Summary:

Ilya hears the door opening before he sees it. He sits up sharply, already angling his phone towards his chest, thumb hovering over the End Call button. Shane doesn’t speak, though Ilya watches his expression shift into something grave and concerned. They both know the routine at this point; it wouldn’t be the first time this week Ilya has ended a call abruptly to avoid interruption.

The head that appears in the doorway is far lower than he expects it to be, and it takes him a moment to fully register.

“Zhenya?” he asks, frowning. “Are you alright?”

The girl nods, her little hand still clutching the door handle. “Can I come in?”

Or: Shane and Ilya speak often, while Ilya is in Moscow for his father's funeral. Tonight, Ilya has company.