(14. Boyfriend, 826 words) @hollanovmicrofic
If Ilya’s being honest with himself, he never pictured what it’d look like to have a long-term relationship. His life always felt like it was moving too fast in order to settle down, he never considered people he hooked up with to be someone who’d stick around longer than the sheets cooling. Even with Svetlana, when they were consistently sleeping with one another, a part of him wondered if he’d just wake up one day and she’d stop messaging him. That she’d stop caring. Relationships always felt like something out of reach, something he convinced himself he wasn’t interested in. He was too busy, too lazy, too fussy—why have one of something when he could have many? Too unlovable. Too scared.
He never pictured being someone’s boyfriend because he didn’t consider himself someone who could be good at it. In turn, who would want to be with someone like him? Who would want to be his girlfriend or boyfriend when they peeled back the mask he always wore and saw what was underneath? A gruesome painting hidden in someone’s attic. A haunted house. Something broken.
Shane, as his boyfriend, has never once looked at him like that.
Shane never treats him like he’s too much—no matter what emotion he might be embracing. Even if it’s something wholeheartedly ridiculous.
Ilya lifts his foot in the air as he stands on the patio, a huff leaving his lips as he tries to squint in the sun to see the damage. This is what he gets for caring about the variety of animals that live around the cottage—he’s pretty sure a dog would never do this to him but—
A frog ribbits from where Ilya set it on a rock near the lake before jumping right in. He narrows his eyes at it, “Yes, you are welcome.”
“Are you arguing with that frog again?”
Ilya turns his head to look up at his boyfriend, leaning his hip against one of the patio chairs because he doesn’t want to put his foot down. “No.” Then, “He keeps getting stuck in flower pot.”
Shane smiles a little, “Maybe he wants to live there, Ilya.”
“He’s too fat to live there, Shane. Ribbits all night in distress.”
“Oh, so you speak frog now?”
Ilya crinkles his nose, waving his hand at him, “Well no more rescues because now I’m injured.”
Shane gives him a onceover before taking a few steps closer, attempting to figure out what he’s being dramatic about, “I’ll call the paramedics immediately.”
“There is large splinter in my foot.” Ilya whines, bending his knee to try and get a good look at the pad of his foot again.
He nearly loses his balance and Shane’s hand comes down on his waist to steady him, “Alright, c’mon. Let’s go inside and take a look.”
Shane snorts, “Come on. Big baby.” But his voice is warm and soothing as his hand slides down Ilya’s spine and back up to massage the muscles near his shoulders.
“Yes,” Ilya agrees, wobbling inside and making his way to the couch. He plops into the corner, waiting for Shane to come back with the first-aid kit. “Your big baby.”
His boyfriend hooks his fingers around Ilya’s chin, drawing him into a soft kiss that confirms that statement before he sits on the coffee table. He digs through the first-aid kit for tweezers before picking Ilya’s ankle up and examining his foot. He squints at his skin, drawing his thumb down the arch in one fluid motion—
And Ilya nearly kicks him, “Ostanavlivat'sya.” He huffs.
Shane grins— “Stop? Are you ticklish here and never told me?”
“I’m about to lose my foot and this is how I am treated?”
A chuckle sounds out of Shane’s throat, “Oh my god.” He doesn’t tickle him again but he does hold his foot closer, trying to find the splinter Ilya’s talking about. Then… “Okay here…” He purses his lips, “You know what? You’re right, we mise well just amputate. Can’t be saved.”
Ilya covers his face with one hand, “I knew it. Just—ouch!” Shane pulls the splinter right out, a smug look on his face when Ilya’s gaze falls to him again.
“This is the tiniest splinter I have ever seen.”
“Lzhets,” Ilya shoves at Shane’s knee with his other foot. “Good thing you are not real doctor, terrible bedside manner.”
Shane smirks, setting the tweezers down in the first-aid lid. He does grab a small antiseptic wipe and very gently (with much care and affection that’s obvious in his hands) cleans where the splinter was before pressing a kiss to the top of Ilya’s foot.
“Don’t need a band-aid, I think.” Shane raises his eyebrows, closing the first-aid box.
Ilya purses his lips, “Think the kisses have healed me, maybe one more.” He hooks his fingers onto Shane’s shirt, tugging until he’s leaning over him on the couch, their lips joining in a smile.
annaxmalina
izzy806
baratheonpilled
jbbartram-illu
stormborns
titsay
