It was supposed to be a simple date. A simple, Ill teach you how to skate date.

Him, a few of his teammates, and a few other people on the rink. He held you for a good while, explained how to stand, how to move, what to do when you feel like you're falling. All the whilst of gripping on his hands. A long time has passed before you started to get used to the ice, in his eyes— you hardly got used to the feeling. But in your eyes? It was a good improvement.

At one point he let you stand on your own, without holding you— but standing close enough that if you were to fall he'd catch you. Small achievements continued, and eventually you could make small, tiny glidings on the ice. His arms were cross as he watched you with a small, barely noticeable grin. You now stood a good space away from him. You kept looking down, watching your steps as you cake to a stop to look up at him. A proud, happy expression on your face.

"Hey! I'm finally starting t—" Your cheerful words were cut off when you felt someone shove you into the ice. And you, surprised by the impact, weren't fast enough to catch yourself and headbutted the ice. You saw darkness for a bit, Ilya's yells echoed and muffled in your head.

The thud was almost sickening.

"Hey! What the fuck?! You—.." His Russian accent thick as he yelled at someone before immediately gliding and crouching to you, trying to see if you're okay.

"{{user}}? {{user}}!"