Chapter Text
Knock knock knock.
Ilya tossed to his other side, swinging an arm over his head, as if he wanted that sound to go away in his dream.
KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK.
Ilya snapped awake, because he was sure someone had slammed their fist on his door this time, and that meant only two things in Moscow---either someone was dying, or he was going to be dead.
He didn’t bother with his clothes, and rushed to the door, in just his sweatpants and bed hair, because whoever was on the other side was clearly not going to wait for him, and personally he didn’t care.
He opened his door to see Svetlana, eyes blown, hair not perfect, readily barging into the door, not even caring for greetings. He would be lying if he said he wasn't relieved that he was not going to die, but looking at Sveta, the possibility was still high.
“Ilya, get ready. We got to go,” she said, eyes scanning the room and grabbing anything she could find, including his Raiders duffel he brought along with him. She just started shoving things in it aimlessly, not bothering to elaborate. Ilya couldn’t help but stand there like a deer in headlights.
“It’s fucking 2 in the morning Sveta. Got to go where?” he asked, clearly not sharing the sense of urgency that Svetlana was not letting go of.
“Anywhere. We just have to leave. Now. Grab just your passport, phone and- actually, leave your phone. Just grab your passport, wear something and leave.” She had actually filled the duffel by then with god knows what, and started zipping it, and Ilya could see she had shoved her own phone and wallet into its front pockets.
Ilya rubbed one of his eyes, the other one subconsciously trailing behind Svetlana as she moved, “Sveta, you’re not making sense. I can’t leave when the funeral is today.”
“The funeral wouldn’t matter if you end up in the fucking prison, Ilyusha!”
That froze Ilya’s hand, half closing his eyes still, as he stared at his best friend.
“What do you mean?”
“There was a leak. I do not have the time to explain anything right now. I know you trust me, and I’m asking you to leave with me, right now.”
Svetlana also stood still now, staring at him, while Ilya could sense that she did not want to waste even seconds of time. Ilya’s brain processed the information enough to only realise one thing---if the leak takes him to prison, it affects him as well.
The person he had just internally confessed to loving. The person he did not want to drag into this whole mess. The person he now believes is worth having to never come back to his country again. The person who made sure to text and call him even when he didn’t reply. The person who absolutely did not want the world to know about him this early.
His person. His home. His-
“Shane.”
“Yes, he is affected too. But I will explain more when we are fucking out of the border.”
Svetlana by this point had roamed enough to find Ilya’s passport. All she had to do was grab Ilya, and she looked ready to drag him by his collar even if he was standing shirtless at that point.
“Sveta, I can’t contact him without my phone.”
Ilya’s brain was absolutely frozen at this point. His greatest nightmare, as Shane would probably call it, was literally happening, and all he could think of was Shane. Fuck, Shane was not ready for anyone to know about this. Shane had just wanted him. They had just started talking again, accepting that there was something more to this than just sex. They still had a lot to deal with privately, a lot to figure out about themselves, Ilya realised, but some random loser on the internet somehow-
“Ilya, for fuck’s sake, I will get his number for you. But not. your. phone. Just leave.”
Apparently, Svetlana did have enough of waiting for Ilya’s senses to react. She all but pushed him out of his apartment, not caring for the lack of a shirt. Ilya had all but a moment to pause, “Sveta, no. Give me just one second. Please,” before running back into the apartment, grabbing that one crumpled sheet sitting on top of his nightstand and rushing back out, shirt be damned.
They both got down the back staircase, something Ilya always knew how to navigate, with his natural survival instinct and lack of safety he felt at the place that was supposed to be his home. Svetlana’s car was already there, which sped up just as Ilya managed to close the door.
“Domodedovo Airport, as soon as you can.” was all Svetlana said, as she tossed a hoodie from Ilya’s duffel before she grabbed her phone again, and started texting rapidly. Without his phone, and knowing that Svetlana wouldn’t risk discussing whatever it was in the car, Ilya couldn’t help but look at the crumpled sheet in his hand, at the smiling face staring at him, holding him all but thirteen years ago, as his other hand went to her cross around his neck.
It was only after their private charter (or Svetlana’s dad’s private charter) left the ground, did Svetlana stop anxiously looking around, and settled in her seat, breathing for the first time in possibly the last hour. Ilya could now feel the walls around her crash, and couldn’t help but lean forward and look directly at her.
“Will you atleast tell me now what the fuck happened?”
“I think it is better to just show you.”
Svetlana took her phone out, and already connected to the flight’s wifi, logged in to her private twitter account. She did not even have to search anything, as Ilya could see the familiar freckles, and the glasses he had seen just last night fill the screen. Something that was not his fucking screen, but rather any random screen connected to the internet.
If it was just a picture of Shane and Ilya on a video call, they could have brushed it off as friends, but luck was definitely not on Ilya’s side. The fucker was able to hack enough to record their entire fucking call, posting from what was Ilya asking Shane to take his shirt off. It was clearly a recording from Ilya’s phone, as Ilya could only hear Shane’s voice, and Shane’s face on the entire screen, while Ilya covered the usual quarter of the screen on the right bottom. Nothing was left to anyone’s imagination, Ilya could only stare at the video in horror as it ended with Ilya winking Shane a good night, both of them still shirtless and clearly spent.
All Ilya could spell out at the end of it was, “How?”
“My guess? Someone cloned your phone. I don’t know when, and for how long, but they waited until the right moment to expose it.”