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Shane was in the bathroom leaning against the sink and staring at his reflection. His ribs ached post game, but the hot water had helped. He knew Ilya was downstairs laying on the couch, probably staring at the ceiling and pretending he wasn't exhausted.
Shane pulled out his phone while walking to the kitchen.
Shane walked into the living room. Tossing a blue Gatorade at Ilya. Ilya caught it with one hand without even opening his eyes.
"Thanks," Ilya muttered.
Shane sat down on the other end of the couch. He reached for the remote.
"I'm putting Camp Rock on," Shane warned. "Disney time. Don't complain."
"Just play it," Ilya said. He sat up slowly, his movements stiff. He looked at Shane, then at the empty space between them on the couch.
His phone buzzed in his lap.
Shane looked at the text, then at Ilya. Ilya who was sitting right there... "Are you serious? You are texting me from two feet away?"
"Yes," Ilya said out loud, his voice flat. "I don't want to use my voice. Move."
Shane rolled his eyes but slid over until their shoulders touched. The heat coming of of Ilya felt like a radiator. Shane felt Ilya shift, getting more comfortable.
As the intro music for Camp Rock started, Shane felt Ilya’s head drop onto his shoulder. It wasn't a graceful move. It was heavy and tired.
"She's the best. Just watch."
"We will see," Ilya whispered, already drifting off before the first song even finished.