Shifter Boyfriend: Ilya (complete)

Waking up on days off always feels a little strange. You’re used to hustling, making sure the doors to the shop open right on time. You’re not used to not having to rush, to be up and ready at the drop of a hat. It’s all still. You can breathe. You can watch the sunlight sift through the curtains as long as you please. You drink in the low hum of cars passing just outside your window. You sink back into bed, closing your eyes as you convince yourself it’s OK to sleep in just a little bit longer.

Too bad someone has decided to knock on your door. 

You exhale in irritation and grunt as you sit up in bed. You can see a silhouette through the foggy glass of your door. They knock again as you set your feet on the ground. 

“I’m coming, I’m coming.” You’re far too tired to feel anxious about this early-morning guest. You don’t even ask who it is as you throw open the front door. Looking up, you yawn loudly. 

“Good morning to you, too. Breakfast?” Your visitor holds up a bag and a cardboard cup holder with two cups of coffee inside. 

“Ilya, what the hell are you doing here?” you grumble as you close the door behind him.

He sets the bag and coffees down on the table. “We’re both off, and I know you don’t like cooking, so I thought I’d bring you some breakfast.”

You slip on your hoodie, then join him at the table as he places a coffee cup in front of you. Having known Ilya for a long time, you still don’t understand his chipperness in the morning. It sometimes takes you hours to really get going, but he seems to wake up like a jack-in-the-box ready to take on the day.

“I made you a kielbasa-and-egg sandwich.” He lays down a parchment-wrapped treat before you, and you can smell the butter on the toasted bread already.

“I also made sharlotka last night!” He takes another parchment-wrapped treat from the bag and sets that on the table, too. “I got the coffee at that gas station you like.”

“How long have you been up?” you grumble as you fumble with the paper.

Ilya takes it from you and opens it up, wrapping it around the sandwich so it won’t make a mess. “Sunrise,” he answers with an unbelievably straight face.

“Don’t you have a girlfriend to keep you busy?” You bite into the sandwich and melt a little bit. It’s so good, and exactly what you needed on this soon-to-be lazy day.

Ilya sniffs at you while he opens his coffee. “Low blow. Do you have cream?” 

“I have some creamer cups from the last trip to the gas station.” You drink your coffee black.

Ilya frowns as he looks into your fridge. “Do you grocery shop ever?”

“Why should I when I have you on speed dial?” You take another bite of your breakfast and sigh deeply.

“Well,” he scoffs, shutting the door, “I might not always be around. Might get that supposed girlfriend you keep hinting at.”

“Which would be easier, me or a girlfriend?” You unwrap the sharlotka, and the pungent scent of apples wafts through the house,

“I’m used to you.” Ilya sits down at the table once he finds the creamer cups, adding them to his coffee with some honey. 

You and Ilya met during college in your second year. Ilya was a year older, but the two of you were brought together through some unusual circumstances. Being a witch, you went to a family college that was catered towards your kind. Ilya was a shifter, able to turn into a powerful, hulking tiger when he wished. Ilya became your familiar. You used to make jokes about how he should dye his hair black so you could have the black cat you always wanted as a kid, which he hated. 

Ilya stood out for his mop of bright orange hair, as well as his slightly pointed ears. He was handsome and quite popular in college, but because he was thrust together with you, he took you as a thorn in his side. It took a long time for the two of you to mesh, but eventually, you became close. 

“Your dad said that Rothpierre’s is going out of business,” Ilya says suddenly.

“Going out of business, or is Rothpierre retiring?” You lick salt and butter from your fingertips, then ball up the empty paper wrapping. 

Ilya’s thick brows pinch together, and the way his eyes twitch, he looks like a cat who’s seen a string. “I’m not sure.” He sips his coffee, but frowns when he finds it too hot. He adds more cream to the already milky cup. “He just said that it’s closing, and it’s first-come-first-served for those who want the inventory.”

You bite the inside of your cheek. “So, are you and Dad going?”

“Actually...”

“I knew it!” You throw your hands in the air. “This wasn’t a kindly gesture, this was a bribe!” You thrust the shorlatka in his face. “You used your babushka’s recipes for bribery! How dare you?”

“Your dad said-”

“I know my father.” You take a bite of the apple treat and glare at him while you chew. “What was it this time? Acid reflux? His back?”

“He said it’s because it’s going to be a full moon this weekend, and he knows how you hate the ‘moonie’ crowd.”

You glare even harder. “How dare you both be nice to me?”

Ilya arches his brow at you, and his golden eyes sparkle in the morning light. “Which would you rather do? Travel to an old antique store in the boonies with me, or deal with another moonlight madness sale with your parents?”

Your shoulders slouch. “You know which one.”

“We leave tomorrow morning then.” Ilya’s smile is bright. “Your dad said we could take the delivery van.”

“Oh lord, I hate that thing,” you grouse. 

“Well, it’s all we’ve got to carry what we want to get. Unless you want to fork over the money for one of those giant U-Haul things.” He sips his coffee with a pleased expression.

You love his smile. In fact, there’s a lot you love about Ilya. Held at gunpoint, you might even confess to being in love with Ilya. But look at him! Look at you. You knew someone like you could never catch Ilya’s eye. He’s too handsome, too charming, and he could have his pick of anyone. He was popular in college, and now he’s popular in the community. You’re happy to be his friend and have him as your familiar, but that’s it. You won’t ruin that with feelings.

You look away from his smile. “How early in the morning?” 

“I’d say around five in the-”

“Ilya,” you whine to interrupt him.

Ilya smirks. “I’ll come wake you up, and the front seat of the van is big enough for you to sleep on while I drive.”

You grumble under your breath. “That seat smells like ass.”

“A lot of them have been on it.” He laughs at his own joke. “It’ll be fun. We haven’t done anything just the two of us since we moved after college.”

“In that stupid van,” you sigh, nodding. 

You could understand why your dad wants to send the two of you. You have a good eye for picking out products and a wealth of knowledge about the antique game. Ilya would be able to charm and haggle, getting a good deal on everything you select. He can also do heavy lifting, which is probably more important.

You go to bed early that night, but it does nothing to counteract how horrible it is to wake up so damn early in the morning. Ilya comes in, rousing you enough to tell you where your bag is and get you dressed. You fall asleep as soon as the van leaves the driveway. 

“There you are,” Ilya chuckles as you finally start to come to.

You rub your eyes and yawn loudly. “What time is it?”

“Time to eat.” Ilya hands you a bag.

You shuffle through it, pulling out another one of his homemade breakfast sandwiches. “Seriously, how long was I out?” You take a bite and let the buttery goodness wash you away.

“Couple of hours,” Ilya chuckles. “Oh, you have, uh...” He slashes his finger diagonally down your face. “The seatbelt, it...”

You lower the visor to look in the mirror, and see that the seat belt has left a red mark across your face. “I’ve had worse.” You slap the visor back up and continue to eat.

“Have any good dreams?” Ilya asks.

You shrug. “Nothing so unusual. Although...” You lick the corner of your mouth. “There was something a few nights ago.”

Ilya nods his head. “Tell me. I can help.”

You sit up in your seat and sigh. “Well, I was sitting at a table with this huge banquet in front of me, but I wouldn't eat anything. The whole meal was for me, made for me, but I wouldn’t touch it.” You look to Ilya and shrug. “Just found it weird. You know how I love to eat.”

“I don’t think it’s exactly about food.” Ilya glances at you briefly before he looks back at the road. “But rather something else you’re denying yourself.”

You grow a bit nervous, as if he’s going to find something out. “I don’t know.” You lean back into your seat, crossing your arms against your chest. 

You make it to Rothpierre’s later that afternoon, and you go through the entire shop picking out things for your parents’ shop. Ilya puts on the charm, getting you a better deal than you expected on everything. He manages to get it all down to one lump sum, somehow wooing Rothpierre into throwing in a few extra goodies for the store. 

To celebrate, you find the nicest restaurant you can in those parts, and decide to splurge on your meal. You both order their biggest steaks as well as a bottle of wine.

“It’ll be a long time before I do something like this again,” Ilya chuckles. He cuts into his steak, which almost looks too bloody, but his smile is so pure, you know it’s perfect.

You relax, gazing at your wine glass while you lazily eat. “Not so bad. I was expecting a lot worse.”

“You always do,” Ilya huffs. “It’s always a worst-case scenario with you.”

You shrug. “I like to be prepared.” You sip the wine, then take another bite of steak with potato. “But I guess I do always end up having a good time with you.”

“I’m glad you’re finally realizing that.” He licks his lips, and you’re glad the wine makes you look flushed. The way his tongue darts out makes your pulse race.

You clear your throat and look back down at your plate. “You know where the hotel is, right?”

Ilya nods. “I do. But I was thinking that I could just drive us back tonight and I could crash on your couch. If that’s OK. Then we could pocket the hotel money.” He gives you a wink.

“Devious,” you smirk. “You sure you can do that? Especially with a full stomach?” You point to his plate.

“I’ll be fine. I’ve driven in worse conditions. Besides, after seeing some reviews for that hotel, I think we’re safer even if I do end up crashing us into a tree.” Ilya gives you a smile, one that could be stained into your memory forever. “So what do you say?”

You nod shyly. “If you’re so sure, I trust you.”

Ilya’s smile turns into a grin. “Great!”

After you’ve finished eating, Ilya helps you into the van, and the two of you drive off. As night creeps in and the moon shines in its full glory, you continue to fight off the drowsiness from the wine and dinner. You want to stay awake to keep Ilya company, but you keep dozing.

“Just go to sleep,” Ilya laughs.

“No!” you scoff. “You’re willing to stay awake and drive. I should at least try to...” Your mouth stretches open and you yawn. “Should try to stay awake.”

“I’m fine! Take a nap, I don’t mind at all. If I become desperate I’ll wake you.” Ilya hands you his jacket. “I don’t mind.”

You place his jacket over yourself, and it feels so warm, better yet, it smells like him. “Thanks.” You lean back, drifting to sleep quicker than you expected.

You sit at attention, though, when there is a jolt to the van. Ilya is pulling over as smoke billows from under the hood. 

“What’s going on?” You rub at your eyes. 

“Nothing to worry about, just the usual.” Ilya turns the car off. “Stay in here, OK? I’m going to check out what’s wrong.”

You take his jacket off. “You sure? Shouldn’t I at least hold a flashlight?”

Ilya looks up at you with a smile. “It’s a full moon out, so it’s bright enough. Besides, I can see in the dark, remember?” His golden eyes flicker before he opens the door and goes outside.

You restlessly adjust yourself in the seat. You can hear Ilya outside, but you can’t see him over the raised hood. You smell the smoke, which doesn’t seem good. Glancing out the window, you see how high and round the moon is. That’s when you hear something strange - almost like a yipping, crying sound. Glancing up the road, you see figures coming out of the woods. Ilya steps towards the front of the van as the figures come closer.

Ilya comes to your door and opens it. He hands you the keys then looks up at you, his expression plagued with worry. “Lock the doors,” he whispers. “Don’t open them for anything. You got it?”

“What is it?” you whisper. “Just get in the van and drive off!”

He shakes his head. “It won’t. And don’t do that unless it’s an emergency, OK?” Ilya touches your face. “I’ll take care of this. Don’t worry.” He closes the door, and you quickly lock it.

Dread fills you as the figures come closer and closer. There’s at least four, but there could be more somewhere else. They appear shambling, skinny, and their hair is long and matted. You can’t quite see, but they remind you of coyotes.

“Can I help you folks?” Ilya’s voice is stern as he speaks to them.

They laugh in high voices. One steps closer to Ilya while two spread out, and another stands at the rear.

“Big guy, eh? What’cha got here?” You see the two figures coming closer to the doors and you duck down, hiding from the windows. You use Ilya’s jacket to cover yourself. Hopefully they won’t see you. The driver’s side door jiggles and you hear more of that high-pitched, barking laughter. Your door shakes, and then they start banging on it.

“Just antiques,” Ilya replies. “Nothing of note. You really want a vintage chaise lounge, then by all means, I’ll let you slide with it.”

“Just you?” a new voice asks slyly. “I could have sworn I smelled something else earlier. Something much nicer than you.”

Every hair on your body stands up and bristles.

“I had a steak for dinner,” Ilya tries to keep his tone light. “Was that it?”

“Nah, you fool,” the speaker hisses. “If I meant a steak, I would have said so. You know what I’m talking about.”

There is more banging on your door, and you squeeze yourself into a tighter ball on the floor. You hold the keys tight before remembering the emergency kit your dad put in the glove compartment. It contains a flare gun, pepper spray, and a small pocket knife. If you tried to get into the glove compartment though, they would see you.

“Afraid I don’t, fellas.” There’s a nervous edge to Ilya’s voice as he speaks now. “Just some old dusty old tchotchkes.”

Your door bangs again, and you clutch your hands over your mouth to keep from yelling in fear.

“Then why are the doors locked?” the sly one titters. 

Ilya is silent for a moment. “Well, I figured, better safe than sorry.”

The window smashes above you, and glass goes flying. A hand grabs the back of Ilya’s jacket, while laughter erupts like an explosion from outside. You leap up, grabbing for the glove compartment. It swings open while another hand grabs at your face. The contents of the glove compartment spill onto the floor, and you duck to scrabble at them.

Outside there is a scream, and you hear Ilya roaring. The hand reaching for you is yanked away long enough for you to grab the kit on the floor. The door swings open, and someone lunges inside to grab at you.

You take the first thing you can find and aim it at them. The flare gun goes off, filling the cab of the van with smoke and flame. Your attacker screams, falling out of the van before running into the road.

You press your back to the driver’s-side door, scrambling to find the pocket knife and the pepper spray. You leave the van, ducking down alongside it as Ilya continues to fight. With any luck you can get to your suitcase where your wand is and try to signal for help, or send your attackers flying, but since Ilya is fighting, your powers might be weakened to keep him strong.

You’re about to round the back when someone grabs you from behind. “Gotcha!” Your new assailant cackles as they pick you off the ground.

You scream, kicking and flailing in their arms. You manage to stab them with your keys several times before they let you go, dropping you like a sack of potatoes. They kick you hard in the stomach and all the air leaves your body.

You hear a roar, and then a scream. Heaving in agony, you try to breathe again, but that kick has knocked the wind out of you. You manage to take a wheezing breath, and you sit up to see Ilya surrounded by three coyotes. You continue to the back of the van, finding your bag and spilling out the contents to grab your wand.

You scream,  and the coyotes ignite. Yowling, they run off into the road. You rush towards Ilya, who is bleeding on the ground. He’s covered in bite and claw marks, but it’s his neck that looks the worst. You cup your hand around his neck, applying pressure there. 

“Come on. Stay alive, Ilya.” You look into his eyes as he stares up at you. “It’s OK. I’m here.”

He takes a rattling breath and slowly reaches up. His large paw touches your face, leaving a trace of blood on your skin. “Are you… are you safe?”

“Don’t worry about me!”  you snap at him. “Just focus, OK? I’m trying to heal you.” You keep pressing your palm to his neck, focusing your magic there. You were only able to ignite the coyotes so fast because of your fear and adrenaline, but this is different. You have to really focus hard, which is difficult in this situation. 

“Look at me,” Ilya whispers. “Hey, look at me please.” His voice is growing weaker and weaker.

You gaze into his eyes, seeing a perfect smile on his lips. “Let me focus, please!” You start to sob.

“I know, but just-” He takes a shaky breath. “I need to tell you… it’s important that I-” he flinches, then gurgles.

“Ilya, please!” you scream.

“I love you,” Ilya whimpers. “I love you so much.”

You gnash your teeth together. “You stupid idiot! You’re telling me this now! Now? Really? How can you say that now?” Tears are streaming down your face. 

Ilya’s smile is faint. “I might never-” He wheezes.

Your tears are torrential at this point. “I love you, too! There! Are you happy now?” You shiver all over. “I’ve always loved you! You big, stupid-” Your voice is choked with sobs.

Ilya touches your cheek again. “I was worried. I-” His hand slips off your face, and his eyes close.

“Ilya! Stay with me! Ilya!”

A car pulls up behind the van. Everything that follows is a blur. The witch who saw the flaming signal and the burning coyotes is able to stop the bleeding with you. The two of you take Ilya to the nearest hospital, and from there his fate is in the doctor’s hands.

In the morning, your parents arrive. Your mother stays with you while your father gets a tow truck for the van. It feels like years have gone by, but eventually, you’re able to go and see Ilya.

He’s asleep in the hospital bed, bandaged and stitched like a rag doll. Your breath catches in your chest as you look at him, stalling in the doorway. You move closer, sitting down beside him while the machines by the bed beep and whoosh. 

You touch his hand on his chest, carefully wrapping your fingers around his. “Don’t wake up,” you whisper. “You just rest, alright? You need to heal, so don’t wake up for me.” You press your lips into a tight line. “I’ll take care of you, I promise.”

“But who will cook?”

Your soul very nearly leaves your body as he turns to smile at you. 

Ilya’s smile grows as he looks at you. “You’re going to have to go to the grocery, you know?” His hand tightens around yours. “You won’t have me to feed you anymore.”

You sniffle, feeling hot tears flood your eyes. “OK,” you whimper.

Ilya reaches out, touching your face and wiping the tears away. “Kiss me better?”

“Ilya, we...” You stop yourself and lean in, gently pressing your lips against his. You have a lot of questions to ask him, but they can wait. You kiss him, awed by the softness of his lips.