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When Ilya comes home the house is quiet. He's not sure how he knows it but he senses that something is wrong immediately. It's always been like that, he thinks. This thing tethering him to Shane. Like a string tying them together. When Shane's side of the string is fraying, Ilya can feel it.
Today it's fraying.
He finds him with wet cheeks and red eyes; sitting on the floor in the living room, cocooned in a pile of blankets. Ilya doesn't say anything, just lowers himself to the floor. Careful not to touch him.
Shane usually doesn't like to be touched in moments like these.
So even though all Ilya wants is to pull him into his arms and bury his face against Shane's curls and shower him in kisses he doesn't. He sits down. He waits. He can be patient.
He can be patient for Shane.
Eventually Shane sighs. Wipes his face with the sleeves of his sweater.
"They're not coming," he whispers.
Ilya frowns.
"Who is not coming?" he asks.
"My parents. They're not coming to the wedding."
His voice cracks at the end, as if he can't bear to say it aloud. As if saying it aloud would make it real. Ilya says nothing. He knows there's more. He can see it on Shane's face. When Shane doesn't speak he moves his feet until they're resting next to the other man’s. It's more a pressure than a touch really, but Ilya still feels it.
The spark.
It's still there.
After all these years the string between them still feels like electricity when they touch. He thinks Shane feels it too; hopes that it will be enough to remind him that he's here no matter what. That he loves him. That Shane could tell him anything and it would be okay.
Shane takes a deep breath.
"They wanted me to wear a dress. Said they wouldn't come if I didn't."
Oh.
Ilya's first reaction is anger. He's ready to stand up - to go curse Shane's parents out - or worse.
But then he catches the look on Shane's face and he knows. He knows that isn't what Shane needs right now.
Shane needs him to be here.
Ilya swallows hard.
"I hope you told them to go fuck themselves," he says.
Shane starts laughing and Ilya is quick to join him; eager to do anything to make him feel better, but it doesn't take long for Shane's laughter to turn to tears.
He holds his hands over his mouth as if trying to keep the sobs from coming out but it doesn't matter because his whole body is shaking and before he knows it he's gasping and crying and falling into Ilya's open arms.
Ilya doesn't know what to do. Doesn't know how to fix this. He feels helpless like this, unable to do more than hold his fiancée close and whisper sweet nothings in Russian into his ear.
It's not the first time he wishes he could fix things for Shane when it comes to his parents but he knows it's not his place.
Knows that Shane's hackles go up as soon as Ilya tries to get involved.
Knows that all he can do really is love him and hope that that is enough.
"I'm sorry, sweetheart," he whispers as Shane tries desperately to push himself as close to Ilya as physically possible. He winds his arms around Ilya's neck and presses his head against Ilya's shoulder and keeps on crying.
Eventually he starts to settle but his grip on Ilya doesn't loosen. Ilya's own arms around his waist are tight and secure. Ilya presses a kiss to his curls the way he had wanted to do earlier. Waits until Shane's breathing goes from hitching gasps, to hiccups to evening out again. And then he says the only thing he can say.
The only thing that matters.
"I love you," he says. "I love you so much, you know that right? And I'm so proud of you for standing up for yourself."
Shane sighs against his neck.
Leaves a tiny kiss on his collarbone.
"Yeah," he whispers against his skin. "Yeah, I love you too."