this is me trying.
Iyla Rozanov x female!reader
Summary: You and Ilya have been on and off "casual lovers" for a few years now, always coming back to one another, time and time again. But recently, you two had spent a lot of time together as something more - something a bit too real. So, when it all gets too much for Ilya, you're left trying to get him to admit it means something more.
Warnings: angst, arguing a little? parental issues, and sickness mentioned.
I thought of 6 different songs while writing this (casual by Chappell roan being one lol)
Part 2 >
His place in Boston was always the go-to spot. A safe space to hide from the media and to hide whatever it is that you and Ilya have been for the past 3 years.
He always avoided the topic of what you were. Countless times, he had diverted it to something playful and fun, never asking or admitting that he wanted you as his and not just something casual.
But you still walk into his place like it's a second home, putting your coat up, feeling safe as Ilya stands and watches you.
"You took too long to get here"
A shy smile makes it way to your face along with a blush.
"I'm sorry. Traffic during rush hour. I promise I tried to get here as quick as I could, but -"
The explanation was cut off, as he held the back of your head and brought you into a kiss, fingers tangled in your hair. You melted into it as you always did, because it was familiar. And safe. And addictive.
Ilya pulls back, a smug smile on his perfect face. His eyes dance all over your face before settling on your lips.
"I was worried" He admits, his gaze staying on your lips.
"Worried?"
He hums and nods, hand that was sitting on the back of your head, now settled on your cheek.
"You usually arrive quicker. I thought something was wrong"
Your eyes soften at the admission, but this is where things get complicated.
Because you had assumed the way he cared for you was something more than casual. Even when he kept you a secret from his friends and family, you knew he kept his personal life close and quiet. So, that's why he did it with you... right? To keep this safe, between you two.
He leads you to the kitchen, grabbing you a drink, before taking your hand and leading you to the couch.
"Drive was okay, yes?"
You nod, distracted by his hand in yours, his thumb brushing over your knuckles.
"Yeah, it was fine. Just busy. I was going to stop to get us food but I was already late"
You settle on the couch, his arm around your shoulder.
"Hm. We can order food later. For now, I want your company"
You sit like this for a while, some hockey game playing in the background, but you don't pay much attention, your gaze flickering between the screen and Ilya's face. He kisses you every so often, arm still heavily settled around you.
It's nice, peaceful. And reminds you why you keep coming back to him, even after so much longing to be called something more than friends or 'casual'
The peace is ruined, though, when Ilya gets a call from his brother, and his demeanour changes.
You knew his relationship with his family was complicated and sensitive to him, and was probably one of the many reasons he could never give you much more or reveal much more of himself. But, no matter what, you made it clear that whatever or whenever he wanted to talk more about it or rely on you, you were always there.
You didn't understand what he was saying on the phone - it was his native language after all, but you picked up the tone quickly. His body language gave it away that whatever Alexei was saying on the phone was pissing him off. He never did speak much about what Alexei called him for constantly, but you assumed it was his sick father.
Another topic he avoided completely. Again, you didn't blame him for it, but wished he would open up for his own mental well-being. To take off a burden on his shoulders and let someone in.
Ilya eventually hangs up the phone and throws it onto the couch, glaring at it as if it had caused him serious offence, before running a hand through his curls, exhaling, and leaning back, his muscles tensing in his arms.
"Everything okay?"
He nods and keeps his gaze averted, his hands wringing together on his lap, jaw tense - giving every signal to you that everything is not okay.
"Is your dad okay?"
He cuts a glance at you.
"Fine, he is fine. I don't want to discuss, okay? I ask you to come here for distraction, not to do therapy session"
It was moments like this that shattered the illusion and brought out all of those doubts in your mind. Because in your mind, you were waiting for the moment for him to allow himself to be cared for, but it was moments like this that made you think you were never going to get there.
You so desperately wanted to be wanted by him, but also selflessly wanted him to say out loud what was breaking him.
But his words made you think, am I just a convenience to him when he needed a distraction? A fix to take his mind off everything else?
"Distraction? What... what does that mean?"
He exhales sharply again, clearly over the conversation already before it's started.
"Yes, distraction. You come over, we have fun, you stay over, I listen to you talk about things and your boring life and complain and then you go home"
You sit up a bit now, heart sunk in your chest and convince yourself not to cry as your doubts slowly become a reality and any hope of something more slowly withers away with every word he says.
More often than not, you opened up to Ilya about your own life. Your struggles with friends since moving to Boston, your parents not approving of your career or any of your decisions... even your anxiety and your own mental struggles.
And now he was throwing it back in your face.
"But... we're - I mean, it's a bit more than that? Like we - I mean more than that, right? To you? This isn't just a casual thing. We have to mean more, Ilya?"
Ilya's face is in his hands now, mumbling something in Russian before standing to his feet.
"We discuss this before, hm? We are nothing more than casual. I don't want a partner or girlfriend or someone pushing for something I cannot give. Is not my fault you thought wrong. It is not my fault you come to me about problems and expect me to fix it"
His body language is defensive, his words sharp, and there's a part of you that knows this is him pushing you away so he doesn't hurt more than he doesn't rely on someone and get too close. Somewhere deep down you are aware this is him putting his guard up and he is too scared to allow himself to be cared for.
But why does it still hurt like he's being honest? Were you really that delusional to think you would end up together?
You had been there for him for years now, listening whenever he decided to open up, being there when he felt most alone and he would do the same for you, when your family didn't care enough or showed up, he would be there.
Friends do that for each other, but there was always more to it than just caring about a friend.
It was the late nights, the hand holding, the kissing, even when it didn't lead to something else. It was the way he would hold you in hotel rooms and ask you to stay. Or the way he would call you first after winning a game. Not Svetlana, not his family. You.
But why did it feel like it all meant nothing to him now?
"You can't... stand there and tell me all of these years meant just casual to you. You can't stand there and say all the times we showed up for one another were just... distractions"
Tears spring to your eyes as he shrugs, putting on his act of not caring about the conversation, not caring about how this hurts you, how much you feel for him...
But what you don't know is when he sees the tears in your eyes, a little part of his heart breaks, and he wants to stop himself from lying and kiss you.
“Like I said… not my fault you got caught up in feelings that I don’t share”
He wished you knew how hard that was to say. To lie when really he feels more than he could ever let on.
With your heart breaking and your pride and confidence shattered, you pick up your overnight bag, avoiding his face all together now.
"I think I should head home"
He falters a little and watches as you pick up your things.
"It's late. Don't be stupid" If you paid enough attention to his tone, you would've caught the slight panic in his voice, but you can't breathe right now and want out of this house and to go home and just fall apart alone.
"Is dark now. It will not be safe to drive alone. Just... I will take couch or -"
Everything feels too much. You decide this can't go on anymore because it hurts too much.
"Can you delete my number?"
Ilya stops, and for a moment, you think he actually looks sorry.
"Your number?"
You nod, already blocking his contact as you walk to the front door with shaky hands and a build of rage and embarrassment. You hesitate though. Because it makes it more real what you’re deciding.
He follows you now, watching you walk away from him. His heart races, and he doesn't take his phone out. Only stutters.
"I think we are jumping to things now, yes?"
When you open the door, the rain and cold hair jolts you back down to earth and you head to your car.
Ilya follows you, not bothering to put on shoes or a jacket on as he picks up his pace.
"Just delete my number, okay? Think we can both agree this was a waste of time on both ends, and it's better to end it now before... it hurts more. For me at least " Even though it has already shattered you completely.
"I don't want to delete your number. Just... we can go back inside, okay? You are upset, and it's dark -"
You open the car door, but before you go in, you look at him one last time.
Ilya's heart breaks a little more, if even possible, as he looks at how broken you are too.
"I..." love you so much, this is hurting me
You stop yourself.
Did you really want to say it now? Would it even matter to him anymore? Or would he realise how far gone it is and walk away more easily?
But to Ilya, he doesn't know what you're holding back.
If he did, he would carry you back inside, and he wouldn't hide anymore. He would be honest and he would show you how much he cares.
But he thinks the worst, just like you. Even when you stand in front of him and say these things, he doubts he’s enough.
He doesn't assume he can be loved.
He assumes that love and care come with a price, and if you stayed long enough, he would get too comfortable in your safety, and you would leave.
Or he couldn’t give you the love you want.
But instead of saying it out loud, you close your eyes. Take a breath.
"Goodbye, Rozanov. Good luck with the season"
And then, as tears finally fall and both your hearts break -
"I hope you find your person. And I'm sorry I couldn't be enough for you"
The car drives away, leaving Ilya standing in the rain alone, regretting everything that made you think you were never enough for him
