Chapter Text
You deserve it.
Ilia hears the ringing of his own words that he had murmured against the shell of Misha’s ear as he wraps his arms tightly around his trembling body and buried his face in the crook of his neck barely holding back tears.
You deserve it.
It echoes as he tears off his costume in the changing room and puts on the most boring grey sweats and white t-shirt under the USA team jacket that he doesn’t deserve to wear.
You deserve it.
Ilia chokes on his own breath as he drags his feet along the path to the Olympic village. Body trembling from the cold and from the embarrassment of what had happened. He felt the tears running down his face, hot and fast and his breath hitched.
You deserve it.
As he stumbles through the threshold of his room after shoving past Amber and Alysa as they try to comfort him. Not wanting anyone to see him for days. To curl up under his covers and just. Give up.
I failed. He deserves it. You deserve it.
Those were the words that repeated over and over as he spiraled deeper and deeper. Ilia’s endless spiraling was suddenly interrupted by a knock at the door.
“Go. Away.” He muttered as he burrowed further under the covers and shut his eyes as tight as possible.
“Ilia?” His breath catches in his throat. He knows that voice too well. While it was rare to hear it that soft he would recognize it anywhere, “Im not leaving until you open your door.”
Ilia glances around his room and noticed in is breakdown he had knocked everything on the floor and threw his shirt at the wall where it is hanging haphazardly on a hook. He had finally given up and in his last thing he did before he blacked out was putting on a pair of low slung pajama pants. But also a tapestry of bruises from where he slammed onto the ice
“Fine,” he sharply says just loud enough for Misha to hear on the other side of the door. He pushes himself up against the bed frame while whispering “Im coming,” as he swayed and stumbled to the door.
He pushed it open just enough to see Misha’s worried face staring back at him knowing that his eyes are red and that he probably looks like he just went through a war. Just the sight was enough to make him start crying again.
“What do you want.” It came across as rude but at this point he just wanted to be able to go to sleep and forget everything.
“I… I.” Misha stuttered. He shut his mouth and dived forward wrapping Ilia in a hug way too tight to be platonic and buried his face into his bare chest and waited of him to hug back.