Summary:

Ilya has a particular way of holding himself when he’s listening to Shane like this, when the air is thin and fragile between them. He goes very still, eyes wide open, the perfect absurd bow of his lips the only trembling thing. It isn’t enough, Shane thinks. This little soft-shuffle step towards better, God, it feels like a fucking mockery. It isn’t enough when Ilya is this, this warm-breathing world that Shane loves so completely, this thing that roars through his body like waves on rocks, sending him tumbling.

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Shane and Ilya are three years out from retirement, on their second billet kid, and they're trying to figure out the future.