Chapter Text
Shane cannot help the bone-weary sigh that escapes him as he speed walks back to his department. Of course it’s been another ridiculously busy work day. It seems as if every work day has to be non-stop as of late. The clock is pushing 6:00pm. At this rate, he is not going to have time for warmup before his hockey game. Because of course this college group needed to schedule their tour on a Friday and have it go till after hours. Shane runs his hand through his hair, not for the first time since this group of surprisingly exuberant physical therapy students arrived. He’s sure his hair is a disaster by now, though that is the least of his worries.
As of a few weeks ago, Shane officially has his first boyfriend. But that is beginning to feel more and more like a supposedly. Perhaps the universe truly is laughing at him. Before he got trapped in the Drover Gallery with Ilya, they typically were able to have at least one solid conversation at work. Sometimes they would carpool to hockey together, especially on Fridays when they played on the same team. They’d even spend some additional time in each other’s presence at the bar connected to the hockey rink after their games, with the rest of the team in tow.
Yet since Shane and Ilya officially became boyfriends, they have somehow seen less of eachother. Shane has been rushing between tour groups, meetings, prepping materials, and what-have-you, that he has barely had time to breathe at work, let along have time for conversations with coworkers that are not also in the education department. One of them has worked late each Friday so they haven’t been able to carpool to hockey. Ilya has been unable to go to the bar after the games, due to some mysterious plans he has.
They were supposed to go on their official first date the day after Shane’s impromptu overnight stay at Ilya’s. Unfortunately, Ilya was called into work that Saturday and every Saturday since. Saturday evenings they play hockey against eachother. Sundays are for Hollander family dinners, yes Shane realizes it is a bit dorky that as a grown man he still has weekly dinners with his parents, but he truly enjoys spending time with his parents. Sue him. He would be more than willing to spend time with Ilya before the weekly dinners, but their schedules just haven’t aligned.
So beyond passing one another at work and swapping chirps during hockey games, they’ve barely seen eachother. At times feeling like two ships passing in the night. You’d think they’d at least be texting more, now that they know the other is interested. But Shane is still worried about being too much. He doesn’t want Ilya to think he is clingy. Or that there is a quota of time he must be with Ilya each week. Even if there is an ache in his chest that is slowly getting deeper. And a small voice in his head, steadily getting louder, murmuring how perhaps Shane misinterpreted what is going on between him and Ilya. That even though Ilya called Shane his boyfriend, maybe Shane just heard him wrong. Even though Shane knows it is just his anxiety spiraling like it enjoys doing, it doesn’t make it any easier.
So yeah, Shane is antsy to get to hockey, where he will at least get to lock eyes with his boyfriend for the first time in a few days. Shane grabs his stuff from his desk and rushes out of the building to his car. As soon as he is settled in the driver’s seat, he sends a text to Ilya, though not before letting his eyes linger on the last text Ilya sent.
—
Shane manages to score a respectable two goals during the game. One with an assist from Ilya. Ilya, though, scores a hat trick. Shane could blame it on the fact that he barely managed to warm up before the game or that he was still a bit frazzled from the busy workday. He must begrudgingly admit that all three of Ilya’s goals tonight were beautiful. It was just his night. Part of why Shane loves playing hockey with Ilya, whether on the same time or against each other, is because there is finally somebody to match his drive and level. Sure, Shane sometimes takes hockey a bit too seriously, considering they play in beer leagues after all. It just makes it all the more rewarding for somebody to meet him where he’s at.
As Shane is untying his skates on the bench in front of “his” locker (as it is a community rink, nobody owns any of the lockers, but this is the one Shane always uses. Maybe it has become even more important of a locker to use since Ilya joined this team as it has the best view of the locker Ilya has chosen), black slides materialize at the edge of his vision.
“Hat trick is good, yes? How many goals did you score, Hollander?”
Shane doesn’t even need the Russian accent to signify that it is Ilya standing next to him. Probably closer than he should be standing to him in a locker room post hockey game. Shane cannot find it in him to care. He finishes unlacing his skates before dragging his eyes up the muscular, shirtless frame of his boyfriend.
“Two goals, Rozanov.”
Even though they’ve stopped hiding behind their last names most of the time, their last names are still used for chirping.
Ilya grins. “If my math is correct, which I think it is, three is higher than two, yes?”
Shane rolls his eyes. “Yes. Good job Count von Count.”
Ilya’s eyes practically sparkle. Always pleased with Shane chirps back or makes a joke. “Will think of good favor. Cannot waste such a gift.”
With that, Ilya turns and heads to the showers. Shane wonders what Ilya could possibly have in mind for Shane to do for this favor.
Shane moves to head to the showers, the sweat from the game starting to stick to his skin unpleasantly. A loud buzzing echoes from his locker, signifying somebody is calling him. People rarely call him, so with a big sigh, Shane opens his locker and fishes out his phone. The screen lights up with Mom. Shane frowns at the screen. His mom knows he’s at hockey and usually just texts him if she needs to tell him something. Frowning at his phone, he swipes to accept the call before bringing it to his ear.
—
By the time Ilya showers and heads back to his locker, Shane is nowhere in sight. Ilya frowns. This is unlike him. Sometimes Shane will wait until Ilya is done showering before heading into the showers, trying to be respectful or something. As if Ilya is not perfectly comfortable in his nudity. On those days, Shane is usually sitting on his bench, organizing his bag. Shane doesn’t like leaving the rink with a chaotic bag. Something Ilya finds ridiculously charming.
Ilya takes quick showers at the rink, just long enough to get the sweat off. Today especially so as he wanted to make sure he had time to chat with Shane a bit before he had to be home. But Shane is gone. Beyond the fact that it is unlike Shane to not shower at the rink, there is no way he organized his bag that quickly. To leave without even saying goodbye to Ilya, after barely having time to talk all week, is odd. Ilya grabs his phone from his locker, checking to see if Shane sent a text to give some kind of explanation. But there are no new messages.
блять. Ilya should have used the short bit of time before his shower to actually talk to Shane instead of just chipping him. Stupid. He was just trying to keep space during hockey. Even though Ilya is sure none of the other guys would even care if they found out Shane and Ilya were dating, Ilya wanted to give Shane the space to tell them without feeling cornered by Ilya's lack of restraint. Ilya also loves how mirth practically sparkles in Shane's eyes whenever Ilya chirps him. The temptation to chirp was just too strong. Ilya should have been better.
Ilya wonders if he should perhaps text Shane, checking in. Knowing that Shane doesn’t like deviating from routines, which means something had to have happened for him to have left like this. But Ilya doesn’t want to come across as needy. Sure, they are boyfriends now, a label that still makes Ilya surprisingly giddy. That doesn’t mean Ilya wants to come across as overbearing. He knows he can be a bit much. That once he lets people in, he really lets them in. That he might kinda sorta hide behind a gruff exterior to protect his heart that just wants to be loved.
Unfortunately, Ilya has learned time and again that there are many people in this world who would rather stomp all over his heart than hold it with the care his therapist claims it deserves. Ilya believes Shane’s hands are a safe place for his heart. This thing between them, though, is too new, too fresh. And maybe his heart is just a bit too fragile.
Opening up to someone, truly letting them in, is a calculated risk. Ilya weighed all the risks against the potential of what this could become with Shane and yes, he determined that it is worth a shot. Even if it took him months hiding behind the facade of friendship and Shane’s bravery to finally get him to the point where he could admit some of his feelings to Shane.
Ilya doesn’t think he has ever had such strong feelings for somebody as he has for Shane. The unassuming, at times, man who is incredibly passionate, witty, driven, and so much more, shielded behind the various masks he wears to protect himself from those who choose to focus on how Shane doesn’t fit the expected mold. Ilya finds it endearing that Shane needs routines to function at the best of his abilities. That Shane prefers a quiet night in to a rowdy crowd at a random event. That Shane goes out of his way to make sure everybody else feels comfortable to the point of sacrificing pieces of himself in order to do so. Ilya sees a match. Somebody who understands the safety of masks and the sacrifices it takes to survive.
Most would describe Shane’s life outside of work as boring. Although Ilya would too, he doesn’t mean boring as in dull or uninteresting. No. Shane is probably one of, if not the, most interesting people to Ilya. Shane’s “boringness” means steady. It means consistency. It means safety. All the things that Ilya has not had for a very long time. Ever since… no, he doesn’t need his mind to go there right now. Ilya clutches the cross that hangs reverently around his neck.
Ilya is already failing at this whole boyfriend thing. He hasn’t even taken Shane on their first date–the one he promised weeks ago. He cannot be too clingy now. Shane does not need to know just yet, or perhaps ever, of the cruel voices whispering in his mind. How sometimes they meld into an overwhelming cacophony that all Ilya can do to survive it is to curl up in bed and wait for them to decide to quiet back down. Those voices are currently telling Ilya how he is a failure. A terrible boyfriend. Unworthy of somebody as good as Shane. So even though Ilya wants nothing more than to reach out to Shane, to bridge the gap that already seems to be forming between them, to ensure that Shane is okay, the fear wins. Ilya sets his phone down and gets dressed quickly so he can retreat to the safety of his home.
–
Shane is once again rushing down a hallway, though this time through a hospital. Ignoring the way his clothes stick to his still sweaty skin. Although his mom, Yuna, said there was no rush, just hearing that his father was in the hospital was enough for Shane to throw all of his geer in his bag and immediately head to the hospital. The uncomfortableness of an haphazardly organized bag and dried, sweaty skin be damned. Apparently his dad, David, missed a rung while climbing down a ladder and they suspected he broke his ankle. His parents were currently waiting for imaging to be completed to know for sure.
Although Shane knows a potential broken ankle is not a dire situation, he needs to see for himself that his dad is okay. His parents being steady figures in his life, the idea of anything bad happening to them is almost unbearable. Shane belatedly realizes he should have told Ilya he was leaving or sent him a text letting him know, but it is too late as he steps into the room his parents are in.
David is sitting on the hospital room, left leg slightly proped up and in an air cast. Yuna is sitting on the chair next to his bed. They are both scrolling on their phones as if this is a regular evening, but look up at the sound of the door opening. Shane’s eyes dart between the pair trying to dissect how they may be feeling but they seem to calm for it to make any sense.
“Are you okay?” Shane blurts, not caring about whether that is the tactful way of asking or not.
“I’m fine, son. It doesn’t seem to be broken. The doctors think it might just be a severe strain. They want me to wear the boot for a week before getting more imaging done and we’ll go from there. You didn’t need to come all the way here.”
Shane nods as he listens. “Yes I did. I had to make sure you are okay.”
Yuna melts, knowing the big heart her son tends to hide away from others.
“We always appreciate seeing you, Shane, but as I told you on the phone, we didn’t think we’d be here much longer. I just didn’t want you to find out later we came to the hospital without saying anything,” Yuna says.
Perhaps the normal thing for Shane to do would have been to not come. But Shane’s brain told him he had to and he knew his anxiety would not quell until he saw with his own eyes that his dad was fine.
“Did you come straight from your hockey game?” David asks.
Yuna wrinkles her nose. “I’d say so. Sorry, honey, but you definitely smell like you just came from a hockey game. You could have showered before you came here.”
Shane is starting to feel a bit ridiculous. He knew the situation wasn’t dire but his brain urged him to come. Perhaps he should have taken a quick shower before coming here. Taken a couple minutes to organize his bag so he doesn’t have to keep thinking about the fact it is currently a disaster. Shane has the sudden urge to call Ilya. He knows his parents mean well. Sometimes they inadvertently make him feel like the odd duck.
David, always knowing when he needs to divert Shane from his thoughts, asks, “How did the game go? Did you win?”
Shane nods. “Yeah, 5-2. I scored two goals. Ilya got a hat trick.”
Yuna shakes her head, chuckling. “When are we going to meet this Ilya? We want to meet this friend whose house you decided to sleep at after a chaotic day. He must be a great friend if you’d rather go to his home than your own when you needed to decompress.”
So perhaps Shane didn’t tell his parents that Ilya is technically his boyfriend. He didn’t want them to start asking a hundred questions before it felt fully real. Based on the way his mom keeps emphasizing the word friend, perhaps Shane didn’t do such a great job making Ilya sound like just a friend. Does he want his parents to meet Ilya? Yes. He thinks Ilya needs more people that see the soft side hidden beying the stoic, gruff mask, and easily accept him for it. Though he wants to go on at least one date with the man before he invites him over to meet his parents.
Shane tries to hide a grimace, he’s not sure how successful he is. “Soon. We’ve barely gotten to talk lately. Our schedules have been a bit off.”
“That’s always difficult,” David says. “Hopefully you’ll be able to find time to hangout soon.”
“Me too.” Shane truly does hope.
It’s not too much later that David is discharged with strick instructions to stay off his ankle as much as possible. His parents send him home to shower and eat, waving off any assistance Shane offers. Shane begrudgingly listens. As he drives home, he tries calling Ilya. Even though that is something they haven’t really done yet. Shane could just use hearing his voice. The line rings twice before going straight to voicemail.
“Hi. This is Ilya. I will never listen to your voicemail.”
Shane hangs up without leaving a message. It was nothing that important anyway.
–
Ilya is about to pull out his own hair. The clock ticks closer and closer to midnight and he needs just one more person to post on this stupid discussion board so he can respond to it. A few weeks ago, Weibe showed Ilya an online certification course for security guards. He heavily hinted that if Ilya successfully completed the course, there would be a promotion in his future. After looking into it, the course seemed easy enough. Six weeks, ample reading, discussion boards, and a final report. Though Ilya never really cared about school growing up, he was always good at it. Easily passing his classes. But that was in Russian.
Ilya was a bit nervous about managing all the readings in English. He was surprised that even though it takes him much longer to read than he would like, sometimes needing to refer to a Russian glossary for assistance, it is not unmanageable. As Ilya wanted to ensure he passed this course with flying colors, he knew he had to be on top of completing the work.
Most of his Sundays have been set aside to complete the readings. He also has to post on a discussion board and respond to three other people. Should be simple enough. Unfortunately, many of his fellow classmates decide to wait until the last minute to submit their posts, due Fridays at 11:59 pm. Even if Ilya wanted to get ahead and complete his weekly objectives early, he was unable to. The last few Fridays he’s had to go straight home after his hockey game to reply to three of his classmates. As each response needs to be detailed, with comments cited back to the texts, and pompts for further discussion, they took time to compose. Time he could be spending with his team, with Shane, at the bar after another successful win.
He has already responded to two classmates. The teacher doesn’t allow for the responses to be to the same people each week. Ilya is stuck waiting on a different person to post. Ilya taps his foot under his desk as he stares off into space. He refreshes the discussion board every now and again. No new posts. The urge to scroll on his phone is strong, but Ilya knows that will steal time from him and the next thing he will know it is past midnight and his response will be late. Instead, his phone sits like a brick at the corner of his desk. Placed on do-not-disturb mode so he cannot be distracted by any notifications.
The next time Ilya refreshes his screen, there’s a new post. He efficiently responds to it yet barely manages to submit his reply before midnight strikes. He cannot help the massive sigh that escapes him as he drags his hand across his face. He’s exhausted. Work has been practically nonstop lately. Hockey is always fantastic, though it takes a lot of energy. This course might be sucking the last remnants of joy from his soul. Back in Russia, whenever this deep weariness hit, Ilya would rally. Go out to clubs, drink good vodka, dance with hot people. Perhaps fuck a woman or two. Now he just wants to be with Shane. Not even particularly caring what they do. He just wants to be surrounded by Shane’s steady, comforting presence.
Without another deep sigh, he grabs his phone, turning it off do-not-disturb mode. Sliding it into his sweatpants pocket, ignoring the almost continuous buzzing as the random notifications from the past few hours start trickling in, he goes to let Anya outside so he can go to bed.
As Ilya leans on his back deck while Anya sniffs around his invisible fence protected yard, he gets his phone out. He deletes several unimportant notifications before his thumb freezes barely a millimeter above the screen. A missed call from Shane. Блять. Ilya was stuck waiting around because of others' incompetence and missed a call from Shane—his Shane, who has never once called him. He wants to call him back, but the flashing time of 12:03 am gives him pause. Shane has a strict bedtime, another thing Ilya finds endearing. Shane probably went to bed hours ago. The call is from just a bit past nine. Less than an hour after he left the arena.
Ilya wishes Shane had left a message so he would at least know why he called. He quickly goes into their text thread to see if perhaps Shane texted something. Nothing. The last text being Shane’s reply from before their game. Aware of the time, though needing to do something, Ilya sends a quick text apologizing for missing the call. Ilya really is failing at this whole boyfriend thing.
Whistling for Anya to return, they both head to bed. Even though it is now Saturday, it is just another workday for Ilya.
Even with the almost seven hours of sleep Ilya got and the frankly massive amounts of caffeine he has consumed, he has to drag himself through the day. The galleries are steadily busy, so at least he has something to occupy his mind with instead of wondering why Shane hasn’t replied to his text.
His lunch break rolls around after what feels like ten hours. He is about to walk into the break room when a familiar chuckle gives him pause. The doors for the art studio next to the break room are wide open. One of the education staff members hosts family art making on Saturdays for a few hours. They rotate staff so each person has to spend a Saturday at work once almost every two months or so. Somehow, it feels like Shane is rarely the person who hosts the art making.
Ilya knows that chuckle. He’s been rewarded with that chuckle multiple times. Allowing himself to peek into the studio, he is proven correct with the blessed sight of Shane. Shane, who is dressed a bit more casually than his typical work attire, is happily talking to a family about the art project he has laid out on the table. Ilya has to force himself not to go into the studio. Shane doesn’t need a distraction right now. Shane might not want to talk to Ilya at all as he continues being horrible at the whole boyfriend thing. Ilya instead goes into the staff room to eat a lunch that ends up tasting like nothing.
As Ilya spends an hour in the security office as part of his rotation, a small part of him hopes that Shane has to walk past the room while he sits in there. Then he would have a chance to talk to him. Glancing at the clock, Shane should be wrapping up in the studio any minute now. Ilya has to bite down the urge to bark at Barrett as he comes into the office to swap out radios, knowing that Shane won’t be comfortable having a real conversation with other people around. Ilya makes some joke to Barrett to make him laugh, but his mind is wondering elsewhere to fully process the exchange. Barrett thankfully leaves and Ilya keeps his eyes trained on the cameras, not wanting to miss Shane.
Minutes tick by and no signs of Shane. Did Ilya somehow miss him? Did Shane park in his usual spot, on the opposite side of the building, so he could avoid seeing Ilya? Did Shane realize that Ilya isn’t worth his time? Ilya knows his brain tends to catastrophize. A learned skill after years of the worse things continuously happening. Ilya is falling so deep into his own mind that he almost misses Shane walking by. A shock of black hair in his periphery is enough for Ilya to scramble out of his chair, practically pushing it to the ground as he stands. Thankful for hockey-given agility, Ilya rushes to the half-open door.
“Hollander.”
Ilya knows he’s hiding once again behind Shane’s last name. The need to protect himself from too much vulnerability is strong.
Shane pauses a moment, halfway out the door. Probably deciding if he should respond or pretend he didn’t hear Ilya.
“Please.” It’s barely above a whisper, but Shane hears it nonetheless.
With an apparent Herculean effort, Shane turns and walks the two steps back toward the security office. An almost blank mask firmly in place. Ilya wants to open the door, invite Shane into the office, and take a seat. The fear that Shane might reject the idea prevents him from offering.
“What’s up, Rozanov?”
What’s. Up. Rozanov. Ilya could scream. Who is this alien before him? Has Ilya truly fucked up the best thing to have ever happened to him before it ever fully began? He shouldn’t have called Shane Hollander. Stupid.
“Oh, you know, just ceiling.”
Perhaps Ilya should just bang his head against the wall. His brain clearly needs a hard reset if he has any hope of acting like a normal person. Focus.
“Sorry,” Ilya gives a sheepish smile. “How are you?”
That barely captures what he wants to say. I saw your call. You have never called me before. Are you okay? I promise I will answer any future calls. I always want to be just a phone call away. Closer if you’d let me. I know I didn’t tell you about my course. It’s not that I’m ashamed of it. I just don’t know how to tell you that I am trying to better myself. To make me more worthy of you. I had my phone on do-not-disturb mode so I would have no distractions. I should have put you on the override list. You never are a bother. I guess I never thought you would actually try to call me. I miss you. Do you miss me? I’m sorry for being a terrible boyfriend. I wish I did. I tried to text you to apologize. Did you see it? Was it enough? Please give me another chance. I can do better, I promise. You deserve so much better. If I could go back in time, I would make sure I answered your call.
Shane shrugs in an attempt to appear nonchalant. Ilya can see right through him.
“I’m okay. Sorry about the call yesterday. I know you are busy on Friday evenings. I shouldn’t have called. It wasn’t a big deal.”
Fuck it. This is breaking his already wounded heart. There is not point trying to be nonchalant when the risk is too high. Hopefully, Shane is prepared for the full sap that is Ilya.
“I always want you to call me. Whenever. My phone was on do-not-disturb. I did not get missed call notification until midnight. I wanted to call you back, but I thought you would be sleeping. I am sorry. You now have emergency bypass. Is everything okay? You left arena so quick. Before you organized bag.”
The edges of Shane’s lip quirk up. Not entirely smile, but it is something. Good. Perhaps all hope is not lost.
“My mom called telling me she was in the hospital with my dad. They thought he broke his ankle, but it’s just severely strained. They went home last night. My dad has to wear a boot for a week. It could have been worse.”
Ilya frowns. “A boot? He is not allowed to wear shoe?”
Shane chuckles, though it looks like the chuckle surprises him. “A boot is what we call a walking cast. It has straps so you can take it on or off and has a thick bottom. It prevents you from using your full range of motion while still allowing you to walk. Albeit a bit clunky.”
English is ridiculous. “Ah.”
“Like I said, it wasn’t a big deal.” Shane shrugs once more.
“It doesn’t have to be a big deal for you to call me. I always want to talk to you.” Ilya doesn’t care in this moment if he his being too much. He will worry about it later. “I was wondering where you went after hockey. I should have texted to check-in.”
“It’s fine, Ilya.”
“No, it is not. I am sorry. I can do better. I will be better.”
Some of the blank mask melts away from Shane. “Ilya, we are both still learning how to do this whole,” Shane looks around checking to see if anybody is nearby, “dating thing. There’s bound to be a few missteps before we figure it out. Clearly communicating is not our strong suit.” Sheepish grin. “It took getting trapped in a gallery together for us to finally admit how we feel. I should also apologize for not reaching out more. I let myself get trapped in my own head instead of trusting that you want me around. Let’s just agree we will both talk about things before they get to this point again.”
Ilya is unsure how to process this. Could it be that Shane isn’t through with Ilya just yet? That seems too good to be true. It is time for Ilya to be brave again.
“Agreed. I miss you. We have not had any time lately.”
Shane’s expression fully softens. It somehow makes his freckles stand out more. Ilya has missed those beautiful freckles.
“Oh, have I spoiled you before now? You got too used to having me around?” Shane teases.
His heart just might soar away, his face breaking into a grin. Ilya is delighted. His Shane chirping instead of returning the honesty? Almost a better gift. It shows Ilya that Shane still trusts him. Not many people realize how funny Shane is, never giving him the chance to feel comfortable enough to make his quips.
Ilya nods. “Yes. You have spoiled me. Now you must keep at that level.”
Shane grins before sighing. “I miss you, too. It’s really not fair for our schedules to screw us over like this.”
“I know. I owe you a date.”
“Yes, you do.”
Shane pauses for a moment, pondering something. Ilya waits as patiently as he can. He is rewarded for his patience.
“What are you doing after work?” Shane asks.
Ilya doesn’t even bother checking the calendar on his phone. If anything else is planned, he will cancel it. He would do practically anything to spend some quality time with Shane.
“Nothing. Why?”
Shane taps his pointer finger against his chin a few times, “Hmm.”
Ilya knows Shane is being a brat. He cannot help himself. The waiting might be killing him.
“Why Shane?”
Shane smirks, proud of himself for so easily goading Ilya. Ilya just falls deeper for the wonderful man in front of him.
“Come over to my place. I have dinner waiting in a slow cooker. We can make a plan on how to make sure we can talk more, even when we are super busy. This doesn’t count as a date, though. Just a catch-up. You still owe me a proper first date.”
Shane could have asked him to walk across hot coals barefoot, and Ilya would have done it with a smile on his face. Ilya’s chest aches, unsure of what to do with the deep feelings. He has been an awful boyfriend. Yet he is being gifted with a home-cooked meal. He doesn’t even care what it is that Shane has made. Besides the breakfast Shane made at Ilya’s place a few weeks ago, Ilya cannot recall the last time he had a home-cooked meal. For the most recent two to be because of Shane. Ilya ignores the stinging behind his eyes. It is not the time for tears.
“I will be there.”
Shane smiles. “Good. Text me when you leave work. The apartment code is 1919. Just come in when you get there.”
This man might just be the death of Ilya yet. He does not deserve such trust and kindness. The selfish man that he is though, he will readily accept the gift being offered him. Starting now, he is going to be the best boyfriend ever.
“Okay.” Ilya cannot fight back the grin.
“I’m going to say bye now or else we will stand here talking until it is closing time and you probably have things you need to do before your shift ends. So bye, see you soon.”
Shane abruptly turns with a slight wave, before walking out of the building.
“Bye, Shane!” Ilya calls out to him.
Well this day is surely looking up. Ilya isn’t sure how long he stands there, grinning like a fool until his thoughts are interrupted.
“Rozanov, I really shouldn’t be saything this, but you need to stop stringing Shane along. I know he claims you are a good guy and you make him happy. But ever since he spent the night at your house, he has slowly been withdrawing. I don’t know what kind of game you are playing. Cut it out. Shane deserves better.”
And the day is back to being a dud. For now, at least. The smile wipes clean off Ilya’s face as the stoic mask falls firmly into place. Ilya knows Hayden is Shane’s best friend and roommate. Knows they are practically brothers. Ilya doesn’t have any negative feelings toward Hayden. Rather, he has always felt kind of indifferent towards him. That could change if Hayden doesn’t stay in his lane. Ilya doesn’t need anybody whispering in Shane’s ear with ridiculous thoughts about Ilya stringing Shane along. Ilya knows he needs to be better for Shane. Somehow, Shane keeps seeing the good in him anyway. Ilya cannot risk anybody poisoning Shane away from him. He will fight anybody who tries. He is already fighting his own demons.
Hayden has poked the bear yet reamains oblivious to the approaching threat.
“I am not stringing Shane along. It is none of your business what we are doing.”
“Shane is my business,” Hayden argues.
“I am not planning on hurting Shane.” Ilya just hopes he doesn’t accidentally do so.
“Good. Shane has been hurt by enough people. He deserves people around him who are there to make his life better. Not more complicated.”
Ilya wants to argue that he knows. That he will do everything in his power to ensure that Shane has a happy life. He will do whatever it takes to improve Shane’s life. Adding joy, adding peace, adding love. Everything besides leaving Shane alone, as that is not something within Ilya’s ability.
Instead, Ilya just says, “I know, Pike.”
Hayden nods, seemingly proud of himself for what he has said.
“Heading home now?” Ilya cannot help but ask.
“Yeah.”
Ilya grins, “I will see you there.”
Hayden looks confused. “What?”
Instead of responding, Ilya closes the security door, biting back a laugh. Hayden is too easy to mess with. Besides, Ilya needs time to get his head back on straight. He has a boyfriend to go see soon.