Summary:

"Oh my God, what?" Shane demands, nervous now.
Ilya swears in Russian again. "Is, um. The condom."
Fuck. "What about the condom?"
"On porvalysa," he says, like he can't fucking bring himself to say it in a language that Shane can understand. Then he finally looks at Shane, mouth covered like he's a cowering dog afraid to show Shane his teeth. "It broke."

Ilya Rozanov and Shane Hollander are twenty, on top of the world, and a little irresponsible about it. This is the crash.