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The cabin wasn’t far from the river. It looked like an old wooden building from the outside, but the inside was clean, and the living room had a large window facing the water. While Ilya carried the bags in first and checked the heating, Shane went to the window. Beyond the glass, the river stretched out under a thin layer of snow, frozen over, with low brush and the shadows of trees tangled along the edges. Shane looked out at it for a while, then turned around and opened the bag he had brought in from the trunk as if it were nothing. The sound of skate blades touching the floor made Ilya look over. He knew what Shane was about to do just from that.
“We haven’t even been here ten minutes.”
Shane didn’t answer. He only lifted one skate. Ilya looked at him for a moment, then slowly shook his head. It was the face of a man who already knew there was no stopping him. Still, he didn’t follow right away. Instead, he gestured for Shane to sit in the chair by the entryway.
Shane raised an eyebrow, but sat down without arguing. Ilya crouched in front of him and took hold of the laces. Not because Shane couldn’t tie them himself, but because Ilya wanted to do it. His hands were firm when he pulled the laces tight, careful in the pressure over Shane’s instep. Once one skate was tied, he checked around Shane’s ankle once more with his gloved hand.
“Too tight?”
Shane looked down at him, the corner of his mouth lifting slightly.
“You’re fussing.”
Before standing, Ilya zipped Shane’s puffer all the way up. Shane tipped his chin back a little at having the zipper pulled up under it, but he didn’t move away. Ilya wrapped the scarf over it once more, then pressed the collar down with his palm so the wind wouldn’t get in. He checked that the ends of Shane’s gloves sat properly outside his sleeves. Only after making sure the beanie covered his ears did he step back.
Shane let him do all of it before saying quietly, “I’m not five.”
Ilya picked up his own skates and walked past him.
“If you were five, you’d listen better.”
───
The path down to the river showed almost no sign that anyone else had passed through. Only their footprints marked the snow, and the light from the cabin windows weakened after just a few steps. Shane walked ahead, then glanced back once. Ilya caught his wrist so he wouldn’t go down too fast. Shane didn’t pull his hand away.
At the edge of the river, Shane brushed the snow away with one gloved hand and checked the ice. Ilya crouched beside him and rapped his knuckles against the surface. The sound was solid, but his expression didn’t change. Shane saw his face and waited without saying anything. He probably would have argued if Ilya refused, but he wasn’t going to bring that up just yet. Shane brushed the snow near Ilya’s ear away with the tip of his glove. When Ilya looked up, Shane turned back to the ice as if nothing had happened.
“Just the edge.”
Shane gave a short nod. Then, while Ilya was crouched in the snow to put on his skates, he shoved Ilya’s shoulder and went out onto the river first. Ilya sat down hard in the snow, fuming as he tightened his skate laces even more firmly so he could go after him and get his revenge.
───
At first, Shane moved slowly along the edge. The low sound of his skate blades cutting over the ice carried across the river, and he changed direction a few times, testing the surface. When he lifted his head to look at Ilya, Ilya was already coming out after him. The cold air had brought a little color to Shane’s cheeks, and his breath spread white above the zipper pulled up beneath his chin.
For the first few minutes, neither of them said much. The ice on the river wasn’t smooth like a rink. Snow remained in patches here and there, and shallow marks had been swept into it by the wind. Still, Shane began to pick up speed little by little, as if by instinct, and Ilya followed half a beat behind him.
Shane turned backward. Facing Ilya, he drifted away slowly, keeping a deliberate distance between them. Ilya looked down at his feet, then lifted his gaze. Shane was pretending not to know what he was doing, but his expression was exactly the kind Ilya hated. That rare, mischievous Shane Hollander face that only ever showed up in front of him.
When Ilya reached for him, Shane slipped away to the side just before he could be caught. Ilya’s fingertips brushed his elbow, and Shane pretended to lose his balance before smoothly changing direction again. As he passed beside Ilya, he gave him a light shove with his shoulder. Ilya moved back only as much as he had been pushed. It was obvious he was letting him get away with it, but Shane pretended not to notice.
Apparently pleased with that reaction, Shane came closer again. This time, he pushed at Ilya’s chest with his palm. There wasn’t much force behind it, but Ilya turned his skate blade and slid backward. When Shane followed, Ilya caught his wrist and pulled him in. He turned without letting go. Shane followed as if he were being drawn along, then slipped free at the last second. His skate blade cut sharply over the ice, and a few steps away, Shane turned back to look at Ilya again. He wasn’t laughing out loud, but the playfulness was still there around his eyes.
When Ilya came closer again, Shane didn’t run this time. His shoulder moved first, as if he meant to twist away just before he was caught, but Ilya saw it and still didn’t reach faster. Instead, he moved very slowly into Shane’s path. Shane feinted right, then turned left, and Ilya followed him, catching him around the waist.
Shane pretended to resist, but his skate blades were already gliding easily in the direction Ilya led him. For a few seconds, they moved in a close circle. Shane’s gloved hand held onto Ilya’s arm, and Ilya supported his back while turning just enough to throw off his balance on purpose. Shane bit his lip, trying not to laugh, but a short laugh escaped between his breaths anyway.
At the sound, Ilya couldn’t help laughing too. There was something contagious about Shane’s laugh. Shane didn’t miss it and immediately pushed at Ilya’s chest again. There was a little more force behind it this time. Ilya slid back on one foot, caught his balance at once, and Shane laughed with a hand over his stomach as if he had won. Instead of answering, Ilya reached out and tugged at the end of Shane’s puffer hood. Shane’s face sank deeper into the zipper pulled up beneath his chin. Ilya finally burst out laughing.
───
The game went on a little longer. Shane slipped away first, Ilya followed, and Shane changed direction again; somewhere in the middle of it, they moved little by little from the line they had been circling along the riverbank toward the inside of the river. Shane looked back once, but soon turned toward Ilya again. If Shane got too far ahead, Ilya caught up with him, and when Ilya got close, Shane laughed and slipped away.
Then, just as Shane moved aside to avoid Ilya’s hand, a low sound rose beneath their feet.
At first, it sounded like wind. A long, low, dull sound from somewhere under the water. Shane stopped in the middle of moving, and Ilya set his skate blade against the ice a few steps away. Their white breaths drifted slowly between them. Once the sound of their skates on the river disappeared, the vibration beneath the ice became clearer. Shane lowered his head and looked down at his feet. Ilya was looking at the same place.
Shane moved first. When he tried to come closer to Ilya without a word, Ilya raised a hand to tell him to stay where he was. They looked at each other for a few seconds, then turned almost at the same time toward the riverbank. They didn’t push off playfully like before. They moved their feet low, careful not to drive their skate blades too deep into the ice, and made their way slowly toward the edge without picking up speed.
The bank wasn’t far. A moment ago, it had looked close enough to reach quickly, and it really was. Shane was half a step ahead, and Ilya followed behind him. Shane kept trying to look back, but when Ilya said his name shortly, he faced forward again. There was almost no talking between them.
Then a vibration passed under both of their feet.
Shane stopped on instinct. Ilya couldn’t move any farther either. This time, their bodies felt it before the sound reached them. The ice trembled shallowly beneath their skate blades, and a crack that had started somewhere farther away spread toward them in a white line before stopping somewhere between the two of them. Shane held his breath and looked toward the bank. The snow-covered slope was only a few steps away. Ilya looked that way a moment later than Shane did. Then he looked back at the ice beneath Shane’s feet.
“Go.”
Shane shook his head at once. His feet stayed where they were, as if he knew he shouldn’t move, and only his upper body turned toward Ilya.
“We go together.”
Ilya didn’t answer. He raised a hand and pointed toward the bank. Shane didn’t even look at the hand. His eyes stayed fixed on Ilya’s face. Ilya stood there, unable to take a single step, his jaw clenched. If Shane went just a little farther, he would be off the river. Just a little farther. But Shane stood where he was as if he’d been nailed to the spot.
“Shane.”
“No.”
Ilya’s face hardened. Shane saw it and still didn’t back down. Instead, he reached toward Ilya very slowly. As he moved, there was another small cracking sound under the ice. Shane’s hand stopped in midair.
“Don’t move!”
The next sound was much louder.
When the sound of the ice tearing open rose from beneath their feet, Ilya stopped thinking. He threw himself toward Shane and shoved both hands into his chest. Shane, unprepared, was pushed backward. His skate blades scraped long over the ice, and his body slid toward the bank. Ilya couldn’t hold against the force of the push and went down flat on the ice. His chest and elbows hit hard, but he lifted his head first to see how far Shane had gone. Shane was sprawled on the frozen ground. He was on land, where there was dirt and grass.
That moment, the ice beneath Ilya gave way.
It was the sound of something that had been holding beneath his body disappearing all at once. Ilya reached out to catch the edge of the ice, but his gloved hand slipped, and his elbow struck the broken edge. The cold water didn’t rise from his waist to his chest. It swallowed his whole body at once.
Under the water, it was too dark. Ilya desperately reached upward, but what his palm touched wasn’t open water. It was the underside of the ice. He pushed at it immediately with his fist. The ice didn’t move. He twisted his body to the side, trying to find the hole he had fallen through. His coat drank in the water and dragged heavily at him, and his skates wouldn’t move properly at his feet.
He pushed upward again. His palm slid along the underside of the ice, and the edge of his glove caught on something rough before slipping away. Water entered his mouth. Ilya gritted his teeth and turned his body. He couldn’t tell where the bank was, or where the hole he had fallen through was. The white surface that had been so close just moments ago all looked the same now.
Ilya reached out again. This time, his fingertips seemed to catch on somewhere between pieces of ice. He pushed his body toward it, but his coat held him back from behind. He was starting to run out of breath. His chest tightened, and the inside of his throat burned. He kicked, trying to get upward, and his skate blades cut uselessly through the water.
His hand hit something. Not a thin piece of ice, but solid ice. Ilya pushed at it again with his fist. He couldn’t tell whether it made a sound or not. Underwater, everything moved dully. He pushed once more, struck it with his elbow, slammed his shoulder against it. His body began to slow. His fingertips disappeared first, then his arms grew heavy, and his legs stopped listening.
His head tipped back as the last of his breath escaped his mouth. His vision went dark, then washed white again. He tried to look upward one more time. He could see nothing through the ice. Not Shane’s face, not the riverbank, not the lights from the cabin. His hand was still stretched upward, but there was no strength left to push.
───
When Ilya opened his eyes, he was in a hospital.
At first, all he saw was the ceiling. White lights, an IV line, the machine beside the bed beeping in a steady rhythm. The inside of his throat burned, and his chest ached every time he breathed in. He tried to move his fingers and saw the needle taped into the back of his hand.
Ilya turned his head.
There was no bed beside his. The chair was empty, too. A folded blanket sat by the window, and a paper cup someone seemed to have left in a hurry was on the table. Shane wasn’t there.
Ilya opened his mouth. His voice didn’t come out right away. He drew in another breath, and this time managed to push out one word.
“Shane.”
The person standing near the door turned. When she saw Ilya trying to sit up, she came straight to the bed. Ilya tried to move his arm without noticing the line tugging at the back of his hand.
“You shouldn’t move.”
The nurse’s hand pressed carefully against his shoulder, but he kept looking toward the door. It felt like Shane would walk in any second. With his hair still a little wet, wearing that stupid expression, complaining that the hospital gown felt weird. The last time Ilya had seen him, Shane had been on the riverbank. He had been sprawled on the ground, mixed with snow and dirt, his hand gripping dry grass. He hadn’t been on the ice. He hadn’t been in the water.
“Where’s Shane?”
The nurse didn’t answer for a moment. When Ilya’s eyes fixed on her face, she said, very carefully, “Mr. Hollander is in the ICU.”
At first, all Ilya heard was Hollander. Shane was in the hospital. He was alive. That came first, and Ilya closed his eyes for a short second. The strength left his fingertips, and the sheet crumpled under his palm. Then the rest of the words caught up. The ICU.
Ilya opened his eyes again. The nurse was still standing beside the bed, the same careful look on her face. For a while, Ilya couldn’t say anything, as if he were trying to piece together what had just come out of her mouth. Shane had been on land. On the side Ilya had pushed him toward. He had reached the riverbank. The memory was too clear to be wrong, even under the white lights of the hospital room.
“Why?”
His voice came out so small that the nurse leaned a little closer. Ilya moved his dry lips.
“Why is Shane in the ICU?”
The nurse’s hand went still on the bed rail. She looked as though she were choosing her answer. Ilya couldn’t stand the brief silence and asked again.
“What happened to him?”
Footsteps passed outside the room, and the machine kept beeping at the same steady rhythm. Between the sounds, Ilya could hear his own breathing getting faster. The inside of his throat burned again, and when he tried to sit up, something pulled sharply inside his chest.
“I’ll get the doctor.”
“Tell me.”
Ilya’s hand gripped the bed rail. There was barely any strength in it, but he didn’t let go.
“Tell me. Why is Shane there?”
───
Shane reached the bank almost like he was falling onto it. One knee sank into the snow, and his hand grabbed at the frozen grass along the river’s edge. Even after his body stopped moving, he couldn’t move for a few seconds. His breath came out as if it were caught in his throat, and the feeling of Ilya pushing him was still there in his fingertips.
When he turned back, Ilya was gone.
Only broken ice remained where Ilya had been sprawled. Small pieces of ice shifted over the black gap in the water, and the cracks had spread wider around it. At first, Shane couldn’t make a sound. The place he was looking at was where Ilya had been just moments ago. Now there was only the place where the ice had broken.
Shane called his name first. His voice didn’t come out properly, so he called again, and after that he kept forcing the same name out as if he had forgotten to breathe in between. There was no answer. The pieces of ice floating on the water knocked softly against each other and moved, and there was nothing to see beneath them.
He pulled his hand away from the bank and crawled back onto the ice. He went forward on his elbows and knees. His skate blades scraped uselessly behind him, and wet snow clung to his sleeves. Shane reached the place where Ilya had disappeared and began shoving the snow aside with his hands. The thin layer of snow scattered under his gloved palms.
“Ilya! Ilya!”
He brought his face close to the ice and looked down through it. At first, all he could see were the broken opening and the cracked lines. The water kept moving, and beneath the ice there was only a pale blur. Shane cleared more snow away. The edge of his glove caught on a piece of ice and tore, and cold water seeped in around the inside of his wrist. He shoved snow aside with his other hand too. He checked beneath the ice, crawled sideways again, and swept at the snow once more.
The more he called Ilya’s name, the rougher his voice became. Shane barely knew what he was looking at anymore. He followed the direction where Ilya had fallen, the direction the crack had spread, the way the current moved under the ice. Then he saw something dark moving slowly beneath the ice, like a piece of cloth.
Shane threw himself toward that spot on his hands and knees. His hands barely worked as he tried to take off his gloves. His fingers were stiff, and the wet fabric clung to his skin. He clenched his teeth and yanked the gloves off, throwing them aside. The moment his bare hands touched the ice, it felt as if his palms stuck to it, but Shane didn’t stop.
He made a fist and struck the ice.
At first, there was only a dull sound. The back of his hand hit the ice, and pain shot through his knuckles at once. Shane struck it again. This time, a faint crack appeared across the ice, but it didn’t go all the way through. He kept hitting along that crack. His skin must have split, because blood smeared across the ice. He couldn’t tell whether the pain came from the cold or the impact.
“Stay with me, Ilya!”
Shane began striking the ice with his elbow. He lifted his body slightly, then drove his weight down into it. His whole arm rang with it, pain spreading through the inside of his elbow. He hit the same place again, then again. The dark cloth beneath the ice was still there, and its movement was growing slower. Shane drew in a breath and couldn’t even let it back out before driving his elbow down again. The cracks spread little by little, but not wide enough for a person to get through.
Shane grabbed his skate laces. His hand slipped once, and he pulled at them almost hard enough to tear them loose. As he worked the skate off his foot, his socked foot came down onto the wet ice. The cold shot straight up through the sole, but Shane didn’t look. He gripped the skate in his hand and set the blade against the ice. His palm was slick with blood, and the fingers holding the blade could barely keep their grip.
The first strike left a short gouge in the ice. The second made the crack longer. On the third, the skate blade dug into the ice and bounced back out. Shane lifted it again even as his wrist twisted painfully. His breath caught in his throat, and Ilya’s name slipped briefly between his lips. He kept striking the same place.
A very small, sharp sound came from the ice. The sound of something thin breaking somewhere inside it.
Shane dropped the skate and grabbed the cracked edge with both hands. His palms were already cut by the blade and scraped by the ice, too damaged to hold properly. Still, he drove his fingers into the broken gap and tried to force it wider. His bloodied hands slipped several times, and shards of ice dug under his nails. When one piece of ice collapsed inward, cold water surged up at once. Shane shoved his arm into the gap. When the water rose past his elbow, it stole his breath, but he reached deeper. The broken edge scraped over his wrist and palm again. Something caught under his fingertips, and Shane curled his fingers around it so he wouldn’t lose it.
It was Ilya’s coat.
Shane pulled backward. The soaked fabric was much heavier than he expected, as if someone below were holding it down. He pulled again. His knees were planted on the ice, and his bare foot slid to the side. Bracing himself with the other foot, still in its skate, he dragged at Ilya’s coat. Under the water, Ilya’s shoulder came up first, then started to sink again. Shane let out a sound like he was forcing it out of his throat and pulled harder.
The ice beneath Shane’s knees sank slightly. Water splashed into his face, and his arms were almost completely numb. Shane shoved his hand deeper inside Ilya’s coat and grabbed near his shoulder. When he pulled again, Ilya’s head came up out of the water. Wet hair clung to his forehead, and his eyes were closed. The moment Shane saw his face, he threw more of his weight forward.
The ice beneath his knees gave way all at once.
The support under him disappeared, and the broken edge scraped his thigh and side. Shane fell forward without letting go of Ilya. Before the water even reached his chest, his entire body was dragged under.
On the river, the broken pieces of ice shook a few times and went still. The place where Shane had been sprawled just moments ago was gone, and the gap where Ilya’s head had surfaced had broken wider too. The water surged briefly, then settled low again.
───
When Shane came up out of the water, it was almost as if he had been thrown out of it. He tried to breathe in and coughed up water instead, lifting his head as he pushed against the broken edge of the ice with his elbow. All he could see was ice and water, and a gap wider than the one he had made. The water kept pulling at everything below his waist, and his bare foot, the one without a skate, found nothing to stand on. Shane couldn’t even catch his breath before he twisted around.
Ilya was in his arms.
Ilya’s face had gone pale under the water, his wet hair stuck to his forehead and temples. Shane held him under the chest with one arm and gripped the edge of the ice with the other. When Ilya’s chin started to sink under again, Shane hauled his arm higher. The movement alone dragged Shane’s body lower, and he held himself there with a short, swallowed breath before pushing Ilya’s shoulder toward the ice.
The edge wouldn’t hold him. His fingers slipped when he tried to hook them over it, and when he put weight on it, the broken ice cut into his palm again. Shane tried to pull himself up with his elbow and wrist. If the arm around Ilya loosened even a little, Ilya’s body slid back toward the water. Shane pulled him in again at once. Each time, the water rose to Ilya’s mouth and fell away.
Shane gritted his teeth and grabbed for the edge again. Blood mixed with the water and made his hand even slicker. His palm was so wet he couldn’t tell where it had been cut, and his fingertips wouldn’t bend properly. If he used both hands, maybe he could get out. Maybe he could get his stomach over the ice, drag his knees up, catch his breath. But to do that, he would have to let go of Ilya.
He couldn’t let go of Ilya.
Shane shifted his arms again and pushed Ilya’s upper body onto the ice. At first, only his shoulders made it up before he slipped right back. Shane made a low sound and dragged him in again. This time, he hooked Ilya’s arm over the ice and gripped the front of his coat, pushing from below. His own body sank farther into the water. The water that had been at his chest rose close to his collarbones, and every breath knocked his chin against the edge of the ice.
“Wake up, Ilya.”
Ilya didn’t answer. Shane pushed the unanswering weight of him again. His arms shook, and his wrist bent wrong. Ilya’s upper body slid a little farther onto the ice. His face, shoulders, and chest were out of the water. Shane stayed in the broken gap, holding on to him. Keeping Ilya from slipping. Keeping the soaked coat from dragging him back under. Keeping his blood-slick fingers clenched in the fabric.
The strength went out of him all at once. Shane’s shoulders dipped under the water and came back up again. He tried to breathe in and couldn’t do it right. Still, he didn’t loosen his arms. Ilya’s body was half on the ice, and Shane was underneath him, holding his weight. The blood on the ice edge washed down into the water. Shane tried to lift his head and look at Ilya’s face, but his vision blurred too much to make it out. When Ilya started to slip again, Shane used the last of his strength to shove him farther up. His arms and shoulders scraped against the ice, and his body lurched as if it were being pulled downward. But Ilya’s chest was still out of the water. Shane only let his forehead rest against the ice edge after he saw that. His breaths came short, like they were about to break off, and his hand was still gripping Ilya’s coat.
“Ilya, can you hear me?”
There was no answer. Ilya’s face was turned to the side, wet hair stuck near his eyes. Shane wanted to brush it away, but he couldn’t let go. One arm was hooked deep under Ilya’s armpit, and the other hand was gripping the front of his coat. If either one came loose, it felt like Ilya’s body would slide back into the water. Shane tried to move his lips properly and couldn’t, but he spoke again.
“It’s okay. I’ve got you.”
At first, his body was shaking. His teeth knocked together, and his shoulders trembled without permission. Shane tightened his arms because he was afraid the shaking would make Ilya slip. His body was still in the water, but the cold no longer felt sharp. It went dull instead, as if something thick had been thrown over him. The foot without the skate felt like it had disappeared a long time ago, and he couldn’t tell where the other one was either. His legs had to be moving under the water, but Shane felt nothing. His body didn’t feel like his anymore.
“Breathe.”
Shane pushed Ilya’s shoulder a little higher. Even that small movement dragged his body down. Water passed his mouth, and Shane lifted his head, coughing. His arm almost came loose, and he clenched his teeth at once. Ilya’s coat slipped a little from his hand, then caught again. Shane curled the fabric around his fingertips. He couldn’t tell whether his fingers were bending or not, so he held on with his whole wrist.
“Please, Ilya. Just breathe.”
The sound barely came out. His throat felt scraped raw from swallowing water, and his tongue wouldn’t move properly. Shane tried to look at Ilya’s face again. If he could see his face, it would be all right. But his vision kept going dark and then coming back. The edge of the ice and Ilya’s wet hair blurred together, and at some point he couldn’t tell whether his eyes were open or closed. Beneath the ice, the water shifted hard once. Shane’s body was pulled a little deeper into the gap, and Ilya’s upper body slipped with him. Shane pulled him back almost on instinct. Something tore inside his shoulder, but the pain didn’t last long. He forced Ilya back against the ice and pressed his own chest to the broken edge to stop them. His chin hit the ice, and he tasted blood in his mouth.
“Look at me.”
Ilya didn’t move. Shane tried to speak again, but he didn’t have enough breath. Instead, he clenched Ilya’s coat harder. That was his answer. He was holding on. He hadn’t let go. Ilya’s face was out of the water, and that was the only thing he had to check. Shane tried to hold on to that thought, but even thoughts didn’t last long. The only thing left in his head was Ilya’s name.
“Ilya.”
This time, he thought maybe only his lips moved. The water rose to his chin again. Shane didn’t have the strength to lift his head, so he held on with his cheek resting against the ice edge. His hand was still clutching the coat, but he couldn’t even tell whether his arm was attached to his body anymore. He tried to put strength into his hand so he wouldn’t let go. He couldn’t tell whether any strength went into it. He had to believe he was still holding on.
A sound came from far away.
At first, it sounded like wind moving through the trees. Shane tried to open his eyes. His eyelids only lifted halfway, and the white ice and Ilya’s shoulder blurred in front of him. The sound cut off once, then came back. This time it was clearer. A low, long siren moving toward them.
Shane couldn’t see where the sound was coming from. He couldn’t turn his head. Instead, he twisted his wrist again so he wouldn’t let go of Ilya’s coat. His fingers didn’t move, and his arm barely followed. The siren was getting closer, but Shane didn’t hear it all the way through. The last thing he checked was that Ilya’s face was out of the water. After that, there was nothing.
───
When his feet touched the floor, his body tipped for a moment. Ilya caught himself on the table beside the bed. The IV stand rolled slightly with the sound of its wheels. He kept the back of his hand close to his body so the line wouldn’t pull and gripped the stand with his other hand. On the way to the door, his feet didn’t land properly on the floor. The hospital socks were slippery, and his legs followed too late, as if they still weren’t his.
When he came out into the hallway, another nurse saw him and came straight over. Ilya didn’t stop. When she tried to take his arm, he only tightened his grip on the handle.
“ICU.”
His voice came out low and scraped raw. The nurse looked at his face and swallowed whatever she had been about to say. Ilya didn’t speak again. The wheels of the IV stand squeaked along the hallway floor. In the end, the nurse walked beside him. She supported his arm so he wouldn’t fall, but she didn’t try to send him back.
The area outside the ICU was brighter and quieter. The doors were closed, and a long stretch of glass ran along the inside. The nurse said something brief to someone on the other side. While she did, Ilya looked through the glass. At first, he saw only beds, curtains, and machines. Someone passed through his line of sight, blocking it for a moment, and when it cleared again, he looked for Shane.
Shane was lying in a bed farther inside.
Ilya stopped in front of the glass. The IV stand bumped lightly against his side and rocked. Shane’s eyes were closed. His face was pale, and an oxygen mask covered his mouth. His hands were wrapped in thick bandages and rested on the bed, with white dressings on his arms as well. The blanket was pulled up beneath his chest, but it was layered more heavily around his feet.
Ilya pressed one hand to the glass. A faint print appeared on the cold surface. He didn’t say anything. Shane didn’t move. His chest rose and fell by the smallest amount, and the monitor beside him kept beeping at the same steady interval.
Ilya didn’t look away from the glass. The line tugged at the back of his hand, and the sleeve of his gown slipped down below his elbow. He didn’t fix it. His eyes searched for Shane’s hand. The fingertips visible beyond the bandages had almost no color. Ilya looked at that hand. The hand that had pushed him up onto the ice. The hand that had held on to his coat in the water. Ilya took his hand off the glass, then placed it there again. This time, his whole palm touched.
The tears didn’t fall onto the glass first. They fell from his jaw onto the hospital gown. Ilya made no sound. Every time he tried to breathe in, it caught in his chest, and only a small sound came from the back of his throat. He kept his mouth shut and looked at Shane through the glass. When his vision blurred, he wiped it with the back of his hand and looked again. Fast footsteps came from the end of the hallway. Ilya didn’t turn around. Someone called his name. He didn’t turn then, either. The footsteps came closer, stopped, and there was a short, sharp breath.
Yuna stood beside him.
She looked through the glass first. She looked at Shane. At the bed and the machines, at his bandaged hands and his unmoving face. Her hand rose to her mouth, then dropped again. Only then did Ilya turn his head a little. Yuna didn’t say anything. She only pulled him into her arms.
Ilya lifted one hand as if to place it on her back, stopped halfway, and ended up gripping the side of his hospital gown instead. Yuna drew his head down until his face was against her shoulder. Ilya only turned his head to look through the glass again. Shane still had his eyes closed. The line on the monitor kept moving without breaking. Yuna’s hand moved slowly down his back, and only then did Ilya let out a small breath.
───
It wasn’t until a day after Shane woke up that Ilya was allowed into his room. Even though it was still the ICU, it wasn’t like the day before, when he had to look at him only through the glass. The nurse said quietly that he couldn’t stay long, and Ilya nodded. When the door opened and the cool air inside touched him, Shane’s gaze moved slowly toward the open door. Maybe because of the painkillers, his eyes followed a little late, and his dry lips parted before closing again. His hands were wrapped in thick bandages, the dressing continuing up past his wrists. A thin blanket covered him up to the chest, and the lines running under his hospital gown trailed down beside the bed. Still, he was looking at Ilya.
Ilya stood in the doorway for a few seconds without moving. He knew Shane’s eyes were on his face, but his feet didn’t move right away. His face was swollen from not having washed properly all night, his eyes red like he had rubbed them for too long. Shane moved his eyes quietly over him, as if looking at each part of it.
Ilya walked to the side of the bed. He gripped the bed rail, then let go almost at once. If he held it too tightly, it felt like something might break. Shane moved his hand very slowly. Because of the bandages, he couldn’t really lift it, only turn his wrist a little. At that small movement, Ilya carefully sat down on the edge of the bed. He lowered his head and stopped there for a moment, then folded himself forward and leaned into Shane.
One of Ilya’s hands was on the sheet, and the other clutched the side of Shane’s hospital gown. His face was buried between Shane’s shoulder and chest, and his breathing was uneven. Shane slowly raised his bandaged hand. He found the back of Ilya’s head. He rested his hand there and stroked it. The movement was slow and clumsy, like his hand wasn’t listening to him properly.
───
A few days later, Ilya’s discharge paperwork was arranged first. The inside of his throat was still hoarse, and his chest pulled a little when he took a deep breath. Still, Ilya signed the forms, listened to the discharge instructions, and slowly packed the things left in his room into his bag. Even after the nurse set the bag of medication and the paper with precautions on the table and left, he didn’t close the zipper for a long time.
Shane had been moved from the ICU to a VIP room the day before. When Ilya came in with his bag, Shane was sitting up with the head of the bed raised. A fresh blanket was folded by the window, and on the table beside the bed were a cup of water, a half-eaten jelly, and the medication packet a nurse had left there. Shane looked at Ilya’s bag and narrowed his eyes a little.
“You’re being discharged.”
Ilya set the bag down by the wall.
“That’s why I came.”
Since they had lowered Shane’s pain medication, his expression had become clearer than before, and he was quicker to catch what Ilya was thinking. Ilya didn’t pull the chair over to sit beside the bed. Instead, he unnecessarily moved the water cup on the table. The coaster was a little wet, and he pulled out a tissue to wipe around it. Shane watched him for a moment before speaking.
“Don’t think about sleeping here.”
Ilya’s hand stopped. He looked at Shane, still holding the crumpled tissue.
“Did I say I was?”
“Not yet.”
“Then be quiet.”
Shane didn’t smile. His eyelids looked a little heavy, but his voice was steadier than before.
“Go home. Shower, sleep, take your medication. Don’t curl up on the couch next to me and end up admitted again.”
Ilya didn’t answer. He straightened the medication packets on the table instead. They were already arranged, but he lined them up once more. Shane looked at his hand and slowly let out a breath. The way Ilya avoided his eyes was too obvious. Pretending not to hear, finding something else to do, then doing whatever he wanted anyway.
“Ilya.”
Ilya refilled the water cup, moved the remote to where Shane could reach it, and checked the call button beside the bed. Shane didn’t stop him once. Instead, when Ilya bent down to fix the edge of the blanket, Shane lifted his bandaged hand and caught his sleeve, very lightly.
“Go.”
Ilya didn’t move right away. Shane didn’t have enough strength to hold on for long, and his hand soon slipped from Ilya’s sleeve. Ilya watched it lower back onto the bed, then touched near the back of Shane’s hand very carefully. Because of the bandages, there was hardly any skin to touch. Still, he stayed like that for a moment.
“I’ll come tomorrow.”
Shane raised his eyebrows a little.
“What if I tell you not to?”
Ilya picked up his bag.
“Then I’ll curl up in your bed and make both of us uncomfortable.”
This time, Shane smiled a little. The corner of his mouth rose slowly, then dropped again almost at once, as if he was tired. Ilya headed for the door, then looked back once more. Shane was leaning against the bed, watching him, and he lifted his bandaged hand just a little. His fingers didn’t really move, but his wrist gave a slow wave.
Ilya stood at the door and watched it, then shook his head a little. This time, the smile came first. His throat still hurt, so it barely made a sound, but his face softened a little.
“See you tomorrow.”
Shane waved once more instead of answering. It was a small, slow movement. Ilya waited until it ended before opening the door. The door closed quietly. Shane looked at it for a while, then lowered his bandaged hand onto the blanket. There was still a very faint smile left at his mouth.