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He was terrified that one day Shane would realize he could be with someone who wasn’t a dark secret. That it could be easy to love someone.
He closed his eyes and focused on how good it felt to be with Shane, alone in the dark, and tried not to wish it could be the same in the light.
“We are very good at pretending to not be in love. Maybe we are bad at showing it when we are allowed.”
Sometimes Ilya was so starved for touch he felt like screaming. He felt it most when Shane was close, like he was now, but off-limits.
Kiss me, Ilya wanted to say. Kiss me and hold me in front of all these people. Pull me onstage and do it. I don’t care anymore. Please. I’m dying. “Nothing,” Ilya said, and stepped away. “Nothing.”
A few minutes later, Ilya was tucked under a blanket on the couch, eating ice cream out of a little bowl. He felt like a child, and he kind of loved it.
They said goodbye, ended the call, and then Shane was alone again, and wishing like hell that there could be a solution to their problem.
JUST COME OUT ALREADYYYYY
“When you watch it, this is what you will see. Me saying nothing. I wanted to say you are fucking everything to me. Everything. Okay?”
He’d already met the love of his life, and he was head over heels, and he couldn’t tell anyone and it fucking sucked.
The next morning, when the sun had just begun to rise, Ilya watched Shane drive away. He stood on his front step for several minutes after, staring in the direction the car had gone, and shivering in his gym shorts and T-shirt. Then, he went inside, closed the door, and burst into tears.
Quietly, in a voice that couldn’t disguise his pain, he said, “I already chose you, Hollander.”
You are the best thing in my life. His eyes were blurry, making it hard to type. He quickly swiped at his eyes and kept writing. I love you. Always. Maybe from the first time I saw you.
I am thinking only about you right now. A million memories. Thank you for those. Whatever happens, I am with you. Safe in your heart. I believe it.
“I choose you, Ilya. I promise I will always, always choose you.” Shane’s eyes began to shimmer. He took a deep breath and said, “Ilya Grigoryevich Rozanov, will you marry me?”
“You have me, sweetheart.” The first time Ilya had used that particular pet name, Shane had felt like he’d been struck by lightning. It had been so unexpected and earthshaking and hot. Shane could never get away with calling anyone sweetheart, but the word rolled effortlessly off Ilya’s tongue, in his sexy fucking accent. Despite that, Ilya rarely said it, so every time he did, it knocked Shane on his ass.
