#shollander24

❝ i told you, i don't care. stomach of steel, yes? ❞ ilya reminds him with a soft smile, one hand moving up into his hair. he presses his lips gently against shane's temple. he's burning up, despite the shivering. he knew he must be feeling awful. he continues rubbing his back for a little while longer before taking a step back and grabbing the bag he left on the table. ❝ i got, um... i didn't know what you liked. so i have gatorlyte, pedialyte and some thing called drip drop. different flavors. small sips. ❞ he directs shane back toward the bedroom, grabbing a small wastebin along the way, just in case.

Instead, he was in a hallway that was alarmingly famiiar. His old family home in Russia.

And why did he feel so small...? He lifted his hands up towards his eyes only to see that they were the hands of a child.

Then, as if he was on autopilot, Ilya's legs picked up into a run. He was running in the direction of his mother's room.

Ilya knew in an instant what he would see when he pulled the door open. "Нет… нет, нет!"

Once he could see into the room, he took immediate notice of his mother laying motionless on the floor. He rushed to her, dropping down to his knees to cradle her in his arms. He shook her shoulders, begging her to open her eyes through his tears.

Her body felt so cold. Too cold.

As he continued to hold Irina, the room faded away into blackness.

"<It's your fault!>" The accusation was sharp and cutting. "<You found her too late!>"

The voices were shapeless at first--deep, threatening echoes. Then they shifted, twisting into ones he knew too well.

"<Why didn't you find her sooner?>" It was Alexei's voice.

"<You abandoned me just like you failed your mother!>" Grigori Rozanov's voice was booming.

Ilya shook his head hard. He glanced down at his arms and found that his mother's body had disappeared into thin air. "<I didn't know! I was at practice!>" he yelled back, voice cracking.

The voices grew louder, piercing through his chest enough to suffocate him. <"Your fault! Your fault!>"

Just as the yelling felt painful enough to split his head apart, everything abruptly went silent.

------------***-----------

Ilya jolted upright with a strangled intake of air. He lurched forward like he was still falling through the darkness. For a long moment, he didn't know where he was. His bedroom suddenly felt unfamiliar and terrifyingly quiet. His heart was hammering away inside of his chest as if trying to burst its way out of him.

He hand impulsively reached for his necklace--his mother's necklace--and tightly flexed his fingers around it, trying to steady himself.

Trying to remember that he wasn’t a child.

Trying to remember that his mother wasn’t in the next room.

Trying to remember that he wasn’t back in Russia.

The nightmare clung to him like some grotesque monster holding him in their grasp, refusing to retract its claws from his body.

His hands shook violently. He curled forward, elbows on his knees, his his eyes squeezed shut as if the actions could block out the voices still echoing in his head.

You found her too late! It's your fault! You abandoned me!

He sucked in a breath that hitched halfway through. His throat felt tight. He couldn’t get enough air. He didn’t realize he was rocking slightly until he felt the motion. Then, his eyes suddenly burned with hot moisture.

𝐐𝐔𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐏𝐓𝐒

➠ @shollander24 asked : “have you come to laugh at me in my miserable state?”

✘ ♕ ✘ Finding Shane at the same bar that Ilya's teammates decided to hit up was surprising enough. Of all the bars in Montreal, who'd have guessed that they'd end up in the one that the Voyageurs frequented? It was a big enough place, so aside from a few good natured chirps, the two teams managed to stay away from each other. Not that Ilya planned to have it be that way for long. Once he saw Hollander on his own in a corner, he casually strode over, beer in one hand and phone in the other.