Chapter Text
Till was tired, exhausted, and mentally drained. The blood started to seep through his white shoes, well, not his blood….
Luka’s blood.
He just won his round against Luka, he’s not sure how. Most of the crowd applauded in victory, though quite a large portion stayed silent— supporters of Luka, Till assumes. He hears faint 'boo's' coming from the crowd, but he doesn't want to look. It was only one vote-- he won one vote against Luka, he wasn't sure how.
In the front row, his guardian, Urak- bore holes into him, a sadistic grin spreading on his face, Luka’s lifeless body laid just inches away from Till. Luka’s ear monitor fell off and hit the ground, at least that continuous beeping was over. his golden eyes were full of confusion. His purple fingertips only got worse, blood spilled over the podium— from Luka’s chest, where he had taken a bullet. Till doesn't feel anything when his eyes meet Luka's for the last time, Luka was laughing-- grinning even, when singing. But toward the end, his grin fell.
Was that it?
Did he win just like this?
It felt unreal, like the world has tilted on its axis. Till’s points suddenly went up when the round was slowly nearing its climax. He was beginning to feel hopeless; he kept hallucinating about Ivan the whole time-- the thought about winning slipped off his mind.
Ivan.
Till can’t help but graze his thumb over his lips. Something felt missing, and it hurt like crazy.
Luka must have seen his round against Ivan, how Till’s eyes shook with grief— sadness, rage. In that moment, the very moment Ivan fell to the wet, hard, and cold floor, Till could only look at him. Nothing else, he couldn't take Ivan's head in his lap and sob while Ivan passed away. He couldn't run off with Ivan's body, or something.
That was what Ivan wanted, right? For Till to look at him. His eyes that were once bright, turned into a cloud of misery. Sua is dead, Mizi is missing, and now… he lost Ivan. All of his friends began to drop like flies, Till felt lonely, alone.
Why should he care about Ivan?
Was it because it's wrong? Ivan was a completely emotionless creepy guy, the way his face lit up when they fought as children, the way Till would grunt in anger and pain when his face made contact with Ivan's fist. And that one time he tasted Till’s blood. It was like… he liked to see Till bleed, at times. It was a weird, unwelcoming thought. But it was Ivan, he was always weird.
But how he knows that wasn’t the case, why else would he carefully ‘choke’ Till after stealing a few kisses? Ivan never left any marks on his neck, it took Till some time to realize, but Ivan’s intentions were never to hurt him. It was to lower his own points, so that he would die instead of Till.
It was to die for him.
Till wore black that day, to mourn his death. He was so sure he would die that day, After he discovered that Mizi went missing after her round against Luka, he spiraled into depression. On that podium, on that stage where both he and Ivan stood… he wanted to die. It was the only thought that invaded his mind, death. Death was expected, or unexpected at most.
Till wasn’t that big of a moron, he knew that one day, he would die. Not everyone can win their rounds multiple times, and win multiple times.
And then Ivan started singing, Till snuck a curious glance. He wore all white, a neat white coat, polo, and pants. Never would have Till guessed— that only minutes later, those neat white clothes would be stained with red-- with holes in those very clothes.
He regrets not looking.
He should have looked.
Then maybe, he would have seen what Ivan was trying to do. His dull black eyes glancing at the scores above their heads, the way his hands pressed his throat ever so gently. Till was so lost in his feelings, that he let his eyes fall limp and give in.
Then, a gunshot rang in the air. They shot Ivan multiple times, his leg, his arm… and his heart. Ivan coughed up a whole lot of blood, and smiled.
His smile is so annoying.
How could he stand there, and smile when he realized he’d die at that very moment? And those stupid red pupils that brightens his dull eyes, they shined brightly, and Ivan finally let his soft fingertips let slip of Till’s throat.
That was when Till finally looked, his breath shook in fear. Ivan kept his eyes on Till, and Till kept his eyes on Ivan.
He was still fucking smiling.
“Till Win!” The words formed above his head, where he and Luka’s scores once presented. His overall score only being one point higher than Luka's, Till keeps pondering, what would have happened if that one singular alien didn't vote for him last minute.
Luka’s hand was outstretched, as if he was reaching for something. Till bore his vibrant green eyes on him, he couldn’t see Luka’s face, as his unkempt curly blonde hair fell on his eyes. But Till could see the shaking smile plastered on Luka's face.
To be honest, Luka would have won.
If only he didn’t try to imitate Ivan to make him let his guard down
That was how he made Mizi turn towards aggression during their round, Luka was a little, if not, sadistic. Manipulative, and knew how to use his charisma to its max, Till was aware of Mizi’s feelings towards Sua. Luka knew about those feelings, and shamelessly acted like Sua to destroy Mizi’s already crumbling mentality. Till wanted to be there for Mizi, he really did. But there's so much you can do, while being stuck in a room, watching on a widescreen televisoon.
Mizi.
Till wonders how she's doing.
He hadn’t thought of her romantically after his round against Ivan, however, it's not like a decade of harboring feelings against her would so easily disappear. They did go away, quicker than he thought.
And it drove Till insane.
Maybe he finally accepted the fact he had no chance with her, because Mizi liked Sua.
He just… likes to think of Mizi as a best friend now, he already decided that it was time to let go. Because Mizi wasn’t going to get over Sua’s death in the next years to come.
The podium started to move down, Till stood there completely still, and unmoving. Trying to ignore the fact he had a dead body laying beside him.
It was over, he won, yet he did not rejoice.
Was it because he was the only one remaining? It did feel lonely, everyone was gone. Urak would probably just praise him a little— mixed with some off-handed insults, and then leave for a party with those other aliens.
When the podium finally stopped at the bottom, Till finally let his tears fall. Wet droplets stained his cheeks, the last time he cried was hours after Ivan’s death. When he finally processed everything that just happened.
He felt a sense of deja vú, crying alone in his room, not having slept a wink, and constantly preparing to approach his demise. The lights were switched off, and only a weak, flickering light remained as the robots approached.
His body ached all over, he wanted to move, but his legs hurt so much. the cleaners carefully putting Luka’s cold body inside a large dark bag. Once Luka’s entire body was inside, they zipped him up, Till stared at Luka’s blonde hair— now dry with possibly gallons of his own blood.
Where were they taking his body? Were they going to throw it in a ditch? Bury it? Or burn it?
It was something Till was often curious about, at first, in a state of insanity— he refused to let them take Ivan’s body. Urak had to hit him, and drag him away, and place that damn collar around his mouth again. They weren’t going to remove it anytime soon, Ivan was always there to take off his collar, but he wasn’t anymore.
Till wanted to escape that night, take Ivan’s body and bury him under the dark night sky.
At the very top of a mountain, where they both once stood as children, it was the least Till could do for Ivan.
He ran to his room, ignoring the rising pain in his leg, Till shut the door, and fell to the ground. His sobs echoed alone, he grabbed some paper and started folding it.
He wasn’t sure how long his hands have been moving, his guitar was shattered into small pieces on the floor, and droplets of tears fell on the papers he held.
Till’s hands shook violently, why were all of his feelings catching up to him now? His hands…. Moved in on their own.
Cause after minutes, or more, maybe, the black colored paper he was holding was now a black flower crown. Till’s chest heaved, his gaze falling on the paper crown of flowers.
He learned how to make paper flowers for Mizi, pink flowers… Till made pink flowers for her, though he never gave any of it. All of them were either thrown away, or deep into his chest of collections. So, why were the flowers black?
Like Ivan’s eyes, they were black like Ivan’s eyes, like his stare, his gaze.
It made him angry.
Ivan was gone, Till never really cared about him… so why did everything remind Till of him? His jet black hair, pushed back— his somewhat cold gaze always affectionate towards him, only. And that damn snaggletooth.
He hasn’t slept a wink in what? A week? He was constantly haunted by his failings even in sleep. It sucked, and so, Till developed a habit of keeping a journal.
Journals served no purpose, is what he said a few years ago. Yet, he keeps a journal right now. Hypocritical but it was fine, Till sat on his chair, it wasn’t the same run-down chair he was familiar with, but it was brand new. Must have been one of his gifts, or something.
He opened his drawer and took out a black notebook, there was a lock on the side, Till flipped it open and pushed the pages apart with his fingers. His eyes landed on the first page.
‘XX/XX/XX, i won my round against Ivan.
It didn’t make me feel happy, or relieved, it made me feel worse. I mean, why would he steal my first kiss and then purposely die to save me? It pissed me off, i dont really know how a journal works… but its not like anyone is gonna see this. Sorry, Ivan.’
Looking back at this, it made him feel embarrassed— for some reason. He ignored that feeling and continued flipping through until his fingers met a clean, white page.
What was he going to write?
About his round against Luka, maybe? How it made him feel, how its probably gonna haunt him forever.
But the only word that his hand had written was only one name, alone.
IvanIvanIvanIvanIvanIvanIvanIvanIvanIvan IvanIvanIvanIvanIvanIvanIvanIvanIvanIvan IvanIvanIvanIvanIvanIvanIvanIvanIvanIvan
IvanIvanIvanIvanIvanIvanIvanIvanIvanIvan IvanIvanIvanIvanIvanIvanIvanIvanIvanIvan IvanIvanIvanIvanIvanIvanIvanIvanIvanIvan
Crap. What the hell?
IvanIvanIvanIvanIvanIvanIvanIvanIvanIvan IvanIvanIvanIvanIvanIvanIvanIvanIvanIvan IvanIvanIvanIvanIvanIvanIvanIvanIvanIvan
IvanIvanIvanIvanIvanIvanIvanIvanIvanIvan IvanIvanIvanIvanIvanIvanIvanIvanIvanIvan IvanIvanIvanIvanIvanIvanIvanIvanIvanIvan
Till quickly drew a bold line over the name, how did that get there? Has he gone even more possibly insane?!
Till dropped the pen, his eyes glued on the page. Oh crap, what was happening to him? This sudden weird obsession with Ivan… he’s no better than him.
He shut the journal close, and jumped on his bed. What the fuck.
“What is going on with me…”
Well yeah, he probably developed this dumb obsession with Ivan because he died for Till, but was it wrong? This is probably what Ivan wanted, for Till to reciprocate his ‘shallow feelings?’
Was that how Ivan felt? for years until the end?
‘Thank you for being the victim… of my shallow feelings.’ Ivan whispered, his now weak hands slipping off his throat, Ivan fell on the floor with a loud pang.
Till wasn’t sure if Ivan would still feel that way even when he was gone, I mean, Ivan was dead, he has been for weeks.
It wasn’t a mistake, the same thing Till felt for Ivan… was how he felt about Mizi. And he loved Mizi. He loves Ivan, a tad bit too late.
Till raised his quivering hand up to the ceiling, imagining it was the red sky he saw that day. The day Ivan held his hand tightly and ran under the sky, the real one.
“Ivan…” help me, take my hand, take me wherever you are at.
Till’s eyes finally closed.
“Okay, everyone form a line before i distribute the lyric sheets.” The alien woman announced, all the kids halted whatever they were doing and quickly ran to form a line.
The alien started handing out the finely printed lyric papers, “on a count of three, two… and one, start.” She clapped.
The voices of the children harmonized perfectly, and the alien seemed to absolutely adore it. Her sharp teeth showing once a smile started to form on her face.
“don't even think this time's enough.’
He sang perfectly, closing his eyes and living in the moment. A small smile escaping his lips, he can feel the brief stares and glances from the other children.
“ cause you baby still it's not enough.’
The song came to a beautiful close, Till slowly opened his eyes, the shine it possessed as he sang, vanishing.
The alien grinned, clapping his sharp fingers, “excellent, Till, you have quite the talent for composing.” nasty, Till forced his lips to lift up and make up an innocent look on his face.
“Thank you, miss.” He smiled, the alien dismissed everyone with a few reminders. And they all continued whatever they were previously doing.
Till remembers this moment very clearly, he sat under the large tree and practiced his guitar. But, its not fun to just follow what he remembers.
And so, he ended up following Ivan.
“Till, weren’t you practicing guitar?” Ivan timidly asked, Till nodded with a smile. He tilted his head to the side and looked straight into Ivan's inky eyes.
“I was, but I want to follow you.” Till raised his head, his viridian eyes directly meeting Ivan’s black eyes— he noticed the red pupils forming at the center.
“Oh, okay.” Ivan replied, smiling, he carefully took Till’s hand and they rested underneath the tree. Ivan pulled out a book, it was about fantasy. Where the prince saves the kidnapped princess from the villain.
Till breathed slowly, Ivan had already let go of his hand— just was Ivan let go, Till instantly grabbed his hand and held it, “dont let go.” He pleaded.
Ivan nodded, a sprinkle of confusion on his expression.
The black-haired boy opened the book and started to read, his eyes focusing on the words. Till acted like he was looking at the book too, he rested his chin on Ivan’s shoulder.
Why was Till acting strange, you ask?
Well, after he finally fell asleep that night, thinking about Ivan… he woke up as an eleven-year-old child again, his little self was eating, and he ended up dropping his food in shock. His dumb vegan meal went splattering on the ground, while every child turned to him in surprise.
He did get into lots of trouble for the mess, but all he could think about was how Ivan was alive. His heart was alive, beating, blood pumped in his veins.
Till was back in Anakt garden, Sua was alive, Mizi wasn’t missing, and Ivan was back. Though as a young twelve-year-old kid, Ivan waited decades for Till, and Till would gladly do the same. Even if it took Ivan until death, Till doesn't give a single shit. He will wait
Maybe, a god does exist, somehow. How else would Till be sent back into the past like this? Alien technology isn't so advanced for time travel.
Pushing everything aside, Till will spend this chance wisely.
Starting from now on, he would keep his eyes on Ivan. And him, only.