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“You will find that out too.” I move to the small table near the window, where I left a plate of snacks the other day. I pick a cookie and hold it out to him. “But first, sit with me.”
He eyes the cookie, then me. “You’re bribing me with sweets now?”
“Is it working?”
He smiles. He does that so often lately. There was a time when I would’ve gotten down on my knees and begged for just one of those precious smiles. Just one, and I would’ve treasured it for the rest of my life. But now he gives them to me so freely.
He takes the cookie and bites into it. “They’re good,” he admits.
“I know.” I settle onto the floor, my back against the wall, and pat the space beside me. “Come here.”
He hesitates, but eventually he lowers himself down next to me so that our shoulders brush. I pick up another cookie and hold it to his lips. He rolls his eyes and opens his mouth, letting me feed it to him. His teeth graze my fingers, and I feel the contact all the way down my spine and my dick.
“So are you going to tell me what this is about?” He huffs, but there’s no real annoyance in it. I let myself enjoy the sight of him here, in my space, wearing my clothes, eating something I made for him.
“Have you ever been in a relationship?” I ask out of nowhere.
Ilya’s eyebrows lift. He swallows the cookie and shrugs. “No. Relationships are stupid.”
“Stupid how?”
“They’re just people pretending they own each other because they’re scared of being alone.” He picks at a loose thread on my shirt. “It’s all performance. You say the right things, do the right things, and then one day someone gets bored or finds a better option and it all falls apart anyway.”
“That’s cynical, even for you.”
“It’s realistic.” He glances at me. “Why? Are you taking a survey?”
I shake my head slowly, my heart starting to pound harder than I’d like. “No. I just… I’ve never been in one either.”
“Good for you. You’re not missing anything.”
I take a breath, steadying myself. “But I want to be.”
Ilya goes completely still, then his eyes snap to mine, suspicious. “What?”
“I want to be in a relationship,” I repeat, keeping my voice even.
His jaw tightens. “With who?”
“Ilya—”
“Are you bored of me already? Found someone more interesting to entertain yourself with? Is that why you dragged me all the way here? So you could tell me I’m not worth the fucking trouble anymore?”
“No.” I turn toward him, catching his chin between my fingers, utterly baffled that he thinks I could ever grow bored of the only person I’ve spent years wanting more of. “With you, Ilya. I want a relationship with you.”
I think he might laugh or throw something at my head. Or stab me, which would be a reasonable response by Ilya’s standards. But I’ve wanted to ask him this for so long. It took years to get close enough to him, and lately he’s been softer with me. Maybe I’m a fool, but I think I might actually have a chance.
His face shutters. “What?”
“You heard me.” I keep my tone even, non-threatening, even though my pulse is hammering. “I want you to be my boyfriend.”
He stares at me, and I can see something going off in his eyes. I can’t explain what it is, but it makes me want to hug him. “We’re already exclusive.”
“I know. I don’t share. You know that.”
“Then what the fuck are you asking for?” The sharpness in his voice is already a warning that this isn’t going to go how I thought it would, but I don’t back down.
“I’m asking for a real relationship.”
