sería una mentira, porque no sería él

A twinge of annoyance rose in the center of his chest, the newfound defensiveness he had for her making itself known. Whatever it was that had bothered her so badly, Ilya’s instincts wanted to beat it away with a stick. He, in turn, held that feeling in check; he’d only pounce at her mark.

“Nothing fits,” she mumbled, miserably. Her eyes slid down again. “The stuff I like I mean. The stuff that’s, y’know, nice enough.”

If her parents heard any of her words, they didn’t react. Ilya almost wanted them to, but he wouldn’t say anything. That would be a gross overstep, and he wasn’t so ingratiated to the Hollanders. Not yet. Not for a bit longer, he imagined.

“Nothing?” Ilya whispered back. “Are you sure?”

Shane nodded, sighed again. “Everything’s tight, or won’t button, or something else. I just—.” Her lips pursed and her nose curled as she fought off a bigger reaction. “I didn’t think it was that bad. I thought, maybe…”

She trailed off with a fresh sigh, shaking her head as she lifted her mug to her lips. Ilya sucked in a breath and nodded.

“It’s stupid.”

Ilya shrugged. “Not really.” Shane shot him a burning sort of look but there was no real heart in it. Ilya lifted his brows. “You say this like you are the only one ever.”

Shane rolled her eyes. “I know I’m not.”

“Okay.”

“I just don’t, you know. Like it.” Shane swallowed tightly. “I don’t like feeling. Like this. It’s so frustrating.”

Ilya hummed a single note. “Like what? Like you are thinking too much, too sensitive, too—.”

“Out of control,” Shane said. Her voice was stronger then, and it seemed to startle her. Her cheeks pinked and she dropped her voice. “Everything has been one way for so long. And now it’s out the window. And I hate it, Ilya, I fucking hate it.”

“Tell me.” He pressed. He uncrossed his legs to nudge her in the ankle. “Tell me, lyubimaya.”

Shane straightened up, staring at him with distaste all over her face. “My body has looked one way for twenty eight years, and now that’s shot to hell. I can’t even fucking skate anymore because apparently all that shiftiness throws your center of gravity. My face looks different, my day is different, everything is off kilter and I picked it. I chose it, and it sucks, and I wish it was over.”

Her breathing had turned ragged. Her voice was cracked down the center, slipping back and forth between forceful and quivery. The cadence had attracted her parents’ attention, finally, but Ilya didn’t take his eyes off of her. There wasn’t an easy answer, but he knew the right next step. He reached for her, placed a hand on her arm, and guided Shane into a hug. She went willingly, he noted; turned slack against him the moment her arms were around him, palms pressed to his back.

Ilya tucked his cheek against her head, smoothed a hand down the curve of her spine. “I am sorry.”

“What are you sorry for?” Shane said, muffled against his shirt collar. “Not your fault.”

“No, not like that.” Another drag of fingers down her back and she pressed in closer. Ilya closed his eyes. “I am sorry it is so much for you. I am sorry it makes your head do this to you. I am sorry I cannot fix it.”

“Ilya, you can’t—.”

“I know. I know.”

“I mean, only way out is through, but fuck.” Shane exhaled hard against his skin. “It sucks so fucking much.”

“I know.” Ilya pulled up then tipped his head to try catching her eye. “What would make it suck less? Right now?”

“Being fifteen pounds lighter.”

“Shane.”

“Ilya.” She huffed and straightened back up again. Her eyes didn’t meet his, but Ilya had long since learned that wasn’t anything to take offense by. It didn’t mean anything to her, so he learned not to let it mean anything to him. “Clothes.”

Ilya nodded. “You want help?”

“Yeah. I just.” Shane’s shoulders dropped. “Just, help me pick something that isn’t workout gear?”

Ilya indulged in a small smile. He lifted a hand and dragged his thumb over the smattering of freckles, made paler by winter. “We can do that.”

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” Ilya cupped her cheek. “If you would like, you can open a present early? Maybe it would help?”

Shane looked up at him. “What do you mean?”

“You want the whole answer or the hiding answer?”

A smile flitted across her features. “The whole answer.”

Ilya nodded. “Svetlana, my friend, she bought you more clothes.”

“Ah.”

“She thought you would like it because it is all like a sweater. Soft, stretchy—.”

“Knit?”

“Mhmm. Knit. It is a set, she said,” Ilya continued. “A skirt, a top, together. Wear both, wear one, does not matter.”

Shane pursed her lips. “Can I see it?”

“It is in bedroom, I can show you.”

“Please. If anything it’ll be a good distraction.” Shane took his hand, leading him out of the kitchen towards her room. The tea stayed behind, completely forgotten. Ilya didn’t say anything, only followed, keeping a half step behind her the whole way.

More here

He pressed his back to the wall, smile unfurling as he watched her preen in the mirror. “Nenaglyadnaya,” he breathed, more than a little awestruck.

Shane glanced back at him, a brow arched. “You keep saying that.”

“Only because it is true.”

“What does it mean?” Shane asked. “You can’t keep calling me something if I don’t know what it means.”

Ilya pushed off the wall and strode towards her. “It means beautiful. Most beautiful.” He bent to kiss her cheek. “You, Shane. Moya nenglyadnaya, my most beautiful.”

“Oh.” She tipped her head, pressing them temple to temple. “You can’t just say shit like that Ilya, it’s not fair.”

“No, it is very fair. I have to behave, be a good boy and keep hands off of you all night because we will be with your family, but it is so hard, Shane.” He caught her in another kiss. Warm, and deep, and promising. “You tease me like this all night, all I can do is tell you how much I love it. Fair trade, Hollander.”

“Fine,” she laughed under her breath. “Fair trade, Rozanov.”

She pushed him away, making enough room for her to turn around in front of the dresser, to face the mirror again. She sucked in a deep breath, considering herself. When Ilya crowded up behind her again, wrapped her arms around her stomach, she didn’t push away. She didn’t make a face. She leaned back against him, giving him some of her weight. He tucked his face to her neck and kissed her there, right over the steady beat of her pulse.

“Not bad, right?” Shane said to no one in particular. A faint smile curled her lips. “I didn’t think the color would look good on me.”

Ilya gave her a bland look. “Sveta has a good eye for these things. She said it would look good with your skin.”

“Yeah.”

“Mhmm, something about warm colors.” Ilya kissed her neck again. “You can ask her sometime.”

Shane smirked. “I just might.”

“So. You like it?”

Shane nodded. “Yeah. I like it.” She smoothed her hands over the front again, nodded again. “It’s, you know, a little more form-fitting than I’m used to, but it’s comfortable. I can move.”

Ilya grinned and squeezed. “Good.” She laughed as he rocked them. “Ready to go, zavarnoy krem?”

Shane squinted at him, exasperated . “What on earth, Roz?”

Ilya dropped a smacking kiss on her cheek. “Cream. Dessert cream.”

“Jesus Christ.” She rolled her eyes hard enough, Ilya could practically hear them. “You did not just call me a fucking cream puff.”

“It’s good.”

“It’s fuckin’ sappy.”

“No, it’s perfect. You are so sweet, and the color—.” Ilya squeezed and kissed her again, even though she whacked him on the arm. Not much of a fight, and Shane’s laughter said she really hadn’t been trying to. “Zhenya s’kremom, yes? Shane, with cream.”

She couldn’t help laughing at him. “I can’t believe I love you.”

“But you do,” Ilya sing-singed. “You love me so much.”

“I hate your guts.”

“You miss me so much.”

“I can’t believe we share basic genetic material.” She ruffled his hair, then patted his cheek and squeezed. “You’re the worst, Rozanov.”

“And you will kill me, Hollander,” he replied with a serious nod. “But it will be the best way to go.”

Quick small tag list of folks I know like my girl Shane (no pressure obvs but I figured it wouldn’t be totally reprehensible): @bezzia1403 @piratefalls @chunkyshane @lovemedifferentmp3 @eusuntgratie @saguaroblossom