Chapter Text
✿✿✿
Contentment was a strange state of being, where the body was at peace, the heart still beating, and the mind intact. Only an ungrateful soul would deny such a blessing; only an ungrateful soul would want more. And yet, the emptiness remained. The gaping hole in his chest made it impossible to feel anything beyond a begrudging sense of peace.
Till exhaled slowly, fogging the insides of his helmet. Using his index finger, he pressed his sternum, drawing a circle until he could breathe again. He carved a cavity in Till's chest. Replaced his heart and took away any semblance of happiness. Till wanted to put him to rest, to remember and to cherish, but no matter how hard he tried, the wound he left behind wouldn't heal. So, being pragmatic, he simply accepted the scars and assumed it was enough. The restlessness and deeply unfathomable misery became normalcy. He learned to move, despite the gaping hole in his heart. It was nauseating at first, but it helped steady his steps forward. He was prepared to live a whole life with just that fucking contentment.
"You alright there, kid?" Isaac asked, placing a hand on Till's jittery shoulders.
Till nodded, drawing another circle on his chest until the tightness loosened. This was his idea; the least he could do was avoid jeopardising the mission.
"You can sit this one out," Isaac continued. The helmet concealed Till's expressions, but he was still an easy read. "It's not too late. Head back to Zoe, and I'll retrieve the remains."
Till inhaled sharply; no one was going to take this moment of catharsis away from him. Not even his broken mind. Not even the weight pressing down on him. He felt the collar’s pressure around his neck and shook it off as he signed. “I'm going to burn this place down and take him back.”
"Suit yourself," Isaac gave him another pat, and the force knocked the wind from his lungs. “But if you stumble again, I'll make the executive decision to send you back.” The warning was sharply administered. Isaac pulled his mask on and loaded the gun. The area was abandoned, but paranoia was too ingrained. He had lost too many rebels to carelessness.
They were hidden behind the metallic door. According to the scouts, the guard rotation left thirty minutes of unsupervised corridors. It gave them ample time to enter, disarm, and disrupt the institute. Till hadn't seen Anakt since his graduation. He expected to feel a vague sense of nostalgia, but instead, only bitter regrets laced his forsaken tongue. The unease worsened with every step towards the place once called home. It loomed over his mind like an ominous shadow. Enlarged beyond comprehension, while the reality was a rusty box filled with artificial constructs. Pets trained under passive eyes, awaiting their end, blissfully ignorant or deliberately compliant. Inactive dolls propped up for the aliens' amusement. Yet, it was the happiest he'd been. It was painful to remember those days filled with naivety.
Time mercifully lessened the vividness. He mostly remembered the faint emotions, not the faces of those lost. Slowly, the children of the Garden became a memory too painful to mourn, and too precious to forget. He just lived with it.
That was all he could do. Live and breathe. After all, life was a commodity granted to him after a great sacrifice.
Gunshots echoed through the vacant walls. Till quietly followed Isaac, making way towards the Garden. Before burning it down, Till wanted to retrieve something. He wanted to go alone for the search, but Isaac, always the begrudgingly kindred soul, insisted on accompanying him. Not that Till could blame him. He almost had a panic attack when they mentioned burning the Garden. Not because he was sentimentally attached to the place, but because his remains were still there. Then the thought of his remains just crippled the better part of Till’s composure. In a matter of seconds, he was on the floor, drowning, until Isaac talked him through it. Again.
It had been eight years. Eight forsaken years, and he still couldn't part with the grief. Deep down, in his heart with a gaping hole, he knew the grief was welcomed; it remembered him.
“Zoe should've cleared out the base,” Isaac noted, looking into the empty Garden from behind the screen. “I must say this is a depressing place. It's like the aliens found pleasure in mimicking humanity.” Once Till had discovered the clone children, many operations were carried out to save the rest. The stage wasn't reconstructed, but its influence never left, nor did the alien’s fascination with human misery. They made clones of contestants for display, a sick memorial for the final stage.
“Children.” Till signed. “They took in helpless children. The outside world didn't exist for us.” Bile rose in his throat. He figured there was a provider who brought him into this world. But he couldn't remember them. The scent of stale algae hung in the air. Nature always showed its mark.
Isaac tapped on the thick glass. “It's so unnaturally built. Didn’t even try to replicate actual trees with plastic.” He was bothered. Till’s past was a mystery to the rebels. Rarely were they allowed to glimpse at it.
“Kid, watch your back,” Isaac instructed as they entered the Garden. It was illuminated but thoroughly abandoned. Time decayed it, purposeless without children to consume. “Where are they buried?” He asked, studying Till for any sign of distress.
Till was unnaturally quiet. He simply stared at the space around him and realised just how small it was. His memories were painted with grandeur and horror, but in reality, it was just another glass box. He equated happiness with the time spent in this blank canvas, but deep down, he was miserable and merely coped through delusions. Sometimes, even now, he struggled to separate the sharpness of reality from the comforting hallucinations. It was hard to breathe. He repeated the ritual until the tightness in his chest eased, then gave Isaac a thumbs-up. “They buried us around the star-shaped trees.” Till signed with shaky hands. Hopefully, their ashes were buried, as there weren't any children left to scatter them upon. The weight behind his ribs worsened, pressing inwards, as it refused to relent. Breathing always became an arduous task.
“Let's go then.” Isaac glanced around the abandoned landscape. “We don’t have much time left.”
The Anakt Garden was abandoned, but it still held sentimental value. The alert was issued, and reinforcements were expected. They had to burn it down and retreat before the Blackjackets came. Unlike the guards, the Blackjackets were lethal. A mission was only deemed successful when no lives were lost. There were ten rebels, including them, who needed to depart before unnecessary risk arrived.
Team A, led by Zoe, included most of the rebels. Their primary task was to fill the place with explosives. While Team B, led by Isaac, contained a very agitated Till. They were supposed to retrieve anyone left behind. The retrieval wasn't just for the living beings. Unofficially, all of them knew who Till wanted to bring back. None had the heart to tell him otherwise; they had witnessed his ultimate tragedy. Sometimes, Till forgot it was a broadcast, even when it felt woefully personal. It was insanity-inducing. Many faces knew him intimately, but couldn't comprehend his artery-rupturing pain. Helmets became a blessing in multiple ways.
“You should get her.” Till signed, he knew the exact expression Isaac made despite the mask: he wasn't pleased with the suggestion. Since the mission started, the rebels refused to leave Till alone. They couldn't comprehend the extent of his emotions, but were familiar with the aftermath. The care warmed his empty heart. “We don’t have time. Let me get him, and we’ll meet at the entrance.” He insisted until Isaac finally relented.
“Call for me if you—” Isaac trailed off, rubbing the front of his mask. “You’re not alone.” He signed with enough emphasis on every word. It was the first gesture Isaac had taught him. And, reinforced it every chance he got.
Till nodded and quickly signed. “I am fine.” It was an obvious lie. He had a family who cared for his well-being, and he despised being a burden to them. Isaac sighed and signalled towards their destination. The canopy of star-shaped trees lingered ominously. Nestled between them was an abstract being made from stone, whom they called the Great Anakt. They were moulded to worship their oppressors, unlike Till, who had sustained bruises for his refusal to accept anything without a fight. But even then, he wasn't any different. Just lucky enough to be worth something to him.
The atmosphere was eerily silent, except for the sound of his boot crushing the fake grass. Each step reverberated across the hollow space and came back wrong. Ahead stood the star-shaped tree. In his peripheral vision, he saw shadows running away, and the laughter of children filled the horizon. He’d given up on distinguishing between reality and the constructs of his deteriorated mind. The taste of rust was fresh on his tongue, as the Garden bloomed into macabre. Memories flooded, aiming to compromise his sanity.
Till found the tree with a mismatched ground. The synthetic soil was torn up and then pressed back down. An unmarked grave for the boy who bled on the scene. He was gravely nauseous as he dug, each motion sending a fresh wave of sickness in his gut. The soil came up in uneven clumps, slipping through his hands. Till's breath shortened, and the knot in his chest tightened. His heart raced loudly, drowning out the apprehension. The edges of his vision dimmed until all he saw was the hole and his shaking hands. They were short on time. He needed to retain control.
Till felt his weight before the velvety voice echoed, You finally came back for me. I can almost mistake it for sympathy. His arms wrapped around his waist, and white clothes covered his body. The rain pelted on his skin, and the scent of rust filled his nostrils. It had been so long since he came back so vividly. It almost delighted him. Till’s body shook as the dead held onto him. Don’t you feel bad for me? I can see the face you’re making right now. There was a time when hatred and anger consumed him. But now, all he felt was unfathomable grief that clung to him like a second skin. He touched the cold hand encompassing his abdomen.
“I kne… come…” Till rasped. The uncontrollable itch crawled around his neck, but was obstructed by the protective gear and turtleneck.
The obsidian eyes refused to leave him. Till always drowned in them. The red sparks ignited like a meteor shower, splitting the night sky.
Eight long years had changed Till, but he remained the same. Always a boy who smirked while holding back everything, until the rain drenched him thoroughly. Till was older than him. The realisation was a dagger through his wounded heart. I waited for you. But I imagine you had better things to do. The voice teased him, always wanting a reaction. There was a time when Till hated the monster in his head and wished he’d disappear. Now, he ached to hold that boy again.
Till’s thumb drew circles on his cold hand. A hollow laugh scraped his chest. What’s so funny? Tell me. The boy asked, brimming with childlike curiosity. The helmet started suffocating him. Fresh tears trailed down his face, and he tasted despair again. It was rotten and heartbreakingly familiar. “Missed… yo…” His voice came out tattered. The sincerity of the declaration stopped any retort on his tongue.
The silver disk came into view. Till pulled on it and ruined his gloves. Even nicked two fingers. Red blood pooled into the synthetic soil. The disk was marked in an alien language, but he was familiar with it and knew whose name it spelt. His breathing shortened again. Cold sweat broke out on his spine. For a terrifying second, his body almost gave out.
Till swallowed hard, forcing himself to remain steady. The disk was held tightly against his chest. Is that so? I almost believed you. The voice reverberated against Till's clipped ear.
“...lieve me…” Till sobbed out, desperately clutching the dirt-filled disk. It was his lifeline. Without it, the world around him was shrouded in darkness. He was on the stage again, witnessing the moment when he bled out. “M… sorry.” The pressure around his neck became unbearable. “I'm sor… Iva...n.” The name slipped from his mouth like a transgression. Who gave him the right to say it? And yet, a twisted part of him took comfort in being the only one who could.
His own voice felt foreign. Sometimes, he forgot what it even sounded like. Once, his voice had mattered more than life itself. Now, he couldn’t force out a single word without misery clinging to it.
On autopilot, his body moved. He had a mission to complete.
✿
The explosion tore through the institute in a blinding flash. The heat and force rippled outwards like a violent spark. Fire swallowed pristine walls and artificial sky alike, and for a split second, the blaze illuminated smiling children caught in its fury. Their hands lifted together as their laughter faded into silence. Their colours burned away, then joy dissolved into smoke. The ground jumped, and debris rained down. The structure collapsed in on itself, taking the last traces of rot with it.
They were already moving. The vehicle tore away from the blast, engine screaming as gunfire followed almost immediately. The bullet cracked against the metal, but their escape was imminent. They narrowly escaped the Blackjackets, whose vehicles tried to chase them. The rebels were haphazardly packed inside, as Dewey wrenched the wheel, swerving hard to avoid fire and bullets. Screams erupted inside as the tyres skidded on the roadside. The other rebels had departed before them and hopefully avoided the chaos.
No one was compromised. The mission was successful enough.
Till refused to look at the burning Garden. Behind them, fire climbed into the sky, all-consuming, like the souls who sought salvation. He was so fucking sick. There was no catharsis, just another lull of despair.
“Well, that was fun,” Dewey whistled, slowing the vehicle down. “Guys?” He looked over and found his enthusiasm entirely unreciprocated.
“Fun, my ass,” Zoe exclaimed, clutching her injured hand. “I almost saw the light flash before my eyes.” She grumbled, kicking Dewey’s seat.
“We were being shot at,” Dewey protested, taking another hard turn that disrupted his companions.
Till sat in silence, clutching the disk to his chest. The worst of the tears had already passed, leaving his face raw. His expression was emptied by exhaustion. He had taken the helmet off and was grateful no one asked about the mess. The numbness settled in heavily, and the pressure in his chest refused to ease. Even now, even with the tears gone, he was suffocated.
“I’m going to be sick,” Isaac murmured, covering his mouth. He couldn't stand sitting in moving vehicles, especially when the driver was intent on welcoming death. His skin was pale, making the scar running across his face more pronounced. Despite his condition, he passed the handkerchief to their youngest companion wordlessly. Till accepted it, but was too numb to wipe away the tears.
“It wasn't worth the hassle. We shouldn’t waste resources on giving them a fuck you,” Zoe sighed, leaning into the seat. She was a tall woman with jet-black hair and a burn covering half her face. Even then, her lilac eyes shone like stars in a clear night. Her hand was injured while intercepting the guards. “No offence, but I feel our efforts should only focus on the living.” She was particularly agitated about this mission.
“We want to give our people hope. And, burning their Garden down does that,” Isaac argued, tapping his fingers on the window.
“Hope isn’t worth pointless sacrifices," Zoe countered, as the unease settled over them. “Do you truly believe that, or simply want to follow Hyuna’s ideals?” Her voice was too tight.
Till barely registered half of what they said; instead, he nestled the disk against his chest. The rebels left his past alone, and he returned the courtesy. Then the fear hit him. He’d gotten the boy back; surely there was a price to pay? He didn’t notice how violently his body shuddered until Zoe touched his shoulder. He nearly jumped, heart jolting in his chest.
“Calm down, kid.” Zoe assessed the situation; concern filled her crisp voice. Despite the bite of her logic, she was family and spoke from a place of care. “You’re not in that place anymore. You’re with us.” Her gesture didn't help much, but at least it pulled Till back from the abyss of his gaze.
“Sorry for being a liability.” Till signed, messing up half the words. He was still too rattled, and his silhouette loomed over him. It was impossible to focus on anything when he wanted attention. Are you ready to say goodbye to me? I thought you missed me. Till bit his lip, remembering the people around him. His family knew he was messed up in the head, but he spared them the gruesome details.
“Till, you’re being too hard on yourself,” Mia reassured, a kind smile on her face, turning back to observe him. She was the designated medic and had treated far too many self‑inflicted wounds on his body. Sometimes—especially now—Till couldn’t meet her eyes. “But if you feel like you need assistance, you know where to find me.” It was a polite gesture. He appreciated it, but no part of him wanted to share that misery. It was his burden to withhold. “Zoe, make sure to see me once we’re at HQ. I pray nothing is broken.” The woman in question begrudgingly nodded.
“What are you going to do with them?” Isaac asked, nudging at the disk on his lap. It was her.
“What would he want you to do with his ashes?” Dewey asked, ignoring the scowl on Isaac's face. When it came to him, they treated Till like a fragile shard of glass, ready to hurt, ready to shatter.
Till looked at him and saw the fake smile on his face. The smile he always hated. What did he want? No matter how much Till tried to understand, parts of him simply never made sense. He was family, he was important, but did Till truly understand the boy behind the mask? It was nauseatingly obvious how little he knew. Still, he was familiar with his antics and their irritatingly disruptive nature. That was him, nonetheless.
“He would want me to eat them,” Till mouthed, too exhausted to sign. The part about him wanting to live inside Till was left unsaid. Eating the ashes would've achieved that.
“The hell?” Isaac gasped, “No way you’re doing that.”
“What did he say?” Dewey asked, too curious.
“Something about eating,” Zoe supplied, holding back a half-hearted laugh.
“The ashes?” Mia turned fully back, prepared to scold.
“No way,” Dewey laughed, “You gonna eat his ashes? That’s actually so romanti—” Zoe’s kick stopped him. “I mean, bad for your health,” he said, clearing his throat. “Totally bad, don’t do that, Tilly.”
“You asked me what he wanted, and that’s my best guess.” Till signed, grumbling at the reaction. They didn’t know him. The mask concealed most of his obscene actions, and even more, it shielded the fragile, broken parts he refused to acknowledge. The thought only sullied Till’s mood. He slouched forward and wrapped his arms around his knees. I always showed you myself, but you weren't interested in seeing. He murmured, a child now, big black eyes staring at him. Almost accusatory, and Till knew he deserved that.
“Dewey, look, you made the kid sad again,” Zoe exclaimed, pressing the handkerchief on Till's stained face.
“What do I do?” Dewey mumbled and almost struck a bystander. Mia was quick enough to pull the wheel. The vehicle skidded across the car, and several curses were thrown his way. It was a long ride back to HQ.
Till had a family now.
It should've been enough.