But the plane was on fire, and Ilya didn’t have time to think. He wrote what was in his terrified heart: 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. He let his mind take him away from the nightmare happening around him and back to a rink parking lot in Saskatchewan. Ilya couldn’t remember what Shane had said, exactly, that first time they’d met. He only remembered freckles splashed over rosy red cheeks. He remembered Shane’s hand being unfairly warm when he shook it. He remembered being studied by dark, earnest eyes. It was entirely possible that Ilya had lost his heart in that moment. It took his brain a long time to catch up, but his heart had known right away. He wished Shane could respond. He hated thinking about Shane seeing these messages... after. He’d keep them forever. Ilya knew he would. Fuck. He had to say something really good. 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.
He did. Ilya only had vague ideas of the afterlife and any gods who may be waiting there, but he believed his soul would stay with Shane, however it could. He believed the people you loved stayed with you until it was your time to go. He often felt his mother with him, and he knew he’d do the same for Shane. And maybe he’d see his mother again soon. That was a nice thought. Ilya pressed his palm to his chest, feeling the crucifix pendant through the fabric of his shirt. He prayed, quietly and with no real structure. He murmured requests for whoever was listening to keep Shane safe, to let him live a long, happy life. — The Long Game, Rachel Reid.
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