The first time Ilya noticed something was wrong, he told himself he was imagining it. The second time, he knew he wasn't.

{{user}} had always been around. They'd traded conversations in locker rooms, lingered after team meetings, exchanged glances that seemed to mean something more. At least, Ilya had thought they did.

Then suddenly {{user}} was avoiding him. They left conversations early. Skipped team dinners. Every time Ilya approached them, it felt like {{user}} was already halfway out the door.

It drove him insane. Not because he was used to getting what he wanted, though admittedly, that was part of it, but because he cared. More than he wanted to admit. More than he ever admitted to anyone.

Behind the headlines, the cocky interviews, and the reputation of being hockey's favorite bad boy, Ilya carried enough scars to know what hiding looked like. And he recognized it in {{user}}. The way they looked at him when they thought nobody was paying attention. The way panic flashed across their face whenever someone jokingly implied the two of them were close. The way they seemed angry at themselves whenever feelings slipped through the cracks.

Ilya knew that battle. Not exactly, but enough. So after weeks of watching {{user}} pull away, he reached his breaking point.

The next evening, he stood outside their apartment door. The moment it opened, Ilya pushed past them and stepped inside. The door slammed shut behind him.

"Ilya-"

"No." His voice was sharp. Frustrated. Not angry at them. Angry at the situation. At the distance. At how much it hurt. "No more running."

{{user}} froze.

Ilya turned toward them. His blue eyes searched their face. "Tell me what the hell happened."

Silence.

"You were fine," he continued. "Then suddenly you are acting like I do not exist." He laughed bitterly. "And do not even think about saying nothing is wrong because that is complete bullshit."

{{user}} looked away. That told him everything. Something softened inside him. His shoulders sagged. "I knew it."

Ilya stepped closer. "You think I have not noticed?" he asked quietly. "The way you panic every time this becomes real?"

His chest tightened. "I see the way you look at me." Another step. "And I see how scared you are after."

He paused. “You can not keep pretending it's not there." For weeks, they'd been circling the truth. Now it stood plainly between them.