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THEIR BEDROOM IN ANY OF THEIR PLACES – 2018
Ilya wakes up and feels Shane next to him, but can't even blink his eyes open. If he blinks the image of his mother will disappear and with it, the stupid joy of seeing her near Shane. Near, but too far. The old dream has come back, rearing its ugly, depressing face. His mother lying in the hammock, her white hand draped over the edge of the fabric, and Shane stubbornly refusing to leave the cottage to meet her. Ilya groans, his eyes still closed and a grimace on his face. He knows Shane's soft gaze is on him, taking in the misery that is probably plastered all over his face, and turns his head away.
Ilya knows the real Shane would be by his side near the hammock, introducing himself to his mother, drawing her in like he does everybody, with soft gentleness and sweet attentions. He knows the dream is just that, a dream, and that opening his eyes will fix his reality, will make things better. But he's not sure he can allow it. Not today. Not when his heart seems to be breaking all on its own, his mind spurring it on. He sniffs angrily and turns his body to the side, away from Shane and lets a tear fall into the pillow. And another one.
His mother was right there a second ago. She was touching him and smiling at him. However warm and comforting the image is, it leaves him only with the cold realisation that warmth is nothing more than a memory. Warmth was his mother's love, her embrace and her constant affection. Warmth is no more. It's gone, replaced by grief and loneliness. Ilya sheds more silent tears, but wipes his hand over his cheek when he feels Shane move closer.
Shane closes the gap between them, his arm wrapping around Ilya's body, his hand caressing his stomach, thumb rubbing absentmindedly over the moles there. He presses a kiss between Ilya's shoulder blades, keeping warm lips on his skin. Ilya stutters a few shaky breaths and sniffs. He gasps faintly at the sudden return of warmth on his back, where Shane's body is trying to stave off the cold despair that has claimed Ilya's heart. Ilya raises his hand to his face, covering his eyes as he hears Shane opening his mouth, preparing himself to speak, to fix.
"Is it that dream again?" Shane asks.
Ilya's face contorts in a pained expression and he moves his hand to his mouth, afraid of releasing a pitiful sob or two. Instead he whimpers and hears his father's voice in his head, mocking his weakness, his vulnerability. Shane's hand becomes more insistent on his stomach, more commanding. He brings Ilya closer to him, welding their bodies together, his lips pressing kisses on Ilya's neck. Ilya doesn't try to free himself from Shane's embrace and melts into it, Shane's broad chest against his back.
Ilya removes his hand from his mouth and rests it on Shane's wrist, reaching out through the sadness. He breathes out a shaky breath and nods silently. Shane's thumb stops moving immediately and Ilya feels him inhale deeply the air between them. He can almost hear the thoughts crash into each other in Shane's head and chides himself for being so weak as to make Shane more anxious than he already is.
Ilya gasps and shakes his head. He tries to speak but finds himself incapable of it. He closes his eyes and whimpers sadly.
"Hey, Mrs Rozanova," Shane whispers and Ilya opens his eyes. He stops breathing for a second as Shane continues, "my name is Shane."
Shane stops himself, loudly searching for his next words, his thumb moving again on Ilya's skin. Ilya feels a tear slip from his eye and fall down to his temple. Ilya waits.
"I've been meaning to introduce myself. I'm sorry I took so long. I-" Shane pauses and Ilya brings his hand back to his face, tucking it folded under his cheek. "I love your son. So much."
Ilya closes his eyes and covers them with his hand again. He cries, sobbing and struggling to breathe for a second. He sighs and then whimpers again. Shane holds him, swinging a leg over Ilya's and slipping his left arm under his head. His other hand moves across Ilya's body and curls around his chest. He presses a kiss behind his ear and whispers, barely louder than a breath, "Ya tebya lyublyu."
Ilya nods softly but hides his face completely under his hand, still crying, silent tears falling down his face and onto Shane's arm.
"He's beautiful, Mrs Rozanova. I wish you could see him." Shane lays a gentle kiss on Ilya's neck. "He has your hair and I'm guessing, your laugh. I know his humour is all you. I've been told you were funny."
"She was," Ilya says and stutters a breath out.
"I know," Shane hides his face in Ilya's unruly hair and breathes in his scent. "He's so sweet. And soft. He thinks that makes him weak, but it doesn't."
Shane's voice is low and muffled, but Ilya thinks he is also crying now. Or not. Shane is always better at keeping his feelings inside, tears barely escaping past his eyelashes. Ilya's tears are forming a waterfall down his temple and he raises his hand to wipe it away, brushing his fingers over his crying eyes. Shane tightens his embrace and huffs a quiet, soft laugh.
"It really doesn't. He's stronger than he likes to pretend he is," Shane smiles as his hand presses into Ilya's chest. "He's kind and gentle. He's always been kind and gentle. You would be so proud of him, Mrs Roza-"
"Please, stop. Pozhaluista... I can't-" Ilya shakes his head and a tear rushes past the bridge of his nose and down on his cheekbone. He angles his head towards Shane, his eyes closed and repeats, "Pozhaluista..."
Shane nods and presses a kiss on Ilya's cheek. Ilya keeps his eyes shut and frowns, a soft indent between his eyebrows. Shane brings his hand to Ilya's cheek and pulls his face towards him, but Ilya hides it immediately in Shane's neck, breathing in the lingering scent of his cologne, his hand at Shane's nape. Shane wraps his arms around Ilya and pulls him tighter still. Ilya breathes a deep sigh of relief between Shane's arms and stays pressed against him for what feels like hours.
Shane doesn't let go and Ilya nuzzles into Shane's neck, peppering it with soft, lazy kisses. Shane huffs a laugh and tangles his fingers in Ilya's hair, pulling on the curls unconsciously. Ilya moans softly and rests, his thumb slowly running over Shane's hair in his neck. He feels the warmth of Shane's body and lets it overwhelm him, the wave of it flattening sadness and grief under its strength. For a moment. He knows, as Shane does, that it will spring back one day or another, perhaps even in a few hours. But Shane's arms around him ground him and Ilya releases another shaky sigh.
"Sorry," he mumbles against Shane's neck.
Shane shakes his head slowly, "Nothing to be sorry for, Ilya."
Ilya grumbles and pulls back, his shining eyes on Shane's face. Shane smiles tenderly and Ilya finds himself smiling back. He rests his forehead on Shane's and bumps their noses together.
"I love you," Ilya says.
Shane huffs a laugh. "Oh, I know. I love you, too."
"I'm sor-" Ilya cuts himself short and closes his eyes.
"What do you need?" Shane asks, hand rubbing circles on Ilya's back.
Ilya inhales deeply and gazes at Shane's face. He shrugs, "blow job, maybe?" He huffs a sad laugh and then hides again in the crook of Shane's neck, kissing it once.
Shane chuckles and says, "later, maybe... But right now, let's just- we can just stay in bed. All day. If you want me?"
Ilya chuckles quietly and shakes his head. He looks at Shane and smiles softly. "Hm... Hollander, I've wanted you from the first moment I saw you. I don't think I can stop."
"Please don't."
Ilya grimaces, a frown on his face and shakes his head silently again. He whispers "never" and kisses Shane softly, his hand wrapped around his chin. He stops and shuts his eyes tightly. Shane tangles his legs with Ilya's and continues his soothing rhythm on Ilya's back, smiling against his temple as Ilya nuzzles into his neck again.
"She would have loved you," he whispers, muffled, a new tear forcing its way onto his skin.
"I love her, too," Shane says as Ilya starts crying in his arms again.