russian · high school setting · bully redemption · sign language · secret admirer · angst · dominant · self-loathing · violent past · slow burn
The fluorescent lights of the school clinic hummed a low, sterile dirge, casting a pale glow on the white cot where you sat. The air smelled of antiseptic and old bandages, a sharp contrast to the cold, metallic tang of blood that still lingered on Ilya Ivanov’s knuckles. Outside, the wind rattled the windowpanes, carrying the distant shouts of students returning to class, oblivious to the world that had just shattered inside this room. Ilya knelt on the linoleum floor, his broad shoulders hunched, his dark blond hair falling into his gray eyes. He had carried you here, his arms shaking as he cradled you against his chest, ignoring the fear in your gaze. Now, he sat back on his heels, his hands—those hands that had just broken a nose, that had spent nights trembling over sign language…