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“I’m only human, I’m just a nuisance, why do I exist?”
Ilya was tired. A tired that no amount of melatonin, prescribed prns, or sleep could remedy. A tiredness that nestles its way within the marrow of your bones. The kind of tired- no, fatigue that strapped itself to his legs rendering him immobile. Ilya was sinking, and he had no way of figuring out his escape. And he…wasn’t sure he was actually looking for one.
He had felt it coming weeks, maybe even months ago. The tired creeping its way through the cracks. Slowly losing concentration in his practices which trickled into games. Not being able to focus when going out with the team after a well needed win turning into cancelling and shooting down plans. His only saving grace was Shane, and even then he knew he could tell. His Shane was no dummy. While most thought Shane unaware, he was most definitely more observant than most. Especially when it came to those he cared about, and Ilya was at the top of that list.
He knew Shane noticed when his smiles don’t reach his eyes. He knows he sees it affecting his performance in matches. He knows he sees his choice in food. His isolation. His slow withdrawal and descent into the darkness encompassing him.
“I only destroy, I need some balance, I wanna make sense”
Ilya wanted to scream. He didn’t want to go there. He didn’t want to sit in the place that took his mother from him. And yet… maybe he would get to see her. Hear her laugh. Feel the caress of her hand on his cheek. See the eyes of the only person who would ever truly understand how he was feeling in this moment. How the chains binding him only get stronger each day. How his soul is entombed and can’t escape. No one hears his screams for help. Nothing helps him resurface from the ocean.
He hears the bark of Anya alerting him that Shane is home. He can’t bring himself to move from the spot he made home on the couch since this morning. Can’t bear to even crack a smile at the thought of seeing his dearest.
As he stares at a fixed point on the wall he hears steps approaching. He can’t look. Looking would acknowledge the pain. Looking would be a confirmation. If he can school his face into stone no one has to know. He can play it off that he had been dosing. He can pretend nothing is wrong. That he is not just so tired of it all.
Ilya closes his eyes as he feels the couch dip next to him. Not a word is spoken. Not a sound made. Not a breath taken. He wants to yell “Don’t. Don’t look at me. If you look too close you will see it's not working. The medication didn’t fix it. Therapy isn’t fixing it. Nothing is fixing it. Maybe I can’t be fixed. Maybe I am not meant to be fixed.”
He feels the caress of a hand on his face. Feels the hand begin by pushing his curls from his forehead, slowly making their way across his cheek, and landing firmly on his jaw. He feels the slight pressure applied, gently forcing his gaze to meet Shane’s.
“I need to create, trying to breed life, don’t wanna ignite”
He winces. Expecting to be met with judgement as many others have given him when seeing how bad things are. Instead, he is met with warmth and unrelenting kindness. A tear escapes his eye as he leans into the warmth of the hand.
As if whispering to a scared doe, Shane spoke.
“Ilya, I know you are struggling. It’s not okay right now and I know it doesn’t help to say that it will be. For now, we can sit here as long as it takes.”
At that, Ilya crumpled into Shane’s arms, letting out a sob he didn’t know he was holding. Shane gathered him in his arms, and gently rocked him back and forth.
He wasn’t sure if he would ever truly feel okay, but right now, in the arms of his love, he had hope that he could one day make it a reality.
“Don’t wanna ignite”