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Posted: Mon Nov 02, 2020 6:50 pm
If Yu was brave enough to go to the eye doctor, (and the regular doctor, though he didn’t realize yet that Sterling had made appointments for the both of them), then Sterling could be brave enough to finally go and talk to Ilya. To say that he didn’t want to would be a complete and utter understatement, and of course the morning had been spent getting his nerves out by baking, and again the kitchen and the whole rest of the house smelled wonderful.
It had been another day for pies, and there were currently another pumpkin, an apple and a cherry cooling on the table, and Sterling was at the stove, putting together a vanilla icing sauce that he knew Ilya liked. Before. Back in school.
Well. Undergrad, at least. Quietly he sighed and bit his lip almost to the point of drawing blood and put the hot sauce into a mason jar, sealing it up and putting both it and the pie into a bag. It wasn’t even a walk to Ilya’s house...but knowing his luck, Sterling would end up dropping the pie if he attempted to simply carry it.
At the very least, there was wine in the fridge for when he got back, he knew this fact well, as he had bought it in anticipation of this visit. And, finally, unable to find any more excuses, he made his way to Ilya’s house, knocking softly on the door and waiting, his knuckles white with how tightly he was holding on to the bag.
...Maybe Ilya would simply not be home. Maybe he wouldn’t actually have to say anything after all.
...A pipe dream, surely.
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Posted: Mon Nov 02, 2020 7:21 pm
Ilya's car was in the driveway, like a beacon of his existence. Ordinarily he might have pulled it into the garage--admittedly, a perk he had been pleased with when he moved here from the apartment--but ever since Priam came over to pass along Sterling's message, he had been using it to indicate when he was around. He stayed inside for the most part, trying to stay out of Sterling's way. He'd had a pleasant enough conversation with Yu, but too much thinking about the situation had left him even more avoidant than usual.
Every knock on the door made him anxious, even when he was expecting it.
Any knock on the door could have been Sterling.
Once more, a wave of cold flushed through him; he had his paperwork lying out on the table and was going through a list of resources; his computer was open to too many different tabs, and there was soft music playing from the television while he worked.
Ilya didn't quite seem to know how to dress down these days; he was always rigid and prepared for some excuse to run away. He was wearing nice slacks, a nicer shirt, button down and sophisticated. His hair was tied up, immaculate, and out of his face. He wore crisp black socks, and everything about him was spotless--just like the house.
He didn't look through the peephole, more afraid that if he saw who was on his doorstep, he'd be less prepared to answer it. It hadn't been Sterling yet, why would it be now?
Except. It was.
He unlocked the door and opened it calmly, but in that split second of realization, stiffened.
"Sterling," he greeted, and it felt like all of the breath had been pushed from his lungs.
It was okay. This was expected.
"Good afternoon," he greeted, glad that he couldn't see how tightly he clutched the doorknob on the other side.
Relax. This was fine.
This was expected.
The monologue of explanations and apologies flitted from his mind, despite having lived there for years. Despite him waking up every day, and going to sleep every night, reciting it to make sure he was prepared for this.
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Posted: Tue Nov 03, 2020 8:21 am
Sterling swallowed and nodded. “Ah. Yes. I’m Sterling. You. You’re home I see...that...yes.” He felt suddenly dizzy, and much less eloquent than he normally did. He was going to help people work through their problems, help them feel better, not succumb to his own insecurities.
Drawing in a deep breath, Sterling worked to steady his nerves and held out the bag. “I was baking and made you a cherry pie, if you would like it. I also made some of the vanilla drizzle that you used to like so much.” The ghost of a smile showed on his face as he remembered the first time he had made it. “...If I recall...you once drank what was left of it. That was funny, but. I’m glad I could make something you liked so well.”
He swallowed and gave a quiet nod. “...Is this...a good time to ah...to talk?”
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Posted: Tue Nov 03, 2020 9:00 am
Ilya felt cold, absolutely icy. Any warmth that came with the pie being offered drained from him, and though he accepted it with a nod, he found his stomach churning. "Of course. I've been waiting," he said, and stepped aside. "Please come in."
He didn't ask him to take off his shoes, didn't give him a squirt of the hand sanitizer he kept by the door, he just made room for him while he held the pie in his hand. It smelled amazing, and there was a time when Ilya might have just melted to be given a pie, all to himself.
He remembered the icing. If his mouth hadn't just gone dry, he was certain it would be watering.
"Please," he gestured for him to take a seat in the living room. "Make yourself comfortable." He took a few steps down the hall and placed the pie on the kitchen counter before wiping his hands off on his pants.
The house was barely decorated--the telltale sign that he was still waiting to be told it would be best if he left, no doubt. He moved to the living room and closed his laptop, and returned the papers to a folder so everything remained confidential. His work space was as organized as ever--if not more so than he had been in college. The furniture was nice and simple, dark colors. He had a few framed pictures sitting on the table--his older brother and a dark haired man smiling with him as they held up a birthday cake. Ilya's younger brother, who still looked too small for his age; it was clearly not a terribly old picture given that he was with Ilya wearing his graduation gown.
A picture of the family, much older, with happy looking parents and three healthy looking sons.
There wasn't anything else personal in the room, nor was there a spec of dust there or anywhere else in the house. It smelled faintly of cleaning supplies--no cheap pine, but instead something that left a pleasant, clean aroma in the air. The television was on in the living room, but as Ilya moved past it, he turned it off and took a seat so he could give Sterling his full attention.
He sat, rigid, in his chair. His hands were balled and resting on his knees as he looked at him.
Everything about Ilya looked so put together, except his slightly knit brows, which might have been the only indication that he was nervous about this, too.
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Posted: Tue Nov 03, 2020 2:50 pm
Sterling’s eyes darted around the room when he went inside, feeling uncomfortable, and just a little unhappy. It was plain...boring. Not even the kind of plain that his and Yu’s home was...theirs was at least a work in progress...this was just...as though ilya was ready to pack up and leave at any moment. It didn’t feel lived in. Or even wanted.
He took a seat on the couch and swallowed, looking to Ilya and drawing in a deep, steadying breath. He could do this. They had been friends. More than friends. He could talk to Ilya. This wasn’t going to be any sort of an issue.
“...Your home is nice, Ilya. But I expected...more life in it, I suppose. I...at least some colors. If you need help painting sometime...or ah. Anything. Let me and Yu know. We can do whatever...and he’s pretty handy…” He fell quiet and sighed, rubbing at the bridge of his nose. “He’s my boyfriend. Why did you leave? Why did you...do that? Did I do something wrong?”
The words grew quiet, not quite worried, but obviously unsure. Uncomfortable.
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Posted: Tue Nov 03, 2020 3:12 pm
Ilya somewhat appreciated the bluntness, but it's not like there was ever going to be an easy answer. He didn't know whether to talk about the house, or talk about them, but it seemed like Sterling had jumped from one conversation to another.
He suspected the comments on the house were simply Sterling's efforts to make conversation, and the offer to help must have been politeness. Sterling could barely stand to look at him, Ilya couldn't imagine him working on making this house a home. He wasn't still sure that Sterling wouldn't have been happier if he were gone, and he was afraid to like the house in case he had to pack up.
"No," he answered, almost easily. "You didn't do anything wrong. I'm sorry if you've blamed yourself. It was my fault."
His words were stiff, but not any sort of lie. It wasn't a prepared statement; any plans for something rehearsed flew out the window as soon as he saw Sterling.
"I should have written you a letter at some point. So you know. I find myself with the same knots in my stomach now as I had back then. Only, now I understand them better. It wasn't your fault."
For the first time, his eyes darted away, like the answers were somehow tucked off in some corner of the room.
"I don't know where to start, Sterling. Except to say that I'm sorry. I didn't know how to talk to you back then. I lost track of...everything. By the time I got myself together, you had blocked my number. I didn't blame you. I put myself in your shoes, I don't know what I had done if our roles were reversed. I regretted not being able to talk to you, I admit that. But. You didn't owe me that time. You didn't owe me anything. I thought it would have been selfish to barge back into your life when you were done, and, yet."
He lacked his fingers together.
"...Here I am. Accidentally. This part was not planned, please believe me."
His words were sincere, but there was something visibly reserved about Ilya. For all the calm he tried to project, there was turmoil beneath it; his fingers were laced together and he sat, poised, with the illusion of calm. And yet, there were the little things. His breathing was deliberately trained, like he had to force himself to breath in, and out, when he was supposed to. His thumb was rubbing along the back of his other hand, just slightly, barely noticeable. His knuckles were white, like he was gripping too hard.
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Posted: Tue Nov 03, 2020 4:34 pm
Sterling was quiet for a long, long moment and finally, finally he looked up at Ilya. “What happened? Why did you leave? If it wasn’t my fault...why did you...pull away? Even that last semester...you always...seemed like you were too busy for me...ah. Was there another relationship? I never wanted to pry, you know I’m not that type of a person but...you were always on your phone and…”
And it still hurt. Even after all the time.
Closing his eyes for a moment, Sterling drew in a slow breath and tried to ground himself once again. “If it wasn’t me...then what was it...and why couldn’t you talk to me about it? You know that I would have done anything for you, Ilya. I…” He broke off, ducking his head. He didn’t want to talk about the future that he had thought they would have. Didn’t want to think about the plans he had, the ideas and the hopes. He just didn’t really want to think at all, if he could help it. Not right now.
“...Did I just put…was I too clingy? Putting too much pressure on you for...for a future?”
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Posted: Tue Nov 03, 2020 4:55 pm
Ilya's eyes flashed, like he was offended at the idea that Sterling might thing that he was cheating on him, but even that emotion seemed rapidly subdued. He drew in another breath to calm himself and shook his head, eyes returning to Sterling only a few seconds later, once he was calmer.
"I mean it when I say it wasn't you. I shut down. I had too much going on."
He was quiet for a second, like he genuinely didn't know where to start.
"...Things just started building up. You know my brother was sick, Eli," he said, and instinctively glanced towards the picture closer to Sterling. "...Everything started there," he said, but was quick to insist, "It's not his fault. Nobody asked for him to be sick. I don't blame him for anything. He's doing better now. Leukemia. He was diagnosed early enough that they were able to treat it. But."
Another calming breath. "It was stressful, for everyone. Meeting doctors, making appointments. It was expensive. Emile got a diagnosis, too. He started his medication and."
There was a pause, long and awkward, but Ilya was visibly trying to find the words.
"Then he took all of them." And then, quickly. "So, he was in the hospital too. I went home that weekend. I left the food out on the counter and it went bad, you were upset about it, I think. I remember you texting. I remember that I kept forgetting to text you back. We didn't fight then, but it was the start of things going downhill, I think. Emile was okay, he was messed up, but he was okay. But my parents got into a fight, they decided to divorce that weekend. This was much nicer in the letter I wrote, I'm sorry that I didn't keep it. I meant to give it to you, years ago. I feel like I'm jumping all over. I wasn't thinking at the time. I came back and you had an exam that you were stressing about. I wasn't going to tell you anyway, I don't think. It's not like it was your fault that I didn't say anything then. It just..."
Silence, and then, "It just felt like if I didn't say anything, it wouldn't be real. It would go away. It felt like the universe could still take it back. But. I'd offer you a drink, but if I stop, I don't know how I'll finish any of this. I appreciate you giving me a moment to get it all out."
He'd already forgotten where he was.
"I started thinking things, too. My brothers are fine now, but I didn't know how it was going to turn out back then. Cancer runs in my family, apparently. Emile's diagnosis is genetic." He still couldn't really say it, it's not like he hadn't had time to get used to it. "You were smart, studying everything. I knew you'd put things together. I started thinking, how long is it before I start falling apart? I started thinking I wasn't enough. I stopped thinking about all the support you gave me, about how kind and supportive you were, and I just. There wasn't anyone else. I was talking to my family. I was getting updates on conditions. I was so busy with them that I forgot about us. And I am sorry about that. I shut down. I didn't know how to cope. I could barely focus on eating, or sleeping. School was a nightmare. I completely lost track of everything. I almost missed one final, forgot to sign up for classes when registration opened. Completely missed the deadline for dorms, I had to stay at an apartment complex down the road because there weren't any openings. It was my fault, Sterling. Literally, all of it. --Do you want that drink, now? I've got lemonade, I think that's the sweetest thing in the house. Or water."
He had stayed calm, but that was his thing. He was overcompensating for whatever emotions he was feeling, whatever storm was eating him up inside, by presenting as calm. His palms were sweaty, though, and his lungs hurt from trying to keep the same, even pace for inhaling and exhaling. His stomach felt like someone had reached down his throat and grabbed a fistful of intestines and just squeezed.
It was a lot. It was information overload. He wanted to give him small bits and pieces, but it bubbled out, because if Sterling needed an answer, there was something to chew on. Something to convince him that it wasn't him.
There was nothing wrong with him, there never had been.
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Posted: Wed Nov 04, 2020 5:12 pm
Sterling listened to Ilya’s story mutely, feeling wave after wave of conflicting emotions. First, horror at all that he had gone though, and then anger that Ilya had kept it all from him, and then hurt that he had kept it all from him, and more and more feelings that he couldn’t quite put a finger on. For a long moment when Ilya was done, Sterling could do nothing but stare, his face working with distress, and finally, finally he reached out and groped for Ilya’s hand, a frown on his face and worry and concern winning out over everything.
“Why...why didn’t you tell me any of this, Ilya? I...I would have given you time...I would have understood...I...you didn’t have to do all of this alone…”
His voice sounded hoarse, and the burning in the corners of his eyes spoke of tears that wanted to make an appearance. “You...have you talked to anyone? Have you gone to therapy? You of all people...Ilya, please tell me that at least you have a counselor to talk with. Someone who can help you figure out the best way to deal with all of that?” He squeezed the male’s hand and swallowed.
“Tell me that you’re working to take care of yourself and not just trying to work hard enough to forget what’s going on? Are...they doing better? Your brothers? What’s going on now? I know you said they’re fine but...are they really?” He shook his head. “I’m...I mean...sure I’ll take lemonade…”
It almost made him angry. The fact that he wasn’t able to stay angry with Ilya. It wasn’t fair.
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Posted: Wed Nov 04, 2020 5:35 pm
Ilya sucked in a breath at the contact; his hand twitched but he didn't draw away and it seemed like he had to steel himself to maintain the contact. He relaxed, but it took a second.
He wanted to get the lemonade, but he didn't want to move. He didn't want to draw away.
"Emile is doing well, he's engaged. Eli's finishing up high school. We keep in contact. They're my brothers, I'd do anything for them, and they're both doing very well. And I--I did talk to someone," he promised, squeezing the hand back. "...Eventually. It took some time, but I did. I thought I was managing, and then things kept piling up, and I hit a wall, and...so I had to. I needed to know that I was...prepared. In case I have the same...in case Emile and I have the same condition." He didn't name it, he didn't want to. But he added, "And it helped me figure out some things that I didn't...know. Like. Us."
He hesitated and reached out, his free hand gently going to rest over Sterling's, though it seemed like it required his full focus.
"...You were never unattractive, you know. I had--well. I thought they were hang-ups. But. Turns out things aren't as black and white as I thought. I'm not so good at physical contact. You know that. I got worse, I think. I know I did," he clarified, becuase who was he kidding. "I was trying, in college, because I thought that's what was supposed to happen. You experiment, you find out who you are, what you like. Turns out that I like...ah..."
His eyes found Sterling's again. "Well. Not being in a physical relationship. You were wonderful, I swear. Perfect in every way that a partner could be. And I'm sorry I hurt you. You deserved more than I think I knew how to give, only I didn't know it then. You don't have to forgive me. I just don't want to be a burden on your life. I'm sorry. I know this is all far too much information, but if I've only got one conversation to tell you, I should tell you everything now."
...And get him that lemonade, if he could bear to draw away.
It was Sterling. Whose hands were soft, and warm, and welcome.
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Posted: Thu Nov 05, 2020 6:06 pm
Sterling nodded, breathing a soft sigh of relief. It was good that they were both doing better...that Ilya wasn’t in danger of losing his brothers. He noticed the reaction when he took the male’s hand and his eyes flickered to Ilya’s face, a slight frown crossing his features. Was Ilya afraid that he would strike him? Was…
He listened as the male talked about going to see someone. To talk to someone about his issues and he hesitated, nodding slowly. “You...don’t like physical contact…” He said the words slowly, trying to understand them as he spoke, and finally nodded. “...So when...you would pull away...it wasn’t...you rejecting me? I...I thought I was doing something wrong...that I was too clingy…” He swallowed and closed his eyes for a moment, once again trying to ground himself and beginning to lose his grip.
“...You’ll...have more than one conversation, won’t you? I mean...we’re neighbors now...ah...should...should I let go of your hand? I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable...touching…” Sterling had always been somewhat touch starved, at least he had always felt that way, and the idea of physical contact had always helped to ground him. He had thought...it was the same for Ilya…
“...I really...I didn’t know. I’m sorry…”
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Posted: Thu Nov 05, 2020 7:08 pm
"I didn't know, either," Ilya said, and still didn't draw away. "And it's such a strange thing, anyway. I need things...a specific way," he said, after a moment. "It grounds me. I like things in their place. I like things clean. I like things organized. I like...space," he finally decided.
"It isn't possible to avoid people, but...I was pushing myself more than I was comfortable with. I thought if I pushed myself hard enough, it wouldn't feel...off." He had to clarify, "It was never that you felt wrong. Just that I didn't know myself as well. I think, there was this expectation in any relationship and I didn't know how to articulate my needs and..."
He inhaled. "It was never you. I'm not saying that just to 'make you feel better'. I know now, and it explained so much that I didn't understand before. And I'm sorry I didn't know how to tell you back then." He squeezed his hand and managed a little smile, "I'm more afraid of your boyfriend peeping through my window and getting the wrong impression than I am made uncomfortable by holding your hand. But if you're all right with it--if he is--I don't want more than just to get along. You are a great person, I stand by that still. I have missed our friendship, but I always understood that I probably left you hurting. I would be happy to be chatty neighbors. Or friends. I don't want to upset your life. I just..."
He exhaled.
"I just want things to be calm, and peaceful. I want to enjoy everyone's health and well-being. If," his eyes raised to Sterling's. "That works for you. I might still have time to move, but if you give me too long, I'll fall in love with the neighborhood."
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Posted: Sat Nov 07, 2020 4:25 pm
Sterling nodded and finally, slowly drew his hand away, feeling the old pain where his love for Ilya had been ache for a moment again, and then calm. “...No, I think...chatty neighbors would be a nice start...we can build from there, maybe. Ideally, I would like to be friends again...but I think I might need a little more time...though, I don’t want you to move. This is your home, just like the one next door is mine. The last thing I want to do is truly be the cause of you vanishing.”
He folded his hands back up in his lap, worrying at the skin around his thumb--an old habit that he had worked very hard to break, but. This was a special circumstance, and he could chastise himself later.
“I’m glad...glad that it wasn’t my fault. That feels like a big weight is off of my shoulders but...still. I...wish you would have told me so I could have given you the space that you needed...and been there for you...I…” He looked away, hoping to hide the guilt from his expression. “...I feel rotten. LIke I abandoned you when you really needed me...I...Should have reached out to you. Should have tried harder...and I’m sorry.”
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Posted: Sat Nov 07, 2020 4:53 pm
Ilya's eyes were on Sterling's hand and it was easy to catch him in this old habit. He reached out a hand, hesitantly, and ready to withdraw it if it was unwanted, and laid it atop Sterling's hand as if to silently stop him from fussing with his thumb.
He hoped the weight would be reassuring as well, and he squeezed his hand lightly before drawing it back to his lap.
"You didn't abandon me. I never felt that way. I understood." He still seemed calm, expressions almost somewhat muted. Still, he managed a smile. "I never blamed you. I was never angry with you. I felt bad that we had parted as we did. I'm sorry for all of the trouble, but I am glad we got to clear this up. Even if it has been so long. I look forward to being your neighbor. I can give you whatever you space. I'll stop hiding a little less, though. Maybe wave if I see you in the morning, talk about current events, the weather. I grow fresh herbs. I was telling your boyfriend that I don't get to cook with them often enough. Maybe you could stop by to pick some up sometimes. Or, if you need help with cleaning your back yard. It looks like quite a project. I'm going to plant some vegetables," he said, "Now that I don't have to move. I was really looking forward to that, so you must understand how much relief it brings me that you don't need me to move.
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Posted: Sat Nov 07, 2020 6:27 pm
When Ilya’s hand came down over his, Sterling jumped and looked up at him, suddenly sheepish. “...Oh. Thanks.”
He was glad that Ilya didn’t think he had abandoned him, and began nodding as he tackled about being neighbors. About his herb garden. Cooking together. It sounded...nice. If anything, it was simply the future he had hoped for with Ilya...only he would be getting his physical affection from someone who actually wanted it. When he looked at it from that angle...it was easier to take.
“And you can come for dinner, Yu makes some amazing food, and I bet...he wouldn’t mind. He really likes showing off...and you already know I like baking...we can have...winter time board games? And...you can meet Oreo. She’s our cat and she’s the best. If you’re ever...feeling touch starved, but don’t want people? I think that a cat is the best choice. Sometimes Priam brings his dogs to visit too, I’m sure you could meet them...they’re very sweet.”
Sterling swallowed and looked up again, a smile beginning to form on his face. “I'm...glad that we talked. And I’m glad that you don’t want to move...I...really missed having you in my life, Ilya. I think...I do want to be friends. I think...I would really like that. Now that...I’m thinking it through. Can...we pick up where we left off, do you think?”
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