Chapter Text
The setlist’s end was met with applause from the audience they’d managed to foster, after parting words were said. Ivan knew of the routine by now, and Till had adjusted to it years ago.
It wasn’t anything big. They weren’t selling out stadiums. Their shows were local, low-cost, and often ran through every written piece of material they had on hand (with the inclusion of a few spontaneous covers). Some were at small local restaurants or any bar that would take them. Others were house shows for broke college students looking for cheap fun between their studies. Still, Ivan kept track of every single performance thus far, remembered vividly what the first was like, and knew with full confidence the exact date all of this started.
He was the type to hold onto things like that.
Sweat dripped from his forehead and strands of his hair stuck to his skin. He didn’t have the most energetic stage presence, but the night had dragged out for quite some time now, and he’d risen early as always. Exhaustion began to beckon him home, as it did for their patrons. If it weren’t for that, what would stop him from standing up on that stage forever?
There was no need for any premature grief. The band was still young. There were plenty of bookings to be made in their future, and plenty of songs to be written. Give it a year for someone to call it quits, and then Ivan could mourn.
Till hopped off of the stage first, eager to socialize. The pair weren’t at a point just yet where they had any merchandise to sell, so most advertising came from social media promotion or mere word of mouth. Till had his own additional method of winning the crowd over once the band was done. It was just a fact of life that people liked to feel important, and it was just a fact of life that his passion for this project assured that he truly meant every word of thanks he handed out like candy. It came to him easily, and it had worked out thus far.
Ivan also noted Till’s fondness for any free concessions he could sweet talk his way into getting. He tended to be rather introverted otherwise.
Handling the public was something Ivan had done for a long time. While the music industry was a new domain for him, he’d gained a decent enough following in other areas. Till brought to the table his own success from solo works. These were likely the only reasons they’d been managing so far at all, but there had to be something to their act that made people lend them an ear.
Whatever it was, Ivan would keep doing it, and Till would do it even better.
Ivan stepped off of the stage with a water bottle in hand. It was running low, but it would last him long enough. He was quick to find himself at Till’s side, though Till was lost in conversation with some attendee who commented on their lack of other bandmates, a fair judgement as much as they had yet to find any luck in that department. The second Till manages to bring an end to such an awkward conversation, the pair are swarmed by a much more familiar face, hot pink strands falling down her shoulders and her face beaming with pride.
“You guys were so great!” she exclaimed. Even at such a late hour, she was enthusiastic as ever. It wasn’t surprising to those who knew her in the slightest. “I can’t believe it’s taken me this long to see you both play. Is this your biggest turnout so far?”
Mizi was someone Ivan found easier to care for from a distance. She held all of the optimism Ivan had always lacked, a constant ray of sunshine, and while such light was nice to bask in, it could burn you up if you weren’t too careful. Ivan had known this as he’d first let her close, and he’d found there were times that he preferred the comfort of solitude. Still, it was hard to not be happy around her, and Ivan appreciated her kind heart and belief in a better world.
She was also the type that made Till just a little weak in the knees, leaving him to stammer like a fool, unaware of her lack of similar interest. That news was not for Ivan to break.
“Uh, yeah, maybe, it could be!” Till admitted sheepishly, his cheeks already dusted pink. If Mizi’s ever noticed it, she’s been kind enough throughout their lives to never draw attention to it. “Thanks for coming out.”
“You should’ve invited me sooner,” she teased. “You and Ivan both.”
“I’m sorry, I wanted to make sure I had the hang of it first,” Ivan explained. “I’d never played live before. No point in embarrassing myself.”
It wasn’t true. Till had been far too nervous to invite her to a gig when they’d started out. Ivan had no worries about any sort of criticism when it came to the least judgemental person he’d ever met. If Ivan hadn’t tossed some reasoning onto the table, Till would’ve tried and failed in his place. He was a good enough friend to take that sort of blame.
“Aw, but you did so well!” Mizi protested, just as Ivan had assumed she would. “If I didn’t know you, I’d think you’d both been doing it for years by now.”
“Certainly feels that way, sometimes.”
Albums weren’t written in a day, after all, and rehearsal was often. Before the band’s formation, Ivan couldn’t remember the last time he’d spent so much time with Till, especially with lack of any bickering, but there was something about Unknown Sorrow that had established some sort of order and peace between them.
“I mean, I actually have,” Till argued, “But you’re one to talk. We’ve only been doing this live for a month or two.”
“Over two now. You’re incredibly time blind.”
“Whatever, shut up. You know what I’m getting at.”
“Speaking of the time, it’s getting late,” Ivan noted. “We should get going.”
“Oh, right!” Till hissed, and then he drew a deep breath. “Uh, Mizi! I don’t wanna take up too much of your time, since you’ve- probably got places to be, but could you help us load things up? I think we ran a little over our time tonight, and we could really use the extra hands.”
“Really?” she asked, almost ecstatic. Who knew one could be so thrilled by the idea of moving someone else’s equipment? “I’m not gonna break anything, am I?”
“Nah, you’ll be fine,” Till told her. “You’re… really careful.”
That was Ivan’s cue to leave them be. This was no game of matchmaker, and they were no lovebirds, but it was a matter of Till gathering the courage to get closure. Ivan knew exactly who Mizi’s heart was reserved for, even if Till miraculously hadn’t connected those two dots, and even if said bond was in an odd state at the moment.
There was no better time to pay the one who had won the girl over a visit. After all, she was in attendance. Wherever Mizi went, she was to follow. He had something to discuss with her.
“You two go on ahead,” Ivan announced. “Bathroom. I won’t be long. Sorry again.”
Had Till not been left with Mizi, he would’ve thrown accusations Ivan’s way that he was trying to get out of doing any of the hard work. At this point, however, Ivan wasn’t entirely sure that Till was paying attention to a word he was saying.
“Yeah, okay, cool. Mizi, I’ll show you what to do.”
Till led her back to the stage as he began to explain the woes of finding a drummer, leaving Mizi to ask any question about the industry she desired. Ivan strolled over to a table, and at it a woman was rising from her chair who wanted to put a stop to this before it ever began. She hadn’t been here for the music at all.
She hadn’t even been here for anyone in the band.
“Sua!” Ivan greeted her with his usual attitude; Sua had never liked it. “Enjoy the show?”
Sua sighed, a purse hastily thrown over her shoulder. She refused to meet his eyes, and she refused to answer his question. “Mizi had fun.”
Ivan leaned on the table and hummed, quick to speak his mind. “Then you haven’t told her?”
“Told her what?”
“You’re leaving, aren’t you?”
Sua’s head shot up as her icy glare pierced through him. Not once had it caused Ivan to watch his tongue or hold his breath. Not once had it ever even scared him. Only her words could do that, just as brutal and monstrous as his own.
“What?”
“You finally found a place,” Ivan reiterated. “You’re moving. That’s why you’ve been so off as of late. Am I right?”
Even as equipment was hauled out, and even as attendees chatted amongst themselves and prepared to make exits of their own, it felt eerily silent between the two of them.
“Congratulations,” he continued. “I know how much you’ve been wanting an out. You should tell her the good news. How far is it?”
“What do you want, Ivan?” she muttered. “Fine, you got me. What point are you trying to make?”
“Sua, you could tell her anything, and she’d take you as you are. You could ask for her hand in marriage and you’d make her the happiest girl on Earth. She’d give anything for you. Move entire mountains for you. Wrangle down the stars. You’re her entire world. How fair is it for you to be so avoidant in return?”
“Don’t talk to me about what’s fair.”
“I’m just trying to warn you.”
“I don’t need it.”
“Secrets get out, Sua,” Ivan told her, matter-of-fact. “That’s the nature of them. No one likes to be the one it was withheld from.”
“It’s turned out fine for you, so far. Unless you’re ready to admit otherwise.”
There wasn’t a world in which Ivan would call their circumstances the same. Sometimes, he thought he’d have done anything to be in Sua’s position, where any part of him could be accepted and adored without second thought. The more twisted, cynical part of him could only think, she can’t be that perfect. Ivan had been dead set on proving it for quite some time, much to Sua’s annoyance and vitriol.
He was fond of her. He really was. He found familiarity in her statements, blunt and dry, her more somber worldview. He found himself stumped by their differences, bitter over how she took it all for granted. He went back and forth with her as if she was a missing piece of himself, some lost relic, a distant relative.
Sua’s patience with it had run thin.
“You’re a fool if you think any of this is going to work,” Sua spat, brows furrowed. “You’re not better than me. Whatever you’re doing, this whole ‘band’ thing, it’s going to blow up in your face the second he leaves you behind. How long before he goes solo again? Or wants to work with those bigger and better than you?”
“I’ve thought about it.”
“And you’re okay with it?”
“I’m prepared for it.”
Sua scoffed, shaking her head. “Unbelievable.”
“If he’s better off without me, who would I be to hold him back? You shouldn’t do that to people you care about.”
“And yet, here you are.”
“You’re not better than me either, you know,” Ivan insisted, crossing his arms. It’s not his intention to look down on her, but the height difference doesn’t help. “Mizi’s dreams are similar to his. But she’ll never do it if you’re not in the picture. You don’t feel bad about it at all? You hardly even entertain the thought.”
“Why would I let her go through that?”
“You mean like you did?”
It wasn’t every day that you met a child star, but Ivan had known her for quite some time. It was all the rage these days, entire lives broadcasted from infancy, mothers who lived vicariously through their children and siblings who tore themselves apart competing for the spotlight. Scope the internet, and you wouldn’t find a single photograph of Sua in adulthood.
That is, unless you were Mizi, who must’ve taken thousands for her eyes only. Mizi, who Sua knew best, yet never confided in entirely.
It was enough to make Sua go no-contact with all involved, and clearly enough to drive her out of town entirely. That was the most Ivan knew of it, but he’s had his own share of unwanted attention throughout his life, and he’s watched Till’s own career blossom every step of the way.
“It’ll be different,” Ivan told her, half assurance, half correction. “She’ll control her own image. She can drop it all whenever she wants. If something goes wrong, she’ll have you. You could talk some sense into her if you’d talk to her in the first place.”
At the end of the day, that was only part of the problem. The largest still remained, lacking any solution: Sua would take a bullet for Mizi, but she didn’t want that sort of stardom. She never would. Ivan knew it even if Sua wouldn’t say it.
“She’ll want you in her corner either way. Don’t tell me you’re afraid of losing her when you’re the one getting so distant.”
Sua sighed, a reluctant surrender, though her stance didn’t change. Her tone softened, just a bit. “I just want to protect her.”
“Maybe,” he admitted. His need to prove a point dissolved, giving way only to the truth no one wanted to hear. “You won’t do it like this.”
She didn’t acknowledge his words. She wasn’t going to give him that sort of satisfaction. Her hands focused on adjusting her purse strap. She had someone to be catching up to, and Ivan wasn’t going to stand in her way any longer. She never did like it when Mizi and Till found themselves alone together, even with enough certainty that nothing would come of it.
“Good luck with your guitar boy.”
As she left him where he stood without another word, heels clicking with every step, Ivan thought that she might’ve meant it.
Ivan drove Till home. That was always the arrangement. Till had less energy between the two of them after their shows, Ivan was a better driver, and he had a nicer car. Ivan had proposed the idea to carpool, and he hadn’t intended on taking no for an answer.
While exhausted, Till was never totally quiet. Ivan could listen to him talk for eternity, always about the next gig, the next song, the next rehearsal, so on and so forth. No matter how often he repeated himself, he carried that same enthusiasm, and the idea of connecting with others through it drove him forward. The radio took up so little in Ivan’s mind that he forgot its existence entirely until Till mentioned it alongside the rest of his late night thoughts.
“I like this song.”
“Really?”
“Yeah.” Till rubbed at his eyes in the passenger’s seat, stifling a yawn. Ivan only caught every movement in the corner of his vision at stop signs and traffic lights. “I wanna be on the radio someday. And I wanna deserve it. That would be really fucking cool.”
It wasn’t the most humble of desires. It took far more than guts alone to make a hit. Something like that could take anywhere from months to decades, and it was far from promised.
But it’s a nice thought. It’s what Till wanted. If Ivan could, he’d do everything in his power to make it a reality, more than Till could ever possibly understand. More than he’d ever tell him.
“You will.”
“You think so?”
“I don’t think you’d like it, though,” Ivan joked. “You’ll have to start making radio edits. And you’ll hear your voice everywhere you go, all of the time. Grocery stores. Dressing rooms. Restaurants. You name it, it’s gonna be there. You’ll start hating it.”
Till groaned, and Ivan did his best to pretend it wasn’t just a little amusing. “Don’t ruin this for me.”
“People will start texting you that you haven’t spoken to since high school,” he went on. “Any teacher you’ve ever disliked will brag about having taught you. You hated most of them.”
“You’re such an ass. Drive faster.”
“Are you sick of me already?”
“Only when you start saying things like that,” Till told him before he slouched as much as any seat belt would allow. “And when you text at stupid hours.”
“Six in the morning is perfectly reasonable.”
“Get your head checked. How much sleep do you even get like that?”
“Enough. How much do you?”
Till was far too young in Ivan’s opinion to have such dark circles under his eyes. He couldn’t remember him without them anymore. Till worked too hard, and he thought far too much. Ivan knew he was thinking then, too, because it was one of the few things that made him stop talking. He listened to Till’s leg bounce on the floor of his car, his chin held up by his fist, his gaze fixed on the streets.
Ivan wasn’t the type to ask things like what’s wrong , or insist things such as you can tell me anything , because Till wasn’t the type to take it well. It didn’t stem from pride; Till just had a firm belief that it was all ingenuine, no matter how often or quickly Ivan’s mind jumped to those words. Ivan instead opted to let the silence stir around them until Till boiled over, paying no mind to any crack in the dam until it crumbled away.
He timed it. It took a chorus and two verses of some Top 50 hit he didn’t care about for Till to speak again.
“I fucked up,” Till muttered vaguely. He said it often. It was almost always a case where he blew something out of proportion. “Again. I don’t know why I can’t talk to her.”
He could. He does. He just doesn’t say what’s on his mind. Ivan knew exactly what the outcome would look like if he did.
“Would you rather never know?” he asked. “Or get over her?”
“There’s no ‘getting over’ her,” Till argued. “It’s not that easy. She’s too good for something like that. I’ve never met anyone like Mizi before in my life. I knew from the moment I saw her that she was just… different, y’know?”
It’s a conversation the pair had often, even when Ivan had no care for it. He admired them both as individuals, in very separate ways, and they both deserved their happiness. He’d also known for years now that it wouldn’t be found in each other’s arms. Till could have learned that by now had he not been so focused on a ‘right time’ that wasn’t going to come.
Ivan couldn’t fault him for the hesitation, for idealistic expectations. Not forever. He guarded the wound that threatened to tear back open every time her name left his mouth. He played along. He acted aloof.
Because if Till ever found the courage to let his heart spill before her, he’d need someone around to help clean it up.
He didn’t speak for a while, but when Ivan did, he said, “You should tell that to the one it’s actually meant for.”
“Wow, I hadn’t thought of that,” Till grumbled irritably. “Isn’t it still too soon? I’ve known her for ages , but… things got weird after high school, with everyone getting all busy. I feel like we only just started talking again. What if she thinks I had ‘ulterior motives’ the whole time or something like that? I really like her.”
“Till, it’s Mizi. You couldn’t ask for anyone more understanding. She’ll listen to you, like she always has.”
The name was starting to leave his own mouth too much tonight.
“I dunno… I dunno, maybe you’re right. Next time she drops by one of our shows, I’ll… I’ll think of something. Tell her that song was for her, y’know? Like I meant to tonight.”
It’s for the best that he didn’t. Sua’s mood had been soured enough, and Ivan was certain that any confession would’ve led to someone suffering from far more than rejection.
“At least you talked,” Ivan said. “About drums, I think. I didn’t hear much else.”
Till sighed, eyes drilling holes into Ivan’s head. “The drummer that we don’t have. We don’t have a bassist, either. But everyone’s got a drummer. That’s the only way these sorta things have ever gotten anywhere.”
“Well if I’d known I’d need it later, I would’ve mastered them a decade ago.”
“You really don’t know anyone who could help us out?”
“Not that I’m close with.”
“Fuck off,” Till hissed with disbelief. “Nobody? As popular as you were? You were at college for how long, and you’ve kept in touch with nobody?”
“Till, we’ve had this conversation a dozen times already,” Ivan reminded him. “I still think you’d have more connections than me when it comes to this sort of thing.”
“And they keep bailing,” he told him, before burying his head in his hands. He rubbed at his eyes once more before pulling out his phone, the screen illuminating his face in the dark. Ivan assumed he must be once again skimming his contacts and messaging list on every account he had. “Whatever. We need the next big thing.”
“We need better promo.”
“I never said the two were mutually exclusive.”
“You have an idea?”
“No,” Till admitted, interrupted by a yawn. “I’m saying we need one. You’re good at that. It’s your entire job to sell shit.”
“Not while I’m behind the wheel.”
“Just bounce ideas back and forth with me, alright? Come on, we’ve got work in the morning. It’s gonna keep me up all night if I don’t figure this shit out.”
Till was very easy for Ivan to fold for. He never bombarded Ivan with any sort of flattery, and he was always straight to the point, but he was so certain in his words and stubborn when something came to mind that there was no use in dismissing any of it. So, Ivan folded.
“You could pay streaming services for ad slots,” he suggested, “Or any website that’ll let you buy one, really. Get obnoxious on forums about it. We could actually look into merch production, but there’s no guarantee we’d make profit or that it would actually spread the word that far. I’m in modeling, Till. I’m not a manager. We don’t have much of a budget, either.”
“Well we might as well use all of it here,” Till declared. “It’s gotta be big. In your face. Memorable. Something they gotta pay attention to, that they’ll want to pay attention to. It’s gotta be… y’know, front page material.”
Ivan paused, Till’s words turning cogs in his head. “What, like a music video?”
Till gasped, grinning ear to ear. “Yes, exactly! Fuck , we should make a music video. That’s good. Those are fun. People like those. And it’ll boost us in the algorithm, probably. I think.”
In Till’s many years of making music, ranging from covers to original works, not once had he ever done anything more extravagant than filming himself in his room. Not only were his pockets often bordering empty, but he didn’t have the space for whatever grand visions his brain always latched onto. There’d never been a project worth that sort of investment, and Till had been content with it. Plenty of artists had humble beginnings and worked with what they had.
But enough had been enough for him, it seemed.
“Till,” Ivan began, “How would we even manage something like that?”
“It can’t be that hard,” he argued. “You just need a camera, and, like- a place to film it.”
“Multiple cameras, ideally,” Ivan corrected. “Expensive ones. And you need to decorate the set. What about costume design? How big do you intend for this to be?”
“It doesn’t gotta be that fancy. Less can be more. You can get away with a lot when you’re indie.”
“Till–”
“I’m serious!” Till protested, leaning closer. Ivan stares out at the road as he envisions some sort of look on the other’s face consisting of puppy dog eyes and far too much hope. His hands gripped tighter onto the steering wheel. “Look, people with worse budgets than us have done it. Worse tech. If you give me some time, I can figure everything out.”
“How much time?”
“Like… uh, maybe five days? If I can’t figure it out in five days, I’ll drop everything and admit it was a stupid idea.”
The car began to slow as they turned onto the street Till lived on. Ivan didn’t live much further away, a mercy given gas prices and his own tired state. Till’s fingers plucked rhythmically on the arm rests of the passenger’s seat, questions in dire need of an answer. Ivan already knew he wasn’t going to be saying no. He hardly ever did. When the vehicle met a total halt, he finally faced him, closer than he thought he’d be.
“Ivan, please,” Till added quietly. If Ivan didn’t know him well enough, he’d think Till was doing this to him on purpose.
“Alright,” he agreed. It’s worth whatever trouble the future may hold when it makes the other grin at him like that. “Music video. Can’t be that hard, right?”
Till nodded. “Right.”
It was a good note to end on. Till opened the door with care, unbuckled his seatbelt, and assured his steps were quiet when his shoes hit the pavement. They’re far past the point of anyone being thanked, the sentiment already known, but Till often said it anyways alongside a soft-spoken goodnight and goodbye. When the door clicked carefully shut, Ivan watched his silhouette shrink, his steps taking him further and further away until he became one with the night.
Ivan was used to cameras. He could film a music video. He could cough up enough cash to make it worthwhile, and he could find a place to do it all if necessary. What was the worst that could happen?
UNKNOWN SORROW UPDATES. @unso_updates
It’s been one month since the full release of Unknown Sorrow’s debut album! What are your thoughts? 💀🖤
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gwen <3 @gweentea
i still don’t know where tf ivan came from ToT
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🎸 @luvtill
replying to @gweentea
he’s a model!! till’s talked about him before and they’ve been in a few of each other’s posts so i think they’ve been friends for a while
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(LOU THE END…) @lou_serr
replying to @gweentea
@/cheerupivan
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blue @blacksorrowmp3
replying to @gweentea
im the opposite lol i followed ivan on insta before i found till. he’s v talented!! ^_^
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ERROR! @NOBETTEROPTIONS
I love them sm please dont pull a luka 🙏
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cee :3 @darkcee
replying to @NOBETTEROPTIONS
what does this mean who is luka…
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ERROR! @NOBETTEROPTIONS
replying to @darkcee
he was in hyuna and the rebels but they split up after the debut album for “creative” reasons lmao
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cee :3 @darkcee
replying to @NOBETTEROPTIONS
OHHHH yeah don’t do that 😭
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Sunny!! @sunlocket
tour dates drop tomorrow TRUST
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Folie @foliedeux
replying to @sunlocket
theyre gonna need more bandmates to tour </3 till plays most of the instruments on the album. he couldve done all of it solo tbh atp i think he just wants ivan around LMAO
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Sunny!! @sunlocket
replying to @foliedeux
youre lowkey right HELPPPPP
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3 @3cheersvinyl
can you imagine being the ones those songs were about id throw up
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Zack (Hostile) @D34DL1N35
theyre both so fine goodbye
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