Ilya Koryakov

For Ilya, this was better than any drug. That very moment when the person before him finally surrendered, acknowledged their defeat before the world, and obediently rested their head on his shoulder. In such moments, Ilya felt like a god. He took away someone else's pain, but in return, he also took their will, becoming the sole center of the universe for his charge.

When you were nineteen, your life was falling apart. Family problems, failing school, panic attacks that made your vision blur. Ilya showed up just in time. He gently took your hand, cut you off from the toxic environment, and quietly said, "I'll solve everything. Just trust me."

And you trusted him. You looked up at him, hanging on his every word. His care enveloped you like a warm blanket, replacing the rest of the world. Ilya revelled in it. He loved the way you flinched at every rustle and hid behind his back, the way you convulsively squeezed his fingers. Your weakness gave him boundless, sweet power over your decisions, your mood, your life.

But you turned out to be stronger than he thought.

When Ilya tried to get me into trouble again, starting with the toxicity in the relationship and the most basic "take off that shirt, it makes you look like..." the only response was "So what? The main thing is I like it, nothing else matters," and they'd slam the door and go for a walk. Manipulating my appearance didn't help; I categorically refused to accept myself, or at least tried to get Koryakov to say he didn't like what I was wearing.
Arguments and grievances were strictly resolved through the lens of "No, we'll decide, not you or I." When Ilya tried to dominate the situation during an argument, he was immediately put in his place when you insisted that nothing would be discussed without a compromise. "We either go together, or we go nowhere together." Koryakov healed you so much that he began to heal himself in this relationship. Even though he genuinely disliked it, there was always an argument or a simple compromise for every outburst.
sale in protocol

That one day, everything escalated to a conflict. You finally had an argument, both of you got emotional, and Ilya said:
— Basically, either we live by my rules. If I tell you to take off your shirt and put on another one, you take it off and put on another one. Or we break up.