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    Summary

    He’s sleepy, and he knows in later hours that’s what he’ll chalk it up to, as he does everything else, just with varied, stupid excuses. He’s tired now, he’s exhausted, he’s just woke up, and he’s kissing him—peppering his cheeks and lips and neck with light pecks—he takes a backseat in the world around him, watches his own actions like a motion picture: he’s kissing him, he’s loving him, he doesn’t care if he’s not supposed to love him because right now he does and it doesn’t matter, he doesn’t care if this isn’t who he’s supposed to be.

    He is distantly aware, as he finishes lavishing Rozanov’s face with kisses, that his eyes are wet and hurting, and he’s choking on a sniffle. He doesn’t cry often, but he cries easily, and it feels bad while tears slip down his cheeks and onto Ilya’s skin, and he hates himself for it, hates himself for being this weak, this pathetic, this completely unable to keep his shit together.

    Please. Just a little longer.

    Or: Shane has spent his whole life running forward, and Ilya Rozanov is the first time he's ever wanted to stay still.
    or or: A study on Shane Hollander and his fear of loving himself.

    Language:
    English
    Words:
    7,018
    Chapters:
    1/1
    Comments:
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    Kudos:
    126
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