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Summary
God, he can't go through with this now. He really fucking can’t. He’d planned the whole thing out—rehearsed it on every car ride, every flight, all the little breaks in between—but he really, really can’t.
We can’t do this anymore, his brain screams. That’s all he has to say. Five words. Five, measly little words. But Shane is standing right there, a dream made into reality, and his mouth won’t move.
Ilya Rozanov has spent much of the past six months wondering how, exactly, he would call off this whole thing with Shane Hollander. Now, as Shane stands in his living room, the fact of the matter is that Ilya wants nothing more than for him to stay.
or: boston, but if ilya hadn't let shane run.