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The house is too big and too empty and Ilya feels at loose ends so he settles down to watch some crappy ESPN show about the history of curling to kill some time. The show has barely begun when a text from Shane comes through.
Did you steal my shirt?
No, Ilya is quick to reply back, realizing too late that the denial gives him away instantly. If he hadn't stolen it, he would have asked which shirt Shane was asking about. By saying no, he's more or less confirmed that he has the worn orange and brown flannel.
Maybe, he adds.
It's ok that you did. I kind of like the idea of you wearing it.
Shane has probably had this shirt since long before Ilya met him. It's probably one of his favorites. Ilya's only had it for a week and it's already one of his. It's been washed so it doesn't really smell like Shane anymore, but it still smells like his laundry detergent and it's soft, so soft. As Ilya pulls the shirt tighter around him, he can almost imagine that it's Shane holding him and not just a stupid shirt. Not that he'll ever admit that to Shane.
My house is cold.
You could turn down the air conditioning.
No. Shirt is better.
Okay, so maybe he did just sort of admit it to Shane. It's probably ok though, given everything that's happened recently. But sometimes Ilya still has a hard time remembering that he can be vulnerable with Shane now.
I miss you already, Shane types and Ilya's heart clenches just a little.
Me too.
But I'll see you on Labour Day weekend, right?
Yes. Will drive up late on Friday.
Can't wait.
Ilya can't either. It's not going to be easy, but knowing Shane feels the same makes it a little easier. And in the meantime, Ilya has this small piece of him to keep him close when he can't be here holding him tight.