[ The car ride is mostly silent, but it's pretty much what he'd expected. There's a quiet sort of solace to things as the scenery floats by. Moments in the ride where he'd simply reached out to touch Shane in an attempt to serve as a solid, real reminder that he's here. He's not going anywhere. Shane seems to sit in the acceptance in a way that Ilya can't quite fathom, but in a strange way that's nice, too. He doesn't have to think about it. He just has to be there for Shane.
The worry, the nerves, the reality--that will come. That will wash over them like the waves on the cottage lake where they're returning to, and they will deal with it. They, a singular entity despite being two people. Shane and Ilya. Ilya and Shane.
Ilya reaches over a second time, this time to place a strong hand on the small of Shane's neck, index and middle finger applying a gentle pressure to half-massage the base of his skull while the car turns from paved highway to a gravel lined road. There's a metaphor there maybe, something he doesn't care to dwell on. Poetry and metaphor and all of that junk have never been his strong suit, only hockey. ]
You will be okay.
[ He breaks the silence with a sincere comment that sounds more like an order solely because of his tone and accent: when they get back, Shane needs to relax. Simple. Straightforward. ]
We will drink more. You can tell me more about the charity. We can watch the sunset, and make a fire. It will be okay.
[ How does he always seem to know what Shane is thinking these days? It startles him out of his thoughts, out of the abyss in his head where he's wondering how in the hell today even happened, how all his secrets had come out at once and the world hadn't ended, but... here they are. Nearly back home again and with Ilya fishing him out of his potential spiral with just one touch on the back of his neck.
The smile Shane shoots him is helpless, all too honest. He feels impossibly raw and relaxed, two things that don't seem to go together but the pressure of Ilya's hand is grounding. At this point it's nearly all that's keeping the car on the road. ]
You trying to get me drunk?
[ Even to Shane, the thought doesn't sound bad. He doesn't know if he'll ever sleep otherwise, if he's being honest with himself. Maybe tonight's the night he drinks like the playboy Ilya Rozanov and they'll see what happens. ]
I know. I know, I do. It went... god, I don't know, as best as it could have, I guess? Fucking... considering.
[ Even now the memory of seeing Ilya look past him, over his shoulder, only for his face to change at the sight of David Hollander, sends ice water through Shane's veins. Considering that, yeah. Yeah, everything had gone alright. Panic attacks notwithstanding. ]
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timeasmymeasure
screw icons we die like men aka post reveal cottage shennanigans
Date: 2026-01-08 09:01 pm (UTC)The worry, the nerves, the reality--that will come. That will wash over them like the waves on the cottage lake where they're returning to, and they will deal with it. They, a singular entity despite being two people. Shane and Ilya. Ilya and Shane.
Ilya reaches over a second time, this time to place a strong hand on the small of Shane's neck, index and middle finger applying a gentle pressure to half-massage the base of his skull while the car turns from paved highway to a gravel lined road. There's a metaphor there maybe, something he doesn't care to dwell on. Poetry and metaphor and all of that junk have never been his strong suit, only hockey. ]
You will be okay.
[ He breaks the silence with a sincere comment that sounds more like an order solely because of his tone and accent: when they get back, Shane needs to relax. Simple. Straightforward. ]
We will drink more. You can tell me more about the charity. We can watch the sunset, and make a fire. It will be okay.
I'M SORRY I TOOK SO LONGGG sentenced to cuck chair jail
Date: 2026-01-21 05:25 am (UTC)The smile Shane shoots him is helpless, all too honest. He feels impossibly raw and relaxed, two things that don't seem to go together but the pressure of Ilya's hand is grounding. At this point it's nearly all that's keeping the car on the road. ]
You trying to get me drunk?
[ Even to Shane, the thought doesn't sound bad. He doesn't know if he'll ever sleep otherwise, if he's being honest with himself. Maybe tonight's the night he drinks like the playboy Ilya Rozanov and they'll see what happens. ]
I know. I know, I do. It went... god, I don't know, as best as it could have, I guess? Fucking... considering.
[ Even now the memory of seeing Ilya look past him, over his shoulder, only for his face to change at the sight of David Hollander, sends ice water through Shane's veins. Considering that, yeah. Yeah, everything had gone alright. Panic attacks notwithstanding. ]