boatsgale



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    “But…” Ilya stalls out. He conjures his sun’s face: the soft curve of skin where the corner of his eye becomes the sweep of his cheekbone, the stubble that clings to the soft end of his chin, the strong and even line of his eyebrows. “Solnyshko,” Ilya says. “It means sun, yes, but… it’s like a pet name. Sunshine. Honey. I’m calling you my sun.”

    This is mortifying in English. Christ, he should never have started this conversation. He should have shaken Shane off when he had the chance. Even as Ilya thinks this, he knows he could not have done it. He cannot deny Shanyshko anything. That has always been the problem between them. What a terrifying, awesome, horrible problem to have. Ilya would like to have this problem for the rest of his life.

    -x-
    or, Ilya and Shane talk about their love, their lives.

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    09 Mar 2026

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    It is as if he cannot bear to have his eyes on her while the words come, “Mom. I need you to know that I did really try.”

    To the ground, to the soil, he confesses, “I tried really hard. But I just can’t help it. I’m sorry.”

    Shane apologises for something that could never, ever be wrong. While his hands tremble in hers, Yuna reflects on all the little moments that led them here.

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    08 Mar 2026

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    Ilya glances at Shane, at the way the dying light is catching in his hair, refracting. At that spiderlily mouth, slightly open and curling coyly, two teeth peeked through the dark gap like an American Girl doll. At that shoulder, bare and pale and close enough to touch if Ilya just leaned forward, if he just reached out and took another liberty.

    To touch another person is to say: I know you will die, and I am doing this anyway.

    His mother used to say something like this. About painting.

    Every portrait is an act of faith, Ilyushenka. Faith and futility both.

    contrary to personal preference, ilya gets a roommate.

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    04 Mar 2026

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    “I’m putting in a transfer request to Carleton this afternoon.”

    Ilya gets off his bike and wraps his sweaty arms around Shane’s sweaty shoulders, presses their sweaty heads together and holds him tight. “Nooo, Hollander, you cannot leave me. Who will put Barrett and Marly in time out when they fuck up too many shots in a row?”

    “I’m sure Bood will do it. He loves bossing people around.”

    Bood stands up straight and salutes his captains. “I take the title with great honor. Enjoy the Ravens, Hollander—your legacy of being a chaste Victorian debutante will be remembered fondly but not carried on.”

    This snaps that last thread of Shane’s refined patience. “I can pick up girls! I have no problem getting numbers and calling them and talking!”

    Hazy smirks. “Innocent until proven guilty.”

    “I can pick people up,” Shane says again, moving off his bike and out of Ilya’s sweaty embrace. “And I don’t have to do it by concocting schemes or stripping on top of the LAX bros’ coffee table.”

    Or, after some team chirping at Shane's expense, Ilya accidentally interrupts a few of his potential dating prospects and then keeps on doing it less than accidentally

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    03 Mar 2026

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    When Paramedic Shane Hollander and EMT Hayden Pike start working nights, they expect to spend their shifts getting fucked over by Response Paramedic—and notorious asshole—Ilya Rozanov.

    Shane does end up getting fucked, just not in the way he was expecting.

    (shane just wants to do his job and ride the ambulance. ilya thinks shane should be riding him, instead.)

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    20 Feb 2026