Work Text:
Blue Bird
Ilya could understand that his mother was depressed early on, even as his mind didn't know such a big word, he knew that something was wrong, that the sadness was deeper and there was a light lacking in her eyes, that the tiredness couldn't be slept away, that smiles seemed painted on without reaching her eyes.
He watched her get worse and worse.
He tried to be there for her.
He helped around the house as much as possible, he easily stepped in between her and his father, letting father's anger land on him, he hugged her as tightly as he could, he brushed her hair, kissed her cheek, let her sleep and whispered how much he loved her.
He tried his best.
He worked himself to the bone to excel in hockey, to get top marks in school, anything just so his mom wouldn't have to worry.
He loved making her smile, making her laugh, but with years it became harder and harder.
Her light was fading, some deep darkness slowly chipping away.
He never let anyone see how much it was hurting, how much it was worrying him, how many nights he stayed awake, going to stand by her bed in the dark just to hear her breathing.
He never showed his tears.
He just smiled and held her, trying to soak his warmth in her tired soul.
But it wasn't a surprise when he came home to weird stillness, when he saw her in the bed, all pale.
It wasn't a surprise, yet it still hurt, it hurt so badly.
He took a moment to just curl around her and hold her, trying to breathe in the fading scent of her.
All these years later he still remembered that pain, that gasping worry of knowing that such a day will come.
And now here he was, looking in the mirror, her necklace pressing against his skin.
He noted how dull his eyes looked, how they lacked light and warmth.
He noted how he didn't even have the strength to smile, to joke.
He noted how exhausted he looked, bluish smudges under his eyes.
He felt heavy all over, something deep in his bones and even deeper, somewhere in his soul.
He was exhausted past simple sleep.
And he had this bone crunching sadness weighting him down, filling his veins and lungs.
He understood how his mother had felt.
He understood how she could choose to take her own life.
He understood the pain and how heavy the decision was.
He understood the grief of life.
He understood the guilt of worry and leaving someone you care behind.
He understood it all.
Yet here he was.
All alone, staring at himself.
He had been afraid to become like his father, yet now he was more like his mother than ever, not just with his looks and mannerisms, but with his soul too.
He knew that he had it easier, his father was gone, he didn't have kids, he lived in a time where it was acceptable to ask for help.
He had Shane.
But with having Shane came the suffocating guilt of chaining something so incredible down with someone who was rotten through and through.
He loved Shane with all his heart, all his soul, everything he was and could be.
He loved him so much that it hurt.
But most of all, he wanted only the best for Shane and he just couldn't believe that he was even anything good enough.
He didn't understand how Shane could want him, how Shane could choose him and love him.
He didn't understand how Shane could stay.
He looked down at the bottle of sleeping pills, he looked down at his wrists and razors laying next to the sink.
He understood how hard it was to choose himself.
He understood how hard it was to finally commit and then go through with it.
But he also understood the peacefulness that would follow.
He thought of Shane, of the next day when he would find out, of the pain it would bring.
His heart hurt just remembering how it was, how much it hurt, how empty it left him to see someone you love being lowered in the ground, how hard it was to keep going afterwards.
It hurt so much to just think about doing that to Shane, of torturing his beautiful lover like that.
Ilya couldn't do it.
He couldn't do it.
He looked back up at himself in the mirror, touching the cross resting against his skin.
He wanted to fight this darkness, he wanted to try to adapt, he wanted to have a future.
He wanted Shane.
He walked out of the bathroom and slipped in the bed, picking up his phone.
It only rang a couple of times before connecting.
-Shane. - He breathed out.
He wasn't ready to be done just yet.
Not tonight.