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Shane didn't mean to lie when he told Ilya he wouldn't be able to understand him talking in Russian. Sure, he had started learning the language a while ago, but so far he barely managed to make his way through A1 level training texts, there's no way he's going to follow Ilya's rapid native speaker Russian.
And for the most part, he is right - to his own frustration. Shane wishes he had already gotten further in his Russian studies. He wants to be there for Ilya, to tell him that it is all going to be alright, but how can he do that when he doesn't understand what the other is saying?
But then, these three words.
Some of the first Shane had ever looked up, hoping, even though he wouldn't acknowledge it, that he might need them some day.
His breathing quickens, his ears are ringing, but he's still able to perfectly understand as Ilya repeats those words, and they are clearly directed at him.
"... Okei. I'm done."
Shane feels stuck in a dream, like the cold reality of the hotel stairwell can't possibly be part of the same moment as hearing Ilya say those words for the first time.
"...Shane? You still there?"
"Ilya." He croaks, forces his voice to cooperate before he's ready, but he can't leave Ilya thinking that he just let him talk without listening at all, that he wasn't there for him. Even though the alternative - that he understood perhaps the most secret of his words, when Ilya clearly thought they stayed private - might be even worse.
"Shane?" Ilya sounds cautious now. Confused.
"Ilya. I - ya tozhe tebya lyublyu. So much. So much."
Ilya sucks in a breath, and Shane stumbles forward with his explanation, hoping he hasn't just ruined everything for them by hearing and returning Ilya's confession before Ilya was ready.
"I - izvini. Ya obucheniye russkiy, ro niet khoroshe yeshche. Ya skazat net, slushaniye - understanding, russkiy, i ty myshleniy ya net understand sovsem -"
("I - sorry. I learning Russian, but not good yet. I say not, hearing - understanding - everything, and you thinking I not understand at all -")
"Ponimat," Ilya croaks. "Understanding, it is 'ponimaniye'."
"Right. Kogda ya - notice, ty myshleniye ya ne mch' ponimat, ya pytat'sya k skazat', no ya ne mch' razgovarivat, ya - I -"
("when I notice you thinking I can't understanding, I try to say, but I can't talk, I - I-")
His voice gives out again, the last words already nothing more than a croaking whisper.
"You learn Russian for me?" Ilya asks. Shane thinks he might be crying.
"Da. ...are you mad?"
"No. No, lyublennyy, I am only mad I am not there with you right now." there's an audible sniffle, then Ilya clears his throat. "I can leave here day after tomorrow, but I have - tyazhelaya utrata - vacation for dead relative -"
"Bereavement leave?"
"Yes, that. They gave me ten days. Can I..."
"Come to Montreal," Shane says immediately. "I've got practice, but I could - we could -"
"You will keep me as pretty house husband, yes?" Ilya asks with a snicker, though he doesn't manage to sound quite as cocky as he usually does when he chirps Shane.
"Asshole." Shane's voice is fond.
Ilya snorts, then he is quiet on the other end of the phone.
For a moment, they are just breathing. Shane feels himself blush. He knows it was a joke, but Ilya calling himself his husband - it does something to him. Shit, they're not even officially dating, they're not anything - but they both said 'I Love You'. They're in love.
Suddenly, Shane feels the urge to say it in English, just to make extra sure that he said the right words, that Ilya really knows he means it.
"I love you."
"Ya tozhe tebya lyublyu. I love you."
They aren't anything, officially. But maybe, hopefully, they can be. Maybe they will be.