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Tomorrow was their wedding day. Shane and Ilya didn’t indulge in any more mischief; instead, they shared a deep kiss and fell asleep in each other’s arms, knowing that preparations would start early in the morning.
Shane had always been an early riser, but today, it felt like he hadn’t slept much at all. When he opened his eyes, something felt off—he was outdoors, and… he was looking at himself. His younger self. Then Shane glanced down at the cigarette in his hand.
He heard his own voice say, “You shouldn’t smoke here.”
Then Shane realized he was now Ilya—or rather, inside Ilya’s body—because he also heard “himself” reply, “What?” At the same time, he heard Ilya’s voice say in Russian, “His freckles are so cute.” Somehow, he understood it perfectly, as if someone had translated it in his mind.
Shane was certain Ilya hadn’t said those words to him back then. And from the look on his own face, he clearly hadn’t heard them either.
After watching his younger self walk away, Shane heard another thought, “I should talk to him more next time.”
Suddenly, he felt like he was being sucked into a vacuum, then hurled through a rollercoaster. The next moment, he was staring at himself in the shower. Shane—now in Ilya’s body—looked down at the very familiar anatomy, then at his own unabashed gaze. “Oh, Shane, you’re being so obvious,” he thought.
Almost as if in response, he heard Ilya’s inner voice: “Seems Shane likes what he sees. Oh, his body is beautiful.”
Soon, Shane heard himself say, “Can we just pretend this never happened?”
By now, Shane was eagerly anticipating every one of Ilya’s unspoken thoughts. “No way. You’re not getting away,” came the silent reply.
The whirlwind sensation swept over him again. Shane was now convinced that heaven had granted him a dream on the eve of his wedding—a chance to relive his moments with Ilya, piece by piece. He was also grateful not to have been subjected to watching his own porn. Every time Ilya pressed him against a mirror, things ended too quickly; he simply couldn’t manage tenderness and arousal at the same time. It was just too weird.
On the rooftop in Las Vegas, Shane realized just how much Ilya’s words diverged from his true feelings.
“Not everything is about you, Hollander.” I wish you would hold me.
“What do you want, Hollander?” Say you want me.
“I go back to Russia. In three days.” I don’t want to go back, but I don’t know where else to go either.
Shane thought to himself, When I wake up, I’m going to hold Ilya tight and kiss him senseless. Or maybe give him a proper blowjob before the ceremony starts. Though I’m not sure if that’s a reward for him or for me.
This next place, Shane was sure, he had never been to. It wasn’t his memory. But he recognized Svetlana and the clothing of the people around them, and it dawned on him—this must be Ilya’s father’s funeral.
Soon, he overheard the phone call Ilya had made to him and finally understood what those words truly meant: “…that all I want is you, it’s always you. I’m so in love with you and I don’t know what to do about it.” Even though Ilya had said “I love you” countless times, Shane’s heart still swelled, as if falling in love all over again—or rather, continuously.
Without this chance, he would never have known that Ilya’s visit to him in the hospital was initially meant to end their relationship. Though he’d already seen through a video how heartbroken Ilya was after his injury, the thought that Ilya had once considered leaving still filled him with pain.
Witnessing the days his lover spent in therapy, grappling with the past, and the moment their plane nearly crashed, Shane couldn’t stop himself from screaming inwardly that he was the world’s most ungrateful fool, repeating “I love you” over and over, even though he knew no one could hear him.
Shane felt both the happiest and the most ashamed person in the world. Ilya had given himself completely, without reservation. Shane prayed earnestly: if possible, let this not just be a dream. He would willingly return to being eighteen and love Ilya all over again, if it could ease even a fraction of that pain.
“It’s alright, my child. Ilya loves you so deeply, and he knows your love for him too,” a woman’s voice gently echoed.
Shane knew instantly who she was. “Thank you, Mom.”
He felt a warm embrace envelop him, and soon, he opened his eyes. Dawn had not yet fully broken, and Ilya lay sleeping beside him. Shane gazed intently at his lover’s face, then leaned in to place soft, solemn kisses upon it.
“Do we have time? Quickie?” Ilya mumbled, eyes still closed but already smiling as he turned to pull his beloved into a returning kiss.
“What?” Ilya asked, finally blinking his eyes open to find Shane’s face streaked with tears.
Only then did Shane realize he had been crying. “I’m just… overwhelmed. I can’t believe this day is finally here, that we’re really getting married. I love you.”
Ilya, who had been about to tease him, noticed the utter sincerity in Shane’s expression. He sat up. “Shane, what really happened?”
“I think… I might have dreamed of your mother. She came to bless us,” Shane said, feeling that this part, at least, needed to be shared. The rest, he could keep to himself.
Ilya’s eyes widened in disbelief before he pulled Shane into a fierce embrace. Shane held him just as tightly. The road ahead was long, and he knew he was still far from perfect. But for all the days to come, he would always be there, right by Ilya’s side.