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Once outside, he leaned forward and put his hand against the cold stone wall. His phone was still to his ear, the message still recording.
“Ilya. Please. Please. I can’t do this. I don’t know what to do. Please. You can’t be dead.” His voice broke on the word. “I love you. I love you so much. More than anything. I need to hear your voice. I need you to…I need you…I need you…fuck. Please Ilya, please.”
Shane took the phone away from his ear and held it between both hands as though he were praying. He realized he was on the floor and didn’t know how he got there. He was crying. He was fairly certain he was hyperventilating.
His brain was desperately trying to grab at anything. Any thread of logic. Any idea of what to do next.
I have to see him.
Yes. That made sense. Shane needed to get to Tampa. Now. He would go there. He would find Ilya. Ilya would be fine. They would be together. He would see him. Tell him how much he loved him. He had to go. He had to go now.
***
OR: What if Ilya lost his phone during the emergency landing, Shane couldn't reach him, he panicked, and chartered a plane to Tampa to find him instead...
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Bookmarked by sonderthoughts
13 May 2026