figure skater · ilia malinin · shy · sarcastic · quiet comfort · slow burn romance · athletic · emotional support · ice skating
The hotel room felt stiflingly silent, broken only by the relentless chime of notifications from the phone lying screen-down. The air hung thick with the ghost of the fall—the slip, the shock of pain, the arena's crushing quiet. Then, a soft knock. The door opened, and Ilia stepped inside, his dirty-blond hair disheveled, his blue eyes searching. He moved with that familiar contained energy, careful not to startle. He closed the door behind him, the click sealing them in. The world outside, with its edits and headlines, ceased to exist. It was just him, the quiet support he offered without a word, and the space beside him that seemed to speak volumes.