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It's late, but he doesn't have anything pressing tomorrow morning. He can get up when he likes, but there are definitely things he wants to do.
Still, this is more important. Donovan stands in front of the door, wrapped in a blanket over his PJs, holding two travel mugs of hot cocoa. It's not as good as the hot cocoa from home, but it's the thought that counts, right?
Humming to himself, he counts the doors until he's at the one that's Ilia's. Knocking a few times, he rocks on his heels. Maybe the other is already asleep. Maybe he's out doing something. This plan is starting to seem maybe a little not so thought through-
"Hello?" The door is opened just enough for a tired expression to peer through the crack, then a look of recognition passes through his eyes, and the door is pushed all the way open. "Donovan? What's up?"
They're not exactly besties, but there's a type of kinship you have when you share the experience, let alone the ice. No one else can understand the feeling, something like freedom and shackles all at once.
"Thought you'd like a friend?" He offers up a mug. Ilia looks at the mug and then up at Donovan's face. The man would never admit it, but his eyes are rimmed red from crying.
".....Yeah. I was uh..." Ilia leans back to look at the TV in the hotel room. A still of Yuzuru Hanyu on screen, likely from the Disney+ special. Donovan can't help but grin wider. He's seen that quite a few times at this point.
"Oh! I love that!" Donovan gives him a bigger grin, and Ilia can't help but smile back before looking away with an awkward laugh. He steps back to let Donovan in, and they sit on the edge of the bed.
Without any hesitation, Donovan sits next to Ilia, thigh to thigh, and opens up his blanket to drape it over his shoulder. Ilia looks startled for a moment before leaning over to grab the remote and press play. There are no words after this point, just the two of them basking in Yuzuru Hanyu's talent...and feeling a little suffocated by his shadow.
"It's probably dumb that I'm watching this. Like some kind of pity party..." Ilia mumbles, looking down at his lap. Donovan turns his attention to the other, not interrupting, but giving him the space to talk. "I mean. I kinda dug my own grave here. Set up my stage to failure. Quad God. Tch. I choked." He clenches his hands in his lap, looking down, trying to fight another round of tears.
Placing a hand over his hands, Donovan gives his hands a squeeze. "I can't say you didn't choke. It was pretty bad, but that backflip you landed was pretty cool. And your short was good too. 8th isn't terrible, even if it's not what you wanted."
Ilia looks away, blinking back tears, gritting his teeth, and taking a breath. "I'm being a jerk. Total insensitive jerk. Here I am pissed I got 8th, and...you scored underneath it. That's just-"
"Everyone has different goals at the Olympics." He bumps shoulders with him, leaning his head against his. "It's not that I didn't want the gold or silver or bronze....but for me, just being on the ice was amazing. I don't carry the same expectations that you do, but I do carry the weight of every little kid back at home, wondering if Mexico has the right to be on the ice. It's pretty suffocating...so I can only imagine what kind of pressure you have."
Tilting his head back, he takes a few deep breaths before leaning into Donovan. He can't help but watch Yuzuru expertly dance across the ice on the screen. "...He makes it look so easy."
"He does. Doesn't he?" Donovan hums and can't help but feel a little jolt of nerves when Ilia lays his head on his shoulder. They sit in silence, nothing but the sound of the music of Yuzuru's program and their breathing. At some point, Donovan finds his fingers laced with Ilia's. A moment of closeness that Ilia will probably never speak of to anyone after this. He's fine with that.
"Y'know...." Ilia grumbles after a long moment. "He fell trying the Quad axel. Maybe the jump is just cursed."
That earns a bark of a laugh from Donovan. "No mames," He manages to get out, moving a hand to ruffle Ilia's hair. What he doesn't do is mention that Yuzuru fell during his attempt, and Ilia fell several times doing other things, shaken by the failed jump and the pressure of making it up. It's not needed here. "You're still going to try it next Olympics, no?"
"Oh for fucking sure." Ilia sits up properly but doesn't remove his hand from Donovan's. "I'm going to practice my ass off. It's my revenge tour...against myself, I guess? I'm going to be the first to land that jump."
It's nice to see him more like himself.
"....And you'll be there too, yeah? Can't wait to see what you manage to bring out. Your skates are always so much fun to watch." A lot of people talk about Donovan like he's the sun. He's bright and cheerful, and really, he's strived to be that person. But in this moment...he can't help but feel like Ilia's taken that spot..at least for him.
"Of course. Of course, Cuadrito." Donovan teases, bumping shoulders with him again. "Maybe I'll be on that podium with you." And the feeling, thigh to thigh, shoulder to shoulder, hand in hand, is something he'll hold on to until the next Olympics. It's more than just the medals. It's more than just representing their countries. Though, gods, is that important? It's about the bonds with the people who are the only ones who understand you. The bonds that sometimes only meet like passing stars in the night sky, but that doesn't make those moments any less important.