sometime in the final boston year shane climbs into ilya's lap on his big blue couch, kissing him, and ilya breaks the kiss for a moment to say, "ha—bad memories." and shane doesn't understand what he means for a moment, then remembers this position, this couch cushion, ilya's face as shane clambered off his legs and said I can't—I can't do this.
"oh god," shane says. he takes ilya's face in his hands and leans their foreheads together. "I'm—"
"no, don't apologise. it was joke. I shouldn't have said."
"no, I'm glad you did." shane skims his thumbs under ilya's eyes. "even if you've forgiven me for it, it doesn't mean the memories will just... go away." ilya hums, tilts his chin up to kiss shane softly. shane lets him, then pulls away to look him in the eye. "but I'm here now." and to illustrate this he presses himself down harder into ilya's lap. ilya fake-groans under his weight and shane grins, then softens again. he firms his grip on ilya's face. "I'm not going anywhere this time," he says clearly. "or ever again."
ilya's eyes get shiny so fast. he looks away from shane, hands moving over and squeezing shane's hips and thighs like he needs something to do with them. to let something out. "good," he says finally, and shane smiles, nods.
"good," he says. he smushes the tips of their noses together, which makes ilya smile and push back. "do you still wanna have sex here?"
"oh. yes." ilya nods, face suddenly serious. shane grins giddily. "I will not let this one thing stop me from enjoying my couch. mm? I will—how do you say—take it back."
"reclaim it." shane is laughing.
"yes, i will reclaim it. by making new memories." he gives shane a little shake. "with you."
"you're silly," shane says, already reaching for the waistband of ilya's sweats. "but that can definitely be arranged."
