bless me anyway

Shoutout to Connor Storrie Updates for the screen grabs!

but shane can’t stop thinking about it. he rolls it around in his head, such a sweet name for such a sweet boy. that night, he has ilya sit across from him on the bed, tells him to stay still. shane’s looking at him intently, brow furrowed, the lines of his face drawn tight, he’s so focused. ilya’s half laughing when shane takes ilya’s face in his hands, —“so serious my love,”— but the amusement dies in his throat when shane presses a kiss to ilya’s forehead, murmurs ilyusha, so quietly at first he’s sure he’s only imagined it. but then shane moves to the right side of his face, ghosts a kiss against the shell of his ear, ilyusha. again, beneath his left eye, ilyusha. his nose, ilyusha. his trembling mouth, ilyusha. his name from another life, a past of burned bridges, a childhood cut short.

“Baby, what time is it?”

“Huh? Hold on, baby, I can’t hear you. Fuck, it’s loud in here.”

“Fuck, Ilya, yes, like that, baby, just like that, fuck—“

“Ilya, what’s— Are you crying? What’s wrong, baby, it’s okay, it’s— What’s wrong? Please, tell me, what’s wrong?”

“Fuckin’ A, Rozanov! Yes, baby! Fuck, that was a good one. C’mere.”

“Mm, baby, your feet are cold. Ah! Ilya, get your cold fucking feet off me. Put some socks on. Jesus.”

“Hold on, I’ll ask him— Baby, my mom wants to know if steak is good for dinner?”

“Your hair is so fluffy today. No, no, come back, let me— Yes. Thank you, baby.”

“Ilyusha. My baby. Ilyusha. You’re so pretty. Don’t laugh! I’m being serious!”

“You’re gonna have to skate better than that to beat me in the scoring race, baby, I’m locked in this season.”

“Fuck, baby, you’re burning up. No, asshole, I mean you’re sick. You can’t go to practice like this, don’t be fucking stupid.”

“Uh, just a beer, please. Thank you, baby, that’s perfect.”

“Ilya, baby, you want a pretzel?”