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”Entreat me not to leave thee,
Or return from following after thee—
For whither thou goest, I will go
And where thou lodgest, I will lodge.
Thy people shall be my people, and thy God my God.
Where thou diest, will I die, and there will I be buried.
The Angel do so to me, and more also,
If aught but death part thee and me.“
—The Parabatai Oath
Ilya Rozanov thought his life had ended with the death of his family when he was twelve years old.
Until he met Shane Hollander.
The boy who treated him like kin when Ilya was first brought onto the doorstep of the Ottawa Institute.
The boy who vowed at fourteen to be Ilya’s strength, his shadow in dark and light without a moment’s hesitation.
The boy Ilya is in love with at eighteen.
His parabatai.
The word falls heavy on the back of Ilya’s tongue like the aftertaste of a bitter medicine he has just swallowed. How messed up can he be to betray Shane like this? He trusted Ilya with his life, his heart, his strength. Yet here sits Ilya with this sick feeling that has long consumed his heart now.
Four years ago, they stood and took an oath amidst rings of fire. They swore to stay together even in death, but that was just the plain truth to Ilya. It was as true as the water that falls down from the sky and the roots that stem out of the earth demanding their presence into the world.
If Shane asked him to give up his life for him, Ilya would hand him the dagger to drive through his heart. Right where his parabatai rune is.
“You’re nervous,” Ilya remarks, peeking at Shane.
The other boy looks at him, his eyes slightly blown wide. “Of course I am,” Shane says. “You’re not?”
Ilya shrugs. “No.”
His heart is beating so fast in his chest he feels like he might be floating.
“Well, you’re lucky.” Shane nervously fumbles with the hem of his black shirt. “This is like, the biggest ceremony we might ever have in our life,” he says out loud, and Ilya notices his chest starting to rise and fall a little faster.
They are only minutes away from their parabatai ceremony starting, and even though he and Ilya took this decision together, and even though they have read how the ritual goes, consulted every adult they know, it still felt grand to the fourteen year olds. Shadowhunters grow up looking for the perfect partner, and not all of them find the one person that kindles their fire into a bright flame. So, for Shand and Ilya to come down to this, yeah, it is huge.
When Shane first came up to him with the idea, Ilya couldn’t deny the surprise he felt. Simply, because he thought he would be the last person Shane would want as his parabatai when Hayden Pike was just there. The two were more than good friends when Ilya showed up at the Ottawa Institute two years ago.
But standing here with Shane now, Ilya thinks maybe he and Hayden aren’t that close anyway.
He and Shane fight better together, their strengths complement one another, they know each other better than anyone else, and the friendship they garnered over the years are all testament to the fact that this is the right decision.
“Shane.” Ilya stands in front of him, forcing the other’s gaze to face him. “I am here,” he says, dipping his chin to find Shane’s dark eyes.
“I know.” Shane breathes hard.
“We are together, yes?” Ilya points at both of them. “Forever now.” He gives him a small smile and feels triumphant when Shane returns it.
“Forever.” He repeats.
A beat of silence passes before Shane speaks again.
“Where are you getting your rune?” he asks curiously, evidently distracting himself. “I’m thinking about placing mine here.” He points at his upper arm. “What about you?”
Ilya smiles, slow and sure. “Here.” He presses his forefinger to the left side of his chest where his heartbeat has subsided to a normal rhythm.
“That’s so cool.” Shane grins as bright as the sun.
And Ilya had known he wanted to be bound to Shane forever.
Except no one told his younger self that what he was feeling then wasn’t the same as what ties them together until death now. Sometimes he tells himself he is wrong, that his feelings are completely platonic. A deep love he feels for the person who vowed to live where he lives, to go where he goes, and to be buried with him. Otherwise, they wouldn’t have passed the parabatai tests, right?
But then Shane saves Ilya’s life, stays up at night with him when he can’t sleep, entertains and babysits the Pike children with him when they are both available, looks at Ilya like he is the most magnificent human being he has ever laid eyes on. A look that Ilya had received from one person only. And that person was long dead now, her phantom living only in his heart.
Ilya is a monster. He lives and breathes with this fact etched into his mind as vividly as the runes that coat his skin. Because romantic love between parabatai is forbidden. He has searched every piece of paper for words that prove this fact wrong, but he came up with nothing. Nothing.
“Ilya, are you listening?” Shane’s sharp voice yanks him out of his thoughts.
“Yes. Sorry.” Ilya lies. He hates strategic meetings. But for some reason, Shane loves them.
“What was the last thing I said then?” Shane crosses his arms. His skin is littered with stark black runes like Ilya, running up the length of his toned arms and disappearing under his shirt.
Shane is one of the strongest Shadowhunters Ilya has ever met. That was one of the first things he discovered about Shane the first time they trained together. Sharp reflexes, precision, speed, undeniable strength, stability, Ilya could go on naming every skill he has, but that might take time. So, instead, he tries to remember what Shane actually said. But his mind is blank.
With Yuna and David Hollander away on an urgent trip to the London Institute, they have left Shane in charge of the Ottawa Institute until they come back. Hayden’s mother offered to stay back to keep them company even though Shane had argued that they are fine (he, Ilya and Hayden are all adults after all), but his argument went unnoticed.
Hayden has been living here only a year before Ilya joined the Institute, according to Shane. The Pikes aren’t as known as the Hollanders are, given that the latter have been running the Ottawa Institute for decades, but they are a respectable family. And Hayden is more than keen on expanding their bloodline it seems.
He still remembers the horrified look on everyone’s face when Hayden announced that he is getting married. He was barely past the age of twenty-one. Yet it oddly made sense. Hayden sort of always looked like the person who would be their happiest starting a family. As much as it pissed Ilya off to admit, he did look adorable whenever he was with his two little girls.
“I knew you weren’t listening.” Shane points an accusing finger at him.
“Shane, we have been over this.” Ilya sighs. “David and Yuna are coming soon, yes? Patrols are going fine, no alarming attacks, is all good.”
“All good?” Shane narrows his eyes.
“Yes!” Ilya argues. “We have other Shadowhunters reporting if there is something wrong. Please, let us have dinner. I’m starving.” As if on cue, his stomach growls loudly.
He watches Shane worry at his bottom lip, his eyes flickering between the city map laid out on the meeting table and Ilya’s face. His shoulders relax the tiniest bit, and he blows out a breath. “Fine.”
Ilya grins in victory.
The city has been under more attacks than usual, and it has set every Shadowhunter Institute on alarm. Which is why Yuna and David aren’t here. Other Institutes reported that they have been encountering demons that are unusually strong, and more frequent than the normal. Neither Ilya nor Shane have thankfully run into those demons. Either he and his parabatai are that lucky, or the demons haven’t reached Ottawa yet.
“Grilled cheese sandwiches?” Shane asks on their way out of the meeting room.
“Better. Tuna melts.” Ilya claps his hands over Shane’s shoulders and squeezes the hard muscle there.
An unfiltered laugh escapes him as Shane leads them down the hall. “How fancy, Rozanov.”
The rest of the Shadowhunters living with them are currently asleep as Ilya and Shane head to the kitchen to make dinner. Or more like Ilya prepares the food while Shane watches. It is one of Ilya’s favourite activities. His least favourite is training together.
Because it is pure torture.
Ilya had read that parabatai who fall in love, in other words breaking the Law, are cursed. He had read how that curse unfolds, how it eventually consumes the two parabatai and drives them into madness followed by a horrible death. He memorised it all and promised himself over and over that he would never subject himself and Shane to such an awful, unspeakable fate.
Then he felt it. The first time his parabatai rune burned above his heart.
Ilya nearly lost his mind, because it wasn’t supposed to happen. He was supposed to be careful.
“Hey,” Shane pants, putting his bow away. “Are you okay?” He means to put a hand on Ilya’s back, but Ilya flinches away.
Fear runs like ice through his blood in contrast to the burn that is searing hot on his skin. A painful reminder of how horrible he is.
They had just finished one of their best fights. Over five demons down in no time and with little to no injuries. He should be happy. No, happy is an understatement. He should be something more, louder, like Shane next to him. No parabatai pair have done this before. But that is exactly it.
No parabatai pair have done this before.
“I’m fine,” he replies blankly, his voice hoarse.
He straightens up in time to catch a glimpse of hurt flashing through Shane’s eyes.
“Are you sure?” Shane pushes, and the pain Ilya feels seems to seep through his skin and right into his heart.
“Let’s go home, Hollander.” Ilya starts walking already with the pressure of Shane’s eyes on the back of his head.
He knows he is looking. He feels it down to his most fragile bones.
Then it got progressively worse. For Ilya at least.
His and Shane’s bond kept getting stronger in unprecedented ways. Sometimes he could swear he feels what Shane feels too. However, the only sliver of good in this, as sad as it might sound, is Shane being unaware of this nightmare. He is probably unharmed since he doesn’t share Ilya’s feelings. Besides, he hasn’t communicated or commented on anything unusual other than how proud he is of how strong they are becoming.
That knowledge puts Ilya’s mind at a little ease.
A little.
It sometimes feels like every breath he takes is the tick of a clock towards his own doom. Except he doesn’t know when it will be his hour.
* * *
Shane knows he shouldn’t be outside, but God he misses the outside world. The city is quiet at this time of day with Nephilim presence limited to guarding patrols. The sun has just set, painting the sky in lingering fiery red and deep purple. He takes in a long, deep breath, letting the twilight air wash over his senses. Shane isn’t allowed on patrols, which is stupid because a. he is an excellent Shadowhunter and b. he fucking misses gearing up and doing what he was born to do.
He picks up a seashell and throws it out into the vast water in front of him, watching it skid over the surface before it sinks into the dark. He also understands why he isn’t allowed on patrols, which makes him even angrier. If his mother sees him out now against the rules, she would have his head severed from his body herself.
Shane doesn’t have any siblings, which has made his life with his parents at the Institute a little on the side of too much. He knows his parents love him, but sometimes he just wants to live as himself. Not Shane Hollander the Future Head of the Ottawa Institute or Shane Hollander the only left of the Hollanders’ bloodline.
Those times are often with Ilya. His parabatai.
Shane’s life has pretty much flipped on its access when Ilya showed up on their doorstep six years ago. God, they were so young then.
“Hi.” Shane breathes nervously, standing by the door of the library.
The other boy, Ilya, looks up from his book with slightly surprised eyes as if he didn’t expect anyone to contact him. Shane’s cheeks heat up. He probably shouldn’t be interrupting his reading time. But he is bored out of his mind, Hayden is asleep, and Ilya has been doing nothing but spending time in the library for the past two weeks since he arrived.
Shane doesn’t blame him if he doesn’t want to talk to any of them. He can’t imagine what Ilya must be feeling. He must be very, very sad. When Shane had tried to imagine what it could be like if his parents weren’t there, his eyes had watered and his stomach twisted in tight knots.
Which is why he skips small talk.
Ilya looks at him expectantly, not returning his greeting.
“Do you want to, um, train together?” Shane asks, the question coming out rushed. “I saw that you have your Voyance rune already, so I thought you might want to train. Unless of course you don’t. That’s okay.”
Ilya’s eyes shine with curiosity, and so slowly that Shane thought he was imagining it for a second, Ilya closes the book and gives him a nod.
“I want.”
Shane’s face lights up in surprise. “My mum will be so happy you’re joining us today.”
Ilya gives him a confused look, but Shane ignores it amidst his excitement. He can’t wait to show Ilya their Training Room. It is Shane’s favourite room in the entire Institute.
“Do you have training clothes with you?” Shane asks.
Ilya shakes his head.
“That’s okay. You can borrow from mine.” Shane smiles. “Come on.”
And this is how Shane had cracked Ilya out of his shell. Ilya is such an incredible Shadowhunter. He is smart, strong, and most importantly Shane’s second half. They were inseparable on and off the battlefield. Shane thinks it has always been obvious that he and Ilya should become parabatai. No offense to Hayden. They have always been good friends, but Ilya just gets him. Whenever they fought together, they seemed to know each other’s next move before they even made it.
That punctures another hole in Shane’s heart. Not only does he miss his normal, day-to-day Shadowhunter life, he also misses Ilya. He has been acting differently ever since that one battle a year ago. Shane still doesn’t understand what happened then. They had absolutely crushed the demons they were up against. It was a little surprising. Like Shane has always known they are stronger together, but something was in the air that day. Sometimes, Shane thinks he can still feel the way his skin was tingling by the end of that fight.
He sighs, trying not to dwell on the thought too much.
At least Ilya is still here.
Shortly after that fight, he had travelled for about three weeks.
The decision was so abrupt Shane seriously thought Ilya was leaving and never coming back. He had panicked and asked his parents about it, but his mother had told him that it was normal. Maybe Ilya wanted some time away for himself after living with them for years. Which made sense when he thought about it that way.
He just couldn’t help the small, irrational part of himself that had felt sad at the fact that Ilya wanted to be away from him.
Because now Shane can’t imagine his life without Ilya in it.
He never talked to Shane about his trip, never mentioned anything about it. Not even when Shane tried to joke about it. The subject was an uncharted territory that he knew better than nagging his parabatai about. Something had shifted in Ilya since that day, Shane swears by the Angel he could sometimes feel it, but he has always put Ilya’s well-being above his own. So, change or not, as long as Ilya is comfortable nothing else matters.
Shane’s feet idly carry him along the shore, his boots leaving heavy marks in the sand after him. His weapons are a comforting presence against his hips and over his back where his bow and arrows are carefully tucked. The sky has turned twilight blue and the faint twinkle of stars is starting to show. Shane’s eyes are trained onto the beautiful scene when the hairs on the back of his neck stand up at the feeling of a presence. His body tenses as he looks around him in vigilance, his hand reflexively going to the dagger at his hip. Adrenaline rushes through Shane’s body as he takes measured, searching steps. He looks out into the water, his eyes straining through the dark for any signs of something strange.
Then he sees it.
Two red dots lurking ahead. The closer Shane looks, the clearer the sight becomes. The two dots get bigger and higher, floating into a larger and darker shape that rises from the water. They look straight down at Shane, and he takes a couple of slow steps back, the sky disappearing behind the demon–or whatever that creature is–as it looms several feet above him. It makes a hissing sound, the water bubbling around it as if the liquid were boiling. Shane realises, belatedly, that it is just the demon’s tentacles moving as they slither in his direction.
Oh, shit.
* * *
Ilya hasn’t heard from Shane since he left for the beach hours ago. He knows it is Shane’s favourite hideout, and he also knows he must miss the action. So, when Shane left during babysitting time, Ilya didn’t argue because he too misses going out and slashing his blades through demons and hearing the satisfying seethes of them as they wither and burn under his knives. However, he can’t wait to see Shane’s face when he tells him that he took eleven year old Jade to the Training Room today.
“Good. Keep your back straight, and yes, like that.” Ilya directs her as she holds a rubber throwing knife. Jade’s parents are out on patrol today, so that leaves Ilya with the two girls and their grandmother at the Institute until Shane comes back and joins them.
Jade narrows her eyes and focuses on the target on the opposite end of the room before she throws the knife exactly the way Ilya has been teaching her for hours. She lands a clean hit into the wooden target and immediately spins to beam at Ilya.
“That was very good!” he exclaims with a wide smile on his face.
“Grandma, did you see that?” She looks at the elderly woman sitting in the corner watching them. “I think I’m gonna have throwing knives as my weapon of choice.” She bounces on the balls of her feet excitedly.
Ilya chuckles. “That sounds very specific.”
He heads towards the shelf where numerous similar looking knives are neatly stored to grab more.
“Uncle Ilya, how did you choose your own weapon? Like how did you know it was the right one?” Jade asks, trailing after him.
Ilya smiles at the memory of holding his twin daggers for the first time. How can he describe the way the handle had fit perfectly in his hand, and how the weight of the blade was the perfect balance between light and heavy? Or the way its serpent head made every hit Ilya delivered feel like a hiss of vengeance?
“Don’t worry about it. When you hold your weapon of choice, you will know it here.” He points over her heart, eliciting a shy smile from the little girl. “Don’t overthink it, yes?”
“Okay.” She nods.
“Go stand on your mark. I will bring more knives, but this is the last round, okay? You need to study.”
Jade makes a dissatisfied noise. “Fine.” Then her face turns smiley again. “Thank you.”
Ilya winks at her in return then reaches out for the sharp weapons and–
He chokes.
He doubles over as pain shoots through his chest and his eyes sting with tears. Ilya distantly hears Jade screaming before her grandmother rushes her out of the Training Room. A thick, metallic-tasting liquid gurgles in his throat and Ilya is horrified when he coughs and blood splatters onto the floor.
What the hell is going on? Is he fucking dying? Ilya’s surroundings fade out as the sound of waves crashing against the shore fills his ears. What…Ilya’s mind races. His parabatai rune throbs, his arms burn and his entire body aches like he has been dragged under a ruthless wave and spat out onto the sand.
A chill passes through him as the pieces fall in place. He isn’t choking on his blood. He knows that because when his eyes fall shut to clear his vision, he knows. He knows it deep down to his soul where his connection to Shane had been forged in blood and fire. He knows it in the way he feels what Shane feels, his pain is Ilya’s pain, his dreams are Ilya’s dreams, his blood is Ilya’s blood. If one day Shane’s heart stops, Ilya’s would too.
And sickly enough, he is grateful for that, because he wouldn’t want to live in a world where Shane doesn’t exist.
Wither thou goest, I will go.
Ilya places his hand over his parabatai rune where his heart is pounding, and it speaks to him, charging Ilya with so much urgency he scrambles to his feet in no time.
“Ilya?” He hears his name, reality fading in again. “What’s going on? Are you alright?”
“Shane,” he whispers and breaks into a sprint.
Ilya runs to the secluded beach he has been to with Shane several times over the years. It is impossibly dark right now, but the pulsing over his heart is his compass as the sand gets thicker the nearer he runs to the water. He unsheathes his blades and swallows past his petrifying fear of seeing a crumpled figure lying face down into the wet sand.
An ugly, misshapen demon with missing tentacles is reaching towards Shane when Ilya swings his dagger down, cutting off the demon’s tentacle. It rears back with a screech, but it doesn’t back down entirely. Ilya can see and trace the damage Shane has done to the demon, which makes his job easier. He can’t even believe Shane was able to weaken whatever the hell this is on his own. He slashes again with his blade, aiming for another tentacle. The grueling smell of ichor and blood fills Ilya’s nostrils, and his muscles burn with the repetitive motion of launching against the creature until he chases it back into the water.
It isn’t dead, Ilya can clearly see that, but it is harmed enough to recoil for now. He distantly identifies the burn of demon ichor on his arms, but it is long forgotten as he rushes to Shane’s side.
“Shane?” Ilya carefully flips him onto his back, and audibly winces at his state. His face is wet and bloodied, salty seawater mixing with the trickle of blood running down the corner of his mouth. His black clothes are torn through and Shane’s pale skin is stained in dark crimson underneath.
“Shane, open your eyes.” Ilya hastily takes out his stele, his stomach plummeting when he realises that Shane’s chest is eerily still.
Ilya’s throat closes up, but his hands tear Shane’s shirt and hurriedly press the point of his stele to Shane’s chest. He etches the rune and waits in agony as the seconds tick by.
“Come on,” Ilya whispers. Shane is barely recognizable through the amount of blood and wounds on him right now it makes Ilya sick to his stomach. “Please breathe.”
Ilya’s heart thuds heavily in his chest, and then a sudden excruciating pain pulls all his muscles taut as if he were going to snap like a cord any moment. His hand instinctively goes to his parabatai rune expecting it to come away with blood from how much it is hurting, but he finds nothing. He cries out in spite of himself, his other arm that is holding his weight starting to shake as his vision grows whiter with pain. He gasps, his chest tightening up to the point that for a second it becomes difficult to draw in any air.
Then it hits him.
“No, no, no.” Ilya lays a hand on Shane’s cold cheek. “Shane, don’t you dare.” He chokes out, putting iratze after iratze on his skin.
Ilya grits his teeth and almost curses his entire existence when Shane’s chest abruptly heaves and he starts gasping, coughing up water and blood. His own blood.
Ilya immediately braces an arm behind his back to support his weight as Shane’s body jerks with the effort of coughing up what has been clogging up his lungs. With the last wheeze out of him, Shane falls back against Ilya’s arm, eyes still closed. Ilya lets out a shaky breath, double checking that Shane is still breathing before he gathers him in his arms and carries him back to the Institute.
When he returns, no one utters a word. Hayden and Jackie are either back from their patrol early or Hayden’s mother had summoned them, Ilya couldn’t care less right now. He hears the echo of their gasps as he carries Shane upstairs to his room where he finds the Pike grandmother waiting.
He gently lets Shane down into his bed, and Mrs Pike takes a good look at him.
“He isn’t healing,” Ilya says shakily. “My iratzes, they just cleared his lungs. He is barely even breathing. He…he was dyi—”
“Ilya,” Mrs Pike says firmly. “Don’t.” She shakes her head once. “Thank Raziel you saved him at the right time.”
Ilya shudders. As much as he has grown to hate the nature of the bond that connects him to Shane, he realizes that if it weren’t there, Shane could have died today and Ilya wouldn’t have been able to save him.
He doesn’t say anything. He just stares at Shane’s unmoving body.
A figure blocks his line of sight. “His injuries are grave, but he is strong.” Mrs Pike squeezes Ilya’s arm in comfort. Yet comfort is the last thing he could be feeling right now.
“We might need to call in the Silent Brothers,” she says heavily. “If your iratzes aren’t working that means his blood is too poisoned. He needs all the help he can get.”
Ilya nods, half listening.
It means his blood is too poisoned.
He recalls the pain that had taken over him, and the fact that it might have been Shane’s heart slowing down and falling into the hands of death. It had felt like someone was wrenching out Ilya’s own heart with their bare hands.
Ilya hates the Silent Brothers. No one particularly loved them anyway, but if they are going to help Shane then he might as well go fetch them from the Silent City himself. He steps past Mrs Pike and goes to sit by Shane’s bedside, his knees digging into the carpeted floor under him. Now that he can see him in proper lighting, Ilya can’t tear his eyes away from the nasty burns and cuts marring his skin.
Dark red tentacle marks litter his arms, but they aren’t as bad as the ones on his torso. Ilya screws his eyes shut at the image of Shane fending for himself while one of those ugly, fringed tentacles slithered around him and squeezed, tearing through his flesh. His hands curl into fists by his sides, trying to ground himself. Shane is here. He is alive.
For now, Ilya thinks, looking with horror at the blood that is starting to seep into the sheets under him.
He grapples for his stele and marks Shane with a rune that should stop his bleeding until help is here. He carefully traces it on the inside of Shane’s wrist and watches attentively if it’s going to work. It has to. Because Ilya doesn’t know what he would do if it doesn’t. The iratzes he had put there on Shane’s chest are already starting to fade.
He doesn’t know how long he sits there just watching over Shane while Mrs Pike comes in and out of the room.
“The Silent Brothers should be here in a few hours,” Mrs Pike announces at the same time Shane starts shivering.
He is still unconscious, but his body has gone rigid, and his shivers are turning into violent spasms.
“We can’t wait a few hours!” Ilya shouts hoarsely, tears welling up in his eyes.
Mrs Pike places the back of her hand on Shane’s damp forehead, and her eyes fill with concern. “He is burning up. His body is rejecting his own blood.” She straightens back and gives Ilya a determined look. “I’m going to send out an urgent message,” she says. “That should move things faster…I hope.”
Then she disappears again.
Between the anguish of the possibility of losing Shane and the corrupt feeling filling his heart, Ilya can’t help but press his trembling lips to the back of Shane’s hand over his Voyance rune. Just a fleeting, featherlight touch. Shane can’t die. He won’t.
“Hold on, moya lyubov,” he whispers. “Hold on for me.”
No longer than fifteen minutes later, as Mrs Pike promised, help showed up.
She leads the Silent Brother into the room, and chills grip Ilya’s spine at the sight of his eyes and mouth that are sewn shut. Ilya watches, stunned to his spot as the Silent Brother places one hand on Shane’s forehead, and his body stops shaking. A light crease still forms between his eyebrows, thick beads of sweat coating his skin. His lips are dry and colourless against the darker shades all over his face.
“Thank you so much for showing up on short notice,” Mrs Pike says reverently. “But as you can see, we couldn’t wait.”
If the Silent Brother says something in response, Ilya doesn’t hear it. Not that he can speak with his mouth sealed closed, but the Silent Brothers have a way of communicating that is less pleasant than talking. They tend to speak to those around them through their minds.
Mrs Pike nods politely and mutters an “Of course.” before she gives Ilya a reassuring look and walks out of the room.
Now it is just him on his own.
Ilya swallows. He has read extensively about Silent Brothers and their abilities in healing and their powers in general. They can read minds, look through memories, torture someone if it is necessary…
Ilya Rozanov, Ilya hears his name in his own head and he suppresses a shiver at the deep voice vibrating through him.
“Yes,” he answers as steadily as he can.
You are the young Hollander’s parabatai, his voice echoes in Ilya’s mind. Of course he knows he is Shane’s parabatai. In fact, Ilya is afraid he knows more than he should. He is no pro at withstanding magic, but at least he can try schooling his mind into proper thoughts that wouldn’t have him thrown into the darkest cells at the Silent City.
My name is Brother Elijah, he continues. Do you know what happened to him?
“I wasn’t there when it happened,” Ilya replies, his throat scratchy. “But I saw the demon that attacked him.”
Teuthida, Brother Elijah identifies the type of demon, his marked hands examining Shane’s body. How did you find him?
It is a normal question, but Ilya’s heart beats still quicken. “He told me where he was going,” says Ilya. “Before he left.”
That is all? The words linger in Ilya’s head as he fights against remembering in vivid detail everything that happened until he found Shane.
“Yes.” Ilya ponders whether it is a crime to lie to a Silent Brother. It probably is.
Well, it’s a good thing you found him. One of his lungs is punctured, Brother Elijah’s voice continues to fill Ilya’s mind with revelations that nearly send him spiraling. Two of his ribs are broken and a few others are fractured. His healing process will not be easy given the amount of poison spreading through his blood too. It is a miracle he survived.
“So, he…he won’t die?” Ilya asks, his voice smaller than he intended.
I will do my best to save your parabatai, he says. But I cannot promise you what I’m yet to be certain about.
“What…” Ilya whispers, but if Brother Elijah hears him, he doesn’t say anything else in response.
I do not advise you to stay while I treat him.
“I’m not leaving,” Ilya says stubbornly, locking his jaw.
Again, Brother Elijah doesn’t respond. Instead, he takes out a stele and starts drawing a rune that is unfamiliar to Ilya. He repeats the action, and Shane audibly gasps, his body starting to writhe in bed. Colour flushes his neck, the veins there turning black as he releases a guttural scream.
The sound pierces through Ilya like a thousand venomous blades, and his heart lurches in his chest. “What’s happening?” he asks shakily. “What are you doing to him?”
Shane screams again, and the sound of cracking bone reaches Ilya’s ears. He almost runs to him, but he is shocked when his feet don’t move. His head snaps up in Brother Elijah’s direction, his blood boiling.
You are brave, Rozanov, he says, but even the bravest of men collapse at the altar of what they desire and cannot have.
And then Ilya is practically compelled out of Shane’s room, the door slamming shut in his face.
Shane’s screams continue to recur behind the closed door, but there is a sharper sound in Ilya’s mind now. The sound of his own downfall.
The rest of the inhabitants of the Institute rush to Ilya, bombarding him with questions about Shane and what is going on in there. He manages a few words, hoping they make sense. His feet carry him downstairs, an unprecedented numbness spreading through him like ice, paralyzing everything but his thoughts. Shane’s tortured voice is a siren ringing in his head, wrapping around every inch of his mind the way a thorned crown would.
Ilya wants to scream. He wants to claw into his own chest and rip out his heart so it can stop hurting.
But it is useless.
Even the bravest of men collapse at the altar of what they desire and cannot have.
If this means exactly what Ilya thinks, and Brother Elijah has seen all through him, his life as a Shadowhunter, as Shane’s parabatai, is over.
—
Ilya has never begged anyone in his life, but after the events of today he is willing to do anything. Anything that means keeping Shane safe and unaware of how monstrous of a person Ilya is.
After hours of aimless walking, Ilya finds himself at the place he sought shelter at a year ago. He feels tired and hollow, like someone had scraped his insides and left him merely a vessel.
“Make it stop. Please.” The hardwood floor is painful under his knees, but he doesn’t care. It’s the least pain he could be feeling right now. “I can’t take it anymore.” He looks up for the first time since he walked through the door minutes ago.
Magnus Bane’s cat eyes look down at him with sympathy and Ilya almost flinches.
“Make what stop, exactly?” Magnus asks quietly.
“This.” Ilya grits his teeth, jabbing a finger at his own chest.
“Your heart? Or your parabatai bond?” Magnus raises an eyebrow.
“Do you have a spare room?” Ilya asks once the door opens.
“Hello, Magnus, how are you doing? I was wondering if you could let me crash in tonight. Why of course, Rozanov, because my house is naturally a home for distressed Shadowhunters!” The High Warlock chatters as Ilya stands with his bag slung over his shoulder.
“It’s happening.”
This is all it takes for the warlock’s face to fall into a serious expression, and he steps aside to let Ilya in. He has known Magnus for years. He is probably the only person who knows about Ilya being bisexual besides Shane and his parents. And in love with his parabatai–which neither Shane nor his parents can ever know.
“What happened?” Magnus asks, conjuring them two cups of coffee out of thin air.
“We took down over five demons, Magnus. Only the two of us.”
“You’ve always been stronger together,” Magnus says matter-of-factly.
“Yes. But not like this.” Ilya shakes his head. “I could feel my rune pulsing. That is not supposed to happen.”
Magnus looks uneasily at him. “What are you going to do?”
“I don’t know. Maybe if I stay away for a while it could weaken our bond.” Ilya runs a frantic hand through his hair.
“I mean you practically have no other choice.” Magnus stares grimly at his coffee. “Trying to break the bond could kill you. Both.”
“I looked through everything.” Ilya sighs, his neck tight with tension.
The Law is clear: Romantic love between parabatai pairs is forbidden as it will result in madness and loss of control over power which could lead to the two killing themselves and their loved ones.
A gruesome image of Shane killing David and Yuna then himself flashes in Ilya’s mind, and he physically shudders. He can’t imagine ever doing that to Shane. He would rather end his own life than hurt Shane.
“Not everything,” Magnus says idly.
When Ilya looks at him, the warlock’s eyes glitter.
“You mean…”
“Listen, child.” Magnus’s tone is not cold. But it isn’t warm either. “If your own people can’t help you, please don’t expect me to come up with a magical solution. Pun intended.” His lips twitch in a smile. “Magic is a very dangerous thing, Ilya. Nothing comes without a price.”
“I don’t care.” Ilya grinds. “What is the point anyway?”
What is the point of his heart beating if Shane can’t hear it?
“You are terrible at lying.” Magnus frowns. “Get up, Rozanov.”
Ilya listens and follows Magnus into his living room, taking a seat.
“He almost died today,” Ilya says, the words heavy and still bitter on his lips. “I choked on his blood, Magnus.” He buries his head in his hands. “That is not the worst part.”
“What do you mean?” Magnus asks warily.
“There is a Silent Brother. I think he knows I’m in love with Shane.” Ilya hears Magnus shifting in his seat at the revelation.
“Are you sure?”
“I was…I was worried about him. He was screaming, I—” to Ilya’s horror, a sob breaks out of his chest and interrupts his own words. His eyes burn with fresh tears, and guilt weighs on his chest like a rock under water.
“It’s not your fault.” Magnus looks incredulously at him, or that is how Ilya sees it through his blurry eyes. “The Law is stupid,” he says. “And you, unfortunately, can’t choose who you love.”
A disgruntled noise leaves Ilya.
“Don’t carry the weight of a guilt that is not yours to carry, Nephilim.” Magnus touches a hand to his forearm. “You are only eighteen.”
“Then tell me what to do,” Ilya says past a tight throat. “Don’t people come to you for answers? Solutions?” The words explode out of him. “I know there is a spell.”
Magnus’s eyes narrow. “What spell?”
“It will make me stop loving Shane. I know that much.”
Magnus regards him very calmly, but Ilya can sense the shift in his mood.
“Do you know it also strips you of everything that makes you human? A living, feeling being?” says Magnus inquisitively.
“I don’t care.” Ilya repeats his words from earlier. “I cannot take it anymore. Those people, they took me in, raised me like their own. I can’t do this to them. Magnus, I have to.”
“No.”
“No?” Anger simmers low in Ilya’s veins.
“This is not what you truly want, Ilya.” Magnus’s eyes are a clear olive green when he looks at Ilya. “I know you well enough, and I have known many Shadowhunters before you to know that it will only make things worse.”
He pauses. “Remember after your last visit? I did my research, because you’re not the first Shadowhunter to encounter this.”
Ilya frowns. “Yes. There is the story. About the two Shadowhunters who turned into monsters. It is why the Law is there, I know that,” he says irritably.
“Well, that’s not entirely true. I knew my own memory wouldn’t fail me. But I had to be extra sure before I told you any of this.” He takes a deep breath. “Over ten years ago, a Shadowhunter, young like you, came to me with the same request. The spell.”
Ilya reclines in his seat out of shock.
“And I helped him.” Magnus’s eyes drift as if he were living the memory again. “He was anguished, desperate, and I thought I was relieving him of a burden. But I was only making his life a cycle of torture. His family, his parabatai, he lived with them but he wasn’t living.”
“Your love for your parabatai isn’t a curse, Ilya. It is probably what makes you get up everyday, and I would never rob you of that. It would be cruel, and it is not in my nature to be cruel. Especially when it comes to the matters of the heart. However, I will give you a choice.” He takes something out of his pocket.
A small smile paints his lips. “My Alec was kind enough to reach out to said Shadowhunter, and he has a message for you.”
Ilya’s eyes widen in surprise. He doesn’t know how to feel right now. Is Magnus indirectly telling him that there is another way? And who is this Shadowhunter?
“Don’t worry,” Magnus says. “He doesn’t know who you are or who you’re in love with.” He places the envelope in Ilya’s hands, an air of newly found giddiness in his features. “If after you read this, you still want to go through with the spell, I won’t stop you.”
Then, Magnus leaves Ilya on his own with the mystery letter in his hands.
Dear fellow Shadowhunter,
I don’t know much about you, and I doubt you know anything about me either. But the purpose of this letter isn’t to make acquaintances. I mean, of course I hope we can meet someday, if you would be open to that, but in the meantime, let me get to the point.
When Alec Lightwood reached out to me for this message, it felt like I was asked to write to my younger self. Because over ten years ago, I fell in love with my parabatai. For years, I lived with this knowledge. This feeling that was as true as the bond that tied us together. I knew it deep down to the breaths I took every day that we were made for each other. Then there was the matter of the curse. It nearly tore me apart, how much I loved her and didn’t want to lose her to such a cruel fate.
So, I did the thing that felt right to me at the time. I asked Magnus to magically strip me of my emotions—something I have been told you are considering. I thought it was the easy way out, but as I write to you now, I want you to know that by doing this I turned myself into a monster before any curse got to me. I’m going to tell you what no one was around to tell me when I was your age. When I was half agony, half hope. You aren’t going to turn mad and murder your loved ones.
The truth is this. Being in love with your parabatai is the best thing that could ever happen to you. You’re stronger together than any other Nephilim, and you will only continue to be so. You’re lucky to get to have your second half as the bearer and protector of your heart. Love them loudly and proudly, and you have the best of both worlds to help you with your case. Just never ever sacrifice the one good thing that has ever happened to you. Because even though we haven’t met before, I know you agree with me. That this love is the best thing that has happened to you.
Sincerely,
Julian Blackthorn
By the time Ilya is done reading the letter, his hands are shaking. His eyes go over the words a few more times just in case he has misread them. He can’t misread this. You aren’t going to turn mad and murder your loved ones. A shaky breath leaves Ilya, disbelief thrumming through his blood. He hasn’t even noticed Magnus coming back.
“You knew?” Ilya asks, his voice sounding distant to his own ears.
Magnus drums his fingers against his chin, his midnight blue nail polish glittering under the light. “I had to be sure first that I could give you something solid,” he says. “I’m not sure how things are going to go from here. Alec says that things are still not the best even after all those years. The Clave won’t change overnight.” He has a dissatisfied expression on his face.
Not to mention the fact that Yuna and David Hollander are two of the most powerful figures of authority, and Ilya chose their son out of all people to fall in love with. Ilya’s head pounds with a headache, and his eyes start to lose focus.
“Stay here tonight,” Magnus offers. “You need to rest. The Silent Brothers like to take their time with their healing rituals. He won’t be awake any time soon.”
Ilya nods silently, suddenly feeling very drained. He doesn’t even have the energy to argue back. So, he drags himself to get up but stops when Magnus speaks again.
“Do you happen to know the name of the Silent Brother who answered your call?”
“Why?” Ilya frowns.
Magnus rolls his eyes. “Do you have to make everything difficult first?” he asks dryly, but Ilya sees the hint of a smile on his face.
“Brother Elijah.”
Magnus doesn’t say anything after that, but something flickers in his eyes. Something like amusement.
Ilya puts it behind him and goes to use Magnus’s fancy shower. Now that he is alone and no longer at the Institute, Ilya can feel the dull burn of demon ichor on his skin. He looks down at his hands for the first time tonight, and he realises that parts of them are covered with dry blood. Everything about tonight feels like a nightmare, in fact, it is Ilya’s worst one. Whenever he closes his eyes, he sees Shane’s face. Pale, bruised and wounded. He blinks them open and looks at his reflection in the mirror. He almost doesn’t recognise himself. Dark circles hover under his eyes that are bloodshot and red rimmed, his bottom lip is cut where he has worried at it with his teeth.
Overall, he looks wrecked.
He looks exactly like a Shadowhunter who almost lost his parabatai and the love of his life at the same time.
Ilya shakes his head once. If he is going back to the Institute in the morning, then he has to do better. He has to be better for Shane. He grabs the hem of his shirt and pulls it over his head then freezes.
He blinks hard, a shocked noise coming out of him. His eyes are glued to the skin of his chest, the area right above his heart.
“What the fuck?”
* * *
Shane dreams of seawater and darkness and sharp tentacles. He sees so much red–whether it is his blood or the menacing eyes of the demon that attacked him, he doesn’t know. He dreams of heavenly fire, white-hot and burning so brightly he has to squint his eyes and then there is the ceiling of his bedroom at the Institute. The stark white strokes of paint against the navy blue of the sky mural above his head is the same. Muffled voices make their way to his ears. Is he awake?
His question is answered when his view of the ceiling is blocked by floating heads all looking down at him. Shane blinks multiple times, his vision gradually clearing. He recognizes the people peeking at him, but he has no clue why they are all looking at him weirdly. There’s his mum, his dad, Hayden, Jackie, even Mrs Pike is here. But…
He frowns. “Where’s Ilya?”
His words come out scratchy and almost inaudible, but even so, his entire family erupts into a series of sighs in relief and hugs. Was it that serious? Shane’s memory is still fuzzy, but the proof of his accident is very much evident. He can feel the wrapping around his torso, and his whole body is sore. A light comforter is neatly thrown over him, covering him up to right under his chin.
His mother is the first to speak up, sitting down next to him. Concern pours out of her eyes as she looks at him. Is she and Dad back from their trip already? “How are you feeling?”
“Okay,” he says. “I guess.”
“Anything strange? Is there something hurting you?” She brushes a hand over his hair.
Other than feeling sore and exhausted down to the bone, Shane doesn’t feel anything else that is strange. Except the fact that no one told him where Ilya is.
“Is Ilya not here?” he asks again then, uneasiness starting to pool in his stomach.
He looks at the others who stand there in awkward silence, including his dad. Why is everyone looking at him like he has lost a limb? Did he actually…? Shane experimentally wiggles his toes, relieved to feel all ten of them along with his hands.
“Is he hurt?” Panic floods through Shane, making his barely recovering head dizzy.
“No, no.” Mum rushes. She looks over her shoulder for a second, and then everyone quietly leaves the room. Now it is just him and his parents.
Shane’s stomach churns. Whatever they are about to tell him, it must be really horrible.
“Shane, I think there is something that you should know,” his dad says, sitting next to his mother, a little further from Shane. He exchanges a look with her then his mum takes a deep breath.
Shane holds his own.
“When you were attacked, it was Ilya who found you,” Mum says. “Naturally.” She smiles a small smile at that.
Okay, the bad part must be the one about to come out of her mouth.
“Something happened that night.” A tremor passes through her voice. Yuna Hollander never gets nervous.
“What is it?” Shane asks shakily.
“Honey, I’m sorry to tell you that,” she says. “But you and Ilya are no longer parabatai.”
* * *
It has been a few hours since Shane woke up and Yuna and David talked to him. Those hours felt like Ilya was waiting for his turn at the guillotine.
Heart in his throat, Ilya knocks on the door.
He has never knocked on Shane’s door before. Simply because Shane’s door was never closed, and even if it was, Ilya wasn’t someone who needed an invitation. Shane’s door is always open for him.
But that was when they were bound together with brotherly love. Even if things changed from Ilya’s side the past couple of years, Shane still thought of him as his parabatai. So, there was the finality of it never becoming more. He acted on that basis.
Until three nights ago when he discovered that what tethered them together is now severed.
They are no longer parabatai.
Ilya had cried when he found out—tears of guilt tainted with immeasurable relief had streamed from his eyes until they felt raw. Until Magnus found him curled in on himself on the cold tiles of his bathroom, hand clutched to his chest. He had never seen Magnus shaken before. Until that night when the warlock saw the faded mark on Ilya’s chest.
He takes a deep breath as he waits for Shane to answer. He doesn’t wait long.
A soft “come in” sounds through the door and Ilya places his hand on the cool metal of the door knob, momentarily seeking comfort in its cold surface against his clammy palm.
Facing Shane’s parents, the two people who raised Ilya like their own, with what happened was one thing. But facing Shane…
Ilya has fought monsters that could haunt people’s sleep and turn their nights restless, slain hundreds of demons, but he has never felt as scared as he does now.
“Hi.” Ilya stands for a moment by the door, looking at Shane. What does he say next? So, we’re no longer bound together. I’m in love with you, by the way. “I wanted to make sure you’re okay.”
Lines form between Shane’s eyebrows. God, he missed seeing his face moving instead of frozen into a deep sleep. “I’m okay,” he says. “Did you get it?”
“What?” Ilya’s mind glitches with confusion.
“Did you get it? The demon that attacked me.”
“I’m not sure,” Ilya honestly says. Only Shane Hollander would come back from the dead and ask about what almost killed him. “I did scare it back into the water, but my priority was—” he pauses, his eyes glued to Shane. He doesn’t know how much he can say or remind him of, or what his parents told him.
“Me,” Shane finishes for him. “I tried to draw it out of the water. It was weaker on land,” he says, anger seeping into his voice. “But not weak enough for me to…” he trails off, looking down at himself. He is fully covered, and Ilya thinks it is for the better so he doesn’t see how many bandages there are on his body.
“You did enough,” Ilya says, finally taking small steps further into the room. “When I got there, it was already struggling. You made it easier for me.” He stands by Shane’s bedside, unsure of whether or not he should sit down. “Like always,” he whispers with a sad smile.
Heavy silence fills the room, and the two boys look at each other like they are both trying to navigate their own worlds.
“How long was I out?” Shane asks.
“Three days.” Ilya swallows. “You scared me.”
“Scared myself.” Shane’s eyes unfocus somewhere beyond his feet.
Ilya slowly sits down, keeping a cautious distance between them. Shane’s dark eyes jump to him. “But you will be okay.”
“Yeah. I’ll be okay.”
Charged silence fills the room again, and Ilya counts down to the unknown moment Shane will deem him his worst friend, parabatai and even Shadowhunter. The past couple of days were torture for Ilya. Between the fresh knowledge of their broken bond and Shane’s injuries slowly but steadily recovering, Ilya had nearly fled the entire country.
Magnus didn’t leave him though. Turns out Brother Elijah has some sort of a history with another Silent Brother that Magnus knows—Ilya is fuzzy on the details—but what mattered to him is that he got to know that Shane will be okay after Magnus pulled on some of his always perfectly found strings in the Shadow World.
“Is it true?” Shane asks quietly.
Ilya doesn’t need to ask what Shane means.
He hesitantly nods once then slowly tugs the collar of his shirt to the side to reveal his faded mark. He watches Shane’s eyes widen a fraction, his lips parting in a faint gasp and then his eyes shimmer with tears.
“Show me mine,” he says, his voice trembling.
Ilya obeys and pulls the covers down until Shane’s arm is visible. He looks down at himself and is stunned when he sees his matching rune faded as well.
“You almost died,” Ilya says, suppressing a shiver at the memory. “I thought it was just you hurting, but there was a moment when you weren’t breathing and I felt an awful pain right here.” He points at where his rune used to be. “Then I realised,” he continues. “That I was losing you.”
“I knew you would find me,” Shane says, distraught.
“Even if you were at the end of the world, I would find you with my eyes closed,” Ilya utters, the words coming out of him without thinking.
Then, more of them come. “I choked on your blood, Shane. You were being attacked and I was here at the Institute coughing up blood that came out of your lungs. There is no life for me without you. If you’d died that night, I would have died with you.”
A tear rolls down down the side of Shane’s face, landing onto his pillow. “But I’m not dead,” he says. “And you’re not allowed to die either.”
Ilya’s heart pounds in his chest the way a blacksmith pounds on hot iron, nearly melting his ribs and falling all the way down to his feet. Does Shane not understand him? Does he really not see how miserable Ilya is?
“We can always redo the ritual.” Ilya breathes out, the words heavy on his chest. Heavy and bitter. “If you want.”
Shane is quiet for so long Ilya thinks he might have not heard him. Then, “no.”
“No?” Ilya’s heart quickens.
Shane nods. “I don’t want you as my parabatai.”
Before he says anything else, Ilya wants to tell him how he has had the time of his life with Shane as his parabatai. It is an honour that he would always live to cherish. That it is fine, he can walk out that door if Shane no longer wants him in his life.
But all of this burns down to ashes the second he speaks again.
“I want you, Ilya.” The words are so low and tentative Ilya almost doesn’t hear them over the loud thumping in his ears.
“What..” it’s more of a breath of astonishment than a word.
“I know about the curse,” he says. “I have read about it before, but I never thought it would happen to us. To me.”
Ilya swallows thickly, memories flooding through his mind.
“But you didn’t say anything,” Ilya replies, confused. “Why did you not?”
“Because I didn’t know,” he says. Shane gives him a sardonic smile then. “Besides, you avoided me like the plague, remember?”
Ilya almost winces at the memory.
“I didn’t understand why then,” he continues. “Then I realised after my mum broke the news to me that what I felt wasn’t normal between parabatai. I thought maybe you didn’t want to be with me anymore. That it was better if we were far from one another, because you didn't feel the s—”
“I hated it,” Ilya interrupts him. “I hated leaving you.”
Shane looks at him, his eyes screaming the question he is holding himself back from asking.
“Is okay. Ask me,” Ilya says. “Ask me why I did it.”
“Why did you leave?”
“Because I love you.” The words croak out of his throat, loaded with unshed tears.
“Holy shit,” Shane whispers.
“I…” Ilya’s heart is hammering in his chest. This is the one thing he has dreamed of telling Shane for years now. This is it.
His mind whirs with a thousand thoughts per second, trying to assess if he misread or misinterpreted any of Shane’s words. Then, he reaches the conclusion that even if there is a possibility that Shane might not want him, Ilya doesn’t regret baring his heart to him. Shane has always known him better than he knew himself anyway. Ilya has always been his. In one way or another.
“I love you too,” Shane says, his chest visibly shaking.
A wave of relief so intense Ilya has to physically melt to the floor on his knees engulfs him, and his face pulls into a smile.
“God, I have been in agony,” he whispers, looking into Shane’s eyes that stare back at him with a mix of relief and disbelief. His face is mostly healed, but it still carries the shades of blue and purple—traces of the pain he endured days ago.
“Does it still…feel like agony?” Shane asks hesitantly.
Ilya shakes his head slowly. “Not anymore.”
He feels like his smile is going to split his face now. He is overwhelmingly happy.
Shane is beaming at him, eyes bright and freckles crinkled, and Ilya loves him. And Shane loves him.
Holy fucking shit.
Shane Hollander, the best Shadowhunter in Canada, is in love with me.
“Did you know that we are not the first parabatai to fall in love?” Ilya brushes his fingers gently over Shane’s hair and his eyes flutter shut with the gesture. “There is this Julian. He is not from Canada I think. I have never heard of him.”
“Julian Blackthorn?” Shane’s eyes widen. “The Julian Blackthorn?”
“You know him?” Ilya scowls, something sharp and sour jabbing at his chest.
Shane blushes. “Um. He is the best and youngest strategist out there.”
“Ah, so he is boring like you,” Ilya says, unamused.
“Ilya, I love you.” Shane smiles. “Are you jealous?”
“No?”
“You are.” Shane’s smile grows wider, then it falters when he realises he is pulling his face too much.
“I am no—”
“Well, shut up and kiss me already.”
That successfully knocks the rest of Ilya’s words out of him.
“I…you want to? I mean, you can? I don’t want to hurt you.”
Shane blinks, his eyes holding so much endearment in them Ilya almost tears up again. “You won’t.”
“Okay.” Ilya gives him a small smile.
He rises to the bed again and leans down until his face is inches away from Shane’s. He smells like medicine and lavender, and something that is so distinctively Shane.
“It is weird doing this without having to think about turning into monsters.” Ilya chuckles, pulling a weak one from Shane as well.
“Please don’t think about that before you kiss me.” Shane grins.
“Is not real by the way,” Ilya softly says, running a finger over Shane’s freckled cheekbone. “Even if we were still parabatai, we wouldn’t have turned into monsters.”
“That’s…good to know. And almost two years late.” He makes a funny sound that has Ilya inching away in concern for a second. “I can’t move.” He grumbles. “Mum said that it will take me some time to move normally again, because my body has been still for a while. My muscles literally feel like jelly. It’s embarrassing.”
Ilya is smiling at him. “Is not embarrassing. Tell me what you want to do.”
A light pink dusts Shane’s cheeks. “I want to um… touch you.”
“Where?” Ilya looks down at where Shane’s hands rest by his sides. His arms are still healing, but at least he is no longer bleeding.
The pink on his cheeks gets darker. “Your face.”
Ilya’s stomach flutters, and he brings his hand down to Shane’s right one. He gently lifts it in his while he closes the distance between them and meets Shane’s lips in a tender kiss. He places Shane’s hand on the side of his face and a soft gasp leaves him when he feels the light movement of Shane’s fingers curling into his hair. Ilya’s entire life narrows down this moment.
The slow intake of Shane’s breath, the soft glide of their lips against one another, the stubborn press of Ilya’s tongue that grants him deeper access into Shane’s mouth. It all feels so right; a cord strung in the hymn of their years old love. And this kiss, their first kiss, is only the opening verse.
They pull away for air, their smiles mirroring one another’s.
“Was that your first kiss?” Shane asks, his face redder than ever.
“No. Have been practicing on the back of my hand,” Ilya replies sarcastically.
“Fuck off.” Shane giggles, wincing afterwards. He recovers quickly though.
"Yes. Was my first kiss," Ilya adds.
“It was good.”
“I know.”
I still can’t believe we just kissed.
“Does anyone know?” Shane asks after a few moments of silence.
“I told your parents everything,” Ilya answers, remembering their ‘mini meeting’ in the Council Room. They had returned the next day of Shane’s accident after Mrs Pike sent for them.
Shane grimaces. “So, my parents found out you love me before I did?”
“Sorry.” Ilya smiles guiltily at him.
“What did they say?” Shane’s tone turns serious.
Ilya keeps Shane’s hand held in his own two hands, his fingers brushing over the scarred skin there.
“They said they will support whatever you choose to do,” he recites their words, still overwhelmed by the affection they have displayed when Ilya told them about his feelings. “And that it will not be easy.”
Shane looks at him for a long moment, processing the words. Then a slow smile paints itself on his lips. “Good. I don’t do easy.”
Ilya smiles for the umpteenth time since he walked through Shane’s door today. Then, “there is someone else. He is the only person who knows about me as well.”
When Ilya realised he was bisexual, the first person he had told was Yuna Hollander. She had shown Ilya endless support and told him everything he needed to know so he could protect himself from others who would not understand. Then he had told Shane and was grateful that it didn’t change anything between them. On the contrary, it felt like a space where he could freely breathe as himself.
Until.
“Magnus Bane.”
“The High Warlock of Brooklyn? Ilya—”
“No. No, don’t worry. He is like me.”
“I know.” Shane frowns. “Do you think I live under a rock? He and Alec..they—” he pauses to take a breath, his eyes narrowing as if whatever it is he wants to say is painful to him. “I have always looked up to Alec,” he says quietly, and Ilya realises that this is probably the first time Shane talks about his sexuality out loud.
He has never talked about his love life with Ilya, and while Ilya is never one to assume, Shane had never talked about girls in a romantic way. Or any way that was considered past the border of friendly. But Ilya had noticed sometimes the way Shane’s eyes would sparkle when he talked about Shadowhunters like Alec Lightwood or Downworlders like Magnus. People that are queer and unapologetic about it. And the way he sometimes blushed when Ilya caught him “looking” at other men.
Ilya had never nudged him about it. He knew that if there was something to be said, Shane would say it whenever he felt like it.
“Because he is gay?”
“Because he is brave.”
“But you are brave.” Ilya squeezes his hand as lightly as he can.
“Not in the way I want to be.” Ilya wants to kiss the lines on his forehead away. Then he looks up at Ilya, his eyes softening. “Yet.”
“Is that what you want? To be together?”
“Yes,” Shane answers in a beat. “Forever if you ask.”
“That is a lot.” Ilya leans down and nudges their noses together.
“Well, we deserve a lot.” Shane smiles, puckering his lips as Ilya inches closer and silently grants him his wish by connecting their lips together.
The kiss is unhurried and interrupted every time one of them smiles into it, until they end up giggling merely inches away from each other. Ilya wouldn’t trade the look on Shane’s face for the world, nor the indomitable joy that settles so deep inside him it feels like the first warm rays of sunshine seeping into his bones after a year of nothing but harsh cold.
Six years ago, Ilya found a friend.
Today, he found the love of his life.