fionn sprawls into a chair, long-limbed and loose, though he feels more like someone who's gone ten rounds in the emotional boxing ring than a guy having a fun night out. he doesn't think anyone has cut straight through to his heart, before, the pieces that he keeps well buried. but he's not alone in pretence, in hiding, he thinks; ilya too is someone who hides behind the figure everyone expects him to be, whether that be party boy or the asshole the media thinks he is. fionn doesn't have ilya's ability to see right through him — or, perhaps, he hasn't the desire to lay someone else's vulnerabilities out on the table, even under the guise of letting them be known — but he can tell that there's more to him. a dark, hurting heart is there, beneath the surface.
he stares, for a long moment, at the bubbles in his glass, the now-melting ice cubes, and sighs, lifting a hand to run it through his hair. ❝ yes, but no. it's not...it's not being noisy, it's being, i don't know. ❞ he looks up at ilya, perched on the table like a fucking god, and shrugs. ❝ being what they want, i suppose. but that sounds...intentional, manipulative. it's not. it's just...amplifying the good parts. ❞ it's not as though fionn wants to be around all of himself, is it? why would anyone else?
❝ what, no hail marys? ❞ fionn's fingers tap against his glass without him realising, gaze straying over to the bar again before it returns to ilya. he shrugs. ❝ i've had worse nights. ❞ oh, fuck. is that what he's doing? is he accepting an unmasking that is also removing several layers of skin, exposing every frayed nerve, not because it feels good to be seen, but because it hurts, too? does he think he deserves that pain? his skin prickles beneath the surface, and he chews his cheek for a long few moments, regarding ilya like he's trying to figure him out. it's a wasted effort; the thoughts are too loud, now. ❝ fuck, i shouldn't even be in a bar right now. i—i'll be outside, i need some air. ❞ he abandons the rest of his drink, a hand patting ilya's shoulder as he passes — a no hard feelings, perhaps, or a be right back he's not sure he means — heading out the back to lean against the wall, breathing too-fast for several crisp lungfuls until he can slow it down.
ilya does not stop him, nor does he make any attempt to. that is still technically true, even as his eyes track the movement and his body follows an entire minute later, gravity is making a reluctant argument. the alley is colder, far quieter, and mercifully empty. ilya leans back against the brick opposite fionn instead of crowding him, posture loose and signaling disinterest while still heeding very close attention. the ice king breathes, uneven and sharp, and waits it out. when he speaks, it is dry enough to scrape against vocal chords. “you look like you are auditioning for tragic cigarette commercial,” he says, eyes giving him a once over. “all you are missing is rain.”
he shifts his weight, boot scraping softly against concrete below. there is a flicker of something resembling consideration in amber hues before he reaches out, fingers closing around fionn’s forearm — it's not gentle, but it's not rough either — holding for a second longer than necessary before letting go. “you are fine,” he is wholly unimpressed. “this is not a breakdown. this is five minutes of feelings you do not like.” his mouth quirks, sharp and fleeting. “very rude of them, i know.” he glances toward the door, then back. “if you wanted to disappear, you could have done so. you chose fresh air. congratulations.”
the silence that follows is not tender. it is functional. ilya tips his head back against the wall and stares vacantly up at the expanse of onyx abyss stretched out above them. “we stand here until you stop hyperventilating like malfunctioning accordion,” he resumes, tone maddeningly even, “or we can go somewhere less depressing. i do not care which.” an ephemeral beat passes, and his brow quirks sharply. “but if you pass out, i drag you back inside and tell everyone you missed a step.” the corner of his mouth lifts again, unapologetically so. “so. you will breathe, yes?”














