Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Somehow, despite everything Ivan believed, he is awake and alive. 

Truthfully, Ivan has been awake for a few days now.  The doctors have come in and out to check on him and every time, he feigns sleeping until they leave. He doesn’t have any particular reason, the doctors have been nothing but kind. He just doesn’t want to talk to them yet. Or really anyone. 

Out his window, he can see a bit of where he is. It’s not a place he recognizes, certainly not the city of glass and metal that Unsha called home and Ivan called ‘the place I am in right now’. It’s not even really like the slums of his childhood, with its grime and dense air that seemed to almost make a hazy dome of grey.

It was…open. Most buildings barely reached higher than three or four floors, with the vast majority only being one or two. They seemed to be built with a variety of materials, all coming together in an amalgamation that felt both homey and strange. Some parts look like old ruins and the rebels seemed to have built buildings on top of while still keeping parts of the original structure intact.

 There were plants growing all around, with what looked to be a farm in the distance. He thought they’d all died off from this planet long ago. Surrounding one side of the town were tall mountains while the other held a beach and ocean. All sights that he’s never seen in person before, only ever reading about them in the books that Unsha sometimes let him read.

As far as he knew, the segyeins had taken over most of the planet and turned it into their hub for entertainment. The entirely desert planet made a great place for such things, as it offered an almost completely clean slate for them to build on. There’s vague writings about how the planet used to be inhabited—in which they don’t even bother stating their name beyond ‘the native desert dwellers’— but that species died off due to mysterious circumstances. Ivan suspects it was not very mysterious at all but history is written by the survivors and none of the desert dwellers lived long enough to say otherwise. He supposes that their species didn’t have anything about them that the segyeins found interesting enough to keep around. 

The stories of Earth and the original, free humans are stories that the segyeins have made an effort to keep hidden away but through song and legend, they remain known. Touching the wall, Ivan can see what looks to be an old carving that the rebels had decided to leave alone and build around. Though he has no context for the carving was meant to mean, he finds a bit of pleasure knowing that even when the segyein destroyed every desert dweller and turned their planet into something they probably wouldn’t recognize, that they still managed to leave echoes of themselves that shows proof that they were there. 

That they didn’t die in silence. 

Ivan spends some time staring out his window, trying to take everything in and adjust accordingly as he always does. However, he struggles to get his bearings.

After all, nothing else should exist on the planet except for vast amounts of sand and the few huge cities that don’t allow anything outside of what is meant to be there.

And yet, this place exists, the antithesis of everything this planet was known to be.

And here he was, alive when he’s supposed to be dead.

He first woke up in the middle of the night, every part of him aching and his every thought being scrambled as his body got used to the idea of being alive again. His breaths came quickly as his lungs greedily swallowed up air. His stomach hurt, hungry for something solid and Ivan had to clench his teeth from badly his head hurt. 

Ivan nearly falls off the side of his bed from his vague thrashing but is able to catch himself on the bedside table. His vision swims before he pushes himself back up, leaning against the headboard and covering his eyes with his hand.

At first, he thinks he’s dead. He was so sure he died on that stage. That was the plan. He had been ready. Spent practically years of his life preparing for the inevitable end. But the wound in his side throbs to vehemently remind him he’s not dead. He takes a deep breath, trying to settle his quickly beating heart that demands he acknowledge the life that flows through his veins.

Then he feels himself panic because if he’s alive, that means Till is not and everything he did was for nothing. 

Ivan’s feet try to move to get up, to rush and try and figure out what the hell happened but the throbbing begins again. The IV in his arm jolts a bit, hitting against the table. Ivan reaches out and steadies the drip as the sound of a door down the hall opening catches his attention. He hears the squeak of shoes against the ground and he ducks into the bed again. Ivan pretends to sleep and stills himself.  Over the years, he’s perfected the ability to appear almost dead. 

Ivan shuts his eyes tight as the door slides open with a thud. He can hear panting as the person comes closer. Soft footsteps tap against the floor as the shadow looms over him. A long, tense silence echoes in the room and for a moment, Ivan thinks that the person is just going to leave again.

Suddenly, there's a soft brush of fingertips against his cheek. The fingers seem to be tracing the edge of his face and down to his neck. Ivan has to hold his breath to not make a noise as the feather lights touch moves to check his pulse. There’s a small breath of relief and the hands leave. After another moment, he hears the person take a step back and sigh.

“Fuck… I thought— fuck .” Till spits out and Ivan can hear him pace around the room, “Fucking bastard…”

A rush of relief shoots through Ivan when he realizes who it was because Till is alive and it all wasn’t for nothing. Then a feeling of discomfort comes after. He probably should’ve said something then. But he couldn’t seem to work up the nerve. He was…nervous. Perhaps he didn’t feel ready to face him, face the consequences of his own damn choices. So he simply did what he always did and listened. 

The pacing keeps going and he can hear the way Till seems to practically trip over his feet every time he turns to start a new lap. He keeps murmuring to himself with a wet quality to his voice as he tries to find something to say. It’s hard to make out what he’s saying, the sounds becoming garbled in between the soft sobs and muttering. Ivan knows he’s running his hands through his silver hair because Till always did that when he was upset. If he was really upset, he’d almost pull his hair out if no one grabbed his hands to loosen their grip. The boy could never just be quietly upset, his feelings often being so big that it had to come out through his body. Usually it was Ivan to grab his hands but sometimes he’d leave it alone just to see if Till would snap himself out of it. Sometimes he did, mostly he didn’t. 

The feet finally stop right at the head of the bed with a squeak of his shoes.

Till’s breath hitches and there’s a tremble in his voice, “You fucking prick. You did this to me, you need to fucking answer for it.” There’s a pause, the sound of his throat gulping for strength before fingers brush into his black hair that feels so gentle and in an angry voice Till says, “I hate you .”

Ivan’s chest aches like he’s been shot again. The words are not surprising but they make everything in his body feel cold and his stomach sink to the bottom of his feet like a stone in water.

Till’s footsteps leave the room, stomping back down the hall and out of earshot. Ivan let out a shaky breath, prying his eyes open to stare at the reflection of the room in the window. His eyes fixated on the darkness that Till disappeared into.

He shakily sits up, eyes never leaving that spot, and he thinks. 

Ivan spends the next day wallowing, staring up at the ceiling. He wasn’t really thinking, more so just numbly lying in bed as the world passed him by. It was something he was good at. An ever present weight compresses his feelings and allows him to swallow the pain into himself. It stings on the way down but he has practice enduring it and hiding with a practiced smile.

He’s not sure who he’s doing it for other than his emotionless reflection. Maybe he just doesn’t know how to take off the lid without it all spilling everywhere in an unsightly way. 

Sitting numb works for a while but an itch starts to crawl up his neck. One that whispers questions about what happened after he lost consciousness. Clearly a lot, if he’s sitting in a rebel base with both him and Till being alive. He’s curious about how all that happened.

After a while, he resolves to go out and actually look for answers instead of waiting for them to find him. Perhaps he should’ve been more worried about where he was and what happened, but he couldn’t find it in himself to care up until now. 

So at night, when the world is asleep around him, he tiptoed out of his room into the hallway.

His side hurt. His back hurt. His legs hurt. Everything hurts. There was a limp in his step. But he just bit his lip and willed his body to keep moving.

The building itself was a bit grimy, despite how sterile his room had been. It seemed hobbled together, held together by seemingly will and the desire to make something out of nothing. 

Ivan doesn’t mind it, he grew up in the slums, though his memory is hazy. It was a bit eerie, feeling memories grasp at the edges of his mind but not quite enough to stay. There’s echoes of things he more so feels rather than knows he did in places that looked like this. 

He has no urge to go digging deeper. He suspects he wouldn’t find anything good. 

His hands trace along the walls, feeling every bump and dip, so unlike the pristine smooth walls of his guardian’s house. The carving that was in the room clearly wasn’t the only one that existed, with the hallway being littered with them. Some parts of the wall have pictures on it, some of paper and crayon and others seem to be printed photos of staff members and patients. As his eyes move across the space, he can see murals that are painted on depicting flowers or rainbows that bring pops of colour into the building. They were all scattered about, without much rhyme or reason beyond seemingly sentimentality. 

Unsha had been very adamant to keep his house monochromatic with the only pops of colour being his gaudy jewelry that he wore and displayed. He made a point to keep the house as pristine as possible, with nothing out of place including Ivan. His spot was usually somewhere out of the way until he was needed to make Unsha look good. Then it was standing next to him with a careful smile and an outfit that pinched him but looked great on camera.

As he crosses a hallway, he finally catches a glimpse of himself.

He looks…different.

In a lot of ways, he looks terrible. The clothes he wears are clearly not meant for him, with baggy shorts and a shirt that big enough to fall off one of his shoulders. His face is gaunt, likely from who knows how long of not eating real food. His body has lost a lot of weight, the usual toned muscle replaced with bony limbs and weird knobby knees. His skin that practically had its own insurance and was maintained with a rigorous skincare routine was now dull, almost sickly looking. Every part of his appearance that was oh so important for his owners to maintain was gone, leaving behind a malnourished, sickly body.

Unsha would probably have a fit. Or a heart attack. Or just die. The knowledge that all of his hard earned investment has gone down the drain would kill him.

Ivan laughs a little at the thought.

 Despite all of the differences, the most noticeable change to himself was his hair. His strands have curled, the length brushing against the back of his neck and his bangs fall into the front of his eyes. Ivan reaches up, brushing his fingers through it and pushing it to the side. It bounces back when he puts his hand down and a memory comes back to him.

He looks like he did when he was first sold. 

When he was caught, the segyein had told him that his hair was unsightly. That if he wanted a chance to be sold to someone worthwhile, he needed to look the part. So they straightened his hair. Cut and styled it into what they deemed to be acceptable. Ivan hadn’t developed the right self preservation instincts yet, so he squirmed, fought, bit until the head segyein held him over the side of the building and he learned what fear was. They showed him what would become of him if he remained as he was. 

So he stopped fighting. 

They kept straightening his hair, every day until Ivan no longer even really remembered what his hair looked like before they did that. He had forgotten how thick and gravity-defying it could be. 

Ivan blinks, stares for a bit longer to really take it in before he continues walking, with him ever so slightly registering his hair bouncing as he goes.

He finds what he’s looking for eventually. The answers come when he finds a lone holopad, seemingly forgotten on a table and he quickly swipes it. For a moment, he wonders why someone would leave something like this just lying around, but the origins of the holopad is far less important than what’s on it, so he pays it little mind. With that, he runs back to his room. 

Ivan watches everything he can find about what happened.

And he watches.

And watches.

And he…he sees.

He’s not sure what he feels. There’s an ache in his chest, like someone has reached into his heart, trying to squeeze out all the blood until he’s wrung dry. His chest feels like it's hollow, with the blood sloshing around in it and he gets a wave of nausea. 

Because he sees himself. There, on the screens, on Luka, on Till’s horrified expression. There’s him. His echoes permeated the round and every second he sees himself, Ivan wants to puke.

And realises he’s a fool. 

He always believed himself to be a person of no consequence. Perhaps the segyeins found him perfect and the other pet humans found him charming but at the end of the day, he is merely a fabricated person. Unsha made sure to erase whoever the boy of the slums was meant to naturally be and built Ivan brick by brick. There would be another him. Another human who would be obedient, charming and everything that everyone wanted. 

He didn’t think he mattered much to anyone. He was an investment to his owner, a pretty doll for the other pet humans and an annoyance for Till. No one wanted Ivan specifically. He thought he was replaceable. His actions had no weight.

But he was wrong.

When he made the decision to sacrifice himself for Till, he thought he was setting Till free from him. After all, isn’t that what he’s always wanted? It was Ivan that was always selfish and just couldn’t let the boy go. And maybe there was a part of him that hoped that maybe Till would see him for just a moment. But it wasn’t meant to last long.

Dying was supposed to be his final act, the moment he finally lets go and Till could live on to see another day.

But he has only trapped him further. Because Till, for all the times he tried to deny that part of himself, has a bleeding heart. He cares so much about everything and everyone. 

Even nothings like Ivan.

He had done the one thing that he didn't want to do. He became a trauma for Till. He’s failed. All he wanted was to see Till’s eyes light up again. He hoped that Till would move past his death quickly and go into the next round with the fire he didn’t have in theirs. 

But as he watches Till break down on stage, he realizes that he wasn’t the spark that lit a fire but the sand that doused it.

Ivan wishes he were human. 

Biologically, he was, but at his core, he always felt like something was wrong with him. As a child, he struggled to understand or even show emotions properly. He was quiet, reserved, and didn't know how to begin to think for himself.

The segyein loved it, always praising every aspect of himself that strayed from human. He was obedient, clean, quiet, an ideal disposition for a pet. It was the only reason why he had sold for so much despite his troubled origins. They would tell him to bark and he would bark because he didn’t care one way or the other. They’d pet his hair, tell him how he was so much better than other pet humans because he was just so good. Practically a doll.

But while they scorned everything that made a human ‘human’, that was all he ever wished he could be.

Maybe that’s why he was so drawn to Till. Because Till has always been the most human person he has ever met. Brash, loud, rebellious while still being somehow kind, gentle and curious. He was everything and nothing and Ivan felt like he could see stars whenever Till was around. 

Perhaps it is because Till was so human that Ivan never had a shot. Why would a human want a doll?

Dolls aren’t good for much more than decoration. 

Which leads him back to sitting alone in his hospital room, pretending to be asleep so he can sit in silence by himself. He’s both at peace and at turmoil all at once.

He likes that there’s no schedule for him to follow anymore. He doesn’t know how to live without every action he does being planned by someone else. Just outside his door are endless possibilities for his future. He misses knowing exactly what was going to happen to him and everyone he knew, even if all that was waiting for them was death. If he gets up, he’ll probably get to see Till again. Despite it all, he finds he can’t bring himself to go looking for him.

So he buries himself in the blankets and lays there because the only thing he can be certain about is that he’s not ready yet.

 One night, he hears footsteps coming down the hall. At first, his heart jumps a little bit because he hopes that maybe Till decided to come find him again. He hasn't since that first night. But he hears a distinct metal sound against the tile and he deflates. It was all wishful thinking. 

Quietly, he tucks himself into the bed, prepared to do the same schtick as before. But as he waits for the person to leave, he hears a voice instead.

“I know you’re awake, lover boy.”

Ivan doesn't respond, because you don’t succeed in pretending by giving up.

There’s a pause before he hears a sigh and feels fingers poking his bullet wound.

That makes him jolt, the sudden sharp pain rushing up his side and the general surprise of being touched. Stifling a curse, he sits up fast and turns to look at the woman that stands before him with an unapologetic expression.

“Fu– ! What–?!”

“Morning.” She says, a slight smirk on his face, “The name’s Hyuna.”

Ivan blinks, processing for a moment as he cradles his wound before replying, “I remember you. You’re the girl that escaped a few years back.”

The legend of the girl who escaped was one that was told through hushed whispers amongst the Anakt Garden kids. The segyeins running the operation wanted to keep it under wraps and forbade anyone from talking about it. Despite their efforts, the story ended up becoming one that everyone knew of. 

Perhaps had they actually made it out, maybe the Anakt Garden kids would’ve talked about him and Till instead.

He moves away from that line of thought quickly. Thinking about that night often makes him sad, so he avoids thinking about it for too long. 

“Oh good, that saves me a bit of a spiel.” Hyuna cocks her hip, running her fingers through her hair like she is exhausted, "You know, you pretending to be asleep has been causing quite a stir, uhhh Ivan, right?”

He nods silently and he can see her pause, waiting for him to speak. When he doesn’t, she sighs.

“Are you not going to ask for more details?”

“Is it important?”

“Yes, I would say so. Especially since it’s your friends who have been tearing the rebellion apart in worry for you.”

That’s rather surprising. He knew that Till wasn’t known to sit still and behave but Mizi was here. She would normally be rather chipper and help Till keep a levelhead. 

Pausing, he composes himself as he rearranges into a more comfortable position while his wound throbs.

Ivan hums, tilting his head, “Elaborate?”

“Well, we had predicted you to have woken up like, a week or two ago. But when as far as the doctors knew, you hadn’t, your friends have been running around in a panic. They think something has gone wrong with your recovery.” Hyuna explains, looking a bit unimpressed before shrugging, “I knew you were awake the whole time.”

“How?”

“You think we wouldn’t have cameras set up?” Hyuna asks and Ivan grumbles a bit, forgetting the cameras is a rookie move, “I decided not to say anything though cause I wanted to ask questions.”

“Like?”

“Like why would you, on purpose, pretend to be asleep for a week.” Hyuna sighs, shaking her head, “I mean, I can’t really think as to why you would do that. I mean there’s literally nothing to gain just sitting here. There’s people waiting out there for you and you’re just…holing up in there! I mean seriously, this place isn’t even that nice, I mean come on.”

Hyuna rambles for a second before staring him down and for once, he can’t find it in him to stare back. He looks away, not really wanting to talk about it. 

Hyuna watches him, analyzing his face before stating, not asking, “It’s not really about all that, is it.”

Ivan considers just staying silent and maybe he’d be allowed to just go back to his solitude. But maybe it’s the fact that there’s a person actually wanting his opinion for once, maybe it’s how everything is so new and it’s affecting, maybe it’s just how tired he is about everything but he finds himself answering honestly.

“…I’m supposed to be dead.” 

“Hm?” Hyuna sounds surprised. 

“I’m supposed to be dead. I was ready.” Ivan repeats, sounding somewhat petulant.

Hyuna purses her lips, “Are you mad we saved you?”

A feeling surges in Ivan’s chest, one that he realizes is frustration and he replies harshly, “I was supposed to die on that stage, I was going to let him be free and he could finally live as he wanted! This…! This isn’t how it was supposed to go!” 

Hyuna didn’t need to guess who ‘he’ was. Her eyebrows raised and replies, “Judging by the footage, your boyfriend over there had the same thought.”

Ivan grits his teeth, “That’s not—“

“Don’t you think you’re being a hypocrite?”

Without thinking, Ivan sits up and shouts, “That is different! With my death, he would’ve been fine! Till knows what to do with freedom, I don’t! I don’t have enough will to do more than survive! Freedom is…” his voice gets quiet as he turns his head, staring out at the sky through the glass of his little window by the bed, “Freedom is only something I can observe. I’m not…meant for it.”

“Are you sure?” Hyuna asks him.

Ivan blinks at the question, eyes never leaving the stars before he curls up because he doesn’t know. He’s beginning to realize that he doesn’t know anything. He doesn't know how to be free. How to love. How to even be happy. 

Hyuna is quiet before she huffs, gentle as she reaches out to him, “C’mon, I want to show you something.”

Ivan hesitates, clutching the sheets. The woman observes this and laughs.

“Don’t worry, no one will see us. No one needs to know you’re awake if you don’t want to. Just let me show you something.”

Hyuna stares at him with imploring eyes, gentle but firm in her ask. Ivan had been sitting in the dark for a while but somehow, the moon decided to come out for this conversation and shine a light that seemed to spotlight the woman. Without another reason to refuse, his hands slip into hers. She grins before yanking him off the bed.

 She leads him through the hallway, their footsteps echoing against the empty walls. His wounds sting a little bit as he walks, but Ivan ignores the throbbing in favour of carefully watching Hyuna. 

She seems so unbothered. 

He remembers her a bit from Anakt Garden, though she had been a part of a different cohort so they rarely intersected. Still, he recalls her tied up hair and the crisp clean uniform they all wore on her. She had been one of the star students of the 49th cohort but despite that, she never seemed to be that interested in any of it.

Looking at her now, he thinks about how well freedom looks on her. She looks strong, confident and most of all, happy. 

By contrast, when he catches his own gaze in a mirror, freedom sits on him like an ill-fitting sweater. All he sees is what he has truly been all along. 

A poorly cobbled together imitation of a human.

Hyuna leads him up some stairs, taking them two at a time and urging Ivan to move faster. He struggles behind her until she slams the doors open and his eyes widen at the sight. 

They stand on the roof, the open night sky cresting up, stretching high above them. Stars glitter back at him and his breath hitches. He hasn’t seen the sky like this since he was small enough to still know who he was.

“Amazing, right?” The woman hums, looking up at the sky with a calm smile, “When I first escaped, I would spend hours just staring up at the sky. I thought it would lose its luster eventually but nope. Still as amazing as ever.”

He understands the feeling. There are many nights he wonders about when his awe would disappear but it never has. Ivan supposes that perhaps some things are just meant to shine bright and dazzle forever. 

His mind goes to think about silver and teal, his heart beating a little faster. 

Hyuna laughs, careful in the way she tugs him to the edge of the roof and leans over the railing. Ivan digs his feet in a bit, not wanting to be too close to where the building does a steep drop off. It’s not a particularly tall building, definitely not the tallest he’s been in but the thought of being in the air still makes his legs feel wobbly. The woman thankfully doesn’t push, merely stares up at the sky with a wistful look in her eye. 

“In the big city, seeing stars like this is impossible. All you’ll get is the faintest thing being covered by the glow of the city.  But out here?” Hyuna opens her arms wide, spinning on her feet and basking in the air, “No such thing. Our little rebellion settlement is not big enough to make that much light and we try to conserve our energy out here. Essential light only at night. Amazing, right?”

Ivan listens to her quietly, half absorbing her words and half waiting for when she gets the point because he knows it's coming. Still, the awe of seeing the stars gets to him and he can’t help but be wrapped up in hers.

“Yeah…” he replies, eyes tracing over every star he can and taking the image into himself.

“The city never sleeps. It’s always about the hustle and bustle out there. Sleep, though, is what is needed for dreams. And here, we have an abundance of that too.” she pauses, smiling to herself before facing Ivan, staring into his eyes, “So what are yours?”

That’s an easy question.

“I want Till to be hap-”

“Ah bup bup bup!” Hyuna interrupts, waving her finger in his face, “That’s a hope for someone else. But that’s not your dream. What do you want for yourself?” Ivan stares at her and she smiles, “I’ll go first. My dream is to free humanity from alien clutches.”

“That…sounds like a hope.”

She shrugs a little, waving her hand. “Ehh, sort of. But I want to do it for myself. For me. Even if I didn’t have anyone backing me up, I would want to do it.”

“Making Till happy is for me.” Ivan argues, clutching his chest as he thinks about seeing Till watch Mizi with those shining eyes, “It’s a selfish want.”

“But where are you in the equation? Are you in it?”

Ivan goes to answer but finds he can’t. Because he’s not. Not really. When he pictures Till being happy, he can’t even see himself there. Just a shadow behind a wall. Merely an observer to the happiness of others. When he thinks about what he would feel, it's simply resignation. 

Hyuna takes his hands, squeezing them tight in a way that makes him clench his jaw because it’s so familiar. Her hands are longer than his but they feel just as warmly as he remembers. They cradle his, her thumb rubbing circles into the back of hand and he digs his fang into his lip. 

“A dream is something that would make you happy. Something you want to do and it brings you fulfillment. Something you want for your life. Something for yourself. Something that is yours.” Hyuna whispers to him, leaning down a bit so her face is in direct view of his gaze, staring at him with her piercing eyes, “So what’s your dream?”

Ivan searches in himself and finds it all empty. Any concept of what he wanted for himself is not there. There are no remnants to bring out, no shattered pieces he could put together again. It’s just empty. A hollow spot in his chest. 

He watches her, quiet before he replies, “I…I don’t have one. I don’t have a dream.”

He expects Hyuna to be disappointed in him, to see him for what he truly is, merely an empty doll with nothing behind his eyes. But instead, he sees her smile, gentle and kind. 

“You’re in luck then. We happen to be in the business of making dreams. That’s part of our MO. Helping people find their dreams.” Hyuna reaches up, rustling his hair and he binks at the affection, “You’re not so unique of a person, you know? You’re not the only one who comes feeling like this. This is a pretty common thing amongst you Anakt Garden folks.  So don’t go thinking you’re some monster for not knowing anything.”

She muses, moving back a bit as she grasps onto the railing and lightly swinging herself around.

 “Truthfully, I was gonna ask if you would be a part of our rebellion group. I heard you’re smart and you know the alien’s tech better than anyone else.” Hyuna cocks her hip, sighing before looking at him, “But…if that’s not what you want to do, that’s okay. I’ll probably ask some stuff from time to time, but if you don’t want to be at the core, that’s okay. You can be a part of the civilian group, who are the ones who takes care of things around here. They live as normal of a life as one can and you can be a part of it.”

Ivan…doesn’t know what to say to that. He’s starting to realise that he often doesn’t know what to say. Hasn’t really known what to say to anything for a while now. And as he looks up at the stars, he finally realizes that the squeezing pressure he had accepted is actually loosening. 

The roof he’s on is a bit higher up, so he can see the lights of the town when he stares out off the railing.There’s a peace in being up above the rest of the world. He has time to think instead of needing to always have the right answer. It’s very tranquil and it’s a peace he’s not used to. There’s no schedule, no grooming, no performances, nothing that was waiting for him. It was just him, the sky and his thoughts. 

The ever present knot that lived in his chest from the moment he was a sentient being has quietly loosened and there’s air, real air, in his lungs. There’s a real breeze that pushes his hair to the side and he’s standing in a real town filled with humans. 

The walls are no longer there. 

It’s so terrifying and yet, there’s a rush in his chest.

Ivan truly sees infinity within his grasp. And he realises that he’s never had it, trapped under the weight of eyes and hungry hands. But the eyes aren’t there anymore. The ones who scrutinized every part of him to make sure nothing is out of place aren’t here. There’s only Hyuna, who looks at his beat-up body with nonchalant acceptance. Like it doesn’t matter.

“…what if I don’t know what I want? What if I don’t even know where to start?” He asks.

“Then we can figure that out too.” She responds like it’s really just that simple. 

Maybe it is. 

He’s not sure. 

But he’s free to figure that out for himself and he’s decided.

He wants to join infinity. To become lost in it and finally grow up and out. To figure out all of the idiosyncrasies that make up who he is, what he likes, what he wants. 

To want was a luxury, to have any belief of choosing your fate, that was a luxury. His life was made up of nothing but clear hallways for him to go, a room with no windows as he looked at his little world and saw every step he could take. Everything was placed in a predictable line.

For a long time, Till had been his freedom. While his body did not belong to him, his mind was still free to go where it pleased. Loving Till, the rebellious, wild boy who wouldn’t let anyone tie him down was Ivan’s own act of rebellion. A freedom no one could take from him. It had been comfortable, though heartbreaking. 

Now though, he finds that he’s starving for more.

 The path he followed is gone now and though he finds he still scared about that, infinity is truly so appealing. He wants to see everything. 

His hands squeeze the railing, taking a breath to step closer to the edge to really see everything, to see it all up close. 

He thinks about what he wants and while there isn’t a lot, there is only one that he finds that rings true.

Everyone had always seen a certain part of himself. Most saw him as sweet, gentle and princely. Some saw him as cold, tough and foreboding. Neither were wrong but they weren't quite true either. He’s jagged and soft in all the wrong places. 

He has always viewed himself as not quite right. While others seemed to fit together perfectly, it always felt like he was a broken puzzle piece, a terrible amalgamation of wrong parts that don’t quite fit in the skin suit he wears to make people like him or at least, perhaps allow him to stay.  Over time, he learned how to tie parts of him down, how to smooth out the edges. 

In the end, it didn’t really amount to much, since the only person he wanted to be good for didn’t want him. They never seemed to fit quite right together and Ivan could never figure out what the other needed. He could never understand and the other would never offer the answer.

Perhaps there never was one.

He’s standing on the precipice of something. A change in himself. It’s terrifying, looking at infinity and taking a chance on it. But for once, it’s his choice.

All his. 

And he wants Till to have that same choice. 

So, he lets go.

Ivan hopes that when he throws himself into infinity, that someone will one day want to seek him out. That someone will be able to stare at the infinity that lies before them all and still decide that Ivan was worth searching for anyway. To be seen for every terrible, cruel, broken part and be wanted despite it all. He wants someone who would hold him close even if his parts don’t quite fit right in their arms. 

Because he’s tired of pretending to be whole. He’s tired of patching up the cracks and squeezing himself down. He wants to be broken, jagged and real.

He sees it now. The thrill of possibility. 

Ivan finally turns to Hyuna, looking at the way she smiles at him like she understands the epiphany that’s going through his head. 

Quietly, he asks, “…where…where would we start?”

She grins wide and slings her arms over his shoulder, "I am so glad you asked.”

Chapter Text

The doctors tell him he’s incredibly lucky to have survived.

The bullets that lodged into him had been mere centimetres away from killing him. If he had been another step to the right, he wouldn’t be here now. Though, he likely won’t be able to be super active for quite a while and with the bullet that shot into his lungs, probably won’t be able to sing for a long time. 

They say this to him as if it's this horrible fate that he miraculously evaded and are telling him gently so they don’t scare him. 

Ivan just blinks at them and tells them that it’s okay. He even chuckles a little as he touches his throat with a wry smile.

After all, it’s a little funny to be a songbird who cannot sing. 

The doctors all seem to be surprised by his calmness but take it as him being oh so brave and pet his head before leaving him to rest. 

Ivan doesn’t think he’s being brave. The idea that he would die at Alien Stage is something he has lived with his entire life. He was fairly certain he was going to die the moment he knew he was competing against Till, planned on it even. There’s no bravery here, he was never scared to begin with. 

He wonders how the doctors would react if they knew he was more scared about living than dying. 

Sua would call him a hypocrite for sure. 

Ivan looks out at the sky, the white of the clouds gleaming against the blue. His chest aches. Sua would’ve liked to see real clouds. She used to wonder if they were as fluffy as they looked on the walls. 

He would tell her now that no, they’re not made of fluff but water vapour. But they come in a lot more interesting shapes than the ones in the Garden and they come in many more colours she would find beautiful. 

His breath sounds a bit wet and he coughs to clear his throat. 

The doctors told him he’s not well enough to leave the infirmary yet. His wounds are still relatively fresh and need constant monitoring until they’re sure they won’t get randomly infected and kill him in a very unglamorous fashion. 

Hyuna came by a couple days after the night on the roof with a flurry of movement as she carried a large box of stuff. Ivan was surprised by her entrance and even more so the chaotic way she came in but he composed himself all the same and watched as she set down the box on one of the desks in the room. 

“Good morning, loverboy! Or, uh, it is afternoon? I’m not sure, anyway,” Hyuna greeted cheerfully, talking with her hands with seemingly no spatial awareness as Ivan shifted backwards away from the barrage of arms that swung around, “I’ve brought stuff!”

“I can see that.” He replied, peeking in the box that held a myriad of things before arms interrupted his view as Hyuna dug through it. 

“You should be grateful, it took me a bit to get all this stuff together. Half of this I don’t have on hand myself so I needed to ask around, borrow some things, one I had to get made!” She rambled, laughing to herself and lighting up the room. 

He hummed in response. In a universe that seems hellbent on keeping human’s heads down, the fact that she was facing it with her head held high and an infectious energy to boot, it’s not surprising that people are so drawn to her. Even he finds himself being brought into her orbit.

“Ah, here we go.” Hyuna yanks out a couple of bottles and a hairbrush, "First things first, you look like death—“

“That’s because I nearly died.”

“Yes, so! I brought some stuff that’ll help with that.” She waves some of the bottles in his face before uncapping one. 

“Make up?”

“No, just some basic cleaner, moisturizer, that sort of thing. Just something to make you feel renewed.” Ivan watches as she puts some cleaner in her hand before her palm starts rubbing his face, “The first step to a brand new life is to feel new. And if we start it off right by feeling clean, that’s even better. The doctors gave you sponge baths, but I’d prefer to go the extra mile.”

Ivan hums before he mumbles, “It smells nice.”

“I’m glad. We got a shipment of skincare products last drop off which was a huge surprise but you don’t see me complaining.”

“Drop off?”

“Yeah. We have a couple ways of getting supplies here, one is a dropoff. The rebellion has got a few different bases, this is just the main one. It’s also the most hidden so this is where mostly everybody lives. The other bases are like…an office with beds for the people who go out to do stuff and tend to deal with the segyein. Those guys either trade or raid places to get supplies. There’s the constantly necessary things, like medical supplies, food, water, clothes but sometimes, they get lucky and manage to snag some luxuries like these.” Hyuna explains, capping the bottle and grabbing the other one, “This is pretty nice stuff too.”

Ivan quickly listens to her talk, taking in the information, “I’m surprised that there are segyein that are willing to trade with humans.”

“Well, some do it because they actually sympathize with us. Those guys tend to be the ones who give us money or luxuries, like toys and books. Some others get something out of it, like we trade them stuff or offer services and they’ll give us essentials.”

“That’s quite a bit of trust you give them. You bring them here?”

She laughs, "Absolutely not! Don’t want to risk them finding us. The other bases are where they go for trades and they never go to the one with the teleporter that takes you here.”

The woman leans back, looking him over before nodding with a satisfied smile at what she sees. 

Then she leans over and grabs the hairbrush, twirling it before saying, “Alright now let’s get those knots out of your head.”

Ivan sits quietly as she climbs into bed behind him and waits for her to brush his hair back to the flat, straight style he had before. He expects her to yank and pull at his head until it’s been tamed into something presentable but stiffens a little when she doesn’t. Her touch is gentle as she brushes through his strands, definitely deknotting it but not trying to do much more than that. 

He almost wants to ask but she beats him to it. 

“I remember you from the Garden, with your bowl cut. I didn’t know you even had wavy hair. It’s a shame, you look good with your curls.” Hyuna compliments and Ivan is surprised when he feels his face warm. 

Compliments to his appearance isn’t anything new but it’s always felt like they were complimenting the stylists work more than they were ever complimenting him. To have someone compliment his natural hair makes him feel…appreciated in a way he’s never been before. 

Hyuna, noticing his silence, looks up at the reflection of them in the window and chuckles, “Lookin’ a little red there, loverboy.”

Ivan says nothing to that and instead says, “I’m truly impressed by what you’ve been able to build here. It’s far more organized than I expected.”

“Aw shucks!” She rubs the back of her head before shaking it, “But I’m just a cog in the whole operation. The rebellion has been around for a while, but it didn’t really have a specific goal in mind. It was a lot of different groups of free humans who mostly lived in the cracks of the city and were just trying to survive. I just suggested we band our efforts together and when the group got big enough, it was Isaac who suggested we find a proper place to call home.” She waves her arm out towards the window, “He was the one who found this place. It was actually a bunch of ruins from a long time ago and was abandoned, so we built on top of it. Then Dewey was the one who figured out how to actually grow crops out here and figured out the logistics of living out here. And there’s a whole bunch of other people who handle loads of other things, but I’ll show you all that later. So you know, team effort.”

He laughs, “You say it so casually. As if it’s nothing.”

“Well, it wasn’t nothing. I’m just saying it’s not all me. Sometimes to make big changes, you need,” Hyuna suddenly ruffles his hair and brings him into a side hug, “a little bit of help! Now what do you think?”

She gestures to the window and Ivan pauses to look at his reflection. He still looks largely the same as a couple days ago, thin and pale. But he looks better in a way that he can only describe as refreshed and most of all, his hair remains curly but neater. 

Seeing it now, it sparks something in him that he can’t describe. Only something along the lines of ‘Oh, there I am.’

He’s never thought that before.

There’s a lot he wants to tell her, feelings welling up inside of him. He wants to tell her about how he’s never had someone care for him so tenderly before. That no one has ever cared how he felt about how he looked. That for the first time, he’s looking at a reflection and sees himself instead of the empty void that he’s always been. 

In the end, all he can bring himself to say is, “Thank you, Hyuna.”

She smiles, seemingly understanding everything he means without hearing it and replies, “You’re welcome.”

Hyuna spends the rest of her time with him showing the other stuff she brought. It’s a variety of things, stuff like books to pass the time while he’s still in recovery, some new clothes he can change into when he’s allowed out and at the end, she goes over a map of the entire rebellion camp. 

“And that should be enough to get you started!” Hyuna says at the end of spiel, standing up and dusting herself off, “Alright, I gotta go take care of some stuff but you can let me know if you have any questions.”

Ivan nods, quiet as she readies to leave before a question suddenly comes to mind, “Actually, I do have one.”

“Shoot.”

“Have…have they been informed that I’m awake?” He asks, knowing that he didn’t need to specify who ‘they’ was.

The woman hums, shaking her head, “Nope. I wasn’t going to tell them until you gave the okay. Figured it was best for you to see them on your own terms so you're not overwhelmed during your recovery.”

“Right…” he’s not sure if he wants them to know or not. He doesn’t feel ready. But he’s finding that whether he’s ready doesn't matter regarding if things actually happen, so he says, “You can tell them. It’s about time I face them anyway.”

Hyuna nods at his answer, but looks at him with eyes that hold worry and seemingly knows the nerves in himself despite it not showing in his voice. It’s actually rather confusing since he barely understands himself and no one has been able to truly understand him ever, but she seems to understand implicitly. 

“Aight, I’ll tell them later today then.” She says gently, picking up her box and heading towards the door. With a light voice and comforting smile, she hipchecks the door open and says, “It’ll give you a day to prepare yourself. And you probably should, they’re gonna kick your ass.”

He laughs, sounding fond, “Yeah, they certainly will.”

So he waits. He waits for a day. Then another day. Then another. 

Every footstep that walks by makes his heart race before a wave of disappointment washes over him when he realises it’s a doctor. Sometimes it’s not and it’s a different person going into a neighbouring room to tearfully reunite with each other. Ivan feels his teeth ache from clenching them, a burning sense of jealousy bubbling in his blood. 

And he’s not sure what he had been expecting. Perhaps a grand entrance, where Till and Mizi show up, crying. Maybe they’d yell at him for not saying anything but ultimately, hug him and tell him how happy they are that he’s alive.

When on the fourth day, no one shows up, Ivan resigns himself to his bed. There’s a burning sensation in the back of his throat but he swallows it down.

It's not like they haven’t been around. 

From his window, he can sometimes see Mizi’s bright pink hair off in the far distance, seemingly running errands or talking to people in the rebellion. Sometimes she walks towards the gun range and Ivan wonders how good she’s gotten. It’s a strange image, putting violence and Mizi together.

Sometimes he’ll see a flash of silver driving by on a bike that seemed a bit hobbled together but is covered in patterns that has Till’s artistic taste all over it. He’s usually delivering something, going from one end of the rebellion to the other and then back again. 

There’s been a few moments when he’s delivering something at the hospital and he’ll catch a glimpse of his face from his window. His stomach will flutter terribly before Till inevitably gets back onto his bike and leaves without even stepping foot into the entrance. Like he hasn’t even thought about seeing Ivan again after that first night of declaring his hatred for him. 

Ivan feels it again. That funny feeling he knows so well of being stuck as an observer and being left behind for better things. 

It’s moments like this that he thinks about Sua. About how similar they were that even though there was no record of them even coming from the same factory, they were siblings. Down to their core, they were the same. 

Perhaps that’s why they didn’t get along a lot of the time. They saw too much of themselves in each other, parts they didn’t want to see reflected back at themselves.

Ivan knew that when he looked at Sua, he could see his own unending love in her eyes, but none of the resignation to only accepting scraps. 

They fought a lot. Their final conversation had been a fight, one that he’s pretty sure they never recovered from. 

Still, he finds himself grasping for the ghost of Sua in his mind as he feels himself wanting to cry.

Unlike him, Sua knew how to be gentle. Perhaps because she received love, she knew how to give it. So even when his face remained its typical, passive expression, Sua always knew when he was upset.

Ivan would always separate himself from the other kids when he was upset. It usually wasn’t their fault but their loud presences pressed against his skin and he would become all too aware of every pore in his body. 

Till would vaguely acknowledge his leaving, Mizi would wave him goodbye but Sua. Sua would go find him. She would always know where he was, no matter how many times he changed his hiding spot.

The young girl would peek into his spot, not saying a word as he curled up to hide from the world. Then, after a few seconds, she’d sit next to him, offering a bit of distance that he knew was for him and not her. When she felt like he was ready, she’d lean a bit closer and lace their little hands together, her warmth seeping into his constantly cold hands.

They would sit in silence, allowing the sounds of the fake wind rustling the tree leaves to lull them into a sense of peace and all would be right with the world, for only a bit.

 Sua was his sister and he was her brother. No matter what anyone ever thought their relationship was like. No matter how much they fought, argued, and hated each other. She was his sister.

Now, as he stares at his hands that are now so much bigger than Sua’s ever was, he shakes. He’s no longer that kid anymore and his sister isn’t here. She can’t hold his hand, offering a calm, non-judgemental presence while he stews in his sadness. His sister has gone where he cannot follow and she can’t find him. 

She was gone. And he was alone, grown up in all the wrong ways and somehow worse than he ever was as a stupid child. 

So he cries, the tears dripping out of his eyes in silence. He curls up, his blank eyes staring at the other wall like he did when he was a child. His one hand left out, for someone to come hold. 

But no one does.

And he misses his sister.

It’s the fifth day that brings the sound of footsteps running towards his door, frantic in its pace. Ivan barely has a second to process the stomping before the door violently slams open and his eyes meet the ever-changing eyes of Mizi. Today her eyes seem to gleam gold as she grits her teeth, her gaze hardening as she looks at him. 

“Mi—“ he doesn’t even finish saying her name before his head whips to the side from the force of her slap. 

The sound echoes in the quiet air of the room, with only Mizi’s heavy pants interrupting the silence. Ivan is so surprised, he doesn’t do more than slightly graze his fingers on his cheek, not even turning his head back. It stings pretty bad, the woman clearly having used her time in the rebellion to get surprisingly strong.

“Look at me!” She shouts and he snaps his head back to look at her. His eyes widen a little as he takes in her face, tears streaming down her face as she sticks her fingers in his face, pointing at the space between his eyes and venomously demands, “Never do that again! You hear me?! Never ever do that again! Promise me!”

“Wh—“

“Promise me!”

Her harsh tone makes him jump and he nods, hastily replying, “I promise to not uh, do that again.”

Hearing him say that seems to finally cut the string holding Mizi’s tension and she flops down onto the bed, wetly breathing into her hands as she covers her face. His hand hesitantly lifts up, unsure whether touching her right this second would mean his hand would be ripped off. Slowly, he puts his hand in the space between her shoulder blades and lightly rubs circles into the sweater she’s wearing.

She shakily sighs, trying to wipe her tears away before bitterly whispering, “You and her are too alike sometimes, you know?”

He doesn’t need to ask what she means and starts saying, “I’m sorr—“ before her hand shoots up to interrupt him. 

“No, you’re not. You wouldn’t have done anything differently if given the choice, so you’re not sorry.”

It’s unnerving to see Mizi like this, her usual cheerful nature seemingly replaced with this angry, bitter person. She’s barely recognizable in some aspects, with her hair cut short and the glint of innocent joy that drew so many people in decidedly missing from her eyes. There’s a tired weight on her shoulders and Ivan doesn’t know how to deal with a Mizi like this. He hadn’t been prepared. Of course he expected her to be different after all that had happened, but he hadn’t expected her to be so argumentative and so clearly done with everything. 

Ivan keeps rubbing her back, “I can be sorry for other reasons.”

She lets out a wry laugh, “Oh yeah?”

“I’m not…sorry about doing what I did. You’re right, I would do it again if I was given a chance to do it differently. But, I am sorry for how it made you feel. And I’m sorry I’m not sorry.” 

The girl listens to him quietly, analyzing his words before she looks at the other wall, replying, “I really hope you mean it and aren’t just saying that to make me less…angry at you. You and her both would do it all the time.”

“I didn’t always do that.”

“Oh yeah?” Mizi snaps, standing up to face him, “Cause it sure feels like everything you said were lies! Like how we’d always be okay, or how there’s nothing to be afraid of or how you promised you wouldn’t ever leave me!”

Ivan clenches his fist, feeling the way the words seem to go past him to someone who’s not even in the room with them and he should say something comforting or kind, but instead he harshly replies, “I’m not Sua, you know.”

That seems to snap the girl out of her haze of rage and her eyes tighten with a look of guilt, the wind blown out of her sails as she sits back down, covering her face again, “I…I-I know, I’m sorry. I’m just…I’m just so angry and there’s not really anywhere for it to go and sometimes you just…act so much like her but also not at all and I…” her breath hitches and she shakes, “I just want people to stop lying to me and actually tell me what’s going on in their heads.”

“…mostly stuff about how tired I am being in this hospital as of late. And that some of the doctors smell kinda bad.”

She blinks at his response before she finally laughs in that light way of hers and she reaches out to hold his arm, “That’s rude to say, Ivan.”

He smiles at her before his eyes slip down to his lap and says softer, “And…and a bit of wondering why it took you so long to come here.”

There’s a second where Mizi’s whole form seems to dim with the guilt on her face and Ivan almost wants to take back what he said to just let this reunion be normal and sweet for once. But unending sweetness makes him itchy and perhaps he needs a little bit of fire and chaos to feel comfortable. 

“Ah, yeah. I’m sorry by the way, I just…needed to clear my head a bit. I even went to the shooting range a bunch just to think.” Mizi explains, leaning back a bit and letting the sun warm her back, “I wasn’t really sure what to say to you and I didn’t want to just come in and say the wrong thing. Though, I guess I’ve already failed.” She looks at his stinging red cheek before gently rubbing it, trying to soothe it. Ivan doesn’t say it makes it hurt more because the sentiment soothes him enough, “I’m sorry about slapping you too.”

“I suppose I did deserve it.” He says, leaning into her a bit, “It certainly got your point across. You’re quite strong now.”

She huffs a laugh at that, “I’ve always been strong. It’s just more focused now. Remember when I lifted Till and he was so surprised?”

He does remember that day. Till has always viewed Mizi as this beautiful, graceful damsel and when they were taking turns lifting each other one day, he had been eager to show Mizi how tough and strong he was. Ivan was lifting Sua onto his back and Till had just about to try the same with Mizi when the girl just turned around and told him to climb on. He didn’t want to at first, scared to hurt her but she was insistent and so he did what he told. The girl didn’t even struggle to lift and adjust him and Till was so shocked that he just spent the whole rest of the day staring at Mizi as if he was rearranging his thoughts of her in real time. 

Though that’s not a new thing, he spent most of his time staring at Mizi. Ivan knew this because he spent most of his time staring at Till. 

Thinking about the silver head makes him glance out the window, as if his body is automatically always searching for him. At this hour, he should be doing his deliveries, with the hospital being one of the last places he tends to go to. His legs twitch, itching to get up and pathetically chase him down like he always had. 

He’s not so good at letting go despite telling himself he would. 

Mizi pauses when she realizes he hasn’t replied and her eyes follow his gaze. She sighs a bit and Ivan turns his head to her, trying not to look like he was searching for a glimpse of Till. 

“Till will…come around. He just needs more time.” She starts and Ivan hardens his gaze into his lap, leaning against the bed frame with a thud, “He does care, he’s just…thinking about a lot.”

“Oh, I’m sure.” He says airily and he blinks at the bitterness that leaks into his tone, “He can take all the time he needs. When he’s ready, he can find me. Who knows, maybe that’ll be forever since he has always been so indecisive.”

The frustration is surprising to both of them. 

Mizi grimaces, reaching over to touch his shoulder, “I promise he does care about you, he just…I don’t know, needs time or maybe a push to come see you?”

“A push? Right, of course, he needs a push to seek me out. Why would he otherwise?”

“Ivan.” She admonishes, eyes darting back and forth with confusion, “Why are you talking like this? You never did before.”

He grits his teeth, feeling a rush of childishness as he hits his mattress with his fists, “Well perhaps I’m different now. Maybe I’m tired of just…waiting for something that’s not going to happen and chasing for things that aren’t meant to be.” 

She reaches for him and he shifts back, “Ivan, Till does love you, he just doesn’t know how to—“

“Well neither do I.” His skin is tingling at the sound of his feelings being said out loud and he wants to feel bad for making Mizi’s eyes widen with a tinge of fear, “Till doesn’t love me. Nobody really loved me. I had accepted that when I thought I would die.” Ivan says, not meeting Mizi’s eyes and instead looking at his own reflection in the window, his eyes a seemingly endless void, “It was fine. It…it was fine.”

The girl is quiet for a moment, a rarity with her, before she leans into his space, as she stares at him in the reflection, “That’s not true.”

“Hm?”

His eyes don’t leave the window but he sees her now as she rests her head on his shoulder, her warm tones pressing against his cold. She looks a bit upset and more than a little confused.

“That’s not true.” she says more solidly, “A lot of people loved you. You had so many people who wanted to talk to you and you were always the one with the highest ratings. ”

He scoffs, remembering the crowds of people he’d sometimes attract. They would buzz around him, sometimes saying pretty words to gain his favour, “Not really. That’s not love, that is admiration. They didn’t really know me and they didn’t really care. Once they got what they wanted from me, then my use was done.”

Mizi listens to him quietly before quietly saying, “Sua loved you.”

He gets surprised for a moment and he starts to say, “That’s not—”

“She loved you, Ivan.” She insists, hardening her gaze, “She may have had a hard time showing it all the time but I know she loved you. I asked!”

That makes him pause, “You…asked?”

“Yeah! One day in the Garden, I asked about how she felt about you. You two fought a lot so I was worried about if me having her play with you guys was making her uncomfortable,” Mizi says, a reminiscing tone in her voice, “And you wanna know what she said? She said that she found you annoying, confusing, and infuriating a lot. That she didn’t like you sometimes.” Her eyes moved up to meet him in the window, determined, “But she always loved you. You were her brother. Of course she loved you. You don’t need to like someone all the time to know that you love them always.”

Ivan’s face pinches and he begins to argue, “That’s not love, that’s– that’s—!”

“It is! It is love! What else is love but wanting for someone to be happy and safe and wanting to make sure that happens?” 

His mind stops. He feels his shoulders curl up as if he’s trying to hide because he doesn’t understand but also understands perfectly and that’s suddenly very scary. There’s a sound of motors in the distance and on instinct, his eyes go to the source because he will always seek him out because he’s been bound to it. 

Mizi follows his gaze, softening when they see a grey-haired individual talking to someone with deliveries in his arms and suddenly it makes sense. She is gentle as she pulls his body to look at her and she is a burst of colour in his gaze. 

Ivan knows Mizi is smart, no matter how naive people think she is. When she searches for something in his eyes, he is merely resigned because he knows she will find it.

So he just stares back, fully open and honest with her for perhaps the first time ever.

“Ivan,” she whispers, quiet but firm, “I love you. I love you so much. And I know you love me too.” Her hands grip onto his arms, as if to punctuate her words and make sure they reach the part of his mind that he has so often refused to let change, “ Sua loved you. I love you. Till loves you. You, Ivan, love us . And I know it’s not the kind of love you’ve been wanting for so long but you’ve never been without love. You have and give just as much love as anyone else.”

Something in his mind shatters at the moment. Something he knew he had but stared indifferently at because it was often easier to allow the shadows to cast over him than be in the light. Perhaps because he didn’t want it. Perhaps because he believed he didn’t deserve it. Perhaps because he believed that he would break under it.

He feels it shatter and he finds he is standing in the light he cowered away from. 

And it is welcoming. 

“Mizi…” he whispers, voice quiet and airy but she hears it and her hands cup his face so he can lean into her.

“I love you, Ivan. You’re my best friend. I’m so so happy you’re here.” Mizi says, simple and honest.

He finds himself laughing, voice a little wet with emotion as he hears the words he’s been wanting to hear for so long. And maybe it’s not the context he has always dreamed of but he feels cared for nonetheless. His eyes find hers and he feels her love radiating from her. It’s in that moment that he understands why so many are willing to lay their lives down for her.

His hands reach up, holding on hers as he whispers,“I love you, Mizi. You’re my best friend. I’m…I’m really happy to be here with you.” 

Simple and honest in return.

She sniffles and pulls him close, resting her head in the crook of his neck and he holds her tight, “I don’t know what I would do if I lost you too.”

“Survive, I think.” He mumbles into her hair, her short strands tickling his cheek, “You would be hurt but…you’d live and carry that light of yours forward. That’s what Sua loved about you. That light.”

Mizi pulls off of him with a bitter smile, “Really?”

“Every person you meet can’t help but love you so dearly that they are willing to do anything for you.” Ivan whispers, his hands cradling Mizi’s shaking hands while looking at her tearful golden eyes and he wonders how he could have possibly hated her, even for a little bit, “You so easily show the kind of love that earns that loyalty.They are willing to live for you… and die for you.” His eyes slide down, glancing at the window where he sees Till riding off and he sighs, “I have never been that for anyone. I don’t affect people that way. I envy you sometimes… how you can light a fire in people. How it seemingly comes so easily to you. How people love you, truly love you so much.”

Mizi’s breath hitches and Ivan squeezes her hands that much tighter.

She falls forward, pressing her face into his shoulder and she wetly says, “They love me…? If…if they really love me…! Why won’t they just stay with me? Why won't they just be honest with me…?! I want to protect them too… I can protect them too…!”

Ivan feels the way she sobs into his sweater, her hands leaving his and starting to claw at the fabric on his back. The anguish, the agony that seems to coarse through her. He takes it, letting her nails sometimes dig into his back and her angry writhing knock him against the headboard. All he does in response is hold her, steady her so she doesn’t fall off the bed. 

Because he can’t offer much. 

His tongue does not speak comforting words because his mind does not know how to create them. His body cannot offer soft, warm comfort because his form has been altered from the weeks of IV drips, some of his bones jutting out uncomfortably where they poke into Mizi’s torso. His heart cannot give a calm, peaceful presence because in truth, he asks many of the same questions and his own soul shakes with bitterness and a hunger for answers that will never be found. 

All he has is a steady grip. A presence that is not comforting or sweet or even all that warm. But he is steady. Solid.

There. 

He is there. For as long as he is able to, he is always there. 

That is his love. He understands that now as he pulls Mizi that much tighter to him while her sobs lose its anger and shows the deep sadness at its root. 

With a glance, his eyes trail up to the sky where the clouds gather together before the winds slowly blow them apart. 

He finds himself wishing Sua’s love had been more like his instead of the gentle, caressing, ephemeral love that it was. Perhaps then, she would’ve fought harder, held them tighter, and stayed longer. 

His love is not Sua’s, no matter how much Mizi yearns for it. 

But his love is wanted, needed in this moment and he feels how Mizi accepts it whole heartedly in the way her arms hold him just as tightly. And suddenly he understands how his love has always been welcomed with open arms, he just never knew that he was giving it all this time. 

“I miss her too.” He says simply and she sobs, nodding into his chest as she whispers the words back to him. 

They cradle each other for a while, sitting with their shared grief together as they remember the girl with violet eyes that they loved so much. After a few minutes, Mizi pulls herself off of him, her face red from the force of her tears and her embarrassment as she sees the tear and snot stains on Ivan’s shirt. 

“Oh goodness, I’m so sorry! I snotted all over you…” she chuckles as she tries to wipe it away and he waves his hand. 

“Don’t worry about it, I’m sure the doctors would be happy to change it. I think I saw one of them gawking at me a few days ago, perhaps they’d be open to doing it.” He jokes and she giggles in the way that reminds him of their childhood. 

“Ivan! Don’t accuse the medical staff of such things, they’re just doing their job.”

“I’m sure they’re enjoying it.”

She’s breathless as she lightly punches his arm, shaking her head, “Come on, Ivan.” As her giggles die, she stretches out and stands up, “I have a few things I need to take care of, so I’ll be heading off now. But I’ll come back and visit real soon.” She pauses for a second before offering, “I can talk to Till about visiting you. It would be good for him anyway.”

Ivan thinks about that offer. On one hand, a primal part of him is jumping at the chance to see Till as soon as possible. After all, Till would do anything so long as Mizi was the one asking. But then a smaller part, one that’s quiet but has been gaining ground lately says differently. 

“…no, it’s okay. You don’t need to tell him anything.”

She looks confused, “Are you sure?”

He is hesitant, but he nods, “Yeah. I am.”

“I thought you wanted to see him.”

“I do. I just…I want him to want to see me more.”

“…I get it. Okay. I’ll see you.”

Mizi gives a light peck to his forehead before waving goodbye and leaving out the door. Ivan watches her go quietly before he leans back and stares at the ceiling. There’s a stain that's been there since he’s arrived. He wants to rub it out but it’s too far out of reach for him at the moment.

Maybe one day it’ll go away and the ceiling will finally be a clean slate.

Till doesn’t come the next day. Or even the days after that. He doesn’t come at all. Ivan tries to not be upset about it. What did he even expect from a boy who said he hated him? 

Still, there was a part of him that hoped that maybe he was wrong. He’s embarrassed that he even keeps searching, keeps waiting as if the result isn’t the same every time.

Mizi keeps her promise and visits him often, telling him news around the rebellion. Some important, some nonsense about the various characters that populate this strange group. She always brings in her characteristic cheeriness and lights up the room.

Hyuna visits plenty as well, sometimes coming with Mizi to help pass the time. He appreciates it, seeing their concern for him in their eyes and even if it doesn’t lessen the ache in his chest, it makes him feel less cold in the empty hospital room.

On the last day of his stay, the doctors all fill his hospital room and clap for his recovery. He gives back his characteristic charming smile and they cheer back at him. Mizi and Hyuna have come to help take his stuff to the dorms, despite not having a lot.

Hyuna goes for the objects, putting them into a box labelled ‘Ivan’ with a heart on top of the I.

“Since you don’t know what you wanna do yet, you can accompany me and help at the bar! I sing there a lot and according to Dewey, they could always use more hands there. It’s not a bad way to meet people too!” She rambles, hefting the box up against her hip, “It’s pretty lively on Saturdays especially.”

“I’m amenable to that.” He replies, walking with a little help from Mizi even though she doesn’t need to.

“Amenable? You sure talk like a fancy guy!”

“Mm, according to most standards, I suppose you’re not wrong.”

She laughs harder and continues to talk, with Ivan quietly trying to listen to him. He can feel Mizi’s gaze on the side of his head as they walk through the hospital halls and after a while, he finally looks at her.

“…did Till..?”

“No.”

“Oh…” 

She sounds disappointed for him and he nudges her cheek with his knuckle, “It’s fine. Besides, following Till around all the time isn’t a good use of my time here.”

“But…”

“It’s about time I find something new to occupy my time anyways.”

“But do you want to?”

No, not really. But as he sees the light of the main door and sees the rebellion properly for the first time, he shrugs. 

“Everything is new now. I’m simply…allowing that to be true.”

Mizi looks down for a moment before she says firmly, “I’ll always be here for you. That’s not new.”

Ivan meets her eyes and smiles, letting his snaggletooth to show, “Yes, I suppose that’s also true.”

As they step out, the sun shines brightly in his eyes and he needs to adjust to it. But as he blinks, he’s able to take in the sights around him and he feels new. With a hand in his and a cheerful voice ahead of him, he leaves the hospital and sets out for his new life.

( “Till?” 

“What?”

“Can you make me a promise?”

Till looks up from the flower crown he’s been working on, it’s the fourth try today. Every time, Ivan keeps destroying them with the gleeful smile that promises no reprieve. So he’s wary when he looks at the boy, expecting him to grab the crown and destroy it again. 

When he doesn’t and simply just stares into Till’s eyes, he puts down his hackles a bit and replies, “What exactly are you making me promise to?”

“Promise when I go away, you’ll only miss me a little bit?”

It confuses him and he tilts his head, “What?”

“Promise when I go away, you’ll—“

“I heard you, you idiot! I’m just confused!”

The boy beside him doesn’t stop looking at him with his dark, endless eyes and with his impassive face, “If you only miss me a little bit, it’ll make it easier to go when it does happen.”

“That’s ominous, Ivan. Where would you even go anyway, we’re all stuck here!”

Till watches as Ivan finally moves his gaze to the ceiling, where the vents sit so high that they’re barely visible, “Not forever. One day we’ll get out. And I’ll be going away.”

He sounds so sure as he talks about going away and the thought of it makes Till’s chest ache terribly. He doesn’t understand what’s going on, just that Ivan is causing it. So he pushes the boy over and he stands up, upset. 

“Well if you’re so sure you’re going to go away, then I’m sure I won’t miss your annoying ass!” He shouts back because he knows Ivan won’t get upset back. He’s free to yell and shout, it doesn’t make a difference anyway. 

He’ll always be there.

There’s not a world where he can imagine the boy not being there, no matter what Ivan is saying.

There’s silence for a beat before Ivan nods to himself, “Yes, I suppose that is better. Not missing me at all makes everything much much easier. Besides, it’s more characteristic of you.”

Till didn’t understand at the time, but a weight settles in his chest and he knows he has said something wrong but he doesn’t know why. And he doesn’t have the maturity to ask.

And he certainly doesn’t have the humility to just say, ‘I’d rather you not go at all.’)

Till can’t sleep.

Though that’s not quite the full truth.

Sleep has never come easy for him but it was always a reprieve from the hell that was his day to day life. 

Now sleep practically rushes him every time he touches the bed, his body always wrecked with exhaustion from everything going on. But his dreams aren’t peaceful and he can’t seem to feel rested when he wakes up. So he tries to spend as little time near his bed as he can. Taking deliveries from one side of the rebellion to the other helps a bit. It makes it so he’s never standing in one place long enough to get lost in his thoughts.

It tries to catch up with him and every time, he flips it off and runs off to do another thing, and another. Anything to keep it at bay. 

Because he’s not fucking ready. 

If freedom means he’s free to do what he wants, then he’s free to be a coward. No one can force him to do anything anymore.

Chapter Text

( He sees him off in the distance leaning against the trunk of the tree. There are many other trees in the garden, but the one that lies alone on top of the artificial hill with its tall winding branches is theirs. It always has been.

Till runs up, clutching his paper and pencil, prepared to spend another break time writing a new song. He’s had an idea for a song for a long time but the melody only just came to him and he really needs to write it down. The tree was his primary place for writing, with its slight separation from the crowd making it perfect. The fact that Ivan was there first was new though. 

Usually, Till would race to the tree and eventually, Ivan would find him. Then they’d sit together, with Ivan offering colour commentary on Till’s newest creation. Sometimes offering actually helpful ideas but mostly just making snarky remarks to get a reaction out of him. It was their typical shtick.

As he runs up, Till opens his mouth to greet the boy before he realizes that he’s asleep. It’s a rare sight. Ivan is almost never seen sleeping, with the boy often stating that he has no need for such things. He gets the perfect amount of sleep every night so naps are obsolete. Till would shrug and move on, but he always got the sense that Ivan would like to nap but just never felt comfortable to do so. 

Ivan’s head was lulled back, tucking himself into his shoulder and curling his legs while his arms lay limp in his lap. Till is tempted to wake him up, but the boy looks so peaceful that he feels kinda bad about doing that. So he leaves him alone and simply sits next to him, watching the way Ivan breathes in and out.

He looks so perfectly relaxed, like all the tension has left him and flowed into the river. Till has felt like lately, Ivan has seemed like he’s always holding his breath and tensing himself up to seem bigger or better. Moments when the mask comes down have become fewer and farther between and Till finds he’s struggling to remember the carefree, kinda crazy Ivan he knew before.

His fingers twitch as he reaches up, brushing his thumb against Ivan’s cheek before playing with his ear. 

“Till…”

He jumps at the voice, eyes shooting up to meet blurry black galaxies and his face warms.

“Wah—I wasn’t trying to—!”

All thoughts stop when he hears a giggle and for a moment, his breath is taken away as he watches Ivan sleepily laugh, his pale skin glowing with pink and eyes watching him with an adoration that makes Till’s insides squirm.

“That tickles, Till.” He mumbles, rubbing his ear and moving to sit up. Ivan says in his usual cheeky way, "You could’ve just woke me up if you wanted to talk to me so badly.”

Indignant, Till turns his head away and throws back, “Who said anything about wanting to talk to you? Maybe I wanted you to stay asleep! It gave me some peace and quiet for once.”

He waits for the snarky response that would inevitably come and would likely start some sort of roughhousing. But nothing comes. Confused, Till turns back.

“Ivan?”

All he sees is an empty air, the wind whipping around him as the tree behind him starts to whither and its leaves fall around him like snow. They turn to dust as they land in his hands and all he can see is a singular, red flower lying where Ivan once was. Staring at him accusingly. 

He sees the center of the flower shutter open and close with a click.)

When Till first woke up, he hadn’t been particularly graceful. He had shot awake during sunset, when the people in the hospital were winding down their activities and were probably not expecting too much excitement. The first thing he did was thrash around violently because last he checked, he had a bullet shot through his neck with the force that should’ve blown his head clean off and the fact that it didn’t evidently made very little difference to his brain. He had jerked so hard that apparently the IV that was connected to him fell over and nearly ripped out of him before one of the nurses came over to try and placate him. 

In all honesty, he remembers very little of his first few minutes being alive again other than it being a violent mess of pain, confusion and the unflinchingly terrible shade of white being everywhere. There were hands trying to hold him down and he felt himself screaming even though his throat hurt like he ripped out his vocal cords. 

It was only when a shock of pink came into his blurry vision that he finally gained some sense of clarity to blink the terrified tears out of his eyes and see clearly that he was not dead and was surrounded by humans who all had concerned expressions on their faces. Which was a first. 

His eyes had locked onto the only really bright colour in his view, which was none other than Mizi's hair and Till finally processed that she was here and so was he. Wherever ‘here’ was. 

He had finally stilled and the nurses all did a collective sigh of relief. His heavy breaths filled the silence as he stared in disbelief at the woman that stood before him. There was a breeze that ruffled her short locks, her eyes shining with unshed tears that made him want to reach over and get rid of them because she should never cry over a person like him. Images of her when she was young and her now were almost flickering in and out of each other, juxtaposing the innocent, sweet young girl and this hardened, terrified woman. 

“…your hair is really fucking short.” Were his first words, which in hindsight is wildly embarrassing. 

The girl didn’t take any offense to it and just let out a relieved laugh before wrapping him up in a tight hug that he didn’t have the heart to tell her hurt a lot. 

“Oh thank goodness, you’re alive! You’re really alive!” She cried into his shirt and he had half the mind to tell her that he might not be if she keeps squeezing him like that. 

Still, he could never disappoint her so he wrapped her up in his arms, squeezing her tight as he savoured this feeling. Her hair was tickling his nose and he could smell her shampoo. It wasn’t her usual stuff, smelling of lavender and berries. Instead, she just smells like generic soap, which is different but he finds he doesn't mind. Mizi is so warm and Till is drawn to it. He’s been so cold lately and finally feeling the frost in his bones melt away soothes him.

Then he actually remembers everything that led up to this moment. 

The song, the hallucinations, the shot in the neck and he mutters, “Wait…were you actually there? I…I thought I was hallucinating.”

Mizi is nearly breathless as she replies back, “No…no no I was there. We—“ she stops before correcting herself, “I was there trying to save you. I-I was close before you…”

Her eyes trail down and his hand follows to touch his neck, feeling the soft cotton fabric that wraps around it. It feels ever so slightly damp that he distinctly understands is almost most definitely blood but for the sake of not losing his shit immediately, files that knowledge away for later. Instead he tries to focus on the present.

“Where…where am It’s ?” He rasps as she starts to lay him against the headboard.

“This is the rebellion camp. You got really lucky. The aim of whoever shot it wasn’t the best I guess and it didn’t hit anything vital. It was still shot into your neck but we managed to get you out fast enough to stabilize you. You’re safe now.”  Mizi explains, her hands reaching out to brush his hair out of his eyes and he wants to lean into her, “We’re free.”

There’s an elation that takes over him for a second. It’s over. There were no more songs he’s forced to sing, no owners that would push him to his limit just for their sick pleasures, no chains that would tie him down and force him to bow.

For a moment, it felt like he had everything he had ever wanted. He’s free. He’s finally free and Mizi’s here and—

A nurse is in his view, dressed in her white uniform with blood smeared on her shirt and he remembers how dark sad eyes stared into his soul like they were pleading for him. 

In all its terrible glory with perfect clarity, he remembers Ivan’s bloody smile and he’s back there again. With the rain that pelted them and the impersonal, cold silver stages that framed the bloody red corpse that sat in the center of his vision.

It was almost picturesque the way that Ivan fell so his face was in view and the lights were able to perfectly glint in the tears that ran down his face. The blood that came out of his many wounds pooled around him and smeared against his face, staining his pale skin. Till could feel his life spill onto his stupid designer shoes and it became tacky under his soles. 

But he wasn’t paying attention to any of that. All Till could focus on is Ivan’s expression, heartbroken but peaceful in death. 

This is all such bullshit.

Till just wants to bash his head in until his brain stops working because nothing about this is beautiful because that’s his friend dead on the floor and the crowd of segyeins around them are eating it up. Taking in the drama as if this isn’t the most harrowing moment of Till’s entire life. They’re all watching a man bleed out and the cameras are just pushing closer so they can capture Till’s shocked expression in high definition. All so that when the eventual professional edit of Season 50 of Alien Stage comes out, they can overlay it with whatever sad music they can find to amp up the emotions. Make it a real show so that everyone can laugh and cry at a story unfolding on screen.

But this is Till’s real life. All Till hears is deafening rain.

The medical staff make a note to never wear white uniforms when around him again and Till awakens to scratch marks on his arms. 

The next time he’s conscious enough, Mizi’s there again and he can see her count his inhales under her breath. Her energy bleeds anxiety, making Till’s chest warm that she’s worried over him. Her eyes are trained to the floor with her leg bouncing impatiently and she looks like she’s on the brink of a panic attack.

Quietly, he croaks, “Still breathing. You don’t need to count.”

Her eyes light up at his face, something he’s not sure she’s ever done before, and she breathlessly laughs, “I just need to make sure your breathing isn’t irregular.”

“I don’t think counting my inhales is the thing that checks if my breathing is irregular.” He makes the effort to sit up, despite how much his muscles protest and he wheezes, “Holy shit, fuck.”

Mizi rushes to help him up, her touch making him blush a bit and he bites the inside of his cheek. She’s still as beautiful as the day she disappeared. Her eyes are still that ever-changing golden green, her hair is still the vibrant pink that lights up the room, she still has a sweet, kind face that puts people at ease. But there's an edge to her that Till is still trying to wrap his head around. There’s a smile on her face but it doesn’t radiate warmth in the same way as before. It doesn't reach her eyes and he feels like she’s only smiling for his sake. 

Once he’s securely lying against the headboard, Mizi pulls back and tucks her hair behind her ear, an awkward silence befalling them. Neither of them seem to know what the right thing is to say. It’s just the two of them, uncomfortably staring at each other with both so much they need to say but no will to actually say it. Mizi looks like she’s assessing him, trying to gauge something and it makes Till want to curl up and hide. 

“…didn’t think we’d end up here, huh?” She starts because she’s always been more brave than him. 

“Ah, yeah. Definitely not.” He tries to sound more energetic, to be a good conversation partner but it seems to fall flat. Till sees the way she seems to deflate at his non-answer and he tries, “Thanks for uh…saving me. I didn’t think I’d make it.”

That seems to work cause her eyes soften, “Of course, Till. You’re my friend. I wouldn’t just let you die like that. Not if I can help it.”

Till tries again, “Yeah…you uh, you look…different.”

Mizi flushes, her hand flying out to touch her hair as she ruffles it, “Oh! Yeah, I guess I do look really different. It’s a little weird having short hair after having long hair for all my life. It uh…wasn’t voluntary though.”

“Oh?”

She laughs a little, “Yeah no, it was a laser gun that nearly hit me and blasted off my hair!” She looks a little self conscious for a moment, her fingers twirling one of the ends, “It…doesn’t look bad, does it? I mean, obviously I’m planning on fixing it up a little since a lot of the ends are uneven but, you know.”

“…it looks good on you.” He says quietly, his gaze slipping down from her face to her hands in her lap. “You would suit any hairstyle, so uh…it’s fine.”

And it does look good on her. 

But what he doesn’t say is that it makes it hard for him to look at her for too long. Seeing how different she is just reminds him how none of them— not even the one person he thought was untouchable— have come out unscathed. 

“Thanks Till, you’ve always been so sweet.” Mizi remarks and Till wants to laugh because he definitely has not, “I actually had something to tell you but I wasn’t sure if you were in the right head space to hear this. But I kinda think your headspace would be worse not hearing this.”

He feels nauseous. She’s right, his headspace is fucking terrible. He keeps trying to be engaged in this conversation and just talk to Mizi like he’s been yearning to do for years. but he can’t stop thinking about the stage, the blood, the eyes that stared into his soul and searched for something and still—still! After everything, Till couldn’t give Ivan anything. He died cold and alone and Till was just expected to move on. To live in this new world where everything is different and be okay with it. But nothing is the same and he can feel that he’s not the same and he just wishes that something would just stay—

“Ivan’s alive.”

The hospital is achingly silent as he processes what she said, his mind rewiring itself as Mizi watches him with concern. 

It changes everything.

The wave of relief that goes over him nearly brings him to tears. All that keeps them apart now is just a hallway not the veil between life and death.

He’s never believed in a God. How could he when his life has been so terrible with nothing to prove that anyone out there is looking out for him?

But at that moment, he thanks whoever is out there, if there’s anyone, for giving him this one thing.

Despite knowing he’s not awake yet, Till finds he keeps expecting Ivan to walk through the door or be sitting right next to him. Sometimes, Till will blink his eyes open and for a second, he thinks he’s back in Anakt Garden with Ivan leaning over him and he’ll be put at ease before he realizes that he’s alone in a hospital room.

Sitting alone in the hospital room, he finds that the feeling of loneliness is foreign. Even in Anakt Garden, when he was often put into isolation, he never felt alone. Perhaps he always knew that eventually, Ivan would find his way in and let him free. Or at least, sit next to him to keep him company.

He was reliable like that.

Now though, he’s the only one awake. The other can’t come find him and existing without the ever present weight of Ivan’s gaze feels weird. They were a pair after all. Where you’d find one, you’d find the other. No matter how much that fact bothered Till at the time, he could never really argue with it because it was true. 

After their round, Till had been too dazed to really process much of anything and it hadn’t been that long before he was thrown into the finale, so he didn’t really have to live with the idea of not having Ivan. 

Besides, he figured he’d die anyway and they’d be a matching pair again.

Till rubbed his bandaged neck and scoffed. Perhaps they are still a matching pair now, both horribly injured but alive. At least he hopes so. The looming fear that Ivan won’t pull through still sits with him like an unwelcomed guest. 

Imagine how horrible it would be, to be given hope that Ivan will live and then the man just dies anyways, unceremoniously with no fanfare. 

Till tries not to think about it. He tries to not think about anything honestly. Everything is so new and so overwhelming that he finds it all too much. On the edges of his mind, he knows that if he were to let in all the thoughts bouncing on the outside of his head, he might actually lose it from just the panic of it all. 

So he sits and he waits. He lets the nurses change the bandages and takes little walks around the hospital to make sure his muscles don’t atrophy. He talks to Mizi when she comes and tries not to think about how everything about her is so vastly different that he hardly recognizes her. He’ll hover around Ivan’s door, listening for the beep of the heart monitor before walking away because he doesn’t think he could handle seeing the boy connected to a million cables and barely hanging onto life. 

Day to day, he goes through the motions despite feeling so incredibly numb and his soul sinking deeper into himself.

It’s on his last night at the hospital when he hears it. A sound coming from the room he’d been longing to hear from. There’s not a thought in his head as he throws himself out of bed and runs down the hall. Blood is pumping so loud in his ears that he can barely hear anything. There’s a rush of adrenaline that drives his legs forward and he realizes that he’s utterly elated. For the first time in a while, he allows himself to feel. 

As he throws the door open, Till’s eyes naturally search for the deep void-like eyes that always meant he had company. 

And he doesn’t find it. 

The room is silent when he goes in and instead of seeing Ivan sitting up to greet him, it’s just his still form lying on the bed. There’s a terrifying moment that makes his heart drop to his knees where Till thinks about how Ivan is almost too still.

Like he’s died.

His feet bring him forward, his hands trembling as the terrible thought that maybe Ivan just died in his sleep keeps replaying in his mind. There’s still too much left to say, too much he still hasn’t even begun to process and if all of it just ends here, in the middle of the night with no one but him and a corpse, Till might just go somewhere where no one will ever be able to find him again.

He stands over Ivan, shaking as he stares at his pale skin that has an almost sickly tone and his bones that prominently poke out like he’s been starved for ages. It makes him nauseous, seeing him like this. Ivan was always so well taken care of, always looking perfect. Perfect nutrition, perfect exercise, perfect sleeping habits. Everything was so carefully curated to make sure Ivan always looked his best. 

He doesn’t look his best now. He looks like he’s seconds away from dying, like a breeze could blow him over and shatter him. Fragile was never a word Till associated with Ivan, but it’s the only one that comes to mind. A protective wave hits him and all he wants to do is bundle the man up and hide him away from anything that could hurt him.

Including himself.

Feather light, his fingers touch Ivan’s cheek and feel how sharp his cheekbone juts off his face. He needs food. Real food. IV clearly isn’t giving him everything he needs. 

Till wasn’t passed out for very long, so he looks largely the same. It doesn’t sit right that he comes out of it all mostly fine —despite the shot to the neck—while Ivan lays here looking the worst he’s ever been.

His eyes trace over Ivan’s face, where his delicate eyelashes brush against the top of his cheek. He bites the inside of his mouth. Despite everything, Ivan is still annoyingly pretty. Dead but pretty. It’s not fair. Till would suspect Ivan comes from a high end factory, created to be genetically beautiful. Though he wouldn’t know for sure, he’s never asked about Ivan’s origins.

Then again, he’s never bothered to mention his. 

Honestly, there’s a lot about Ivan he doesn’t know. They spent almost all of their childhood together but when Till tries to come up with a list of things he knows about him, there’s not much. He could tell endless stories of Ivan eating flowers or the many incidents of Ivan offending the other kids by accident but he couldn’t tell you what Ivan’s favourite colour is. Where he comes from. What he’s scared of.

Who he loves.

He almost lost his chance to actually ask Ivan questions. Till has a million of them, constantly screaming at him and he can hardly parse through it all. Why didn’t he ask any of them? Ivan was such a mystery to him but he feels like if he just asked, he’d get an honest answer. So why?

Till knows, but he pushes it down.

 Till doesn’t want to know how close he really was to losing Ivan. If he were to put it into numbers, he might actually lose his shit. All he knows and all he needs to know is that it was too close. It’s still too close. 

Quietly, he moves his hand along Ivan’s face and down to his neck, checking for a pulse. He just…he needs it. He needs proof that Ivan isn’t just his imagination and that he’s actually going through a psychotic break where Ivan is dead but he keeps imagining otherwise. 

Till holds his breath, scared that maybe he won’t feel anything there. With a light press, he waits for it. And there, he feels it pulsing against his fingers. 

Ba-dum. Ba-dum. Ba-dum.

Everything in his body finally loosens and he sighs out in relief. 

Ivan’s alive. He’s really alive. 

Till takes a step back, his voice coming out wet as he feels tears welling up in his eyes, “Fuck…I thought — fuck .“ he grits his teeth, spitting out, “Fucking bastard…”

His chest aches and everything he’s been holding in bursts out like water rushing out of a dam. It consumes him, the grief, the fear, the relief, the guilt all pile on him and he feels it all at once. It’s too much to bear and he starts pacing in circles, trying to get a hold of himself. 

His voice is a mess of rambling whispers, muttering to himself that it’s okay, it’s fine, Ivan is alive, there’s nothing to be crying about. 

But maybe he’s not really crying just about that. Maybe he’s crying for a lot of other things too. Things he can barely even name and have buried so deep inside himself that they’re hardly recognizable. All he knows is that it hurts.

His hands grasp onto his locks, pulling on it involuntarily. Sharp stings go down his scalp and he tries to loosen his grip but finds he can’t seem to let go. Around this point, Ivan would usually be right beside him and his gentle hands would grab onto his, prying them open.

It occurs to Till that so much of his life and habits is directly connected to Ivan. Being alone feels strange because he’s never been without Ivan by his side. He has all these habits that are somewhat self-destructive like pulling his hair or biting his nails that he’s never bothered to curb because Ivan would always stop him before he took it too far. And now, with everything Ivan did in their round, Till can’t stop thinking about him and every change in Ivan’s state has the power to turn his mood on a dime. Two seconds of feeling his heartbeat has reduced him to a blubbering, sobbing mess. 

He’s not okay and it’s Ivan’s fault. 

Till walks to the top of the bed, staring down at Ivan’s face who looks too peaceful for how tormented Till feels and he whispers, “You fucking prick. You did this to me, you need to fucking answer for it.”  

Take responsibility for all the confusion you’ve given me. Give me answers. Look at me. Face what you have done. 

But Ivan doesn’t, just lies still on a bed with nothing but the sound of the wind outside filling the air. Till feels it. The power Ivan has over him. The power he has always had but Till had refused to acknowledge. 

He cares. He cares a lot. 

And that’s fucking terrifying. He can’t handle it. Not now, when he feels so vulnerable. There’s an urge in his body that he can feel wanting to reach out for the warmth he’s been craving for so damn long and he stamps it down hard. 

“I hate you .” He whispers before leaving. 

Because what else could he be feeling? What else could bring out such an emotional reaction from him? What else would make him feel so nauseous standing next to Ivan? What else has the power to make his stomach turn and his chest ache? Hatred is clearly the feeling. He’s hated Ivan all their lives. 

It has to be because the alternative is something Till can’t bear to accept. 

It would change everything and if Ivan has been anything for him, he has always been the one thing that never changed.  

Hyuna is the one who starts him on the delivery jobs.

For the first few days of being let out of the hospital and given the freedom is roam, Till decides to say fuck all that and stay in his dorm room. The first day was because he was just so damn exhausted. Despite all that time he spent in the hospital just sitting around, he somehow came out of it still tired. So he slept for almost 19 hours until Mizi came around to make sure he hadn’t died spontaneously.

The next few days of isolation have a less understandable reason. Simply put, he doesn’t know what to do. 

He’s spent his whole life with strict schedules and clear perimeters of what he could or couldn’t do. Even though he fought for a lot of his life against these restraints, there was always still a limit. At the end of the day, he’d still be at Anakt Garden, he’d still be eating whatever the cafeteria made that day, he’d still get the choices the next day of singing, going to class, playing in the garden or saying fuck all that and kicking up a fuss until he’s thrown into an isolation or experiment room. It was all still structured. 

The one time he ever tasted true freedom, he had turned his back on it for the uncomfortable familiarity. 

(He stops that line of thinking pretty quick. It makes him too sad to think about and he hasn’t allowed himself to dwell on it in years.)

Now though, he’s given a town bigger than any space he’d been allowed to explore and instructions of just ‘go on, find something to do’. Find what to do? What do people even do with endless free time? There’s a million choices for him to decide from and he’s pretty sure there’s a million more that he doesn’t even know exist. 

Normally, he’d be making music on his off time but he finds he can’t stomach the thought of it. Every time he grabs a pencil and tries to pick up the guitar that Mizi had given him on his release day, his fingers shake and he’ll vomit into the toilet until all he throws up is bile. Songs still pop up in his mind but he lets them fade away, allowing them to go back to the ether of inspiration and die as merely little jingles that he can’t bear to add lyrics to. 

So he finds himself paralyzed in his room, spending most of his time laying in bed. He tried just sleeping the day away but the dreams he has are too painful, so he just keeps himself awake in his room watching the sky until it turns dark and then stays awake for many hours more until he passes out from exhaustion. 

( It sickens him a bit that Ivan is still in the hospital, still not awake and now Till is not down the hall from him. He feels he’s done a crime, leaving Ivan alone like that.)

If his mind is feeling creative, he’ll daydream about Anakt Garden. He’ll remember when times were simple and he had no idea of the horrors that awaited outside their white walls. Memories of playing in the garden, telling stories, laughing until his belly ached try to soothe his angry soul. If he’s feeling particularly shitty, he’ll think about a smile with a snaggletooth, a laugh that was wheezy when it was genuine and eyes that threatened to envelop him whole. 

He can’t tell if he hates daydreaming. The boy he used to be didn’t think it could get worse than being trapped in Anakt Garden. Till had longed for Alien Stage, a chance to get the hell out of his boring white walls. He thought it was a way to stay by Mizi’s side and prove to everyone that he was worth a damn. It was all he wanted and nothing else mattered to him.

Funny how life works. 

Mizi comes by sometimes, but something about her bright disposition and warm tones feel wrong in his cold room and depressing attitude. So he chats with her until she’s satisfied enough to leave him alone and he’ll subtly get her to leave. 

His childhood self would probably be furious with him. Spending time with Mizi was all he had ever wanted and now the girl is actively seeking him out. He should be elated, he should see this as the perfect opportunity to get close to her.

But he doesn’t.

Instead, he just feels an awful sense of guilt and understanding when he looks at her. He keeps thinking about the girl they had left behind and he can’t even begin to entertain the selfish thought of trying to take her absence as an opportunity. She was more than that and she deserves to be treated as such. Just as he is without his shadow, Mizi is without hers and he’s pretty sure they both look terrible for it.

So he refuses all her offers to take him out to see the rebellion camp, to show him some of the facilities, to help him meet people. He just wants to rot and be left alone. After the fifth try, she seems to see something in Till’s eyes that finally wards her off. 

He should feel bad. He doesn’t. Till doesn’t know what the fuck is wrong with him, but he can’t bring himself to care.

Till leans back again, staring at the ceiling with the sense that he’s waiting for something but he’s not sure what. It’s definitely not for Mizi, though.

Hyuna comes by with all of the grace of an executioner, with her foot raised up in a kick that sends his door flying against the wall with a slam. She has a nonchalant expression with a lollipop in her mouth and her usual shades on her face despite being indoors.

Till, to his credit, reacts very little to her intrusion. She didn’t exactly hide her approach so he heard her coming and braced for impact. As his door crashes open, all he does is sit up from his slumped position and readjust his ill-fitting shirt.

He had met Hyuna briefly in the hospital, having greeted him with her usual energy but he could clearly see she had more important places to be. She’d pop by occasionally, perhaps looking for some sort of response from him but he hadn’t exactly been super chatty, so she left him alone once she got the hint.

He takes her in as she approaches him now and he comments, “You don’t smell of cigarettes.”

Hyuna doesn’t take offense to this and shrugs, “Trying to quit.” She moves the lollipop from one side of her mouth to the other, “You’re coming with me.”

Her statement doesn’t leave room for questioning, but Till slides his eyes over to his window where he has the curtain drawn cause it’s too damn bright outside and he can’t muster up the desire to go out there. 

“No thanks."

“I wasn’t asking.”

“Seriously, I’m good.” He falls back against his bed, “Your whole MO is freedom, right? Then I’m free to stay here.”

“Our MO is also bettering ourselves and I don’t think this is bettering yourself.” Hyuna retorts and he shrugs.

“Don’t you have anything better to do?” Till curls up, facing the wall and waiting for the moment that Hyuna gives up cause he really is a lost cause. 

What does it matter if he wastes away? It’s not that he could contribute much of anything anyway. He’s not strong or smart or even that pleasant to talk to. The only one who cared about what he did is sleeping like he’s dead to the world and if things don’t go well, he might just be straight up dead. What he does now doesn’t matter.

Hyuna clearly doesn’t agree with him because she kicks his bed with her metal leg and tips it just enough to get him rolling off onto the floor.  He hits the ground at a slightly awkward angle, pushing against his shoulder and he groans.

“Fuck!”

The woman leans over him, tone flat, “I said I wasn’t asking. Now come on.”

Seeing no way out of this without being sent back to the hospital, Till reluctantly gets up and follows her out.

They make their way out of the dorms and Hyuna starts walking down the road, pointing out buildings as they go. He studies her as she talks, saying what sounds to be an almost practiced speech introducing the rebellion. Till listens to her but his eyes watch the way her eyes don’t try to meet his and her shoulders seem ever so slightly tense.

“—and over there are the hangers. That’s where all the vehicles we have go. I’ve got something lined up for you there and there’s some friends I have who would be happy to help you out.” Hyuna says, pointing to the building up the hill.

It’s a bit away from the rest of the rebellion camp and as they get closer, the sounds of work being done gets louder. Till wants to be grateful, Hyuna probably had to talk to a few people to get him something to do here but he can’t shake off a funny feeling in his chest.

“Why are you doing this?” He asks because really, that’s all he wants to know.

She pauses, her steps faltering before she sighs, shaking her head, “You really don’t just accept things, do you?”

“You’re the rebellion leader, if I’m right. You should have better things to do than worry about me. You don’t even know me. So why?”

Hyuna hums, her gaze sliding away from his and she looks to the sky, “…I suppose I feel responsible for you both.”

He gets that, he supposes. 

“You don’t need to.” He says, putting his hands in his pocket, “You…you saved us. You’ve done enough I think.”

There’s a breeze that blows against their faces and he sees Hyuna’s eyes shift under her hair, thinking about something before she speaks.

“I’m gonna tell you the truth.” She fiddles with the lollipop in her mouth, “Your rescue wasn’t really…planned. We hadn’t been there to get you out. That was all Mizi. What we were really after was the files that were stored in the stadium.”

“…oh.”

Till kinda wants to be mad about that. They really were gonna just let him die and he really was fated to just be another Alien Stage victim to be put in some list. He wasn’t even supposed to be here. Till wants to be mad that they didn’t plan on saving his life.

But he’s not. 

Because that was the plan in the first place. Till had gone into Alien Stage with a drive to prove himself. But when Mizi disappeared, so did his drive to keep surviving. What was the point? There was no more hope for something better and Till couldn’t see a world beyond the stage. What would he gain anyway? The person he wanted to share with was gone. Besides, he was to go up against Ivan, who he knew for a fact couldn’t possibly lose.

Not when he was everything he wasn’t. Graceful, gentle, alluring. His voice was ethereal and his eyes could draw anybody into them. Till was just…Till. Lanky, angry, abrasive. What was there to like? To root for? There would be no doubt Till was gonna die. 

So he was ready. He almost wished for it just so he could just end the suffering. And…he just didn’t want to be alone in the end. He wanted to let himself leave first so Ivan couldn’t leave him. Sua was gone. Mizi was gone. If Ivan left him too, he simply couldn’t bear the thought of it. 

“…we’re here now, though.” He says, not really sure how to encapsulate all that he is feeling so he just states the obvious.

Hyuna hums, but not convinced, “You almost weren’t. When you were shot…I had told Mizi to just leave you there. Figured you were a lost cause. Once we found out you were alive still, she refused to leave. Dragged your ass back here herself.” Till’s heart flutters a bit at the thought that Mizi really gave her all to save him and he rubs the back of his warming neck, “You were a risk but…given where we were, you weren’t the hardest person to save. Your friend though…we almost left your friend entirely.”

He feels his stomach jump to his throat and his blood go cold, “Huh?”

“We had been about to leave when Mizi mentioned how it hadn’t been too long since your friend had been shot. She proposed that maybe the segyein hadn’t…disposed of him yet and if they missed killing you, maybe the same was for him.” Hyuna chuckles at the memory, “I told her she was crazy. I wasn’t going to risk all of us for the chance of rescuing a guy we weren’t even sure wasn’t a pile of ash. Mizi though…she begged me. Was practically on her hands and knees, begging for his life.” 

Till could picture it, Mizi’s tearful sobs as she begged for the chance, even if it was the slimmest chance to save Ivan. If he had been awake, he could see himself doing the same. It wouldn’t have been the first time.

Hyuna pushes open the door to the hangar, “I was still ready to say no. But my friend Isaac on comms said he and Dewey were closer to where your friend might be. He insisted he could go check.” She sighs, “With that many people insisting, I couldn’t refuse. And…well you know the rest. Don’t need to give you the gorey details.”

Till wholeheartedly agrees. He thinks he’s seen enough of Ivan’s blood to last him a lifetime. 

Hyuna watches his reactions carefully, before softening and ruffling his hair which makes him squeak, “I didn’t give you two a chance then. So let me give you both a chance now.”

 As he shakes her hand off and they walk to where the hangar opens up to the yard with all the vehicles, he sees a man with a large scar approaching the two of them.

“Hey Hyuna!” He calls, the woman waving back cheerfully before slapping Till in the back.

“Fu—!”

“Hey Isaac! I brought the shut-in! He wouldn’t come without a bit of a fight but I told you I’d get him.”

“That’s cause no one can refuse you.”

“It’s because I’m persuasive. Some people just need a push to do what is good for them.” Hyuna turns to Till, gesturing to the other man, “Till, this is Isaac. He does a lot of our mechanic stuff and he’ll be helping you out around here until you learn the ropes.”

At his name, Till’s eyes widen ever so slightly as he processes who stands in front of him. Isaac reaches out, shaking his hand despite Till’s limp arm before leading him to a pile scrap that he says will be his bike.

Till doesn’t talk much that first session but Isaac is understanding and fills the gaps with his own ramblings. Some things about mechanics, some others about the delivery route that Till is going to start doing once he has built his bike, some gossip about the various characters around the rebellion. Till half listens, making small noises of acknowledgement and ever so slowly, he can feel his stiff bones start to loosen again. There’s a peace in hard work of metal and oil. It’s more physical than anything he’s ever had to do before but it’s kinda nice. He has to use his hands to make something, like the way he made flower crowns as a child. 

When the first day ends, he still doesn't understand why these people won’t just let him go and rot like he deserves, but he’s beginning to get that so long that he’s around, they won’t allow him to fade. Their hands will hold onto his and lead him down the path, tight and firm in their certainty that he’ll take the steps he needs. 

As they pack up the tools, with Isaac talking about possibly bringing in some spray paint to liven up his bike, Till blurts out, “Thank you.”

“Huh? Oh, yeah, no problem.” Isaac replies, waving him off with a chuckle, “We need more mechanics and delivery people around here anyway, so—”

“No! I mean…” Till doesn’t do anything vulnerable or honest but he feels like Isaac has earned it, “I mean thank you for…saving Ivan. You…didn’t have to and probably it was more dangerous to go than to leave it. So thank you. For me and for him.”

There’s a moment of silence as Isaac looks surprised at his sincerity before he huffs out a laugh and shrugs, “It’s no big deal. He seemed important to you and Mizi. I figured that even if he wasn’t…alive, that you’d still want to be able to mourn him properly.” His eyes grow dark as he seems to lose himself in his mind a bit, “The segyein strip every person that has died of everything that makes them themselves. Makes them unrecognisable so that they may be forgotten. Your friend doesn’t deserve that fate.”

Till nods, remembering a story Sua told him once but never quite believed. Supposedly, because Anakt Garden sought to be the best human pet facility, they tried to simulate some weather patterns that once were on the lost Earth. They had the capability to do all of them. Except for one. 

Snow.

They didn’t want to use water, the resource was too precious and thus Anakt never rained, but they still wanted snow. It was apparently good for children and their development. So they looked at the resources they had and made a plan to use the one resource they had no more use of.

Till knew that they could be cruel, but he never believed they would go so far as to burn the children and contestants and then rain them down onto people who would have no idea. That the people they loved are now ashes, being played in, being caught on children’s tongues, being rolled into balls to be thrown and explode in a flurry of white before being swept up and thrown away. 

Looking at Isaac, he believes the story more now. 

But Till likes to think, even then, that if he never escaped and was left in Anakt Garden once again, he would recognize Ivan and Sua. Ivan once read a book to him that said that every snowflake is unique. So when the ashes would fall under the guise of snow, Till wants to believe he’d know which ones are his friends. They’ve etched themselves too deep into his soul for that not to be true. He would pick them out of the pile so they wouldn’t intermingle with the thousands of others and he would mourn them as they were instead of the beautiful illusion Anakt made them into.

He wonders if Sua has already been burnt, turned into snow to rain on the next group of children walking into their doomed fate. He wants to believe they haven't, that she was still herself. But maybe Sua wouldn’t have minded. Despite the story she told him, she still would say the snow was pretty and play in it with a genuine joy, holding on Mizi’s hand and twirling together. Till wonders why she did that if she believed the snow came from sorrow but he won’t ever get an answer. 

But as the sound of metal clashing together and the life of the rebellion fill his ear like music, he thinks that maybe she found paradise in the midst of hell and he wonders if he can find it too. 

Till is being haunted.

Not by the dead but by the living. Echoes of people that he once believed he understood now shadow him as he looks at their mirrors who he finds he can’t quite grasp anymore.

He’s gotten himself used to his new routine. Wake up, grab breakfast but never sit down, grab his bike from the hangar and then drive his ass to every side of the rebellion delivering stuff back and forth until he goes to bed. Then he repeats it all again. It’s nice in his opinion. He pretty quickly figured out he had a love for going fast on his bike and over time, people started remembering his face and would offer up a bit of small talk. They were all polite though they were always careful with what they said. Word must travel fast, since it feels like everyone in the rebellion knows about his circumstances. Sometimes it feels like they know more than he does.

 The list he gets is a mixture of regulars and some sporadic deliveries, with his last major stop always being the hospital. Every day, he’ll stop at the hospital, dropping off various supplies before he picks up the medicine he has to deliver. Till’s not sure who makes his schedules but he has a feeling that it’s not a coincidence.

The doctors will always make a bit of small talk before Till works up the nerve to ask about Ivan’s condition.

For a while, the answer was always the same. 

‘ Breathing, but not awake yet.’

Till would accept it, take the medicine and then crank the fucking engine as hard as possible so that it would deafen the thundering of his heartbeat in his ears. Every time, he’d feel so ill and there was a rage in his soul that made him drive in circles over and over until he was too dizzy to think. The waiting was driving him mad. 

It reminded him of when Ivan had been sick in Anakt Garden and Till had been barred from seeing him for quarantine reasons. Till had been a bit excited for the chance of peace and quiet to work on his songs. But as the days went on, he became restless and he couldn’t get his mind to focus on anything other than how cold his shoulder felt. Ivan got better but Till had been extra grumpy with him. To be truthful, it was because he was embarrassed how listless he was without Ivan. How much he seemed to need him to stave off his loneliness, to feel right. 

It embarrasses Till now how much he still needs him. 

Eventually, finally, the doctors told him something different.

‘ He’s awake now. You can visit him if you want to.’

Hearing that for the first time had made every bone in Till’s body loosen and for the first time, he felt like he truly can breathe again. There was an urge inside of him that demanded he run up to Ivan’s hospital room and see him before a rush of apprehension stopped him. Echoes of voices whispering in his ear halted his feet and he couldn’t take another step forward. They screamed at him as waves of guilt yanked at his throat and he could barely breathe.So he just nodded to the doctor, grabbed the medicine and left.

He still drove around faster than he really needed to, but he would end the day staring at the ceiling, trying to figure out what the fuck is wrong with him.

Till continues this routine. Wake up, grab breakfast but never sit down, grab his bike from the hangar, drive his ass to every side of the rebellion delivering stuff back and forth, not ask the doctors to let him see Ivan, get to the dorms and feel guilty about it until he sleeps. He tells himself he’ll do it when he feels ready, which shouldn’t be too long. That goes on for a day, then two, then four and at some point, Till starts to think that he’ll never actually feel ready. The guilt keeps piling up every time he passes the hospital, the stone in his stomach gets heavier and he feels something slipping from his grasp. Something he never even knew he had.

When he sees Ivan in the dorm hallway, getting settled in with the help of Hyuna and Mizi, Till knows he’s run out of time.

His routine is now wake up, get dressed, check outside his door if Ivan is out there, if he’s not then leave, if he is then wait for the man to leave the building before he leaves himself, work, go home, stare at the ceiling with a vague longing for someone to knock on his door and then finally, sleep. 

It’s pathetic, he knows.

The days go on like this, with the added bonus of hearing Ivan outside sometimes. His heart would jump at the sound and almost always wait for the voice to come close to his door. He’d listen for the special knock that Ivan would do when he sought him out after hours as children that told him that everything would be alright or at least that he wouldn’t be alone in his suffering. There’s a day when he heard Ivan stepping close to his door and he had held his breath so long his face went blue. He hears a breath, the creaking of Ivan shuffling his feet before the terrible fading sound of Ivan walking away crushed his rising hope and he is left in his lonely room. 

The Ivan from before would’ve never done that. The Till from before would’ve probably punched the boy for pulling that kind of stunt and shouted his displeasure to the world. 

The Till now is starting to believe he deserves this.

He hears Mizi one night. She’s just outside his door and he hears the knock but he can’t seem to work up the nerve to open the door. But for her, he gets himself out of bed and sits on the floor, his bones feeling wobbly from the day’s work. She waits there, silent for a minute before she says quietly, 

“I know you’re in there. I can see your shadow at the door. Just…open the door. I want to talk.”

He doesn’t answer but he scoots closer, pressing his head against the door as if he’s trying to absorb her warmth through it. His eyes close and he pictures the Mizi from before standing there. 

“Till, please…I’m getting worried about you. You didn’t go visit Ivan when he woke up, you barely do anything other than sleep or work and now you won’t even talk to me. What…happened to you?”

Nothing. Everything. He so desperately wants to be a part of their lives. He’s so fucking scared to see Mizi and Ivan and see all the ways they’re not who he remembers them being. He’s just changed, he’s stayed the same. He wants to go back to the way things were, he’s not ready to see the past anymore. 

He doesn’t know.

He doesn’t fucking know anything. Why he’s broken. Why he’s hiding. Why everything is different for the better and yet somehow he can’t seem to just fucking accept good things that happen to him.

Why he keeps ruining everything that ever mattered to him.

Till doesn’t say any of this. He just presses his head deeper into the door.

“Till…I want to help you. But I can’t help if you won’t let us in. Please, I…I don’t want you to become a ghost of yourself.”

And suddenly Till gets it.

He’s not being haunted, he is the one who is haunting. Shambling around the rebellion doing the same tasks every day searching for something he has lost. Ivan and Mizi aren’t ghosts, they’ve taken themselves out of the grave. They’re building something for themselves, they are moving with time.

He’s…not. 

He’s merely a lingering spirit, left waiting.

( Till and Ivan sit under the tree, their tree. Till is drawing again, scribbling down thoughts while Ivan presses himself against his shoulder. In the distance, he can see Mizi and Sua playing together with their voices carrying over to the pair of boys. Till makes a note to go down and play with them once he’s done here. It’s peaceful, with the winds blowing into the leaves and making a rustling lullaby that would have Till drowsy if he wasn’t so concentrated on writing down his song idea. He’s always been a ball of manic energy, bursting with rebellion, life and ideas. Till would probably be moving way more if it wouldn’t jostle Ivan. 

Ivan was always a still, quiet kind of boy. If left to his own devices, he could sit in silence for hours. Till doesn’t mind, it fits nicely with him. If he could, he’d capture this moment together, left alone with the only thing is each other. Their little glass bowl of memories. 

“Why do you keep coming back here?”

Till doesn’t say anything, his hand still writing the notes.

 “The answers you’re looking for are out there. There’s no point coming back to this moment.” Ivan says, his chubby cheek pressing against his shoulder, “This isn’t even a specific memory. It’s just…an idea. A vague impression of how we were.”

Till ignores him, his brow pinching as he tries to concentrate despite the rock in his stomach. 

“Why do you keep yearning for this? You hated this place. Everything terrible that happened to you started here. You have an offering from heaven and yet you want this?”

“This is heaven.” he protests as he gazes over the notes to Cure, “I’m comfortable right here. With you. You’re the one keeping me here.”

“I’m not here. I’m out there. You’re the one chaining yourself here.”

“No! No! You’re here!” Till found himself shouting, feeling the dream starting to slip and his shoulder feeling cold again, “You’re not…out there. You’re here.”

There’s a silence that makes Till’s blood freeze, the world becoming still as the leaves that are falling from the tree stop in front of his face, frozen in time. He can’t bear to turn his head, scared of what he might see if he were to look at Ivan in the face. Blood is seeping onto the grass, staining his sheet red and he swallows a sob. 

After a moment, he hears a giggle and he instinctively turns to face the other boy because he can’t let the chance to see Ivan smile pass him by. Ivan looks almost embarrassed but there’s a contentment in his eyes as teal meets black.

“...thank you, Till, for missing me. Well…this version of me. It was nice to see you…even if I am just your imagination.” Ivan’s face crumples, his hand reaching out to push his shoulder, “Go. You’re hurting yourself by staying here.”

Till looks at the finished bloodied music sheet and he crumples it, “Ivan, I’m scared.”

He feels the weight press against his cheek, gentle in the way he whispers into his ear, “I know. But the tree is dead, Till. Heaven is not given, it is found.”)

Till sits on his own again, watching the outside of his window as a quiet observer. It’s routine. Comfortable, terrible routine. He wonders how long he can do this to himself. To waste away and become a stranger to all that he loved. Till knows eventually people will stop trying to save him and he won’t be upset at them. He gets it. How long can someone try shoving a square in a circular hole before they need to just give up and cut their losses? 

A flash of black goes into his vision and he zones back in to see Ivan making his way out of the dorms. He looks good. Well rested, though he still has the habit of leaning on his right because his injuries haven’t fully healed yet. Till wonders if he’s sleeping okay since he’s always liked to sleep on his side like a baby. Till should ask but he doesn’t get up to move.

At this hour, he’s probably going to the bar where he works. Ivan was never a people person but he was always good at pretending he was. He knew how to smile in a way that drew others in. He’s probably already made a bunch of new friends. Made the realization that nothing tethers the two of them anymore. They don’t need to hold onto each other to survive. They are free. Free to leave. Free to laugh. Free of each other. 

Till wants to cry. 

He knows he should be happy for Ivan. But he can’t help but miss the weight on his shoulder and the certainty that he wouldn't be alone. A part of him is screaming for Ivan to look at him, find him, take him back to their tree. Everything is too new and he needs something to tether him down so he doesn’t get lost in it all. 

Till knows he’s selfish for wanting to bring Ivan down with him. As the boy is looking around for someone that isn’t Till, he feels a quiet acceptance that maybe it’s better this way. Ivan would be fine. Maybe that’s all he has the right to hope for. 

Just as Till started to lean back against his bed, preparing for another evening of staring at the shapes in his ceiling, their eyes met just for a second through the window. It’s over in a moment and Ivan turns to head to work. 

But Till sees it. Feels the electricity in his bones firing as he processed the way Ivan looked. The way his eyes looked so lost, more scared than he’s ever looked in his entire life. The emptiness on his shoulder is right by Ivan’s side too. 

He always saw Ivan as this grand, immovable object in his life. When everything in his world was always so uncertain, he could always count on Ivan to be the only one who would stay the same. The rock in his life. The shadow that would always follow his feet. The weight that never left.

But he’s starting to realize that maybe he got it wrong. Ivan was never the one standing still but Till. Till, who refused to let anything or anyone change him, no matter how much he was pushed or pulled. He planted his feet, gritted his teeth and never allowed himself to change. To change was to lose. To lose was to admit that he was wrong. Admitting he was wrong means he has to start over. 

Till never had much of anything. Nothing that truly belonged to him. Not his belongings, not his body, not his time. He had nothing. The only thing that was truly his was himself.

And maybe, deep down, he knew he had Ivan too. 

The boy’s devotion, his attention; it was something he knew was his, even if he more so felt than understood it. It was intoxicating, to have something he could call his own and grasp for it with hungry hands. Me became us and Till found himself vehemently refusing to lose it.

Even if it hurt, he refused to allow it to change. He was scared that if he let it change, become something different, then he might not have Ivan at all. So he bit his tongue, left words unsaid, pulled his hands away so that they could safely stay as they were. 

Ivan never pulled at him. Despite Till pulling him down, making him stay with him in the bubble he made for them both, Ivan never pulled away. He let Till drag him down, let him keep him from ever changing into something else. Ivan would just sit, head on his shoulder and allow the illusion that Till created to hold. 

Routine. Till would sit down by the tree, be found by Ivan, complain that Ivan was bothering him, push him away before giving up and they would be under the tree again. A nuisance and his unfortunate victim. As if Till wasn’t the one who gripped the back of Ivan’s shirt and led him down. 

Till is still that boy sitting at the tree, waiting for Ivan to come find him so they can pick up where they left off. Even if what they have left is a broken, gritty, mess. 

But Ivan is not coming to find him under the tree. He’s not going to save him.

He’s scared but so is Ivan. The emptiness that he feels in himself is there in Ivan. The break they created wasn’t clean and Till could feel the way they both ache to stitch up their wounds. They need to talk and get some damn answers so they can move on. And if that means, no matter how much his eyes burn at the thought, that Ivan wants to leave him behind completely then fine. 

He doesn’t care much about hurting himself but he wants to stop hurting Ivan. It’s the least he owes him. 

So he gets up. 

Till has always been the one left waiting but now he must leave his tree. The forest he knows is gone and his lone tree has not been rooted in the ground for a long time. The others have all gone searching and Till finds himself needing to make the same choice.

So he grabs his jacket, looks at his tired, angry, sad self, decides that it’s going to have to be good enough. The rest is going to have to come later. 

And he goes searching.

Chapter Text

Till hasn’t been to the bar in the camp. 

God knows how they get decent alcohol as a bunch of human escapees, but regardless, it is a building that brings a sense of normality to their hectic lives. It’s a rebellion hot spot, with the place drawing in almost everyone who wants to just let loose and forget their worries for the night. 

Unlike every other building in the camp, the bar is decorated for aesthetics instead of practicality. It’s shiny, it has lights lining the outside  and the space indoors is made to look like a proper bar, with coloured lights, booze, a dance floor and a stage for karaoke and performances. Of any space in the camp, it’s probably the nicest space in the whole place and everyone adores it. 

Till hates it so much.

The first few times he passed the building during his deliveries, he had to fight the bile that would build up in his throat and he’d crank the engine hard to go just that much faster away from it.

The guys at the hangar would invite him out sometimes, citing a special theme night at the bar that they thought Till would get a kick out of. It warmed his heart knowing they wanted to reach out to him, but the thought of going anywhere near the lit up building made him ill. So he’d refuse and feel bad for disappointing them as they walked away to go have fun while he wallowed alone. He’d wonder if he could have fun there, if he just gave it a shot. But he’d kill that thought pretty quick and wouldn’t even entertain the thought any longer. Besides, he wasn’t in the mood for trying anything new.

Over time, he was able to look at it, even stand in front of it. It helped cataloguing all the ways it wasn’t like all the other bars he’d been to before. The outside was decorated with soft, warm fairy lights instead of neon lights that would bath everything in its sickly unnatural glow. It was a building on its own, with a garden at the front and a patio at the back that was being used for storage. All the other bars were seedy places, hidden in back alleys or sometimes up in tall buildings that made Till sick when he would look out the window to see how far away he was from everything else. The building had all the hallmarks of the rebellion scattered on it, with bricks and colours instead of sleek, impersonal metal that promised no comfort.

It was nice. It was cozy. Till could almost like it. 

Except the door would open with someone stumbling in or out and he’d smell the alcohol and see the dark haze that lingered in the air in places like these. The urge to vomit would become too strong and Till would book it in the other direction, having to scrub his arms raw later that night to get the disgusting feeling of being used off his skin. His reaction to the place doesn’t get much better from there so when he finds himself standing in front of it, Till has to swallow down the nausea so he doesn’t throw up in the admittedly lovely flower bush out front.

He takes a deep breath, trying to calm his nerves and remember why he came in the first place. All he has to do is find Ivan, ask him to talk outside and then he can go back to ignoring that this place exists. It’ll be twenty minutes, tops. All that matters is Ivan. The rest can be left in the hazy background.

The thought makes his mind calm despite the continuous beating of his heart. 

A couple of rebels walk past him and open the door, the sound of upbeat music drifting out and with a deep breath, Till slips in behind them with only Ivan on his mind. 

The moment he steps inside, the smell of alcohol wafts around him and he tries not to gag. He’s always hated the smell of it, no matter how many times he had been taken to bars. The bitter, acidic smell never sat right with him and whenever he was fed the stuff, he’d always cough up the first gulps no matter what other ingredients were thrown into the drink.

The room itself was spacious, all open concept and Till is quietly relieved at the sight. There’s no private rooms, no secret corners to get pulled into and certainly no segyeins that demand to be entertained. The lights are just normal overhead ones, dimmed but left at a comfortable warm yellow. The stage is empty and the music seems to be recordings playing from the speakers. There aren't even that many people around, with a few groups scattered around at tables and while it seems more people are trickling in, it certainly isn’t crowded. Till feels his lungs finally open up. Maybe he can do this. 

With shaky legs, he takes a step forward and looks around. It feels strange being able to walk free here. He’s only been at a bar as part of the entertainment rather than be the one meant to be entertained. Every time he walked into these places, he had been stared and gawked at. Urak would often grip his shoulder tight enough to feel the creak of his bones, a warning for him to smile and make the wealthy segyeins feel welcome.  He was often dressed as nicely as possible so Urak could show off how well groomed Till was even if the segyein was beating him just an hour before. The crowd would cheer, some with hunger in their eyes, and Till usually made eye contact with the other pet humans in the room, a quiet understanding amongst all of them that what was going to happen probably wasn’t going to be fun but they’d at least offer a semblance of comfort if they could. It was never anything much, they had to be discreet, but Till would sometimes have fingers to link with, meaningful gazes to exchange or the barest hint of a smile to offer in the midst of terror.

 He had been so grateful for those pet humans despite never learning any of their names. But he didn’t need to and they didn’t need to know his. They all just knew they were stuck in the same situation and that was enough to be kind.

Till blinks the memories away. Getting lost in his head is never a good thing and he can already feel his heart beginning to race and the pit in his stomach widen. Slowly, he takes a deep breath and lets his hands grasp onto his shirt to ground himself, feeling how it’s soft cotton and not silk or suede. His feet stepped side to side to hear the creaking of the wood, grateful for the slight disrepair that would’ve never been allowed in segyein bars. The sound of people chatting lets him look up and take in that he is safe here. 

He is safe.

That becomes his mantra as he makes his way deeper into the room, eyes scanning around for the one person he came here for. Supposedly Ivan is working as a bartender so Till starts to make his way over. While he doesn’t immediately see him, perhaps the guy is just in the back and will come out soon. 

Quietly, he slips into one of the chairs up against the bar and tries to look like he belongs there. Till wonders how out of place he looks, with his uncomfortable grimace and cagey expression. Some of the other patrons have taken note of him and he doesn’t want to just look like he’s just sitting there with no purpose. It would awkward and weird and— 

“Till?”

Till jolts a little at his name, eyes shooting up from where they are trained on the floor and he sees Isaac standing there with a couple of the other mechanics.

“Oh, uh, hey.” Till greets somewhat awkwardly, scratching at the back of his neck.

Shit, he had refused their offer to go to the bar earlier, citing the usual reason of it not being his scene. He probably looks like a dick.

“I thought you said you didn’t want to come to the bar?” Isaac asks, no judgement in his voice but Till still feels guilty anyway.

“Uh, well, I changed my mind.” He replies lamely, grimacing at how not confident he sounds. Isaac gives him a slightly squinted look and Till feels the back of his neck go hot. Rushing to find an explanation, he stutters, “You know how you sometimes just kinda think, oh well I’m in the mood for something new and well, for me today is that day and uh—-“

Isaac mercifully raises his hand, a quirk on his lip as he says, “Hey man, I get it. It’s good to see you here.” Glancing somewhere behind Till, his smile turns into a small smirk, “So, is there anything in particular you’re looking for? Or maybe, anyone you’re looking for?” 

Till’s face warms and he ducks his head down. He never thought of himself as an open book but with the rebels, they all seem to know how to read him. It unnerves him a bit how much everyone else seems to know about him. Sometimes it feels like they know more than he does. 

“Ah no—“ he starts to deny before he almost falls forward from a sudden weight that slams into his side, an arm around his shoulders.

“You should totally come drink with us then!” A cheerful voice exclaims and Till tilts his head slightly to get a look at Daniel.

Daniel is one of the mechanics at the hangar and certainly one of the ones with the most energy. He seemed to be the most unbothered in the rebellion and supposedly was raised by free humans, having had a real childhood. In a lot of ways, he reminds him of Mizi when they were children. Till likes him well enough and maybe once upon a time, he would’ve really liked to hang out with Daniel. But as he is now, the man’s energy is a bit more than he can handle and Till can’t help but feel jealous every time he looks at his optimistic face. It makes him wonder who he would’ve been if he had been raised the same way. 

(Something inside aches when he thinks about what could’ve been his life if he had been free young.

If he had been able to stay with her .) 

Daniel pushes a brightly coloured drink towards him, the alcohol sloshing in the cup and the smell of it makes Till queasy. 

“This one’s on me!” He smiles with all his teeth and Till feels bad as he pushes it away slightly.

“I’m okay, uh, thanks anyways.” 

“Aw what? C’mon—“ Daniel starts to protest but Isaac swings his arm up and pulls the guy into him, the rest of his sentence smothered into his chest.

“It’s all good, Till! Sorry, this guy’s a bit clueless but he’s harmless.” Daniel makes a confused noise but Isaac pays it no mind and points to a booth off in the corner, “We’re over there if you wanna hang out but no pressure. We’ll leave you alone now.”

As the man leads the group away and Till waves them off, he starts to feel colder and he looks around, suddenly very aware of where he is. Does the fact that he’s not drinking right now make him stand out? Should he have a drink? He doesn’t want to drink, he doesn’t want to be under any kind of influence but maybe he should just so no one thinks he’s weird. Why else would he be sitting at a bar? So he should drink to be more inconspicuous. But he hates it. He hates it here. He’s not planning on sticking around so maybe it’s not worth it but maybe—

A thud next to him makes him jump and he whips his head to yell at whoever did that but his voice gets trapped in his throat as his eyes meet abyssal irises that suck him in.

Ivan stands there behind the bar with a carefully neutral expression, eyes dropping down to look at the glass in his hand when their gazes meet. He’s dressed in the simple clothes from earlier that morning, the bar not having any sort of dress code besides maybe an apron sometimes. His iconic snaggletooth pokes against his lip as he keeps his face straight and despite how calm he looks, there’s a tension in his shoulders that makes Till want to reach over and smooth it out because he shouldn’t be scared like that anymore. Is he scared of him? Or something else?

Till finds himself lost in devouring the image of the man for a few seconds too long before he notices Ivan’s eyes narrow ever so slightly like he used to when he was two seconds from punching him. Remembering himself, Till jolts to attention and remembers the drink placed in front of him. 

He starts, not recalling ever placing an order, “Oh uh, I didn’t–” 

“It’s on the house.” Ivan interrupts and Till grasps onto every tilt of his smooth voice because god, he’s missed it. 

“But–”

“It’s not alcoholic.” Ivan points to the bubbles, still not looking at him as he explains, “It’s just soda with a mix of juices in it. Looks convincing enough.”

Till stares at the drink with slight disbelief but hesitantly takes a sip of it. It’s sweet but to his relief, no bitter taste of alcohol. There’s a hint of melon and his neck feels hot as Ivan seems to carefully watch his reaction. Of course Ivan knew what he needed before he did. He even remembered that Till’s favourite fruit is melon. Ivan’s always been observant like that, especially with him. Whether he’d provide relief was another thing. 

Looking up, Till sees Ivan has a hint of a smile that he finds he had missed dearly. It soothes something in him and for a beautiful moment, it feels like everything is normal again. He wonders why he didn’t do this earlier. 

But it’s gone too soon as Ivan straightens back up and starts to turn away. In a panic, Till reaches for him and a million questions he could ask zips through his mind. Are you okay? How are you? Are we good? Did you miss me? Are you angry with me? Can we go back to how things were?

“You good?” Is what comes out of his mouth and hot shame washes over him.

It feels so blase that he wonders if Ivan will hate him just for that. Why can he never just say something honest or nice? Maybe that’s why he loves making music so much. Music tells the truth that his words can’t say. 

Ivan looks almost surprised at his outburst, his irises going from Till’s hand on his wrist to his face. The tension in his shoulders seems to stiffen more before a terrible smile stretches on his face, snatching his wrist back.

“Oh? Are you worried for me, Till? That’s unlike you.” He says with a sharpness that makes him recoil, “As you can see, I’m perfectly fine. You should be more concerned for yourself. You look like a lost child here.”

Till flinches at his words and a familiar angry feeling lights in his chest that makes him want to swing his fist. 

“Hey—!” He starts as he stands up but Ivan has already walked to the other side of the bar to talk to another person. 

Looking at Ivan now, he remembers why the guy would grind his gears. Time spent away made him forget and put Ivan up as a beautiful, innocent creature. 

On the outside, Till looked like he felt too much and Ivan would feel very little. With his infuriatingly calm demeanor and a blase attitude that made Till feel like he was always overreacting. Though that wasn't what drove him crazy. If it was, he’d just say fuck you and ignore him. What drove Till to violent anger was that he knew it was all lies. Underneath the blank expressions was Ivan feeling just as much as he did, if not more. Even now, he could see the quiet, immense discomfort being in the bar and the screaming he knows Ivan is doing in his mind. He knows. He knows. Of course, the boy would never tell anyone how he’s actually feeling. What's worse, he’d convince himself that he’s not feeling anything at all.

It drove Till crazy.  It still does.

He gets it now. The tension in Ivan’s shoulders is the same as the tension in his own. Ivan hates the bar just as much as he does. It makes sense. They both had been brought to places like these, especially in the time before their round. The two of them were always separated and Till never saw what would happen to him on those nights. He had always figured he was treated well, being so valuable and all. 

He wonders why he would accept a job like this if it makes him so uncomfortable. Of course, Ivan plays the role of a bartender to near perfection because he’d never accept anything less. No one in the room seems to pick up on the stiff shoulders, wooden smile and eyes that seem to glaze over, not really seeing anything at all.

Except for Till.

With a renewed vigor, he gulps down his drink and stomps his way over to Ivan with a refusal to be ignored. He doesn’t care much as he shoves his way forward and grabs Ivan again, glaring angrily.

“Hey! Don’t ignore me, asshole!” 

Ivan looks hardly surprised, just put out as he sets down a glass, “I’m not ignoring you, I have a job to do which you’re interrupting.”

“I just want to talk outside.”

“What more is there to talk about?” Ivan says with such a bored tone that Till flinches, “I feel like I made my…stance quite obvious and you’ve made yours exceedingly clear so what more is there to discuss?”

So much. Nothing is clear at all.

Their argument starts to draw some attention and Till feels the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. There’s an urge to bite back, tell them to look away cause this isn’t theirs to watch. The two of them have always been watched. He just wants one moment where they truly are alone.

With gritted teeth, he wrenches out, “Please, Ivan.”

There’s a hitch in his voice and a tremble that’s on the verge of begging. Till almost considers it, grovelling at Ivan’s feet like a beggar for just the smallest offering of mercy. 

Mildly surprised, Ivan’s blank expression falls ever so slightly and he looks around at the bar. Some people turn their heads as if they hadn’t been snooping on a private conversation and he quietly sighs. He pulls his hand away and Till lets it slip.

“I’m still working, Till.”

“When’s your break?”

“It’s—“

“Now!” Another voice pipes up and the two of them turn to look at a woman poking her head out from the back, “Ivan, you can take your break now! Take all the time you need!”

Till gets hit with a wave of gratitude that makes his knees weak. Ivan looks incredulous as he processes what the woman said and Till wants to laugh. Surprised Ivan was always one of his favourite Ivans.

Blinking, Ivan turns back to Till with lowered eyes, “I guess it’s now.”

A surge of energy goes through Till and he starts pulling him around the bar, “Okay, let’s go then.”

He is so ready to leave this place.

For a second, Till almost instinctively reaches over the bar to take Ivan’s wrist in his hand and start walking away like they did when they were called in for class. Usually Ivan expected his grasp, so he would leave his arm out to hold. But this time, Ivan didn’t do that. He simply untied his apron, hooking it onto the wall and then started walking to the exit without a second glance to Till. It makes a rock sit in his stomach and he starts to chase after him.

Ivan was always the one who would stand behind him, walking just a step or two behind. Chasing after him. Around the time Alien Stage started, it had felt like the opposite, with Till seemingly chasing an afterimage of Ivan as he achieved greater and greater heights. 

He wonders if Ivan felt the same. Maybe they’ve just been chasing each other in an endless, pointless circle for all their lives. 

As they step out, the night breeze grazes Till’s cheek and he can finally breathe again. It’s a clear night, with the stars shining brightly overhead and Till can see Ivan relaxing a bit, his shoulders loosening and his gaze moving up to let the stars reflect in his dark eyes. They seem to swim in them, at home in the abyss that matches their sky. 

(Ivan’s eyes have always perfectly reflected things, almost like a mirror in some lighting and angles. Though nothing has ever reflected quite as well as the comets that streaked across the sky that night that has been seared into Till’s brain like a brand.)

The cool air chills Till’s bones a bit, his arms pulling his jacket a bit tighter to his body. Ivan seems unbothered, comfortable in the cold. He doesn’t run hot at all, with cold fingers that would make Till jump whenever he brushed them against the back of his neck to scare him and yet he seems fine to keep being cold. Till shivers, the sound of his teeth chattering catching Ivan’s attention again and he shifted his focus back down to him.

With a nonchalant attitude, he leans against the wall and tilts his head with a sardonic smile that unnerves him.

“Alright, go on then.”

Glancing around, Till starts, “What, right here?”

“You said outside.”

“You know that’s not what I meant.” He grits out and Ivan seems to take pleasure in his squirming as he practically hums.

“I have to get back to work after, my break is only 20 minutes at a time.”

“That lady said you could take all the time you need.”

“Well, I’m not expecting this conversation to last too long.”

“Ivan, stop being purposely difficult. I’m trying to—“ Till groans in his hands, covering his face before glaring at the smug bastard in front of him, “I’m trying to set things straight with you, could you not keep making this harder for me?”

That seems to be the wrong thing to say as Ivan’s expression closes off more and he watches him through his lashes, “Apologies for being too difficult for you. I’ll refrain from doing so in the future.”

His words are apologetic, but he says it in the way he always does when he’s being bitchy but wants to show that he’s still better than you. Till feels a slight thrum in his veins as the dormant urge to fight ignites again and he almost bites back, but he can see Ivan has his feet twisted towards the door to the bar, ready at any moment to walk back inside.

Till sighs, backing down and Ivan’s eyes widen a bit, like he hadn’t been expecting that. He looks around, scratching the back of neck before his gaze lands on the horizon and the vast expanse of water.

Awkwardly, Till mutters, “Have you been to the beach yet?”

Ivan pauses before replying, “Not yet.”

“Me neither.” He gulps before asking, “Do you wanna?”

The question hangs in the air and Till’s heart starts to pound as he wonders if Ivan will just say no and leave. He told himself he would be fine with whatever Ivan chose to make them, as long as he stops hurting him but he finds himself selfishly thinking that if he loses him right here, he might just shatter into pieces.

“Sure.”

The word is so simple and Ivan barely says it with any emotion but it makes his pulse start to sing and he almost wants to cry. Ivan doesn’t wait for him to lead the way, starting to walk and Till has to scramble a bit to catch up. 

They walk side by side in silence, neither really knowing what to say. There’s a careful distance between them and Till finds he misses feeling Ivan’s arm brushing against his when they walked in Anakt Garden. He keeps glancing at Ivan, eyes darting from his face to his arm and for a second, he considers leaning over to at least feel the slightest warmth radiating off of Ivan. Then he realizes how much he sounds like a loser and stops himself. 

As the road turns into grass then sand, Ivan takes off his shoes in one smooth motion and Till follows suit. Feeling sand in his toes, Till can’t help but marvel at the way it feels. They’d only ever seen the ocean in the books that Ivan would bring in from Unsha’s house. The pictures of an endless expanse of water that presses against the shore enamoured the two of them as kids. Till remembers sitting against their tree, imagining what it’d be like to see it for themselves. Till would ramble, letting his imagination run wild and then Ivan would temper his thoughts with facts from the book. 

With a glance, Till watches Ivan almost experimentally wiggling his toes in the sand. There’s a look in his eyes that told Till the gears were turning his head as he updated his understanding of the beach. He seemed satisfied with the soft but grainy texture and his lips quirked up to show his snaggletooth. His quiet happy expression has Till reeling from how much he looks like the boy he saw that night under the stars. 

Not quite as bright. But close.

 There’s a couple of large rocks laid across the beach and Ivan eventually climbs onto one with a flat enough surface, sitting facing the ocean. Till climbs on next to him, still careful to leave that space between them.

The hush of the waves against the sand fills the silence and he keeps his gaze on the reflection of the moon in the water. Sweat beats against Till’s forehead despite the cool breeze as he tries to figure out how to start.

“It’s better than the books.” Ivan says first like an offering of peace.

A wave of relief waves over him and Till hums, kicking the sand, “It is. It’d probably look nicer in the day though. I can’t see shit.”

“I don’t mind it. The water reflects the stars, making it just look like one big sky.” The other muses, kicking some sand back and shrugging, “I like it.”

Till looks to the horizon. It’s a tranquil night, the stars glittering a quiet white glow and sky gradient from dark blue to a purple as the day comes to a proper end. It’s beautiful. Till had been so preoccupied with the ocean and the beach that he had almost forgotten the sky that completes the picture.

“…yeah, you’re right.” Till licks his lips and suddenly, he feels so tired, “You usually are.”

Ivan lets out a small huff of a laugh, shaking his head while swinging his legs.

They fall back in silence that feels a bit lighter but Till finds himself squirming anyway. How is he supposed to start this? There’s so much they need to talk about and even a whole night doesn’t seem like enough to encompass everything that needs to be said. He’s pretty sure that he’s still missing some things too. 

“…so what are you looking for?” Ivan’s voice cuts through the quiet.

“Looking for?”

“Looking for in this. Us. Whatever you want to talk about.” Ivan states, keeping his eyes carefully ahead of him, “What do you want?”

Till doesn’t really know either.

“…answers, I guess. Just fucking answers to— I don’t know— all of it! Why did you do what you did? What was it supposed to mean?” He spits, the frustration that’s been building for months finally bursting out, “What does any of it mean? T-The flowers, you stealing my stuff, everything. I’m tired of not knowing anything. I just…I want you to be honest with me.”

Ivan is quiet, the corner of his eyes tightening as he still refuses to look Till straight on. Till has half the mind to grab his face to just force him to fucking look at him. He needs to feel that weight on him again.

“….thats a lot. I don’t know if I have the answers to all that.” Ivan mumbles, his shoulders going up around his neck and the sight is almost pitiful.

Till sighs, but relents and starts off simple.

“…are you mad at me?”

His voice comes out shaky as he asks that, clenching his fist against the rock as he waits.

Silence.

Then, “Yeah. I think so.”

Despite the terrible guilt that starts to build in his throat,Till finds a small part of him feels relieved hearing that. Knowing that he wasn’t crazy, that the sharper tones and wary smile on Ivan’s face had not been in his imagination. 

“Is…is that why you didn’t come find me?”

Ivan is silent again before shrugging, still keeping eyes on the horizon, “Not…really.”

“Then why didn’t you come find me?”

Ivan hesitates but replies, “Why didn’t you?”

Shame pools in his cheeks and Till has to turn away because he doesn’t have an answer. Or rather, there aren’t any words that can describe why. Scared is the only thing that comes to mind and it doesn’t feel good enough. 

“I just…couldn’t. Like I’d be standing at the entrance of the hospital and I just couldn’t. I-I don’t know, I really really don’t.” Till tries to explain but it all just sounds so fucking childish and stupid, “Sorry I can’t give you a better answer than that.” 

Ivan finally turns his head, the weight of his stare on him again. To his credit, Ivan doesn’t look angry. He hardly looks surprised. 

His gaze is unwavering, burning a hole into Till’s retinas as Till refuses to turn away.

 Then Ivan sighs, letting himself lose their staring contest and focusing onto a button on Till’s jacket.

“I didn’t want to be alone.”

“That doesn’t make sense.”

“If you were forced to see me again…I think I’d feel more lonely together with you than I would be alone.“

The words are quiet, said with barely more emotion than anything else said in the conversation but they hurt more than the bullet that shot into his neck. But they ring true. A horrible, deep pit forms at the bottom of Till’s chest and a wave of guilt washes over him. God, he’s the worst person alive.

“So you hate me, then? For what I did to you? All of it?” His voice squeaks and his head feels so fuzzy, he’s getting nauseous. He almost heaves, having to stare at the ground to try to keep the dizziness from tipping him over. 

“What?” Ivan sounds surprised but Till can’t bear looking at him so he keeps his eyes to the ground, “Hate you? Why would you think that?”

And Till kind of wants to laugh because even when they’re trying to talk honestly and understand what’s going on in their heads, it’s like they’re speaking two completely different languages. Because that’s what it has always been, hasn’t it? They’ve been speaking, but their words go past each other.

“I don’t understand you.” He states incredulously, the simplicity of the statement somehow encompassing every complicated moment of their lives.

Ivan snorts, a sardonic smile on his face as he says, “I don’t understand me either.”

Till gets the impression that perhaps even within Ivan, there’s a language barrier between his soul, his heart and his mind.

“Do you ever…regret saving me?”

Ivan pauses, thinking deeply before replying, "Sometimes."

Which stung a lot, even though Till figured that would be the answer. After all, saving him meant losing so much. He opens his mouth to apologize but Ivan interrupts him

“But,” Ivan picks at the sand that has wedged itself into the cracks of the rock, a quiet smile on his face, “The alternative would be completely unacceptable so I end up not regretting it after that.”

The sheer adoration that leaks into his words makes Till’s heart tremble because he can hear how deep Ivan’s feelings are. It’s only a hint of it but he can feel the weight behind it. More than he can comprehend. It feels like staring into the abyss and Till tries to think about what he has done to earn this and he can’t think of anything. 

He’s not good at anything other than making music and he can’t even do that anymore without throwing up. He was hardly pleasant to be around, having had a temper and pride that made all of his words bite instead of comfort when they were children. He didn’t get better with age, getting more and more volatile until almost everything he said was either dismissive or angry. In the last few weeks leading up to their round, he wasn’t even there at all. Too busy being lost in his own mind to muster more than a ‘good luck’ to Ivan before they knowingly strutted to their deaths. And now he’s a ghost in his own body, barely more than the shell he forcibly pieced together to have this very conversation. 

Till isn’t worth anything at all. He doesn’t fucking get it.

“I thought you hated me. You should hate me.” Till says, gritting his teeth and scratching his nails over his arms until the skin is raw, “I– I don’t understand, what am I missing? Why don’t you hate me?”

He finally turns to look at Ivan and instead of a look of disgust, anger, any kind of emotion he could understand, all he sees is confusion. Quiet sorrow. Something else that’s on the tip of his tongue and he wants to spit it out because it sours something in his soul. His stomach roils and he’s nauseous just looking at Ivan. 

“Till…” Ivan starts in that baritone voice of his that makes Till want to shrink away from it even though it’s so lovely and smooth, “I don’t hate you. I could never.”

Till throws himself away from him, shouting, “Yeah, I know! I know that! You’ve proven that over and over again, I know! Why though?! Why won’t you just hate me?!”

“Would you like me to?”

Yes. He thinks, tears welling in his eyes as he looks into Ivan’s and he finally recognizes that acid feeling that’s been coursing through his veins since he woke up. Please just hate me. Please.

It’s easier that way.

Ivan watches him, tracing Till’s shaking form with practised eyes and Till feels himself stiffen to try and hide…something. 

“This isn’t your fault.”

Till gasps before glaring at the floor now, watching the way Ivan’s shadow remains so still.

“Till, it’s not your fault. What happened to me isn’t your fault. I don’t hate you.”

The shadow grows closer and Till shakes his head vehemently, taking steps back as the shadow pursues. 

“Shut up.”

“I don’t hate you, Till. I never have, I don’t now and I never will.”

“Shut up! Just shut up! Go away, live your life without me, just fucking hate me! Please! Please just—” His arms fly up to hide his face, his breath hitches and his voice halts into a sorrowful whine, “Please just hate me. It would make you hurt less so please…”

Hands reach for him and for a moment, he panics until they just gently grip his forearms. They pull them down until Till blinks his eyes open and all he sees is Ivan, who simply smiles in that heartbreaking way he’s only seen bathed in red hues. 

“I can’t hate you, Till. I love you too much for that.”

At that, Till screams in anguish because he’s known the truth the whole time but hearing it makes everything suddenly focus into clarity. The guilt that he’s been carrying leaves out his vocal chords into the air like a discorded song. The terrible vibrations shake his core and he feels his knees go weak. As always, arms reach for him to steady his feet and he just slumps into them because the fight is beginning to leave him. 

 “I’m sorry I can’t make this easier for you. I’m a selfish bastard like that.” Ivan mumbles, echoing his words and Till shakes his head into his arms, heaving sobs. 

You’re wrong. I’m the selfish bastard. Me. Not you. 

“I’m sorry I burdened you with these selfish feelings.” Ivan whispers into the top of his head and Till tenses, “This is all my fault. For making you feel this way.”

“Shut up. God, shut up.” he growls into his shoulder, shaking, “You still don’t get it. You still— Do you even understand why I’m so upset?”

There’s a quiet pause and Ivan replies, “For me loving you?”

Till bursts, shoving him away with tearful shout, “No, you fucking asshole! That’s not it at all! You think I’m mad you love me?! Why?!”

Why when love has been the thing he’s been yearning for his whole life?

“I make you miserable, Till!”

“God, what aren’t you getting?! You make me happy, Ivan! So fucking happy! I’m sorry I’ve never shown you before but you have always made me happy!” Till heaves a breath, “I’m mad at myself! For ignoring you, for not running away with you, for fucking hurting you! I fucking hate myself!”

Till pants, voice watery as he furiously wipes the tears that have sprouted in his eyes. A cold sensation runs across his head and settles into his bones. 

Ivan looks stunned and he feels almost smug that he could make him so shocked. Almost.

“...I hate myself too.” Ivan puts simply, like it’s meant to make Till feel better and he can’t even begin to imagine why Ivan would think that, “I don’t think I can recall a time I looked in the mirror and liked what I saw. Something was always wrong with me. Something everyone else knew but I could only feel but not see. I barely felt human most days.”

Till thinks back to baby Ivan, when they had met in the garden. The way the other unnerved him as a kid, with his impassive face and strange behaviours. He thought Ivan was a freak in all the ways he couldn’t understand him. The guilt crawls to his throat as he remembers all the times he shouted at him, talked down to him, made every performative attempt to distance himself while still silently begging for his attention. 

Ivan— despite all of his idiosyncrasies— was talented, smart and most importantly, his best friend. And Till has been hurting his best friend for as long as they’ve known each other. 

Till feels like the worst person alive. Plain and simple.

He curls up, covering his face as he cries, “Shit—! I’m so fucking sorry…! If I taught you that, I—“

His breath hitches and for a moment, all is still when Ivan laughs, loud and so so wrong.  

“You certainly think highly of yourself.” He hums as he looks out, “I was broken long before you.” A hesitation and then, “You were what saved me. You…made me feel human despite it all. You just…eventually became part of the pattern.”

Muffled against his own arms, Till asks wetly, “Is…is that why you’re mad at me? For being a part of the pattern? Is it…Is it because I didn’t run away with you back then?”

Ivan stares at him for a second before he stops and thinks. Till quietly notes that Ivan’s been doing that a lot lately. He never used to.

Before, Ivan never seemed to miss a beat of conversation, always having something to say in a way that almost seemed practiced. Now that he thinks about it, that’s probably because it was. Ivan’s guardian likely trained him with perfect answers, taught him how to come off as eloquent and clever without ever having Ivan actually needing to think about what he was saying at all. He would just spout stuff he knew would get a certain reaction. 

Now, he takes his time with his answers when he doesn’t have one already. Like he’s really making sure he means what he says. 

It’s…reassuring to know that whatever Ivan ends up saying now, he means it.

“No.” Ivan says firmly, leaving no room for argument, “You going back…it wasn't surprising. It was merely…inevitable. I just… had hoped I’d be wrong. For once. But like you said, I’m usually right.”

“…I never meant to hurt you.” Till painfully laughs, the force shaking his ribs, “God, I’m such a fraud. I was always saying how much of a rebel I was but when I actually got a chance at real freedom, I chickened out and ruined everything.”

Ivan shrugs, “I’m not mad that you chose Mizi over me.”

The feeling of being punched echoes over Till’s chest and he almost loses his breath as he reaches for Ivan, shaking his head vehemently.

“That’s not— that’s not true, Ivan. Ivan, Ivan. ” His fingers grasp onto Ivan’s shirt and he sounds bereaved, “Don’t say that, I didn’t choose her.”

“Till.”

“I told you, you made me so happy. I was scared, okay—“

“Till.”

“—and I would never ever trade you for her, you have to understand-!”

“Till!” Ivan shouts and grabs onto the side of Till’s face, stopping his spiralling, “Stop, okay? I’m not mad because of this. It’s not your fault you didn’t love me the same way you loved her.”

A sob escapes his lips, and Till can’t stop his head from dipping. His hands are trembling as they reach up to hold Ivan’s and there’s a desperation in the way he tries to lace their fingers while Ivan lets his grasp become limp. It’s clumsy and Till has to twist their wrists to finally align properly, but he holds on tight, needing some sort of anchor in the mass of emotion he feels. He leans on Ivan’s shoulder face first, reminiscent of the way he did when he was young and tired of the world. He wants to argue. But he can’t. Not when it’s true. 

“…I’m sorry.” 

Ivan hums next to his ear and a hand traces shapes on Till’s back, “Ah, Till. What did I just say? I’m not mad about that. So don’t be sorry.” He shakes his head, his voice taking on a familiar teasing tone that has Till holding him tighter, "There you go again. You’re so bad at listening, Till.”

That makes Till chuckle wetly, “Prick.” Sniffling, he raises his head a bit to allow his eyes to open but he stays close, “So why are you mad at me?”

“Perhaps mad is not the right word for it. Disappointed, I guess? It’s just…I got tired of chasing you all the time. I had hoped when we got here, that things would be different since everything else was. I was. For once, I just wanted you to chase me, look for me. For you to choose to be with me. But you didn’t. And it was...” Ivan mutters, grimacing into Till’s hair, “You make me feel so desperate for your attention and it’s so embarrassing.”

Till takes in his words and squeezes Ivan’s hand every time he can feel the other’s confidence wavering. Because he did expect it. He wanted it. He wanted everything to be simple and easy again but as he feels the breeze brush against his forehead, he realises that their world is so much bigger than before. Going back is not an option.

“…I’m here now.” He croaks, the emotional exhaustion starting to hit hard, “Just late like usual. Sorry about that.”

He finishes speaking, he starts to unconsciously nuzzle into Ivan’s ear apologetically and in a quiet moment of forgiveness, Ivan squeezes his hand back. Relief washes over Till and it almost brings him to tears again. 

After a few more delicate moments, Ivan got up from the rock to get closer to the shore and dip his toes into the water with Till following suit, shivering at the freezing wet feeling and splashing Ivan’s leg.

“I’m mad too.”

“Yeah? Well I suppose if we’re doing this whole being honest thing, then go on.”

“Why did you do…all that you did? The sacrifice, the kiss, any of it.”

If Ivan feels nervous about the topic, he certainly doesn’t show it as his face barely changes as he thinks, “I honestly…don’t know. I thought you’d be fine without me and I guess…I don’t think I could’ve handled it if I had won. I’m not…no, I couldn’t have.”

“And the kiss?”

Mesmerized, Till sees Ivan’s pale face warm in an embarrassed blush as he turns away from him and he almost wants to grab him to turn so he can really memorize the way he looks like this. 

“That was…unplanned. I just knew I didn’t have much time before I died, so I just…followed my instincts.”

“Some fucking instinct…” Till grumbles, “I’m angry you just…made decisions like that on your own and didn’t even fucking…talk to me! That’d you’d think that it wouldn’t affect me! That you would never fucking ask how I felt about anything, you just assume you know everything!”

“Yeah…”

“Well you’re wrong!”

“Correct.”

“You were wrong about everything!”

“I see that now.”

Till growls and he grasps onto him, pulling him in, “Are you even a little bit sorry?”

Ivan doesn’t even hesitate replying, “No.”

And Till wants to get angry. He wants to cuss him out and make it very clear that he’s a fucking idiot for having done what he did but as he looks at Ivan’s eyes, he can’t find it in him.

The resolve in his gaze is too strong and he gets it.

“Fucking bastard.” Is the only thing he can think to say but it doesn’t have any kind of aggressive energy. Just resignation and acceptance.

“Unfortunately.” Ivan replies simply.    

He buries his head deeper, smelling the rebellion’s shampoo in Ivan’s hair and clenching his fists into his shirt, trying memorize every part of him, “Dont’ ever fucking do that again. I mean it. I will be so fucking pissed at you and you’ll have to make it up to me. Big time.”

“Not this time?”

“No…this time I…I get it. There weren't a lot of options. I get that. But now…now we have all the choices in the world. So don’t make the same ones.”

“I thought…I thought you’d be mad about the kiss.”

“I’m not.”

“Oh.”

There’s a pause. Ivan takes a few moments to think and Till takes the time to study Ivan’s face. The way it pinches ever so slightly, the frown that seems almost foreign on his face. Like letting his emotions properly exist is new. It is new. Till finds he appreciates seeing it all there, and he can’t help but think that Ivan looks all the more vibrant for it. 

“What does it mean then?” Ivan finally asks.

“I…” he thinks, “I don’t know. I just know I’m not mad about it.” 

Ivan’s eyes shift around, processing his words uniquely before a heartbreaking smile stretches across his face, “You’re too good, Till.”

He hates how fucking sad Ivan looks, staring off to the sea like he’s loneliest man in the world despite being here with him. He knows what he wants and Till considers just saying what Ivan wants to hear just so Ivan would look at him with a smile again.

“Ivan, I lo—“

“Stop it.”

Till blinks at the interruption before his mouth twists into a frown and he spits, “What?”

“Don’t—don’t do that.” Ivan practically pleads, looking more aggrieved than before and Till feels his stomach churning terribly because he can’t seem to stop hurting the guy even when he doesn’t want to.

“Don’t do what?”

“Do that. Say that. Not unless you mean it.”

“I do mean it.”

”I know. I know, I just…I just don’t want to hear you say it.”

Now he’s confused, “You let Mizi say it to you all of the time. Why am I different?”

Ivan isn’t meeting his eyes, looking around as if he’s trying to find an answer before he says, “I don’t think I could take hearing it from you if it’s not in the way I want you to mean it. My heart wouldn’t survive it.”

Till takes a little step back and he wants to argue back but he finds he has nothing to argue over. He understands perfectly. So he just nods and is silent for a minute.

The two of them just watch the waves ebb and flow into the beach before disappearing into the sea again. 

“…I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“For not being able to make you happy.”

“I am happy.” Ivan quietly argues and Till scoffs.

“You look like the saddest man alive right now and you’re telling me you’re happy?”

“I am. You do make me happy. Just because you won’t return my feelings doesn’t mean you don’t make me happy.”

“…don’t.”

“Hm?”

“Won’t implies that I won’t ever return your feelings. Don’t feels more…right.” Till says and he can feel how loaded that statement is.

Ivan stares at him with wide eyes, a blush tinting his cheeks as his words sink in and he whispers, “Please don’t give me false hope.”

“It’s not false hope.” His words are spilling out of his mouth and he kinda wants to stop himself but honesty just rolls off his tongue, “I-I’m not trying to lead you on and promise you anything, I’m just…saying. It’s not…impossible to imagine me…feeling that way for you. You’re my best friend. More doesn’t seem that big of a leap.” 

The air is charged with something that practically zaps his edges and he can’t stop watching the way Ivan listens and processes his words with almost terrifying focus. It makes his insides tingle and he can’t decide if he wants to run away or bury himself into Ivan to smother it down.

“I’m not sure if you saying that makes this more or less difficult.” Ivan murmurs when he finally finds his voice and Till helplessly shrugs.

“Me neither.”

“Then why did you say it?”

Till shrugs again, “I dunno. I just…wanted to I guess. It felt honest. Isn’t that what we’re trying to do? Be more honest?”

Ivan shuts his mouth, his hand reaching to the back of his neck to twist his curls around his fingers over and over again. It’s a nervous tick Till noticed Ivan developing some time ago and he has to fight his mouth from twisting into a smile of endearment. Ivan had always been an impassable wall, learning from a young age how to control every body movement so that he would only move when told to. Now though, Till doesn’t think he’s even aware he’s playing with his hair. It makes sense why he would though. Till finds he also has a fascination with the way Ivan’s hair falls down in curls and waves, his eyes tracing the edges like a path.

After a minute of just silence, Ivan finally mumbles, “Okay.”

Till nods back, “Okay.”

Ivan suddenly starts to laugh, “Perhaps we’ve both been stupid.”

And Till can agree with that. 

“So…what now?”

“That’s up to you.” Ivan smirks and Till shoves him.

“It’s up to both of us.”

 “Then, what do you want to do with your freedom?”

“I dunno. I’ve kinda just been doing the motions.” Till shifts side to side on his feet, “What about you? Do you like working at the bar?”

Ivan shrugs, “ The bar is just where I was recommended to. I don’t really know what I actually want to do. I don’t even know where to even start.”

Till hums before an idea pops into his head and he turns to Ivan, “What if I help you?”

“Huh?”

“Look, neither of us know what to do with our freedom so what if we figure it out together?”

Ivan looks at him with sparkling eyes, mouth agape as he asks quietly, “You’d want to do that with me?”

“What have I been telling you? I don’t really know what I want or what I’m doing. I’m sorry I can’t really…answer how I truly feel about you. I just…know I want to do it all with you. If…that’s what you want too.” 

A second passes and Ivan starts laughing, breathless in the way he expresses his elation, “If I want to?” He wipes a tear from his eye, his smile something that Till has been looking for this whole time, “Till, it’s literally all I’ve ever wanted from you.”

Ah, there it is.

“Well, then let’s start with you quitting your job at the bar. I know it freaks you out so we can start fresh tomorrow.” Till states, crossing his arms with a tilt of his head.

The other smiles and starts walking, “Fine then. But you’re explaining that to my boss. I better see you at my door in the morning. Don’t sleep in, I wanna start bright and early.”

Ivan walks quickly ahead, splashing as he goes and finally, everything settles inside of Till. He can see the statement for what it is. A question. A test. Till smiles to himself. 

“Yeah yeah. Of course you’d still stick with your perfect idol schedule. You can sleep in, you know.” He says as he follows Ivan out of the water, reciprocating with a  promise. 

As they walk back side by side, their arms brush against each other and Till realizes he’d happily spend the rest of his life keeping pace with Ivan. For so long, the boy has always been behind him, a presence that felt sturdy. And when he ran ahead of him, barreling towards an end that Till knew he couldn’t follow, his heart stopped. 

So now with a second chance, he’ll keep pace. Ivan is now moving ahead to a future that is purely his own and Till finds that all he wants is to be a part of it. So he keeps pace, never wanting them to be separated again.

Chapter Text

Every morning, Ivan does a special morning routine. 

He always has. It’s the way he prefers things. Even when he was a child in the slums and his life was just putting out metaphorical and literal fires, he always made sure he did his morning routine. Of course the specifics on the routine has changed over the various stages of his life, but the principle was always the same. 

Start your day off right and maybe the rest won’t be so bad. 

He’s pretty sure he learned this from somewhere, someone, but the memories of who that person used to be has been almost totally lost and the idea of trying to find what is missing doesn’t seem quite worth it. 

(He does wonder if that person would be happy to know that this one principle is what remains of them to Ivan. )

As a kid, his routine started with waking up in his little box that was hopefully not wet from rain and standing up, checking to make sure he had all of his limbs. He’d tap on each one just to be sure they were there and had some feeling in them. After that he’d check to make sure all of his fingers and toes were intact, wiggling each one to be sure.

(A girl he knew had lost feeling in one of her legs and eventually had to get it removed from one of the few adults in the slums who were kind enough to try and help with their shoddy tools. She survived the initial surgery but she didn't last long after that, barely making it back to where they were sleeping for the night. The other kids in the group all agreed that Ivan should inherit the box she used to sleep in since Ivan had been the person to carry the girl back to base and the other kids felt bad that some of the girl’s blood got on his leg. He accepted the box. After all, it was the best one.

The girl’s name was Sophie.

He remembered because her name was etched into the side of the box.)

Once the checks were done, he’d go out of his way to try and make his hands somewhat clean with whatever they had around. Most of the time, all they had were some rags that were equally as dirty and the best he could do was scrap off the top layer of grim. Sometimes, they’d actually have clean rags and he’d rub off as much of the dirt as he could until his hands were left with only a thin layer of dust. On really good days, they’d be near some water and he’d get to wash his hands. The water was usually horribly polluted but the point was the feeling of being clean and stepping into a new day feeling fresh. After all that, he’d go and wake up the other kids to start their day trying to survive. 

Every day, the same start. It was comforting, in a way. So little of Ivan’s life was consistent that having one, even a small thing, made it feel a little more bearable. 

When he had been captured and became a pet human, his life had completely changed. Instead of the constant ever-changing threat of death that permeated his life in the slums, his life had become a terribly monotonous march into a future that had been determined the moment he had been purchased. 

Every part of who he used to be was scrubbed and chipped away into a being carved from marble. Every physical imperfection he ever had was erased using more money than little Ivan even knew existed in the universe. The scars, his scraggly nails, even his failing eyesight, all torn away into an image of perfection. The only thing they left was the little snaggletooth that poked his lips. 

Something about you needs to still look human, they said. 

Still human. 

Like he wasn’t anymore. And when he looked in the mirror, he understood what they meant. Nothing about him seemed human other than the one small imperfection.

(When they first changed him, he remembers poking and prodding his face for hours, trying to find some trace of himself that felt real. It was like looking at a doppelgänger. When he twisted his face, so did the reflection. It was only after he pulled at himself so much he bruised his face that he realized; he was the doppelgänger and the boy that was the original Ivan died somewhere in the machines they put him through. 

He was scolded later that night, the segyein slapping him where the bruises were so it would sting extra. Afterwards, they put him through the machine again and his face didn’t have the bruises anymore. Like they never hurt him.

They necklace that they give him absolutely fucking massive. They put it around him like it’s bondage bondage graduation bear no no no nobody somewhere sent him to bed without dinner.

As he curled in his bed, he remembers thinking that he liked the starving pain. It was real. 

And familiar too.)

And so, his morning ritual changed. He didn’t need to check for his limbs, of course they’d still be there. He didn’t need to wash his hands, the various segyeins tasked with making sure he never looked anything less than perfect would wash him so he was perfectly clean. So instead, he’d wake up and in the few minutes he had before he’d be pulled out of his room to start the vigorous morning regime, he’d make his way to the mirror in his bathroom. He’d open his mouth and run his finger over his tooth. Oftentimes he’d wonder when Unsha would get sick of looking at his almost human self and decide that he’d rather have him look like a doll, pulling out his only anchor to humanity he had left. If he had any extra time left, he’d practice smiling in the mirror until he’d hear his bedroom door swish open and he’d make his way out to meet them, knowing fighting them wouldn’t get him anywhere good. 

Once he started going to Anakt Garden, he continued the ritual but added the extra step of checking the box he kept hidden under his bed. It had all of the memorabilia he kept over the years and they became proof of humanity having at least touched him. Notes that he’d pass with Sua in class, pressed flowers that Mizi would give to him, just about anything Till gave him no matter how little they were. He’d shake the box slightly, listening to the way they knocked against each other before he’d count each one out loud, tracing the edge of each object every morning until he knew the shape of them by heart. 

His favourite object was a terrible drawing of himself that Till had made in a fit of rage. Despite how little effort the boy had put into it — just wanting to shut him up — Ivan found himself running his fingers over the crayon and imitating the shaky smile on the drawing’s face. A warmth would bloom in his chest; a small tiny reminder that he was seen at least once by the person he wanted most and he could continue his day. 

That box is gone now. 

It had been left behind in his room and the only thing Ivan has left from that time is the bullet wound scars that litter his torso. He finds it kind of funny how when he was younger, his body was riddled with old wounds that the segyein eventually erased and now, he has wounds again but only ones that the segyein themselves have placed there. 

Nowadays, he’ll trace over the scars, feeling the ridges where the bullet broke his skin apart and embedded itself into him. He’ll sit and remember that night as best he can. In a strange way, he doesn’t want to forget what happened. It had been horrible but the further he gets away from that time, the more it feels like a dream. 

But it had been real.

Ivan wants to remember what the segyein did to him. The pain they inflicted in the name of entertainment or what was best for him despite their only interest being themselves. They don’t get to get away with it. Not in his mind, at least.

So in the morning after his talk with Till, he wakes up at his usual time with a slight flutter in chest and a quiet hope that maybe Till meant what he said. He’s not one to be hopeful however, so he tries not to excite himself too much. Ivan swings his legs over his bed and makes his way to the mirror, preparing his day to be like the others.

Then there's a knock at his door.

He hesitates for a second before he quietly opens the door, his eyes widening slightly at the view of Till dressed and ready for the day. 

He came. He really came.

“Morning.” Till greets, raising an eyebrow at his slightly awed expression, “What?”

“I just—“

“Didn’t think I’d actually come?”

It feels harsh to say yes but Ivan also never tended to care about that.

“Yeah.”

Till, to his credit, didn’t seem to take any offense but rather seemed more guilty and rubbing the back of his neck.

“Well…I’m here.”

Ivan glances at his mirror and thinks about their promise to be honest with each other. He doesn’t recall ever telling him about the morning rituals and just how important they are to him.

“I haven’t gotten ready yet.” Ivan mutters and Till’s eyes slide to the bed. 

“I can just wait on your bed while you get ready, that’s fine.” he says and with no other reason to say no, Ivan lets him in. 

Their conversation is clumsy, a nervous air in the atmosphere that makes them slip on their words and come off as just a little bit stilted. How do they even talk to each other normally? None of their conversations were really normal, not when they were always monitored and had a million things they had to think about when they said anything. They made a promise to be honest but there’s a part of Ivan that wonders if their honest pieces will fit together anymore. 

Ivan lets Till come into his room and he doesn’t have the capacity to care that his room is a bit messy and Till has to hop over a pile of clothes. The other looks mildly surprised at the mess on the floor but doesn’t comment on it. 

“Are those your outside clothes?” he asks before Till moves to sit.

“Outside clothes?”

“The ones you wear outside.”

“Uh, yeah.”

“Okay, then just move the blanket so you can sit on it.”

Till does that, but he questions, “Why?”

“I don’t like outside clothes on my sheets. Feels gross.”

“You didn’t have a problem with it in Anakt.” 

(Sometimes if Till was in a good mood, he’d follow Ivan to his room and they’d play together. A shot of warmth would bloom over Ivan’s chest as he watched Till sitting on his bed. 

When he was being particularly delusional, he’d imagine Till staying with him and sleeping together in the same bed. Maybe he’d even curl their fingers together while they slept. 

Till never did but the fantasies would keep Ivan feeling fluffy for days.)

Ivan turns to the mirror, looking at Till’s curious expression in the reflection, “That’s because there were no outside clothes. We were never actually outside.”

“But there were trees and dirt and stuff.”

“Not real trees or dirt.” He laughs a little, “Trust me. I knew what the outside was really like and Anakt Garden was definitely an indoor space.”

“...you did?”

The question is simple, but Ivan can hear the larger question that echoes behind it. Now that he thinks about it, he doesn’t think he’s ever mentioned his origins to Till. He never thought it was relevant. 

And maybe, deep down inside, he felt like it was shameful. He hadn’t come from some well known factory or specifically bred to be the best possible human pet. He was just a kid found in the slums. A rock that some segyeins found they could polish enough to look like a diamond even when at the end of the day, it’s still just a rock.

Ivan has always been okay with letting himself be shrouded in mystery, all the terrible details that make up all of him losing their shape. But he’s finding he’s getting tired of the haze and when his eyes meet Till’s in the mirror, he sees curious, non-judgmental eyes that just want answers. And maybe, just for once he wants to be seen. 

They made a promise to try honesty.

So he’ll try. 

“Yeah.” He fiddles with the edge of his loose sleep shirt, careful to keep his tone neutral, “Before Anakt, I grew up in the slums. Not sure where or when I was born but I spent my life outside. Anakt is quite clean in comparison."

Ivan hears the rustling of Till shifting on his bed, probably a bit uncomfortable and needing to move around to alleviate the imaginary pressure. There’s a quiet second where Till seems to open and close his mouth, but Ivan makes no move to turn around.

“I…I think I remember that.”

Ivan blinks and that gets him to turn, “What?”

“I remember that.” Till says again, more sure as he slips off his shoes and crosses his legs, “I saw you. It was…a really long time ago and I wasn’t sure but I think I saw you in the sales room. You had messy hair and were wearing a rag thing.”

A memory lights in his mind and he recalls glittering eyes watching him through glass for only a few moments, getting a few seconds of connection before he was shoved into another room to be washed and shipped off to the auction house. 

“That was you… You were being sold for a discount.” He mutters and Till huffs a sardonic laugh. 

“Yup, that’s me. Guess I was too bitey for their tastes and they needed to get rid of me quickly.” He hums before his teal eyes bore into him again, “I didn’t know you were from the slums.”

“Well, I didn’t tell you.”

“I didn’t ask.”

“You did now.”

Ivan frowns as he watches Till’s face twist into a guilty expression. Ivan doesn’t know what to do with a Till like this. The Till he knew hardly mulled over anything, especially in regards to him. The boy always ran on instinct and faced everything unapologetically, with full confidence in his actions. It was the same Till that stood up to the guard dog and the one that’d smack away any segyein hands that wanted to pet his head. A being of pure fire. 

This one is almost timid and is apologetically grovelling at every opportunity. The version of Till in front of him is more like the one he saw cry over a crushed flower, weeping over it despite the flower not even being actually real. Ivan said as much at the time but Till had just laid bent over it, feeling guilty until Ivan led him away. Even then, he was teary-eyed for the rest of the day. 

Ivan feels like the flower. The apologies have been said and yet, Till is still fretting over things that he doesn’t have to apologize for. 

“Anyway, let me get ready.” Ivan says, pulling his shirt over his head and throwing it onto the bed.

For a second, he considers just skipping his ritual and just getting ready but the thought of doing that makes something roil in his gut and he can’t bear to do that. He can feel Till’s stare on his back as he turns to the mirror to look himself over and start tracing the wounds. There’s a few moments where his room is silent as he goes over the ridges and the rips, when there’s rustling from the bed again. 

“What are you doing?” Till asks, quiet as to not disturb the silence. 

“I, uh, I do a ritual in the morning before I get ready. It has changed over the years but I just feel the need to do it. Makes me feel like the day can start right.” Ivan explains, not sure how to encompass the gravity the action actually has for him. 

Till doesn’t do what he expects and just accept it. Instead, he sits up and asks, “So um, what’s with this one?”

He takes a deep breath but opens his mouth, “Well, I wake up and go over the scars on my body. To make sure they’re still there.” Ivan starts, continuing his tracing, “When I was taken in, I used to have a lot of scars from the slums. I don’t know how but Unsha didn’t see fit to keep them, so he found a way to get rid of them. They modified everything about me. All the evidence of the slums were gone and over time, the memories felt more and more like dreams. Every procedure they did afterwards also had their scars erased. Truthfully, I don’t remember how much of my body hasn't been changed in some way. There’s no proof anything happened at all.” Ivan’s hand gets a touch rougher as he thinks, “I don’t want to forget what they’ve done to me.”

In the mirror, Ivan watches Till run his eyes over his torso and take in every detail. Then, Till gets up from the bed with his hand slightly outstretched until it hovers over one of the scars, making it almost tingle.

“…can I do it too?”

“Why?”

“I don’t want to forget either.”

Ivan doesn’t dare to properly face him but he silently nods. He hears Till breathe in and Ivan can’t help but do the same. After another moment, warm fingers touch his skin and he does his best not to jump. 

Till traces the ridges of the bullet scars, quiet as he studies every bump. Ivan tries not to move, as if he might break the spell that keeps the both of them so docile. After a moment, he sees Till’s face contort in sorrow and he pushes his shirt down fast. 

“You don’t need to keep looking, it makes you uncomfortable–”

“I need to see what I’ve done to you.”

Ivan whips around, deciding he really can’t handle this Till, “You didn’t do this to me.”

“Even if you told me that a hundred times, I wouldn’t believe it.”

“Then I’ll tell you a hundred and one times.”

Till clenches his fist, shaking his head before he sighs and presses his forehead into Ivan’s shoulder, his fingers coming back to touch the scars with all the gentleness in the world. Ivan lets him and gently, he brushes his own hands across Till’s shoulder, a question. The other leans into him, so with his own gentle touch, he thumbs the ridges of Till’s neck scar. The shape of it explodes out and almost like crashing stars, it collides into the engraving of his name and distorts the letters. In exchange, Till’s other hand reaches out to trace Ivan’s engraving on his wrist. 

They stay like for a bit, feeling each other and checking to make sure the other is still present with them. 

Then, “Urak didn’t have the money to get rid of the scars. So he was careful to make sure any were only in places he could hide with clothes. The neck one is the only scar you can see.”

Ivan knows this. He’s seen the way Urak treated Till, how he both loathed all the ways Till was inconvenient and yet was desperate for Till to become a good investment. Despite this, he still burns with an anger that makes his hands hold him that much tighter and he fights the urge to hide Till away where no one can hurt him again. 

Till, unbothered by his tightening grasp, simply hugs him back and says, “I’ll show them to you another time. And uh, you can tell me about the scars you don’t have anymore. That way you’re not the only one who knows about them.”

His words make Ivan’s eyes feel watery and he can’t articulate how much that truly means to him so he just nuzzles into the side of Till’s head, breathing him in deeply so that he can settle in his lungs. 

“Freak.” Till mutters but it comes out his lips feeling soft and warm as he talks into his ear, “Come on, get ready. I promised I’d help you today.”

And so Ivan lets go but feels a bit more steady than he ever has before.

Till brings Ivan to the hangar first. It feels like a decent place to start and without much else to go on, Till is willing to try anything. 

The moment they step into the hangar, the sound of the others working echo against the metal walls. It’s quite loud, with banging and the typical amount of chattering that Till has learned to tune out. Ivan clearly hasn’t though, the sounds making the smallest grimace appear on his face. 

“Come on, my stuff is further back.” Till says, gently taking Ivan by the arm and leading him deeper in.

“It’s noisy.” 

“Astute observation, genius.” He shrugs, “You get used to it. It kinda just becomes white noise after a while.”

“Does it now.”

They stop in front of Till’s bike and the man stretches his back with a sigh, pulling off his jacket and hooking it onto the wall.

“Alright, I’ve got a few repairs you could help me with. Nothing complicated, I’ll handle those. Just simple stuff.” He says, picking up one of the books on his desk and handing it to Ivan, “Here, there’s some instructions on page twelve and fifteen that should walk you through the repairs.”

Ivan blinks, taking the book into his hands before nodding slowly, “Right.”

Till turns to his bike, slipping on his gloves and starting the repairs. He really enjoys the sense of accomplishment he gets when he does something with his own two hands. Ivan has always been a bit techy so maybe he’d like this too?

Getting down onto the ground, he starts his day. 

After a while of fixing up his bike, Till suddenly realizes that Ivan hasn’t walked over yet. Till was under his bike so he slid himself out from under it. Blinking, he lifts his head and sees Ivan hunched over the book, seemingly engrossed in it.

“Ivan?”

“Huh?” Ivan mumbles absentmindedly before blinking, “Oh, right. Whoops.”

“What’s got you so distracted?” Till asks as Ivan walks over to him, sliding the book onto the table before crouching next to him.

“I just found their explanations for how machinery works fascinating.” Ivan replies before looking at the bike, “I think I’ve got enough to start.”

“Right, well get down here then.” 

For a second, Ivan pauses and a flash of something goes across his eyes before it disappears and he kneels on the ground with a wrench in hand. Obviously, Till notices the look and frowns.

“You good?”

“Peachy.” Ivan replies almost suspiciously neutral as he starts to twist the bolts.

Till usually would just say something right then and there—he’s not one for dragging things out— but instead he decides to observe. He watches the way Ivan fixes his bike with a precision that he carries with everything he does and how Ivan seems to enjoy the repetitive motion of what they’re doing. The fixes are mostly mindless, so they have the brain power to chat while they work. Not about anything important, just chatter that would keep the mind occupied. But Till notices things.

Ivan doesn’t seem to like getting low on the ground, leaving all the repairs that require him to do that to the end. He doesn’t touch the oil jug much and even when he does, he keeps a careful two fingers on it and nothing more. He seems to get tired, the constant physical work making him grimace more than give satisfaction like it does to Till.

Conclusion; Ivan doesn’t like this.

Till waits a bit for Ivan to speak up and tell him that they should move on. 

But he doesn’t. 

He just keeps working, glancing between the book and the bike while talking about nonsense. So he waits. And he waits. And waits some more until Till can’t take it. He was trying to be patient, really he was. To trust that Ivan will be honest with him especially since he showed him such a sign of trust earlier this morning. 

But at the end of the day, change is hard and sometimes you gotta force it.

“Ivan.”

“Yes?” Ivan looks up from his work, eyes innocently wide like a lying bastard, “Something wrong?”

“I could ask you the same thing.”

Ivan, a seasoned liar, simply looks him in the eye and tilts his head, “What are you talking about?”

Till kinda wants to get angry, to pry the answer out of him. But he tempers his feelings, taking a deep breath and standing up.

“Are you liking this? Do you want to do this?” He asks, eyebrows raised and Ivan does a little side look.

“I wouldn’t mind doing this instead of bartending. It’s somewhat therapeutic with how repetitive it is.” Ivan says and Till can tell there’s a grain of truth in it, “Is this all you do?”

“Not really. I just needed to do repairs today. Usually I fix the resistance’s trucks or do deliveries around the camp.” Till replies and puts his hands on his hips, “You sure you’re good with doing this?”

“You enjoy it.” Ivan states vaguely and Till squints.

“Do you?”

“I find some enjoyment.” 

Frustratingly vague as always. Till feels a slight twinge of hurt. They promised to be honest with each other but here Ivan is, lying again. He can’t seem to get why Ivan would lie about this, it hardly really matters.

Glancing over to where the hangar opens up to the track, Till points to it.

“Do you want to take the bike out for a spin?” He asks, “If you really want to do this, you should probably know how to actually ride a motorbike.” 

Ivan hesitates but nods, “Yeah, okay.” 

Till hums, a challenge in his eyes as he leads his bike out onto the track and Ivan follows closely behind. It’s a sunny day so the conditions are pretty good for a ride. Till has ridden around the track a bunch of times before since Isaac set him up on it to learn how to bike too. He kicks up the kickstand  and balances the bike against his hip.

Turning to Ivan, he gestures, “It’s all yours. Let’s see if you can do a few rounds on the track.”

There’s a flash of a grimace that crosses Ivan’s face, barely more than a twitch of his eye but Till notices and he readies for Ivan to admit that he doesn’t want to do this job. He even has a smug response ready since it’s good to be prepared. But when Ivan just seems to steel himself and make his way to the bike, Till muffles a sigh. No one can say Ivan isn’t determined, though this feels like a strange hill to die on. Weirdo.

With a bit of amusement, he watches as Ivan climbs onto his bike with a cautious expression, like it’s going to bite him. Which is ironic, considering how comfortable he was with the terrifying guard dogs in Anakt. 

(Till never quite understood how he got so close to those things. On occasion, the children were tasked with the care of the large creatures and Till eventually learned to at least be around them. They wouldn’t bother him so long he wasn’t getting into trouble. 

But Ivan had some sort of connection with them. They loved him, letting him get near even when it wasn’t cleaning time. 

Till once walked in on Ivan resting against them, head right up against their massive mouth. For a terrifying second, the creature opened its mouth and Till thought for certain that Ivan wouldn’t have a head anymore. He had been too far to get him but he could feel his feet start to twist in a vain attempt to try. But then a tongue rolled out and licked up the side of Ivan’s head. That’s when Till realized. Oh, they were friends. 

His heart was still racing from the rush of fear that shot through him. He really thought he’d lose Ivan at that moment. 

Till remembers thinking, Too soon, not yet. 

Though in hindsight, any time would have been too soon.)

Ivan is a bit clumsy trying to balance himself and Till actually does snicker when he nearly falls to the side. 

“You having trouble?”

“No.” He gets a pointed glare for that and once Ivan gets on successfully, he gives Till a smug smirk.

Till carefully doesn’t react to it and just slips the helmet onto Ivan’s head, “Alright, give it a few rounds around the track.”

After backing up, Ivan revs the engine and shoots off. Till sits himself on a nearby hill, watching Ivan go. He’s not too bad, though he seems a bit shaky with the controls.

“Whatcha doing?”

Glancing up, he sees Isaac standing over him with his arms crossed and a curious expression.

“I’m helping Ivan figure out what to do around camp.” Till says and he makes an ‘oof’ sound as Isaac shoves his shoulder with a cheerful laugh.

“Good on you. Looks like you two made up, eh?” Till shoots him an embarrassed glare and Isaac laughs harder, “Come on, everyone could feel the tension from a mile away!”

“We haven’t even been near each other for months.”

“Yeah, I know. That’s how bad the tension was. Could cut through that shit with a knife.” Isaac’s gazes soften and he ruffles Till’s hair despite his protests, “I’m just saying, it’s good to see you two talking again. I don’t know anything about what you two were like before the rebellion but it sure seemed like you two were important to each other. It would’ve been a shame if you lost something beautiful like that.”

Till sighs but as he watches Ivan’s black hair whip around from the wind, he finds himself accepting his words, tucking his knees up and leaning forward, “Yeah, it would have.” 

Isaac looks back out to the track where Ivan is driving in circles and asks, “So how’s it going? The whole helping Ivan thing?”

“Bad.”

Surprised, he replies, “Really? I think Ivan’s been doing pretty well.”

“He doesn’t like it.” Till grouches and Isaac’s eyebrows raise.

“Did he tell you that?”

“No. He’s lying. He and I promised we would be honest with each other.” Till grits his teeth, “I’m trying to think of how to get him to admit it. I told him to drive so I could have some time to think of a plan.”

“Why don’t you just ask?”

“He’ll lie again.”

“Then tell him you know he’s lying.”

“But what if he lies more?”

“Then call him out on it.” Isaac sighs like a tired caretaker and speaks slowly but deliberately, “You’re not going to get anywhere if you try to play mind games on each other. That’s not being honest either.”

A sense of guilt washes over Till and he grimaces, “…fuck you’re right.”

“Of course I am.” Isaac says smugly, “Look kid, you gotta lead by example. If you’re honest with him, then I think he’ll be honest with you. Just don’t take his lying personally. I’d bet my ass he’s got a reason for why he’s hiding something.”

Till’s eyes tighten at the corners as he shifts his gaze back to Ivan. The last time he didn’t tell him something, he almost died and Till wouldn’t be able to take it if something happened like that again. They got to this point by not communicating. 

He’s not sure why communicating is so fucking hard. Their entire life for years was about communicating through song. Why is it so much harder with regular words?

“Yeah, okay, I’ll ask him when he's done—“ Till starts to say but it cuts off in his throat as he watches the wheel of the bike jam into a dirt mound and Ivan launches into the air in a perfect arc. 

“Oh shit—“ Isaac exclaims and Till is scrambling to his feet, watching as Ivan faceplants into the side of the hill with a startling thud.

“Ivan!” He shouts, his heart fucking racing as he sprints across the field, “Ivan, holy shit! Fuck, are you okay?! Ivan!”

“I’ll go get first aid!” Isaac yells behind him and Till nods before turning his attention to Ivan, shaking a little as he takes off his helmet to assess the damage.

“Ivan! Hey, Ivan?!” He calls out, shaking the form a little.

To his relief, Ivan groans and writhes a bit on the ground from what Till can imagine is terrible, throbbing pain from his side. 

“Thank fucking god.” Till breathes, slumping his face into Ivan’s shoulder before gently sitting him up, “We’re not doing that again.”

“No no, it’s fine, I just got a little distracted. I can keep doing it, it’s fine—“ Ivan rambles, arm waving dismissively and Till just can’t take it.

“Ivan, give it a rest.”

“No, no, really I’m good—“

“Ivan, stop! Just admit you don’t want to do this!”

That makes Ivan hesitate and he adverts his eyes to the floor like a guilty child, “What do you mean, I said I’m good with doing this.”

“No you’re not! I know you, Ivan. You didn’t really like doing the repairs in the hangar, you didn’t seem too enthused about driving around and that’s fine! I just don’t get why you’re lying to me about it!“ Till exclaims, patience having run out as he glares into his eyes, “Don’t bullshit me, Ivan. Honesty, remember?”

There’s a moment where Ivan hesitates, their eyes meeting each other and the abyss that looks back at him seems to tremble. He’s not sure what changed for him to be able to see the little intricate details of Ivan’s emotions on his face so clearly when it was such a mystery to him before. If it’s because Ivan has gotten more relaxed about his feelings or that Till is finally paying close attention. Regardless, the sight of Ivan’s slight nerves makes Till soften, his grip loosening enough to rub Ivan’s arm. 

“Ivan…” he implores quietly and finally, he sees the barrier go down.

“I did mean it….I could do it. I wouldn’t mind that much.” Ivan mumbled in a low voice, “I’d get to do it with you, so it’d be fine.”

Till tilts his head, quiet with his words, “Did you only want to do it because you’d get to be with me all day?” 

Stating it outright makes Ivan’s cheeks warm just a bit and he refuses to meet Till’s gaze as he replies back, “When you put it like that, it sounds childish.”

“It is. You are, Ivan.” Till deadpans before sighing, a small quirk on his lip, “You idiot. I’d come see you after work and we’d spend time together then. Seriously, I told you, I want to be with you. You don’t need to force it now.”

Ivan meets his words with a moment of silence, eyes widening ever so slightly and after another moment, his face breaks into something warm and sweet. A smile that he presses into Till’s shoulder and Till can’t help but feel his pulse race as the warmth of his lips seeps through his shirt. 

“…I didn’t like getting on the ground. The floor in the hangar is really gross and the feeling of oil on my hands made my skin crawl. I liked the technical stuff but I had to carry around so much stuff, it was exhausting. The engine when driving is too loud and I think a bug flew into my mouth at some point.” Ivan says, voice a bit muffled but Till makes sure he hears everything, “I liked talking to you but that’s…kinda it.”

Till chuckles, shaking his head, “Alright…alright, I can work with that. Once we get you patched up, we’ll try something else.”

Hands tighten on his shirt and he cradles Ivan that much closer.

“Okay, Till.”

They try working in the kitchen. 

Till remembers Ivan liking sweets back in Anakt Garden, a somewhat jarring character trait for a person who seemed so intimidating back then. He remembers how the other kids would watch Ivan eating his sweet jelly, peaceful and almost cute as he scooped it into his mouth. Till always would watch the way his eyes lit up with a childlike wonder, something that was beat out of them early. Somehow, sweets were one of the only things that still brought that kind of energy out of Ivan. 

So when they head over to the kitchens and ask what they’re doing, Till can’t help but smile at Ivan’s expression of awe as the staff explained they were trying to recreate the sweets from the pre-segyein era. 

The machines that were usually used to make food for pet humans are too expensive and take up too much energy for the resistance to actually use, so they’ve had to learn how agriculture used to work many years ago. Ingredients are simple and natural, grown in the farms that the resistance takes great care to maintain and while some of the recipes have been found in books scattered across the galaxy, some are lost and need a bit of experimenting to rediscover. 

Ivan seems absolutely fascinated with the idea of making recipes from the pre-segyein era and it was going well at first. Ivan gets to help bake a cake while Till watches him from the side. He seems to have a good time, measuring the ingredients precisely and the smile that blooms on his face when he gets a chance to taste what he made makes Till think this whole thing is worth it. 

It’s around lunch that it starts to go downhill. The kitchen is in charge of feeding the whole camp and making rations for the resistance soldiers, so when Ivan is put out to help make lunch during the rush hour, things go to shit. Till wouldn’t really categorise Ivan as a clumsy person; he’s probably the most graceful person Till has ever met, aside for maybe Sua. But idol training is not the same as kitchen work and Ivan looks almost like a fish out of water running around the staff with ingredients in his arms. The head chef barks orders and Till watches Ivan flounder trying to decipher so many voices going all at once. 

At some point, Ivan is told to work the stove and given a few ingredients to throw into the pan. All Till does is look away for one second and when he turns back, the pan is on fire with Ivan looking like he’s contemplating how it all went wrong.

The two of them are ushered out of the kitchen while the staff take care of the fire and with a click, they’re left out in the blissfully quiet hall. Till can hardly process what just happened, his heart racing despite having done jack shit. 

“So, I’m guessing it’s a no.” He mutters, running his hand through his hair as he catches his breath. 

When he is met with silence, he turns to see Ivan quietly walking off without a word, eyes unseeing. 

He’s seen Ivan like this before. When they were in the Garden, there were times when playing got too rough or the kids got too loud and Ivan would suddenly disappear, saying little more than a quiet goodbye. Till would wave him off, figuring that whatever was going on with him, he’d be fine in an hour or two. He always was. Besides, it was usually his chance to talk to Mizi without the boy breathing over him. Mizi was usually too distracted to pay much attention and didn’t seem to ever pick up on the stiffness of his shoulders, only waving him cheerfully goodbye if she noticed at all. 

Sua would always go after him though. 

It confused Till at first. Sua was never the biggest fan of Ivan, usually being exhausted from having to spend almost every class sitting next to each other. She was always one of the first people to point out that Ivan is nothing like the prince persona he puts on, second only to Till himself. By all accounts, Sua didn’t really like Ivan at all.

And yet, she was always the person to go after him.

Perhaps she was the only person who would. 

Till always got the sense that Sua and Ivan understood each other in a way no one else did. They saw something in each other that was unique to them, something that didn’t need words. 

(Sometimes the thought of someone else knowing Ivan just as or better than he did would make his chest tighten for hours.)

So Sua would leave and after a while, she’d come back with Ivan trailing behind her. Sometimes he was back to normal and would rejoin the rest of them like nothing ever happened. Other times, he’d still have a foggy expression and he and Sua would sit to the side, watching the other kids play for a few minutes more. If Till tried to approach, Sua would give him a look that would keep him quiet and he’d awkwardly stand to the side or just go back.

Regardless, Sua and Ivan would have their pinkies linked together and would only let go once the haze over the boy’s eyes was gone.

Now Sua’s not here. 

Quietly, he follows Ivan down the hall, the noise of the kitchen fading as they get further away. Ivan keeps walking, eventually turning a corner where the lights haven’t been turned on and with a small sigh, he leans against the wall. His head is hung low and after a moment, he slides to the floor and sits with his knees up near his ears. 

Till just stands there at first, his feet shuffling because what the hell is he supposed to do? He’s never asked Sua what she did to help Ivan and he’s not even sure what was wrong in the first place. But the longer he stares at him, the more worried he gets. Ivan hardly moves, with only the subtle movement of his chest rising and falling keeping him from looking like a statue. The hairs on the back of his neck are standing up and Tlll wonders if he should be here at all. 

But then he notices one of Ivan’s hands is resting on the floor next to him, his palm up and fingers open as if waiting for something. 

And Till still doesn’t fully get it.

But he starts to have an idea. 

He laces their fingers together, squeezing Ivan’s hand as he silently sits cross legged next to him. There’s a hitch in Ivan’s throat and for a horrible second, Till hears his breath come out wet. 

He scrambles a bit, loosening his hand, “Sorry, I’m doing this wrong—“

“No, no.” Ivan interrupts, shaking his head as he laughs a bit, “You’re doing it right.”

Ivan’s hand tightens around his own and his cheeks feel warm. Bashful, he looks away.

“Are…you okay? Are you upset it didn’t work out?”

“No no, I’m fine. It just got really loud very suddenly. I’ll be good in a few minutes.” 

A sense of relief washes over Till and he sighs, leaning back, “Okay. I’ll be here then.”

He feels Ivan squeeze his hand and a quiet mumble, “Thank you.”

Ivan is starting to wonder if this whole thing is even worth it.

The two of them have been running around the rebel base since the morning, with Till being the one dragging him around by the wrist. It was kinda sweet how much Till wanted to help him, his eyes lighting with a fire that Ivan had thought been put out. The fact that it lit up for something as trivial as this made Ivan’s chest warm. 

Still, despite Till’s determination and Ivan’s want to make the most of his freedom, it wasn’t going well.

If the problem wasn’t that Ivan found the activity boring or unpleasant, then it was Ivan actually not having much skill in anything beyond performance from Anakt. By the time the sun was beginning to set, they hadn’t gotten any closer to finding where Ivan fit in. He was starting to wonder if he was ever going to fit in at all.

With a deep sigh, Ivan slumps against one of the dorm’s walls and runs his fingers through his hair. Till just crosses his arms, looking deep in thought and he had a frustrated wrinkle in his brow that Ivan felt an urge to smooth out.

“Till.” He says and teal eyes turn to meet his, “I think I’m just going to pick something.”

“C’mon, you don’t need to do that.” Till protests, elbowing Ivan’s shoulder, “This is just the first day, we could do this again tomorrow.”

It’s a sweet offer but when Ivan pictures parading around the rebellion again tomorrow or even the next day after that trying to fit in places that he just doesn't, he feels his insides tighten uncomfortably. But Till looks at him with such determination that he can feel himself already start to fold.

“Well, perhaps—“

“Hey!”

A bright voice catches both their attention and Ivan blinks at the sight of Mizi running down the dirt road, waving her arm.

“Ivan!” She calls before her face changes to one of surprise when she notices a head of silver next to him, “And Till, hey!” Her face shifts into a pleased expression and Till ducks his head slightly, “I’m glad to see the two of you together. Feels like it’s been a while, hasn’t it?”

It actually has, but pointing out that obvious fact feels like it would just rub salt into a slowly healing wound.

“Mm.” Ivan hums in mild agreement, “Did you need something?”

Mizi claps her hands, a smile on her face, “Oh right, I actually did! I wanted to ask if you could help me with something.”

“Yes?”

“Well, it’s more for the resistance than for me but it’s part of my job so it would be helping me a lot.”

Ivan sits up straighter at that. Despite Hyuna giving him a heads up that he might be called in to help with some resistance work, he hasn’t heard a thing about it since then. Perhaps the others thought he was too fragile to help. That he should be left alone to live peacefully or something.  

A hand grasps his wrist and he glances back to see Till staring at him with a tense expression, a million thoughts whipping around his eyes. Ivan raises a brow, a question, and Till just silently shakes his head but the thoughts don’t clear from his gaze. Deciding Till will tell him if it’s really important, Ivan turns back to Mizi.

“Sure, what do you need?”

“Do you still remember how to take off the collars?” She asks, twisting her hair between her fingers, “One of my jobs in the resistance is greeting the people we bring in and today, we’ve got a group of kids from a shipment truck we intercepted. They’ve all got collars on but we don’t really have a better way of getting them off beyond cutting them with a saw. But the kids are too scared to let us close with anything like that. Then I remembered you knew how to take off collars by hand so I wanted to know if you could help us take off the collars?”

A group of kids from a shipment truck. 

He remembers being a kid on a shipment truck. The fear that hung around his throat, the shaking of the poorly maintained vehicle, the drugs they would stab into their necks to keep them pliant and quiet. 

He wonders if the drugs they used then are the same now. The ones that make your heart slow and the world becomes so unreal you wonder if you’re even alive at all. 

“Yeah, I can help.”

Mizi claps her hands, a bright smile blooming onto her face making her look radiant, “Thank you so much! Come on, I’ll show you the way.” 

Ivan starts to stand up when he feels Till get up with him. 

The boy looks so awkward, eyes barely looking at Mizi as he asks, “Can I uh, also come with? I don’t know how to take the collars off or anything, I just…yeah.” 

Mizi, ever a kind person, nods enthusiastically, “Yeah absolutely! The more help, the merrier!”

And they go. 

At first, Ivan talks to Mizi about the various misadventures he and Till have had that day and she laughs with all of the joyful energy she seemed to have been lacking since he woke up. Perhaps seeing him and Till together again made something in her finally light up again.

But he keeps an eye on Till, who just trails behind them like a lost puppy. It’s strange. He figured he’d jump at the chance at talking to Mizi but he keeps his distance like there’s a barrier between him and them. 

After a moment, Ivan narrows his eyes and  lets Mizi run ahead, hanging back and getting in step with Till.

“You’re quiet.” He remarks and Till grimaces, nudging him.

“I’m not.”

“You certainly are. Strangely so, I would say.” Ivan gestures with his eyes at Mizi, “I would have thought you’d jump at the chance at talking to her. She seemed pretty happy to have you come with us.”

The other glares, pushing against him now, “Ivan, seriously. It’s nothing.”

Ivan flatly looks at him, arching a brow and pushing for more because he has never let anything go in his entire life, “If you’re going to lie, at least try doing a better job at it.”

There’s a moment where it seems like Till is going to yell and clam up, like he always did when they were kids. His mouth opens but his voice dies in his throat with his face twisting into a complicated expression before sighing, rubbing the back of his neck and meeting his eyes.

“It’s just…awkward right now.” Till mumbles, staring at the back of Mizi’s head.

Ivan snarks, “When is it not?” 

“Hey!” He groans, covering his face, “Ivan, I’m serious. It’s really weird between us right now. Like weird weird.”

“Weird weird.”

“Don’t say that with your judging voice. “

“Okay fine, why is it weird right now?” 

Till grimaces, “Look, the last time we talked was…awkward. Well, it was more like she talked to me and I just kinda sat behind a door.“

That makes Ivan pause, tilting his head, “I thought you’d jump at the chance to talk to her alone. I mean, you love her don’t you?”

A shriek escapes Till’s throat and he grabs Ivan’s face, covering his mouth while glancing over at Mizi, who seems none the wiser.

“Shut up, shut up, shut up!” He hisses and Ivan has to stop himself from laughing as Till’s face flushes red, “That’s—! Ugh, it’s complicated, okay? I don’t—maybe, uh, I’m not sure? I mean, I’m pretty sure I did but I…I dunno. Like I said, it’s complicated. I need to think about it.” 

“So you’re waiting until you figure it out?” Ivan gestures to himself. “You saw how well that went with me.”

Till blinks before sighing, “Fair enough. Just…I’ll talk to her. I just want to know what I want to say first, please? I promise I won’t wait so long. I just really need to figure stuff out.”

Ivan can hear the genuine plea in his voice, making a knot of guilt to crawl into his ribcage. Quietly, he nods.

“I’ll hold you to that.” He looks to Mizi and the empty space next to her, “I think she needs us.”

The corners of Till’s eyes tighten and he makes an uncomfortable smile, “Please do.”

The moment they cross into the room, a dozen small eyes stare at them with the weight of the world in their gaze. The mood is oppressive and Ivan finds his feet slowing at the sight of them. The children tremble in the corners of the room.

They look awful.

Their hair is a mess of tangles and mattes, their arms bruised with the shape of large hands, lips dry like they haven’t had water in ages. 

But their eyes. God, their eyes. 

Eyes wide but devoid of any life behind them. Like they’ve shut themselves off from the inside and their bodies are just empty vessels. Ivan remembers having that vacant look in his eyes but he hadn’t realized how truly sad it was to see.

He’s seen what children of the rebellion look like, with their chubby cheeks and joyful laughter like they’ve never known terror. He remembers watching from a distance and thinking that that should be what children look like. 

Not this. 

“We just saved them this morning. Aside from that rescue, they won’t let anyone get near them and they won’t even take anything we give them.” Mizi explains, voice cracking, “I don’t really know what to do.”

Ivan watched as the children flinched at their voices and huddled deeper into the corners of the room. Their collars blink an angry red at them. The tallest of the children stands in front of the group, refusing to take her eyes off of Ivan. Like she’s anticipating him to do…something. 

He wants to make them feel better. To be comforting. But he’s a stranger and all he has is his idol smile. Comfort has never been his strong suite. Kids like these would see through it and he’d just make it worse for everyone.

Till suddenly moves from next to him, keeping a careful neutral expression as he sits down on the floor, settling himself there cross-legged and giving them a small smile.

“It’s okay.” He says in a low, quiet voice. His hand stretches out, not in a grab but an offering to hold, “We’re not going to hurt you. I promise. We just want to help.” 

The children all look warily at each other, exchanging a silent communication before the tall one speaks up.

“That’s what the segyein said.”

Ivan feels his stomach start to sink. Looking at each one, he notes the tags that hang from their ears and necks. He wonders what life they’ve lived. Was it like his, riddled with starvation and death from moment one before having their self completely erased? Or was it joyous and sweet before having all of it ripped away, leaving them shaking in its wake? He doesn’t know. 

He hates that the thought of it hardly surprises him. It makes him feel sick that he thinks to himself how this pain is inevitable to all pet humans. 

If Till feels as sick as he does, he doesn’t show it as he simply shrugs at the girl with a non-chalant expression. 

“Do you see any segyein around?” He asks like a challenge and Ivan can‘t help but marvel as a spark of a fighting spirit seems to light in the girl. 

“You could be just like them anyway.” She shoots back and steps forward. Mizi’s breath hitches next to Ivan, “You could be worse.”

“Sure.” Till states, “But I’m telling you we’re not. It’s up to you if you want to trust me or not.” His eyes dart to something because he leans in with an exaggerated whisper, “Do you want me to tell you a secret?”

The girl’s ears almost seem to perk up, interest flashing across her face before she schools it and crosses her arms, “What is it?”

Till hums and slowly like he’s approaching a wild animal, he scoots himself forward a bit. And surprisingly, the girl cautiously comes closer with her eyes carefully on the man as she does, watching for sudden movements. 

“I’m actually from the same breeding centre as you. And I’ve been to way more pet stores than you have.” He says softly, gentle as he gestures to his own ear and the girl touches the tag that hangs from her earlobe. 

Ivan can barely see it but he can make out the serial number that lines the top of the tag and a list of four locations and dates the run down the rest of it. 

“R-Really?” She asks quietly and Till nods, a wry smile on his face. 

“Yup. Ten of them.” 

“Ten?!” The girl exclaims, a look of amazement flashing across her face. 

“Mmhm. None of them could sell me until the last one cut their losses and put me up for fifty percent off.”

“…they put me up for thirty.”

“Mm.” Till hums, resting his arms on his knees as he looks her in the eye, “So I think I would know better than anyone that change isn’t always a good thing. You’ve been very strong to last up until now.”

“I am strong.“ She mumbles in protest, fiddling with her fingers. 

“You are. But I promise you that here, you don’t have to be anything else other than yourself. It’s okay.”

There’s a beautiful moment when the girl seems to melt at his words, the walls that she built falling away as her eyes glitter with unshed tears and her bottom lip trembles. Distrust still lingers in her gaze but her defensive arms drop to her side as she takes a tentative step. Close enough to touch. 

“How about I cut you a deal? If you let my friend take off your collars and eat the food we bring you, then we’ll leave you all alone for the rest of the day. The door will be left unlocked and open. You can wander around as much as you please and then tomorrow we can come by again and ask if you want our help. How about that?” Till offers softly and the girl’s eyes widen. 

“You’d just let us…go? No collars with the doors open?”

“Yup.”

The girl looks almost distressed, stepping close enough to really look Till in the eye as she stops, “B-But what if we make a mess? Or fuss? Or cause problems for you and are bad?”

He shrugs, “Then we clean it up and ask you not to do it again. That’s all.” Carefully, he stands up before crouching down with his hand held out, “Now, do we have a deal?”

Everyone seems to hold their breath as the girl looks at his hand, staring at it before finally, finally , she takes it and shakes it with her tiny, bruised fingers. 

“Deal.”

Till smiled warmly and said, “I’m Till.”

“…Selene.”

“Hi, Selene.” He greets her before looking back at Ivan and Mizi, gesturing for them to come close and Ivan has to remember where he is, “These are my friends Ivan and Mizi. They’re like us.”

Selene looks at the two of them warily but after looking to Till for some encouragement, she waves. 

“Hello.” 

Ivan swallows before nodding, “Hi.”

“Nice to meet you.” Mizi breathes and her eyes glitter with happiness. 

“I think you can start now, Ivan.” Till says, standing back up and whispering into his ear, “You should sit on the ground and let them come to you first.”

“I’ll go and come back with the food.” Mizi says, waving to the children before heading out the door. 

Ivan, listening to Till, sits himself on the ground and waits. It takes a second but Selene steps forward, pumping her chest up to look big and brave. He’s not sure if he should smile or if that would unnerve her so he just nods, keeping a carefully neutral expression.

“Hello Selene, I’m Ivan.” He greets, “If you could turn around, I can get your collar off for you.”

The thought looks like it scares her but she steels herself and turns around. Her body is trembling and Ivan makes a soft humming sound.

“How old are you Selene?” He asks soothingly as he fiddles with the back of the collar, the familiar movement coming back to him, “I’m twenty-two.” 

“…I’m seven.” 

“Oh really?” A small smile appears on his face as he hears a small click, “I was six when I was first sold.”

“At a pet store?”

“An auction house.”

Selene slowly stops shaking as she looks back at him, “So you’re a fancy pet?”

His hands still for a second before he clicks another mechanism, “Was. Not anymore. Now I’m just Ivan.” There’s one last click and the collar falls off with a clatter on the ground, “There. You were very brave.”

The whole room seems to hold its breath. Selene seems a bit stunned, her hands going up to neck and running across the skin like she’s never felt it before. The tears that have been resting in her eyes start to fall and drip off her face as she turns to look at him with the relief of years of captivity. He just nods to her. 

  “…I saw you. On the TV. You’re…prettier in real life.” She says and Ivan’s shoulders stiffen, “I saw you die. Both of you. Are you angels?”

Ivan would never categorize himself as an angel, that’s far too grand for someone like him. But with the way she looks at him, he feels like a saviour. 

He shakes his head, “No. Like I said, I’m just Ivan. Just like how you’re Selene.”

She looks sort of unconvinced but nods anyway and runs back to the corner with the others. As the other kids watch her, the brave ones slowly make their way over and stand in a polite single file line. The more afraid ones are slowly led in or find their courage to approach. 

Till’s hand rests onto his shoulder, leaning down to whisper, “You’re doing good. I’ll go help Mizi with the food.”

The praise makes Ivan’s face hot and he ducks his head, “Sure, go ahead.”

“I’ll be back.”

And he knows he will be.

Once the children had had their collars taken off and were properly fed, the three of them waved goodbye to them and as promised, left them with the door unlocked and slightly ajar. They made their way out of the building before Mizi whirled around and grabbed Till’s hands with sparkling eyes.

“That was amazing!” She exclaims, a squeal in her voice, “How did you do that? How did that work?”

“Uh, well, you know, I just…talked to them like how I wish someone would have talked to me when I was a kid.” Till replies sheepishly with a shrug, “Kids like that don’t trust easily. Being too kind can make them nervous so if you talk like a peer instead of some sort of authority, they’ll loosen up.”

Ivan smiles warmly and remembers why he loved Till so much. The gentleness that contrasted his hard exterior always fascinated him from the moment they met. How a boy who has known nothing but pain from almost everyone he meets could still face the world with staggering kindness and understanding. A mess of contradictions that shouldn’t make sense but somehow create a beautiful light that soothed his soul on his darkest nights.

He never expected to be allowed to keep it for himself. His presence would only leech the good that the light could bring. But he still wanted to at least be able to live in the light, to be allowed to bear witness to its beauty until he eventually died in it.  The light had dimmed a bit but in that room, he saw it shine again and he couldn’t be happier.

“You should give yourself more credit, Till.” Ivan said, “I certainly couldn’t have done what you did.”

Till scratches the back of his neck, “T-Thanks…”

Mizi hums happily before she suddenly turns her attention to Ivan, “Right, before I forget. Ivan, you should come with me to the info centre. We should record how you unlock the collars since I think it’d be better than using a saw. That way more people could do it!”

“Oh, sure. I haven’t been to the info centre.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll show you.” She gestures to Till, “You can come too.”

Till startles but replies,“Uh, yeah, okay.”

With that, Mizi leads them through the camp again. 

The info centre is located central in the camp, not too far from anything. Ivan had passed by the place a few times and the premise of it had interested him. In the front is a public library where anyone from the camp can come get a book. Not holograms but actual books. With paper he can feel and covers that he can trace the titles on. 

Ivan had only been to a public library once with Unsha’s wife Asyra. He had been very young and Asyra had been wanting to get a book about pet care. Segyein had no need for physical books, so everything had been disks with holographic words on it. Ivan hadn’t been allowed to touch anything, left to just look in amazement of the vast wealth of knowledge that was just an arm’s reach away. 

Unsha also had a library but it was sterile and cold with only books Unsha thought were important to have. Business, e-commerce, technology and so on. Nothing that would display any kind of joy or whimsy for the world. Only at the behest of Asyra did he add some science and history books for Ivan to read, just tossing it into his lap one day with a bored expression. He told him that fiction was hardly important for a pet like him. Luckily, Ivan found the subjects interesting and through the library, he found a book about the construction of the collars.

Ivan figured that Unsha didn’t think he’d use or even remember the stuff he read in his library. 

(He wonders what Unsha would say if he saw him now. Not that he really cares anyway. Unsha held no love for him, seeing him as he sees everything; a tool to be used to expand his already exorbitant wealth. Thus, Ivan hardly felt any kind of pain leaving him behind and certainly doesn’t care about what the man thinks of him. He can think he's a failure, after all he’d be right. 

Ivan has never been more proud that he’s a failure.)

Stepping into the rebellion’s library, he found the amazement that he felt from the first library come back to him. It was significantly smaller than that library but the way the books lined shelves in a multicolour streak made Ivan smile. Agriculture, mythology, romance. Even kids books that are made to create hope and belief. 

It was amazing. 

His fingers traced the edges of the spines, feeling the fabric and running his hand along the letters with a murmur as he read the titles.

“You sure like this place, huh?”

Ivan blinks, turning to Till who leans against the shelf with a small smirk.

“I haven’t been here before.”

“But you like it.”

“Yeah…” he looks back at the books, “I just think the concept of a place with an endless wealth of knowledge is amazing. What’s more, it’s a place for knowledge to be shared.” After a moment, he pulls away and catches up with Mizi, “Unsha coveted all that he knew about the world. He loved the exclusivity of being the only one to know certain things.”

Till hums, shrugging, “I’ve never been much of a reader. But I get what you mean.”

“There’s a couple books about human art over there if you’re interested in taking them out later.” Ivan points out.

“Does it have words?”

“Most likely.”

At the sight of Till’s slight grimace, Ivan teases, “I could read the words out to you while you look at the pictures, if you want?”

He waits for the expected protest and shove response from Till but he’s surprised when Till just nods.

“Sure, I’d be into that.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. It’d kinda be like it was when we were kids.”

Ivan remembers that. During the free time period, Ivan would sometimes be allowed to bring the science and history books to Anakt Garden. When that would happen, he’d sit next to Till while he drew and read out loud, just in case he would want to hear it too. Usually he didn’t, but sometimes he’d stop what he was doing if the topic was particularly interesting. 

But as they grew older, Till got more and more embarrassed about the whole thing, saying it was ‘baby stuff’ and that big kids don’t read to each other. So Ivan eventually stopped genuinely asking — only asking just to mess with the boy — because he knew what the answer was going to be. He didn’t think he’d ever want to do it again.

But there Till was, asking without a hint of embarrassment on his face.

“Oh, okay, sure.” He responds eloquently, a little stunned.

Till just nods before following Mizi without another word.

Ivan touches his hot cheek. He’s not sure if he can survive this Till. Far too honest for him. 

Mizi walks up to a big metal door that’s tucked away in the corner of the library and plugs a code into the keypad before the door opens for them. It slides open with a hiss and Mizi herds them into the elevator.

“Normally, we’d just have you talk to the info desk but this kind of information feels like it would be important for the resistance specifically so we’re gonna talk to the info head directly.” Mizi explained, tapping one of the buttons and the elevator started moving down.

“You have an underground bunker for the info centre?” Till asks with a nervous energy.

“Yeah. The stuff the info centre does for the resistance is really important so we need to keep them super safe, just in case.” Mizi replies and huffs a laugh, nudging Till, “Intense, right?”

“Yeah…”

The elevator doors ding before sliding open and Mizi leads them into a large room with computers scattered around the entire space. On one wall, there’s a large screen that takes up almost the whole wall that has what looks like goals on it. And just below it is a woman with frizzy red hair working on a computer.

“Lina!” Mizi greets, waving her hands as the woman called Lina looks up from her work and adjusts her glasses.

“Mizi, hey!” 

Ivan laughs to himself and comments, “You seem to know everyone at camp, Mizi.”

“Me and Lina work together sometimes for missions.” Mizi replies, swinging her arm and bringing Lina into her, “This is Lina! She’s the head of the info centre. Lina, these are my friends Ivan and Till.”

Lina blinks, “Your friends?”

Mitzi’s face melts into something vulnerable and warm, “Yeah, my friends .”

Lina pauses before she smiles and mutters, “Happy for you, Mizi.” Before looking at the two of them, “Now then, tell me what can I do for you?”

Ivan speaks up first as he notices Till’s nervousness, “I was told by Mizi that I have some information that would be of use to you.”

“Oh, wonderful!”

“Ivan knows how to unlock the collars.” Mizi says with pride, coming up next to him and patting his back, “He’s amazing!”

That gets Lina’s attention, “Seriously? I thought only segyein prints can be read by the scanner.”

“Well yes, but there’s a mechanism behind the scanner that if you twist it correctly, it unlocks it.” He corrects, “Would you like me to show you on a blueprint display, if you have one?”

“Yes, yes please!”

Pulling up a hologram, Ivan points out the components, explaining how he unlocks the collars with a memorized familiarity that amazes the room. A man next to Lina is furiously writing down what he says while Lina spins the display and asks questions. 

Ivan wonders what would’ve happened if he just said this information sooner. If he told the children of Anakt that there was a way to be free and fight back against those who kept them down. How many lives he could’ve saved.

Who he could’ve saved.

Or perhaps he would’ve incurred the wrath of the segyein and gotten them all killed.

It’s pointless to ponder on it now.

As he finishes his explanation, he jolts in surprise as Lina jumps up to hold his hands with sparkling eyes.

“That’s amazing! How did you figure this all out?! How long have you known?! Was it trial and error?”

“Oh, no. My owner Unsha had a collection of books in his private library that he allowed me to read on occasion. There was one on the construction of collars and petcare, that’s where I learned it.”

That makes Lina’s ears perk up and she pushes with her eyes glittering even more, “Wait, so that means you’ve read some super exclusive segyein books?! Oh, the stuff you must know! It’s gotta be a treasure trove up there!”

“Yes, I suppose so.”

“Oh, please you must allow me to ask a few—“

“Are we done here?” Till interrupts while putting himself in between Ivan and Lina with an expression that Ivan can’t quite decipher beyond surface level irritation.

“Oh, yes, of course—“

“Great, let’s go—“ Till starts to say while tugging on Ivan’s wrist when a young man wanders up to Lina.

“Um, excuse me, Lina? Could you take a look at this?” He asks, holding a holopad with a sheepish expression, “I’m having trouble with this one.”

“Oh, sure!” She replies, taking the holopad and studying what’s on it, “Yeah I remember this…it has a different cipher than most of the other things we’ve cracked. Give me a moment…”

Ivan didn’t mean to but he catches sight of a string of numbers and letters that looks awfully familiar. Blinking, he pulls slightly away from Till’s grasp to lean over the holopad.

“Excuse me, could I take a look at it?” He asks and Lina looks surprised but hands it over.

“Yeah, sure.”

Once he gets a clearer look at it, he finds himself nodding. Yes, he does recognize it. 

Quietly, he starts decoding the cipher until eventually, he stops writing and hands it back to Lina.

“Try that.”

“Huh, oh!” She says as she plugs it in and the sound of music comes through the speakers.

It’s a sound and melody that he’s never heard before, with instruments that feel like they’ve been long gone. 

“Ivan, how—?” Till asks incredulously as he walked up from behind and Ivan shrugs.

“Unsha did some shady business on occasion and a lot of information was passed alone using codes and ciphers like that. Most of the time he was too lazy to decode it himself so he’d get me to do it.” He replies as he finds himself getting lost in the music, “I didn’t guess that music would be hidden behind the code though.”

“A lot of the old human music is.” Lina says with breathless wonderment, “Amazing…”

Glancing around at all the screens that hold so much stuff on it he’s having a hard time understanding, Ivan turns to her, tilting his head as he asks, “May I ask what exactly you do here? It seems as though your job is a bit broad.”

Lina blushes with embarrassment as she nods, “Right, right, I’m sorry, I should have led with that!” She puts the holopad down and brushes her dress off, “Here at the info centre, our main job is gathering and decoding information for the rebellion. We try to collect anything that could be of use. Stuff that can be used publicly goes up to the library. Stuff like how to grow agriculture or recipes for the kitchen or vehicle manufacturing. A lot of information is publicly available but it’s all in segyein language, so we spend quite a lot of time translating. Meanwhile, the resistance specific things like target blueprints and guard rotations are kept here to be used for missions and planning our next move. That stuff we tend to hack into segyein servers or need to decode ciphers to get the info we need.”

Ivan listens quietly before pointing at the pad, “Why decipher stuff like music then? You said a lot of old human music is hidden behind ciphers. Why go through all the trouble of decoding it?”

The question has Lina stopping for a second before a sad smile stretches across her face and she runs her finger over the edge of the pad.

“The segyein took away everything from us when they invaded. Not only our freedom but also our history, our culture. Tried to erase records of a time when they didn’t own us. They took what was ours and hid it away from us, kept it only so they could point at it and say ‘see what they used to be? They aren’t that anymore’.” She frowns and spits, “They need us to forget that there ever was a time where we were free. If we forget, then they win.” With a determined gaze, she stares into his eyes, “We take the time decode it to make sure we don’t forget. An individual song or movie isn’t necessarily vital in the grand scheme of things but I believe that something doesn’t need to be vital to be important. Those pieces were what we used to be. Who we still are. I want to remind people that these beautiful things were ours. The segyein don’t just get to erase us.”

There’s a breath that catches in his throat and Ivan thinks of the scars that littered his body that aren’t there anymore. 

Lina smiles as she seems to see something in his eyes that makes her ask, “Say, Ivan, would you want to join us? We could use an intelligent individual like you on our team.” Her expression turns serious, “However I should warn you, our job is pretty dangerous. It’s pretty common for us to be out on the field when we can’t remotely hack into computers or servers. You also could become a target since you would know a lot of the inner workings of rebellion. Knowing all that, would you still be interested in joining us?”

Her hand is outstretched to him and for a while, he honestly doesn’t know what he wants to do. It would probably be safer to refuse and do a job that keeps him in the camp. 

But then he thinks about forgetting.

“Y—“ 

“—Ivan, can I talk to you? Alone?” Till’s voice suddenly cuts through the room and Ivan blinks as he steps into his vision with his teal eyes burning into his. 

“Till, does—“

“Yes, it does need to be right now.”

There’s an urgency in his voice that makes it almost shake and his hand touches his shoulder with a hard grip. It’s almost intoxicating to have Till need to speak to him so bad. Ivan feels almost drunk.

Glancing to Lina, he smiles and says, “One moment, please.”

Till doesn’t even let him stay to hear her response he starts to drag him into the elevator and clicking a button to a different floor. He’s quiet on the ride up, looking quite a bit frazzled and Ivan doesn’t know what to say to break the silence.

Once the doors slide open with a ding and Till pulls him out onto the empty floor, Ivan gets a sense of deja vu. He wonders if all of their serious conversations are going to be Till dragging Ivan into some random corner because he can’t bear to be seen publicly being vulnerable around him.

They wander into what looks to be a server room and Ivan can’t help but think that Till looks distinctly out of place amongst the blue glow of the server lights blinking at them with his wild hair and casual, ragged clothes.

“Are you—“ he starts to ask but Till interrupts him as he whirls around. 

“You don’t owe them anything you know.”

He startles before narrowing his eyes as the words process and crossing his arms, “I would argue I do.”

Till grits his teeth and Ivan realizes this is going to be one of those conversations; one where neither of them back down. A familiar rush to fight starts flowing in his veins and Ivan hardens his stance. 

“No but seriously, you know you don’t owe them anything. They said you are free to do whatever you want so you don’t have to put your life on the line here.”

Ivan frowns, “I know all that, Till.” 

The other staggers a bit at his frankness and there's a moment where his face twists as he listens to his words. 

“Do you really?”

“Yes, I do. I’m not scared to put my life on the line, Till.”

The angry almost bitter exhale from Till makes Ivan’s frown deepen, “I know, you never fucking are. That’s the problem.” 

Ivan watches the way Till glares at the wall and realizes, “I thought you said you weren’t angry about that time.”

“Yeah, that time! You didn’t have any other option then! This time, you do!” Till exclaims, throwing his arms open, “You don’t have to sign yourself up for another fucking death sentence!”

“It’s not a death sentence.”

“It is, it fucking is! They said it was dangerous, that you’d be a target!” Till is shouting now, throwing himself forward as he grabs Ivan’s arms, “We can keep trying tomorrow o-or we can do it forever if you want to! Hell, we don’t even have to find anything at all and you can relax for once! J-Just please please, Ivan, please don’t fucking do this!” Ivan catches Till as he falls into his chest, forehead pressing on his sternum, “Can’t you stay in arm's reach…please…?”

It’s pitiful, the way Till clings onto him. His hands shake as they grip his sweater sleeve as if Ivan will disappear from right under his fingers. His voice comes out wet and he just. Keeps. Grovelling.

Look at what you’ve done to him.

“You can stop now.”

Till’s head shoots up, his expression breaking and Ivan realizes then how harsh it sounded. 

He tries to correct it, “You don’t need to feel responsible for me, alright? I told you, what happened to me then wasn’t your fault and what happens to me in the future isn’t your fault either.”

Watery teal eyes meet his and for a second, Ivan thinks Till is going to just burst into tears.

Instead, Till gives him a sardonic smile, croaking, “You’re gonna need to say that ninety-eight more times before I even consider believing it… I’m sorry…”

Ivan rubs his palms up and down Till’s arms, lowering his voice as he rumbles, “You don’t need to prostrate yourself to me all the time like you’re begging for your sins to be forgiven. I’m no god, I’m just…me. It’s just me, Till.”

Something complicated crosses Till’s face before finally his tense form loosens and with a small, almost pouty whine, he hugs Ivan close to him. It’s so tight that Ivan almost feels like he’s being suffocated.

It feels almost like ecstasy, being wanted like this.

“I just want you safe.” Till whispers and Ivan chuckles, hugging him back.

“And the safest place is with you?” He teases with a lilt in his voice before his breath hitches when Till quietly nods into his shoulder. Ivan has to compose himself before saying, “You can’t keep me in one place to prevent me from doing dangerous things.”

“I know…I know.” Then, “Do you actually want to do this? The informant thing?”

The question makes him hesitate but there’s a tingle in his chest, a light he wasn’t sure he ever even had and he finds himself nodding. Hesitant at first but more confident as his resolve strengthens.

“Yes…yes, I do.”

Till’s eyes tighten as he asks, “Why?”

Ah, that’s a bit hard to articulate. How can he encompass the feeling of rising action in his chest, the swirling of his mind as he thinks about what he could do? 

He tries anyway.

“I like puzzles.” He says bluntly and he sees Till almost laugh but the burning look in his eyes doesn’t go away, “I like the idea of finding old human culture and bringing it back to light. And…” he sighs, “I think I’ve been too passive my whole life. I didn’t really have much of a drive to fight. I had nothing to fight for anyway.” He lets his hand slip off Till’s shoulder, the glow of the servers dancing across his hands and he grasps at the lights in his palm, “It’s different now, I think. I have…things now. Things that are my own.” He touches his hair, “I’m Ivan, now. Not anything else. They tried to erase that. I’m sure now Unsha is trying to erase every trace of his failure of a pet. But I won’t let them.” Turning to Till, his eyes glow with a manic shimmer and a bitter, spiteful smile, “I want to be the ghost that haunts them for all the crimes they try to keep hidden. They don’t get to forget me or what they’ve done.” 

Till takes a step back, almost afraid of what he sees on his face before he huffs a defeated chuckle and looks into his eyes, “Will this make you happy?”

“Not sure.” Ivan replies, “I can’t be sure about what will make me happy. But…I do think this can.” He meets his gaze with determination that he feels in his soul, “I want to do this. I’m not doing it because I think I have to or owe it to others to do it. This is for me. It’s probably the only thing I’ve ever wanted just for me.”

Till stares at him for a few seconds longer before his gaze softens and replies quietly, “Alright then. That answer is good enough for me.”

Seeing Till finally relax makes Ivan finally calm down and he starts to make his way to the elevator. Once they enter, Ivan readies himself to tell Lina the good news. But as the door slides open, Till presses the button for the public library.

“You go on ahead.” He says, shrugging, “I’ll meet you upstairs.”

He blinks, but acquiesces and watches as Till disappears into the elevator.

Till sighs, leaning against the elevator wall.

You’re doing it again. You’re holding him back.

Till kinda wants to bash his brains in sometimes. He promised he would help but he’s done jack shit to actually help Ivan today. And in the end, he chose the one job that Till really didn’t want him to choose.

It’s just me, Till.

Yeah , he thinks, that’s the point.

He didn’t think Ivan would choose to join the resistance but in hindsight, it makes sense. Ivan is lucky in some ways. He has always seemed to have a sense of a grander purpose, even if his grander purpose was loving Till in his own twisted way. Till has no such sense. 

He has no grand love for the world, no real hopes for the future beyond hoping that the segyein won’t find the rebellion base so he can keep living peacefully until he dies. Though he supposes that he hasn’t been really living until today. He finally feels awake now. For the last few months, he’s been shambling around as a husk of a person with no real goal or ambition beyond just waiting out his own self-imposed sentence. There’s a spark now, a glow of connection that he’s been starving himself of. 

Till just got it back. He’s not sure if he could stand losing it again. 

The image of Ivan in the meteor shower comes to mind. He had left the boy to fend for himself there and in a way, he never really came back for him. Even when they were together, Till let the two of them fight their demons alone. He wonders if they had fought them together, if things would have been different. 

Till used to be a fighter. When Urak first dropped him off at Anakt Garden, he had kicked and scratched until Urak grabbed him by the head and threw him into the transportation cage. 

“You’re nothing mangy mutt. Without me, you’d just be a street rat who wouldn’t amount to anything.” He spat, tapping his pointed claw against the glass, “You would be nothing on your own.”

At the time, Till had just snarled against the cage. The insult was hardly the first of its kind from Urak and would definitely not be the last. Urak was a real bitch, Till couldn’t dwell on every little aggression he dished out. He wouldn’t have been able to survive if he did that. 

But a part of him remembered the message.

You aren’t worth anything. You will never achieve anything great.

Urak had wanted to break him down, make him obedient to his whims. He would fight back, refusing to be quiet and made sure he made every step of the way as inconvenient as possible. Till sang in Alien Stage, not for Urak but to prove him wrong and show him that he didn’t need his tricks to win. He sang his own song, he dressed the way he wanted to dress, he did it all his own way. He got pretty far, all things considered. 

A finalist. 

But Urak had won at that point. He had successfully beaten Till’s spirit down, though it was mostly helped by the loss of Mizi and Ivan. But he won. Till sang what he was told to sing, dressed the way he was supposed to dress, believed what he was told to believe. 

Sing to be worth anything. You need this. You need me.

And now Till is free and has continued to keep his head down. Urak continues to win. He continues to be right. Till hasn’t amounted to much. Refuses to. Scared to.

The fire that once burned in his chest is merely a spark now, but he wants to nurture it again.

He doesn’t have a grand hope for the future. No sense of altruism to do the right thing to save humanity. 

But he does have something to fight for.

Spite. 

And also…

“Guess it’s my turn to follow you, huh?” Till mutters to the sky, the sun having finally set the stars twinkling above making him remember what this was all for, “Fine. It’s about time.”

He doesn’t have a noble reason to fight.

But maybe he doesn’t need one.

And maybe that’s fine.

Till pushes open the door to the shooting range, a determination in his step that he hasn’t had for a very long time. The space is mostly empty, with just a lone girl standing at the end of the range. Shots ring out as her aim lands each bullet into the target with frightening accuracy.

He takes a second to admire her. Mizi really is beautiful, her pink locks bouncing every time she takes a shot. She always has been, being a beacon of joy that would warm Till’s soul when the world was cold. But he sees something now. There’s a ferocity, a rage that radiates off of her that he's never seen before. Or maybe it has always been there, he just never noticed.  

He’s unobservant like that. 

With all of the nerves in his body, he approaches her.

“Mizi?”

She turns around, gun still in her hands and a hard look in her eyes that only fades when she realizes it’s him. There’s a jump in his pulse as he understands that she was more dangerous than he ever gave her credit for. But he’s not scared.

“Till, hey. What’s up?” 

Looking at her, battle hardened and scrappy, he smiles.

“Could I join the resistance? You know, do what you do.”

Mizi stops, eyes widening at his words. Her eyes search for something in his and he meets her gaze with a single-minded determination.

Unwavering. 

She huffs a laugh and knowingly smiles.

“Of course.”

Chapter Text

“You joined the resistance?” 

Till looks up from where he’s tying up his boots to see Ivan speeding towards him with a pinched expression. He grimaces. This isn’t going to be fun.

Ivan never took not knowing what’s going on well. It had something to do with his pride, but he loved always knowing what was going on with everyone at all times. Till kinda understood, he didn’t like not knowing things either but Ivan really really hated being in the dark. Stuff like surprise parties, changes in schedules, spontaneous changes of plans etc. got on his nerves like no other. 

 Not that you’d ever know.

On the outside, Ivan would keep a careful cheerful expression and you wouldn’t even guess that he was quietly seething to himself about changes in schedules. The only person he would show the true extent of his displeasure was Till. Once everyone else was out of earshot , he’d pout and whine to Till about how he didn’t have time to prepare and why couldn’t they just tell him yesterday?

Being spontaneous was sometimes the only way Till could get an upper hand on Ivan and his unflappable attitude. Just to bother him, he’d say they’re playing with Sua and Mizi instead of just them under their tree and he’d subtly watch the way Ivan’s cheeks puffed red when he pouted, thinking about how he was kinda cute like that.

Not that he looked like that now. This Ivan has anger in his eyes, all hard edges and glares. 

“Good morning to you too.” Till greets nonchalantly, pulling hard on his laces for his other boots and doesn’t react as Ivan’s shadow looks over him.

“When were you planning on telling me you joined the resistance?” Ivan questions, his ruby irises blazing with an indignant fire, “Because I had to hear it from Mizi. She said you joined a couple days ago.” 

Till’s grimace deepened. This isn’t really their usual dynamic when they fight. Ivan was always the annoyingly calm, collected one who was more often than not the instigator so he usually had a smug face.

Ivan right now was a quiet ball of anger and Till could feel a sense of guilt pool in his gut.

“To be fair, I told her I was gonna tell you. It’s not my fault she got to it first.” 

Ivan seems thoroughly unimpressed at his response, “I’ve been with you for all of those days.”

He’s right. Since the day they reconciled, Till and Ivan have been attached at the hip again. When they weren’t working, of course. In hindsight, Till definitely could’ve told him but don’t blame him too much for it! After all, he had been distracted with Ivan’s new informant thing. Since he had been recruited, Till has been going to his room every evening to hear about what he’s been doing and Ivan has lots to talk about, all of it far more interesting than anything Till had to say. 

But Ivan doesn’t seem to get that, so he replies, “I’m not doing anything particularly interesting. It’s just getting fitted for the uniform and like, doing some bulking up and stuff.” 

“Yeah, cause you’re a twig.” Ivan snarks, never missing a moment to mess with him but he hardly looks like he’s feeling better after teasing him. 

“Not for long, I won’t. I’ll be bigger than you, fucker.” Till jokes but when Ivan doesn’t rise to the bait, he sighs and says, “I swear, I’m really not doing anything interesting. My day isn’t even going to change much. I’ll still be doing car and bike repairs. It’s just instead of deliveries, I’ll be training and stuff. Who knows, maybe we’ll train together at some point?”

Ivan’s eyes tighten a bit and bites, “You know this isn’t about that.”

That gets Till to stop and grouse, “Oh so you can be mad, but I couldn’t?”

Ivan, the total fucking hypocrite, doesn’t flinch as he states, “I didn’t think you’d join the resistance.”

“Technically I did before you. Repairing the resistance cars, remember?” The wrinkle in Ivan’s brow deepens and Till tilts his head with a softening gaze, “What, doesn’t rebellion suit me?”

There’s a chip in Ivan’s stony glare and after a moment, he mutters, “Yes, it does.”

“Then are you seriously going to be mad at me for doing something that makes sense for me?”

Hesitation flashes across Ivan’s face before he harshly spits, “You don’t need to do this. I can do this on my own, you don’t need to get involved too.” 

Till thinks the idea of Ivan ever being alone again is the worst thing he can imagine.

“You’re not the only reason why I joined.”

“So I am a factor then? I told you, you don’t need to feel guilty—“

“Jeez, don’t you listen?” He interrupts, poking Ivan in the forehead, “I just said you’re not the only reason. I’ve got my own reasons why I would want to join, you’re just a factor. So cool it.”

“But—“

“What was it that you said? ‘You can’t keep me in one place to prevent me from doing dangerous things’? You should take your own advice, hypocrite,” Till can’t help but smile meanly at Ivan’s expression twisting into something ugly as his hypocrisy is pointed out. Gentler, he says, “I don’t mind. It’s not a bad cause to be a part of. Besides,” Till slides his hands down Ivan’s shoulders soothingly, “someone has to watch your back.”

As he looks up to watch Ivan’s face with his eyes tracing over his mixture of embarrassed and touched expression, he finds a single thought runs through his mind.

Let me follow you.

After a few more seconds, the other finally relaxes a bit and he petulantly complains, “You still could’ve told me.”

“I promise, it slipped my mind.”

Ivan looks unconvinced but Till just pokes his forehead again, which has the other grabbing his arm and going for a bite. Till shrieks— in a very manly way he swears— and goes to shake his arm free.

“Motherfucker! You freak, let go!”

Till rips his arm from Ivan’s mouth and dances away from him. Maybe as a form of revenge, Ivan doesn’t relent and instead keeps snapping his teeth together as he gets closer. In retaliation, Till pushes his face back with little regard for if he squishes Ivan’s face.

Ivan, the little asshole, laughs as he finally goes back to normal with his cheeky smile and Till can breathe again.

“…so have you told Mizi yet? You know, about the whole love thing—”

“Oh my god no! I’ll tell you when I do, so stop asking!” Till exclaims, pushing on his face harder as his cheeks flush with embarrassment. 

“You have a habit of taking a very long time to tell people things.”

“And you have a habit of not telling people anything.”

“Touché.”

“What’s this I hear about you joining the resistance ranks?”

Till stifles a deep groan as he pauses his repairs and puts down his tools. If people keep being this surprised that he joined the rebellion, he’s going to start taking offense.

“Isn’t it your job to know?” He asks, meeting Hyuna’s bright gaze with a bored expression, “Being leader and all?”

“I mean yeah, but I’ve had other things to do, guitar boy. I’m a very busy woman.” She argues, settling next to him as she leaned against his workbench with a shit eating grin, “I can’t say I’m not surprised. Imagine, I hear the camp recluse has decided to join our fight for justice and humanity!”

Okay now he’s actually offended.

“I’m not a recluse.”

“You kinda are. I mean, you hardly left your room until recently and as far as anyone could tell, you didn’t care much about the cause.” Hyuna hums and Till grimaces at her bluntness.

“I can’t have been the only person who did that.”

“No, but you certainly were the one who was the most insistent on it.” She pokes his leg, “At least until lover boy started talking to you again. What’s that about, by the way?”

He stands, exclaiming, “Can you cool it with the questions?”

She raises her arms in surrender but her smirk is still on her face. “Hey, hey, I just wanna know! I’ll be honest, your whole uh situation was the most interesting thing to happen around here in ages! You can’t blame a girl for being curious!” 

“It’s none of your business.” He snaps, kicking his leg out to swipe at her legs.

“Oof, ouch, okay! Message received!” Hyuna laughs, dancing out range before her expression shifts to something gentler, “I just wanted to say it’s good to hear you’ve gotten out of your shell.”

The soft tilt of her voice makes Till blush, embarrassed as he looks away, “Come on…”

“I’m serious!” Hyuna elbows him and he hisses a little at the force, “When Mizi told me you used to be this rebel kid, I didn’t quite believe it when I saw you. I really thought that the segyein managed to actually break you and I’m pretty sure the rest of the camp thought so too.” Her face becomes grim as she says, “We wouldn't have blamed you if they did. A lot of people lose themselves and we try to help but…we can’t always. Some people’s demons are bigger than any of us can actually handle for them.” Till feels a hand touch his shoulder and Hyuna smiles warmly at him, “I’m glad to see the fire hasn’t died in you.”

The warmth of her voice sends a heat down his back and settles in his chest, the spark building at her words.

“Yeah…me too.”

He hears a huff of a laugh before an arm swings around his shoulders and he almost falls forward from the weight, “I’m expecting big things from you, guitar boy! I wanna see that ferocity from now on!”

Till doesn’t know how to explain to Hyuna that her words impend themselves into his veins and crystallize in his heart in a way that seems to soothe the angry hands that have touched him before. That no one has ever expected anything of him before, not with anything more than being a very unruly songbird. 

He had been scared about joining the resistance but as he looks to Hyuna, he finds he’s getting excited. Soon, he won’t be a silent songbird anymore. He’ll be what he was always meant to be, he thinks.

A free flying nightmare.

Perfect for him.

“Careful, I might get ideas.” He says instead, because it’s all too complicated to really say properly. 

Hyuna takes his aloof words in stride and punches his shoulder.

I can see why you're a leader now.

“Say, if you’re almost done with those repairs, why don’t I give you some pointers in the combat ring? You’re gonna need some, with how scrawny you are.” She offers with a chuckle and a light pinch to his arm.

“Hey!” He pouts but screws in the last bolt, “I’ll have you know, Dewey said I’m not too bad for a first timer.” 

“I’ll be the judge of that!”

And as Hyuna leads him away, he can’t help but think she’ll make a pretty great friend too.

Ivan walks into the training centre after a morning of working with Lina on a new cipher, stretching out his back. 

Since starting as an informant for the resistance, Ivan had been put mostly on deciphering codes, sitting on his ass for most of the day. It hasn’t been anything particularly complicated and hardly anything vital to missions. Lina said he wasn’t ready for those kinds of assignments, his body being still far too fragile. Resistance work is often done on the field, she explained. It made sense. Ivan, while being well enough to walk around the camp freely and do basic day to day tasks, is still in the midst of his recovery. His knees still shake when he’s standing for too long, his side still hurts when he stretches too high. 

Despite not being ready to work on the field, he’s still given training times to at least start to build up his strength. It’s nothing particularly interesting beyond getting to talk to Dewey who trains most of the new recruits.

Dewey was a very lively person in Ivan’s opinion, feeling like the same kind of person as Hyuna or Mizi. He had heard that Dewey is one of the people who grew up in the resistance, his time as a pet being so short that he barely remembers it. It certainly makes sense with his excitable, carefree attitude. 

When he came for his first training session, there hadn’t been anyone else training with him other than Dewey. Dewey told him it was because he needed special training to account for his injuries. So it was just Ivan and Dewey most of the time, chatting about the going ons of the resistance. 

When he walks into the training centre, he doesn’t expect to find Till there too, dressed in the resistance training outfit with the practice gun strapped to his back.

“Till?”

It catches the others attention and he turns to meet Ivan’s eyes, looking just as surprised.

“Ivan what are—?”

“Alright, it’s about time you boys arrived!”

Dewey bursts in with so much energy that Ivan wonders how it’s possible to even have that much. The trainer grins as he looks over the two of them, putting his hands on his hips with a flourish.

“Yes, yes this should do nicely!” 

“What?” Till asks flatly, cocking his hip.

“This! You!” Dewey swings his arms over both of their shoulders, leading to one of the training rooms, “I knew this pair would go great!”

“Can I ask what’s going on?” Ivan tilts his head slightly as he glances at Till.

The two of them often have their training times set at different hours, since the training done for informants and for resistance fighters is different. When Ivan saw that his scheduled time was slightly changed, he didn’t really think anything of it.

“Okay, you know how informants have to go on the field to hack into systems and whatnot? Well, we often pair them up with a resistance fighter who will watch their back and you know, be the muscle. Soooo!” Dewey muses and suddenly pulls them in tighter, making Till choke, “You two are going to be paired! It’s perfect, right? You two already trust each other, so I figured the hard part is already over!” 

Ivan blinks, eyes darting to Till who seems to still be processing what was just said. His stupid confused face is so cute that Ivan can’t help but grin.

“Yes, I think it’s a perfect fit.” He hums, Till’s attention turning to him as he said with a lilt, “I’ll be in your care then, Till.”

He delights in watching Till’s face flush red at his words and because he can, he reaches up to pinch his cheek teasingly while Till protests. Dewey just laughs, watching them with warm eyes before pointing to the training room

“Alright, let’s get started.”

“Okay Ivan, you need to be able to carry anything from thumb drives to entire computers if we don’t have the time to hack into it right there. Because of that, you’re not going to have too many heavy duty weapons. You’ll have stuff like handguns, knives, hand-to-hand combat, that kind of thing. Your priority is the package so if you can’t win a fight, you have to run.” Dewey explains as Ivan shrugs on his test equipment and notes how the bag is weighted as if there’s something in it, “While Ivan’s priority is the mission, Till, your priority is Ivan. You make sure Ivan has time to hack into stuff and keep him safe. Think you can do that?”

Till pauses for a moment before nodding with a weight behind his words, “Yeah, I got it.” 

“Great!” Dewey claps his hands, clicking a button and the room lights up with a trail of blue glow running across the side of the walls, a hum in the air, “Okay, so for now you two are going to try navigating the obstacle course while being shot at. You can get the shooting to stop in specific areas if you shoot the targets. If you do get shot, it won’t hurt, promise. But you gotta get to the end of the obstacle course, grab the package then come back. Ready?”

“Ready.”

“Yup.”

“Alright, go!”

Till feels his blood rushing as he and Ivan start running, the sound of the room activating making something in him jolt a bit.  He’s been exercising since joining the resistance but as he feels his muscles already start to tire and his forehead sweating, he decides it’s probably not enough. Ivan, despite probably exercising less, seems to be doing alright because life is unfair. Though, there's a slight grimace that pulls his cheek up a bit. 

His wounds are probably bothering him.

There’s a sharp sound, Till seeing one of the guns pointing at Ivan and with a rush of adrenaline, he pulls him out of the way and swaps spots with him. Raising his own gun up, he aims for the target and shoots. 

And he just…whiffs it. 

The shot hits the side of the wall and a wave of embarrassment washes over him as the gun points at him now.

Ah well.

Accepting his fate, he prepares himself for the gun to shoot him like a fool. Except he feels hands push him to the side and for a second, the world goes in slow motion as he sees Ivan with his arms outstretched, eyes wide with panic as their gazes meet and for a split second, it’s raining. 

Only once Till blinks and he’s in the room again does time seem to start back up. The shot rings out and hits Ivan right in the head, sending him tripping back. A scream builds in Till’s throat and he feels the rush of anguish he felt back then rise in his chest. He doesn’t have time to scream though as Ivan hits the ground but quickly sits back up. 

On the side of his head is a large paint spatter that coats his hair in a neon blue hue right where he got shot. 

It’s a little comical and keeps the absolute terror from settling in Till’s bones. 

“Ivan?” He croaks out as Ivan seems to dazedly staring ahead, holding his head, “Are you okay?”

“Huh, oh yeah.” Ivan mumbles, seemingly just as surprised as he is.

“D-Did that hurt?”

“Um…a bit? I uh, I think I’m okay.” He shakily tries to stand up, his knees seemingly not cooperating and Till rushes to pull him the rest of the way.

Dewey whistles as he approaches, “Damn, that was a headshot too. You okay?”

Ivan nods hesitantly, leaning against Till as Till reaches up to wipe away the paint that threatens to drip in front of Ivan’s eyes. He just kind of smears it but the path is redirected to go along his cheek, so he considers it a win. It calms his racing heart that the paint is such a bright colour and not red.

He would probably have a panic attack if it were. 

As it stands, Till does his best to calm down as he presses his hands on Ivan’s wrist to feel the beating pulse underneath and he can feel Ivan doing the same with him, his palm pressed against the back of his neck. 

Dewey looks apologetically at them, “Sorry guys, maybe we should postpone this? I uh, forgot what this could mean to you and if you’re not ready, we can always—“

“Uh,” Till glances at Ivan, who nods, “We’re okay, we can do this. It was just…surprising.”

Dewey doesn’t look entirely convinced, but he sighs and nods, “Okay, kinda a rocky start. Till, you need to aim better, dude. Ivan, instead of jumping in front of the bullet, you should pull both of you out of the way. Let’s try that again and remember what I said. Got it?”

Till and Ivan look at each other before nodding.

“Right.”

“Okay.”

“Ivan, keep an eye on the guns pointed at you, not Till. You’re leaving yourself open and that leaves Till open.”

“Right!”

“Ivan, you need to pay attention to the code on the package. Till is giving you cover fire, so use it to your advantage. Though Till, try to aim for the center of the targets? You keep just barely nicking them.”

“I am aiming for the center!”

“Oh…yikes.”

“Ivan, your gun doesn’t have a lot of range or power. What you should’ve done was run with the package and let Till handle the guns with his weapon.”

“Sure, I understand.”

“Uh…you sure?”

“Okay.” Dewey breathes in, “That time was just straight up abandoning the package to sprint after Till. You didn’t even— you ran into the bullet.”

Till deadpans at Ivan, who is nearly covered head to toe in neon paint and who at least has the decency to look a little bashful while looking like a walking highlighter.

“I don’t even know how you got hit. It’s kinda incredible.” Dewey groans, covering his face, “Ivan, you need to let Till do his job.”

“But he would have been shot.”

“He had his gun aimed at the target. Another second and he would have been fine.”

“But his aim sucks.”

“Yeah, that’s why we do training. But you know, you kinda need to let him train first? So could you cool it with the hero moves?”

Till can see an argument brewing in Ivan’s eyes and sighing, he steps forward, “Ivan, you need to let me protect you. You gotta stop jumping in front of bullets for me. I nearly shot you!”

The other stares back at him before his cheeks redden and there’s a slight pout on his lip that makes him look like a child.

“…it’s instinctual.” Ivan glares at him, "Besides, we would’ve failed anyways if you got shot instead.”

Till’s eyes harden and sighs deeply, “Then let me get shot. You—“ He thinks about rain, blood and an unfair score. “—You have to let me lose. We could’ve won still if you got the package out. Stop trying to fight my battles and yours. We both just lose in that case.”

There’s a tense moment of silence as something in Ivan seems to stiffen up and after another second, he gets up, “I can’t.”

“What are you—?”

“I said, I can’t.” Ivan snaps and the tone of his voice makes Till jolt. Seeing his reaction, Ivan’s face grimaces and turns away, “I’m going to take a shower.”

Till doesn’t have time to say anything otherwise before Ivan disappears into the change rooms and shuts the door with a thud.

“Okay, that was…weird.” Dewey mutters and Till sighs.

“No, that’s just…Ivan.” 

It’s the Ivan that drives him crazy. The one who was the most infuriating, stubborn, the most selfish in the ways he is selfless man he’s ever met. The Ivan that appeared after the meteor shower in Anakt Garden with hardly more than a shrug. The one who stood on that damned stage, singing and staring him dead in the eye like he hadn’t planned to lose from the very start.

The Ivan that loves him.

It’s so frustrating. 

“Just give us a sec.” Till mumbles, slipping off his gun and jogging up to the change rooms without staying to hear Dewey reply.

Pushing against the wooden door, he hears the sound of the showers and the smell of the rebellion shampoo wafts in the air.

It’s nothing special, more having the scent of ‘clean’ than anything specific. But Till finds comfort in it. The products the aliens used on them were often heavily scented in a way that would make Till feel a bit sick. Ivan in particular was always doused in product, smelling always a touch too sweet that was intoxicating but in a way that makes you feel like it’s coating your throat that makes it hard to swallow. With the rebellion shampoo, Ivan just kind of smells like something uniquely Ivan. He can’t really come up with a name for it, just that he likes it.

He can see Ivan’s clothes that he’s left on the bench and buried amongst them is Ivan’s practice gun. Quietly, he picks it up and feels the weight of it. It really is light. Glancing over at a water bottle left on the bench across from him, he aims and fires. It goes right by and paints the wall in neon.

He really is a shit shot.

That’s probably something he needs to work on.

The sound of the water stopping makes him remember what he’s here for and he leans back, fiddling with the gun as he waits. After a few minutes, Ivan comes out with a fresh set of clothes and a pensive look on his face. When he sees Till sitting casually next to his painted clothes, he blinks.

“Hey.” Till greets, trying to sound casual.

When the processing is done, Ivan’s expression hardens and he starts organizing his things, “I already said I can’t do it, so if you’re trying to convince me then you’re wasting your time.”

“Why can’t you just let me protect you for a change?” He asks with a rough voice, “This isn’t even life or death, it’s a drill.”

“But it could be. It's supposed to simulate what we’re supposed to do on the field and in the field, I would do that.” Ivan argues back, annoyingly calm as Till feels his blood pressure rising.

“You have a job to do as an informant. Didn’t you say you wanted to do this? Gonna go back on it now?”

“I’m not, I just—“

“Would you rather I switch partners? Would it make it easier for you to do your job?”

“No, it wouldn’t—“

“Then what would make you do your fucking job?”

“Quit.”

Till breathes heavily, the single word reverberating in the room as the two of them stare angrily at each other. 

As the word lingers in the air, Till feels himself get angrier. Quit? He should quit?

Fucking asshole.

With clenched fists, Till growls, “You are such a fucking hypocrite. Going on and on about making choices for yourself but the moment I do, you start telling me I can’t.”

“You know that’s not what I meant.”

Till glares, “Isn’t it though?” Staring at Ivan’s unwavering expression makes something in him pull back and he says, “You are so…frustrating sometimes. You keep thinking you’re always fucking right about everything and somehow make me seem like the irrational one! I-I just— can’t with you!” 

He turns around and starts to open the door.

“Where are you going?”

“To go think.” He glances back and sees Ivan looking at him with that damned stubborn look, “Somewhere you can’t judge me for my decisions like how I apparently can’t with yours.”

As the door shuts behind him, Till sighs and wonders what he should do now. The weight of Ivan’s love sometimes is hard to carry and he doesn't know where to start dealing with it.

Then he remembers who might understand. 

And with a groan, he pulls at his face and mutters, “I guess we’re doing this now.”

Shots ring out at the shooting range and Till watches as Mizi lands each of her shots with barely more than a blink. It really is terrifying how good she’s gotten with a gun.

With an awkward shrug, he grabs a gun and carefully walks behind her.

“Mizi?”

His voice makes her jump slightly and she whips around with a hardened look on her face before she softens at the sight of him.

“Huh, oh! Hey Till.” She greets, wiping off some sweat and smiling, “What’s up?”

“Um…” he lifts up his gun, “Could you give me some pointers? Dewey says I’m a shit shot.”

Mizi stares at him for a moment, a look of surprise on her face as her eyes dart from him to the gun before she warms.

“Of course, yeah, I can do that.”

With some nerves, Till aims the gun at the target on the other side of the range and Mizi chuckles. She touches his shoulder, raising it and shifting the gun.

“You’re looking down the barrel wrong, you have to align the nozzle.” She starts and proceeds to explain how he’s been shooting the gun wrong which is basically every way. 

The whole time while Mizi is pushing and pulling him into place, Till is thinking about how to start the conversation. Does he start with how he was in love with her and she was the reason he woke up in the morning? Or does he start with how his feelings for Ivan are so confusing and just how he can’t deal with the fact that Ivan is in love with him, thus becoming very frustrating? What would freak her out less? 

As Till stares at Mizi, he realizes that maybe he never really knew her that well at all. He can’t read her the way Sua or even Ivan could. They seemed to know how she was feeling regardless of the ever-present smile on her face. They could read the little ticks that Mizi unconsciously did and knew what to say to get her to open up. Till…never could. At best, they were always a little bit awkward. Mostly on his end. But they were never seamless like the rest. Quite frankly, Till didn’t really have a seamless relationship with anyone.

Maybe he’s the problem.

Regardless, he needs to try his best now because he really does need her advice. So he steels himself and just blurts something.

“Do you remember that one time you asked me if I liked you?”

Which—wow. Perhaps he needs to take speaking classes too because he's such a failure at it. 

Mizi’s smile loses a bit of its warmth and her face turns into something tense as she pulls her hands away from his shoulders, “O-Oh uh yeah. What about it?”

“Just uh…you asked why I liked you and I said it was because you were pretty.”

“…mmhm.”

“Well, um, it wasn’t the whole truth.”

That seems to get Mizi’s attention, her expression shifting into something more confused, “Really?” 

Hoo boy, here we go.

“I-I was…I didn’t just like you. I was in love with you.” He stutters, his cheeks reddening as he spits out the words that have been living in his chest for years, “You were the reason why I got out of bed some days. When everything in my life was dark, you were the shining beacon that would guide me.”

Mizi is standing there, her grip on her gun loosening as her beautiful eyes widened, shining like the gold that she is. Till stares back at her, unwavering as he speaks his truth. But…

“Till, I— I didn’t know you…I mean, wow, that’s…” she stutters through her words, eyes darting around like she’s trying to find her answer and that in of itself, gives Till his answer, “D-Do you still…”

“Dunno.” He shrugs, and he thinks he hears a small sigh of relief from her, “My feelings right now are kinda jumbled up right now. Hard to say. I just…be completely honest with me?” Mizi hesitates but nods at his request and he sighs, running his hands through his hair and watching the way her feet hop back and forth nervously, “Did I ever, even a little bit, have a shot?” 

He feels bad, putting her on the spot like this. But he needs his answer. To…maybe move on or maybe to just…finally know. It’s the answer that he’s refused for years because he’s been too scared to hear it. But it’s also been the thing that’s been chaining him down and he needs a fresh slate.

“…I’m sorry.”

The apologetic, almost tearful way Mizi says it should devastate him to his core. Shake the foundations of everything he’s built his life on and ruin him completely

It doesn’t though. 

It’s like a final, big piece of a puzzle is given to him and even if the image isn’t what he always hoped for, there’s relief in the puzzle being finished. The question that’s been ballooning in his chest for years has finally popped and he can breathe again. It feels…not amazing but it does feel good. Good in its own way.

Why hadn’t he said it earlier? 

Till looks up and huffs a small chuckle. Mizi is staring at the ground, a firm but apologetic expression on her face as she bows slightly to him, like she has offended him. She looks more scared than he himself felt. Is this what he’s been so scared of?

A girl apologizing to him?

“It’s okay.” He says simply and that seems to surprise her. 

It makes him wonder why.

“I-Is it?” She asks tentatively and he laughs, nodding.

“Yeah, it is. It’s…honestly the answer I expected.” He thinks about the boy who saw a girl laughing in hell and made an idol of her, “I think if I heard that back then, I dunno, maybe I would be more upset? But I’m pretty sure I kept it to myself because I knew what the answer was going to be. I could’ve never competed with Sua.” 

The mention of her name makes Mizi’s eyes glitter and yeah, he really had no shot. Not when Mizi’s love shines this bright. 

“I didn’t tell you this cause I wanted to be with you. I wanted to…have a fresh slate with you. You know, be proper friends and all that.” He continues, scratching the back of his neck, “I mean, we were but I got the feeling that I didn’t really get to know you really. And I didn’t let you get to know me. So…what do you say?” 

He holds his hand out to shake and Mizi’s eyes dart from it to his eyes. Searching for any kind of lies in his words. He can see the secrets that she holds behind eyes that scream innocence but that he’s understanding is just a wall. Hopefully, he’ll get to find out what those are someday. 

When she sees no deceit, it’s like the strings holding her so tense are finally cut and she slumps, grabbing his hand and shaking it, “Yes…! Yeah, I would like that! I would really really like that!”

Seeing her this relieved, Till can’t help but wonder how many times she’s done this song and dance. She was popular back in Anakt Garden, Till was hardly the first to fall in love with her and certainly not the last. He wonders how many times it has ended like this. Back then, Till had been one of the few boys that Mizi would invite to play with her and on more than one occasion, he’d be accosted by jealous little boys who demanded he tell them why she would play with a loser like him and not them.

He doesn’t feel like a loser now as Mizi holds his hands with a smile to rival a sun. And he finds that this is good enough for him. 

Nothing has been lost, only gained.

“Actually, I had something else I wanted to talk to you about.” He says, squeezing her hand as his voice becomes more strained, “How— Is there— god, I don’t know how to start.”

Mizi stares at him for a moment, blinking before tilting her head with a calculating look in her eye, “Does it have something to do with Ivan?”

It shouldn’t be surprising that she guessed it. When it is not about Ivan?

“I think you know the answer to that.” Till groans, dragging his hand down his face, “He and I…had a disagreement.”

Mizi narrows her eyes and says, “You two have a lot of those.”

Touché.

“A serious one.” 

That gets her attention as she stands up straighter and leans in. “Really?”

“Yes…I thought you might know what to do here. Since…you know what, I’ll just explain.” He sits himself down, staring at the target on the other side of the room, “So me and Ivan are being paired together, right? And like, I knew he would have problems with me joining the resistance. They’re the same ones I have for him! But like, my job is to cover for him and in the drills, he just couldn’t let me do it. He’d try to jump in front of me or fucking pull me out of the way and he just kept getting shot! So when we told him he needed to cool it, he said he couldn't. When I confronted him after, he said that the only way he’d feel comfortable enough to do his job is if I quit. Which is just—! So hypocritical!” He sighs, shaking his head, “I…I thought that you’d have some advice on how to deal with someone who just…won’t stop putting you over them.”

Mizi listens to him quietly and as he tells the story, her expression dims into something bitter and she slides herself down next to him.

Knocking into his shoulder with hers, she says grimly, “I honestly wouldn’t know much more than you. My someone died before I could figure that out.“

The mention of it makes Till grimace and curl up, “Right…”

Sua is hard to think about most days. While she and Till weren’t super close, he considered her one of his few friends. When Mizi and Ivan were off doing whatever the hell the two of them did for alone time, he and Sua would sit together. They wouldn’t talk much but they would work on music together, the two of them having a bit more of interest in the intricacies of it than their more crowd-pleasing friends. The suggestions he got from Sua were often the key to making his melody work and when they weren’t doing that, they’d exchange quiet stories until they’d fall asleep. Sua’s quiet but gentle presence was comforting sometimes when everyone else felt like they were too much.

He misses her a lot.

It feels wrong to be free but she’s the only one who was left behind on that stage. 

“I…While I don’t know what would work…I do know what I would want to say. I have so much I would say.” Mizi whispers, her voice getting a wet quality to it as she clenches her fist, “I would tell her that I never asked her to do what she did. That I never wanted her to do what she did. That I…I hate her a little bit for it. I-I just…I would tell her that I wish she would have just trusted me. That we were supposed to be partners! A-And…” she sniffles, wiping her tears, “That I’m sorry. For not trusting her either.”

Till doesn’t know what to do when people cry. So all he can do is just pull her into an awkward side hug, mourning for Sua but also for the Mizi that existed before she lost her person. And also, be grateful that he isn’t in her place and didn’t lose his person either. He can’t even picture the person he would’ve been if he did. 

Probably just the husk that he was before who shambled around pretending to be a person. 

“S-Sorry I can’t give you a better answer…” she apologizes and he shakes his head.

“No, I…I think you gave me the answer I need.” He replies, pulling her in tighter, “Thank you.”

Mizi huffs a wry laugh before it breaks into sobs. He sits with her for a while longer, deciding that she shouldn’t be alone in this. Not when he understands so well.

Ivan is having a hard time focusing. 

The words on the page are just becoming mush in his brain. He’s hardly registering what the words even are, they’re all just looking like shapes.

He sighs. It’s a shame, honestly. Since realizing that the info centre had a lot of human era literature, he’s been making an effort to read as much as he can. He’s been deprived of fiction for so long that he’s been excited to finally get to read it for himself. This book in particular has been on his radar for a while and he had been excited to read it.

Now he can’t even focus on it.

Till’s angry face flashes across his mind and he sighs. They don’t usually fight like this, even back then. Everything they argued about was stupid stuff, things that come the next day they wouldn’t remember. Lost pencils, crushed flower crowns, a slip of the tongue that edged on rude. 

This time was different. This time was serious.

There’s a pit in Ivan’s stomach and he swallows around the lump in his throat. He wonders if he’s ruined everything and the two of them will become strangers again.

A knock at his door makes him jolt up. For a moment, Ivan questions if Till had come to talk. Tentatively, he opens the door.

“Heya!”

He relaxes and opens the door wider, “Oh, hello Hyuna.”

She scoffs, a pout on her lips as she walks in, “Do you need to sound so disappointed?”

“No, no, it’s not that.” Ivan says and throws a blanket over his bed as Hyuna sits down on it, “My mind is just…preoccupied.”

Hyuna has barely sat down before she remarks, “You fought with Till, didn’t you?”

Right to it then.

His eyes sharpen and he raises a brow, “Did he tell you?”

It wouldn’t be that surprising. Since joining the resistance, the two of them have seemingly become quite close friends. They saw a like-minded spirit in each other and started to spar together. Ivan would sometimes follow to watch and he had to admit, they seemed to get along very well. 

Did it make him a little jealous? Sure.

Did it also make him happy that Till’s fire has finally come back again? Also yes. 

“Nah, I can just tell.” Hyuna denied, waving her hand dismissively.

“From just my face?”

“Yeah. You’re more straight faced than usual when you’re upset.” 

It still unnerves him how easily Hyuna can read him. She seemingly has that effect on everyone. 

“So what’s up? What’s going on?” She asks, arms behind her head as she leans on the wall, “You can tell your humble leader.”

“Are you my leader?” Ivan hums, sitting back onto his chair with his book, “I’m not sure if such matters are important enough for you then.”

“You’re deflecting~” she muses, shutting her eyes with a smile, “I can sit here all day, don’t test me.”

She could and she would, so Ivan sighs, “It’s really not a big deal.”

“It must be if you’re sulking this much about it.” She pokes his bicep and he wheels his chair away from her, “Besides, you and Till have the potential to be major assets for the resistance, so I need to know what’s going on with you and how I can help.” 

“There’s not anything you can do to help. It’s not…It won’t make a difference if I tell you.” Ivan argues and Hyuna meets his gaze with a slight smile, eyes sparkling.

“Tell me anyway.”

Unwavering in her resolve, Ivan sighs. Fine then.

“It’s just that I can’t do what he’s asking of me.”

“You mean stop being a self-sacrificing idiot?” When Ivan shoots her a look, she raises her arms, “I heard from Dewey, not Till. Told me the guys he was training left and then didn’t come back, so duh he told me.”

“We just…Dewey wants me and Till to pair up as an informant and soldier but I can’t…keep myself from prioritizing Till.”

“Over the mission?”

“Over anything.” He glares at the ground, “I told him I can’t do it, he asked what would get me to do my job and I said quit. He got mad and then said he needed to think. Then he left.” 

Hyuna hums, “From what I’ve heard, that’s a pretty tame reaction for him.”

“No…that’s the worst one.” 

It means Till actually cares. The whole event won’t be forgotten when the night ends. It means Ivan has fucked up.

“Huh…I mean, do you get why he’s mad?” 

“I—“ 

Of course he does, he knows everything about Till. 

Doesn’t he?

You keep thinking you’re always fucking right.

Ivan narrows his eyes but mumbles, “I’m trying to protect him.”

“Don’t you think he’s trying to do the same thing for you?”

“I don’t—“

“—need it? Deserve it?” Hyuna interrupts, arching a brow and the way she’s looking at him makes him feel defensive, “Newsflash, genius, that boy really cares about you and it doesn’t matter what you think you deserve, he’s going to care about you regardless. So you might as well make it easy for him to do that because otherwise, you’re going to get both of you hurt.” Ivan frowns and she shakes her head, “You’re both reckless fucks, willing to jump in front of a fucking missle if you thought that’d keep the other safe.”

“He wouldn’t.”

“No? Do you wanna remember what state he was in before reconnecting with you?” Hyuna asks incredulously, gesturing to the window, “He was holed up in his room or shambling around the camp like a fucking zombie. Fully planning on just rotting there until he died! You wanna know what gave him the motivation to fucking get up? You.”

Ivan remembers the way Till looked that night he came to find him at the bar. Till had never been one for appearances but that night, he looked like he crawled out of hell. But he had a determination in his eyes that was staggering and the feeling of it being locked onto him made his stomach flip. 

“That boy is trying to be better for you. And you wanna know what, I think that’s a hell of a lot harder than becoming worse for someone.” The woman reaches out slowly, pulling his fingers away from the spine of the book, “Till cares about you. Wants to be better for you by taking care of himself for once. You should follow his example and stop trying to ruin yourself on purpose.” She squeezes tightly, “Don’t force him to become worse for you because I’m pretty sure he’d follow your lead.”

And what does he say to that? 

There’s a knock at the door.

“Well, that’s my cue.” Hyuna shifts attitude, a playful tilt to her tone as she gets from the bed to make her way to the door, “Good talk, lover boy. Don’t forget what I said! Ah, and good luck.”

With that, she swings the door open before Ivan can open his mouth to protest and Till is standing in the doorframe with a surprised expression.

“Hyuna? What are yo—“

“Just leaving!” She exclaims cheerfully as she slips past him, "Don't get too wild in there!”

And with that, she heads down the hall with a click of her boot. Till watches her go with a slightly lost expression before his attention turns to Ivan. His piercing teal gaze makes Ivan’s inside squirm and it's a bit too much for him, needing to look back at his book.

“…can I come in?” Till asks after ten seconds of silence.

Ivan’s mouth stretches into a small grimace and passively replies, “You’re in the doorway already.” 

Till decides not to grace him with a response to that. The other just steps into the room, shutting the door before going to one of the clothes piles and pulling out the inside clothes that he leaves in Ivan’s room. Silent, he goes into the bathroom to change and leaves Ivan to think about how fucked he is.

Ivan wonders if this is the beginning of the end.

After a couple minutes, Till comes back out in his loose shorts, giant t-shirt and such a carefully neutral expression that he looked almost completely deadpan. He still doesn't say anything as he sits on the bed, eyes raking over Ivan before he finally breathes out.

“C’mere.”

Ivan is a bit confused and mumbles, “Excuse me?”

“Did I stutter? Come over here.” Till repeats and pats the space next to him, “Hard to talk to you like this.”

Ivan’s room isn’t super big and the chair that he’s sitting on absolutely isn’t far from the bed. But Till’s eyes stare at him imploringly so he caves and puts his book down on the chair before shifting himself onto the bed. After settling himself down, sudden grabby arms shoot out to pull Ivan into Till’s chest and they fall to the side into the soft sheets with an ‘oof’ from Ivan. 

“Wh—“

“I’m trying to get you to listen.” He interrupts, face pressed into Ivan’s hair as the arms pull them closer together, “You don’t listen unless I make you.”

Ivan’s chest is racing, the feeling of his blood rushing through his veins making him feel almost dizzy. He can smell Till like this. Hints of the rebellion shampoo and something sharp that has always been distinctly Till fills his senses. The fact this whole thing was initiated by Till himself is throwing Ivan for a loop too.

“Does it have to be like this?” Ivan asks, shifting his head to be resting on Till’s collarbone but his arms reach up to wrap around the other’s form despite the question.

“You won’t be able to run if I do this.”

“This is my room. Why would I run from my own room? If anything, I would make you run from me.”

“…I won’t.”

A hand tangles itself into Ivan’s hair and he can feel Till twist the curly strands around his fingers, fiddling with them over and over again. It sends shivers down Ivan’s back and makes his head feel just on the edge of foggy. In return, he carefully puts his hands onto the middle of Till’s back and absentmindedly draws little shapes. The feeling of Till relaxing in his grasp puts a small smile on his face and he wonders if he actually died on that stage and this is heaven. 

How else do you explain this feeling of bathing in beautiful divinity?

“You’re an idiot.” Till mutters with his cheek against the top of his head which makes his speech come out muffled. 

Ivan chuckles, “How rude.”

“You really are the biggest fucking idiot in the world. No, the universe.” 

“I surely can’t be the biggest idiot in the universe. It’s too vast for that to be true.”

“That’s how big of an idiot you are. Out of all of the billions, trillions, every being in existence, you are the king of them all.” Till starts scratching at his scalp, gentle still and is slowly undoing the knots in his hair, “King Idiot Ivan.”

“Does that make you a subject of my kingdom of idiocy? Perhaps you’re the fool in my castle.” 

“Shut up.” Till lightly swipes at his shoulder, “You’re distracting me.”

“You’re the one who started the king metaphor.”

“Shut. Up.”

Ivan hums but complies, burrowing his face deeper into Till and savouring every moment he gets to have this. Till is breathing above him, the sound of him starting and stopping his sentence making itself evident. Ivan knows they’re going to talk about what happened but despite this warm, intimate position, he still feels scared. So he holds his breath, waiting.

“You’re…you’re the biggest idiot in the universe for not understanding how much I…I care about you.” Till starts, the words coming out sort of shaky.

Ivan can feel the blush run up to his ears and he tries to turn his head to hide them, “I…I think I’m getting a sense.”

“No, no you really don’t get it. I-I don’t know what I would’ve done if you really had–”

“I think you would’ve been fine. You’re strong, Till.” Ivan replies and the arms around his waist tighten. He gasps a little as Till vehemently shakes his head into his hair. 

“Not that strong. Not without you.” he mutters into him, like he’s trying to say it straight into his soul and Ivan’s heart flutters alight, “You’re the one thing I can’t accept losing. I can lose everything else. I already have so fucking many times. But you…not you. It can never be you.”

Ivan’s heart is pounding in his head and he can barely comprehend what is happening. 

“So…you’re saying I’m yours?” He whispers quietly and Till jolts under his grasp.

“T-That’s! Partners! W-We’re supposed to be partners!” He exclaims and Ivan laughs at the panic in his voice, trying to cover up what he just said, “What I’m trying to say is that we’re in this together, okay?! That I care about you! You’re not replaceable to me and I won’t accept you trying to fucking sacrifice yourself for me like I’m somehow worth more than you! I won’t allow it! Not when I don’t get an equal chance to do it. Either we both sacrifice ourselves for each other or neither of us do! D-Do you get it?”

Ivan hums, his chest so warm that he feels like he needs to open it to let the heat out. It tickles against his skin and all he wants to do is bury himself into this feeling. Giggling, he smiles against Till’s collar.

“Till cares about me~” he muses and Till angrily ruffles his hair.

“Yes, I do. So just like how you don’t want me to sacrifice myself, I don't want you to sacrifice yourself. We’re…we’re partners. We need to trust each other to come out okay and do our job. This doesn’t work if we don’t.” Till gently pulls back a bit, using his free hand to tilt Ivan’s head up to face him and Ivan has to stare into his mind-melting teal eyes, “You’re…my most precious thing, okay? I’m entrusting it to you to keep it safe for me. In exchange, will you entrust me with uh…me? Trust in me to keep myself safe. I’ll…I’ll come back to you, I promise. I won’t go somewhere you can’t follow. I promise I’ll always be right behind you.”

Ivan feels his hands tremble and he so badly wants to fall into those words. To let them sink into his bones and let them shape into something true. 

But…

“I…I want to.” He rasps, twisting Till’s shirt in his hands and rubbing his forehead against his, “I really want to, but—“

“Nah, I get it. Just…I’ll earn it. I swear.” Till pulls him closer, “But you need to hold up your end too. We can start slow.”

Ivan blinks before he finally smiles, nodding against Till and he finally gets to see Till smiling at him like the way the sun shines after a rainy day. It’s so close and bright that Ivan thinks he’s going to melt on the spot. 

Till, with all the awkwardness of the boy he used to be, raises his hand between them with his pinkie out. Like the boy he used to be too, Ivan links his pinkie with his and solidifies the promise. 

“We should probably apologize to Dewey.” Ivan suddenly mutters and Till sighs, his head lulling back.

“Yes, we should.”

And they do it together. 

“Your hair is getting long.” Ivan remarks, reaching to twist a chunk of Till’s hair between his fingers while Till works on his bike.

It still amazes him that Till lets him do stuff like this. To be this gentle and barely reacting more than a hum of acknowledgment. Back then, anything more than him leaning on Till’s shoulder while he drew would make him jump up and run away with barely a sputtering excuse. He’d only turn to look at him and stay when he gave a punch rather than the kiss Ivan wanted to give. 

Ivan pulls back a bit, letting the hair fall back against Till’s shoulders and Till shakes his head to reset the hair.

“Yeah, I guess it is.” Till replies, knocking against one of the panels with an analytical expression before turning to look at Ivan, “What, do you not like it?”

Ivan hums, leaning back a bit while swinging his legs from atop of Till’s workbench. He puts his holopad to the side. Today was an opportunity for the two of them to work side-by-side since Ivan didn’t need a computer for his latest project, which is just making a guide on how to decipher the kinds of ciphers Unsha and others like him tended to use. 

He squints as he stares at Till’s face. His hair has gotten pretty long, reaching to almost below his shoulders and  is currently being tied back while he works. Slowly, he gently brushes one of the strands back behind Till’s ear so he could see the teal eyes better. Till barely twitches as he just keeps looking at him, the question in the air.

Ivan smiles a bit and asks, “Do you?”

Till thinks for a second before pinching the end of his little ponytail with a slight grimace, “Eh, I dunno. I just haven’t had the time to go get it cut, you know? Kinda miss the shorter hair. It would be nice to not have my neck sweat so much.”

Ivan thinks for a moment before smirking, “Do you want me to cut it for you? I know how.” 

Till blinks in surprise at him before his face becomes pinched as he really thinks, asking with suspicion, “Do you actually?”

“Of course.” Ivan reaches over to one of the drawers and smiles as he sees a pair of scissors, “I learned all about this kind of thing. Perfect idol, remember?”

He picks them up and snips them in the air. Till’s pinched expression only gets more so as he narrows his eyes.

“Are you going to make me look stupid?”

“I won’t, I won’t. Besides,” Ivan slides off the table and pulls up a chair, “I would need to look at your ugly ass everyday and I couldn’t do something like that to myself.”

“Dick.” Till grouches but he sits himself down on the chair and Ivan goes to get a towel to put around his shoulders.

“What’s going on here?”

Ivan looks up from the towels he’s sorting through to see Isaac looking at them with an amused expression.

“Yo, Ivan. Been a bit since you’ve been to the hangar.” Isaac greets with a slight wave and a thump to the back. 

“I had an easy assignment so I worked here.” Ivan replies, pulling out a clean towel and walking back to Till, tying it around his neck.

“That so? So whatcha doing now?”

“Cutting Till’s hair.”

“Really?” Isaac laughs and ruffles Till’s hair, who protests, “Looks like Rapunzel is letting down his hair. Can I watch?”

“That’s not what that means!” Till exclaims while Ivan grabs a brush, “Oi, Ivan, make sure I don’t end up looking like this trainwreck over here!”

“Why you!” Isaac grits and pulls Till into a playful headlock, “I oughta give Ivan a fucking buzz razor and he’ll shave you bald!”

“If I hear anything fucking buzz, I’m booking it!”

Ivan watches the two of them play fight for a minute with an affectionate glow in his chest. It’s good to see him laughing without a care in the world. 

Ivan likes Isaac quite a bit. He’s a dependable man that always seems to have answers for things. The man doesn’t take things too seriously most of the time and as far he knows, is part of the reason why he’s even here. Ivan wouldn’t have been brought back to the rebellion if it weren’t for that man, so he owes a lot to him. 

“Now, now children, I need to work. The baby needs his first cut after all.” Ivan teases as Isaac pulls off of Till, leaning against the table with crossed arms and a smile.

“Of course, of course, I shouldn’t anger the baby before his big haircut.” Isaac muses, which Till responds with a glare. 

“Thank you, Isaac.” Ivan says as he approaches Till from behind.

“I will fucking bite you.” Till growls at Ivan as he unties his hair.

Leaning in, he whispers into his ear like a secret, “You know I’ll like it.”

He gets great satisfaction from seeing Till’s ears turn red before letting the hair curtain it away and he starts brushing.

In the end, the cut turns out like a mix of his hair from Round 2 and Round 6, with enough length for Ivan to run his fingers through. 

“It’s not bad. Feels nice to have air on my neck again.” Till remarks, looking at the reflection and turning his head around, “Thanks.”

“No problem. Figured it was time to get rid of the depression hair.” Ivan replies and Till shoves him lightly.

“Hey.” Till admonishes before pausing and asking, “So uh, do you like it? Cause I like it.”

He looks a bit nervous as he asks this and Ivan quietly realizes that he cares about his opinion. 

Ivan pauses, looking him over before nodding, “I do.”

After all, he can see Till’s eyes light up better like this. 

“Hey Till, check out this music I deciphered.”

“…it’s bad. What the fuck is this?”

“It’s called club music. Apparently humans from before would take songs and then turn them into something like this for clubs.”

“So they’d butchered their own songs for a club?”

“Well I think it’s better than segyein club music.”

“That’s because it’s just fucking noise, it’s not even music. This is just bad music.”

“I don’t know, I can see a use for it.”

“What?”

“The beat would be good for coitus. Nice rhythm.”

“…just say fuck.”

“Till, I would never be so vulgar.”

“Please just say fuck.”

“Till, please, I fucking won’t so don’t ask.”

“…I hate you.”

Ivan finds himself rambling to Till again about the latest project Lina had put him on. Till has been visiting him in his room almost every night. Ivan had given him a key to his room at some point since he comes back late sometimes and once he found Till sitting at his door like a stray.

It’s strange having Till almost always being the one to seek him out. Not that Ivan doesn’t but more often than not now, Till will beat him to the punch.

The first time he randomly showed up, Ivan didn't know what to say. He just gaped at him until Till pushed past him and asked about his day. 

Now it’s routine. Either Ivan hears a knock at his door or Till will already be in his room, waiting for him. He wonders if Till even spends any time in his own room. As far as he can tell, Till alternates between the hangar, the training centre or Ivan’s room. Honestly, it seems like the man has an adverse reaction to staying in his own room for too long.

It would probably be more convenient for the two of them to room together. There are two people dorm rooms and some people even live in houses, though those ones are usually couples with children. 

Still, it’s a possibility.

Ivan wants to ask. But the thought about Till saying no keeps the words in his throat. 

Till listens to him talk about how the latest project involves ciphers combined with other kinds of ciphers while sketching absentmindedly and humming every so often to remind him he’s listening. Ivan knows most of what he’s saying is just gibberish to Till but he lets him drone on anyway as if he has any idea about what Ivan is saying. 

(It’s an interesting reversal from how they used to be, with Till being the one to ramble on and on about nonsense while Ivan listened quietly. Ivan mostly just liked listening to Till’s voice and honestly, he didn’t have a lot to say back then.

His life was just day-to-day monotony of being a fancy pet. Sing at Anakt Garden, which Till was there for and thus didn’t need to have the day recapped, or it was playing fancy decoration for Unsha at parties that were boring or exhausting or both. Anything actually interesting in his days were things that Ivan decided that Till shouldn’t hear about. They weren’t good stories, they were just sad or terrible to hear about.

So he let Till talk. 

Nowadays, Ivan has much more to speak about and far more passion for it.)

Till has been drawing again recently. Till had always been a creative kid so even when he wasn’t making music, he’d draw on the loose pieces of paper the segyein provided or the walls if they weren’t given anything. It was constant. 

But since coming to the rebellion and reconnecting, Ivan hadn’t seen him even pick up a pencil beyond jotting down lists of things he needed for repairs. While they chatted about their day, Till would just sit and listen but Ivan could tell he was restless. That boy always needed something to do with his hands so Ivan would watch Till pull at a string hanging off of his sweater until he almost untied it. 

Now Till is drawing. He just started one day, bringing a sketchbook and a pencil with him for their daily chat. Ivan didn’t mention anything, not wanting to embarrass him out of doing it.

Ivan hasn’t gotten to see what he draws, he covers it every time he tries. He doesn’t protest too much though. Honestly he’s just happy Till is drawing at all.

There’s a sudden snap that blinks Ivan back into focus and Till curses as his pencil breaks against the paper.

“Fuck. Hey Ivan, do you have a sharpener?” He asks and Ivan looks around his room.

“Yeah, right, uh—“

His room is kind of a mess so he has to go digging around his desk drawers before pulling it out and tossing to Till.

“Thanks.” Till says before he starts drawing again.

Ivan can’t help but stare at the boy that’s sitting on his bed, dressed in the cutest oversized shirt and cozy shorts, chatting with him about mundane nonsense and looking just so comfortable. Like Ivan made him feel comfortable. It was all so cute that he almost wanted to tear it all up just so the fluffy feeling would stop making his body tingle like he’s made of live wire. 

Till is so unreal sometimes, with his bright eyes, fluffy hair and the sweetest face that could make Ivan melt just by looking at him. He kind of wants to just sink his teeth into Till’s cheek and take a bite out of him. 

(He’s so in love that it leaves him in pieces sometimes. It’s a wonder how he had this grand feeling just living in his chest for years and even after all that, he still couldn’t find the name for it until recently. 

Maybe it’s because he didn’t think he knew how to love. That whatever he was feeling, it couldn’t be love because sometimes the feeling in his chest was ugly and tasted like resentment. It would burn some days and leave him writhing, wondering what was wrong with him. Why he couldn’t just be good enough as is and why, despite everything, did he want that starry boy so badly.

Maybe it’s because the word love didn’t feel like it sufficed. How could that word encompass the feeling of crashing stars in his heart, the grand dreams of a future that danced in his head and the clawing desire to make sure that boy got to see the next morning even if it killed him. The singular word of ‘love’ is hardly enough. It’s too short. Too quick to say and too easy to dismiss. 

It’s far too simple. But maybe you need a simple word when a feeling is so grand, so complex that no combination of flowery language would ever feel like it was enough.

Love. 

He is in love. What a marvel.)

Ivan finds the question he wants to ask resurfacing in his mind. They spend nearly every spare second with each other, why do they need to separate at the end of the night? Why does he have to watch Till leave his room, say goodbye, walk down the hall, then turn the corner when they’re going to end up here the next day anyway? What’s the point of it?

“Ivan.”

He blinks at his name and looks at Till’s confused expression, “What?”

“You were spacing out.” Till replies, arching a brow, “What’s up?”

He has that face again. The one that says he’ll call him out if he lies. Till is getting frustratingly good at distinguishing Ivan’s lies and truths. He didn’t used to be or at least, he wasn’t so bold when pointing it out. 

Ivan looks around before sighing and asking tentatively, “I had a…question to ask.”

“Okay?”

“Do…do you want to room together? A-after all, we spend almost all of our free time together and it’s rather inconvenient to make this whole big effort of you or I needing to leave when we’re going to be here anyway.” Ivan starts to explain, trying not to meet Till’s eyes, “And half of your stuff is here and half of mine is in your room so it could all be consolidated in the same space for convenience. So I think we should go talk to Hyuna about moving in since it would be the most logical decision"

Till just goes, “Sure.”

Like he didn’t even need to think about it.

Ivan blurts, “Really?” 

“Yeah? You’re right, it would be way more convenient.”

Which makes something in Ivan tilt in confusion because it can’t be that easy. 

“You know we’ll be together all the time? Like you won’t be able to just walk and I’ll be far away for a whole night. I'll probably be across the hall. No escape.”

Till frowns, “I know what roommates are, Ivan.”

“But I’m messy! I’ll probably still be messy!” Ivan exclaims, gesturing to his room that has clothes on the floor, a pile of books he plans to read but not nearly soon enough, the drawers of things he shoved in there and clearly don’t fit, etc.

“I know, Ivan. I’m sitting in your mess.” Till deadpans, mimicking his gestures mockingly, “I’m looking at it.”

“And you’re fine with it?”

“Yeah? I admit I was kinda surprised you were a messy person, I remember your room at Anakt was sparkling. But I dunno, it doesn’t bother me much. Maybe the clothes could go into a basket or something when we move in together but like, I don’t care too much as long as we can still move around comfortably. Like it’s fine.” Till shrugs, like none of it was a big deal and leans back to draw, “I can help you clean if you need it. We should probably talk to Hyuna about moving in together tomorrow if we want to get it done sooner rather than later.”

And that’s the end of that. 

Ivan feels a bit stunned at how easily Till agreed. No protests, barely needed any convincing. Glancing around the room, he thinks.

He was never allowed to be messy. Unsha would lose his mind if he ever was. He learned quickly that if he didn’t make everything pristine, then his comfortable life could become a nightmare. So he cleaned. Kept all the inconvenient aspects of keeping a pet tidy so Unsha would never have a reason to go into his room. Ivan kept himself tidy, made all parts convenient and perfect.

Glancing over his room now, with clothes strewn around, his books kept organized but his Knick knack shelf lovingly haphazard, he finds a feeling of peace. It's messy. It’s fine if it’s messy because it’s his.

He’s messy. He always has been. In sensibilities, in personality. But someone looked at it, looked at all the mess that he has and all the mess that he is and decided that they were fine with it.

They do move in together. 

It’s not that difficult of a process, Hyuna having just smiled and basically had a room open for them already. Getting all of their stuff together to move was a bit more difficult. Till had very little to pack, having only clothes and a few random trinkets to take to the new room. Ivan had a decent bit more, having to pile his stuff into a number of boxes that Till had to help him move. The man grouched a bit but when Ivan offered to do it himself, Till would refuse and walk a little faster away from him in case he tried to swipe the box anyway. 

In the end, they got a double room with two bedrooms, a small communal space and a bathroom. And like Ivan had predicted, their lives remained largely unchanged. 

They fell into a comfortable routine.

One day, Ivan bursts into the room with his heart beating out of his chest and his vision swimming as he pushes the door shut. The pounding in his head gets stronger and all he can do is slide down to the floor as the sounds get louder. He shivers, curling into a ball as he tries to catch his breath.

He barely registers Till coming out of his room and greeting, “Welcome ba—“

The other stops as he takes in the sight of Ivan trembling on the ground and Ivan wants to reassure him that he’s fine. Tell him to just leave him there and that he’ll be fine after a minute or two. But the cold hands that seem to trail across his scalp are crawling on his neck now and he can’t get the words out. His chest feels almost hauntingly hollow, with his heart dangling in the middle of his empty rib cage that’s bursting through his skin. Everything is throbbing and his limbs tingle so much he wonders if he’ll need to have his limbs cut off too. He squeezes his eyes shut so that it would all just stop spinning. 

Please.

There’s a second of a pure agonizing scream in his head before softly, a hand grazes the back of his. 

It’s warm and familiar, the way it tangles itself with his fingers and slowly, he can feel the emptiness start to be filled again. The cold hands trail away and air fills his lungs as he breathes it in greedily. When he can finally open his eyes again, he’s blessed with the sight of just the tops of his knees and Till, shielding him from the light with his body so it’s calmingly dark. The only bright thing he can see is Till’s cool teal irises that watch him with such aching concern. Till squeezes his hand tighter when he sees the cloud over his eyes start to part. 

“Till…” Ivan croaks, his voice feeling raw as he speaks. 

“Yeah, I’m here.” Till whispers, awash with relief as he tugs him up from the floor carefully, “You scared the shit out of me.”

“Sorry…”

Till doesn’t say anything about the apology as he walks them to Ivan’s room, “You okay? What happened?” He gives him a sympathetic look, “Bad day at work?”

“Something like that…” Ivan rasps in response and when Till gives him an imploring look, he caves, “They were…they were wanting to teach me how to hack properly since I’m almost ready to go out to the field. But…”

It had been innocuous at first. Ivan has always been really good at recognizing patterns, so the first few hacking tests went pretty well. But the longer he did them, the harder they got as they started involving more numbers and arithmetic. Every time he failed one, the test would beep a warning loudly and the more he did it, the more the thoughts started to invade into his mind.

“I couldn’t help but think…Sua would’ve been really good at hacking. With all the numbers and math you need to do.” Ivan feels the lump in his throat and he tries to swallow it down but it’s like a rock that threatens to suffocate him, “Sometimes… sometimes I feel fine and I can go about my day. But sometimes I’ll see a cloud or hear a voice or look at my own face and I just…!” His breath hitches and he has to take a second before he whispers, “I just feel this…sick, cold wave that goes over me and I feel this emptiness that I can never seem to fill. It just aches and I can’t seem to get enough air.”

Till doesn’t say anything at first, simply observing him with the kind, gentle eyes that destroy him if Ivan looks too long at them. 

After a moment, hands reach out to him and tenderly, Till brings him down to his level and presses their foreheads together. He is quiet for a bit before he starts to hum. It’s a tune Ivan’s never heard but he finds immediately enchanting. The tune is simple in structure but a touch haunting in a way Ivan can’t immediately describe. There’s a flush to the other’s cheek that shows that he’s a bit embarrassed and the endearment that rises in Ivan makes him almost stumble. Slowly, they start to sway in a quiet dance that makes Ivan’s racing mind narrow in on the only person in the room that mattered in that moment.

Truly, he has fallen for the gentlest of boys. 

After the song is over, Ivan quietly mumbles, “I’ve never heard that song.”

“You wouldn’t have. It’s not in any recordings or books.”

When Till speaks, his gaze on his hands that are tangled with his own, almost playing with them idly. Ivan lets his hands be limp and still because he can’t help but relish Till’s touch. 

“Where is it from, then?”

“…from my own emptiness.” Till has a wry smile on his face, “My provider.”

Ivan’s eyes widen slightly and the song suddenly matters even more than it already did. 

“You remember her?”

“Sort of. I remember…pieces of her. I know that she looked like me. I remember she was nice and would sing that song to me to get me to sleep.” Till mutters, shrugging as he huffs a laugh, “Her voice wasn’t very good, she wasn’t a singing pet at all but somehow, I still thought she sang the song the best. She was…warm. The warmest.” 

Ivan slowly nods as he takes in the information, cataloguing it into the part of his brain that he reserves for everything about Till. 

”The song always calmed me down so I thought…maybe it would for you.” Till says awkwardly, Ivan’s adoring piercing gaze getting to him, “I don't know what Sua used to do for you so…”

Ivan looks at their intertwined hands and whispers, “She didn’t do anything particularly major. She just…she would just sit with me and hold my hand until the worst of it was over. That’s all. That’s all she ever had to do.”

His voice hitches as he speaks and Till runs comforting hands down his back.

“I miss her too.” Till replies softly.

All he does is offer simple empathy but it’s enough for Ivan to fall into Till’s embrace and let his gentle care settle into his bone marrow. 

Ivan hardly ever fully understands his own feelings. They always seem to fall around him like rain and seep through his fingers before he ever gets a grasp on what they were. 

He’s hard to understand.

He’s getting better articulating what he feels but he knows that it’s not always pretty to see. Since starting to be honest, the plug that kept it all contained seems to have disappeared and it overflows sometimes. 

Till doesn’t seem to mind though, simply deciding to keep him close until the worst of it is over.

Just like Sua used to.

Ivan wonders Sua would’ve been proud of the person he’s becoming. Of the new parts that aren’t perfect but are more real than anything Ivan ever built before. She probably would’ve made fun of him verbally but give him a tight squeeze of the hand to say ‘You did good’. 

Till doesn’t do quite the same thing but he does hold him until they both get too exhausted to stay awake and they fall asleep, napping for an hour.

It’s not the same. But it’s just as good. 

Ivan is working at his computer with a sense of anticipation. Finally, he was allowed his first major assignment, though it was partially out of guilt on Hyuna’s part. He had been put in charge of hacking into the files that they had been trying to steal while Till and Luka were singing on the finale. Hyuna had asked Lina to give him the assignment, since it felt only right that he got to be the first to see what was worth potentially leaving them behind for. 

Ivan didn’t feel too strongly one way or another but he was excited to be finally put onto something important. So he sat there, unlocking the files quietly until he heard a click and the files all opened up all over his computer screen. Squinting at the different folders, he registers that a few of the folders have information about providers, various factories and breeding centres, Anakt Garden and cloning DNA. It’s a bit hard to understand all at once but that’s his job, so he decides to start small.

There's a folder labelled as ‘Contestant Profiles’, so he clicked it open and saw detailed profiles of everyone who participated in the 50th Alien Stage. 

The profiles existing are hardly surprising but there’s a curiosity Ivan feels about what’s in them. It might be a bit of a breach of privacy but he’s an informant, so he has a very good reason for snooping. 

Starting with Mizi’s, the image of the photo they took of her before the competition started stares back at him. Ivan huffs a quiet laugh and he couldn’t help but smile at the sight of her innocent eyes from back then, bright and optimistic. 

The information on top of the profile is pretty basic. Her name, her height, singing range, etc. Then he sees that they have put down their providers’ information, with their name, serial number and their status. Next to Mizi’s provider, there’s a label saying ‘deceased’ and a death date. 

It’s sad, thinking about how young Mizi was when her provider died but Ivan has a sense that no one in their little group ever got a long time with their provider. Ivan’s provider died when he was so young, he couldn’t tell you what she even looked like. He suspects like him, but that’s just true of everyone and their provider.

There’s more information on the bottom, including a label of DNA cloning viability and the value of the DNA. Mizi’s is placed as high viability and medium value. Ivan figures that their DNA had been extracted at some point during one of the many procedures they have done before the competition.

Flipping through to the next file, he sees Sua’s face staring at him and he fights the bout of nausea that waves over him. Her status is stated to be alive so that confirms to him that the files are all last updated before the competition started. Her information is largely similar in nature to Mizi’s, though her DNA is stated to be highly viable and highly valued. 

Ivan’s own profile has a lot of the information missing, like his factory and his provider, which isn’t surprising since no official sources would have that kind of information. As suspected, his DNA is medium viability but extremely valued. Ivan wouldn’t be surprised if they already sold his DNA to the highest bidder and there’s a clone of him being planned out right this second. 

Then he flips to Till’s profile and at first, it looks about the same as the others. But then he notices something that makes him pause and he has to read it again. And again. And one more time just to confirm.

It makes his eyes widen and suddenly he’s going through the folders with more fervor than before because he needs to be sure about this.

“Don’t be mad.”

Till jolts a little at the sudden appearance of Ivan in the hangar before he grimaces a bit, knowing that if Ivan starts a conversation like that, he definitely is not going to like what he hears next. The man has an almost sheepish look on his face, but he doesn't have a slight blush that would indicate that he’s actually sorry about anything. He sighs a bit. 

“What?” he grumbled, not looking up from his bike as he twists one of the valves shut, “I swear, you better not have pissed off your boss again cause I’m not being your excuse this time—”

“I think your provider is alive.”

That makes everything freeze and he turns to stare at Ivan, who looks back with a carefully neutral face.

“...what?”

“I said I think your provider is alive.”

“I know what you said, I just—” he stands up, eyes wild as he exclaims, “What? How do you even know that? This better not be a joke, Ivan, I will be so fucking pissed at you—!”

“I would never joke about this.” Ivan cuts him off, sharpening his gaze that makes Till stop in his tracks. 

He sees no lies on Ivan’s face and suddenly, the world shifts on itself. The words sink in and he stumbles back, catching himself on the edge of his bench. 

His provider is alive.  

Io is alive.

Alive.  

Chapter Text

“Hyuna!”

The doors slam open, hitting against the wall as Till and Ivan burst into the resistance headquarters with such a frazzled, almost manic energy that every person in the room jumps at their entrance. Isaac reaches for the knife at his hip and Dewey falls back, knocking into the table as he goes. Hyuna grabs at the back of her chair in her shock, sitting up quickly before she breathes out and looks at the two of them incredulously.

“What? What?” She asks, hand on her racing heartbeat as she stands up, “What the fuck, guys? Did you need to scare us? We’re awake, thank you.”

“Apologies.” Ivan replies breathlessly, having just ran across the camp, “I just…I found something in the files you gave me that I think you should see immediately.” 

He holds up his holopad as he leans onto the table, huffing to catch his breath as Till leaned against him to do the same thing.

Hyuna raises her brow as her interest is peaked, “Yeah? Well then, give it to me.”

After a moment, Ivan runs up to the front of the room while Till grabs a chair, attaching his holopad to the console before pulling up a large graph that was falling into a decline.

“The pet human industry is having a crisis right now. Almost eating itself due its own hubris. You all understand how in the pet humans are born one of two ways?” Ivan asks and gets kind of but not quite understanding expressions, “ One, born from another human; a provider and two, DNA cloning. During the last twenty years, more and more segyeins wanted the best ‘model’ of pet humans so they’ve been favouring DNA cloning. Thus, the market is saturated with DNA cloned humans.” Ivan points to the graph, “However according to the graph, the pet human birth rate is declining despite the demand still being as high as ever, if not more. Now why would that be?”

It’s a rhetorical question but Dewey raises his hand anyway.

“Not enough pet humans?”

Ivan points to him.

“Close! When you DNA clone a human, we’ll call them Clone A, then the clone created from Clone A, Clone B is statically more likely to have health complications. And if you continuously make DNA clone humans from this line, the worse the health complications are. They’re essentially recycling DNA. That’s why when cloning, you want to have one of the humans being cloned to be born of a provider so that they can have fresh DNA.” Ivan grins as he turns to the group, “However, they don’t have enough pet humans that are born of providers.  What’s more, there aren't enough providers to start. The most common health complication for DNA cloned humans is infertility for both males and females and since the market is seventy percent DNA cloning, that means the amount of providers they have is far too low to meet the demand. It’s like a snake eating its own tail. They put themselves in this position because of their greed and now they’re getting desperate to fill that gap.”

Ivan pulls up the profiles of all the contestants of the 50th Alien Stage and then all the profiles of the 35th, setting them side by side on the screen.

“There was something different about this year’s Alien Stage. Do you all see the difference in the profiles?”

The group squints to read for a moment before Isaac speaks up, “There’s information on your providers and DNA viability on your profiles while the other year's profiles don't.”

“That’s right. Why would a market that’s seventy percent DNA clone humans have an Alien Stage made up almost entirely of provider born humans? Because it wasn’t just a performance for status this time. It was a catalogue.” Ivan gestures to their profiles, pointing at his viability, “It was an advertisement of our DNA to other segyein. What’s more, it was an advertisement for our providers. Half of the contestants have still living providers, including—“

“—mine.” Till finishes, having not looked up from the table until now, “My provider is still alive. And it looks like they would like to keep it that way.”

Hyuna has an analytical expression, putting something together in her head but chooses to just hum, leaning back in her chair with her arms crossed, “So what exactly are you suggesting?”

Ivan puts his hands on the table, leaning forward with a determined look in his eyes, “I’m suggesting that we hit the segyeins where it hurts. In the files, there’s information on various provider and DNA cloning centres, clients that wanted to purchase our DNA and more. While it doesn’t have anything on specific providers, the centres should have that kind of information. What I’m saying is—“ 

“Can we go save my provider?” Till interrupts, his voice edging on a plea, “If we get her away from them, then they can’t use her anymore. If we get all of them, they can’t use any of us anymore!”

“We’d be able to put them on the back foot. The segyein don’t listen to appeals to their empathy. But they will listen if their wallets are being affected. They need us. We wouldn’t be so integral to their status if they didn’t. The reason it’s not working is because they treat us like pets with no free will of our own. But we’re not.” Ivan smirks, a haunting glint in his eye as he says so matter of factly, “If we do this right, then the whole pet human industry could collapse in on itself.”

Hyuna, Isaac, Dewey look at each other as if they’re telepathically communicating before the woman looks at Ivan and Till with all the gravity of the rebellion in her eyes.

“Are you certain this could work?”

Ivan shrugs, “Nothing is ever certain.” His gaze sharpens as he grins with all his teeth, “But I’m pretty fucking sure this will change everything.” 

Hyuna levels with him, unwavering as they stare each other down. After a few seconds, she finally blinks and changes her focus to Till.

“You understand that this whole operation will be for the rebellion? There’s no room for personal goals if it could potentially fuck all this up.”

“I know that.” He replies petulantly and she gets closer, grabbing his chin to make him look her in the eye.

“What I’m saying is that if we find your provider along the way, then great. But if we don’t, you don’t get to go rogue to chase after a dead end trail. Got it?” Hyuna asks seriously, eyes glinting, “I’m not risking the whole rebellion for a wild goose chase. You go off the rails, you go alone. We’re not coming after you. Is that understood?”

Till looks back with an unwavering gaze, firm as he nods, “I know, Hyuna. T-This is personal, yes, but I’m not dumb enough to risk it all.”

She glances at Ivan for a split second but Till easily follows her gaze, “For the right people, I know you absolutely would.”

The weight presses against his chest but he nods again, “I promise, I won’t.”

She must see the resolve in his gaze because she finally backs off and turns back to Ivan, “Me, Isaac and Dewey will need to discuss this more, plus we need to bring this up to the other heads but…” Hyuna finally smiles, toothy and wild as the glimmer of hope shines in them, “If you’re right, lover boy, then we might just win this war.” 

Ivan and Till breathe a collective sigh of relief, the latter falling against the table. Till feels his blood begin to pump. They’re going to find Io. 

The woman has been an afterimage in his mind for so many years, he hardly has a clear idea of her anymore. The emptiness that’s been there for as long as he could remember will finally be filled.

He will finally get to see her again.

Till has missed her.

He hopes she missed him too.

As he raises his head, he sees Ivan’s little proud smile and he feels the biggest rush of gratitude run over him. After all, this is only possible because of him. His debt to Ivan feels like it’s only getting bigger and bigger as time goes on. At this point, he’s not even sure if he can repay it.It seems like miracles just like to follow Ivan, he supposes.

Ivan catches his staring and smiles wider, the sight making Till want to paint it in all its glory and frame it. 

You’re incredible.

As he reaches out to fist bump him, he can’t help but think that he’s wrong actually. 

Miracles don’t follow Ivan; Ivan is the miracle.

Till spins around in the mirror, tilting his head as he tries to get a good look at himself in his new uniform.

It had been given to him by Dewey a couple days ago after he had finished with his training for the day. The man handed him a box with a cheeky grin and just said ‘Congratulations’. 

Inside was an official resistance uniform and a note from Hyuna telling him that she hopes it fits. 

Waiting for confirmation that the mission was a go had been agonizing. Till was never good at waiting, so he spent most of the time worrying about it until Ivan got sick of him and tried to smother him with a pillow. He had never been good at worrying in silence. If he wasn’t talking about how worried he was, then he was bouncing his leg or pulling his hair out. Ivan is usually pretty good at just tuning him out and was generally unflappable. However, probably because Ivan was worrying about the same thing, Ivan had far less patience and practically begged him to shut up in the most Ivan way possible.

Which was the smothering.

It just started a wrestling match but in a way, it did work. Till was more focused on beating Ivan than worrying. 

In the end, they find out about it through Isaac walking up to the two of them and punching them in the shoulder with a grin. Then after a couple days after that, the news that they’re officially ready to go on general resistance missions came through Hyuna knocking on their door and poking their wounds.

Ivan barely reacted but even though it didn’t hurt, being poked in the neck made Till squeal and spring back away from her. 

Hyuna smiled and said, “I just got word from the doctors that you both have clean bills of health!”

“Did you need to do that?!” Till had shouted as he clapped his hand over his neck.

“No but I figured it wouldn’t hurt to check.”

And that had been that. Now, Till was trying on his uniform and checking to make sure it all fits. Also maybe checking to see if he looks stupid in it because he refuses to look dumb especially since he’ll be standing next to Ivan, who looks good in everything. 

“Are you done?” Ivan asks through the door, though it’s more of a formality as he just comes in without waiting for a response, “Ah, you are.”

“If you’re going to just barge in anyway, why bother asking?” Till gripes as Ivan walks up and turns him around to get a good look at him, “You gotta wait for me to say come in.”

“You always do anyway. I’m just skipping that step.” Ivan replies distractedly, paying more attention to the way the jacket hangs over his shoulders and silently adjusting it.

“Oi, quit ogling me.” Till admonishes but truthfully, he’s doing the same thing to Ivan.

Of course he would look annoyingly good in it, with the green accents somehow bringing out the red in Ivan’s eyes. It’s a bit hypnotic, the way the red pupil darts back and forth. Then that pupil suddenly meets his own and Till jumps in surprise.

“Hypocrite.” Ivan mumbled with a small smirk, “Can’t take your eyes off me, huh?”

“As if.” Till replies, pushing his face away and the other laughs, “I need to make sure I don’t look stupid next to you. It’d be so embarrassing if someone was scared of you but not me.”

Ivan shrugs.

“These aren’t meant to be scary anyway. Besides, I’m pretty sure anyone would be scary if they were holding a gun. Which you are.” 

He’s right about that.

Till looks at the two of them in the mirror and narrows his eyes. The height difference between the two of them isn’t the biggest in the world — Sua had been tiny compared to basically everyone — but when standing side by side, the gap feels huge. What’s more, despite no longer following an idol routine, Ivan still looks like an otherworldly beauty that could stun any passing person.

Till glares at their reflection, “Damn you for being handsome.”

“What?”

“I look like a dehydrated rat next to you.” He groans, tugging at the hood flat against his head.

“You usually are dehydrated.” Ivan replies before he pulls Till in and rests his head on his shoulder, “You don’t look like a rat, though. I think you look good in this. I like it.”

“You like everything I wear.” Till retorts before sighing, reaching to lightly tug on Ivan’s ear, “You look totally unreal though. It’s kinda annoying how good you look in everything.”

Ivan blinks before tilting his head in slight confusion, “It is all unreal, remember?”

Momentarily, he forgot but Till does remember. That night he learned that is kind of hard to forget. 

A couple weeks after making the promise to tell him about all the scars that don’t exist anymore, Till found Ivan just staring at himself in the mirror with a lost expression on his face.

He always floundered whenever Ivan was having an episode, but he had gotten better at not taking too long before taking action.

(The less time Ivan spends lost in his thoughts during an episode, the better. If he stays there too long, sometimes it takes ages to get him out of it. 

There was a time when Sua hadn’t been at Anakt Garden and Ivan had just come back from what seemed to be a gruelling week of training with Unsha. They were only eight years old, barely old enough to understand anything yet. Till had figured out something was wrong when Ivan barely met his eyes during recess and instead went into the corner of the yard, crouching in a ball.

When he went over to check on him, the boy was hunched over a little bed of flowers, muttering that nothing was real. It had freaked Till out a lot and he just decided to jump onto Ivan’s back, like that might wake him up or something. 

“Ivan!” He had called, shaking him until the boy turned around, “Are you okay? Hey!”

Ivan barely blinked before he muttered, “Nothing…nothing feels real, I don’t feel real, you don’t feel real, I…I don’t know what’s happening. I don’t…I don’t feel anything.”

Till had been an immature kid, so he spent the rest of recess just shouting that stuff was real until he was blue in the face. It didn’t seem to do much and they were eventually separated, being ushered into class. Ivan had stayed like that for about a week before the light finally returned to his eyes and he went back to normal. When Till had asked what had happened, Ivan had just shrugged. It had pissed him off at the time but in hindsight, Ivan likely genuinely had no idea what happened. 

As the years went on, Till never saw an episode like that again but he’s pretty sure it’s not because they stopped happening. He thinks Ivan just got better at hiding it, chalking it up to feeling tired or needing some space. But Till could see the way he retreated into his mind and seemed to be shambling around on autopilot.

He recognized it because he did the same thing sometimes, though it was usually more purposeful on his part. Whenever the pain got too much, when Urak decided that he wanted to be a real bastard, Till would find a way to numb himself. Zone out so hard that the time would pass faster and he could forget where he was or what was happening. To go blank behind the eyes and face the world with apathy instead of the terror it demanded. 

Still, he didn’t know how to handle it from the outside and he definitely didn’t know how to help Ivan specifically. So he learned to just get Sua or if it seemed like Ivan was still in the early stages, just shout until Ivan was present enough to punch him.)

Carefully, he sat down next to him and gently nudged his shoulder. When he didn’t get a reaction, Till reached out and squeezed Ivan’s hand once then twice. It took a few seconds but the man finally blinked and met Till’s concerned gaze in the reflection.

“You there?” Till asked, squeezing a little harder and after a few quiet agonizing moments, he felt a squeeze back.

“I think…I think that hand used to have a burn scar.” Ivan murmured and Till tried to keep a neutral face, “I got it when I was learning how to make fire. The first time I was successful, it got a bit out of control and I burned myself.” 

Till merely nodded before very slowly, he moved his hand up to Ivan’s wrist and traced engraving of his name, making sure to touch every letter.

“They messed up the first time they tried to brand me. The I came out wonky.” Ivan explained, lost in thought, “They had to erase the first version and try again.”

Till remembered that procedure vividly. They had to strap him down to the table and give a double dosage of sedative to keep him down. Even then, he could feel the way the laser burned into his skin and etched the brand into him. It almost felt like the brand wasn’t just going on his neck but also branding his soul so that the segyein’s ownership was etched into the very fabric of his being. He can’t imagine going through it twice, all just because one letter came out a little less than perfect. 

And so they went like that, with Till touching parts of Ivan’s body and Ivan explaining the scar that used to be there. Some were stories from the slums. His right bicep, a knife fight for food; his left thigh, a metal piece that he fell on; his right middle back, a claw from a segyein that came very close to capturing him. Others were from when he was a pet, injuries that they decided they would pretend never happened. His cheek, slapped so hard it almost dislocated his shoulder; his left wrist, a bruise from when Unsha gripped him angrily at an event he wasn’t performing well enough at; his sternum, an incision scar from an operation that Ivan had no idea was even for. 

It sent a horrible wave of nausea as he heard all the stories. He always believed Ivan was a pampered pet since he could run around without a collar and it always made him a little bit jealous that he had a freedom he didn’t. But he started to realize that Ivan did have a collar, it just looked different from his. 

Thinking about all the injuries Ivan had gotten over the years, Till finds he hates the idea that the other was ever hurt at all. 

The stories that very nearly made him throw up where the ones where the segyein straight up replaced parts of Ivan, changed him irrevocably. His skin, every slight blemish erased; his neck, the point where they put needles in him that changed the way he grew; his left eye, replaced with a new one since his original was ever so slightly lazy. 

“There’s this…concept.” Ivan muttered as he ran his hands over his arms, “It asks if a ship is replaced piece by piece, at what point is that ship no longer the same ship? Is it more than half? If you replace all of it but you call it the same name, is it a different ship or not?” 

“Ivan…”

“Am I the same Ivan from the slums? Am I even the same Ivan you ran with during the meteor shower? So many parts of me have been changed, I don’t know sometimes. Everything about me is artificial.” Ivan touched his tooth, “I think this is the only thing they’ve never changed. They said I needed it to still look human. Does that mean if I lose it, I won’t be human anymore?”

“Don’t be ridiculous. Of course you’re you. You’re the you from the slums and you’re definitely the you from the meteor shower.” Till argued, holding his wrist and pulling it away from his mouth.

“How do you know?” Ivan asks with an almost pleading tone, like he’s begging to be proven wrong.

“Because I would recognize you in any form you were. You’ve made too big of an impression on me to not be true.” Gentle, Till held Ivan’s wrist and ran his thumb over his pulse, “They might have changed you but isn’t that…kinda like growing up? Parts of you changing, growing, replacing pieces. They shouldn’t have done specifically what they did, obviously, but at the end of the day, your core is still the same. It’s still you in there. You’re still…you. Just a little different. Like how I’m still me but a little different. Right?”

Ivan had stared at him, really looked at all the ways Till was different. His hair had just been cut, he was bulkier from all the training and most of all, he smiled more at Ivan. Knowing that every joke, every tug, every jab had love behind it made it easier for Till to notice the little true intentions that hide beneath. It made it easier to laugh and see Ivan for all that he was instead of the enigma he built up in his head. 

He can be understood, it just takes a little effort.

Ivan stared for a few seconds, processing before he smiled, finally, and nodded, “Yeah…you’re you.”

That night ended with Till cataloguing all the things Ivan told him and putting it into the part of his brain that he reserves just for him.

In the present, Till looks over Ivan’s perfect face and murmurs, “Sorry, I forgot.”

Ivan hums, looking down, "It's okay, I don’t look as good as I used to. It’s not…perfect, anymore.”

Till frowns at this and nudges him. Ivan has changed since coming to the rebellion but Till thinks it’s for the better. Ivan’s hair is wavy, falling around his face to perfectly frame it; his skin is finally allowed to look like real skin and Till discovered that Ivan’s cheeks are rosier than he ever expected; his body is growing into something much more healthy looking from eating proper food and Till finds he likes the ways Ivan is soft to hold.

Platonically, of course. 

 “Shut the fuck up, you’re gorgeous. So gorgeous, it’s unfair sometimes.” Till grumbles, shaking his head, “I don’t think it matters if you’re perfect or not. You’re more…yourself now.”

Ivan blinks with his cheeks turning a slight shade of pink before he chuckles, “You’re dumb.”

Till doesn’t retort because he chooses to watch the way the tips of Ivan’s ears turn red. It trails up but it also starts to go down, disappearing into the turtleneck. 

He zones out on the point where skin and fabric meet for a few seconds but when he blinks back into focus, he notices Ivan is paying attention to something else. Following his gaze, it lands on the large scar on his neck and the mood suddenly becomes a bit heavier.

Fingers trace the edge of Till’s jacket, twitching like they’re waiting for something before Till cuts to the chase and says with some macabre humour, “You can touch it. Besides…I owe you a scar show, don’t I?”

“Huh?” Ivan mumbles before Till starts stripping off the resistance uniform with very little care in the world and Ivan is left with his mouth hanging open.

Till can’t help but snicker at the reaction which sends the indignant flush on Ivan’s face spiraling into a brighter, stronger hue. A thought occurs to Till at that moment.

Ivan is cute.

What a revelation. As he stares at Ivan’s expression; confused, flustered and a bit angry, Til finds he wants nothing more than to squish his cheeks and bring him close so he can ruffle his hair until it’s messy. 

“Come on, you’re usually so unflappable.” Till teases as he folds the jacket and reaches down for the hem of his shirt, "Typically, you’re the one teasing. What, can't you take what you dish out?”

“Y-You…That’s not fair.” Ivan almost whines, stepping back to sit on Till’s bed, “I’m not used to you paying so much…attention to me.” 

Till pauses at that response, his heart thudding painfully against his chest before he ducks his head to pull the shirt off and replies, “I was always paying attention to you. I just…didn’t know how to show it.”

“You do now?”

He hums, folding the shirt and putting it on top of the jacket, “Still figuring it out.”

With that, he turns to face Ivan, who keeps his eyes carefully trained on Till’s face as if he’s trying to give Till the privacy he let go a while ago. It makes Till chuckles lightly, tilting his head as he sits next to Ivan.

“You can look, idiot.”

Ivan doesn’t immediately move his gaze, instead choosing to run it across Till’s face that leaves his skin tingling. It’s a strange energy in the room, an intimacy that a younger version of himself would’ve run from. Now, it leaves a syrupy warm heat in Till’s gut that makes him want to chase that feeling until it sticks on his insides and never leaves him.

“I am looking.” Ivan murmurs in his low, soft voice, “I have patience, unlike you.”

“Hey now.”

Careful like he’s afraid he’ll break, Ivan touches his bullet scar with the tips of his fingers and feels the way it rises over the skin. It’s not an unfamiliar feeling to Till, Ivan often touching it during their quiet moments when one or both of them can’t believe they’re really alive together. The movement is practiced and Till simply exposes his neck a little more to allow the fingers to make their way to the brand of his name. 

The T is completely unreadable and the other letters are scrunched around by the scar that cracked through the metal like vines. 

Quietly, Ivan giggles, “It says ill now.” 

“Shut the fuck up.” Till gripes but allows Ivan to keep tracing the letters, though he does lightly kick his shin, “I’m thinking about getting rid of the brand. Isaac mentioned they got the parts for the machine that would do that so I might help him fix it and speed up the process.”

“It hurts, you know.” Ivan replies in a way that Till now understands is a concerned warning and not mocking.

“I know, I can take it. I mean, it can’t hurt more than getting the brand in the first place.”

Ivan hums in agreement before he smirks, “You should keep the I though.” Upon seeing Till’s deadpan expression, he laughs, “Just kidding.” 

“You’re so weird.” 

“That’s not news.” 

“Maybe you should get a T, how about that?”

“You know I would love that.”

“Freakazoid.”

Till ignores the almost satisfied feeling that comes at the thought of Ivan keeping a mark, voluntarily, of himself on his body, potentially forever.

It’s a bit strange, the way they seem to talk about Ivan’s feelings like a funny little joke instead of the crux that changed the trajectory of their entire lives. Maybe making light of it makes it easier for both of them to deal with the true weight. Makes it less daunting. Ivan especially has been getting used to his feelings being acknowledged. The first few times, Ivan seemed almost surprised that Till even remembered. Nowadays, they say it like it’s just a fundamental truth.

Humans need food, the segyein suck ass and Ivan loves Till.

Till wonders sometimes with how heavy Ivan’s feelings are, if his own could ever truly measure up. How could he ever match up to that devotion? What could he give that could be worth the years of Ivan toiling over a love that he believed would never bear fruit but was worth the effort anyway? 

Till doesn’t have an opportunity to use a grand gesture to show the depth of how he feels, certainly doesn’t have the words to explain the complexities of the endless well that was his thoughts about this whole thing and honestly, Till’s still figuring it out.

So he takes his chances in quiet moments, when neither of them have too much energy to put up an unneeded bravado. Till touches Ivan’s hand, leading it down to where the first of his torso’s scars lies and as a sign of trust, he lets go and lets Ivan do as he pleases. 

He could love Ivan, he thinks. It’s not hard to imagine the feather light touches being kisses instead and it doesn’t gross him out to picture it.

He’s just not sure if his love could ever measure up. 

Whatever, he’s not even sure if it’d even develop at all. Honestly he’d be happy if they stayed like this forever too.

Ivan is looking at the scar that goes along his collarbone before staring at the whole picture. It’s a mess of scars scattered across Till’s torso from moments of forceful discipline to precise surgery incisions. His back is worse, with clear slashes and injuries that didn’t heal quite right. 

“It’s uh…not pretty.” Till mumbles to break the tense silence as Ivan looks him over.

Despite his general apathy that time has granted him, a part of him trembles at being seen. Like really seen. An echo of ‘look at where they hurt me, they hurt me, they hurt me’ seems to dance across his chest. 

He can hear Ivan’s jaw tensing and suddenly there’s a forehead against the middle of his nape, the small puffs of Ivan’s breath sending small shivers down his back.

“They kinda look like…stars and meteors.” Ivan says but there’s a deep rooted anger into his voice despite the whimsical words.

“Is that so?” He hums, looking down his chest and trying to picture it, “Hm…kinda.”

They’re both quiet before Ivan mutters venomously, “Do you think if we brought up a mission to kill Urak, they’d let us do it?”

“Ha! I wish!” Till laughs with a gleeful wheeze, “But no vengeance, remember?” 

“It’s not vengeance if it just so happened to occur on an unrelated mission. You never know.”

“Hm, yeah who knows? But if it does happen, I call dibs on the first shot.” 

“Of course.”

Ivan is warm against his back, their breaths starting to sync up as they sit comfortably and it occurs to Till how easily he could’ve lost this.

He leans just a little closer and that’s where they stay for a while.

Ivan is sitting at his computer as he’s working on cataloguing information for the next mission when Mizi comes in with a hiss of the door. He looks up and stars burst across his vision, needing to rub his eyes while groaning. He’s been looking at the screen for way too long. The crack that he hears from his back tells him he’s been sitting for too long also.

“Hi Mizi,” he greets, stretching his shoulders before straightening up to look at her, “What can I do for you?”

“Um…” She starts, sitting herself in the corner of his desk, “I heard about the new mission you proposed. Hyuna just told me I’d be on it, which yay, we can be on missions together now.”

Ivan hums, studying her before asking, “Is there something you need?”

Mizi grimaces before sighing, “That obvious, huh?”

“You have an expressive face.”

She chuckles a bit before she asks with a bit of discomfort, “Can you…show me the profiles? The ones of us.” 

Ivan considers for a moment if that’s a good idea. Mizi has been doing better since Ivan and Till woke up, at least according to Hyuna, but she seems to still have problems acknowledging Alien Stage and all that it was. But the look Mizi gives him is one full of desperation and maybe a hint of madness, so he sighs.

“Sure.”

With a practiced ease, he clicks through the mess on his computer and pulls them up on the screen. The first one is his own and Mizi giggles at the sight of his picture.

“Look at your hair, I remember your cute little bowl cut. It was so straight back then. It’s crazy to think your hair is curly now.” She comments with a ruffle of his hair.

(A lot of people do that now that his hair is fluffy. Till in particular has been absolutely fascinated, spending more than Ivan expected on just pulling on his curls to watch them bounce back into place.)

“It was always curly, the segyein always just straightened it.” He corrects and Mizi widens her eyes at him. 

“Really?”

“Yes, daily.”

“Whoa.”

She looks over the boxes of information and nudges Ivan’s shoulder, “You have a lot of unknowns on your profile.”

“Well yeah, I originally came from the slums. Most of that information was never documented.” 

She hums in response, reading some more before asking, “I thought you said your birthday was February fourteenth. It says unknown up there.”

“That’s because it’s not my birthday, it’s my adoption day. I don’t actually know my real birthday.” Ivan explains, leaning on his hand, “I was a Valentine’s Day present for Unsha’s wife so that became my birthday by default.”

Mizi is quiet, contemplative before asking, “Does it bother you? That so much about you is unknown?”

He doesn’t really need to think about it before replying, “Honestly, no. Finding that information isn’t going to make who I am any clearer to anyone. It’s all just a past I don’t remember and honestly hasn’t had any bearing on my life anyway. My birth is still celebrated, the factory I was produced in probably doesn’t even exist anymore and my provider has been gone for so long that I don’t really have any attachment to them. None of it changes where I’m going in my life so I’m fine with the mystery.”

His response seems to stun Mizi for a moment before she smiles at his response.

“I should’ve figured that would be your reply.” She muses as she flips to the next few profiles.

It’s all mostly cursory glances, though she lingers on Luka’s and thinks very deeply about it before moving on.

Then came Sua’s.

They both freeze up for a second, staring at the impassive expression on the girl’s face while holding their breath. Ivan remembers that day the segyein took their photos, how little Sua seemed to care about it and how she just walked in, stared into the camera before walking out without a word. It was funny at that time.

Ivan moves first, turning to see Mizi’s reaction. He’s seen this profile a million times, having had to pour over each one to look for every possible piece of information that could be useful to the resistance. He's already spent hours looking at this photo and trying not to think about how the person in the photo is hardly the Sua he knew. It was the Sua the segyein saw, the one who wouldn’t say a word and simply did as much as was necessary to not be scolded. The Sua he grew up with was much more expressive, with a dry wit and silver tongue, and a heart that was too big, too soft to truly flourish in this world. 

Mizi hadn’t moved yet, so Ivan prompts, “Mizi?”

The girl blinks before giving him an apologetic expression, “Sorry, I just…” she looks at the photo again and says, “I’ll be real…I kinda came just for this.“

That’s hardly surprising so Ivan doesn’t judge her and instead asks, “Did you find what you’re looking for?”

There’s a tense pause, Mizi staring at Sua’s face before she says with heavy, aching fatigue, “No.” The girl grits her teeth, “I thought— I thought if I looked at this, maybe I’d find a piece of her. But this…this isn’t— it’s not her at all. Not even a little bit.”

Ivan understands what she means. It’s all so clinical to look at profiles of people he knew and have them broken down into data and numbers. As if that could somehow encompass all the complexities that made up a human soul, the shifting mound of energy that could never be the same thing twice.

The numbers can’t describe Sua’s comforting presence and the data doesn’t know the way Sua would tell a story but get so sleepy that she wouldn’t finish. It’s all just…stuff.

Her height, her blood type, her stats that seemed so mean-spirited in the way it was trying to break down all of her potential into static values.

All just stuff.

Mizi gets that and she swings her legs to dangle in front of Ivan, “I think I’m…I think I’m tired of mourning. It’s all so exhausting. God, I feel like a monster for saying that.”

He puts a hand on her knee, “It’s not…a bad thing to be tired. You’re allowed to feel however you feel. I understand.”

“I just ...it feels like the memories of mourning Sua are overwriting all the ones she was actually there for. She’s just…becoming this concept in my brain and I’m forgetting all the details that made her her. Thinking of her only ever hurts now and that just— sucks!” She yells her frustration, “I want to remember her, the person she actually was instead of…this ghost in my head. I’m…I feel like I’m losing her all over again.”

“I…I understand that.” Ivan replies, leaning back into his chair, “At least…your final moments together meant something to the two of you. It ended with a bang instead of a whimper. Mine were…not stellar.”

“Yeah?”

“Mmhm.” Ivan replies, staring at the way the ceiling fan spins rhythmically and picturing the angry expression Sua gave him not that long ago, “Our final conversation was a fight. I told her…I told her that she was selfish for wanting to die for you. That she’d be fine ruining you and running away. Not tell you anything just to keep a piece of her paradise pure until the end.”

Mizi’s eyes widened at his words, processing before she smiled bitterly, “You’re such a hypocrite.”

“To be fair, I didn’t think Till would’ve cared. You loved Sua back, Till didn’t love me back. I didn’t think I’d be…ruining him.” Ivan defends before shaking his head, “Anyway, me and Sua didn’t really…talk after that. Alien Stage was going to happen pretty soon so things got busy and then…I watched her get shot from a tiny pod without ever really resolving anything. I wonder sometimes if I should’ve fought her harder or just let our final moments be nice.” 

He remembers the lead up to the first round, the hectic energy that permeated amongst the contestants. He had been tasked with a lot of promotional work so he was often running around doing photoshoots or doing commercials. There hadn’t been too much time to breathe and by the time Ivan was pushed into the pod to watch the show, he hadn’t spoken to Sua since the argument. He only saw glimpses of her from around corners or during pre show promotion that they could only throw a mild acknowledging glance before they were pulled away again. 

He had wanted to say something, anything to clear the air and just for once, not have something end on a sad note. But he was too damn stubborn and still angry, so he pushed it off until it was too late. From inside that stupid pod, he watched Sua sing with all the love in her heart and a countdown over her head until she was shot with a haunting smile plastered to her face for eternity.

It was at that moment Ivan realized that he wasn’t angry because she was being selfish towards Mizi, he was angry because despite it all, nothing was enough to make her fight to stay. She accepted the circumstances of their lives and decided that she’d rather just lay down and die like she was told. Content to disappear into the ether with the lost strands of their relationship hanging in the air and let Ivan figure out what to do about it all. As if he knew anything about how to feel about losing his fucking sister.

Deep down, he was angry at himself because he knew they were the same, down to the core. Too stubborn to just admit that they loved each other and too passive to fight for anything better than what life gave them. 

And even deeper down, he knew wasn’t angry at all. 

He just wished he got to say goodbye. 

In the end, he didn’t mourn her until much later. 

After all, he had been busy planning his own sacrifice to his god.

Mizi listens to him with an unreadable expression, still dangling her legs before she mutters, “I want to tell you something I never told you before.”

“Yes?”

“I knew. I knew the whole time.”

She doesn’t need to explain, Ivan understands and his eyes widen slightly, “But she—“

 Mizi interrupts, a haunted look in her eyes, “She didn’t know I knew. I knew everything. But I…I didn’t want to ruin her paradise. I-I loved her and I just wanted to make her happy, so I pretended I didn’t know that it would all end. Just so we could be happy for a while.” Her fingers reach out, touching the screen and tracing Sua’s cheek, “I’m not sure it was worth it.”

“Mizi…”

“At least you said…something, to discourage her. I didn't say anything at all. Too anxious to. Now it’s…worse.” Mizi mumbles, shaking her head as she whispers, “I don’t really know what is true or false in my mind anymore. When I saw crumbling castles, others saw strong pillars. And I could never tell if what I saw was something small no one else could see or…if it was never actually there and I was sounding alarms that didn’t need to be heard. I knew something was…wrong with her but I didn’t know if I was just imagining it. Now I’m scared everything is a sign of— something! But I never know what!”

“…For what it’s worth, I don’t think anything you said would have changed her mind.” Ivan says softly, a bitter laugh bubbling up, “She was always so damn stubborn. Especially about you.”

“I don’t like to think of it like that. That it was inevitable. T-there had to be something…!” Mizi’s voice comes out wet as she almost pleads, “There had to!”

He’s not sure what he could say, if there’s anything he should say to help Mizi through her grief. His grief and hers are very different; him mourning a sister and her mourning a lover. He finds himself burdened with the weight of the outcome having no other option while Mizi deals with the storm of endless possibilities and futures.

“Sometimes…sometimes I see her.” She whispers, eyes unseeing as she looks at her lap and twists the skin of her fingers, "Sometimes she’s quiet and she just…stares at me. Her expression is always so…unreadable. I can’t tell what she feels but it always feels like an accusation. Other times, she’ll talk. On…on the good days, she’ll say stuff she used to. She’ll be comforting and I can fall asleep to her. But on the bad days, she’s like this grinning demon and spends hours just…saying stuff she never said but I wonder if she thought. Accusations, always accusations. On the really bad days, I don’t see her at all. I just see myself and I…never like what I see.” Something twists on her face and she doesn’t seem to even be talking to Ivan anymore, “I just want it to all stop. I need it to stop! I need her to just—! Leave me alone!”

Her scream breaks into a cry and she sobs a litany of ‘I’m sorry’ and ‘I didn’t mean that’. 

That’s when Ivan gets off his chair and kneels, resting his hands on her knees and looking up at her. He suspected that’s where the ghost was sitting and thus, he steps through to interrupt it. Based on Mizi’s flinch, he was right. Her hair used to be this curtain that could cover her face whenever she was upset but now, he can see every detail of her sorrow, nowhere to hide. 

Careful, puts his head in her lap and takes her hand, putting it onto his head. The girl has a questioning expression, searching for answers in his eyes.

“Do you remember how Sua used to do a little dance whenever she ate something she liked?” He asks quietly and it surprises Mizi but she smiles lightly at the memory.

“I do. It was like this little…wiggle of the hips and I think she used to close her eyes too.” She chuckles and Ivan laughs.

“Yeah, she wasn’t even aware she was even doing it. I pointed it out once and she got so embarrassed that she chased me around with the funniest expression on her face. You know the look, the one where even her forehead would turn red and her cheeks would puff up like a balloon!” He says and feels a sense of triumph as he sees Mizi relax, “Do you remember how she used to have trouble lifting her mattress when it was cleaning day, so she’d just drag it on the floor?”

She laughs at that, “I do, I do! I remember we went to help her, you, me and Till, and the four of us were so uncoordinated, we just made it harder!” 

“Mmhm.” Ivan hums before saying, “I like to believe that people are found in our small habits, not our worst moments. I can’t make the ghosts go away but at least I can help you remember the real Sua when they get too loud. The one that loved you.” He glances to the side and doesn’t react to the Sua in the corner that watches him with an ugly angry expression with blood splattering across her face. It visits him pretty often, “And you can do the same for me.” 

Mizi follows his gaze and seems to understand as she takes his head to make it face her, “Do you remember when we used to swing her around by her arms and legs cause she was so light? She said it felt like flying. I think she liked the piggybacks from you the most because of that.” 

And they do that for a while, just talking about their memories of Sua and they try to remember the girl Sua used to be instead of the horrifying ghost that haunts them now. 

The thing about the data is that it makes a person seem finite. It cuts them off at information that creates a hard silhouette but nothing to create the actual picture. But the thing about Sua is that she’s endless. The space that she inhabits is not just contained in the little area her body takes up but also the web of her interactions and her feelings that spread amongst everyone that ever knew her. 

He wonders who Sua would’ve been in the rebellion. If she would’ve thrived like the way they all do now. 

Being free was one of the best things to have ever happened to Ivan. But that doesn’t change that without Sua here, it will always remain a little bit sad.

(Sometimes he thinks about what he could’ve become. If he had died on the stage and what was left of him was just the slowly twisting memories of who he was perceived to be. What kind of ghost would he be? What space would he take up in the minds of the people who knew him?

Very few people really did. The children of the slums probably don’t remember him too well, Sua is dead and Unsha couldn’t give less of a shot whether he lived or died.

He thinks Till would’ve been left with too many questions and he’s sure the ghost he would have created would’ve been haunting. An echo of him instead of an image. An ever present warning. 

If Till ever decided to open up, he chooses to believe that Mizi would’ve grounded his ghost. The twisted Ivan and the overly simple Ivan would’ve mixed together into something approximating the real him. 

Though even memories cannot truly encompass infinity.)

The truck is shaking a bit as they drive down the sandy road, Till’s shoulder knocking into Ivan’s every so often as he adjusts his mask. The ball of nerves stretches across his gut, making his legs feel almost shaky and he wonders if he’s going to throw up in front of these people.

When Hyuna told him and Ivan were going on their first mission, Till just about almost jumped out of anticipation. Like he knew they were going to eventually but he honestly half expected to have to wait forever. 

The job wasn’t anything particularly special, just a routine scavenge job. Apparently, the segyein can often be pretty wasteful and throw out supplies that could be useful to the rebellion. In particular — the thing that caught Till’s attention — Anakt Garden often throws out pretty useful supplies since their prestige can mean they have an abundance that they don’t use. Of course they’re not going near the Garden itself, they’re just going to the landfill that their trash is sent to.

Still, the thought of going out and really getting his blood pumping excited him. 

Now though, Till is starting to feel more sick than anything else. Maybe it’s the bumping up and down from the road, who knows. If he threw up though, it would be really bad and horribly embarrassing. While he has his resistance shirt underneath, on top is a trash collection uniform that the resistance uses to do scavenge jobs undisturbed and Till is pretty sure there’s no extras.

Trying to calm his nerves, he turns to Ivan who doesn’t look nervous if he is. The guy is just idly chatting to the other rebels in the truck, making mindless small talk. Till decides to try curbing the nausea by quietly focusing on Ivan, centering his world around one black hole.

Ivan smiles less now. Not in a bad way though. 

In Anakt, Till remembers seeing Ivan practicing how to smile in the reflection of the water. It had been both kind of cute and kind of sad. As a kid, Ivan always had an impassive, calm expression but he seemed comfortable. It was a little unnerving at times, but Till learned to get used to it.

As they got older, they got training to be singers in Alien Stage and Ivan always seemed to be pulled into image making practice. At the time, it made sense. He struggled to smile, so he was always practicing it. But over time, Till could see the bruises that would form around Ivan’s mouth and he could see something chipping away. He hadn’t been sure what, but he could see it. 

Until one day, Ivan was smiling all the time and it made a shiver go down Till’s back. Because when he looked at Ivan and he was just always smiling, he felt like he was looking at plastic. The Ivan from his childhood seemingly disappeared, replaced by this plastic replica who would smile and comfort when commanded.

Like a doll. 

As he watches Ivan now, chatting with others in the truck with that quiet, impassive face again, he feels strangely comforted. The Ivan he remembers is back again, one that is more honest and sarcastic than the doll he was before.

That doesn’t mean Ivan isn’t lively, he just smiles only when he truly feels happy. And those smiles are warm and Till can’t help but think Ivan looks more vivid than ever.

“Till?”

“Hm?” He jumps when Ivan’s abyssal eyes stare into him, “What?”

“You’re staring.” Ivan replies simply with a slight smirk and Till has to pull his mask higher to hide his cheeks.

“Shut up, no I wasn’t.”

Ivan doesn’t fight on it but it’s definitely because he doesn’t care enough to correct him. The others on the truck watch this interaction before one makes a teasing whistle sound and everyone else chuckles.

Maybe it should bother Till how many people in the rebellion are aware of him and Ivan. It should definitely bother him that almost all those people think he and Ivan are an item.

It doesn’t though.

(It’s not like they’re totally wrong, though perhaps the specifics aren’t quite right. What he and Ivan are to each other is too complicated to explain and honestly, if thinking that they’re a couple keeps other people from trying to encroach too much into Till’s territory, then it’s fine by him. 

Ivan is of course allowed to have other friends. But for the sake of Till’s pride, they can‘t be more liked than Till.)

After a while, Till can feel the truck start to slow before stopping and he can hear the driver talk to a segyein. He hasn’t had to hear the sound of a segyein in so long that his blood pressure spikes hard enough to make his heart feel like it’s going to beat out of his chest. For a second, he wonders if he can really do this until he feels warm fingers lacing themselves with his. 

Till blinks and meets Ivan’s eyes, the man tilting his head slightly in a question. Till answers with a squeeze, doing his best to just focus on how their hands are flushed together and not the terrifying segyein that’s just outside the truck.

After a few minutes of talking, the sound of the truck starts up again and they’re moving. Till breathes a quiet sigh of relief and hopes to god that they don’t have any more run-ins with segyein for the rest of the mission. He’s not sure if his heart could take it.

Eventually, the truck stops again and the driver comes out to open the back door. Till has to blink a bit at the light streaming in and he follows the rest of the rebels out. Once his vision clears, he looks around the large landfill with garbage piled high enough to make him wonder how it doesn’t fall over.

“Alright guys, same thing as last time. Pick up anything that could be useful and bring it back here in an hour. If you’re late, we’re not waiting for you.” The driver directs and Till nods along with the rest of the recruits, “Alright, move out!”

As everyone disperses, Till glances around trying to figure out where to start. The others seemed to be pretty used to this mission, no one else needing a second to think before heading off into their own direction.

“Hey, that way looks interesting.” Ivan points out, tugging in Till’s sleeve, “I think I can see spare holopads.”

With no other plans, he follows Ivan into that direction.

As they dig around they do find some useful supplies, honestly more than Till expected. He doesn’t remember Anakt being so wasteful but hey, good for him. They pull out holopads that can be fixed up, a few toys, some clothes though Till doubts anyone will really want to wear the pure white uniforms. At least not in its entirety. 

Till is pulling a piece of scrap metal to the side when he notices two boxes underneath it that feel vaguely familiar. Carefully, he pulls them out and when he dusts off the side of one of them, he sees Ivan’s name on it.

“Ivan!” He calls and the man looks up from behind a totalled car while holding a couple of batteries. 

“Hm?”

“I think I found something that’s yours!”

Ivan jogs over with a curious look in his eyes and he proceeds to light up when he sees what it is. Till can’t help but feel a swell of affection in his chest as Ivan happily takes the box from him, opening it to reveal a mess of trinkets inside. Ivan mouths out, counting everything before his smile widens.

“It’s really everything…” he whispers in awe and Till leans over to get a good look.

“Hey, isn’t that a drawing that I made you when I was like, seven?” He asks and Ivan nods.

“Yeah, it is.”

“You kept it?”

“I keep everything you make.” Ivan hums, shaking the box a bit and breathing out a satisfied sigh, “I didn’t think I’d get this back.”

“Oh, is it important?”

“Immensely. It’s my trinket box, everything important goes in here.” 

Till hums. He never knew Ivan was a collector type but looking at his room now, it makes a lot of sense. He has a whole shelf of knick knacks that is often the most organized part of his room. It seems like Ivan was always a sentimental kind of guy.

As Ivan happily looks through the box, Till turns to pick up the second box. It’s a decent bit heavier and he can already hear the clacking of the things moving inside. Curious, he pulls open the top and finds a bunch of CDs in there with names he recognizes.

Pausing, he suddenly realizes he does remember these CDs. Especially one in particular. He suddenly starts to fervently dig through the box, skimming through the names before finding the one with his and quickly pocketing it.

“What do you have there?” Ivan asks teasingly and Till swiftly pulls out a different disc.

“Just found some CDs, that’s all!” He exclaims as his own burns a guilty hole in his pocket.

Expecting Ivan to have his usual curious expression on, he’s surprised when he sees Ivan’s face pull into something that’s a mix of embarrassment and fear. Till, feeling confused, turns the disc a bit to catch a glimpse of Ivan’s name before Ivan suddenly swipes for it and he has to pull it out of range into his chest.

“Give me that!” Ivan shouts and Till immediately gets suspicious and pulls it closer.

“Why?”

“I-It’s—“ Ivan seems to be hastily scouring for an answer before responding, “I’m the informant, I’m supposed to collect this kind of thing.” 

“This one has your name on it.” 

“T-That’s none of your business! Just give that to me.” Ivan exclaims and when Till doesn’t immediately hand it over, he growls, “Give it!”

Till barely has time to think before he’s tackled to the ground and Ivan is wrestling for the disc in his hand. With a rush of adrenaline, he curls himself around it and it feels like when they were kids when they would fight like this every day. 

They roll around on the ground, kicking up a mess of dust as Ivan is clawing for it. When Till doesn’t let go, he scoops some dirt and pushes it into Till’s mouth. Till hacks up at the intrusion and it loosens his grip enough for Ivan to rip the disc out of his arms.

“Hhck—! Hnnk, Ivan—! You dick!” Till coughs as Ivan finally gets off of him and grabs the whole box from the ground, “You’re so childish!”

Ivan just gives him a pout and replies, “Cataloguing this is my job, okay?” 

“And the one with your name on it?”

“That’s…private.”

The way Ivan says it is so pitiful that Till loses his will to fight almost immediately. Besides, he’s no better as he has his own CD sitting in his pocket and it becomes weighty in his guilt.

“Let’s just…keep going on, okay? I’ll hang onto this.” Ivan says and puts it into his bag before going to another pile to dig through.

Till follows but he keeps thinking about it until they make it back to base.

“I feel like I have to keep saying this to you, but why don’t you just ask him?” Isaac sighs deeply, breathing out some smoke, “Seriously, the answer is the same every time.”

Till glares at Isaac who just sits across the work bench with very little care in the world. He gets it, kind of. He complains about a lot of the same things but it wouldn’t kill Isaac to at least pretend to care.

“But this time, he doesn’t want to show me!” Till complains as he buffs out the metal of the car.

“He never wants to show anyone anything.”

“Exactly!”

Isaac groans into his hands, “I’m being so serious, the answer is the same every time. Ask him or show him that it’s okay.”

Till huffs as he presses the metal harder, “Why do I always have to be the bigger person, huh? Be mature and shit?”

“Because someone has to.” The older man sighs, “It’s not always fair, but nothing gets done if no one does it first. Besides, hasn’t he been getting better overall?”

That makes Till pause and he thinks. Yeah, honestly, Ivan has been getting better. Before whenever Ivan got upset, he’d just hide himself away until he emerged hours later looking not better but more presentable. Now though, Ivan’s quicker to tell him when he doesn’t like something. He’ll come to Till when he’s not doing well and let Till be with him until the worst of it is over. He talks more honestly even if it takes a little prying.

Gritting his teeth, Till shouts, “Augh, fine!”

Isaac whistles as he stands up, “There you go. You know, for people who aren’t apparently together, you two sure act like it. Down to complaining to your friends about your relationship.”

Till doesn’t grace him with a response to that because what is he going to say? 

It’s all true.

He just shrugs semi-apologetically and starts to make his way out.

“Hey, finish the car before you go! Seriously!”

He turns back and finishes the car.

Till hesitates as he stands in front of Ivan’s door, which has been kept firmly shut for the better part of an hour at this point. After they had come back from the mission, Till had gone straight to the hangar to think while Ivan headed back home. 

He’s probably stewing in there, turning every word of their conversation over and over until it makes sense. The problem with that is Ivan often has a skewed idea of what makes sense so he’s probably convinced himself that Till hates him now or something.

The thought of that is enough to push Till to open the door and at least interrupt that line of thinking.

Ivan is sitting on his bed, cross-legged as he has headphones plugged into a disc reader and is seemingly writing something down on a piece of paper. He barely reacts to Till coming into his room, merely glancing up through his long eyelashes before he slowly pulls off the headphones and sets them down.

“You gotta wait for me to say come in.” Ivan echoes with an awkward humour in his voice, a little peace offering, and Till huffs a small laugh.

“You always do anyway. I’m just skipping that step.” he echoes back, walking over and Ivan shuffles a little to give him some room to sit.

Till takes it, sitting on his hands for a few seconds as the two of them let the silence exist for a while.

“Sorry about the dirt.” Ivan apologizes but Til scoffs.

“No you’re not.”

“…I’m sorry for snapping.” 

That statement is truthful so Till accepts it by resting his head on Ivan’s shoulder and the other rests his head on him. In this position, Till reaches for his pocket and feels for the wrapped CD.

“I have something for my apology, but it comes with a deal.” He says and he gets jostled from the other’s light laughter. 

“Is that really an apology if I must trade something for it?” Ivan questions.

“Yes, it is.” Till retorts, “Now do you want it or not?”

There’s a second but Till can feel Ivan nod against his head and that’s when he pulls out the disc, placing it on Ivan’s lap.

“If I show you what is on that, will you show me what’s on yours?” He hears Ivan gasp and he picks up the disc, waving it in between his fingers, “It’s got fresh Till lore on it, you love Till lore.” 

Ivan pulls away from him and Till can see the conflicted look in his eyes, making him smirk.

“You’re mean.” Ivan complains.

“I would argue between the two of us, you’re the mean one.”

The other narrows his eyes but doesn’t argue as he thinks before saying, “You play yours first.”

Till figured he would say that so he just takes the disc reader and takes out the disc inside. As he suspected, it was Ivan’s disc and it confirms that he was probably sitting and stewing about his feelings. He hands it back to Ivan before putting in his own disc. There’s a moment when he hesitates clicking it into place but ultimately he steels his nerves and presses the button down. Unplugging the headphones, he puts the reader in the crook of their legs that are pressed against each other and clicks play, the familiar sound reverberating in the room.

It’s more than a little embarrassing listening to this song again and Till has his teeth gritted together as he cringes. This song was written with the intention for him to be the only person to hear it, entirely meant to just get his feelings out. 

Ivan is silent as he listens to it and Till purposely keeps his head down so he doesn’t have to watch his reaction, not so sure he could take it.

Once the closing notes fade away, he peeks a look at Ivan who seems deep in thought.

“Is that a song about Mizi?” Ivan asks with genuine curiosity and Till shrugs, stretching his mouth in an awkward not quite smile.

“To be honest, I don’t know. It was kinda…a mess of feelings for her but also uh…you.” 

“Me?” Ivan echoes, surprised.

“Yes, you. I dunno, I wrote that cause I was feeling really confused about uh, everything so I just kinda threw in whatever I was feeling at that very moment. I’m honestly not even sure what parts are supposed to be about you and what are about Mizi. It’s kinda all…mushy.” Till explains, scratching the back of his neck, “It’s called Mi Vida Loca.”

“My Crazy Life.” 

“Yup.” Till replies with a pop at the end of the word, “It was like, my life is crazy! But also, you and Mizi were kinda like my whole life and you made me feel crazy sometimes so uh, double meaning. Ya see, this is a really fucking embarrassing song, so honestly whatever you got there can’t be worse.”

Ivan looks generally unconvinced and starts to rewind the track and he jumps.

“Hey hey, wait!”

“I’ve got two songs, so it’s only fair we play yours twice.” 

Till can’t find a good reason to argue against that so he groans and prepares to cringe again. The song starts to play and as the lyrics ask do you love me, Ivan suddenly pauses the song.

“I do.” 

“Huh?” 

“I’m answering the questions.”

He doesn’t have much time to process that before the song starts up again. It asks don’t leave me and Ivan stops again.

“I’m not planning on it.”

Getting a hold of himself again, Till almost gargles as he feels flustered, “I-Ivan! Come on, j-just let the song play so it can be over!”

His friend finally quirks a smile and shrugs, “If it’s supposed to be about me or Mizi, then shouldn’t it feel like a proper resolution to answer you?”

“Look, I already know the answers!”

“Do you now?”

“Yes, I do! You love me, you won’t leave, you don’t hate me, I got it!”

Till can feel his cheeks get redder and redder, starting to pry Ivan’s fingers away from the reader while the other delights in his misery like an asshole.

Eventually, they finish the song and he looks at Ivan expectedly.

“Well come on, your turn.”

He frowns but takes out the disc and replaces it with his own.

Till is silent as he listens to the vocals, taking in the lyrics one by one. There’s a looming sense of sadness that permeates across both songs that feels almost heavy in the air. They both sound achingly lonely and it makes him wonder if Ivan just sat alone in his room writing these songs. Crying out into the empty air before locking his cries inside metal discs to be thrown away eventually. Till wonders if Ivan was aware of all that. There’s a call in there, a plea for love, a plea for him . It conveys desperation in a way that normal words just don’t.

After the last song fades away, Till finds he struggles to find something to say. There’s a lot he could say and there’s at least a few things he should say. But they seem to become wisps in his mind and he’s quick to lose them. Ivan is waiting for him to respond and Till sweats.

“…you think I’m perfect?”

It’s definitely not what Ivan expects to hear, the man letting out a surprised laugh. 

“That’s what you want to point out first?” He asks almost breathlessly as he finally relaxes again.

“I-I dunno, no one has ever called me perfect! It was just unexpected, that’s all! I mean, I’m hardly perfect.”

Ivan stares at him with painfully loving eyes and replies softly, “You are.”

Something about the way he says that resonates with Till and he looks at the disc reader, the feeling settling into his bones.

“…you’re really in love with me, huh?” He mumbles, eyes widening, “Like, for real.”

“Till, I literally almost died for you.” Ivan deadpans, raising an eyebrow, “This isn’t new information.”

“I know! But like…I don’t think I fully got it.” Till explains before holding up the reader, “Now I get it , get it.” 

“…and?”

Till runs his eyes over Ivan’s face, his expression carefully neutral but with a hint of something resigned in there. Gentle, he touches Ivan’s cheek and nuzzles against it. Ivan’s breath hitches in surprise.

“Must’ve been hard. You know, being in love with me.” Till whispers and Ivan shakes his head.

“No…not that hard.” 

“Still, I’m sorry.” Till pulls back and seeing the way Ivan’s eyes seem to consume all light makes something inside of him shift, clicking into place, “I certainly don’t make it easy.”

Ivan shakes his head again, “On the contrary…loving you was the easiest thing I’ve ever done. After all, I simply couldn’t help it.”

His words send shivers down his spine and he finds he wants to bury himself in those beautiful words. The feeling of being loved feeds a little ravenous monster in Till that has him clawing for more of it. The rush is intoxicating and terrifying all at once. There’s a part of him that begs for more and yet cowers away because it’s all just so…sincere.

“You’re too much sometimes.” Till mumbles, his cheeks so hot that he wonders if they’ll just burn off entirely.

This is dangerous. If he gets fed any more love, he might start getting greedy and who knows what he’ll be then.

“…I think you’ll get your wish.” Till says quietly.

“Hm?”

“Living in me forever, I mean. That’s what you said in the song.”

“I said I wanted to bury myself in your wounds and live in you like a parasite. It’s not meant to be beautiful.”

“I mean, it kind of is? It’s also freaky as fuck but like, the sentiment is nice? You know, liking our weird relationship even at its worst. A bit concerning but still.” Till argues before shaking his head, “Anyway, I’m just saying…you’re always going to live in me, one way or another. No matter what happens, I will never ever forget you. I swear it.”

The declaration hangs in the air and Ivan’s eyes are like stars as he looks to Till in wonder. Ivan’s arms suddenly wrap around his shoulders and Till takes his hug with an ‘oof’.

“You’re too much sometimes, Till.” 

“I said that first.”

“And I said it second.”

“Asshole.”

“Are you almost done?” Mizi asks as she struggles to keep her arm up, the muscles shaking.

“Almost.” Till replies as he does the last strokes, “Okay, done.”

Mizi sighs in relief, which Till huffs a laugh at as she flops onto the floor. The two of them are just hanging out after training since there was still quite a bit of time before dinner. With not much else to do, Till had brought out his sketchbook and pens, though he doesn’t really go anywhere without them. He started sketching and that’s when Mizi asked what he was doing which eventually became Mizi being his model.

“You always were an artist, huh Till?” Mizi muses, rolling over to where he was to peek at his book, “I feel like you were the one with the most hobbies.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, like drawing, crafting, making music.”

“We all made music.” Till comments with an arch of his brow.

“I mean sure, but you like, made music. You and Sua both. Me and Ivan just kinda sang songs.” Mizi corrects before she looks up at him, “Do you still make music?”

Till’s pencil hesitates on the page before it keeps going, “No, not really.”

“Really?”

“Really.” Till can feel her questioning gaze and after a few moments, he answers, “I dunno, I just…can’t. Honestly, I’ve barely sung. Every time I try, I kinda just feel ill. I started drawing again because I needed something to get the creative energy out.”

Mizi nods along with his words and hums empathetically, “Me too. I’ll be honest, karaoke nights at the bar are kinda—“

“—much.” Till finishes and they chuckle together, “Yeah, I can’t really even go into the bar. Which kinda sucks cause it’s really the only recreational building we have. I have to keep refusing Isaac and the guys when they want to go have fun.” 

“Like not at all?”

“Only if I’m like, super motivated.”

Mizi thinks before a teasing smile stretches across her face, “Oh right, like when you went to get Ivan.”

He pauses before groaning, “You and Ivan are incessant gossips, you know?”

“Oh come on, of course Ivan tells me. He tells me everything.”

Several moments flash across his mind and his face warms, “Like everything, everything?”

“I’m pretty sure everything. Unless Ivan is holding out on me.” She muses, “Why, is there a moment you don’t want me to know? Is it something spicy ?”

She says this with a wiggle of her eyebrows and he pushes her face away with a groan. 

He would have never done something like that with Mizi before but he’s found that once they’ve left everything out there, it’s easier to just relax around her. She’s still cheerful, fun Mizi. She’s just also a Mizi that he can be open to.

She giggles against his hand and rolls over, staring at the ceiling before saying, “It’s still sad that you can’t make music anymore. It was like, your whole thing.”

It is kind of sad. Composing was the thing he built his whole identity around. The kid who wasn’t just an idol but a composer. It was what made him different from everybody else and often was the one thing about him that Urak found worthwhile. And he loved it, he really did. On the nights when the weight of the world sat on his chest until he suffocated, music was the thing that was his salvation. Now it has become the thing that chokes him. Reminds him where all that talent led up to and how despite all his efforts, the segyein knew how to leash him with the one thing he loved. 

“Who knows, maybe I’ll get over whatever is uh, up with me. You know, the mental block.” Till shrugs, “In the meantime, I can do other things. I need more hobbies anyway. Just wish there was more to do.”

“I make jewelry sometimes with scrap metal and beads that the shipments bring in, if you want to join me. I can show you how to do metalwork!” Mizi exclaims, excited and Till hums.

“Honestly, it sounds fun.“

“Great! Although…” She sits up before she spies the sketchbook on his lap and swipes it, “It looks like you’re pretty invested in drawing Ivan at every angle!”

 Mizi holds the corners of his book, displaying a page that Till did one night when Ivan fell asleep next to him while they were chatting. He wasn’t being creepy, he swore! He just made a record for posterity!

“Oh, there’s even more than I thought!”

Till scrambles up, chasing after the girl as she runs from him, “Mizi!”

They wrestle each other for the book until the dinner bell rings and as Mizi laughs breathlessly with her hair mussed up, Till finds he likes this Mizi more than any goddess he made up in his head. 

Bullets embed themselves into the pillar Till’s hiding behind, chips of the rock flying off as he reloads his gun.

It was just supposed to be a standard trade mission. Till and Ivan had gone on one once before and it hadn’t been that complicated. The two of them and a couple other rebels went to a drop off point, met with the segyein, traded their things and then they all left. Easy. 

This time though, as they arrived at the drop off point, the segyein must’ve decided he’d get way more profit if he just grabbed the humans and sold them, so he attacked their group with a couple of his goons. 

So now Till’s in a fire fight and even worse, he and Ivan got separated in the chaos. He can barely peek out to see if there’s a mop of black hair running around since there’s too many damn bullets flying around. 

“Damn it!” He grits out as chips of marble explode past his head before clicking the chamber into place and shooting.

He hears his bullet hit something and the spray that kept him hidden stops, so he steps out to survey the field. There’s a segyein rocking with a wound on his leg and in the distance, he can hear the other rebels in their own gun fights. With his gun trained on the segyein, he walks with shaky legs towards him. 

When he manages to get a good look at him, he realizes it’s the segyein that called for the attack in the first place in all his lanky glory.

With a spike of adrenaline, he crushes the segyein’s gun under his foot and kicks him up.

“Please, mercy!” The segyein cries and Till glares.

“You were the fucking idiot who shot first. Now you’re asking for mercy?”

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” He grovels, rubbing his face to the ground in a way that feels particularly pathetic.

There’s a sound that comes up behind him and Till barely has time to think before another segyein’s tentacle arms wrap around his middle, lifting him as he struggles violently.

“Boss! I recognize this one!” The one holding him says, “He’s from that Alien Stage thing!”

The segyein who only seconds ago was begging for his life now has a disgusting smile on his face as he looks Till up and down, “Oh, a high-end pet? We could fetch a pretty penny selling him.”

“We’re eating good tonight!” 

Till does his best to block them out as he squirms to get his hand out of his pocket, the hilt of his knife clutched tightly between his fingers. He manages to rip his arm out of their tightening grasp and plunges the knife straight into the segyein’s tentacle, making it scream out in pain. The moment he can feel solid ground under his feet, he whirls around to stab his blade into the segyein’s eye as the momentum carries him forward and they both hit the ground. He refuses to ever be a pet ever again, he’d rather just die.

Not taking any chances, Till repeatedly stabs the alien as the squish of the gelatinous body makes his stomach roil. He can’t seem to get a hold of himself, the fear clutching his chest in a vice grip and he doesn’t stop until he can’t hear his ears ring anymore. 

Looking down at what he had done, he gulps as he realizes he has rendered this segyein nearly completely unrecognizable. His heart races hard as his hands are coated with sticky blue alien blood and he pants to catch his breath, his nerves alight with adrenaline. He feels something drip down his face and he goes to wipe it, realizing too late he just smeared the blood over his cheek. 

There’s a slightest sound of movement from behind him and he whips around, pointing his knife at the segyein who trembles in fear. Not taking his eyes off of him, Till stands up with a wild look in his eyes.

“What? Got nothing to say after I killed your fucking grunt?” He asks and the alien whimpers, “You’re pathetic.”

 It goes to open his mouth to maybe argue before something in its eyes freezes up. 

As Till stares down at the grovelling segyein, he senses a familiar presence comes up from behind him and the sound of a gun holster clicking into place makes his head tilt to the side. He smirks. The muzzle comes up and an arm goes over his shoulder as it points at the segyein. A hand holds his shoulder and he leans into it.

Ivan has always been a bit intimidating from sheer height and vibe alone but now, having been polished up for battle and the feral instincts to use it, he’s terrifying now. The segyein screams as Ivan practically plays with the trigger, ready to shoot but seemingly teasing the poor thing for fun. 

Till leans a bit closer, humming, “Easy now.”

Ivan eases up a bit at his words, slightly lowering the gun but not letting go of the trigger as his piercing gaze stays on the target. 

“Are you okay?” Ivan asks roughly in Till’s ear, his hot breath brushing against his ear making him shiver.

“I’m good, just a bit bruised.” He murmurs back, keeping his eye on the alien in front of him, “Let’s just finish this fucker.”

It barely has time to scream before Ivan pulls the trigger and it collapses to the floor. Finally, the air is quiet again and Till can hear the other rebels finishing what they’re doing. Arms reach around to hold his waist, Ivan’s cheek pressing against his and Till grimaces.

“Ivan, gross, I’m covered in blood.” 

“The way you killed that segyein was super hot.” Ivan sighs almost reverently, holding him tighter and nuzzling into his cheek, smearing the blood further, “You’re so dangerous. You could kill me if you needed to~”

“Down, boy.” Till mutters but doesn’t pull away as Ivan fawns over him. Instead, he lets his bloody hand sink itself into Ivan’s hair, scratching his scalp and feeling the way Ivan relaxes against him, “You stupid freak. You shouldn’t sound so happy when you say something like that.” 

It should concern him that Ivan watched that absolutely horrific thing that Till did and seemingly fell deeper in love. It doesn’t. If anything, it makes him almost elated. 

Ivan isn’t scared of him.

Ivan only hums and it’s right about then that the adrenaline wears off, the anxiety that made his knees weak rushing back and he nearly falls. It’s only because Ivan has a hold of him that he only slumps and is quickly lifted up.

“Sorry, sorry, legs shaky.” He is quick to explain as he feels Ivan’s concerned gaze. For a moment, he readies to stand back up again before he sees the eager, wide-eyed look on Ivan’s face and a thought comes to mind. Meeting his gaze, he asks, “Carry me to the truck?”

Ivan doesn’t even hesitate and lifts him up easily as Till wraps his arms around his neck. For a second, something primal inside of Till registers that the person he’s standing with is just as dangerous as he is. Arguably more so with his taller stature. And yet, it’s docile and more than willing to listen to him. It makes Till feel almost dizzy from the heady feeling of knowing he has this power at his beck and call.

Till could get drunk on this feeling. 

It’s power, yes, but most of all, it’s care.

Love.

And as Ivan carries him into the back of the truck, Till finds that he feels this need to covet this sensation. 

“Alright, what colour do you want? Keep in mind we don’t have that many options, so nothing crazy.” Hyuna says as she sorts through the nail polish bottles, lining them up like little soldiers and Ivan leans down, thinking as he stares at them.

“Mm…silver?”

“Oh how original.” Hyuna teases, picking up the bottle and shaking it, “Are you going to want teal in there too?”

Ivan looks at her flatly and replies, “Actually, I was going to ask for purple and pink thumbs. So there.”

“Ah, I see. Of course the silver is completely incidental.” She muses in an exaggerated tone while taking out the brush, “No thoughts of Till here.”

Ivan pouts but gives the woman his hand when she asks for it with her palm out, “It’s not all I think about. I have many other kinds of thoughts.”

“I mean duh, I’m not saying it’s all you think about. Just like, a lot of your thoughts are about him.” She shrugs as she starts to paint his nails, “That’s just the nature of being in love.”

Ivan chuckles, turning slightly to press a button to change the song, “You say that like you have experience.”

It was just meant to be a light joke, something to be laughed at then brushed by. But when Ivan is met with silence, he turns to look at Hyuna and to his surprise, she adverts her eyes instead of her characteristic confidence.

“Wait, do you?”

“…okay, first of all—“

Ivan almost jumps and he only manages to stay still because he remembers that he’s still having his nails done.

“You never told me this.” He says in slight awe, switching hands as Hyuna starts to paint again, “After all the time I’ve rambled about my own love, all along you had your own.”

“Alright, alright, first off, it’s really complicated. The love is…really fucking complicated.” She groans, shaking her head, “I try not to talk about it much.”

“I think of anyone, I would understand having a complicated love.” He argues and Hyuna shrugs, giving that point to him.

“Look, I’ll tell you but it’s not really that fun of a story.”

“Consider me still enraptured.” Ivan replies as he shakes his hands, blowing on the paint.

“Ha, ‘enraptured’. Fancy pants.” She jokes before sighing, “Where to even begin?”

“The start, preferably.”

“Smartass. Uh, okay, when I was in Anakt Garden, I used to hang out with my brother and this kid a bunch. The kid was…odd. But I guess I had a weakness for him and he felt something for me too. Which should’ve meant everything would work out right?” Hyuna explains as Ivan starts to reach for the bottles to do her nails, “Yellow and blue, please.”

Ivan picks up the colours and for a second, he notes them before something clicks in his head.

“Was it Luka?” He asks a bit thoughtlessly but when Hyuna flinches, his eyes widen, “It was.”

She sighs as she gives him her hand, covering her face with the other. “Like I said, it’s complicated. He loved me a lot and I…care about him. Still do. That’s kinda the problem. He did some stuff that should really make me not care about him anymore but he’s uh, like my weakness.”

“Was he an asshole?”

“If you consider killing my brother an asshole move, then yes.”

That makes Ivan stop, staring at the yellow polish in his hand before asking, “Are you sure you want yellow?”

She breathes out a wry laugh, nodding, “Yeah. It…feels dishonest without it.”

He doesn’t argue and just keeps painting, “Luka was there with Till. You didn’t take him with you?”

“In the beginning of the rebellion, I used to ask Luka to be free with us every time we met, which was pretty often honestly. Every time, he would refuse. Sometimes he’d offer for me to go with him but that definitely wasn’t going to happen. To be fair, he gave pretty decent reasons, like how no one would trust him and it would undermine my reputation in the rebellion if I brought him on. Hell, I don’t trust him.” She explains as she swaps hands, “At the end of the day though, it’s his choice. I think…he’s scared of being something other than ‘Luka’ the idol. Even if it hurts him. Some people insist on becoming cautionary tales. In the end, I just stopped asking cause I knew what the answer would be.” 

Ivan finishes the paint and after a moment, says, “Don’t feel guilty about another person’s choices. You did your due diligence, I think.”

Hyuna stares at the yellow and blue on her nails, lost in thought before nodding, “Okay.”

That’s about when the door opens and Till walks in with a deep sigh, “I’m home.” It takes him a second to register the nail polish and Hyuna, but when he does, he asks, “Can I get mine done too?”

The two of them laugh before Hyuna waves him over, “Yeah, c’mere! What do you want?”

Till glances at Ivan’s nails before replying, “Something like that? But with black instead of silver.”

The smirk that Hyuna sends to Ivan is absolutely diabolical. He ignores it, obviously.

“You ready?”

Ivan looks up from the blueprint on his holopad as the rumbling of the truck almost drowns out Till’s voice.

“I should be asking you that.” He replies with a quirk on his lips, “We might get lucky and find your provider immediately.”

“I doubt that.” Till denies though there’s a little hopeful glimmer in his eyes, “We’re going to the testing facility, remember?”

The testing facility, their first target on their big mission to find Io. In all honesty, it’s probably not going to have Io there since the facility is used primarily to check if pet humans are viable as providers or donors. If they are, they’re sent to a processing facility to get tagged and prepped to be sent out to any number of corporations or buyers. A processing facility would definitely have a much higher chance to have Io there but starting with a testing facility would give them important information for the future, like the locations of the processing facilities and records of any pet humans that went through there.

When Till and Ivan got the go ahead for their first mission on this particular assignment, Till had been so revved up for it that he just vibrated on his bed until Ivan got tired of it and sat on him until he fell asleep. They spent a good couple weeks working with Hyuna to figure out the mission logistics, though it was mostly Ivan since he had a more tactical mind.

The plan is split into two main teams. Mizi, Hyuna and the rest of the Team A are supposed to run around the outside of the facility, freeing as many of the pet humans left in the trucks. Ivan, Till and Team B are meant to go inside and retrieve the files from the main computer while freeing any of the pet humans that they can save. Their routes are all planned out so there should be little room for error. They’re attacking in the early morning, before segyein would be there for work and it’s all starting during a break, so the night security shouldn’t be in the office.

Of course, Ivan was nervous about all the ways that the carefully laid out plan could go horribly wrong. Much of the plan hinges on the information that Ivan gave from the files he deciphered which means if he’s wrong, every death could be considered his fault. Worst case scenario, their plan is a complete bust and everyone just dies inside the facility. 

“Dude, you okay?” Dewey asks with his usual cheerful good-nature.

“Yeah, yeah I’m okay.” Ivan replies, sounding a bit breathless, “Just going over the plan again in my mind.”

”We’ve gone over the plan plenty of times, you especially so. I think we’re good.” Mizi comforts with a smile, “If this is a bust, then we just readjust and try something else.”

Or we just all die and it’ll be my fault.

“Hey Ivan,” Till calls for him, a knowing look in his eyes, “Just trust in your plan, alright? You worked on it for ages, it’s going to work.”

Till’s confidence in him makes affection rise in his chest but the nerves keep sitting there. Still, the words make the jittering feeling smooth out and he nods.

“Right.”

Ivan plugs in his earpiece as he feels the truck slow down and the wait for the signal begins. All is quiet as only the sound of the whirring of the facility droids can be heard from outside the truck walls. 

Isaac thumbs the button in his hand for a second or two before mumbling, “Hope this works.” 

With a click, there’s a feeling of a pulse that runs through Ivan’s chest before he hears the sound of dozens of little robots hitting the ground and a little whistling tune in his ear.

The signal.

The truck doors all burst open and with a jump of his heart, Ivan runs straight past the chaos and to the back entrance that he mapped out earlier. The facility looks a lot bigger in person and the lot feels like it spans miles. Without having much time to think, he runs with a single-minded focus on making it to the other side of the lot and he can barely make out the site around him. Weaving through the trucks and bikes, he sees the bright white door ahead of him and he slams it open with his body. 

He trips over his feet as he lands inside the facility and for a second, it’s quiet the door shuts  the noise out. Leaning against the wall, he pants with his hands on his knees while trying to catch his breath before it suddenly occurs to him to question where Till is. 

“Till?!” 

His ear piece crackles to life as he hears, “Right behind you, just keep going!” 

The door slams open again and Ivan is greeted with the glorious sight of Till bursting through backlit by the rising sun. The boy lands with a loud thud and it’s so mesmerizing that it takes Ivan a second to get his bearings and start moving again.

“Go go!” Till shouts as he shoots the security cameras as they run through the hallways, “You remember where the security room is, right?!”

“Of course!” Ivan shouts back, turning a corner with a skid of his foot.

Till and Ivan’s specific jobs was to shut off the security system completely and unlock the cell doors before going around to save people. Also, to wreck the shit out of the facility.

“I want that facility to look like a storm went through it. We’re sending a message.” Hyuna had said to the crowd of rebels earlier that morning.

Well, she was going to get it. 

Till had brought spray paints and was streaking a bright orange across the walls as they ran, cackling all the way.

He’s so beautiful, Ivan thought.

There’s a thrum of adrenaline and thrill that courses through his veins as they run through the hallways. Till is just behind him and he can’t help but feel absolutely exhilarated at the sound of his shoes hitting the floors. A call that he’s been begging to have answered is finally singing instead of screaming.

Follow me. Follow me.

And Till does. He does.

They run together, footsteps matched up so close that it almost sounds like one person instead of two.

The security doors come into view and Ivan pulls out his emp, attaching it to the lock before clicking it on. There’s a loud zap before the doors buzz open and Ivan can hear Till shooting another camera, though it sounds like it takes a few tries. He peeks a glance and Till’s eyes meet him in a gleeful, manic smile. It’s so infectious that Ivan can’t help but smile back the same way, taking out his own paint can and spraying around the room in a wild frenzy before landing in front of the computer. 

With practiced hands, he starts hacking through the system with Lina’s instructions in his head. On the screen, he can see the cameras that Till shot being buzzed out and as he plugs in the codes, the other cameras all start to shut off. Once the final one turns off, Ivan grins triumphantly before moving to shut off the droids permanently. Behind him, Till is trashing the place with a fervor that only a boy who has had a rage that burned through him for years could do.

With a click, everything is shut off and Ivan is quick to unlock the cell doors. As they open up, he can hear the intercom buzz to life.

Warning: All Pet Kennels Open!

Warning: All Pet Kennels Open!

Warning: All Pet Kennels Open!

The lights all turn red as the warnings sound out and Ivan grins. 

“Everything is open!” He shouts into the earpiece and hears a chorus of affirmations shout back.

With that, he starts to plug his thumbstick into the computer and pry out the files from the hard drive. Watching the way the bar slowly fills up makes Ivan antsy as he can hear the rebels flood into the facility. There are gunshots now and all he can do is focus on the computer ahead of him, plugging in codes as the system tries to keep him out. 

That’s when the security doors slam open, an irate segyein is standing at the entrance holding a blaster and shouting demands. Ivan barely has time to think before it’s pointing its gun at Till and the world falls into slow motion. He feels his feet start to jump up and he wonders if he’s really going to get shot again.

That line of thought doesn’t get very far though as Till shoots the alien in the head.

“Stay right there, Ivan! I’m fine!” Till shouts before checking the body, “Do your job!”

Ivan goes back to the computer and wonders if he really should be this turned on by Till killing a guy. 

As the last of the files download and he can take his thumb stick, Ivan turns to see the mess that Till has made of the room. Furniture overturned, spray paint everywhere and in the center of it all, a sweaty happy Till marking off a teal star on a mural of meteors raining from the sky.

“You wanna get in on this?” Till asks breathlessly, “Don’t sign your name, obviously. But I feel like a symbol wouldn’t hurt. You know, proof that we were here together.”

And maybe it’s the adrenaline talking but Ivan feels this sensation that he thought he lost a long time ago. It disappeared into the screaming wind when he watched all that he held dear run from him and he decided to love despite the pain. To learn how to love the pain. To accept that pain was all he was ever going to get.

As he stares at Till’s warm, caring expression, one that calls for him to be right there by his side, Ivan feels like nothing hurts at all. 

He stands up, shaking his paint can before spraying in a red flower falling next to the teal star and feeling the most free he has ever felt. An arm goes around his shoulders as Till leans onto him.

“Come on, let's wreck this place!”

And Ivan goes with him, laughing as they run together. 

The hallways are chaotic, the other rebels clearly having been here with all the graffiti and the various pet humans being led out while the security tries to get them. Till looks right at home in it, grabbing Ivan’s hand as they run through the halls to break more stuff and find more pet humans in their cells. 

Ivan has to admit, resistance fighter really does suit Till. He’s sure of it now; he could’ve never stopped him from doing this. 

They’re supposed to keep wrecking the facility until they get a signal to fall back, probably once the main hacking team finishes in the information centre. 

As they turn a corner, they see a cell door that was clearly meant to be open but was seemingly forcibly pulled closed with a gap that whoever did it couldn’t pull all the way. 

Till goes towards it, grabbing the door and yanking it open.

A voice yells from inside, “Wait—!”

The door slides open with a slam and Ivan hears Till’s breath hitch with a choke.

“Oh my god…”

Ivan comes up to see who’s inside and when his abyssal eyes meet swirling, terrified purple hues, he feels tears well up inside of them.

“Sua?” 

Chapter Text

( “Sua! Sua!” Ivan called as he trailed behind the young girl, his chubby little hands behind his back as he skipped along. 

It was a usual sunny day in the garden and Ivan had spied Sua from across the room, locking onto his target and had spent the last ten minutes following her around.

The girl ignored him, insistent that she keep her eyes ahead and walk forward, even though she didn't seem to be going anywhere in particular. They circled around the garden a few times with Ivan saying her name repeatedly until she finally turned around with her shoulders hiked to her ears and a glare.

“What? What? What do you want?” She demanded, throwing her hands up in the air in frustration, “Why do you keep following me?”

He blinked back at her, his big black eyes staring into her purple before he replied, “You look like me. A little bit.”

Sua seemed unsure if she’s meant to be offended by that but settled on exasperated, “Why does that mean you need to follow me around?”

Ivan keeps his eyes on her as he rocks back and forth on his heels, mumbling around the thumb in his mouth, “I heard that children that look like each other are meant to stick together. Because they come from the same place or something.”

That gave her pause, the corners of her eyes tightening before she sighs with a facepalm, “That’s called siblings. And I’ve already got sisters, I don’t need more.”

As she started to walk away, Ivan called hurriedly, “But do you have a brother?” 

She stopped before turning back, “No?”

“Then I can be that! You don’t have a brother and I don’t have anyone!”

Something about that statement made what looked like pity go across her face. There’s a few moments where her face seemed to twist and turn in indecision before she sighed even deeper than before. She ran her hand over her face before walking back to him and holding her little hand out to take.

“Fine, fine. You can be my brother. But walk beside me instead of behind. If we’re going to be siblings, we need to be equal. Having you walk behind makes me feel like you’re my pet.” 

With a weird, shaky but sincere smile, he grasped her hand and chatted her ear off for the rest of recess.

They won’t remember the exact details of this conversation as they grow up but the sentiment of it lingered as the basis of their relationship. And no matter what, Ivan would walk next to Sua.

Side by side.

Two halves.)

The world seems to circle in on itself as all Ivan can see is the girl sitting in the corner of the cell, legs tucked up to her chest and purple eyes staring back at him like she can’t believe what she’s seeing.

He can’t blame her, neither can he.

She’s shaky as she stands up, the long dress draping over her legs and he watches as she leans against the wall for balance. He can observe that she’s malnourished, the muscle on her legs unusually weak and her hair barely combed in a way that he almost didn’t recognize her. He can’t seem to move as she squints at the two of them, approaching slowly as her arm reaches out to graze against Ivan’s cheek. From this distance, the spidery silver scar that explodes across her neck is made obvious though it has clearly gone through an attempt to erase it. Whatever they tried using to do that wasn’t completely successful and instead gave it an iridescent shine to it.

Once her palm fully cups his cheek, Ivan feels a well of emotion that bursts through his chest like a supernova and all he can do without just yelling is wetly wheeze. 

The girl blinks before taking his face in both hands and almost digging her nails in his skin with her eyes wide as she processes, “Ivan…you’re real.”

Hearing her voice breaks something in him and he just nods fervently, “Yeah…I am.”

She turns to look at Till, who’s been frozen in shock this whole time, and reaches for him too. When her hand touches his cheek, he seems to reanimate again and doesn’t waste time in pulling her close for a hug.

“Sua! Sua, is that really you?” He asks breathlessly, holding her tight as she seems at loss at what to do and just lets her arms flop around as he jostles her around.

“I-I…” she stutters before she finally hugs him back so tightly that she twists the fabric on his back in her fists, “Till, both of you, you’re…here…!”

Ivan is almost delirious and none of this feels real but he doesn’t care. He throws himself at the pair, wrapping them into his arms as his heart becomes so full he wonders if he’ll collapse from the weight. 

“We are, we are! Sua, we’re here to rescue you.” He says with an almost tearful excitement and the girl looks at him like she’s not sure she believes him. 

“How are you—“

Suddenly, there’s a whistle sound that comes out of the earpieces and Till grins all wide.

“That’s the signal!”

Ivan gulps and asks Sua, “Can you run?”

She glances at her shaking legs, “Uh, I dunno.“

“That’s fine, I’ll just carry you.”

“Huh, what— ahh!”

He doesn’t wait for a proper response before scooping up the girl like she was a sack of potatoes. Till pulls the door wider as Ivan runs through and the three of them raced through the hall as the other rebels started to leave too. Sua shouts, indignant as she whacks at Ivan’s back and it almost brings a tear to his eyes with how familiar it felt.

He’s missed her so much.

The facility is a mess, the whole place covered in graffiti and every piece of furniture or decor being knocked over. Ivan hears Sua gasp and she looks at him with questioning eyes.

“What the hell have you gotten into?” She asks as she glances at the wild yells of the rebels around them and he laughs.

“Rebellion.” 

As if that explained anything. 

Sua doesn’t look like she totally gets it but there’s not really time to explain yet as they burst through the back doors and the drivers in the trucks are calling for them to hurry up. Every rebel starts running to them as the sound of segyein cars start to get closer.

In the centre of the chaos is Mizi, her pink hair a bright contrast against the muted tones of the world around her. Of course, Sua goes dead silent as she stares at her, absolutely mesmerized by the sight of her angel.

“She’s…alive.” She murmurs, voice coming out wet as tears well up.

“Mmhm.” Ivan replies, his heart the happiest it’s ever felt, “We all are.”

“Guys! Till, Ivan! Where are you?!” Mizi is calling as she spins around looking for them, a bit frantic in her tone and Till is quick to respond.

“Here! We’re over here! And uh, we’ve got a surprise!”

“Huh? Wh—“

She stops herself as she sees Sua sitting in Ivan’s arms, eyes wide in shock as she processes who he’s holding. He expects her to start crying, to run up and hug them close. After all, the mourning could finally be over.

Instead, he sees her face drop, turning sheet white as she looks violently ill. Sua is squirming in his arms as she tries to get closer and Ivan walks up to Mizi but she keeps taking steps back.

“Mizi?” Sua calls and that makes Mizi gasp, shaking her head as grits her teeth.

“No. No! You don’t get to—! You’re not—!” 

Without another word, she throws herself away from them and runs to a different truck, climbing into it with scrambling limbs.

“Um.” Ivan considers going after her but Isaac yells from the back of the truck in front of him.

“What are you doing?! Get in!”

Jumping into action, he climbs into the truck along with Till while Sua is reaching over his shoulder with flailing arms.

“Hey, what are you doing?! I need to—!” She protests, arms outstretched but Isaac shuts the door and the truck rumbles to life.

“No time. You can do whatever you need to do back at base.” He says, arching his brow as he looks at her, “Uh, whoever you are.”

Sua’s face twists into a desperate, devastating expression as she looks at her hands and processes what just happened. The truck starts moving, speeding away from the facility and it jostles her around in Ivan’s arms. After a few seconds, she seems to almost go limp and he catches her as she slumps against his shoulder.

“Sua?” He prompts, tilting his head to look at her face but he can’t.

“She hates me.” She murmurs into his ear.

He frowns and shakes his head, “She doesn’t.”

“She does. Did you see the way she literally ran from me? She hates me.” Sua mumbles, her face pressing against his chest as her breath catches, “Mizi hates me.”

“I promise you, she doesn’t.” Till jumps in, shaking her shoulder, “She uh, just needs some time to process everything. It’s kinda um, jarring? When people you think died come back. Trust me, I know.”

“Then why are you—“

“—oh I totally am freaking out. It just hasn’t fully kicked in yet.” He replies with a stretched smile before he starts to sweat, “Oh there it is. ‘Scuse me.”

Ivan and Sua watch as he gets up and walks to the other side of the truck (there’s not much room to just get up and leave), sitting on the bench and staring into the middle distance with his chin on his hands. 

“That’s a better reaction than the one he had with me, if you can believe it .” Ivan comments, tilting his head, “He avoided me for two or three months.”

Sua is quiet as she looks at Till before changing her gaze to him. 

“Are you…?”

“No.” There’s a beat of silence between them but Ivan can feel the question lingering in the air and he sighs, “I wasn’t there when you…in the last days. I… I think I should be with you now. Besides, someone has to keep you company while those two freak out on their own time.”

Sua doesn’t say anything at first, trying to understand what he’s saying before she leans against him harder, “Thanks.”

“…I’m glad you’re alive, Sua.” He says with aching sincerity that he never gave her before.

She blinks in surprise before she grimaces and shoves his shoulder, “Ew, gross.” But then after a second, she rests her head on his collarbone to hide her soft expression as she mumbled, “…I’m glad you’re alive too.”

It’s not really an apology on either of their parts but the message rings loud and clear to the both of them. 

And that’s all that matters.

The rebellion managed to save 25 pet humans and when they’re all brought back to camp, they’re sent to the hospital immediately for a health check up. 

Sua had wanted to go straight to Mizi but she was swept up by the crowd and Ivan insisted that Mizi would still be around after the doctors looked her over. Till told him that he was going to go lay down back home and Ivan waved him off before he sat on a chair in the lobby and waited for Sua to be done.

Dewey, who seemed to be in charge of taking care of this new group of humans, sat with him and kept him company by offering his colour commentary. Surprisingly, he shares Ivan’s love for literature and analysis, so they discuss the intricacies of a mystery book they’re both reading. After a comment from Dewey that they should start a bookclub together or something, Sua and the other humans come out with their collars off and brand new clothes that are a bit ill-fitting but work for now. Sua in particular is practically swimming in the shirt she’s in and Ivan has to stifle a laugh.

“Okay, I’m all good, can I go find Mizi now?” She asks with her arms crossed.

He’s ready to say yes when Dewey hisses with an apologetic look, “Sorry little lady, we kinda need to ask you all questions at the info centre. But after that, I promise you’re free to do what you’d like.”

She narrows her eyes at Ivan and he just shrugs. It’s not his fault.

“Ivan, do you want to be the one to ask her questions?” Dewey asks and he considers it before nodding.

“Yes, I wouldn’t mind doing that.” He replies before giving Sua a meaningful look, “Besides, I do have my own questions I’d like to ask.”

Seeing that, she seems to understand and keeps her displeasure quiet after.

With that, the group is led into the info centre, the other rescues being led away by other informants. Ivan brings Sua to his desk with his holopad pulled up.

“You have your own desk?” She asks as she runs her hands over it and he nods.

“Yeah, I’m an informant for the rebellion. That basically means I collect information for them. Decoding, deciphering, hacking, that stuff.” He hesitates before he mentions non-chalantly, “You’d be pretty good at the hacking stuff, if that’s something you want to do. You don’t need to pick what you want to do right away, obviously. But it’s an option.” 

She hums in response but seems to be thinking about something else. Or someone else. It’s pretty obvious who it was, Sua was never subtle about who lingered in her mind. Looking over the questions, Ivan readies himself.

“Alright, so, let’s start with how you’re alive. Because I’m fairly certain I watched you get shot and bleed out on that stage.” He starts, the  memory resurfacing as he recalls the way she fell to the ground, blood leaking out of her neck and the light in her eyes dying while broadcasted for the universe to see.

He tastes bile.

Sua grimaces at the thought, “Well…I did get close to dying. Apparently, they kept me in stasis until they reconstructed parts of my body to keep me alive. My owner uh…well she found a buyer that was willing to purchase me for an exorbitant price. Because…they wanted to see if I could be a provider. That’s why I was at the testing facility, to see if I really could.”

Ivan blinks at this and he can’t even really picture what Sua would even look like as a provider. All he really knows is that she would’ve probably lost her mind about it.

“The reconstruction?” He prompts and he watches as her face gains a deeper grimace.  

“It’s like an advanced version of the machine that erases injuries.” She explains, staring at her hands and picking at her nails, “It’s still experimental but I guess…it works? As long as the person is even a little bit still alive, it should work. It’s just…sometimes you can come out slightly wrong.” 

“Wrong?”

She points at her left eye and replies, “The colour is off.”

He pauses as he leans in and it’s true. Her eye is slightly off from her other one. 

“There’s a lot of that kind of thing on me. Apparently I’m lucky. I’m one of the few they’ve put through that it actually worked on. A person needs to be compatible with it, I think. And that’s a rare thing. It’s also wildly expensive so you know.” Shrugging, she twists her hair between her fingers, “I…I promise I’m really me though. It’s not cloning, I swear.”

The way she says it is calm but Ivan can see in her eyes that she’s trying to convince herself too. Along her arms, he can see scratch marks that resemble her own nails and he gets it. He remembers sitting up late at night, wondering if he was really himself. It was only when Till started to help him through those episodes that the fear started to fade. Empathetically, he reaches for her hands and squeezes them.

“Yeah, it’s you.” He states firmly, catching her gaze to stare into her eyes.

Ever so slightly, her hands stop trembling. He hadn’t even realized she was shaking until she stopped. Ever the picture of grace and peace. He huffs a small sardonic laugh before pulling away.

He goes over the other questions, all basic in answer until Ivan finally puts down his pad and thinks to himself before looking at Sua.

“So…how do you feel?” He asks carefully, sliding the pad away and crossing his legs.

“About what?”

“About…being alive again? You know, after thinking you were going to die.” 

Sua hesitates, eyes flitting to the side before sighing and saying, “It sucked when I first woke up. I was told you all had…died so I was just alone. I had done that I had done and in the end, I was the only one alive? Fucking absurd.” She narrows her eyes, shaking her head, “I had tested positive for provider status so I was being kept in the cell. When the doors all opened…I tried to pull it close again. I didn’t really want to see what was happening and honestly, I just wanted to die quietly. Everyone I loved was dead so…” finally, she meets his eyes, a light flush on her face as she mumbles, “Now, though? All things considered, it’s…it’s pretty great. It’s really really great.”

When he looks at her, he feels like he’s looking at himself again. The broken, scared of living version of himself that arrived at the rebellion. But also the one that was hopeful to find a future that he could call his own. 

Truly two halves, huh?

He nods, smiling to himself as he replies, “Yeah, I would say it’s pretty great.”

“So uh…are we done here?” Sua asks impatiently and Ivan hums playfully.

“Well, normally we get you settled into a dorm and give you a tour of the camp—“

“Ivan.”

“—but I can see you’re eager to talk to Mizi. So how about this, I take you to where she might be and give you a small tour on route?”

Sua jumps up, brushing off her pants before starting to walk.

“As long as I get to talk to Mizi, I don’t care.”

“So single-minded.” He teases and smiles when she sticks her tongue out at him.

“You’re one to talk.”

Ivan chuckles as he gets up and starts making his way to the elevator, “I’ll have you know, I didn’t approach Till at all during those two months. He came to me.”

Sua looks mildly impressed at this and they pile into the elevator in a comfortable silence, one that he’s been missing for a very long time.

Ivan finds Mizi exactly where he expects, which is the gym, punching one of the swinging bags there with an aggression that he hasn’t seen in a while. Whenever Mizi is stressed about something, she always either goes to the shooting range or the gym to get her energy out. Usually a couple rounds of this would work but Ivan can see sweat beading on her face so she’s been at this for quite a while but she doesn’t look any better than before. Next to her, Till is sitting cross-legged fiddling with his sketchbook with a focused look. Neither of them seem like they’re saying much of anything to each other, just keeping one another company.

“Mizi!” Sua calls out, speeding up her walk.

Her voice makes Mizi jump as she stops her punching to look at her, looking almost scared as the other approaches. She takes a step back, arms up like she’s about to defend herself before Till reaches up to pull them back down again.

“Mizi, she’s real.” He murmurs and she fervently shakes her head at him.

“No, no she can’t.” She grasps at her hair, messing it up as she claws into her scalp with a shaky voice, “It can’t be. It can’t be. I’ve seen her so many times, this can’t be—“ 

“I can see her too, I’m pretty sure that means she’s real.” Till argues, getting up and trying to pull her hand away but she twists away from him with a rough shout.

“No—!” 

Sua rushes up, arms outstretched as she hugs her close and burying her face into Mizi’s wild mess of hair as the girl squeaks pitifully.

“I’m real, I’m real, I swear I’m real. It’s not a trick, it’s not a clone, it’s me.” She whispers into her ear, tightening her grasp as the other squirms to try and escape, “Please, you have to believe me. Please.”

Hearing her so close slows Mizi’s movements until she finally stills, not hugging Sua back but letting her stay attached like a leach. Ivan can see her eyes darting around, like she’s processing what’s going on as her arms lay limp at her side. The universe seems to be holding its breath, circling around these two girls as it waits to see if it’ll be whole again.

There’s only a second where he sees her face flash into something distinctly upset before she shoves Sua back hard with a shout.

“Let go! Let me go!” Till backs away from her like she’s a wild animal and with the way she snarled her words, she almost was, “I-I have nothing to say to you!” 

And she runs, the universe cracking itself in half. 

The heartbreak that befalls Sua’s face is one that feels all too familiar to Ivan and he wants to say something to her but she twists and runs in the opposite direction. Ivan meets Till’s eyes, a concerned gaze in them as they look in the directions they left at.

Taking action, Till gets up and says, “I’ll go get Mizi, you get Sua.”

“What?” He questions, reaching for him, “Should we not get them together?”

“But that means we leave one of them alone for a while. And I think they both need someone right now.”

“Doesn’t that feel like choosing sides?”

Till shakes his head, “We’re not choosing sides. We’re just making sure that they both have…someone. They need to feel like someone is on their side.”

Ivan pauses. He’s not sure about that logic but the idea of Sua being left alone to stew in her destructive thoughts doesn’t sit right with him. There’s a smell of ozone and stars in his mind and he remembers being left alone, staring into an open field and wondering if anyone would ever truly love him. If he was destined to be alone.

Finally, he nods and with an exchange of determined looks, they separate. He runs through the doors, hoping that Sua hasn’t run too far yet. In the distance, he can hear footsteps down the hall so he follows it. 

Eventually, he stops as he sees Sua huddled under a tree, head in her knees as her shoulders shake. She has always been quiet in her feelings, her emotions always slowly leaking out of her from the cracks of her careful mask. There’s something distinctly familiar in all this. Perhaps all things are meant to, not necessarily repeat, but rhythm. 

Slow and deliberate, he approaches and sits next to her. She doesn’t look up. There's a lot he could be saying, tons that he should say to make her feel better. 

But he doesn’t.

Instead, he just reaches out and nudges her fingers with his own. A request. An offer. She doesn’t respond right away, almost hiding away when he touches her. Until quietly, she hooks their pinkies together and they sit silently together, Ivan just offering a non-judgemental presence. 

There’s a guilt that will always stay with him; that he wasn’t with her in the final days before she died in front of his eyes. They had fought, kicked, bit each other raw in every way except physically, tearing at each other to try and get over the frustrations they had towards themselves. They did all that without ever acknowledging that they were both just scared of what their deaths would mean. If they would die at all. They decided to face their fates alone.

But they were never meant to. 

Had they been together when the end came to get them, maybe they would’ve solved a lot of things much sooner. 

Ah well, they have a second chance now.

“…the clouds are beautiful.” He mumbles and slowly, Sua peeks up.

“…they are.”

And there they stay.

Together.

Till had been running around the camp, trying to go to all the places Mizi would usually be. She was smarter than that so of course, she wasn’t in any of them. That’s when a friendly dude said he saw her running up towards the mountain and Till had to make the terrible realization that he was literally going to climb a mountain for her. After a horrible trek up the trail, he does find her sitting on a rock while staring into the middle distance.

“Mizi!” Till groans as he leans forward trying to catch his breath, “You sure don’t make yourself easy to find.”

The girl in question barely reacts to him, keeping her eyes on the horizon as she curls into herself.

“…sorry.” She mumbles but she does sound sincere.

He sighs, sitting next to her with a slump and watching the view too. It was a nice view. 

They’re sitting on a rock that lies on one of the few flat landings on the side of the mountain. As far as Till’s aware, the landing is supposedly going to be where the rebels want to start creating actual landing pads for flying ships. Till has been working on the first one, though he’s not the brains of the operation or anything. 

Regardless, the landing hasn’t been converted yet so it’s just rocks right now. It overlooks the camp and he has a clear view of the ocean as well as the sun that is still relatively high in the sky.

“Didn’t think you’d come all the way up here.” He starts, trying to be casual but honestly just coming off awkward. When Mizi still doesn’t reply, he sighs and nudges her, “I thought you said you had tons you wanted to say to her.”

That makes her react, her face morphing into something akin to shame and she croaks, “I did. I do.”

“Then what the hell was that back there?” He questions with an arch of the brow, “She’s here, you can say everything now.”

Mizi grimaces and shrugs with a confused shake of the head, “I-I don’t know, okay? I just…I panicked! I thought she was dead for months! I was…I wasn’t really moving on but it was sinking in, you know? I was getting better. But now…” she groans into her hands, “It feels like everything is reversing…I can’t.” 

Till wants to tell her she’s an idiot. That she has the opportunity of a lifetime, that she’s so fucking lucky, they all are. That they should go back right that second and go say something to Sua because she had just gone through the same hell they did and they owe her something at least.

But that would be hypocritical of him.

He just shakes his head and carefully, he wraps his arm around her shoulder, pulling her in for a side hug.

“…do you hate her?” Till asks instead. 

He can’t demand her to take action but perhaps he could be the person to help her sort out her feelings. He probably could’ve used that back then.

“…a little. But also no? Complicated.” Mizi replies, her expression pinched as she thinks.

“Yeah, I get it.” Silence, then, “Do you love her?”

She hesitates, a thousand thoughts blazing across her eyes before she buries her face into his shoulder, “Yeah. I love her so much.”

“That’s probably why this is so hard for you. It wouldn’t be if you didn’t care. Again, I know.”

He hears her laugh a little, though it sounds a bit painful, “We’re so so similar, huh?”

A wry smile stretches across his face and he thinks of seeing Ivan on that hospital bed, unconscious but alive. All that it made him feel. The way his world had shifted beneath his feet as he realized what Ivan had done and exactly why he had done it. The weight of it. 

“Yeah, we definitely are.” Twisting his neck a little, he says into her hair, “You should still tell her you love her.”

“She knows.”

He shakes his head, nudging her cheek with his knuckle, “Not right now, she doesn’t. She thinks you hate her. Like hate her, hate her.” 

Mizi’s breath hitches at that and an almost pathetic whine escapes her throat before she whispers, “I…I’m not ready. I have too many ghosts I need to figure out first. I might say something I regret if I don’t. I-I already have, I don’t want to do it again.” 

“Well, you definitely can’t just leave her with nothing, that’s just cruel.”

She seems to absorb his words, tears welling up in her eyes as she thinks. 

“…could you tell her? That I still love her, but need some time?”

That, he can do.

“Mmhm, sure.”

“…could you stay here for a bit, though?”

She says it with a nervous tinge, like she thinks he’s going to refuse her. He huffs a laugh and pulls her closer.

“Mmhm, sure.”

Later, when he tells Sua what Mizi told him, he feels a pit of guilt sit in his gut as he watches her face twist into something edging on tearful. But after a moment or two, she just smiles at him and nods in the graceful way that feels nostalgic.

“Thanks, Till. For being there for her.” She says as she plays with the door between them and looks down, “You’ve always been careful with her.” 

She looks so lonely when she speaks and Till wonders if this is what he looked like. Worse, what Ivan looked like. 

“I’m happy you’re back, Sua.” He says hurriedly, “I-I just wanted you to know that. In case you thought me and Ivan were like, picking sides or something. W-we’re not! We’re just—“

“I get it, Till.” He stops yammering and watches as Sua gives a little side smile, “You want us to each feel equally supported. Like, having a person a hundred percent behind you. I get it. Honestly…it’s good it’s you. I think you understand her better than any of us right now.”

It’s pretty innocuous, all things considered. But it kind of feels like approval and he flushes.

Sua drops her smile and with a playful tone, “You better not get any ideas, guitar boy.”

His face gets super hot, “Of course not! Besides—“

He stops himself there because the thought of what he instinctively almost said makes him sweat. Sua picks up on it though and looks both surprised and curious.

“Oh?” She prompts and he scrambles backwards, waving his arms.

“Nothing! Goodnight!”

With that, he runs back to his and Ivan’s dorm like he’s being chased. 

As he bursts into the room, Ivan is sitting at the table with one of his books again and when he comes in, he looks up and does his usual grin in greeting. The sight makes his shoulders relax and he can feel the stress that had built up all day melt through his feet.

“You didn’t need to wait for me.” Till says quietly as he hangs his jacket and Ivan stands up with a shrug.

“I wanted to.”

He smiles at that before sighing as he recalls the day, “Did we look as sad as Mizi and Sua do? Because damn, it feels so fucking sad.”

The other thinks for a second before replying, “Yes. Based on what others have said, I believe so. Though I believe theirs is worse because they’re in love.”

When Ivan says that, a feeling rises in Till’s chest that feels like ‘It is the same’. Which…no, it’s not. Mizi and Sua are in love and are…a thing. A couple. Romantic partners. He and Ivan…aren’t. 

Are they? 

There’s a question lingering in the air though Till wonders if he’s the only one feeling it right now.

What exactly are they?

They’ve never really discussed it. There never felt like there was a need to and honestly, labels and words didn’t feel it really encompassed what they were to each other.

Friends.

Family.

Lovers.

Partners?

Partners feel close but partners could also mean a lot of things. 

What are they?

Till isn’t sure. And he’s not even sure if he and Ivan are on the same page in that uncertainty.

As he waves Ivan goodnight and shuts his room’s door, he’s left with the question and he knows that it’s going to keep him up at night.

The camp is abuzz about the latest drop off that arrived earlier that morning. Till had been eating breakfast when Hyuna burst through the door with a wide grin on her face. He wonders if she just has a universal key to every room and that’s how she keeps bursting in unannounced.

“Hyuna, what—“

“We got a new drop off today!” She tells him excitedly and he raises a brow at her, taking another bite of his eggs.

“Yeah, I know.”

After all, he got a list of materials that would be coming in today that would jumpstart the beginning of building the flying ship. He’s known about this particular drop off for a while. 

“Oh come on, get a little excited. I heard that they brought back some luxuries this time too! Don’t you want to check it out?” Hyuna pouts and he thinks.

Ivan had already gone to work and Till wasn’t due to do anything until the parts made it to the hangar, which was scheduled for later that afternoon. 

With not much else to do, he shrugs and nods. Hyuna grins and drags him out of the dorm with the excitement of a kid. He envies her a little. Most days, he feels too tired, too worn to be that excited about anything. He’s not sure if it’s just a fact of growing up or if that childlike enthusiasm is something he can regain again. Based on what he knows about Hyuna, it seems like he can.

The drop off bay is located next to the teleporter dock and not unexpectedly, the whole space is busy. People are coming and going from the trucks, sorting through the crates and dropping them into their designated spots. Isaac is there holding a holopad and calling out instructions when he notices Hyuna and Till approaching.

“Oh, hey you guys.” He greets with a slight tip of the hat, “What are ya’ll doing here?”

“Well, I wanted to show Grumpy over here some of the special shipments we got.” Hyuna explains and Till blinks at the new nickname, “I heard we got some luxuries?”

Isaac hums as he looks over the list with a smirk, “Yup. Apparently one of the traders had just watched the first episode of the latest Alien Stage season and felt really bad, so they gave us extra stuff.”

Till flinches at the mention of Alien Stage. Even though it’s been quite a while since then, the thought of it still makes him distinctly uncomfortable. Even more so that there are  segyeins that are watching the worst moment of their lives at this very second. It feels distinctly cruel to broadcast their suffering for cheap entertainment. When Ivan showed him an Earth era movie, he had to explain to him that no one was actually getting hurt. That it was all make-believe, just actors that pretended to be harmed to tell a story. The illusion of it was enough to convince an audience of its reality for as long as the film went on. Knowing that, it puts an even crueler look on the segyein that they weren’t satisfied with make-believe and needed the pain to be real. Till wishes that they had just done that instead.

“A-Anyway!” Isaac suddenly exclaims, snapping Till out of his thoughts and gestures to the right, “We put the luxuries over there. We split it based on food, cosmetics and entertainment. You can get first dibs on stuff.”

Hyuna nods to him before grabbing Till’s arm and leading him to the piles with a slight comforting squeeze. It still surprises him how attentive the two of them often are and he squeezes back, grateful for them. Urak didn’t give a single shit if Till had been uncomfortable, so the change of pace is welcome.

Standing in front of the piles, he can already see some of the goods. Some books, toys, even make-up. In the corner, he spies some moisturizer that he thinks Sua would appreciate.

(As much as she hasn’t mentioned it, he could see how adjusting from a luxury pet lifestyle has been a bit difficult. Her usually flawless skin has become duller, drier and while it was hardly important in the grand scheme of things, it has been noticeably bothering her. When she doesn’t think anyone is looking, she’ll stare into a mirror and pull at her skin with a mournful expression.

It had been a bit of an adjustment for all of them. Even him. Despite being treated like shit most of the time, there was still a level of luxury he had been used to. His appearance was always taken care of for him and he never really had to figure out how to make himself useful, left mostly to just sit around until he was dragged into something. He remembers looking in a mirror and seeing just how different he appeared, with his greasier hair and bags under his eyes. It had been disconcerting but he never put much value in his beauty anyway. 

Sua was a different story. 

While he doesn’t know much, he does recall her mentioning that she was often put into pet human beauty contests by her owner. Of everyone, she and Ivan had been the ones who had the most rigorous beauty regiments and it was uncommon to find her brushing her hair at any given opportunity.

While she never liked saying it, Till knew she cared about how she looked.)

Till grabs a bottle and drops it into his bag to give to her later. 

He starts looking for stuff for the others, since he’s here and they’re a bit too busy to go looking for stuff for themselves. 

Sifting through the stuff, he finds some cookies that he thinks will help cheer Mizi up, a shirt with a funny slogan that Dewey will probably enjoy, a cool set of gloves for Hyuna and a little pack of lollipops that Isaac will like because lord knows he won’t get it himself. He even finds a little game console that he gets for himself, since he’s been wanting something else to occupy his free time with. 

At some point in his search, he finds a colourful little box from the food pile that has the words ‘Luxury Tea Variety Pack’ across the top. It looks a little fancy and he wonders if Ivan would like it. He could picture him drinking this while he works and Till has been saying that he should try drinking something else other than water since it looks so depressing. 

With that thought, he grabs the box and puts it into his bag.

The gifts are a pretty good success all things considered. Dewey loved the shirt, Isaac happily started sucking on one of the lollipops while saying that it’ll help him quit smoking, Hyuna put on her gloves immediately and then ruffled his hair, and Mizi thanked him with slight tears in her eyes as she nibbled on the cookies.

When he gave Sua the moisturizer, she had given him a grateful smile that was a little shaky at the edges, which meant she really was happy. He watched as she spread some on her face and was happy to note that she looked truly refreshed for the first time in a while. 

Which left the last gift.

Ivan was just sitting at his desk when Till opened his door while holding the box of tea in his hand. The man barely looked up, merely waving his hand as an indication of acknowledgement before he went back to typing something on his computer. Till slides into the indoor clothes he leaves by Ivan’s bed, throwing his outside clothes into the hallway haphazardly.

“If you insist on stripping in my room, please don’t forget to pick up your clothes off the floor.” Ivan admonishes without even turning around.

“Geez, do you have eyes on the back of your head or something?” He grumbles but starts to make his way over to the clothes, “I didn’t even throw it in your room, it’s in the hallway.”

“I’ll still end up tripping over it when you forget to pick it up.”

“I’m not, I’m not!” 

He balls it up and throws it into his room with a little grumble before walking back into Ivan’s with the box. Flopping onto Ivan’s bed, he watches Ivan’s back as he taps away at his keyboard at an even pace. There’s a rhythm to it and he feels an itch to write down a melody that pops into his head. He waves it off before finally chucking the box at Ivan’s head. It hits the middle of his shoulders before thumping to the ground and Ivan blinks in surprise as he turns to look.

“I got you something.” Is Till’s explanation.

He watches as Ivan looks down at the floor and tilts his head as he picks it up, reading the top of it.

“Tea?”

“Yeah, have you had it?”

He shakes his head, “No, though I know what it is. My owner wouldn’t allow me to drink anything that wasn’t water. Said it wasn’t good for my appearance.”

Till is skeptical as he sits up, “Sounds fake but okay.” He shrugs nonchalantly, “Anyways, I thought this would be something you like. They had a new drop off and there was luxury stuff there so…I got this for you.”

The other has his eyebrows raised as his mouth falls slightly open and Till feels his cheeks warm at just how surprised Ivan looks. For a second, he thinks he sees a wet sheen in his eyes and he goes to ask before Ivan gets up to go to their little kitchenette.

“I’ll make some right now!”

He lightly laughs as he follows him and leans against the counter, “You sure? Some of those have caffeine in them so you’ll be awake for a while longer.”

Ivan taps on the kettle, “That’s fine. I need to stay up for a bit longer anyway to finish some work, so this will work wonders.”

That gets Till to feel concerned and he narrows his eyes, “They making you do that?”

“No no, I just was close to finishing and I didn’t want to leave the last little bit for tomorrow.” Ivan is quick to correct. 

“Hm, okay…” he mumbles, suspicious and Ivan chuckles at his reaction, crossing his arms and tilting his head in amusement.

“Are you really concerned for little ol’ me?” He asks teasingly, nudging Till’s foot with his own, “Careful, I might get the wrong idea.”

Till doesn’t really think when he replies smoothly, “And what idea is that?”

They both freeze as the question rests in the air. It’s a question that has been there for a while.

What they are.

Till stays quiet, watching Ivan’s bordering on flustered reaction as he waits for what he’ll say. 

“…the water is done.” Ivan says, sounding a little short on air and the energy in the room deflates.

They’ve been doing this a lot. Alluding to the elephant in the room but not quite addressing it, leaving it to another day. He wonders how long they can stay like this. In this limbo. It’s a careful dance and if they break it, will they both just fall or not?

Till isn’t sure.

The tea was the beginning of something that arose in Ivan. From the day he drank his first cup of tea, it started this obsession that worked its way into their daily routine. While the rebellion didn’t often have shipments of special tea come in, they did have a consistent amount of normal tea in stock. Thus, Ivan drank a cup of tea every morning and if the tea was special or new, he’d give Till a whole rant about the history of its creation. If it was regular, then he’d just make his morning cup of tea with a silly little smile on his face and Till would get to see his leg do a happy kick up at the first sip.

Till has no idea what he started but he couldn’t help but think how fucking cute Ivan looked when he rambled on about this small, innocuous thing that gave him all the joy in the world.

Cute. Cute. So fucking cute.

Ah, he thinks to himself as he watches Ivan ramble about the latest new tea with the stars shimmering in his eyes, I’m doomed.

“Have you thought about what you want to do?” Ivan asks as he taps away at his computer in the info centre, Sua sitting just on the chair next to him.

Ivan had brought Sua to the info centre as a test to see if she would be any good at deciphering. As expected, she is but when he looks over at her, she doesn’t look as enthused as he did when he first started.

“I don’t mind this.” She replies to him neutrally and that gives him pause.

“But?”

He watches her neutrality morph into something decidedly more bored and replies, “I don’t know if this is for me.”

Well, that’s a bit disappointing but not entirely unexpected. While Ivan often found comfort in repetitive tasks, Sua always seemed to see them as a means to an end. 

“Very PR answer of you but I get it.” Ivan snarks and gets a light smack to the shoulder.

She complains with a small glare, “You’re even snarkier than you used to be.”

“I’m a lot more of a lot of things than I used to be.”

Sua pauses at the statement before a quiet smile blooms on her face and she sighs, exasperated but not unhappy, “Yes, you are.”

He thinks for a few moments before pushing himself from his desk and asking, “Then what do you want to do?”

“I’m not…well, I have an idea. But I was told I wouldn’t be able to start right away, I would need training.”  She explains and then grimaces, “Also, you all might get mad. Mizi certainly will be.”

“She’s already mad at you, I don’t think one more thing will push her over the edge.” He replies, shrugging, “Has there been any changes with that?”

“You would know if there was.”

“True.”

“Anyway uh….” A flicker of hesitation flashes across her face before sighing and saying, “I want to be a medic. I was talking to some of the doctors that checked me over and I dunno, it seemed interesting. And the um, part you all might be mad about is that I want to be… a field medic.”

Ivan pauses at that and for a second, he feels the jumpstart of fear at the thought of Sua being out there where bullets are flying around, “Erm, why?”

“Look, I know what you’re going to say and I’m going to say back to you that you’re a hypocrite.” Sua retorts, crossing her arms as she spins in her chair while watching the ceiling, “All of you. You’re going to say it’s dangerous, right?” The silence she gets is all she needs, “I could say the same of all of you. You can’t tell me it’s any different.”

“I-It is.” he argues but it sounds weak even to his ears.

“It’s not! You all are risking your lives all of the time and you wanted me to be an informant, which is basically the same thing!”

“It’s really not. You’d be going around to places where people got shot. I would argue that field medics are in more danger.”

“Which is basically everywhere.” She stops spinning, glaring as she spits, “Look, I want to be able to help you. All of you. God knows you won’t take care of yourselves.”

Her indignant tone makes him flinch and he frowns, “But you’re—“

“Different?” She interrupts and narrows her eyes, “Why?”

Because she was dead. Because the three of them lost and mourned her, got to places where they felt okay, not okay, learned to live without her and now she’s here. Alive in one piece and it all feels so ephemeral and god, what would they become if it happened again? To lose and mourn her again? 

There must be turmoil in his eyes because she softens her gaze and sighs, pulling her knees  onto the chair, “I lost…all of you. I woke up and had your broken bodies displayed up to me and god, I remember just sitting there with itching hands, wanting to somehow stop the bleeding through the screen. I watched the love of my life lose herself and I couldn’t…I couldn’t do anything because I wasn’t fucking there.” She’s firm when she grips his arm, determination swirling in her purple hues, “I refuse not to be there. I’m not waiting around here for you all to come back, okay? I’m going to be out there with you and this time? I-I’ll…I’ll actually get to stop the bleeding.” 

There’s conviction in her voice that Ivan finds it hard to argue against. After all, it feels distinctly similar to the argument Till gave him. 

With a quiet exhale, he nods and replies, “You better polish up that argument when you tell Mizi. She’ll fight harder than me. That was clumsy. Are you sure you were top of our class in Writing?”

Sua huffs a laugh, reaching over and punching his shoulder, “I’m already rewriting it in my head.”

Ivan doesn’t get to see the conversation Mizi and Sua have but he does see the aftermath. The avoidance the two of them were keeping up seems to have quietly disappeared, the distance closing until it was basically non-existent. Ivan sees them sitting next to each other now. It’s not the same as they used to be. It’s tentative, awkward in the way they talk to one another.

But they’re healing.

And when he gets to eat lunch with the four of them all together for the first time in what feels like years, he finds he can’t begrudge all the things they aren’t. He’s just excited for what it could be.

(“Io! Io!” He chants cheerfully, giggling until his stomach tickles.

She holds his hands, her long fingers gentle on his pudgy skin as she playfully swings them, “Yes, that’s my name.”

There’s a smile on her face as she hugs him tight, kisses pressed to his hair and he has never felt safer.

“Io! Io!” 

“Yes?”

“I has name?”

“Do you have a name?”

“Mm!”

She hesitates, something cold crossing her face before she shakes her head with a smile that has layers that he’s too young to see, “No.”

“Oh. Give?”

“I can’t. Not anything you can keep, anyway.” Io pets his hair down, toying with the ends before she makes a decision and leans down to whisper in his ear, “How about this? I’ll give you a role.”

“A role?”

“Yes, a role. Something you are to me, something I can call you. That way, no matter what you end up being named, you’ll still always be this too. It’s like how I’m your provider. Even if I have my name changed to something else or I…I go away, I’ll always be your provider.”

He doesn’t fully get it but he nods. He wants to be something forever, that sounds pretty nice.

“Okay!”

“Hm…” she hums, looking him over and tickling him as she spins him around to listen to him laugh, “Hmmm…”

He’s nearly breathless as he laughs, “Io!”

“One moment, I’m thinking.” She teases and when he spins to look at her with his teal eyes glittering with joyful tears from laughing so hard, she pauses before a grin blooms across her lips and kisses his big forehead, “A star.”

“Star?”

“Mmhm. You are my star. My shining beacon in the darkness. My guiding light that I’ll always follow.”

Star looks up at her, taking in her words before he nods, “You’re my star too.” 

And she’s so bright when she sobs a little, holding him tight enough to make it seem like they aren’t going to be ripped apart.)

  When he woke up, it was still dark out and the emptiness of his room felt too suffocating. Without a word, he knocked on Ivan’s door and when Ivan saw his face, he had the sense to not ask questions as the two of them went up to the roof, watching the sky glitter back at them.

“Bad dream?” Ivan asks.

“No.” Till answers, the hazy image slowly fading in a way that feels like a yell in the vacuum of space, “That’s the problem.”

He doesn’t get a reply, just feeling the other’s presence scoot a bit closer and for now, that’s enough.

“So someone asked me to ask you if you'd be interested in going on a date with them. I’ll even do your makeup for you, if you want.”

Ivan blinks in surprise as Hyuna casually drops that statement as if she’s just commenting that he should try a new food while she paints his nails.

“What?” Till asks flatly, waving his freshly painted nails to get them to dry.

“I said someone wants to go on a date with Ivan. They asked if I could relay the message.” She repeats before switching her gaze back to him, “So, how ya feelin’?”

Truthfully, he has no idea. He feels the neurons in his brain firing as hard as possible to see if he fully understands what he was just asked but no dice.

“Uh, if I could get some context?” he asks tentatively. 

The woman shrugs casually, grabbing the star stamp and pressing it on his nails, “Honestly there isn’t much. You know Micah? The guy that works with you. Short, glasses, curly hair? Got the mess of freckles all over his cheeks?”

The description rings a bell as his eyes widen with recognition. He had been the man who he helped when he was first introduced to Lina, solving his cipher for him. They haven’t spoken much but he recalls the guy being pretty nice; shy, polite, a little bit anxious but could be a good conversationalist if given the right topic. Micah often asks him for help on his work and while he hasn’t seen what he’s like on the field, he’s heard the man is a good shot.

“Yes I do know him.” He says before frowning, “He’s in love with me? But we haven’t spoken much.”

He can feel Till tense up next to him and wordlessly, he shifts his leg to press against the other’s thigh in an effort to soothe.

“Woah, I wouldn’t say that!” Hyuna exclaims with a wave of her free hand, “He’s got a crush on you.”

“Crush?”

A look goes over her face as she looks at the two of them and frowns, “Do you not know what that is?”

Ivan shakes his head and glances at Till, who looks equally as confused, “The professors at Anakt Garden didn’t see fit to tell us about human affection. And our owners certainly didn’t either.”

“Ah right.” She winces and sighs, putting down the polish before crossing her arms in thought, “Um, okay, how to explain this?“ After a few moments, she snaps her fingers, “Ah! You know how there’s different kinds of love? Friends, family, romance, all that?”

“Yeah?” Till narrows his eyes.

“Okay, so romance kind of splits into little categories too. So a crush is when you don’t really know a person but you’re interested in them! Like you want to get to know them better! They make your heart flutter, you want to kiss probably, they’re like a fantasy. You’re infatuated!” Hyuna explains with big gestures and a look of recognition flashes across Till’s face.

“Huh.” He mumbles and Ivan hums.

“So, Micah feels that for me?”

“Yeah, basically!” She replies, “It’s not so serious as love but it’s still very real. It’s a little different from liking someone. I would say liking someone in a romantic way feels…it feels like when you do know this person and you just…like them! You wanna hang out all the time, you feel happy thinking about them, that kind of thing.”

“And love?” He prompts and he watches as Hyuna sighs, shaking her head.

“Crushing and liking someone are sort of surface level. You know, you feel big emotions but nothing truly deep. Love is so fucking deep, it’s far too complicated to explain, you know?”

Ivan nods with a sardonic smile, “Yes, I certainly do.”

Till is quiet before asking tentatively, “So he doesn’t…love Ivan?”

“No, not yet.”

That makes him jump, “Not yet?”

Hyuna shrugs, “Not yet. Crushes and liking someone can become love eventually. They’re not even really mutually exclusive. You can like someone and love someone. You can love someone but not always like them. So, no he doesn’t. But I dunno, he might eventually if he gets to know Ivan.”

Till’s mouth gapes open as he seems to be trying to find words and seemingly constantly failing. 

Ivan is lost in thought before speaking up, “So he wants to get to know me through a date? To eventually love me?”

“I mean, a bit dramatic but kinda? Human affection is complicated but in this case, yeah that’s the gist.” She muses before raising a brow, “So are you interested?”

Is he? He’s never been on a date and frankly, he has very little experience with casual affection. It has always been all or nothing with him. Till is his first love and frankly, the only person he’s ever had even a passing interest in. He’s aware that he probably had a few people who had  crushes on him but he never really gave any of them the time of day. What was the point if they didn’t love him? 

Romance was always so heavy of a concept but the way Hyuna makes it sound, it seems almost light. Something to grow. To experience in increments. To be casual.

(He wonders about why the segyein decided to strip them of the nuances of love. Why they defined it in rigid, clinical terms and forgo explaining the careful intricacies of it all. 

Perhaps if they prevented humans from knowing the words for it, then they might be able to keep humans from remembering their capability of it. What they could achieve with it. 

They’re fools. 

Love has driven him from the moment he felt it bloom in his chest, even if he never knew the name for it.)

“I’m…curious.” He settles on, though a bit unsure of his answer, “I’ve never been on a date before so I suppose I could…try it? Is it okay that I’m not really that interested in him?” 

“Well, it’s probably something he should know before doing this but if he’s still down, then yeah.” Hyuna replies before smirking, “So, is that a yes?”

“…I suppose so, yes.”

“Alright! I’ll let him know and if it’s a go, you two can hash out the details!” 

Ivan nods before feeling a stare on his neck and glancing over to Till, who emits a particular energy that sends the temperature in the room into freezing.

“Till—“ He starts before Till suddenly stands up, his jaw clenched hard as he scrambles off the bed. 

“I’m going to bed, good night.” He spits harshly.

He doesn’t get to say anything else as Till rushes out and shuts his bedroom door tight with a slam.

Hyuna lets out a long whistle, “Figured he’d have more to say than that.” 

Ivan looks at her, “Should I—?”

“Nah nah, let him figure it out.” She says with a shake of the head, staring at his door before sighing, “I think it’s important for him to do it on his own.” 

And he doesn’t really get it but Ivan has learned that nothing good ever really happens when Till is forced to learn something. So he does as she asks and leaves it. It’s not like he would know what to say anyway. He doesn’t even know what’s wrong.

“Can you believe that?!” Till exclaims as he punches the bag in front of him while picturing it to be that stupid Micah kid.

It doesn’t make him feel better.

Isaac makes a deep groaning sound, his head falling back in exasperation against the weight machine, “Yes Till, I can. Newsflash, Ivan is pretty attractive. Obviously people are gonna wanna take him out on a date. People just usually don’t because…well—“ 

Till bristles as Isaac slides his eyes over to him and glares, “Isaac.” 

“Look, I’m just saying!” He raises his hands in surrender, “I don't think you need to be so serious about this. It’s just a date, you can date and be casual about it.”

Sua looks up from her treadmill and arches a careful brow with the deepest judgment in her eyes but a neutral tone, “If I may ask, what exactly are you two? I’ve been wondering since you two aren’t…the same as before.“

Till grimaces. It’s a question he’s been asking himself and with a deep sigh, “I don’t know.” He can see Sua and Isaac glance at each other and he waves,  “I’m trying to figure that out myself, okay? I…ugh.”

Isaac pauses before shaking his head, “Look, I’m just trying to say…you can’t be angry that you might be losing a shot you never took. Not that I think Ivan would just up and lose his feelings for you, just that you can’t expect him to dangle on this wire forever. Something has to eventually give. And it might be him first.” He pauses before asking, “What are you so afraid of anyway? You know this guy is in love with you, so either you like him back or you don’t. If you don’t like him like that, then why are you so upset?” 

Till stops, eyes trained to the floor as the question swirls around in his head before replying, “I don’t know.”

He’s finding he’s saying that a lot.

(Till wonders if the thing holding him back is that he doesn’t feel good enough. After all the love, the care, the proof that Ivan thinks he’s hung the stars, he still feels like he’s not good enough. That all that love is just being thrown at him, a wreath draped over a false idol. He’s not nearly as good as Ivan seems to believe.

After all, he’s just him. 

A person of no consequence. 

He’s not sure if he’d be okay being a person of no consequence. Of being the person who was pretty good but didn’t quite make it. His one talent is of little value now and the sad truth is that while he’s good, he’s not the best there ever was or the best there ever will be. He’s not a prodigy, was barely one before. He had some successes that many chalked up to a fluke, made some songs no one else made out of sheer tenacity but then lost anyway to someone who was literally talented to his core. 

Now, he’s a rebel who can draw pretty good, can still make songs but doesn’t really want to, who’s eh on a gun, pretty good with hand to hand and can’t hack for shit. Average, overall.

It’s a little tough, standing next to those around him who so clearly have prodigious skill. People who earn reputations from just their abilities alone. Ivan can decipher faster than anyone, Mizi was a crazy sharpshooter and Sua was becoming an amazing doctor. What’s more, they’re all so charismatic, able to make anyone like them. All so well known and so useful. Till was just…Till. He has a will, a drive, a want to be better and he keeps trying. People know him for being a generally good dude.

But how does that stand up against people who have that and more? What is he meant to do then? 

It frustrates him when people tell him that his will is valuable, it’s not something you can teach, and he just has to work hard and those hard skills will eventually develop. 

As if he hasn’t been working his ass off this whole time. Of course he’s working hard, he’s trying so damn hard but he just keeps being average. It took him so much effort to be average. It took him so much effort to fail. And it’s still not enough. 

What if this is it? This version of him is the best it’ll ever be? Worse, what if the version of him before was the best and he’s just gone downhill since? 

He’s not sure what lesson he’s meant to take away. 

That he actually is special and he just needs to discover it or view that tenacity as something special?

Or to be okay being average, to be satisfied with what he is and stop caring so much.

He’s scared sometimes of the idea that the people around him, the ones who love him for who he is, also know he’s average. That they love him but know that he’s not anything special.

If he shows his hand, how badly he needs Ivan, maybe Ivan will see why he doesn’t need Till. 

He wants to be worthy. More than that, he wants to feel worthy. 

He wants to feel he’s not a burden, that he’s worth all of the effort and faith people give him. He wonders when it’s going to be enough. When he can stop pushing himself and just feel comfortable where he is. 

He wonders if that day will ever actually come.

When will it be enough? When will the fight be over and he can finally just rest? When does working hard become working hard enough? When will he feel secure in himself? 

Secure enough to be worthy of Ivan and his weighty love.)

Till watches Ivan get ready from his bed, quiet as the other wanders back and forth around his room, trying to look for his clothes that have scattered around his floor. Silent, he picks up the shirt that Ivan has been looking for the last five minutes and throws it over.

“Ah, thanks.” Ivan says as he pulls off his shirt and throws it to the accumulating pile.

Till snorts to himself. He does that and he still wonders why his room is messy? It’s endearing how…human Ivan is. He’s become an entertaining person to observe since he's allowed himself to relax and let loose.

When he had returned to their shared dorm, Ivan had watched him with eyes that screamed concern and Till felt so fucking guilty for doing that to him. He hadn’t been ready to talk about any of it though, so he just let them fall back into their usual rhythm, even if it was a bit off beat. 

After all, Isaac was right.

He can’t be mad that Ivan is willing to even just try to explore their now infinite freedom, even if that excursion freedom makes every alarm bell in Till’s mind ring at the same time. The tree comes to mind and he questions if he’s ever left the shadow of it. 

Ivan pulls on his jacket and looks at himself in the mirror before spinning to face him. 

“Does this look good?”

Till runs his eyes over Ivan’s form, noting the way his shirt hugs his waist while his jacket hangs over his shoulders in a way that makes him look even broader than usual. His chest feels a bit warm at the thought and he moves to his face. When his gaze lands on his lightly glossed lips— curtesy of Hyuna — he pauses. 

He wonders sometimes what Ivan tastes like. 

He’s not sure if he means that in a gross way or a concerning way, it’s just a thought that has been crossing his mind as he’s been watching Ivan prepping for his stupid fucking date. It’s not the first time he’s thought of it but it’s definitely the most aggressive. 

Till told himself that he’d be fine with this. It’s good for Ivan to get out and meet other people. He could always use more friends.

…ah, who’s he kidding?

He’s not sure why he keeps playing this charade. The whole camp assumes that they’re a couple, Sua has asked what they are, they’ve even asked themselves what they are. It’s essentially a forgone conclusion.

Maybe it’s the rebellious spirit rearing its head at the idea of doing what is expected of him. Maybe he’s not sure if Ivan, even after all that’s happened, would go for it. After all, this Ivan has a hell of a lot more self-preservation. Maybe he’ll see that Till is a difficult path to take so he won’t.

God, he feels so pathetic for even wallowing about this.

“You look good.” He mumbles, though he’s not even looking at him.

Ivan, ever the observant one, comments with a frown, “You look like you swallowed something gross.”

“I’m fine, seriously.” Till defends, pulling his legs up, “Just fuckin’ go to your dumb date already.” 

“Till—“

Something about the way Ivan says his name makes everything inside him turn to a sick, awful mush and he snaps.

“Just fucking go! After all, we’re not anything, right? That’s what you said! So go!”

His voice comes out sharp and terrible, the both of them flinching at it and a hot shame runs over Till’s back almost immediately. 

Ivan looks like he wants to say something before glancing at the time and realizing he’s going to be late at this rate. After a moment, he makes a pinched expression before leaving, shutting the door hard as he shoots Till one last look before disappearing. That makes Till’s heart throb terribly because the Ivan of before wouldn’t have done that. Likely because the Ivan from before didn’t have any other priorities other than Till. 

As he falls back against the sheets, he wonders what the fuck is wrong with him.

It’s just a date. It’s just a casual date.

You can date and be casual about it.

If it’s casual, then why doesn’t it feel casual? Why does the thought of Ivan possibly holding someone else’s hand gently make every cell in his body feel like they’re ripping apart? He doesn’t need to do that with stupid Micah, Till’s hand is open. If dating is so simple, then can’t he and Ivan do that? Do something casual. Just date casually. It can’t be that hard. 

Except when he really thinks about it, yeah it fucking is.

Nothing about what he and Ivan have is casual.

The two of them speak in extremes. I hate you. I love you. I will die for you. I will kill you. I want to consume you whole. Absorb me into your skin so that we can become one. Never leave me, I will die if you do.

There’s nothing casual about that.

They have never been casual.

…oh.

Oh.

Something about that thought snaps something in his brain as it makes all the connections in a fraction of a second. None of it makes any sense but it spits out one thought.

It occurs to him then that he loves Ivan.

Loves him so so much that it hurts under the wrong weight. Or sometimes even the right one. 

He’s not even sure when it really started. It feels like it’s been living in his chest for years and yet, only just bloomed this very second. Maybe there’s been an inkling, a seed that was planted a long time ago but neither of them knew to water it. So it just sat there, unattended until it got a taste of what being loved could feel like and suddenly, it grew so fast and strong that it seemed to have already bloomed before Till could even notice it was there. 

Now the feeling constantly threatens to crush him but it also seems to be content to just sit with him quietly. It’s strange and doesn’t make sense but also makes more sense than anything else.

Of course he loves him. 

How could he not at this point? 

After everything they’ve lived through together? The nights they sat together, sitting together in their misery of their looming death; held each other when the nightmares tore into their mind; watched each other die and face a reality of being without the other. After seeing all the ways Ivan could be soft in his joy, could be cozy in his favourite long socks, could be a hardass when they spar, could be cold when they fought; how could he not love him?

He’s known this was the answer all along but too scared to put it to words. Perhaps he thought that if he gave it a word, a name, then it would be real. As if it wasn't already so real, he felt it in his blood.

Ugh, he’s so fucking stupid.

He kinda wants to just tell Ivan. To just get it over with. If he does, he probably won’t have to worry about Ivan going on dates with other people. But the words catch in his throat as he remembers the devastation on Ivan’s face the last time he tried. 

I don’t think I could take hearing it from you if it’s not in the way I want you to mean it. My heart wouldn’t survive it.

Does he mean it in the way Ivan wants him to mean it? Could he ever measure up to the love that drives Ivan’s every move? Could he make it worth the risk of Ivan’s heart?

He’s not sure. 

But he refuses to toy with Ivan’s heart, not again. Not like the way he turned his back on him in that meteor shower, giving him hope just to kill it. When he says it, if he says it, he’s going to mean it a hundred percent. He swears.

Still, he supposes he could still be…a thing, with Ivan. But the thought of it scares him still.

The feeling feels private right now. Something for him to cradle in his chest and nurse it on his own. He wants some space to figure it out and really twist it around until he gets it.

Though, waiting around is how he got into this mess.

Be honest.

He sighs deeply and groans. Feelings are so confusing. They’re twisting in their shape, never truly settling into something understandable. But waiting around for the day they make sense is what got him into basically every mess he’s been in. It’s hard to articulate something he barely understands.

But he’s gonna have to express it anyway. 

Fuck.

Ivan comes back with a heave of a sigh and heaviness in his brain that makes it feel like it’s stretching. Micah had been nice, but the whole time, he felt sort of…detached. His brain was stuck on Till’s face when he left and it never stopped circling, although that’s not new.

After that outburst, he expected Till to be in his own room, locked in until the morning in which they won’t discuss what happened but decide it’s fine and move on with their lives. Except he finds Till still in his room, staring at the ceiling like it personally offended him. 

“Till?” He questions.

He watches as the other jumps at his voice, scrambling up with a hint of a red in his cheeks as he meets his questioning gaze.

“H-Hey! Uh, you’re back earlier than I expected.” Till greets with a forcefully casual tone and Ivan arches a brow but merely hums in reply, shrugging off his jacket and chucking it into a pile before starting on his pants.

There’s a second when he realizes that Till has not turned around and he considers saying something. But something in him grows curious, so he just takes off his pants as he speaks.

“Yeah, I guess I was…distracted.” He notes how Till still hasn’t turned, though he seems to be carefully keeping his gaze on his face.

“So uh…do you…like him?” He asks and Ivan shrugs, pulling off the shirt before he goes digging for his home clothes.

“I don’t think casual is for me.” 

“Really?” 

The eagerness in Till’s voice makes him look up in surprise and when their gazes meet, there’s an energy that surges in that room and his stomach swoops as the ends of his fingers tingle. For a second, a tiny kernel of hope sparks in him and for once, he decides to not stamp it down.

“…yes, really.” He says with a slight squint as he pulls his clothes on, “Just…I don’t think I can do that kind of thing until I…get over you, I suppose. Couldn’t really stop comparing everything to you and that doesn’t seem fair to him so…”

The typical response to something like that would’ve been Till making a humming noise of acknowledgment and then they move on. That’s what they do; dance around difficult topics until they die or are too big to ignore anymore. Instead, a weight suddenly wraps around him and he can feel Till’s face bury itself into the middle of his shoulders.

“Don’t.”

“Huh?”

“ Don’t .”

Staring at the hands that clutch to his waist, a thought occurs to him.

Till is clingy.

Till is clingy. Ivan is having trouble wrapping his head around that. The Till from before was like a wisp, coming and going as he pleased and never seemed to care where Ivan went. He certainly didn't whine when something else took Ivan’s attention.

The spark is catching fire in his chest and it’s a little terrifying as it trails up his insides. 

“You should be careful…I might get the wrong idea.” He echoes words from the last time they brought this up but retreated out of fear.

There’s a buzz in the room.

“…and what if it’s not wrong?”

It’s so high-pitched now. The air feels like it’s been sucked out and Ivan feels lightheaded. 

“Till.” 

“Ivan.” He repeats back and finally, Ivan turns around and faces him.

His teal eyes are burning, his brows pushed down as he clenches his jaw and slowly, his fingers reach for the drawstring of his hoodie. As gently as Ivan can, he wraps his hand around Till’s wrist, not pulling but not quite allowing either.

“Till, you don’t have to—“

“What are we?” 

The question cuts through and they both are staring at one another. It’s so direct, the most direct either of them ever have been about this.

“…friends, right?” Ivan answers, though it sounds as unsure as he feels.

“Is this what friends do?” Till mutters, pulling him forward with a yank of the strings and the space between becomes a sliver, “Breathe each other’s air? Obsess over the other? Be this…special to each other?”

With how close they are, Ivan can feel the heat radiating off him and he swallows. But they’re not…it’s not even a possibility in his mind. How could it?

Till watches his face before sighing.

“…thought so.” Till mutters, sounding almost defeated as he slumps against him and Ivan has to almost catch him, “There’s nothing casual about us.”

They stay there for a while, just breathing against each other before Ivan grips his arms, tight as he whispers.

“You…you can’t feel that way for me.”

“Why not?” 

“Because—“

Because it’s not possible. Because it can’t be possible. Because it can’t be real. 

“—because you can’t.”

Not after all this time. Not after he ran the first time. Not after he already ripped his heart out, held it out bloody and raw, and was rejected with the backdrop of infinity. 

“I can.” Till argues, petulant.

He pulls his head back, “Are you seriously telling me you want me? For us to be what Mizi and Sua are? To do all that means?” There’s a flash of uncertainty in Till’s eyes and Ivan feels his face crumple as he starts to step back, “Yeah, there’s no way.”

He doesn’t get very far when he gets yanked back in and he’s forced to look Till dead in the eye with his eyes now blazing.

“Look at me, okay? I-I admit, I’m kinda just figuring this out right now but last time I waited, I never actually fucking said it. Isaac told me that I don’t get to be mad for missing a shot I never took so I’m fuckin’ taking it.” Till almost heaves as he speaks, “I don’t fucking know what we are but I do know what we could be. I just need some time to get my head on straight and you…you need to believe that I actually want this. You. Do you believe me?”

In all the years that he spent loving Till, there was never really a moment that he thought it would be reciprocated. It felt like it was destiny for him to pine forever until he died and he had been fine with that. When they reconnected and the idea of Till possibly being able to see Ivan in that light was brought up, it was a nebulous concept. Something that was so far out of the scope of what was likely to happen, he barely considered it. But more and more, as they’ve changed and built something different over the ashes of what they were before, it was becoming more real.

And now, it shouldn’t be so hard to imagine.

And yet…

Ivan shuts his eyes and shakes his head. Because that’s the truth. He still doesn’t believe it. With how deep, how far he had been willing to go in the name of his love, how could Till feel that deeply about him? 

Till doesn’t look surprised and he just whispers, “I don’t want to lose you to anyone else. And you won’t lose me to anyone. I want the chance to…become that. To be us, someday. Just…will you have me? Would you be willing to wait for me?” He grimaces, “I know I’m being selfish for asking for more time from you. I-I’m sorry…“

Time. He never believed he had a lot of time. None of them did. Everything they did were like bursts of light, flashes of beauty before dying just as quickly as they came. His love always felt like a supernova, something that he was so certain would burn him away to ash. It was volatile, demanding and always hungry. But the love that sits in his chest now feels as steady as a river, no less strong but it soothes instead of hurts. It allows room for just existing, to love the moments that were mundane and just be proud of the both of them for existing. He wonders if this is what it means to love casually. Not a love that means less but a love that doesn’t demand urgency. Something that allows you to take your time instead of racing to the next burst of passion.  

They never had time before. 

But they have it now. 

“Sure.” Ivan whispers, still not quite believing this is happening but he can’t help but feel happy anyway as he feels the river lap against the shores of his heart, “As if anyone could take me from you.”

Till sighs in relief and he chuckles wetly, tearing up from the rush of emotions that seemed to consume him. His messy hair falls over his eyes as he tries to hide his embarrassment. Cautiously but with a new daring edge, Ivan wipes his tears with his thumb.

“So emotional…” he teases and Till laughs through his cries.

“Fuck you.” 

 And the way those words echo in ears, with teasing affection, is starting to feel like…love.

A bit strange but wholly theirs.

Sua makes a face and arches her brow at Till, “Okay so, let me get this straight. So you’re not dating?” 

“Not really no.”

“So Ivan can go on dates with people.”

“Only if it’s me.” 

“And if he goes with someone else?”

“I’ll pull all of his hair out.”

Ivan looks over from across the bed as he brushes Mizi’s hair with a diabolical expression and muses, “I would not be opposed to you pulling my hair~”

“Yeah I know, ya freak.” Till retorts with an underlying affection and gets Ivan sticking his tongue out at him for his troubles.

Sua looks disgusted as she says, “Ew, what is this? What are you?”

Till shrugs and snaps the last clip in her hair with a little more force than necessary, “I dunno.”

“We don’t really have a label, just rules, I guess?” Ivan explains and shrugs, “I’m not so sure I get it entirely either. We’re being us, I suppose?” 

“Gross.” She replies back and Mizi lightly giggles, reaching over to rub her hands up and down Sua’s forearms comfortingly.

“Ah Sua, let them live. They’re figuring things out. They’re kind of like us.”

“Do not compare them to us.” She grouses and gestures to the two of them. “We just have an embargo on explicitly romantic stuff but we’re still a couple. They aren’t even that.”

Till taps her shoulder and she turns to him, letting him take her hand to start painting her nails, “If it makes it easier to understand, you could think of us as a couple. It’s not entirely wrong.”

She doesn’t look quite convinced of that and after a few moments, she sighs and asks with a hint of a threat, “What is Ivan to you?” 

The man in question peeks up from where he’s doing Mizi’s nails, curious and a bit hopeful, and Till’s cheeks flush bright red but he answers.

“The one thing I can never lose.”

Sua narrows her eyes slightly at that answer and turns to Ivan, “What about you? What is Till to you?”

His reply comes quick, like it’s something he’s known forever, “The answer.”

”To what?”

“Everything.”

Ivan looks at Till with a love in his abyssal eyes that’s staggering and makes him feel like sparklers are exploding in his chest. He finds he likes that response. 

The answer.

If Till is the answer, then perhaps Ivan is the question. 

He hopes that whatever look he’s giving Ivan shows equal dedication. 

Sua’s eyes go back or forth between them before she sighs deeply, making a gagging noise with some humour, “Okay, okay, I think I get it. Stop making goo goo eyes.”

“You’re one to talk.” Ivan snipes and she flips him off. 

And they all laugh. It feels like being in the garden again, but Till thinks this is better. 

(The darkness of the night weighs heavy like a blanket, the sharp shadows of the cage slashing across their bodies and he grabs for it like he can hold them. It’s so dark that it seems to almost swallow all the sound with only the echoing sound of the security guard snoring from far across the room being audible. 

Io is sleeping next to him, her arm laid across his waist and her little puffs of breath brushing against his hair as he watches her. 

She loves him so much and makes him so happy. He wants to make her happy too. 

He recalls that she smiles the brightest when he sings. She’ll clap and cheer when he performs, declaring that he must be the best singer there ever was.

If he sings even better, then maybe he could make her even happier.

So, as quietly he can so he doesn’t wake her up, he starts to practice. He sings the songs she taught him, careful to make sure every word comes out right. Louder and louder; better and better.

Until the cage door snaps open and he’s faced with the looming face of one of the segyeins that comes by occasionally to feed him and Io. Io jolts up from the commotion and her arms become tighter around him. He doesn’t understand, what did he do wrong? 

He doesn’t get an answer to that and he never will. He’s yanked from the cage, his little body ripped away from her warmth and suddenly, he’s so cold. The segyein’s hold is crushing and it makes everything inside of him scream as he sees Io being held down like she’s done anything wrong. 

“Star! Star! No— please, wait!” She screams after him and a choking sob rises in his chest as tears spill from his eyes.

He squirms violently, desperate to get to her because he has no idea where he’s being taken but he doesn’t want to go. The tears are getting worse, his cries becoming almost blood-curdling as he reaches for her in his blurring vision.

“Star! My star!”

Star! 

Star.

Star…

My…)

“Till! Hey, Till!” 

He shoots awake, the force of which almost sends him hurtling into Ivan’s jaw. His vision swims as his blood rushes back into his head and the world starts to stop spinning. His lungs drag in air greedily but it never seems like it’s enough. Every bit of oxygen he takes in feels like it’s just being squeezed back out of him and it all hurts. 

“Till, hey, breathe. Breathe.”

He’s trying.

Large, gentle hands wrap themselves around him as he coughs, the sobs becoming far too violent. They hold his rattling body, both trying to comfort and hold him still. It takes a few minutes for him to come down from his panic until he’s just silently crying into Ivan’s shirt, the man murmuring encouragement in his ear.

“That’s it…there you are. Good, you’re doing good.”

“Ivan…!” Till rasps in reply, his throat scratchy from screaming.

“Yeah, I’m here.”

Ivan rubs his back until the shaking stops and he pulls away so he can look him in the eye.

“What’s…?”

“You were having a nightmare.” Ivan answers, brushing hair out of his eyes and not minding the snotty, teary mess that was Till’s face.

He just pulls the hair that sticks to his skin and delicately puts it back in place to where it belongs. It feels like the way a child would be treated but Till can’t find it in him to care.

“Sorry.” He mutters, a weak smile inching on his face, “I woke you, didn’t I?”

“It’s fine, I don’t mind.” The other replies simply and despite what he says, Till feels terrible anyway.

“What time is it?” He asks and Ivan looks at the clock.

“About three am.” 

“Fuck…”

Till watches as Ivan shrugs, seemingly not too bothered as he starts to push him back down onto the bed.

“It’s fine, but you should probably try to get some more sleep. You're working on the flying ship tomorrow, right? You need sleep for that.” He says quietly, hand on his shoulder and rubbing him through his shirt before he starts to get up to leave.

A jolt of fear rushes through him and Till shoots his arm around to grasp Ivan’s wrist.

“Wait!” He exclaims and is met with a look of surprise. He has to duck his head to hide the blush on his face as he asks, “I…S-Stay? Please?”

Ivan gapes a little at him before he seems to be trying to suppress a smile as he nods. It’s all a bit embarrassing but he doesn’t have the energy to care. Till scoots over on the bed, not letting go of him as the other climbs into the bed and lays down, his red irises watching him in the dark.

“Sorry if it’s sweaty…” Till apologizes and Ivan makes a show of turning to deeply sniff the pillow. He shouts in response and lightly smacks his shoulder, “Ew! Fucking gross! Don’t do that!”

“Mmmm, Till essence.” He hums with a self-satisfied smile and Till groans.

“Gross gross gross!” He scolds with more light smacks and Ivan laughs, turning to lay on his back.

“There’s no actual sweat, it’s fine.”

“Now I don’t fucking believe you.”

“I swear, you can touch the pillow.” 

He does and when Ivan is proven to be right, he sighs and falls back onto his side of the bed.

“Freakiest of freaks.” He grouses and Ivan giggles with a mock salute.

“Yes sir, that’s me.” He teases and relaxes into the sheets as he whispers, “Will you sleep now?”

Ivan’s warmth radiates off of him and the familiar weight of his eyes on him relaxes his tense muscles. Till nods silently and watches as the other twists with his back to him, curling up to sleep in his favourite fetal position. 

Despite what he just said, Till stares at the expanse of Ivan’s back and his eyes trance over the ridges of his spine through the shirt. He watches as his shoulders rise and fall with his breaths, steady in their pace. The light of the moon shines through the window and the pattern cuts across his form, framing his waist and hips. 

Even though the world is completely silent, Till can hear the echoes of a security guard snoring just on the other side of the room.

“Ivan?”

“That doesn’t sound like sleeping.” Is his muffled reply.

Quiet, Till presses his forehead in the divot of Ivan’s spine, “…why do you love me?”

The back beneath him stiffens and he touches Ivan’s shoulder blade, running his finger along the edge of the bone and feeling every breath he takes. He silently counts each one.

“Have I…not made myself clear?” Ivan asks him, confusion evident in his voice.

“You’ve said that you love me but you’ve never said why. Nothing…specific.” Till replies before grimacing, “Like…why me? Out of everyone you could love, why did it have to be me? I’m not all that special. I’m not like you. I’m not that attractive, I’m not that nice, I’m not even that talented at anything. All I could do was sing and make songs and now…I can’t even do that. What about me is worth loving? Especially as intensely as you do.”

He can see Ivan’s brain whirling, even when he can’t see his face. There’s a terrible moment where Till considers whether or not Ivan will just say nothing. That he was loved on a whim.

“You’re gentle.” Ivan’s voice cuts through his thoughts and he processes what he just said.

“Gentle?” He scoffs a little and presses his head deeper into his back, “I’m not. I literally punched you most of the time.”

“You are. You’re the gentlest.” He argues back, getting a little louder, "You've seen the worst that the world has to offer and yet you cried when you stepped on a flower. A fake one! You…when I first saw you, you were protecting Mizi from the guard dog. And even when you were knocked down, you got back up again. It was…admirable.” Ivan stops, staring at the wall as he mutters, “I’m not like that. I sort of just accept what is given to me and if that’s nothing, then I accept that too. I’m not…special, like you said. I was just whatever people wanted me to be. If they wanted me quiet, I’d be that. If they wanted someone suave, then I’d do it. They built me into what they wanted but I didn’t even know who I was outside of it. There will be another me. You…you knew exactly who you were and you didn’t let anyone try to mold you. You shone so brightly.”

Till feels the room get warmer as he listens to Ivan’s words. The compliments make his stomach feel funny and he hides himself into the crook of Ivan’s neck, his nose pressing against the pulse under his skin. He can hear Ivan stutter on his words as he does that and a small sense of satisfaction curls in his chest.

“I don’t think I actually knew who I was back then. I feel like I just knew what I wasn’t.” He murmurs.

“That’s still knowing.”

“I guess… still, I don’t really get why you loved me so…fiercely. After all that’s happened, all that I’ve failed to do, you still wanted to sacrifice your life for me. And you love me even now. Even when I’m not who I used to be.” Till mumbles and gasps when Ivan shifts in his arms, reaching up to scratch into his hair comfortingly.

“Because you’re still gentle. You’re kind. You’re funny. You’re determined. And you…you fix things. When you came to find me that night on the beach, I knew then that I would always love you.”

“I left you though.”

“But you came back.” He whispers fiercely and Till can see his red irises blaze in the darkness, "You came back to me. You know me. Even when you didn’t understand me, you let me stay by your side. No matter how much I pushed you, you let me stay. You let me be…inconvenient for you and yet you let me stay . You fought for me. How could I not love you?”

A swell of emotion floods his senses and with a whine, he pulls Ivan flush against his front and presses himself deeper against Ivan’s back, his arms wrapped around his waist as he trails his lips against his ear. Ivan gasps a little and Till feels Ivan’s hands grasp at his, not quite prying for him to let go but a quiet grip, a question.

“Five more minutes.” Is his answer.

Please stay with him like this for just a little bit longer. Just long enough so Till can memorize the way Ivan slots perfectly against him. He wonders why he delayed this for so long when it feels this good to be so close.

Ivan seems to stutter on his words, shivering as he feels Till’s hot breath, “I-I still don’t understand how you…how you decided to want me like this.”

“Wasn’t really a decision. I just…I think I’ve been falling for you for a while now but I didn’t really notice until I already hit the ground.” He murmurs against his neck, “Now I never want you to leave me. Ever.”

“But why though? Till, I don’t think you understand, nothing about me makes sense, something is wrong with me–”

Till is quick as he reaches out and Ivan has to stop himself from gasping at the warmth against his freezing fingers.

“You are the only thing that makes sense to me right now. Everything else is just…fucking noise.” He laces their fingers together before pulling them into their bodies, squeezing tightly, “I want you because of everything you are. You’re smart, you’re loyal, you’re attentive…. You’re patient in a way that I never was. You…you came back for me when you could’ve escaped that night. Even though I didn’t deserve it. Even though I hurt you.” 

“Of course I did. I couldn’t have left you in that hell alone.”

“Exactly! Y-You’re so…!” Till gulps as he tries to find the word before whispering into his hair, “good. You’re so good to me… I-Is it wrong for me to have started liking you when I knew you liked me? Not in a pressuring way, just…knowing that you loved me made me kind of…see your actions differently. I used to think you were making fun of me but now I know you’re trying to cheer me up. Or when I thought you were picking a fight, I know now you’re concerned and scared.” He can hear Ivan’s breath hitch and he smiles against his skin, murmuring, “I…Knowing you love me lets me see you clearer than I ever have before. And…and I like what I see.”

There’s a gasp next to his ear and Till can’t help but feel bashful at his frank declaration. It feels like there’s steam pouring out of his ears from how warm his face feels. He’s stuttering, trying to find something casual to break the tension when he hears sniffling. He freezes, pushing himself up to lean over and see Ivan trying to hide his tearful eyes from him.

“Wh-?! Ivan, what— are you—?!l

“Fuck off.” Ivan mumbles miserably as he buries his face in the pillow, his blush rushing to his ears and all in all, looking kinda pitiful.

Till gulps, hands twitching as he wonders what to do, “Erm, uh!” With a hard swallow, he leans over to tuck Ivan into himself, hand in his hair as he tries to pet him soothingly, “Sorry, that was too much, huh? I didn’t mean to make you upset.”

“No, no…! I’m not upset. I’m just…” Finally, the boy in his arms twists to face him, eyes shimmering with crystalline tears that he keeps trying to wipe away, “I-I’m happy. I’m really happy. I-I just…I’m just having a hard time believing it. That I can…that you…”

Till watches him for a moment, so so fond as he leans over to help thumb Ivan’s tears away, “I know, I know ya big baby…”

“Not a baby, you cry more than I do.”

“Shhh, ya baby.” He shushes before sighing with a smile, “I’ll get you to believe me.”

That particular statement has Ivan’s eyes springing a whole new set of tears and with a laugh, Till wipes his tears again and again and again. 

They have all night, after all.

When all the data that they stole was finally fully deciphered, Till is the first one to know about it. Ivan had led him into the info centre and showed him the mass amount of information they got, displayed in a wall of text that had Till’s eyes crossing. It hadn’t made any sense until Ivan showed him a recording from some security footage that was cited to have been from two weeks before they raided the facility. There he sees an older woman with silver hair and eerily familiar teal eyes being loaded into a truck. 

And he knew.

He’ll deny it if he’s asked, but he cried right then and there. Felt his knees buckle and he hit the ground with a sob in his throat that yanked on his vocal chords. Old wounds bled open again and he was left remembering the shape of the gaping hole that tore into him so long ago.

Ivan hasn’t coddled him, didn’t scoop him up and tell him he had nothing to worry about now. He just leaned down and put his hand on his back, rubbing circles into it as he clicked through the data and explained what it all meant. What the chances were that they could actually pull this whole thing off and bring her home.

“We don’t have her exact location and all the data about her is from before we infiltrated the testing facility, but we do know what provider preparation facility she went to afterwards and theoretically, it should give us her location of who she was sold to if she has already. Depending on where that is will probably determine how difficult the mission will be and of course, we still need to do missions to help the overall rebellion goal. We probably can’t go straight to her and we’ll likely have a thorough plan before we rescue her but…” Ivan looked to Till with a little smirk on his face, "We're getting closer.”

A couple nights after that, Till is drawing by himself when he hears a knocking from the door. It’s a little surprising because of how late it is and also, everyone has been suspiciously absent all day. Even Ivan said he was busy and that he wasn’t going to be back home until late. 

With a click, he opens the door and a smiling Mizi greets him with a wave.

“Hey Till!”

“Yo, what’s up?” He asks, noticing the way she seems to buzz with excitement and he arches a brow.

“Okay okay, so I need you to trust me.”

Which is never a statement that promises peace.

“Uh, why?” He questions with skepticism in his tone. 

“Because, I have a surprise but you need to close your eyes and follow me.” She explains and he narrows his eyes at her.

“Why?”

“Because it’s a surprise!”

He thinks about the date and he’s pretty sure it’s not his birthday. That’s still a ways away, though he wouldn’t be surprised if he’s lost his sense of time. 

Seeing his thoughts whirling in his brain, Mizi swerves behind him and covers his eyes with her hands.

“Just play along! I promise, you’ll be fine.” She urges with a slight whine and he just deeply sighs.

“Fine.” 

She leads him out of his dorm and Till allows her to drag him around the camp. He has no idea where they’re going and even with him trying to figure it out based on the turns they’re taking, he loses track two turns in and it’s all just a jumbled mess at that point. In an act of literal blind faith, he lets himself stop thinking about it and trusts in Mizi fully.

After a while of walking, he starts to hear familiar voices and the sound of stuff being shuffled around on wood. There are whispers that he can’t really make out and when they finally slow their walk, he frowns.

“What is happening?” He mutters and Mizi giggles behind him before uncovering his eyes.

“Ta-da!”

Blinking the light out of his eyes, his vision clears and he sees his friends all standing around a wooden table with a plethora of food and drinks on it. Turning around, he realizes they’re standing on the bar’s patio that has been decorated with gentle golden string lights and potted plants. He’s not able to smell the alcohol though and all he can hear is the music trickling out the open door. 

“What is all this?” He asks bewildered and Mizi smiles.

“You remember when you said you wished you could hang out with everyone at the bar but couldn’t? Well, I thought maybe we could make a space here that you could be in. The patio wasn’t being used for anything important so we spruced it up!” She swings her arms wide, “Also, we figured we could use the opportunity to celebrate on the mission going so successfully!”

“Also also, congrats on your mom!” Dewey chimed in with a wiggle of the beer bottle in his hand.

“Congrats!” Hyuna cheers loudly and everyone at the table claps.

There’s something careful reaching inside of him, touching the edges of his heart and spreading around his chest that makes it feel so…full. Till doesn’t even know what to say, looking at the friendly faces that look at him with care instead of disdain. Ivan stands among them, a knowing look on his face and silently, he implores him to come closer with a wave of his hand.

He doesn’t get much time to think as Mizi pushes him towards the table, leading him to the empty space across from Ivan. Sandwiched between Isaac, who swings an arm around his shoulders, and Sua, who gives him a nudge with her elbow, he stares at everyone and can’t help but want to cry. 

“Alright guys, dig in!” Mizi exclaims.

 Till sniffles a little but wipes his tears away as he fills his plate. He can’t believe he gets to actually eat until he’s full.

After the party starts to calm down, Hyuna grins as she pulls out a bottle and cheers, “Table drinking game!”

Till hesitates, prepared to refuse and sit out when Isaac silently slides him an already filled cup as Hyuna starts filling the other ones with beer. He blinks, staring at it before picking it up and sniffing it.

“You don’t drink, yeah?” Isaac mutters and he looks down.

“Yeah, sorry I—“

“You don’t need to explain yourself. It’s fine.” The older man interrupts with a hand on his shoulder, looking out at the rest of the table with a small smile, “We just want you to be a part of this.”

Till is almost speechless before being dragged into the game, listening to the instructions. And as he sits there, chanting and tapping his cup against the table, surrounded with a group of people who are laughing with him, playing drinking games while pouring him soda without a hint of judgement, he feels…light. 

Happy in a way he doesn’t think he has ever felt.

As the game winds down and they’re just playing cards games, the sound of the music filters through and dances in the air like leaves in the wind. Quietly, Mizi starts to hum the song, idly rocking back and forth as she looks over her cards. Sua starts to join in, their voices harmonizing together in a familiar blend that always fit so well. The rest of the table starts to join in. Ivan hums in his low voice, Hyuna sings the words with a rasp in her voice and even Isaac and Dewey start to come in with their untrained voices but with an energy that’s infectious. They start singing louder and louder until they’re practically yelling into the night. 

And slowly, Till starts to join in too. Unsure and more than a little rusty, but he sings for the first time in ages.

They’re off key, they’re joyfully yelling a song meant to be sad, half of them keep stopping and starting from breathlessly laughing so much, it’s all a mess.

Till loves it.

Looking across from him, Till thinks he gets why the poets of old always said love makes you bloom. It’s a perfect description of the way his chest feels as he stares at Ivan laughing across the table in the warm haze of the night.

Time seems to slow down around him as he takes in the sight in front of him. A group of people, his friends , smiling as they bask in their freedom to be happy. His worries seem to just melt away and for just a second, they're all just a part of the universe; just pieces of stardust that have learned to dance with legs instead of trails in the sky. 

Under this night sky, they are all young and will never die. 

This is peace he thinks. 

And perhaps, as he looks at these people who have stood by him, helped him, and fought for him, he thinks this could be love too.

Chapter Text

Till isn’t a huge fan of heights.

Not that he had a fear of it, he just thinks he has a healthy weariness that keeps him from falling to his death. So when the scaffolding went up to continue the construction of the flying ship and he had to go up it despite the lack of any real railings, he thinks he had a reasonable level of apprehension. 

Isaac insisted that the scaffolding did have railings but he hardly counts the single metal bar at waist level as adequate. Regardless, he did eventually climb up anyway because the flying ship needed to be finished one way or another and he wasn’t going to make it more difficult than it needed to be. 

The building of the flying ship marked the beginning of grander ambitions for the rebellion. Till’s not quite sure what those are. He’s not really overly concerned about it since he just cares about if he and his friends will be okay. As far as Hyuna had explained, the flying ship is meant to help them do more elaborate missions and help them save humans from all over the planet. Despite their teleporters, they only have them in locations the rebellion was able to get to in the first place so the ship could expand that range. Also, Till has heard whispers that if they can manage to build more of these things and equip them with space travel tech, then they might be able to get off this planet entirely and settle somewhere else. Somewhere far away from the segyein.

Of course, there’s no guarantee that anywhere else is safe, the segyein are multi-planetary conquerors, but it seems like Hyuna does have ambitions to at least get off-world communication to see if there’s other aliens out there that might be sympathetic to their cause or even other free humans in the universe. 

It’s all just hypotheticals, obviously.

But the hope that one day, they might not have to hide away and be scavengers anymore is one that keeps Till’s hands moving as he hammers on metal plating to the skeleton of the ship.

The ship still looks like a hunk of junk. Technically, it was a piece of junk. The ship had been found up in the mountains— wedged between a rock face and cliff— and once it had been checked for no segyein or trackers, it had been dragged back to camp to be fixed up. Of course, it had been badly torn apart from its crash landing and honestly, they’re still basically rebuilding it from scratch. However, the ship had working internal parts and most importantly, the parts that allowed the ship to fly were still intact.

So Till is building a ship. 

He’s been in these things before, though he had been pretty young. When he had first been taken from Io, they had loaded him into one of these flying ships and had sedated him with a prick of a needle so he wouldn’t squirm so much. He had been sandwiched between a crowd of other sedated children, all barely conscious enough to process what was happening. The floaty, dizzying feeling that had leaked into his blood made everything feel like a dream and the only thing that proved that any of it was real were the marks of segyein claws yanking him around by his shoulder. 

 When he was with Urak, he had been dragged around to various off planet events in an effort to boost his ratings and do promotional work, as if any of that could fix his awful reputation. He’d be stuffed into what was more like a cargo hold than anything that should carry living beings and be left drugged up and alone until the flight was over. Usually, he was pressed between luggage and would probably have one of them fall onto him a bit but he would be too out of it to move so he’d just lay there being squished until it rolled off of him.  On occasion, he would sit next to a window and he’d get to see the planet get smaller until it was gone. Again, he would be too out of it to move but at least he’d get a nice view to pass the time. 

The ship they’re building is being built to better accommodate human passengers and the promise that no one will have to sit in the cargo hold unless a mission absolutely demands it.

“Till!” He blinks at the voice and turns to see Ivan walking into the hangar with a whistle as he looks at the growing construction, “Wow, it’s getting pretty tall now. You sure you’re not going to fall off the scaffolding? You’re not very graceful.”

The tone is a dig but the tick in Ivan’s brow shows real concern. 

Ivan has always been scared of heights, as far Till remembers anyway. Whenever they had to go anywhere that required getting high up, he’d see the man tense up. Even when they were locked away in their pods during Alien Stage, the rising made Ivan freeze in a careful smile that screamed discomfort. He never has asked why exactly he was so scared of heights but he chooses not to since all that’s important for him to know is that the fear is there.

“Yeah yeah, I’m fine.” He replies back as he hammers another nail in, “What’s up?”

“Sua wanted to know if you’re free to have lunch with us.” Ivan hums, crossing his arms as he looks up at him. 

“Lunch?” He glances at a clock on the wall and gulps, “Damn, I didn’t even notice the time. Yeah sure, I might as well take my lunch break.”

As he slides down the ladder, he gets a good look at the ship through the metal bars. It had been a scrappy thing when they had started, barely holding together. Now it stands tall and there’s something satisfying in watching something small grow into something that can no longer be ignored. And he helped build it.

It’s still stepping stones but now? Till feels like he can actually see the other side.

“Ow, are you sure you’re supposed to make it this tight?” Ivan hisses as the pain shoots up in his arm and Sua yanks him back into place with a glare.

“Yes, it’s a tourniquet. It’s supposed to be tight enough to cut your circulation.” She explains as she looks at her instructional book with a concentrated twist of her lips, “If you have a huge gash or your arm is cut off, this is meant to make sure you don’t bleed out.”

They’ve been here for a while. Sua had asked Ivan to help her with her medic studies and while he did agree, he hadn’t expected to be the test dummy for the various procedures. At first, he was just asked to pretend he had various injuries and quiz her on what she’s supposed to do, but at some point it became actually doing those procedures. He already had various bandages wrapped around his head, leg, torso, and now, apparently a tourniquet on his arm.

“I get that, but I’m not bleeding out so I think you’re just squeezing my arm off.” He complains, waving his arm and overall being a nuisance until Sua gets frustrated, sighing deeply.

“Fine fine, you big baby. C’mere.” She snatches his wrist and pulls at the tie of the cloth, Ivan breathing out in relief.

As she works out the knot, he watches her face stay in a troubled expression and he can see the trembling of her eyes, something brewing in the back of her vision. Ivan’s eyes lower just a little. If it were Till, he would’ve just asked about it. As he’s learned, asking straightforward questions works better with him. But Sua isn’t like Till.

Sua is like him.

“Your first mission is coming up and yet here you are, trying to cut the arm off of your first patient. I thought you were supposed to be a medic.” He says innocently, shaking the blood back into his limb and Sua rolls her eyes, annoyed.

“I am a medic.” She retorts with her arms crossed, “Also you’re not my first patient. You’re not even hurt.”

“And yet here you are, wasting precious materials.” Ivan admonishes mockingly before watching the way Sua is nervously twisting her hair and pivoting, he teases, “You know, it’s fine if you pack light. I think you’re going to have to wait for a while longer for your first patient. None of us are going to get hurt anyway. I mean, it’s just a simple infiltration mission.”

Sua blinks at his words before rolling her eyes harder, “I seriously doubt that. You all are too reckless to not get shot.”

“Well, good thing you’re going to be there hm?” Ivan states, reaching up to ruffle her hair as he pushes her down a bit, “Though you’re super short, you think you’ll be able to pull us to safety?”

“I should leave you to die!” She complains as she tries to get away from his grip, “You’re so annoying!”

Her face is annoyed but Ivan can see her shoulders relax and a sense of confidence return to her eyes as she straightens up. He smiles to himself as she rips away from him and glares defiantly.

“I will be the best damn medic, so shut up!”

“Sure.”

“You just make sure you don’t suck at your job!” She points at his chest and he raises his arms in surrender.

“Obviously.” He replies before with a touch of sincerity, he says, “Don’t worry so much.”

Surprised, she jolts back before her face turns a funny little shade of pink and she turns away.

“I’m not.”

“Mmhm.”

“I’m not!”

With that, she snatches her medical kit and stuffs all the supplies back inside with an indignant energy that makes Ivan laugh. As she races off, he lets out a satisfied hum before shaking off his own nerves that simmer under his skin.

He breathes in deep before slowly letting it out as it takes the tension with it.

After all, there’s a mission. He needs to get his head on straight. 

“All clear.” Till mutters into his earpiece as he stares into the empty hall, eyes watching for any sign of movement.

“All clear here too.” Mizi replies back through the earpiece, clicking off the safety of her gun, “Ready to go in.”

“Yup, same.”

“Alright, go!”

At her signal, he and Ivan start down the hall, their boots clacking against the tile as they go and Till’s heart pounding in his chest like a drum. They slide on a turn and with a quick read of the sign on the door, he types in the code and the door hisses open, revealing the head office.

He’s not sure if he’ll ever get used to rebel missions. Every single one always gives him a crazy amount of adrenaline and he can never quite feel settled in it. 

The mission is a fairly simple one: infiltrate and collect data from a provider prep facility. It’s the first one on the list they’re supposed to hit, though this mission is meant to be much more lowkey. The infiltration of the testing facility was meant to send a message. Ideally, the segyein shouldn’t even know they were here for this one.Thus, their team is basically just him, Ivan, Mizi, Sua and Micah with Dewey in the getaway truck just outside. 

(If he grouched about having Micah on the team, no he didn’t.)

The idea is to have Ivan and Till grab the data from the head office computer while Micah, Mizi and Sua head to the security office to erase the footage of their entry and grab any info from that computer. It should be pretty routine.

Ivan is plugging in his hard drive and starts to hack into the computer with Till standing just to his side with his gun trained to the door. 

This is routine. No one should be coming through that door anyway.

And yet, his gun shakes as he holds it up, his nerves alight with fear. Why is he so nervous?

“You’re tense.” Ivan murmurs as he clicks away at the computer, running his tongue over his snaggletooth in his concentration, “Calm down.”

“I am calm.” Till asserts, breathing out long and slow before adjusting his gun again, “I’m so calm. Can’t you see how calm I am?”

“Starkly.” Ivan says in a sarcastic drawl and Till narrows his eyes at him.

“You’re an asshole.”

He just hums back, unbothered, and Till takes in another breath. He had been this nervous for the last major mission, not being able to sit still on the truck and he remembers that his heart was pumping so loud, he couldn’t hear literally anything at all. The nerves had only subsided a bit when he got to graffiti his energy away. Obviously, he can’t do that now and he just has to sit with his feelings, letting them stir themselves into a mess inside of his gut.

The earpiece suddenly screeches on, making the two of them jump before he hears the sound of gunshots through the speaker and his head starts to turn with anxious thoughts.

“Hey, we could use some backup! The security guys came in!” Mizi shouts before she grunts from the effort of shooting her gun, “They must’ve got an alert that we’re here!”

That gets him to straighten up and Ivan meets his eyes with equal concern.

“Oh shit!” Till curses as he whips his gun into his hands, “Coming! Ivan, let’s—“

“You go on without me!” Ivan shouts back, still clicking at the damn computer, “I’ll catch up, I’m really close to finishing this.”

The thought of leaving Ivan on his own makes everything inside of him scream and for a brief second, he can smell ozone and accusatory meteors.

“B-But—!” Till starts to argue, reaching for Ivan’s arm but Ivan pulls out his gun with a determined expression, slapping his hand back.

“I‘ll be fine, just go!” He shouts with narrowed eyes, “Just save them!”

Till wants to fight him more on it but the sound of the gunshots in his ear only gets louder and finally, he grits his teeth.

“I’ll come back for you!” He shouts before booking it down the hall with the image of Ivan smiling while standing alone in that room plastered on the back of his eyes. 

The sound of guns echo against the blank white walls of the facility, a mixture of metal bullets and lasers twisting around each other until they make the worst kind of melody. With the thumping of his boots as the tempo, he pushes his feet to go faster and prays that he’ll finish the fight quick enough to get back to Ivan.

As he turns a corner, he can see a couple of segyein shooting their laser guns into the security room while hiding behind the wall to duck away from the flying bullets. In the gap of the door, he can see Mizi hiding behind a desk with Sua bent over Micah, bandaging his arm furiously while keeping her head down as the lasers burn above them.

Without a moment’s hesitation, he pulls on the trigger of his gun and rains bullets on the segyein from behind. A few of them go down, hitting the ground in a pool of blood that Till doesn’t hesitate to step in as he runs to close the gap. The rest are surprised by his arrival but he doesn’t give them a second to reorient themselves as he jumps onto one of their backs, pulling his knife out to slit their throat with a wild slash that sends the segyein’s purple blood splattering across his face. There's a rush in his veins as he sees the fear across the other segyein’s face when he sees him.

Yeah, he thinks, You better be scared.

Mizi’s pink hair flashes across his vision as she grabs the segyein and sticks her gun up to its neck, shooting it point blank. The force sends blue blood up into the air to fall back down like rain, the body slumping onto the ground as Mizi drops it with a huff.

“T-Till, you okay?” She asks as he lets go his segyein, whipping the blood off his knife and sighing.

“Yeah, I-I’m fine. You?”

“I’m fine, but Micah got shot.” She replies and he looks into the room.

Getting a better view, he can see that Micah’s face is sheet white as Sua helps him up to his feet with a hiss. His hand grips his stomach, his uniform having a burned hole in it and he can only shakily meet Till’s eyes. Looking at the state of him, he feels bad for ever thinking rudely of this guy. 

“Hey man, are you okay?” He asks with a grimace as he’s greeted with the smell of burning flesh.

Sua answers for him as she applies another gel before tying it with a bandage, “Luckily the laser didn't hit anything vital and basically cauterized the wound but we still need to get him out of here.”

“I think they went over there!”

Their heads whip to the direction of the voice with wide eyes. There were sounds of more segyein coming down the hall and Sua gulps as she packs her stuff haphazardly.

“We need to go!” She exclaims and leans Micah on her as she starts to move.

Till feels Mizi start to pull his shirt but he yanks himself back as he remembers.

“I need to get Ivan, he’s still in the main office!” He exclaims with a crack in his voice, hands trembling as the segyein sound like they’re getting closer, “I-I’m not leaving him, I won’t!” 

There’s a panic in Mizi’s eyes and he doesn’t even give the opportunity to argue with him as he turns on his heel down the hall.

“Till!” Her voice shouts, getting further away as he runs towards where the segyein voices are heading.

He can hear them discover the bodies left at the security office and he knows it’s only a matter of time they follow the bloody footprints he’s leaving behind him. There’s an awful squishing feeling as he takes every step but he can’t bring himself to care as worry drowns his senses and he just tries to zero in what’s in front of him. The blood on his hands is whatever. 

It’s fine as long as Ivan is okay. 

When the main office entrance comes into view, he can see the door seemed to have been forced open as it hangs limply off of its sliding hinge. There’s a liquid trailing into the room, sticky and smeared across like someone was dragged on the floor. Till feels his vision swim as panic pierces through his senses and suddenly it’s raining again with a roaring crowd deafening his ears.

“Ivan!” He screams and he is practically tripping over himself to get inside. 

The trail is in fact blood that is a distressing shade of red as it leads into the corner where Ivan is ripping his blade from a segyein’s back and panting heavily. Till zeroes in on the mess of red that cakes the front of Ivan’s shirt and he can’t breath at all.

Ivan notices him standing in the doorway and looks at him with concerned, dark eyes. Till doesn’t say a word as he rushes over, hands immediately pulling at the shirt as he searches for a wound as Ivan gasps.

“Till?” He calls before looking down at himself and pushing against Till’s shoulders, “No no, it’s not my blood! It’s fine!” 

Till’s head is pounding as he tries to take in what Ivan’s saying but it’s hard and all he can see is that Ivan is covered in blood again . A sob sits in his throat, clawing at the sides as he tries to push it down. There’s hardly a thought in his head as he grabs Ivan’s wrist, yanking on him hard as he starts running for the door with a slight kick at the segyein corpse on the ground. 

“T-Till! Hey! Till!” Ivan is shouting but he’s not listening.

He can’t hear anything at all except for the deafening sound of crowds delighting in their misery as every bit of his regret and shame rains on him like an accusation. If he just runs fast enough, if he can just get them out, then they can’t take Ivan. He won’t have to watch Ivan fade away little by little and have the sentries pull him away as he sobs with the sorrow of years of loss. They won’t be able to drag Ivan’s corpse across the stage with so little care that his head will hit against the ground like he’s merely an object instead of the most important person in Till’s life.  He won’t have to sit alone in a cell that they decorate like a luxury prize with a ghost that won’t stop taunting him with all he didn’t do. He won’t. He won’t. 

He just needs to get them out.

“Till! Till, wait!”

Never. He’s never going to wait ever again because it meant losing everything because he didn’t fucking do anything—!

“Augh!” 

Ivan’s shout of pain snaps Till out of his delusions as he looks back to see Ivan hunched over with his shoulder smouldering with the distinct smell of burning flesh. The air seems to burn as watches the wound open up and Till can see a segyein standing at the door with a laser gun pointed up at them with a smarmy smile on its face.

Suddenly, Till is seeing red. He fumbles for his gun and he doesn’t even really aim as he pulls on the trigger with every intention to blow their head off. The bullets embed themselves into segyein’s chest, the creature screaming in agony and it feels good . He readies to go for another round, sending more into its form until it hits the ground. Even as it lays dying, it doesn’t feel like enough so he reloads and just keeps shooting it, the body convulsing at every shot. There’s a part of him that feels practically satisfied as blood decorated the ground and he pulls his knife out because he needs to make sure it’s really dead. 

They won’t take him again. They can’t. 

A hand grabs his arm and hopped up on his rage, he whirls around and points the gun, his eyes meeting Ivan’s dark eyes. The sight startles Till because his guns should never have their muzzles pointed at Ivan, never him, and the man takes the opportunity to grab his arm with a hiss through gritted teeth.

“Till, it’s already dead! Let’s go!”

There’s a pain in his voice that makes Till listen immediately as he sees Dewey’s truck just down the road and the sound of segyein approaching gets his feet moving. He helps Ivan along, Mizi just ahead of them calling to get in the damn truck.

With some effort, they have to push Ivan inside as more segyein police are starting to get closer and when Till jumps inside with an almost wet thud, Sua snaps the back closed and they’re off.

The stark contrast of the silence of the truck from the deafening noise in the facility is like a cold shock for Till and he hits the floor with his knees as he tries to catch his breath. The adrenaline practically melts off him as the aching of his body becomes apparent and he groans into the metal floor. All the blood that he’s covered in drips off him and mixes together in a multicolour puddle beneath him, spreading out and out. In the reflection, he sees an Ivan from a long while ago, laying on the ground with a vacant look in his eyes.

Sua is rushing to Ivan’s side as she looks at the burn on his shoulder, digging into her medical kit as she scolds him with a terrified edge in her voice.

“You goddamn liar, I knew it, I told you that someone was going to get hurt and of course, you were the one who got hurt.” She applies the burn salve in an almost haphazard way as it splashes out a bit and Ivan grunts as she spreads it around.

“It’s just a graze.” He asserted and she pressed the bandage down just a little harder than necessary, “I’m fine.”

“Graze, my ass.” She retorts before wiping the excess gel with all the care in the world.

“It is.” Ivan repeats before looking up, “Till?”

Till gasps at his voice and tears himself away from the illusion in the puddle. Ivan is watching him with those deep, consuming eyes and Till can’t help but flinch as the image of Ivan standing on that damn stage imposes itself over his vision for a split second. It makes his heart race and blood run cold as he remembers it all over again. 

He thinks he might have a panic attack when Ivan slowly comes over, gently taking Till’s fingers to press against his pulse. The steady flow of blood beats against his touch and Till feels his shoulders loosen up again. Blinking, the image goes away and he takes in the present again. 

Ivan has blood on him, but it’s not his own. He has curly hair, not straight and pushed back. He’s wearing goggles with a gun strapped to his back because he’s part of the rebellion. They’re coming back from a mission. He’s looking at him with soft concern. 

There’s a burn on his shoulder.

And it’s his damn fault.

Till feels tears spring to his eyes as he looks at Ivan’s injury and he chokes on a sob.

“I’m sorry…I’m so fucking sorry!” He bawls, reaching for Ivan as he touches his arm, “I’m supposed to protect you…! I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry—“

“Hey hey hey, it’s fine! It just grazed me, I’ll be okay!” Ivan interrupts, trying to be comforting but all Till can see is the wince as he moves his shoulder. 

“It’s not fucking fine!” he shouts, voice pitching into something raw and painful as he cries, “It’s my job to keep you safe and I got you fucking hurt!”

Ivan suddenly pulls him in, bringing him onto his lap as he cradles him close. The blood is sticky on his front but Till can’t find it in him to care as the segyein blood mixes together as they embrace. 

“I said it’s fine. Really. It’s not…it’s part of the deal, remember?” Ivan mutters firmly and slowly, Till nods, “And I’m safe. Just need to heal for a little bit and I’ll be fine. I’m safe.” 

There’s a heartbeat under his fingers and he does his best to focus on that. To feel the life that pumps through Ivan’s veins. 

He’s safe. 

Ivan is safe. 

And as he remembers the way he brutally killed segyein without a second thought, he’s starting to realize that there isn’t much he wouldn’t do to make sure that stays true. 

Later that night, Till doesn’t say anything as he just follows Ivan into his room and climbs into bed with him, their limbs tangling with each other as easily as breathing. Ivan doesn’t ask, simply pulling Till in to tuck his head under his chin and kissing his hair so gently, Till almost doesn’t register it at all. 

“…do you want to talk about it?” Ivan whispers into the dark after a while and Till ducks deeper into him, his bones feeling rain drenched despite being perfectly dry.

“…no.” 

“…okay.” He replies as he runs his hand through his hair.

Cold tendrils snake around Till's neck, squeezing him to choke on his breath and everything starts to feel numb. The crowd in his mind gets louder. 

“…I’m cold.” He mutters almost pitifully.

Ivan squeezes him closer, his mouth pressed against the side of his head as he apologies, “Sorry, I don’t really run hot.” 

“No, just…hold me tighter.” 

He does and Till shuts his eyes, trying to remain present instead of following ghosts.

“Seriously, I’m offering two thirds of that and that’s it. I’m not going any higher.” Till spits, eyes narrowing at the bug-like segyein behind the stall as he jingles his cash bags.

While the segyein love to present a crisp, clean image to the rest of the universe, even they cast shadows where shady dealings can take place. The sleek, shiny entertainment city that they’re oh so proud of is also home to one of the largest physical black markets in the galaxy, set inside a massive warehouse on the edge between the towering glassy district and the slums. 

While the segyein black market is understandably a ceasepool of the worst that the segyein have to offer, it’s also the place the rebellion is able to get certain supplies without being questioned. Thus, Till is here on a mission to collect the last few parts they need for their flying ship, including a fake ship registry so they can fly it wherever and not be questioned. 

It’s not meant to be a difficult mission, frankly it’s basically grocery shopping for the rebellion, but this damn cheapskate won’t lower his exorbitant prices and he’s starting to get irritated. The only thing keeping him from leaping over the stall and shaking the bug-eyed asshole senseless is Ivan’s careful hand on his shoulder that’s both soothing him and also ready to hold him back physically if necessary.

“I just told you, I can’t go any lower. It’s full price or nothing! It’s not a good enough deal otherwise!” The vendor argues, waving his little bug fist and making Till grit his teeth. 

That’s when Ivan leans over with a winning smile with a tinge of threat in his voice as he says, “And we just said we won’t go any higher. I’m sure you understand but it doesn’t look like your business is exactly booming and I believe you could use the money. If you’re not interested, we can always take our business elsewhere.” 

It’s polite but also condescending and bitchy in a way only Ivan can do, and Till questions why he’s kinda into it. The threat does seem to work a bit as the vendor’s antennas move around nervously, a pair of his arms tapping its fingers together before he stomps.

“Fine! I’ll do two thirds but also!” The segyein’s mouth curls into an almost lecherous smile as he looks at Till, “I also want to hear that one sing a song.” 

“What?” Till exclaims before the segyein grins at him.

They both freeze up, eyes widening as the segyein pulls out his holopad and shows a video of Till’s finale performance, “You’re one of them singing pets, yeah? I hadn’t been able to get tickets to the live performance but I heard you were quite the spectacle. I want to hear it for myself.” 

Till’s mouth is gaped open, staring at the footage and remembering how the lights had felt like blinding stars instead of normal stage lights. How terrified he was. 

Ivan speaks first, sneering, “Looks like we’ll be taking our business elsewhere, goo—“

“Fine.” The vendor and Ivan whip their heads at Till, who takes a deep breath and nods, “I’ll sing for you.”

While the segyein looked delighted, Ivan reached over to hold his shoulder with the corners of his eyes tightening in worry.

“You don’t need to do this, we can go somewhere else.” He whispers under his breath and Till sighs.

“But this is the best deal we got and I…I can do it. I’ve been singing again, remember?”

He really has been. While he still can’t bring himself to compose anything, even if the instinct is constantly knocking around in his mind, he’s started to sing along to songs. If Hyuna is doing karaoke or singing to herself while they spar, he’ll sing along. If there’s a song playing on the radio in the hangar, he’ll hum the tune with the other mechanics. He’ll even sing the old songs he wrote, just to make his Anakt friends smile nostalgically. 

He’s been getting better. He can do this.

Ivan is hesitant but finally pulls back, letting Till step in front of him.

“Alright, give us the license and I’ll sing for you.” He demanded and with a fervent excitement, the segyein slid over the goods while Till dropped the money on the table, “So what song do you want?”

“Cure—“

“Absolutely fucking not.” He shuts down immediately.

“What?!” The vendor shouts, indignant but Till doesn’t budge, “That’s one of your most iconic performances!”

“I won’t sing that shit, so pick something else.” He jeered and leaned forward, “You get one more pick before I just pick something for you. I’m thinking the fucking birthday song. ”

“Fine! Fine. That finale song, I want to hear that one.” The vendor relents, holding up his holopad, “I hear it so much on this but I want to hear it live.”

Blink Gone was a song that was shoved in front of his face and he was told to ‘stop crying and sing it’. He hadn’t really practiced it, only learning the chords for the guitar solo and just kind of winging the rest. Frankly, he was so lost in his own mind that he barely even recalls the experience. It’s a little harrowing to think about singing a song that he got shot at the end of but it’s not Cure and honestly, Blink Gone is meaningless to him. So perfect for this.

“Fine.” He agrees before glancing at Ivan, who still looks unsure, then back at the vendor, “Do you want this right here or…?”

“Yes, right here is fine.”

They’re standing in one of the aisles of the market with people walking back and forth but sure. Careful with his volume, he sings the song and basically does exactly what he did with the actual performance: zone the fuck out and go with his muscle memory. The words leave his lips but he just thinks about the way Ivan’s hand is holding his, twisting his fingers idly. He doesn’t put any effort in it, he’s not even sure what the emotion of this song was even supposed to be, but the segyein seems happy regardless since he claps when he finishes singing.

“Incredible! You really are as good as they say!” The vendor compliments and the sincerity in his voice gets Till to soften a bit so when he waves goodbye, he does it with a polite smile.

Ivan is still holding his hand as he leads them away, his brow furrowed deep enough that Till reaches up to smooth it out with his thumb.

“Hey, you good?” He asks and Ivan side-eyes him.

“You didn't need to do that. We could’ve gone somewhere else.” He says harshly, still sounding bitchy and Till bristles.

“Like I said, it had the best deal for us. It’s fine.” Till retorts back before softening at Ivan’s tense shoulders and hopping forward to get next to him, “ I’m fine.”

His insistence does make Ivan relax a little bit before a pout appears on his face and he turns his head away, muttering, “You never sing for me when I ask…”

That gets him to laugh and he nudges him with his elbow, “Seriously? Are you jealous that I sang for that guy?” When he doesn’t get a response, he snickers and affectionately thumbs Ivan’s ear, “Blink Gone doesn’t matter to me. All the songs I want to sing for you do matter and those are harder for me to sing right now. So just…wait okay?”

Ivan whines before relenting, knocking his head against his with a childish huff before untangling their hands to keep going with the mission. 

As they continue to walk through the market, the crowds seem to get denser and Till has to push through the people with deliberate shoulder checks. It becomes almost suffocating as he feels every body brush against his and honestly he can’t tell what’s a shoulder or a bag anymore. 

A segyein knocks into him all of a sudden and he stumbles back from the force, tripping backwards and catching himself on a random stall.

“Hey, asshole! Watch where you’re going!” He shouts as the guy just curses back at him before disappearing into the crowd.

Till grumbles before turning back around and making the sudden realization that he can’t see Ivan anymore. 

“Ah shit.” He mutters as he scans the crowd for the mess of curly black hair, his feet picking up speed as he tries to squeeze through the crowd and calling in a panic, “Hey, Ivan! Ivan!”

A large hand shoots out from the crowd and Till doesn’t get any time to react before it grips itself into the front of his shirt, dragging him through the aisle so roughly that his feet skid against the ground as he fights to get his footing. 

“Wh—fucking let me go! Get off! Fuck!” He shouts as he’s thrown into a quiet, secluded part of the warehouse, tripping over his feet before steadying himself, “What the fuc—!”

The hand reaches out to grab his jaw and yanks him forward in a horribly familiar way that makes every nerve ending in his body stand up as he stares into the metal mask of the one being in the entire universe he never wanted to see again. 

“I found you, my songbird…!“ Urak sneers with all of his teeth pulling into a horrible grin as it stretches uncomfortably across his face and Till is left frozen in fear from the sight.

The segyein still towers over him, looming over with all menace he always had. The taste of bile builds in his throat and for a moment, he feels like he’s going to throw up on the subject of his nightmares.

“Do you know what fucking shit you’ve put me through?!” Urak screams, rattling his skull as he tightens his grip on his face, “I put so much money into you and you just fucking up and disappeared! You ungrateful shit! I went bankrupt because of you!”

Till thinks that’s hardly his fault but he doesn’t get to voice that as he’s lifted into the air like a war prize, his feet dangling above the ground and he starts punching at Urak’s arm, shouting behind his massive hand.

“I was going to get another fucking pet here, but looks like there’s no need.” Urak muses in his awful scratchy voice, letting out an almost delirious laugh, “I’ll make good use of you. You’re going to make back every cent I spent on you and I don’t fucking care how.”

Till feels his windpipe get cut off and he starts thrashing frantically as he fights to breathe, his nails digging into Urak’s arm in effort to get him to let go. He considers whether or not he’s really going to die at the hands of this monster. 

His monster.

The idea almost feels cruel. He’s spent all this time getting away from him just to end up in the exact same place, under the exact same hand that delighted in making sure he knew just how worthless he was.

What a load of shit. 

His vision starts to blur at the edges and with only the thought that refuses to die here, he opens his mouth and bites down hard on Urak’s hand. 

The segyein screams in pain and surprise, whipping his arm and sending Till careening into a wall. The impact punches all the air out of his lungs and he hits the ground with a throaty cough, holding his neck as he fights to get oxygen back into his body. Till struggles to his feet, blinking away the pained tears from his eyes as he hears Urak snarl.

“You waste of space!” He bellows as his disgusting green blood drips down his fingers, “I’ll make you fucking regret that!”

As Till catches his breath, he finally gets a chance to get a good look at Urak. He’s still tall with the worst maw in the universe and the image of him still sends shivers down his spin. However, he lacks all of the extravagant robes that he’d adorn himself with to come off as high class wealth, instead wearing a shabby hood and sandals that he would’ve never been caught dead wearing. Upon closer inspection, Till notices that even beneath his clothes, Urak looks worse for wear. His cheeks are gaunt, his usual muscled arm is skinny and brittle as he seems to look at him with an almost desperate air.

It’s then he realizes.

Urak needs him. 

It occurs to him that Urak has always needed him. For money, for status, for validating his own power by beating on him as if getting a petty one-up on a child was worth any bit of praise. Till was the key to every part of Urak’s life that gave him the validation that he wanted and without him, he’s left as this shambling husk who skulks around shady locales trying to chase the high of being someone who matters. 

Urak may still be bigger than him but it’s Till who stands tall, living a life that makes him actually happy and having people in his life who truly love him. 

It’s all a little hysterical and Till coughs out a laugh.

“…never…” Till croaks with defiant glare, feeling his words in his soul, “I will never be yours…again…!”

The segyein looks at him, a little stunned before growling, “As if you have a choice.”

Urak lunges for him and Till rolls out of the way, his head still feeling dizzy as he tries to get himself balanced. In a scramble, he fumbles for his gun and he shoots. The bullet ricochets off the wall and busts into a pipe, sending polluted water spraying around the room. 

The water made Urak’s feet slide from under him and Till watches as the subject of his nightmares falls to the ground with a wet thud. It’s a pitiful sight and Till knows that Urak will never understand the realization he’s made — the segyein hardly believes he’s even a being deserving of respect — but it feels like a conclusion for him. 

Till scoffs to himself, not feeling the need to waste any more time with this man. He’s far too grown for a bratty child masquerading as a dictator. With an opportunity to run, he turns on his heel and readies to get out of there.

Until he hears Urak speak.

“You gonna run?! Fine, that ain’t no skin off my back!” There’s a mocking, haunting muse in his tone, his face widening with a gleeful grin, “I’m sure I can catch that little pretty boy of yours instead. What was he called? Ah right, Ivan. He’d probably be far more of use to me than you ever were. I can already think of a few people who would pay a pretty penny to be blessed by an angel. I certainly wouldn’t mind stealing Unsha’s little bitch boy from him—“

And perhaps, he may be grown but he’s still Till. 

All he sees is red before he turns around, not even grabbing his gun as he just tackles Urak with his hand slamming into his metal mask and digging his nails into it as it creaks under his forceful grip.

Urak doesn’t get to speak Ivan’s name. He doesn’t get to taint it with his vile voice, hardly deserving to ever speak it.

Till doesn’t hesitate to yank the mask off, the cords prying apart in a mess of shards as he throws it so he can see Urak’s disgusting real face before swinging his arm up and punching him. There’s a satisfying crunch under his fist as the force seems to break Urak’s nose and Till hopes that the bone shoots into his brain. 

Hands are flailing around him, trying to pry him off but he holds his ground, just punching again and again in a blind rage, rapid like the animal the segyeins claimed he was. He can feel the nails draw blood on his body but he doesn’t fucking care because those hands are never getting near Ivan or anyone else and he’ll cut them off if he has to. 

This filth isn’t allowed to bear witness to the beauty Till has found. 

There’s a distinct sound of metal scraping on the floor before Urak swings his arm and a sharp, blinding pain explodes across Till’s stomach that sends him falling back. Adrenaline pumps through his veins as he snatches up his gun as the segyein stumbles to get up and he shoots his knee, the hulking figure dropping to the ground with a scream.

And it feels good.

With a rough, pained voice, Till chokes, “You’re so pathetic. Always a bastard till the end, huh?” 

“Wh—?!” Is all Urak gets out before Till presses the gun to his bloody head with a small smile.

“You know, I think you’re lucky. I’m not exactly trying to draw this out. After all, I actually have things I need to do.” The segyein has a fearful edge in his eyes and Till can’t help but feel a small bit of pity. Standing above him, he’s able to truly see how small and pathetic Urak truly was, not like the monster that he built up in his head, “I don’t have time for you.”

“Wait, Till—!”

A shot rings out as Till pulls the trigger, green blood exploding out and painting the wall. Urak’s broken body slumps onto the floor with a wet thud, laying in front of him and finally, Till can breathe again. 

It’s over.

That’s about when the pain blooms on his side and he doubles over, touching his stomach before raising his hand up to see his own red blood coating it.

“Shit…” he mutters and he coughs, struggling to walk as he thinks about what Ivan would do if he just died here.

That’s so lame. 

They’ve only just started whatever they are, he’s not ready to just die before he’s even gotten to kiss Ivan at least once. They deserve that, don’t they? Just a moment of happiness before one of them dies?

Fuck.

He stumbles on his feet, trying to shuffle towards the light with the little strength he has left. Racing footsteps start approaching and when Till looks up, he sees that vendor guy and Ivan standing there with a distraught expression. His vision is starting to blur and suddenly it pitches sideways as he falls. Arms catch him and he’s looking up at Ivan’s beautiful galaxies all while the man is shouting. 

“Till! Oh god, Till!” He shouts and he taps his earpiece, “Sua! I found Till, he’s in the back corner of section B, he’s really hurt! Hurry!”

Slowly blinking, Till gives him a bloody grimace, “He got me good…shit, I’m going to die here, huh?” 

A wild look crosses Ivan’s expression as he pulls him in with a wide-eyed stare and he states like an almost otherworldly call, “This can’t be where your story ends, you hear me? Play on. I demand it.”

Oh, he’s so scared. His eyes are wet with tears and his voice is shaky as he speaks. Till wants to reach out and comfort him, to soothe the shaking of his shoulders. But he’s just…so tired…

“Don’t cry…” he is all he mumbles, watching as Ivan’s beautiful form fades into black.

And then he doesn’t feel anything. 

Ivan has been sitting in the hospital chair for a concerning amount of time. At least according to the hospital staff, anyway. It’s not an unfair statement, he does feel quite gross at this point. He barely went to take a shower before rushing here and hasn’t left since. Whatever, Ivan couldn’t care less what is or is not a concerning amount of time; he doesn’t want to miss the moment Till wakes up.

Looking at the silver mess of hair next to him, he covers his face as he shakily sighs. Till’s face is pale, his torso heavily wrapped in bandages with an IV drip attached to his arm. Bruises litter his skin in a mess of colour and it takes all of Ivan’s strength not to get up and try to kill Urak for a second time.

It had been too close.

When Ivan had realized that Till wasn’t behind him anymore, he had been a wreck. A black market is never a good place to be lost in and he had shoved through so many segyeins as he ran around in a panic looking for him. He had called Sua to let her know but honestly, he wasn't sure if it was going to help anyway. Humans are so small compared to segyein so he couldn’t even get a good look at the terrain and for a moment, he really thought he wouldn’t be able to find him in the mess.

That was until he spotted the vendor from earlier waving him down. He ran over, probably looking terrifying as the vendor squeaked.

“Y-you’re that silver one’s friend, yes?” The vendor asked and Ivan nodded hard.

“Yes, I am, what is it.” He demanded more than asked.

The segyein shows a surprising amount of bravery as he faced him with only a slightly wavering confidence, “The silver one sang me a song. So I will help him. Follow me.” 

The vendor led him through the smaller back alleys, twisting and winding around until he found Till, bloody and bruised looking at him with hazy eyes. A rush of panic burst through his veins when he watched Till hit the ground and he had shouted for Till to wake up until Sua and Mizi got there. They needed to rush out of there but there was a part of him that desperately wanted to stomp Urak’s face in until it became a paste at his feet. 

But they needed to go. 

The vendor had led them to the quickest exit and just before they left, Mizi looked at him with grateful eyes.

“Are you associated with the rebellion?” She had asked and the vendor didn’t look back with any recognition so she smiled softly and said, “We’ll be in touch.” Before they hurried away. 

The rest is a blur of panic, hurried footsteps and every cell in Ivan’s body wailing that Till can’t die like this. Not just in some back alley of the black market, bleeding out from a stab wound from fucking Urak and leave while taking a piece of Ivan’s heart with him. Absolutely not. That’s not fair.

The doctors had taken Till away the second they were out of the teleporter and Ivan didn’t even think about leaving, following them until one of the doctors told him to take a shower or else they wouldn’t let him see Till at all. That was a good enough threat to send him away but his mind was still in the hospital. 

While in the shower, he had just stared at the tile wall with his fists clenched as he replayed what had happened. A guilt weighed on him. He should’ve been more careful. If he hadn’t lost Till in the crowd, none of this would’ve happened. He knew that this kind of thing could happen. But he hadn’t…it didn’t really… he supposes he thought that it just wouldn’t. He’d always be there to protect Till. It just felt like the natural order of things despite knowing that everything is different now.

When he headed over to the hospital, he was told that Till was still in surgery and that he should wait in the lobby. It’s a torturous few hours, the fear that Till might just die here instead lingering around his head as he stared at the ceiling. He wondered if Till felt as tortured as he does when he had been the one standing on the precipice of life and death. Did he feel like he was drowning too?

Once Ivan got news that Till will live, he could finally breathe again and he quickly made a home of the chair next to Till’s hospital bed.

Honestly, Ivan isn’t really sure how long he’s been there at this point, time sort of becoming a weird soup in his brain. Maybe this is purgatory. A never-ending wait for his love to wake up and the joke is that he never will. 

“I-Ivan…?”

The voice jolts him up as he whips to look at the bed, a pair of teal eyes staring back at him through tired, slitted eyes. At first, Ivan doesn’t move immediately, just sitting there frozen. Till makes a small, confused noise as his arm shakily starts to reach for him and Ivan gasps a little, pushing him back down.

“Stay down, you absolute fucking moron.” He whispers severely, leaning over the man with a tremble in his fingers.

“Woah…you’re swearing.”

“Yes, I swear Till. You know this.” He says, incredulous that that’s the thing Till decides to focus on and the other quirks a smile.

“Not a lot.” Till pauses before groaning, “I’m in trouble, aren’t I?”

“Better in trouble than dead.” Ivan grouses, narrowing his eyes before the relief finally actually hits him and he limps forward, forehead pressed against Till’s as he whispers, “Sorry.”

“What? Why?” Till asks, confused as he reaches up to tangle his fingers into Ivan’s hair with a soothing scratch.

“I…I should’ve protected you. I-I should’ve found you faster, if that vendor didn’t tell me where you were, you would’ve—“

“Hey, hey, no…” the other interrupts, shushing him as he says, “It’s not your fault okay? Not at all.”

Till says that and yet, Ivan can’t bring himself to believe it. 

“What happened?” He asks and Till grimaces as he recounts what happened. 

“Urak just…I guess he heard me singing or talking or something…he was there to get another pet human. Something illegal, I guess if he was there. But then he dragged me off and was prepared to take me back. Obviously, I didn’t want that so I fought him…” There’s a quiet, angry expression on Till’s face before he pulls Ivan closer, lips pressed against his ear as he whispers, “I uh…there was a second I could’ve left but… He threatened that if I left at that moment, he’d go after you and I…I lost it, I guess.”

That touches Ivan’s heart, his cheeks warming as Till hugs him protectively, as if he’s not the one in the hospital right now. If it were any other situation, he might be giggling and kicking his feet from the affection. Instead, he can’t help but tear up at the thought that Till almost died for him. To protect his honour or something. How stupid.

Stupid, silly, beautiful boy.

Ivan runs his eyes over the side of Till’s face before hesitantly, he leans over to press his lips against the top of Till’s brow. His skin is warm under his lips and a fluffy ball grows in his stomach, making every limb feel tickly as pulls away. Till is looking at him with wide eyes, his face turning a beautiful rosy hue as the blush climbs past his cheeks and up to his ears.

“You’re not allowed to leave me like that…” Ivan whispers seriously, narrowing his gaze as he can feel his eyes start to grow wet, “You can’t just…leave me alone here.” 

His voice breaks at the end and childishly, he softly punches the side of Till’s head repeatedly as the tears silently drip down his face. Till doesn’t seem to mind the violence, choosing to instead watch him before softening, chuckling a little as he thumbs his cheeks.

“Aw, Navi…” he whispers, the old nickname rolling off his tongue like a cool breeze that soothes Ivan’s steaming skin, “You’re so emotional nowadays, huh Navi?”

“Shut up.” He snaps back and Till laughs at him harder.

“Hey.” Till says in a more serious voice, holding his face, “I promise you, I won’t ever leave you on your own. Not on purpose, anyways.”

Then, as if to seal the promise, he leans down to kiss the hinge of Ivan’s jaw, staying there to breathe him in before pulling back. Ivan swallows, even though his throat is dry as the affection steals his words. 

“…you’re going to have to explain yourself to everyone else too.” Is all he can croak out.

“Fuuuuuck.”

Till ended up benched from missions while his injury healed, which shouldn’t have been a surprise but he had protested when Hyuna told him that Ivan would have to go on missions without him in the meantime. Ivan couldn’t help but sigh fondly because honestly, what did he think would happen?

Till only calmed down when Ivan said as much, looking thoroughly scolded but still, he made Ivan promise to at least wake him up before he heads off to missions, which was an easy enough promise to keep and more than a little sweet.

When it came time for his first mission without Till, Ivan rose up from his bed and true to his word, went to Till’s door. He’s surprised to find it ajar, with the soft sound of Till snoring floating out of the crack as he pushes it open. Walking over to the bed, he huffs a laugh.

Till has always been an active sleeper and even with his injury, his body is spread out like he’s fighting and his mouth wide open as he adorably snores. Ivan feels kind of bad for waking him up, so instead he just leans over and nuzzles Till’s cheek the way he always does when he doesn’t want to disturb him with his affection.

“I’ll be back.” He whispers softly, watching the way his breath lightly ruffles Till’s bangs.

Ivan moves to take a step forward until he feels a shaky hand grip his wrist tightly. He pauses before looking back, meeting sleepy but scared teal eyes and lips twisted in a grimace. There’s a trembling in Till’s fingers as they hold him a little tighter— a request — and Ivan smiles a bit, tilting his head. A warmth fills his body and he leans over, holding Till’s free hand.

“It’s okay…no one is going to take me from you. Promise.” He vows, kneeling to meet Till eye to eye.

Red blooms along Till’s cheeks but he doesn’t break eye contact. Ivan muses to himself. He loves Till’s eyes so much, all this staring is making his heart feel like it’s going to beat out of his chest. 

After another long moment, Till mumbles, “…okay.”

And he reluctantly lets go.

As the door shuts behind him, Ivan marvels that he has someone waiting for him. Till is waiting for him to come home, making him promise to come back alive. He can’t quite believe it but his resolve solidifies anyhow, determined to make it back unscathed. 

He has a promise to keep.

Till glares at the other side of the room, the target standing there mockingly as he sulks to himself. The ache in his side is a constant reminder of why he’s here and what he’s missing, which is driving him slowly nuts. Mizi was kind enough to keep him company but right now, she watches him with concerned eyes.

“What are you so afraid of? You know Ivan would never willingly leave you.” Mizi says, trying to comfort him while she takes a practice shot on the target. She lands a bullseye before continuing, “He’ll be back for sure!”

“I know.” Till lifts his gun and shoots, slightly off the middle. He’s still not that great of a shot, “Willingness is not the thing that matters. If someone manages to capture him, then it doesn’t matter if he wants to go with them or not.” He shoots again but his side twinges and he misses entirely. He growls, frustrated, “Fuck! If I didn’t get injured, then I could be there right now!”

“That’s what you get for being reckless.” Mizi sasses, clearly having used up her gentle sympathy and Till groans.

“I already said sorry, Mizi. Get off my back.” He tries one more time and when it misses again, he just puts the gun down and plops down on the floor, “I didn’t mean to get hurt, I thought I’d be fine.”

The girl hits two more bullseyes before she softens a little, “I know, I know. That’s why Ivan’s the brains and you’re the brawn. You match.”

Mizi saying that so matter of factly makes Till’s cheeks warm as he pictures him and Ivan as a duo. A pair. It makes him happy.

More and more these days, he and Ivan have felt in sync. Turns out when you just put everything out there, it lets you get on the same wavelength much easier. Things that needed words have started to just need a look or a nod and they’ll understand. Till can tell if Ivan is worried just from his eyes, Ivan can tell if he’s scared based on his shoulders, and so on. It’s an amazing feeling, to finally feel like you just…get another person. 

The layers have been peeling away, one by one until Till is starting to think that he can see the core of Ivan’s being at this point. In return, he’s been letting Ivan see his innermost self, one that he was so sure he had killed when the world harshly demanded him to do so to survive. The best part is that he isn’t scared that Ivan will run from it.

There’s a madness in them both. One that he had tried to deny in himself for so long. But now, he feels free to be wild and crazy. Ivan will skip alongside him anyhow. 

“Yeah…” Is all he says to Mizi and he sighs, the twitchy feeling not going away, “Doesn’t change that I’m worried. That idiot is just as reckless as me.”

The girl shakes her head in exasperation, “He’s only reckless when it’s about you.”

Till sticks his tongue out at her, “No, he’s not. He’s reckless when he’s overconfident, which is all the time.” 

He watches as she opens her mouth to argue but then she seems to think about it again before she acquiesces. Being right doesn’t make him feel particularly triumphant though and he hangs his head between his knees.

“Ugh…I can’t stop thinking about it. Fuck…fuck!” He complains as the nerves feel like they’re eating him from the inside out.

Mizi looks at him with pity before she thinks to herself, her eyes lighting up as an idea comes to her.

“Hey, why don’t you help me with one of my assignments today?” She suggests and he gives her a curious look.

“What assignment?”

“Do you remember those kids from a few months ago?” 

The memory of kids hiding in the back of the room comes to mind. 

He nods, “Yeah I do.”

“Well, the orphanage director is going to be busy this afternoon so I offered to watch the kids for her. It’s a lot of kids though, so I wouldn’t mind the help.” Mizi explains as she shucks off the gun, “You were pretty good with them last time, remember?”

There’s a plethora of worries that springs to mind immediately like if he’s even qualified to take care of kids, even for a short time but the alternative is sitting around, stewing in his worry so he nods. Mizi grins, dusting off her shirt before she helps him up with a heft that felt stronger than even he was and she leads him to the orphanage.

While there are a few family units in the rebellion, they’re often few and far between and most of the rescued children are brought to the orphanage to take care of them until they’re old enough to move on their own to the dorms. According to Dewey, Isaac used to be the one caring for the younger kids when the rebellion was just a small huddle of humans that scavenged at the edge of society. He apparently was pretty good at it too, but as the rebellion grew and so did his responsibilities, they gave the role of caretaker to designated people and thus, the orphanage was born.

Even from a distance, Till can hear the laughter of children and there’s little streaks of colour that dart and forth in the yard. The sight gives him a sense of nostalgia as the memories of childhood joy painted in white come to mind. He thinks the orphanag children’s childhood is much better though, with the real grass and real sky above them.

As they get closer, a man with short dark hair looks up at them with a smile.

“Ah, Mizi, there you are!” He greets with a carefree ease despite the child that is climbing up his body like a jungle gym, “Thanks for covering for me.”

“It’s not a problem, Nicholas!” Mizi replies back before gesturing to Till, “Ah, I’m not sure if you’ve met already but this is Till!”

He waves with an awkward smile but Nicholas doesn’t seem to mind as he gives him a little salute before he pushes the kid on his shoulders up, “Haven’t met, no, but I’ve heard of you.”

“O-Oh really?” Till stutters and the other man chuckles.

“Oh yeah. Heard all about what you did for the latest batch of kids. If you weren’t so busy with other stuff, I’d ask if you wanted to work here.” 

The praise makes Till duck his head in slight embarrassment, not used to being spoken of kindly, “It wasn’t that big of a deal.”

“Nah, trust me, it was.” Nicholas counters, pulling the kid over his shoulders and cradling her, “You have no idea how little things can help kids like that.”

Till has never categorized himself as someone who’s good with kids but perhaps that makes sense as a troubled kid himself.

“Thanks.” He says with a shy smile and Nicholas puts down the kid.

“Alright you two, I’ll be back in the evening. Today is just a play day so you don’t need to worry about teaching anything. Just don’t burn down the building and I’ll consider it a win.” He says before waving to the kids gathering at the fence, “See you guys later!”

With a chorus of children, the man heads into the heart of camp and leaves the two of them to nervously turn to the group of children.

“Hey guys!” Mizi starts as she opens the gate and they walk into the yard, “I’m Mizi and this is Till! We’re just here to keep an eye on you while Nicholas is out. Um, don’t hesitate to ask us if you need anything!”

Till clicks the gate closed and when he turns back to face over a dozen blinking eyes, he tries not to sweat. Some of the kids he recognizes but a good chunk are completely fresh and he’s not really sure how to start this.

“Mister Till!”

A familiar voice catches his attention and from the corner of his eye, he spies a girl with long red hair that he recognizes and he smiles. 

“Selene!” He greets as she runs to him and to his surprise, jumps into his arms with a happy fervor, “Woah, hey! It’s good to see you too!”

This girl is a stark contrast from the one he met the first time. He remembers Selene when she was hunched over, terrified but nobly trying to protect the other children. Her hair was matted, clothes barely holding together and eyes filled a deep sense of dread that he felt was echoed in his own. Compared to that, this Selene is nearly unrecognizable with her bright eyes and carefree smiles. The orphanage has clearly been treating her well as he pinches her cheek that’s actually full instead of sunken in and her skin glows with a rosy hue. Though the dread was still lingering in her eyes, there were only traces of it and Till can’t help but swing her around because he’s so happy for her.

“Mister Till, you should come draw with us!” Selene suggests with a breathless giggle, tugging on his jacket as she points at a group of kids huddling by the main building and it all feels so so familiar that it yanks on the string in Till’s mind that he uses to tie all those bittersweet memories in a bow to cleanly shelve away.

“Alright alright, I’m coming.” He teasingly assures as he puts her down and lets her drag him off.

As a crayon and paper is pushed into his hand, he flexes his hand around it, marvelling at just how big his hand is now compared to the crayon. 

“We’re trying to draw each other!” Selene tells him, lifting a drawing she’s done, “You should draw someone you know too!”

Till stares at the paper and slowly, he smiles, “Okay, got it.”

Till sits there on real grass, under a real sky, with kids who will never have to get cozy with their grim reaper, and he draws a boy that he always thought had the most beautiful eyes. And it feels like a do-over. 

He notes to himself that he’ll show these to Ivan when he gets back.

About an hour in, Till looks up from his drawings and smiles as he watches Mizi play games with some of the other kids, running around with all the energy and enthusiasm she had in her youth. She lifts a kid into the air, the little girl laughing breathlessly as she swings her around and Till chuckles to himself before preparing to start drawing Mizi too.

Luckily, the weather is lovely, all clear skies and bright sunlight. The weather at the rebel camp can fluctuate a bit since they’re out of range of the segyein atmosphere regulators. He had heard about other weather patterns, like rain and cloudy days, but the Garden would only simulate those on occasion and of course, it was never actually real.

He scans the yard, silently counting each kid until he spies one sitting on their own with their arms crossed and an expression that reads as distinctly…uncomfortable. Glancing around, they seemed to be the only one who sat alone.

With a small frown, he gets up and tells Selene, “I’ll be back, okay?”

“Okay!”

Giving her a nod, he turns to slowly approach the kid, who notices him getting closer and seems to tense up. Carefully, Till sits a few feet away and gives a quick check on the child. The boy seems physically alright, with the same full cheeks and rosy skin as the other kids. Though, he does seem to have a few scrapes on his knees and a bandage wrapped over his nose from what he hopes is not a fight but kids can be like that sometimes. He has wild dark purple hair, a pout pulled across his lips and narrowed, suspicious blue eyes.

Till talks like he’s trying to calm a frightened animal, tilting his head slowly as he asks, “Hey bud, I’m Till. Who are you?”

The kid seems to size him up, his eyes darting up and down before straightening out his back as he mumbles with attitude, “…Jun.” 

Till just hums in reply, nodding as he tries to exude as much peaceful energy as he can, “Hi Jun. I wanted to come over to just ask if you’re okay. I didn’t want you to feel left out by the other kids. If you just want to play on your own, that’s okay, I just wanted to check.” 

There’s a twitch in Jun’s brow before he huffs, “I’m fine. The other kids are stupid.”

Till blinks at that harsh response and there’s a wave of slight embarrassment as he recognizes that exact phrase and attitude from when he was young and didn’t want to get close to anyone because he found them scary. Honestly, a lot about Jun reminds him of himself, down to the angry pout and everything.

“Ah, that’s not very nice.” He says as neutrally as possible and Jun kicks up a fuss.

“They are! I don’t wanna play with them!” He exclaims, stomping his feet. 

“Did they exclude you on purpose?”

“N-No just…” Jun hesitates before he looks to the ground with a glare, “How can they be playing right now? None of this is going to last anyway.”

That makes Till frown and he chases that answer, “What do you mean by that?”

But Jun seems to have realized that he might’ve said too much, as he clams up and stubbornly refuses to meet his eyes. Till tries to get into his line of sight but the kid just keeps turning his head away. Pursing his lips, he thinks about how to approach this before an idea pops into his mind.

He leans in, whispering conspiratorially, “Hey, do you want to sneak out?”

That catches Jun's attention and he whips his head up, eyes wide, “Huh?”

“There’s something I want to show you.” Till continues and gives him a mischievous smile, “If you’re brave enough.”

The challenge seems to get Jun to fire up, standing up as Till gets up and like expected, he exclaims, “I’m not scared!” 

“I never said you were.” Till muses before leading the kid to the gate, “C’mon then.” 

He catches Mizi’s eye and does a quick gesture behind Jun’s back, getting a nod before he leaves.

As they walk down the road, Jun seems nervous as he keeps glancing back at the orphanage and Till feels a tug of sympathy. He’s probably never actually done anything rebellious and taking pity, Till holds his hand comfortingly. He seems to jump at the contact but after a moment, huddles a little closer as Till leads him through the camp. 

Eventually, the dirt becomes sand and silently, Till takes off his shoes while trying not to snort as Jun seems to scramble to copy him. The sand feels good between his toes and he quirks a smile as he watches Jun come to the same conclusion, his little feet padding around to feel the texture. The beach seems to bring out a small childish energy in him as Till watches Jun run to the ocean, splashing around while marvelling at the water.

“There’s so much water!” He exclaims, amazed as he raises his head to look at Till.

“Yeah, there is.” Slowly, he approaches with his own feet wading into the cool ocean and he bends down, picking up some wet sand and letting it drip from his fingers, “Did you know that this ocean has been here since the planet was created?”

“Really?” Jun asks as he copies him, scooping up the wet sand in his little fist.

“Really. It’s been dried up a bit but…it’s still here.” Till looks to Jun, who looks a lot more relaxed, and he tilts his head, “Can I ask again? Why did you say this wasn't going to last?” 

Jun pauses, a grimace crawling onto his face but Till splashes some water to make him laugh.

With less tense shoulders, the kid looks so heartbreakingly sure as he says, “The segyein are—“ he gestures a circle with his arms as he tries to find the words, “— everything. Do you people really think you can stand up to the segyein? The segyein have conquered whole entire planets. A couple of scraps isn’t going to do much to them. It’s only a matter of time before they find us and probably hurt us worse.”

There’s something in what he says that rings true to Till. He doesn’t have the idealistic drive that motivates people like Hyuna or Mizi to truly believe that they can create a better future. Truthfully, he’s had the same thoughts before on the nights when he’s just staring at the ceiling after a long day of gruelling work or when he’s looking down the barrel of a gun pointed at a segyein he knows sees him as a body to be entertained by instead of a being with thoughts. But he thinks about nights under fairy lights, curling up in warm arms that make the noise go away and has him believing that even for just a moment, everything is good. He thinks about the boy standing in front of him with shaking conviction but eyes that beg him to prove him wrong. 

“I…I can’t promise that we’ll succeed. I can’t promise that they’ll never find us. Nothing is guaranteed.” He starts, honest as he runs his hands through the water, “But failure isn’t guaranteed either. And I was like you. I worried all the time about the worst possible outcomes and I decided that if I accepted that everything was always going to end terribly, then I couldn’t be hurt when they actually did. But…I think I lost more than I gained.” He takes Jun’s hands and puts them into the water with him, “Maybe one day, this ocean will dry up and this whole planet will be a desert. But the water is still beautiful today and I wouldn’t want to miss being here just because it might not be tomorrow.” 

Jun looks a bit confused and Till closes his fist around him, “But what if we don’t get to be free?”

“Then we deal with it then.” He replies with a small shrug, “But we won’t get any closer to being free if we don’t do anything. And maybe it might not matter in future. But it matters now. There are people we can help now and hopefully those people will be able to help others and then on and on. That’s all there is to it. Step by step. So, you know? Maybe try playing with those kids and you can worry about the rest later.” 

And Till knows that a lot of what he’s saying probably won’t be fully understood by Jun— he’s too young to see the scope of what he’s talking about — but like he said, that doesn’t matter right now. What matters is that the boy smiles after a few seconds and when Till takes him back to the orphanage, he approaches the other children in their games.

In the evening, Ivan comes back with a soft creak of the door and Till waves him into his room before showing him the doodle he made. The light that shines in Ivan’s eyes as he looks over each drawing makes Till mourn the loss of all the other drawings he made of Ivan over the years that he was too embarrassed to show.

Whatever, he’ll just draw more to make up for it. 

Later, Till doesn’t even have to say anything as Ivan climbs into bed with him. Fingers card themselves through his hair, twisting his silver ends as Ivan chuckles.

“Your hair is getting longer again.” 

“I guess you’ll have to cut it again.” Till replies.

“Tomorrow, then.” Ivan says before sighing, stretching out his back.

They curl together like puzzle pieces and as they fall asleep, intertwined in both body and soul, he thinks, Yeah, we are worth saving.

It takes a while before Till is okayed to start going on missions again. The gash on his side was slow to close up at first since he was so bad at staying in one spot. Maybe because he’s too prideful or something but he hated asking others to help him with daily tasks so he often chose not to. That would usually lead to him ripping the stitches open because he didn’t want to ask Ivan to grab the jar on the shelf for him. He really only calmed down once Hyuna threatened that he might not be better enough to go on the next Io related mission. She said she would hold him back herself if she had to. So he complied. He had been so damn antsy for most of his recovery, only getting a little less so when he was okayed to continue working on the flying ship.

The data from the provider prep facility ended up giving them info on where Io could’ve gone next but they couldn’t go right away since it was a mission that would require a hell of a lot more planning. Most of Ivan’s solo missions were just hitting some of the other prep locations and the camp was steadily getting more lively as children, providers and pet humans started trickling in. 

Supposedly due to her association with him, Io was moved to an auction house to be sold to the highest bidder. Normally, they’d just sneak in through the back door but this particular auction house was atop one of the highest buildings in the city and was only accessible through docking a ship up front and having an invitation to attend an event. Luckily, one of the missions Ivan went on was stealing one of the invitations and their new friend in the black market was able to forge them fake owner documents. 

The plan was to masquerade as a rich segyein’s pets who are attending the event in their place while another team sneaks in as staff to rescue any pet humans held in the collection room. Unfortunately, the nature of the mission means they can’t have too many people on the team and the layout of the auction house isn’t kept outside of the house itself so they’ll be going in blind. 

The idea that Ivan might have had to go on a mission in a place that was crawling with segyein who would be delighted to obtain and sell a high-end Alien Stage pet had Till almost breaking out in hives. Thankfully, that’s not the case and he’s back to being Ivan’s partner on missions again. 

The night before the auction house, Till found himself just laying in bed with Ivan tangled up with him as he lazily scratched up and down Ivan’s back. The man on top of him was practically purring and it helped soothe the nervous energy that bubbled in his chest.

They’ve started doing this lazy evening routine on nights just before a mission, discovering that if they try to be as relaxed as they can be then the next day, the mission is more likely to go well since they’re well rested. The two of them started doing this as a way to comfort Till before Ivan had to go on his own but it seemed to calm Ivan just as much. 

Their bodies are flushed together, Ivan’s chest pressing against his stomach as his head pillows between his pecs. Till can’t stop running his hands through his hair, eyes hardly blinking as he watches the way Ivan breathes in sleepily and the sight absolutely shatters his psyche. Just under his head is Ivan’s forehead and holy fuck, he wants to just bury his face into it. 

This definitely isn’t the first time they’ve been close like this and yet, his heart is thudding against his ribcage like it’s about to burst out of his skin. 

His lips are almost tingling at the thought of kissing the man and he wants, he wants . He’s thought about doing it multiple times and yeah, it’s high time he admit that he fucking likes Ivan. So fucking much. Like he loves him but also he likes him and somehow that’s more embarrassing. 

Love is gentle, soft and stable.

Like is frantic, giddy and desperate.

Love is what drives him to stay by Ivan’s side, to hold him and put all of his effort into making sure he’s safe.

Like is what drives him to want to bite his cheek to taste his face sweat and breathe in his smell until it imprints in his lungs like the brand on his neck. 

It’s what makes him want to kiss his forehead and squeeze him tight enough that maybe they’ll fuse to one being so that Ivan can never leave him. 

Fucking embarrassing.

“You’re being creepy.” 

Till jumps at Ivan’s muffled voice and looks down to meet Ivan’s blurry eye peeking up at him from under his bangs. He doesn’t move from where he’s comfortably resting on Till’s sternum and instead raises a brow.

“You haven’t stopped staring. Why?” He asks, his cheek squishing where it’s pressed against his chest and his voice comes out adorably wobbly. 

“Can’t I just look at you?” Till defends, soft in his volume so he doesn’t break the atmosphere.

“You don’t do that unless you’re thinking about me.”

Ivan too observant for his own damn good. Quiet, he debates saying his thoughts but it makes a terrible rush of embarrassment wash over him.

So he just mumbles, “Fuck you.”

Before kissing Ivan’s forehead, long and hard. He pulls off with a wet smack and he absolutely refuses to acknowledge the fucking wet spot that is left behind from him being too enthusiastic too quickly. Ivan is staring at him with flustered confusion, eyes wide as he pushes himself up to properly look down at Till’s rapidly reddening face. 

“What was…?”

“Shut up.”

“But you—“

“Mmhm, shut up.”

“Till—“

“Ivan, please shut the fuck up, I’m going to pass the fuck out.” He begs, arms up as he covers his face.

The room is silent with only the sound of their breathing being heard. After a minute or two, Till peeks out and he’s met with the rare sight of Ivan struggling on his words, stuttering like he’s malfunctioning as his sentences keep starting and stopping. It would be amusing if Till didn’t feel the exact same way and was struggling to find something to say himself.

Finally, Ivan asks, “Why did you do that?”

“…I wanted to.” Is all Till can reply back with because well, it’s true. 

“You…wanted to.”

“Yeah.” The heat of the gaze on his neck makes him blurt out, “You’re cute, okay?!”

A sense of shame washes over him and the whine that leaves his mouth is particularly pathetic as Ivan won’t stop looking at him. It feels like he’s being pried open, seen for the lovesick loser he is. 

“You think I’m cute?” Ivan questions, head tilted like he’s confused about his apparent attractiveness, which shouldn’t even be a damn question.

“What do you mean by that? Have you seen yourself?!” Till exclaims incredulously, gesturing at Ivan’s form.

“I just wouldn’t have categorized myself as cute is all.” Ivan replies back as if it never occurred to him that he could be cute.

On some level, Till kinda gets it. Since his sudden growth spurt when they were thirteen, Ivan has always been one of the tallest people in any given room and often exuded an intimidating aura when he wasn’t actively trying to be charming. Puberty had also hit him like a truck, turning the cute round kid into a man who could embody perfect masculine and feminine beauty in equal measure. With the help of the rebellion, Ivan has also become strong, like actually strong, and man, Till was embarrassingly into it. Any number of words could describe him but small hasn’t been one of them for a while. 

But what other word describes how goddamn soft Ivan looks with his hair mussed up, blinking the sleep from his eyes as his hoodie seems to swallow him whole? Cute. He’s fucking cute.

“Ivan, oh my god, you’re cute, okay?” He stresses, gritting his teeth as his body feels like it’s vibrating just under the skin and he growls, “Aughhhhhh, you’re so—!” Ivan is blinking back him with his stupid, big dark eyes and it feels like too much, “Oh my fucking god, just— fuck you, fuck you, fuck you!” 

He almost shouts this as he clamps his hands over Ivan’s cheeks, watching the way the fat of his face squishes together and he just….bites into Ivan’s arm. Till isn’t even trying to break skin or anything, he just needs something to gnaw on to get the energy out. Ivan seems even more confused but allows it, shifting a little to make himself easier to bite. He flops himself next to Till, keeping his arm in biting range as he rests his head against Till’s, letting a small comfortable sigh as he, in turn, starts to bite Till’s cheek. It’s not demanding or expecting anything more, it’s just…this. 

It’s about then that Till knows that he’s fucked. Absolutely fucked. What absolute fucking losers they both are. 

Even his love for Mizi was never like this. It had been blinding and passionate, making every limb in his body tingle like a live wire. This though? This somehow makes him feel so damn content, like he’s being cradled in a warm blanket, and yet it feels he’s going insane with how much he cares. This love feels tangible, close enough to bring it into himself and see all of its details, turning it around in his grasp until he understands it. Pieces of a puzzle feel like they’ve finally clicked into place and Till feels like this love gives him air instead of leaving him choking breathlessly.

Ivan is solid, real against him as his teeth nip on the apple of his cheeks and it’s so childish and it’s so him that Till feels a swell of happiness lurch through him. He wishes with all of his heart that he gets to keep this. He doesn’t give a damn if he gets anything else from this point on, just let him keep quiet evenings that make him so comfortable, he forgets he ever was in pain. Let him stop time long enough to memorize moments like this so that they embed into his soul like a song and they’ll sing their notes until he’s bones in the ground. 

There’s a part of him that curls itself around this feeling, greedy and selfish in wanting. It’s a feeling he knows quite well, one that he was often scared of as a kid and made him hide away in the corners of the room when he was scared it would tear itself into Mizi. It’s an overwhelming feeling, one that demands he sink himself into things until there’s no difference between him and the object of his interest. It’s the obsessive instinct that he has, the one that makes him go over chords over and over until his fingers bleed, and the one that had him drawing every detail of Mizi’s face until he could do it by memory. He feels it now but he finds he wants to indulge it.

It chants ‘Look at me’ but also ‘Let me look at you’.

So he looks and looks and looks and he sinks .

What he sees is Ivan; a person, not a god. Beautifully tangible and achingly real. 

Of course, Ivan doesn’t hear the revelations that explode in his head in the span of a second but he does realize that something is going through Till’s head. So he unlatches his teeth and noses Till’s ear.

“You there?” He asks, voice syrupy and slow in the way it slides into the air.

“Mmhm.” Is all Till says back, containing all the yearning he feels as he hugs Ivan to him.

He is real and he is mine, he thinks.

Ivan stares at his own face looking back at him, spinning the fake ID card between his fingers while his thumb picks at the edge that’s coming off slightly. The bow is tight around his neck, the silk rubbing against his neck uncomfortably with every movement of his head. With a slight grimace, he tugs on the ribbon, trying to loosen it until a hand shoots out to slap his fingers away.

“Hey, stop that.” Sua scolds, reaching up and readjusting the ribbon, “You’re ruining it.”

Ivan’s grimace deepens as he complains, “It’s tight and I look ridiculous.” 

“Then we got the look down right.” She retorts back and smooths out the fabric with delicate fingers, “The more they look at your outfit and less on your face, the better.”

“Besides, you don’t look too bad in that, loverboy.” Hyuna chimes in, adjusting the straps on Till’s mask before pointing at the long feathers that drag on the ground, “It kinda makes you look like uh…a bird.”

“I look like a chicken.” He deadpans, shaking his arms as he stares at his outfit.

The long white robe falls along the bottom of his feet and if it weren’t for the heels on his shoes, he’d likely trip over the lace and knock all the feathers off of his arms and waist. He shivers a little as the cool air brushes against his bare shoulders and tries to pull up the feather arm coverings higher. For some reason, the outfit called for detached sleeves that left a shoulder gap between the sleeves and the top. It’s not that revealing overall but it’s more revealing than anything he wears normally. Unsha had insisted on a clean, proper look, so he was often covered head to toe to look sophisticated. Even at the rebellion, he still chooses to wear clothes that cover him up unless he’s at home, then he just wears a t-shirt and shorts.

Ivan blinks and makes a face when a pearl lightly tickles his cheek. His face is itchy with all the makeup and decorations they painted his face with. Even for Alien Stage, the make-up had been minimal enough that he hadn’t had too big of an issue with it. However, apparently it’s now in fashion to decorate your pet human as extravagantly as possible and so his face has little fake pearls glued on by Hyuna’s careful hands. 

Ivan has been developing his own sense of style for a while now, though he doesn't really have that many options in the rebellion since they just grab whatever they can for the camp to choose from. Still, he found he did have his own taste in clothes and honestly, being able to escape the monochromatic monotony of Unsha’s preferences had been refreshing. Wearing the pure white feathers feels like he’s gone backwards, once again dressed as a doll rather than a person. 

“You’re supposed to look like an angel.” Sua interjects, rolling her eyes, “It’s all the rage right now.”

In all fairness, Sua doesn’t look any happier in her own matching outfit as she fiddles with the ends of her feathers. He’s not sure who picked out this outfit — he suspects it was Dewey since that man has surprisingly strong opinions about fashion — but he probably should’ve argued a bit harder against it. 

 When they were deciding roles for the mission, it had basically already been agreed that Ivan and Sua would be the fancy pet humans. After all, they once were and would definitely know the protocols better than anyone else. They did have to check to make sure their owners weren’t going to be in attendance, but Ivan figured Unsha wouldn’t be interested in going to the auction house. He was more likely to run that kind of event than be the one to attend. 

Till had been given the role of their bodyguard and thus Ivan jealously watched as he just had to put on a basic black suit and tie, got to keep his gun on his hip and wear a mask to obscure his face. He understands why he had that role, obviously; Till was far too recognizable from his explosive finale round and while the common segyein might not know who he is, high class segyein definitely would. 

Mizi and Hyuna were put on the staff team since they’re much less recognizable than any of them. Though with Mizi’s iconic pink hair, they had to give her a long black wig to hide it. They had a little bit of trouble finding someone to pilot the ship but apparently Isaac had some experience with smaller flying ships that were used to transport goods inside a factory. How different could it be, Isaac had said.

Ivan would say there’s a big difference but it’s not like they were spoiled for choice. 

Ivan had been a bit nervous to get onto the flying ship. They had finished it a couple weeks before the mission and while they have done a few tests to make sure it actually works, this is the first time it’s being used for a mission and flying this high up. Every bump and shake of the ship makes another piece of Ivan’s fraying confidence snap apart as he tries not to think about how he’s in an experimental ship that’s flying high enough in the air that the skyscrapers are level with them.

He’s not thinking about it. Not at all.

“You good?” Till asks, sliding onto the bench next to him and jolting him from his thoughts.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” He quickly replies, careful not to watch the window, “Just thinking.”

“Oh no, that’s never good.” Till muses with a sarcastic drawl while slipping off his mask but then he rests his head on Ivan's shoulder, comfortingly rubbing his hand up and down his arms. He murmurs softly, “We’re almost there.”

There’s a slight shaking of the ship and Ivan shuts his eyes, breathing in deeply as he focuses on Till’s cool hands on his anxious, warm skin. 

“You look good.” Till comments lightly, before he frowns against his bare skin, “Though did it need to be all white?” 

“Angels are often depicted in white.”  He replies.

“I think angels would look just fine in other colours.”

Ivan raises his eyelids just enough to see Till’s dark suit that has silver lining the sleeves and the slightly haunted expression on his face. He sighs a little. This colour combination does make sense for this mission — it keeps them the most lowkey and is proper for events like this — but it doesn’t change what it means for the two of them. Ivan doesn’t have as strong of a reaction to it as Till does; the man is still troubled by that day and Ivan’s not sure if he ever won’t be. That day for him just felt a necessary, inevitable, unfortunate event. For Till…

Ivan leans over, pressing his lips against Till’s hair as he puts his weight against the other man. He can feel Till tighten his hold on him and they sit silently together.

It still amazes him that they’ve made it to this point. How easy it is to show affection and then get it back, like an exchange of care instead of an offering to a deity. There’s not a doubt in his mind whether or not Till cares for him. How could there be when Till keeps putting every effort to show him? 

Glancing around, he finds he has no doubt that all of these people care for him. Sua is talking softly to Mizi next to him, his mind latching onto each syllable as she speaks. Till helped make this ship and he trusts him to have done a good job. It’s fine. It’s all fine. 

“We’re docking, get ready!” Isaac says into the intercoms and there’s a slowing of the ship starting to land. 

Ivan breathes out long and slow in relief. Till pulls himself off of him, giving him one last comforting rub up and down his arm before he moves into position. As the ship rumbles, he readjusts his outfit as he goes over the plan in his head again and readies the documents he’s going to present to the guards. With a practiced ease, he pulls up the polite, prissy attitude he had left behind when he joined the rebellion and donned it like a mask once again. His shoulders pull back, his face stiffens and the princely careful smile stretched into his face a little uncomfortably.

Till seems to notice the difference because just before they step out of the ship, his hand curls around his bicep, squeezing once before he adopts his role and sliding the mask back in place.

Ivan blinks as the door falls open and the blinding lights of the city flash into his eyes as the sound of other ritzy segyein trickles in. Once his vision clears, he takes a step out, seeing the auction house glowing with all the lights they adorned it with. A long red carpet leads to the door and various segyein strut around as if it is a privilege for the auction house to have them here, not the other way around. 

It’s been a while since he’s been in the entertainment district at night, the city alight with activity just below them. The space is instantly so much louder than their cozy little camp and it takes another long breath to readjust to the noise. Other ships dock around them as he, Sua and Till make their way to the entrance. Mizi and Hyuna should be making their own stealthy entry soon enough. 

There’s a couple of other pet humans around, dressed equally if not more extravagantly than they are and Ivan has to make a point to not look at them to not get distracted. Though, for a second he does look up at the sky and silently mourn all the stars he can’t see before facing the segyein that stands in front of the door.

“Tickets and ID please.” The segyein asks and Sua hands him the ticket while Ivan passes the documents.

There’s a stressful moment that Ivan holds his breath through where he considers if the segyein will catch on and the mission just ends right here.

“Very good, go on.” The segyein finally says as he passes their stuff back to them and gestures to the grand door, “Just through here is the reception where guests can mingle and dance before the auction. Once the auction begins, just go into the door at the back of the room. The pet bathrooms are to the right.”

Ivan gives him a polite nod, the knot in his chest loosening as he steps through. He can hear Till breathing out in relief in his mask and he’s glad that they didn’t bother to inspect any of them any further. 

The reception is as expected, the decadent tastes of the owner clear as day as the room is adorned with rare metals and minerals twisting around each other with a large chandelier in the centre of the room that Ivan can tell is worth a stupid amount of money. There are already segyein on the dance floor, lightly spinning around each other as the band plays a slow waltz. Ivan remembers going to other events like this and every time, he always was bored to tears. All of these things play out the same way: with the rich segyeins posturing to each other and trying to prove to themselves that they are better than everyone in the room by showing off their pets or their jewelry or just through subtle jabs at one another as if any of it matters. They’ll all still be rich at the end of the day and repeat the same dance next time. 

Ivan has every reason to believe this one would go the same way. Luckily, he’s not just here to sit around and look pretty, so he immediately starts to scan the room for where they would keep the ledger. 

“Oh, Egrox! Look at these absolutely darlings!” Squeals a voice above him and Ivan is quick to face the tall furry segyein cooing over him and Sua with her claw hands gesturing at them, “Ah, what absolute cuties!”

The one he deduces is Egrox, dressed in a fancy high collar that looks like it should choke him, absentmindedly nods, “Yes yes Stohea, they’re quite nice.”

Not deterred by her husband’s disinterest, Stohea’s hand shoots out and Ivan has to push down the instinct to jump back, biting down on his tongue as her hand forcefully pets his hair and tugs on his clothes. Her claws dig a little too deeply into his skull, scratching his scalp hard enough to make him wonder if he’ll start to bleed. She reaches for Sua too, cooing over their good breeding and good behaviour like it’s something to be praised for instead of what they have to do or else be thrown away. 

“Aw, where’s your owner? Do you want to come with me instead?” She coos at them and Ivan has to politely smile.

They’re just accessories for these people, meant to just elevate their status and make them seem like charitable people. What he actually wanted never mattered. Demurely, he shakes his head and holds up the collar, displaying the engraving of the fake owner’s name. 

Stohea gasps, “Oh of course, silly me! I just want to see if…”

Her hand reaches for him and there’s a second where the cloth around his legs is starting to be pulled up, and he considers if she’s really going to expose him in this crowded room. Thoughts of whether or not to do something races through his head. Echoes of a fear that if he does do something, it might draw unwanted attention and jeopardize the mission throb in his mind and Ivan can only watch as the cloth is raised up past his knee. 

That’s when Till suddenly steps in with a click of his boot. He coughs pointedly, hand on his gun as he stands between Ivan and Stohea. The segyein moves back with a slight surprise, seemingly only just then realizing that Till was there. 

“Oh!” She exclaims, backing up until she knocks into her husband.  

Egrox admonishes, “Stohea, it’s not polite to touch other people’s property.”

“Ah apologies, I couldn’t help myself. I wanted to know if the good breeding went all the way.” She apologises to Egrox, looking thoroughly cowed, and Ivan swallows.

Not it’s impolite to touch other people. Not a question if he wants to be touched. Not even an apology to him but her husband for being embarrassing in public. He knows that this is how it goes — he didn’t even know it was bad behaviour until recently — but something about being treated like this again after being free of it for so long makes him nauseous. How he allows it to happen makes him wonder if he’s really changed at all.

Sua suddenly snatches his hand, tight with her grip as she bows to the segyein couple before leading him towards the dance floor. His feet take a couple seconds to catch up and Till is quick to follow behind. They push past a few bodies before Sua spies an empty spot in the corner of the dance floor and she takes him to that corner. Till stands at the edge of the dance floor, keeping an eye on them as he monitors the room. The music is quiet and sophisticated and with a small nudge as a prompt for Ivan to properly face her, she holds his hand and starts to sway with him, her expression tight.

“You good?” She asks softly, reaching up to fix his mussed up hair and checking for any cuts.

“I’m fine.” He assures her and chuckles at her sharp eyes, “No need to get territorial. It’s just…”

“Weird being here again.” Sua finishes for him, glancing around at the segyeins that surround them almost like a cage.

The ribbon feels like it gets tighter on his neck as he murmurs, “Yeah…”

A shadow passes over Sua’s eyes before she says firmly, “But we’re not.”

And it feels like a reminder for them both.

He is Ivan and she is Sua. 

There’s a buzz in his ear as the speaker comes to life, all three of them straightening up, and Mizi’s voice whispers into it, “We’re in. We’ve managed to snag some staff uniforms and now we’re looking for the auction back rooms. I think the ledgers are kept in an office in this back area, so I can let you guys in from the door on the right while me and Hyuna get to the auction items.”

“Roger.” Till replies as he gestures to Sua and Ivan the door that Mizi is talking about.

They maneuver through the crowd as silently as possible until they’re right next to the door, trying not to look too suspicious. Luckily, the room seems to be mostly drunk off their ass and seem to barely process that they’re there.

There’s a distinct beep before the door hisses open as Mizi’s bright eyes greet them and she waves them inside. They slip in, the door shutting quickly behind them.

“Okay, okay remember, in and out.” Mizi instructs and Ivan does a little lopsided smile.

“In and out.” He repeats before tugging on the sleeve, “The sooner I can get out of this, the better. It’s so itchy.”

Mizi gives a little laugh before they fist-bump and go their separate ways, darting through the hall until they come across a door that Ivan is quick to hack into. It slides open and they blink as they look inside.

Instead of what he expected, which was a room with a couple of computers, there was a room with a holosheets stacked up in piles. 

Sua picks up one of the sheets, looking it over and whistling, “Manual ledgers, old school.” 

“It’s going to take forever to sort through all these!” Till exclaims and Ivan shakes his head.

“Not necessarily. We just need to find the documents from recent history and scan all of those.” He says, pulling out his holopad and starting to read through the dates on the first few sheets, “If Io isn’t still here, then she can’t have been sold off that long ago.  We just need the ledgers dating back to a couple weeks ago.”

So they started digging through the piles, the sound of the little clinks of the holosheets being picked up then put down again echoing in the room. Every second gets tenser as the sounds of staff wandering around the halls make their bones stiffen. Thankfully they’re all too busy with preparing the actual auction so they don’t have any need to check on documents about previous events. 

Finally, Till raises one, “This one is from three weeks ago!”

Ivan and Sua rush over, Ivan starting to scan through the pile as Sua finds the later dates stacked close by. Once they have everything scanned, they’re quick to leave back through the door and slip into the reception room.

“We got them.” Till whispers into the earpiece and it crackles to life.

“Roger that!” Hyuna replies before saying gently, “Sorry to say, but your mom isn’t here. But! There’s some stuff here that might be useful so we’re trying to snag it.” Ivan hears the sound of something being tugged.

“Don’t do anything reckless.” Sua advises.

Which of course, that’s when something clicks on the other side and suddenly, the lights start flashing red.

“Shit.” Hyuna mumbles and Sua groans.

“Run!” Mizi shouts urgently.

Ivan starts to turn his heel and tries to run, but his feet immediately step onto his feathers and yanks his momentum down. The ground seems to get closer and closer and Ivan shuts his eyes to brace for impact. A hand shoots out and grabs ahold of his wrist, saving him.

“I gotcha! I won’t let you fall!” Till shouts before he starts to drag him along with Sua.

Quickly, Ivan hikes up his loose feathers, the sound of the alarm becoming deafening. They weave through the crowd, the panic taking the segyein’s attention away from them. A group of guards block the entrance as they keep shouting for the crowd that is forming to calm down. 

“Please, settle down! We just need to keep you here until we can confirm that all items are where they should be!” They call, waving their arms.

“Think we can just stay here until this blows over?” Till asks and Mizi gulps in his ear.

“We need to go now. Once they confirm stuff is gone, they’re going to search the whole premises, including all of you. You guys think you can get through?”

“Um sure.” Till mutters, eyes darting around before nodding, “Yeah.”

The nice thing about a pet human is that they are quite a bit smaller than the segyein surrounding them so on the count of three, they all took a running start before jumping and sliding between the segyein legs. The guards jump in surprise at their escape.

“Hey! Where are you going?!” They shout.

They obviously don’t stop but as Ivan gets back to his feet, he hears someone shout, “What is going on here!?”

It’s an authoritative voice that he didn’t think he’d ever hear again and he passes by a familiar hulking figure. Their eyes meet for just a second but that’s enough to send his blood into freezing as he stares at Unsha and Astra, his feet involuntarily slowing as he processes their faces. They weren’t supposed to be here. He wonders if they’ll recognize him, his breath catching in his throat as the world closes in on itself but Till yanks on his arm, ripping off his mask to really see him. Ivan’s head whips to face teal eyes and his world bursts wide open again.

“C’mon!” He calls like a siren, “Don’t slow down!”

Time freezes around Till’s handsome face and Ivan can’t help but feel almost like a princess being whisked away by his scrappy prince. The thought is corny and more than a little embarrassing but the way Till urges him forward makes him swoon and he follows quickly behind him.

Isaac yells into the comms, “Hurry your asses up! I think I can see them starting to pull out ballistics! If this ship explodes on the first damn mission, I’m going to be pissed!”

Mizi and Hyuna appear next to the three of them, Hyuna cradling a device to her chest.

“That’s what this was all for?!” Sua demands incredulously, “You set off the alarm for that?!” 

“It’ll be useful!” Hyuna argues with a pout, “Besides, this isn’t the only thing we got! We snagged like two other things!”

“Why does it seem like we keep having to run for our lives on missions?” Till groans as they dart around other ships and the brown haired woman clicks her tongue.

“That’s just you lot, most missions don’t go this way. Disaster children, all of you. You’re just unlucky, I guess.”

Mizi protests, “You were the one to set off the alarm!” 

“Yeah, unlucky! I’ve been in the rebel business much longer than you guys! I have very dexterous fingers, I would never set off the alarm otherwise.” Hyuna insists.

“Shut the fuck up and go!” Isaac interrupts loudly and they speed up as the ship comes into view.

It's already flying off the ground with the back hatch popped open and the group of them jump into the cargo hold as the guards run out with their guns, demanding that they land as the ship starts to rise into the air. Ivan pants, getting up from his knees as he tries to get his footing. The wind blows harshly from the still open hatch and his hair whips around so violently that it almost blinds him. He turns to search for the close door button when suddenly there’s a loud boom from the outside and the ship dips harshly to the left. 

His weight goes forward, his foot slipping on his stupid long feather train and suddenly he’s

Falling.

Ivan shoots past the auction house, the guards shouting but becoming just voices in the wind as he’s just free falling into the city below as the day starts to break. It’s all a little ironic with the way his feathers start ripping off of him and float by his head as he tumbles through the air like a flightless bird. Hardly the beautiful angel he’s supposed to replicate. 

(Ivan seems to fall a lot. Fall in love, fall in the sky, fall to his death. 

In all honesty, his round with Till actually did affect him. It just haunts him in a different way than it does Till, lingering like a bug crawling on his neck instead of an overwhelming choking fear.

He always knew he was going to die but when he stood backstage that day, waiting for the moment he always knew was coming, a truth that he didn’t want to acknowledge became clear: he doesn’t want to die. Perhaps it’s human nature or just his mind finally being honest minutes before the end but he was scared. There were things he never allowed himself to want, things he never allowed himself to say and all of those things were going to go to the grave with him, lost to everyone except his ghost. He was going to die unknown and be propped up as at worst, a piece of failing merchandise, or at best, a martyr. 

Ivan had been ushered onto his platform and as he felt the smooth metal under his feet, it was starkly clear he was running out of time. He had turned to Till, who was just standing on his own platform with the countdown ticking in the back and was gripping the mic like it was the only thing holding him up. It occurred to him that this will likely be the last chance Till will ever see him as him rather than a performer meant to orchestrate his death. A surge of wanting to just be seen rushed in his chest and for just one moment, he indulged it.

“Till—“ 

“Don’t.” 

Ivan’s words halted in his throat, though in truth he didn't know what he was planning on saying. He had never spoken from the heart so whatever laid in it was a mystery. It will remain that way as the wind was taken out of his sails and he looked at the tired man standing across from him. 

Till barely even faced Ivan, only his eyes sliding over to look at him as he muttered, “D-Don’t…don’t do this now… please.” 

And it hurt to be denied this one thing he wanted. But then he realized that perhaps to remain unknown to each other is a mercy on them both. Their story will end very soon. It would be cruel to try and create a new story line that would never be finished. 

So Ivan gave him his distant, performer smile and only leaking a little hint of truth, he replied, “Sorry.”  

He knew Till wouldn’t understand all that he is apologizing for but it was more for him to acknowledge all the sins he’s committed and will soon commit against his god. One day, he hoped Till would understand even a fraction of what he meant. 

Till just stared off into the distance, lost in his own misery and all he said was, “Same.” 

As the stage floor opened up and the platform started to rise, Ivan watched Till leave without a second glance and he wondered if he really was so easy to say goodbye to. Was Till really going to just let him go with only a single word? 

Maybe all Ivan was worth was single words, not speeches or sonnets or melodies. At least he got something. 

He carried that word in his chest like a little fire to keep him warm from the drenching rain. The song was cold and heavy in its weight but Ivan so badly wanted to make it beautiful. Cure was his and Till’s song, the only one they’ve ever made together and he prayed so fervently that Till would just give him this one thing. It doesn’t have to be passionate, it doesn’t even have to be good, he just wanted Till to finish it. Please, just give him this final send off. 

His god did not answer his prayer and as Ivan took in the chilling silence, he could only ruefully stare at the audience cheering while he was forsaken by the only deity he believed in. They all just wanted a spectacle.

When he turned to see Till one more time, the fire he loved so much completely snuffed out, Ivan decided then that he’d give away what was left of him. Give all the spirit and feelings he had left so that Till could use it as kindling to keep himself moving. It wasn’t much but if it could carry him to the next day, then it was enough. Taking all he had in his palm, he sets himself ablaze. 

Ivan remembers the two seconds before he hit the stage floor. It felt like each second was a new eternity, his form suspended in the air. Despite swallowing Till’s breath, he felt achingly cold as he hung in the air and took in Till’s face to get more and more distant. Even though they were so close only moments ago, Ivan realized with perfect clarity that he was going to die alone. The horrible chill — the one that has plagued his life since the moment he was born into this world but could never name — settles into his bone marrow and becomes all he feels in his final moments.

It’s only when he finally hit the ground with a wet thud did he find the name for his feeling.

Ah. I feel lonely. )

As the wind whips around him and the ship gets further away in his view, he finds himself disappointed. What a stupid way to die. At least the first time, it was meaningful. This was just a stupid accident.

At least Till can’t blame himself for this one.

He supposes that is going to have to be good enough. Ivan shuts his eyes, a sense of peace washing over him and he braces for the impact he knows won’t be pleasant. 

“IVAN!”

Snapping his eyes open, they gaze upon the sight of Till jumping off the ship and launching towards him through the sky. He can hardly believe it as he panics while Till reaches for him. His hands wrap around his own and they struggle to stabilize in the air as they spin through clouds.

“Wh—!” He sputters out as Till stretches them out, their arms creating a circle between them, “What are you doing? Now we’re both falling!”

“I’ve got you!” Till shouts back, his eyes glowing from the sunrise hitting them as he holds Ivan tightly, “I fucking told you! I promised I would never leave you on your own again!”

Ivan takes in this stupid stupid beautiful boy, the world literally turning upside down as they flip around in the air and he can’t help but feel a rush of happiness flood his senses. For a beautiful second, all Ivan can see is Till in his black suit that looks unfairly good on him and the sunrise that bathes them in a hue of vibrant oranges and pinks, the feathers dancing around them as his wings rip from him. It’s breathtaking and in a strange way, it feels like a restart for them as Till catches him instead of letting him fall.

Tears spring in his eyes and Ivan can’t help but laugh hysterically at it all. The tears fall upwards, hanging in the air like a chandelier and Ivan pulls Till closer, foreheads pressing together. 

“You did.” He whispers, his heart full. 

And Ivan believes him.

He believes him. 

Till gets quiet for a moment and Ivan peeks his eyes open, feeling a quiet warmth as Till’s eyes seem to be asking a question. One that he hears in his heart and subtly, he nods. 

Slow but earnest, lips press against his own and all becomes silent as all Ivan can focus on is the love that is being breathed into his chest, giving him life anew.

Chapter Text

The first time they had kissed had been a desperate attempt at connection and was born from an impulsive thought that Ivan needed to give Till something real before he died. He hadn’t realized what he was doing until it was already happening and by that point, the only thing Ivan could think to do was commit. It was messy and clumsy and frankly not very enjoyable for either of them. Enjoyability was not the point. It was just meant to send a message. 

That kiss had also been intended to be the last. 

Their second kiss was also not done in the best of circumstances, somehow also being moments before death as they’re hurtling to the planet's surface. But Ivan finds he enjoys this kiss immensely. Till’s lips are as soft and warm as he remembers but feeling Till pull him closer and not away sends tingles down his spine like he’s been electrocuted. Hands tangle themselves in his hair and Ivan groans blissfully at the feeling which seems to just encourage Till to kiss him deeper, driving him that much crazier. Every nerve ending buzzes with sparkling energy, his heart beating like the core of a nuclear reactor and Ivan thinks he understands all those old human metaphors about fireworks sparking behind their eyes as he sees his own exploding into beautiful teal hues. 

Eventually, the kiss ends with their lips pulling apart slowly and Ivan is left staring at Till’s beautifully happy expression. He can’t tell if the swoop in his stomach is from how smitten he is or the G-force of them falling through the sky. He looks around them, at the buildings that start to pass by them and the sunrise breaking into day, and he can see their end coming so quickly but he can’t find it in him to care. 

“What a beautiful way to die, I suppose…” Ivan whispers as he laughs tearfully into the wind as he pulls Till that much closer to him.

Till’s face twists, “Did you really think I just jumped after you with no plan?” He questions and sighs when he sees Ivan’s blank expression before reaching for a string on his chest, “I’m not going to only get to kiss you once then die. Get real!”

Till yanks on the string with a swoosh and a parachute deploys out, painting them both in a calm blue hue. His arm wraps snugly around Ivan’s waist as they start to float in the air, the manic speed of their fall slowing into something akin to leaves dancing in the air. Ivan looks at Till with sparkling eyes as the man checks to make sure the parachute is working properly, adjusting the straps and tugging on the strings. They’re both panting from the adrenaline as they slowly float closer to the city below, the wind blowing through their hair as the sunrise climbs high in the sky and all Ivan can even focus on is Till, feeling drunk on this incredible feeling of love that seems to almost bathe him head to toe. 

“Oh my hero!” He swoons teasingly, wrapping his arms around Till’s neck and leaning into his shoulder with a sappy smile, “Rescuing your angel so bravely, hm?”

Till snorts, rolling his eyes as he grabs some straps to attach Ivan securely to him, “Are you the angel?”

“I certainly look the part.”

Till pointedly looks at the feathers falling around them as he clicks on the harness, “I think more like a fallen angel at this point.”

Ivan chuckles, leaning close enough for their breaths to mingle in between them as he whispers meaningfully, “You came after this fallen angel. You saved me.”

Till stares back, his eyes darting from Ivan’s irises and his lips before he purses his lips and kisses the corner of his mouth like he’s something precious, “Always.”

It sends a zing of warmth rushing through Ivan’s cheeks and he’s not sure if he knows how to handle being loved so openly. The way Till is looking at him, with bright, loving eyes that seem to beg him to let him into his heart, his mind. 

And Ivan…he gives up. If he is honest with himself, there were moments he could’ve reached out. To take love into his hands and feel it against his skin. But perhaps he’s spent so long believing that he could never be loved that he pushed every possibility as far as possible. For Till’s sake or maybe just his own. 

But Hyuna was right. It’s not up to him. And he’s tired of denying himself.

So he pulls Till into another kiss, taking what he’s been denied for so long. Till kisses him back, sharing his enthusiasm as they move their lips against each other unhurriedly and their souls seem to sing to each other, looping into a melody that Ivan never wants to stop hearing. He lets himself want. For a future, for a dream, for more than he ever allowed himself to have.

In the sky, he finds true freedom.

From the distance, Ivan hears the sound of an engine approaching and they pull away, Till almost deliriously mumbling, “There they are.”

 Blinking, Ivan looks down to see the ship flying just below them and with a small metallic thump, their feet land on the roof, Ivan finally being able to feel steady. His legs still feel like they’re made of toothpicks but he breathes out a sigh of relief. The adrenaline rushes out of him, realizing right then how actually terrified he was and he slumps against Till, the other catching him with a slight gasp. The hatch on the roof pops open and Hyuna’s panicked face greets them as she pulls herself up.

“Holy fuck, are you guys okay?!” She shouts with wide eyes and Ivan gives her a shaky smile.

“Yes, we’re alright. Although, I think my legs aren’t working at the moment…” he replies bashfully as Till helps him hobble towards her, where she puts her strong arms around his middle and pulls him inside the ship as Till recalls the parachute, “Thank you, Hyuna.”

“Man, you’re going to give me a heart attack one of these days. Unlucky, what did I say?!” She exclaims and lightly bonks his head with her fist, making Ivan laugh like he hadn’t been hurtling to his death a few seconds ago, “Note to self, never give you people long outfits, no matter how well it’d fit the event.”

Till climbs inside, shutting the hatch with a click and sliding the rest of the way down, “I feel like that should’ve been a given.”

“It really wasn’t.” Hyuna retorts before speaking into her earpiece, “I’ve got them, let’s get out of here!”

“Thank fuck!” Isaac replies back in relief before suddenly the ship lurches as Ivan feels the engine fire hard and they speed away.

“Thank you for catching us.” Ivan says into the earpiece and he smiles as he hears Isaac huff an incredulous laugh.

“Didn’t think I’d have to but thank god I did.” He says through the whirring of the engine, “Don’t go jumping off anything else for a while, okay? For my sake.”

“Understood.” Ivan replies back with some humour.

Hyuna sighs, thumping him on the back as she holds her chest, “You fucking scared me.”

“In all fairness, it wasn’t intentional.”

“I know, still.” She checks him over, brushing her fingers through his hair and holding his arm up before doing the same to Till, “You okay?”