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Shrill laughter and loud music. Blinding lights, juggling between colors and dimming the walls of the room. The vile taste of blood in his mouth. An unpleasant hand placed on his head, so large that it could make it explode in seconds. It stroked his hair as it would with a toy, without any gentleness or care.
Till tried as best he could to maintain some semblance of consciousness despite his troubled mind. His entire body was in agony and pain from what he just endured, and only the burning hatred that was swallowing him whole and forming a knot in the pit of his stomach helped him keep his eyes open, glaring at the things moving and talking together.
Till couldn't even name them, these things with their monstrous appearance and horrible laughter. These things had now taken control of the Earth, overthrowing the omnipotence of men and reducing to nothing the belief of a god up in the sky. Leaving the men at their service, with nothing but the status of a pet. But Till could not accept such a fate; perhaps it was foolish of him to show resistance, but he couldn't silence his hatred and outrage towards them.
As his vision began to blur, he almost thought he saw a white, soft, innocent light appear in front of him. His eyes rested on the beaming woman with pink hair, holding out her hand to him with a warm smile, her lips whispering something his ringing ears couldn't decipher. It was before his strength left him that he stretched out his hand too, before it fell back on the ground, his body completely collapsing too, silently, not even earning a look from the aliens near him.
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Light entered the room as Ivan slowly opened the door as silently as he could. His eyes immediately landed on Till, lying against the sofa, unconscious, his collar on his mouth. Without a sound, his steps guided him to his shining star, and his heart began to drum almost violently and painfully against his chest when he was able to take a better look at the other man. Till's oh so angelic face was wounded—a cut on his cheek, a bruise on his jaw. His hair was a mess, as were his clothes, and the more Ivan looked at it, the more his face hardened.
His hand reached out to his collar, freeing him from it and letting it rest on the ground before he gently cupped Till's cheek in a soft gesture. Even in his sleep, Till almost seemed to suffer; his breathing was unsteady, almost shaken, and his eyebrows were furrowed, as if he were having a terrible nightmare. Ivan watched it all silently, the warm palm of his hand still pressed against his cheek, his thumb slightly stroking his skin.
Words couldn't convey how much Ivan wanted to kiss his pain away, or how badly he wanted to wrap his arms around him and hold him close to his chest, close to his heart. How much he wanted Till to lean against his touch, how much he wanted to tell him that he would be okay, that he wasn't as alone as he thought he was. But Till wasn't his, and Till didn't need these gestures or these words from him. So Ivan stayed quiet. He stayed quiet as his hand softly turned Till's face towards him. He stayed quiet when he pressed his nose against his cheek, softly exhaling against his skin and nuzzling against him. He stayed quiet when he pulled Till's body closer to him, lightly embracing him.
Ivan only wanted to see Till a very last time before their round, before they would sing a song together, before one of them died. But seeing Till in such a state was unbearable to him, and he didn't have it in him to leave him here alone. So, after lightly rubbing his cheek against his, Ivan slowly moved his hand, now resting on his back, and wrapped his other arm around Till's knees to lift him up, holding him carefully. He took a moment to kick roughly the collar at his feet before finally leaving the room unseen.
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When Till regained his consciousness, he found himself resting on a bed in a completely white room. Everything was too bright, too quiet for him, and when his eyes started scanning the room, a sudden sense of panic overwhelmed him. A completely white room. Medical objects here and there. The chair he used to be tied to when these things amused themselves with experiences involving his blood and human flesh. Till suddenly tried to get up, to escape from here, but his legs were still too weak to support him, his body still aching, and with no surprise, he fell to the ground once more, a groan escaping his lips.
Steps were heard outside the room, and Till wished he was still lying unconscious on this bed. Fear paralyzed him, panic almost made him choke, and he was trying his best to breathe correctly, in and out, falling miserably. And when the door slowly opened, he immediately shut his eyes and rested his forehead against the ground, almost praying that these things weren't in a bad mood.
“...Till ?”
A deep, concerned voice came to his ears, and Till almost thought he imagined it. That thought faded when he heard a few more steps, strong arms picking him up, his face momentarily finding itself against a chest before he was placed back into the bed. He came face-to-face with Ivan when he raised his head, the latter looking at him quietly as he placed his hand against his forehead for a few seconds before stepping back.
“...Why-”
“.Why am I here?”
Till asked, cutting him off, his gaze alternating between anger and fear. Ivan had always been inscrutable to him; he was one of the only humans here who had never put up any resistance to these things, even being treated rather well by them. He had been one of the only children who always acted calm and almost robotic. And despite his semblance of calmness, Till was always terrified by something that shone in his eyes every time he looked at him.
Ivan reached his hand out, and Till couldn't help but flinch for a moment before feeling a warm palm against his cheek, his eyes immediately shaking at the gentle touch.
“They're not here. I found you alone in a room so I took you here.”
The other man's thumb was slightly stroking one of Till's bruises as he responded, and soon, his hand left his cheek and was replaced by something colder.
“Stay still.” Muttered Ivan as he was carefully applying some ointment to his bruises.
It was at this moment that Till noticed the care kit on the bed that wasn't here before. Till also noticed the concerned look on Ivan's face as he was trying his best not to hurt him, his fingers carrying all the softness of the world when they were pressed against his skin, as if he were scared to touch him, to break him. Heat rose to Till's cheeks, and he grabbed Ivan's wrist to stop him. The latter immediately looked at him, a little confused.
“Did I hurt you?”
This question almost made Till tremble, realizing that it was the first time he had been asked such a question with such sincerity and concern. He suddenly felt vulnerable—too vulnerable for his liking. Ivan could kill him at this exact moment. He could put his hands around his neck if he wanted to; he could push him against the bed and choke him until he took his last breath. He could kill him and come out of this round victorious without having to make a scene in front of these vile creatures, without having to risk his life.
But here he was now, taking care of Till, taking care of his wounds, and easing his soul. Making his heart thump loudly in his chest and his hands shake.
“Why are you acting like that with me?” He couldn't help but ask.
Ivan looked at him for a moment, like he was seriously thinking of an answer. His eyes wandered a bit before returning to Till, his head slowly tilting to the side as his little fang was shown.
“When did I not act like that with you?”
They suddenly hit him, these words. And as Ivan started to treat his wounds again, not minding his wrist being held, Till was lost in his thoughts, reminiscing about his childhood.
His memories were all filled with Mizi, that soft and sweet girl he was always in love with. Mizi was love, Mizi was light, Mizi was the star he looked for every night when his suffering was too hard to endure, when he was alone in that room. And despite never confessing to her, despite the fact that Mizi was not his and will never be, Till never stopped loving her and looking for her in every room he walked into, on every stage he stepped on.
And when he thought harder, Ivan was here, too.
Ivan was always here. When he was a little child playing with other children, when he was making these little crown flowers, when he was silently eating. Ivan was always there by his side, picking up fights with him but being careful enough to avoid hurting him badly. Ivan was always there by his side, watching him make crown flowers silently while leaning against his shoulder, watching him eat with a little smile on his face, his cheek pressed against his own palm. Ivan was the only one by his side when he was locked up in that room, freeing him from his collar and even offering to escape together.
Guilt suddenly filled Till as he was realizing how Ivan was always by his side and how he had never acknowledged it properly before. He wondered for the first time how Ivan must've felt when he went back to Mizi without even looking back the only time they tried to escape. He wondered why he was so in love with Mizi when Ivan was the only one that was truly there for him all these years, still taking care of him even if they failed their escape because of how selfish Till was that day. Why was he so in love with Mizi, when Ivan was the one that made his heart flutter at that exact moment?
Suddenly, curiosity took hold of Till as Ivan slowly tilted his head to the side to take care of one of the bruises he had on his jaw. Till couldn't help but lean into the touch for a moment, closing his eyes, and wonder if Ivan's hand had always felt so warm and comforting. The latter stopped dead in his tracks, and Till almost heard him stop breathing as he still pressed his own cheek against Ivan's hand.
“I'm sorry.” Whispered Till, his voice muffled against Ivan's palm. He wanted to say so much more; he wanted to apologize for leaving him alone that night, for running back to this place and never looking back, but he stayed quiet, secretly hoping that Ivan would understand.
And somewhat, Ivan seemed to understand but pretended not to. He simply hummed, his hand leaving Till's face, before getting out of bed and taking the care kit with him. “Make sure you rest well,” was all he said before starting to walk away.
Till couldn't help but grab Ivan's wrist again, making the latter look at him. This was surely their last time together before they split up and met again as enemies, before the round began and one of them died, and he couldn't bring himself to let Ivan go without asking him a question. That one question he had asked himself so many times when he had seen Ivan again for the first time since that night, when Ivan had willingly returned to this hell when he should have run away and been free.
Till's lips trembled as he tried to find his words, his eyes staring into Ivan's terribly soft ones, so soft they almost made his heart shatter.
“Why did you come back that night?”
Ivan's eyes widened for a moment. Then, when Till saw that oh-so-gentle smile on his face, it was as if the black veil that had covered his vision for so long was removed. It was as if he was finally watching Ivan for the first time.
“How could I leave you in this hell alone?”
Something in Till snapped when he heard Ivan's answer. Ivan had accompanied him and even protected him without ever getting anything in return during all his years, without having received even a little recognition, and Till wanted to make up for that. He wanted to protect him as Ivan had done it until now, and as he had always done, he wanted to take care of his wounds and ease his sorrows as Ivan was doing at this very moment. And as he vowed never to abandon Ivan again, he pulled him close, making him fall onto the bed to capture him in his arms and embrace him.
“I'm sorry for being such a fool.” Was all he said before feeling arms pulling him closer, his body pressed against Ivan's. He heard the latter lightly laugh against his ear.
“You really are. What should we do now? Should I let you win and die for you?” Ivan muttered while pulling back to watch the other man, his hand tucking Till's hair behind his ear, which made the latter shiver.
“Stop joking, you're not funny.” The younger man answered, his eyebrows furrowing as he couldn't help but imagine the scene for a moment, making his stomach sick.
“I am not. I would happily die for you.” Ivan muttered while cupping Till's face with his hands. The latter didn't answer, knowing very well that he was indeed telling the truth. Till felt butterflies flying in his stomach as he watched Ivan come closer, playfully rubbing the tip of his nose against his when he was close enough and running his fingers into Ivan's black hair as he whispered.
“Then should we escape together?”
“Only if you promise not to leave me once again.”
A bitter smile appeared on Till's lips, and he nodded at Ivan's words, holding him a bit tighter. “I promise.”
Ivan hummed, his thumbs softly caressing Till's cheeks as he pressed their foreheads together before pulling back only to take a look at Till properly. His eyes admired him for a moment, his gaze wandering to his lips, and he pressed their noses together once again.
“Can I?” Muttered Ivan, and Till nodded once again quietly before feeling soft lips against his.
Their first was slow and clumsy. Till didn't know what to do or where to put his hands, so Ivan took them both in his, guiding one of them to his hair as he kept the other into his own hand, intertwining their fingers. Ivan's way of kissing Till was gentle, softly brushing their lips against each other and secretly biting the under one before humming, seemingly satisfied by Till's whine when he did so.
Their first kiss was short too; Ivan pulled back to let Till breathe, and the latter didn't seem content with it, immediately pulling Ivan into another kiss, more violent. A kiss full of desire and yearning, wet sounds, and soft hums soon filled the room as Till felt his head spinning, his fingers softly pulling on Ivan's hair when he needed some time to breathe. And as Till was trying to regain his composure, Ivan didn't help and buried his face against his neck to leave wet kisses on his skin, on his Adam's apple, on his jaw, before returning to his lips once more.
Everything that needed to be said between them was conveyed silently by soft kisses and gentle touches that night, eyes shining and fingers intertwined. And later that night, as alarms were heard from a distance, Till found himself running as fast as he could. His eyes were illuminated by the meteor shower beneath them, welcoming their new freedom, and a small laugh escaped his lips at that spectacle. This time, as they were running from these things, Till didn't turn back. He held Ivan's hand tighter, bringing it to his face to leave a small kiss on it. The older man suddenly stopped running, the stars in the sky reflecting into his eyes as he watched Till, pulling him in a soft embrace.
“You finally looked.”