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Shane hoped he hadn’t fucked up in any sort of big way. He placed a kiss on Ilya’s hair and checked to make sure. “I didn’t do anything wrong, did I?”
Ilya shook his head, and his only reply was to tighten his grip on Shane’s shoulder.
People often underestimate how much energy it takes to be vulnerable. To lay yourself bare with the hope that just something—anything—good will come from it. Shane’s mind kept drifting back to that as Ilya lay against his chest, still crying. It had gone as best it could—they loved each other, they loved each other so much—and it had still taken so much from him. To expose himself raw. He had one hand on Ilya’s back, running his fingers up and down the other man’s spine. His other hand was tangled in Ilya’s hair, massaging his scalp. Shane had realized that was Ilya’s favorite form of comfort. He always relaxed, at least a little bit, with Shane’s fingers tangled in it.
Shane kissed the top of his head, muttering another “I love you” into the same spot. It was probable that no one had said that to Ilya for quite a long time. Because it was so true. It was so true. He hoped Ilya believed him.
—————
Sometime after his mother died, Ilya started to believe he was unlovable.
And he was never proven wrong. He never felt like his father or brother loved him. Svetlana loved him, and he loved her, but that was a different way. He’d never attempted to give everything to her. And when he’d done that with others, they deemed it to be not enough, and they threw it in his face.
And then he met Shane.
Ilya was in denial, at first, about all of it. Because who could love him? He’d called Ilya an asshole multiple times, not that he was wrong, but it wasn’t exactly a name that Ilya would consider loving. But one day, he’d met this sweet Canadian boy with the warmest brown eyes he’d ever seen, and an adorable sprinkling of freckles that crinkled with his shy smile. He didn’t know it at the time, but that day had changed his life. There had still been something in the way Shane looked at him that caused him to stop in his tracks. Even worse, he gave Ilya this feeling of excitement and anxiety and need that absolutely terrified him. How he’d wanted to give Shane everything he asked for, even if he got nothing in return. It was still terrifying now, but this sweet Canadian boy was holding Ilya in his bed.
According to movies, I love yous had to be perfectly timed and executed, or else everything would go to shit. This was supposed to be a happy moment, and he didn’t know why he was crying. Shane’s steady hand ran up and down Ilya’s back, grounding him, as unwanted sobs racked Ilya’s body. He carded a hand through Ilya’s curls, scratching his scalp calmly. He was murmuring, “I love you, Ilya, I’ve got you,” so sweetly, over and over again. And Ilya‘s only response was to cry.
Shane loved him. So much. And Ilya wanted to believe it. He did believe it. But he could barely breathe, and he felt like he’d been ripped open bloody. Shane was so safe, and Ilya loved him for it. He wanted to never leave his side because of it. But it also meant that Ilya’s emotions would show themselves fully in Shane’s presence. It caught Ilya off guard every time, even if Shane immediately stepped in to comfort him for as long as he needed, because that was part of it too. Ilya had never been a crier—he wasn’t allowed to be—so he never expected he would cry to someone, let alone be held and reassured while it happened. He’d forgotten he didn’t know how to be loved. Or how to love someone back. It was eating at him now. Shane deserved someone good and honest who would give him everything he wanted. And Ilya didn’t know if he could do that. But he wanted to. He had to.
But Ilya had told Shane he loved him, and that was the start, he supposed. Shane had said it back, had kissed him, and wrapped his arms around him as tears spilled from Ilya’s eyes onto Shane’s chest. Crying was something that made most people uncomfortable, and Shane didn’t seem like someone who’d ordinarily be comfortable with it. But Shane didn’t seem uncomfortable when he hugged Ilya close and whispered sweet comforts into his hair while he scratched his scalp, giving him soft little kisses and letting him be for as long as he needed.
Ilya whispered shakily into Shane’s chest, “I don’t deserve you.”
He didn’t realize he said it in Russian until Shane moved a hand to his cheek, running his thumb
along the bone.
He sniffed again, “I don’t deserve you,” he made sure to say it in English this time. Because it was true, and Shane should know.
Shane tilted his face up with the fingers underneath Ilya’s jaw. “Ilya, no.” He kissed his lips quickly before looking him in the eye. “You deserve the world.” He continued running his thumb along Ilya’s cheekbone, which made more tears spill from his eyes.
“Hey, hey, hey,” Shane murmured and kissed his forehead, “you deserve anything that makes you happy.” He sounded so sure when he said it, and it made Ilya’s chest clench. Shane kissed up Ilya’s tear-stained cheeks, around his blurry eyes, and up to his forehead. “I love you so much. I just hope I can make you as happy as you make me.”
Ilya nuzzled Shane’s neck, breathing him in. He would make a home there, in Shane’s body, if he could. “You already make me happy.”
Shane put a hand on his shoulder, drawing circles with his fingers. “I’m always here for you, okay?”
Ilya squeezed his eyes shut and held Shane tighter. His voice came out broken and small the next time he spoke. “Okay.” More tears spilled over his lashes and onto Shane’s neck. “I love you,” he choked out before he began sobbing again.
Shane kissed his forehead and continued murmuring sweet things to him. He ran his fingers through Ilya’s hair. Ilya had so many things he wanted to say
—that Shane’s arms were his safe place, there was nowhere else he’d rather be. How he’d hoped every day that Shane felt the same way about him, and when that was confirmed, it was like a weight he’d carried had been lifted off his shoulders for the first time in years. But the adrenaline crash didn’t care, didn’t let him speak.
After a few minutes, Ilya regained his ability to speak, or at least whisper. There was just one thing he wanted right now.
“Can we stay just like this,” he asked wetly, “for the night?” He needed to feel Shane against him, to hold him, to hear his lungs and his heartbeat and know he was real. That all of this was real.
Shane exhaled against him, and it tickled his skin. “Of course,” he breathed out calmly, “whatever you need.” Shane kissed his forehead again. It felt divine. “I love you, I’ve got you right here.”
“Oh, moy dorogoy.” Ilya squeezed him tight, and Shane returned the gesture. One hand rubbed his back soothingly, up and down and up and down. The other was still in his hair, making him sleep. “Kak zhe ya tebya lyublyu,” Ilya whispered into his shoulder.
Based on the way Shane kissed his forehead and smiled against him, he’d picked up what that last part meant. He used his hand in Ilya’s hair to press him into his shoulder, and Ilya kissed a spot on his neck. Shane had shown him so much love and care, and he wanted some way to give it back. He hoped that he had done it.
He was so lost in his own thoughts that he didn’t realize Shane was talking to him. “Rest your eyes, love. I’m not letting you go.” He was pressing more kisses to Ilya’s forehead, but instead of feeling sad, now he just felt sleepy. Feeling all those emotions was exhausting, no matter how important it was to experience them.
Ilya cuddled closer to Shane, if that was even possible at this point. He wanted to crawl into Shane’s heart and attach it to his own. He was freaking out, but he hadn’t taken it out on anyone, and he’d let himself be held and treated like he was something precious.
He thinks of me as something precious.
The thought made Ilya smile; just a small one against Shane’s shoulder, but a smile nonetheless, which was a major change from how he’d felt just ten minutes earlier. Ilya’s eyelids fluttered, and his breathing slowed. He breathed in the scent of Shane’s body wash—he smelled like the beach, somehow, but cleaner—and it calmed Ilya as he inhaled it. He nuzzled Shane’s neck one more time before relaxing to sleep in his arms. “Goodnight, milyy,” he murmured softly into the skin beneath him.
Shane kissed his hair before leaning his cheek into it. “Goodnight, Ilya.”