Summary:

“Ilya?” Shane’s hand crept into his hair gently, soft and searching. Ilya bit his lip, trying not to make a sound. It was almost impossible not to melt into the hair running soothingly through his curls, to turn his head to take in his Shane’s beautiful face in person after almost a month apart. Almost. Shane’s hand pulled away after a beat. Ilya heard him sigh, and then blessedly, his weight on the bed behind him rose up. He didn’t say anything as he left the room. Ilya had succeeded in pretending. He wished he could feel anything at all about it.