Ilya sat on the bed, a breakfast tray covered in paper over his lap. Shane was pressed into his back, so close their breathing had no choice but to sync.
Ilya licked another letter and sealed it closed. "Are you sure you don't want to do this. It is fun." His tone was somber, but Shane knew he meant it. He just didn't have the energy to express himself at the moment.
"No way!" Shane replied quickly, handing a de-backed stamp to Ilya on his finger. "I have tasted nothing grosser in my life."
Ilya delicately took the stamp and positioned it in the right-hand corner before placing the letter into the small pile forming. "I know that is not true."
Shane handed him another letters. "This cannot be the intended way to seal mail. Who decided that licking them closed was a good mechanism? Also why would I want to open something someone has licked?"
"You can just use water, but that is also no fun." Ilya picked up the last letter before Shane could hand it to him. On the back of the envelope, where Ilya had labeled to whom each letter belonged, was written 'свобода' "This one doesn't need to be sealed. It is for you."
Shane took the envelope slowly from Ilya's hand and tilted to give him a slow kiss. "Should I open it now or later?"
"Later. Please."
Shane leaned over to tuck the letter onto his night stand. "Okay."
The released pressure on Shane's stomach made him unfortunately aware of the time, and thus a different need. He unwrapped his legs from where they bracketed Ilya's and crawled off the bed.
"I need to make dinner." Shane's hands dragged across Ilya's shoulder, unwilling to stop touching his husband completely yet. "Do you want me to do the addresses or bring the phone book in here?" (After the first emergency baby sitting request they'd taken to keeping all the kids' addresses in written form).
Ilya raised up his hands to caress Shane's arm and give his husband more mobility. "Bring it in here?"
Shane nodded once. Their hands were locked at the wrists, causal and ardent. He mourned the loss of their last point of contact as he pulled away towards the kitchen.
"Jinx," replied Shane, returning to the bedroom with a tray of steaming rice and vegetables. "I'll switch with you."
Ilya gave Shane a small smile and held out his tray of addressed letters."I think maybe I should do this more often…" Ilya whispered. "It helped."
Shane's chest could strangle his heart. He placed the food-tray on the bed and took the letter-tray from Ilya's hands, then leaned forward for a kiss. Ilya eyes were red, but he wasn't actively crying. He sat up to capture Shane's offered kiss. When they pulled apart Shane glanced down at the tray in his hands to find a note on the very top of the stack of letters, it read: 'you take such good care of me, thank you.' It didn't help Shane's chest.
"I'm going to put this in the kitchen and grab my dinner." Shane said quickly. He'd cry once the bedroom door shut behind him.
-
That evening Shane double checked the addresses and took all the letters to the mail box. Ilya was asleep when he settled down next to him and started reading his own letter. It was nothing he didn't already know, that Ilya loved him, that he always wished he could be more for Shane despite Shane's protests, that Ilya loved his life and wasn't going anywhere. Shane cried anyway.
-
After a few days Shane called Jenny Figs again to make sure the letters had all arrived in one piece. Another few days after that Shane received a call back to ask if he'd go check his own mailbox.
Shane plopped down onto Ilya's resting form. "You should get up."
Ilya's blinked open. He hadn't been asleep. "Why?"
"I've been told to check the mail."
"I think you should be the one to get it."
Ilya ran his fingers through Shane's forming bangs. Shane noted he probably needed a hair cut. "I would, but I'm a little trapped."
Shane shoved his arms under Ilya's back, and pressed his face into his husband's chest. "Five more minutes."
-
Inside the mailbox was a stack of papers weighed down by an assortment of almost a dozen colorfully painted rocks. Ilya dragged the rocks out first, cradling them like precious eggs in his palms. "Shane! They're the kids."
Sure enough, scrawled by an adult on the bottom of each rock was a name of one of the kids Ilya had sent letters to. There was even a tiny pebble painted green for the new baby Sterns. She was too younger to have painted it herself, Danny Sterns or his wife Figgy must have painted it for her. "That's cute."
"ITS ADORABLE." Ilya slid the rocks into his pockets and pulled out the stack of papers. They were the kids attempts at return letters, so mostly drawings with big words scrawled on the top. Ilya flicked though the stake, too eager to take each one in fully. "Look there is a dog drawn on this one! It's labeled Ayna. Awe, I will need to teach Harper the correct spelling. It says get well soon on the back with me drawn sick!"
Shane noted the distinct lack of envelopes, or any type of real postage. "Isn't opening someone's mailbox a felony?"
Ilya's head slowly turned to silently admonish Shane with his eyes. Shane shut up. He figured the crimes against him for faking his death and running away would far out weigh a few kids opening a mail box.
Shane let his gaze fall indulgently to Ilya's face as he smiled at each new letter he uncovered.
"Shane, look. Taylor did three! Three!"
Now that he thought of it, Ilya hadn't shed a single tear all day.
Part 20 -> Part 21 -> Part 22
janainaart
snowghoul
origamiaround
yousharknotpass
annaxmalina
jacobvanloon
dailybridgerton
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