back up.

“You don’t want to dance with me,” Shane says, voice shaking with something that isn’t fear, “but you don’t want me dancing with anyone else. How’s that fair?”

“It’s not,” Ilya snaps, breath unsteady. “I know it’s not. But I can’t just stand there and watch someone put their hands on you.”

“Why?” Shane fires back. “Why do you care?”

Ilya’s jaw flexes. His hands curl into fists at his sides. He looks like he’s fighting something. Himself, maybe.

“Say it,” Shane whispers. “If you’re going to be mad at me, at least tell me why.”

“Because,” he says, voice low, “it makes me-”

He stops. He won’t finish. Won’t give Shane the truth he’s owed.

And that’s what does it.

That’s the snap.

Something in Shane breaks open. Not anger or jealousy, but the sheer exhaustion of wanting someone who keeps pulling him close only to shove him away. The ache of being told to move on while being looked at like he’s the only thing in the room worth seeing. The months of silence, the mixed signals, the way Ilya touched him last night like he meant it and then acted like a stranger today.

It all hits at once.

Shane steps forward, closing the last inches between them, chest heaving. Ilya’s back bumps the cabinet, but he doesn’t move away. His eyes flick down for a fraction of a second – barely anything, barely a breath – but Shane feels it like a spark to dry tinder.

The air between them tightens. Thickens. Tilts.

Shane’s hands shake. Ilya’s breath brushes his cheek.

And suddenly Shane isn’t thinking anymore. He isn’t weighing consequences or lines or rules. He isn’t scared.

He just moves.

All the tension from their argument funnels into the connection between their lips.

It’s electrifying. Shane feels like he’s ascending and his body aches for more.

It turns hot and heavy quick. Shane’s hands fly to Ilya’s curls, twisting and pulling them as his mouth opens without Ilya even needing to ask. A sharp tug makes Ilya groan into Shane’s mouth, his tongue exploring each part it forgot in the past months.

It doesn’t feel like Ilya’s forgotten much about his mouth.

Or his body for that matter.

Ilya’s hands start on his waist. One moves to grip the side of his neck, thumb on his Adams apple. The other reaches around his body, cupping at his ass and periodically squeezing it.

Their heads sway in rhythm while their tongues dance to a familiar beat.

Shane’s hands slid to the front of Ilya’s shirt, moving all the way down until he reaches the hem. He grabs onto it while pulling his face back slightly, eyes asking for permission before discarding.

Ilya’s been so finicky about things like this. Shane wants to be certain this is what he wants too.

He doesn’t have to worry long because Ilya is grabbing his neckline and yanking the shirt above his head. The second his shirt is thrown, Ilya’s hand finds the back of Shane’s neck, pulling him into another kiss. Shane whimpers at the feeling of Ilya’s teeth on his lip.

Ilya starts to back him up towards the island. Once his back is bumping it, Ilya crouches down slightly, snaking his hands below Shane’s ass cheeks and lifting him on the counters. Shane yelps in surprise.

Ilya finds his place between Shane’s legs. When he looks at Shane, his blue eyes are merely a small ring of blue swallowed by black.

He slots his mouth on the side of Shane’s neck, slightly mouthing at the area, leaving small trails of nibbles that get soothed by a lap of his tongue.

With his mouth gaped open and his head hanging back, Shane isn’t even paying attention to the sounds leaving him.

“Ilya…” He moans feeling the suction of Ilya’s mouth around his throat.

“You like that?” Ilya whisper against his neck before leaving more open-mouthed kisses.

Shane’s too blissed out to actually respond. The words have put him in a state of need where the only thing on his mind is getting Ilya even closer. Hearing talk to him in that voice while doing these things… it’s extremely dangerous. And addicting.

His legs lock around Ilya’s waist, pulling him completely flush against Shane. He can feel Ilya’s erection. It’s thick and pulsating against his own groin area.

While Ilya continues his pursuit claiming his neck, Shane lets his hands roam. They feel the muscle on Ilya’s broad shoulders. Fingers squeezing each curve of his biceps. They slide to the front of his chest, giving each one of his incredibly thick pecs a squeeze. When Shane’s hands graze over Ilya’s nipples, he feels a quick gasp against the wet skin of his neck.

His hands continue lower, admiring the hard lines of his abdominal muscles. Fingers trace the grooves, studying each twist and turn before racking through the patch of hair that leads into Ilya’s waistband.

Ilya’s hand tightens around the hair dusting the nape of Shane’s neck, snarling as he envelopes Shane’s lips again.

When Shane drags his fingers though Ilya’s happy trail again, he can feel the way Ilya’s stomach trembles under his touch.

Their kissing is sloppy. It’s so wet and desperate that Shane can feel the area all around his mouth dripping in spit. Their tastes have mixed at this point, unable to tell what one Shane’s was and what one was Ilya’s. The moans vibrating through the mouth attached to his rips a wave of confidence through him.

He separates their mouths slightly, resting his forehead against Ilya’s while he looks south to better see what he’s doing. When his fingers start undoing Ilya’s pants button, he flicks his eyes to Ilya’s in question.

The hungry look in Ilya’s eyes signals green.

He unskillfully pops open Ilya’s button, quickly working the front of his pants open. His hand slips under the waistband of Ilya’s underwear until skin touches skin.

It’s incredibly warm and the skin there feels like silk. Ilya’s hard as a rock and Shane can feel the prominent vein that pops out of the underside of Ilya’s erection.

He starts working the foreskin over Ilya long cock, trying to mimic the things he likes when he works himself.

Ilya’s head goes back, eyes squeezed shut. “Fuck Shane.”

The words aren’t overtly a compliment, but they wash over him like one. He leans forward, leaving wet kisses all across Ilya’s neck before sucking his earlobe into his mouth.

The roar that rips through Ilya when Shane’s thumb dips into his slit makes something animalistic take over Shane. His hands find Ilya’s shoulders and push.

Ilya looks at Shane confused when he pops off the counter with a pep in his step, quickly pushing Ilya until his head rests against the cabinet. He falls to his knees at Ilya’s feet.

“Shane.”

He looks up to Ilya who looks down at him with uncertainty.

Ilya continues, “I don’t know… if we should…”

Shane reaches for Ilya’s waistband, pulling his pants down slowly until they catch on his thighs.

He puts on his best pout while fluttering his eyes up at Ilya.

“Don’t you want me?”

Ilya licks his lips. Shane can tell he’s wrestling with himself. He can tell a million thoughts are running through his mind while he watches Shane on his knees.

His hand reaches out to graze Shane’s freckles, “Are you sure?”

Shane’s hand wraps around Ilya’s boner again, hand twisting as it moves up and down his length.

“I want this so bad, Ilya.”

Ilya just bites his bottom lip, exhales quickly puffing from his flared nostrils. His head nods up and down a few times and a smirk tugs at Shane’s lips.

He moves to welcome Ilya into his mouth, but he’s never done this before. He’s never had something in his mouth in this manner, let alone something so fucking huge and girthy. He’s certain he won’t fit it all in. But goddamn it, he’s going to try.

He starts by licking all around the head of Ilya’s cock that steadily leaks precum. He licks up the vein on the underside of Ilya’s boner earning him a pleased and breathy “yes” from the man above him.

He’s a little nervous. He knows Ilya’s experienced and Shane is most definitely not.

Regardless, get carries on and accepts the fat head of Ilya’s erection in his mouth. He focuses on just that area to start, letting himself get used to the heavy feeling and salty taste of having cock in his mouth. He hollows out his cheeks while moving faster on the weeping head.

“Oh- oh fuck Shane.”

Hearing his name and feeling fingers cart through his hair only arouses him more. He lets a hand fall down to his own erection just to squeeze at his balls to interrupt the warmth that threatened to spill out of him.

Ilya’s breathing is pretty heavy now, and Shane’s finally starting to take more of Ilya in his mouth. Whatever his mouth can’t reach, Shane pumps with his hand. His mouth and hand meet in the middle of Ilya’s cock while fucked out sounds coming from Ilya only spur him on further.

“God Shane,” Ilya moans. “You don’t know how long I’ve thought about this.”

The words aren’t meant to work him up, but they do.

He moans around Ilya’s cock, and his hand moves to his own cock for some much-needed friction. He really doesn’t even care if he comes from this. He wants it so bad.

He starts moving faster, picking up a rhythm that has Ilya whimpering and holding Shane’s hair so hard it hurts. He moves his hand from his own covered erection to Ilya’s balls, where he rolls them in his palm, still taking Ilya as deep as his mouth will allow the new intrusion to go.

“Shane- oh God- you’re gonna have to- oh fuck- ah! Shane I’m gonna…”

Shane would’ve kept Ilya’s cock buried in his mouth. He would’ve let the true taste of Ilya squirt down his throat. He would’ve welcomed it.

Instead, Ilya gripped the nape of his neck and pulled Shane back, grabbing his own dick and jerking it hard, cumming with Shane’s name on his tongue.

The sounds and sight of Ilya releasing is all too much for Shane. Without even moving to touch himself again, he’s erupting in his pants, soft little sounds falling from his lips as he goes limp on the floor. Voice frayed from the abuse of his mouth.

They stay there for a long moment, both of them breathing hard, the air between them still charged and unsteady. Shane can feel his pulse everywhere – in his throat, in his fingertips, in the space where Ilya is still too close.

For a split second, panic flickers through him. That familiar fear that Ilya will shut down, pull away, pretend none of this ever happened. That he’ll retreat behind the same walls he always does.

But then Ilya’s hands come up, steady and certain, lifting Shane back to his feet like he weighs nothing. There’s no hesitation in the way he pulls Shane toward him, no second-guessing in the way he closes the distance. His voice is low, rough around the edges.

“Hollander,” he murmurs, almost like a warning, almost like a confession. “You will kill me.”

The words hit Shane harder than anything else tonight.

They move toward the bed without talking about it – not planning, not defining, just… gravitating. The room feels softer, somehow quieter, like the world has narrowed to the space between them.

They settle under the blankets, the tension slowly unwinding into something gentler. Ilya’s presence beside him is warm and grounding, a weight Shane didn’t realize he’d been missing until now.

Shane falls asleep with a small, uncontrollable smile tugging at his mouth. Nothing was said, not really. Not out loud.

But something shifted. Something real. Something he can feel deep in his bones, humming under his skin like a truth finally spoken.

And at least for the night, he lets himself believe that maybe this isn’t the end of something.

Maybe it’s the beginning.

Ilya doesn’t know how he’s supposed to act normal after this.

After them.

After the way everything between them shifted like it had just been waiting for the right moment to snap into place.

He keeps trying to look at the art on the museum walls, but his eyes keep drifting back to Shane. The way he moves through the space, the way he tilts his head when he reads the plaques, the way the light catches on his hair. It’s ridiculous. He’s ridiculous.

The Hollanders have always felt like home to him. Cliff, especially – steady, familiar, grounding. Shane too, in a different way. A quieter way.

But this… This feels like the start of something new. Something he’s wanted for years without letting himself believe he could have it.

He doesn’t know how he’s supposed to go without this until summer. He’ll be in Russia during spring break – months away from Shane, months away from this warmth, this closeness, this version of Shane who laughs louder and stands taller and looks at him like he’s something worth looking back at.

It almost feels like they’re a couple. Ilya hates how much he loves that thought.

He knows he shouldn’t be giving in like this. He knows how dangerous it is to blur the lines, to let himself want, to let himself have. But how could he not? When being around Shane feels like stepping into a world where everything finally makes sense.

That night, they end up lying in bed facing each other, the room dim and quiet around them. Shane’s eyes are soft, curious, searching.

“You’re different here,” Ilya murmurs. “In New York.”

“Bad different?”

“No. Not bad.”

They look at each other for a long moment, something unspoken humming between them.

“I like you like this,” Ilya whispers before he can stop himself.

“Like what?”

“When it’s just you and me.”

And it’s true. It’s terrifyingly, beautifully true.

Something changed. Nothing was said out loud, but Ilya can feel it settling deep in his chest, warm and certain.

He’s in trouble. Real trouble.

And he doesn’t want a way out.

Shane can’t stop replaying the past few days in his head.

Every moment with Ilya has felt… different. Not louder or bigger, just fuller. Like something he’s only ever imagined is suddenly happening in real time, right in front of him, and he’s terrified to breathe too hard in case it disappears.

He keeps catching himself smiling at nothing. At everything.

It’s starting to feel like what a relationship might feel like – the easy kind, the kind built on familiarity and warmth and the quiet certainty of someone choosing to be near you. And Shane gets almost giddy off the idea, even though he keeps trying to tamp it down.

Right now he’s cooking dinner, stirring pasta on the stove, and every time he glances over his shoulder he sees Ilya lounging on his couch like he belongs there. One arm thrown over the back, hair a little messy, eyes drifting toward Shane whenever he thinks Shane isn’t looking.

They eat together at the tiny table, knees bumping occasionally, talking about nothing even remotely important. They fall into stretches of silence that aren’t awkward at all. They’re the kind where they catch each other’s eyes and both smile without meaning to.

After dinner, they walk to get ice cream, the cold air biting at their cheeks. The city glows around them – streetlights, passing cars, the soft hum of people living their lives. Ilya walks close enough that their arms brush now and then, and Shane pretends it’s just the sidewalk being narrow.

They end up by the waterfront, leaning against the railing, looking out at the dark water reflecting the city lights. Shane can feel Ilya beside him and something in him settles.

“Can I kiss you?” Ilya asks.

“Please.”

The words slip out like breath, like instinct, like something that’s been waiting between them for years.

And everything after that – the walk home, the quiet, the way they end up facing each other in the dark and making out for what feels like forever without intent for it to go anywhere – feels inevitable.

Shane walks Ilya downstairs, insisting he should’ve driven Ilya to the airport.

“I would’ve,” Shane says, hands shoved in his pockets, shoulders curled in like he’s trying not to show how upset he is.

“I know,” Ilya says softly. “But you have class. It’s fine.”

They stand by the curb, waiting for Ilya’s rideshare. The December air bites at his cheeks, but the cold isn’t what’s making him feel hollow. It’s the leaving. It’s the way Shane keeps glancing at him like he’s trying to memorize him. It’s the way Ilya keeps pretending he’s not doing the same.

The car is still five minutes away. Five minutes feels like nothing. Five minutes feels like torture.

Shane gives him one last tight hug. His sweet eyes look to Ilya before placing the sweetest, most delicate kiss on Ilya’s lips.

“Bye. Text me when you get home.”

“I will,” he takes in the last second of Shane’s soft face. “Bye Shane.”

The second Shane disappears inside, Ilya exhales shakily and pulls out his phone.

He calls Svetlana.

She answers on the second ring. “You sound like death.”

“I’m pathetic,” he mutters.

“Trouble in paradise?”

He huffs out something that isn’t quite a laugh. “I did it again. I am being so stupid. I let myself pretend I could have a good thing. I let myself get sucked into this bubble of Shane and now I don’t know what to do. Fuck, Sveta… and he looks so good. He’s so… free. So him.”

“That’s good, right?”

“Yeah. Yeah, it’s good.”

“It doesn’t sound good.”

“It’s not.” He drags a hand over his face. “I’m being selfish. Why can’t I stand seeing him being so himself? I’m happy for him – I am. And I’m not just saying that. But I don’t know… it makes me feel crazy seeing him look so at home without-”

He stops. Too late.

“Without you?” Svetlana finishes gently.

Silence. The kind that makes his throat burn.

“Oh, Ilya.”

“Don’t,” he says quickly. “It doesn’t matter.”

“It clearly does.”

“It can’t.” His voice cracks, just barely. “And you know why. Shane Hollander is Cliff’s little brother. He’s the same quiet, shy, anxious kid I’ve always known, who used to follow me around like a lost puppy. Just another pretty face in a sea of pretty faces.”

“You don’t think that,” she says, not even a question.

“No,” he admits, voice low. “But it’s what I keep telling myself.”

His rideshare pulls up. He ends the call. He doesn’t look back at the building.

He can’t.

Not when everything he told himself he couldn’t have felt like he might the past few days.

Not when his world is being knocked off its axis.

He knows one thing to be true.

Shane Hollander is killing him.

Shane feels it before he understands it.

That sharp, sinking drop in his chest, like the floor has given out beneath him. It hits so suddenly he has to steady himself against the stairwell wall, breath catching in a way he can’t explain.

He runs downstairs with Ilya’s forgotten sweatshirt, taking the steps two at a time, hoping to catch him before the car arrived. He’s still a little breathless when he reaches the lobby, still rehearsing something stupid and soft he might say – something about the visit, about how good it was to have him here.

He slows when he hears Ilya’s voice drifting from around the corner.

“…Shane Hollander is Cliff’s little brother. He’s the same quiet, shy, anxious kid I’ve always known who used to follow me around like a lost puppy. Just another pretty face in a sea of pretty faces.”

Shane freezes.

The sweatshirt slips from his hand and hits the floor with a soft thud.

Here he was, thinking something good was finally happening. Thinking they were finally moving toward common ground. Thinking maybe he wasn’t imagining all of it.

But apparently he was.

Apparently he always has been.

Chapter End Notes

OOF angst here we come.

NEXT TIME ON CLOSE ENOUGH TO HURT:
Miscommunications, new relationships, confusion, and a whole lot of jealous Ilya...

Check out the one shot I made!
THE FIRST OF MANY
And of course, here's my finished story if you havent checked it out!
THE NAME I WONT ANSWER TO

Chapter 5: Back to Friends

Chapter Summary

Months of silence leave Ilya spiraling, unsure why Shane cut him off. But when Shane returns home with a boyfriend, everything fractures. Tension spikes, jealousy burns, and being near each other again threatens to unravel everything.

Chapter Notes

Okay she's here :)
As always, I really need to read through and edit but I wanted to meet my Sunday deadline so if somethings feel a little all over the place.... I apologize cause I haven't gone through and read it all the way through.

PREVIOUSLY ON CLOSE ENOUGH TO HURT:
-Late night kisses turn into reminder about the "line" that can't be crossed
-Shane meets his people, comes out, and flourishes in New York
-Ilya visits Shane in New York where things seem beautifully domestic.
-Shane overhears a fraction of Ilya's conversation on the phone leaving him hurt and heartbroken

🎶This chapter's song is back to friends by somber.
If you like EDM listen to the back to friends (CHILLVH Flip) on soundcloud or youtube.
CLOSE ENOUGH TO HURT PLAYLIST

I HOPE YOU ENJOY!!!!

Chapter 5: Back to Friends

Shane’s more disappointed in himself than anything.

He should’ve known better.

He should’ve know that anything Ilya ever says or does when it comes to intimacy is completely self-serving. Why did Shane seriously think he’d be any different?

He desperately wanted to believe things between them were different. That the wonderful, dreamy things Ilya said to him – the things that fill his head full of lavish fluff making his legs weak in the knees – were actually true. That Ilya said them with honesty, not just the intent to get something in return.

“Just another pretty face in a sea of pretty faces.”

It’s cruel.

He can have anyone. That’s no secret. So why does he insist on fucking with Shane’s head? Why does he make it his mission to get Shane all worked up? Talking about how there’s this “line” and oh no the line, we can’t cross it but then he comes and visits and what even was his intent behind that? Did he really come to visit Shane just to mess with his feelings?

It’s not like Shane made it very challenging for him.

Fuck.

He hates that Ilya has the power to make him feel like this. To make him feel on cloud nine then rip him from the sky and send him plummeting back down to reality. The reality that he’ll never have Ilya. Not in the way he wants.

Shane’s mad – no – he’s fucking pissed. Because the words “I’ve thought about you more than I should” still ring in his ears from almost three months ago but the ringing is now being drowned out by words that might loom heavy in his heart for many years to come. Maybe forever.

Hours later, he glares at the text that vibrates his phone:

          Ilya

          home :)

          i had the best time with you shane

          cant wait to see you again

Fuck. You.

He seethes just looking at the message.

How can Ilya say some bullshit after the time they spent together and then text Shane as if anything from the past week was real? As if any of the things he said to Shane were real.

They only went beyond kissing that one night.

Shane was hoping the one crack in Ilya’s composure might lead to more. He didn’t want to be greedy though. He couldn’t possibly take a good thing for granted so when Ilya randomly kissed his cheeks and asked Shane if he could kiss him, who was Shane to ask for more?

He was too nervous to ask for more. To nervous he would break whatever fragile thing was brewing between them.

Little did he know it was already broken. The knowledge of what he knows now sours the whole memory.

His fingers start typing at the speed of light. His replies range from every which way. Anger. Sadness. Interrogation. Pleading.

He doesn’t send any of them.

There’s no words that can convey the things he’s feeling right now and it’s probably better if he just lets the rage pass him by. Besides, Ilya can get a little taste of his own medicine. Except in this case, Ilya deserves the silence.

He finally permits his tears to fall, a steady stream soaking the pillow he wallows into. He’s so sick of feeling like this. He’s so sick of letting Ilya make him feel like this. Making Shane feel special and wanted and then just drop kicking him into hysteria.

He can’t keep waiting. He can’t keep indulging in this idea that Ilya actually could be serious about something. Let alone about Shane.

So this is it.

He’s done.

Timestamp it. Someone call it now.

Shane’s lifelong crush? The one that makes him feel insane and like he’s delusional?

Dead.

Except…

He pitifully knows that’s not true.

If it were, he wouldn’t feel this hollow, bruised throb under his ribs where Ilya used to live.

He wouldn’t be cuddled up in the sweatshirt that led him to this doomed knowledge that’s changed everything.

Fuck.

Shane is taking over Ilya’s life.

Well, he always has been, but now the intensity has shifted gears. And whatever gear he’s in now? His transmission wasn’t built for it.

He can’t stop thinking about Shane’s eyes looking up at him, the feeling of silky black hair running through his fingers, the way Shane’s perfect body felt pressed against his.

Most of all, he can’t stop thinking about the way everything just felt right.

Thinking fades to day dreaming, the day dreaming bleeds to actual dreaming.

The thoughts are clockwork in Ilya’s head, and every second is filled with memories of him.  

The guilt and self-loathing was there – it always is – but it couldn’t choke down the euphoric feeling that was coursing through his whole body. It never matters what they’re doing. Even when they fought after the club, Ilya still felt that spark of fire that always burns under the surface of his heart like a pilot light just waiting to be lit by one look from Shane.

He’s harbored these thoughts for so long. So long that this most recent series of stupid and irresponsible events broke the damn.

The thoughts are consuming him. Swallowing him whole till the only thing left is images of freckles under his thumb and eyes that have the power to make him do anything if it means they’d look at him one more time.

No matter how many times he tries to tell himself Shane isn’t special, that he’ll find this feeling with someone else, he knows that’s not true.

It’s never been true. It never will be.

And then reality hits.

Cliff asks how the trip went. What’s he even supposed to say?

He says it was great – which isn’t a lie – and Cliff thanks him again for always taking care of Shane. Something about the way he says it makes Ilya’s insides curl. He almost says it like he knows. Ilya shakes it off. There’s no way.

It’s been a week since Ilya’s been home and Shane never responded to his text. Ilya reasons with himself that Shane’s just busy. It’s the holidays, he has work, school, friends; he’s living his life. There’s no indication from their last interaction that anything was wrong so Ilya shouldn’t over think it.

Sure they haven’t really discussed what was going on between them, but surely things were different. Ilya could feel it and there’s no way Shane couldn’t.

Right?

It’s conflicting, to feel so wrapped up in someone yet still have this pushed down feeling of impending doom. The feeling that he’s doing something he logically knows is so wrong but instinctually feels so right in every atom of his existence. The guilt taking a backseat sometimes because how can you refute what’s written in the stars?

At this point Ilya knows he’s stupid.

Everything he said to Sveta on the curb waiting for his ride share still rings very true. All the points he’s always repeated to himself like his own personal mantra still roll like end credits every night out of pure habit.

Those thoughts don’t just go away.

But the more Sveta talks to him – more like yells, really – the more Ilya lets himself dream. It’s dangerous for sure, but he can’t keep denying the way he misses Shane.

He hates how much he misses him.

It’s only been one week, and the distance feels worse than the three months prior.

So much worse.

It’s February now and Shane’s been on more dates than he can count on both hands.

Some guys he meets on campus, other’s through his friends, and the rest are guys he meets late at night under neon lights of the club – though Shane doesn’t really call those late-night affairs dates…

His theme of this semester is experimenting. He was nervous at first, doing these things with randos, but honestly he needs to have new memories that he can associate with everything sexual.

Even though Shane had only gone down on Ilya, his day dreaming supplies too many scenarios that taint his ability to think of anyone else touching him.

He can’t keep picturing sandy blonde curls and piercing blue eyes looking down at him, saying things like “you don’t know how long I’ve thought about this.”

Still, his mind betrays him.

He forces himself to stop comparing these other guys to Ilya. Forcing himself to think of anything but the sleepy voice that whispered Shane’s name deep in sleep all those months ago.

To not think about way Ilya kissed Shane like he was water in a desert. The only relief Ilya’s body recognized. The only thing that could quiet the enthralling ache.

Those thoughts only make the unbearable pain in Shane’s chest worse.

Eventually, he gets tired of hurting.

He finally decides to give Miles a chance.

He wasn’t going to, they’ve all become close friends now, and he doesn’t want another friendship dynamic being ruined by complicated feelings.

But things with Miles are far from complicated. Miles made his intentions very clear from the beginning and Shane can’t deny the physical attraction he feels to him.

They have sex pretty quickly.

It’s not complicated.

If Shane’s honest, he just really wanted to get his first time over with. Everyone always makes a huge deal about it, but he wants to explore without the taboo around it being his first time.

It’s good with Miles – not that he has anything else to compare it to. Miles is gentle. Always sweet and comforting.

Miles is nice. He takes Shane on dates. He doesn’t give Shane mixed signals. He’s honest about his feelings. He doesn’t tease Shane – which kind of makes Shane feel bad when an unintentional chirp falls from his lips.

Miles is nothing like…

Well.

Ilya has tried to text him a few times, even tried to called him.

Shane ignored all points of attempted contact.

He’s still angry and honestly really embarrassed about the whole ordeal. He got on his knees without even being asked. He shamelessly admitted how badly he wants Ilya. He did something he has no experience in, not minding how insecure he felt because it was Ilya who was looking down at him and with Ilya he’s never worried about being vulnerable.

Because sometimes Ilya looks at him like he’s something rare and irreplaceable. Like he’s a treasure Ilya has spent his whole life searching for.

And now?

Now knows his interpretation of Ilya’s actions were tainted by his own want for the things that can never possibly be his.

He knows he’ll have to talk to Ilya at some point.

But not today.

He doesn’t care to right now.

As march ends, Ilya’s finding it harder and harder to convince himself the silence means nothing.

The unread messages stack up.

          Ilya

          home :)

          i had the best time with u shane

          cant wait to see u again

          Ilya

          hey

          Ilya

          *Picture of Eggos with butter and syrup slathered on top*

          missing the way youd chirp me for my breakfast choices :)

         Ilya

         hows school?

         boring like u ? ;)

         Ilya

         havent heard from u

         everything ok ?

         Ilya

         *Missed call*

         Ilya

         ur mom made curry

         made me think of u

         i know how much u love it

         Ilya

         whatre you up to ?

         Ilya

         *Missed call*

         Ilya

         is everything ok ?

         Ilya

         ok im getting worried.

         pls say something

One message being ignored, fine. Two messages, okay, a little strange for Shane but he’s busy. Three messages, Ilya’s thoughts start swirling. Before he knows it, nine messages and two calls later, he’s properly freaking the fuck out. Shane didn’t even reach out for Ilya’s birthday, which was the definition of odd for anyone who knows Shane.

Why would Shane be ignoring him?

Was he mad Ilya didn’t initiate more while he was in New York?

Ilya didn’t want to take more than he already did. He already took too much, and he knew Shane wasn’t experienced so how would he possibly know what he wanted?

Ilya never wants Shane to feel like Ilya expects anything from him because although Ilya is fatally attracted to Shane in the way two bonded animals are, Shane’s comfort and lucid consent is priority.

Ilya’s already a little sick with himself over the way he so easily gave into the otherworldly view of Shane Hollander on his knees.

Ilya did his best to show Shane how much he wanted him through chaste kisses that had the same impact on his body as Shane’s tongue swirling in his mouth.

So why is Shane ignoring him?

His thoughts become too much.

Giving into his anxieties, he caves.

“Hey,” Ilya plops himself on the couch next to Cliff. “Have you talked with Shane recently?”

Cliff doesn’t even look up from the TikTok he’s watching on his phone. “Yeah, I just facetimed him earlier today.”

Of course he did.

It feels like the wind just got knocked out of Ilya.

“Oh, cool, great…” he tries for neutral. “Is he, um, okay?”

Cliff finally looks to him with an eyebrow raise.

“Yeah? Actually he’s really good by the sounds of it. Why are you asking me?”

Ilya’s cheeks burn, “Just wondering.”

“Well, why don’t you ask him? Are you guys like, fighting or something?”

If Ilya says yes, then he will be expected to say what’s going on between them and Ilya has no answer in sight for that.

He could only explain the situation and there’s no way in hell he’s doing that. Not now. Who knows – at this rate – if ever.

“No,” he assures. “I just wanted to make sure. He’s your brother, maybe he’d be more honest with you.”

Cliff laughs while looking back to his phone. “You and I both know that’s not true.”

Yeah.

He knows.

With Shane ignoring him?

Ilya’s not too sure how true it is anymore.

Time has flown.

It feels unreal that in a few days Shane will be going home for the summer.

June sprang into view way sooner than Shane was anticipating and he’s not sure why he has this sickening feeling about getting back to Ottawa. Well he’s trying to act like he doesn’t know why.

Miles and Shane are official now and it’s been pretty okay.

He knows that doesn’t sound great. Miles is amazing. Truly. He’s so attentive, always doing things for Shane, and wants to be around Shane all the time. The last one isn’t his favorite, but he would never bring something like that up.

He’s always had a hard time being around certain people for an extended period of time, that’s part of the reason he hated going on trips with people who weren’t his family. There are only a select few people he can spend every waking hour with and it’s probably for the best if he doesn’t ponder the details of that list right now.

Being around Miles is still great though and he’s looking forward to bringing Miles home with him this first week and a half of summer.

He has someone to drive with since Miles will just fly out of Canada to join his family on their trip to Italy.

His parents have been badgering him about meeting this guy Shane’s been seeing.

Cliff’s been demanding he meet him so he can give some older brother talk that Shane has pleaded him not to do.

Selfishly, he also wants the buffer.

Miles being there means Shane will have a distraction while he settles back into having Ilya in his constant proximity. After going cold turkey, Shane isn’t too sure his emotions will be able to regulate themselves if he’s left alone with Ilya.

Shane’s not even sure he wants to talk to Ilya let alone tell him why he’s mad. He should use that brain of his and figure it out. Shane isn’t even sure Ilya will ask. He stopped his insistent pursuit to get a response from Shane which was a relief because Shane was one more text away from cracking.

Honestly though, he thinks it’s a little early for Miles to be coming home with him. Yeah they’ve been officially dating for a few months now, but it feels weird bringing someone home.

Not because of his parents. Not because of Cliff.

But because of one specific person.

Shane tries not to linger on it.

Work dragged.

The days still aren’t peak hot, but that doesn’t mean the sun beaming down on the team as they work on this new project isn’t searing them every hour they’re out there.

Driving home Ilya feels disgusting. He’s dirty, grimy as hell, and not one inch of him isn’t soaked in sweat. His skin is tan, although he looks tanner from the sheen of dirt on his skin.

As Ilya pulls up on the road he’s pulled into for years, his chest instantly lights up seeing an all too familiar car parked in the driveway.

Nerves and determination set in.

He’s excited and scared shitless at the same time. Excited because he gets to gaze upon that beautifully breathtaking face again after six months of agony. Scared shitless because asking Shane why he hasn’t returned Ilya’s attempts to reach out means uncertainty.

Ilya doesn’t like uncertainty.

“Shane’s home?” He asks Cliff as he propels through the door.

Ilya doesn’t stop his movements through the house.

Cliff hollers from his place, Ilya faintly hears him stand. “Yeah, he’s in the treehouse but-”

Ilya’s already walking towards the back door, feet switching their track at the first syllables of “treehouse.”

“Ilya!” Cliff yells after him.

Ilya of course doesn’t stop. How can he when he knows Shane is just a ladder away.

He can hear the light thrum of music playing that makes the insides of Ilya’s stomach heat up – Keep You by Wild Belle.

Announcing himself was never something he did. He quickly wishes he would’ve made an exception.

When he bursts through the door, he can clearly see Shane with his lips pressed against someone. Someone who isn’t Ilya. Someone who has their hands on Shane’s waist. Someone who gets to feel soft hands grabbing at the nape of his neck.

Ilya’s world is crumbling down. Red hot jealousy pings through him. He wants to walk over there and rip them apart. He wants to yell at Shane and ask what the hell happened? And why the hell is he kissing this dude – who he is now recognizing as Rose’s friend Miles – after the amazing time they spent together.

He obviously doesn’t do that.

Instead, he struggles even getting words out as his hands fly over his eyes.

“Oh God. I’m, uh, I’m sorry, um… about that.”

When he moves his hands, his eyes fly back and forth between Shane and Miles. Shane who’s just staring back at Ilya with shock and a bit of disdain – anger? – playing at his features.

“Oh, it’s fine,” the other man says. “I’m Miles, I don’t know if you remember me. I’m actually Shane’s boyfriend now.”

Boyfriend.

The word sears into his brain and suddenly he wants to jump off a cliff.

Boyfriend? What the hell? Ilya actually might be getting sick because he’s being thrown for a fucking loop right now. The lack of response from Shane was concerning and definitely had him freaking out but he never thought this. He never thought that Shane would be showing up here – in Ottawa, at the house, in the place that Ilya fell in love with Shane – with a boyfriend. Not after the time they shared together.  

What the fuck is actually happening right now?

“Ilya. Shane’s um… friend.” Ilya forces out, though he’s not sure why. Miles obviously remembers him.

Shane is still just standing there. He’s staring at Ilya with eyes that have zero semblance of the glint that was there the last time he saw him. The last time when Shane’s soft mouth placed the sweetest kiss on Ilya’s lips before running back up to his apartment.  

“I remember,” he says with a smile Ilya can’t help but want to punch. “Yeah, Shane told me a lot about you.”

The way Shane hits Miles’ arm in a scolding manner isn’t lost on Ilya. What would Shane possibly tell his… boyfriend about Ilya?

Did he tell him about the last time Ilya visited? Did he tell him about how perfect they are for each other? Did he tell him why he’s suddenly icing Ilya out?

He wants to ask Shane but most of all, he wants to hold Shane. He has to bite the inside of his cheek to stop himself from reaching out. He desperately wants to wrap his arms around Shane and feel him breathing against his chest again. Feeling the way his body rises up and down in sync with Ilya’s as a nose nuzzles in his neck.

The look on Shane’s face tells Ilya that wouldn’t be welcomed.

Ilya keeps his eyes on him. “Hi Shane.”

Shane’s gaze doesn’t falter. “Hi.”

Ilya’s going to puke. Why does one “hi” feel like an iron fist?

“I texted you… and called.” It’s a little pathetic, isn’t it? Bringing this up in front of Miles. But Ilya can’t wait another second.

“I saw,” Shane says with the deadest eyes looking straight into Ilya’s soul.

Air is physically being punched from his lungs. What’s happening?

Shane laces his fingers with Miles – something that makes Ilya almost fall to the floor just shriveling up and dying. He cocks his eyebrow at Ilya. “Did you need something?”

It’s not even a question. It’s an order. It’s Shane’s way of telling Ilya to get the fuck out of here. Telling Ilya that this isn’t somewhere he’s welcome right now.

But this is our place.

Will he ever be welcomed again?

“Um… no… sorry.” Ilya stammers as he stumbles his way out of the treehouse and down the ladder.

He makes a run for it.

His stomach is caving in on itself. He goes straight to his room needing to be alone. Needing to reflect on every second spent in New York and where things went wrong. Because at this point, New York feels like a distant memory. Maybe it’s not even a memory. Maybe it’s a delusional dream Ilya had one night that feels too real.

Dreams can’t account for the mark Shane left behind. Not on his body – though Ilya almost wishes it were that simple – but deeper, threaded under his skin. It’s a burn that flickers through him whenever he remembers Shane’s hands on him. A good kind of hurt, sharp with want and the fear of losing what he barely had. It hurts because he can’t stand the thought of never feeling that again.

Liquid pools on his waterlines, a feeling he hasn’t felt in a while. A feeling he doesn’t let himself feel. A feeling he only ever shares with one person.

One person who doesn’t want him around for some reason.

Ilya’s determined to find out why.

Shane’s blood feels like ice in his body.

He’s not sure his stomach has even gone back into place after dropping at the sight of Ilya and that fucking look on his face. The look that made it seem like he lost something valuable.

Yeah. Right.

Even with the rage that blazes through him, Shane can’t even deny that seeing Ilya sent some all too familiar feelings coursing through him. Feelings that’re far too opposite from the anger he should feel. The anger he does feel.

But he aches for Ilya. He hates himself for it.

He hates that just seeing Ilya makes him feel things. He hates that all the time he spent gaining experience, trying to film new memories over old ones like a VCR tape, were all for nothing. He’s done things he’s never been close to doing with Ilya, yet he still daydreams about curly hair and loving eyes looking back at him.

Loving?

Maybe not the best word to use. He knows Ilya loves him like a brother, although that makes his words on the phone that stupid morning even worse. How could he say that about Shane? How could he say that when he spent so many years protecting him from the hurtful words of others.

All this to say the verdict is final. Shane hates himself. He’s a terrible person. A terrible brother. A terrible boyfriend.

The self-loathing is suffocating him as he walks to the bathroom the next morning. His head dips low in heavy thought, trying to sort through these feelings he shouldn’t have. Not anymore. Not after what happened. Not when he’s dating someone else who is literally sleeping in his bed right-

“Morning.” Ilya says, snapping Shane from his head. He stops fully blocking the rest of the hallway.

The smell sweeps through him, and whatever he meant to say dissolves on his tongue. The hallway is warm with dampness in the air that’s woodsy scented with Ilya’s cedar body wash – the body wash he’s used since his junior year.

“Morning.” Shane finally chokes out while trying to brush by without looking directly at his stupidly built toweled figure. Doing his best to hold his breath so the decadent smell doesn’t intoxicate him into saying things he shouldn’t.  

He can hear Ilya loudly sigh a step behind him.

“Hollander.”

“What?” he snaps around with less nonchalance than intended.

Shane can’t even begin describing the look on Ilya’s face when he turns to face him. He just stands there looking at Shane, arm slightly reached out like Shane is supposed to know what the hell he even wants after ripping Shane’s heart out without any remorse. What else could he possibly want?

His interest is probably piqued now that Shane’s back in his proximity. Probably wants someone who is convenient and – pathetically – always willing.

But not anymore.

Shane won’t be that for him. He can’t.

He won’t follow him around anymore, wearing his heart on his sleeve for Ilya to snatch up and stomp on like always. No matter how hard he has to shove those feelings down.

Shane raises his eyebrows, he’s starting to feel restless just standing here in the hallway waiting for Ilya to speak. He needs to limit the amount of alone time he has with Ilya or he might snap. He’s mentally in Ilya recovery, and being around him isn’t doing anything to help him keep his composure.

“A boyfriend?”

Shane’s eyebrows pull tight. What? He’s honestly confused by the question. Why would Ilya even care? It’s not like he wants to date Shane so what’s the big deal if Shane has a boyfriend?

He’s not sure how to interpret the question asked so he just stares back at a face that looks genuinely confused.

Ilya opens his mouth to fill the silence, words right on his tongue-

“What’re you chumps doing just standing here?” Cliff comes walking from the staircase.

Shane turns and tilts his head because he’s wondering exactly the same thing.

“Yeah, what are we doing Ilya?”

Shane knows he sounds petty. He knows his mom would be scolding him right now for the way he’s behaving. But fuck Ilya. Fuck Ilya for showing Shane a vision of what life together could be like and then warping back to their universe where that’s just a stupid, optimistic dream on Shane’s part. Fuck him for walking in the treehouse and wearing that dumb ass look on his face like Shane did something wrong. And fuck him for dredging up these feelings that transport Shane back to that junior year boy who stood in a treehouse being kissed for the first time by the boy he’s spent his whole life loving.

Fuck him.

Ilya’s face turns a light shade of red, his eyes widen slightly in a way maybe only Shane notices.

Ilya says nothing.

Shocker.

Shane rolls his eyes and walks away. He can faintly hear Cliff ask, “What was that about?” as the bathroom door shuts behind Shane.

When he finishes his shower, he sees a message waiting for him.

         Ilya

         can we just talk ?

         please ?

He ignores it with a shake of his head. It’s going to be best if he just tries to limit communication as much as he can.

Upon returning from his shower, he notices Miles isn’t in his room anymore.

Shane changes quickly and heads down the stairs. He’s stopped in his tracks when he sees both Miles and Ilya in the kitchen. They’re not talking, it looks like Miles just got here from… Shane’s not sure. Ilya’s facing the coffee pot doing his own thing which Shane can’t really see past his body.

“Hi babe,” Miles greets with a smile.

“Hi,” he does his best to sound cool, calm, and collected.

He sees Ilya’s head slightly turn a fraction before putting his focus back on whatever he’s doing.

“Here,” Miles says sliding a blended cup of sugar his way. “I couldn’t really remember all the specific health shit you do for your coffee, so I just got you the same as me.”

“Oh, thank you.” He tries his best not to sound ungrateful.

It’s just that Miles likes those super sweet coffees that make Shane feel like he needs to detox after. Shane typically drinks a coffee, no cream, just three stevia and some cinnamon powder.

He’s apparently not hiding his face well.

Miles reaches for his wrist. “Is something wrong?”

“Um, no. Well, I just um, really don’t like sweet coffees. But I’m totally going to drink it! Thank you again.”

Miles makes a slightly disappointed face before putting on a smile, “Babe, if you don’t like it don’t drink it. I could run back and get-”

Before Miles can even finish, he’s being interrupted by the sound of a ceramic coffee mug sliding in front of Shane.

Ilya doesn’t even wait for a reaction or any kind of acknowledgement. He just sets down the mug – which is full of coffee exactly the way Shane likes it – and walks out of the room.

Shane loathes the way his heart flutters at the gesture.

The confused look on Miles's face brings him crashing back to his surroundings.

Shane does his best to just not be around the house when Ilya is but that’s extremely difficult when it feels like Ilya is purposefully trying to be wherever Shane is.

It doesn’t help that Miles is on his case about it twenty-four-seven after the whole coffee incident.

Shane had shared the lore behind him and Ilya, although not completely. He mentioned the crush Shane always had, the way it felt like they were getting closer last summer but it just didn’t work out. That it was one sided and as much as he loves Ilya, it’s clear he doesn’t feel that way about Shane.

Of course, Rose let the information about their kiss in the car last summer slip.

He didn’t plan to tell Miles that part. He also didn’t really think about Miles seeing the way they were acting with each other that night at the club when Ilya visited in New York.

Shane may be ignoring Ilya now, but inevitably, he’ll always be in Shane’s life, and he doesn’t want his boyfriend to worry about a crush that will never in a million years become anything. Like, ever.

A few days into being in Ottawa, Shane can tell there’s something off in Miles's demeanor.

“Hey,” Shane rounds the island to where Miles is using the toaster. “You seem quiet.”

Miles turns to him, a serious, investigative look on his face as he leans against the counter.

“Do you still have feelings for Ilya?”

Oh fuck.

Why’s he asking this?

“What?” his face instantly heats. “Why’d you even ask that?”

Shane curses himself for not even denying it.

“You’re acting weird around him. All tense and snappy. I’ve just never seen you like this. It’s like you’re being a different person here.”

Okay, so Shane is having more of a difficult time balancing his emotions than he thought. It’s taking an egregious amount of energy to be so short with Ilya than he had originally planned. It’s like his crush comes slamming back to the forefront being back under the same roof as him.

“I’m sorry babe. I just… I don’t know. It’s weird being back in my hometown with a boyfriend after living here in the closet my whole life. But it has nothing to do with Ilya. I promise.”

Shane should feel bad for lying and he does. But this lie is needed. There’s no reason for Miles to know all the details when they don’t even matter. He doesn’t need to know when the details will only cause him to be paranoid about something that’ll never ever amount to anything.

“Okay, good,” Miles says with a smile. “Cause I think he might have feelings for you.”

“Who? Ilya?” He asks dumbfounded. “No, no you’re way off.”

“I don’t know Shane,” Miles laughs. “The way he looks at you is pretty… intense.”

“That’s just Ilya. Kinda like an older brother thing, you know?”

“Yeah but… he’s not. Your brother I mean.”

“Miles, I promise you it’s nothing. Ilya’s made it very clear he doesn’t want me that way. Besides, I want you. Okay?”

When Miles heads upstairs to shower, Shane feels his phone buzz in his back pocket.

         Ilya

         he doesn’t even know what you like

Shane curses the flutter in his stomach.

It’s a coffee. One fucking coffee. Sure, Shane does think Miles should remember his coffee by now – they’ve gone on multiple coffee dates, and he’s even raised his eyebrow a few times when Shane’s ordered it.

Why does Ilya even care?

God. He really gets off on fucking with Shane.

Over the next few days Shane successfully avoids any more one on one situations with Ilya. With Miles here, it’s not too difficult. Plus, he tries to limit their time at the house by showing Miles around his hometown.

         Ilya

         u are avoiding me.

He is. And it would be enjoyable if every inch of Ottawa didn’t make him think of Ilya.

Shane can’t help but be curious about what Ilya wanted to say to him that morning in the hallway.

It doesn’t matter.

Not anymore.

Because Shane is with Miles.

And he can’t be thinking about Ilya when he should be thinking about his boyfriend.

The issue is Shane can’t stop seeing Ilya. Not just looking at him, but seeing him. Seeing the way his hair falls around his face, the way his eyes have a way of speaking a language of their own, the way his cupids bow is low and long and the way the corners of his mouth tick up involuntarily sometimes revealing a smile that isn’t filtered but instead looks like sunshine and no matter how many times it blinds Shane, he can’t help but just keep staring. And the way his body is hard and cut but his presence feels warm and comforting to Shane. Like chicken noodle soup on a cold winters day.

But seeing means knowing. And knowing all this is the problem. The problem because the knowing means he’s thinking about it. And thinking about it means remembering what Ilya’s lips feel like on his, what his hands feel like on Shane’s waist.

Yeah.

He can’t be thinking about all that.

The proximity issue is really put to the test when Cliff decides they should all go floating that Saturday.

Shane really tried to get out of it. Miles isn’t the most outdoorsy person so he’d hoped that his efforts to get them to do anything else would be successful. But no. Of course not. Of course he wants to take part in the activity Shane’s brother suggests because why wouldn’t he? Why wouldn’t he want to get to know the people close to Shane?

Shane’s the last to exit the house after checking his bag a million times making sure he has anything he could possibly need and then some.

The sight of Miles, Cliff and Ilya all standing in a circle on the pavement makes his stomach drop. He has to remind himself that it’s all okay. Everything is fine.

As he gets closer he can hear Cliff explaining the plan.

“Okay, so we’ll have to take two cars. I’ll drive mom’s car to the dropout and Ilya will drive our car, pick us up at the dropout, and then we can head to the start of the float. Miles you’re with me. Shane you can go with Ilya.”

“Um,” Shane starts already feeling flustered. “Why do we need two cars? Why can’t we all just take one.”

“You want to walk Hollander?” Ilya chimes in with a smug look.

“What?”

Cliff laughs. “Shane, if we’re floating to the dropout we need a car there so we can drive back and grab the other one where we drop in. Plus we’ll have the tubes and the walk is miles away.”

Shane knows that. He does. He’s not even sure why he questions the plan. Him, Cliff and Ilya have done this same float plenty of times but taking two separate cars that place him in a confined space with Ilya is suddenly feeling unnecessary and scary.

“Yeah, yeah, sorry. I don’t know what I was thinking.” Shane looks to his feet before looking back up to Cliff. “Why don’t you and Ilya take a car and then Miles and I can take the other.”

“Well the drives not that far and I need to give Miles my big brother talk anyways.”

Shane rolls his eyes, “Oh, right. Great.”

“Dude it’s fine,” Cliff assures. “I won’t embarrass you. You and Roz can catch up. We’ll stop for some beers and meet you at the output then ride together.”

The way Shane’s whole-body tenses is definitely noticeable to everyone. He tries to loosen it but the thought of being in the car with Ilya eliminates his plan to keep as much distance between them as possible.

“Babe,” Miles reaches to caress his neck in a soothing manner that does nothing to actually calm the storm brewing inside his chest. “It’s fine. Yeah? It’ll be fun.”

Out of some habit he can’t break, he finds his eyes searching for blue ones before even thinking of an answer. Blue stares back. It’s a soft look. the kind of look you might have when you’re desperately trying to get a scared puppy to let you scoop it up.

Shane looks away.

“Yeah, sorry. Let’s just go.”

They pile into the cars and Shane can’t ignore the cage of butterflies that’re let loose in his body.

Unavoidable memories and feelings from the last time he was in this very passenger seat come rushing back the second he slips in the car. Memories of words whispered and the feeling of lips giving everything that’s been pent up between them for what feels like an eternity.  

They start driving and Shane’s set on fixing his eyes out the window the whole ride.

Ilya has a different plan.

“So,” he says, interrupting the silence Shane foolishly had just been praying would last till Cliff and Miles joined them. “Like… what the fuck?”

What the fuck? Ilya’s asking Shane what the fuck? He’s unable to stop the heavy exhale of air out of his flared nostrils, with a small shake of his head.

Shane’s gaze out the window doesn’t budge.

“Hollander.”

Still nothing.

Shane’s upset. Duh he’s upset. But he also knows he’s weak. He’s terrified one interaction between them will be enough to drag Shane, even with nails clawing along the way, right back into Ilya-land where Shane always ends up getting hurt.

“Shane.” Ilya tries again and huffs when there’s no response. “Can you just say something? Fuck Shane. Why won’t you-”

Shane reaches to the volume dial and cracks the music up to the point that they’d need to be yelling to communicate, although he’s still able to hear the way Ilya deeply sighs.

95 by Pouya plays, lyrics making Shane fume even further as if the playlist is a premeditated attempt to crack Shane.

🎶I don’t wanna hear the hi’s and byes, I really want a ride or die

I need you by my side, baby you keep me alive🎶

Shane aggressively clicks the skip button on the screen with a scowl on his face like it personally offended him. He can’t listen to shit like that sitting right next to Ilya.

Scared by Joywave plays next in the queue.

🎶I wanna touch you, but I’m scared

I really love you, though, I swear

I dread the moment you’re not the-🎶

Skipped. That one felt a little too… real.

“Okay,” Ilya turns the music down. “Are you gonna skip the whole playlist or what?”

“Find better songs.” He’s being stubborn. Any other time Shane would’ve let them play. They’re songs that would come on his own shuffle but he’s not mentioning that.

Ilya snaps his gaze to Shane. when Shane chances a glance he doesn’t find the annoyance he expects, instead he sees a look of fondness.

“Wow,” he gasps, smile rising as he looks back to the road. “He speaks-”

Shane just turns the music up again over the scoff escaping Ilya’s mouth. Barely any words have been exchanged between them. Nothing but a small amount of fondness that somehow still makes him feel like he’s in the middle of a corkscrew on a roller-coaster.

He can’t do this. He can’t have this conversation. Not right now. Not when they’re about to spend hours floating down the river with Shane’s brother AND his boyfriend.

The drive to the output of the float isn’t that far away, though it feels like forever with the tension that sucks the life out of the car. When the car comes to a stop and Ilya puts it in park, he completely shuts the music off and turns to Shane.

Shane who’s heartbeat has to be shaking the entire cab of the car.

“I’m like freaking out,” he stares at Shane. “Can you please tell me why you’re mad at me?”

Shane just looks forward. “Who said I’m mad?”

“Don’t be smart. Don’t act like you aren’t so obviously ignoring me. Do you think I’m stupid or something?”

“Not everything revolves around you Ilya.” Shane finally shifts his body to look in pleading eyes. “Maybe you should be more careful with other people’s feelings.”

“What’s that even mean?” Ilya’s face is all scrunched up and contorted. “Is this because of what happened in New York? Can we just, like, forget it?”

Shane scoffs. Of course he’d want to forget it.

Just another pretty face in a sea of pretty faces.

“Yeah, you’d like that.” Shane says, looking back out his passenger window.

“What?” Ilya’s voice sounds pained. He doesn’t even want to look. “Shane, no. I just- you just- I figure you’d want to.”

“Oh right, cause you care so much about what I want.”

“I do.” Ilya squeaks.

His eyes burn. They’re closed right now in his greatest effort to keep the tears in. Why is Ilya making this so hard?

“You’re being cruel.” Shane practically whispers.

“Cruel?” A hand pushes Shane’s left shoulder against the seat, turning his attention to Ilya. “You’re the one who’s been ignoring me. You’re the one who brought home a boyfriend after I had one of the best-”

“Stop.”

Ilya looks at Shane like he just said he hates puppies. “Stop?”

“Stop lying.”

For all Shane’s efforts to keep the eye contact limited, he’s definitely drowning now.

“Lying? Shane, I don’t know what-”

The sound of a door slamming shut pulls them from their conversation. When had Cliff and Miles even pulled in? It doesn’t matter. Shane’s glad. He shouldn’t have to spell this out for Ilya. He shouldn’t have to relive the words that efficiently buried a dagger in his chest.

He reaches for the handle of the door, eager to give shotgun to Cliff.

Ilya’s hand clutches his bicep. “Shane-”

“Stop texting me.” Shane uses all his strength to look Ilya in the eyes while he says it. “I have a boyfriend, okay? Just stop. We’re… friends. Like you always wanted, right?”

He thrashes his arm away, not giving an extra second to the stunned look on Ilya’s face. He pops out from his seat just as Cliff and Miles reach them.

“Hi babe.” Shane says while sliding into the backseat on the opposite side of Miles – although saying babe never feels quite comfortable coming out.

“Hi you,” Miles leans over to peck Shane’s lips.

He can see the eyes watching him in the rearview mirror. He doesn’t look.

He can’t.

Stop lying.

Ilya’s struggling to understand what Shane was referring to. He desperately wants to ask Shane but every single time he tries to get him alone, he either comes up with some convenient excuse or has that fucking perfect boyfriend of his fused to his side.

It’s annoying how great Miles is.

At dinner one night, they’re all sitting around talking. Hearing Miles talk about how he and Shane met is probably the equivalent to getting maced. Ilya assumes. But maybe this is worse.

Because then Yuna does something that has on the verge of choking on his chicken parm.

“Miles, why don’t you join us on our cottage trip? We leave in a couple weeks.”

Nonononononononono.

No.

No.

NO.

“Mom,” Shane sighs. “I told you he’s flying out to meet his family on their trip. He’s already going in a week late.”

“I really appreciate it Mrs. Hollander.” Ilya tries to hide the way his eyes roll to the back of his head. “I’ve loved getting to spend time with Shane and meet you all. Shane’s the best so meeting the people that made him that way has been really special.”

Yuna, David, and even fucking Cliff are all looking at Miles like he is just the cream of the crop. Like he just told them he’d pay off all their debt. Ilya’s relieved Miles won’t be joining them on their trip – he’d most definitely have to throw a fit over it – but the thought of him ambushing any of their usual family activities makes nausea sit heavy in his stomach.

The thought that Miles could become an automatic invite is now all Ilya can think about.

He’s so nice and polite. Watching Yuna and David interact with him makes Ilya feel one compliment away from ripping his head off. He is so chivalrous with Shane. He never teases or chirps him, he’s just always there. Always.

Ilya should be happy for Shane. Happy that someone’s taking care of him and loving him the way Ilya knows he can’t.

He isn’t. He hates it. And most of all, he doesn’t want to see them all over each other on the couch the second Ilya walks into the house after a long day at work.

The annoyance isn’t enough to keep him away though. He’s determined to get Shane alone. To Sherlock Holmes his way through this and understand why the hell they had an amazing time in Shane’s apartment and then all of a sudden zip. Nada.

Not to mention, the shock of walking in and finding out he has a boyfriend AND brought him here.

The worst part was seeing them in the treehouse. The place that was once Shane and Ilya’s. Did all that mean nothing? Did Ilya coming to see Shane in New York mean nothing?

Ilya’s never getting the image of them out of his head. He’s certain it’ll plague his nightmares for the rest of his life.

Yuna decides they should all go out to eat at Shane’s favorite restaurant the night before Miles leaves. The restaurant Ilya and Shane went to when the rest of the Hollander gang were out of town last summer.

Ilya’s stomach flips at the memory. Flips at the thought of that whole week they spent alone.  

He knows it’s not good to stare. That you should definitely stay out of other people’s business especially when it has nothing to do with you.

He’s not too sure this has nothing to do with him.

He’s sitting at the table unable to focus on anything other than where Miles and Shane stand near the bathroom, clearly bickering about something.

He only starts wondering about his involvement when Shane and Miles eyes have taken a gander in Ilya’s direction multiple times. He can tell Shane’s struggling. He can see the way Miles dominates the conversation and leaves no room for Shane to think, let alone speak.

He wants to walk over there.

His feet suddenly move when Miles walks off on the phone and Shane dips into the bathroom.

Ilya slips through the door, leaning against the inside of it as it closes, swiftly clicking the lock.

Beautiful Shane stands with his hands braced against the counter, arms both straight with his head ducked down. He’s taking deep breaths with his eyes closed. Ilya’s hands twitch with the need to soothe him.

“Why’re you literally fucking everywhere?” Shane looks at Ilya through the reflection in the mirror.

“You’re avoiding me.”

“I didn’t really think you’d notice.”

How the fuck is that possible? How could Ilya ever not notice Shane.

“Of course I noticed,” he says with disbelief on his tongue. “I mean fuck Shane, you straight up ignored my texts for months. You’re… different.”

Shane finally turns to him. “You’re telling me I’m different again?”

“Yes. You’re acting weird and not talking to me.”

“I’m talking to you.”

The scoff coming from Ilya is louder and closer to a laugh that he dials down in hopes to keep Shane in the bathroom. “Barely. You’re acting like I did something and I want to know what. I want to know why you didn’t respond to any of my calls or texts after I left New York. Like, what the fuck Shane? I mean, I thought we had a good time then you show up here with a-” he cuts himself off. He’s letting too many emotions bleed through.

Shane scoffs. He folds his arms and rolls his eyes subtly but still enough for Ilya to pick up on.

“What?” Ilya asks. “Is it because of what happened in New York?”

“I just don’t really get why you even care.”

Okay. Ilya’s been an asshole in the past. He knows that. He knows that the things he’s done to try and protect Shane from the disaster that follows Ilya anywhere he goes has made him seem harsher than he ever wants. But Shane really thinks he doesn’t care?

This feels like déjà vu. This feels like brisk air outside of that party where they fought Shane’s senior year.

“Care about what? Shane, what-”

“Look. You don’t have to pretend okay?” Ilya shudders at Shane’s cold tone. The tears pooling around his eyes betray him. “I’m just Cliff’s little brother, I get that now. I finally clearly understand what I am to you. You don’t have to act like we’re friends or like you actually want to be standing here talking to me. You got what you were looking for. That’s all it was, right?”

These are things Ilya’s said to Shane for so long. Things he’s said to himself – still does – for longer than he can even remember. But he never said those things to Shane after this last time.

He struggles to respond. His mouth is open and Shane just looks back waiting for a response Ilya doesn’t have. Done waiting, Shane turns for the door.

“Wait,” Ilya moves quickly to grab his arm. “Why are you being like this? You’re being a-”

“A what?”

“A brat.”

The laugh that comes from Shane isn’t the usual giggle Ilya loves. This one’s ugly. Disbelieving. “I thought you’d like this.” His look is challenging. “Or no? You don’t like that I’m not being the same quiet, shy, anxious kid that would follow you around – what was the word you used? Oh yeah – like a puppy.”

What is that even supposed to me-

Oh fuck.

Oh. Fuck.

Ilya’s mouth shuts tight, lips sealed together quickly, realizing what Shane is referring to.

“Yeah. That’s what I thought,” Shane says triumphantly but with no hint of happiness from the victory. “But hey, at least I’m a pretty face, right? Should I thank you for that?”

“No, no- what?” Ilya’s mind is spinning. “How- how did you even hear that? That’s not- what?”

How did Shane even know that? How had he possibly even known that Ilya said that? If he knew that then he had to have heard the rest of the conversation, right? It’s not like he said anything more that would’ve helped him, but what the fuck is happening right now?

Another incredulous laugh.

“Bet you didn’t think I’d hear that, huh?” Shane’s arms cross. “You forgot your sweatshirt. So, I went to run it down to you. I was ready to tell you how much fun I had. How much I loved having you there. In my space. Then I heard you,” he pushes at Ilya’s chest. “I heard you be the asshole everyone always says you are. I just really didn’t think you’d be that cruel to me.”

“Shane, I-”

Shane goes to the lock on the handle another time.

Ilya moves fast.

He crowds Shane against the wall, hands on his hips, pressing him into the door.

“Get the fuck off me asshole.” Shane thrashes in his hold.

“Can you just listen!”

Shane finally settles. He’s still stiff as a board under Ilya’s touch, brows still furrowed like a cute little kitten. Ilya wants him to understand. He wants him to hear Ilya out and understand that yes, this is a terrible idea. That of course Ilya still hates how much he wants Shane because this thing between them isn’t logical. It isn’t right.

He needs Shane to understand that he doesn’t care about any of that anymore.

Well, he does, but he’s willing to figure that out if it means Shane will look at him how he did in New York.

He’s willing to sneak around. He’s willing to tell Cliff if that’s what Shane wants. He’s willing to do anything if it means Shane will let him kiss him again – to have him again.

“Well?”

Ilya hadn’t even realized he had just been staring. Panting into the air from the thickness filling the six inches between their faces.

“Yes, I said those things,” Shane rolls his eyes, shaking his head along with them. “But not in the way you think, I promise. I was talking to Svetlana and I just- ugh Shane. Do you know how guilty I feel for wanting you? I tried so hard to tell myself those things. The things you heard were words I’ve told myself for years. Not because they’re true, but because maybe if I tell myself them enough they’ll be true. That maybe the feelings I have for my best friends little brother aren’t that serious.”

Shane’s face is hard to read. It’s not all bunched up anymore, but it’s not that sweet gooey look Ilya’s seen. The look he craves.

His eyes continue to search Ilya’s. Ilya feels like he’s on trial but this time he’s wrongfully committed. He’s praying Shane believes. What can Ilya do to make him believe him?

“Seeing you with Miles,” one of Ilya’s hands moves to the back of Shane’s neck, demanding his full attention. “Fuck Shane. That killed me. I don’t wanna see you with anyone else.”

Those eyes Ilya loves have a sheen of gloss and his features are softening. Not to their full capacity, but enough to give Ilya a little hope and reassurance that Shane isn’t going to run and tell Cliff what a bad friend he is.

The first real crack in Shane’s armor is the way Ilya tracks his eyes flicking down to Ilya’s lips.

He looks back into Ilya’s eyes. “Why?”

He says it so soft and sweet that Ilya’s dizzy with euphoria. The syrupy tone that comes out when Shane teases is the tone being used right now and being blessed enough to hear it again makes Ilya about to back flip right here in this bathroom.

He doesn’t even care that the questions redundant considering Ilya just told Shane not only does he have feelings for Shane, but that they are very serious.

Ilya leans forward slightly to reach Shane’s ear. He moves slowly just in case Shane shows any sign of being uncomfortable or needing more space between them.

When he doesn’t, Ilya gets so close his mouth almost bumps the shell of Shane’s ear.

“Because I want you.”

The breath that leaves Shane at those words comes out trembling. Ilya can feel it on his neck, it makes the hair all around his body stand up.

He cranes his neck to the other side, switching the placement of his hands so the one on the back of Shane’s neck isn’t in his way.

“Because you belong right here. With me.”

He doesn’t even mean to say those words. Of course he means them – oh, does he mean them. But no matter how much he means them, the level of possessiveness is a bit uncalled for.

He releases his restraint when he hears a small moan in his ear. Hands grasp onto his waist and suddenly he’s letting his mouth fall to warm skin under Shane’s ear.

The pecks he leave behind as small but packed with meaning. Each an individual “I’m sorry” that lingers until he’s satisfied and moving onto the next patch of skin.

He can feel Shane’s pulse rocketing under his skin, but he still tilts his head to the side. A gesture that Ilya most definitely acknowledges with a small nibble to Shane’s pulse point.

God. Why is this so intoxicating?

The pleasure he’s getting just from kissing along Shane’s neck should be studied because he can feel himself getting hard under the fabric of his jeans.

A sloppy kiss gets passed his defense systems and lands on the side column on Shane’s throat. His lips lock around the skin there, lips applying a small suction that has Shane’s hand moving to his shoulder.

“Ilya,” he pants.

Ilya lifts his head to find eyes fully dilated and dialed in on him. Ilya loops his one arm around Shane’s mid-section while the other one files through the silky hair on the back of Shane’s head that he’s missed the feeling of.

Their foreheads rest against each other.

Ilya wants to kiss him. Really kiss him. Shane’s let Ilya get closer to him than he’s been since he was in New York and he really doesn’t want to ruin it. But he thinks he might die if he has to go ant longer without Shane’s lips on his-

“Kiss me.”

Ilya’s stunned.

He also would never question a statement like this coming from Shane Hollander who rarely asks for what he wants, let alone voices it.

When their mouths meet, Ilya thinks he must’ve died and gone to heaven because there no reason something should get better and better every time it happens.

Ilya goes in soft, full intention of this being a small kiss, maybe two, and then retreating and being thankful for the privilege.

But the second his lips touch Shane’s, he can feel two arms reach up to his neck, pulling him forward and deepening the kiss.

Wet, hot, mouths rub against each other, tongues getting reacquainted but exploring the space like they were never apart. Shane’s kissing is slightly different. More confident maybe?

Ilya tries not to examine that too closely. At least not right now.

His hands move to hold onto Shane’s hips so hard he’s scared he might be hurting him but the pleased sounds coming from Shane imply no indication to that. One of Shane’s hands grip on Ilya’s curls and pulls. He pulls until Ilya’s neck bends back, exposing the long expanse of Ilya’s throat. Shane licks up it, nibbling at his Adams apple.

Fuck.

That’s new. He moans too loudly for this little restaurant bathroom, basking in the way Shane’s slick tongue feels against his skin.

“Shane,” Ilya moans out, too scared to really say anything other than his name.

There’s so much he wants to say. Ilya’s a pretty verbal person when it comes to his arousal and swallowing that down is like going against primal instinct.

Shane finally returns to Ilya’s mouth, but not before he digs his teeth into Ilya’s bottom lip. He’s a fucking animal starved for blood and Ilya wants nothing more than to give that to him.

Their kissing is lazy yet determined. The kind of kiss that’s frantic after not being with someone for too long, doing nothing but thinking of them. The kind of frantic Ilya loves because it means Shane’s craving him the same way Ilya’s craving Shane.

Shane’s gripping all over Ilya like he’s a tree that Shane’s trying to climb. Their fronts rub against each other, moans slipping from their lips every now and then when the friction hits just right.

Ilya moves his legs to stagger with Shane’s, pushing one knee between and pressing a thigh to the crotch of Shane’s pants while snaking his hands around his body to squeeze both ass cheeks.

Shane let’s out a whine as he starts grinding against Ilya’s thigh, warm friction lighting up the material there.

When Shane’s head falls back against the door, Ilya starts lavishing over the skin there with his very eager tongue, tasting the salty flavor left from sweat that’s beginning to form.

A more prominent moan makes Ilya lust drunk. He’s not sure if he’s even thinking clearly anymore. The only thought he has is mine, mine, mine, mine…

“Fuck, Shane.” He growls in Shane’s ear. “You’re mine.”

Like night and day, hands put pressure on his chest and he’s stumbling backwards in a haze.

“Fuck.” Shane murmurs. His eyes are wide and he’s staring at Ilya like he’s trying to reverse time.

“Shane,” Ilya says as a plea taking a cautious step back towards him.

Shane puts his hand out, palm towards Ilya telling him to stop. “Don’t.”

They’re both heaving at this point. Shane’s hand is still held up between them. Eyes looking nowhere but each other. Ilya feels like he’s on a tightrope. One wrong move and he’ll go plummeting.

Shane’s hands fly over his face, “Fuck, Ilya.” He brings them down to look back at him. “What the fuck? What’re you doing? We can’t do that. I- I have a boyfriend.”

Ilya’s not going to even bring up the fact that Shane’s the one who asked to be kissed because truthfully, Ilya is definitely the one who started it. If Shane pulled the trigger, Ilya loaded the gun and egged him on. Worked him up until he snapped.

Ilya just wants Shane. He knows it’s selfish. For once he’s just trying not to think about that.

“Shane-”

“No,” his eyes are wild – a mix of left over lust bleeding into panic. “Miles is a good guy. A really good guy, okay?”

“Okay?” Ilya doesn’t want to talk about Miles right now and he couldn’t care less how good of a guy he is.

“And he’s nice to me.”

“Nice?” he laughs. “Is that the standard now? He’s just nice? What does that have to do with anything?”

“I won’t- I can’t do this to him. Not again. This- this was a mistake.”

Shane turns for the door. Ilya feels his world crumbling. Again.

“Shane,” and that gets him to turn back one last time, hand on the handle ready to run. “I meant everything I said. All of it.”

Shane’s bottom lip is going to bruise from the constant biting. He gives Ilya one nod, and a small smile forms before he realizes and goes back to serious.

“Wait a minute before heading back. I- I’m gonna say I was feeling sick. You can… you can say you needed a smoke or something.”

He’s gone before Ilya can even say anything. Before he can even confirm their coverup.

His heart is racing faster than it ever has.

The extra time to himself is most definitely needed before joining the rest of them at the table. Before having to sit back down with Miles and Shane placed right in front of him. How’s he going to look at Shane’s kiss swollen lips the rest of the night knowing he’s the one responsible? How can he do that when he’ll have to watch Miles be all cute and perfect.

This was a mistake.

The cheating isn’t great. Ilya – against popular belief – would never cheat. But he wouldn’t dare call this a mistake. Bad timing maybe, but never a mistake.

Time spent with Shane is never a mistake.

He knows they may take a couple steps back after this. Shane is perfect and is going to blame himself for something Ilya so clearly is responsible for.

Ilya can’t help but be optimistic.

Shane was mad at him, not because of what happened between them in New York, but because of a simple misunderstanding. That in itself is already making Ilya feel more optimistic about their relationship.

The way Shane melted into Ilya like a missing puzzle piece told him all he needs to know.

Shane still wants him.

There’s still hope.

And Ilya’s going to do everything in his power to show Shane how badly he wants him.

Insecurities and what ifs be damned.

Shane’s the fucking worst.

Miles and Shane literally bickered at dinner about the looks and “vibes” being exchanged between Ilya and him. “Vibes” that he denied. Then he spent the rest of the night – after getting very worked up by Ilya – internally freaking the fuck out while trying his best to act as normal as possible for Miles’s last night in Ottawa.

Lying in bed later that night just feels wrong. Miles hands feel wrong. The way he holds Shane tight but not tight enough and his body isn’t quite hard and his smell is more sweet than anything and his lips are soft but too gentle and never demanding or passionate.

Shane tells him he’s not in the mood.

Which isn’t the truth, but he can’t have sex with Miles when he’s only able to think about one person who isn’t the man lying next to him.

It’s bad enough he’s even thinking about it.

Sleep is replaced by a constant flow of thoughts. Main idea is he’s terrible. Terrible for multiple reasons. He cheated on his boyfriend and has no self-control when it comes to Ilya – just to name a couple.

The worst thought of them all is the one that begs for more. That thoughts dangerous. Just thinking it makes his cock start to swell. He hates how feeling Ilya’s hands on his felt like he was finally seeing clearly. Like he wasn’t fully home until a couple hours ago even though he’s been at the house for a week and a half now.

If being in Ilya’s vicinity before tonight was a risk, what the hell is it now?

What it is now, the next morning, is a clearer message.

Miles is a good guy. He’s a great guy. But… he’s not Shane’s guy. And Shane’s not his.

He’s really enjoyed his time with Miles but this past week and a half has made it extremely clear that Shane shouldn’t be in a relationship when he feels a gravitational pull to someone else. When his feelings are so tied up in someone else that his heart took a hiatus from January to June even when he was seeing other people and then dating.

It’s not fair to Miles.

None of that is to say Shane knows what’s going to happen between him and Ilya or if anything even will. He’s still extremely conflicted.

Ilya’s been the most complicated person Shane’s ever known. Their relationship has been so hot and cold these past few years and Shane really can’t handle more heartbreak. Not to mention the effect that would have on their whole family. It’s just… complicated. And the whole Miles situation has only added to it.

Even if the terrible things Shane overheard were out of context, he can’t fight the feeling Ilya’s only interested because someone else was threatening his place in Shane’s life.

Their first kiss was right before Shane’s date. The next time was after Kyle had been flirting with Shane at the party. The next time was after the club when Shane was dancing with another guy – he’s not counting the little pecks he received the rest of the trip. Those don’t count.

And now, last nights happened after he brought miles home.

Does Ilya really just want what he can’t have?

The thought of his name being whispered dreamily in his room at the cottage comes to the forefront.

Hearing Ilya say his name has always lit him up but something about hearing it through Ilya’s dream state made Shane want to go curl up against him and start purring.

That has to mean something.

Miles flight isn’t until 4PM and Shane’s not sure when or how he should approach this whole break up situation. He doesn’t want to go the whole day and then do it right before he leaves. That just feels icky.

They’re going to breakfast and Shane figures maybe he can start the conversation there.

Although maybe in public isn’t the best idea. He had a friend who had thought her boyfriend was planning to break up with her but then they went to get coffee at Starbucks and proceeded to talk about normal things for two hours.

It wasn’t until right before they were about to leave that he then broke up with her. She came through the door bawling saying how the fact that it was in public made the whole thing even worse.

So maybe not breakfast.

Shane gets some spinach omelet, and Miles gets a pancake with some hash browns. They talk about what Miles family will do in Italy which means Miles talks while Shane tries to follow along.

“So.”

Shane looks at him confused, “So?”

Miles looks at him. Studying him. He reaches out and grabs both of Shane’s hands from across the table.

“Do you like me?”

Shane can feel his pulse quicken and what should be an easy answer is suddenly not. He’s staring back like a deer in headlights when really it could be a simple yes or no.

A simple yes because this is his boyfriend and why would you have to think about if you like your boyfriend???

“Um- wha- what do you mean? Why’re you asking?”

Miles squeezes his hands and smiles.

“Rose told me about New York. With… you and Ilya.”

She what? Why the hell would she do that? Oh, when Shane gets a hold of her he’s going-

“Don’t be mad at her. I kinda called her after our argument cause I just,” he looks down before looking back to Shane. “Shane I really like you. I think you’re great.”

“I think you’re great,” Shane’s voice is barely there.

Miles smiles. “But. I just don’t think we’re… compatible. Not in the way you are with Ilya.”

Shane goes to open his mouth, but Miles continues.

“And it’s okay, really. I was really annoyed about it honestly but talking with Rose really brought things into perspective and now that I’m thinking about it, I don’t think you’ve ever really liked me. Like, that I mean.”

Shane feels frozen. For some reason he feels the need to lie. To deny deny deny. But why would he do that? He’s already planned on breaking up with Miles, so why continue some false story?

“Yeah, I- I’m sorry Miles.” Shane’s head ducks. He takes a deep breath and looks back up. “I think I’ve been really lost the last six months. I’ve been… numb. And that’s not fair to you. Fuck. I’m so sorry I-”

“Shane,” he squeezes his hands again. “Listen. It’s. O. K.” He says it, spelling it out. “I still think you’re great and we should keep being friends. Besides, do you know how many people I’ve dated? This is really not a situation to stress about.”

Shane tries to believe him. Tries not to feel sick with himself.

Miles doesn’t know the full extent though and Shane has a feeling he wouldn’t be as cool if he knew what Shane was really up to in the bathroom earlier. He’s thankful though that Miles was the one to bring it up. Selfishly, it makes him feel a little better about the whole thing.

Miles apparently has a friend in the area – Shane’s not sure if Miles didn’t mention it or if Shane simply didn’t hear – so Shane drops him off at his house.

He doesn’t go home right away. He kind of just… drives.

He does stop and see J.J. for a while since he’s home which proves to be a nice distraction.

He isn’t getting home until way later than anticipated. Cliff’s staying at Katies for the night. David and Yuna are out on a date night with some friends. That leaves one other person at home.

That one other person isn’t just hanging around the house. Shane can see the lights on in his room from the crack at the bottom of the door. He almost walks to it and knocks. Almost just barges in and falls into Ilya’s arms because that would be the easy thing to do if there weren’t a million other things to think about.

He goes in his own room. He can’t stop the thoughts. The thoughts that should be tipping the scale towards self-hatred and less towards want.

It feels like that’s the only thing Shane’s been able to think about all day. The way Ilya felt on him. It’s frustrating how badly Shane wants him.

It’s terrifying.

But the sound of Ilya saying “Shane” bounces off his walls over and over and over and over…

He can’t stop thinking about Ilya. It feels almost impossible to stay in his room when all he can think about is strong arms around him and his name being whispered in his ear.

He’s not sure if he’s just delusional or what but the thought that Ilya has dreams about Shane somewhat validate his words. It somehow shows Shane he is on Ilya’s mind.

Before he knows it, he’s marching down the hall, banging on the door that holds the thing he craves the most.

When the door opens, Ilya’s standing there with nothing but sweats on. Sweats that ride low on his hips, black curly hair and a defined arrow pointing down towards-

“Shane?”

His eyes snap up.

“Hi.”

Ilya’s eyes pinch together but then loosen when a small smile pulls on his lips. “Hi.”

“Can I come in?”

The smile grows wider as he steps aside leaving room for Shane to walk past. Ilya closes the door behind him and looks like he’s about to walk to Shane but then decides against it. He patters over to his bed where he takes a seat.

Shane stays standing.

You could hear a pin drop in here. Shane swears it looks like Ilya’s holding his breath. He watches the way he slowly swallows around air in his throat and Shane has no choice but to watch and admire the way his throat-

Focus!

“You said my name while you were sleeping.” Shane finally says.

“What?”

Ilya’s face is pure confusion. He’s probably trying to think back to New York but that’s not when Shane’s talking about.

“We were at the cottage. You said my name in your sleep. It happened the first night and I tried to pretend like it was nothing. Like I heard you wrong. But then the next morning I wake up with you tangled around me, whispering my name in my ear through deep sleep.”

“I don’t…” Ilya trails off. His cheeks are officially the reddest Shane’s ever seen them.

“I asked you about it. Or I asked you if you had a dream and you said no.”

“Then I don’t know Hollander.” 

Hollander. Like he was putting distance between them. Why’s he doing that?

“Listen if you truly don’t remember then whatever but it’s something I’ve been thinking about a lot. And it’s driving me crazy Ilya. Like seriously driving me crazy.”

Ilya. An olive branch. An opportunity.

They stare at each other.

“I don’t know. Honestly.”

Shane sighs. “Why do you only wanna be honest with me when it’s in your favor?”

“I am honest with you.” Ilya mumbles.

“I didn’t say you weren’t honest. I said you chose when to be. Right now, you’re choosing not to be. Why?”

Ilya stands up suddenly, “What does it fucking matter? What does it fucking matter that I dream about you. That I’ve been dreaming about you for longer than I can recall.” He closes the space between them.

Shane’s heart can be felt all around his body. He feels like he’s dreaming. He’s only wondering when he’ll wake up if Ilya keeps saying things like this.

“All I fucking think about is you. All day, all night, every second in between actually seeing you. It’s you. It’s always been you. All I want is you. I’ll take what I can get and if that means only as a friend, only as the sweet boy with freckles and an awkward laugh who is Cliff’s little brother, then I guess I’ll take that. Because I cannot live without you Shane Hollander. I don’t want to.” His hands fly as he speaks. “But I do want you. I need you. Being with you feels like home because you’re the only home I’ve ever had. I get Miles is a nice guy and I get that I’m just some washed up bum who-”

Shane can’t listen to Ilya speak about himself like that.

He steps forwards and crashes his lips against Ilya’s to shut him up.

When Ilya’s hands find their intended place on his hips, Shane feels like he can finally breathe again. That is until he’s being pushed back by his shoulders.

“Wait,” Ilya pants. His face looks so out of it, eyes already darkening. “I- I don’t want you to regret this or think it’s a mistake. I respect you Shane, so please don’t feel pressured.”

“Ilya,” Shane says as he wraps his arms back around his neck. “It wasn’t a mistake, okay? I just- I felt really guilty. And although I don’t regret it, I shouldn’t have cheated.”

“Then what are we doing right now?”

“Miles and I broke up.”

Ilya smiles and then clearly tries to change his expression. His hands return to Shane’s waist. “I’m sorry. Do you… want to talk about it?”

“Not right now.”

Ilya’s smile turns wicked. “No? Then what do you want to do?”

Shane’s eyes flash to those perfect fucking lips before squeezing shut when Ilya’s mouth is pressed to his. It’s fast and needy. Hands fly all over the place while their mouths fall right back into their previous activities.

It’s empowering to kiss Ilya with more experience. To hear the way he gasps when Shane flicks his tongue in a way he hasn’t felt before.

Ilya’s quick to back Shane up to his dresser where he crouches slightly and lifts Shane onto it. Shane’s legs wraps around Ilya’s waist, pulling his bare chest flush against Shane. Ilya breaks away from their kiss sucking on Shane’s tongue until it falls out. He reaches for the hem of Shane’s shirt looking to Shane.

“Is this okay?”

Shane’s positive the whine that just escaped him speaks for itself. “God, yes.”

Ilya practically rips his shirt off before diving back in and kissing him so hard Shane’s pretty sure he tastes a hint of copper. His hands run through Ilya’s curls, one dipping to drape over his back. Ilya’s properly eating Shane’s mouth. His tongue licks in, his teeth bite and his lips suck around anything they can.

This is what Shane’s been craving. Something dormant finally waking up.

Ilya’s body rocks forward pressing his easily identifiable length against Shane’s. Shane’s wearing shorts while Ilya’s wearing sweats – both made of thinner and breathable material making the friction that much more pleasurable.

Ilya’s head nudges Shane’s back, exposing his neck. Ilya works licks and kisses all the way from Shane’s jaw to the junction of his neck and shoulder where Ilya bites. Like really bites.

Shane hisses from above him when Ilya’s canines latch onto his skin. The lock of teeth quickly turns to the lock of lips where Ilya laps and sucks gently at the area. The moans that fall from Shane would be embarrassing if cared about anything other than Ilya’s mouth.

While Ilya terrorizes Shane’s neck, a hand dances down his chest, lightly tugging on his nipple before his index fingers just barely runs along the inside of Shane’s waistband. The feeling makes butterflies spread all around his stomach.

Ilya pulls back and looks at Shane.

“Yeah?”

“Please,” Shane whimpers.

Ilya swiftly lifts Shane from the dresser with his legs still wrapped around him and plops Shane down on the bed.

Ilya spreads across him, his full body on top of Shane while he descends back down on his mouth. Shane lets his hands roam the hard body trapping him against the mattress and doesn’t mind the pressure one bit.

The pressure is a reminder that Ilya is here.

Ilya starts working his way down Shane’s body. He kisses trails down, stopping to bite at his collar bone, licking a strip from the middle down his sternum until a catches a nipple in his teeth. Shane hisses and arches his back.

The chuckle let out by Ilya breaths hot air over the wet spots on his skin, making even more goosebumps rise. He licks and rubs down Shane’s stomach until his fingers are sliding in Shane’s pants and yanking his shorts and underwear down.

Shane’s experienced this a good amount of times now. He usually can last pretty long if he just focuses and he desperately wants to last tonight. He wants to feel what Ilya’s mouth feels like around him and he wants to rub his skin all over Ilya’s. He’s desperate to know what Ilya’s cock might feel like inside him.

He doesn’t think they should push it though.

The second Ilya’s lips wrap around Shane’s dick, he knows he wont be lasting as long as he was hoping.

Ilya immediately takes Shane all the way down his throat and pulls up with a hard hollow of his cheeks. His tongue rubs against the underside of Shane’s cock with each pull up and he’s certain no one has ever made him feel this way.

Nothing has ever felt like this.

Ilya starts bobbing his head in a rhythm that has Shane losing his mind and tugging hard at sandy curls. Ilya moans with Shane’s cock in his throat which only launches Shane towards his orgasm even harder.

Determined to feel Ilya’s bare cock against his own, he yanks Ilya off him, ushering him to sit up against the headboard. Shane quickly rids Ilya of his sweats then straddles his knees while giving Ilya’s hard cock a few strokes.

“Fuck, Shane.”

Yes. Say my name.

Shane leans forward to capture Ilya in a sloppy kiss that has saliva slipping form the seam of their lips. Shane looks down and lets a large glob of spit land right on Ilya’s boner. He watches Shane with an intensity that has his insides buzzing.

Shane positions himself to straddle Ilya fully now, his own erection lying on top of Ilya’s. He rocks so the head of his leaking boner rubs right under the tip of Ilya’s earning him a pleased moan that he returns.

Ilya squeezes the nape of Shane’s neck pulling his lips back into a hungry kiss. Their tongues flick against each other while Shane moves his hand to wipe through the wet goop of spit he left on Ilya.

When Shane’s grips their cocks firmly together, he can feel Ilya’s breath hitch in his mouth.

Shane’s hand starts moving at a steady pace. Moans and whimpers are already filling the room after just a few strokes. How does this feel so good? Why does this feel better than anything Shane’s ever done with anyone else?

“Fuck. Yes Shane, like that.”

Shane’s pace quickens, “You like that? You gonna come for me?”

It’s like the lit a fuse because Ilya growls in response and then starts biting at every inch of Shane’s skin he can reach. When he starts sucking on Shane’s earlobe and gripping his ass, Shane starts losing his composure.

He can feel Ilya’s body spasming under him, trying so hard to hold on.

“I- I’m close,” Ilya pants.

Shane pulls his face away so he can rest his foreheads against Ilya’s and look in his eyes.

“Come for me Ilya. Come on, I want you to.”

Ilya’s coming in no time with a loud, gargled shout. The warm release lubes Shane’s way and gets him stiff and moaning almost directly after.

They sit there panting into each other’s mouths for forever.

Bodies limp, sweat slipping between their pressing skin, release getting sticky between them.

Falling from his daze, Shane starts to think about the fact that he should probably get off Ilya. He looks at the spent man under him who’s sitting with his head against the headboard, eyes closed, satiated smile on his face.

Most of the guys he’s hooked up with weren’t really the kind to linger and Shane isn’t either. Not that this is anything like his other hook ups, but the lack of knowing what it is makes him feel like maybe he should head back to his own room.

He goes to lift his leg when a large, calloused hand comes pushing it back down. When he looks at Ilya, his blue eyes are soft and staring right at Shane.

“Where are you going?”

Shane hesitates. “Oh, um, I thought I should… head back.”

Ilya’s brow pulls together, the smallest crease of disappointment. “You don’t want to stay?”

Shane does. God, he does. “Do you want me to stay?”

Ilya laughs and rolls his eyes.

“Well duh. Cliff won’t be home and it’s not like your parents will notice.”

That’s all it takes. The tension in Shane’s chest loosens, replaced by something warm and terrifying. He nods, already backing toward the door.

“I’m just going to clean up. And shut my door so it looks like I’m in there.”

“Smart,” Ilya murmurs.

Shane turns to go, but fingers curl around his wrist again.

“Come here,” Ilya says, softer this time. “Gimme a kiss.”

Shane leans in. It’s barely two pecks, light as breath, but they land with the force of a promise. When he pulls back, Ilya’s eyes are still on him.

“Don’t take too long,” Ilya murmurs.

And for the first time in months, Shane feels like he’s walking toward something more.

Chapter End Notes

I HOPE YOU LIKE THIS ONE :) :) :)

Just know I hate cheating butttttttttttttttttttt it was needed for me lol

NEXT TIME ON CLOSE ENOUGH TO HURT:
Back to the cottage, new dynamics, hard decisions, and one key word: sneaky. ;)

Chapter 6: Be Sweet

Chapter Summary

With feelings admitted and New York boyfriends fleeing, Shane and Ilya finally get to enjoy each other's company - as well as the rest of the Hollanders company. At the cottage. As a family. Who knew sneaking around could be thrilling laced with torture?

Chapter Notes

I'm sorry this one was late, I honestly wrote that one shot and started on this chapter pretty late then had school and work, butttttt here she is. She mostly pretty fluffy, who doesn't love a good bone to be thrown?

PREVIOUSLY ON CLOSE ENOUGH TO HURT:
-Huge miscommunication that led to Shane ignoring Ilya after the New York trip.
-Shane brought Miles home with him, thoroughly confusing Ilya.
-Ilya continues to pursue Shane and get to the bottom of it.
-Shane (of course) gives into Ilya.
-After the breakup with Miles, Shane seeks out Ilya who tells him all the things he's been yearning to hear.

 

🎶This chapter's song is Be Sweet by Japanese Breakfast.
CLOSE ENOUGH TO HURT PLAYLIST

Chapter 6: Be Sweet

Ilya. 

That’s what Shane wakes up to. 

It’s not like it hasn’t happened before. They’ve grown up together, though they’re a bit too close now to compare it to the childhood sleepovers with Ilya AND Cliff.

The cottage trip last summer was of course memorable; even more so knowing what he knows now about Ilya’s dreams.

New York had some pretty nice mornings – although they sadly become tainted by the awful things Shane heard and now associate with that time. 

Even now, knowing the context of those words that very much differed from the meaning Shane gave them at the time, it’s hard to look back on that week and not feel things. Things like hurt, rejection, and heartbreak.

He felt those things for months. 

He entered a whole ass relationship because of the meaning he gave those words. 

Now it just feels like a waste of precious time they’ll never get back all because they can never seem to properly communicate like adults.

But this? 

Waking up with his head pressed to Ilya’s cozy chest and strong arms wrapped protectively around him after hearing those syrupy sweet words blast from Ilya’s mouth last night makes Shane’s body feel stuffed full of fluff. 

He’s wanted to hear those words for years. 

He just didn’t know Ilya actually felt them. 

That he could feel them. For Shane. 

The golden rays of the morning sun sneak through the cracks of the blinds, leaving yellow streaks across the expanse of Ilya’s body. Shane’s head moves with the rise and fall of Ilya’s chest.

The gold cross pendant for his mom rolls around between Shane’s fingertips. 

His eyes are only focused on Ilya. 

At the way his mouth hangs open, breathing heavily in his deep sleep. The way his curls are frizzy from tossing and turning – and other activities – but they still look so soft and fall around his face like a halo. 

Is this real?

Shane sits his weight up only slightly to get a better look at the man he’s yearned more than half his life for. 

Yeah. The verdicts in. This can’t be real. 

His hands move with a mind of their own. They map out this strong, hard chest that somehow is the perfect make-shift pillow for Shane’s head all night. 

They map out the strong arms that for years protected him. That fought for him – even when he’d make a fuss about it. 

They gently map out this insatiable neck with soft brushes of his fingertips. This neck that begs for Shane to just take a bite. 

He leans forward till his body is shifted higher up Ilya’s side. His lips barely touch when he places the softest kiss on Ilya’s collarbone. A trail of pecks are tracked from there to the spot right under Ilya’s ear. 

Shane kitten licks the salty area before kissing it. He lightly nibbles Ilya’s earlobe just enough to hear a low moan start deep in his chest. 

Shane suctions his lips back under Ilya’s ear and minutely sucks the spot with a determination that has Ilya’s breath quickening and hold on Shane’s waist tightening. 

“Mmm.” He rumbles, eye’s still closed. “Shane?”

Ilya’s sleepy voice is pure cottage-morning softness, the kind that melts Shane on contact. It makes him feel stupidly relaxed, stupidly at home, stupidly tempted to curl into Ilya’s side and never leave the bed again.

Shane props himself up on an elbow, smirk already forming as Ilya’s eyes flutter open. Ilya looks at him through the tiny slits of half-awake lids, lips tugging up like he can’t help it.

Shane raises a brow, playfulness consuming him. “Expecting someone else?”

Ilya shakes his head with a huff and quickly rolls them over so he’s completely on top of Shane now. His face is shoved in Shane’s neck where he leaves kisses with grinning lips.

Shane throws his head back, smile so wide his jaw will definitely hurt later.

He’s never felt like this before.

Things with Miles were fine. Really they were. But Shane was the issue. He knew that then and he definitely knows it now. Things probably could’ve worked with Miles if Shane wasn’t so head over heels for Ilya. If he wasn’t so in lo-

If he wasn’t so in love with Ilya.

Is that crazy?

Shane doesn’t really think so. Not deep down anyways. He’s always loved Ilya. He’s loved him the way you love someone who’s always been in your life, yes, but he’s also always loved him.

Maybe it is crazy. Maybe it’s crazy when this thing between them has been brewing for years and only now is becoming something.

Right?

Like… this has to be… something?

Maybe it’s crazy when Shane and his boyfriend just broke up yesterday – which he most definitely needs to call Rose about still.

But maybe it’s not crazy.

Maybe it’s not crazy because his whole fucking life he’s felt wrong somehow like he wasn’t made to fit with anyone. Like whatever everyone else had, whatever his dad found with his mom or Cliff found with Katie, just wasn’t in the cards for him. Because the only person he’s ever wanted is Ilya, and Ilya has always lived in that impossible space between too close and completely unreachable. Someone Shane could only ever want in dreams.

But now Ilya’s kissing his neck in his room that’s warmed from the early morning summer rays and Shane’s head is spinning in disbelief. Disbelief that this same man told him last night, ‘Being with you feels like home because you’re the only home I’ve ever had,’ and said it like it was the truest thing he knew.

Because he said, ‘I need you’ and all Shane could think was fuck, I need you too.

Ilya’s face has a slight look of confusion when he pulls back and looks at Shane. His eyebrow cocks a little before relaxing. He leans forward, kissing a small peck on the tip of Shane’s nose.

“Good morning.”

Shane knows his face probably looks ridiculous. Smile breaking his face as if Ilya said anything close to the things he said last night.

The truth is, he doesn’t need to.

Shane could have him like this for the rest of his life and be contempt.

“Good morning,” he says through a teethy grin.

Ilya’s hands brace themselves by Shane’s head while Shane’s grip onto Ilya’s shoulders. They stay in this position for some time. They take each other in, letting their eyes gander and study the way they’ve been too scared to in the past.

Ilya’s soft expression turns stiff and serious. “Are you okay?”

Shane’s pretty sure he’s never been more okay.

“Yeah?” One of his hands brushes over the nape of Ilya’s neck, fingers rubbing at the area there. “I’m more okay than I’ve been for a while.”

Shane hopes his words will soften the crease between Ilya’s brows, but it stays there, carved deep with worry.

“Do you… regret last night?”

His stomach drops. He hates that Ilya thinks he’d ever see last night as something to regret.

“What? No!” He grabs Ilya’s face with both hands, panic edging his voice. “Ilya, I- I’m sorry. That wasn’t fair to you. Or Miles. Fuck.” He looks away, jaw tight. “I’m such a terrible fucking person.”

“No.” Ilya takes his chin, steady and insistent, forcing Shane to meet his eyes. “You’re perfect.”

“No I-,” Shane sighs. “I cheated.”

“I didn’t make it easy for you.”

It’s cute that Ilya’s trying to take the blame because yes, he is a fucking temptation. He’s the biggest temptation Shane’s ever had and ultimately his self-control proved to be sufficiently lacking.

This was all Shane though. Shane was the one in a relationship. Shane was the one who should’ve been mature and not such an asshole stringing Miles along as if Ilya was not on his mind.

Granted, Miles didn’t seem all that upset during breakfast. Another thing he’ll have to check in on with Rose.

“Well I guess I’m just weak,” he pulls Ilya’s head down so their foreheads touch. “For you I mean. I’m embarrassingly weak for you.”

“Mmm. Well good. Because I am weak for you, sweetheart.”

And honestly, Shane can’t find any other option but to pull Ilya into a kiss at that point.

Their lips indolently slot together in kisses that are slow and loving in a way that makes Shane’s toes curl against the sheets. Ilya’s hips naturally rock into Shane. Their growing erections are held back by the boxers they threw on in a sleepy haze last night.

The moans that slip from Shane are completely involuntary and run a little too close to a purr. Which would be utterly mortifying if it was anyone but Ilya.

“Shane Hollander likes to kiss in the morning?” Ilya says between sweet kisses placed all around Shane’s face. “I figured you’d make me brush my teeth first or something.”

It’s a true statement. Shane doesn’t like morning breath. He never let Miles kiss him before brushing their teeth in the morning.

But… it’s Ilya.

Ilya moves his lips to Shane’s jaw, who tilts his head back slightly, immediately submitting and giving more access.

Shane snickers, “Don’t get used to it.”

His legs tighten around Ilya’s waist, using his strength to roll them over until he’s on top, legs spread in a straddling position.

“Maybe,” Shane says, grabbing Ilya’s wrists and pinning them by his head on the mattress. “I just couldn’t wait this time.”

The smile he gets in response basically forces him down into another kiss. This one scorching.

Shane’s hands move to claw at Ilya’s chest leaving little red streaks in their wake. Ilya’s hands move to Shane’s waist, pulling his weight down until he’s completely relaxed on top of Ilya.

There’s no question when it comes to what’s hardening against Shane’s grinding hips. He can so clearly feel how aroused Ilya’s getting and Shane’s really not that far off.

He works his way down until he finds a comfortable position kneeling between Ilya’s spread legs. Shane rubs his hands up and down Ilya’s thighs.

Ilya’s propped up on his elbows, watching Shane with a predators gaze, licking his lips in anticipation.

Shane keeps looking at Ilya with his tongue lolled out as he leans down to press the tip to the wet patch already forming on Ilya’s boxers.

“Fuck Shane,” Ilya moans letting his head fall back. “I don’t think I’ll get used to seeing you like this. Fucking perfect.”

“Yeah?” Shane smiles. “Better than your dreams?”

Ilya’s head snaps back up with a genuine smile – not the smirk or the bedroom grin, but a real smile.

“Da. Way better.”

Shane’s fingers move to Ilya’s waistband. He can feel the energy between them electrifying. They did this last night, they slept all cuddled up, and still, the prospect of what’s about to happen makes Shane feel-

A loud knocking at the door rips them from the moment.

“Yo Ilya,” Cliff yells through the door. “You up brother?”

Oh, fuck.

They both look at each other, eyes wide and hearts racing. Shane mouths a ‘fuck’ while Ilya shrugs questioningly at him.

“Um,” he stalls. “Yeah, give me one sec.”

They have an intense whisper conversation while Ilya pulls the blanket up a little – also making sure to use a pillow to block his very noticeable hard on – that consists of ‘you’re going to have to hide under the bed’ and ‘I’m not rolling on your nasty floor’ to a final ‘then I guess Cliff’s joining us’ that finally gets Shane shuffling under Ilya’s bed.

Under the bed isn’t so terrible, although there’s a bottle of lotion and a crusty sock Shane tries hard not to investigate further.

“Come in,” he hears Ilya yell.

The door makes a loud creak, and Shane goes rigid at the sight of Cliffs feet just a small distance in front of where he lays hiding.

Fuck. This is so risky.

“Woah, dude,” Cliff says, “are you naked?”

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck…

“What? No, I’m wearing boxers. You come in room at,” Ilya pauses, Shane assumes he’s looking at the time. “7:36 a.m. so I like, just woke up.”

“Ohhh,” Cliff holds it out. “Morning wood?”

“What?”

Cliff laughs, “You’re holding that pillow to your crotch like somethings gonna pop out on me.”

“Oh my god. Cliff. Did you need something or do you wanna just stand there and talk about my dick all morning?”

“Yeah yeah yeah. Don’t get your knickers in a twist. Have you seen Shane?”

“Um. No.” He laughs in a way that sounds too suspicious. Or maybe Shane just thinks that because he knows what’s really going on. “Wh- why?”

“I knocked on his door and kinda went in since he didn’t answer – don’t you dare tell him, you know how he is about his space. But he wasn’t there. Just wanted to make sure he’s okay after Miles going home. What’d you think of him anyways?”

“Who? Miles?”

“No, Shane,” Cliff says in a bland tone. “Duh Miles!”

“Hm. I don’t know. I didn’t really think about it much.”

There’s no way Ilya’s selling that.

“Really? Cause you seemed really off with him. You’re just usually not like that. I just wasn’t sure-” His phone starts ringing. “Oh fuck. It’s Katie, I’ve gotta take this. Tell Shane to find me if you see him.”

By the time Shane wriggles out from under the bed, both of them are laughing so hard they can barely breathe. It’s ridiculous, really. They’re laughing like two people who didn’t just narrowly avoid being caught in a situation that would’ve been impossible to explain to Cliff.

“Fuck,” Ilya says, pushing himself upright. “I’ve gotta get to work. We should… maybe talk later? About what all this is, maybe?”

“Yeah,” Shane says immediately. “We should.”

“Okay.” Ilya’s smile is small but bright.

“Okay,” Shane replies, matching it without even trying.

Talk. They’re going to talk.

Who gets this excited about talking?

But it’s not the conversation itself – it’s the possibility inside it. It’s the fact that they’re finally going to put words to whatever’s been happening between them, finally going to stop pretending they don’t know.

And Shane feels light. Buoyant. Almost stupidly hopeful.

He can’t wait.

Waking up this morning truly felt like a dream.

Ilya was terrified to open in eyes in fear that the feeling of Shane’s lips on his neck and his hands on his chest would suddenly dissipate with the rise of his consciousness.

But it didn’t.

Because it wasn’t a dream.

And now they’re going to talk.

Ilya never been the biggest talking guy. When it comes to relationships, the talking was never a priority. Now, maybe that’s because his “relationships” were more hook ups than anything.

His relationship with Svetlana doesn’t count. Yeah, they technically did date and of course they talked, but even in their dating phase, the talking wasn’t something that make butterflies swarm his stomach. Their talking didn’t make him smile the whole drive home from work as if he’s seeing Shane for the first time in years and not mere hours.

This is Shane.

And therefore the talking is so unbelievably different solely based on that one fact.

Later in the night, after dinner where Ilya tried not to play footsy with Shane under the table – but failed – Ilya texts Shane to meet him in the treehouse. They start casually, talking about Ilya’s day, Shane talking about how Cliff awkwardly checked in on him and then got embarrassed for asking when Shane told him about the break up.

“Did you tell him what happened?”

“No, no, no.” Shane quickly says. “I need to figure out what the hell I’m gonna say first.”

“Will you tell me what happened?”

It’s been killing Ilya.

He wanted to know last night when he asked if Shane wanted to talk about it.

But now it’s the next day, Shane clearly isn’t too upset about the breakup itself as much as he’s upset with himself. So Ilya doesn’t really feel bad asking because the complete turnaround from the bathroom at the restaurant to last night kinda has him feeling whiplash.

His stomach hurts knowing that’s what he’s made Shane feel the past few years – but so much worse.

“It’s actually really embarrassing.” Shane looks at his hands. “He said we weren’t compatible. Not that way I’m compatible with you. And that he doesn’t think I ever liked him the way I, um- the way I like you.”

He truly has no strength in holding back the grin on his face.

Shane smacks his leg. “Stop that! It’s so terrible of me Ilya, seriously. I was literally in a relationship, and he could see how much I wanted you. Ugh, I’m just lucky Rose said whatever the hell she said on the phone that made him more understanding than mad. That conversation would’ve gone a lot differently.”

“Wanted?”

Shane’s face scrunches in the adorable way Ilya loves, “Huh?”

Ilya reaches over to brush a thumb over Shane’s freckles. “You said wanted. Past tense.”

“Oh my God,” Shane rolls his eyes. “You’re insufferable.”

“What? Can you blame me? This is all… very confusing, yes?”

“Yeah. It is.” Shane looks at him thoughtfully. “So, what… is this?”

“What do you want it to be?”

“Hey!” Shane pushes his chest, so he falls back on the beanbag. “You can’t answer a question with a question. That’s not fair.”

“Fine. I uh, well honestly? I don’t know Shane. I’m not really used to like, the relationship thing. And I don’t know if I’m ready for Cliff to know. I just know I want to be with you.” He grabs Shane’s hand. “If you want that too.”

His heart is hammering in his chest. Shane could easily have whoever he wants. He could easily be with someone who he didn’t have to hide. He could easily be with someone-

“I want to be with you too.”

Ilya’s hearts in his throat.

“You’re sure?”

“Ilya,” Shane says more serious than Ilya may have ever heard him. “You seriously have to ask that?”

He leans forward, closing the space between them, pecks one kiss on the side of Ilya’s mouth, one on the other, then one devastatingly sweet kiss smack dab in the middle.

“So,” Ilya says, “how do we do this?”

“Well, I’m definitely not ready for Cliff to know either. I think he could be… supportive. But I want to figure this out first. I want to actually enjoy each other before making things all messy and complicated again. Obviously we’ll have to sneak around a bit but eventually we can figure all the other stuff out. Maybe after summer. Is- is that okay?”

That’s fucking music to Ilya’s ears.

Of course he wants everyone to know Shane is his. Of course he’d shout it from the fucking roof top if he could. He wants the whole world to know that sweet, adorable, sexy, kind Shane Hollander is his and no one else can have him.

If it were Ilya’s choice, no one else could even look at him.

That sounds toxic, he knows. It’s not like he’d ever actually say that, but the possessiveness in him runs thick when it comes to Shane. He wants to growl and bark at anyone who gets too close.

“That sounds more than okay, sweetheart.”

Shane blushes and dips his head which makes Ilya’s heart warm. He loves seeing Shane get all bashful over Ilya’s words. It makes him think mine.

“I like that.”

“Hm?” Ilya grins at the way Shane's blush deepens.

“When you uh, call me that.”

“Oh?” Ilya asks as if he couldn’t tell. He leans onto Shane’s beanbag, enveloping him in an embrace. “You like when I call you sweetheart, do you?”

With quick fingers, Ilya finds the spots all around Shane’s body that makes him double over in pain from laughing so hard.

“Ily- oh my- Ilya please! Please stop!”

When he finally let’s go, Ilya lays with his head pressed to Shane’s chest basking in the way fingers scratch at his scalp in a soothing manner.

Ilya’s never felt like this before.

“You make me feel happy. Happier than I’ve felt in a long time.”

He can feel Shane’s hand pause at the admission before continuing it’s movements.

“You make me happy too.” He presses a kiss to Ilya’s hair. “So we’re doing this then? Like we’re… together?”

“Together,” Ilya agrees. “I like the sound of that.”

He hears Shane chuckle above him, “Yeah, me too.”

“Okay. After summer then. We enjoy the next few months together then we can figure it all out.”

“I can’t believe this,” Shane mutters. “Do you know how long I’ve dreamt of this? I thought you’d always see my as Cliff’s annoying brother.”

“Well… you are Cliff’s annoying brother.” Shane lightly hits his shoulder, the two of them laughing and falling into comfortable silence while Ilya’s hums deep in his chest, holding Shane in his arms.

They still have a million things to figure out.

A million obstacles they’ll eventually have to face.

But none of that matters right now. None of that is as important as the fact that after all this time, after all the years of telling himself he couldn’t have this; he has it.

Shane’s his.

Shane wants to be his.

The devil on Ilya’s shoulder is still there. It’s still telling him he doesn’t deserve this. That he’ll never deserve Shane.

He tries not to listen.

Because Shane is here.

Shane is here, telling Ilya he wants this.

And Ilya’s trying really hard to let himself believe that.

“Oh my God,” Rose answers on the first ring, “he’s alive!”

Shane rolls his eyes, even though he’s smiling. It’s been a few days since the treehouse conversation with Ilya, and he finally worked up the nerve to call her. He is grateful for her help – truly – but also… where was the communication? He knows she’s friends with Miles, but he had shared some pretty personal things with her, and she’d apparently passed them along like they were fun facts.

He’s thankful. And mortified. A complicated cocktail.

“I am alive,” he says. “Although I’m stuck between letting you live and killing you, so start talking, lady.”

“What?” she replies in the most exaggeratedly innocent tone imaginable. “Whatever could you be talking about?”

She knows exactly what he’s talking about.

“Rose,” he warns. “Come on. You told him about New York? A heads-up would’ve been nice!”

She bursts out laughing. “Well, from what I heard, you should be thanking me. Shane, do you know how upset Miles was? He was blowing up my phone about how paranoid he felt the whole trip. He kept saying he knew you two were close, but he couldn’t shake the feeling your ‘old crush’ wasn’t so old.”

Shane groans. “Okay, yeah, maybe I was being stupid-”

“Um, yeah. Very stupid. Like, did you really think dating Miles was going to magically erase your feelings? What have I been saying this whole time?”

“That to get over Ilya I needed to get under someone else.”

She goes silent for a beat. “Well… yes, I did say that. But I did not say to start dating someone when you’re clearly in love with someone else.”

“Okay, yes, I get it, I’m an idiot. Let’s all point at Shane and say shame.”

“Wow,” she says, “are you sure you’re not interested in theater? Because you are being dramatic right now.”

Shane scoffs. “I miss you.”

“I miss you too,” she says, her voice softening. Then, with a grin he can hear through the phone: “Sooo… Ilya then?”

“Yeah.” He can’t help the smile spreading across his face. “Ilya.”

Ilya can’t stop looking at Shane in the rear-view mirror.

Habit by Still Woozy melodically plays through the speakers, windows down, warm summer breeze surrounding them.

Ilya’s driving, Cliff in the passenger seat, and Shane in the backseat looking out the window.

It feels so good to be able to look and not care if Shane sees him looking. He wants Shane to see him looking. He loves the cute blush that flourishes from his chest, up his neck, to the tips of his ears. His freckles illuminate with the crimson color that blooms and Ilya could chase that reaction for the rest of his life.

It’s the annual cottage trip.

Time alone with the Hollanders. No work to worry about. Nothing to occupy his mind except Shane.

He can’t lie though, he was dismayed to hear Katie wouldn’t be joining Cliff on the trip.

Obviously, Cliff is his best friend. He loves spending time with him especially since that time has been pretty sparce with life lately – besides the fact that they do literally live in the same house and work together. But work is busy and they’re not always on the same job sites, Cliff spends a lot of time with Katie, and Ilya had been… moping those six months of silence from Shane.

So really, he should be at least a little happy Katie can’t join them this year.

He’s not happy.

Ilya’s been sneaking kisses the last week since the tree house and he feels a tingle down his spin every time he pulls Shane into an empty room, texts him to meet in the treehouse, or on a quick drive.

Shane is clear on the fact that they CAN NOT mess around with anyone in the house. Ilya tried to make a joke about trying to be quiet being sexy and Shane really didn’t find it funny. And it’s not just messing around. It’s literally any kind of sneaking.

So basically Ilya can’t breath in Shane’s direction at the house whenever someone else is around. At least not in any way that is out of the ordinary. Luckily Ilya’s always been cheeky, but Shane even scolded him the other night for calling him a ‘good boy’ at dinner.

It was obviously a joke.

Shane wasn’t laughing.

And neither was Ilya when precious minutes that could’ve been spent holding each other and making out were spent with Shane shaking his finger in Ilya’s face.

Honestly, Ilya’s pretty sure the whole Cliff knocking on the door incident really freaked him out.

Ilya plans on finding loopholes. His hope was that the treehouse would be a great place because it’s separate from the house and no one comes up there besides them.

Shane didn’t take the bait.

Not one nibble.

And that’s fine, really. It’s just that Ilya can’t keep his hands off Shane. He can’t keep his mind off Shane and it’s killing him just hanging around the house and not being about to reach out and touch him. To reach out, pull him in, and kiss him.

Then that boils over into Ilya being a straight up fiend.

The self-control he has to have only fuels the need Ilya has for Shane. It only makes him want more.

He had convinced Shane a couple days ago to go on a drive with him where Ilya promptly pulled off to a side street and gave Shane a blow job before stopping for ice cream.

Ilya was proud of himself for that one.

Proud of the look Shane’s face made when Ilya casually tucked him back into his jeans, licked his own lips, then carried on with their drive like nothing happened.

So not having Katie there as a slight buffer for Shane and Ilya to enjoy some alone time without Cliff really throws a wrench in Ilya’s plan to kiss Shane in the water under the moonlight.

He wanted to kiss Shane last year.

He had looked so handsome with drops of water rolling down his face, and it killed Ilya.

Now he could. He could kiss Shane. He could kiss the fucking life out of him.

Except he can’t. Not with Cliff there.

And man he loves his best friend, but fuck he’s selfishly dying to have Shane all to himself.

Is Shane being punished for something?

How is it that last year, he and Ilya were in such an uncomfortable situation and had to share a room, yet this year they can’t even get away with a sneaky snog somewhere. 

Not to mention, Katie being unable to come meant that Ilya and Cliff could just share a room. Meaning that Shane and Ilya would not be sharing a room.

This made him unreasonably grouchy the whole day Cliff mentioned it’d ‘be like old times.’

He has no clue.

The lake swim is torture. Truly. Torture.

They move past the dock further down the trail as they usually do until they reach their familiar embankment.

It’s a rather chilly night. So chilly Shane opted to wear sweats and sweatshirts while walking out here rather than the shirt and shorts both Ilya and Cliff are sporting.  

The three of them all stand right where the water splashes up, all of them gasping when the cold water touches them.

“Well,” Cliff starts. “Are we gonna get in?”

“I mean, I wouldn’t be opposed to just cutting our loses and heading back. I’d rather not die of hypothermia.” Shane says.

Ilya blows a raspberry at him. “Boring.”

Shane turns to Ilya with a scoff and shoves him with two hands. “Shut up. Sorry I don’t want to freeze to death.”

“Shane please,” Cliff laughs, “you won’t freeze to death.”

He turns his attention to Cliff now, rolling his eyes. “Whatever tough guys. I’ll stay here. Keep your clothes company.”

Cliff looks at the water that splashes at their feet again, back at Shane and Ilya, then dead set on the water.

“Fine.” He rips off his shirt and shorts. “See you on the flip side.”

And just like that, Cliff’s gone.

Shane and Ilya laugh at the way he flops into the water and launches himself forward in the water.

The chills running through Shane quickly turn to a zinging shiver when Ilya’s hand crawls under the hem of Shane’s sweatshirt and rest on the small of his back. His fingers are rubbing his skin, making Shane’s legs tremble  

“You will not come?” He whisper in Shane’s ear.

Shane knows he’s touch deprived because he feels like he might crumble from this. From Ilya’s cold hand on his back that somehow still sends heat flaring throughout him and the huff of warm air breathed in his ear making goosebumps rise all over him.

“I think the only way I’d be able to made it is if I could hang off you,” He looks over to where Cliff’s still swimming out. “And I don’t see that being an option tonight.”

”That could be arranged.”

“Ilya. You know that would not end well.”

Ilya puffs out his bottom lip in a pout before grinning at Shane and reaching for the neckline of his shirt. Shane gets lost in the way his arms flex while pulling his shirt off in one swift motion.

Shane studies the body in front of him. The moles that spread across it. The soft skin that begs to be touched. The hair leading down to the waistband Ilya is nudging further and further down.

When he pulls his shorts off, it tugs his boxer just enough that they sit very very low on his hips. Shane’s eyes fall to the defined ‘v’ and his mind fades to salty skin and the musky smell of Ilya.

He loves his brother but he would kill for Cliff to not be here right now.

Shane would push through the ice cold water if it were just him and Ilya.

He’d do a lot of things if it resulted in hanging off Ilya.

A low laugh takes him out of it, snapping his eyes back up to Ilya’s smirking face.

“You’re so cute.”

Ilya sends a quick look to wear Cliff’s back is to them and kisses Shane. 

He’s running off before Shane can even respond.

Shane’s still not used to it. Ilya leaving random kisses all over him at the most random times. It was his idea not to fool around in the house but his self control is growing thin.

There’s really nothing to be done but to stand here and watch Cliff and Ilya in the water. Shane watches the way Ilya swims like it’s as easy as breathing air even though the water temperature is surly constricting his lungs.

Watching Ilya and Cliff mess around has Shane smiling to himself.

It has him thinking about the future. He knows it might be crazy, they have barely actually been together, and Shane is dreaming about the future.

It’s just that he can see it. He can see them continuing the cottage trip for years to come. Yuna and David. Katie and Cliff. Shane and Ilya. Except Shane and Ilya wouldn’t just be Shane and Ilya, they’d be ShaneandIlya.

Together.

And they wouldn’t have to hide it. They could hold hands. They could casually and subtly reach for each other without having to conceal it away for dark rooms and hidden corners.

Shane dreams of those times.

Shane can’t wait for it.

One night, Shane, Ilya, and Cliff all sit around the fire.

Ilya and Cliff spent an hour walking around finding the perfect logs and kindling while Shane, Yuna and David got together stuff for hot dogs and smores.

It was a great night.

Eventually, Yuna and David retire back to their room while the boys stay out by the fire just shooting the shit.

Ilya’s sitting directly across the fire and Shane does his best not to just stare at the way the flames dance around his face.

They all were sipping on beers, not so much to be off their rockers, but enough to feel loosened up. Shane usually doesn’t partake since Cliff becomes all frat boy-ish when they do, but he decided he’d indulge.

The issue is that the warm tingly feeling running through him is making it harder and harder not to let his mind linger on Ilya. Staring at his face isn’t helping either.

Shane tries his best to tune into what Cliffs saying.

“… and then she told me I need to stop drinking sugar free energy drinks. Like, what? She had first told me they were too sugary and now that I’m drinking sugar free ones, she’s telling me those are bad for me too! I just can’t win.”

“Cliff I’m pretty sure Katies right,” Shane reasons. “Sugar free isn’t that much better for you.”

“Blah blah blah. That’s just a myth,” he shrugs off. “Anyways, I have more important things to talk to you guys about.”

That makes Shane straighten up.

What could Cliff want to talk to the both of them about? It couldn’t be… no. No he is acting way too nonchalant for this to be about Shane and Ilya.

When he glances over the fire, he sees an expression on Ilya’s face that mirrors his own feelings.

“Guys, why do you look like I’m about to say we’re being drafted for war?”

They both laugh, stealing another quick look at each other.

Cliff continues, “I just have some pretty exciting news. I think I’m going to propose to Katie.”

“Oh my God.”

“You? How’re you gonna pull that off,” Ilya jests.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Cliff rolls his eyes. “I don’t know exactly when I’m gonna do it, but it is on my mind. I talked with mom and dad about it and of course they’re over the moon.”

“Have you talked to her parents?” Shane asks.

“No. Should I?”

Shane scoffs. “Um, yeah. That’s like kinda how this whole thing works dude.”

“Even I know about this. Where the hell have you been Cliff?”

“Okay, okay yeah. I’ll have to talk to her dad then.” Cliff relaxes back in his camping chair. “All I’m saying is my wedding will be the party of the century.”

“You better not call it a party in front of Katie. She’ll kill you.”

“Well it will be!” He exclaims. “And you my boys, will need to find dates.”

Shane resists looking at Ilya this time. He needs to limit the number of glances he’s allowed when other people are around them.

Ilya’s voice gives him a reason to look though, “Cliff. You haven’t even proposed yet. We have plenty of time to find a date.” He smirks and Shane knows why. “Plus, I might already have someone in mind.”

“Oh?” Cliff leans closer. “You’ve got some sugar on the side?”

“Ew,” Shane huffs under his breath.

“Wouldn’t you like to know.” Ilya lands on.

“Okay, okay. Keep your cards close to your chest then.” He turns to Shane. “And what about you Shaney? You need us to find some dapper fella?”

“Oh my God Cliff, maybe you should focus on making the wedding a reality before worrying about my love life.”

Cliff lifts a hand and swats it in the air as if brushing off Shane’s words. “Ah that’s where you’re wrong little bro. I’m always worried about your love life. Have you even had sex yet?”

Shane’s face turns red. “Oh. My. God. Cliff, stop.”

“What?” He questions. “You don’t have to be embarrassed about it. It’s just us and I’ve been with my fair share of lovers and the whole city knows Ilya has too.”

“Dude,” Ilya says seriously. “Shut up.”

Shane knows this information about Ilya of course. So he’s not sure why Ilya’s being so cagey about it. Although hearing the words do make Shane sink in his chair a little. As much as he knows, he would love if he could just mind wipe it from his memory.

“Fuck what is up with you guys?” Cliff looks between the two of them, “I’m just trying to learn a little more about my little bro’s New York affairs. There’s gotta be some hot guys in the big apple, right?”

He can feel both Ilya and Cliffs eyes on him now.

It’s not that he has an issue talking about this stuff with Cliff, but he hasn’t really said anything to Ilya about the many things he did to occupy the six months of ignoring him. Though, he’s sure Ilya’s noticed some differences in his technique. Things he picked up while gaining experience with guys other than Ilya.

He shouldn’t feel weird about it though. Ilya’s been with a whole sea of people – men and women – so why would it be a big deal that Shane’s been with a handful of people?

It’s not a big deal.

“Okay, fine, yes I’ve had sex.” Shane relents. “And no, I’m not going into details.”

Cliff smiles triumphantly at the admission while Ilya’s eyes reflect the deep pits of the fire they sit in front of. Shane furrows his brows and shrugs a ‘what?’ at him before adverting his eyes and turning to Cliffs giddy face.

“The fuck! Shane, how the hell could you not tell me?” Cliff asks offended.

“What?” Shane looks at him incredulously, “You really thought I’d just call you up like hey, yeah, yeah I miss you, oh and real quick, by the way, I lost my virginity.”

“I don’t know! You could’ve at least sent a carrier pigeon or something.”

Shane’s serious for one second before losing it in a loud cackle.

“Who was it?” Cuts through his laughter.

It doesn’t come from Cliff – though Shane’s sure he would’ve been next in line to ask. It, of course, comes from Ilya. His face is stone cold and his eyes are dark. He’s looking at Shane with an intensity that could make someone drop dead.

Shane’s honestly shocked he’s still breathing.

“Was it Miles?” Cliff chimes in.

“Okay, can you guys not hear me or what? I said I wasn’t going into details.”

“Come on Hollander,” Ilya says leaning forward, face forcing a smirk. His eyes are still impossibly dark. “Don’t be boring.”

Shane stares at him, mouth slightly open.

Why is Ilya pushing this?

He knows exactly how to get under Shane’s skin though because the words are already coming up.

“Okay. Yes, it was Miles. Fuck, you guys are such suckers for gossip.” He doesn’t stop there. “If you must know I’ve also gone home with my fair share of men from the club.”

Fair share may be a bit much, but it was enough for Shane to increase his skill level.

Cliffs looking at him bewildered, “You had sex with a bunch of guys from the club?”

“What?” Shane sits up. That was not what he meant. “No, God no. I’ve only had sex with Miles. I just mean that I’m not some inexperienced kid anymore, okay?”

Cliff just lets out a little chuckle and a ‘way to go buddy’ before throwing a marshmallow on a stick and pushing it directly in a flame. When Shane shifts his eyes to Ilya, he has the same look on his face as before, but Shane’s struggling to fully read him.

He tries to mouth a ‘what’ at Ilya again, but his eyes just flicker away.

Shane’s not oblivious to the fact that Ilya’s feeling jealous. He can see it on his face.

That’s not what annoys him. What annoys him is the fact that he almost looks peeved at Shane.

That’s what’s pissing Shane off.

Because Shane has gone so long hearing other people thirst over Ilya, over what a great lover he is and while it’s all aggravating to hear, that’s in the past. Shane wouldn’t hold that against him now even if it’s obviously something that’s going to make him jealous.

So seeing Ilya look annoyed – at Shane – over this is actually making him irritated enough that he excuses himself and heads back to his room.

He’s just about to text Rose when a knocks coming from his door.

“Yeah?” He calls from his place lying on his bed.

Ilya slips through the door, closing it softly behind him. He turns to look at Shane, leaning back so he’s rested against the door.

“Hi.”

Shane raises an eyebrow, eyes moving around Ilya’s face. “Hi?”

It’s quiet for a second and Shane can’t figure out this tension. Ilya clearly has something to say. He took the risk of coming to Shane’s room to say it, so why’s he standing here like Shane called on him?

“How was it?”

“Ilya. What are you talking about?”

He doesn’t move his eyes from Shane’s for a long time. His face doesn’t give much away, it holds a blank expression like he’s doing his best to hide what he can.

“With Miles. How was it?”

Oh God. Is he for real right now? Has Shane ever drilled Ilya about his sex life? No. The answers, no.

“Are you seriously mad?”

“I’m not mad.” Ilya replies with the look of someone biting into sour candy.

“Yeah but you’re… something.” Shane gestures to him. “And I don’t get why. You’ve been with plenty of people so what’s the big deal?”

He rolls his eyes in response. His eyes land to his boots instead of Shane’s face. “Nothing.” 

“Really? Don’t do that Ilya.” 

He looks back to Shane. “I don’t know what you want me to say. I can’t help that I’m feeling things about it. I can’t just not feel things about it Shane.” 

“I get that and you can have feelings about it but I’m nineteen and in college. It’s not like it’s all that crazy that I’ve had sex so why are you being weird about it? And in front of Cliff too! How many people have you had sex with?”

No response, just the habitual scoff and roll of eyes.

“What if I grilled you about Svetlana?” 

“That’s different.” It comes out stern and Ilya’s eyes blaze into his. 

“How?”

Shane can’t help pushing because he doesn’t like the guy who he wants to do very grown-up things with treating him like a child. Treating him like he’s some fragile thing that can never be touched.

“Because I’m not you and because Svetlana is a friend.”

Now it’s Shane’s turn to scoff. “Yeah a friend you fuck. You made that very clear.”

Ilya’s eyes widen at that. At the reminder of the thing he made sure Shane knew in the car last summer.

“We- we haven’t done that in a long time. I promise.” His eyes bleed into Shane’s, a plea for belief. “And really, she’s just a friend. Even when we were together I didn’t-”

“Ilya,” Shane rises to his feet, closing the distance between them. “You’ve been with people. I’ve been with people. I honestly have no desire to hear about that. It’s in the past. Why can’t the past just be the past?”

He reaches up and touches Ilya’s sharp jaw. Ilya’s fingers search for an anchor on Shane’s waist.

“I just guess I- I don’t know. I thought that maybe I could be that for you…” He looks to the side, avoiding eye contact with Shane. “I know. I know. It’s stupid. Especially after all the shit I put you through. I shouldn’t expect to be another first for you.”

Shane tightens his hold on Ilya’s jaw and angles his face towards his own. “It is stupid.”

He snickers at Ilya while Ilya – very unserious – pushes him away.

“Wait, listen to me,” Shane says reaching for him again. “It’s a little stupid. But I think it’s important you know I didn’t spend a second not thinking about you. Thinking about what it’d be like with you. Wishing it was you.”

Ilya’s eyes finally soften. His arms slowly loop around Shane’s back pulling him closer.

“Not a second?”

Shane pushes his chest playfully, “Don’t push it.”

Shane’s arms move up and slink around Ilya’s neck. He moves in for a slow kiss that they hold there for a while. It’s not open mouthed. It’s not heated. It’s just the loving touch of lips. It’s perfect.

A stupid grin takes residency of Shane’s face when they pull back. It doesn’t even matter cause Ilya’s face is doing the same thing.

“You know,” Shane starts with a hand carding through Ilya’s curls, “I still have plenty of firsts you can claim.”

Ilya’s face turns elated. “Oh? Is that right?”

“Mmhmm.” Shane bites his lip with a sheepish nod.

Ilya shakes his head and dips down so his lips are at Shane’s ear, “You drive me crazy.”

He leaves a trail of kisses from that spot under Shane’s ear – that spot that already has him whining – until he’s sliding his tongue into Shane’s mouth.

They both claw at each other against the door. Gasps being breathed into the others mouth. Shane’s hips start winding, immediately trying to find some kind of friction. Ilya’s hands go tight and hold him still.

“Sweetheart,” he whispers. “We can’t. I told Cliff I had to go for a smoke, and I’ve already been gone too long.”

A groan rolls from Shane’s mouth. His arms tighten around Ilya. “What if I don’t want you to go.”

“I don’t want to go either. No more hiding after summer, yes?”

Shane pulls back, admiring the man in front of him. He plants one more soft peck to Ilya’s lips.

“Yes.”

Yuna suggests watching a movie the last night.

They all crowd in the living room. Yuna, David, and Cliff all sit on the three-person couch while Ilya and Shane sit on the two-seater love seat.

Ilya feels pretty stupid about the other night even though he and Shane are completely fine. He couldn’t help it. Sometimes he still thinks of Shane as that shy kid who Ilya stole his first kiss from.

He hates thinking about some other guy being with Shane. Even thinking about those guys from whatever random club taking Shane home makes Ilya’s stomach sink. He most of all hates thinking about Miles having something he doesn’t have.

Something that’s his.

He reminds himself that he’s the one here with Shane. That he’s the one sitting here with Shane’s family at their most sacred getaway. The getaway that they make sure he knows is just as much his.

David has insisted that they start watching the Lord of the Rings movies. Or was it the Hobbit movies? Ilya honestly can’t really remember which ones they’re supposed to be starting with because all he can focus on is Shane’s hand linked in his under the blanket.

There’s a good amount of room between them – a normal amount for sharing a sofa like this. They didn’t have a blanket over them at first, but of course Yuna being Yuna, she found some big quilt to throw over the both of them.

The second that blanket covered them, the lights dimmed and the movie started, Ilya’s hand found Shane’s.

Throughout the movie, when Shane kept pulling his hand away to wipe the clamminess away, Ilya resorted to resting his hand on Shane’s thigh.

This was better and worse.

Better because he could take advantage of the ability to be touching while letting Shane’s hand chill the fuck out. To have his hands on Shane. He would suffer through hours of clammy hands to the point of pruning if it meant having at least one point of contact.

Of course David says they need to start the next one. Shane tries to say they’re all just going to fall asleep and that there’s no way they’ll be staying up for another three-hour movie.

David laughs him off.

An hour in and the sound of snoring can be heard over the actual movie.

Shane and Ilya are both still awake. Ilya’s hand dips further towards Shane’s inner thigh, his fingers grazing the inseam of his jeans.

Ilya’s not really watching the movie though.

He’s watching Shane.

He wants him so bad. He wants to take him upstairs and push him into his room and just be there with him. He doesn’t even care of they don’t do anything. He just wants to lay with him. He wants to hold him close and not worry about the creak of the floorboards.

Shane’s focused on the movie; he gets like this. Ilya actually loves it. Sometimes he’ll purposefully ask annoying questions just to get Shane to snap at him. He can’t help himself. He loves a little bit of a bossy Shane. It’s hot to him.

He watches the way the light of the TV reflects off the grooves of Shane’s neck and Ilya wants to trace the illuminations with his tongue. He wants to drag his lips all along the side column of his throat until he can hear his breathing pick up into little worked up huffs of air.  

Shane turns to him and whispers, “Are you okay?”

“Yeah. Why?”

“You’re squeezing my leg like it’s a stress ball.”

Ilya loosens the grip he now realizes was in fact quite tight. Possibly tight enough to leave a mark.

“Sorry.” He whispers back.

“What’s up? You tired?”

“No,” Ilya starts to grin. “I want to go out to the dock.”

Shane’s brow furrows, “The dock? Why? It’s like, freezing out there.”

Ilya loves how clueless Shane is. He loves the way Shane doesn’t see how obvious Ilya is. He knows he can be a bit too sarcastic. Maybe he plays around too much sometimes.

But Ilya knows his face gives him up. His eyes give him up. The way he’s magnetized to Shane gives him up.

For some reason Shane doesn’t see it. Not all the time at least. And Ilya finds it so endearing.

“Because I want to be with you.”

Shane just laughs, “What do you mean? We’re together right now and not in the freezing cold.”

“Shane.” He says it sternly with a pinch to Shane’s chin.

He looks over to where the three others still snore away, movie playing as background noise at this point.

He turns back to Shane’s confused eyes. And leans in, touching his lips to Shane’s softly before pulling back. Instinctually, Shane’s body sinks forward in a search for Ilya to come back.

He does.

He catches the side of Shane’s mouth and dips over to his ear, “I’m dying to touch you.”

Shane sweetly whimpers to that, and the sound sends blood hurdling straight to Ilya’s dick. He licks at Shane’s ear before tugging on his lobe.

His body is completely angled to Shane now, one hand rests on Shane’s inside leg while the other reaches around to the opposite side of Shane’s neck. One of Shane’s hands grips at Ilya’s wrist that’s around his neck and softly pants right into his ear.

The sound of soft, barely there whimpers are making Ilya want to devour Shane right here on this couch with his family on the other side of the room. His hands are getting too distracted. The one on his leg is slowly sinking further and further to the furnace that burns in his jeans.

“Ilya,” Shane moans quietly. “Not here. Let’s- let’s go to the dock.”

Mission accomplished.

They tip toe their way out of the house. They giggle and bump into each other, trying to avoid the areas on the floor that always squeak under slight body weight.

Ilya shoves one of his sweatshirts over Shane’s head before interlocking their fingers and running down the grassy path towards the dock.

The path is far enough away that you can’t see the dock from the house. You can see the lake and the light pole from the dock, but not the dock itself.

Deep down in Ilya’s mind, he thinks about the possibility of the three back in the living room waking up and wondering where they went.

He shoves the thought away.

That’s an issue for future Ilya if that happens. Present him is just going to enjoy this.

This being Shane straddling on top of him, bodies lying completely parallel to the ground. Ilya’s legs are slightly bent, soles of his feet flat on the ground while their faces mush together making one big ball of arms, legs, lips and bodies.

He was shocked Shane even agreed honestly. Ilya has been throwing out testers all over the place in hopes that Shane will let Ilya get him off at least once this trip. Never in a pressuring way, most of the time it’s teasing, just a quick quip thrown out with the goal to make Shane flustered. All those testers failed.

Until now.

Shane’s completely consuming him.

He’s bent over Ilya, hands in his hair, mouth sucking on his pulse point as he ruthlessly grinds down on Ilya’s erection. Ilya uses his leverage and hold on Shane’s hips to buck up occasionally, meeting Shane’s purposeful moves halfway, showing Shane he’s equally desperate for this right now.

“Fuck Shane,” Ilya moans. His hands curl around to Shane’s ass, squeezing hard.

He had planned to suck Shane off. He wanted to flip them around and take Shane so far down his throat that Shane would beg for Ilya to make him cum. He wanted Shane to suck him off.

Fuck.

Ilya hopes one day he can have a picture of Shane on his knees blown up on a huge canvas so he can just stare at it for days. The mental image is enough to have him feeling feral.

But, this that they’re doing right now is slowly tearing Ilya apart. Shane’s in jeans and Ilya’s in basketballs shorts so even though Shane’s more restricted than preferred, the friction is still driving Ilya insane.

Shane is rolling his hips like he’s on a mission to destroy Ilya and it’s very likely he’ll be successful because the fire that’s blaring low in his gut is burning hotter and hotter with each grind of their hips.

In truth, he has a hard time letting himself fully let go in moments like this with Shane. Ilya, naturally, is a pretty intense lover. He loves to be vocal, he prefers to be in control, and he finds himself running on the rougher side.

He doesn’t want to come on too strong though. He doesn’t want to be too rough or demanding with Shane. Well, he wants to. But not right out of the gate. This is Shane for God’s sake. He deserves Ilya to be as attentive and gentle and caring as he possibly can be.

The only issue is as much as Shane plays coy, he’s been an absolute freak the few times Ilya’s gotten him like this.

It’s making Ilya want to hold him down and do things to him that he tried for years to suppress. Things that he would picture in his mind then shamefully get himself off to with a guilt so heavy he wouldn’t be able to look at Shane or Cliff the next day.

Those things being so close in reach is clouding Ilya’s judgment but he’s the one who needs to be thinking clearly here. He’s already let himself lose control a few times in the past and now that he actually has Shane, he’s determined to be in complete control of the situation.

He tries not to let himself think about all the time they spent apart. About how Shane’s mouth is more skilled than it was before Ilya’s time in New York. Whether that’s the way his tongue licks into Ilya’s mouth or the way it wraps and moves around his cock.

About how his movements are more confident and precise like he’s had practice. There’s still a small layer of hesitation – the hesitation that forms from years of wanting and yearning for something you can’t have.

Shane is humping and moaning like might die if the friction stops.

Ilya’s in the same boat.

He’s not really one to blow his load quickly. He usually can hang on for quite some time, using that time to bring his lover of the night to multiple points of completion.

He feels like a teenager right now about to cum in his shorts just from Shane diving his ass down.

Ilya’s moaning into the night air, biting his lip to try and contain the high-pitched sounds erupting from his throat. His head is thrown back against the cool planks of the dock while Shane feasts on his neck, and his eyes are squeezed shut in concentration.

The feeling of a hand pressed between them, palming his achingly hard cock forces Ilya’s eyes to shoot open while a growl roars through him.

“Mm, you like that?” Shane coos against his skin.

“You’re trying to kill me.”

Shane’s hand slides lower, cupping Ilya’s balls. He squeezes his eyes shut again.

“Yep,” Ilya gasps. “You’re definitely trying to kill me.”

Shane just chuckles and moves his fingers to Ilya’s waistband, giving them a small tug and slipping his had beneath the fabric to fully grab at Ilya who’s leaking and pulsing in his shorts.

Shane times the steady jerk of his hand with the way his hips move, and it has Ilya’s legs squirming beneath them, hands gripping for stability on Shane’s side.

He forces his hands to move, still trying his best to keep focused and swallow down his whimpers as Shane’s hand twists and pulls at Ilya like his own personal Bop It toy.

Ilya starts working at Shane’s button, hands trembling from the pleasure coursing through him. He finally gets Shane’s pants open and pulls the waistband of his jeans and underwear down enough that Shane is spilling out the front, the top of his ass cheeks bulging out the back.

Ilya has one hand working around Shane’s cock. The other comes around his backside to grip the plush skin of his ass that peeks out the top of his jeans.

The small bit of blood still in his brain – or maybe it’s not the blood in his brain – has Ilya thinking about sneaking a hand between the furrow of Shane’s cheeks and petting the ring of muscle there.

The thought makes him feel crazy.

He wants to know what Shane feels like around him. Like, really around him. He wants to feel the way Shane’s body reacts to Ilya pushing in slowly. To the feeling of Ilya’s thick, long length making space for itself and molding the walls of his flesh to the girthy size of Ilya’s co-

“I can’t wait for you to fuck me.” Shane whispers in his ear before nibbling on his lobe.

Can Shane actually read his mind?

“Oh my God, Shane,” Ilya growls.

There’s no concealing the moan that rips through him. The coiling in his stomach is so intense he’s bucking up into Shane’s touch and tightening his own fist.

“Kiss me,” Ilya commands without slowing his movements. “Now.”

Shane leans down, hand still working roughly in Ilya’s shorts, and ferociously smashing his lips against Ilya’s. It’s more gasping and moaning than anything else. Their mouths are open, lips only occasionally locking, tongues moving everywhere trying to taste every nook and cranny of each other.

Ilya’s hand has a mind of it’s own. The one working at his pre-cum soaked cock slides to the head, swiping the tips of his fingers at Shane’s slit before moving behind Shane.

His slicked fingers ghost over Shane’s hole, the fingertip of his pointer finger playing with the grooves there.

Shane shudders against him, mouth falling lax at the feeling.

“Ily- Ilya. Oh…”

Shane’s movements go completely still as he holds himself up with a hand braced on Ilya’s chest. His eyes close in concentration.

“Relax for me.”

Shane takes a deep breath. Ilya brings his hand back to his mouth and spits in it.

He continues slowly rubbing at Shane’s entrance. Getting used to the sensation, Shane continues his jerks but instead of just Ilya’s cock, he holds them both in his palm as he rocks his body up into his fist and back on the tip of Ilya’s finger.

It’s taking every ounce of control Ilya has not to just absolutely fuck his fingers into Shane’s hole. It’s soaked in spit and the feeling of him pulsing against the pad of his finger has Ilya feeling primal.

Every time Ilya dips the tip of his finger past the first ring of muscle, Shane let’s out a string of sweet ah ah oh yeah ah like that.

The sound is driving Ilya insane. He could probably come just from the sounds Shane’s making. The friction of his boner against Shane’s and the wet squelch of their lengths filling Shane’s fist is only bringing him closer to releasing.   

“God Shane,” Ilya gasps after Shane eats at his mouth and sucks on his tongue. “I- I’m gonna…”

“Ye- yeah, me too,” he pants. “Come on Ilya, come for me.”

A few more tugs and they’re simultaneously losing rhythm then spurting hot cum down on Ilya’s abdomen. Ilya’s orgasm rips through him so hard some cum splashes up on his shirt that’s rucked up in his arm pits.

He doesn’t even care.

Not right now.

Not when he’s seeing stars from the level of pleasure tingling in his body.

“We’re a mess,” Shane laughs looking down at him. “Well, you’re a mess.”

Ilya takes off his soiled shirt and uses it clean the rest of the mess on his stomach before they dazedly make their way back down the path to the house.

Ilya goes in first to make sure everyone’s still asleep before signaling Shane on.

With all the shame Ilya’s carried for years, it’s a bit shocking how little guilt he feels sneaking back into the house where Yuna, David, and Cliff all peacefully sleep. The movie is still playing in the background, probably an hour left.

Ilya walks Shane to his door where he selfishly steals yet another kiss from Shane before he slips into his room.

Ilya smiles to himself.

He can’t believe this is real.

He thinks of all the times he’s studied Shane’s movements. The times he yearned to be closer to him. The times where pushing away his feelings felt like being water boarded.

He shoves his already crusting shirt in the deep pits of his duffle bag and slots himself on his side of the bed.

He wishes he was with Shane right now.

He wanted nothing more than to just slip in the doorway behind him and curl up in his bed, pulling his body against Ilya’s, the heat of their bodies pulling them deeper and deeper into a state of bliss.

One day he tells himself.

One day they’ll be able to flaunt their connection. The connection that has always been unavoidable even when they both used all their efforts to resist.

The connection that’s so strong that even the people close to them comment on it.

Ilya feels his whole body lock up whenever Cliff brings up how much they get each other.

On one hand, it lights him up. The knowledge that other people can see how compatible they are makes him feel giddy like a high schooler finding out their crush likes them.

On the other hand, it freaks him the fuck out. Ilya has always acted as another brotherly figure – yes, he knows how disgusting that sounds coming from him – and he just really doesn’t want Cliff to see this as Ilya taking advantage.

He doesn’t want Cliff to think about the way Ilya has behaved in the past when it comes to relationships. He doesn’t want Cliff to think that Shane is just some conquest that Ilya’s going to use and discard of.

He tries not to think about it.

He can already feel himself tensing up, the satiated tiredness from his release is fading away as panic starts creeping in.

What is he going to say to Cliff?

What’s he going to say to Yuna and David?

He’s been so consumed by this thing that has finally grown between the two of them that he’s pushed down all the worries he had in the first place.

The worries don’t change anything between them. Now that he has Shane he won’t loosen his grip.

But it doesn’t stop the incessant thoughts. It doesn’t stop Ilya from staying up for hours running through scenarios for how they’ll tell the rest of the Hollanders that they’re together. Running through scenarios about them getting caught and how he’ll explain things.

He needs to chill out.

He needs to stop, take a deep breath, and just enjoy the summer.

This summer he gets to spend with Shane being his.

Things are more of the same when they get back from the cottage.

Ilya spends most days at work and Shane gets a part-time job at some café in town for spare money and to fill his time. It doesn’t hurt that Ilya comes in during his lunch.

It also doesn’t hurt when Shane takes his ten and spends that time making out with Ilya in his car.

Sneaking around hasn’t been all that difficult now that they’re not only confined to the cottage and Shane is becoming more and more lenient when it comes to his rule about not fooling around in the house while others are home. It’s still not preferred of course, but desperate times call for desperate measures.

Ever since that night on the dock, Shane hasn’t been able to think about anything besides Ilya being inside him.

They’ve messed around every chance they’ve got the couple weeks they’ve been back. The one-time Ilya finally put his fingers back in Shane, he was mewling when Ilya grazed that spot he never seems to be able to reach with as much ease.

Ilya touched it like he knew exactly where it was. Like he’s pet it a million times before.

When they’re at the house, things typically move towards rutting, frotting and oral when possible. Taking the risk in the house means not being able to take time like they want to. The thing is, Ilya won’t let things progress any more than that even when there is more time. Every time Shane tries to hint that he’s ready for them to have sex, Ilya non-directly shuts him down.

He knows it can’t be because Ilya doesn’t want to. That much he can tell by the way Ilya loses himself when they’re fooling around.

Does he think Shane can’t take it?

Because Shane is very much ready to take whatever Ilya’s willing to give him.

Yuna and David are out with friends. Cliff left fifteen minutes ago for dinner with Kaitie. It’s just Shane and Ilya at the house.

Shane's already plotting.

The second Cliff walked out Shane put music over the speaker in his room and pushed Ilya down on the bed.

Moment of Your Life by Brent Faiyaz plays while Ilya kisses him with a soft determination. Kissing him like this might be the last time their lips touch so he has to savor it. There’s heat – there always is – but it’s controlled into the touch of their tongues rather than roaming hands. 

Shane plans to change that. 

He subtly throws a leg over Ilya’s lap. He doesn’t intensify the kiss right away. He keeps the pace Ilya’s set while letting his hands roam the territory of Ilya’s chest. 

He rubs in a circular motion, stopping when he feels Ilya’s hardened nipples. He receives a small hiss when he gives the nubs a small pinch. 

Shane smiles against their kiss, “Sensitive?” 

He giggles at the face Ilya makes when he pulls Shane’s face away a fraction. Ilya gives him this face that says ‘really?’ Before breathing out a soft huff of a laugh and pulling Shane back in. 

Shane pitches his whole body forward into the kiss, upper body pressed against Ilya’s chest. His arms are raised up now, hanging off the back of the couch past Ilya’s head. 

A soft moan vibrates into Shane’s mouth when he throws out an experimental grind of his hips. 

Egged on, Shane matches the pace of their fast-moving lips with his hips.

Things are escalating quickly. Both of their sweats are pushed down enough that they can hang out of the front, and Ilya’s making sounds that fill Shane with pride.

Shane pulls at Ilya’s shoulders, repositioning them so Shane can fall back on the couch with Ilya positioned between his legs. Ilya completely rids Shane of his pants and underwear, before doing the same.

Ilya’s face is buried in Shane’s neck littering it with nibbles and sucks as he rubs his body against Shane’s. They’re already moaning into the room, Shane’s so close to coming he’s almost completely forgotten the whole reason he wanted to get Ilya here.

Well, not the whole reason. He’ll take any chance he can get to have Ilya on top of him.

“Ilya,” he whines. “I want you to fuck me.”

Ilya groans into Shane’s neck and his movements stutter before picking back up faster.

“Pl- please Ilya. I need to feel you,” he begs. “I- I need to feel you in me.”

Ilya licks up her ear before leaving a bruising kiss on Shane’s mouth.

“No- not tonight. Not here.”

“Why?” He whines through his panting. “I want you so bad. Don’t you want me too?”

He knows those words make Ilya weak. He used the same words on his knees in his New York kitchen.

Ilya looks at him seriously now, “Shane. Of course I want you. I’ve never wanted someone as much as I want you.”

He places another scorching kiss on Shane’s mouth and quickly moves down, seemingly distracting Shane with his skilled mouth.

And it works.

It doesn’t take long before Shane’s squirming under Ilya’s touch and bucking into his tight throat. Ilya doesn’t budge. He doesn’t even gag. He just hold Shane’s hips and takes him deeper down, making Shane go cross eyed when his orgasm blasts through him.

Ilya swallows it with a hum and is swiftly moving to his knees where he gives himself a few quick pumps before he’s coming all over Shane’s stomach.

Shane feels boneless. He lays here with zero energy. Not one care in the world. He’s enjoying the warm feeling of Ilya’s come claiming him – although he knows eventually it’ll make him cringe.

He still has enough energy to pout though.

When Ilya comes back from the bathroom with a wet towel, Shane is actively trying not to smile or giggle at him.

“You are pouting.”

Shane doesn’t respond to that. He just sticks his head the opposite way while Ilya finishes wiping the come off his stomach.

“Was that not to your liking? Would you like to leave me a review for improvement?”

Ilya chuckles at his own stupid joke and Shane rolls himself over to hide the smile spreading on his lips.

Ilya climbs in the bed behind him and pulls him back against Ilya’s chest.

“Ah,” Ilya says. “I know. It’s because I wouldn’t have sex with you, yes?”

“Yeah,” he mumbles.

“Shane, look at me.”

He allows Ilya to reposition him, so they’re face to face now, Ilya’s arms still wrapped around him. His blue eyes move from eye to eye, down to Shane’s lips before moving back to focus on his eyes.

“I want our first time to be special. You deserve that.”

“That’s sweet,” Shane says reaching to cup Ilya’s face. “But you don’t have to do that with me Ilya. Really, it’s okay.”

“I want to though. I want it to be special because you are special.” His thumb brushes over Shane’s freckles. “I want to take you out. Like, really out.”

“I’d like that,” Shane grins. “But how? Someone could see us.”

“Don’t worry about it. I’ve already been planning it; you are just so impatient I couldn’t get to asking first.”

“Hey!” Shane hits his chest. “You should be flattered!”

Ilya laughs. “I am. I promise.” He leans forward kissing the tip of Shane’s nose. “How’s next week, Friday?”

Now Shane’s face is really going to crack in half from how hard he smiles.

“Yeah, Friday.”

A few more kisses exchange before Ilya reluctantly pulls himself from Shane's bed to retire for his own.

Sometimes Shane wants to risk it all and just tell him to stay. The words sit right there on his tongue every time Ilya stands to leave. But then he remembers the lack of a lock on his bedroom door, remembers the possibility of a family member barging in without warning, and the thought alone is enough to make his entire soul shrivel. Having Ilya caught in his bed - in any capacity - would be the kind of nightmare he’d never recover from.

Still, the feeling lingers.

Shane’s always a little giddy after spending time with Ilya, but this… this is something else entirely.

He feels lit up from the inside. Like someone struck a match behind his ribs and forgot to blow it out.

Friday.

Friday he’ll get Ilya in a way he’s only ever let himself imagine. Friday is the day everything shifts - the day they stop dancing around whatever this is and finally step into it.

And the wildest part? He has no clue what Ilya is planning.

Which also means… planning? Ilya is planning something? For him?

Shane presses the heels of his hands to his eyes, grinning like an idiot. He can’t help it. The anticipation is ridiculous, borderline embarrassing, but he can’t turn it off.

Friday can’t come fast enough.

Chapter End Notes

Again, this one felt super fluffy and tbh I'm not too sure we moved anywhere lolol but I have another plot point I have to accelerate to, but I don't want to just skip a shit ton of time soooooooo here we are.

NEXT TIME ON CLOSE ENOUGH TO HURT:
First dates, first times, and a surprise trip.

Chapter 7: Holding you, Holding me

Chapter Summary

A long-awaited first date pulls the boys even closer. Ilya wants everything to be perfect for Shane; Shane thinks being with Ilya already is.

Chapter Notes

Okay so heyyyyyyyy this is like almost 13K words of pure fluff. I seriously had more plot to put into it, but I really started writing their date and just got carried away lmao. I'll be out of town after Thursday and have a lot to get done before then, so I figured I'd rather put this out without the added stuff than wait another week so.... ENJOY!

PREVIOUSLY ON CLOSE ENOUGH TO HURT:
-The boys deal with having to hide their newly established relationship.
-The cottage trip proves to be excruciatingly painful when Cliff doesn't have Katie to distract him.
-Things heat up between Shane and Ilya.
-Ilya promises a first date that'll end with another first between the boys.

🎶This chapter's song is Holding you, Holding me by Cigarettes After Sex.
CLOSE ENOUGH TO HURT PLAYLIST

Chapter 7: Holding you, Holding me

Ilya wants this date to be perfect.

Shane deserves nothing less than that.

He’d already been thinking about taking Shane out – really, he’s been dreaming about it for years – but the issue is that in order to do that, they can’t really stay in town.

It’s kind of that everyone knows everyone sort of community. Even if Ilya and Shane going out in public wouldn’t signal any warning bells, Ilya wouldn’t be able to act the way he wants to. He wouldn’t be able to actually behave the way he would on a date if they stayed in town.

Honestly, Ilya isn’t too clear on how exactly he’s supposed to act on a date – as much experience as he has, dating has never been his forte – but he knows for a fact that he doesn’t want prying eyes.

The itinerary for the night in his mind includes an intimate, fancy dinner, dancing at a nightclub where he can press himself on Shane, and ending the night in a luxury hotel room where he can take Shane to bed the way he deserves. The way Ilya’s been thinking about for years.

Ilya’s been working for some time now, and with the free room provided by the Hollanders, he has a good chunk of money saved up.

And what better way to spend it than on Shane?

He doesn’t want to go to the club he and Svetlana would go to. Even if Shane doesn’t know the lore to it – all the men and women Ilya went home with – he doesn’t want to mix the memories of his one-night stands with the new memories he plans to make with Shane.

Montreal is about a two-hour drive so Ilya figures it’s a pretty safe date location.

He casually brought up nightclubs to Kyle at work since he’s known to be quite the clubber, and it didn’t take long for him to start rambling off all the places he recommends. Ilya had to promise they’d find a night to go out just to get him to shut up about it.

He lands on Complexe Sky which is a popular gay bar with multiple floors and places around it.

They’ll check into their suite at Embassy Suites, go to dinner at Dorsia, go out to Complexe Sky, then head back to the room.

He may have kind of gone a little crazy booking a room.

He booked the presidential suite that has a fireplace, a king size bed, a full kitchen, and a jet tub. 

He knows it’s a bit ridiculous, but he needs this night to be more special than anything he’s ever done. He knows Shane doesn’t care about all that. That he thinks it’ll be special because it’s them. And while that’s true, it doesn’t change the fact that Ilya’s determined to make everything around them special too. 

Shane had his own experiences in New York that involved an array of things Ilya truthfully doesn’t need to hear more about. That may be selfish to say, but the point is Shane’s been on dates, he’s had sex, and he’s done the whole shabang.

He hasn’t done it with Ilya though.

And Ilya is dead set on blowing Shane’s expectations out of the water.

He’s committed in showing Shane that of course Ilya’s aching to lay with him - like come on, of course he is - but he also wants Shane to know that this isn’t just some hook up for him. This isn’t just some nonchalant thing that can be rushed and simmered down to hushed moans and cautious movements on the couch or in the car. 

This is the highly anticipated sequel to a blockbuster movie because everything they’ve done thus far has been icing on the cake but this… this is the cake.

The whole week has been agonizing. The excitement of Friday looming over him mixed with the sparse alone time he’s gotten with Shane has only made him more and more antsy. It’s felt like there’s a timer in his head counting down the days till Friday and he grows more impatient with each passing day. 

He woke up this morning smiling like a fucking idiot.

He spent the first half of the day flying on cloud nine. So much so that his coworker Eric felt the need to point it out, which inevitably made Ilya blush just thinking about the prospect of tonight’s activities.

Even getting an annoying call from his brother couldn’t drag him down.

Alexei mentioned something about their father and going back to Russia that Ilya only half listened to. He was on a job site and only answered because it was the sixth time his phone buzzed in his pocket. 

He doesn’t have much contact with his brother or father anymore. He prefers it that way and he’s sure they don’t mind either. 

The main point of the call seemed to be Alexei asking for money, which Ilya happily declined. 

What does Alexei think? That Ilya’s some professional hockey player with endless funds? 

Yeah, sure. 

He started driving home around noon, taking a half day off to account for travel time and what not. Their reservation at Dorsia is at seven and check in is any time after four so Ilya figured they could leave around one, maybe grab some food for the drive, and then get on their way.

Shane told David and Yuna he’d be out with JJ all afternoon and night while Ilya threw out some excuse about visiting Svetlana while she’s back home.

She’s not back home.

It’d be weird if they left together and Shane being Shane couldn’t fully lie to his parents, so he did actually have JJ come pick him up to grab coffee and catch up.

Ilya swiped his and Shane’s overnight bags, threw it in the back of the car – the car Cliff let him have for the night – and was on his way to get Shane.

His hands drum on the steering wheel while he waits for Shane. He’s parked outside on the curb, trying his best to calm the jitters he feels rushing through him.

There’s no one he feels more comfortable with than anyone in the Hollander family, but most of all, Shane.

Shane is like the northern star to Ilya. He’s like the childhood toy or blanket someone may keep with them throughout life because it brings them so much comfort no matter the situation.

That’s what Shane’s like to Ilya.

So why the hell is he freaking out?

Restlessness consumes him, making his fingertips tremble. He keeps checking his mirrors after only a single minute passes, hoping one of these times he’ll look and see Shane walking up.

The whole date stuff is newer to him but it’s not something that would ever make him nervous. Charm comes to him so easily and with Shane there’s never really a loss for words. 

What comes even easier to him is sex.

If his sexual skills had a google review, he’d have five stars.

And that’s not even him being cocky, it’s just flat-out facts.

He knows what he’s doing, and he has no doubts in his abilities but deep down his stomach churns at the thought of using those abilities on Shane.

Perfect, sweet, not so innocent Shane.

And that’s what’s freaking him out, right? Doing this with Shane is technically no different than the other people he’s been with except for the fact that it is so fucking different.

He usually doesn’t have to think much when it comes to sex yet right now all he can do is think. Think. Think. Think.

All he can do is think about if Shane will like the restaurant – why wouldn’t he? It’s a nice steakhouse Ilya found specifically for its menu and the large array of options. 

He’s thinking about whether Shane will even like the club – even though Ilya knows he goes clubbing with his friends all the time in New York. From his time visiting, he could gather that Shane obviously likes to dance.

He’s thinking about if the hotel room will be comfortable enough and if it’ll be a nice enough place for their first time together – Shane literally would’ve had sex with Ilya on the couch a week ago when anyone would’ve walked in if Ilya had allowed it. 

He knows there’s logical answers to his stupid worries, but he just can’t stop.

Because at the end of the day, it’s Shane. And Ilya’s plan could be flawless, but it’ll still never be perfect. Not when he’s executing that plan with the most perfect person in the whole world. 

Ilya’s about to ruin his defined curls by running his hands through them again when his passenger door is opening to reveal an adorably happy Shane Hollander.

“Hi,” he says with a smile as he plops down onto the seat.

The flood of worries wash away the second he sees those big brown eyes accompanied by a constellation of freckles.

How did he get so lucky?

How did he get so lucky?

Ilya is the least deserving person. He doesn’t deserve someone as good and pure as Shane.

Shane’s looking at him with a weird expression, making Ilya realize he hasn’t said anything. He’s just been sitting here staring at Shane with a soppy look on his face.

He leans over the center console, kisses the confused face away, catching the sweet taste of donut icing on Shane’s lips.

Pulling back he opens his eyes to the euphoric smile warping Shane’s face.

“Hi,” Ilya whispers back. “You ready?”

Shane reaches over the center console, grabs Ilya’s hand, and places their interlocked hands on his thigh.

“Ready.”

Shane’s familiar with hotels.

When he played hockey and would travel, they had to stay in a plethora of them.

It’s not like they were ever anything special. The typical room that was merely there for them to catch some sleep or hang out in for the short moments between games and activities.

This room’s nothing like that.

Shane actually feels sick from how nice this room is.

He heard the concierge say ‘presidential suite’ when Ilya checked them in which didn’t really make Shane think anything at first, he figured it was just the name of the room.

Then they opened the door.

This room is insane.

The room is so big they could live in here. It’s seriously nicer than his studio apartment in New York and now all he can think about is how much Ilya had to have spent on it.

He’s staring out the large window at the view, nerves twisting in his stomach.

“Ilya,” he’s still looking out the window, not daring to speak face to face. “How much did this cost?”

“Um, I don’t know.” Shane turns to face him, Ilya’s hands scratching at the back of his neck. “I don’t really remember.”

“Bullshit.”

Ilya’s face looks a little blank, some concern seeping through. “You don’t like it?”

“Are you kidding?” He walks over where Ilya stands by the island. “Ilya, this place is insane. It’s amazing I just…”

Ilya reaches out to grab Shane’s waist, pulling him closer, blue eyes searching brown. 

“Tell me.”

“It’s too nice,” he squeaks, looking down. “I mean, we’re really just sleeping here. Or…” he trails off blushing. “Not sleeping. If you tell me how much everything is I’ll split the total-”

“Ah, no.” Ilya uses his pointer finger to tilt Shane’s chin up. “You insult me. It isn’t too nice; it’s not nice enough. I told you I wanted to take you out, so that’s what I’m doing.”

“Yeah, but-”

“No Shane.” He uses both hands to cup Shane’s face. “You are worth it. Okay? You are worth so much more than some hotel room to me.”

Hearing those words has Shane feeling wobbly.

Hearing Ilya say those words has him starting to believe them.

He relents. “Okay.”

Ilya smiles a wolfish grin at him then dips down, capturing him in a kiss that’s slow and sensual.

Shane’s foot almost flicks up behind him like in one of those old timey romance movies just because of how dizzy the kiss is making him feel.

His hands finally start functioning and he moves them to Ilya’s chest, squeezing the muscle there. Ilya groans in response, opening his mouth up just enough for Shane to slip his tongue in.

The kiss has heat – there’s no question about that – but it still moves at a controlled speed. Shane digs his toes into the soles of his shoes to keep himself from swaying off balance.

Adjusting his hand placement, Ilya grazes a feather light touch down Shane’s body, lighting him up even further with sparks that follow each brush of Ilya’s fingers. His hands land on Shane’s hips, clutching to the bone there and pulling him until their chests are pinned together.

Fireworks explode in Shane.

This is nothing in comparison to what they plan to do later, yet it’s everything.

It’s everything because it’s Ilya.

Ilya who’s saying Shane is worth it after years of Shane thinking the complete opposite. After years of being told – by himself and Ilya – that they could never be more. That there’s a line and if they cross it there’s no coming back.

And that statement’s true.

True because there is no coming back.

Their decision to be together, despite all the reasons not to be, was made about a month ago now. The minuscule amount of time means nothing because his relationship with Ilya would have to be pried from his cold, dead hands before he gave it up willingly.

Not having Ilya any time before this was always difficult. He was like a vampire craving blood when it came to Ilya. 

He could stomach it though. It was fatally painful, yes, but he could try his very best to pretend everything was okay – even if his best wasn’t great.

Now that he’s had a real taste, he’s completely ruined.

And he doesn’t even care.

Being kissed like this is making Shane’s hands move without much care to the plans Ilya has made for them – which he’s told Shane zilch about.

His hands work up and down Ilya’s chest, reveling in the abrupt definition of his muscles even through the fabric of his shirt. By the time his hands start pawing at Ilya’s cut abs, he’s unable to contain the happy sounds that spill from his mouth. The mouth that’s still being devoured.

He unlocks their lips and slides down the side of Ilya’s lips to attach himself to the side of Ilya’s neck, licking up the musk building there.

Shane’s mind has fizzled into nothing but a single-minded mission of annihilating the man in front of him.

Plans be damned.

The waistband of Ilya’s jeans becomes a hurdle Shane’s determined to jump over. A finger dips past, worming between fabric and skin as it moves from one hip to the other before resting on the buckle of Ilya’s belt.

When his fingers start nudging, trying their best to work open the barrier he’s growing frustrated with, warm hands move to stop his movements.

“Shane.”

The sound of his name snaps his eyes up, no doubt looking like a sad puppy that was just scolded despite the warmth and gentleness of Ilya’s warning voice.

“We should get ready, yes?”

Ilya had said they had a little time before they need to leave, so what’s a little quick blow job? The whole week has felt like constant build up that leaves him feeling extremely frustrated when he thinks too hard about the things they’ll get up to tonight.

All that build up mixed with the stupidly low amount of time they spent alone this week has Shane feeling like a bowstring pulled too tight, ready to snap at the slightest touch.

Shane squeaks, “I need you.”

Ilya takes a deep breath through his nose, eyes closing before opening and looking back at Shane intently – a sign that he’s dying for it too. His shaky hands rub up the length of Shane’s arms in a soothing motion.

“We have all night sweetheart,” he kisses the corner of Shane’s mouth. “I want to be a gentleman-”

“Ugh Ilya, this whole week has been-”

“Ah,” Ilya interrupts. “Let me finish.”

Heat coils low and spreads like wildfire across his skin.

It’s not a scold per se, but the correction makes Shane bow his head slightly before looking up at Ilya through thick lashes, doing his best to signal an apology through his fluttering eyes.

Adorning, Ilya kisses him again, this time placing a kiss right under each of his eyes, then one on the tip of his nose.

“I- I have always been yours Shane. Even when I was trying so hard to deny it, even when I was trying to push you away, I was always yours.”

God, Shane will never get used to hearing those kinds of things from Ilya.

After all the pain, all the heartbreak, all the complications, Shane truly thought moments like these were just a dream he was delusional enough to confuse with reality.

Now they really are reality.

Ilya continues. “But because of all those years, we didn’t get to do this the way I would’ve liked. The right way. The way you deserve. Do you think we can do that? Can you let me indulge and pretend I’ve carried myself like a gentleman around you, even if we both know better?”

As bad as Shane wants to rip Ilya’s clothes off this second, he’s not one to deny Ilya’s wants.

“We can do that,” his mouth curls into a soft, ridiculous grin. “But, you are a gentleman. You’re perfect Ilya. Perfect for me.”

A surge of lips find his in another rapturous kiss, once again sending Shane’s head spinning, hands reaching for messy curls in order to steady himself.

“I thought we had to get ready,” he says against Ilya’s lips.

“Mmm,” Ilya pecks Shane’s lips in three quick successions. “We do. You are just too fucking tempting. Shower?”

“Are you kidding?”

Ilya raises a brow, “What?”

A bubbling of laughter rises from Shane, “I can barely control myself when you’re clothed. If we shower together there’s a one hundred percent chance I end up on my knees.”

“Hollander,” lust floods blue eyes turning them dark. A lazy smirk appears. “You really can’t control yourself?”

This is usually where Shane would say something like ‘fuck off’ but really, what’s the point of denying what they both know is so utterly true?

“No. I can’t.” He says seriously, staring straight into Ilya’s eyes. A goofy little grin slips out of him, “and I know you can’t either. Now go shower. You’re the one that takes forever to get ready.”

With mock offense, Ilya gasps, bringing both hands to his chest. “Me? I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

The roll of Shane’s eyes is way too fond to signal annoyance. “Yeah whatever Rozanov. You make fun of my skin care routine, but you just don’t want to admit your haircare is ten times worse.”

“Hey,” he points an accusing finger at Shane. “This,” he waves around his head, “takes patience and care. Beauty takes time.”

“Oh my God,” Shane grabs Ilya’s shoulders, turns him towards the bathroom, and shoves at his back. “Go. Go before you make us late to the plans you made.”

Luckily for the itinerary that Ilya has been so strict about – the one thing he’s ever been so worried about being on time for – Ilya goes without further bantering.

Hearing the shower water start to run, Shane flops himself down on the giant bed.

He can feel the stupid grin tugging at his face again, but he can’t stop it.

He has a feeling that’ll be happening a lot tonight.

And he does nothing to stop it. 

Ilya preened the whole way through dinner.

Patting himself on the back every time Shane moaned from how delicious the food was.

The restaurant was perfect – of course it was. 

The service was as exceptional as the reviews online said it would be. The overall lighting and ambiance was just another score of the night, seeing Shane’s beautiful features lit up by dim lighting and the constant satisfied smile that Ilya took pride in seeing.

Ilya would’ve preferred if Shane sat on the same side of the table as him so he could latch onto his thigh, but of course Shane claims to think it’s weird when couples do that because:

“Why would I sit on the same side as you when I could sit in front of you and actually look at you while we’re talking?”

And he’s not wrong. If they didn’t sit like they are, Ilya would need to crank his neck to the side just to look at the beautiful boy.

Although he still mourns the loss of body heat from the one person he craves it the most from.

The only hiccup of dinner wasn’t really even a hiccup in Ilya’s book, though the clear reddened cheeks from Shane was a telltale sign that he was very much embarrassed about it.

Their server was a waitress who, honestly, Ilya barely even noticed.

He couldn’t say what color her hair was, what she said her name was, or really any identifying things about her. He listened enough to be polite and order when prompted, but his sole focus was on the boy sitting in front of him.

The only thing Ilya really tuned into when it came to the waitress was that when she brought their check, she had handed it to Ilya, then held her grip on it when he went to grab it, making him shift his focus on her more in confusion than anything else.

“I um, I took off your appetizer and drinks.” He could see the flush in her cheeks and honestly he was a little confused what was going on.

Had there been something wrong and that’s why they were being comped? He hadn’t remembered either of them sending anything back or complaining.

She continued before he even had a chance to question her, “I wrote my number in there too. You’re really attractive and I figured maybe we could go and grab…”

She trailed off at the same time Ilya felt a clammy hand tightly grip the hand he had lying flat on the tabletop. Her eyes flickered to their hands, Ilya was helpless but to do the same.

“He’s actually taken,” Shane said with a light tone of smugness Ilya hadn’t ever heard from him. Not like this. “He’s my boyfriend.”

The waitress rambled off some apology and comment about how cute they are, but Ilya wasn’t listening. He could only look at their joined hands on the table before looking back to Shane who wore a smile masking a cute little snarl.

How is it that in that moment, Ilya felt even more fond of Shane?

Ilya’s seen him jealous. Well, he’s heard him talk about being jealous but to see such a brazen display of possession made Ilya want to drag Shane to the bathroom and forget what he said about being a gentleman.

When the bill was paid and the waitress left with another apology, Shane finally looked at Ilya with rosy cheeks and a shy look on his face.

“I’m sorry,” he gave Ilya’s hand a small squeeze and looked at the table.

“Shane-”

“I just- ugh. I know that was stupid and like, totally immature of me but I just couldn’t stand the way she was looking at you. I hate that she was probably thinking we’re just… buddies.”

“Don’t apologize.” Brown eyes finally looked at him again. “I liked it.”

“What?”

“You getting all possessive and jealous over me? That’s fucking hot Shane.”

Shane scoffed. “I was not being possessive.”

“No?” Ilya squeezed Shane’s hand. “I think you were like dog marking your territory.” He could see a deeper flush come over Shane’s cheeks. “And you called me your boyfriend. That part, I really liked.”

After dinner, they were practically bouncing off each other from giddiness as they made their way to the club.

They walked hand in hand without a care in the world. 

They didn’t need to care. There was no one around that knew them. There was no reason for them to worry about anything other than the warmth lighting between their palms.

Finally, in the club, it’s even crazier than Kyle had explained to Ilya.

Ilya had thought that since this club had multiple floors, maybe that’d mean people would be a little more spread out in the venue and not so concentrated in one area.

He was very wrong.

It’s packed in here. People take up every square inch of this place and thinking about it now, Ilya’s not really sure why he was assuming anything less. 

It’s a Friday night in Montreal, of course this place would be packed.

They’re at the bar now getting a drink – although Ilya was clear he didn’t want them drinking too much. Not in the controlling way that sounds, but more so he doesn’t want anything clouding their first time together.

He doesn’t want one of them getting too tipsy that they can’t fully be present for one another. 

Cause he doesn’t want drunk Shane. He just wants Shane. 

“Are you going to dance with me this time?” 

Shane’s words bring Ilya back to that club in New York.

Back to the club where Ilya turned down Shane’s offer to dance and then watched as another man came and took what belongs to him. Took the person Ilya has clung to since he was ten years old.

Because Ilya was too much of a coward to just dance with the boy he loves.

So this time, all he does is smile, grab Shane’s hand, and say, “Of course I am.”

EoO  by Bad Bunny starts playing as they make their way through the crowd on the dance floor.

Ilya can see people looking.

Yes, there are people who look at him, or maybe him and Shane together – they’re two extremely attractive guys, so who could blame them?

But what Ilya notices the most, what has him shifting to a proprietary hold on Shane is the way people are looking at him.

Shane, although more confident now, has always been a bit blind to how insanely gorgeous he is. He is oblivious to the way people look at him. Ilya knows if he were to point it out right now, Shane would definitely get all bashful and change the subject.

Ilya sees it though.

It makes him feel territorial. It makes him feel like he needs to stake his claim and let everyone around know that Shane is his.

It makes him feel like a fucking king.

Purple, blue, and pink lights strobe throughout the club and land on Shane’s skin. Seeing Shane here with him, in this room full of people – people who Shane could no doubt have with a simple snap of his fingers – makes Ilya hold even tighter. Makes the commitment of acting like a gentleman become a second thought.

Makes his own sort of possessiveness leak through.

Ilya spins him so Shane’s back is pinned to his chest, his ass – his round, plush ass – perfectly lines up with Ilya’s hips.

They move like they’re made for each other.

They are made for each other.

Ilya knows it.

He knows it because he’s only ever felt this way about Shane. He’s danced with plenty of people, but being with Shane on the dance floor erases all of that.

None of it matters anymore.

The only thing that matters is the man in front of him rubbing himself all over Ilya with the kind of earnest determination that always unravels Ilya.

Ilya is fully hard in his pants.

He’s probably been hard since he felt Shane’s possessive hand on his own all the way back at the restaurant.

He holds Shane against his body like he’s scared someone is going to come snatch him away.

Dragging his cock up the space between Shane’s cheeks, his fingers tighten against the front of Shane’s hip bones for a harder grind.

In response to the very noticeable erection in Ilya’s pants, Shane moves his hips in a controlled rhythm that’s synced with the beat of the music, properly driving Ilya absolutely insane.

Without a second thought, Ilya leans forward catching the sweat dripping behind Shane’s ear with his tongue. He sucks that spot hard before using his teeth to nibble, pulling a sweet moan from Shane, one that could barely be heard above the music.

One of Shane’s hands reach back to grab the nape of Ilya’s neck, pulling his head so his chin rests on Shane’s shoulder. Shane turns his head to that side so his lips touch Ilya’s ear. The feeling of his quick breath sends a shudder through Ilya’s body.

“So much for being a gentleman,” Shane seductively coos.

Ilya feels so slow to respond with the lack of blood flow anywhere but his dick right now. With the constant friction on his cock, Shane’s sexy voice in his ear, and the build up from the past week, Ilya might blow his load right here in this room full of people.

His heart is beating erratically, his breathing quivering, his English choppy and thickly accented with how worked up he is – already.

A hand slips into Shane’s front pocket while the other one grips onto his belt loop on the other side.

“Is… hard,” Ilya barely gets out.

He means holding back.

He means that there is no way he would have been able to dance with Shane and not get up close and personal with him. 

How the hell would that work anyways? Why would he want to leave space between himself and Shane?

There’s no world in which he would want that.

Of course, he is so fucking turned on by this little minx taking pleasure from the effect he’s having on Ilya that those words don’t make it out.

Shane scoops his hips in a downward motion, then drags them back and up against Ilya’s cock. He does the same thing again but instead, scoops up, back and down hard.

“Yeah,” Shane breathes. “I can feel that.”

A short snort comes from Ilya – he’s typically the one to make stupid comments like that.

“No, I mean is hard. Hard not to touch.” Ilya pops his hips forward. He moves his head, licks up Shane’s ear before panting. “You are – fuck – you are too fucking sexy.”

The shiver he feels tremble through Shane’s body makes him smile like someone who forgot how to play cool. He can’t help it though. Knowing he has the same effect on Shane that Shane has on him drives him up a fucking wall with glee.

Momentary confusion starts when Shane’s plucking Ilya’s hand from his pocket, before their resting on his ass after Shane twists his body so they’re chest to chest. Face to face.

Shane will never not steal the breath from Ilya’s lungs like a thief who has no clue the crimes he accruing. Over and over and over and over…

Especially like this.

Ilya could slightly feel the fabric of Shane’s pants pulled taut when he had his hands on the front of his hips, but now feeling their crotches pushed together, Ilya feels the undeniable erection pressed to his own.

Big black wells stare back at him. Eyes blown out, mouth parted, lips glistening with saliva from where his tongue peeks out and swipes.

Shane’s arms move up to rest on Ilya’s shoulders, hands clasping behind his head.

“You’re too fucking sexy.” Shane says repeating Ilya words from just a second ago. “That waitress was drooling over you. Everyone here’s ogling at you. They all want you.”

“No.” He slots his lips with Shane pulling him into a quick – but still heavenly – kiss. He parts, forehead resting on Shane’s. “They want you. God, Shane. You do not know how fucking beautiful you are. Could have anyone here. Easy.”

And as predicted, Shane sheepishly smiles, ducking his head down slightly. Ilya doesn’t have to see his face straight on to know he’s blushing. That’s basically a given with Shane.

Their bodies sway, hips still glued to each other, cocks notching against each other with every movement. The fire in Ilya’s stomach is starting to burn to an unbearable degree and Shane looking back at him is only making things astonishingly worse.

“I don’t want just anyone.” Shane mutters, eyes piercing.

Words shouldn’t have this effect. They shouldn’t make him want to howl like a fucking animal yet here he is stammering down the need to exclaim with elation.

The corner of Ilya’s lips minutely tick up. “No?”

“MmmMmm,” Shane hums while shaking his head.

“And who do you want?”

He’s ready for it. The ‘fuck you’ that typically follows anytime Ilya says something with the purpose of getting Shane to admit something that he very much already knows.

It doesn’t come.

Shane’s fingers move through Ilya’s meticulously styled curls, eyes moving slowly all around his face, lingering on his lips before shifting back up to his eyes. The attention drives him into full on insanity. Even when Shane’s eyes flick to him for only a second, it’s all the same really.

“You, Ilya.” Shane’s voice is so soft that the noise of the club seems to fade, the crowd dissolving until it feels like the whole room has emptied, leaving only the two of them. “I’ve never wanted anyone else. Not actually. It- it’s only ever been you, Ilya. You’re it for me.”

The heat is still sparking between them at a third-degree level, but Ilya can feel a sudden prickling behind his eyes. The feeling is overwhelming and it’s beyond his control when a single tear escapes and rolls down his cheek.

Shane wants him.

He’s always wanted him.

It isn’t some insane revelation – because let’s be real. Shane has always looked at Ilya with a look of adoration that lights a fiery burning sensation deep in his chest, behind ribs. Ribs that’re supposed to cage that very vulnerable organ away, not letting him be so easily cracked open.

It’s not some insane revelation after everything they’ve been through. Everything they’ve put each other through. Everything in this past year that has catapulted them into this thing that isn’t new but is unfamiliar in all the ways that make Ilya feel nervous and excited.

Nervous in the way someone might be when skydiving, but exciting in the way it is to take the risk and just do it. Do it because that swoopy feeling that churns in his stomach overrides everything else.

The feeling of being wanted by Shane will never fail to make him feel like crumpling to the floor and crying.

His dad doesn’t want him. His brother doesn’t want him. His mom wanted him, but not enough to stay.

He came to terms with not being wanted a long time ago. Convinced himself no one would want him. Not past the superficial way people gawk and want him because of the way he looks or the way he acts.

Convinced that he could never be the soft caring version of himself. 

Convinced that he will never be enough.

Convinced that he could never deserve Shane. In no fucking world or alternate universe was that a truly logical thought.

He thought himself delusional.

Idiotic to even dream about it.

Yet he did.

Yet his mind gave him no rest. Ever.

Yet here he is, after all these years, all these instances of miscommunication and denial and determination to show Shane that Ilya’s wrong wrong wrong because there’s nothing more right in the world than Shane fucking Hollander.

That there’s no one in the world more right for Ilya than Shane even if he could never find it in himself to believe he’d ever be enough for Shane.

He crashes his lips against the ones that speak such sweet words his way because who can blame him?

Who can blame him when Shane is looking like that, saying things like that, and staring into Ilya like that?

No one.

No one can blame him.

No one can blame him when he hooks his tongue into Shane’s mouth, eats up the pretty little sounds escaping him while his hands move everywhere.

They move like Shane’s body is new territory that needs to be thoroughly mapped rather than the body of the boy he’s known and loved since ten years old.

They move like no one else is in this cramped and crowded club.

No one but them.

Them.

It’s sickening the way everything disappears when Shane’s latched to him like this. Sickening, not in the illness sense, but in the way that eating too many sweets is sickening.

Shane is just too fucking sweet.

And what he said just however many minutes earlier (he couldn’t even say how much time earlier because being here with Shane pressed to him makes time feel endless and free of any constraint) about it being hard to be a gentleman, about it being hard not to touch is probably the truest thing he’s ever said.

Well, maybe not as true as the things he confessed to Shane that night in his room.

The night he confessed how down bad he is for Shane. How all he wants is Shane.

He wanted to tell him he loves him. It was on the tip of his tongue. And in some way, he knows Shane probably knows. He has to know, right?

Love emanates from him. It drives him when it comes to Shane. It always has. Even when he was pushing Shane away, it was because he loves him. Loves him so much that Ilya will take the pain and heartbreak and anger from Shane if it means he’s happy.

Except seeing Shane happy with someone else is a fate worse than hell.

A fate worse than any torture he can think of.

“Are you gonna take me back yet?” Shane breathes into his ear, a parting nip to his lobe before pulling back to lock those deep eyes back on Ilya’s.

His hands travel above Ilya’s shoulders, rubbing from his neck to his jaw, to the back of his head where he leaves soothing scratches.

“You are sure?”

It doesn’t matter how many times they’ve almost got there. It doesn’t matter that they’re already very familiar with each other’s bodies. It doesn’t matter that Shane so blatantly has asked for it.

Ilya will always make sure Shane is one hundred comfortable.

“Ilya,” Shane sighs, hands grabbing both sides of his face and touching their foreheads together. “I have never been so sure about anything in my life. Do you really need to ask?”

No response to that. 

He kisses Shane again, hands pushed into the back pockets of Shane’s pants, not allowing one inch of room between them while Ilya loses himself in the way Shane tastes against his tongue.

There’s no other response needed.

Shane would crawl in Ilya’s skin if he could.

Their conjoined bodies burst through the door after Ilya deeply struggled to find the key card in his pocket when Shane was practically climbing him like a jungle gym against the door of their suite.

When they went to dinner and the club they had just walked. The Embassy isn’t too far from their other stops so it seemed stupid to waste the money on a ride when they could just enjoy the brisk walk together.

After the club however, Shane had never opened the Uber app so fast.

He couldn’t keep himself off Ilya on the very short ride either.

He had buckled himself in the middle seat and kept a point of contact on Ilya at all times while ATM by Don Toliver played on the stereo he barely paid any mind to.

The point of contact stayed whether it was his lips against Ilya’s, his tongue licking up the salty expanse of Ilya’s neck, his teeth digging into Ilya’s salivating ear, or his hands moving from his thigh to his waistband, to his chest.

Shane would’ve straddled him if he could’ve.

The drivers eyes in the rear-view mirror would typically have Shane behaving a little more cautiously, but he actually feels feral right now. He needs to feel Ilya on him – in him.

The drive was probably five or ten minutes (Shane couldn’t say for sure) yet it felt like fucking forever.

So Shane mauled him before even entering their suite.

That’s why now that they’re finally locking the door behind them, he’s jumping into Ilya’s arms.

Like, seriously. Jumping.

Ilya’s arms wrap around Shane’s mid-section before quickly repositioning his grip under Shane’s ass right where his thighs meet his butt, holding him up like it’s no real effort from him.

The kiss is territorial and deliberate.

The kiss is scorching, full of warm mouths, searching tongues, and claiming teeth.

The kiss is Shane saying mine and Ilya reciprocating yours.

Lightning immediately bolts through Shane’s groin. He ecstatically grinds his body against Ilya’s with his legs tightly wrapped around the strong body holding him up.

His back hits the wall abruptly causing him to gasp. The even larger part of his lips from the sudden intake of air only gives Ilya’s tongue more room to roam. More room to lick deeply into Shane’s mouth, savoring each lap against his teeth and gums.

Still holding him up, Ilya urges Shane’s head to one side so he can use his fevering hot mouth to suck on the skin there.

He still can’t believe it.

That he knows the way Ilya’s mouth feels on him. Knows the way he taste in more ways than just his mouth. It’s something that he’s longed for, even when he knew he shouldn’t. Even when he stupidly let others take from what he knew will always belong to Ilya.

He still can’t believe that Ilya wants him like this.

He can’t believe it, not really. That out of all the breathtaking people who chase after Ilya, all the ones who shine so brightly they make Shane feel like a shadow, Ilya still reaches for him. Still chooses the boy who’s spent years trailing behind him instead of someone dazzling enough to match him.

It’s something he tries not to think about, and at the very least, tries not to voice in front of Ilya. He knows what Ilya will say. He knows the reassuring words Ilya coos at his insecurities. But he can’t help it. He can’t help comparing himself.

There’s no room for insecurities when Ilya’s sucking on his pulse, pulling the most obscene sounds from his throat as if they’re doing anything more than rubbing up against the wall.

He untangles his legs from around Ilya’s waist. His feet hit the ground, knees wobbly from being held, but more importantly from the arousal that runs through his body the same way his heartbeat does.

Ilya moves to pull back, but Shane grabs possessively at his belt loops on each side of his hips and pulls him deeper into Shane.

They’re gasping for air at this point, chests heaving with the effort it takes to continue the attack on each other’s mouths while still actually breathing.

Shane moves now, lips finding the skin right above Ilya’s neck line and sucking hard. Sucking hard because this is his and he wants everyone to see it.

Ilya’s head falls back, sighing “Shane” turning into a moan.

Fuel to the fire.

Ripping Ilya’s shirt off, Shane’s finger nails scratch over the newly exposed skin. Scratching. Leaving red trails in their wake and claiming mine.

Shane feels possessive. He feels territorial. He’s felt it since the restaurant. He’s felt it all his life.

When he comes back for air, he looks at the red streaks on Ilya’s torso and the already darkening marks on his neck. He smiles. Mine.

“Look at that,” Ilya purrs looking down at his own chest then placing a quick kiss to the side of Shane’s mouth. “Scratching me up like a little kitten.”

It doesn’t even annoy him. Shane’s mouth twist into an all too fond smile while throwing out a “shut up” that’s washed out with a giggle. Ilya beams, eyes brightly shining, a true grin taking over his own features.  

They stare. Ilya’s hands don’t stop petting Shane; no real path, just feeling from the silky hair on his head to the plushness of his ass.

“Did- did you like?” Ilya asks earnestly. “The date, I mean.”

“Are you kidding me?” Shane rubs his hands down the front of Ilya’s body. “That was the best date I’ve ever been on. Shit Ilya,” Shane flicks his eyes down before looking back up, “tonight’s probably been the best day of my life.”

“Ever?” Ilya twitches an eyebrow.

Shane looks at this man in front of him. This man he loved as a boy. This man he loved even when his heart was hurting. This man that has always been there, no matter what. This man who wanted to take Shane on a date and wanted to be a gentleman even when Shane would’ve settled for so much less.

When he has settled for so much less.

Less – not because it was bad.

Less because anything other than Ilya is less.

Less because anyone other than Ilya were merely blips and lessons to be learned on a journey set in the GPS of his heart where the destination has always been Ilya.

Where it will always be Ilya.

Because there’s no one else and there never will be.

Because Shane loves Ilya.

He loves Ilya.

Shane surges forward, capturing Ilya’s lips. It’s not so much hot and feverish as it is slow and passionate. Lips locking, breaths being shared. Shane sucks Ilya’s bottom lip in his mouth before releasing it and licking up the middle of both lips.

“Ever.” He confirms.

The smile he’s rewarded with makes him swoon, heart suddenly pumping harder than it has the whole night with the words loaded on his tongue.

He plays with the chain around Ilya’s neck, toes flexing against his shoes, trying his best to work up words that shouldn’t feel so hard to say. Shouldn’t even feel like something new between them.

But they do. And they are.

“Ilya,” Shane breathes. “I-”

Ilya waits patiently – fingers circling on his hips – while Shane struggles on the words.

He wants to say this now. He wants to say it before things get intense – more intense. He wants to say this before the words he’s felt for too long sound like something he’s saying in the heat of the moment rather than words that have felt heavier than lead in his chest.

“I-” his shaky hands reach to cup Ilya’s jaw, eyes finding comfort in the familiar features he never gets sick of looking at. “I love you.”

The darkness in Ilya’s eyes subside enough for ocean blue to flow back in with a shine that softens them. They look slightly red around the outside, wetness pooling around his waterlines.

The small silence doesn’t scare Shane. It doesn’t deter him.

It’s a momentary pause while Ilya peers through Shane while he reaches up to caress Shane’s face with a gentle palm. A palm Shane so eagerly nuzzles into.

“Shane.” Ilya says it so seriously it makes Shane’s heart stop. He chuckles, one that sounds almost like disbelief and relief all in one. His hands tighten on Shane’s waist. “I have loved you since the day we met and you hugged me. I was ten, and you were eight with the same beautiful freckles you have now. And I knew then. Well, I didn’t know then. But I knew I felt something… different. And I’ve never felt that with anyone else.”

His arm loops around Shane’s back, tugging him forward to claim his mouth before pulling his head back, bodies still pressed together.

“I love you Shane.” His eyes shift back and forth between Shane’s. “I’ve never loved anyone but you. I never want to love anyone but you.”

And now it’s Shane who’s tearing up.

He falls into Ilya’s arms, face buried in his neck while soothing hands rub up and down his back. Shane can’t help the tears that fall from him.

He can’t help it because Ilya loves him. Ilya’s always loved him. And the truth of that is heavier than anything. Heavier because they’ve spent so much time apart and in pain so knowing the truth of it makes all that seem like such a waste.

A waste of time they could’ve spent together.

Shane wouldn’t waste the time they have together now.

He’s instantly clawing his way up Ilya again, his right leg hooking around Ilya’s thigh just to get a better hold on him.

“Shane,” Ilya chuckles. “Sweetheart, hold on.”

Shane doesn’t hold on. He cant stop. He doesn’t want to. He wants Ilya. He wants him now-

“I want you. Ilya I want you now. I need you.”

“I know, I know. I want you too. Really. But we have time, yes? Let me take my time with you. Can I do that?”

Shane huffs but ultimately nods. He’d probably do anything if Ilya asked him to, though it doesn’t stop his racing pulse and increasing arousal that’s making him more and more impatient.

“Good,” Ilya says with a kiss to the tip of Shane’s nose. “Come.”

I love you.

It rings like a song on repeat in Ilya’s ears.

Nothing else matters in the world as long as he continues to hear those words come out of Shane’s mouth. Nothing he does will ever matter as long as Shane keeps saying those words to him.

The words he never hears from his own family.

The words he hears from the Hollanders, even Shane, but not like this.

The words that only packed this kind of punch when spoken by his mother.

Those words are his.

Shane is his.

And Ilya wants him. He wants him bad.

But he also wants to take his time with Shane. He wants this to be good – so fucking good. He wants this to be better than any other time Shane has been with someone other than Ilya, no matter the context.

He already knows this will be better than anything he’s ever experienced. Their shared experiences thus far have already surpassed any other sexcapade he’s indulged in.

He’s leading Shane, hand in hand, the short distance to the bathroom until they’re standing right in front of the spacious tub.

Ilya starts prepping it, turning on the faucet and testing the water with his hand.

“You’re… getting in?”

Oh sweet Shane.

“We’re getting in,” Ilya chuckles, moving back towards Shane after plugging the drain.

“I’m not really… a bath person.” Shane has a wrinkle in between his brows. “I think it’s a little, um, gross.”

“Gross?”

“I mean, it’s like a human soup and you just marinate in your own filth,” Shane explains.

Ilya can’t help the laugh that rumbles out of him because fuck he loves Shane.

“Sexy,” Ilya says. “But I think you will like this one.”

He pulls Shane closer, pulling his shirt off in a swift motion. He starts kissing his neck, feeling the shudder of breath beneath his lips.

Ilya slowly undresses Shane, kissing each new bit of exposed skin until the tables turn and Shane’s helping Ilya step out of his dress pants and underwear.

Ilya goes in the bath first, spreading his legs and leaning against the edge so Shane can sit in front of him, back pressed to his chest, head rested back on his shoulder.

Determined to change Shane’s attitude about baths, Ilya’s hands don’t stop massaging the body that’s gone pliant against him. His hands don’t stop squeezing and rubbing each and every bit of muscle on Shane’s body, admiring just how perfect he is.

He grabs shampoo and conditioner, washes Shane’s hair gently with caring fingers before grabbing a loofah and slathering it with soap, dragging it over Shane.

“See?” Ilya says when Shane let’s out a happy moan. “Not so bad.”

He abandons the loofah to rub the remaining soap in with his hands. He slides his fingertips down the front of Shane’s chest, down the middle of his stomach till he’s reaching for Shane’s chubbed up cock.

While the touches have been loving and sensual up to this point, there wasn’t heat per se, only enough to keep the arousal minimal while Ilya lavished Shane. Made him feel good in ways other than the typical.

When he finished though, Ilya could barely contain his movements.

Once he got his hand around Shane’s dick, he started jerking it. Shane sighs a delicious little thing that Ilya catches in his mouth when he uses his other hand to turn Shane’s face to his.

The pace he starts with is slower, but deliberate.

He moves up and down Shane’s length with a twist when he reaches the head. If they weren’t in the bath, Ilya’s positive Shane would still be soaking wet.

“Ilya,” Shane moans with his head pressing back against Ilya’s shoulder.

He tries to reach a hand back between them – where he no doubt can feel Ilya’s very hard cock pressing into his back – but Ilya swats him away.

“No,” he says into Shane’s ear. “Let me take care of you. Just relax, baby.”

And with a sweet sigh, he does.

His hands reach back behind Ilya’s head instead, both arms reached out, hands holding onto the back of Ilya’s head while Ilya takes him apart.

One hand is working away at his cock while the other reaches lower to fondle with his balls, rolling both in his hand and sporadically letting fingers slide past his taint to rub against his tight hole.

“Yes,” Shane moans at the first touch.

He doesn’t push in, he just lets his second hands rubbing match the rhythm of his jerking until Shane is squirming in his hold, rubbing his ass all over Ilya’s aching cock.

It doesn’t take long until Shane’s gasping, nails digging into Ilya’s scalp where they tug at his hair.

“Ilya- you, you have to- oh fuck,” he pants. “You have to sto- oh- if you don’t st-stop I’m gonna come.”

And fuck just hearing Shane gasp in pleasure like that and rubbing against his erection has Ilya about to blow a load of his own.

“Is okay. Come for me Shane. Come on.”

“But- but I- I thought…”

He knows what Shane’s worried about. He knows Shane is probably confused why Ilya would tell him to come when they haven’t even had sex yet like they planned. Like Ilya promised.

“Shane, baby. We have a lot of time,” he tightens his grip around Shane’s cock. “You will come again, I promise.”

He can feel how stiff Shane’s body is. How much he’s clearly holding himself back, trying his best not to come.

“But I’ve never… I don’t know if I can…”

Shane’s whole body is shaking at this point, his arms are bent back, gripping Ilya’s shoulders so hard there are definitely crescent shaped nail marks there.

“You can,” he reassures. “Come on, do you trust me?”

Shane whimpers at that, “Yes.”

“Then come for me sweetheart,” Ilya hums in his ear.

Like it was a command Shane couldn’t possibly refuse, he’s coming with “Ilya” slipping between each breath.

Ilya is positive there’s nothing more heavenly than the look on Shane Hollander’s face when he’s coming. His face contorts, his body trembles, the sounds that rip from him are sinful yet holy and Ilya aches to be on his knees for him.

Ilya praises him through it, continuously working his hand until Shane is pawing at him to stop, gasping for air so hard his chest aggressively heaves up and down.

Shane’s head is lolled back so his neck is bent and the back of his head sits on the top of Ilya’s shoulder. He kisses Shane’s neck and cheek, fingers running up his sides.

“So beautiful,” Ilya says.

He can see the small smile on Shane’s satiated face brighten at the words. “Stop, I know I look a mess.”

“No,” he bites at Shane’s jaw. “Don’t say such things about my boyfriend. My boyfriend that I love.”

Shane’s head slowly turns, still resting on Ilya’s shoulder, but turned in a way that allows Ilya to look at him in the eyes.

“I love you too.”

Ilya’s mind goes completely blank except for soft lips on his and the words I love you bouncing off every groove of his brain.

There’s no other place Shane wants to be but right here.

Right here with Ilya’s warm, naked body plastering his weight on top of Shane’s.

When they got out of the bath, Ilya insisted on drying Shane himself even after Shane assured him that he’s fully capable.

It didn’t matter to Ilya, he was hell bent on being the one to take care of him.

Really though, it’s not like Shane minded.

He was a little cautious when Ilya was clearly on a mission to get him off in the bath – okay maybe not a little cautious. Very cautious.

It’s just that he never came more than once, and anytime he was with Miles, if one of them came too early it was pretty quick knowledge that it wasn’t happening again in that night.

Shane was scared he wouldn’t be able to get it up again, which would’ve really peeved him. Not because everything depends on sex, but he needs it.

He needs it because he wants to be even closer to Ilya. He wants to do this with Ilya so when he thinks about his sexual relations, he isn’t thinking of anyone other than the man he loves.

He needs it because this whole week has been boiling down to this one night and if that were to be ruined due to a hand job in the bath, well Shane would be pretty embarrassed with himself no matter how persistent Ilya had been about making him come.

Now however, his legs are spread wide enough to accommodate Ilya’s body – which he’s more than happy to do. His back is pushed into the mattress, dick already hard again as it rubs between their stomachs steadily leaking precum.

Cradling the back of Shane’s head, one of Ilya’s arms rests on the mattress while the other sinks behind his hip, gripping hard at his ass.

His hips are rolling hard against Shane’s wide-open legs and the friction of their bare cocks rubbing together has Shane surrendering control and yielding completely to Ilya’s touch.

Yielding until it’s not enough.

Shane ruthlessly grabs at Ilya’s ass urging him, urging him closer, urging him harder, urging him to give just a little more-

Quickly putting weight back on his knees, Ilya snatches Shane’s wrist and pins them on each side of his head.

“Greedy,” he says an inch above Shane’s pouting face.

“Can you blame me?”

Ilya makes a thinking face while rolling his hips but scooping lower to really drag his boner from the crease of Shane’s ass to his own boner. “No. Can’t blame you, but you need to learn to slow down.”

He smirks some asshole grin that has Shane’s bucking his hips trying to control the pace in retaliation. But of course in a show of strength, Ilya moves both Shane’s wrists above his head and into the grip of one of his hands while his other hand holds Shane down by the back of his thigh.

The pressure and the spread has Shane’s knees to his shoulders and leg’s stretched wider than he thought possible.

It’s in this moment that he’s truly happy he took up yoga.

“I need to slow down?” Shane counters. “You’re the one who insisted on getting me off in the tub. That doesn’t scream slow to me.”

“Mmm yes but you see, you are just so pretty when you come.” He leans down to kiss over Shane’s collarbone. “I just could not resist.”

Shane doesn’t have an argument for that one.

Ilya starts another steady rhythm of thrust that leave Shane feeling like the winds knocked out of him but more specifically out of his balls that’re drawn so tight to his body he feels like he could scream and the way Ilya is sucking on his Adam apple has him feeling mute with pleasure but is still compelled to whine:

“Please.”

Ilya rises up, both arms releasing their bruising handle on him, holding his upper body up by putting his weight on his hands rested on each side of Shane’s head.

Shane moves his hands to wrap around Ilya’s sides and just rest there, happy to touch.

Ilya rests his groin right on top of Shane’s, thrusts coming to a halt and instead resorting to a heavy rock that keeps Shane wanting and not at all satisfied the way he needs to be.

“Please what?” Ilya stares into his eyes. “Tell me what you want.”

What?

Ilya knows what he wants and he’s just making Shane say it for his own entertainment. 

He loves Ilya but fuck sometimes he hates him because he knows how tripped up Shane can get with his words when he’s flustered. And he’s very flustered right now.

“You- you know what I want.” He stammers barely able to put together a coherent sentence with his focus on the rock-hard cock pressed to his own.

Ilya smiles. Not wicked or smirking, just fond and loving.

“Yes, but I want you to tell me.”

Shane has to take a few deep breaths. He has to clear his head of anything except the words that will get Ilya to shut the fuck up and move goddamn it.

“Ilya,” Shane whines – he’s really not against begging. “Please. You know what I want. Please, I want you in me so bad-”

Ilya’s quickly sitting back on his knees then reaching for the nightstand where he had left a bottle of lube and a condom. He moved them both by Shane’s hip and grabbed the backside of Shane’s knees and folded Shane like a pretzel.

Well that didn’t take long.

Shane got the message and moved his hands to hold himself open for Ilya, his own hands hooking on his legs so Ilya can focus on opening Shane up properly.

Anticipating the familiar and exhilarating feeling of fingers at his entrance, Shane closes his eyes and throws his head back. He’s lying here completely open and vulnerable to Ilya, waiting for that first touch-

“Oh my- Ilya!”

One of Shane’s arms immediately drops its hold on his leg to aggressively grip at Ilya’s hair the second he feels a wet, warm tongue lap at his clenched hole.

Shane’s never had someone do this before. He’s done plenty of other things with men he met going out or even Miles, but this was never on the table. This was something he would never even think to ask for.

“Ilya… holy shit, you- you…”

“You said you wanted me in you, and I have to open you up anyways,” Ilya says a hairsbreadth away, words blowing against his already saliva sloppy hole. “Plus…” he kisses Shane’s ass cheek, “I just had to taste you here.”

There’s no time to respond because one of Ilya’s hands moves to hold the leg Shane abandoned for hair and his tongue moves like a man on a mission, teasing Shane’s hole with slight pressure from the tip of his tongue and soft nibbles at his rim.

“I- I need…”

“Tell me,” Ilya growls, looking up at Shane from between his legs.

“More, Ilya. Fuck!”

With a rumble in his chest Ilya continues with twice the effort. His tongues darts at Shane’s hole like a bullseye and unsparingly prods at the ring of muscle until it slowly starts to loosen.

Ilya moaning through wet, obscene laps like he’s starving and eating a five-course meal. The vibrations from the moaning only adds to the sensation Shane feels pressed to his hole.

“Relax, sweetheart.” Ilya coos, giving Shane’s thigh a squeeze. “Take a few deep breaths for me.”

After a few more minutes of deep breathing and doing his best to not clench when he thinks too hard about where Ilya’s mouth is, he finally feels the tip of Ilya’s tongue pushing in.

Suddenly he can’t think of anything but this.

His tongue moves in and out of him, occasionally circling around his hole and sucking on the reddening flesh. 

A couple times Ilya leaves soft kisses there as if it were his forehead and not his wet hole begging for more.

He  moves his hands down, so they’re splayed on each on of Shane’s cheeks spreading him as open as possible and Shane is shamelessly moaning as if they aren’t in a hotel room. He truly can’t help the sounds emitting from him right now.

“You taste so good,” Ilya purrs.

Shane's stomach does probably about ten back flips at those words.

Ilya uses the grip on Shane’s ass to rock him against his mouth. Shane feels dizzy to the point of electrification purely from Ilya’s tongue and intoxicating words.

Ilya’s voice – his words – make Shane feel like jelly all over.

He’s never had someone speak the way Ilya does even though he can tell Ilya’s holding back all his words by the way he’s gritting his teeth and switching to Russian. Something he never does anymore.

Nonetheless, it’s all the same. Russian or English, it’s the way he says it.

The way even dirty words and crude praises sound like passion and sex dripping from his lips.

Shane hears a pop and feels the cool liquid feeling of lube being squirted all over his crease. Ilya pulls his fingers through it, swearing something under his breath as one finger pushes in him with little resistance from the work put in by Ilya’s tongue.

Still, Shane mewls at the feeling and lifts his head with the need to see exactly what’s going on.

Impossibly his dick grows even harder at the sight. What really gets Shane going is the look of Ilya’s face. Ilya’s completely zoned into Shane’s hole and the way his finger moves in and out of it. The whole bottom half of Ilya’s face is glistening, and spit is dripping from his chin as he pants and praises Shane through another finger entering him.

Shane throws his head back when another finger breaches his entrance.

“Ilya- I, oh my…”

He’s simply a puddle of moans and whines and whimpers at this point while Ilya works him open at his leisure. Shane’s falling into the rhythm of Ilya’s fingers until a sharp crook makes his back arch off the bed and oh fuck yeah that was definitely his prostate.

“Ilya!”

“Yes.” Ilya moves up Shane’s body, fingers still buried deep and only getting deeper with the lean to be face to face. “I love hearing you say my name like that.”

“Please- please. I- I’m ready for you.”

Trying his best to show how ready he is, Shane tightens his grip around his legs, opens himself as wide as he can to angle his hips up and present himself even more.

“Fuck Shane,” Ilya leans forward to claim Shane’s lips. “You will be the death of me.”

Then it’s finally happening.

Then Ilya is positioning himself so he can reach for the condom that was scattered somewhere on the bed. He starts to tear it open and pull it out-

“Wait.”

Ilya looks at him with an almost scared look on his face. A look that signals he most definitely is reading Shane’s wait as a doubt rather than what it is.

Shane sits up so he can grab the condom from Ilya. He stares down at Shane with dark and curious eyes compelling Shane to just submit.

With trembling hands, Shane takes the condom and rolls it onto Ilya’s red, almost purple, cock. Moaning at the contact, Ilya throws his head back from one touch.

Emboldened, Shane reaches for the lube and rubs it all over Ilya’s cock until Ilya’s telling him to “lie back.”

Shane goes back to being folded like a lawn chair, except this time Ilya shoves a pillow under his hips, exposing him even more than before.

Ilya isn’t sparing with the lube when he squirts some more at Shane’s entrance, returning his fingers to his hole like they belong there.

Shane audibly keens when he feels the blunt head of Ilya’s cock at his small hole. He looks between them where he can see the girth and length of Ilya’s dick. He huffs a quick, frustrated puff of air when Ilya’s head barely makes it past the ring of muscle before he’s pulling back.

“I know,” Ilya soothes with a hand rubbing the back of Shane’s thigh. “Is okay baby. It’ll fit.”

And honestly, Shane’s not sure about that.

Shane’s obviously seen Ilya’s cock before, he’s had it in his mouth for Christ’s sake. But seeing it now in comparison to the very small puff of flesh that it’s about to destroy adds a whole new dimension to it.

Shane squeezes his eyes shut, feeling the thick head make another attempt at his hole. He’s trying to breath as deep and slow as he can.

When Ilya starts pushing in again, Shane is certain he can feel his heart beat in his ass. He’s certain Ilya can feel his heartbeat in his ass.

His eyes are rolling back, seeing stars, and he’s panting, “Oh God. Oh Ilya. Oh- oh my…”

Ilya doesn’t pull in and out yet, he’s just slowly pushing in, inch by inch until he gets to the hilt. He’s whispering at Shane to “let him in” with every extra length accepted in his body.

When he’s finally buried all the way in Shane, Ilya holds it there just breathing heavily in Shane’s face.

When Shane twitches his hips and whines, Ilya dips down and silences him with a kiss and a heavy weight between the hips where he pins Shane with his cock still deep in his ass.

Shane can’t do much but gasp in the other man’s mouth willingly.

Ilya’s not sure how long he’ll last.

He’s not even moved yet, and he can already feel the pulsing low in his gut that signals his release building more and more intense.

It doesn’t help that Shane’s wriggling around beneath him, clenching his hole around the base of Ilya’s cock, driving him insane.

He pulls back to look at Shane’s beautiful face with his slack jaw and heart eyes. God. Ilya loves him so fucking much it must be criminal.

“Still okay?” Ilya checks in.

“Yes,” Shane mumbles. “Move Ilya. Fucking move.”

He could probably use more time to catch his breath and calm himself the fuck down, but he can’t refuse Shane. He never wants to refuse Shane anything ever again, so he moves. He moves with the purpose of taking the man under him apart and then putting him back together with extra love and care.

Ilya’s arms curl under Shane’s arms and back until they’re gripping onto his shoulders. The hold he has prevents Shane from sliding around on the mattress as well as keeps him exactly where Ilya wants him.

He starts to pull out of Shane and fuck it feels like he’s getting sucked right back in.

Shane screeches at the pressure and Ilya groans at the restraint it’s taking to not jackhammer into Shane’s obedient hole. 

He needs to go soft. He needs to make this so good for Shane.

He gently but deliberately pushes into Shane’s ass, catching a consistent rhythm that isn’t necessarily fast, but definitely not slow.

“Holy shit, Shane,” Ilya moan. “Y-You’re so fucking tight. Gonna- gonna come so fast.”

Shane bites his lip hard and cranks his neck at the words.

“Come on Ilya. You can fuck me harder. I- I’m not gonna break.”

All Ilya can really think is as you wish and he starts his rampage.

He starts pistoning into Shane’s ass with a savage force that pulls whimpering sounds from him. Sounds that only spur Ilya on more and more.

Every time Ilya bottoms out, Shane squeals from the pressure on his prostate. Ilya chases that sound until Shane’s voice is frayed.

“G-good?” Ilya asks through shaking words as his composure moves further and further out of reach.

“Oh my God, Ilya. So fucking good.”

Shane drops his legs and starts scratching at any part of Ilya’s skin he can reach. Ilya doesn’t mind it. He doesn’t mind any of the marks Shane passionately leaves on his body. 

It’s a sign that he’s spoken for. That someone claims him.

That Shane claims him.

Ilya truly starts fucking into Shane now whispering dirty, sweet nothings into his ear. Each slam of his hips has Shane screaming a “yes” or a “Ilya” loudly into the suite.

Ilya grinds his hips down hard with every few thrusts just to put torturous pressure on the bundle of nerves in Shane. He preens every time Shane’s back arches off the bed with a loud mewl.

Ilya can feel how close he is to filling the condom. The heat is building and building and at this point it has no where else to go but out. 

He reaches for Shane’s cock, quickly sending the man beneath him into a convulsing arch after just a few tugs of his wrist.

“That’s it Shane, come for me.”

He work the last few drops from Shane’s spent cock before he grabs the backside of Shane’s knees and pushes them far up until he’s completely leaning over Shane and using all his weight to fuck down into his ass, groaning after each slap of his balls against Shane’s round ass.

Shane’s just starting to howl in oversensitivity when Ilya mutters through his own orgasm, “Shane- oh fuck, fuck. So fucking good baby. You’re so fucking perfect, Shane. Perfect for me.”

He keeps moving his hips, fucking every last drop out of himself until Shane’s hands are pushing at his navel. Ilya slowly pulls out to which Shane hisses at the emptiness.

Ilya leans down to kiss all over Shane’s quivering legs and sweaty body trying to settle the aftershocks of his organism bolting through him.

He moves Shane’s legs, so they’re no longer bent in an impossible position, and he kisses his ankles and shins and thighs and hips in appreciation.

He quickly runs to the bathroom and grabs a wet towel then runs to the fridge for a water bottle.

When he reaches Shane, he wipes up the mess on his stomach and watches the other mans face. His face that has closed eyes, a happy grin and an over all satiated glow to him. A glow that was put there by Ilya.

Pride beams in his chest.

“Come back,” Shane mutters when Ilya steps back into the bathroom.

Chucking the damp towel on the ground, Ilya scatters back to the bed where he scoops Shane up in his arms and pulls him tight, so his head is tucked beneath Ilya’s chin.

After a few minutes he can feel Shane’s body go tense. 

He can literally feel the way Shane’s thinking right now. Why’s he thinking so much right now?

“Shane, what’s wrong?”

“Huh? Um… n-nothing.”

“Shane. I know you. Tell me what you’re thinking about. Please.” Ilya hooks a finger under Shane’s chin and forces him to meet Ilya’s gaze. “D-did I hurt you?”

“No!” Shane quickly replies. “Not that. Definitely didn’t hurt me…”

Shane’s pretty eyes look into Ilya’s until he gathers enough confidence to speak. “Um, w-was that, um. Was that good… for you?”

Is Shane seriously asking Ilya if that was good?

What kind of fucking question is that?

“Was not good,” Ilya says nonchalantly, earning him a scowl. “Was fucking amazing Shane. So fucking amazing.” When Shane happily rests his head back on Ilya’s chest, he kisses the top of Shane’s jet-black hair. “I love you.”

Shane’s whispering “I love you,” and “so fucking much,” before soon enough, soft puffs of air signal to Ilya that sleep has overcome him.

Exhausted and satiated yes, but Ilya can’t sleep.

He can’t sleep because he is so caught up on the events of tonight and how fucking good everything feels that sleep seems too peaceful for the electric feelings coursing through him right now.

Ilya can’t believe it.

He can’t believe he just made love to Shane.

With Shane.

He should be panicking. Honestly, he should be losing his mind, because if he wasn’t ruined before, he sure is now.

But he’s not. Not even close.

Because this – Shane tucked into his chest, the room quiet and warm, the weight of what they said and did still humming between them – this feels right. So right he’s willing to ignore every alarm his brain usually sets off.

Logistics? Complications? The entire mess waiting for them outside this room? That’s tomorrow’s problem. Tonight he has Shane in his arms, breathing soft little snores against him, and he’s allowing himself to enjoy it.

Tomorrow can have the fear.

Tonight belongs to them.

Chapter End Notes

THEY DID IT!!!!!!

I just love a happy Shane and Ilya :)

For now.............

LOL JK!

Or am I....

LOLOLOL but real note, I am gonna stop trying to do the 'next time on' ending note because I always fuck up and never actually cover everything I write out lmao

I'll be outta town later in the week so new update may be longer than the week I try to stick to!

I appreciate everyone who's reading this as I write it! I seriously love hearing from my small little group of peeps, it keeps me feeling all warm and happy inside :) :) :) <3 <3 <3

Most recent one shot🥰
NO ONE MAKES ME FEEL LIKE YOU DO

Chapter 8: All Over You

Chapter Summary

Shane and Ilya orbit each other like they’re helpless to do anything else. The sneaking around was intoxicating at first, but guilt has a way of catching up. With the end of summer looming, they choose a day to finally tell Cliff the truth.

Chapter Notes

GUYS!
Sooooooooooooooooo sorry about the delay… I went to a music festival over last weekend (which was amazing although we literally had to wait 8 hours in the car to get into security for camping…) but I literally had so much homework for my grad school the week before I left AND when I got back, so my brain was actually mush… therefore I was STRUGGLIN to get this finished. I hope my brain being scattered doesn’t show through my writing but… no promises.

Oml also for the longest time I didn’t realize that I could see comments people put when they bookmark and it’s so fun to see how people tag things, or summarize, or just leave comments on. I love it lololol. Except sometimes I read one and I’m like… oop…

PREVIOUSLY ON CLOSE ENOUGH TO HURT:
-Shane and Ilya go to Montreal where Ilya plans a special night.
-A dinner mixed with some possessiveness turns to seductive dancing in the club.
-Ilya makes good on his promise to Shane about what happens after their first date ;)

🎶This chapter's song is All Over You by LIVE.
CLOSE ENOUGH TO HURT PLAYLIST

Anywayyyyyyyssssss thanks for being patient with me and I hope you enjoy this chapter 😊😊

Chapter 8: All Over You

The drive home from their night away feels like closing credits to the best movie ever filmed. 

This Feeling by Alabama Shakes melodically plays as a faint end score.

The summer air slips through the cracked windows, blowing a warm breeze through blonde curls that Shane can’t seem to look away from. Blonde curls that perfectly frame the sharp features of Ilya’s face.

The breeze isn’t the cause of the shiver that runs down Shane’s spine.

The culprit is Ilya’s thumb – the one attached to the hand that’s been on his leg since they started driving – that starts rubbing circles along the inside inseam of his pants.

It’s a mindless touch Shane’s still not used to. It still shocks him to have Ilya so instinctually touch him like this.

Even after last night.

Lingering on the memories of the night leaves a sting of bittersweetness in the air.

So sweet because Ilya had looked at Shane, said ‘You are worth it,’ and meant it.

So sweet because Shane’s never said anything truer than saying ‘I love you’ to Ilya.

So sweet because with teary eyes Ilya made Shane’s knees turn to jelly with the confession ‘I have loved you since the day we met.’

Simultaneously so bitter, bitter, bitter because how the hell are they supposed to return to acting ‘normal’ in front of everyone when they’ve just shared this incredibly blissful, euphoric night?

This night turned memory that Shane will cherish for the rest of his life. Shane would mind wipe himself if it meant holding onto this one unforgettable moment.

The electric moment that has no choice but to be turned down to a simmer. Turned down to something more mundane between them that doesn’t raise suspicion to the people they love.

How the hell do they turn down what happened between them last night?

Shane’s not sure it’s feasible.

He’s not sure how to turn this down.

There’s always been this pull to Ilya – which has been heightened the past few years – but now driving home, he loathes the dreadful feeling of having to resist his need to reach for Ilya.

Truthfully, he’d be okay telling his parents and Cliff now. He’s obviously nervous about it. He knows his family loves him and Ilya, but this is far more complicated than the crush he’s always harbored.

If he thinks deeper about it though, he’s not too convinced his parents would be all that upset about it. They definitely would enforce some more rules when it comes to them being in the house alone – something Shane mentally rolls his eyes at – but they love Ilya.

They adore him.

So, yes, it’d be a shock. But at least he wouldn’t really have to worry about the whole embarrassing parental introduction or whatever because they already know Ilya and Ilya already knows them.

However, he’s terrified Cliff will be upset.

Weirdly, he’s less worried over the thought that Cliff will be upset about Shane and Ilya being together rather than knowing he will be upset that they lied about it.

Cliff is the most understanding and supportive person who truly only wants the people in his life to be happy, and Shane knows that. Ilya knows that too even if he is clearly scared shitless of Cliff knowing.

Saying I love you to Ilya only wills Shane to fess up even more.

It makes it feel impossible to lie and it makes him feel even more guilty for lying.

The warm caress on his thigh reminds him of what’s to lose.

He doesn’t want to scare Ilya off.

Yeah they agreed the end of summer, but it took Ilya forever to forget about the metaphorical line he couldn’t shut up about. If Shane pushes too hard, Ilya might push back and Shane can’t even stomach thinking about it further.

He moves his hand over Ilya’s, flipping his palm so their hands can lace together and rest against Shane’s thigh. Ilya’s thumb rubs against the back of Shane’s hand, soothing the thoughts swarming Shane’s mind that he isn’t even aware of.

Shane can’t do anything that might break the foundation they’ve quickly repaired.

He won’t do anything to risk it.

He waited his whole life for Ilya.

He can wait another couple months.

One singular night without holding Shane already has Ilya working himself into a frenzy. 

Waking up by himself after the night they shared feels flat out wrong.

Ilya’s itching to get his hands back on Shane. He didn’t realize how much of an effect one night could have on him but refraining from kicking Cliff off of the cushion next to Shane while they watched a movie as a family last night proved to be a bigger adjustment than previously anticipated.

To add salt to the wound, Shane isn’t even home right now. He picked up a shift for his coworker whose gerbil needed to go to the vet. Ilya tried his hardest to convince Shane not to go because one; it’s a Sunday. What veterinary office is open on a Sunday?

And two; IT’S A GERBIL!

Ilya tried to explain to Shane how that excuse is a load of horse shit and Shane could just stay home with Ilya instead – which would’ve been prime because David and Cliff were out fishing the whole day.

Schedule issues and a new project at the company made it impossible for David, Yuna, and Cliff to go on their usual trip this summer which resulted in David insisting they go fishing. Yuna made it clear she was simply going to supervise them and not participate which really means she’ll sit there for one second, watch the men struggle to hook anything, then slip right into competitive mode and catch more fish than anyone else.

That’s beside the point here.

Ilya’s sweet Shane, no matter how bratty and more open New York has made him, is still the same sweet boy he’s always been and agreed to take the shift.

Ilya threw quite the fit last night when they whispered a conversation outside of Shane’s door before footsteps on the stairs caused a chain reaction. First it was Shane’s hands pushing on Ilya’s chest, making him stumble back, then it was the door quickly shutting in his face without a single kiss goodnight.

Ilya had huffed and quickly set off to his own room, or at least tried to not look like he was just looming outside of Shane’s door. But of course David had just come to get some book out of the closet upstairs and didn’t seem to think twice about Ilya’s awkward position against the wall.

But now it’s morning and Ilya has until 2 PM to find something to do with himself.

He decides he’ll head to the construction office and work on some things he wasn’t able to get to on Friday when he left early.

Friday.

Ilya smiles to himself even thinking about it.

He allows himself to reminisce on the way to the office before he’ll try his best to focus on something else before he shows up to Shane’s work and forces him to his knees in the back room. Or maybe he could bend him over the counter, really show everyone who he belongs to. Or maybe he’ll-

His phone starts buzzing, his mood immediately sours when he sees his brother's name light up his phone.

Now that his brother and father are back in Russia, Ilya has felt a giant weight lifted off his shoulders. That is until late last night, after the hallway fiasco, right before Ilya was about to fall asleep, Alexei had called him and told Ilya their father was dying.

Not right this second, but gradually.

The conversation was hard for multiple reasons. He doesn’t talk to Alexei. He prefers to just forget he even exists. A lot like the feelings he has for his father.

That’s what makes his feelings so complex about the whole thing.

Why does he still care?

Why – after all the years of physical and verbal abuse – does Ilya have this familiar feeling of grief hit him like a freight train?

Grigori’s his father but he was never dad to Ilya. He was never someone Ilya felt safe enough to call home. Not the way David has always been.

It’s frustrating that he even cried after that stupid fucking call. His father doesn’t deserve anymore of Ilya’s tears yet there they were, freely falling. The whole thing makes him feel sick. It makes him feel shaky. Makes him feel like he wants to throw his fist through a wall and-  

Ilya parks the car. He doesn’t answer the phone.

He heads for the extra office, the one that’s occupied by either Ilya or Cliff depending on the day.

With no one here on a Sunday, it’s eerily quiet. Ilya decides to throw something on as background noise, finding some random playlist of Shane’s, hitting play, and trying to allow his mind to bend the knee to happier thoughts.

The stack of papers he took a pause on is sitting exactly where he left it on the desk, so he makes himself comfortable and dives in.

He’s been helping David with some paperwork and behind the scenes stuff which has made him feel full of pride at work. Knowing that David trusts him enough to take on bigger responsibilities in the company makes him feel useful and valued, which is something he can accept because he’s worked so hard for it.

That’s the thing with Ilya. When he puts his mind to something and really works for it, he can take the praise and benefits. When he’s given something simply for existing or doing the bare minimum… that’s a harder thing to take.

Shane gives to Ilya so freely. He’s just not sure he’s done enough to deserve the love, and trust Shane offers up, especially after all the years of miscommunication, yearning, and hurtful things Ilya did and said.

God, how could Ilya have been so stupid?

He genuinely accepted the fact that Shane would always hold residence in his heart, mind, body, and soul. There’s never been any doubt about that in his mind.

He thought he accepted the fact that Shane would find someone else. That Ilya would be okay with that because all that really matters to him is Shane’s happiness and that wasn’t going to be with Ilya. It couldn’t be.

He obviously didn’t accept that.

Work. You have work to be doing.

Ilya shakes the thoughts away and dials into the spread of paperwork and blueprint plans sprawled all over the desk.

Hours pass and before he knows it, he looks at the clock on the desktop monitor that reads 12:47.

Okay. Just another hour and thirteen minutes.

He feels like a high school student counting down the minutes till summer on the last day of school. Except instead of the chant summer, summer, summer, it’s the name Shane, Shane, Shane, that gets louder with each passing minute. 

Putting his head down, he locks back in. He’s not sure how much time has passed when he hears the click of the door handle turning, and the squeak of the hinges. 

Startled nature turns into delight when the figure walking through the door belongs to the only person Ilya ever feels this ecstatic to see.

Glancing at the clock that reads 1:23, Ilya shoots Shane a confused furrow of his brows. “What’re you doing here? I thought you worked until 2?”

Shane rounds the corner of the desk and places himself on top of it. Ilya rolls his chair back enough to allow him the room to do so. The second Shane settles, spreading his legs in an inviting manner, Ilya grabs his thighs and rolls his chair back in place.

“I got off early,” Shane says, using one hand to move curls away from Ilya’s forehead.

The smell of coffee has taken over the room and Ilya can’t help but lean forward and rest his head right where Shane’s abdomen and chest connect, rubbing his face into the spot like some cat trying to get its owner's attention. Shane chuckles – a sweet sound that could fuel Ilya for weeks – and cards a hand through Ilya’s hair.

“And how did you know I was here?” Ilya asks against Shane’s shirt while biting and tugging at it.

“I looked on find friends.”

Because they do that now by the way.

When Shane had brought up the idea, he seemed so nervous and unsure as if Ilya would think he’s needy and controlling – which is a behavior Ilya would gladly welcome from Shane.

Really though when he mentioned it on the drive home, Ilya’s ears perked up because this would make their little rendezvous even easier to navigate. Anytime they’ve spent together before Montreal required planning and confirmations through texts that would get deleted because Shane stressed too much about someone going into their messages even though no one in the Hollander family would ever be that nosey.

“Stalker,” Ilya says fondly while rubbing up and down Shane’s thighs.

“Shut up,” Shane laughs, pulling Ilya’s head back from his stomach and looking into his eyes.

Oblivion by Grimes starts and Shane suddenly tunes in, looking towards the speaker in the ceiling like he could physically see the music notes flowing out.

“Is this my playlist?”

Ilya bites his lip at the cute way Shane’s lips twitch up like Ilya playing his playlist is the equivalent to Ilya saying those three words they both apparently had been dying to say for years.

“Maybe.” He mutters cheekily, trying to hide the way his lips twitch up just from Shane’s expression.

Shane smiles so wide Ilya wants to eat him. “I thought you said my music was ‘boring,’” he prods, hands moving to Ilya’s shoulders as he slips his legs down and brackets them on each side of Ilya’s thighs so he can put himself in a straddling position on top of Ilya’s lap. “In fact, I know you said that.”

It’s a marvel this office chair is actually holding both of them up right now, though the squeaky sound it makes every time they shift isn’t too reassuring.

“Maybe I like boring,” easily falls from Ilya’s mouth, doused in love and adoration. “Maybe, I love boring.”

Shane just flashes a grin before moving forward to crash into him. Ilya melts into it the way he always does. There’s really no other option when Shane’s so eager to be close to Ilya like this. It feels right. And in moments like these, Ilya can almost forget about the guilt telling him it’s wrong. That he’s wrong.  

The slow loving pace of soft lips slotting together quickly turns into something faster that’s really just two giddy smiles rubbing together between pants and teeth that nip. Claiming.

Ilya feels like a firework is popping off inside his stomach right now feeling Shane rub down on him while devouring his mouth like a starved man. 

“Shane,” Ilya warns, not because he doesn’t want to, but because they’re not exactly in a room that locks.

Selective hearing for Shane means he completely ignores the warning tone in Ilya’s voice and instead uses the flick of his tongue to distract the other man. He knows what he’s doing too. He knows that Ilya gets caught like a mouse in a trap when Shane takes control.

Hands move with a mind of their own, claiming every inch of the person opposite them. Shane’s hands make a path from Ilya’s pecs, where he uses the pad of his thumbs to play with Ilya’s nipples, before traveling up and threading themselves into his wild mane. 

Ilya’s hands don’t stop moving. They grip hard against Shane’s ass while moving to his hips to set a hard rhythm against Ilya’s crotch that’s already burning with desire. He lets one hand explore higher ground, finding a home on the back of Shane’s head, tugging his silky black hair. 

Tightening his grip, Ilya pulls Shane’s head back, exposing his neck. 

He bites and licks all over Shane’s neck like an animal. One hand stays buried in his hair, keeping him locked in position while the other one leaves indentations through Shane’s pants on his plush ass. 

“Oh God,” Shane pants as he slams his hips in a deep grind against Ilya. “Ilya.”

They’re basically just humping but fuck Ilya will take Shane in any capacity. 

Shane’s here. 

He’s really here. 

He got off work and his first thought was to check Ilya’s location and come find him. Warmth blooms heavy in Ilya’s chest at the thought and he’s quickly becoming dizzy with a hazy lust. 

“You’re so sweet,” Ilya murmurs between licks against Shane’s rocketing pulse point. “Look at you. Drove over here to what?” He slides his tongue up Shane’s jaw till he’s licking at his ear. “Hump my lap like an eager puppy?”

Shane pulls his body back enough that Ilya can now see the lip pulled between his teeth tightly. Ilya reaches a hand up to his jaw, swiping his thumb along Shane’s bottom lip, feeling the indents left behind from his teeth.

The kiss Shane leaves on the pad of Ilya’s thumb sets off a wildfire in him because fuck how is Shane his?

The sweetness in Shane’s face twists to a wicked smile as he says, “Hopefully not just hump your lap.”

Before Ilya can even inquire a flirty question, Shane’s sliding down the spread of his thighs, kneeling there in the space between them and under the desk. When hands reach for Ilya’s belt buckle, it takes everything in him to bring them to a halt.

Shane’s big, brown, puppy dog eyes stare up at him as Ilya frantically looks around like he’ll be able to see through the walls of the office.

“No one’s here,” Shane reassures. His palms slip from Ilya’s grasp and graze up and down Ilya’s thighs. “Only your car was in the lot when I got here.”

Ilya still needs to think for a second, but how the fuck is he supposed to think when Shane won’t stop staring at him like he’s a dream Ilya conjured up. How’s he supposed to think when Shane’s kneeling between his legs like Ilya’s some kind of god?

He takes a few deep breaths, doing his best to settle himself.

Like Shane said, no one else is here. It’s a Sunday. No one comes in on Sundays unless they forgot something and even then, that was a rarity.

Even if someone was here, there’s no windows or way to see in the office. Plus the only people who ever go in here are Ilya, Cliff, and on the rare occasion he needs something, David. And Ilya already knows they won’t be home till at least after five.

When Ilya looks back down at Shane, he’s just sat there. Waiting. Waiting for Ilya to give him the go ahead. The sight of him makes Ilya’s erection twitch in response.

A small nod of his head prompts a devilish smile from Shane as he leans forward and starts mouthing at the stiffened area of his crotch. He moves tight lips from where the base of Ilya’s dick is to the top that’s close to leaking through both his briefs and jeans.

Ilya grips tightly onto the armrests of the chair while gritting his teeth hard enough to hurt as he watches Shane – for a lack of a better word – worship his still clothed hard on.

Brown eyes search for blue. Once they’re gazes lock, Shane starts biting at Ilya’s belt with no real intention to undo it, purely teasing and riling Ilya up. His hands reach up to ruck Ilya’s shirt up only slightly, so an inch of skin is visible above his waistband, black curls creeping out.

Shane kisses the skin there a couple times before pulling back and using his nimble fingers to unbuckle Ilya’s belt and swiftly get the front of his jeans open. They barely get pulled down, sitting right beneath his balls when Shane apparently says ‘fuck it’ to the teasing and takes Ilya all the way down his throat.

“Oh, oh fuck!” Ilya gasps, one hand reaching out to rest on Shane’s head.

Shane just hums in response as he starts an unforgiving pace that has Ilya whimpering in this squeaky office chair.

Spit is pooling by his balls and he’s pretty sure his jeans are going to be soiled after this, but fuck Ilya really couldn’t care less right now. Not when Shane’s sucking his dick like it gave him life. Not when he’s swallowing around Ilya’s cockhead every time it hits the back of his throat or when he’s hollowing his cheeks on each up pull.

He can feel the vibrations from Shane’s throat every time he moans and hums as if having Ilya’s cock in his mouth is something extremely pleasurable for him too. And maybe it is. Maybe he feels the same way about bringing pleasure to Ilya as he feels about bringing it to Shane.

On one stroke down, Shane stays with his nose buried in Ilya’s happy trail while his tongue lolls out of his mouth to rub against Ilya’s balls. He makes a gagging sound, and his nails dig into the fabric on Ilya’s thighs, but he doesn’t budge.

Ilya’s not sure how long he can last like this. He already feels heat boiling over, the sounds coming from Shane’s sloppy mouth are only adding to the obscenely hot vision in front of him.

He lets his head fall back to the feeling of Shane resuming his fast rhythm with the added benefit of a hand fondling his balls.

Panting is the only sound coming from his gaping mouth, eyes squeezing shut as his impending release builds, and builds, and builds, and buil-

Ilya’s eyes shoot open to the sound of the office door opening.

His head rips up to see Gabe, one of his coworkers, walking through the doorway.

Ilya’s hand tightens in Shane’s hair as his cock slips free from his lips, wetly resting on his abdomen.

He’s grateful for the desk between him and Gabe right now. The desk that’s big enough to hide the man underneath it and the way Ilya is completely hanging – hard – out of his pants right now.

He leans forward and throws his arm – not the one still tightly locked in Shane’s hair – out until his elbow’s resting against it, doing his best to cover any kind of view.

“Oh,” Gabe says as he looks at Ilya. “I didn’t expect to see anyone here. Were you sleeping?”

“Sleeping?” Ilya asks dizzily.

“Yeah, you had your head back and eyes closed when I came in.” He squints his eyes at Ilya. “Or are you like, mad? You look really flushed dude.”

Ilya feels a wave of heat come rushing and he does his best to tamper it down. “No. Not sleeping. Not mad either.”

“Okay, well were you-”

“Fuck Gabe, is this an interrogation?” Ilya quips. He can feel Shane chuckle at that, a quick burst of air puffing against his soaking cock.

Gabe just laughs, “No, sorry.”

“Well?” Ilya says after a brief silence. “What’re you doing here? It’s a Sunday.”

“I thought this wasn’t an interrogation.”

Ilya goes to roll his eyes but is stopped by the gasp he in takes when he feel a long lick up his length that makes his eyes go wide. His grip tightens but it does nothing to stop Shane’s apparent mission to take Ilya apart in front of his coworker.

“Roz?”

He realizes now that he was probably just sitting there with a stupid ass look on his face for who knows how long.

“Yeah, sorry Gabe, uh,” he stifles a moan back when Shane’s lips wrap around him again. “What was it you, um, needed?”

“Oh, yeah I’m just looking for the blueprints for the new restaurant we’re working on a couple hours away. I was gonna leave early tomorrow and didn’t wanna have to stop so David told me to just swing by today and grab them from the desk.”

“Right,” Ilya says as shaky hands search the desktop.

He is having a really hard time focusing on anything except the mouth that’s working up and down his cock as if Gabe isn’t standing five feet away from them. Shane moves carefully so as to not make any obscene sounds but Ilya’s worried he might ruin that with the moan rumbling in his chest.

“I think he mentioned Cliff putting them in the drawer,” Gabe offers, taking a step forward. “Here. Let me-”

“No!” Ilya says a bit louder than he means to but fuck if he’s about to let Gabe see Shane like this.

That’s something only Ilya’s allowed to see.

Well and obviously Gabe can’t see because that would open a whole can of worms they’ve been trying very, very hard to avoid. For some reason though, that’s not the first worry that comes to his mind.

“I’ll get it,” he says reaching down for a drawer.

He’s finally able to move his eyes down under the table where Shane’s own are fluttering shut until they must feel Ilya’s gaze. When he looks up, his eyes glint mischievous as his hand replaces the motion of his mouth while his mouth moves to Ilya’s balls.

Is Shane really trying to make Ilya come right now?

He thanks whatever divine power that gave him the idea to turn music on because the way spit is dripping out of Shane’s mouth-

Blueprints. Look for the blueprints.

He adverts his eyes and opens a couple drawers before finding the papers and quickly sliding them to the top of the desk for Gabe to grab. He lets his hands linger on the wood of the desk where he white knuckles a grip on the edge.

 “Thanks,” Gabe says as he reaches for them.

He gives Ilya a smile before heading towards the door. A sigh of relief escapes him seeing Gabe’s hand on the door, but he quickly shifts his face back to blank when Gabe turns around suddenly.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Gabe asks. “You’re acting… weird.”

“Yeah, for sure I just- ah,” Ilya gasps when Shane cruelly suckles on his tip, tongue dipping in the slit while one hand keeps twisting around his length and the other squeezes his balls. “I just don’t feel very good. I, uh, I think I’ll head out of here soon too.”

“Whatever you say Roz,” Gabe says on a laugh turning back to the doorway.

Ilya’s immediately gasping when the door closes, not letting a moan slip out until he hears the bell ding on the front door – he’s not sure how he missed the same sound whenever Gabe had come in.

Shane starts a punishing pace again which has Ilya holding onto his hair so tight he’s worried it might rip from the root.

He can’t help it though. He’s been shaking with the effort it takes to hold back his orgasm and he’s finally seeing the light at the end of the tunnel.

“Fuck Shane, Such a perfect mouth.” He moans, looking down at the black hair bobbing in front of him, struggling not to buck up into the wet heat. “You liked that, huh? You liked making me all flustered in front of a coworker. You probably wanted him to see, huh?”

He’s not really looking for a response. Not when Shane’s mouth is so full of him right now. He’s merely muttering out words that had been held back by a dam just a second ago. Shane still moans in response.

“Just couldn’t help yourself, could you sweetheart? Couldn’t – ah, oh fuck – couldn’t resist sucking my fucking cock in your tight throat could you?”

Shane’s wet eyes look up at him and that’s his undoing.

Like a lightning bolts sudden strike, he spilling hot come down Shane’s overused throat while holding Shane’s face all the way down on his length.

“Yes, oh fuck, yeah. Stay just like that – ah, oh God Shane.”

His orgasm feels endless especially when Shane’s moaning around him the way he is. He can feel Shane swallowing multiple times around his cock, trying his best to swallow down everything Ilya gives him while still storing the long length in his mouth.

The second Ilya pulls Shane off, he rips him up his body to pull him into a fervent kiss that is more tenderhearted than one would expect after the things he was just moaning.

Shane pulls back, catching his breath, leaning his forehead forward to rest against Ilya’s. Ilya starts kissing all over Shane’s face; the corners of his lips, his freckles, his eyelids, his forehead.

“You’re so bad,” he smiles then reaches for Shane’s waistband. “Why don’t I show you what happens to bad boys-”

“Wait,” Shane blushes and moves his eyes away from Ilya’s. “I uh, I mean I’m, um, I’m good.”

Ilya’s confusion has to be obvious. “You don’t want?”

“I just mean I kind of already…” he trails off.

“Already what?”

Shane’s eyes meet Ilya’s again, head tilting to the side with a little huff. His eyes flicker down to his crotch where a wet patch forms.

Oh.

Oh.

Shane looks bashful and maybe a little embarrassed, but Ilya feels nothing but absolute bliss.

“How are you mine?” he whispers while leaning forward to kiss the tip of Shane’s nose before pulling him into another quick kiss.

Because really.

How the fuck is Shane his? 

One Tuesday night, Shane finds himself lying next to Ilya on the floor of the treehouse.

They’re laid out on a blanket while Shane plays an instrumental alt playlist he has, the wordless tune of Weigh Me Down by We Are Not Friends & Nextime playing while talk about nothing and everything.

“Alexei’s been calling.”

Shane turns his head from the spot on the ceiling he’s been staring at to look at the side of Ilya’s face. Ilya doesn’t turn to look back at him, but Shane doesn’t care. He could stare at Ilya for days.

The subject change is abrupt, which means it’s something that’s been on Ilya’s mind for a while.

Shane hates the look that comes with talk about his family. It’s not a look he has often considering he avoids any mention of them nowadays. Shane was always the person Ilya would come to about this stuff when he did want to talk about it, no matter how rare that was.

“How do you feel about that?” Shane tries.

He knows not to push Ilya too much, even if a million questions form in his head. Even if Ilya’s the one who brought it up.

“I don’t know.” Ilya huffs. “I just wish he’d fucking leave me alone.”

“Why’s he even calling?” Shane looks back to the ceiling. “He never does that.”

Ilya’s quiet for a beat. Shane’s learned throughout the years to give him that.

“My father’s dying.”

Shane’s heart sinks.

He sits up straightaway at the words and looks down to Ilya who still has a blank look on his face. Eyes still not meeting Shane’s.

“Grigori’s dying?” He asks incredulously. “But… what?”

“It’s not rapid. But he is declining. At least that’s what Alexei says.” Another beat. He finally shifts his gaze to Shane. “He wants me to come to Russia.”

No.

No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no.

Shane reaches a hand out, leaning over and cupping Ilya’s cheek. “Will you go?”

“No.” Ilya replies quickly to Shane’s relief. “I just… I don’t know. I don’t know what I’m feeling.”

“That’s okay.” Shane’s hands move without instruction, rubbing and squeezing on instinct trying to calm the man he loves. “You don’t have to know how you feel right now.”

“I shouldn’t feel anything. That’s the problem” He looks away from Shane again, wetness forming in his eyes. “He doesn’t deserve that.”

“Ilya,” Shane grabs his chin, turning his focus back. “He’s your family. Of course you’re gonna feel something.”

“He’s my father yes. But he is not my family.” He looks back at the ceiling. “I don’t want to talk about him.” He laces his fingers with Shane’s without looking. “Please.”

Shane wants to dig. He wants to tell Ilya that it’s okay to be confused and it’s okay to be sad even if he hates that thought of it. It’s okay to feel grief about losing another parent no matter how detached from each other they are.

But that’s a challenge for another day. It’s easiest to take the crumb that Ilya gives and then workshop that crumb into something bigger, piece by piece. Shane’s just happy to be trusted with the crumb.

The conversation switches, the flow of it stiff until Ilya seems to relax again.

They’re on their sides now. Shane has both his hands pressed together and wedged between the floor and his head. Ilya has one hand under his head while the other brushes along Shane’s hip bone.

“You know,” Shane starts, “I’ve always thought of the treehouse as our place.”

“Yeah?” Ilya says, a smile pulling at his lips.

Shane can’t help the smile that takes over his own features. “Yeah.”

“Me too,” Ilya whispers softly, thumb moving in circles on the skin right under Shane’s shirt. “Except when you brought Miles up here. That sight will forever be burned in my memory, and you must make it up to me.”

Shane moves to prop himself up on his elbow, rolling his eyes down at Ilya. “You started it.”

“Me?” Ilya asks. “Yes, okay I guess I did send you running into someone else’s arms – which I’ll say again was a huge misunderstanding – but I did not make you climb up that ladder with him and-”

“That’s not what I’m talking about.” Shane interrupts.

Because while yes, the words Shane misunderstood were the main reason Shane started dating Miles. That’s not what he means by saying Ilya started it.

Ilya clearly isn’t catching on because he sits up with a wrinkle in his brows as he just keeps staring at Shane like he’ll find an answer in his facial features.

“You and Svetlana.” Shane says. “I heard you guys up here. It was a little before the first time you kissed me. I heard you guys.”

Ilya furrows his brows even deeper. “What?”

The look of confusion turns to realization as his cheeks flush.

“Shane. I-”

“Listen. I truly don’t wanna hear about it. I know we weren’t together or anything and I know you and Svetlana were always something, but I just guess when I took Miles up there, I was hoping it’d hurt you the way it hurt me to hear you and her laughing and kissing in our place.”

When Shane looks down out of slight embarrassment, Ilya’s fingers on his chin pull his focus back up.

“Well mission accomplished.” He leans forward kissing Shane on the lips. “Because I went back to my room and actually crashed out.”

“That doesn’t make it better Ilya.” Shane lets out a sigh and nuzzles in the warmth of Ilya’s neck. “We wasted so much time.”

“It wasn’t a waste.”

Shane’s head peeks up, furrowed brows questioning Ilya’s remark.

Because how was all the time they spent apart, apparently mutually pinning for each other, not a waste?

“What? But we could’ve-”

“Shane. It was hard. Yes.” His thumb brushes over Shane’s bottom lip. “Do I wish we could have figured our shit out earlier? Of course I do. Do I wish I never hurt you in the process of trying so desperately to resist the things you make me feel? Without a doubt.” He pulls Shane so their foreheads touch. “But look at you. Look how much you’ve grown into the person I’ve always seen in the confinements of this treehouse. As selfish as I am about you, you deserve that. And so does the world. Everyone deserves to see the you I see, even if we had to sacrifice a little bit of time. Because we have so much time Shane. You make me feel infinite.”

And who could blame Shane for the way he melts into his boyfriend.

“I love you,” Shane says against his lips.

“I love you.”

And Ilya’s right. While there was so much lost time and hurt and confusion, who knows who they’d be without the conflicts and journeys they’ve lived through. Who knows who Shane would be. He likes to think he would still be who he is now, but pondering on the what ifs has always proved unsatisfactory and truly just a waste of time.

And like Ilya said, they have all the time in the world.

They are infinite.

It’s the last week of July and Ilya’s doing his best not to think about what that means.

Around 9-ish after Ilya gets back from his run one morning, he can hear the shower running. When he had ran past the driveway, none of the other Hollanders cars were parked in their usual spots, giving Ilya an obvious plan in his head.

Ilya tiptoes his way upstairs then straight to the bathroom, slowly opening the door and letting himself in while rapidly removing his clothes. 

“Ilya! What’re you doing?” Shane shrieks through a smile when the curtain suddenly draws back. 

“What’s it look like?” Ilya slyly replies, making room for himself and slotting right behind Shane under the warm spray. 

“What if someone notices?”

The shy, cautious tone in Shane’s voice doesn’t discourage him. After all these years, Ilya knows exactly when Shane wants to be pushed past his comfort zone and the way his body goes lax when he leans back tells Ilya everything he needs to know. 

“No one’s home.” He reaches over Shane, grabbing the bottle of soap from the shelf. “Besides, we’re just saving water.”

That got Shane to giggle, a personal victory in Ilya’s book no matter how small the laugh is. His face still looks apprehensive when he turns his body in the small space to face Ilya, a small wrinkle forming between his brows. 

“But what if… what if someone comes home?” His eyes widen, an unmistakable look of fear cast over his face that’s partially covered when his hands cover his mouth. “Oh my god. What if someone hears?”

This whole things risky, Ilya’s not blind to that. Taking Shane in the very shower that he’s very clearly heard Cliff belt What’s Up? by the 4 Non-Blondes more times than he can count doesn’t exactly scream safe. 

The doors a barrier for sure, but far from a sound proof one. 

“Well,” he flashes his best seductive smirk. Pushing on Shane’s hip with his free hand, Ilya crowds him against the shower wall. “I guess you’re gonna have to be quiet, hm? Can you do that?”

The only response is the quick intake of breath Shane sucks in when Ilya’s lips find his neck and start ravenously sucking on his pulse point which already has a dark mark from their previous nights together.

“Ilya,” Shane moans while finding purchase on his biceps.

Pulling back reveals dilated pools of black staring back at Ilya. Anticipation, longing, and devotion come blaring through him looking into Shane’s eyes. He’s loved these eyes his whole life, hoping and wishing that one day they’d put their focus on him and only him. 

And now here they are. 

Ilya shakes the bottle of body wash until he feels satisfied with the heaping amount pooling in his palm. With a gentle touch that directly contradicts the savage feeling burning inside him, Ilya lathers Shane’s body in suds.

“I already did that,” Shane breathes through a laugh.

“Mmm,” he acknowledges but ignores as he rubs soap on Shane’s chest, over his biceps, then down his stomach until he’s brushing his fingers over the tip of Shane’s erect cock. Shane gasps, leans the back of his head against the wall and flutters his eyes closed.

Ilya looks down at his hand grabbing around Shane’s shaft, starting with slow, deliberate strokes that’re slicked by the soapy film covering his skin. His own erection is poking greedily at Shane’s hip but that’s the last thing on his mind right now.

Shane’s making low groaning sounds in his throat which is still elongated and enticing Ilya to bite. He kisses along Shane’s neck, licking up the side to suck on his earlobe before Shane’s hands lace into Ilya’s hair and yank him. Their lips lock together in a heated kiss, wet and sloppy but still so perfect.

Ilya can feel Shane’s cock pulsing in his hand. When he breaks their kiss and looks down he can see how red and demanding the tip looks already. Shane’s close at this point and Ilya’s not about to waste his release by letting it wash down the drain. His wrist movements slow as he starts moving down to get on-

“Are you gonna fuck me?”

Heat burns deeply in his stomach when his eyes snap up to Shane’s. It still surprises Ilya how quickly Shane can go from hesitant to full fucking throttle.

There’s only one answer to that question. Or there’s really only one answer Ilya could selfishly answer.

But they’ve been having a lot of sex. And by a lot, he means a lot.

It’s not always full-on sex, but more times than not that’s the end result. He’s always felt at home with Shane but being inside him is a whole new thing. He wants to stake claim inside Shane and never unsheathe himself.

Not to mention their sex has gotten pretty… intense.

He was scared to be fully himself with Shane during sex. He knows he can be a bit demanding and rough during sex which made him a bit hesitant that maybe it would scare Shane off. Not rough in the way some guys are who disguise their sadist desires as “hard sex.”

But rough in the way that he loves seeing his mark on Shane’s skin. He loves hearing the sounds that he can pull from the other man. He loves being possessive which in turn makes him a bit rougher.

So when he entered the bathroom he had only planned on giving Shane a blow job, maybe he’d get one in return. They had parked somewhere just last night and had some of the best car sex Ilya’s ever experienced.

“Are you sore?” He questions. 

Shane blushes. His eyes look down. “I’m a little sensitive.” He looks back up with siren eyes that pull Ilya into him deeper. He reaches for Ilya’s cock. “Not too sensitive for this though.”

Every fiber of his being is telling him to just take. Shane’s willing it, he’s clearly offering himself to Ilya. But there’s always this overwhelming sense to protect Shane from anything that might hurt him, even if that thing could be Ilya. No matter how deeply he’s pulsing with desire. 

He reaches for Shane’s wrist and looks him in the eye. Shane looks back at him with an adorable little scrunch in his face, always reminding Ilya of the angry kitten that lives inside him. The angry kitten Ilya loves to coax out and soothe until he’s all curled up and purring. 

“I don’t wanna hurt you.” 

Shane’s eyes soften as they look up at him, filled with something Ilya can only think to describe as love. 

Because, yeah. That’s what it is. That’s the thing Ilya can now confidently catalog as a look in his mental scrapbook of Shane Hollander faces. 

“Ilya,” Shane says softly as his hands move so his palms rest flat on each pec. “You’re not gonna hurt me. I already told you I’m not gonna break.”

The soft, soothing look on Shane’s face swiftly shifts to something hungrier at the sound of his repeated words from their hotel room in Montreal. Something that makes his eyes darken into a lust filled haze. 

A hand snakes up the back of Ilya’s nape until it's gripping the hair at the base of his hairline. He’s quickly being yanked forward, his hands moving in front of him to land on the tile behind Shane’s back, next to his head to keep himself from crushing the other man. 

Shane pulls Ilya’s head forward so his mouth is pressed directly to the shell of Ilya’s ear. 

“I won’t break Ilya,” Shane whispers, nibbling on the soft flesh of his lobe. “Don’t treat me like I’m fragile. I don’t want you to go soft.” His hot breath and charged words are making Ilya’s heartbeat thump through his whole body. “You can be rough with me, I want you to.” 

Ilya might come right here, right now. 

“Fuck, Shane,” Ilya whimpers. 

He pulls back so he can look at Shane straight on. His lips are swollen red, a clear sign that even through his confidently spoken words, his nervous tick of chewing his lip anxiously still prevails. 

He’s moving forward without much thought, taking Shane’s lips in a scorching kiss. The spray from the shower head is only making things wetter but it doesn’t matter much because there’s absolutely zero finesse to their technique anyways. Nothing but passionate heat taking the steering wheel and controlling their claiming mouths and determined tongues. 

“Wait,” Ilya breathes, pulling back.

He quickly leaps, hearing Shane’s confused “Ilya?” behind him before stretching one foot out of the shower, leaving behind puddles of water, while using his long reach to pull open the bottom drawer. He’ll be forever grateful that Cliff – for whatever reason – keeps a box of condoms in the bathroom rather than his nightstand.

He repositions himself in the shower, setting the wrapped condom on the ledge of the tub before leaning back into Shane’s body and claiming what’s his.

Ilya’s hands squeeze at Shane’s hips and right as his arm moves to reach around, feeling for the waiting puckered hole, Shane’s already disconnecting their lips and spinning in Ilya’s hold, so his chest is now pressed against the tile. 

He arches his back, smushing his cheek against the wall. He reaches behind himself, grabbing Ilya’s wrist and launching it forward between his crack. 

Ilya thrives on control and being dominant in bed but something about the way Shane’s quite literally doing exactly what he wants with Ilya’s body is making the heat coiling in his stomach turn to molten lava threatening to erupt from his balls. 

Ilya quickly adds a small amount of soap to his fingers before massaging all over Shane’s crease. He starts rubbing over the wrinkles pulled tight along Shane’s hole before using the slick of soap to ease his finger in. 

Shane’s head rolls back, a moan echoing off the walls. 

“Shhhh,” Ilya hushes, sealing his command with a bite to Shane’s shoulder. “Be good for me, yes? Show me you can be quiet.”

Shane nods his head frantically, muffling a moan by biting his own hand when Ilya pushes another finger past the ring of muscle. 

Shane’s head sits back on Ilya’s shoulder, jaw unhinged and gaped open. He’s panting heavily, his chest roughly moving up and down with each breath. When Ilya starts teasing another finger at his hole, Shane’s head falls forward so his forehead rests against the tile. Ilya can see the way he visibly tries to calm himself down, hands flat against the wall, eyes closed, and deep breaths shuttering out his lips.

“That’s it baby,” he soothes against Shane’s ear. “Relax for me.” 

It truly takes everything in Ilya to not just shove his cock into Shane. Even with the pleading words from the man in front of him, rough should still feel good and taking Shane without properly opening him up surely would not feel good for him.

He works as quickly as he can through Shane’s continuous string of throaty groans and bitten back whimpers. He has three fingers in him now, and at this point Shane’s bucking his hips back trying to take more length than Ilya has on his fingers.

“Ilya, come on.” Shane ushers. “We don’t have all day.”

Fuck.

Ilya wishes they did. He wishes he could have Shane like this all day long. All week long. He’d never let Shane leave the bed if it was up to him.

Ilya withdraws his fingers through a huff, reaching for the condom and sliding it on promptly. He rubs the remaining soap and Shane’s slickness on his own length before gripping at the base and rubbing it against Shane’s heat.

One of Shane’s hands dart back to grab and pull-on Ilya’s hip while simultaneously shifting his hips back in an attempt to slip Ilya in. The hand not holding his cock digs fingers into the soft flesh of Shane’s hip, holding him steady and only allowing Shane to take what Ilya allows him to.

“Greedy,” Ilya whispers while kissing between Shane’s shoulder blades. “Haven’t you heard? That’s a sin. You’re a fucking sin.”

Shane turns his head so he can more clearly look at Ilya with a smirk that takes all the power away from the words “Fuck you,” that he mutters back.

Ilya laughs then watches Shane’s eyes tightly shut as he starts to push past the ring of muscle.

He soothingly rubs circles around the hip that one hand claws in, intently studying the way Shane’s face twitches with each inch that penetrates him.

Before bottoming out, Ilya makes little moves to rock in and out, trying to open Shane’s walls as gently as he can before taking him the way Shane’s body pleads him to.

When he’s happy with the progress he’s made, he pulls out slowly, his tip just barely kissing the hole clenching around him, trying it’s best to get him to stay.

Ilya holds the position for a moment, both hands grabbing onto Shane’s hips in an effort to recoup before unleashing. The slow buildup is torture not only for Shane, but Ilya too. He feels so close to busting that he tries to think about literally anything else than the scene playing out in this small shower.

“Please,” Shane moans impatiently, pulling Ilya from his stalling and snapping his focus back to the task at hand.

In one swift motion, he crashes his hips forward, slamming all of his length into the pretty hole waiting for him. He grinds down deep into the push, no doubt hitting the bundle of nerves like it’s a bullseye.

He knows he hit the intended spot when Shane’s back bows, his head bolts back, and a loud, unrestricted moan flies out of him.

One of Ilya’s hands moves at the speed of light to cover Shane’s mouth firmly, holding back the noises he can feel vibrating against his fingers.

Shane’s body is curved in a position that might be uncomfortable, though he doesn’t seem like he minds one bit. His ass is propped out, Ilya’s hand still gripping possessively, using his hold to drive into him even harder.

Shane’s chest is against the tiles, making him bend in a manner that presents his ass like a gift on Christmas morning. Ilya’s hand on his mouth shifts so he can shove two fingers in which Shane sucks greedily.

There’s nothing but the wet sound of skin slapping and the muted groans coming from both men’s throats.

Ilya leans forward, not breaking his ruthless thrusts, so his lips rest right on Shane’s ear.

“You love this, huh?” Ilya breathes. “You want someone to walk in. For- for someone to see, don’t you?”

Shane can’t respond with Ilya’s fingers fucking themselves into his mouth, but he does angle his hips up as much as he can while he shoves them back against Ilya.

“That’s what I thought,” he laughs. “God, Shane. You’re so fucking perfect.” He kisses the side of Shane’s jaw. “So fucking gorgeous.” He moves his lips to mouth at the nape of Shane’s neck. “No one else can see you like this. I don’t want them to. You’re mine.”

Shane sucks Ilya’s fingers even hard while whining. His breathing is heavy and his movements harsh. He leans his chest into the tile a little more while bringing a hand between his legs to grab at Ilya’s balls every time he makes contact with Shane’s ass.

“Yes, Shane. Just like that. Oh fuck, Shane.” Someone should probably be gagging Ilya too because he’s not even paying attention to the things falling from his mouth.

As his release becomes more and more evident, his hand quickly falls from Shane’s mouth and grips around his cock, instantly making Shane whimper beneath him.

“Are you gonna come for me baby?”

Because Ilya told him to be quiet, Shane simply nods three times while panting and biting his hand in an attempt to quiet himself.

Ilya loses himself when Shane comes all over the wall. His hole convulses around Ilya’s cock, holding him tightly making him completely lose rhythm.

“Fucking, fuck!” Ilya says probably a little too loudly. “M’close. Oh Shane. Fuck, yes Shane you’re so fucking tight.”

He’s so focused on the heat in his gut he barely process Shane detaching himself, turning to face him, and sinking to his knees.

He swiftly pulls the condom off, and starts mercilessly jacking Ilya’s cock, tip sitting right on the tongue he holds out of his mouth. Ilya has to lean forward and rest both palms on the tile just so he doesn’t tumble over.

The sight alone is enough to make Ilya bust so that added with this whole scene from start to finish has him whimpering as his orgasm rockets. He can feel it travel from his gut to all of his limbs, making him feel lightheaded and weak as white ribbons come shooting from him.

Shane works him through it, angling his tip so his come splatters all over Shane’s face, not one inch left unmarked.

He can’t look anywhere but at his own release dripping down Shane’s cheeks and freckles. He reaches forward and gathers some on two fingers. He starts feeding his come into Shane’s mouth who automatically welcomes the tangy taste, sucking every last drop from Ilya’s fingers like it’s honey.

If Ilya hadn’t literally just came, he’s pretty sure seeing Shane like this would cause another orgasm to come ripping through him.

“Like I said,” Ilya says while caressing Shane’s face. “A fucking sin.”

The warm smile he gets in return gives him the same feeling in his stomach that he had the first time he met Shane.

The sweet boy who Ilya immediately became infatuated with.

The sweet boy who is now on his knees for Ilya.

The sweet boy that Ilya never wants to let go of.

Never.

Shane goes back to New York in a few weeks.

He’s really excited to get back to his life there, he loves the little community of friends he’s made and while he loves his parents, there’s just nothing like the freedom of having his own space and not having to update them on his every move.

However, he’s not excited about what that means for him and Ilya.

He’s not really worried about the long-distance thing. They spent so much time apart that it’s not necessarily new and with their admitted feelings, he’s confident that they’ll be able to make it work.

Ilya’s already mentioned he’d come and see Shane as much as possible and Shane will do everything in his power to be home for the holidays, even if that means quitting his café job.

He knows that’s a bit extreme but genuinely he’ll probably have a meltdown if he doesn’t get to come home.

He’s scared about how badly he’s going to miss Ilya.

That’s the part that scares him. It scares him because not having Ilya near feels like a missing limb.

He’s also going to miss Cliff.

He regrets not making more time for his brother this summer, but between work, things with Ilya, and Cliff being gone a lot to visit Katie – whose parents moved to Winnipeg – they just haven’t really had much time.

That is until now when Yuna sent them to grab something from the store she forgot she needed for dinner. Ilya probably would’ve come with, but he isn’t home from work yet.

“So,” Cliff says from the driver seat. “Are you excited to be back in New York?”

“Yeah, I’m excited to see my friends and get back to my classes. But I’m gonna miss you guys obviously.”

“Oh yeah?” Cliff looks over to him. “You’re gonna miss the way mom asks where you’re going as if you didn’t already tell her where you were going the night before?”

“Well, no. I never miss that,” Shane laughs. “When’s Katie coming back?”

“Not till October when her friend Beth moves back. They’re getting an apartment, so it just makes more sense for her to stay with her parents.”

“Why don’t you guys just move in with each other?” Shane asks. “I mean you told Ilya and I you planned to propose so living together seems like a pretty logical sequence of events.”

“Aw I don’t know her parents are old fashion. They don’t like the thought of us living together not married.”

“Oh brother!” Shane exhales. “And these people will be our family?”

“Oh shut up,” Cliff pushes his arm, both boys laughing.

There’s quiet after their laughs cut off. Shane can feel the way Cliff prepares to speak.

“I’m sorry, by the way.”

“About?”

“I just feel like I didn’t really get to see you at all this summer.” Cliff explains, reaching over and ruffling Shane’s hair. “I miss my little brother.”

Guilt starts seeping through the cracks of Shane’s mind. Guilt because he can’t be fully honest the way he’s always been with Cliff.

Soon.

“But hey,” he continues, “at least you had Ilya right?”

“What?” Shane questions too quickly. “I mean, what do you mean?”

“I just mean you and Ilya hung out a lot this summer. You know, you both being at the house and everything. Probably hung out with him more than I did honestly.”

Yep. Guilt. Heavy and thick coursing through his veins.

“Yeah, well… I miss you too.” Shane keeps his tone light, skirting around the whole Ilya topic entirely. “You know you could come visit me in New York sometime.”

Cliff smiles at the road like the idea warms him from the inside. “Yeah? You know what, I think I will.”

He pulls into a parking spot and they both unbuckle. Cliff pushes his door open, then pauses, turning back to Shane with that soft, earnest look he’s had since they were kids.

“Maybe Ilya and I can come together. Like last year. Would you like that?”

Shane meets his brother’s searching eyes and feels something in his chest twist. “Yeah,” he says, smiling. “I’d like that a lot.”

Cliff’s grin widens, pleased, and he hops out of the car.

Shane stays put for a moment, hands resting uselessly on his thighs, letting the swirl of emotions settle and unsettle him all at once.

He wants to tell him. God, he wants to tell him. To stop carrying this secret like a second heartbeat. To finally be honest about everything – everything that’s been happening, everything that’s been building for years.

But fear threads through the warmth. Not fear that Cliff will be angry about him and Ilya. Cliff loves them both too much for that.

It’s the hiding. The lying. The months of pretending.

And when Cliff talks so casually about next year – about the three of them spending time together after summer – Shane’s stomach drops.

Because after summer, they’re going to tell him the truth.

And Shane is terrified that the truth won’t break Cliff’s trust in them… but in him.

They’ve been getting pretty risky sneaking around lately.

It’s not even just the sex they’ve been having – but god Ilya can’t help the way his dick rises to attention the second Shane’s in the room like he’s a drill sergeant and Ilya’s erection is the reporting solider. They’ve been sneaky in every way imaginable.

Ilya sneaking away on his breaks to come see Shane at the café, Shane sneaking away on his breaks to meet Ilya at a viewpoint, Shane sneaking into Ilya’s room late at night when everyone’s asleep just so they can sleep in the same bed – though sleeping isn’t the only thing they do in the depths of the night.

He can’t get enough of Shane.

The caveat is the sneaking.

It was pretty sexy at first. An added bit of foreplay when they’d have to try and be quiet or tiptoe into the treehouse to quickly get each other off.

Ilya catches himself drifting towards Shane in some not so private moments and has to slap himself on the wrist for forgetting himself. Forgetting the fact that just because the other Hollanders aren’t around doesn’t mean they can be seen by other people.

This place’s like a gossip mill and all it takes is one pair of eyes to see them and next thing you know all of Canada will know that Ilya Rozanov and Shane Hollander are head over heels for each other.

Okay maybe that’s a bit hyperbolic, but really, it would somehow come back to bite them in the ass.

Still, not being able to reach for Shane in public feels like actual torture.

Acting normal around Shane has always been hard, something that deeply goes against Ilya’s instincts, but ever since their night in Montreal, he feels like a sheep trying to pass as a wolf.

He fears it’s not convincing either.

“So, what’s up with you?”

Ilya’s sitting on the couch when Cliff appears out of nowhere.

It’s been getting increasingly difficult lying to Cliff about what’s going on with Shane. He’s not used to keeping things from Cliff. Cliff – along with the rest of the Hollanders – has never wavered in his support for Ilya.

He’s the reason Ilya has a place to call home; people to call home.

He’s the reason Ilya found his person.

He’s lying about everything, the same way he’s been lying about his feelings for years. Lying about where he’s been when he slips out to see Shane after already spending the whole day with him. Lying about why he’s smiling at his phone when Shane sends something filthy that still manages to catch him off guard.

Lying, lying, lying.

And somehow, he’s never been happier. Yet right alongside the happiness, those old familiar shadows creep in. The sadness, the grief, the ache of wanting something he’s terrified to lose.

There’s mornings when he wakes up and struggles to understand why someone like Shane would ever choose him. Why he, of all people, was lucky enough to stumble across a boy with stars on his face and gold in his heart – gold he keeps trying to hand to Ilya like it’s the easiest thing in the world.

He doesn’t understand his place in this world. In Shane’s world. He finds himself thinking about the end of summer and Shane leaving for New York again and feeling something hollow open up inside him.

It’s not that he doubts his ability to protect Shane’s heart. He knows he can. He knows he would. He’d tuck it behind his own ribcage if he could, take every hit before letting anything touch Shane.

It’s not the loving he doubts.

It’s the worthiness.

It doesn’t change the fact that he wants Shane unquestionably. He can’t imagine anyone else ever taking the place beside Shane that feels carved out specifically for him, like the universe etched Ilya’s name there long before he realized it.

No. That’ll never happen.

But the moments he’s not with Shane, the moments when he’s left alone with the truth that he’s the world’s worst friend, his mind defaults to self-destruction. Every lie and every dodge around Cliff’s questions loops in his head like punishment.

He can’t help the way he avoids certain topics with Cliff. The second a conversation drifts too close, he feels something rise in his throat. Not bile, but words. Words he can’t say. Words he’s terrified to say.

And all of them are the same word:

Shane.

“What do you mean?” Ilya tries for casual; it sounds defensive instead.

“I don’t know man,” Cliff scratches the back of his head, lowering himself on the recliner across from Ilya. “I don’t really hear about anything going on with you. You used to like always go out with girls weekly and now I never hear about it.”

“I don’t just go out with girls,” Ilya quickly adds looking down.

He’s really not sure why he said it. Cliff knows. He’d been out plenty of times when Ilya flirted his way through the bar like a blind man with zero preference.

They’ve never actually talked about it.

Ilya doesn’t ever talk about it.

He’s, of course, attracted to men and women but the main reason he went home with all those guys was purely a way to try and satiate the craving he was feeling. The craving that he didn’t realize could only be filled by one person.  

Therefore Cliff’s face shows no sign of shock. Just something scrunched and tight like he’s trying to really hard to understand.

“Yeah, I uh, I know.” Cliffs moves his head down slightly to catch Ilya’s avoidant gaze. “I also don’t hear about that. You’ve never really talked about it.”

“You’ve been at the club.” 

Cliff scoffs, “But you’ve never talked about it Ilya. And honestly, it’s not a big deal. Not to me at least.” 

And he knows Cliff wouldn’t care about Ilya liking men.

He knows that.

But the verbal confirmation of Ilya liking guys has always felt like a segue to the one guy Ilya likes more than anything in the world.

Loves more than anything in the world.

“I know it’s different in Russia, but the way I see it, you don’t really have any reason to go back there.” Cliff moves to sit next to him, a hand coming down on his shoulder. “And you know I’m always here for you dude. I don’t know if you didn’t feel comfortable saying anything cause of your dad, or your brother, or I don’t know, maybe it’s just me, but I-”

“Cliff,” Even if Ilya’s a bad friend, he has to interrupt Cliff’s nonsense. “It-it’s not you, okay? I promise it’s not you.”

It’s quiet for a second.

Not an eerie or uncomfortable silence necessarily. It’s one formed by Cliff giving Ilya the room to share without forcing it, and Ilya figuring out how to say words he hasn’t really vocalized out loud.

Not clearly anyways.  

“I uh, I’m bi. I think.” He looks at Cliff who raises his brows at the ‘I think.’ “Um, yes, well probably. Actually, definitely.” 

Cliff grins, his eyes soften in a way that’s usually reserved for Shane but has a calming effect for Ilya too.

“Okay,” He wraps an arm around Ilya’s shoulders, pulling him against his side for a half hug. “Well shit, that’s neat man.”

Ilya smirks. “Neat?”

“Well, what do you want me to say?” Cliff shrugs his shoulders.

“Fuck I don’t know.” 

“I mean, you’ve never really come across as the kind of guy who’d want confetti and balloons, but I can totally run to the store if you-”

“Fuck off,” Ilya says through a laugh.

“So… what’d that have to do with the way you’ve been acting? Like you don’t know how happy I am that you shared that with me but… why now?” Cliff’s eyes widen. “Wait. Unless you’re… are you dating someone? Are you dating a guy?”

Fuck. Fuck. FUCK.

This is precisely why he never wanted to actually talk about this. Well not the only reason but a pretty fucking big one. He knew it would end up with questions that prodded a little too close to the truth.

His heart is basically a drum in his chest and he’s a little worried Cliff can actually see beating.

“What? No, no. I’m not dating anyone.” He says as calmly as possible even though he feels like he’s running out of air. “I just… um I don’t know. Grigori is dying and I just maybe wish he could’ve known the real me. Not that he would’ve liked it but…”

It’s not untrue. It’s very true.

After talking more with Shane after the night in the treehouse, he’s been trying to be more forthcoming with his emotions. At least with Shane.

The more they talk, the more Shane reassures him of his feelings; the more Ilya comes to understand them. And more importantly he comes to terms with not understanding them too.

“Ilya,” Cliff gasps, brows lowering over his eyes. “Grigori’s dying? Are- are you okay?”

“Mmm,” he hums. “I don’t know. No, probably. But it’s okay.”

“Are you gonna go home to Russia?”

“Like you said,” he looks to his kind and genuine friend, “there’s no reason for me to go back there.”

Cliff looks back at him, eye’s shifting. He nods a couple times before pulling Ilya into a bear hug that’s a little awkward on this couch, but nonetheless still exactly what they needed.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers into Cliff’s jacket.

“Why are you sorry?” Confusion dripping from Cliff’s words.

Because I’ve been lying to you for years.

Because I’ve definitely given you plenty of reasons to never trust me again. To never want to see my face again.

Because hearing your reaction to Grigori being sick made me realize how long it’s been since we’ve truly talked, and that’s no one’s fault but my own.

Because I’m madly in love with your brother.

He pulls back from their embrace, “I’m just sorry we haven’t seen much of each other this summer.”

“Hey,” Cliff grabs his shoulder. “It’s both of us. But fortunately for you, you’re stuck with me. With all of us. You know my family loves you dude. Shane probably loves you more than me with the way you’ve been there for him this summer. Thank you, again.”

Ilya’s going to be sick.

“Please don’t thank me for that.” He pleads before guilt and dread consume him. “I love you guys too. Seriously Cliff. I owe you more than I can every possibly repay. I’m probably indefinitely in debt to you.”

“Okay,” Cliff smiles. “Then were even. Shane’s pretty special so, I think our debts balance out.”

“Yeah,” he whispers back. “He is.”

Cliff pats him on the shoulder before getting up and heading for the kitchen.

Ilya’s stomach is curling in on itself. His breathing is shaky and he’s not sure when it got so fucking hot in this room.

When Cliff’s footsteps fade, the guilt rushes in to fill the silence.

Cliff deserves honesty. Cliff deserves better.

And Ilya can’t shake the sickening truth that the person betraying him is the one he’d trusts the most.

Soon.

Soon they’ll deal with this.

Shane leaves in two weeks.

Two fucking weeks.

It feels like no time at all and Shane’s soaking up every minute with Ilya that he can.

They’ve decided on a day to talk to Cliff.

Next Friday they made plans to go on a hike then get breakfast at O’Rosies. Shane worried it was too obvious. That Cliff would so catch onto the fact that they’re going to his favorite hiking spot and his favorite breakfast joint, but of course like Ilya said, he was just happy to do something together.

It’s clear between the two of them that their nerves are running severely high because it’s all they can seem to talk about after confirming the plan with Cliff. Well, not all they can talk about. They still make time for… other things.

The nerves are partially the reason they’re now enroute to a party at – surprise, surprise – Kyle’s house.

Cliff was actually supposed to come too but had some extra paper work he chose to get done instead. He said he might stop by when he finishes, though Shane knows that’s Cliff code for he’ll be going home and facetiming with Katie before they both pass out.

“Fuck,” Ilya says from the driver seat of Shane’s car. “I forgot my phone.”

“Of course you did,” Shane laughs. “That’s fine I have mine.”

He looks at the battery, eyes widening when he sees the 17%. He digs in his glove compartment looking for his charging cord.

“What’re you looking for? My phone isn’t in here.”

“I’m not looking for your phone, I’m looking for my charging cord.”

“Oh.” Ilya simply says.

“Oh what?” Shane pokes.

“I may have taken it out when I was cleaning the mess from your car.”

The mess being Shane’s come from the other night when Ilya had his upper body pushed over the center console from the back seat, making him shoot his load right into the cup holders and everything else sitting in that area.  

Shane grunts.

That’s fine right? He’ll just make sure not to go on it. Who would be calling anyways?

When they get in the house, one of the first people they see is Gabe. The way Ilya looks over to Shane immediately causes heat to rise up his neck at the memory.

Ilya nonchalantly leads him through the crowd, an inconspicuous hand on his lower back as they make their way to the drink station.

Ilya’s makes Shane a shoddy Moscow mule while grabbing a beer for himself.

“Roz!”

When they turn to find the source, of course it’s Kyle making his way over. When he reaches them, he dabs Ilya up before turning to Shane, making him jump with a loud gasp.

“Shane Hollander,” Kyle says like he’s shocked. “You’re like a princess in a faraway castle the way these boys guard you.” He looks around and starts speaking again before Shane can even get a word in. “Where’s Cliff anyways?”

“Not here,” Ilya grumbles.

“Helpful Rozy. Well anyways I have to go check on some things. Host duties ya know?” He clasps Ilya on the back before bowing in front of Shane and kissing the back of his hand. “Till we meet again.”

And just like that, he’s gone.

“He’s so weird,” Shane laughs.

“He was about to get a fist to the face.”

Shane rolls his eyes, “Oh God, you’re so dramatic.”

His hand moves to touch then freezes mid-air before falling back to the side of his body.

And that’s how a lot of the night goes.

They make their rounds, talking to different coworkers of Ilya’s, some Shane met last year, some he didn’t. He doesn’t feel as awkward this time. Maybe it’s all the socialness from New York where he’s bound to talk to more strangers in a day than he had this whole summer break back home. Maybe it’s the fact that the feeling of Ilya’s hand on the small of his back is now a promise rather than a question.

There’s always a point where one of them reaches for the other. When one of their hands tries to find comfort in the person they consider home. But realization always hits before any contact is made.

When Ilya gets called to help Kyle with something, Shane stays back and watches the beer pong game going on with little to no interest.

“Not a fan?” An unfamiliar voice asks from behind him.

When he turns it’s no one he recognizes. The man has blonde hair that’s cut short and swoops up in the front. He has an eyebrow piercing but no other identifiable features Shane would be able to remember.

“Not really. I’m not the typical ‘frat party activities’ kind of guy.”

The man laughs, “Oh, yeah?” He turns more fully towards Shane. “So tell me. What kind of guy are you Shane?”

Shane turns to him confused. “Um, do I know you?”

“No,” he mutters while reaching for Shane’s hip. “I came with one of my friends who works with Kyle. Gabe. I asked him what your name was because I just had to come over and introduce myself.”

Shane takes a step back, evading the mans unwanted touch. “Okay, well you came over here. You can leave now.”

“Oh,” he pouts. “But I didn’t even introduce myself yet.”

“No need,” Shane responds. “You can go now.”

When Shane turns to walk away, the man grabs his wrist and pulls Shane towards him. “Don’t be like that baby. Come on, I just want to get to know-”

“Hey,” a familiar voice cuts through and suddenly the man is being pushed back.

Ilya looks down at Shane and whispers, “Are you okay?”

Shane just nods before the man is speaking again.

“Come on dude, don’t be a fucking cockblock.”

Ilya turns so fast Shane’s worried this is going to escalate into a bigger situation than it already is. Right now there’s only a handful of prying eyes, but if Ilya does anything further it may catch the attention of the whole party.

Attention they definitely don’t need.

“Ilya,” he calls getting Ilya to turn back around. “Don’t. Please. It’s not worth it.”

And finally after all these years, he listens. The simple action makes Shane even giddier with elation because while he loves how protective Ilya is of him, there’s more ways to defend Shane than with his fists.

He simply nods at Shane and submits to his words, walking to stand side by side.

“Oh of course,” the man laughs. “You’re just a submissive little bitch.”

And while Shane typically plays it very cool, he honest to god blacks out when he steps forward and punches this annoying dude in the face.

There’s a bunch of ‘Oooo’s” that can be heard throughout the crowd and the guy rolls on the ground groaning and grabbing at his nose.

“Looks like you’re the bitch now,” Shane spits before turning to walk back to Ilya who looks at him with wide eyes and his jaw dropped to the floor.

When he reaches Ilya, Shane leans in so only Ilya can hear him.

“I love you,” he says in a low voice. “Take me home?”

“Fuck Shane. I want to kiss you so badly.” He smiles through a whisper. “Yes. Let’s go home, my love.”

When they walk away Shane can hear the man yell something else but Shane’s ears only tune into the man walking beside him.

The second they step out of the house and get to the secluded walkway, Ilya’s pulling Shane slightly off the path.

He shoves him against a thick tree trunk and kisses him so hard Shane feels his legs become wobbly. His hands shoot up, reaching for stability and finding it in Ilya’s curls.

The kiss feel like the words I love you somehow communicated with only the movement of lips and Shane never wants it to end. Ilya’s arms wrap around his midsection and hold him tightly in place while the kiss deepens.

They stand there for a considerable amount of time doing just that. Not pushing it any further, just savoring the closeness they’re forced to resist like two magnets hovering inches apart, aching to snap together but held at a distance by the thinnest, cruelest force.

“I want everyone to know you’re mine.” Ilya says when they finally part. “I don’t know how I’m supposed to act normal about you.”

“We’ve been doing it for a long time.”

They have. Years of pretending. Years of slipping back into that automatic setting without even thinking.

Ilya looks at him, eyes glistening. “I don’t really want to act anymore.”

“Friday.” Shane smiles.

“Friday.” Ilya echoes. A promise.

And something in the air settles. Not relief but the quiet, trembling certainty that they’re finally stepping toward the truth instead of away from it.

They make their way back to the empty path until they reach Ilya’s car that’s surrounded by a sea of parked cars, no one in sight. When Ilya comes to the passenger side, he grabs Shane’s hip before he can slide into the seat and kisses him.

It’s only one kiss.

No tongue. No added heat.

Yet it burns right through Shane. He wraps his arms around Ilya’s neck to make it last just a second longer before pulling his lips back but keeping his body pressed tight.

“I love you.”

Every time Ilya says it, Shane falls a little deeper.

“I love you too.” He whispers back.

It feels like the entire world stops turning when they’re together. Like nothing else matters except this. Because really, nothing else does matter except thi-

The sound of a car door slamming shut sends Shane jumping back.

When he looks in the direction of the sound which came from about five cars down the street, his heart sinks when he sees Cliff standing there.

“I fucking knew it.”

“Cliff,” Ilya says.

“I fucking knew you were seeing someone.” He scoffs. “I knew you were keeping something from me, I just really didn’t think you’d keep something like this from me.”

Shane physically feel incapable of speaking right now. The shock of the situation is cutting deeper than he knows how to deal with.

“We were gonna tell you, I promise,” Ilya tries, desperation coming out thick.

“When?”

“Friday. That’s kinda why we-”

“No,” Cliff interrupts. “When did this start?”

Shane bows his head in shame, “After Miles left.”

“Wow. Okay. So what is this?” He asks, crossing his arms. “Some kind of fucking rebound thing? Cause I swear to fucking God Ilya-”

“No.” Shane sternly says. “Just, no. It’s not like that okay? I- I think I’ve been in love with Ilya for, um, for a long time.”

The glimmer he sees when he looks at Ilya makes something settle in his chest even through the panic that zings every part of him right now.

“For me too. A long time. Since the first time I met him probably.”

Cliff is still quiet, just observing. Shane wants to reach for Ilya’s hand more than anything but is honestly a little to frightened to do so. Ilya isn’t though because he quickly interlocks their fingers. Cliff’s eyes flick down, an unreadable expression on his face.

“I’m so fucking stupid.” Cliff says turning towards the car.

“Wait!” Shane yells and steps forward, stopping when Cliff turns.

“I can’t fucking believe you guys. Both of you.” He shakes his head. “I mean fuck, I feel like I gave both of you pretty good opportunities to tell me the truth. But no, you guys just decided to lie and sneak around like I was what? Gonna be mad?”

“Cliff, I really tried not to feel this way,” Ilya reasons. “I didn’t want to do this to you, but I can’t fight the feelings I have for Shane. I can’t just turn those things-”

“I’m not asking you to!” Cliff shouts with his hands out. “You really think I wouldn’t understand loving someone? That I couldn’t possibly be open minded about you guys? I always knew you guys were closer than I could understand but fuck, you didn’t eve give me the chance to react. You say you didn’t want to do this to me, but you lied.” He pauses for a beat, only the sound of crickets and small ribbits are audible. “Do you know how much it hurts that the two people I trust the most don’t trust me one bit? My brothers – that live in the same hallway as me – don’t trust me after all these years? I would’ve been happy for you. That’s the worst part.”

Shane can’t stop the tears from falling at this point.

“Cliff,” he cries.

“Don’t Shane.” Cliff says turning his head away. “Don’t look at me like that, I just- I just need some time, okay?”

“I never wanted to hurt you.” Shane calls out.

Cliff continues to the car, and Shane moves to walk towards him but is stopped by Ilya’s hand on his wrist.

“Let him go,” Ilya says. “Give him some time like he asked for.”

“But-”

“Shane. I don’t like it either. But he asked for time. We can’t make this worse. The least we can do is give him that.”

The sound of Cliff driving away echoes in Shane’s ears as he crashes into Ilya’s chest with a sob.

They were so close.

Friday was just around the corner. One week and they’d be telling Cliff.

Sure the reaction may have been the same, but at least it would’ve been on their own terms. But now Shane isn’t even sure what to do with himself.

Ilya holds him tighter, grounding him.

Friday was supposed to be theirs.

Their moment. Their choice.

Now he doesn’t even know what tomorrow looks like.

The drive home feels like torture.

Ilya grips Shane’s thigh, thumb trembling where it rests, trying to calm him even though his own pulse is a runaway train. He’s trying to be strong for Shane, but he’s freaking the fuck out. His mind won’t stop spiraling.

The closer they get to the house, the worse the pit in his stomach grows.

Will Cliff be home? What’ll that look like?

Oh God.

Did he tell Yuna and David?

No. Cliff wouldn’t do that. He would never do that. Not even when he probably wants to kill both Shane and Ilya.

Probably Ilya more.

He should’ve said something. He should’ve just been honest when Cliff asked if he was seeing anyone. But how could he? How could he when they had planned on end of summer? He knows he’s hiding his cowardice behind that excuse, but it’s easier that way. Feels less shameful than admitting he was scared.

When they pull up to the house, it’s clear somethings wrong.

Cliff’s car not being there isn’t shocking considering what happened, but Yuna and David rushing out of the doors in a panicked manner while bolting to the car sends a wave of anxiety through Ilya.

Shane and Ilya are out of the car before it’s even fully in park.

“Mom?” Shane calls, voice cracking as he jogs toward them.

“Where the hell have you guys been?” Yuna cries. Her face is blotchy, wet. “I’ve been calling you both.”

“I left my phone here and Shane’s is dead,” Ilya says, breathless. “Wha—what’s going on?”

Yuna folds in on herself, arms wrapped around her stomach as a sob tears out of her. David catches her, steadying her with an arm around her back.

“It’s Cliff,” David says.

The words hit Ilya like a bucket of ice water dumped over his head.

“What about Cliff?” Shane squeaks, tears already spilling.

David’s expression is grim. “He was in an accident. They think it was a drunk driver, but we don’t know anything yet — just that it was… bad.”

“Oh my God,” Shane gasps, knees buckling.

Ilya catches him under the arms, the only thing keeping him upright.

“Yuna, honey, I know it’s hard, but we need to go,” David urges, guiding her toward the car. He turns to Ilya — who can barely stand himself. “Meet us there.”

There’s no time for a response. They’re already in the car, already speeding down the street, before words even find Ilya’s lips.

The silence that follows is unbearable.

Ilya finally goes down with Shane, arms wrapping around him before he even realizes he’s moving. They hit the gravel together, shaking, clinging, sobbing like the ground has been ripped out from under them.

“This is our fault,” Shane chokes. “Ilya- we did this. If he hadn’t seen us- if we would’ve-”

“Shane,” Ilya whispers, pulling him closer, trying to steady him even as his own chest caves in. “You don’t know that.”

But the words taste like ash.

Because inside, beneath every instinct to protect Shane, beneath every lie he’s told himself to survive the summer, a single thought is clawing its way up his throat:

What if he’s right.

What if Cliff was distracted because of him.

Ilya’s the one who stopped Shane from going after Cliff. Ilya’s the one who pursued Shane even when he had a boyfriend. Ilya’s the one who kissed him that night in the treehouse. Ilya’s the one who lied.

And lied.

And lied.

Shane’s sobs tear through him, raw and shaking, and Ilya feels every one like a blade.

“Ilya,” Shane gasps, voice breaking, “we did this. We did this.”

Ilya presses his forehead to Shane’s temple, both of them trembling in the driveway. The night feels too still like the world is holding its breath around them. A porch light flickers. A dog barks somewhere down the street. A car passes, oblivious to the way their lives have just split open.

He keeps his arms around Shane as their world tilts off its axis.

Certainty was a luxury, and Ilya should’ve known better than to reach for it.

Chapter End Notes

Hehe…

Welp I hope you guys like this one!

I'm in the last couple weeks of my quarter before I get a week off (yay) and then start summer courses (boo) so be patient with me during finals. I don’t expect taking as long as this one did buttttttttt just wanna mention it cause I may not be on my usual promptness.

Again, I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter after a little hiatus, please let me know in the comments if you fuck with dis shit 😉😉😉😉😉😉😉😉😉😉😉😉😉😉😉😉😉😉😉😉😉😉😉😉

Chapter 9: Slip Away

Chapter Summary

An accident leads to guilt and deep overthinking that in turn leads to hard conversations that need to be had. When Shane goes back to New York for school, how will Ilya handle being alone with Cliff?

Chapter Notes

GUYS FORGIVE ME

My finals killed me, then I immediately went out of town and I honestly was just not rlly on my computer, so this chapter took WAY longer than I intended it to... like for real... way longer.

Heads up for this chapter that I do some medical talk and hey! I'm not a doctor and google is my friend so I did my best to make it as realistic as possible. Anyways I hope you guys like this chapter, I kinda struggled writing it but hope it tickles your fancy :) :) :)

I also did not preread and edit this bad boy before posting so plzzzzzzzzz excuse any errors. I will be coming back to look it over but wanted to post it now :) <3

PREVIOUSLY ON CLOSE ENOUGH TO HURT:
-Shane and Ilya get used to sneaking around, even when it seems a bit risky.
-They both find themselves having conversations with Cliff that lead to more and more guilt.
-Their plan to come clean is quickly ruined when Cliff sees them kissing outside a party that leads to confrontation and an accident they can't reverse.

🎶This chapter's song is Slip Away by Perfume Genious.
CLOSE ENOUGH TO HURT PLAYLIST

Chapter 9: Slip Away

Time is stagnant in this hospital.

Shane has no clue how long they’ve been sitting here waiting for something, anything, before a doctor steps into the small consultation room, still in scrubs, still looking like he hasn’t had any time to breathe.

He glances at the red eyes of Yuna, David, Shane and Ilya who all cling to each other in their seats against the wall.

“Are you all family of Cliff Hollander?”

Yuna looks like she’s going to speak until a croaking sound is cut short by the closing of her jaw. She nods so fast it looks like it hurts. Shane feels frozen. Numb.

The doctor exhales, folding his hands in front of him. “Okay, I’m going to walk you through what we know.”

Shane’s fingers tighten in Ilya’s sleeve, hoping to find something that’ll ground him.

“Cliff was brought in after a high-impact collision with a suspected drunk driver,” the doctor says. “He lost consciousness at the scene and has been unresponsive since arrival.”

Shane feels his stomach drop and lets out a broken sound.

“We performed a CT scan,” the doctor continues, voice gentle. “Cliff has a concussion with a small subdural hematoma, which is a bleed between the brain and the skull. The bleed is small enough that we don’t need to operate right now, but we’re monitoring him very closely.”

David’s breath stutters. Yuna’s nails dig into Shane’s arm. He tries to focus on that physical pain instead of the one stabbing into his chest.

“He’s in a medically supported coma,” the doctor adds. “This is not unusual, the brain needs time to rest and reduce swelling. We often see patients wake within a few days.”

“There are other injuries,” the doctor says, glancing down at the chart. “He has three fractured ribs, likely from the seatbelt. He also has a pulmonary contusion, which is essentially a bruised lung, so he’s on oxygen support to help him breathe.”

Shane feels the room tilt just from the thought.

“He has several lacerations on his arms and face from broken glass, and there’s also significant whiplash, so he’s in a cervical collar to protect his neck.”

Shane wipes his face with the back of his hand, shaking. “Is he… is he gonna be okay?”

The doctor pauses. Not dramatically, just carefully.

“We’re cautiously optimistic,” he says. “His vital signs are stable. The bleed is small. His lungs are bruised but functioning. Right now, the biggest factor is time. We need to let his brain heal.”

Shane swallows hard, throat burning.

“You can see him,” the doctor adds softly. “He won’t look like himself right now. There are tubes, monitors, bruising. But he can hear you. Talk to him. It helps more than you think.”

Yuna breaks, doubling over in her chair. David catches her, wrapping both his arms around her whispering reassurances that it’ll be okay, that he’s in good care, that Cliff is strong, he’s always been strong.

The doctor gives them a moment, then quietly steps aside. “When you’re ready, I’ll take you to him.”

Even with the preparations and warnings, Shane’s legs still gave out the second they entered the room.

It’s like all the events of the night come slamming back in at once the second he sees Cliff hooked up to all these monitors, with all his bandages wrapping his skin, tubes pushing who the fuck knows what in his system, body laying limp on the bed making him look small in a way Shane’s never seen. The way Cliff never is.

Because this isn’t Cliff. Cliff isn’t the one who ever needed help. It was Shane. It is Shane who needs the help. Who needs Cliff. But seeing him laid here in this grim hospital room has Shane breaking down in ways he didn’t think himself capable of. In ways only guilt and regret makes possible.

Ilya’s on him before his parents even have a chance to see his knees hit the ground, covering him like a shield that will always block away the bad. Whether that’s physical, emotional, or any way that’s humanly possible to feel.

He’s whispering things Shane honestly can’t even hear. Things that usually soothe him like a balm but right now are not a detonator to the C4 explosion booming in his chest.

Shane tries to hold the words bubbling to the surface. The words that move past his efforts and come out shaky and wet through tears streaming down his cheeks, “I-I’m so sorry Cliff. This is all our fault. All our fucking fault, I’m so sorry.”

He’s not looking, his head still bows down, shoulders slumped, but he can hear his mother when she says, “Shane, baby, what’re you talking about?”

He just blubbers. He wants to say it. It’s something that – although scary – he was so ready for. He couldn’t wait. The end of summer started to feel like a breath of fresh air because even though he was having to leave for New York, he was going to be leaving with his family knowing that Ilya’s his boyfriend. Leaving knowing that he can love Ilya loudly and not just in the dark corners of rooms, hidden behind locked doors like he has been his whole life.

It all feels tainted now.

It feels impossible.

It feels scary because what happened was worse than what he feared.

He can’t answer his mom. The words are there, right on the tip of his tongue, but for some reason there’s just this block. It sits so heavily on him he feels like a ticking time bomb about to explode.  

Ilya starts his own form of stammering, “Shane and I… um, well we’re kinda…”

“Boys,” David says in a voice so soft it has the words finally forming. “What is going on-”

Shane snaps his head up, “We’re together, okay?” He yells louder than he means to.

The room is quiet except for Shane’s loud breathing and very audible anxiety that practically soaks the room in a dark thunder cloud.

“Wow,” Yuna breathes, “okay.”

His parents look at each other with a sort of shocked but knowing expression. An expression that acknowledges this sudden new information that needs to evaluated and processed, but also knowing that this is certainly not the time or the place to get into the nitty gritty.

Shane can’t stand the silence. “This is all our fault,” he breathes. “We-we were gonna tell him – tell you all. But… but then he saw us, um, kissing.” His eyes move to the floor, the one he’s still kneeled down on, Ilya still crouched at his side. “We should’ve just told him. We shouldn’t have lied but we just, we were just so nervous, and we just wanted to understand what this is before we brought it up and fuck if we would’ve said something- if we stopped him from-”

“No,” Yuna says abruptly. “You guys are not responsible for this. The person who decided to get in their car after drinking is the one responsible.”

“He shouldn’t have been driving.” Shane squeaks. “I should’ve stopped him. If I would’ve stopped him-”

“No. Stop. There is no telling what would’ve happened okay?”

Shane wishes he could say it helped.

That his mother’s reassurances and Ilya’s caress makes him feel somewhat stable.

But it doesn’t.

They were so close. It was finally starting to feel like life was settling into place. Like Friday would come, and no matter what the outcome would be, they would work through it. They would figure it out together.

Now Shane’s head spins so fast he’s not sure he’ll ever walk straight.

Ilya keeps hoping this is some sick joke.

Hoping that he’ll wake up and this was all some crazy nightmare that was trying to persuade him to just tell Cliff the truth.

God.

Why’d he have to be such a fucking coward?

He knows he wasn’t the one behind the wheel. That he wasn’t the one who physically caused the accident. Though the feeling of guilt eats at him constantly. Because it was always Ilya who was talking of these sacred lines where one side was Cliff and the other was Shane and that line was not to be crossed because if he had Shane he could in no way also have Cliff.

The guilt mixes with deep rooted fear.

He knows Shane feels guilty. The outburst in the hospital room wasn’t out of pocket, but it was shocking for someone like Shane.

Does Shane regret all this? Does he wish they would’ve never gotten caught up with each other?

Ilya should have never suggested keeping it from Cliff. It doesn’t even matter that Shane agreed. Ilya should’ve had more trust in Cliff. The person who has basically given Ilya everything he has.

But what does Ilya do?

Goes after his brother then hides it from him as if that wouldn’t hurt him.

‘I would’ve been happy for you. That’s the worst part.’

The words linger heavy like lead bullets in his chest.

Would’ve been.

The key words.

It’s not until four days after the doctor talked with them in that consultation room that Cliff starts to regain some consciousness.

He’s still a bit frazzled, definitely incoherent. He has a hard time fully communicating right now mostly due to the constant state of confusion.

He doesn’t remember the crash.

He doesn’t remember anything before the crash either.

Not right now at least.

When he woke up it took a lot of explaining to get him to finally calm down. He still has a hard time grasping that what happened actually happened. They were advised not to tell him anything that might cause extra stress, so of course, they’re back to pretending.

What might seem like a relieving avoidance is really just torture now. It feels like a death sentence waiting to be carried out. It’s like they’re walking on eggshells, holding in their sorry’s that threaten to slip.

The worst part is his apologizing.

Cliff won’t stop. He just keep telling all of them how sorry he is. How he didn’t mean to make them all worried, that he doesn’t know how it happened, but he should’ve paid more attention. The doctor had told him it was a drunk driver that caused the accident, but nonetheless Cliff still apologized like he was the one who got behind the wheel intoxicated.

Watching Shane’s lip quiver as he holds in his own cries makes the pit in Ilya’s stomach grow deeper. It makes it grow teeth that bite and gnaw at his insides.

What’ll happen when he remembers? If he remembers.

The possibilities run rampant in his mind. The devil on his shoulder tries to convince him they’d be better off continuing to pretend. That maybe they should just never tell him what happened before the accident. That maybe if they just swallow down their feelings for the greater good, then they could just go back to how things were before.

It’s not that he wants that. Fuck no does he want to go back to yearning so deeply for Shane it hurts. But the outcome feels inevitable however he looks at it.

They’ll break up.

Cliff won’t be able to forgive the lying. Because he would’ve been happy for them. But now he won’t be because Ilya’s a coward.

Unforgiving has never been a word Ilya would use to describe Cliff. Now the word is like a dam in his brain that’s stopping any other outcome from flowing through.

Shane will have to choose.

Shane will have to choose between his brother and Ilya and that’s just not a decision he ever wants Shane to be plagued with. People don’t choose Ilya. They never have. Why would this be any different. His own feelings don’t even matter because he doesn’t want that for Shane, and prolonging the inevitable will only hurt them both more.

Shane’s too sweet. Shane will worry himself profusely with this kind of decision that he may go bald with the way he yanks at his hair when he’s anxious. But in the end there will only be one choice. Ilya’s not selfish enough to think it’ll be him. He won’t let it be.

Because Ilya’s used to not being chosen. His father and brother sure as hell never chose him. His mother didn’t choose him. It’s not like he can blame her. His father never made life easy for either of them, he was naïve to think the prospect of running could be enough to get her to stay.

So although Ilya doesn’t want to pretend.

Although he doesn’t want to let go of Shane when he just got him.

He can’t let Shane tear himself apart with that kind of decision.

Ilya has to make it for him.

Shane doesn’t want to leave for New York.

Not when Cliff is still in the hospital. Not when he still hasn’t had the chance to fully talk with his brother. Really talk.

Cliff finally is past the stage of ‘huh’s’ and ‘what’s’ after every sentence. He’s finally past the random silences when he suddenly forgets what he was talking about.

It’s relieving, that’s for sure. It almost weighs heavier on Shane’s chest. Despite the monitors and the tubes and the bandages, Cliff is talking pretty normally which is great but also makes silencing his words feel even harder when having a coherent conversation with him.

Shane leaves tomorrow and the guilt he’s bringing as carry-on could very well make the plane go down in a crash.

Ilya’s been… off.

Not that Shane can really say much about that, he knows he’s been weird too. He knows that they both are feeling extremely guilty, even if they try not to voice that in front of each other.

Shane doesn’t want Ilya to feel guilty. Shane, of course, feels guilty, but seeing it on Ilya almost hurts more. It hurts more because when Ilya has big feelings he acts fast and he acts without much thought. And that scares Shane because he’s been on the other side of those feeling for far too long.

So he doesn’t bring it up.

And maybe that makes it better. Or maybe it makes it worse. It’s been fourteen days since the accident, seven since the day they were supposed to tell Cliff the truth. When they were supposed to go on his favorite hike and eat at his favorite place and lay this huge thing down on him that could’ve had the same reaction, but Shane can only hope a different outcome.

He tries not to think about it too much.

But this is Shane Hollander. Of course he’s thinking about it.

Of course he’s currently in his room with his mom, working on packing his suitcase and getting absolutely no where because he can’t stop declaring to no one in particular that he is not going.

“Shane, you have to go, okay” Yuna says while folding a shirt Shane will never wear.

“But-”

“Honey, there’s nothing you can do here, okay?”

He knows that’s true. Cliff has plenty of people around him who will keep him company. Plenty of people crowding him who can’t even do anything because there’s nothing to do but wait for him to heal. To either wait for his memory to return or for his mind to be well enough that they have to subject themselves to reliving the same torture twice.

“Mom,” Shane says as calmly as he can. “He still has another week in the hospital and doctors are swarming him like flies. How can I just leave?”

Yuna doesn’t even look up from her folding. “Cliff wouldn’t want you to put your life on hold when he’s not in critical condition anymore. Hell, he wouldn’t want you to even if he was still in critical condition.”

“I’m not sure Cliff will want anything to do with me.” Shane mumbles under his breath.

Yuna puts the shirt down to stand square with Shane, eyes burning in him. Not through. In. “Shane. Cliff’s your brother. He loves you and Ilya. He’ll come around, just give him time.”

Shane just nods and fidgets with the picture frame of him and Cliff that he clings to.

“So, can we talk about it yet?”

He raises a brow at his mom. “About what?”

“About what?” She asks incredulously like he should automatically know what she’s talking about. “About you and Ilya.”

“Oh God, mom.”

“Don’t ‘oh God mom’ me.” She puts her hands on her hips. “I’ve given you plenty of space before asking about it. It’s been two weeks since the hospital.” She holds two fingers up in his face, “Two weeks Shane! Did you really think I wouldn’t have questions?”

He averts her eyes. “I was kinda hoping.”

Yuna leans down, gaze locking on Shane’s. “Well… I can’t really say I’m surprised.”

Shane just looks over at her.

“Your dad and I always talk about how inseparable you two are. I mean, of course Cliff and Ilya are best friends, but you and Ilya… I don’t know. There’s just always been something there. I guess we just didn’t realize what that something was.”

And if that’s not the truth.

Because for a long time, neither did Shane.

“At least for Ilya. I had an inkling about your crush and maybe I would’ve classified Ilya’s behavior the same way but honestly… I didn’t really take in account that he, um, liked boys like that.”

Again. If that’s not the fucking truth.

She continues, “We always noticed how close you two were. I just didn’t realize what that closeness meant.”

“Yeah, me either, for a while,” he laughs. “Was I really that obvious?”

“Call it mother’s intuition,” she says while kissing the top of his head. “But yes, you were kinda obvious.”

Shane laughs to himself while looking down at his suitcase. How can he leave right now? Without even having the chance to talk to Cliff face to face about what happened that night. Sometimes his brain takes leave for just a small chunk of time, and he forgets about all the shit going on and all the guilt that’s eating away at him and all the blame that goes right back onto him.

“Stop.”

Shane looks up at Yuna. “What?”

“Stop thinking.”

“You don’t know that I was thinking about anything.”

“You think I don’t know when my own son is falling down a wormhole?” She questions him. “Plus you’re looking at that suitcase like staring at it will solve world peace.”

“I just don’t see how I’m supposed to go back to school and not feel weighed down by the guilt. How I’m supposed to show up for my classes and retain anything knowing that at some point Cliff will realize that we’re the ones to blame for his accident-”

“That’s enough.” Yuna says so sternly it makes Shane’s spine go straight. “I can’t stand listening to you both moan and groan around the house like you two were behind the wheel.” She reaches for his hand. “Shane, the reality of the situation is this; if that kid wouldn’t have gotten behind the wheel that night, Cliff probably would’ve already forgiven you guys.”

“You can’t know that.”

She shrugs her shoulders in a very Ilya way. It makes his lips curl up slightly.

“Again. Mother’s intuition.”

It’s not much later into the night when Shane gets a text from Ilya.

          Ilya

          meet me at the treehouse in 30

“Hey,” Shane fully steps into the treehouse, immediately seeing Ilya leaning against the window sill. “What’s up with you?”

Ilya takes a few deep breaths without saying anything or looking at Shane. Anxiety worms its way up Shane’s chest making his heart rate accelerate and his palms start sweating. Something about the air in here feels thick and stuffy even with the window completely open.

Ilya finally looks up. A pain in his eyes that makes him think of the same look deep in his beautiful blues that night he walked in on Miles and him. Shane’s stomach tenses at the memory.

Ilya finally takes a deep breath and starts speaking. “Maybe we should take a break. With everything going on.”

Shane swears his heart stops.

What?

“What?”

“I mean, I know we both feel guilty, and I don’t want you to look at our relationship as the thing standing between you and your brother,” Ilya looks gutted while speaking, like the words physically burn as they burl out. “I don’t want you to blame yourself – to blame us. Maybe it’s easier if we-”

“You want to break up?”

“Shane.” Ilya says on a deep exhale. “I don’t want to-”

“You just said you wanted to take a break.”

Ilya’s eyes search his Shane’s while his hands do a small raise, caught between nerves and irritation. “I just think it’s added stress that’ll just make things harder. Harder on Cliff, harder on your relationship with Cliff.”

“Added stress? Really?” Shane couldn’t hold back the defined furrow of his brow because what the hell is Ilya even saying right now? Why is he even saying this at all? “Honestly Ilya, I’m about to push you out of the window. You’re really suggesting that after everything we’ve been through, our relationship is just… ‘added stress?’”

“You know that’s not what I mean.” Ilya’s head shakes minutely. “You shouldn’t have to feel regretful of this. You should-”

What the actual fuck?

“You’re so fucking stupid Ilya.” Shane turns to leave. “Call me when you find your brain.”

Shane’s scared about Cliff. He’s scared about going to New York and not being here with Ilya, awaiting the second Cliff is able to have that talk. But to break up over it? Why the actual fuck would Ilya think that’s the best route?

It’s clear.

He’s not thinking.

Ilya’s just acting fast and not thinking before talking. What’s new?

Or maybe he’s thinking so much all the ideas blur together and for some reason he’s mistaken this absolutely stupid and annoying and hurtful suggestion for a good idea. One he somehow thinks Shane will just accept.

Hell no.

Not when he finally has Ilya the way he wants him. Shouldn’t Ilya know this by now? Shouldn’t he understand how utterly and desperately in love Shane is with him? Shouldn’t that be enough?

He knows it’ll be hard. That they already got an unfortunate sneak peek to the awful fate that’s awaiting them when they have that conversation they’ve been dreading. But his mom’s right. She’s always right.

This isn’t their fault. Cliff would’ve already forgiven them if it weren’t for the accident.

He’s been clinging to those words since his mom said them three hours ago in his room.

So yes. He walks away to leave because he can’t stand to listen to this self-destructive bullshit Ilya’s still trying.

Besides, they should be happy they get the opportunity to struggle through this whole thing anyways. They should be happy that Cliff is even still here to get mad at them. Shane’s never wanted the silent treatment so badly. Anything if it means Cliff is still here.

“Wait!” A hand on his wrist stops his thoughts and simultaneously his movements. “Where are you going?”

He turns towards Ilya, honest to God seething just a little at the audacity to even think Shane would stand for this bullshit coming out of his mouth. He can’t help but wonder if he looks like an ‘angry kitten’ as Ilya always says or if he’s conveying the correct emotions, which is one of those animated characters that are so beyond pissed that their faces turn red and smoke whistles from their ears.

“This is not how I wanted to spend my last night here with you, Ilya.” He says it calm and stern but the tone and emotion behind the words give it the kick he feels in his chest. He can tell he’s successful when Ilya has the look of a schoolboy being scolded by his teacher. “And now I have to spend it mad at you. Cause that’s what I am right now. Mad.” One hand cards through his own hair in frustration. “I have to get up in four hours for a flight and spend that time thinking about how ridiculous it is that you think the best option here is to break up.” He steps directly in front of Ilya, right in his bubble. “Do you seriously think that?”

Ilya’s jaw is open wide, Shane’s sure a fly might swoop in there assuming it’s a cave. “I-I just don’t want you to regret this.”

Oh my God.

“I am feeling regretful!” He shouts, voice cracking. Ilya’s eyes flicker like he feels it.. “I’m regretful that we let our fear override our trust in Cliff.” He looks up at Ilya, hand raising to touch his cheek. “But not this. Not us. Never us Ilya.”

Ilya just stands there, mouth still open, expression on his face like words are loading on his tongue, like he’s still curating what to say in his mind. He breaks eye contact and looks down at his feet.

Shane steps back, creating space that Ilya initiated, then continues with a vendetta, “What if I came back from school with someone.”

Ilya’s eyes snap up. “What?”

“If next time I’m home,” he crosses his arms and shrugs. “Thanksgiving or whatever, I brought home a boyfriend.”

“Why are you asking me this?” Ilya looks like he’s been slapped. “You know how I’d feel about that, Shane. I don’t even wanna hear you talk about that like it’s a possibility.”

Shane scoffs, “So let me get this straight. You want to take a break and I’m supposed to… what?” His face scrunches in confusion. “Stay single for the rest of my life because you can’t handle things getting a little hard?”

Ilya just looks back at Shane, fingers anxiously picking at his nails, eyes staring with an intensity that’s become all too familiar.

“I’m confused what your game plan is here.” Shane explains. “Cause you say we should break up, but that you also wouldn’t like to see me with anyone else.” He reaches for Ilya’s busied hand. “Ilya, when has anything we’ve ever done been easy?”

There’s a long silence and this time Shane doesn’t try to fill it. He doesn’t push or pull Ilya in any direction. He waits. His fingers rubbing soothingly, an arm’s length still between them.

Shane wants to give him time to answer because it’s the truth. All they know is hard. All they know is lines, boundaries, secrets and lies. But they also know devotion, safety, patience and love.

Shane likes to think the second four override everything else.

“Everything with you is easy.” Ilya finally murmurs to the floor. Warmth blooms in Shane’s chest.

He takes a small step towards Ilya. “Do you love me?”

Ilya scoffs, playfully rolling his eyes, seemingly annoyed by the question. “Of course I do.”

Shane takes a deep, relieved breath. “Then whatever happens, we’ll figure it out.”

“And what about Cliff?” Ilya asks, finally holding eye contact without flicking his focus away. “What happened to feeling guilty?”

“I do feel guilty.” It’s Shane’s turn to look down, though he’s quick to refocus his attention to the man in front of him. “Guilty that we kept this from him, and of course guilty about that night. I think I’ll always feel guilty about it.” He squeezes Ilya’s hand. “But we weren’t the ones in the car. And Cliff wasn’t the one that caused the accident. The drunk driver was.”

Ilya lets out a choked sound before bringing his hands to his face. Shane can hear the stifled sobs that break his heart one hitched breath at a time.

“Ilya…” Shane reaches for his wrists, coaxing him away from hiding. “Please talk to me. Please let me help. I can- I want to help.” He pulls Ilya in, the weight of the other man blanketing him in a bear hug that makes Shane stumble back a step from the abrupt shift.

“You deserve more than this,” Ilya breathes into his shoulder. “You shouldn’t have to choose between me and your family.”

“I don’t want more than this.” He assures, fingers brushing up and down Ilya’s spine. “And Ilya,” grabbing his shoulders, Shane moves Ilya to arm’s length. “You are family. To me, to my parents, to Cliff. You will always be family.” He leans forward, leaving a chaste but caring peck on Ilya’s lips. “And if that weren’t enough, I already chose you. I think I’ve chosen you my whole life.”

The emotion in Ilya’s eyes stays, though it shifts into something softer, something less like sorrow and more like relief.

“I don’t deserve you,” Ilya whispers into the space between them.

“You do,” he says, resting their foreheads together. “And I’m gonna say that for as long as it takes for you to believe it.” Shane’s hand reaches to caress the side of his face. “Because I love you Ilya Rozanov. Even when you’re being a complete idiot.”

Shane’s chest loosens just a little when a small chuckle rolls from Ilya’s lips, a smirk following closely behind.

They stay like that for what feels like forever. Heads perfectly pressed, breath mingling in a way that it’d be impossible to tell what came from who. Sometimes their eyes caught the others. Sometimes they just kept them closed, enjoying the feeling of being held by the person they love.

“I’m sorry,” is what breaks the silence. Ilya’s voice comes out small, reminding Shane of a little boy who came in this very treehouse seeking comfort from a boy who desperately needed it too. “I love you Shane. It-it just still shocks me.”

Shane’s eyes open, “Shocks you?”

Ilya nervously laughs, hands squeezing anxiously on Shane’s sides. “I know it seems stupid after all these years, after all the things your family has done for me, but I still can’t fight the feeling of not being worth choosing. Of being worth loving.”

“Ilya-”

“I know,” Ilya looks up, staring into Shane’s eyes, looking like this conversation is very much costing him something. “I know I shouldn’t feel that way. Or I guess, I know I should know not to feel that way but… I don’t know.” He runs his hands through his curly locks. “I’ll try Shane. You make me want to try.”

When he reaches forward with both hands, cupping Shane’s cheeks between them, Shane’s heart flutters the way it always has whenever Ilya’s in his proximity. Though as of recently, maybe since they said those three words that have been years in the making, that feeling seems to be magnified by a million.

Ilya dips his head, eyes asking for permission. There’s never any answer Shane will give besides yes when he sees that look. He nods his head quickly, instantly feeling Ilya’s soft lips on his own.

It’s perfect. Truly perfect. Hands follow the usual motions, though there’s no real heat behind them, just the need to be connected in every way possible. Ilya’s tongue delicately flicks into his mouth, making Shane melt further into him, arms wrapping around his neck, body pressing impossibly closer than just a second ago.

Shane could live in this moment for the rest of his life and be happy. He could stand here, being held by the man he loves, bodies speaking a language that requires no talking at all.

It’s going to be hard.

Fuck is it going to be hard.

But it’s worth it. Ilya’s worth it.

He’s always been.  

Shane’s gone.

The talk in the treehouse really made him self-reflect and more importantly, it made him that much more in love with Shane. He didn’t expect Shane to react that way. He thought Shane might understand, or at least pretend to. As Shane would say, Ilya wasn’t really using his brain. He wasn’t trying to hurt Shane, but his reaction quickly showed how true the saying, perception over intention is.

It’s been two months since he left and continuing daily life has felt like a task Ilya just doesn’t want to complete.

He misses Shane.

They talk every day, facetime or call whenever they can, but it just isn’t enough. Ilya thought last year was bad. He thought those months when Shane was ignoring all his attempts at reaching out. No. This is bad. This is torture.

Of course there’s salvation in the fact that Shane is his, but it doesn’t shrink the Shane sized hole in his chest. It doesn’t change the fact that Cliff’s now recovering at home and Ilya’s forced to talk with his best friend like there isn’t a gigantic elephant in the room.

Cliff’s mostly functioning now, though he’s still healing. Ilya thinks it’s probably even harder without Katie here. After taking some time off work to be there for him, she eventually had to drive back to Winnipeg and keep working her last bit of shifts. She moves back in a week, and he knows that’ll lighten Cliff’s mood.

Yuna did tell him that Cliff’s therapist mentioned his memory coming back in fragments, a statement that made him pleased yet terribly uneasy.

Ilya’s not completely sure how to read Cliff right now. He seems off and not just in the off way he’s been since the accident but just… off. He doesn’t even know how to explain it, it’s just something he can feel in his bones. He’s trying hard to not feel that way, to remind himself of the words Shane reassures over the phone saying to give it time. To give Cliff time.

Shane doesn’t always say it, but Ilya can tell he’s worried too. He’s been trying hard to hide it, to shield Ilya from the anxiety that already fills him to the brim, but unfortunately for Shane, Ilya’s known him basically his whole life.

Now in the living room, Ilya sits with a bowl of soup beside Cliff who is propped up on the couch, ribs taped, neck brace still on, eyes half-lidded with exhaustion. He lifts the spoon when Cliff’s hands shake too much to hold it himself.

It’s quiet. Too quiet. The kind that makes Ilya’s skin crawl. The kind that makes his mind start running laps in a very unhelpful manner.

Cliff swallows another spoonful, winces, then stares at the blanket over his lap. “You don’t have to do all this, you know.”

“I want to,” Ilya says softly. “You shouldn’t be doing anything alone right now.”

“Yeah.” Cliff huffs, it’s not quite a laugh, not quite a sigh. “Well, Shane would’ve said the same thing.”

Ilya freezes at the mention, just for a second. In all the conversation they’ve had the past couple weeks since Cliff’s been the most coherent he’s been, they’ve barely talked about Shane. They talk about him when David and Yuna are in the room, or sometimes he’s briefly mentioned, but he hasn’t been a main topic for a while.

Cliff notices Ilya’s stiffened state.

Of course he does. He always notices.

There’s another beat of silence, Cliff’s fingers twitch against the blanket and his jaw works like he’s chewing on something bitter.

Then, quietly, almost like he’s talking to himself, “You and Shane… I should’ve known.” His voice sounds like gravel, like the words have been dragged across something sharp.

Ilya’s heart stops.

“I’ve only really told mom and dad but… it’s been coming back in pieces.” Cliff doesn’t look at him. His eyes stay fixed on the wall, unfocused, like he’s watching something only he can see. “Not all at once. Just… flashes. You two by the car. The way you looked at each other. The way you grabbed him.”

Ilya’s throat tightens. “Cliff-”

“I’m not mad about that,” Cliff says quickly, voice cracking on the last word. “I mean, I am. But that’s not the part that hurts.”

He finally turns his head slowly and looks at Ilya with a pained look that shoots right through him.

“It’s the lying.”

Ilya feels the words like a punch.

“You’re my best friend. Shane’s my brother. And you both looked me in the face for months and pretended nothing was happening.” Cliff swallows hard. “You let me think Grigori’s death was the reason you were acting weird. You let me think I wasn’t trusted enough to tell.”

Ilya’s eyes burn. “We were scared.”

“I know,” Cliff whispers. “And that’s honestly the part that hurts the most.”

He blinks, and a tear slips down his cheek. He doesn’t wipe it away, he just lets it fall, jaw tight, breathing shallow. Something in Ilya snaps.

Not in anger, in grief.

“I’m so sorry,” Ilya blurts, voice cracking with a loud squeak. “Cliff, I’m- God, I’m so fucking sorry.”

Cliff’s eyes flick toward him, startled, but Ilya is already spiraling forward, elbows on his knees, hands in his hair like he’s trying to hold himself together.

“I never wanted to hurt you,” he chokes out. “I never wanted you to think I didn’t trust you. You-you’re my best friend. You’re my family. You’re-” His voice breaks. “You’re the only real family I’ve ever had.”

Cliff swallows, throat bobbing.

“And I know I fucked up. I know I did.” Ilya’s breath comes out in a shudder. “I should’ve told you. I should’ve trusted you. I should’ve- fuck, I should’ve been better.”

“Ilya-”

“No, let me say this.” His voice is desperate and pleading. “Please.”

Cliff closes his mouth, just sitting and listening to the tornado of words that have been swirling Ilya’s mind every fucking day since that night.

Ilya wipes at his face, but more tears just keep falling. “I didn’t mean to betray you. I swear to you, Cliff, I didn’t. I tried so hard not to feel anything for him. For years. I tried to ignore it, bury it, kill it – whatever the hell I had to do. I didn’t want to cross that line. I didn’t want to lose you.”

His voice drops to a whisper.

“But I can’t not love him.”

Cliff’s breath hitches in his throat, though he lets Ilya continue.

“I tried,” Ilya says again, shaking his head helplessly. “I really tried. But every time I looked at him – every time he smiled at me in that cute way he does, or yells at me all irritated like an angry kitten, or just literally fucking existed – I couldn’t stop it. I couldn’t stop loving him. And I didn’t want you to think I took advantage of him, or of you, or of the situation, or-”

“Ilya.”

He keeps going, words blazing out like wildfire. “-I didn’t want you to think I was sneaking around because I didn’t care. I didn’t want you to think I was choosing him over you. I wasn’t. I was just… scared. I was scared you’d hate me. I was scared you’d look at me differently. I was scared you’d think I was some creep who-”

“Ilya.”

This time Cliff’s voice is firm enough to cut through the panic. Ilya finally looks up at his best friend.

“I’m mad,” he admits. “But I’m not losing either of you over this.” Cliff’s eyes are wet, but steady in their gaze. “I would never think you took advantage of him.” Ilya sucks in a sharp breath. “Or me,” Cliff adds. “I know you. Better than anyone, though I’m sure Shane will fight me on that,” he says, grinning mischievously. “Regardless of that, you’re not that person. I know you’re not.”

Ilya’s face crumples.

“And yeah,” Cliff continues, leaning back against the couch with a wince, “I’m pissed. I’m hurt. I’m definitely gonna hold this over both your heads for years. Like, actual years. I’m talking embarrassing speeches at your wedding level petty.” A startled, broken laugh escapes Ilya, finally lightening the mood and decreasing some of the tension in the room. “But,” Cliff says, voice softening, “there is no one on this planet I would trust with my brother more than you.”

Ilya can no longer stop the tears from spilling over again.

“You love him,” Cliff says simply. “And he loves you. And I’m not gonna pretend I didn’t see that long before either of you did. Even if I didn’t quite realize the full… extent of that love. You guys have always gravitated towards each other. I’m pretty sure a blind man could see that much.”

Ilya’s shoulders shake in a cry past his efforts to still himself.

Cliff reaches out slowly, because everything still hurts, and rests his hand on Ilya’s knee. “You didn’t lose me.” He gives his knee a squeeze. “You hear me, Ilya? You didn’t lose me.”

He nods, but it’s frantic, almost disbelieving.

“Okay,” Cliff sighs, “come here before you soak the couch. Mom will insist we need a new one and you know how much I love this couch.”

Cliff wraps an arm around him as best he can and Ilya lets out a wet, choked laugh, leaning forward, careful not to jostle Cliff’s ribs.

They stay like that for a long moment, something healing between the two that has nothing to do with Cliff’s injuries.

Then Cliff murmurs, “You should go see him.”

Ilya freezes at the words. “What?”

“Shane.” Cliff pulls back enough to look him in the eye. “You’re miserable. And I assume he’s miserable too.” He shakes his head. “He talks to me on the phone and tries to sound fine but… I can tell he isn’t. Even before I started remembering, I could tell.” He quietly chuckles at his next words before they’ve even come out. “And I’m sick of hearing Mom talk about how you’re moping around the house like a Victorian widow.”

Ilya snorts at the not too far off comparison.

“Go to New York,” Cliff says. “Surprise him. Fix whatever’s still rocky between you guys because of this whole thing.” He leans back into his seat. “And then, come back and tell me everything so I can judge you properly. It’s really what I deserve for not getting to see thee Ilya Rozanov so whipped.”

Ilya laughs again, this time real, warm, alive.

Cliff’s smile is small and tired, but genuine. “Go get him, man.”

Today’s been the worst.

First off, when Shane went to go pick up his coffee this morning, some asshole who’s also supposedly name Shane grabbed his coffee and left. Was there an order for a different Shane in their system? No. No there wasn’t.

Whatever. He coughed up the extra seven bucks for another one.

Well then, he’s on his way to his class, literally speed walking down the campus, hot coffee in hand, and then yet another asshole comes skateboarding around the corner and slams into him, drenching him in his scalding hot coffee.

But get this. When Shane, because he’s still a very polite person at heart, went to go help this person up, he sees their own paper coffee cup crushed on the pavement. Correction, his coffee cup on the ground. It’s the fucking faux Shane.

Everything from the past few months completely canceled out his automatic kindness.

He lost his shit on faux Shane.

The whole ordeal was a butterfly effect of sorts where he then was twenty minutes late to his class, missing the pop quiz his teacher gave, causing him to loss points that only come with three surprise pop quizzes throughout the quarter.

It’s fine. It’s really not a big deal in the grand scheme of things.

Except to Shane it is.

Rose, Jackie, and Hayden all insist Shane goes out with them. That it’s a Friday night and he deserves to have a night to let loose. That it would be fun, and he could just forget about everything for a night. That Ilya won’t care because duh he wouldn’t. He’s possessive but not in a controlling way.

The thing is, on top of all the annoyingly irritating things that happened today, the thing that’s killing him the most is the lack of responses he’s getting from Ilya. Like… radio silence. Like when he shamelessly looked for Ilya’s location and it was noticeably turned off.

Shane messaged him all the stupid little things that happened today and usually he would at least come back to some responses after putting his phone away for a class or workout session. Except he’s had no response to any of the messages he sent today and for some reason it’s making him incredibly anxious, and he can’t help the feeling of dread that sits low in his stomach.

So, he didn’t go out.  He’s just sitting here, on his couch in his apartment, periodically checking his phone to see not even a read message.

Ugh. He hates how clingy he seems and honestly he’s not the kind of person that needs to talk every second of the day, some days they even go without talking at all but the thing that’s really stressing him out is that they always communicate beforehand.

The lack of communication just makes Shane feel like something’s happening. He knows that Ilya can get in his head and shut people out – shut him out, but they’ve been working so hard the last couple months to be more open and honest about their feelings.

It’s been so incredibly nice though Shane can’t help but feel a little guilty holding some of his own feelings back. They’re more in protection of Ilya, which he knows may be a little hypocritical, but he doesn’t want Ilya to take any of Shane’s guilt as fuel for his own. Not when Ilya’s been working to voice things he’d always been taught would make him weak to admit, to feel.

What the hell is Ilya doing anyways?

He turns on the TV as a distraction just to turn it right off because he couldn’t think properly with it playing in the background.

The first knock coming from the direction of his door is dismissed as one of his neighbors. His friends just sent him a video from a club thirty minutes away, so who the hell would be knocking at his door?

When the next knock comes a bit louder he thinks maybe it’s some delivery guy who doesn’t understand the ‘leave at the door’ option he picks every time. He rolls his eyes but stays put because eventually they get the point.

Fuck.

Anyways, his thoughts, of course, drift right back to-

The third knock feels like it being pounded right on his ribcage. He sits up kind of startled and looks to the door. He slowly gets up from the couch, still a little hesitant from the force of it.

“Hollander…” The voice that’s yells from the hallway sets a fire under his ass. “Can you come open the door before your neighbors call-”

Shane swings his door open, his creaky door screeching a loud squeak that cuts the voice short.

“Ilya.”

And there he is. Standing in the doorway like some dreamboat love interest in those rom coms that Shane doesn’t even consider a guilty pleasure because he’s not one bit guilty about loving them at all.

Ilya smiles, eyes softening. “Hi Shane.”

Shane feels like he’s short circuiting as he jumps through the door, anchoring himself around Ilya’s shoulders, all his weight pressed against his boyfriends sturdy body.

“What’re you doing here,” he breathes into Ilya’s neck, leaving small kisses all over his jugular and jaw before capturing Ilya’s lips in a kiss that quickly reveals the embers of being away simmering, sparking between them.

Ilya chuckles into his lips, obviously amused by the way Shane asks him a question but then shows zero follow through when he takes away any chance of Ilya actually answering him. Shane pulls away, finally allowing his boyfriend the air to speak.

Though he doesn’t really give more than the air because he’s pawing at Ilya like he might disappear. Shane can’t help it! It’s been two months now and though they’ve spent time away from each other before it’s never been like this. He always is so fucking down bad for Ilya but right now it’s like he needs him burrowed under his skin to feel satiated.

“Okay, okay,” Ilya laughs when Shane practically tries to climb him like a tree. “Maybe we should go in before your neighbors really do call the cops.”

Shane drags him in the house, stealing a few more pecks the second they hit the couch before completely forgetting his original question when Ilya’s tongue peeks into his mouth gently. It fires Shane up. He pushes on Ilya’s shoulder so he’s fully leaning against the back of the couch, then kicks his leg over so it’s rested between Ilya’s thigh and the arm of the couch.

He takes full advantage of the angle, crashing his lips down against Ilya’s, feeling the curl of his lips at the first touch. When Ilya moans into his mouth, Shane slips his tongue past, turning the kiss filthy and heated fast. He doesn’t care one bit. Ilya’s here.

Shane shifts down, nipping at Ilya’s jaw then trailing kisses all over his cheeks, his forehead, the tip of his nose, before moving on to litter them across his neck, up to his ear where he latches on and tugs at his lobe.

“Shane…” Ilya moans. “I thought you wanted to know why I’m here.” His voice comes out shaky, clearly equally affected by Shane’s presence.

“Tell me,” Shane breathes as he licks up the shell of Ilya’s ear. He rubs his hands up his biceps before resting them on Ilya’s shoulder and finally pulling himself back to look in the blue eyes that are dilated and zoned in on just him.

Ilya uses his knuckles to rub against Shane’s stomach before curling around his hips and squeezing. His eyes move back and forth between his, almost like he’s assessing something Shane didn’t know he was being checked over for.

“Cliff remembers.”

All the lust and fevered need sinks out from under him at the words.

He must look as shocked and scared as he feels because Ilya quickly repositions his hands to hold Shane steady by his waist.

“Shane,” Ilya coos, pulling his body so Shane falls forward against him, foreheads just inches away. “He told me to come here.”

“What?” Shane questions instantly because the idea of Cliff telling Ilya to come here seems so far off after the awful terrible night they all experienced.

“I mean, don’t get me wrong, I wanted to come here, like it’s still very romantic of me to do. Cliff just happened to-”

“Ilya,” Shane stops him. He leans down, pecking those plush lips just because he can. “It’s very romantic. I’m going to show you how romantic I think it is later,” he smirks, “but after you tell me what the hell you mean Cliff told you to come here.”

Ilya proceeds to retell the whole thing in extreme detail, blushing at his own words that he recites to Shane, flushing down his neck but not letting that deter the words he wants Shane to hear too.

“He brought up our wedding?” Shane can’t help bringing up after a beat of silence.

“Oh my God Shane, is that really all you got from everything I said?” Ilya grins, pulling Shane so their foreheads touch, moving his face so their nose bump and rub in every direction. “But yes, I smiled at that too.” He tilted his chin up to catch Shane in their – what feels like – thousandth kiss of the night. “We still have work to do and major ass to kiss but… I think we’re going to be okay.”

Shane smiles, “We’ll be more than okay.” He leans down, kissing Ilya again because how can he not? “Oh God,” his stomach suddenly churns. “When is he gonna call me?”

“Oh please,” Ilya shrugs. “You know he is such a softy when it comes to you,” his hand moves to cup the side of Shane’s neck. “We both are.”

Shane can’t help the feeling there’s some kind of ‘but’ waiting to come out but it just… doesn’t. They just sit there, grinning like idiots, whispering ‘I miss you’ and ‘I love you’ in the space between them, only interrupted by the locking of lips.

He gets the sudden urge to cry because even though things aren’t fixed, they’re not just magically peachy keen after all the obstacles they’ve faced, all the lying and hiding they’ve done, there’s so much hope in his heart it’s almost overwhelming. Even more so then the time months ago when they had confirmed a time and place to finally come clean about everything.

He’s completely on edge about the thought of that conversation with Cliff, but something has to be leaning in his favor is Ilya and Cliff’s conversation lead to him telling Ilya to come see Shane, to him helping Ilya book the flights and figure out the whole thing.

“You could’ve texted me,” Shane says between kisses. “I was freaking the fuck out.”

“I couldn’t,” Ilya breathes against his neck, leaving wet kisses to his skin when Shane cranes his neck to allow further access. “I would not have been able to keep it from you.”

“You’re here,” he says, moving his head back, grabbing Ilya’s hair on the back of his head and claiming his mouth.

Ilya grabs the front of his throat, only squeezing enough to bring awareness to the fact that it’s there. He moves Shane back slightly before he lick into his mouth, “I’m here, sweetheart.” He kisses Shane so passionately it leaves his head spinning. “We’re okay.”

Both his hands cup Shane’s face, thumbs wiping away the stray tears that periodically fall. “We’re okay,” he repeats back.

They melt into each other, Shane still straddling Ilya’s thighs on the couch, chests pressed together so closely it almost hurts, kisses being all lips, tongue, and teeth. They stay like that until Shane’s hips start moving, staring in a slow constant rhythm that causes Ilya’s hands to move to the round globes of his ass.

One of Ilya’s hands finds the back of his head and tugs making Shane gasp while his neck elongates. He grinds down even harder when Ilya bites at the side of his throat, sucking the indents he left behind.

Things becomes needy quick as their body sync together, moving as one, properly working each other up. Their shirts were discarded a while ago and Shane lets his hands follow the usual path they take, scratching along every inch of skin he can reach until he’s dipping his finger tips in the waistband of Ilya’s jeans.  

Every time Shane dips his fingers in his waistband, carding his nails through the coarse hair leading south, Ilya can feel his stomach swoop lower and lower like he’s hitting a steep drop on a rollercoaster.

“I want you,” Shane whines, the sound of it shooting even more blood to his achingly hard cock. He’s pretty sure he’s been hard since he got off the plane, the very thought of being in the same room as Shane is quite enough to get him all hot and bothered.

But the way Shane grinds down on him in a desperate slow roll of his hips is slowly making Ilya lose his goddamn mind. They’ve been sitting like this for who knows how long and the second he hears those three words fall from Shane’s mouth, he’s standing up from his spot, Shane still clinging to him, and determinedly walking towards Shane’s bed.

The walk isn’t long, though it only makes him feel even more crazed when Shane’s squirming against him, sucking on his pulse point and making Ilya throw his head back on a moan.

When his knees touch the mattress, he gently lays Shane down then kneels between his legs and starts trailing kisses all over his body, lapping at his hardened nipples, and tracing the outlines of his toned abs. His hands search for warmth, rubbing themselves up and down until they meet his mouth to undo the button on Shane’s jeans, sticking his fingers in the waistband and pulling both his briefs and jeans down.

When he helps Shane kick them off, he quickly removes his own, discarding his pants and boxers without much thought, needing to get back on the warm skin awaiting him.

He flops down, covering Shane in his weight while claiming his mouth again. Their tongues know exactly what to do, exactly how to move in order to spur the other on. He could taste Shane for days. There’s so many layers to it and Ilya wants to spend the rest of his life categorizing them.

Their cocks grind together, precum lubing the way while their hips buck and maneuver in a way that has both men groaning and whispering pleasured moans into the others mouth. Ilya truly thinks he could cum like this and that’s why he’s whispering “flip over” before he blows his load right here from this, not that Shane would be too angry with him.

Shane’s obedience to Ilya’s words without question sends a pleased zing throughout his body, most of it landing low in his balls. He grabs the base of his cock tightly at the sight to keep himself calm.

Shane’s quiet except for the heavy breathing that’s also noticeable by the way his ass jiggles from his trembling shoulders. Ilya lays a hand down, not too hard, just to see the impact ripple over his skin.

Beautiful.

He straddles the back of Shane’s thighs, leaning forward to kiss the nape of his neck, then down his spine before reaching the twin dimples that concave right above his ass.

Ilya grabs his hips and pulls them up, so Shane’s back is arched into a position that keeps his chest to the bed, ass in the air, fully presenting himself to Ilya.

“Fuck,” Ilya whispers, hands roaming Shane’s cheeks before one swats playfully at him. “Gorgeous Shane.”

“Ilya,” Shane moans, head turning in it’s place to look at him. “Please.”

“I’ll take care of you,” he reassures, moving so he’s kneeled on the ground, face level with Shane’s hole. “I always do, yes?”

“Yes.”

He moves, tongue licking from Shane’s balls to his hole where he starts using the tip to move in circles around his rim. He locks his lips there, sucking lightly at the skin before flicking his tongue at the muscle.

“Oh God Ilya,” Shane mewls. “I missed this. I missed you.”

Ilya just groans in response, too busy working the tight puckered hole with various tricks to try and loosen him up. After a few minutes of his meticulous ass eating, he leans forward to stick a finger in Shane’s mouth. He feels his dick twitch when Shane’s cheeks hollow around his digit, eyes fluttering shut at the intrusion.

“Fuck Shane.”

He pulls his finger back, quickly leaning forward and sticking his tongue in Shane’s mouth, then spits on his hand, adding to Shane’s sloppy saliva. He moves back to his knees, wet fingers spreading their mixed spit on Shane’s hole. The whole thing has Ilya feeling lightheaded with possessiveness, and the way Shane whimpers when he finger fucks in the added wetness only fuels the dizziness.

He watches as his finger starts loosening his hole more and more, randomly leaning down to work in his tongue, lubing the way for his second finger to slip right in next to the first.

“That’s it baby,” Ilya praises. “You take me so well.”

“More,” Shane whimpers. “More Ilya. I want mo-”

His words are cut off by the loud gasp that falls from his mouth when Ilya quickly pulls his fingers free, both hands spreading his cheeks and spitting a fat wad right into his loose hole. Ilya leans down to stick his tongue in, frantically fucking his spit into Shane’s ass with his tongue.

Shane starts rocking his hips back into Ilya’s face, moans and mewls falling from his lips at the intense attack on his hole.

“Mmm,” Ilya happily groans when he pulls back, chin soaked. “You taste so good. I think I could eat you out for hours. You would like this, yes?”

“Yes- oh God, yes!” He shouts.

“Good boy,” Ilya replies, fingers finding his hole again, only this time he adds a third and crooks them upon entry, efficiently hitting that sweet spot he knows will have Shane drooling against the sheets.

“Ilya!” Shane screams.

“So tight,” Ilya coos at him, delighted in the way he knows Shane’s body like it was perfectly tuned to him. “Can’t wait to stretch you out with my cock.”

Shane releases a guttural moan at that when Ilya’s fingertips simultaneously hit that bundle of nerves deep in him. “Yes, yes, yes Ilya, please fuck me. I need it.” He slams his hips back on Ilya’s fingers. “I need you.”

And Ilya’s nothing but a fool for his boyfriend.

He’s swiftly flipping Shane so he’s now on his back, wanting to see his face, that beautiful fucking face that contorts into heaven when he’s hitting his release.

He grabs the lube out of Shane’s nightstand, but when he reaches for the condoms, Shane grabs his wrist with a flushed look on his face.

“Can we… um, can we maybe…” He trails off, eyes darting from Ilya’s to random spots on the wall.

Ilya cups the pretty face beneath him, “Shane?”

“I don’t want you to…” The crimson on his face deepens when he gains the courage to look back into Ilya’s eyes. “I don’t want you to wear a condom tonight. I want to feel you. Just you.”

Ilya truly feels like he may have came right then and there, though he frantically reaches for the base of his cock just to keep himself from tipping over the edge because words like that from Shane will never not have an affect on him.

“You are sure?”

“I’m sure,” Shane’s hands come up to caress his face. “I want you, all of you.”

Ilya falls into him, lips consuming his every breath, lubed up fingers finding their way back down to his pulsing hole that flutters around nothing.

Ilya pulls back, gripping the backs of Shane’s thighs and hitching his legs so far up his knees basically touch his chin. He adds extra lube over Shane’s hole and his reddened cock that’s been profusely leaking the second it was free of it’s jean prison.

He lines himself up, the sight of his uncovered cock resting against Shane’s hole is obscene and godly all at once. Shane lets out a grunt as Ilya starts working himself in, small little thrusts of his hips as his large mushroom head starts to slip past the tight ring of muscle. Slowly, inch by inch, deep breath after deep breath, Ilya finally works himself to the hilt, fully sheathed in Shane.

“Oh God…” Ilya moans. “You feels so fucking good baby.”

Shane’s hands are squeezing into the muscles on his back, blunt nails raising red lines across his skin, a concentrated look on his face as he tries to accommodate the large appendage making room for itself inside him. It’s only when Ilya rolls his hips – not pulling out, just moving – that Shane releases a loud moan that starts low in his throat.

Ilya takes that as his sign to start moving and oh fuck he didn’t know it could feel like this. It’s not like the no barrier is that big of a deal, Ilya was never the kind of guy who would ever suggest going without one, but fuck this right now with Shane has him feel every squishy wall that constricts inside him.

He’s moving at a steady rhythm, not to punishing, but nowhere near soft. Just something steady and very much there. very much there enough to have Shane letting out small ah ah ah sounds which each movement.

He uses his hands to push down on Shane’s thighs, making his ass cant up enough to change the angle, Ilya’s dick reaching even further in Shane, no doubt hitting his prostate on each down stroke.

“There!” Shane screeches, fingers digging into Ilya’s arms. “Oh God Ilya, I- I’m not gonna last long. You- you feel too fucking good.”

“Yeah?” Ilya asks, repositioning Shane’s legs so they’re resting on his shoulders as he leans forward to keep himself pressed right against Shane’s sweet spot. “I want to feel it. I wanna feel you come on this cock.”

He starts a relentless slam into Shane’s hole, every contact of his hips is accompanied by his balls slapping against Shane’s ass until it’s red and raw. Ilya swipes his fingers down, rubbing and feeling where his small tight muscle stretches around his own cock.

“Don’t- don’t stop.”

Ilya never wants to stop. He’d fuck Shane for the rest of his life, every second of the goddamn day if he could. Is there a job position for that? He fucking wishes there were.

“You’re prefect Shane, so fucking perfect for me.” He rambles. “Only for me, yes? You are mine. You have always been mine.”

“Only yours Ilya,” he pants, tears falling from his eyes that Ilya leans forward and licks. “Please. I- I’m so close. I want your come. Please give me your come. I love you so fucking much.”

“Ugh,” Ilya groans, Shane’s pleas sending him into a frenzy. “You want this?” His hands find the backside of Shane’s legs again, pinning them so far apart that Shane looks folded like a pretzel. He starts brutally pistoning his hips, cock slamming into Shane’s hole. “I will give it to you. All to you. Fuck, I love you. Mine. My Shane.”

“Ilya!”

And with that, Shane’s squirting white ribbons all over his own chest, some even reaching his throat, eyes crossing as his orgasm violently rips through him at Ilya’s possessive words.

The clench of the hole wrapped around him only makes him even more drunk on Shane, making him lose himself only after a few more thrusts, moaning “Shane!” as he spills his seed deep inside the man he loves.

He collapses down, not paying any mind to the mess that’s smushing between them. They both are panting heavy and Ilya feels like his soul just shot out his dick. He finally starts coming to when Shane’s fingers start brushing featherlight trails over his skin.

He pulls back, leaving continuous little kisses all over Shane’s face, causing the man beneath him to giggle the way no one else gets to hear. The way he only giggles when he’s with Ilya. The thought makes him puff his chest with pride.

“I love you, Shane.” Ilya says, eyes staring down intently. “I love you so fucking much.”

Shane beams up at him with a cute smile that’s both genuine and fucked out. “I love you, Ilya. More than you’ll ever know.”

Ilya gives him another peck for that, “Then I guess you will have to keep telling me.”

“I’ll never stop telling you.”

They don’t get up for a long time.

They just keep kissing, keep repeating the same mantra of ‘I love you’ over and over and over again.

Ilya isn’t sure he’ll ever get used to this.

But fuck, he really looks forward to trying.

Chapter End Notes

WOOHOO I HOPE YOU GUYS LIKED THIS ONE!!!!!!!!

I am thinking maybe one or two more chapters to go. I'm kinda thinking of one more chapter than like a time jump chapter but I'm not too sure yet. I'm kinda winging it at this point.

I seriously have an obscene number of one-shot ideas I'm working on, as well as a part two to both my other one shots AND the epilogue to The Name I Won't Answer To... I just can't get enough of these boys!

I LOVE YOU ALL and as always if you feel inclined to leave me a lil comment, then hey, I'd love that :)

Chapter 10: In a Good Way

Chapter Summary

After years of mixed feelings, miscommunications, and hiding, Shane and Ilya can stop living in the past and start living in the present and even look towards their future.

Chapter Notes

HELLO MY SHAWTIES IT'S THE LAST CHAPTER!!!

Thank you to everyone who has read along while I've been putting this out, reading your comments along the way seriously motivates me to keep writing! I've loved writing this story and can't wait to keep coming up with more stories! I truthfully thought about making another chapter but as I started fleshing it out, more just felt like dragging it on, but I really hope this chapter wraps things up and hits the spot for you :)))))))

Notice how not once did I mention Shane’s degree… um yeah i definitely skirted around that. Someone mentioned it in their bookmark note and I said🫣🫣🫣 yeah I in fact DID NOT mention it once bahahahah

PREVIOUSLY ON CLOSE ENOUGH TO HURT:
-Cliff is in the hospital and the boys deal with overwhelming guilt.
-Shane has to go back to New York, leaving Ilya waiting for the day Cliff remembers the details of the night of his accident.
-Cliff remembers and confronts Ilya.
-Ilya comes to New York to see Shane.

🎶This chapter's song is In a Good Way by Faye Webster.
CLOSE ENOUGH TO HURT PLAYLIST

Chapter 10: In a Good Way

Ilya’s never slept so well.

He wakes up to sun creeping in through the curtains, the memory of a similar morning together months ago after Shane and Miles broke up. The one where Ilya woke up to Shane’s lips devouring his neck. The one where his fears about Shane regretting what they did the night prior were quickly proven to be extremely silly.

This mornings the same in ways, but also different. Good different.

Because this morning he wakes without fear or guilt or hesitancy. He doesn’t wake up fearing he’ll have to hide Shane or hide his feelings for Shane. He can’t even believe it. He can’t believe that everything before this was simply leading them here. Leading them to a place Ilya once thought a dream because there was no logical path that would reward him with this. With Shane. For once, he finally feels like what they have isn’t just some fantasy in his head that he’ll never get.

No.

No this is his life.

He looks down at the man in his arms and feels giddy seeing cute freckles smushed against his chest, the smallest bit of drool pooling on his skin where Shane’s mouth parts. This man is his. Shane is his. Ilya’s arms tighten a little as if Shane might just dissipate into thin air.

Shane is the most beautiful person he’s ever seen in his life. He knew it when he met him at ten years old and he knows it to be the truest thing at the age of twenty one. He’s so beautiful it makes Ilya flush at random times, something that he’s trying to embrace after years of claiming he doesn’t do the whole blushing thing.

At least not if Shane wasn’t in the picture.

He runs his fingers through his boyfriend’s silky locks, scratching his nails lightly on his scalp. Small sounds that’re pretty close to being purrs fall from Shane’s mouth, slowly bringing him to consciousness, his eyes slitting open in a fluttering motion.

Ilya wants to wake up to this the rest of his life. He plans on it.

Shane languidly looks up, brown doe eyes finding his. He watches Shane’s face intently, watching it go from its natural content state to being filled with something even softer, something Ilya can only think to call love.

“Hi,” a sleepy soft voice greets him.

He leans down, dropping a kiss to Shane’s nose. “Hi.”

Shane breathes out of his nose in a delighted huff, a small shake of his head still pressed to Ilya’s chest. “I can’t believe you’re here.” He curls in towards Ilya’s body, wrapping his arms around his neck and pulling his body up so he’s fully on top of Ilya now, body lying flat, legs falling between the part of Ilya’s thick thighs. Shane nuzzles his face into Ilya’s neck, breathing deeply and squeezing his arms tighter. “I wish you were always here.”

“Me too sweetheart,” Ilya caresses his back, fingers running up and down his bare spine. “I would stay here as your housewife all day everyday if I could.”

He feels a few puffs of air on his neck when Shane laughs. Shane pulls himself up to look at him, arms propped up on Ilya’s chest, his chin rested where his hands lay on top of each other. “I want that.”

“You want me to be your housewife?” Ilya cocks his eyebrow. “My Shane,” his hands lift in the air and spread out, “breadwinner, sugar daddy.”

One of Shane’s hands lift slightly to playfully pat his pec. “Shut up. I just mean I’d love to come home to you.” His eyes glimmer when he speaks. “Or knowing that at any second you’ll be walking through the door to come home to me. That’s what I want.”

Ilya’s heart feels so incredibly full because that’s all he’s ever wanted and hearing Shane say it isn’t so much of a shock anymore as it is just reassuring. It makes him fill with butterflies, a thick, warm feeling spreading in his chest.  

“One day,” he says. “When you are done with school, and back home in Ottawa. I will wait for you to get home and make terrible food that we end up throwing away just to order take out. And you will wait for me to come home, boring documentary on the TV, but pretty boy on the sofa pulling me in for cuddles after a long day.”

Shane looks at him like he hung the moon and every single fucking star up there. “Promise?”

Ilya brushes his hair off his forehead, leaning down and kissing the skin there. “Promise.”

Shane hums happily, his head falls down on Ilya’s chest, so his cheek is pressed against him. “And I hope you know we’re not getting take out every day.”

Ilya laughs because even in these sweet moments he thought he’d never get to call his, Shane is still Shane. Shane is still the boy that Ilya’s loved all his life. “I love you so much,” he says, hand gripping the nape of Shane’s neck to pull him into a searing series of kisses.

They stay like that awhile, Shane planted on top of Ilya’s body like he’s physically rooted there, kissing each other like they have all the time in the world. Moments like these are Ilya’s favorite. Of course the sex is a close second, but getting to hold Shane like this and just kiss him without purpose or some kind of motivation except to just be consumed will always reign champion.

Shane forces them out of bed after what felt like forever, insisting they needed to get in the shower. Ilya’s flight isn’t until a little after five so they have a good chunk of the day to themselves, though Ilya would be completely content to spend the rest of it in bed.

Shane makes Ilya swear up and down no funny business which of course, he absentmindedly agrees to because there’s a naked Shane Hollander standing right in front of him and when that happens, not much else gets done in his brain.

“Ilya!” Shane scolds when his hands grab around his body for his dick. “You promised!”

“My fingers were crossed,” he purrs in Shane’s ear from over his shoulder. He has Shane’s back pinned to his chest as his hand starts working up and down Shane’s already hardening cock.

Shane’s panting at this point, his head already falling back onto Ilya. “We need to eat breakfast before meeting Rose.”

Ilya turns Shane in his arms, his hands palming his boyfriends juicy ass before sliding his fingers between the crease of his ass. “I’m looking at my breakfast right now. In fact I think I might just take a bite,” then snarls into Shane’s neck causing the other man to giggle.

“Ilya I’m serious, we don’t have a lot of time,” he says sternly. Ilya’s about to bend the knee and let Shane finish his shower in peace when lips attach themselves to his. He opens his eyes to see those beautiful big brown eyes looking up at him. “So we better be quick then.”

And because Ilya doesn’t have to be told twice, he inhales his boyfriend, fingers making quick work of his rim, though the fact that they had sex the night prior helps in getting him loose enough. With a mission on their mind, there’s not much speaking while Ilya’s face contorts in concentration at playing with Shane’s hole, stuffing three fingers deep, but not deep enough to make him spasm. No, Ilya wants to save that for his cock.

“I’m ready,” Shane pants in his mouth. “Come on, fuck me Ilya.”

“Deviant,” Ilya grins before smacking his lips on Shane’s then grabbing his hips and turning him until he has his face pressed against the wall of the shower, ass pushed out just waiting for Ilya to claim him.

He holds his hand on the side of Shane’s face, smushing his cheek into the title while he smacks a hand down on one of Shane’s ass cheeks, entranced by the way it jiggles.

“Stop playing around and get inside me.”

Well okay then.

Ilya gives his dick a few strokes, not that he needs it, before pushing himself into the wet heat of Shane’s ass. Somehow, their sex only gets better. It doesn’t matter if it’s a quicky or a night full of sexcapades, sex with Shane has to be Ilya’s favorite pastime.

He pushes himself to the hilt and stays there just feeling the way Shane’s whole pulses around him. The way it kisses the base of his cock where it tries to close around him. He groans, falling forward a little to place a kiss between Shane’s shoulder blades, running the hand that was on his face through his dripping hair.

“So perfect, baby,” he breathes. “So fucking perfect for me.”

Shane’s response gets caught on his tongue when Ilya pulls himself out and slowly moves his way back in, slowly building up a rhythm until he can easily slide in and out, moving faster and faster with each smack of his balls.

“Fuck Ilya,” Shane moan, hands scrabbling against the tile. He keens and arches his back on a particular thrust. “Right there!”

Ilya grabs his wrists and pins them behind his back while he ruthlessly slams into the same spongy spot within Shane’s tight walls. He can feel himself already getting close and every time Shane whimpers he can feel his cock spurt just a little bit of come out.

“You feel so good Shane. So good on my cock,” he shifts to hold both Shane’s wrists in one hand so the other can move back to his hip and pull him back with each thrust. “Gonna make me come so fucking quick.”

“Yeah?” Shane whimpers. “Gonna come for me baby?”

Ilya groans loud enough that he’s sure Shane’s neighbors can hear and just starts jackhammering into his boyfriend. He knows he’s too close at this point, so he reaches around to match his strokes on Shane’s cock with his thrusts into his ass.

They’re both moaning and Shane keeps saying ‘yes’ and ‘just like that baby’ which is only fueling the hot lava that burns thick and heavy in his balls. The second Shane comes, Ilya’s pulling out and spurting all over his boyfriends perfect ass listening to the symphony of their obscene moaning.

It takes a second for them to come down, though he knows Shane has to be happy they’re already in the shower for an even quicker clean up. He wanted to come in his boyfriends ass, but with time and his punctual boyfriend in mind, he thought better of it.

They talk while Shane makes them breakfast, which Ilya was shocked to smell actual bacon on the stove and not the turkey bacon his boyfriend would usually opt in for. He didn’t comment on it though. Shane was never weird about food in an obsessive way, but he definitely held a lot of control in that area so anytime he threw caution to the wind, Ilya internally preened.

Shane talks about his classes and about his friends. He talks about how New York is amazing but it’s not home, and when he says home he looks at Ilya in a way that suggests home to Shane is not so much a place but a person. Something Ilya has subconsciously known since he met Shane.

When it comes to Ilya’s turn to share though, he struggles to come up with much. Life without Shane is pretty stale. He goes to work, hangs out with some guys afterwards occasionally, but up until this point he had been stressing about Cliff and missing Shane, so his days were spent moping a lot of the time.

He tells Shane that some days are harder than others. That some days when he can’t seem to pull himself out of bed he worries he’s going to end up like his mother. That he doesn’t understand how he can be so fucking happy and then so fucking sad for no reason at all.

“Have you ever thought about talking to someone?” Shane asks carefully while dishing up their plates with bacon, eggs, and toast. There’s caution in his voice, he doesn’t look directly at Ilya like he’s scared too much attention might make him flee.

“I’m talking to you am I not?” He doesn’t mean for his words to seem so short, but the topic instantly makes him stiffen.

Shane shoots him a look. “Ilya, you know what I mean.”

Ilya’s hands tightly grip his knees under the countertop. “I don’t need therapy Shane. I’m fine.”

“I’m not saying you’re not fine.” Shane rounds the island to set down the plates and sit on the stool next to him. “But I think you’ve been through a lot,” Shane looks at him with those soft, caring eyes, the ones that broke him apart that first night in the treehouse. “More than you should’ve so young. And I think it’s okay to-”

“Can we not talk about this right now?” He kicks himself seeing the frown on Shane’s lips as he curls in slightly, eyes shifting towards his plate, but Ilya really doesn’t want his own pathetic feelings to taint their limited time together. He turns his body towards Shane, reaching an arm over to rest his hand on his thigh. “I leave tonight. I just really want to enjoy this time with my boyfriend. Can we do that please?”

He can tell Shane’s debating. He has that look on his face that implicates he has something to say, something that’s sitting on the tip of his tongue and he’s debating if the reward is higher than the risk.

Shane takes a deep breath, then turns towards him and smiles. “Fine.” He places his hand on top of Ilya’s, giving his fingers a small squeeze. “But don’t think you’re getting out of this conversation so easily. I will be bringing this up again.”

“Oh yes, I know you will.” Ilya shifts and wraps his arm around Shane’s torso, dragging his chair just a little closer, rubbing his nose on the side of Shane’s neck, making him squeak. “My Shane,” He purrs.

Shane beams back, kissing Ilya’s cheek. “My Ilya.”

Ilya pulls back to stare in Shane’s eyes, forehead’s resting against each other. “Yours.” He sternly reiterates.  

“Mine.” Shane replies definitively.

Shane feels like he’s going to shit himself as his phone lights up with Cliff’s name.

He was extremely relieved to hear how well Ilya’s conversation with Cliff went, and as Ilya said, yes, his brother does have a soft spot for him. For such a big burley guy, he truly is just a big teddy bear, especially when it comes to his little brother.

But this is different.

This isn’t some brotherly fight about hogging the hot water or who gets to ride shotgun, this is about Shane lying to someone so fundamental in his life. Someone who’d only ever proclaim protection and acceptance in their relationship.

Ilya spent thirty minutes after breakfast assuring Shane that everything’s fine. And Shane knows that logically if Cliff’s conversation with Ilya ended with him helping book a flight to come and see Shane, what could happen that would warrant this level of stress?

But that’s just not how Shane’s mind works sometimes. For someone who runs on logics, his mind wipes that clean where his anxieties involved.

Ilya’s at the store grabbing a souvenir for Yuna as if Shane doesn’t come home from New York all the time. His absence is something Shane scowls at. It’s not like the call would be all of them or anything, but he’d be lying to himself if he said he wasn’t wishing for the comfort of his boyfriend right now.

He takes a deep breath, settling himself further into the couch, doing his best to release any nerves that prickle under his skin.

He picks it up.

“Hey,” he mutters.

“Hi buddy.”

Tears instantly pool at his lash line.

They’ve talked on the phone multiple times since being back in school – more than they ever did before the accident – but even just hearing those two words tells Shane so much about his recovery. It sounds stupid, they’ve barely said anything at this point of the call, but Shane knows. He knows his brother and he can hear the clarity in his voice. Not completely healed, but getting there.

“I’m sorry,” he croaks, unable to keep the emotion back.

“Shane-”

“No Cliff I’m so sorry,” he starts. He didn’t necessarily plan on a word vomit apology, but it seems that’s where they’re at right now. “You just have to know it wasn’t you. It was never you. We-we were just so scared okay? We had just figured things out and we were going to tell you-”

“Shane.”

“-we really were. That’s what the whole hike and breakfast was for but then the party happened and you got in the accident, and it all just blew up into this big fucking mess.” He was barely breathing while talking, face red and tear stained. “I just felt more and more and more guilty the longer-”

“Shane.”

He finally closed his mouth.

Cliff sighs through the speaker. “God, you and Ilya both need to learn how to shut up.”

He laughs at that before going serious again. His fingers fidget with his shirt hem. “We have a lot of explaining to do.”

“Yeah, you do.” Cliff says, not coldly, just matter of fact. “But that’s not why I called, I figure Ilya already told you about our conversation.”

“He did. I seriously can’t believe you.”

“Me?”

“Yeah you,” Shane laughs fondly. “We lie to you, keep this huge thing from you and you help him plan to come see me? That’s insane! I don’t think I deserve a brother like you.”

Cliff’s voice turns more serious, “Don’t say that Shane. You deserve everything, and the only reason I’m choosing not to be protective older brother with Ilya is because that guy worships the ground you walk on. And you deserve that.”

“But I lied to you,” it comes out so soft Shane sort of hopes Cliff misses it.

There’s silence for longer than comfortable, but Shane decides not to fill it. He needs to take this conversation at Cliff’s pace, however he wants to go about it.

“Can I be honest?” He finally asks.

Shane’s heart clinches. “Of course.” 

“I don’t like how good of a liar you’ve become.”

A breezy laugh falls out of him. “Oh yeah?”

“Yeah,” Cliff sighs dramatically. The next breath that comes out sounds fractured as it flows through the speaker. “I just hate that you didn’t feel like you could tell me. You know I’d do anything for you Shane, right?”

“Cliff,” Shane’s voice breaks from the sudden swell of emotions that blow up in his chest. “You have to understand it wasn’t you. It’s killing me that you think that. Things were just so fucking complicated for so long.”

“Yeah, I’ve gathered that much. And when you’re home, you guys can fill me in. Together.” Shane smiles at his brothers emphasis on Shane and Ilya doing it together. “Though you guys can spare me some of the gory details. Some stuff I am completely okay not knowing.”

Shane shakes his head with a grin. “Tell that to Ilya. He’s the one you should be worried about spilling those beans.”

“Oh, I know.” The silence that forms is more comfortable this time, the one they’ve perfected over all these years. “We’re good?”

Shane can’t even believe Cliff is the one asking if they’re good as if he did anything wrong.

“Of course we are.”

“Good because I have something else I need to tell you and I really need the support when talking to mom.”

“Oh god,” Shane says scared. “Don’t tell me you knocked Katie up.”

“Fuck no. Neither of us are ready for that nor am I that stupid, but thanks for thinking so little bro.” Shane rolls his eyes even knowing Cliff can’t see him. “But it does have to do with Katie.”

“Okay? What could you have possibly done that you don’t want to face mom with?”

“I may or may not have proposed to her in the mall yesterday.” Cliff says really fast.

“Cliff.”

“I couldn’t help it!” He sputters. “We were walking in the mall and all the sudden my hands started sweating so bad and my heart was beating out of my fucking chest and the next thing I knew I was down on my knee barely speaking. Katie thought I was having a stroke until I finally blurted out ‘marry me.’ I didn’t even have the ring with me.” He explains frantically. “Don’t worry though, she said yes.”

This may seem like not a big deal to most, but Yuna Hollander is a planner. And the second Cliff brought up proposing to Katie, their mom had spent a lot of time helping him plan the perfect proposal. So much so that there were arrangements, an engagement party, and a private photographer that had been booked for next month.

So though a son getting engaged may seen like a dream for any mom to hear, both boys know how Yuna will respond. Shane can’t lie though, having his brother come to him for help after everything makes something inside him heal. It makes the guilt and worry lessen by just a fraction.

Shane laughs into the speaker. “You’re so dead.”

Shane couldn’t go home for thanksgiving, but Ilya came to him.

Much like the last time Ilya visited Shane in New York, their time together dripped in domesticity. Being more solid, having things smoothed over with Cliff, not having to hide what they are to each other, things felt even more homely and at ease.

Ilya came for a week, and Shane was on cloud nine.

They went out with his friends but this time they danced a lot like they did on their date in Montreal. Actually, a lot of that week felt like that date on repeat and Shane didn’t want it to stop.

Their actual thanksgiving dinner was just the two of them, something that had Shane thinking about forever. Thinking about spending every thanksgiving together and it’s not a new thought considering the number of holidays they’ve spent together but now it feels real and tangible. It feels certain, even though they’ve only had their shit actually figured out for the last five months – not counting all the speedbumps along the way.

It hurts a little less kissing Ilya goodbye at the airport knowing he’d be coming home for two weeks during Christmas break. That doesn’t mean those few weeks between weren’t hard.

But now he’s in the car after just getting off the plane, his boyfriends grounding hand resting on his thigh, driving back to the house to have a joyful Hollander Christmas.

The second they get to the house, Yuna’s on them about house rules.

“Rules?” Shane questions, annoyance clear on his face. “You didn’t have anything to say the last few weeks we were here together during summer.”

Yuna gives him a knowing look over the island, “Honey, we didn’t really have the air to talk about these things at the time.” She tosses dressing on the salad she’s preparing to go along with their dinner. “We kinda had some other things going on if you can recall,” she gestures with her chin to Cliff who sits on a stool reaching over to pick croutons out of the salad. She slaps his hand earing a “hey!” out of him.

“Mom, we’ve been around each other for years now. Ilya literally just came and stayed with me for a week.” His hands fly while he passionately talks because why the hell is his mom talking about rules like they’re kids. “Alone, by the way.”

“This is still my house, and you are both under my roof.” Her arms cross over her chest, eyes flinting between Shane and Ilya. “No sleeping in each other’s rooms and doors need to stay open.”

“Mom!” Shane groans like a kid who got refused a toy at the store. “I’m twenty years old.”

“No, really guys,” Cliff pipes in between a crunch of the crouton, “teen pregnancy is a big deal.”

“Again,” Shane scoffs and slaps him on the back of the head, “I’m twenty years old. And a man by the way.” His eyebrows suddenly furrow. “And, Cliff and Katie share a room all the time. Here and at the cottage.”

“It wasn’t always like that Shaney,” Cliff says, enjoying this way too much. “It’s a rite of passage.”

“Mom!”

Yuna rolls her eyes, “Fine. You guys can share a bed, but I expect that door to be open Shane.”

Shane scoffs when Ilya finally adds to the conversation. “Of course Mrs. Hollander.”

The three others in the kitchen all slow towards him like he’s an animal that just started talking.

“Did you just call mom Mrs. Hollander?” Cliff asks amused.

“What?” Ilya shrugs. “I thought maybe it was appropriate in this situation.”

“Honey, please don’t ever do that again,” Yuna laughs, everyone else following. “You’ve been a part of this family too long for that.”

Shane doesn’t miss the smile on Ilya’s face.

All in all, rules or not, they find ways to be alone together.

Ilya’s not completely off of work over the holidays but he works limited hours. Every day he works Shane brings him lunch and sits in the office with him, sometimes David and Cliff join them too. Kyle walks by Ilya’s car one day while they’re making out, Shane basically mounting the center consol just to get closer. When Ilya brings it up later, he can’t hide the smug look on his face recalling Kyle’s mention of seeing them ‘bumping uglies’ (who the hell says that?! They were only kissing!) during Ilya’s lunch. As mortifying as it is, the preening and possessive look on Ilya’s face makes a smile crack across Shane’s face.

They, of course, spend countless hours in the treehouse, the one place that seems to be exempt from Yuna’s rules. Shane even lets a little loose and takes one puff from the joint Ilya pulls from his pocket on one night, earning a “you’re wild” from his sarcastic boyfriend. Shane scolds Ilya many times for trying to initiate sex while they’re up there, always saying they’re way too close to the family room to be doing that – they always end up doing it anyways.

They go to K-town even when Shane tries to get Ilya to pick somewhere they both like – though that always ends with his boyfriend driving right back to K-town.

“But it’s not your favorite!” Shane says for what feels like the millionth time.

“But you are,” Ilya responds every time.

They drive out to the viewpoint that brings back a memory that used to haunt Shane. The memory that felt like a dream and a really fucking confusing nightmare at the same time.

Dream because in that moment it felt like the climax of the saga that is Shane Hollander and Ilya Rozanov. Confusing fucking nightmare because of the drama, mixed feelings, then distance that followed.

“Do you remember the first time you took me here?” Shane asks with his head thrown back, straddling Ilya in the back seat of his car, Ilya’s mouth sucking on his Adam’s apple.

Ilya pulls his head back and uses his pointer finger and thumb to grab Shane’s face, angling it down. “Of course I remember Shane.” He pecks the side of Shane’s mouth. “You were killing me that night. I hated seeing Kyle try and flirt with you.” He pecks the other corner. “I was trying to be good.”

Shane laughs, Ilya’s breath tickling him when he breathes into his ear, sucking his lobe hard. “You were being stubborn.”

Ilya pulls back with a loud gasp and hand on his chest. “Me? Stubborn?”

“Are you kidding me? So stubborn!” Shane falls forward, elbows resting on his boyfriends shoulders, hands wrapping around the back of his head to cart through blonde curls. Ilya’s hands wrap around his waist, hands interlocking behind his back. “You were talking in codes. I felt like my heart was about to beat out of my chest.”

Ilya leans forward to lock their lips. “Yeah well unfortunately, you’re pretty irresistible even when interrogating me.”

“Unfortunately?” Shane grins widely, “and I was not interrogating you.”

“Mmmm, I think yes.” One of Ilya’s hands move to brush against his cheek. “But hot investigator with pretty freckles cracked me good. Hit me aside the countertop and popped my lid right off like a jar. I had no other choice but to kiss you.”

He crashes his lips down against Ilya’s. “You’re ridiculous.”

“You love it,” Ilya says with their foreheads pressed against each other.

“I do.” Shane exemplifies his words with a searing kiss that leads to… other things. Other things that keep them from dinner, something Yuna’s not thrilled about.

Spending this Christmas being official with Ilya feels like nothing’s changed but yet everything has in the best way possible. It’s the way Ilya helps Yuna in the kitchen like he always would, getting things for her so she didn’t have to even when she’d remind him she’s fully capable, and seeing it in a new lens brings the same warm, fuzzy feeling it always has, but now something about it has him watching extra close, a cozy weight settling in his heart.

It’s the way David calls Ilya son, something he’s done for longer than Shane could remember, but hearing it now heals something in both him and Ilya. It’s watching all the self-doubt and concern visibly drain from his boyfriends body at the acceptance from Shane’s family, as if he hasn’t been a part of it for years.

Shane’s thrilled when Ilya brings up therapy – because yes, Ilya was the one to bring it up. He didn’t wait for Shane to bring it up again, he brought it up this time. Shane couldn’t hide the stupid smile that spread across his face.

The conversation with Yuna and David is a bit harder. Shane sits next to Ilya on the couch the whole time, holding his hand as the good, the bad, and the ugly comes out. Ilya cries, Yuna cries, David cries, fuck, Shane cries. His parents of course always knew something was going on with Ilya’s family and knew more details than others, but they didn’t know the full extent. They didn’t know the way Shane found him the night all this heavy information made its way to him.

His mom’s already looking up therapists as they walk upstairs. Ilya holds Shane a little tighter that night and Shane waits to fully give way to sleep until he hears his boyfriends evened out breathing.

On their last night together before Shane returns for second semester, they lay on the floor of the treehouse, both on their backs, side of their bodies pressed from shoulder to ankles.

“Do you remember that summer I broke my arm?”

Shane rolls over to his side and plays with the gold cross on Ilya’s chest, shifting it between his fingers. “Yeah. You tried so hard to act like you didn’t care about being left out.” He looks up to his boyfriends chiseled face, tilting his chin to look into his eyes. “Always trying to be so tough.”

Ilya chuckles, “I sat on the back porch convincing myself I didn’t mind. Then there you were, walking up to me, making feel things I didn’t even understand.” Shane couldn’t stop the smile that curved his features, hand curling around to cup Ilya’s face, who in return was brushing his thumb over the skin under Shane’s eye. “You barely knew me then. But you knew what I needed. You always do.”

“Mmmm. Because you’re mine. You’ve always been mine.”

“And I aways will be,” Ilya lifts his head to press a kiss to Shane’s lips. “Fuck I’m gonna miss you. I’ll be counting down the days till spring break.”

Shane goes quiet for a second. He’s really not looking forward to being apart from Ilya again. It’s been really heavy on his mind, so much so that he’s been talking with a counselor about the possibilities of transferring to McGil next year just to be closer to home. To Ilya.

“Sweetheart?”

“I um, I’ve been thinking about something and I really wanna talk to you about it.”

“Okay?” Ilya says skeptically as he sits up, Shane doing the same. “Is everything okay?”

“What would you say if I told you I would be home for school next year?”

Ilya’s face twists in confusion. “Well that’d be awesome but why? I don’t understand?”

“I’ve been thinking of transferring to McGil.” He spits out. “I just don’t think I can be away from you anymore.”

“But you love New York.” He says with so much care and sincerity it kills Shane. God he loves Ilya so much.

“But I love you more.”

“Shane-”

“Just, wait. I know what you’re going to say and Ilya I don’t care. I don’t want you to feel any kind of way about this.” He reaches over and plays with one of Ilya’s curls. “Yes, I love New York. I love the friends I’ve made there, really, they’re great and I know they’ll be in my life for a long time, but I don’t think I can go any longer being separated from you. It’s been so hard being away from the family this year and I just really think being closer to home for the last two years will be better for me.”

His stomach swirls at the unreadable look Ilya’s giving him. Does he not want Shane to be closer to home? It’s making him feel a little sick and if Ilya doesn’t say something right now-

“You can’t.”

Okay, so that’s not exactly what Shane had wanted him to say. He may actually puke now.

“What?” He asks in a small voice.

“You can’t finish school in Canada.”

“Why?”

Ilya playfully rolls his eyes, grabbing Shane’s hand that had fallen from his face a second ago. “Because if you move back to Canada that would leave your boyfriend homeless when he moves to New York next fall.”

“Wh- wait.” Because um what? “Ilya, what are you talking about?”

He brings his hand to the side of Shane’s neck and pulls him in for a kiss. “I’m gonna get my associates online and come live with you during the school year. It was David’s idea. He thinks it’d be smart for our future or whatever. That maybe I could even do a construction management program at some point. Svetlana already hooked me up with a job through her uncle while I’m there so no worries about me rotting on your couch.”

Shane is shocked. That was far from what he was expecting. Ilya coming to live with him? In New York? It sounds like a dream. It sounds like every fantasy he’s played out in his head coming true. Having him there for thanksgiving was like his own little teaser trailer for the next school year to come and suddenly Shane’s quite looking forward to it.

Ilya continues speaking when Shane still just stares at him, “Unless, um, you don’t… want that?” He stammers. “I’m so sorry this um, this was a lot to spring on you. I didn’t even ask you fir-”

Shane throws his arms around his neck, squeezing him so hard when Ilya starts speaking it comes out as a wheeze.

“So is that a yes?”

Shane pulls back, shaking his head at his wonderfully amazing boyfriend. “Ilya, of course it’s a yes.”

When Shane brought up going somewhere together for spring break, Ilya was too giddy to hear much of anything else.

So imagine his surprise when on their drive to this music festival, Shane starts talking about the camping set up with Jackie, Hayden, and Rose.

“I told you they were coming too!” Shane reasons from the passenger seat of their packed car that’s filled with camping equipment. “Why would we need so much gear for the two of us?”

“I don’t know Hollander!” Ilya responds in a voice that sounds a bit too whiny than he means. “You’re a princess so I just figured it was more of a glamping situation.”

“Oh fuck off,” Shane wafts a hand his way. “I tried to get Svetlana to come since her and Rose seemed to hit it off when we met for drinks, but she heard the word camping and practically hung up on me.”

Hearing Shane mention that night with Svetlana makes his annoyed feelings about not having Shane all to himself lighten. His boyfriend had still been pretty jumpy at the mention of her, he was holding on to past feelings and preconceived thoughts that never really cleared – something Ilya takes full responsibility for. She had brought up meeting Shane in the city for drinks in January – which Shane was very against at first – and the rest is history. Now it feels like the two gang up on him for sport. About a month ago though, she went out with Shane and his friends, which allegedly ended up with Svetlana finishing the night in Rose’s bed.

Ilya laughs, “Ah, yes. No amount of pretty women or men could make Sveta want to rough it.”

“Anyways,” his beautiful boyfriend drags out. “If someone would’ve listened to me, then someone would’ve known that they were coming too. Besides, Rose and Jackie have been to a rave before, and they said it’s always better in a group.”

“Mhmm,” Ilya hums noncommittally. “As long as I get to see you in a slutty little outfit and get you to myself at the end of the night, then I think we’ll be okay.”

“I think I can make that happen,” Shane leans over the center console and kisses his cheek.

And okay, maybe Rose was right because the first few days have already been amazing, and their group just clicks, though he obviously shouldn’t have been worried about that considering they’ve all hung out before. Ilya always got along with almost everyone, but it feels like they have endless topics to discuss, even when they’re just sitting back at the campsite rotting.

On the last day, Shane’s wearing these little black shorts that could just be labeled as spandex, no shirt, and glitter that Jackie doused him in. Shane was clearly a little self-conscious at first, but Ilya made it his duty – as he does every other day – to shower Shane in compliments. Some liquid courage never hurt anyone either.

At one point Shane and Ilya separate from their groups spot on the hill to go get drinks for everyone.

The one millisecond Ilya doesn’t have his arm around Shane so he can go throw something away, this guy comes up thinking he’s going to get lucky or something. He starts getting all touchy feely with a drunk Shane who is just laughing along with no idea that this man clearly wants in his pants. Ilya can only take so much before he’s shucking the guys hand away from Shane’s arm and linking his own around his boyfriends waist like a brand. And if that and his angry scowl isn’t enough, he makes sure to capture Shane in a passionate kiss, with a sly “bye bye,” to the man before dragging Shane away triumphantly. His boyfriend’s so caught up in their desperate kiss he doesn’t even question Ilya pulling him into a porta potty at first.

Ilya locks the handle in place then grabs Shane’s face and claims his lips.

Shane giggles, “Ilya, what-” he’s interrupted by the Russian hanging off his lips. “What’re we doing in here? It seriously smells like shit.”

Ilya dips down, trailing kisses all over Shane’s neck and bare chest. “I need you. Now.”

“In here?” Shane asks in disbelief.

“Yes, Shane,” he grabs two handfuls of Shane’s ass, pulling him flush against the tent in the front of his pants. “In here.”

“But… we’re in public.” He mutters.

“Listen if you don’t want to do anything we don’t have to, but I can’t lie I feel like I might die if I’m not in you in the next two minutes.”

He’s a little shocked to see the smile on Shane’s face rather than the hard no he was preparing for and was totally okay with taking. He knew his boyfriend wouldn’t be thrilled about a porta potty quicky, but he also feels feral for him right now – not that that’s really new.

“Oh Ilya Rozanov,” Shane takes his shorts off then pulls the waist band of Ilya’s down past his balls, giving his hard cock a couple firm strokes that already have Ilya moaning. “You’re so lucky I’m equally freaked out for you.”

Getting into a good sex position in this box feels almost impossible but Ilya ends up just picking Shane up, so his legs are wrapped around his midsection, using his grip on Shane’s ass to move him up and down on his cock.

Shane’s head is all the way back, mouth open, sweat falling from his chest as small, held back whines come from his throat. Shane’s hidden his face in Ilya’s neck multiple times at this point trying to muffle his moans and he’s pretty impressed with his boyfriend considering Shane usually can’t stay quiet for shit.

In fact, on one slam into Shane’s ass, an animalistic growl erupts from Ilya, causing Shane to bring his hand up and cover his mouth.

“You have to be quiet,” Shane pants out, staring in his eyes.

Ilya nods back. Shane takes both his hands and puts them on Ilya’s shoulders to try and help their movements. The sound of their skin slapping can no doubt be heard outside the porta potty but honestly right now Ilya doesn’t really give a fuck and the way Shane is whispering praises about how amazing Ilya is tells him that his boyfriend doesn’t care too much about it either.

“Harder,” Shane whines.

“This is not hard?” Ilya emphasizes with a sharp thrust while bouncing Shane’s ass down on his cock.

“Fuck- oh God.” His eyes start rolling back and Ilya knows he’s close.

“That’s it baby,” he growls. “Come on this cock. Tell everyone who this fucking ass belongs to.”

“I-Ilya,” he moans out, nails digging into Ilya’s shoulders, no doubt breaking skin.

He doesn’t even try to muffle Shane’s moan the second he starts nailing into his prostate. It only takes a few slams to have Shane coming untouched, cock spewing come between their sweaty bodies.

“Fuck Shane, so beautiful,” he pants, working his rhythm up to fulfill his own pleasure. “Gonna come baby.”

Shane taps his shoulder making Ilya release him so he can crouch down and connect his lips to Ilya’s tip while he furiously jacks himself off into his boyfriends mouth, his head falling back with a loud moan slipping out as he spills into Shane’s waiting mouth.

“Can I say something?” Ilya asks when they walk back to their friends with drinks pilled in their hands. Drinks they should’ve been back with thirty minutes ago.

Shane scoffs, “When have you ever asked permission?”

Ilya just smiles and shakes his head. “I liked it.”

“Liked what? Fucking in that nasty poop bucket? Please don’t develop a kink for that cause I think that may be the first and last time we ever do that.”

“No,” he dismisses, “though you letting me fuck you in public was certainly hot.” Ilya leans over and kisses the side of Shane’s head while they walk. “I mean being able to be possessive of you.”

“Mmmm.” Shane blushes, his head going down in a flush as if they didn’t just fuck in the bathroom surrounded by waiting people. “I’m pretty sure you’ve always been that way.”

“You know what I mean Shane.” He stops, making his boyfriend stop and turn to him, closing the distance between them. “I like being able to let people know you’re mine. I used to never think I’d get to do that for real without some ‘second brother’ facade to hide behind.” He leans his forehead against Shane’s. “I like when people know you’re mine.”

“I am.” Shane leans forward and pecks him on the lips. “I always have been.”

“Two more months,” Ilya declares because then Shane will be home for the whole summer and then after summer they will both go to New York and live together. Like, for real. Like, just the two of them. Together.

“Two more months.”

They smile like two stupid idiots in love until they reach their friends.

“Where the hell have you guys been?” Hayden furrows his brows at them. “You missed it! I heard two people really going at it in the bathrooms!”

It’s the end of the summer when Cliff and Katie get married. 

Shane’s of course his best man while Ilya’s a groomsman, though Cliff made it clear it’d be both of them if it could be – Shane by the way did say they could split the duties which Ilya was happy to decline under the guise of brotherly priorities. Really though, he was happy to sit back and let his boyfriend run the show. Ilya’s pretty sure Shane did more than the maid of honor when it came to getting this whole thing arranged.  

David officiated the wedding while Yuna bawled from her seat. It wasn’t a small wedding nor was it a large one, but it had everyone who needed to be there. Everyone in their little community filled the venue with love and sitting at the family table, watching Shane walk back from giving his speech, Ilya feels like he can see his own future crystal clear. 

When he was younger, weddings weren’t really something he dreamed of. Being in love with someone you convinced yourself you couldn’t have didn’t leave much room for those kinds of fantasies. It felt like a recipe for disaster on top of a five course meal filled with chaos. 

But ever since that day on the couch when Cliff mentioned a petty wedding speech, it’s all Ilya can think about. 

Thoughts of him standing at the end of the aisle, Cliff by his side, watching his beautiful Shane walk down with Yuna and David linked to each arm. The details surrounding it aren’t super clear, he’s not one for the planning or decor – that’s what Yuna’s for, right? – but the clearest image is him and Shane standing together at the end of that alter. Standing together because there’s no other person Ilya would rather spend the rest of his life with. 

He feels a little crazy when he thinks about that, or when he thinks about an engagement of his own. Their relationship has moved pretty quickly but how could it not? How could it not when he’s spent his whole life needing Shane the way he needs air to breathe. 

“What would our wedding be like,” he asks while holding Shane against his body as they slow dance, Us by James Bay playing melodically.

Shane smiles up at him, “Our wedding?”

Ilya nods, his heart swells at the thought. He spent so much time punishing himself, making himself believe that he could never have this, that he didn’t deserve Shane. Holding him so close now only makes Ilya selfish. Makes him want to claim the amazing man in front of him in any and every way possible.

“Hm,” Shane says looking around them. “I love the thought of being surrounded by people we love, but… I think I’d want it to be intimate. Just us and the people who are really important to us.”

“Sounds nice,” Ilya smiles. He’d be happy with anything if it meant Shane being his for the rest of their lives.

“I’ve never thought about it much, but I definitely want something softer. Have it somewhere where the only lighting comes from a million candles lighting the aisle or something.”

“A million?” Ilya raises a brow. “Sounds like a fire hazard.”

Shane hits his shoulder lightly. “Shut up. They have battery powered ones, we’re not like in the old ages grandpa.”

“Grandpa?” Ilya gasps. “You will pay for this.”

“Ilya!” Shane squeaks. Ilya puts his arms around his waist and lifts him in the air, twirling him around. “Put me down you idiot!”

He loosen his grip, letting Shane’s body slide down the front of his, both men standing face to face in the middle of the dance floor, just giddily smiling at each other.

“You think about our wedding?” Shane asks quietly, fingers playing with the neckline of Ilya’s suit jacket.

Ilya brushes a lock of hair behind his ear, leaning down to kiss his cheek. “Our wedding, our home, our future. Whatever I can as long as it means you’re mine.”

Shane goes on his tip toes to plant his own kiss on Ilya’s cheek. “I’ll always be yours,” he whispers.

“And I yours my love.”

One year later

“Ilya, it’s late.” Shane says as his boyfriend drags him out the back door, b-lining it to the treehouse ladder. “If you wanna smoke, go smoke. I won’t complain if you just let me go to bed.”

They just got back in town, and Shane wants nothing more than his bed. Ilya, on a spur of the moment decision decided they should go to Montreal for a night trip, much like their first night together. They stayed in the same suite, went to the same dinner, the same club, and ended the night in a very similar way, though with two years of knowing each other’s bodies the way they do now and living together this past year, the sex was life altering. It always is with Ilya.

Living together has been everything Shane could ever want. They’re both so different and of course they get into these little stupid arguments like any cohabitating couple would, but at the end of the day it’s their little life together and Shane can’t picture it any other way.

Shane’s pretty sure he’s never seen Ilya as happy as he was when Shane agreed to get a dog from the shelter. She’s a little pitty named Anya and Shane’s not sure if Ilya would save him or the dog if it really came down to it. Watching his boyfriend treat her like the princess she is only fuels his day dreams of having kids with Ilya one day. He knows it’s a far away thought, but it’s something he’s been thinking about a lot recently.

If he’s being completely honest, he kind of had the feeling Ilya was going to propose when they were in Montreal. It’s not that he needs it or anything, they’ve only really talked about at Cliff and Katie’s wedding, but ever since then he gets lost in thought about it.

Thoughts of Ilya being his husband. The father of his kids. The man he’ll love till the day he dies.

That didn’t happen of course and that’s fine because they already have so much of their future planned out. Shane has one more year in New York before they’ll come back to Ottawa and find a place here. They’ve discussed the potential of even living in Montreal, though Yuna was quick to veto that as if she really has a say. They don’t exactly have it figured out right now, but they have time. They have so much time.

And it’s because of that time that Shane is groaning the whole way up the ladder. What could possibly be so important they had to go into the treehouse now?

He’s about to voice another quick complaint as his boyfriend yanks him through the door.

“Ilya-” he’s cut off when Those Eyes by New West quietly playing in the room makes him actually look up.

The whole room is lit up. A soft yellow light shines on every nook and cranny, candles placed on every possible surface. He’s still a little confused as he looks around, seeing the place that’s theirs look so beautifully illuminated in this intimate lighting.

His heart skips a beat when he turns to see Ilya in the middle of the room, down on one knee, looking up at him with soft features and shiny eyes.

Shane’s hands fly to his mouth, not sure if he’s trapped in one of his reoccurring daydreams after the amazing night they shared together because seeing his boyfriend kneeling in front of him right now surely can’t be real. Should he pinch himself?

“Shane Hollander,” Ilya starts, voice coming out a little shaky.

“Oh my God,” Shane gasps, moving forward when Ilya reaches for his hand. He brings Shane’s palm to his lips, giving it a quick peck then rubbing his cheek on it before holding it in one of his hands.

“I um, I’ve loved you since the day I met you.” Ilya’s lip trembles. He takes a deep breath before continuing. “You made me feel things I had never felt before. Things that I didn’t know how or what to name.”

Shane can feel his whole body quivering with the tears that already spill over his face. He has half a mind to jump Ilya and just shut him up with kisses and an obvious yes to the question he has yet to even ask, but he also wants to hear this after everything.

“I tried so fucking hard not to feel things for you, and I tried to hide that as guilt. Though it was partially guilt, it was also my own self destruction. My own doubts about deserving your love. Because Shane I never doubted my abilities to love you. That is something I will never doubt. But you showed me that love is not selfish. Love is not transactional. Love is about giving all you have and sometimes a little more but also a little less because we’re all human and when I have you by my side all I care about is making you happy because fuck Shane you make me so happy.”

Shane falls to his own knees at this point, crumpled down between Ilya’s thighs, reaching up to wipe his tears as if he doesn’t have tears of his own leaking out like a faulty pipe.

“I love you so much baby. And I want to spend the rest of my life making up for all those years of confusion and heartbreak and mixed emotions. I want to spend the rest of my life loving you because that’s the reason I was put on this earth.” He reaches into his front pocket, Shane chuckles at the mess they must look right now. Ilya pulls out a simple golden band, and raises it towards Shane. “So, Shane Hollander, will you marry me?”

Shane dives forward on Ilya, knocking him backwards with an armful of Shane, his face quickly getting littered with kisses and small I love you’s being spoken into his skin. He can’t fucking believe it. Ilya Rozanov really just proposed to him, just told him all the things that, yes he already knew, but fuck after years of wanting it, those words just never get old.

He cups both hands on Ilya’s face, crashing their lips together in a passionate kiss that Shane hopes speaks everything he’s feeling right now. Fuck. This is really going to be his for the rest of his life? Shane didn’t think he was one who needed superficial things, he already knew they’d have a long future together, but knowing that Ilya will be his husband has Shane bubbling over with joy.

He can hear the rumble of a chuckle in Ilya’s neck as Shane nuzzles there. “So is that a yes sweetheart?”

Oops.

He pulls back, body still propped up on Ilya’s. He runs his hands through those blonde curls he’s been obsessed with since nine years old. Stares into those blue ocean eyes that have always pulled Shane into a trance. Smiles in response to the knowing grin plastered on his fiancé’s lips. The lips that he gets to kiss whenever he wants for the rest of his life.

He leans down, kissing Ilya with all his might for only a moment before pulling back just enough that their forehead’s rest against one another.

“Of course it’s a yes.”

Chapter End Notes

OMG THANK Y'ALL SO FUCKING MUCH FOR READING!!!! It's amazing to get such great feedback on my silly little story and I seriously appreciate each and every one of you!

Leave me a lil comment if you'd like, I hope to see some of y'all on future stories! <3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3

Here's some of my other stories!
THE NAME I WONT ANSWER TO (complete, though I am working on an extra chapter. Like really... I promise now that this is finished, I feel like I can focus. Roommates that play for the same team and make a sex contract, Shane’s a rookie while Ilya’s captain)
THE FIRST OF MANY (one shot, possible extra chapter coming. College AU where they meet at a Halloween party)
NO ONE MAKES ME FEEL LIKE YOU DO (one shot, possible extra chapter coming. Continuation of ep 4. After club scene)
WHAT YOU DO TO ME (WIP waiting on one more chapter. Ilya’s Shane’s best friends dad)