Chapter Text
Bond; A connection between two things.
One years later
Two years later
Three years later
Nearly four years have past, and the world has changed. Included in this change is Shane, who went back to university. He’s less than a semester from graduating, and its odd. In a way, seeking education once more has been like a therapy for him. He didn’t feel the same shame he has felt when referring to the racism he face throughout his life, including Japan. Though, he kept Ilya a secret. He never mentioned the man, if someone brought him up he’d reply with ‘who?’.
If fate wanted the two back together, it would have to work it’s magic. Shane wasn’t about to try and force his way back into the man’s life, it felt like cheating. Instead, he played dumb. It worked, shockingly very well. After awhile, people learnt to not ask him about millionaire business men, and would simply go by company names. Life is simpler now, and that is the way Shane likes it.
However, late at night this is not the case. When he lays in his bed,—-in an apartment that he bought with Ilya’s money—-his mind wanders to the man. Spending the night, he thinks of his hands gracefully touching Shane’s skin, kissing every part of his body. Other times, he thinks about Ilya laying next to him. Dreams that the man is sleeping beside him, warming the other part of his bed. Of course, these are all just dreams, figments of his imagination.
Ilya Rozanov cannot remember the last time he had sex, let alone the last time he enjoyed it. Actually, he could, he would proudly declare that the best sex he had was with Shane Hollander. However, that was now four years ago at least.
1110 days, that is how long it has been since he last saw Shane. His heart burns in his chest, its a familiar burn. It feels like liquor that burns his throat, and then turns into an exciting buzz. Though, the burn in Ilya’s heart will not turn into any exciting buzz. Instead, it will fester. It will wonder about would could’ve been, and if they will ever meet again. Embarrassingly, the first year Ilya had attempted to stage a meeting. None of these staged meetings ever worked out, as if fate was punishing him.
Presently, his life consists of sitting in his office all day and drinking. A few weeks ago, he served the woman he married divorce papers. He never loved her, he barely knew her. She was a shadow always in the background, feeding off his credit cards and basic human decency. He is sick of it.
If anything, he hoped Sasha would return once more. He prays that the man will come back and expose his nasty secrets to the world, just so that he can then loudly declare the owner of his heart. But, Ilya knows this is not possible, it never will be. Sasha was murdered, not sent my him, but by some other higher-up at the company. Svetlana’s voice when she told him the news still rings clear in his head, alongside the small outrage of Sasha’s family when Ilya did nit appear at the funeral.
And so, he stares out his office window. His eyes scan the streets below, taking in the height and amount of people outside. The sun as long set, and yet he sits here, waiting. He clutches a glass of vodka in his hand, and takes hasty sips of it. On nights like these, he lets himself think about Shane. Let’s his hand slip below his pant line and help the growing mass in his underwear. Then, when he has cum, he thinks about how badly he misses the man.
He misses the way Shane smells, and his soft hair. He misses his freckles that line his cheeks and nose, like small love spots for Ilya to kiss at. There is an aspect of curiosity too, if Shane was here now. Would Shane sit in his lap, letting Ilya cuddle and hold him? Or would he still insist on leaving, not wanting to break the invisible wall they are somehow created together. The thoughts start out sweet, then turn into dread when Ilya realizes this is not possible.
The coffee on campus sucks, everyone knows it. As such, Shane makes the active choice to go elsewhere. He had just finished his morning class, and now has a five hour gap in his time table. Honestly, he just needs coffee because he is getting older and the long days and nights take a toll on him. The stress from the assignments and tests do not help this either.
As such, he finds himself waiting in line at a coffee shop just out of the university district. This cafe in particular has yet to be renovated, meaning it keeps its 90s-2000s looks. The entire cafe is made of shades of brown, with hints of deep yellow. On the walls are depictions of coffee, painted on which makes them look magical in a way. What makes the cafe nice though, is the lack of people. Most students don’t come to this cafe because there are bigger coffee shops nearby, and honestly, a bit more reliable.
When Shane reached the front of the line, he placed his order. It’s the same as alway, a regular coffee, with a bit of milk and sugar. He also gets a cheese and ham sandwich, warms up obviously. Then, he moves around the counter, and pulls out his phone. The wait is usually around five minutes, and he has grown to expect that with only one person working sometimes the wait is longer. As he checks his emails, the door rings signalling someone has entered. Shane doesn’t bother looking up, he is much too busy checking emails.
He hears footsteps coming close to him, which causes him to finally look up. “Hollander?” A familiar voice asks.
Svetlana has a new addiction, one that Rose has gotten sick of and has passed onto Ilya. This addiction happens to be going to random small coffee shops.The entire thing is odd, because Svetlana isn’t a coffee drinker. For the many years Ilya has known her, she has sworn off coffee. She would make bold claims that the caffeine ages her, and leads to nothing but bad breath. When she goes she just sits, or orders tea.
And, that is how Ilya ends up being dragged half across the city on his day off. He is ushered into a car by Svetlana, and then receives a hail-hearted apology text from Rose. Instantly, he knew that he was about to spend the afternoon taking Svetlana from cafe to cafe. Ilya can’t lie, he had no other plans for today. He doesn’t work out on the day he has off, instead he just lays around. Sometimes, he relives his Russian life and tunes into Russian channels on TV. A few cartoons from his childhood usually appear.
“How is Rose?” Ilya asks, attempting to break the silence in the car.
Svetlana looks up from her phone, and smiles. “Amazing, beautiful, моя принцесса.” She replies, her hair moving with her.
Ilya doesn’t get it. Svetlana and Rose somehow work, but he and Shane don't? Svetlana messes up too, and yet Rose forgives her. Ilya knows the entire Sasha thing was wrong, he knows Shane also needed space. However, it’s hard. It’s hard because it means he himself is the problem, and that hurts. He tries not to think about that, when it all first went down, that’s all that consumed him. There were many nights Svetlana ended up talking Ilya off an edge, ensuring he knew how loved he is and that flaws make us human. He doesn’t blame Shane, he never could. It isn’t his fault that Ilya reacted in such a way, he knows it’s genetic.
The car drives them across the city, and they stop in front of a small cafe. The signage is old, well-kept but old. Svetlana is practically jumping with excitement, and exits the car first. Ilya follows closely behind her.
When they enter, the smell of coffee instantly hits Ilya. The smell of a fresh roast, mixed in with the smell of melting cheese and warm ham. It makes his mouth water slightly, and reminds him of the few times he had a normal breakfast. Svetlana approaches the cashier, and as she orders Ilya looks around.
As he turns to his right, he sees him. The same black hair, freckled face. Shane Hollander, in the flesh. Ilya marches over, his feet hitting against the grown. Shane looks up from his phone, his eyes hold the same softness as years ago.
“Hollander?”
Fate is a funny thing, working in ways that no one can explain. If there was any place Shane expected to run into Ilya again, it wouldn’t be a cafe. Yet, here he stands. He has a desperate expression on his face, and bites his lower lip slightly. His icy blue eyes are full of tension, and desire.
“Ilya?” Shane asks, his phone no longer his main concern.
Ilya clears his throat, and sticks out a hand. “I’m Ilya Rozanov.” He introduces.
It takes a second, but Shane understands and sticks a hand out to shake Ilya’s. “I’m Shane Hollander.” He replies, firmly grasping Ilya’s hand.
“Would you like to get drink together?” Ilya asks, now removing his hand from Shane’s.
“I’d love to.”
Two years later
“Fuck, Shane.” Ilya groans, his hips thrusting forward.
The sun is barely peaking through the window, but the two lovers are already busy. Morning sex happens to be a rare occurrence, neither wanting to wake the other up. Sometimes though, they wake up together. On those few days, they can’t help themselves.
Ilya thrusts into Shane, they are side by side. He kisses at the man’s neck, and playfully bites it too. Both his arms are wrapped around Shane, as if he is trying to breed the man’s hole. He felt like a wolf in heat, the way his body kept pushing into Shane. Ilya whispers his cock would form a knot, that way he could make Shane stay on it for as long as possible.
Both men cum, and Ilya slowly removes himself from Shane. Shane turns over to face him fully, kissing Ilya’s chest.
“Breakfast?” Ilya asks, and Shane gently stops kissing him, replying with a ‘mm’ noise.
They separate and Shane watches as his boyfriend puts on his pyjama pants, typing the string. Ilya kisses his forehead before heading downstairs, leaving him alone in the bed. Shane flips over again and looks at the clock, it’s still early. He knows he should shower, but also it’s too early for him to want to do anything else.
As he lays in the bed, he thinks about how anti-climatic their relationship had been. How really, then getting back together has been almost boring. It’s weird, but Shane likes that it turned out this way. They have lover coils, and sometimes Ilya—-never Shane—-has to sleep in the guest room. Really, for the most part they are happy. Shane doesn’t need drama or to break his heart to prove his love for Ilya, and vice versa. The few years they had been apart was more than enough for both of them.
Shane’s eyes move from the clock to the small golden invite in the bedside, his hand reaches for it. Their wedding invite, that is still fresh to the touch. So much so, Shane still forgets that Ilya isn’t just his boyfriend anymore. It doesn’t help that his ring was currently being resized, so that reminder is non-existent.
“I call breakfast.” Ilya claims, now reappearing in the doorway.
“I’m too tired to walk.” Shane groans, and before he can do anything else Ilya has picked him up into his arms.
“I love you.” Ilya whispers, walking out of the room with Shane in his arms.
“I love you too.”