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The apartment was quiet. Heavy. Pressed down in that post-game way, the kind of quiet that sat in the corners and seeped into your chest until breathing felt too loud. Shane slouched on the couch, towel slung over his shoulder, every muscle buzzing with leftover adrenaline even as exhaustion clawed at his limbs. He hadn’t moved much since they got back, just letting the silence settle around them.
Ilya moved around the room, peeling himself out of his clothes, stretching like he always did—smooth, casual, unguarded. Shane’s eyes flicked to him without thinking. Always had. He’d seen Ilya naked a hundred times before. He had traced every muscle, every scar he knew about, memorized every curve. He knew him better than his own body, better than his own hands.
There were no secrets left between them—or at least, that’s what Shane had thought.
But this time… something caught him.
He froze mid-breath.
It started as a flicker, just a shadow crossing the curve of Ilya’s thighs. Then—a line. Another. Pale, jagged, faint. Uneven. Disturbingly wrong. Running along the inside of Ilya’s legs in a way Shane had never noticed, never imagined, never seen before.
His chest tightened violently. The air left him. His heart slammed so hard it felt like it could break his ribs.
“No.” Shane whispered it under his breath, hoarse, trembling. His hand lifted, unsure whether to reach or pull back. His brain refused to process what it was seeing. He blinked, again and again, like if he stared hard enough, the lines would vanish.
They didn’t.
“I—Ilya?” Shane’s voice cracked. Louder this time, desperate, trembling.
Ilya froze. Instantaneous. Small. So small Shane’s chest ached just seeing him shrink into himself. Shoulders hunched, arms curling against his thighs. He looked almost afraid to breathe. Eyes darted down, then away, refusing to meet Shane’s. His chest rose and fell rapidly, uneven, shallow. Every movement was tentative, as if he was trying to disappear, trying to make himself invisible.
Shane stumbled to his feet. His hands lifted, trembling. “What—what the hell is this?” Panic laced every word, tearing through him like fire. “Ilya… why didn’t you—how long…?”
Ilya flinched. Small, anxious, fragile. He shifted slightly backward, instinctively curling in, wrapping his arms around himself like it could somehow shield him.
“I… I hide it,” he whispered, voice cracking, so quiet Shane had to strain to hear. “I didn’t think… you’d want… to see me.”
Shane’s knees weakened. His chest tightened until it hurt to breathe. “You hid it from me?” Panic surged, rising into a choke in his throat. “From me?! I… I’ve seen you—everywhere. Every part of you. How long… how long have you been hurting like this, and I—” His voice broke entirely.
“Shane… please…” Ilya whispered, small, hesitant, voice barely audible, like he was afraid of Shane’s answer. “I didn’t… I didn’t want you to—”
Shane couldn’t hear him. His heart felt like it was being ripped from his chest. He sank onto the couch, elbows pressing into his knees, hands gripping his hair. “Do you understand what this feels like? To realize… the person you love… the person you love more than anything… was hurting this badly, and I didn’t even know?”
Ilya’s hands fidgeted, trembling against his own body. He took a tiny step closer, then another, until he was almost crouching in front of Shane, shoulders hunched, head down, body trembling. “I… I was scared,” he admitted, voice barely more than a whisper. “Scared you’d see me like that… scared you’d leave. I… I didn’t want to ruin us.”
Shane felt as if someone had hollowed him out from the inside. His hands shook, fingers trembling as he reached out, unsure if he should touch, if he even could. He wanted to pull Ilya into his chest, to hold him like he could never let go, but he also wanted to shout, to cry, to collapse entirely. “Ilya…” His voice broke in pieces. “I… I can’t even… I don’t… you—do you know how terrified I am? How much this scares me? That you… that this—” He gestured helplessly at the scars—“—and I had no idea. You’ve been suffering, and I— I didn’t see it. I failed you.”
Ilya flinched again, small and anxious, voice stammering. “It’s not… your fault… I didn’t want… to burden you… I…” His words broke, trailing into shaky silence.
Shane shook his head violently, tears spilling down his cheeks before he could stop them. “Not my fault?” His voice rose, jagged. “I’m supposed to notice! I’m supposed to protect you! I’m supposed to be there! And I… I didn’t. I didn’t even know. And you… you were hurting this much…” He pressed a hand to his chest, nearly gasping. “Do you know how much it kills me to know that I didn’t even see it? That you went through this, alone, and I was right here?”
Ilya trembled visibly, curling in even smaller. “I… I didn’t want you to… to look at me and…” His voice caught. “See me… broken.”
Shane’s sob broke out uncontrollably. He ran a shaking hand over his face, hair tangled in his fingers. “Ilya, I… I love you! Do you understand? I love all of you! Every part. Even this. Especially this, if it means it made you survive.” He leaned forward, voice cracking further. “I’m not leaving. I’m not going anywhere. You don’t get to hide from me anymore. Not ever.”
Ilya didn’t answer right away.
He just stood there, trembling, shoulders caved inward, eyes fixed on the floor like it might open up and swallow him whole. His fingers twisted together until his knuckles went white, the motion frantic and small, like he didn’t know what to do with his hands.
“I…” His voice barely made it out. He swallowed hard, throat working. “I don’t hide from you because I don’t trust you,” he said finally, words fragile, breaking apart as soon as they formed. “I hide because I’m scared. All the time.”
Shane’s chest heaved. He wiped at his face with the heel of his hand, tears still spilling freely, unchecked. “Scared of what, Ilya?” he asked, voice wrecked. “Scared of me?”
“No,” Ilya said quickly, shaking his head too hard, panic flaring. “No, never you. I— I’m scared of losing you.”
That landed like a punch.
Shane let out a broken sound, halfway between a laugh and a sob. “You think this would make me leave?” he asked, disbelief and pain tangled together. “Finding out you were hurting so badly you—” His voice failed him. He pressed his lips together, breathing hard through his nose. “You think loving you stops here?”
Ilya’s shoulders shook. He sank down slowly, sitting on the floor in front of Shane, knees drawn up to his chest, arms wrapped tightly around himself. He looked so small like that, folded inward, like a child trying to take up as little space as possible.
“It started when I was thirteen,” Ilya whispered.
Shane froze.
“Thirteen?” he echoed hoarsely. “Ilya… you were a kid.”
Ilya nodded, eyes still down. “My mom had just died,” he said quietly, like saying it any louder might break him in half. “Everything fell apart after that. My dad… my brother… they were angry all the time. And I didn’t know how to be anything but quiet.” His fingers dug into his sleeves. “I didn’t know how to make it stop.”
Shane’s hands clenched into fists so tight his nails bit into his palms. His entire body felt like it was vibrating with rage and grief and helplessness. “You were alone,” he said, voice shaking. “You were grieving. And they—” He stopped himself, breath shuddering. “God, Ilya…”
“I didn’t tell anyone,” Ilya continued, words spilling faster now, like once he started he couldn’t stop. “I learned how to hide everything. My feelings. My body. I learned how to smile so people wouldn’t ask questions.” His voice cracked. “It felt like the only thing I could control.”
Shane shook his head slowly, tears dripping off his chin. “You shouldn’t have had to survive like that,” he whispered. “You shouldn’t have had to be that strong.”
Ilya flinched at the word strong.
“I’m not,” he said immediately, panic rising. “I’m not strong. I just— I just didn’t want to die. And sometimes… sometimes that was the only way I knew how to stay.”
Shane sucked in a sharp breath, the sound almost a gasp. He leaned forward suddenly, reaching out, stopping himself at the last second like he was afraid of hurting him. “Ilya,” he said desperately. “Look at me.”
Slowly—so slowly—Ilya lifted his head.
His eyes were red, rimmed with tears, terrified and ashamed all at once.
“The last time,” Ilya whispered, voice barely holding together, “was a year ago.”
Shane’s heart dropped into his stomach.
“A year ago,” he repeated, stunned. “You—” His breath hitched. “That was when we were already… together.”
Ilya nodded.
“I was scared you’d leave if you knew,” he admitted, tears finally spilling over. “Scared you’d think I was too much. Too broken. I kept telling myself I’d stopped, that it was in the past, that it didn’t matter anymore.”
“It mattered,” Shane said immediately, fiercely. “It matters. You matter.”
Ilya let out a small, broken sob, curling tighter into himself. “I didn’t want to disappoint you.”
That broke Shane completely.
He slid off the couch and onto the floor in front of him, not caring anymore, knees hitting the rug hard. He reached out and took Ilya’s hands, warm and shaking, holding them like they were something precious and fragile.
“You could never disappoint me,” Shane said, voice wrecked. “Do you hear me? Never. The only thing that scares me is thinking about you hurting and thinking you had to do it alone.”
Ilya shook, crying quietly now, shoulders jerking with every breath. “I didn’t want to be a burden.”
Shane laughed softly through his tears, shaking his head. “You’re not a burden. You’re the love of my life,” he said, pressing his forehead gently to Ilya’s. “And loving you means all of you. The pain. The past. The parts you wish weren’t there.”
He pulled Ilya into his chest then, fully, arms wrapping around him, holding him tight as Ilya collapsed against him with a sob. Shane cradled him instinctively, one hand pressing to his back, the other tangling in his hair.
“You don’t ever have to hide from me again,” Shane whispered, over and over, like a promise, like a plea. “Not the fear. Not the past. Not the scars. I want all of it. I want you.”
Ilya clung to him, small and shaking, crying into Shane’s shoulder, finally letting himself be held without flinching.
“I’m still here,” Ilya whispered shakily. “I’m trying.”
Shane kissed the side of his head, tears soaking into his hair. “I know,” he said softly. “And I’m so proud of you. And I’m here. I’m not going anywhere. Not now. Not ever.”
They stayed there on the floor for a long time, tangled together, breathing each other through the worst of it, the quiet apartment holding their grief, their fear, and their love all at once.
And for the first time, Ilya didn’t feel like he had to disappear to be loved.