Could you write one of those tropes with ilia where he realizes he fucked up almost too late and it’s one of those dramatic running to catch her at the airport scenes
He didn’t realize it was the last straw…but that’s usually how it goes.
If she had screamed, if she had cried, if she had slammed the door hard enough to shake the walls…maybe, maybe it would’ve felt real. Maybe it would’ve hit him sooner.
She just stood there in his apartment, quiet in a way that made his chest feel tight without him understanding why.
“I think I’m done, Ilia.”
Not a fight. Not a break. Not we’ll talk later.
He had laughed at first…like actually laughed, like she’d said something ridiculous.
“With waiting for you to show up,” she said.
And that’s when something in him should’ve clicked. Should’ve shifted. Should’ve made him drop everything and fix it right then.
Because he was tired. Because he had practice. Because there was always something more urgent, something more immediate than the quiet girl who had been standing beside him for years.
“I’m here now, aren’t I?” he said, running a hand through his hair like this was just another conversation he could win.
Her lips pressed together, and she nodded slowly, like she was confirming something to herself.
“Yeah,” she whispered. “You are. But only when it’s easy for you.”
That should’ve been the moment.
Instead, he let her walk out.
It doesn’t hit him all at once.
In the silence of his apartment that night, where her laugh doesn’t echo off the walls.
In the morning, when there’s no text from her, “no good luck today”, no “reminder to eat something before practice”.
And the empty seat at the rink.
Because she’s always there.
Wrapped up in one of his hoodies, sitting in the stands, watching him like he hung the stars in the sky.
And suddenly, it’s not quiet anymore.
The realization slams into him so hard he nearly loses his footing mid-run-through.
Not something he can smooth over with a kiss and a half apologized “I’ve been busy.”
“Hey, you good?” someone calls from the boards, but Ilia doesn’t answer.
Because his hands are shaking.
Because his chest feels like it’s caving in.
His breathing is coming out to quickly to frantically…was he…panicking??
Because for the first time, there’s nothing else more important than fixing this. And he couldn’t figure it out…
Her phone goes straight to voicemail.
He leaves messages that don’t even make sense.
“Hey…hey, it’s me. Obviously. I just, I need to talk to you.”
“I’m sorry, okay? I know I didn’t, I didn’t get it before but I do now.”
“Please just…just call me back.”
“She left this morning, Ilia,” her friend says, voice flat. “Flight’s in a couple hours.”
People everywhere, announcements echoing, rolling suitcases, lines that never seem to move.
Running, like his life depends on it. Hes pushing past people, breath coming sharp and uneven, heart pounding so hard it feels like it might break his ribs.
He doesn’t care about the looks, the muttered complaints, the fact that he’s completely out of breath.
He spots her near the security line.
And for a second, everything slows.
She’s standing there with her bag slung over her shoulder, looking smaller than he’s ever seen her. Like she’s already halfway gone.
“Ilia?” someone says, recognizing him, but he doesn’t stop.
Her name tears out of him, loud and desperate.
Slowly, she turns around.
And the second their eyes meet…
It hits him all over again.
Because she looks like she’s already grieving him.
“Ilia…” she breathes, like she can’t believe he’s actually there.
He barely slows down before he’s in front of her, hands hovering like he’s afraid to touch her and have her disappear.
“You can’t go,” he says immediately, voice shaking. “Not like this. Not….please.”
Her expression flickers, pain flashing across her face.
“You didn’t come when I asked you to stay,” she says quietly.
“I know,” he chokes out. “I know, I know…I messed up. I messed up so bad, and I didn’t….I didn’t realize how bad until i realized how alone i am without you.”
Her grip tightens on her bag.
“I waited for you, Ilia.”
The words hit like a punch.
“I know,” he says again, softer, taking a small step closer. “And I should’ve been there. Every time. Not just when it was easy. Not just when it fit into my schedule. I should’ve chosen you.”
Her eyes fill, and it nearly breaks him.
“I am choosing you now,” he says, voice cracking. “I’m choosing you even if you don’t choose me back. I just…I need you to know that.”
A tear slips down her cheek.
“You’re too late,” she whispers, but there’s hesitation in it. A crack.
He shakes his head immediately, stepping into her space, hands finally finding her arms.
“Don’t say that,” he pleads. “Don’t…please don’t say that like it’s already over. I’m here now. I’m here and I’m not going anywhere. I’ll stand in this airport all day if I have to.”
She lets out a shaky breath.
“I know,” he says, voice soft but firm. “And I’ll spend every day making it up to you if you let me. I’ll show up. I’ll be there. I’ll be the person you needed me to be before…I swear.”
She looks at him for a long moment.
And he doesn’t look away.
“Say it again,” she whispers.
His hands slide up to cup her face, thumbs brushing away her tears.
“I choose you,” he says immediately. “Every time. Every day. Even when it’s hard. Especially when it’s hard. I’m choosing you.”
And then she’s pulling him down to her, kissing him like she’s been holding it in for weeks…desperate and messy and full of everything they didn’t say.
He kisses her back just as hard, like he’s terrified.
“I’m sorry,” he murmurs against her lips. “I’m so, so sorry.”
“I hate you,” she breathes, but her hands are tangled in his jacket, pulling him closer.
“I know,” he says, kissing her again. “You can hate me. Just don’t leave me.”
She lets out a soft, broken laugh against his mouth.
“I missed you,” she admits.
“I missed you too. I just didn’t realize how much,” he says immediately, pressing his forehead to hers. “Stay. Please stay.”
Her boarding group gets called over the speaker.
“…Okay,” she whispers finally.
“I’ll stay,” she says, voice small but certain. “But you don’t get to hurt me again.”
Relief crashes over him so hard his knees nearly give out.
“I won’t,” he promises, pulling her into another kiss slower, deeper, like he’s sealing something fragile and precious back into place. “I won’t, I won’t…I swear.”
She nods slowly. As they start walking
“Where were you going anyway?”
She lets out a small laugh. “Um…i was going to California for a few weeks.”
“You hate California!” He says raising an eyebrow.
“Would you have looked for me there?”
He laughed. “Good point.”
And that was the moment he realized he had a lot of proving to do, but he was going to do it no matter what it took.
