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Summary
Seen. That small, clinical word beneath his text feels heavier than it should. Rozanov has read his message, has processed that information, so by this time he must have made a conscious decision to not reply to Shane. He doesn’t know why this is bothering him so much. He has no right to be upset, he is not entitled to Rozanov’s time nor constant attention. They are not… together, he isn’t even sure if they count as close—as friends.
And yet, he keeps staring at his phone, feeling the familiar and prickling discomfort under his skin. Why isn’t Rozanov replying?
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He hasn’t prepared for any of this—for the tenderness that follows the storm, only for the storm to sweep away everything again. He doesn’t know how to deal with Rozanov’s confusing words and contradicting actions, with both fire and ice, both closeness and distance, all at the same time.
Every time Shane feels like he manages to understand Rozanov a little, the pattern shifts, and he is once again left with splintered pieces that don’t make sense.
Or: All the messages Shane sent to Ilya during the six long months between Sochi and Vegas, and the ones he did not send.
Series
- Part 2 of Woe like velvet, tears like jewels