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Summary
As Shane stood at the stove, pancake batter sizzling in the pan in front of him, he heard Ilya's socked feet pad down the stairs. He kept turned away, waiting for Ilya to come and hug him from the back like he always did. When he didn't feel Ilya's arms come around his waist and the heat of his chest press against his back, he frowned and turned around, finding Ilya huddled against the kitchen island, his lips twisted in a pout.
As soon as their eyes meet, Ilya sniffled, blinking rapidly to keep the swiftly forming tears from dripping down his face. Shane faltered, quickly turning the stove off, and rushed over to him, hands cupping Ilya's cheeks as he sputtered, "Wha-, Ilya, what's wrong?"
Ilya shook his head and tipped forward, his hands coming up to clutch at Shane's hoodie. The tears had escaped now, trailing down his face as whimpered, trying to keep his sobs in.
or, Ilya woke up very little and very alone, cueing a meltdown and the entire morning spent cuddling with his Papa.
Series
- Part 1 of Little Ilya