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"And... action!" a loud click marks the beginning of the scene.
The mind instantly empties of the thoughts that filled it all day before. Now it is blissfully quiet, while the actor's entire attention is focused on the game.
The slow, melodic voice of his scene partner fills the space. You want to close your eyes and enjoy the moment - which he allows himself, exhaling briefly.
The image of the guy penetrates his mind even through closed eyelids - haunting him as well as his character.
The lyrics of the song fill his veins, spreading like a drug through his blood, until he begins to breathe in the rending, consuming meaning that lies within their interaction.
He remembers the storyboards he showed earlier, thinks about what the audience will see on the other side of the screen, and feels how melancholy fills his being.
Finally, he gets his signal. The heels of his boots barely click on the studio floor as he walks forward, toward the microphone, so innocently placed before him, as if the scene would not break the hearts of millions.
Hands touch him almost weightlessly before squeezing him tightly. His voice is steady and steady as the lines flow out of him, complementing his partner.
He thinks about his character, lets it get under his skin, as deep as his own love. His voice rises at the right moment, and he notices the director nodding contentedly. Last time here he lost his temper, but this time it was fine.
He wants to look at the other guy, but he doesn't allow himself to. He knows how he should look at this moment: dull, sad eyes directed at the floor.
The other guy's voice fills the space again. The rain has finally turned on, so now it hits their heads unpleasantly, adding great effect to the scene, from which the actor himself is about to break his own heart.
Finally, the final chord comes.
He turns his head and looks at his partner, so devoid of light and sparkle of life that his heart squeezes somewhere deep in his chest. He frowns for just a moment and lets go of the microphone, enjoying the sound of it crashing behind him.
Confident steps carry him forward. The other one turns to look at him, his eyes widening in surprise when cold hands grab his face.
He wants to be gentle, but the scene does not allow for it, so he roughly pulls the guy to himself and kisses him, pouring out all the longing, despair and love so deep that even the actor feels it.
And then… his hands squeeze the other's neck in a way that he knows (as he made sure he remembered for sure) is safe. Not a trace will remain on the pale skin after the end of filming.
A moment that seems like an eternity - and the fake blood stains the elegant white suit, and he himself twitches skillfully, but does not loosen his grip.
Only a little later he allows himself a weak, last gentle kiss on dry, bitten lips.
And falls.
"Cut!"
"God, Ivan, you are getting better and better," his partner laughs and still sounds a little battered.
His hand is cold when Ivan grabs it and gets to his feet, water runs off him and leaves an unpleasant feeling of cold on his skin.
The film crew immediately appears nearby, surrounding them on both sides, while the past scene is checked by experienced eyes.
"You are not bad yourself, I almost believed that you are not acting, Till" he answers contentedly, while the clinging jacket is pulled off him.
A warm blanket immediately appears on top, pleasantly warming the body, which begins to shiver.
"10-minute break! Ivan, to the dressing room."
He casts a longing glance at his partner, so thirsty for their conversations after scenes, but constantly forced to avoid them, but Till only grins and waves his hand, driving him away.
"You're evil," Ivan pouts and hurries to change his shirt for a clean one.
And never, except for scenes with Till, has he changed clothes so quickly, hurrying back like a lost puppy to its owner, wagging its tail.
And Till invariably laughs and pushes him, cold and still slightly wet, away from himself. And before Ivan has time to pout, they wrap the blanket tighter on him until he can't move his arms.
"Warm up, fool."
The crew is running around, cleaning the stage, preparing new blood for the final act, and setting up the lights. Ivan can't bring himself to focus on them for more than a few moments. Till is in front of him, staring at his script, scowling but so bright, captivating, making his breath freeze deep in his chest.
Green eyes, so inviting to dive into their world, look up at him after the strangled sound he couldn't hold back. Ivan thinks he should be embarrassed, but he can't bring himself to, not with how enchanting Till looks. Not with the way his hair is stuck to his forehead from the fake rain, and his tongue keeps wetting his lips, bitten by his terrible habit.
Ivan looks up when he realizes he's been looking at someone else's lips for too long. Till grins when he catches his eye. He's probably blushing.
“We’re not on stage, you know,” Till whispers slyly and leans closer.
Ivan, with a distant part of his consciousness, understands that he is following his movement, so that the distance waiting for them, it's getting shorter and shorter.
"A rehearsal is never a bad idea," he forces himself to exhale, almost afraid to tear his gaze away.
"Smart thoughts," the other's lips say and remain slightly parted.
"Ivan, Till, enough of this coquetry at work! I'll cut your break short now and you'll go to work right away!"
Ivan pouts while Till laughs, his eyes sparkling.
"Maybe we should get back to work, huh? There's at least one nice scene there, for sure," Till smiles.
"Did I hurt your neck?" Ivan suddenly recalls and feels the stress return to him tenfold.
Till just waves him off, shrugging.
"Perfect, as always."
And Ivan is left wondering whether Till means his actions or something else.
***
Despite everything, playing his character doesn't get any easier the more often he does it. Seeing Till across from him, tired and accepting his death, shakes him to the core every time.
Luckily, their filming usually doesn't take long enough for Ivan to feel completely drained. Hugging a partner at the end of the day definitely helps relieve some of the tension, and days when they go to a nice restaurant shoulder to shoulder are even more relaxing.
Since the release of the previous episodes, they have been recognized on the street many times more often. Both guys' previous films were successful, but never so much that it caused discomfort. Now the bar is steadily raised, the more popular the released episodes become, but Ivan must admit that he is looking forward to what will happen after the release of the sixth.
For now, he enjoys the fact that people don't come up to him with red eyes from crying (not yet), but their comments about the touching nature of Black Sorrow really make him appreciate the past filming. Till is approached more often, it should be noted, but it is especially funny when they are both recognized. Ivan is enjoying the game of whether the person who approaches them thinks their characters are a couple or not (and if they do, whether they'll mention it to the actors).
This time, their walk to the restaurant goes surprisingly smoothly, with almost no stops for fans. Till is pouting, but Ivan knows he's equally happy with the peace and the popularity.
Today, their choice of couples is a Mexican place with discreet but pleasant enough music, so they both happily choose a place with a view of the city, conveniently hidden behind the high backs of soft chairs.
Till gets himself fajitas, but asks for them to be spicy, and Ivan is horrified that the other guy's taste buds are still functioning. He limits himself to a classic quesadilla. For dessert, they get churros - fried strips of choux pastry with chocolate sauce, which is what made Ivan try them. Till waves his hand and instead chooses drinks for them, which Ivan has completely missed, so all he can do is trust the other.
"So, just a little bit and we'll be famous!" Till smirks, looking him in the eye.
Ivan would turn away, but he can't bring himself to look away.
"We're already famous, Till," he reminds him gently, "do I have to remind you that this isn't your first job?"
"Yeah, but this is the first one that's worked out. And I know it's the same for you," the guy adds, leaning closer.
Ivan is beginning to think that sitting next to each other instead of across from each other was a mistake. But he thinks that if he had the chance, he'd do it again. Seeing Till's eyes light up in the dim light of the restaurant is worth everything.
It's not worth guessing that Ivan's crush is stupidly similar to his character - deep, desperate, and quiet.
He gives no signs to the other, except for their flirtation, which could just as well be friendly, does not bother him or try to do anything.
Ivan is quite content to watch his lover from the sidelines. Seeing him laugh, how his eyes sparkle with a wide smile, hearing how enthusiastically he talks about his new passion makes him sigh dreamily, like a princess locked in a tower, but it is filled with a sweet rather than a sorrowful longing.
To be able to kiss him, even if it is within the framework of their characters' farewell before the death of one - is enough for him, but even so, he would happily continue to live without such an intimate interaction.
Till is a bright star in his life, and having him as a friend is valuable in a way that cannot be described.
"I can't wait for the world to see this episode!" Ivan is brought back to reality by the voice of his lover, "can you imagine what emotions everyone will have?"
"We will be able to take baths in their tears," he smiles and enjoys the loud, happy laughter of the other.
"Exactly!"
They fall silent for a moment, enough to catch their breath.
"Where are you going after this job?" Till asks calmly, leaning back in his chair.
And Ivan can only shrug.
There, where you are, he would like to say, but even for their friendly, completely frivolous flirtation, this seems too emotional.
"I suppose I'll see how they will offer me roles," he muses instead, "I think I'll visit my family for a couple of days, I haven't seen them for a couple of years, it seems."
"And I thought I was your family," Till grins, but Ivan sees a spark of understanding in his eyes, an approving nod, so he doesn't think to be offended.
"What, do you want to go with me?" he offers coquettishly and watches as the stranger's eyes close for a moment, a fire smoldering in the depths.
Till looks at him, thoughtfully, almost questioningly, but says nothing. And Ivan wasn't expecting it, so the smile on his lips doesn't waver.
"What about you?" he asks as soon as the waiter brings them dishes on a tray.
"I think I'll look for something humorous," Till answers thoughtfully, "this role is too serious. I need to relax a little. Maybe I'll even look for romance, what do you think?"
His tone is strange, almost challenging, but Ivan only shakes his head gently, never wanting to assume anything that is not usually there.
"I think it will suit you. Your one-sided love with Mizi is fine, but I would like to see you fully armed."
"Really?"
Till leans towards him again, almost lower. His voice drops, so much so that Ivan might call it seductive, if he had a little more confidence.
"Of course. Eat before it gets cold."
They pause for a moment to enjoy their food. Ivan tries not to look at Till, not because it would excite him too much, as their fans have written in particularly striking works, but because he is not sure if he can calmly watch the torture of inanimate products on live television, especially one so spicy that he can almost physically feel the heat from the spices.
His quesadilla is spicy enough to make him exhale hesitantly a couple of times, but he doesn't want to tear out his mucous membranes in an attempt to gulp down the cold breeze.
Till clearly doesn't have such problems, judging by the pleased sounds he makes when the meat touches his tongue.
Ivan takes a sip of what Till ordered for them and is pleasantly surprised to recognize the chicha, the taste of which spreads across his tongue, pleasantly soothing the spiciness of the quesadilla.
Next to him, his partner grumbles discontentedly that they haven't clinked glasses, but Ivan just casually waves him off, returning his attention to the food.
A couple of sips later, he exhales contentedly and sinks into his seat.
"Do you like the pairing of your character with Mizi?" he asks thoughtfully to Till, who pauses to look at him questioningly. "I just can't get rid of the thought that they are rather sad characters. And all of them, don't you think?" Mizi and Sua, and the ones that were in love didn't last long because...
"Yeah," Till interrupts, nodding knowingly, "but if you ask me, the answer is no, it's not like that with Mizi. Starting with the fact that I basically just exalt her as an absolute goddess, even though she's not one, ending with the fact that it's not mutual. And that's sad. And besides..."
He pauses for a moment to take a sip of his own chicha, and nods proudly.
"Besides," Ivan encourages when the other falls silent for a suspiciously long time.
"Besides, there aren't enough relationships between girls shown on screen these days. I'm quite happy with Mizi and Sua. Even if they're tragic."
"Like ours, aren't they?" Ivan smiles, and only later realizes how ambiguous that sounded.
In the end, from his point of view, it is still tragic.
Till looks at him thoughtfully and somehow cautiously, but nods slowly.
"Right."
They finish their lunch, which is more like dinner, which is two bites of Till in silence, leaving the chicha.
Ivan looks at it thoughtfully, but cannot bring himself to take another sip. Till clearly does not have such a problem, but he refrains in his presence, for which Ivan is undoubtedly grateful.
They pay for the dinner, splitting the bill in half, and leave a generous tip for the waitress, who nods at them goodbye.
By this time it has already gotten dark outside and has become noticeably cooler, so that Ivan is forced to shiver from the wind rushing into his face. Till is no better next to him, but the fresh air drives away the barely noticeable intoxication that has begun to appear from the drink.
The two boys walk shoulder to shoulder past the shops and restaurants that send a pleasant glow out onto the street, and the silence between them is comfortable, despite the difficult conversation earlier. Gradually, they begin to communicate again, but now it is filled not with work and their characters, but with themselves, and it feels like something warm, like something familiar.
“My mother always noticed how fond I was of singing, so it was only a matter of time before she would do something about it. So I ended up in a music school. I hated it.”
“Really?” Ivan laughs and can easily imagine how little Till stubbornly crosses his arms over his chest in front of the teacher, refusing to follow her instructions.
“Yeah. I hated the rules and thought I knew better than anyone. Thanks to the teacher, she was a saintly woman with the appropriate patience and was able to make something out of me.”
“A woman like that is needed now to work with you,” Ivan smiles broadly and respects turns away from someone else's fist, even if the owner's eyes are shining with joy.
"Really? And I hear this from my best partner?" Till grins.
"Go ahead, try to appease me, I can see this move from afar!"
"Damn, you figured me out," he laughs.
As soon as they calm down and come closer to each other, Till still hits him on the back of the head, and Ivan is left to grumble.
Gradually, the street, filled with shops and restaurants, flows into the embankment, where it only gets colder, but the view is so beautiful, so mesmerizing, that neither of the guys complains and continues to move forward.
The light from the lanterns falls on the water surface and amazingly sparkles on it, creating bizarre patterns.
Till and Ivan stop at the fence to admire the opening view. Goosebumps run down their bodies from the cold, but none of that matters when it feels like they're just a tiny dot in the entire universe.
"You know," Till begins quietly, almost secretly.
Ivan turns to him, though the other continues to stare stubbornly at the water, as if nervous about what he's about to say.
But Ivan can't pay attention to it, not with how enchanting Till looks in the barely visible sun, while only a pale lantern illuminates his face, making him almost unearthly in his desire to touch something divine.
He forces himself to concentrate.
"I've been telling my mother all about what a great partner I have on set, so... If you wanted, she wouldn't mind... And what's wrong, she's eager to see you."
And if that's what Till was worried about, then it was all for nothing, because Ivan feels delight lighting up every cell of his body. He touches the other's shoulder and squeezes it confidently, urging him to look at him. Till raises his head, but looks rather at Ivan's cheek - he doesn't mind, because it means his smile is visible.
"Of course I don't mind, Till," he answers quietly, preciously, "I myself will be delighted to meet her."
For a moment there is silence between them, which no one wants to break.
Till's cheeks blush for an inexplicable (very explicable, but he doesn't want to hope) reason, and his eyes finally meet Ivan's own.
"You know..."
And he falls silent again, and the anticipation is burning in Ivan. He can't stop the smile, which only gets bigger. And Till blushes even more, looking at him fascinated, as if he can't look away, no matter how much he wants to.
"Yes?" Ivan answers, hardly more than a sigh.
"If you didn't mind... I would really, really like to kiss you right now."
To say that Ivan seemed to have ascended right now is to say nothing. If it were up to him, he would dance right now, would shout to the whole world about his indescribable happiness, but he limits himself to leaning closer and as soon as his lips form "yes", strangers immediately cover them.
The kiss is cold, surrounded by a biting wind, but what makes it perfect is that it is Till who has paid attention to Ivan, despite the fact that he was quite content to keep these feelings secret.
To receive an answer now seems like a gift that he did not dare to dream about even in his most secret fantasies.
And despite the cold around him, his heart beats with such force that winter might never come - he is so warm.
The word 'delight' doesn't quite describe the depth of his emotions, not with the way he's almost shaking with happiness now that his hands can touch the other's shoulders in a possessive way, move down and wrap around his waist, pulling Till close and enjoying his sighs.
"Even better than I imagined," Till breathes as soon as he's able to pull away.
His eyes are shining with a love that surely matches Ivan's. Till looks at him and can't help but peck, quick kisses that leave them both laughing.
And maybe their story isn't so tragic after all.