Chapter Text
Seven years had passed since the incident; seven years since he was saved and had joined the rebels. Seven whole years since he finally got a taste of sweet freedom and the opportunity to save children just like himself.
When he had first woken up back then, Till had thought everything was a fever dream. It had to be — he had been shot through his neck, already accepting his fate. But then he survived and everyone had called him resilient, wanting to stay alive , which he did. Desperately.
But surviving was no easy feat. He had the same recurring nightmares haunting him at night. Sometimes they even made him wake up with tears streaming down his face, helplessly clinging to the fading memories of his nightmares, of a smile he had thought he had long forgotten. On those days especially, his heart beat hard against his chest and his breath constricted.
Today was one of those days — of a painful memory creeping into his dreams, making him unable to peacefully sleep once again.
Till took a deep breath, hand brushing through his short hair. He shut his eyes, focusing on his breath. He breathed in and out, repeating the motions until his heartbeat steadied—
The soft smile was still etched behind his eyelid.
Fuck, Till thought, sighing. He resigned himself to his fate; today was not going to be any different than the past few days. It would’ve been a miracle if it was. He couldn’t really remember a day where he wasn’t haunted by nightmares.
With one last sigh, Till sat up in his bed, eyes fixated on the sketchbook sitting on top of his nightstand. The sketchbook was a bit worn out on the sides from frequent use.
He reached out, deciding to draw to pass the time.
He quickly turned to a blank page, trying not to focus on the finished drawings.
Maybe I’ll be able to sleep after I’ve drawn for a while, Till thought, grabbing a pencil. At least I’ll get the images out of my head through this.
If Till had been more honest, he’d admit he wouldn’t trade his dreams nightmares for the world.
***
It happened in an instant.
One second he was calmly enjoying his meal, the next second he was on his feet, rushing to Isaac to grab him by the collar.
Everything faded into the background, falling into a mere distant hum as his eyes burned holes into Isaac; Till was frantically shaking Isaac, demanding an answer. He had to know if what he just heard had been a mere illusion or if there truly was a chance… A chance to…
Till frantically gestured in the air, urging him to answer.
“Till…” Isaac grimaced, regret flashing in his eyes as he hesitantly nodded, “It’s real— But you must stay here—“
Till uttered a sound of displease, eyebrows furrowing in anger at the urgency in his voice. How could he stay here, if there was the slightest chance of his deepest wish becoming reality?
He had to check it out himself.
He had to know.
“Till!” Isaac screamed in vain as a shadow passed by. His hands grabbed air, narrowly missing Till’s arm.
So, without a single thought except for one, Till ran with all his might.
***
Till knew he couldn’t be too reckless; he needed a plan. A last minute plan, but a plan nonetheless. He couldn’t just break into the museum without a single backup in place thought in case he was successful. He had to think through every scenario possible in the limited amount of time; he had to be fast. Till didn’t want to wait any minute longer to see for himself. To witness with his own two eyes that perhaps a corpse was displayed in a museum – that the corpse might not be a corpse after all, but preserved in a vegetative state for the segyein’s disposal.
Maybe the segyeins’ refusal to put him to rest – considering it a pity – was plausible. They loved him, after all, being one of their top picks. Maybe they had vile ideas while they did it. But for Till, for Till this was the light in the tunnel he oh-so desperately tried to find. He was finally starting to see the light.
He knew he shouldn’t raise his expectations unless he wanted to get disappointed, but he couldn’t stop his mind from wandering, desperately grasping at the idea.
Till exhaled, pushing these thoughts to the back of his mind. He had more important things to do now. He could worry later.
***
Traces of Ivan were everywhere; Till could never forget him even if he tried to. Flowers resembled Ivan’s eyes, red pupils staring at him as if Till were his world. Sometimes, he’d pick those very flowers to put onto his nightstand. It was a way to remember him, of keeping his memory alive. Fingertips would carefully brush over delicate flower petals in an attempt of comforting himself – he’d imagine he were brushing through beautiful, soft black hair. Of how there would be no resistance, just a satisfied hum accompanied with cuddles he wished he had done sooner.
Then a reckless laugh would ring in his ears, reminding him of their fights. Till realized all those things too late. Ivan might have been trying to show his feelings through his own weird way. Ivan, with his beautiful beautiful rare smile he flashed Till, remaining nonchalant towards others. Never at Till. Ivan staring at Till as if Till hung the stars in the sky, as if Till was the answer to everything. Ivan trying to get Till’s attention by stealing his things, only to return them himself. How had he never realized?
He had a lot of regrets. He just wished…
***
Till knew nobody supported his decision. They left him to fend for himself; it was a high risk to just burst into the museum for the tiniest possibility of these rumors being true. He didn’t blame anyone for not joining him and putting themselves in danger. They advised against him leaving multiple times, and Till knew he was a very much needed member of the rebellion, but he still declined.
So with a smirk and a see you later promising to return alive, Till got onto his motorcycle. Anticipation rushed through his veins, his heart fluttering in his chest. He had one or two aliens to kill. And a man to save.
***
It was almost comical how easy it had been to break into the museum. Till accelerated and smashed through the glass windows, killing an alien in the process. It was too effortless it left him doubting the rumors almost. Almost. He would’ve suspected Isaac’s words, if it weren’t for the room he had found at the back of the museum, hidden away from curious eyes. It seemed to be a laboratory.
Till took in a sharp breath, hand against the glass tube he found tucked to the side. His gaze all over the body floating in the tube, Till confirmed it was indeed the man he was searching for – or a clone of him, he wasn’t too sure. A lot of cables were connected to his naked body, his expression serene as if he were merely asleep.
For a second, Till believed he was dreaming, that this was just a product of his imagination. It couldn’t be Ivan himself levitating before him – he had seen him die with his very own eyes. Till still remembered the puddle blood painting everything red. How his vision narrowed to a pinpoint, everything turning into red, the small satisfied smile lingering on Ivan’s face as he successfully sacrificed himself, hunting him for years after. He still remembered how the aliens had to push him off the stage, how he had lingered by Ivan’s body until they did. Till had been convinced Ivan had breathed his last breath — he had to have stood there for a while in shock. Nothing had mattered after that. Everything had blurred into a blob.
But seeing him now, Till wanted to cradle him into his arms as if he was the most precious thing in the whole universe. He wanted to hug him like he wanted all those years ago when he finally realized their feelings towards each other were mutual. He wanted to pepper him with kisses. Till also wanted to hit him for his stupid sacrifice, and wanted to scold him. He was upset; he had a lot to say about that.
First, however, he had to find a way to get him out of there. Fast.
***
Somehow Till had managed to find the right button to press to empty the tube, to lift the glass and Ivan’s body to slide down to the floor. Frantically, Till rushed towards the body, first pressing down on his wrist for a heartbeat, his own heart pulsing loudly against his ears he had to press down harder and harder to find Ivan’s. He was almost dismayed at finding none, when he suddenly felt a very faint heartbeat against his fingers. Till inhaled with a hiss, gaze watering disbelievingly. He repeated the motions a few more times, and once he was convinced Ivan had to still be alive despite his freezing body, Till quickly searched the room for something to dress him in. They didn’t have a lot of time remaining before the aliens would find them. He had to be quick. Freedom was just a few paces away. The dreams he had repeatedly for a few years were just around the corner, he could almost taste it.
Till felt like he was in a trance as he dressed Ivan, pushed him onto the motorcycle, holding onto him tightly as he raced out on full speed. He might have run over one or two aliens in the process. His memories blurred together in nervous excitement. Till couldn’t remember how he had managed to bring them into safety, how Ivan’s slowly warming body was pressed flush against his as he finally reached the hideout. Everyone was in disbelief seeing Till, in fact, return with a second person.
They rushed towards him, quickly lifting Ivan and taking him to get treated. Till’s gaze followed them until they disappeared. Just as he made up his mind to join them, Isaac prevented him from taking a step further.
“Till,” he started in a stern tone, leaving no room for protests, “you have to keep some things in mind.”
Till shook himself out of his stupor, gesturing in the air. “What?”
“He might not be the Ivan you know anymore – a clone, so to say.” Isaac grasped Till’s shoulder, pressing down on him, “Or he might not– He might not be the person you once knew. Maybe they tampered with him, with his memories, you know. To turn him into the perfect human pet.”
“This has to be Ivan,” Till signed, shaking his head, “It’s definitely him. I know – I can feel it.”
Isaac grimaced, not knowing how else to break it through to him. The aliens would never have kept Ivan alive otherwise. He had to be tampered with somehow. There was no other way. He almost didn’t have the heart to point it out to Till, but after hearing Till’s answer, Isaac regretted not shattering Till’s hopes earlier.
What if his expectations were ruined once Ivan awoke from his slumber and he was not the same person he once was all those years ago? Till would break. Isaac was sure.
***
Almost two months had passed with Ivan sleeping in the makeshift treatment room, with Till hovering over him for several hours a day. The anticipation Till had felt at the beginning slowly started to fade out as days passed by and the man in the bed never showed any sign of life except for the monitor showing his heartbeat – steady, alive.
It was a waiting game Till could play. He had waited seven years, after all, with no hope in sight. Now that there was the slightest probability of Ivan waking up, he wanted to make it happen any way possible. So, Till sat there at his bedside, clad with a sketchbook in hand every single day. The steady heartbeats assured him that someday he would open his eyes. That he could finally look into his eyes again. Would Ivan recognize him? Till wasn't too sure what the aftermath of being kept alive in the tube for several years was. Would Ivan be glad to see Till, would he still like him if he were to find out what had happened after he sacrificed himself? Would he still love him, if...
Till bit his lips, eyes focused on the silhouette he was drawing, adding a few flowers here and there. The man in his drawing was smiling carefree, his eyes squinted in a gentle way as he held out a bouquet of flowers.
Deep down, Till hoped he would wake up soon no matter what happened afterwards.