alfiee



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    “Is this one from hockey?” he asks softly. Beneath him, Ilya exhales lightly.

    “No.”

    “What’s it from?”

    “A belt,” Ilya replies casually, as if the word doesn’t make Shane’s whole body go still for a moment, his muscles tensing to hold him frozen.

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    25 Aug 2026

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  2. Public Bookmark 26

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    His voice feels thin when he speaks again. ‘He used to hit me when things went wrong. Even when I didn’t know what I did.’

    ‘Like when?’

    Ilya shakes his head. ‘I don’t remember. Was long time ago. Just if I was bad.’

    It takes him a little while to realise that Shane is shaking.

    What’s worse, much worse than his father’s raised voice or raised hand, is having to confront the fact that his father no longer remembers a lot of what he’s done to Ilya.

    Only his body remembers the history of what he’s endured. When he listens to his father cry down the phone like a child, asking for Irina, he can almost convince himself that he’s made all of it up.

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    23 Aug 2026

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    baby :(

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    The thing is, David’s pretty sure the kid’s living in a car. Or a motel, or something. Things aren’t good; he’s sure of that. He’s not the most observant guy, and he’s kind of shocked Yuna and Shane seem completely oblivious. Ilya’s twelve years old and wears a sweatshirt that hugs his shoulders far too tight, jeans that ride up past his ankles. He grimaces every time he has to force his feet into his shoes, clearly also too small. He absolutely, patently refuses to be driven home, and Irina never picks him up. He says he doesn’t know his mother’s phone number when Yuna asks for it; David suspects she doesn’t have one. And Ilya completely shuts down when someone mentions joining a hockey team. 

    Ilya and Irina find themselves in Ottawa in 2003. Or more accurately, the Hollanders find them, and never seem to let go. 

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    22 Aug 2026

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    not sure why i have a thing for ilya as a high schooler getting treated like shit

  4. Public Bookmark *

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    Ilya used to not miss anything when he returned to Moscow during the off-season. He was standing in a convenience store, some July day in 2015, flipping through the newsstand, when it hit him that he didn’t particularly care about anything going on there. He was counting down the days before he could get on his flight back to Boston, as if there was anything there to greet him on his return. Maybe it wasn’t Boston he was missing. The realization is not welcome.

    “Do you think you will stay in Boston?” Shane asks, stroking Ilya’s upper arm. His touch is soft. Ilya wants it endlessly.

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    19 Aug 2026

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    summer 2026. this is like if the writer saw into my brain and put it on paper. i hope i will eventually also get happy forever warm summers. if they all did it so can you.

  5. Public Bookmark *

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    “You are…” Ilya licked his bloodied teeth and tried to remember the word. “Squeamish?”

    “No,” Hollander said. His eyes were still so wide, tracing over Ilya’s bruised face like searchlights. “Fuck. Just—”

    He stepped back, stumbling a little on socked feet, and jerked his head at the doorway. Get in.

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    18 Aug 2026

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    so good it feels like a deleted scene