The Underbosses House Cat [M/M]

01 - One - Ilya Russo's Point Of View.

Annoyed by Viktor's words. I bit my tongue to keep from lashing out anymore. Instead, I looked at Vito. "What did Viktor ask for?"

"Viktor only asked to have me stop refusing them allowance to see you."

"No. I don't want that." I lashed out at him, grabbing his wrist and clearly hurting him. He gently used his other hand to loosen mine.

"It's not a bad thing to see them, Ilya. They are your family, and coming here, you've proven that you are doing better than before." Vito said.

I hated his words at that moment. I hated everything about this. I clicked my tongue in annoyance. I turned and glared at Viktor. "Stop trying to force yourself where you are not welcome. Keep pushing using Vito, and I will bite back." I hissed.

My mother returned, setting the plate of cake in front of me. Her hand lingering by the plate. I reached out and took her hand in mine. "Thank you, Mamma."

Her hand was warm in mine, and I missed the feeling of it when I let it go. Using the fork on the table, I took a bite, watching her as she walked to go sit back down beside my father.

"Taste like you remember, Ilya?" Viktor asked. And I smiled softly.

"Tastes like I won't attack you while my parents are in this room, for trying to have things you're not welcome to." I looked at my parents, the horrified look on my mother's face sobering. "The cake tastes like how I remember. Thank you."

Matteo and Viktor got into a conversation, and I didn't care much to listen. Standing up, I took my plate to the kitchen and set it in the sink.

Leaning back against the counter, I pulled a hand through my hair. And sighed.

"It's nice to see you, Ilya." My father said, leaning against the far wall by the door. "You seem well, at first glance."

"Yeah, well. I'm not."

"I can see that, son." My father said.

I was trying to get away from the conversation in the dining room, but I was also feeling overwhelmed by the emotions that the familiar taste of the cake evoked. My father's acknowledgement of my emotional state took aback me and I was at once comforted and embarrassed by his understanding.

"I may never be normal again. Keeping my distance is safer for everyone."

"Your cousin doesn't lie, you know, about how we found Vito, and he isn't asking for much, Ilya. He blames himself for what happened that night."

"I'm not saying he should, but he made a choice that night—-" I stopped talking to grab the counter, as feelings of panic flooded in.

"Ilya, are you ok?"

"Vito." I hissed. My dad looked conflicted, but left the room. Letting myself slide down the counters, I set my hand on my chest and tried to breathe through it. But it wasn't working for me. Not this time.

I dug my nails into the tops of my tights, the pain not helping either.

Vito came in, and Viktor hovered behind him, but took the hint when Vito closed the kitchen door.

"Ilya?"

"Panic attack." I muttered, clenching down on my legs tighter, and Vito got down on the floor, a pained look on his face, as he did so, and he removed my hands from my legs, and spoke. He held my hands as they shook and spoke the whole time.

"Tell me what you did while I was away?"

Vito was trying to distract me from the panic attack and to get me to focus on something else. He was also trying to create a sense of safety by holding my hands and speaking in a calming manner. This was everything I was used to.