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Kneeling in front of his toilet, Shane pressed his fingers deep into his mouth, desperate to get rid of all the empty calories he had so impulsively indulged in, the bile rushed up his throat leaving a burning sensation, but it did nothing to silence the thoughts rushing through his head.
It was just a chocolate bar.
But his mind didn’t say just.
It said no discipline.
It said you always ruin everything.
He tried to remember the words that his therapist mentioned to him, that what his brain is telling him isn't true, but it was hard to believe her during that moment when there he was, kneeling in front of his toilet with spit and vomit on his injured knuckles as tears stream down his face.
"I really am pathetic"
he said to the empty room with a humourless scoff, before flushing the water and washing his hands and teeth. The water keeps running even after he's done. The fluorescent light hummed overhead, far too bright for how small he felt.
The intrusive thoughts grow louder as he studies his own reflection, searching for something redeemable and finding nothing he recognizes.
In an attempt to stifle them he subconsciously digs his nails into the scars on his legs left from last week's breakdown, placed strategically so that Ilya wouldn't see them, or they could at least be taken as an accident.
When that didnt help either he frantically took out one of the blades hidden in the back of the drawer under the sink, away from the eyes of his boyfriend or any visitors.
And that's how he ended up sitting against the bathtub with a blade pressed neatly against his scarred thigh.
The first cut was exhilarating, almost like a high, as the blood gushed out of his skin before multiple more slices of the blade ripped his skin open, only now does his mind finally shut up.
Thats when he heard the front door open, Ilya must have returned from the gym, making a beeline towards the bathroom, opening the door as he thought Shane was at his parent's house.
Fuck.
The door opened, and the world tilted.
Shane didn’t look up at first. If he didn’t see Ilya’s face, maybe he could pretend this wasn’t real. Maybe he could rewind the last ten minutes and swallow the chocolate and the shame and everything else with it.
But silence is louder than shouting.
When he finally glanced up, Ilya wasn’t angry. He wasn’t disgusted. He just looked wrecked. Like someone had reached into his chest and pulled his heart out. And somehow that was worse.
Shane’s throat tightened. The insults in his head didn’t stop; they just changed.
Now you’ve ruined him too.
Shane tried to quickly cover his legs with a towel, but to no avail since the other has already seen the damage, and the blood surrounding him, standing still as if in a trance.
"Hollander what the fuck happened?"
He asks aggressively, his accent becoming more prominent as he soaks up the scene before his eyes.
"I uh..uh.."
Shane spits out panicked, making an effort to find the right words but nothing comes out as his hands start shaking and his eyes start watering.
The tears aren't falling, I'm not crying. He told himself, knowing it's not true.
That's when he heard the soft voice of his boyfriend, whispering sweet words to him to calm him down as he gently removes the towel from his thighs revealing the damage dealt to his legs.
"Oh Shane, why?"
Ilya’s hand hovered before touching him, like he was afraid Shane might shatter.
"I don't know"
His voice cracks as he answers, finally letting the tears fall.
"I'm sorry"
"Stop apologising, did you clean your...cuts?"
Ilya replies, hoping he's not coming off as insensitive.
Shane shakes his head no, broken whimpers falling from his lips.
"Okay, I'll do it then okay?"
He gently sanitizes the injuries and wraps them not too tightly in gauze before leading his boyfriend to their shared living room.
He didn’t deserve gentle hands.
Didn’t deserve gauze wrapped carefully around damage he caused himself.
"I thought you were clean,why didn't you tell me?"
Ilya asked with a sad look on his face.
“You’ll think it’s ridiculous.”
He replied with an embarrassed look, almost curling into himself.
"Tell me, I won't judge"
Shane lets out a shaky exhale and responds.
"I ate the Snickers bar.."
The words sounded absurd out loud.
“I ruined everything.”
He waited for disgust.
For anger.
For confirmation that he really was as weak as he felt.
Ilya didn’t react right away.
That was almost worse.
His jaw tightened, not in anger, but in restraint. Like he was choosing every word carefully, afraid the wrong one might push Shane further away.
“A Snickers bar,” he repeated softly.
Not mocking. Not dismissive. Just trying to understand the shape of the thing that had spiraled so violently.
Shane nodded, eyes fixed somewhere over Ilya’s shoulder. Anywhere but his face.
“It wasn’t just that,” he rushed out, voice thin. “It means I have no control. It means I’m weak. I can’t even follow something simple like my diet without screwing it up.”
He swallowed hard.
“And if I can’t control that, then what else am I going to ruin?”
There it is.
Not chocolate.
Not calories.
Ruin.
The need to be perfect.
Ilya exhaled slowly and dragged a hand down his own face, the motion unsteady. When he looked back at Shane, there was no disgust, just something raw and frightened.
“You think one chocolate bar makes you a failure?” he asked quietly.
Shane didn’t answer.
Because yes.
Yes, he did.
Ilya shifted closer, but not enough to crowd him. Careful. Measured. Like approaching a skittish animal.
“I don’t care about your diet,” he said. “I care that you were alone in here hurting and didn’t call me.”
The words landed differently.
Not accusation.
Hurt.
And that was harder to bear.
Shane’s hands curled into the fabric of his sleeve.
“I didn’t want to be dramatic.”
Ilya let out a small, humorless breath. “You think this is drama?”
Silence stretched between them, heavy but no longer violent.
“I think,” Ilya continued more gently, “that your brain is lying to you. And I think you believe it more than you believe me.”
That hit.
Because it was true.
Shane’s jaw tightened. “It’s not that simple.”
“I know,” Ilya said immediately. “If it were simple, you wouldn’t be sitting here looking like you just lost a match over a candy bar.”
A startled sound escaped Shane before he could stop it. Not quite a laugh. Not quite a sob.
Ilya caught it.
“There,” he said softly. “That one. I like that sound, and the other you make, obviously."
Shane scrubbed at his face with the heel of his palm. “You’re not taking this seriously.”
“I am,” Ilya replied, and the sarcasm drained just enough to show the importance underneath. “I’m taking you seriously. I just refuse to take the chocolate bar seriously.”
Shane stared at him.
Ilya leaned back against the couch, studying him like a puzzle he had every intention of solving, like with David.
“You know what I see?” he said.
Shane braced himself.
“Someone who thinks he has to be perfect to be allowed to exist.”
The words landed quieter than anything else had.
Shane looked down at his hands.
“I messed up.”
“You ate,” Ilya corrected. “That’s not a crime. Last I checked, you’re human. Tragic, I know.”
A weak huff of air left Shane’s lungs.
Ilya shifted closer, close enough that their knees touched.
“You don’t lose your worth over a Snickers bar” he said. “And you definitely don’t lose me.”
That last part wasn’t sarcastic at all.
It was steady.
Certain.
Shane’s throat tightened again, except this time it wasn’t from shame.
“I don’t know how to stop,” he admitted quietly.
Ilya nodded once. “Okay.”
Not why can’t you?
Not just stop.
Just okay.
“We’ll figure it out,” Ilya continued. “Therapist. Me. You. Preferably without the bathroom floor involved.”
Shane glanced at him. “You’re not mad?”
“Oh, I’m furious,” Ilya said dryly. “Just not at you.”
A pause.
“I’m mad at whatever convinced you that you’re only lovable when you’re starving.”
Silence settled again - but it felt different now.
Less violent.
More fragile.
Shane leaned back slowly, shoulder brushing Ilya’s.
“I don’t want to keep doing this,” he whispered.
“Good,” Ilya replied. “Because I don’t want to keep buying first aid supplies.”
Another almost-laugh.
Progress.
Ilya nudged him gently. “Next time your brain starts acting dramatic, even more than Hayden, you call me. Even if I’m at the gym. I will absolutely abandon leg day for you.”
“That’s a big sacrifice.”
“Massive. Historic.”
And for the first time that night, Shane’s smile reached his eyes.