Summary:

“I am not scared,” he lies. Each word is soft but crisply enunciated so Shane can't miss them. “Do you want me scared?”

“Obviously not,” Shane snaps at him. He gestures toward Ilya's waist, toward the slim outline of what he had clocked as a folding knife the second Ilya started carrying it, and adds, “but I know you're not just ‘happy to see me.’ I want the truth, I need to hear that-” he chokes over his words, his lips moving too quickly for his brain to keep up. “Please, be honest with me, for once.”

For a long, silent moment, Ilya just stares at him, grinding his teeth behind a placid expression as if Shane can't tell. 

-

Shane and Ilya talk about their feelings, kind of.