“You ready?” Shane asks when they pull into the small parking lot behind the clinic. He has one hand around the car door handle, ready to go, but he won’t until Ilya makes the first move.
Ilya has not even unclipped his seatbelt yet.
“Da,” Ilya says, probably unconvincingly, because he does not attempt to get out of the car. It's not that he wants to delay the appointment that he knows he needs, it’s just-
He feels guilty. Guilty for having this option when his mother never did.
But they had talked about this for months, agreed that it was something they would try post-season, when Ilya had the time to titrate properly without it affecting their game. Shane had wanted to start right away, but Ilya had pushed back, the season was already hard - especially the roadies - and Ilya didn’t want to make it harder. Or let anyone down if he was not performing one hundred per cent.
Except now that they had been knocked out of the playoffs by Boston, they had a whole summer in front of them, and it was time.