“Shane?”
The voice was quiet. Rough. But so familiar it sent a hot jolt of electricity down his spine. Shane jerked his head—a flash of pain pierced his neck. The world tilted, the ceiling swimming before his eyes, but he managed to turn. And he saw him.
Ilya Rozanov.
He was sitting right by the bed—impossibly, terrifyingly close—on a plastic chair that creaked pitifully under his weight. And Rozanov looked… like hell. Worse than Shane had ever seen him, even after his most devastating losses. Messy hair, deep, bruised shadows under his eyes. His stubble was thicker than usual, his face gaunt and gray. But that wasn’t the worst part.
Ilya was holding his hand.
Adult, amnesia fic. Another excellent fic using this trope – but this one’s by far the most realistic, most painful and intense. This is 2016 Shane desperately trying to make his life in 2025 make sense in the face of an Ilya trying to shoulder the weight of both their worlds.