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    Summary

    “What are you wearing?” Ilya asks, his voice sounding strangled. 

    Shane looks down, confused. “What’s wrong with what I’m wearing? I always–”

    “Why are you wearing your glasses?” Ilya interrupts, and Shane notices the tension in his entire body when he speaks. 

    “I ran out of contacts,” Shane says. 

    “So you are wearing glasses to practice?”

    “Yeah, it’s just one practice,” he says defensively, even though he’s done nothing wrong. “I’ll grab a pair of contacts from the eye doctor this afternoon."

    “Right,” Ilya says, his eyes laser-focused on Shane’s face as his lips set in a tight line. 

    “Is that a problem?” Shane quips, and it comes off kind of bitchy, but he’s so confused as to why Ilya would have any issue with him wearing his glasses to one practice. He normally loves Shane in glasses. 

    Ilya seems to shake himself out of whatever weird-ass mood he’d fall into. He smiles, but it looks strained. “Of course not. Let’s go.” 

    ___

    Or, Shane has to wear his glasses to practice and Ilya absolutely cannot deal with it.

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