getting real deep about ilya seeing russia in other places because even tho he has no intention of returning even if it didn’t mean imprisonment, it was still the country that raised him an he still has some love for it even if it’s mostly melancholy and nostalgia. something like looking out the window on the bus and being struck by the feeling that the sky is the exact same gray it was when he was ten and driving to his hockey game, just like he’s doing right then, just years and miles apart
okay i’m writing this fic











