thinking about the inevitable goodbye after the cottage, when shane drives ilya back to the airport
The gps says they’re five minutes away, Ilya can see the turn straight ahead that will take them towards his departure gate. “Pull over,” he says suddenly.
Shane pulls over onto the side of the road and puts the car in park. He turns to Ilya “Are you okay?”
Ilya doesn’t say anything, he just looks at Shane with an unreadable expression, his eyes roving over his face as if trying to memorize his features, like it was the last time he’d see them. It wasn't enough that he'd spent the last two weeks mapping every last freckle. Maybe it would never be enough. His eyes eventually focus on Shane’s lips and he moves in to kiss them. It’s slow, as if they have all the time in the world, as if Ilya isn’t about to get on a plane that’s going to take him away from the home he’s found these last two weeks.
Shane’s eyes fall shut as he sighs into the tender kiss, tilting his head to deepen it. It’s nothing like all the desperate, needy kisses that have characterized their whole summer. This is achingly tender, this is goodbye.
Their lips part but neither of them moves more than in inch. When Shane’s eyes flutter open all he sees is Ilya, his face so close it takes up his entire field of view.
“I just…I wanted to say goodbye properly. Before there are too many people…” Ilya trails off.
“Right.” Of course, the realization settles like a stone in Shane’s stomach, cold and weighty. The freedom of the past few weeks was never going to last, not with their lives, their careers and obligations, it was almost like a dream. Now it was time to wake up.
Ilya brings a hand up to cradle Shane’s face, leaning in again to kiss the forlorn look away. Their lips press harder, trying to leave a lasting impression before the upcoming months of separation.
Shane turns his face into the hand on his cheek, breaking their kiss to press more into Ilya’s palm, his long fingers, back down for one last lingering press against the center of his hand. If only his lips could brand him, Ilya would have a piece of him to take wherever he went. He cradles Ilya’s hand in both of his own. The weight in his chest is growing heavier by the second. He wants to turn around, wants to drive back to their sun drenched cottage, wants to hold onto this just a little longer…
But their time is almost up.
Ilya’s hand curls around one of Shane’s, his thumb running soothingly across his knuckles. “Moya lyubov…” Ilya leans in, trying to draw Shane’s eyes back up to his own. “Thank you.”
Ilya’s lips twitch up into a smile. He presses a quick kiss to Shane’s cheek and sits back in the passenger seat, “Come on, time to go home, lots to do, pre-season will start soon, and I’m not letting you get a head start in training.”
“A head start huh?” Shane rolls his eyes, “I don’t need a head start to beat you.”
“Ah, of course not, that would make you a dirty cheater,” Ilya’s smirk widens, “Shane Hollander is far too boring, he would never do such a thing.”
“Asshole.” It’s entirely too affectionate.
look they spent ten years yearning, yes they’re gonna be dramatic about it, yes they’re gonna see each other more often than they used to, no it’s still not enough
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