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 Posted: Wed Oct 14, 2020 12:21 pm
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Moving was never an ideal chore, but when the lease to his last apartment ran out, Ilya was ready to be gone. Loud neighbors was one thing, but incompetent management was a whole new issue, coupled with the fact that they thought it was just fine to come in whenever they wanted. Including when he was out, and had confidential papers in plain sight.
He'd filed notice countless times to please give him an advance warning and they fell on deaf ears.
So, he took it upon himself to resolve the problem, and moved out.
It wasn't hard to find somewhere more private in Destiny City, in a nice little neighborhood that had good reviews, low crime, and had seemed like the stereotypical nice neighborhood when he'd dropped by for a house visit a week and a half ago. It was a quick visit, but it had been enough, and he arrived with only a single car of belongings. Unpacking took him less than an hour, and the house was in dire need of furnishings, but there was nothing he could do about that until the delivery truck arrived.
For now, he set about the tedious task of speaking to the neighbors--not because he was hoping to make friends but because he was being responsible and needed them to know that his odd hours should be expected. And, it was the polite thing to do. In Destiny City, it never hurt to know what your neighbors looked like.
He was used to arriving at stranger's houses so it didn't feel odd. Only, this was a bit more personal, so he tried to make himself look presentable. You couldn't judge a book by its cover, but the cobwebs spread across the bushes and the crashed witch decoration hanging from the door was at least a little reassuring. It was cute, friendly almost.
He managed a faint, friendly smile, and knocked on the door.
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Posted: Wed Oct 14, 2020 8:45 pm
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Ilya's eyes flashed, like he was taken aback by the suggestion that he do would do something so cruel, so illegal. Sterling's curse jarred him; he hadn't seen the man in years but he knew what that language meant. How far he'd gone.
His face was almost impassive, sans the slight knitting of his brows. It wasn't that he didn't care.
He just hadn't been expecting this talk, and when in doubt, internalize.
"Sterling," he said, this time more gentle. "You know I wouldn't do that."
Because, he must have. Ilya was straight-laced and law abiding, and followed the rules more than most. To stalk Sterling, after all this time...
"I didn't mean to upset you. I didn't plan this." But there was more than just that to unpack and he couldn't just leave it lingering, unanswered "...I wanted to talk to you. I tried. You blocked my number. I wasn't going to keep trying to contact you if you didn't want to be contacted." There was no anger, only honesty. He meant it when he said, "I'm sorry. I never meant to hurt you. Not then, and not now."
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Posted: Thu Oct 15, 2020 5:45 pm
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Ilya's jaw was set and his lips pursed, in the way that he did when he was trying to shut down his emotions on the outside so he could process them on the inside. But, there were cracks in the mask. His eyes were too expressive, under just barely furrowed brows.
He nearly flinched at the sound of a cracking plate; he didn't move from the doorstep. He watched him as he sank onto the couch and, for a long moment, he didn't say anything. It's not like Sterling was wrong. He stayed, almost statuesque, on the doorstep.
"I don't blame you. I don't disagree with what you did. I don't know what I would have done in your shoes. But I'm sorry. You didn't deserve it."
He drew in a slow breath to keep his mind even. "I wasn't upset with you, though. I didn't need time to cool off. I didn't want to never see you again. I just..."
Where was the speech he had prepared all of those years ago? Where was the rehearsed explanation, the carefully prepared answers? His mind was blank, but he managed, "I just got caught up in things. And I'm sorry. I wish I could go back and do it differently."
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Posted: Thu Oct 15, 2020 7:28 pm
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A million responses popped into his head, but none of them felt right. None of them were enough.
He shouldn't go into the house. He shouldn't go in. He was not invited in. He was not wanted here.
He shouldn't go in.
But the pie would burn, and then he'd be sorry.
He faltered on the doorstep, like some vampire who couldn't cross the threshold, and then he caved. He walked in, with large steps, like the fewer times his feet hit the floor, the less rage he could incur.
"It's a long answer, Sterling. I didn't break up with you. I got distracted. I'm sorry. If you want the full story, I'll give it to you. If you want me to leave, I will. I'll skip neighborhood potlucks and social events, I won't bother you. You'll hardly even see me. I'll look for somewhere else to move. Do you want me to help you to the stove or do you want me to get your pie?" he asked, reaching out a hand for him.
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Posted: Thu Oct 15, 2020 8:16 pm
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Ilya faltered, mind slowed as he thought of a burning pie and an undercooked pie, and how few seconds must be between the two of states for Sterling to be so worried. His brows were knit further now and his hand dropped and he recoiled, balled at his side like even he thought it was some undesirable thing.
He didn't want to see him cry, didn't mean to make him cry.
"I'm sorry," he said again, stepping back. "...I'll stay out of your hair until I find somewhere else."
It felt wrong to leave, to see him on the floor and not be able to offer any comfort. But, he had been told to leave, and that was that. He turned swiftly and retreated, taking long, hurried steps back to the front door.
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