Work Text:
Ilya was having a Bad Day.
Ilya knew he was going to have a Bad Day almost immediately after he opened his eyes, the fractured lines of sunlight stretching through the curtains.
That was bad enough.
The fact Shane was at the other side of the country made it so much worse.
He missed his boyfriend always, of course. But days like this - when everything took too much effort, when even holding his eyes open felt like a monumental task - it felt like his heart and soul had been ripped from him. The only solace was he knew Shane would take care of them well, as though it were precious.
They weren’t - Ilya certainly wasn’t - but it was nice that Shane cared about him enough to act like it.
He is half of my soul, as the poets say.
Ilya couldn’t remember where that was from. But it was true. Shane was his everything. His heart. The reason he breathed.
His soul.
A buzz came from his bedside table, his phone lighting up in the dimness.
Shane, maybe.
Troy.
Bood.
Harris.
Yuna.
David.
Any number of people could be texting him. People who, deep down, Ilya knew cared about him. But it was a quiet voice. A voice that was drowned out by the louder, harsher voice.
The voice that told him he was nothing.
That he didn’t deserve the love or the care from them. That it was more than likely forced.
Because, really, who could love him?
Someone so broken? Someone so worthless?
Someone so very depressed?
His phone buzzed again.
Whoever it is, they’ve taken time out of their day to get in touch with you of all people.
Don’t let them regret it, for fucks sake.
Ilya heaved upwards, vision spinning.
When was the last time he had eaten?
He couldn’t remember.
Christ, why couldn’t he remember?
He grappled for his phone, wiping his face.
It was 8:30, which Ilya was grateful for. It was nowhere near late enough for people to wonder.
моя любовь: Morning :) how’re you feeling today, mon hérisson?
Ilya smiled, just a little. The nickname - my hedgehog - had only been a new addition, but it was beginning to become more and more solidified.
It makes perfect sense, Ilya! Shane had said, burrowing further into Ilya’s lap. They had been at the cottage, watching the sun set gently. Ilya had been so, so fucking happy. You’re, like, spiky when you first meet people but then you relax later. And, they’re very cute. And I want to carry you around in my pocket. And feed you little snacks. Keep you nice and warm and safe.
Yuna and David had gifted them a bottle of sake. Ilya had coaxed Shane into having some.
Running a hand through his tangled hair, he typed a reply out as he left the bedroom, forgoing a tshirt.
Me: i am okay :) how’re you? Sleep well?
Ilya hoped Shane hadn’t noticed just how quickly he moved on. The last thing he wanted to do was focus on how he was doing.
God knows what he would say if Shane pressed.
He made his way through the apartment, looking up at the sound of a whine. Anya was curled into the corner of the sofa, face half-hidden by the dinosaur toy clutched between her paws.
Ilya’s heart lifted, patting his knees. “Anya, my darling perfect princess. Breakfast time?”
His dog was up and skittering across the hardwood floor before he finished speaking.
The sound of the previous nights hockey highlight playing quietly in the background felt like a comfort blanket around his shoulders as he prepared her breakfast, leaving it by her bed and making his way back to the couch. He would get himself something later.
Maybe.
Probably.
Time warped into something unrecognisable then, hours passing by in what seemed like minutes. Ilya normally would have taken Anya out for her walk by now but everytime he tried to get up, an invisible weight pushed him back.
And then the rain started, so.
Silence was absolute, apart from the buzzes of his phone that was muffled by the pillow Ilya had placed on top of it.
It was only really broken by the padding of feet, that stopped only when Ilya felt a small body collide with his knees.
He apologised to her, quietly. He hurt everyone, everything, around him, didn’t he?
Could’t fucking help himself, quite clearly.
Anya whined, but it sounded far away, as though he was underwater and sinking, sinking, sinkingsinkingsinking.
Despite that, he forced his gaze down, blinking slowly at his dog.
At Anya.
At the thing that - bar Shane - kept him most alive.
She stared at him and Ilya knew it was silly but he was almost certain that the look on her face was that I can make it better. Promise. I’ll mend your heart, if you would let me.
And then slowly, so very slowly, she lowered her head onto his knee, her eyes still on Ilya’s face.
The silence echoed.
And then.
And then…
Ilya broke.
The sobs were all-encompassing
It was as though his strings were cut, as though he were a balloon that had been popped.
Loud and unrestrained, months of pressure unreleased.
He heard Anya startle but barely had the chance to open his eyes and beg forgiveness before she was leaping into his lap and licking at any patch of skin she could reach.
Ilya couldn’t tell how long he cried for but eventually, eventually, he managed to pull himself back together. Anya was still there, a rock, an ever steady presence.
He loved her. Maybe almost as much as he loved the man whose number he pressed.
The phone only rang before it was picked up and the voice that protected Ilya’s heart and soul like it was precious spoke. “Ilya? Hi!”
He took a shuddering breath and even though he couldn’t see his boyfriend, he could imagine the worried look that was falling into place. “Shane?”
“Baby? What’s wrong?”
“I…” Ilya swallowed. “I lied. Earlier. On my text. I’m not okay.”
“Oh. Oh, Ilya. Let’s go on facetime, alright? Let me see you. I love you so much, c’mon.”
Anya whined, burying her head into his stomach. Got herself into a more comfortable position.
Ilya kissed her head and breathed.