Work Text:
Ivan remembers meeting Till for the first time.
Among all of the other children at Anakt Garden, Till had been different in a way that Ivan couldn’t understand. He was loud, for one. The most expressive boy that Ivan has ever met, who wore all of his emotions on his sleeve.
Essentially, he was Ivan’s opposite. And Ivan, who had felt nothing for the longest time, was drawn to him.
—
Ivan remembers their first fight.
The reasoning behind it was inconsequential. Ivan couldn’t care less about the pain on his cheek. All that mattered was the way teal eyes narrowed on him, filled with anger.
Till was looking at him — noticing him. He had his attention. He had his gaze on him. And that was all Ivan needed to see.
They fight. Ivan follows. They fight again. Ivan still follows.
For the first time, Ivan feels something other than emptiness. He thinks it may be love.
—
Ivan remembers seeing Till blush for the first time, speaking to Mizi. His cheeks bloomed a shade of red so vivid. It was one of the first times that he had seen this expression on him.
Ivan reflexively reached out to poke it, causing the other to let out a yelp. His face twisted with something unpleasant. Annoyed. Irritated. He turned to Ivan, eyes wild with something that Ivan can’t really explain, and raised his fist.
This was familiar to him. Familiarity was good. Familiarity, Ivan understands.
He braced himself for the impact to come, but it never did.
Mizi laughed. She poked Till’s cheeks excitedly, giggling about his soft skin. Till whipped around. Ivan expected a similar reaction.
Rather than scowling this time, however, he blushed.
It was the same kind of blush that Mizi had for Sua. The same one that Till had done earlier. The same one that Ivan couldn’t replicate or understand at all.
Oh. It was then that Ivan realized how different they were.
—
Ivan remembers that day very well.
He was content with watching Till from afar at first. Then, he grew selfish.
Till had turned around, going back to the garden. His silhouette had disappeared over the hill, out of reach. Above them, the sky roared red and orange. He used to love the sight of the meteors, beautiful as they streak across the world. He didn’t, anymore. His lovely meteor left him in the end.
Ivan let out a laugh, as hollow as the rest of him. He thought this would make Till happy. He saw the smile as they left, hand in hand. He saw how unhappy Till was, restricted in the garden. But Ivan didn’t understand him at all.
How could he have expected Till to come with him? He wasn’t Mizi. He would never be Mizi. If Mizi had asked him to come, he would have followed her without hesitation. He had gotten too comfortable in his ignorance, and now he had to pay the price for it.
Ivan looked out in the distance, surveying the empty land. Escape is but a few steps away. If he had left now, he could leave forever. He’ll be free from his guardian’s clutches. He won’t lose his life to the stage. He won’t have to suffer anymore under the watchful eye of the segyeins.
But he won’t be able to look at Till anymore. And that’s another form of torture, isn’t it?
So Ivan turned around.
He had never once thought about what could have happened if he didn’t.
—
Till will never look at Ivan the same way that Ivan looks at him. But Ivan is fine with it. He knows what happens when he gets greedy. He knows what happens when he starts to hope for more.
He knew that it would have to come to this one day when he turned around, following Till back to the garden. He knew the outcome of this long before the participants were announced. And he knew exactly how it would pan out.
Till can live without him. Perhaps Ivan was no more than a mere nuisance in his life, a nameless face to be forgotten. But Ivan can’t fathom a world without him, a world without his only reason of living.
It is a good thing, perhaps, that Till does not care about him. That way, the decision was all too easy to make.
He is selfish, as he begs for one last kiss. Begs for the other’s gaze, one last time.
He has no regrets. He feels no pain. He’s too broken for any of that — no more than a damaged product, masquerading around as a human pet.
The tears in Till’s eyes, the grief in his voice as he screams his name — it must have been his imagination, a delusion.
He knows, with every last bit of his strength, that Till had never once cared about him.
—
“Ivan! Ivan! Where are you?”
A young boy searches for his lost friend. He looks all over the garden, asking around if they had seen him. He looks behind trees. He peers into bushes. He checked all of his usual spots, only to come up empty-handed.
But he doesn’t give up.
After minutes of searching, he finally finds a familiar tuft of black hair, sitting underneath a tree. His eyes are closed, his breathing labored.
“Stupid idiot, making me come all this way here,” the boy mutters, sitting down next to him. He had something to say, but now he doesn’t really feel like saying it anymore. It was the first time he has seen Ivan so relaxed.
Ivan, who was always so closed off. Ivan, who got on his nerves. Ivan, who paraded around with a fake smile. This Ivan, however, was none of those things — here, he was unguarded, open.
The boy thinks Ivan is weird. He doesn’t understand why Ivan always picks on him, even though he ends up following him minutes later. Why he seemed intent on only messing around with him, plastering a polite smile to everyone else.
Maybe he won’t understand Ivan after all. Maybe he never will. But he doesn’t really care about any of that. Ivan is Ivan, and he is himself. Whenever he looked back, Ivan was always behind him. Who needs to understand, when they have each other?
The boy watches him some more before he turns his gaze to the rolling hills. The wind whispers through bushes and trees, creating a gentle rustle. It’s quiet and peaceful. He understands why Ivan chose this spot to sleep.
Suddenly, he yawns, feeling tired. He looks around. They were far enough from the rest to where he didn’t have to worry about being disturbed. Then, he leans towards him, resting his head on the other’s shoulder.
“Cheer up,” the boy murmurs, subconsciously. His breathing slows, eyes heavy with sleep. He listens to Ivan’s heartbeat, pumping in tandem with his own.
It’s a soothing melody. A constant rhythm. Till hums a song under his breath as he finally drifts off to sleep.