fuck u-up

anyway, it's the end of the semester and shane is surprised when ilya wants to take him out to a nice dinner to celebrate passing their final exams. the place ilya picks is way out of their price range and a big departure from their usual haunts of the campus cafeteria and the cheap sushi place around the corner. but ilya insists he saved up enough money from his part-time job working at the car garage, so they both put on clean button-up shirts and slacks and they sit at a corner table of this fancy restaurant, drenched by mood lighting and surrounded by couples on dates.

the dollar amounts nearly send shane into panic spiral - what the hell is market price?? - so he scrambles to pick the cheapest dish on the menu - spring salad for a whopping $12 - but ilya shakes his head and orders steak frites for himself and a lemon-glazed salmon with seasonal vegetables plate for shane, ignores shane's protests and also orders a nice, not too overly expensive, but still classy bottle of white wine as well. 

"it is our anniversary," ilya smiles at the server. places his palm over shane's hand on the table and squeezes. shane's heart stutters. "officially one month today."

oh. ilya must be doing a bit. it's common knowledge that if you say it's a special occasion, restaurants will give you free shit. that must be why ilya is staring at him all moony-eyed and dopey. 

"yes." shane plays along and squeezes ilya's hand back. plasters on a smile, hopes the entire restaurant can't hear his heart beating out of his chest. "we are... dating."

the server gushing awww you two are such a cute couple and ilya saying i know right? we are in love twists like a knife in shane's gut because no, they are not together, ilya will never see him as anything more than a platonic friend, this is all for show, but hey at least they get free dessert out of the entire ruse, right?

dinner is enjoyable because it's impossible for shane not to have fun with ilya, despite the false circumstances. the food is good too, the salmon ilya picked for him cooked to perfection. ilya polishes off half the wine bottle like it's water while shane is half a glass of wine and a complimentary flute of bubbly champagne deep, skin warm and cheeks flushed. they feed each other bites of (free) chocolate lava cake but it's all fake, all an act to show they're a couple, and shane isn't tipsy enough to delude himself into thinking the entire night was a real date. he just can't. 

so when ilya gently taps his shoe against shane's under the table after the check is paid and murmurs happy anniversary, baby –  shane surprises himself by bursting into tears.

"what is wrong?" ilya asks panickily, reaching over the table to press the back of his hand on shane's forehead. "are you sick? i knew it, the champagne is too strong for your weak stomach–"

"don't be cruel," shane whispers. leans back in his chair, doesn't meet ilya's eyes. "i don't think i can handle it." 

"cruel?" ilya sounds confused. "but you know you are lightweight. i have seen you throw up from taking one shot of vodka."

"not that," shane shakes his head. "i mean about tonight. i don't think i can pretend anymore, i can't pretend we're on a date and that we're more than friends and that this is nothing more than a funny joke to you so we can get free stuff and, and–" hiccups. "i can't–i know you don't see me in that way so let's just pretend nothing happened and go back ho– back to our dorm," he finishes lamely.

silence. a beat. shane wishes a sinkhole would open up and swallow him whole so he can be anywhere but here. instead, ilya rolls his eyes and lets out a loud sigh. 

"shane," he says calmly, "you idiot. this is a date. we are dating. you are my boyfriend."

boyfriend? shane's brain short circuits. perhaps the hypothetical sinkhole did open up and he is now in a parallel dimension.

"what."

"shane." ilya shakes his head, fondly exasperated. "i held your hand the entire night. do you think i hold hands with all my friends?"

"but– 

"we also do everything together."

"yeah, but–"

"we kiss each other on the lips all the time."

"platonically, sure–"

"we jerk off in the same room."

"that doesn't mean–"

"i suck your dick. many times."

"same, but–"

"there are two beds in our room, but we sleep in the same bed every night."

"because the heat is broken and your body is like a furnace–"

"i like spending every minute of my day with you and waking up next to you and hearing you talk about tadpoles and i like it when you yell at me to pick my socks up from the floor and you are so pretty and i love your freckles and you are my favourite person and i do not want to be with anyone else but you." 

if shane doesn't already have tears in his eyes, then he is definitely having a full-on breakdown right now. but in a good way?

"oh."

ilya stands up and pulls shane out of his seat towards to door. presses a kiss on shane's temple. "let's go, lover. i will explain more on the way home."

home. shane's heart melts into a gooey mess. "ew ilya. don't say lover, that's gross," he groans, but still intertwines his fingers with ilya's. "but boyfriend... does have a nice to ring to it, though."

"yes," ilya says solemnly, "you are my butt boyfriend. because i want to fuck you in the–"