Chapter Text
December 30th
The cold wind whipped at Ilya’s face as he pulled out his phone. He tapped Svetlana’s contact with frozen fingers and prayed she would pick up. He didn’t have long. Or, rather, he wanted to run this errand as quickly as possible, so he could get back. To home. To Shane.
“Hi loverboy,” Svetlana intoned after two rings.
“Hello,” Ilya replied. “I have a lot to tell you.”
“Lay it on me, baby,” she said quickly.
Ilya went through the details of their time together since their last phone call, which seemed like a lifetime ago. He told Svetlana about Shane sharing his NHL aspirations, and that he said he kind of wanted to stay in Boston, if he could. Which couldn’t mean nothing, right? Svetlana didn’t seem to think much of that, mostly that Shane probably liked the city enough to stay put. But Ilya decided to keep his opinions on that to himself. He didn’t want to spend the entire phone call convincing her. He told her about going ice skating, the way it had been Shane’s idea, and how happy he looked, how… exhilarated. He told her about Shane’s fall on the ice, how Ilya offered the boy his sweatshirt. Sveta called him a knight in shining armor, which Ilya couldn’t help but scoff at. Though the sentiment did bring some warmth to his cheeks. As he entered the liquor store, Ilya lowered his voice, elaborating on their evening getting high in the upstairs bathroom.
“I don’t think he’d ever been high before,” Ilya explained, headed straight for the vodka section of the shitty little corner store. “Even though he said he had.”
He peered over his shoulder, out of instinct, worried perhaps he was being overheard. Smoking weed was illegal, and Ilya was technically underage in the states in terms of drinking, too. All of which he was doing while there on a student visa, which could very easily be revoked if he fucked something up and got caught. But the cashier behind the counter made no indication that they could understand Russian, so Ilya pressed on.
“I mean, I was fucking high, too. So I don’t really remember a lot of what happened.”
“Oh, well that’s helpful,” Svetlana deadpanned.
“I think I told him…” Ilya started to admit what he’d confessed to Shane, then backtracked. He wasn’t sure he felt like unpacking all of that right now, even with his best friend. “I don’t really remember, actually. It’s pretty hazy. We were really high.”
“Okay,” Svetlana replied. “But… nothing happened? Still nothing happened? God, Ilya, this is like the most boring–”
“Not exactly,” Ilya countered, scanning the vodka aisle for anything moderately drinkable. “We ended up sleeping in his bed.”
“You what?”
“Yeah,” Ilya said, nodding to himself, his front teeth digging into his bottom lip. “We slept together, I guess. Technically.”
“How did you end up in his bed?!”
“I just got in there, I don’t know,” Ilya shrugged, turning over a bottle in his hand to read the import information. “It looked comfortable and I was tired. And high.”
Svetlana scoffed. “Only you would get into Shane Hollander’s bed without an invitation.”
“He got in right after me,” Ilya retorted, finally selecting what was likely the top of the line Russian vodka at this particular liquor store. (It wasn’t the top of his line, but it would do.) “And when we woke up together this morning, I swear to God, Sveta, he was hard.”
“Well, that could just be morning wood,” Svetlana countered. “It’s natural. I bet you were hard, too.”
“That’s beside the point,” Ilya replied. “Then, we went for a run today, together, and tonight we’re cooking dinner together, and I’m out buying vodka for us to drink, together–”
“Okay, okay, I get it,” Svetlana said with a laugh. “Sounds like you guys have once again skipped the romance part and you’re just doing domestic shit.”
“We are,” Ilya hissed as he perused the snack selection. “It feels like we are dating. Not that I know what that feels like, really, but I think this is what it feels like. And it’s great, don’t misunderstand me, but I reeeeeeally want to fuck him, Sveta,” Ilya whined.
“Mmm, I can tell,” she replied. “Maybe after this nice dinner you’re making? Hmm? Be sweet and romantic? And stop whining?”
“Maybe, yes,” Ilya said as he settled on salt and vinegar potato chips.
“I don’t know, Ilya, maybe you’re right about this,” Svetlana said. “Maybe he… likes you. It sort of sounds like he does.”
“God, I really fucking hope so,” Ilya sighed. “I feel like,” Ilya’s voice trailed off. He knew it was way too early to be having these feelings, way too fucking soon to even think about this stuff. But he couldn’t stop his mind from going there.
I think I could love him.
Maybe I already do.
“You feel like…?”
“I feel like I’m going crazy,” Ilya said instead, not for the first time that week. “He… he makes me crazy.”
Svetlana merely sighed. “I can hear the wedding bells already.”
“Shut up,” Ilya bit back, his face heating with blush. He took the items up to the counter and held the phone between his ear and shoulder. “One sec, Sveta, I need to pay.” She hummed in response, and Ilya smiled as the cashier.
“Will that be all today?”
“Yes,” Ilya nodded. He pulled his wallet out of his back pocket, wondering if he’d have to flash his fake ID. He never really used it at liquor stores; they never carded him. He only ever used it to get into clubs. The exchange was painless, and he wasn’t asked for any ID, just as he expected. Ilya paid in cash, and left quickly, trying to recall where he was in his story.
“Oh, there’s one other thing,” Ilya remembered as the winter air bit at his skin once again.
“Okay, shoot.”
“We’re going to this New Year’s eve party,” Ilya started.
“Oh!” Svetlana squealed. “This is perfect! New Year’s kiss! New Year’s kiss!”
“Yes, maybe,” Ilya said tentatively. “It’s at the swim house.”
“Oh, fuck yeah,” she replied fervently. “This will be awesome. The swimmers are wild.”
“Right, sure,” Ilya said quickly. “The thing is, a girl invited him to the party.”
“Okay,” Svetlana said. “Who?”
“Rose, I think he said? I don’t know her.” Ilya’s feet crunched over frozen snow along the sidewalk as he hurried back home.
Svetlana hummed, contemplating. “Me either, I don’t know a Rose on swim,” she finally replied.
“She’s a senior, I think, if she’s friends with Shane.”
“Makes sense.”
“He… fuck,” Ilya groaned. “He said he had a thing, with her? He said it was years ago,” Ilya qualified. “He definitely tried to downplay it, but I don’t know… I don’t know what to think.”
On the other end, Svetlana hummed. It was low and curious way too fucking long for Ilya’s comfort.
“What do you mean hmmmmm?”
“I don’t know,” Svetlana said. “I think the only way you’ll know is once you see them together,” she added. “He might be telling the truth. That it was a long time ago and they’re just friends. I mean, me and you fuck and we’re friends.”
“That’s true.” That was a bit of a bright spot, Ilya thought. Though it was hard to tell if the situations were really the same. “But he is not me,” Ilya countered, turning right onto Dana Street. “I don’t think he fucks like I do.”
Svetlana scoffed. “Oh, yes, Ilya Rozanov, God of sex, I kneel at your feet–”
“Shut up,” Ilya repeated as he approached the house. “You know what I mean by that,” he followed up. “He doesn’t sleep around, I don’t think.”
“Maybe he used to,” Svetlana offered as he stepped onto the porch. “Maybe he’s a reformed slut. Like you will be, once Shane Hollander is finally your boyfriend.”
“Oh my god, Sveta, I don’t even know why I talk to you,” Ilya scoffed as he peered through a window, looking in from the outside, catching a glance of Shane puttering around the kitchen. Ilya let out a wistful sigh, turning the doorknob of the house and stepping inside. “I’m home now,” he said softly. “God, he’s so fucking cute,” Ilya whispered.
“Once again, you’re very lucky Shane doesn’t speak any Russian,” she teased.
“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Ilya said with a laugh, eyes latching onto Shane as soon as Ilya closed the door. He was in the kitchen, messing about with breadcrumbs and eggs, looking remarkably adorable. God. Ilya wanted to eat him. “Goodbye,” he said to Svetlana through the phone.
“Go lock that ass down before someone else does at the New Year’s party!”
“You’re full of shit,” Ilya laughed, feeling a swell of affection in his chest for his best friend. He felt a little more confident after talking with her. He felt like he might really have a chance.
Shane was smiling back at him.
“Goodbye,” Ilya repeated.
“I love you. Bye.”