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    Summary

    "What are you doing here?"

    Ilya looks at him. Shane has not moved from the doorway. He has one hand still on the frame.

    "I don't know," Ilya says, which is the truest thing he has said in months.

    Shane makes a sound that isn't quite a laugh. "That's not—" He stops. Runs a hand over his face. "You can't be here, Ilya."

    The name. Again. Said almost like an accident.

    "Why are you here?" he asks instead of responding to that.

    Shane goes still.

    "This isn't your place," Ilya says. Carefully. "I mean, you don’t live here. You live somewhere else, a real one, nicer, bigger, or I don’t know because I have never been to it. So why are you in the fuck building at four in the morning?"

    Shane's jaw tightens. For a second Ilya thinks he won't answer, that he will turn and go back inside and this will be just another door between them and then Shane says, low and bitten-off: "I come here sometimes."

    "Why?"

    "You know why."

     

    Or, After Shane leaves Ilya in Boston, Ilya becomes a mess and Shane thinks he's ruined everything. They both seek each other silently until they cross paths again. Eventually, someone has to say something.

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