Summary:

“Did, uh,” Frankie starts. She sounds faint. “Did you just say your boyfriend?”

Ilya’s stomach drops. Oh. Oh, fuck.

He doesn’t know what his face does. There will probably be pictures of this moment all over the internet by tomorrow morning. He doubts it’s flattering, considering there’s a non-zero chance he’s going to throw up all over the microphone.

Ilya scrambles. Too tired, too shocked at his own brain’s betrayal to know how to fix this. “Blyat,” he spits. Then he laughs, and even he can hear that it sounds more wild than genuine. “English language is hard, yes? I meant my boys, my boys who are my friends. The Centaurs, yes? They are all my boy friends.”

OR

Ilya Rozanov has a no-good, very bad two days and accidentally outs himself. He's not having a great time.