“is there anything so undoing as a daughter”

“We are Not watching house hunters again,” Ilya said as he snatched the remote out of Shane’s hand, “You get way too upset. “

Shane huffed, “They were asking for $700k when the house had cheaply painted cabinets and laminate wood flooring, it was a crime and the realtor should be fired.”

Ilya gave a small smile with a shake of his head and started to scroll through the channels.

The two boys were next to one another on the couch, a blanket laid across them and Ilyas legs stretched in front of him, feet resting on the coffee table.

“I’m not watching one of your trashy reality shows,” Shane grumbled.

“Too late,” Ilya said as he changed the channel and put the remote down. Shane wasn’t sure what the show was about, but they had flipped to it while a group of girls ran a bikini car wash, all of them pretending to spill the soapy water on them as men leered. It looked the start to an amateur porn. Shane didn’t know why Ilya watched things like this but he knew arguing about it was futile.

He was trying to pay attention to the show when he noticed the blanket raise slightly out of the corner of his eye and when he glanced over he saw Ilyas hand was slowly moving up and down under the blanket. Shane risked a quick look at Ilya who was still staring at the tv, no sign that anything different was happening.

Shane forced himself to look back at the tv and fought against his desire to look over again. He could hear the quick jerks but he refused to give in. This became harder when a small moan escaped Ilya, Shane wasn’t sure if it was intentional or not.

Trying not to react to what was happening became harder as Shane felt a slight shift in his own pants and watched the blanket rise slightly in his lap.

He almost gave into his urge and looked over when he felt a hand resting on his inner thigh. He risked a glance at Ilya but the other boy was still focused on the tv, both of his hands under the blanket now.

Shane held his breath as the hand started sliding up his leg, goosebumps forming underneath his sweatpants. Eventually the hand got to his crotch and he felt himself harden more as the hand started softly stroking him through the fabric.

When the hand moved upwards once again Shane twitched at the feeling of soft fingers resting at his waistband. Slowly the fingers slipped underneath and wrapped around Shane’s leaking cock. A small whimper escaped Shane’s mouth but Ilya didn’t react outside of moving his hand a little faster.

Shane bit his lip to keep more noises from erupting from him.

As the women on the show continued to dance around and the men continued to ogle them, Ilya’s hands sped up. Another whine slipped out of Shane and Ilya replied with a small groan of his own.

The boys crested over at the same time, Shane biting his lip to keep from moaning Ilya’s name.

Ilya was slow to remove his hand from Shane, allowing them both a moment for their heavy breathing to settle. Once they had both come back down Ilya slipped his hands out and grabbed two tissues from the table next to him and wiped his hands.

Ilya doesn't join him for the actual breakup. Even Shane, with his compromised judgment, recognizes how crazy that would be. He stays in the car outside, which shouldn't be a problem because Shane doesn't plan on letting this drag out.

"It'll be ten, maybe fifteen minutes," Shane tells him. His hands feel sweaty around the wheel of his car so he removes them, rubbing them on his pants. "If I'm not back in twenty, you can come in."

Ilya's eyebrows quirk. "That's quick."

"I can't do a whole confrontation," Shane says. "I just need to tell him it's over. I don't - I don't owe him anything more than that."

It feels kind of true. Shane counts that as progress.

"You don't," Ilya agrees.

He takes Shane's hand, squeezing it. Shane squeezes back, the touch grounding him.

His palm still feel warm as he's knocking on Brian's door.

It takes Brian twenty-seven seconds to answer. There's a surreal moment as he opens the door that Shane braces himself, expecting some flood of emotions, only for nothing to happen.

Shane is looking at his boyfriend of eight years and he feels nothing.

Then his eyes catch on the yellowing bruise on Brian's cheek and something does stir - a hollow kind of pain at the center of his chest.

He lied about that bruise so easily, his story seemingly designed to knock Shane off-kilter.

What else has he been lying about?

"You're back," Brian says once the door is closed. He smiles. "You know, you could have let yourself in. That's why I gave you a key."

"Right." Shane reaches into his pocket, fist closing around said key. "I actually - I came to give it back."

Brian blinks. "Give it back?"

"And to break up with you," Shane adds.

It slips out and Shane immediately regrets how flippant he sounds. Brian laughs, because of course he thinks it's a joke.

"You're fucking with me, right?"

"I'm not."

Shane tries to hand him the key. Brian's arms stay stubbornly at his side, smile sliding off his face. Finally, Shane puts the key down on the counter instead.

"You're fucking with me," Brian repeats shakily. "I don't - is this because of Vegas? I thought we were moving past it. Things have been good between us since we talked it out."

It's an unpleasant reminder of how differently they've been viewing this relationship. "Things haven't been good. I haven't been happy."

"Then you're not trying hard enough." Brian takes a step towards him, hand held out. Shane steps back. "Shane." His voice turns pleading. "Please, think it through. You can't give up on us just like that."

"This isn't a spur of the moment decision," Shane says. He really didn't mean to get into it but God. Has Brian always talked to him like this, like he's a stupid kid who doesn't understand his own heart? "I haven't been happy with you for a while."

"Is this because of Rozanov?"

Irritation shoots through Shane. "Fuck off."

"It is," Brian says, eyes heated. "We didn't start having problems until you started fucking him."

"And whose idea was that?" Shane snaps. He huffs, uncertain if he's more angry at Brian for making this so difficult or at himself for getting distracted. "It doesn't matter. I wasn't happy before we opened the relationship either. It's - you're not good for me. I don't think you ever were."

Brian laughs incredulously. "I get it. You need me to be the bad guy, huh?"

"That's not what I said."

"Might as well have. If I'm so awful, what does that make you? Why would you choose to be with someone who apparently makes you so miserable?"

"I was sixteen." Shane feels his shoulder hunching, feels the way he's making himself smaller, and forces himself to straighten. "I didn't know any better. You took advantage of that."

Brian goes still. "You're kidding me. That's your excuse?"

Shane's stomach twists. "It's not a fucking excuse."

"I didn't even know your age."

It didn't stop you once you found out, Shane almost responds. He can't. He feels exhausted all of a sudden, imagining going through every shitty thing Brian has done, having to argue every point and listen to Brian try to minimize it or pretend there wasn't any harm.

Shane doesn't want to do any of that. He just wants to get out of here.

He wants to see Ilya.

"I'm not gonna do this with you," he says. "It's over. We're broken up. Have a nice life, or whatever."

He turns to leave and Brian grabs his arm. Shane shakes him off unthinkingly and Brian flinches back at the force of it.

"Shane." Brian's demeanor has shifted completely, voice gone soft, eyes pleading. "Please. I can't lose you."

It's incredibly unkind, but Shane can't help but think he's being pathetic.

"I've hurt you," Brian continues, taking Shane's hesitation as some sign of his willingness to listen. "I understand. I never meant to, but I did and I'd do anything to make it up to you."

He's not even saying sorry. All of these theatrics and Brian can't even be bothered to apologize. Shane wonders if he even realizes it.

He shouldn't be entertaining this. He's not actually gonna forgive Brian. And still, "You could start by telling me the truth."

"The truth?" Brian echoes.

"How you really got that bruise," Shane suggests mildly. "Why you came to Vegas. Why you even suggested an open relationship in the first place, when you were fucking other people already."

He doesn't mean to let that last question slip but it's been eating at him since Rose suggested the possibility. He takes no pleasure in seeing Brian's face pale and knowing that she was right.

"Who have you been talking to?"

Shane wants to punch something. He wants to throw up. He didn't think it was possible for him to care so much when he doesn't even want Brian anymore, but it hurts all the same.

Rose was wrong. Shane is stupid. Naive and too trusting for his own good.

"It didn't mean anything," Brian is saying. His voice sounds far away. "It was a moment of weakness. You're the only one I love, the only one I've ever loved."

A sharp knock thankfully interrupts him. Before either of them can react the (apparently unlocked) door swings open.

"It's been twenty minutes," Ilya says. He shoots Brian a dismissive glance before focusing his attention on Shane. "Are you finished?"

Shane has never been happier to see him. "Yeah. Yeah, let's go."

"You can't be serious," Brian says weakly.

Shane ignores him. He reaches the door, allows Ilya to place his hand on the small of his back and guide him past the threshold.

Brian doesn't protests again. Maybe it's finally sinking in for him that it's useless. Maybe seeing Shane with Ilya made him stop wanting to try. Or maybe he fucking spontaneously combusted.