Chapter Text
2:54 am.
Gaby crossed her arms after glancing at the clock on the wall.
He was almost an hour late. Maybe he finally got hit so hard he couldn’t get back up.
Shaking her head, Gaby’s idea quickly dissipated when she heard the familiar creaks on the ancient stairs in her apartment building. Turning around, she peeked out the small hole in her door to the apartment across from hers. The shuffling in the stairwell grew louder until a hunched figure appeared on the small landing.
Her neighbor was tall, but it was hard to tell as he cradled his ribs. Even in the dim light, Gaby could see the bruises and cuts disfiguring his face, the blood caked into his knuckles, the ever growing exhaustion under his eyes.
Ever since Gaby had moved in four months ago, she had watched him come home late at night, beaten to a pulp but with a wad of cash in his pockets. The first night she saw him in bad shape, she had nearly called the police but stopped when he unlocked the door across from hers and stumbled into his apartment.
The next morning, she had run into him as she left for work. He was cleaned up, stitches across a cheek, and wearing a perfect suit. When he said good morning to her in his Russian accent, she had choked on her words before replying.
Gaby still wasn’t sure which version of him was the real one. She wanted to believe it was the polite man in the suit, but she was positive that he went out in the dead of night because he couldn’t help himself.
For some reason, this fascinated Gaby and she had been watching ever since, this night being no different.
Taking a deep breath, Gaby was turning to her bedroom when she heard a loud thump outside. Rushing back to her door, she looked out the peephole and saw her neighbor lying on the floor outside his apartment.
Gaby chewed on her lip before unlocking her door hastily. Flying out of her apartment, she was at his side in a second.
Her hands shook as she knelt beside him, “Hey, are you okay?”
Groaning, he responded with eyes shut, “Fine. Just fell.”
Gaby rolled her eyes, “You really think I would buy that?”
“It’s okay,” his voice was deep and tired.
Observing the wounds covering his face, Gaby sighed before pulling his arm over her shoulder.
“No, stop, I’m fine,” he spoke the words through gritted teeth.
“Like hell you are. Where are your keys?”
Weakly, he motioned to the pocket in his leather jacket.
Reaching into the pocket, Gaby quickly pulled out the keys and held them tight in her fist as she helped him to stand. Once he was on his feet, she moved him forward and unlocked the door.
Taking his arm back, he stumbled into his apartment and gently fell onto the couch in his living room.
Gaby placed his keys on the kitchen counter and turned on the light, casting a shadow on all of his bruises. Crossing her arms, she watched him breathe heavily on the couch.
“Thank you,” he muttered.
Gaby shrugged before taking a seat on the table in front of the couch, “Eh, what are neighbors for, right?”
He chuckled but immediately winced and grabbed his chest.
“Broken ribs, some cuts that need stitches, and possibly a concussion,” Gaby listed them all easily.
He paused in his movements before looking over at her. Gaby’s heart jumped at how blue his eyes were.
“Are you a doctor?”
Gaby scoffed, “God no. My mother was. She taught me quite a bit before she passed.”
She watched as his jaw moved before he spoke, “What’s your name?”
“Gaby.”
He nodded, “I’m Illya.”
Tucking her hair behind her ear, Gaby smirked before leaning forward and glancing at a cut above his eyebrow.
“You seriously need stitches.”
Illya sat up, grunting, “There’s a bag in my bathroom.”
“Got it,” Gaby followed his instructions to the bathroom and carried a black bag back out him.
Smacking Illya’s hands away, Gaby dug around in the bag until she found the items she needed.
“I can do it,” Illya spoke softly.
“I’m sure you can. I’ve watched you come home since I got here.”
He hummed in reply as Gaby wet a cloth with alcohol. He flinched when she began dabbing his face, but after a few seconds, he stilled.
Pulling out the needle for stitches, Gaby glanced at Illya, “You might need something for this.”
“Scotch. Above the fridge,” he motioned to the kitchen.
Standing, Gaby grabbed the bottle and set it in his lap. Unscrewing the cap, he took a swig before Gaby took it from him and followed in his lead.
Raising his eyebrow, Illya smirked, “Nervous?”
Gaby shook her head, “Steadies the hands.”
Moving her legs in between his knees, Gaby took a deep breath before beginning the stitches. Illya’s strained grunts lowered slowly as she made quick work of the cut.
Snipping off the last stitch, Gaby leaned back and watched as Illya opened his eyes. She caught the ghost of a smile before he stood up uncomfortably.
“Your ribs,” Gaby muttered.
“Thank you,” he repeated.
Illya staggered to his front door and opened it. Gaby sighed before moving past him into the hallway.
She turned before he shut the door, “Did you win?”
Illya’s expression was soft, “Yes.”
Gaby frowned, “Hate to see the shape you’ll be in when you lose.”
After the incident (as Gaby began to call it), she didn’t see Illya for quite a few days. She knew it was most likely that he was trying to heal up, but it still bummed her out when he didn’t return home in the middle of the night. He had been a nice distraction from her insistent insomnia.
Two weeks later, Gaby began to worry. It was completely possible that he had died while out fighting, or whatever he did while he was out. She would never know. It was truly beginning to bother her.
Waiting a few more days, Gaby finally gave in and found herself standing outside his apartment in the early morning.
Biting her lip, she knocked twice. There was no answer.
Knocking a little louder, Gaby stammered, “Illya? It’s Gaby. If you’re dead in there, just tell me so I can stop thinking about how I will explain it to the police.”
Still no reply.
It was possible he wasn’t home. But at the same time, Gaby hadn’t seen anyone leave the apartment for quite some time.
With a deep breath, Gaby tried the door knob and found it to be unlocked. She opened the door slowly, revealing a silent and dark apartment. She was about to step back into the hallway when she heard a noise coming from the bathroom.
“Illya?” Gaby questioned as she moved towards the bathroom.
Trailing her hand along the wall in the pitch dark, Gaby reached the small room and fumbled for the light switch. Flicking it on, she gasped when the light illuminated the blood smeared across the floor and the dark splotches leading to Illya’s body lying in the middle of the room.
Panicking, Gaby didn’t care about the blood staining her work clothes as she knelt beside him.
“Shit, Illya,” Gaby muttered as she pressed her fingers to his neck and felt a weak pulse.
Following the blood to a wound on his side, Gaby leaned closer and barely touched the bloody injury.
Illya flinched awake and Gaby jumped, her hand pulled back.
“Fuck,” Gaby sighed, “Illya? Do you have a death wish or something?”
Moving his arms, Illya groaned painfully, “Gaby?”
“Who else?”
“You shouldn’t be here,” he mumbled.
“Oh please, save yourself the trouble and stop talking.”
Gaby felt her frustration rise as she helped him onto his side. Illya cried out as she lifted his shirt to unveil the deep injury by his ribs.
“Please don’t tell me this is from a knife,” Gaby glared at Illya’s wincing face.
He opened one eye, “I can’t.”
“Jesus fuck. I don’t know what you do, but I can tell you that no amount of money is worth bleeding out on your bathroom floor.”
Illya didn’t reply. Gaby groaned angrily before finding the same bag she used last time. Not even caring to pull out a clean towel, she simply poured the rubbing alcohol onto the cut.
Shouting, Illya squirmed as Gaby wiped off the dried blood and examined the wound.
“Looks clean,” Gaby commented.
Illya barely opened his eyes to glare at her, “No shit.”
Gaby shrugged before continuing her work on the injury.
Time passed and Gaby had just finished up when her phone began to ring.
Wiping her hands on Illya’s shirt, Gaby glanced at the caller ID and felt her stomach drop at the number. It was almost ten in the morning, meaning she was late for work.
Illya watched her ignore the call, “You should take that. I’m fine.”
Gaby shook her head, she had made her decision, “No. I’d rather miss work than explain to the police why you’re dead and I’m covered in your blood.”
“You can’t miss work because of me-”
“Stop, Illya.”
Illya snapped his mouth close and looked up at the ceiling.
Gaby felt something tug at her heart before she spoke, “You have been leaving, but I haven’t seen you go for weeks now.”
Illya swallowed, “I use the fire escape.”
Gaby’s mouth dropped open, “You’ve deliberately been avoiding me?”
“I didn’t want you to get involved.”
“Involved? I’m not allowed to help my neighbor from dying?”
Illya turned to look at her, “It’s different. I’m no good for you.”
Gaby clenched her fists before standing, “You can’t decide what’s good or bad for me. Don’t question me again, I’ve already made up my mind.”
Reaching down, Gaby helped a whining Illya into a sitting position before pulling him to his feet. Half dragging, half stumbling, Gaby led him to the couch and let him fall back onto it.
Untying his shoes, Gaby ignored Illya’s mumbles about not needing help. She grabbed a glass of water and placed it on the table.
Taking a seat next to the glass, Gaby smiled at Illya, “I say we make a deal. From now on you come to me if you’re in bad shape and I will promise to not stop you from doing whatever you’re doing.”
Illya grinned sadly before nodding, “Deal.”
True to his word, Illya showed up at her door in the dead of night a few nights later. And then nights after that. It was always the same routine. Gaby scolding him for getting so beat up, Illya smirking with bloody lips, and both of them growing used to each other’s company.
Soon, Illya was no longer knocking but just letting himself into her apartment and stumbling to Gaby’s bedroom, where he found her wide awake most of the time.
There was one instance when he came in, coughing up blood, and Gaby had been sound asleep. He had turned away but had only made it two steps before Gaby had woken up. He had received the longest lecture ever as she bandaged him up. Despite her nasty words, Illya hadn’t missed how soft her hands were as she worked. Her ever awareness of the pain she was putting him through as she stitched him back together. When she finished her work that night, Illya had wished she hadn’t removed her hands. He had lied awake the rest of the night, his thoughts swimming around her sharp words, gentle eyes, dark hair, and striped pajamas.
Gaby had grown used to the nightly visits of Illya, so she was shocked when there were knocks at her door earlier than when he usually showed up one night.
“You know you can let yourself in, right?” Gaby said as she moved to the door.
Opening it, Gaby choked on her words at the sight of an unconscious Illya being carried by another man.
The man smiled, his lip bloody and eye swollen, “You must be Gaby?”
“Who the hell are you?” Gaby stepped back, her hand reaching for the pepper spray sitting in her purse a foot away.
“Napoleon, I’m one of Illya’s friends,” he shifted Illya on his shoulder.
“How do I know you’re not just making that up?”
Gaby had her hand around the pepper spray when Illya groaned. Feeling her heart rise into her throat, she let go of the spray and moved aside.
“Put him on the couch,” she ordered Napoleon.
“Yes ma’am,” Napoleon responded as he dragged Illya into the apartment and onto the couch.
Shutting the front door, Gaby immediately rushed to Illya’s side and began her usual checks. She didn’t find anything but new bruises layering his body.
Sitting back, Gaby let out a breath before turning to Napoleon. He was dabbing at a cut along his arm, acting like it was perfectly normal to be in Gaby’s apartment.
“So you’re a friend of Illya’s?”
Napoleon looked up, “Yes. We fight together.”
“And you knew about me, how?”
He laughed, “He talks about you, of course. I understand why now.”
Gaby blushed, “You talk about me in between beating the shit out of each other?”
“We don’t only fight. I’ve known him for years. Even before all this mess. And we don’t fight each other. I fought him one time and I still have the scars from it. We just watch out for each other.”
“So what do you guys do?”
Napoleon smirked, “We’re not supposed to talk about it, but I’m sure you won’t leave me alone until I tell you. It’s an underground…uh…club? I guess that’s the best word for it. It’s a bunch of people who gather together and fight. We also bet on the current fight. I’ve only see Illya lose once so I’m sure he’s bringing in the money. But at the same time, I know he doesn’t do it for the money. I personally do it for the women.”
Gaby scoffed, “Women?”
“Women love men who can take a punch,” Napoleon chuckled lightly before becoming serious again, “I mean, isn’t that why you like Illya?”
Gaby huffed out a breath, “I don’t like…I don’t think those women have every seen the aftermath of a fight. It’s not all cool scars and flexed muscles.”
“You got that right,” Napoleon wrapped a bandage around his arm before sitting back in the armchair.
Gaby turned back to look at Illya. She wasn’t sure why she was so interested in him. Maybe it was the fact that he came back with bruises and and cracked ribs, but his hands were always kind. Gaby still couldn’t admit to herself that she was interested at all.
“Thank you,” she muttered.
Nodding his head, Napoleon watched Gaby brush her fingers across Illya’s knuckles.
“You’re good for him,” Napoleon grinned when Gaby whipped around to look at him, “He fights less now. And when he does fight, he doesn’t recklessly throw himself around. I’ve been trying to calm him for years, but I guess I don’t have the right touch.”
Gaby thought over his words before saying softly, “He didn’t want me to get involved.”
Napoleon stood up, “You probably shouldn’t. But I can tell that you don’t listen to instructions very well, so I’ll just tell you to be careful. We’re fucked up people.”
Gaby smirked, “Thank you Napoleon.”
He shrugged, “Do you mind if I stay here tonight? I’m exhausted.”
“Yeah, you can use my bed.”
Gaby pointed to her room and Napoleon thanked her before leaving the room.
Turning back to Illya, Gaby jumped when she saw that he was awake. Moaning, Illya sat up slowly as Gaby moved to sit next to him on the couch.
“Easy,” Gaby whispered, her hands gentle on his chest.
“What do you think of Napoleon?” Illya smirked.
“Handsome.”
Illya gave her look and Gaby chuckled.
“I’m kidding. He’s nice.”
Illya nodded, “You’re a girl, of course he’s nice to you.”
Gaby grew serious, “He cares for you.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Illya waved his hand dismissively.
They sat in silence as Gaby watched him run a hand through his messy blonde hair.
Swallowing her nervousness, Gaby whispered, “You scared me tonight.”
Illya froze and turned to look at her. He wasn’t sure if her hand could feel his heart, but it felt like it was going to leap out of his chest at any second.
“Sorry,” Illya murmured.
Gaby slowly lifted her hands to his neck and ignored the warning in her heart.
Illya turned to her, his eyebrows furrowed together in concern, “Gaby.”
Leaning closer, Gaby stopped a couple inches from his bruised face and watched his eyes flick down to her mouth and back up. She closed the gap quickly, her lips soft against his bloody ones.
It took him a second before he moved against her mouth, his hands cradling her face as she pressed closer to him.
It felt like an eternity when he pulled away and muttered with his eyes shut, “This isn’t a good idea.”
Kissing him softly, Gaby whispered back, “I don’t care.”
Hesitating, Illya watched Gaby lick her lips, his blood smeared across her mouth before returning her kisses.
This was going to destroy them both.
Their routine changed slightly from then on. Instead of shuffling back to his apartment, Illya now crawled into the bed with Gaby and if he didn’t pass out from loss of blood, he would make broken love to her.
Her hands and sheets were stained with his blood. Her shower washing away the dirt covering him as he kissed her under the water. Her pillows smelling of his cologne and her sweet shampoo. His perfect suit for work hanging in her closet.
Illya didn’t realize how close he had grown to her until they were lying awake together late one night.
It was one of the nights where he had been beaten senseless and had returned to Gaby with cracked ribs and blood leaking from his mouth. She had patched him up the best she could before they nestled under the sheets together.
Gaby was lying on her side watching him when she spoke, “Have you ever thought about quitting?”
Illya winced as he turned to look at her. He could see the worry in her eyes, even though she tried to cover it up. There was something else there as well, something more than the comfort of having another person in bed with you. Something that made Illya want to wake up to Gaby every morning, without bloody knuckles and concerned looks.
Illya replied before thinking, “Yes.”
“Why don’t you?”
Illya knew the question was eventually going to come up. Instead of answering, he shrugged.
“You can’t help yourself,” Gaby said the words quietly, her eyes following her fingers trailing up and down his arm.
Illya frowned as he pulled her close. He kissed her fiercely.
It was time.
A week later, Illya returned to Gaby early in the night without any wounds. She didn’t question it when he immediately pulled her into his arms and kissed her until they were heaving for air.
With their hands entwined, they memorized each other’s bodies, each breath taken shared with the other.
By the middle of the night, Gaby was exhausted as she spread herself across Illya. He ran his hands through her hair, always stopping to twirl the dark ends before beginning again.
Gaby’s eyes grew heavier with each kiss he pressed to her forehead. His hands continued to swirl soothingly in her hair as she fell asleep, her last memory being a whispered apology into her ear.
The next morning when Gaby awoke, the apartment was silent and all traces that Illya had ever been there were gone. His clothes and bloody bandages gone. The only thing hinting at his presence was the scent of his cologne and his blood underneath her fingernails.
Feeling her heart drop, Gaby leaped to her feet and ran out her front door to Illya’s apartment. Knocking rapidly, she only waited a second before turning the knob and stepping into his apartment.
Catching her breath, Gaby froze at the sight of the deserted apartment. Nothing was left behind, not even the blood stains from that dreadful night in the bathroom.
Stepping into the middle of the empty living room, Gaby let a tear slide down her cheek before clenching her fists.
Wiping her eyes, Gaby left the apartment quietly, and by the time the door was shut behind her, she had buried her heart deep enough to never find it again.