Steph2481
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Shane does not pull away, does not speak, does not kiss him again, just holds him like it is easier than letting him go, rocking them slowly back and forth on the edge of the mattress. There is a damp patch on his very nice new shirt where Ilya has failed to swallow back his tears, but he is cradling Ilya to him, anyway, like it doesn’t matter. Like it costs him nothing to do it.
Nobody has touched Ilya this way in a very, very long time. He had forgotten that it was possible to be handled with care—to be treated like a breakable object, instead of a broken one.OR: What happened in the hotel room after the Tampa Bay All-Stars Game.
Bookmarked by Steph2481
17 Feb 2026
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Summary
Shane pulls back, carefully cradling Ilya’s face. “Maybe we shouldn’t.”
“You don’t want to?” Ilya’s eyes are bottomless; swimming with grief. He says it like he really means, You don’t want me?
“That isn’t what I mean,” Shane says gently, brushing his thumb over Ilya’s cheekbone. Ilya’s eyes flutter shut, as if being treated so tenderly causes him physical pain. Like he isn’t used to it. “You’re hurting. I don’t want you to regret it in the morning.”
Ilya’s eyes open. “I have never regretted a moment with you.”
*
Or: the missing hotel room scene in Florida after Shane comforts Ilya.
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Bookmarked by Steph2481
17 Feb 2026