Work Text:
Ilya wanted nothing more than to lay in his bed for hours, and that's what he was going to do. He didn't bother with even changing into more comfortable clothes before falling onto his bed. He didn't imagine he could get much sleep, but it was still pleasant to just exist. It was great when he didn't have to keep up with these people who just wouldn't stop talking. Sometimes it was just difficult to keep up with.
Hockey was something he had going for him, and he was going to keep it. A lot of the times he didn't find much joy in it, besides chirping the other team. That was fun. It was just so draining. He didn't want to do anything afterwards besides curl up into a ball. But it kept away from his father, brother, and Russia, so who was he to complain? It kept him alive and living in wealth, and he was grateful to be a professional MHL player. Most of the time. Sometimes Ilya forgot how good he had it, he would hear other people talk about their lives and feel guilty for being so tired.
It was just so much. Ilya had thought about leaving the league, but he couldn't. There was nothing to do that would keep him alive and safe like this. Which was saying a lot, because this was killing him. Slowly but surely, it was making less of a person. He was becoming a lifeless shell of himself, and to imagine a world where it was more taxing? He didn't think he'd make it.
He found himself texting Shane before he even realized what he was doing. What time do you have to leave tomorrow? What are you doing right now? Come over? Come over, not for long. An hour? Everything we do is a bad idea. It took him a second before Ilya realized how much he needed Shane right now. Everything was too much, and Shane made it feel so much better. No matter how tired he was, he couldn’t help but want to see Shane.
Exhaustion took over, and his thoughts quieted for just a moment. He couldn't think of anything when he was asleep. Ilya could just sleep forever, couldn't he? It's what Mama did, it's what he could do now. He could, and he might, if he was braver, if he cared for life a little less than he did.
Ilya, for all his complaints on his life, did actually like being alive. He loved the way the light filtered through the windows. It was peaceful. It was nice. It looked so pretty in his half-asleep daze, the gold showing the bits of dust that swirled in the air. Ilya was mesmerised by it, the simplicity beckoning him to just stay in bed a little longer.
Then his door opened and dread curled in his stomach. Guilt quickly followed, because this was most definitely Shane. How could he feel dread at seeing him? Ilya had invited him, and Shane knew Ilya had something wrong with him. It was something awful, but they rarely spoke of their feelings and Ilya didn't want to start and what would he even say, it wasn't like Shane would get it, Shane wasn't like him. And honestly, Ilya really should get out of bed and greet him, but he just didn't feel like it.
He was still staring out into nothingness when Shane walked in. It took Ilya a second to focus on Shane, his body just not listening to his head.
"Are you okay?" Shane asked, and Ilya was going to be forced to speak. He honestly couldn't bring himself to lie, or to talk, so he shook his head. No, I'm not okay and I'm going to kill myself one day but honestly it doesn't matter because I won't even be me. And then Shane was in his arms, running his fingers through ilya's hair, the sun glinting off his hair in a very lovely way.
"You look pretty," ilya's voice was barely a whisper, if that. He sounded pathetic, but Shane didn't seem to mind. "Thank you," and for some reason those two words made Ilya want to cry. God, something was wrong with him.
"Do you want something to drink?" Shane asked, and Ilya was overwhelmed with adoration for Shane. A couple weeks ago he wasn't even on a first name basis with him, but he had felt this care for so long now, it was difficult to put a name to. Ilya nodded, words were stuck to his throat.
Shane got up, and as soon as he did, Ilya wished he had said no. The warmth left just as quickly as it came, and he felt almost empty until Shane came back.
Ilya drank the cool glass of water, just staring once more at how beautiful Shane looked in the light. It was a shame he couldn't stare at him forever, the way was scrunched up in worry. Ilya hated it when people were worried about him, it mostly meant them bombarding him with questions and it just became too much. This was sweet. Ilya didn't want to play today, he wanted Shane Hollander's warmth and kindness and worry.
He set the glass down so he could lay in the crook of Shane's neck. Shane was so warm, so soft, so sweet. Shane held him, and Ilya felt the crushing weight of it all.
I love you. Ilya wouldn't be able to love him loudly, but oh fuck he lived to breathe the same air as Shane. I love you. Please don't go, you're the only thing I want right now.
“Do you wanna talk about it?”
Ilya shook his head, despite that he actually did really want to talk to Shane about it. Words in general were too hard, and English was even harder. It barely made sense in his own brain, and telling Shane would make things more complicated than need be.
Shane moved Ilya's head away from his shoulder, pressing his lips to Ilya's, and Ilya was once again overwhelmed with adoration. It was closed mouthed and chaste, it was kind and there weren't any expectations behind it. Shane didn't expect anything from Ilya, he just held him and cared for him. And Ilya felt like nothing would ever matter ever again. Just this moment, forever and ever and nothing mattered.