one day, ilya decides to get a buzz cut on a whim.
he’s alone, waiting for shane to come home, restless and bored. he’s always wanted to try it, and without thinking twice, he finds himself in the bathroom, clippers buzzing in his hand.
it happens faster than he expects. curl after curl falls to the floor until there’s nothing left but short, even stubble beneath his fingers.
and then it hits ilya. fuck. I should’ve waited for shane. i should’ve asked him what he thinks. what if he doesn’t like it? what if he hates it?
by the time shane gets home, ilya’s is so nervous, restless once again. but the second shane sees him, everything changes.
shane doesn’t hesitate. he crosses the distance in seconds, grabbing ilya’s face and kissing him; breathless kisses, one after another.
“shit,” shane whispers between kisses, his hands sliding over ilya’s head, like he can’t get enough of the new texture. “fuck, ilya..”
ilya lets out a shaky laugh. “i thought you might hate it.”
“hate it?” shane pulls back just enough to look at him properly, eyes wide. “are you kidding me?”
his thumb brushes over ilya’s cheek. “you look so hot,” he says, softer now. “i mean, you always do, but this,” he shakes his head, smiling. “this is unfair.”
some of the tightness in ilya’s chest finally loosens. “so you’re not mad?”
shane laughs, leaning in to press one more kiss to his mouth. “mad?” he mumbles. “i’m fucking obsessed with you.”
