Archive of Our Own ^beta

“Fuck,” Ilya sniffs, his phone heavy as a brick suddenly and he drops his hand to his side again. “Okay, okay, think.”

He paces slowly, the sting of unshed tears in his eyes, blinking them away quickly because he’s not going to cry about this. He tucks his phone into his back pocket, pats the front to check for his cigarettes but he smoked the last one last night. He can’t even go buy more unless he’s planning on not eating for the next three days while he waits for his deposit to hit. Lesson learned, he’ll save one next time just in case.

When he can’t stand the chill anymore he goes back inside his dorm, scrolling through his contacts and texting the few friends who might be willing to help him. Svetlana would have taken him. She would have bought both of them airplane tickets in a heartbeat but she’s on a spontaneous trip of her own and Ilya doesn’t want to burden her with this.

[Marly]

Sorry man! I can’t do a roadtrip, I got a presentation tomorrow.

[Pricey]

I crashed my car during a panic attack last week… was too embarrassed to tell you.

[Victor]

I don’t remember where I parked my car.

it might have gotten repo’ed now that I think about it.

“What the fuck,” Ilya groans, laying back, feeling the pit in his stomach growing by the second. “I could always hitchhike my way there.”

Even saying it out loud sound stupid. He’ll end up in a ditch somewhere, probably croak before his father does. Ilya supposes it wouldn’t be so bad if it meant he would see his mom again if there’s anything after… this. Hopefully his father would end up somewhere else far far away from them.

[Alexei]

You better be on your fucking way.

“Fuck you,” Ilya hisses, covering his face with both hands, trying not to scream.

Would it be the end of the world if he didn’t go? He hasn’t seen any of them in three years, the contact has been minimal, Ilya ignores all of their calls, and if he reads their text messages it’s only because he didn’t swipe the insult from his screen fast enough. He hates to admit it but maybe he never blocked them because he was waiting for this moment. At least he can do it as soon as he leaves the house tomorrow or whenever he manages to make it there. Block his asshole of a brother and never think about him again. Or their fucked up childhood and his fucked up family.

His fingers are trembling while he shoves clothes and his toothbrush inside his backpack. He shoulders it, checks that he has his wallet, everything he needs to cross the border, rolls up his phone charger, tucks it into a side pocket, and leaves after he puts his boots back on. He’ll figure it out, he won’t call Svetlana asking for money because that’s pathetic, and he only has to make this trip once. After that he’ll finally be free.

He’s inside a gas station ten minutes later, staring at a pack of cookies, wondering how long they can last him before he caves and buys food from the closest fast food place while he walks looking for a ride. He’s going to check the dumpster after for a piece of cardboard where he can write his destination. His eyes keep flitting to the check out, over the head of the attendant, to the cigarettes.

The bell jingles and Ilya looks back to the cookies again, grabbing the pack, an extra bottle of water in case he can’t find anywhere to refill his own, and heads to the check out. When it’s his turn he’s about to ask for a pack after all, just to take the edge off, to calm down with a hit of nicotine but the bell jingles again and Ilya looks over.

Shane Hollander. A little rush Ilya still can’t name to this day goes through him. Their eyes meet and Hollander looks surprised for a second before he masks his expression again and he goes into one of the aisles.

“Anything else?” they ask and Ilya shakes his head quickly. He better save up while he can. He can make it three days without a smoke.

When he steps outside he sees a god awful Jeep at one of the pumps. Ilya knows that when he can finally afford a car it’s probably going to be a sad little beater but as soon as he makes enough money he’s getting something way better than a fucking Jeep. He leans into the wall of the store, waiting until Hollander leaves because there’s no way he’s going to let him see him digging through the trash.

When Hollander comes out he beelines to the Jeep because of course he does. He pumps the gas he paid for, a can of something peeking out of the pocket of his hoodie, and he most definitely does not turn to look at Ilya at all.

Ilya doesn’t even know who to blame for that. By all accounts they should be the best of friends. They’re both at the top of their year, play hockey, share enough classes that anyone would think they planned it, and are well known on campus. But his first meeting with Hollander hadn’t gone well at all and first impressions matter after all. He had been an asshole when Hollander had been all bright eyes, pretty freckles, and sweet smiles.

Ilya had been stressed and he hated to admit it but he’d been scared out of his mind too. He had left his house in the middle of the night with only the clothes on his back and his phone, gotten on a plane with Svetlana to Montreal, and the next day had been sitting in an auditorium full of freshmen for orientation. He hadn’t been in the best mental place to smile back at Shane Hollander and accept his handshake.

Instead Ilya had been thinking about how any second the doors would slam open and his father would roar his name so loud it would burst his eardrums. He had been convinced that he would be dragged back to Boston, to that fucking house that never got warm no matter how hard he tried, and to his idiot of a brother who only knew how to hurt him.

It’s as Hollander is opening his door to get back in his car that he gets the idea.

“Hollander!”

Shane stiffens when he hears his name called. He knows that voice and even if he didn’t he would assume it was Ilya Rozanov because the asshole had just been inside the gas station and now he was loitering around like the delinquent he was.

Okay, that’s not fair. Shane hasn’t actually ever seen Rozanov do anything illegal and the guy is really smart after all. He just gives off that bad boy energy and Shane absolutely hates it. He turns his head slowly to look at the direction Rozanov was in and his stomach drops when he sees him approaching him. Are they about to fight outside of a gas station?

“Hey,” Rozanov greets him with a nod when he’s in front of Shane, sniffing once. The tip of his nose is red from the cold and he looks like he’s been crying. Which is crazy because Shane is sure this guy doesn’t have any feelings.

“Hi?” Shane furrows his eyebrows, narrowing his eyes just a bit. “What’s up?”

“Can you give me a ride to Boston?”

“What?”

Shane can’t believe the audacity of Rozanov.

“I need a ride to Boston,” Rozanov shrugs, eyes avoiding Shane’s. “I can’t pay you right now but I can give you back gas money and little extra when we come back.”

Shane doesn’t even know what to say.

“It’s quick, we go now and come back by tomorrow afternoon,” Rozanov continues and Shane reaches into his pocket to feel the cool chill of the ginger ale he just bought. Maybe it’ll shock him enough to actually speak.

“Ask your friends,” Shane finally chokes out.

“I already did, no one is free,” Rozanov finally meets Shane’s gaze.

“Get a bus ticket.”

“I just told you I have no money right now.”

“No, you said you couldn’t pay me right now.”

“Same thing,” Rozanov is breathing heavily now and Shane purses his lips together tight.

“Why do you need to go to Boston?” Shane asks.

He doesn’t even know if he has his passport on him. Not like he’s considering doing it at all. Nope. He won’t.

Rozanov hasn’t answered yet but he looks like a deer caught in headlights, a little desperate and scared. He takes in another breath and then a step back and Shane relaxes his shoulders. He hadn’t even realized he was so tense himself.

“Forget it,” Rozanov mutters but his voice is trembling and Shane feels a pang of guilt in his chest.

Rozanov turns away from him and Shane looks back inside his car, fingers curled around the cool can still. His reaches for the hem of Rozanov’s jacket before he can get take a full step, tugging him back, teeth clenched.

“Fine,” Shane sighs. “I’ll give you a ride.”

It’s not like he has anything better to do. He was going to spend the next few days practicing and in the gym but he’s doing well right now. It was just a way to pass the time. And he can miss tomorrow’s classes, he’ll just email his professors some standard excuse, say he caught a head cold or something. Rozanov is right. If they play it right they’ll be back by three tomorrow at the latest.

“Okay,” Rozanov nods.

“Get in, I guess,” Shane sighs, turning to get in the car. He digs his keys out of his pocket and starts the ignition. The passenger door opens and Ilya slips inside, pulling on his seatbelt.

Shane turns back to grab his backpack from the backseats, opens it to dig inside it, finds his passport tucked into a hidden pocket and nods a bit. Good thing he had been too wired up to put it away the last time he travelled.

“Alright, you got an address I can put on the map?” Shane asks, rubbing his hands together.

“Yeah,” Rozanov nods, pulling out his phone and showing Shane an address and he quickly types it on his navigation app. Shane can’t help but notice it was labeled House and not Home though he supposes it might be a Russian thing. Maybe he has a family emergency.

He pulls out his ginger ale can to set it into the cup holder and pulls out without another word. He taps his thumb lightly on the steering wheel, his eyes trying to drift to Rozanov but he suppresses the urge. For the first time he’s coming to the realization that they’re about to spend the next five hours in a car together. Alone. And then another five when they drive back.

Last time Shane was alone with Rozanov had been outside of the auditorium where they were doing their orientation. He knew Rozanov was going to be on the hockey team with him because there had been a lot of chatter about how Shane had gotten the full ride and Rozanov a partial one. Their photos had been embedded into a school article a week before. He wanted to say hello and get a head start on becoming acquaintances and maybe one day friends.

Yeah, Shane sighed. Dream on little Shane.

Ugh, this is so boring, Ilya thinks to himself, resisting the urge to blow a raspberry, leaning his forehead on the window. It’s all a blur of green and yellow, cars pass them sometimes, and Hollander isn’t even playing any music. Ilya can see the speakers on his door so he knows he definitely has a radio at least.

Ilya would usually be running his mouth during road trips, snacking nonstop, hijacking the aux cord so he could play whatever obscure Russian song he wanted to show his friends, and he would have his feet on the dashboard. Just for a few minutes because he didn’t want to break his legs if they crashed, he definitely needed those.

They’ve been on the road for over an hour now, already made it past the border, and Ilya is going to go stir crazy if the rest of their time together is this quiet. Wouldn’t it be the best time for him to get to know Hollander anyway? Redeem himself even though so many years have passed already?

Or he would probably make it worse.

“You don’t have no music?” Ilya asks and he sees Hollander jump a bit.

Jeez, it’s not like he’s creeping up him. Surely Hollander couldn’t have forgotten they’re both in the car right now.

“Uh, yeah,” Hollander answers, one hand moving from the steering wheel to turn on the stereo. Some EDM starts track starts playing and it’s better than what Ilya was expecting. He thought maybe Hollander would be into classical music. That would have put Ilya to sleep at least.

“Nice,” Ilya nods and Hollander lets out a little snort.

He should probably say thank you at some point but for some reason the words just won’t come out. Maybe if Ilya had been more open with Hollander when he asked why he needed to get to Boston the air wouldn’t be so stuffy between them.

How was Ilya supposed to tell someone he barely knew off the ice that his father was dying? There were no cool ways to deliver that line. Hollander would probably give Ilya condolences and a sympathetic smile and Ilya would have to pretend he accepted them. Act sad about it when he didn’t actually know how he was feeling.

Maybe he was a little bit sad. Probably a little bit but also mostly relieved that it would finally be over. His stupid brother couldn’t do anything to Ilya. Their relationship wasn’t strong enough for Ilya to say he would miss him or probably think about him ever again as soon as that man was six feet underground.

“If you need us to stop for a break let me know,” Hollander says suddenly and Ilya turns to look at him. “There’s gas stations all over.”

Yeah, no shit. Alright, Ilya held his tongue this time. He usually can’t when they’re chirping at each other on the ice during practice.

“You too,” Ilya nods a bit, staring at his stupid freckles. “If you need a break, let me know. I can drive.”

“Oh you got your license?” Hollander asks, a perfect eyebrow raising.

“Yes, I’m not stupid,” Ilya answers and cringes inwardly. All that progress from seconds ago gone again.

“I didn’t say you were stupid,” Hollander turns finally, shooting him a quick glare, his bottom lip jutted out into what Ilya can only describe as a pout. He looks like an angry kitten. “God, I don’t know why I try. You’re always such an asshole.”

“Is true,” Ilya sighs, looking back out the window again. “Sorry.”

Hollander doesn’t say anything but Ilya heard him gasp just a bit.

Ilya wishes Hollander knew him a little better. That he knew that under the rough charming asshole exterior he was actually really kindhearted. Ilya hated bullies, helped anyone he could, worked his ass off so he could make sure he would stay in school and in good standing. That was probably something only people who bothered to get close enough to him knew, though.

Hollander didn’t look like he had any interest in getting close to Ilya.

“You want a cookie?” he asks, grabbing his cookies, ripping open the wrapper.

“Oh, no thanks,” Hollander shakes his head. “I’m on a special diet.”

“Boring,” Ilya sighs, shoving an entire chocolate chip cookie in his mouth, munching on it as obnoxiously loud as he can.

“It’s important,” Hollander huffs. “You’re lucky I’m letting you eat in the car.”

“Oh so you’re asshole who doesn’t let people have snacks in his car?” Ilya asks, looking over again.

“Yeah, actually. I like to keep it clean,” Ilya can tell Hollander is rolling his eyes. “But… I don’t think there’s any way around it this time.”

“Well, thank you for being so understanding,” it’s sarcastic. Ilya knows it is and it drives him crazy that he still can’t just be nice to Hollander for the sake of it.

“You know what man I—”

Hollander cuts off when the car jostles suddenly. Ilya drops his cookies all over the floor mat, himself, and the seat… fuck those were expensive, and they roll to a slow stop.

“Great,” Hollander sighs.

“What? What the fuck happened?” Rozanov sounds panicked and Shane drops his forehead on the steering wheel, taking a deep breath.

“Calm down,” Shane sighs, sitting up and opening his door. At least there was no traffic and they were on a pretty wide and open road. He hears the other door open and close while he walks around to the back and looks at the wheel.

“Flat,” Shane points at it.

“I can see it,” Rozanov snorts. “I’ll buy you a tire too… Sorry.”

“No,” Shane sighs. “It’s been having air pressure issues, I had an appointment for it on Saturday.”

He had forgotten about it when Rozanov asked for the ride. It would have been a pretty good excuse to get out of this road trip without feeling guilty.

“Lucky for me I have an extra one,” Shane pats the tire attached to his trunk. “We can get this done in ten minutes.”

“I’ve never changed a tire before,” Rozanov is flicking off cookie crumbs from his jacket.

“Twenty minutes then,” Shane sighs. “You’ve really never changed a tire before?”

“Never had to,” Rozanov shrugs. “Guess I’m lucky that way.”

Shane shakes his head and grabs the carjack from the trunk. He didn’t know a lot about Rozanov but he looked like a rich kid. Shane knew now of course that that wasn’t the case at all. He had overheard the coach once talking to him about working around his shifts for two part time jobs and a rich kid definitely wouldn’t need that.

He mentally shifted their ETA back an hour. Shane could handle that, it wasn’t that big of a deal. There was no actual plan really and normally that would bother him but the GPS had stayed consistent on their arrival time so yes, Shane could handle a little setback.

“Can you throw it in the trunk?” Shane asks Rozanov, rolling the flat tire over to him. Rozanov had been crouched next to Shane almost the entire time, observing quietly, and Shane had been narrating what he was doing because he figured that Rozanov wanted to learn from this. Shane always found that first hand experience was better when learning something new.

Rozanov nods and picks up the tire with ease, tucking it into the trunk, carefully moving the cooler and blankets Shane has to the side.

“Why do you have blankets in your car?” Rozanov asks. “Is it for all your car hookups?”

“That’s gross,” Shane sighs, securing the first bolt.

“No it’s not,” Rozanov huffs. “Is sexy.”

“How would you know when you don’t have a car?” Shane rolls his eyes, the next bolt locked into place.

“So you don’t have sex?” Rozanov changes the subject.

“I—” Shane feels like he should be screaming right now. “That’s none of your business.”

“Why not? We’re both guys,” Rozanov is smirking at him now, arms crossed. “Is fun to brag about how much we get laid… well… maybe not so fun if you’re not.”

“That stuff should be private,” Shane glares at him for a second and moves on to the next bolt. “You know something, Rozanov? Every time I look at you I feel so angry.”

Shane probably shouldn’t have admitted that he makes him feel anything. It’s too late now though.

“Ooo,” Rozanov laughs, crouching down again next to Shane. “Let me do the last one to make it up to you.”

“There’s two more,” Shane rolls his eyes but hands over the cross.

“We only do one, more exciting that way,” Rozanov winks at him and Shane stands up quickly.

“Ha ha,” Shane sighs, turning away because he feels an embarrassed flush spreading across his cheeks. “You better do both.”

“Oh, please watch to make sure I’m doing it okay, Mr. Mechanic,” Rozanov laughs and Shane glances back, making sure he is doing it right.

“Whatever,” Shane huffs.

They’re back in the car five minutes later and Shane pulls back into the road. That was probably the longest conversation he’s ever held with Rozanov but Shane wasn’t surprised that it had ended with him a little bit angry. Actually angry probably wasn’t even the right word.

Shane had always been a little bit curious about him. He had thought they would make good friends, that was the only reason he had been brave enough to approach Rozanov during orientation. It hadn’t quite gone the way he had imagined it.

It’s not like there hadn’t been more opportunities, after all they had pretty much the same schedule. They always picked the seats furthest from each other but it would have been more convenient if they had become friends. Shane would have a pretty good study buddy at least. Someone that was at the same level as him, almost equals in all categories.

“Are you hungry?” Rozanov asks about thirty minutes later.

“Getting there, I think,” Shane nods.

“And we are going to eat boring vegan meal?” Rozanov asks and when Shane glances at him he sees his lips pursed out into a pout.

Shane is probably going to regret this.

“We can grab a burger or something.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Shane sighs. “As long as it’s not McDonald’s.”

“Oh but they have the best ones! So greasy,” Rozanov laughs and Shane shakes his head quickly.

They’re in the McDonald’s parking lot later, Ilya is on his second bite of his first triple cheeseburger and Hollander is picking at some fries and chicken nuggets. He finally opened his ginger ale but Ilya doubts it even tastes good now that it isn’t cold anymore. He has a large Coke with extra ice and he takes large gulps in between bites.

Hollander had paid for both of them and Ilya had been so grateful but all he could do was smile just a bit when he handed over the bag at the drive thru.

“So,” Ilya breaks the silence when he finishes his first burger, unwrapping the second. “What are your plans for spring break?”

Hollander shrugs, biting one of the chicken nuggets, he looks so scared like he’s biting down on shards of glass and not a piece of processed fried chicken.

“I usually go home to Ottawa,” Hollander finally mumbles. “My parents have a pretty nice cottage. We grill burgers and swim. It’s nice.”

“You’ve never gone to like Mexico or Miami?” Ilya frowns, swiping up ketchup with a handful of fries.

“Not really my scene,” Hollander snorts, shaking his head. “Everyone always comes back sunburnt anyway so I doubt I’m missing much.”

“Yeah,” Ilya rolls his eyes. “Only formative years where you can get drunk and do stupid things and it doesn’t count yet because you’re young. Not missing much.”

“That sounds like a nightmare,” Hollander rolls his eyes and drops his half eaten chicken nugget to the container again. “I don’t really drink.”

“Mhm, yes, I think I can see a pattern now.”

“And what pattern is that?”

“You’re boring,” Ilya blows a raspberry, wadding up his trash and throwing it inside the paper bag their food came in.

“I don’t think you’re that fun either, you know?” Hollander rolls his eyes, stuffing his half eaten food into the bag as well. “I’m gonna throw this out.”

“Okay,” Ilya sighs, sipping at his Coke again, pulling his seatbelt back on. Hollander hasn’t asked him to drive yet but Ilya was serious when he offered. Maybe he can ask again if he looks tired later.

There’s still plenty of time before sunset, plenty of time to make it to Boston, to his father’s house, and hopefully he doesn’t miss his last breath. Or hopefully he does. Ilya still hasn’t decided which option he would prefer.

“Don’t need a bathroom break?” Hollander asks when he’s back in the car and buckled up.

“Not right now,” Ilya shakes his head, stretching out his legs in front of him.

“Let’s keep going then.”

The EDM tracks are still playing quietly in the background, Hollander will tap his thumbs to the beat on the steering wheel, sometimes he just strokes it slowly. Ilya stares at it a little too long, wondering what it would feel like against his hand or cheek. He can feel his phone buzz in his pocket here and there and every time he can’t help but jolt a little bit.

He doesn’t really have the courage to check it right now. Could be Alexei spouting more bullshit insults, could be Svetlana who must have heard the news by now from her parents, could be some other friends he had reached out to ask about getting this ride. Maybe his father has passed already and all Ilya needs to do is go to dinner tonight and pay his respects tomorrow when he’s buried. These things move quickly after all. Ilya really doesn’t want to find out.

“Do you go to Mexico for springbreak? Is that what you’re doing this year?” Hollander breaks the silence this time and Ilya smiles a bit, turning his head to the window so that Hollander doesn’t notice.

“Not this year but I have before,” Ilya hums. “My bestfriend Svetlana booked us the trip. They have early drinking age there, you know?”

“Yeah, I know,” Hollander nods. “So, Svetlana is not your girlfriend? You two seem really cozied up together usually.”

“Oh, so you’ve noticed me with my friend before, huh?” Ilya snorts, looking over at Hollander with a raised eyebrow.

“I think everyone’s noticed both of you,” Hollander gives a little shake to his head and looks quickly at Ilya before he turning back to the road. “She could be a supermodel.”

“What about me?”

“You?”

“Could I be a supermodel?” Ilya is taunting him now but he doesn’t feel even a hint of malice in it. It’s just fun to tease Hollander.

“Nah,” Hollander laughs. “You’re not tall enough.”

“What the fuck, Hollander?” Ilya gasps, pressing a hand to his chest and now Hollander really is grinning. “I am taller than you, you know!”

“Yeah, but I don’t have any dreams of becoming a model,” Shane is chuckling as he speaks and Ilya can’t help but notice how adorable he looks with his eyes crinkled just a bit, the tip of his nose scrunching.

“I’m exactly the right height, by the way,” Ilya scoffs. “I looked into it.”

“Really?”

“Easy money, probably,” Ilya shrugs.

Hollander hums quietly. He probably knows about Ilya’s part-time jobs. Pretty much everyone knows. Ilya has probably served a greasy plate of nachos to everyone on campus at least once. Not Hollander but he supposes that’s because of his special boring diet. It’s nothing to be ashamed of anyway, plenty of his classmates have part-time jobs as well.

“So how wasted did you get in Mexico?”

“I don’t remember the trip at all,” Ilya sighs.

“Wow.”

“Sorry, is not true,” Ilya admits after, feeling a little bit guilty. “Actually, we didn’t drink too much. We were in a resort and it was nice. Quiet. Very sunny and everything was included. I took a lot of naps. I was tanned for months after.”

“Huh,” Hollander nods. “I’d go to Mexico for a trip like that.”

Ilya would offer to go with him but there’s no way he can afford a trip like that without Svetlana’s help right now.

“What else do you do at cottage? You and your parents play boring games?”

“You mean board games?” Hollander purses his lips and Ilya grins, looking away.

“No, I say what I mean,” he laughs but flinches a bit when his phone starts buzzing again. This time it’s definitely a phone call.

“You can take that if you need to,” Hollander murmurs. “I promise not to eavesdrop.”

“Kind of impossible not to right now,” Ilya huffs and he pulls out his phone, glancing at the screen. It’s Alexei.

Maybe his father is dead now.

“Wanna stop?”

“Yes,” Ilya nods.

“Okay,” Shane pulls over to the side of the road, turning the hazards on, and Ilya slips out of the car before it’s fully in park.

“What?” he hisses, pursing his lips, turning away from the Jeep and walking around to the back.

“You don’t know how to answer the fucking phone, Ilya?”

“I am busy,” Ilya snaps back. “Trying to get my ass there like you want me to so badly.”

“Don’t know why that old man is asking for you,” Alexei lets out what sounds like a frustrated growl. “What time are you getting here?”

“A few more hours,” Ilya bites his thumb, trying to remember what the GPS said but he had been so wrapped up in his banter with Hollander.

“You bet—”

Ilya pulls the phone away when he hears the sound of a car door opening and slamming shut. He looks over to the front of the car and widens his eyes when he sees Hollander running to the grass on the side of the road, he bends over in half and—

Ilya looks away, hangs up the phone, his brother still prattling away and tucks it into his pocket.

“Are you okay?” Ilya shouts, biting his lip when he hears Hollander retch again.

“I’m fine,” Hollander’s miserable voice answers a second later.

Ilya waits for another full minute to turn around and sees Hollander standing on a different spot of the grass. His head is tipped up, he looks like he’s taking deep breaths, and his throat is red. Probably flushed from embarrassment.

Ilya grabs his backpack from the backseat and pulls out his still sealed water bottle. He hands it over to Hollander without a word.

“Thanks,” Hollander clears his throat, opens the water bottle, and rinses his mouth a few times. “Sorry… I didn’t mean to interrupt your phone call.”

“I was done anyway,” Ilya shakes his head. “Do you want me to take over driving for a bit?”

“Could you?” Hollander asks, looking up at Ilya, his big brown eyes sparkling with unshed tears. Ilya feels a weird pang in his chest but he ignores it and nods.

Being on the drivers side of the car is a little bit weird. Ilya starts up the car again, adjusts the seat and rearview mirror, and buckles up. Hollander is already buckled in, he has his arms wrapped around his stomach, still leaning forward a bit.

“Tell me if we need to stop again,” Ilya frowns.

Hollander just grunts and nods his head.

“What even happened?” Ilya laughs a bit now when he asks. It’s kind of ridiculous.

“The McDonald’s,” Hollander groans. “I told you I’m not used to eating that junk.”

“We do vegan meal next time,” Ilya promises.

“I’m not vegan, asshole,” Hollander grumbles but Ilya can hear a bit of a smile in his voice.

“Okay,” Ilya laughs again and he pulls back into the road.

God, Shane thinks, biting his bottom lip hard. That was so embarrassing.

He is mortified. He had been hoping that a lighting bolt would strike him down even though the skies were clear and the sun was nowhere near starting its descent. He knows that Rozanov is going to hold this over his head, pull it out during chirps on the ice, or worse tell the entire team and anyone at school who will listen.

But he is grateful Rozanov knows how to drive because if he didn’t and Shane couldn’t take at least an hour to try to reset he would have definitely cried. He wishes he had saved the ginger ale, at least it might have helped soothe his stomach a little bit right now. Shane thinks both of them aren’t feeling their best, at least from what he had observed during the drive so far.

Earlier, when Shane had caught a glimpse of Rozanov through the rearview mirror the man had seemed so angry. He couldn’t really figure out what he was saying and Shane had a suspicion that even if he heard him that Rozanov would have been speaking in Russian. Though he supposes the tone of a conversation is enough sometimes to know something’s going on.

Shane thinks that if it had been anyone else but him that Rozanov got this ride from they would already know what was going on. But for some reason he didn’t feel entitled to knowing. Shane could do his teammate a favor in a clear time of need without sticking his nose in his business.

The bad part is that he’s kind of been having fun talking to Rozanov. He’s learned a few things about him, can tell that the way he talks is because he’s being playful and not actually an asshole, and Shane hates to admit it but he likes him a little bit for it. It’s fun. Shane is having fun even though he just chucked his guts up all over the side of the road. With Ilya Rozanov out of all people.

“When you’re not on your diet what do you like to eat?” Rozanov asks suddenly.

“Why?” Shane licks his lips.

“Just curious,” he shrugs. “Maybe I can give you gift card for all your troubles so far.”

“I mostly cook at home,” Shane looks back to the road, one hand rubbing his abdomen slowly. “But if I had to pick something… well maybe it’s not a favorite but I’ve always been curious about the nachos at that place you work at. Hayden told me they’re really good.”

“Pfft,” Rozanov blows a raspberry and Shane huffs out a short laugh. “Hayden Pike? He has the worst taste. He says no to the sour cream and the beans. He doesn’t even know what he’s talking about.”

“He is kind of picky,” Shane nods.

“And terrible at hockey,” Rozanov adds.

Shane couldn’t have held back his laughter if he tried.

“Come to my job,” Rozanov has a small smile, the moles on skin lifting a bit. “I’ll give you the nachos and my favorite dish for you to try too.”

“Sounds good,” Shane nods, sighing a bit. His chest feels a little bit tight suddenly.

“Okay. I’ll tell you when my next shift is.”

Shane has the terrible urge to reach over and shove at his shoulder playfully. Which according to Rose is his signature flirting move. He doesn’t want to think about that right now.

He must have dozed off at some point because he wakes up to Rozanov nudging his arm a bit. He hums a bit and takes in a deep breath, opening his eyes with a groan, looking around.

“What is it?” he mumbles, words slurred a bit.

“We got a problem,” Rozanov says but he’s laughing a bit.

Shane frowns at him and looks to where he’s pointing. He blinks a few times, rubs the sleep from his eyes just to make sure he’s not imagining things. When he looks again he lets out a startled laugh.

“You can’t be serious,” Shane groans.

One of the many sheep in front of them bleats and Rozanov rolls down the window, sticking his head out, bleating right back. More sheep join in while he laughs, completely delighted, and Shane covers his mouth in disbelief.

“Hollander,” Rozanov turns to Shane again and leans over the center console, crowding into Shane’s space, eyes bright. “I thought okay, we stop for a little bit while the sheep move along, but!”

“But?” Shane asks, raising an eyebrow, leaning back a bit.

“It’s been about thirty minutes now,” Ilya laughs. “No end in sight and no one to ask!”

“Oh shit,” Shane sighs.

There’s probably ways to work around the sheep like one of them standing in front of the herd to let the car through but Shane doesn’t want to get in trouble with some random farmer.

“Okay, turn off the car,” Shane pats Rozanov’s shoulder a bit to encourage him to lean back again. “We’ll run out of gas if we leave it on and then we’ll have a whole new problem.”

They sit in silence for a bit, watching the sheep, Rozanov has taken his phone out to record them a few times already and he mumbles in Russian excitedly while he zooms in and out. His camera pans over to Shane who just lifts a hand to wave a bit and makes a peace sign. Rozanov grins bigger behind his phone and then swivels back to the sheep.

He tries not to think about how now there’s video evidence on Rozanov’s phone that they sort of hung out once.

“I’m going to stretch my legs,” Shane mumbles eventually, getting out of the car.

He’s gotta hand it to the sheep, all of them have been following each other so far, none of them straying from the herd. Rozanov gets out of the car too and he’s approaching the sheep slowly, bending over to look at them closer.

“So pretty,” Shane hears him say and he likes the way it sounds. Rozanov rolls his all of his r’s, a rumble coming from the roof of his mouth. Shane really likes it. “Pretty little babies.”

“They’re pretty cute, yeah,” Shane walks over when he sees the sheep are pretty tame, though he supposes that’s how sheep are in general. “I wonder where they’re going… and how often they make this trip. Do you think it’s far?”

“Don’t think so,” Rozanov shrugs. “Who would dare make these cuties walk so long?”

“True,” Shane smiles, reaching over tentatively, his hand hovering just over the wool. It’s not soft the way he imagined it would be but it’s not a bad texture either.

Rozanov follows his lead and touches the sheep more confidently, squeezes the wool with both hands and the sheep bleat at him. He giggles and Shane feels his knees go weak.

“This one looks like you, Hollander,” Rozanov pulls on Shane’s wrist to bring him closer to the sheep. “Look, has all these little spots on his face.”

“I hate you,” Shane sighs but he looks and sure enough. “You’re kind of right.”

Rozanov snaps a picture of that sheep and then of Shane. He looks around at the herd, peeking at their faces, and Shane knows he’s probably looking for one that looks like him. He takes a closer look at the sheep again and snorts when he finds one with really curly wool on its head.

“This one,” Shane grabs him by the wrist this time, pulling him over and pointing to the sheep. “Maybe you should ask him for some hair care tips.”

“Amazing,” Rozanov gives him a big smile and he’s snapping a picture of the sheep then.

A few minutes later they see the tail end of the herd and they head back into the car. Rozanov looks hesitant to leave them, a little pout on his lips, and without really talking about it he goes to the drivers side still while Shane climbs into the passenger’s seat.

“That was fun,” Shane snorts, leaning his head back again, glancing at the clock on the dashboard when the car starts again. It’s almost five which means they only have about three hours left of sunshine but the GPS also says they will arrive to their destination in two hours so he’s not stressing.

Ilya can say that for the first time since they’ve known each other Shane Hollander is relaxed. Ilya usually sees him with tense shoulders, a pout on his lips, furrowed eyebrows while he studies, and even the times he’s seen him eating Hollander has seemed like he’s in distress. Not right now, though. Now he has a small smile on his lips, he’s slouching just a bit on his seat, and he’s humming mindlessly with no real melody.

Ilya is starting to think that by the end of this they might even be friends. He’s going to have to tell Hollander eventually what the purpose of the trip was. Probably sooner than he would like.

Ilya’s phone is buzzing again and it was really difficult to ignore the messages as they were coming in while he was taking pictures of the sheep and Hollander. He bites his lip when he thinks of the photos so he doesn’t smile like an idiot. Hollander hadn’t complained about it, hadn’t asked him to delete them or not take any in the first place.

“Hollander, I have to take a piss,” Ilya breaks the silence between them again. He isn’t minding them as much as he was when they first started their trip. Now instead of awkward they’re kind of really comfortable.

“Me too,” Hollander answers. “And I’m kind of hungry… my stomach isn’t feeling weird anymore. Let’s find a gas station.”

Ilya takes the next exit, they find the gas station, and they both get out. Ilya tosses the keys to Hollander when they fall into step and pulls open the door for both of them.

“Nope,” Hollander shakes his head when they go inside the bathroom. “No way.”

It is pretty disgusting and it smells terrible.

“Let’s just grab some snacks and go find a bush or something,” Ilya grunts, nudging Hollander out of the way so he can be first one out of the bathroom.

Ilya grabs two bags of chips, an energy drink, and chocolate bar. Hollander grabs an apple, a container of grapes, a can of ginger ale, and a bottle of water. Ilya raises an eyebrow at him and Hollander sticks his tongue out at him. Adorable. If they end up becoming friends after this Ilya is going to find a way to get him to loosen up. A bag of chips here and there won’t kill the guy.

Ilya pays for his own haul this time, wishing he could pay for Hollander too but the grapes container was a whole five dollars and Ilya doesn’t have enough to spare just yet. They get back on the road and Hollander pulls to the side when they finally find an area with high enough grass and some trees.

“Dude,” Hollander complains when Ilya picks the tree right next to this. “All this space and you need to be right next to me?”

“Oh, you don’t piss next to other men in public restrooms?” Ilya asks. “I’m going for sense of normalcy here, Hollander. Sorry for trying to make this a brotherhood experiment.”

“Experience?” Hollander asks but he just turns his body a bit to the side so Ilya can’t see. Not that he was going to look anyway, that stuff is only supposed to happen on accident at urinals.

“Both,” Ilya snorts.

It would have been fun to cross streams like when he was little with his friends on camping trips. Maybe he can convince Hollander to do that on their trip back if the bathrooms they find are still disgusting.

When they’re finished Hollander starts to walk back to the Jeep and for some reason Ilya’s competitive spirit sparks. He shoulders Hollander a bit as he jogs past him and turns his head back to look at him. The other man looks so annoyed and before Ilya knows what’s happening they’re chasing each other around the little field.

“Get back here you jerk!”

“Oh you’re so slow, Hollander, that’s so sad!” Ilya laughs.

“I’m faster on the ice!”

“We’re not on ice, Hollander!”

Ilya thinks Hollander might have caught him by the hem of his jacket, or somewhere on his clothes because they’re both tumbling to the ground together. Ilya feels a sharp sting on his forehead and he tries to catch his breath, Hollander’s heavy frame on top of him.

“Ow,” Ilya murmurs and Hollander pulls back. He looks victorious for about three seconds, a really big triumphant grin on his lips before the blood seems to drain from his face. His freckles don’t look as pretty when he’s pale like that. “What?”

“Oh my god, Ilya,” Hollander whispers and Ilya feels a jolt go through him at the sound of his name coming from his lips. “I’m so sorry.”

“What are you talking about?” Ilya groans and then he feels it.

Sticky and hot, running down his brow, on his upper eyelid now. He wipes at it before the blood has a chance to get in his eye.

“Fuckfuckfuck.”

“Hey, is okay,” Ilya mumbles, sitting up, Shane practically straddling his lap. Embarrassingly enough he feels heat dip low in his belly but he doesn’t think he should be diverting blood that way right now. “Shane, it’s okay.”

“It’s not okay!” Shane groans, his hands hovering around Ilya’s head, probably wanting to touch. “You’re bleeding!”

“Relax,” Ilya laughs a bit, he slides his free arm around Shane’s waist, squeezing him a bit. “We relax first and then we go back to the Jeep and find out how bad it is, yes?”

“Okay,” Shane nods, taking a deep breath.

“Okay.”

After they’ve both caught their breath Shane stands up, helping Ilya, pulling him up by the arm carefully. When he’s standing Ilya feels a little bit dizzy but he thinks it’s just the rush of his blood. Shane pulls him to the trunk of the Jeep and he pulls out a first aid kit from a compartment.

“Sit down,” Shane gets him settled on the trunk and Ilya smiles a bit as he fusses around. “This is probably going to sting.”

“I know,” Ilya nods, holding still as Shane begins to clean the wound. The sting does make Ilya hiss a bit and Shane murmurs soft words that Ilya really can’t make out. They make him feel better though. “How bad is it?”

He means to tease just a little bit but Shane looks kind of devastated.

“I think you need stitches,” Shane pouts and Ilya has the weird urge to lean over and kiss it away.

“Really?” Ilya raises his eyebrow and it hurts a bit.

“Yeah,” Shane sighs, grabbing a gauze and some tape. “I’m going to cover it up and we’ll need to find a hospital or urgent care.”

“Shit, okay, yes,” Ilya nods, his shoulders shaking a bit with laughter.

“I’m so sorry,” Shane murmurs as he covers the wound. “We shouldn’t have been roughhousing like that.”

“It was fun,” Ilya looks at Shane’s eyes and the latter meets his gaze. He looks so worried, it’s so cute. “Accidents happen.”

“I guess,” Shane nods, he gently cups Ilya’s face, tilting his head to the side, checking his work. It’s making his chest flutter. “Let’s go.”

“Okay,” Ilya sighs.

Finding Shane Hollander cute had not been part of the plan. Not that he had a plan, Ilya was just kind of winging everything since he hung up with Alexei that afternoon.

Actually Ilya had always known Shane was pretty. The first time he saw him, even untethered to reality, and scared out of his mind he had noticed that Shane was cute. The first thing Ilya had noticed about Shane had been his freckles, scattered across his cheeks and the bridge of his nose. There were more that went up to his temples but they were few and far between.

When they came back from summer break those freckles were always just a little bit darker and more prominent. Ilya tended to look at them instead of Shane’s eyes whenever they would do a face off during practice. Not to say that Shane’s eyes weren’t pretty too. Now that Ilya has been this close to him he can tell they’re brown but they’re so dark they sometimes look black.

Ilya’s phone buzzes in his pocket again as they pull into the urgent care parking lot. Shane is already out of the car and coming around to open the door for Ilya which is a whole can of worms (or whatever people say) that Ilya doesn’t want to crack open. The entire gesture makes his heart skip a beat.

“Come on,” Shane murmurs and Ilya nods, getting out. “Does it hurt?”

“Not so much anymore, but if I need stitches we might as well, yes?” Ilya asks.

“I’m sorry,” Shane is pouting again but Ilya just laughs.

“I already said it’s okay,” Ilya throws his arm around Shane’s shoulders, giving him a playful squeeze, walking towards the automatic doors. He hopes that this is something he can do now. That Shane doesn’t secretly hate it and him. That it’s okay Ilya has been thinking of him by his first name ever since they said it in the field. “I’m the one who’s sorry.”

“For what?” Shane asks.

“This trip… things keep happening,” Ilya shrugs. “It should have been easy drive there and back but…” He shrugs a bit, helpless.

Shane doesn’t say anything and Ilya drops his arm from around him when they get to the front desk. He explains his predicament quickly and they hand him over a clipboard with paperwork to fill. He sits down next to Shane, their knees touching, filling out all of the highlighted areas, scratching at his jaw with the cap of the pen.

“Would you hate me if I said I was having fun?” Shane asks suddenly and Ilya looks at him. “Despite all the weird things that keep happening… I’m having fun taking you to Boston.”

Ilya smiles slowly, nudging his shoulder to Shane’s. They’re definitely friends now. He’s really happy about that.

“Me too.”

They spend almost an hour in the waiting room and Ilya goes inside alone when the doctor is finally ready to see him. Sure enough, he needs stitches, and it’s great that Shane was able to make a good call because Ilya might have just said fuck it and hoped everything would work out. They patch him up quickly, tell him the stitches should fall out on their own, and instruct him to take some ibuprofen if it hurts. Luckily he doesn’t show any signs of a concussion.

Ilya wonders briefly how Alexei is going to react when he sees the stitches. Probably give him shit about it like he always does at any little thing.

“I’m all better now,” Ilya says as he walks out to the waiting room again, giving a little spin. “Better than before. Doctor said I’m most perfect human she’s ever seen.”

“Yeah right,” Shane snorts and stands up. “Maybe she needs to have her head checked.”

The receptionist clears their throat and Shane flushes bright red so quickly it makes Ilya laugh.

When they step outside it’s dark.

“Well, fuck,” Shane sighs.

“We can still drive,” Ilya looks over at him.

He has tape covering his wound now and he told Shane they did patch him up with three or four stitches, he didn’t actually remember how many.

“We can but, I’m tired,” Shane sighs. “And you’re hurt.”

“You got a bedtime?” Ilya teases him and Shane just gives him the finger.

“I think we’re close to Manchester now,” Shane clears his throat, unlocking the car, both of them getting in. “Maybe we can drive to just before we hit it and find somewhere to crash. Will that be okay? Or were you in a rush to do… whatever it is that you’re doing.”

“I think it can wait,” Ilya mumbles, pulling out his phone. “Probably. No other way around it. It will be okay.”

Shane is about to ask why they’re going… why he’s taking him. He just hopes Ilya trusts him enough with it soon.

He snacks on his grapes when they get back on the road and Ilya opens a bag of chips. Shane briefly wonders if it’s okay that he no longer thinks of Ilya as just “Rozanov.” He had accidentally said his name earlier when they were on the field, panic filling him quickly at the sight of blood. It had slipped from his lips before he had a chance to stop himself.

They stop at another fast food place to grab more food for Ilya and Shane orders a salad from their menu. He would much rather they could find a restaurant to sit down at but he really is tired. And it might be a bad idea to let Ilya operate heavy machinery after a head injury, even if he’s not concussed.

“I’ll find a hotel while we eat,” Shane murmurs and Ilya is already chowing down on the chicken sandwich he got. Shane stabs at his salad, eating it slowly, worried he’ll have another weird reaction to the food.

Ilya is distracted with his phone too. He’s tapping quick replies on it, looks like he keeps dismissing some notifications, and there’s a little furrow in his brows.

“Everything okay?” Shane asks, curiosity killing him.

“Yes,” Ilya nods. “Just Svetlana. Wants to know where I am. So clingy.”

Shane nods, his stomach hurts suddenly. He should probably just avoid food until they’re back but that’s not healthy.

“You didn’t tell her where you were going?”

“Is complicated,” Ilya mumbles, putting his phone away.

“Aren’t you from Boston? What’s complicated about that?” Shane presses, wanting to know more.

Ilya looks up at Shane then and his expression is incredibly sad. Shane reaches over with a hand before he can even think about it, resting it just above Ilya’s knee. Ilya looks down at it and the corner of his lip quirks into a small crooked smile.

“Sorry,” Shane mumbles, giving him a light squeeze and pulling his hand back. “You don’t have to explain anything to me.”

“My father is dying,” Ilya mumbles after a few seconds have gone by, his head bowed down.

“What? Like… right now?”

“Yes.”

“Holy shit.”

“Yeah,” Ilya lets out a huff through his nose, clearing his throat. “And… I don’t know how I feel about it.”

“Why not?”

“Well…” Ilya shrugs, looking up at Shane. “Long story.”

“Maybe you can tell me one day,” Shane smiles a bit a bit.

“Yes, I will,” Ilya nods and smiles back.

“Should we just drive the last hour or so, then?”

“No, it’s okay,” Ilya shakes his head quickly and grabs his chicken sandwich again. “He’s okay still. My brother says he’s sleeping right now.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’m sure.”

Shane checks them into the hotel when they arrive. They take the elevator to their room and when they walk inside Shane tries to turn them around again.

“What? What is it?” Ilya asks, looking over him.

“They gave us the wrong one, there’s only one bed,” Shane explains.

“Ah,” Ilya nods, following Shane back down to the front desk.

“That’s the last room I have,” the old woman behind the counter tells them, chewing on a piece of gum loudly. Shane tries not to scrunch his face at her. “Sorry, sweetie, someone else took the other one just now. They’re already settled in.”

“Ah,” Shane nods quickly.

“We could sleep heads to toes,” Ilya offers behind him and Shane can hear how he’s holding back a snort.

“Shut up, Rozanov,” Shane sighs, walking away from the desk to the elevator again.

“Ilya,” Ilya calls behind him, pressing the button for it before Shane can. “Please.”

Shane keeps facing away from him, licking his lips, trying to get his face under control.

“Okay, shut up, Ilya,” Shane clears his throat.

“Okay, Shane,” Ilya answers, his voice low, rumbly.

“I’ll shower first,” Shane grabs his backpack and slips into the bathroom before Ilya can say anything when they’re back in the room.

He’s grateful he brought an extra set of clothes for after he was done at the gym, the thought of putting back the same clothes tomorrow would have had him in distress. He makes quick work of showering, trying hard not to think about Ilya in the next room, of his father dying just a state over, of how Ilya seemed so confused about how he felt about it.

Shane wanted to press more deep down, ask him why he felt that way, if his dad was an asshole to him, if he had hurt Ilya. Now that Shane thought about it he had never seen any family with Ilya at important games. They didn’t come for family weeks at school either. Shane had spotted Ilya walking alone from the cafeteria to his dorm.

Was his mother just as bad? And what about his brother? Shane thinks it’s strange that none of them would buy a bus or plane ticket for Ilya to go see his dying father. A pit in his stomach was growing slowly and Shane couldn’t blame the fast food salad for it.

He scrubs his teeth with his finger and the travel sized toothpaste in the bathroom, rinsing out his mouth, taking a few deep breaths.

“Okay, don’t bring it up, Shane, don’t bring it up,” he mutters to himself.

He really hopes that that part of Yuna Hollander that makes half of him doesn’t act up when he sees Ilya. The one that wants to nurture, reach out and say hey, hey softly and make him feel better in any way he can think of.

Ilya goes into the bathroom after Shane without another word. Shane hears the shower running a minute later. He looks to the bed and gets to work. They’re going to have to make it work but it might be easier if they aren’t trapped under tucked in blankets. He fluffs up the pillows and sits down to wait for Ilya to come out.

“It’s going to be okay, Ilyusha,” Svetlana murmurs quietly, her voice a little bit tinny through the phone. “I’m so sorry I can’t be there.”

“It’s okay,” Ilya shakes his head, whispering back even though they’re speaking Russian so even if Shane can hear him he won’t know what they’re talking about. “I know I will be okay. I’m just nervous.”

“Is Shane Hollander being kind to you?”

Ilya smiles a bit, rubbing the towel he’s holding on the back of his head, trying to dry his hair more.

“Yes, he is being a really good sport,” Ilya grins. “I think we are friends now.”

“That’s good,” Svetlana sounds pleased. “I always thought he would make a really good friend for you. You’re both really similar in a lot of ways. And he’s just as smart as you.”

“I had that thought too,” Ilya nods, biting his lip.

“Maybe your game on ice will improve even more now, yes?” Svetlana laughs a bit. “Well, only if you are willing to let him center that is.”

“You would have Shane Hollander center me?” Ilya asks with a gasp. He doesn’t mind the thought of it though.

“Yes, for the sake of the sport,” Svetlana answers and is giggling fully now. “Call me tomorrow, okay? After everything. I can get you a ticket home.”

“Okay,” Ilya nods, standing up from the closed toilet seat now that their conversation is coming to an end. “But, it’s okay. I want to ride back with Shane. It would be really mean if I didn’t.”

They say goodnight and blessedly Svetlana doesn’t say anything about how he addressed Shane by his first name. Shane had been a topic of their conversations many times in the past. At first because he and Ilya clashed a lot and then because Ilya begrudgingly admired him and wished they could be closer.

“Ilya,” Shane says when Ilya comes out of the bathroom. He puts his phone on the nightstand next to him, scooting back a bit on the mattress. “Hey.”

“Hey,” Ilya furrows his brows a bit, confused. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Shane nods quickly and Ilya nods back, walking to the other side of the bed, sitting down carefully on it.

“We should sleep, yes?” Ilya asks, already yawning. “Did you want to do the head to toes thing?”

“No, that’s weird,” Shane answers and Ilya can tell he’s scrunching his face. “We’ll be fine.”

Ilya lifts the covers on his side and slides under them, nuzzling into his pillow with a groan, yawning again.

“Hotel pillows are always so soft,” Ilya murmurs, eyes shut.

He feels Shane shift around and lay down as well. Ilya wants to peek, check if Shane is facing him or away, but he really is so exhausted.

“Today has been really weird,” Shane whispers, the lamp on his side finally clicking off.

“Mhm,” Ilya nods, licking his lips. “Yes but fun.”

“Yeah, fun for sure,” Shane whispers back. “Kind of sucks we haven’t been close until now, huh? Not that we… not that we’re close now, I didn’t—”

“It’s okay, Shane,” Ilya grumbles, peering one eye open and Shane is facing away from him. “I know what you mean.”

“Can I ask you something?”

“What is it?”

“Why did you… ignore me when I said hi at orientation?”

Ilya tenses, opening both eyes, wide awake now. Ilya can either lie right now and do his best to remember it for the rest of his friendship with Shane or he can be honest.

He chooses honesty.

“I was scared,” Ilya answers and Shane’s shoulders flinch a bit. “Not of you, Hollander, don’t get cocky.”

“I wasn’t,” Shane answers and he turns around carefully, hugging one of his pillows to his chest. “What were you afraid of?”

“My father,” Ilya sniffs, curling his toes. “I was scared of my father. I had run away in the middle of the night with Svetlana so I could come to school. He did not know.”

Shane makes a soft noise on the back of his throat.

“He’s not a bad father,” Ilya continues when Shane keeps staring at him. “He provided all my life, I never went without food, the house is really big, I had my own bathroom. All the stuff I needed and even what I didn’t.”

Shane nods slowly.

“But… he is very controlling,” Ilya continues and it’s flowing now. “Gets angry easy, wanted me to do what he chose. He had already secured me a spot at— well, never mind but he had outlined the next fifteen years of my life, and I just couldn’t do it.”

“That sounds like a lot,” Shane mumbles, his voice rough.

“Yes,” Ilya nods. “One night Svetlana picks me up at three in the morning and we go to a parking lot and she asks me what’s my dream. I never really let myself have a dream. I already knew what I was supposed to do.”

“Right.”

“But Svetlana asks me what do I want to do. We stayed there until I thought of something.”

“What did you think of?” Shane asks and he’s smiling a bit now.

“Secret,” Ilya whispers and they both smile at each other.

“What about your mom?” Shane asks and Ilya’s smile drops, Shane seems to notice. “Sorry… don’t mean to pry.”

“My mom is gone,” Ilya answers. “She has been gone for a long time.”

“I’m sorry,” Shane’s voice drops to a whisper again.

“It’s okay, I was young,” Ilya swallows around the lump on his throat. His mom would have asked him about his dreams. She would have made sure he had one before his father could have a chance to crush it. “She was the best. She always wanted me to have friends like you.”

“Like me?” Shane asks, raising an eyebrow but he’s smiling again.

“Yes, boring friends,” Ilya wiggles his eyebrows. “So I stay out of trouble.”

“You really are an asshole,” Shane rolls his eyes but he’s still smiling which Ilya takes as a win.

“I’m sorry for being rude when we first met,” Ilya turns his head into his pillow. “I had a lot of bad thoughts in my mind. I wish I didn’t because now I know you are a really good person. The type that drives someone to a different country without even knowing why.”

“I know why now.”

“Yes.”

Shane shuts his eyes but he doesn’t turn away. Ilya doesn’t know how long passes between them but eventually his eyes are fluttering shut and Shane’s deep and even breaths lull him into sleep.

Ilya wakes up with his nose buried into soft, dark hair. It smells nice, like the hotel’s shampoo and something else that Ilya can’t name. Probably Shane. One of Shane’s legs is tucked under Ilya’s, and the pillow he had been hugging is between their chests.

Shane’s breaths are even, soft, still asleep. Ilya doesn’t want to break the moment just yet but he can hear buzzing from the nightstand and there’s light seeping now through the edges of the blackout curtain.

Is his father dead? God, he hopes he is… he hopes he’s not. He can’t wait until it’s all over.

“Shane,” Ilya whispers and Shane lets out a little groan, one that is definitely coming from the back of his throat, almost purring like a kitten.

“Mmmwhat?” Shane mumbles, his head burying deeper into Ilya’s neck.

“We have to go,” Ilya pats his back gently, trying to bypass the urge to hug him tight.

“Okay,” Shane nods and then his breath hitches and he’s pulling away from Ilya. “Crap. Sorry Ilya.”

“About what?” Ilya asks, laughing a bit.

“I didn’t mean to get all up on you,” Shane is turning a pretty shade of pink and Ilya loves the way his freckles look.

“It’s okay, Shane, we were sleeping. Maybe it was me who got close,” he winks at Shane and sits up. “Come on, let’s go. One more hour.”

“Okay,” Shane nods, getting up.

Shane had probably the best sleep of his life, which is strange because whenever he had shared a bed before with a friend it had not been that comfortable. He would usually wake up on the very edge of the bed, cold because the blanket had been stolen, and with a stiff neck for the rest of the day.

They got ready quickly, grabbing their backpacks, eating a quick breakfast at the hotel, and then heading to the Jeep. Ilya had stepped outside to make a phone call while Shane had checked them out and he wants to ask if his father is gone now. Ilya will tell him though, he has to.

Shane hands the aux cord to Ilya when they’re on the road and Ilya seems delighted by it. He quickly puts on a playlist that ranges from the weirdest collection of genres Shane has ever listened to. It goes from some type of electronic Russian, Latin reggaeton, and even bubblegum pop.

When they arrive Shane isn’t surprised that it’s practically a mansion. Gates open for them, Shane drives down the longest driveway he has ever seen, and they roll to a slow stop.

“Well,” Shane nods a bit. “What do you want me to do? Wait out here?”

“Yes,” Ilya nods. “Um… give me your number, I will text you if I think it will take too long and we can figure something out.”

“Okay,” Shane nods and they quickly exchange phones to save their contact information.

“But wait first, yes?” Ilya asks and Shane nods at him reassuringly.

“Good luck,” Shane mumbles. “And uh… I’m sorry? I don’t really know what I’m supposed to say to a friend who’s going in to see his dying father. Sorry…”

“Good luck works,” Ilya smiles a bit.

“Ilya!”

Ilya flinches just a bit and shuts his eyes tight. Shane looks over Ilya’s shoulder and sees an angry man at the front door. The peek he gets inside the house makes Shane shudder and just that glimpse makes him understand why Ilya hasn’t called it home once.

“I gotta go,” Ilya sighs.

“Good luck,” Shane whispers again.

“Mhm,” Ilya nods and then he’s gone, the door slamming behind them.

Shane finds a spot to park in and turns off the car. He fiddles with his phone for a little while, texting back his parents, letting them know he’s okay. He answers a few messages from Hayden who was panicking about where to take his girlfriend next on a date.

The front door to Ilya’s house doesn’t open again and Shane thinks it might be a good idea if he starts to track the time. Ilya hasn’t texted him yet but Shane will wait like he asked.

When he runs out of emails and texts to answer Shane settles for bouncing one of his knees. About an hour or so later he hears doors slamming again and Shane turns to look quickly towards the front door. Ilya is stomping, shouting something Shane can’t understand, that same man from earlier following behind him and shouting just as loud.

Ilya doesn’t walk to the car even though he sees Shane. Instead he turns around and faces who Shane thinks is his brother and they start to shout in each other’s faces now. Shane doesn’t know whether he should look away or not.

“I’m not doing it!” Shane finally hears some English from them. “Fuck you!”

“No, fuck you, Ilya!” the man shouts back. “You think you’re so fucking special, don’t you?”

Shane doesn’t hear what they say next but Ilya jabs his finger at the man’s chest. His hand gets slapped away and Ilya has a cruel grin on his face that Shane hopes he never has to see again.

“Tomorrow, Ilya!” the door opens and Ilya climbs into the seat, slamming it shut again.

“Let’s go,” Ilya is breathing heavily.

Shane turns on the car again and peels out of there as quickly as he can. The gate feels like it takes forever to open but no one is following. A black van passes them when they clear the driveway.

“So—”

“Dead,” Ilya grunts. “About fifteen minutes ago.”

“Okay,” Shane nods quickly. “I’m sorry.”

“Is okay,” Ilya’s voice is quiet and a little scratchy. “I think he was waiting for me.”

Shane hums, unsure of what to say.

“The funeral is tomorrow,” Ilya purses his lips.

Shane pulls to the side of the road. Ilya looks at him with a confused furrow of his brow, his eyes are red with unshed tears, and Shane can’t stand it. He gets out of the car and walks around to Ilya’s side, opening the door and pulling him out. It’s easy because Ilya hasn’t put on his seatbelt.

“Shane, what are you—”

Shane pulls Ilya into a tight hug, wrapping his arms firmly around Ilya’s waist, squeezing with all his strength. Ilya hugs him back eventually, arms looping around Shane’s shoulders. Shane feels his head tilt down, forehead pressing to the junction between Shane’s shoulder and his neck.

He feels the hot tears next, Ilya’s shoulders shaking with quiet sobs, and Shane squeezes him again, lifting one arm to rub his back slowly. They stay there for a long time, holding each other, their heartbeats pressed together, until Ilya is out of tears.

“Thank you,” Ilya chokes out and Shane just nods.

“Anytime, Ilya.”

They go to a diner after. Ilya’s eyes are red rimmed still but his shoulders are relaxed and he’s even starting to smile.

“What will Shane Hollander order from an American diner?” Ilya asks and his shoe taps against Shane’s under the table. Shane taps back, picking up the menu to scan it.

“A tuna melt,” Shane finally decides and when he looks up he sees Ilya grinning wide. “What?”

“I love tuna melts,” Ilya answers. “That sounds really good.”

“Let’s order two then, Ilya Rozanov,” Shane winks at him.

After their order is in they go back to playing footsie under the table. Ilya keeps rubbing at his eyes and Shane thinks they must be a little itchy from all the crying. Their drinks come first and Ilya takes long sips of his Coke, a refill comes with their food.

“I can stay another day if we need to,” Shane looks at Ilya when the first half of his tuna melt is gone. “If you want to go the funeral.”

Ilya nods, biting down on a crunchy pickle spear.

“I probably should,” Ilya sighs. “My father asked for me to do the eulogy. I do not want to.”

“I mean, he can’t force you to, right?” Shane says slowly before he realizes what he’s said. “I mean—” Ilya starts to laugh and Shane laughs too, looking down at his plate.

“Yes, he cannot force me,” Ilya is still chuckling. “But my brother wants to try very hard. I could always just embarrass him in front of all the guests. Make him too ashamed to ever show his face again.”

“Do you want me to come with you?” Shane asks. “Shit, do you need a suit? Did you bring one?”

“No, who cares about that,” Ilya shakes his head quickly, grabbing his drink again to take a sip. “If you want to go through that with me, Shane, then… I won’t say no to your offer. We can go in athleisure. That is word, right?”

“Yes, Ilya, it is,” Shane nods and laughs a bit. “If that’s what you want.”

“This is is so weird. Whenever I thought about my father dying I can’t say I pictured you there.”

“You know, I never say this but,” Shane shrugs a bit. “Let’s just go with the flow.”

“We should go watch a movie.”

“Yeah, okay,” Shane nods. “We gotta book a hotel again.”

“I got it covered,” Ilya says and tucked between his index and middle finger there’s a black card. “Or… my asshole of a brother does.”

“Did you swipe that from him?” Shane can’t lie, he’s impressed.

“Yes, one of my very many skills,” Ilya winks at him and Shane feels a little flush spread on his cheeks.

Ilya leaves a huge tip for their waitress. Shane finds them a movie theater nearby and they pick the first movie that sounds interesting. When they get to their seats Ilya can’t stop himself from grinning.

“I swear I didn’t plan this,” Shane mutters.

“Oh, I know so, I was there,” Ilya laughs.

“I wonder if all the seats are like this,” Shane looks around the rest of the theater and Ilya sets down their drinks on the little end table next to it.

“Look, Shane, there’s blankets,” Ilya can’t hold back how delighted he feels.

“Jeez, Ilya,” Shane snorts. “I mean we already shared a bed so.”

“That’s right,” Ilya climbs inside, patting the spot next to him. Shane hands him the popcorn bucket and climbs in as well, crossing his ankles, leaning back into the seat.

Ilya grabs one of the blankets, spreads it across their laps, scoots in closer to Shane with a teasing grin. Shane doesn’t move away but he looks over to Ilya with a small smile, nudging their shoulders together.

Shane actually eats the popcorn, grabbing a few pieces at a time, eating them slowly. Ilya hasn’t really been following the movie but it’s some type of action filled story. There’s plenty of explosions and people making out with each other before saying goodbye tragically.

“So that guy earlier was your brother?” Shane asks out of nowhere and Ilya nods, tilting his head to look at Shane. He’s already looking back. “He looks like he sucks.”

“He sucks so bad,” Ilya whispers back, smiling a bit.

“And… how do you feel about your father being gone?”

“Better,” Ilya admits. “It feels strange. I am sad but I am also better.”

“Yeah?” Shane asks softly, his lips purse, and Ilya sees the tip of his tongue slide between them to wet them. “I mean, I don’t know anything but from what you told me it does sound like you’re better off.”

“Yes,” Ilya sighs.

Those three hours sitting by his father’s bedside while Alexei glared at him from the other side had felt endless. Ilya had been so close to texting Shane many times to just leave but the thought of no one being outside waiting for him had been worse. The thought that he wouldn’t be able to make a quick escape as soon as the rattling breaths his father took came to a stop was terrifying.

Ilya had murmured softly to him, patted his arm gently, not even sure if his father could hear him. He doesn’t really remember anything after that last breath. Alexei was shouting. Ilya was shoved into his father’s office and a list of expectations for the funeral were handed to him. He had to get out of there quickly. It felt like back when he was barely sixteen and every move had been scripted already for him.

Ilya really hoped he could do all the lawyer stuff remotely. He doubted his father had left anything for him anyway. It should all go the son who stayed behind and followed his every whim.

Shane’s fingers brush against Ilya’s under the blanket and Ilya hooks their pinkies together. It probably doesn’t mean anything to Shane. Just a comforting gesture for a sort of grieving friend but Ilya’s heart can’t help but do a tumble.

What would Shane do if he kissed him now?

God, Ilya hopes he would kiss him back.

Instead Shane scoots closer, leans his cheek into Ilya’s shoulder, taps their socked feet together under the blanket. Ilya leans his cheek on the top of Shane’s head and more of that tension in his chest from the morning starts to loosen up.

He wonders if cuddling with Svetlana like this right now would have the same effect. Probably, but not as much as this. Ilya hates he went so long without really knowing Shane Hollander. Maybe he could have had a friendship like this with him all along.

When the movie is over they find a thrift shop so they can look for suits. Ilya wanted to run the card, go to some extravagant luxury shop but Shane had turned down his idea. I don’t want you to get into trouble with your brother. And wasn’t that just so nice? Not that Ilya cared if his asshole brother got mad at him but he wanted to listen to what Shane said.

“This looks like it will fit you,” Shane murmurs, grabbing a suit from the rack he was flicking through. He holds it up to Ilya, the back of his knuckles brushing on his throat. “Go try it on. I’ll keep looking.”

“Okay, Mr. Tailor,” Ilya teases and Shane rolls his eyes but turns back to the rack.

It’s a pretty good fit, a little short on the arms, exposing Ilya’s wrists a bit too much but he doesn’t really care about that. He puts it back on the hanger and when he walks out of the dressing room Shane is waiting outside with a suit for himself.

“So?”

“Good enough,” Ilya nods, motioning to let Shane in.

Ilya likes that Shane isn’t treating him like he’s some fragile little boy. He thinks if anyone else had come with him they would have been too quiet, too serious, too much.

“What do you wanna do after this?” Shane calls from inside the dressing room. “Or do you want to just go rest at the hotel?”

Ilya hums quietly, biting down on his thumb, thinking. The truth is that Ilya can’t think of a single fun thing to do in Boston. When he would get out of the house as a teen he would mostly loiter around parking lots waiting for Svetlana to pick him up so they could go to her house and rot in her bed together.

“Is there something you want to do, Shane?” Ilya asks.

The curtain slides open and Shane is back in his clothes again, the suit draped over one of his arms.

“Usually I would go skating,” Shane shrugs. “But… maybe we can just do something touristy. I’ve never been to Boston before. What’s your favorite tourist trap here, Ilya?”

“The aquarium,” Ilya answers, shrugging a bit. “We got some nice penguins.”

“I like that,” Shane nods, motioning for Ilya to follow him to the cashier. “Let’s do that before we go rest for tomorrow.”

[Hayden]

So like… you’re on a date?

You’re on a 48 hour date with Rozanov? Probably 72 hours if we include your drive back.

[Shane]

It’s not a date.

We’re hanging out while we wait for the funeral tomorrow.

[Hayden]

Yeah and you held hands for half a movie.

Also, you’re really going to that? Like for real????

[Shane]

Yes, I am.

[Hayden]

This is so weird.

Shane rolls his eyes, swipes away from that text thread to check the one with his parents. Ilya is getting them tickets to go into the aquarium.

[Mom]

Let us know if you need anything, Shane. I think you are doing a very nice thing for Ilya.

[Dad]

Proud of you, kiddo. Be careful. If you have any car troubles pull over right away and we’ll get it sorted, okay?

[Mom]

And pass along our deepest condolences. Maybe next time we visit for parents week we can invite Ilya to dinner.

[Shane]

Yeah, maybe.

I mean, we’re not like friends really… not officially?

[Mom]

Oh sweetheart, don’t be silly. I think you two are past that now.

This is a good thing. He’s an excellent player.

[Dad]

Since when do you have to say you’re friends to make it official?

Shane snorts and looks up when he can hear Ilya walking back to him. He tucks his phone away into his back pocket, following Ilya when he motions towards the doors.

Okay, Shane knows logically that there’s no way this is a date. Yes, they did kind of hold hands at the movies, and snuggled close together, and Shane even dozed a bit because he was so comfortable and warm but he’s done that with… literally no one, actually. Though Shane has the sneaking suspicion that Ilya definitely cuddles with Svetlana. And he definitely holds her hand because Shane has seem them do it before.

So Ilya probably just likes to hold hands with his sort of friends and that’s okay. He’s probably not gay, not even a little bit, and Shane is letting Hayden’s comments get to him when he just wants to be a comforting presence for Ilya.

“I think my mom would have liked it here,” Ilya whispers while they stare at a school of fish swim by.

“She never came?” Shane asks, scooting a little closer to Ilya so their conversation can stay at a low volume.

“Mm no,” Ilya shakes his head slowly. “She passed away when we still lived in Russia.”

“Oh,” Shane nods, biting his lip. “How old were you?”

“Twelve,” Ilya sighs. “She was the fun parent, obviously. Every day with her was so warm. The world felt different when she was gone.”

Shane stays quiet, that pit in his stomach growing again. He doesn’t know what to say. Both of his parents are safe and sound at home and both of them are the best parents Shane could have asked for.

“In a way I was glad when we left Russia,” Ilya continues. “Because then at least I wouldn’t be in a house full with memories of her. I still think about her every day, but sometimes I forget how she looked. And you know what’s the strangest part?”

“What?” Shane asks, his fingers brushing on the sleeve of Ilya’s hoodie.

“I always picture her taller than me, even now,” Ilya laughs a bit. “But that’s silly, isn’t it? I must be much taller than she was by now.”

“Yeah,” Shane laughs too and for some reason he feels emboldened enough to take Ilya’s hand, link their fingers together, and squeeze. Ilya blessedly squeezes back and doesn’t pull away. “How old were you when you moved here?”

“Fourteen,” Ilya nods a bit and they walk away from that tank, following the next sign they spot to the penguins. “It’s why my English still needs some work sometimes.”

“I think you’re great at it,” Shane shrugs. “The accent is cute.”

“Oh, I’m cute, huh?”

“No, the accent is.”

“Mhmm,” Ilya laughs, shaking his head. “I do not think that is what you mean, Shane.”

“Don’t know what you’re trying to get at, Ilya,” Shane rolls his eyes.

“I think you’re cute too,” Ilya continues his teasing and Shane groans.

His heart is doing somersaults now. This is so bad but Shane doesn’t want to let go of his hand.

Does Ilya like him? Does Shane like like him?

Fuck.

Shane has never felt this close to someone after just knowing them for a few days. He’s usually awkward, the one that needs time to break out of his shell and show a person that he’s worth a friendship. Hayden had been persistent like a puppy and that was the only reason he and Shane had eventually grown close. When he met Rose he thought he had a crush on her and she helped him figure out things about himself that he had never given himself a chance to think of.

With Ilya though… the first few hours of their drive had been a little bit awkward, really quiet, but the more they interacted the more Shane wanted to open up. Some really ridiculous things had happened and Ilya had taken all of them in stride. And yes, he was a jerk sometimes but he hadn’t been mean to Shane.

When they reach the penguins the question is crawling up Shane’s throat, trying its hardest to make its way to the tip of his tongue.

“So cute,” Ilya sounds so happy, his fingers still tangled with Shane’s, free hand pressing into the glass of the enclosure and he leans in for a better look.

“Is this a date?” Shane asks.

Fuck!

“What?” Ilya turns his head from the penguins so fast.

“Oh god,” Shane groans, taking back his hand and looking around quickly for an escape route. Usually he has the exits memorized.

“Shane, do you—“

Shane finally spots a sign for the bathrooms and he quickly weaves through the crowd. Ilya is calling after him and when Shane glances back he sees him trying to get through the crowd too but Ilya is way too tall and broad. He can’t slip as easily as Shane can. Not that it’s that easy, he’s bumped into enough people now which he tries really hard not to do usually.

There’s no one in the bathroom which Shane thinks is so weird because the aquarium is definitely packed. He paces around it, knowing he probably only has a few more seconds left before Ilya follows him inside.

The door opens and Shane looks up.

“Ilya, I didn’t mean—”

Ilya’s hands come up, cup Shane’s face, and he leans down to to press their lips together. Shane can’t help the sound he makes, his body practically melting, and his hands move to Ilya’s waist on their own. It’s only a press of lips at first, their breaths against each other’s skin, heads tilted just a bit.

Then Ilya opens his mouth, guides Shane’s lips into a kiss unlike any other he has ever experienced. Their tongues brush together and Shane gasps, hugging Ilya closer by his waist, head tipped upward, Ilya’s fingers against his pulse. The door to the bathroom opens and they pull apart hastily.

Shane brushes the corner of his eyes because embarrassingly enough he can feel tears pooling in them. Ilya is thumbing at his own bottom lip but his eyes stay on Shane. They smile at each other a bit and Shane nods toward the door.

Ilya takes Shane’s hand this time and that’s so nice in it of itself. Just twenty-four hours before he and Ilya had been almost total strangers and now they had just kissed for the first time.

Actually, Ilya is happy his father died. Or that he was dying yesterday and that he’s dead today and that now he doesn’t have to remember it as the day that that happened. Instead he can remember it as the day he kissed Shane for the first time. The day he spent doing the most random things with Shane while his brother foots the bill.

Shane is acting so bashful now, looking up at Ilya through his lashes, the flush on his cheeks coming back almost as soon as it fades. Ilya kind of loves that he’s the reason why.

It’s the most unorthodox way to start what could become a relationship but Ilya thinks it’s probably one of the only ways it could have happened. Shane and Ilya, stuck in a room together, alone long enough that they had to talk to each other and open up.

They’re in the car now after finding their way out of the aquarium. Shane is looking for a hotel near where the funeral will be and Ilya has his hand on Shane’s thigh. Just an excuse to keep contact between them. Ilya isn’t sure if he’s going to survive the rest of this trip without it.

“Okay,” Shane mumbles after a minute. “Found us one. Do you still want to use your brothers card?”

“Yes,” Ilya nods quickly, handing over the credit card to Shane and he types down the numbers carefully.

“Done,” Shane turns a bit on his seat to face Ilya and his hand covers Ilya’s on his thigh. “How are you feeling? Still doing okay?”

“Better than okay,” Ilya nods, lifting their hands to pull Shane’s knuckles to his lips, pressing a light kiss to them. Shane blushes that pretty pink again.

“What should we do next?” Shane asks, his fingertips caressing Ilya’s bottom lip.

Ilya kind of wants to get him in a room all to himself. He kisses Shane’s fingertips gently, moving his hand closer to kiss his wrist, eyes steady on Shane. He makes a soft humming noise and Ilya doesn’t miss the way Shane’s eyes darken just a bit.

“We said we’d go rest, yes?” Ilya asks, raising an eyebrow.

“Yeah,” Shane nods.

They hold hands the entire drive to the hotel. It takes about forty minutes or so but Ilya’s music is playing still and every time they catch each other’s gazes they’re both smiling so shyly at each other. This must be what freedom tastes like, what it will look like for Ilya as soon as tomorrow is over. His father would have never accepted Shane and his brother definitely won’t if Ilya had any plans of keeping him in his life.

Ilya had always hidden this part of himself. The one that loved and craved men as well. Not that that had stopped Alexei from noticing or at least from being such an asshole that he defaulted to homophobic slurs when he was angry at Ilya. And he was angry at Ilya a lot. He honestly couldn’t remember a time when his brother didn’t hate him. Ilya started hating him back eventually.

Shane doesn’t turn them back around when there’s only one bed in the room this time. Instead they both drop their backpacks where they stand and Ilya grabs Shane by the face again, one hand on the back of his head, pulling him in close to kiss him until he runs out of breath and there’s none left to steal from Shane’s lungs. He doesn’t know what possessed Shane to ask if they were on a date but he’s glad for whatever the catalyst was.

“God, you’re so hot,” Shane groans quietly when Ilya moves to kiss at his throat.

“You too,” Ilya murmurs against his skin, nipping at it gently. “So fucking pretty.”

He walks Shane back to the bed, neither of them bothering to turn on any of the lights, falling into it with quiet laughter. Shane reaches for Ilya, pulling him close, his fingers tangling into his curls. They learn how to kiss each other, long and deep, the kind of kiss that makes Ilya feel dizzy in a good way. Shane brushes his lips near the tape protecting Ilya’s stitches, wraps both legs around Ilya’s waist, hugs him so close Ilya is sure they’re about to turn into one.

“I like you,” Ilya whispers when their lips part next and he can feel Shane smile, a chaste peck to his bottom lip.

“I like you too,” Shane whispers back. “I really do.”

Ilya wants to fuck him, taste him, be inside him. Is that too soon? Will it give Shane the wrong impression if he tries? They’re both adults and Shane probably wants him too if the hard pressure against Ilya’s hip is any indication. Ilya thinks he’ll die though, if he fucks Shane today and when they’re back in Montreal tomorrow he never does again.

“Shane Hollander,” Ilya huffs out in a laugh. “This is unreal. Cannot be true.”

“Crazier things have happened,” Shane murmurs, his fingers are brushing gently through Ilya's hair, lips still tilted into a pretty smile. “Wish I had known you better sooner.”

“You would have not liked me that first year,” Ilya shakes his head, kissing at Shane’s jaw softly, chaste. “I snapped a lot.”

“Mmm,” Shane hums softly and nods, the hand not in his hair rubs up and down Ilya's back. “Guess we’ll never know, Ilya. But I hope I would have been a good friend to you even then, if I had the chance.”

“You are, Shane,” Ilya pulls back, staring at Shane with as much honesty as he can muster. “You really are a good friend.”

As good as Svetlana is to him. As kind and caring as Ilya has needed for so long. The creeping thought of Svetlana makes Ilya a little tense. They do this too sometimes. Get tangled in a bed together, kiss until the dam breaks and they’re ripping each others clothes off. Ilya never feels the satisfaction he craves after, though. He only scratches an itch for a little while and again with her or someone else when it comes back.

He doesn’t want Shane to be like that.

“Is it weird that this is happening when all that other stuff with your family is going on?”

When Ilya thought of family he could only picture his mom.

He shakes his head and kisses Shane again gently, just a soft press of their lips, a reminder that he can do that at least for now.

“Is not weird,” Ilya mumbles. “Just like when my mom passed away the world changed again today. Twice, I think.”

“Twice?” Shane asks, his arms moving to slide around Ilya’s neck and shoulders, pulling him in closer again.

“Mhm,” Ilya nods, nudging their noses together. “Once with him, once with you. Both have made the world a little better.”

“Okay,” Shane nods.

Ilya is spooning Shane later, nuzzling into the back of his neck while they flip through the channels on the TV, looking for something to put on. He has managed to sneak a hand under Shane’s hoodie and he gently strokes at the relaxed muscle there. For many reasons they had decided not to take things too far while they’re here. That didn’t mean Ilya couldn’t touch a little bit, though.

Shane looks back sometimes and they lose themselves in a slow and sticky kiss. Ilya could stay like this forever, taking his fill of Shane Hollander, never quite running out of space for the beautiful man in his arms.

When they get hungry they order from room service, busying themselves by trading kisses while they wait for the knock on their door. Shane is practically giggling while Ilya licks at his throat when it does and he pulls away to go grab their food.

“I never asked,” Ilya clears his throat, carefully cutting the expensive steak he ordered. “Did you… tell your friends where you were going?”

“Yeah,” Shane nods, he’s sipping at a green smoothie through a straw. “When we were at the border waiting I texted my parents and Hayden.”

“Mhm, Pike is like your second mom?” Ilya asks, trying to pull out his signature asshole smirk but he doesn’t know if he succeeds because Shane just rolls his eyes at him.

“He’s my best friend, you jerk,” Shane stabs at the salmon and rice on his plate. “Actually… he kind of got in my head when we were at the aquarium.”

Ilya wrinkles his nose at that. Was Shane thinking about Hayden Pike when they were kissing?

“Oh yeah?” Ilya asks instead, taking his first bite. “How so?”

“He said we had basically been on a 48 hour date and I… I don’t know, I didn’t think we were, obviously we weren’t, but then at the aquarium we were holding hands and you didn’t pull back and—”

Shane must do this sometimes. Go off on a tangent until he runs out of breath or something else interrupts his train of thought like Ilya leaning in to give him a quick peck.

“I’ll take you on a real date when we’re back,” Ilya winks at him and Shane blushes quickly, his entire face turning red. “If you want to. But, I won’t be able to take you anywhere fancy. My brother will freeze this card by then, I think. Probably.”

“I don’t need fancy dates,” Shane looks like he swallows hard and then he’s grabbing his green juice again to sip at it.

“We will have fun, yes?” Ilya asks him, nudging his foot against Shane’s.

“Yeah,” Shane nods and then laughs a bit. “Sounds like a plan.”

Maybe Hayden Pike isn’t so bad if he gets in Shane’s head this way.

“I might regret asking this,” Shane sniffs once and Ilya sets down his fork and knife, looking up at him. “But um… well, I’ve heard about you with other people before. Um… never guys, though, so… is this like— Are you just curious?”

“Curious?” Ilya furrows his brow, biting his lip.

“Are you straight?” Shane asks after they’ve been staring at each other for some time.

“Oh,” Ilya laughs, shaking his head. “No no, I’m not just curious. I’m bisexual.”

“Alright,” Shane breathes out a little sigh of relief and Ilya can’t help but laugh a bit. “Sorry… just wanted to make sure I wasn’t like an experiment to you.”

“Who would do that?” Ilya asks, shaking his head.

“You’d be surprised,” Shane mumbles and Ilya sees how his posture is a little bit stiff again.

If he ever finds out who sated their curiosities with Shane he will make sure they all have a very bad day courtesy of Ilya fucking Rozanov. He can tell Shane doesn’t want to talk about it so he doesn’t push it. Instead he offers a roasted asparagus to Shane with his fork and Shane leans in to bite it.

They take turns showering again. When Ilya comes out of the bathroom Shane is using the steamer from the closet to smooth out the wrinkles on the suits they thrifted. Ilya presses a soft kiss to Shane’s jaw as he walks by past him, wrapped in only his towel, to grab some clothes from his backpack.

Shane looks a little bit red when Ilya looks back at him and he snorts. It’s not like Shane has never seen Ilya like this before. They have shared the locker room many times and have even ended up next to each other after practices in the showers. Though Ilya supposes the context is very different right now.

He dresses quickly to put Shane out of his misery and walks up behind him again to give him a hug, resting his chin on Shane’s shoulder, watching as he makes a wrinkle disappear on the lapel of Ilya’s coat.

“Thank you,” Ilya whispers and Shane nods.

Tomorrow is going to be so strange. At least Ilya just has to go to the burial. He will skip town right after and not answer any of Alexei’s calls. Maybe he’ll block him as soon as he and Shane get in the Jeep. Ilya is grateful they’re in America and everything moves so much faster here. He doesn’t think he could have handled three days of mourning when he wasn’t.

“Will you give the eulogy?” Shane asks him when he’s done, turning in Ilya’s arms. “Do you know what you’ll say?”

“I do not know,” Ilya shakes his head, licking his lips. “I have not very many nice things to say.”

“Maybe we can think of some together,” Shane is stroking Ilya’s cheek carefully, his thumb rubbing near Ilya’s bottom lip.

“Okay,” Ilya nods, kissing Shane quickly. “Are you going to shower too?”

“Yeah,” Shane grabs his backpack from the bed. “Be out in a bit.”

They use the notepad from the desk, laying down on their stomachs next to each other, trading the pen back and forth as they try to scribble a good enough speech. Only about a minute long with little details that will make people think Ilya actually cares. He mostly list out his accomplishments and at the end that he will be missed. Not by Ilya but surely someone.

Ilya watches Shane sleep later, texting Svetlana back, catching a glimpse of Shane’s eyes moving behind his eyelids while he breathes softly. He almost snores sometimes but not quite. He looks almost as young as the first time Ilya saw him. Babyfaced and pretty.

[Sveta]

Let me know when you’re back at the dorms. I’ll be back on Tuesday.

[Ilya]

Okay. I might be busy.

[Sveta]

With what? 🤨

[Ilya]

Shane ❤️

[Sveta]

What????????

Did something happen between you?

[Ilya]

Yes. He will be my boyfriend soon. I have to take him on a real date first. Then I will ask.

[Sveta]

Well… congratulations ahead of time then.

[Shane]

Thank you.

[Sveta]

He is cute…

[Ilya]

Hands off.

[Sveta]

🤭

Ilya is so quiet while they get ready. It makes Shane feel a little bit apprehensive. He wants to ask if Ilya changed his mind, if he doesn’t want Shane to go at all now, or if maybe he rather they just kept driving until they get away from Boston. Could go either way, he thinks.

They skip breakfast, worried that they’ll somehow stain their clothes, and arrive fifteen minutes early. Shane takes a seat at the very back, his eyes following Ilya when he approaches his brother with a stiff and defensive posture. He wishes again that he had known Ilya sooner so him and his parents could have been a safe space for him when there were family events.

Shane hadn’t told his parents or anyone really of the extra new recent development between the two of them but he had a feeling his parents would welcome Ilya with open arms. Hayden might be a little bit harder to convince but it’s not like anything he said would change Shane’s mind.

The two exchange some tense words but Ilya doesn’t back off. He’s taller than his brother but he doesn’t tip his head down to look at him. Shane thinks that would really piss him off if he was on the other end of it.

The room fills up slowly, somber music plays in the background, Shane is grateful that there’s a buffer between him and the person sitting next to him. Ilya takes the stand at some point and he must go through all the bullet points they thought of at the hotel but Shane isn’t sure because his entire speech is in Russian. His voice sounds different when he speaks in that language but Shane doesn’t hate it.

He stands back too for the burial, watching as the casket is lowered, and Ilya doesn’t move from his spot until the first shovel of dirt hits the wood. Ilya says something to his brother and then he’s walking to Shane, loosening his tie, urging him with just his eyes for them to get moving.

Shane catches a glimpse of Ilya’s brother and turns quickly to unlock the Jeep. They jog to it together, Shane sliding into the drivers seat, not even waiting for Ilya to close the door fully before he’s driving them to the exit. He sees Ilya’s brother on the rearview mirror, fist clenched, watching them drive away.

“Fuck,” Ilya finally grunts.

“All good?”

“Yes, it’s okay,” Ilya laughs then, a little breathless. Shane feels that anxiety he had tried hard not to acknowledge loosen up.

“Okay,” Shane laughs a little bit too. “Alright, that’s done. You did it.”

“I did it,” Ilya nods, their fingers tangling over the center console.

They pull into a gas station to refill the tank and change into regular clothes in the restroom. Ilya loads up on snacks again and Shane buys more fruit and protein bars.

After they cross the border they find a gas station for another refill and switch sides. Ilya climbs on the drivers seat, leaning over to press a sweet kiss on Shane’s lip, his smile brilliant. Shane doesn’t even want to think of a reason someone would be smiling like this after all his remaining family connections were gone. He’ll ask about it when they’re closer. Or maybe Ilya will offer up the information like he had so far on their trip.

“I wonder what crazy things will happen on our way back,” Shane kisses Ilya again, sitting back when Ilya does.

“Maybe you will get stitches too,” Ilya teases him and Shane snorts.

Shane feeds Ilya chips while he drives, not even minding his fingers getting greasy because he thinks it’s cute that Ilya is acting like he can’t drive and eat at the same time. They listen to Ilya’s playlist mostly because none of Shane’s music has actual lyrics. And blessedly they don’t run into any more issues on their drive back. Shane thinks it must be because the universe had been holding them back, stopping them from getting there too soon because maybe Ilya would have gotten hurt worse if they had. Either emotionally or physically Shane doesn’t know.

They pull into the same gas station where their adventure had started and get out to stretch their legs before driving the last ten minutes back to campus. Another car pulls in and Shane tries not to feel too self conscious about it because it could be someone that knows them. Maybe they should have talked on the drive about what all the kissing and confessions between them meant. They should have decided whether or not they would actually be pursuing things and if it was okay for them to be seen together in the meantime.

“Shane!”

Shane turns when he hears Rose’s voice and he lifts a hand to wave back as she runs to him. She throws her arms around his shoulders and Shane stumbles back a bit, arms sliding around her waist, holding her up as she practically goes boneless against him.

“Where have you been?” she asks, her breath brushing on his chin. “You missed our class together.”

“I had an emergency,” Shane answers, setting her down on her feet, taking a careful step back once he’s sure she won’t fall over.

“I’ll send you my notes,” she nods quickly, giving him a cute smile. “You didn’t miss much anyway. It was soooo boring.”

“You always think class is boring,” Shane rolls his eyes, pinching her cheek gently.

“Yeah, well, it is,” she swats his hand away playfully.

“Hollander,” Shane stiffens when he hears Ilya call him by his last name without that teasing tone he had been using before.

“Oh, Rose, I have to go,” he pats her arm gently, walking around her. “I’m giving Rozanov a ride to campus.”

“Oh, okay,” she narrows her eyes a bit, her gaze flitting back and forth between them.

He shakes his head a bit, getting on the drivers side, Ilya is already sitting inside. God he really hopes she doesn’t ask about it until Shane has a firm answer himself. The air in the car feels stuffy suddenly and Shane risks a glance over at Ilya as he pulls out of the gas station.

“You okay?” he asks quietly, his fingers twitching, wanting to reach out for Ilya’s hand. Maybe it’s all catching up to him now.

“Yeah, fine, all good,” Ilya mumbles but he sounds upset.

“You sure?”

“Yes, Hollander, why wouldn’t I be sure?”

“Shane. You call me Shane now, Ilya. What the hell is going on?”

“Okay, Shane,” Ilya throws a hand up. “I just was under the impression that you and Rose Landry weren’t an item anymore.”

“We’re not…” Shane trails off, pursing his lips a bit when he realizes what’s going on. “Ilya, are you jealous?”

“No, why would I be jealous of Rose Landry?” Ilya huffs and Shane laughs a bit. “Why are you laughing? I really don’t care. Go text your girlfriend after you ‘give me ride.’”

“Ilya, I’m gay,” Shane sighs, reaching over and grabbing Ilya’s hand even though Ilya tries really hard to get it away from Shane. “Actually, Rose helped me realize that so maybe you should say thank you to her. You know, instead of burning with jealousy. It’s a cute look, though.”

“Russians are not cute,” Ilya grumbles but he stops trying to pull his hand away.

“Mhm, I know one cute Russian,” Shane continues teasing him, lifting their hands to kiss the back of Ilya’s.

“So… you will be going on a date with me?” Ilya asks and Shane grins, nodding quickly.

“I will.”

“I need my hand back,” Ilya pulls away from Shane and he looks over quickly before looking back at the road. He hears Ilya unlock his phone and then he’s typing. “How many dates until I can ask him to be my boyfriend.”

Shane feels his entire body go hot and he grabs the steering wheel with both hands because suddenly he feels like he’s going to lose control and drive them over a ditch.

“What does it say?” Shane asks, biting his bottom lip.

“Yahoo answers says when it feels right,” Ilya hums quietly to himself, like he’s deep in thought. “Hey Shane?”

“Yes, Ilya?”