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    Summary

    Ilya was crouched down on his kitchen floor. A blacked out night from three weeks ago he barely remembered fragments of - because there was no way the fragments had actually happened - came back like note pages dropped in a pond. Soggy and illegible.

    How the fuck could he have done this!?
    Booze and liquor and neon lights in loud rooms flickered through his mind.
    Ilya pushed his thumb into the hollow of his eye socket, wading through the half cropped memories.

    His shaky hands went into his hair pulling until he felt the sting and he screwed his eyes shut. Not wanting cab rides or red lipstick to enter his mind. The stains he’d convinced himself must have gotten there when the lady in the glittery dress had leaned across the bar to whisper something in his ear over the music, because there was no way he’d allowed any other situation for it to get there.
    How could he have done that!? How could he have broken Shane’s trust like this?
    He was a worthless piece of shit.
    ______

    Inspired by a movie I recently watched that I felt treated a plot line absolutely horribly, and I needed a different response to something like this being disclosed.

    Language:
    English
    Words:
    3,041
    Chapters:
    1/?
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