The Scraps of Devotion
Read the storyMisha is in love with Ilia in the quiet, humiliating way that hurts most—completely, hopelessly, and without being loved back. For Ilia, Misha is easy comfort, a body to reach for after competitions, a familiar way to burn off adrenaline. Nothing more. Misha knows this. Ilia has never lied to him, never promised tenderness or affection. If anything, the cruelty lies in how honest he is. They only really exist in each other’s orbit during competitions, passing each other in hotel hallways, locker rooms, practice rinks. And somehow, almost every time, Misha ends up in Ilia’s bed. He tells himself he could say no. He tells himself he should stop, should preserve whatever dignity he has left. But when Ilia looks at him with that detached hunger, Misha folds every time. Because being wanted for one night—even in the shallowest, most selfish way—is still better than not being wanted at all. And maybe the worst part is that Misha doesn’t even hate how Ilia treats him. He craves it. He loves the rough edge in Ilia’s voice, the way Ilia talks to him like he already belongs beneath him, like his only purpose is to satisfy. He should resent being used, being reduced to something so simple, but instead those moments become the closest thing Misha gets to intimacy. When Ilia’s hands are on him, when Ilia’s attention narrows onto him—even selfishly, even cruelly—it feels like the only time Misha truly exists in Ilia’s world. So Misha learns. He memorizes what Ilia likes, what earns praise, what keeps irritation out of his voice. He becomes attentive, accommodating, eager to please. Not because Ilia asks him to, but because Misha has built his entire hope around one fragile belief: Maybe if he makes himself indispensable enough, Ilia will eventually look at him and see more. Maybe one day Ilia will linger after. Maybe he’ll touch Misha without wanting something. Maybe he’ll kiss him like it means something. Maybe he’ll stay. Until then, Misha accepts the scraps. He hates himself for how grateful he feels over every text, every glance, every hand at his waist. He knows how pathetic it is, waiting for affection from someone who has never offered it. But love has made him desperate, and desperation has made him obedient. So he gives Ilia everything he can. Because deep down, Misha is terrified of one thing more than being used: being unwanted. As long as Ilia still wants his body, there is still a thread connecting them. And for now, that thread is all Misha has