(a little canon divergence; the year in between the cottage and ilya moving to ottawa)
The leaves start to change and Ilya and Svetlana go dancing. They hop from bar to bar and Svetlana pretends she doesn't notice the way Ilya checks his phone every five minutes, smiling as he furiously types back and then asks her to repeat what she just said. She is patient, so she does.
They dance closely and fluidly, their bodies so familiar to the other's, and when Ilya's attention is not on his phone, it is completely on her. It is this Ilya she loves so fiercely; the way his energy moves outwards, always giving more than he takes— the way he drags her out onto the dancefloor, something in how he grips her hand that somehow says both I'm here and thank you.
They tired of dancing but not of the night, and find a hot dog stand to eat at, sipping on a shared drink and dripping mustard over the sidewalk. They decide to walk back, even though they've found themselves rather far from home.
They stumble back into Ilya's apartment, hanging onto each other and laughing over some shared joke from their childhood. Svetlana falls into bed giggling. Ilya playfully shakes her, reminds her she is going to be really upset if she falls asleep without taking her makeup off, so she asks him to do it for her, half-joking, and of course he agrees. He messily runs a makeup remover wipe over her face, trying to hold her still as she laughs and laughs and laughs.
She is only half awake when Ilya slips out of the bed to call someone in the other room. She blissfully listens to his soft voice and occassional giggles, too quiet to hear the words but just loud enough to hear the joy in them. When he comes back, she pretends to be asleep.
The next morning, Ilya is up first. He rolls over and watches the steady rise and fall of Svetlana's sleeping body. He had made sure Shane was okay with them still sleeping in the same bed, had asked him over and over and watched for any flicker of doubt or uncertainty, and when he had found none, he was overwhelmed with the feeling of falling even more impossibly in love, feeling so trusted and believed. But now he wakes up next to his beautiful Svetlana— no, not his anymore— he wakes up to her and realizes he can never wake up next to anyone not-Shane ever again for as long as he lives. Nothing could possibly compare.
Ilya takes a shower and dresses, then sits on the edge of the bed. He touches Svetlana's shoulder softly, runs his hand up and down, up and down. Her eyes flicker open and she smiles. He asks her how she slept, and then explains that this is the last time they can sleep in the same bed. She laughs sofly, sighs and stretches her arms above her like a cat.
"I was wondering when this was going to happen. So are you going to tell me about him?"
They put on coats and scarves and grab coffee at the cafe down the street, taking it to-go and strolling around the neighborhood. Ilya makes her guess who it is, and stops dead in his tracks when she gets it right on the first try. Svetlana looks just as shocked though, having thought surely this was some ridiculous theory of hers.
She throws her head back in laughter and takes his arm, and they walk like this as he tells her everything, and his cheeks hurt from laughing by the end of it.
Later, Shane receives a photo of Ilya and Svetlana, a selfie, the two of them bundled up in scarves and smiling with scrunched eyes and full teeth. The accompanying message just says svetlana says hi.
For all the fear of letting people in, for the jealousy harbored for this beautiful woman, for all the intimidating pressure of making this real, Shane stares at this picture and feel tears prickle at the edges of his eyes— so in love and thinking thank god, thank god there are others who love him, thank god I am not alone in it.
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