Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

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“Please don't speak, just lie to me. 

As if I never meant anything.” — Cure, Alien Stage.

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Small stones and forgotten broken glass dug into the soles of his feet as they ran. Till could feel them digging into his flesh, cracking it and leaving small rills of blood trailing behind him. He looked at Ivan, whose feet seemed just as raw as his own, blood seeping out from beneath them and sticking to the ground like glue. He watched the dust darken with each step, coating the pale skin of Ivan´s feet. He wondered, for a moment, if the black-haired boy could feel the pain like he did, or if he was just more sensitive. 

Till looked up and saw their clasped hands, their fingers intertwined and their grip tight. They were both smiling as they ran, holding on to each other as if they could be pulled apart by the slightest involuntary movement. He tugged on Ivan's hand to slow him down a bit, since no one was following them, but Ivan took the gesture as a warning and quickened his trot. Till tried to keep up as best he could, not wanting to be left behind.

Then he looked up at Ivan. He couldn't see Ivan's face, but he was sure the boy was smiling just like him. He had rarely seen Ivan happy, and he had photographed those brief moments in his mind so he would never forget them; his eyes disappeared into thin lines, and his lips widened so much at the sides that it seemed he was going to split his face in two. He never showed his teeth, as if he were afraid that if he did, some strange sound might escape. Ivan was very proper, very much one to follow rules and orders. Sometimes.

When Till, all smiles and happiness, looked up, the sight of the sky froze his whole body. It was the first time he'd seen the sky outside of ANAKT with his own eyes, and he didn't know it could be so red, so aggressive, and terrifying. It was cloudless, as if they didn't exist out here, in the wild. But it was vast, so wide and filled with tiny, freckle-like stars scattered across the dark blanket, that if there had been clouds, Till would have felt it would be a waste of views. He also didn't know that there were tiny fireballs hurtling down toward Earth, far over the horizon, where they could never touch them, but which provided one of the greatest spectacles he'd ever witnessed.

It was magnificent, as if everything had been arranged so both children could see the wonders the outside world had in store for them. From the spectacular sky to the rubble of old houses, uninhabited long, long ago. Everything was so... cold, new, grim, and, one might say, exciting. Till had always been curious, with a combative and certainly aggressive personality, and he knew this was exactly what he needed. He looked back down at Ivan, at their intertwined hands, and then, unconsciously, his neck twisted backward. There, just a couple of kilometers away, was the ANAKT building. There, in the distance, was the life he had hated so much these past nine years. He was leaving all those who had treated him so badly, all those who disgusted him so much. And he was leaving Mizi behind, the only ray of hope that damned place had ever provided him.

At what point had his hope shifted from Mizi to Ivan? Perhaps it was when the boy had shown up the night before with a wonderful proposal? When he had promised him freedom and peace at last?

But there was no greater peace and freedom than watching Mizi smile, laugh, and move around the school as if it were a playground. Her playground.

A cold feeling ran through Till´s entire body, even though it had initially felt warm. He could feel his skin sweating, frozen drops running down his forehead and back, and he felt that pathetic grayish fabric he had for cloth stick to his sticky skin. Bile rose in his throat, and tremors ran through his entire body as the image of Mizi began to fill his mind, and as emotions of guilt flooded his heart. His smile was replaced by a strange grimace, gripped by panic and hopelessness.

Unable to stop himself, he loosened his grip on Ivan's hand and slid his fingers around until he was free.

Till stopped running. His body suddenly felt heavy, his legs burning as if he'd been running all day without a break. His lungs filled with the dust stirred up by his hurried steps, and he felt his throat sting. He felt breathless for a moment, and had to bring his hands to his chest as if that would get more oxygen into his body. As if, with that small action, he could calm his racing heart.

Ivan turned around a few seconds later, stopping running almost at the same time as Till. When he did, his friend no longer wore the look of guilt and humiliation that had caused him to let go of his hand, and now he just looked completely scared.

Till took a step back and gasped as the pain in the soles of his feet finally became apparent. He hadn't felt the pain so bad, but now it felt like he was constantly stepping on thousands of tiny pieces of glass. His eyes filled with tears that he refused to let fall in front of Ivan.

"I'm sorry," he barely whispered.

In a swift movement, he had turned around and was now heading back the way they had come. Till didn't look back at Ivan the whole way, but he knew he was following him closely. He could hear him. He could feel him. And he wanted to scream at him, "Why are you following me?! You have to get away, idiot!" But who was the real idiot?

He remembered his return to ANAKT well, and even more so all the emotions that coursed through his small body then. He felt guilty for having sent Ivan back to that prison because of him, but the anguish of leaving the person he loved most in this world alone in such a horrible place was stronger. Fear dominated him, as it rarely did, and he felt an almost animal-like need to return there to see his hope. His freedom. Because seeing it felt much better than experiencing it firsthand.

What he doesn't remember exactly is the punishment he received. When they entered ANAKT, a group of aliens were waiting for them, with enormous weapons pointed at their reddened faces. Or at least Till's, since when the green-haired boy turned to see his companion, Ivan was no longer there, as if it had been an illusion and he had escaped from that place alone. And for a time, he had believed it to be so, since Ivan, in the days following the failed escape, behaved exactly the same as always; Cold and annoying, but certainly distant and aggressive at times. Besides, he didn't have a scratch on him, whereas Till had been scolded and his body had looked like a canvas of purple blotches for several weeks.

Now, at fifteen years old, he still wondered why Ivan had followed him back to ANAKT. He didn't have anyone here he loved the way Till loved Mizi. He also occasionally wondered where Ivan had disappeared to the day they returned. He would have asked him about it himself, but their relationship… hadn't been the same once they'd returned. It wasn't as if they'd gotten along perfectly before, always arguing about one thing or another, but they'd been very close, and their arguments had been friendly, laced with a certain innocent and subtle affection.

After the fateful day they'd returned, Till wasn't sure Ivan's way of speaking to him was friendly. Not at all.

The long, strong branches, with thousands of tiny leaves in various shades of green, provided good shade over Till´s head. He'd sat right under this tree after lunch, taking advantage of the fact that many of his classmates were still in the cafeteria. And he'd taken his sketchbook and a pencil with him; he hadn't stopped doodling for over an hour now. There were straight lines, circles, and a wide variety of different little drawings everywhere. He warmed up his hand, prepared his brain, and let his imagination run wild.

Before he knew it, he'd drawn two things: a wooden box, its lid open and a dark interior painted with graphite, and the second was the first time he'd met Ivan. Lately, the day of his adoption (Till hated to say they'd bought him at a discount) had been on his mind a lot. He couldn't get it out of his head, for some reason, and it made his stomach constantly upset. Till wasn't eating well, let alone sleeping properly. He couldn't concentrate in his classes, couldn't make music, let alone draw like he used to. He felt useless. But Till couldn't stop thinking about the day his tiny body had been roughly torn from the hands of his mother, Io. He couldn't stop remembering the cold of the box in which he'd been transported. And even less so, the flashing memory of that prison with luminous white walls where he'd lived for almost a year kept popping into his mind.

He drew the pencil harder than he should have, and the paper tore where the tip passed, leaving a mark from corner to corner. Till sighed and closed his eyes, dropping the pencil to the grass.

He still remembers the panic, the shortness of breath, and the trembling. He remembers vomiting the first time they threw him into that white room, and he was sure he'd fainted, since all he remembered was getting up from the floor and seeing a transparent, shining glass on one wall, and on the other side, an alien a thousand times larger than anything he'd ever seen, staring at him as if it were about to swallow him whole.

That same night, he saw Ivan. The walls were, in fact, panels of white light, as were the floor and ceiling, and at night they were completely turned off, and only small, dim red lights illuminated the room from a corridor that extended on both sides, separating his cell from the one in front of him. Ivan's cell.

The first time Till had seen Ivan, the boy was sitting right in the center of his dark cell, his legs crossed, staring directly at Till. The boy had leaned closer to the glass to try to see more of Ivan, but all he could make out was the glow of his dark eyes, and then the movement of his body disappearing in the shadows. The next day, when the lights came back on, he had noticed that Ivan's body was completely emaciated; his skin was lacking color and it looked very thin, clinging to his bones, sticking out from his shoulders and knees. He had dark spots scattered across his neck and legs, and his eyes had large, circular bags that swirled around them, making him look like a raccoon.

Now, when Till opened his eyes and looked up, he managed to see Ivan in the distance, talking with some classmates. He realized he had never seen him in such a humiliating state again. Ivan looked strong, healthy, and had some color spreading through his skin. He had muscles, a fine, sharp jaw, and his eyes no longer had bags under them. Now he smiled more, talked more, and even seemed more outgoing than before. Till believes that returning to ANAKT was what changed him, somehow.

Till looked back at his sketchbook and dug his fingers into the tear he'd made himself. With a grunt, he closed its wooden covers and searched for his pencil for a few minutes in the grass until he finally found it. He left his spot with heavy footsteps and a strange bad mood welling up in his chest.

Just a few meters from where the large tree stood, there was a small lagoon of sparkling, crystal-clear water. Till sat on its edge and looked up at the sky. Compared to the outside, in ANAKT the sky wasn't vast, dark, big, or full of stars, nor beautiful, striking, or intriguing. It was merely an illusion painted in light blue, with clouds meticulously scattered here and there, as if someone had taken the time to study what the sky looked like in the outside world and tried to replicate it. When he was younger, he had believed that bright sky was real. It was Ivan who, a few days before promising him a better life, had taken him to the farthest reaches of ANAKT and shown him that this park was a simulation. He had him touch the cold, metallic walls, forced him to run his small fingers along the expanse of blue on the walls and slowly look up. It was a cage disguised as paradise.

"Look, Sua! A fish!" a melodious voice made him turn his face.

In the distance, he could see his two classmates playing at the edge of the lagoon. That teenager with long pink hair, Mizi, was pointing at the water and smiling as if she'd never seen a sea creature before. Sua, her closest friend, was watching the water as if it were a mystery. As if she'd never even realized it was there.

Till was always observant, so he was also quite creative, and he realized that Sua acted oblivious only because Mizi was. If Mizi was surprised because one day she noticed a strange sun painted on the ceiling, then Sua would be surprised too, so she could keep up with her. They were too close, like flesh and blood.

Till watched Mizi put her feet in the water, letting them sink to just above her ankles. Sua followed closely behind her. Till noticed they were holding hands.

"What are you doing?" Till jumped, getting up from the floor as if he'd been doing something forbidden. When he turned his body, he found Ivan leaning over him, staring at him with a blank expression he'd acquired a few years earlier.

As children, Ivan had been quite communicative and expressive with his face. After Till betrayed him, the black-haired boy had become strangely cold and serious.

"Nothing of your concern," he replied, bending down again to grab his notebook and pencil.

"You were staring at Mizi again." Till rolled his eyes, turning his back on him to leave.

"It doesn't matter to you."

"I didn't say it did." Till frowned, watching out of the corner of his eye as Ivan positioned himself next to him. "I just think it's weird."

Till sighed, letting Ivan walk by his side.

After they had returned from their escape attempt, their relationship hadn't gotten better or worse, but rather, it had become this way where Ivan would say a lot of things to annoy Till, and Till would respond by getting angry. The black-haired man had never been much of a chatterbox, but over the years he seemed to have gained some confidence. Or maybe he was just an idiot, saying what he thought without even stopping to think about whether the other person might like what he said or not. Or maybe he didn't care at all.

"I don't think there's anything weird about watching my classmates," he tried to defend himself, adjusting his notebook under his armpit.

"Well, it's weird if you do it for more than ten minutes every day." Ivan crossed his arms, and Till felt his ears heat up. "You're not subtle about that, you know? You'd look less creepy if you at least talked to her."

"I talk to Mizi!" he complained, his neck turning red. He held back the urge to push Ivan away. "Sometimes."

"Mhm... yeah." Ivan put a hand to his chin, and a strange smile appeared on his face. "If we can count your stupid stuttering as a figure of speech, then yes, you do it."

"You're the stupid one," he complained, and he could hear Ivan snort.

One thing about Ivan was that his smiles weren't real, and he only smiled with his lips. The muscles in his face barely moved, as if his acting and energy weren't enough to move his eyes and cheeks. And he didn't really laugh either; it was more like he was blowing air out of his lungs. Till had never seen him smile or laugh for real, and the way he did it seemed quite creepy to him. But Ivan was popular; the girls loved him, the boys envied him. He was everyone's friend and favourite, and Till seemed to be the only one who realized that Ivan was someone strange, a terrible actor and a total maniac.

Everyone else seemed blind to what Till already knew: Ivan wasn’t good. He was something else entirely.

"Have you done the song they asked you to write for tomorrow?" Ivan then asked. Till took a good few minutes to answer.

Here at ANAKT, their teachers would ask some students, the most knowledgeable and good at it, to create melodies or entire songs. They were told it was for practice until the big day when they would be on stage, and there were times when the kids were lucky enough to have their melodies chosen for that year's competition.

“No”

They walked side by side, shoulder to shoulder, to a bench just a few feet away, facing the lake. A tree with a thick, hollow trunk stood right next to them, providing a long, soft, and refreshing shade. Till sat down first, followed by Ivan. Sometimes he wondered why the boy followed him around when there were people more willing to talk to him and not feel terribly bad about being around him. Especially if they didn't like him that much, as seemed to be the case.

But Till tried hard to ignore it, as he always did, and got to work. He opened his notebook, not caring that it was a sketchbook, and stared at the paper for a few seconds before creating a pentagram of almost straight lines across the canvas. Then he began to think. In the background, he heard distant words like whispers in the air, the laughter of children having fun, and the soft rustle of leaves in the wind. If the sky was nothing more than a mere illusion, Till was sure there were fans hidden somewhere to mimic the cooling breezes.

He looked up when the sound of splashing caught his attention. In the lagoon, Mizi had fallen on her back, holding a huge fish in her arms. He couldn't make out what she was saying, but he supposed it was something beautiful enough to make the always serious Sua smile like that.

Sua, like Ivan, rarely smiled. But unlike the boy next to her, Sua didn't seem to be acting; she seemed very real when she was with Mizi. Till knew it was the effect the girl had on everyone else, including himself. She was bright, sweet, with a melodic, catchy voice, and a positive attitude that caused strange butterflies in his stomach. She was also pretty and extremely attentive.

Mizi dropped the fish back into the water and could see the splash of its metallic fin disappear into the background.

“Staring,” Ivan’s voice made him snort, and he looked down to continue with his task.

A melody appeared in his head then. That was the power of Mizi, which made him work unconsciously to achieve his goals. He wrote the first notes, fast-paced and with high, sharp tones. Tomorrow he would be in charge of presenting his rock-style song, and he was sure they would love it.

He paused for a few seconds. He wasn’t so sure he wanted everyone to love his music, or listen to his lyrics. He shrugged and continued composing under Ivan’s intense gaze.

“You know…” Till continued making notes, humming his music under his breath, while he listened to the boy speak. Although he wasn't paying much attention to it, "I've seen something new lately, and I think we should try it." Till raised his non-writing hand and mimed strumming his guitar, trying to test out the imaginary chords. "We should put our lips together."

Till's pencil slipped from his hands, and he turned to look at Ivan with a wide-eyed, twisted-lip grimace.

"GROSS! Why would we do something like that?!" He felt his fingers tremble, and his heart beat strangely fast in his chest as he bent down to pick up his fallen pencil.

"Everyone's doing it, so I thought we should too," he said so calmly that Till felt his body slide slightly off the bench. He forced himself not to fall, and quickly sat back down.

"No! That's disgusting!"

Although if it really was, he wouldn't be considering it right now. He tried to return his attention to the music.

“But I wanted to try it~” he whined. Till frowned.

“I’ll consider it for your birthday,” he almost whispered, looking for an excuse to stop Ivan from talking.

“You know I don’t have a birthday.” At the answer, Till felt his heart skip a beat. He ignored it as best he could. “You have to do it with me sometime. Promise?”

But Till didn’t answer. He couldn’t.

It was in moments like these that Till didn't quite understand Ivan. He had betrayed him years ago, and Ivan seemed to be reminding him of that incident from when they were nine every day– every time they spoke. Ivan was always emphasizing what an idiot he was, breaking and hiding his things, pushing and hitting him, sometimes for no apparent reason, and even making it very clear, all the time, that Till had no one but Ivan, even though Ivan didn't seem to like Till that much. And Till… accepted everything Ivan had to give and offer him, always returning the insults and blows as if they didn't hurt his poor heart.

Many times he thought this was his punishment for ruining Ivan's chance to escape, to achieve the freedom that terrified Till so much. But it wasn't his fault either; Ivan could have gone on without him. But no, in the end, he had decided to follow Till back to this place that neither of them liked.

He knew Ivan was toying with him, and that he didn't really want to put their lips together and do whatever it was he wanted to do. Till knew he was just teasing him because that's who Ivan was. But despite that, Till couldn't stop thinking about it.

He imagined, for a moment, his lips crashing against Mizi's. Always Mizi, his hope and ray of light. He imagined his face flushed, his body completely tense, and his heart pounding. As he continued writing notes in his notebook, he imagined his eyes closed and Mizi's gentleness before him. Until hands gripped his waist, and a new, strident heat ran through his body. When, in his imagination, he opened his eyes, he found Ivan and his fake and terrifying smile.

The pencil fell to the floor again, and this time it was Ivan who bent down to pick it up.

“You’re very clumsy,” he said, standing in front of him and reaching out to hand him the pencil.

Their fingers brushed gently, and Till felt a strange electricity where their skin connected. He quickly moved away, staring into Ivan’s eyes.

“Shut the fuck up,” he growled, his ears turning red.

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After they'd returned from the outside, Till had wondered where Ivan had run off to and why he'd left him alone in front of all those alien guards. But it wasn't until three days later, when Urak, his guardian, had let him out into that all-too-familiar "outside world" that was ANAKT, that he'd seen Ivan again.

When he found him in the school gardens, his body froze at the sight before him, and he felt a pang in his heart. Ivan wasn't even scratched, his hair was shorter and no longer covering his eyes, and he even seemed to be wearing new, completely clean clothes. At that moment, he wondered if what had happened a few days ago had been a dream, and the bruises on his body were just because Urak was an aggressive alien and nothing more.

"Where were you?" Till asked Ivan when he found him sitting alone in the grass near the lake.

"What are you talking about?" Ivan looked up as he pulled the grass free from the ground.

“When we came back, you were gone,” he reminded him, and Ivan tilted his head as if he didn't understand what Till was talking about. “Where did you go?”

Ivan then smiled for the first time— that strange, fake smile— that terrifying smile that told Till that Ivan didn't want to talk. That if he continued looking at him, Ivan would kill him or something much worse.

“I was hiding.”

Till immediately realized that Ivan, the Ivan he knew, was no longer the same. It could be said that Till divided his friend's personality into two stages: the version before the escape, and the version that came after. As if trying had made him understand something Till couldn't, and had forced him to shape his personality and way of being to fit in a different, more direct way with the group of ANAKT kids. It was strange to see this new Ivan interacting so actively with people, when he had previously been a rather reserved, quiet, and even somewhat shy person. He used to wear his hair long, his dark eyes peering out from behind his black locks. His clothes had always seemed clean, but never new, and his appearance had never looked so... splendid.

It was as if instead of Ivan following him back to ANAKT, a clone had followed him, taking over his life and friends. It still seemed strange to him every time a girl approached Till to ask him about Ivan. He was popular now, with lots of friends, so much attention that sometimes it was Till who seemed overwhelmed and not his friend.

Not only had the way Ivan interacted with others changed, but also the way he behaved around Till. The light-haired boy felt that being back had also changed him a bit; now he had a bit of a hard time talking to his classmates, and he even felt he didn't have the right to even look at Mizi. Sometimes, when someone complimented his drawings or songs, he became shy. And Till felt, at times, that Ivan was taking advantage of this new side of Till. He teased him much more than before, saying things he hadn't said before, and even treating him in ways he never thought he would.

He remembers one time, when they turned thirteen, a special event was taking place at ANAKT. It was something about the campus's anniversary, or Till doesn't really remember. But he does remember that they had handed out beautiful flower necklaces as red as blood, with petals as bright as the lights Till now knew covered the entire fictional sky. Their centers were as yellow as the sun painted above their heads. It was truly beautiful. Till had never received a real gift, so he cared for his flowers as if they were the most precious and valuable thing in this strange and aggressive world. He remembers stroking their petals with gentleness and utmost care. He remembers spending hours looking at them, away from any human being who might be inside ANAKT. That day he had exchanged a few words with Mizi, he remembers it perfectly, because the pink-haired girl had placed her own flower necklace on his head like a tiara, while Sua watched them from just a few steps away. It was one of the first times they had played together, and Till felt his chest warm with happiness.

When Ivan had joined the group, Till thought it was just to play with them as a normal person would do. He thought that finally Ivan had forgiven him and they were about to make up. He realized, as the black-haired boy began to pick up speed, that he didn't have the red flower crown in his hands. Till frowned, and realized too late the smile Ivan had spread across his expressionless, cold face, his eyes so empty as if there weren't even a soul behind them. He ran toward Till and snatched the flowers from his hands. Everything happened so fast that he couldn't react in time when Ivan threw the flowers to the ground and began to repeatedly stomp on them, destroying them.

"Hey!" Till shouted, throwing himself at Ivan to try to stop him from breaking his flower necklace, but the boy seemed to have acquired incredible strength in these few years. They both fell to the ground and began hitting each other. First, Till was on top of Ivan, trying to hit his chest and face, but soon, in a single movement, Ivan switched places. The latter had moved over Till's legs, trapping him between his own. An icy chill ran through Till's body when she saw Ivan's smile, which for the first time showed all of his perfect white teeth. It would have been adorable if only he wasn't raising his fist high, and if blood wasn't pouring out of his mouth. He looked terrifying, all shadows and strange spirals in his dull eyes. That day, he not only realized that Ivan could be very sadistic and strong, but that his eyes weren't simply black. There was a small red glint in them, like blood pooling and almost ready to fall from their orbs like tears. Ivan was, indeed, more terrifying than Till remembered.

Till doesn't remember who finally separated them, but he was unconditionally grateful when the beast was taken off him. His eyes first fell on Mizi, who was huddled with Sua in a corner, staring at them with wide eyes and a hand covering her lips. Then Till looked at the flowers, completely destroyed on the floor. And finally, his eyes moved to Ivan. His breath hitched, and he felt a strange tremor when he saw the boy's expression return to its cool, calm form.

Without saying anything, he ran off, leaving everyone behind him.

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As the years passed, things didn't get any better. Angering aliens was incredibly simple, and he was no longer that scared thirteen-year-old boy; he was now a full-blown rebellious teenager who didn't care what people said to him, much less the consequences, no matter how horrible. Human pets weren't supposed to behave the way Till did, but Urak had bought him on sale, and he had no right to complain about his failed acquisition.

The first time Urak had scolded him was the day after he'd bought him, when Till had broken a decoration in his owner's house while they were finishing the paperwork to get him into ANAKT. The blow to his cheek had hurt too much, and it took almost a week for the pain to disperse, and three more days for the mark to turn yellow and disappear. His alien owner wasn't a... patient thing, and Till seemed to enjoy annoying him and getting on his nerves. They had taken away the most precious thing Till had, his mother, so he would be responsible for making their lives miserable.

When they put him in ANAKT, his combative personality hadn't changed. He still got into trouble from time to time. Although his childishness had toned down once they'd returned with Ivan from their failed escape—and he couldn't seem to stop thinking about that stupid escape while he finished polishing the last of his latest creation: a romance song, a soft and sweet ballad dedicated to... no one in particular. Seriously, while he meticulously thought about the intonations, no one had crossed his mind, for the first time.

A few days ago, he'd presented his rock-style song, and as he expected, he managed to catch the attention of his robot-alien masters. They'd asked Till to create another song, so he spent the other three days composing something mellow while trying to escape Ivan, who seemed to be much more insistent on being with him than usual. They'd asked him to finish it as quickly as possible and to present it once revised so they could hear it, so Till needed all the concentration he could muster.

He was pacing from one corner of ANAKT´s park to the other, his notebook tucked under his armpit. He played with the pencil between his fingers as he thought. The song was already finished, so he just had to review it one last time before he went and handed it in. He didn't know what they were plotting for him, but he felt a great opportunity looming somewhere.

The pencil slipped from Till's hand, rolling a little until it ended up right at the edge of the lagoon. He bent down to grab it again when he felt hands on his back forcefully pushing him forward. Till let out a sort of scream as he stretched his arms forward, and the notebook slid from under his arm, falling into the water and slowly half sinking in the lakeside. His hands sank into the water up to his wrists, and the pants around his knees became damp, leaving dark stains. Quickly, realizing his position, Till knelt down and picked up the notebook.

“No, no, no…” he groaned angrily as he carefully opened the notebook. The pages were all stuck together, and now everything looked like a blur of blue ink.

Looking up, he found Ivan. Always the culprit of his misfortunes.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?!” he yelled, pushing himself up off the floor to be eye level with his friend. Or almost, since Ivan had grown so much that they were now a head apart.

“I’m doing everyone a favor.” His blank expression sent shivers down Till’s spine, but he wasn’t intimidated. He absorbed Ivan's words, and a fire ignited in his chest, “ from listening to your awful music.”

Till threw his notebook to the ground, and it fell with a crunching sound on the grass. Then, he lunged at Ivan and pushed his body from his chest. The black-haired boy stumbled back, his eyes widening in surprise, and Till, not waiting for him to react, pushed Ivan again. He managed to knock him down. Ivan fell backward onto the grass, and Till jumped on top of him, trying to punch him in the face. Ivan managed to dodge just in time, and Till's fist slammed into the earth below. In a swift movement, Ivan switched positions, causing Till to be underneath him. But Till, not expecting Ivan to hit him, reached out to find something to defend himself with. With his fingertips, he managed to touch the pen, which Ivan noticed. They both reached out to grab it, and Ivan ended up keeping the cap, while Till got the rest, the working part. 

“Moron!” Till yelled at him before reaching up, gathering strength to stab Ivan with the tip of the pen.

He moved his arm as quickly as possible, but gasping with exertion, Ivan grabbed his wrist. The black-haired man fell forward, placing Till’s hand on his head and holding it there while Till bent his legs and tilted his pelvis. Ivan fell forward again, and by inertia, he brought the hand holding the pen cap up so he could rest both hands on the grass and not crush Till with his weight. Till felt the rough touch of the pen cap rub too hard against his cheek. It was quick, almost painless, but it burned like hell. He felt some blood trickle down his skin.

“You hurt me!” he yelled, tilting his pelvis again as he twisted his body and threw Ivan to the side.

The boy was heavy, he realized. Till was sure it was because of the muscle he was gaining.

“You wanted to stab me!” Ivan complained after catching his breath. He had fallen sideways, and he felt his arm throbbing with pain.

“Because you ruined my work!” Till sat up and crawled across the grass to get his notebook. “It took me so long to think of a new melody in such a short amount of time…”

Ivan didn’t say anything, but Till heard him sit down on the grass. He felt his classmate’s dark eyes on him, staring with an intensity that made him uncomfortable. Ivan staring at him like that always made him nauseous, as if he were standing in front of all the ANAKT students completely naked. It was as if Ivan could see something inside Till, through his skin, past his veins and bones. All his secrets, and dreams, and fears, and everything else.

When he didn’t get a response from Ivan, Till got up with a snort and stomped off toward where he was originally supposed to go. He forgot his pen, but it didn't matter. After all, he had plenty more in his room.

As he walked toward the dining room, he carefully opened the notebook containing his latest work and let out a shaky breath when he saw the ink lines spread everywhere. But relief spread through him when he realized it was visible enough that, later, when he was in his room, he could transfer it to a new, cleaner, drier sheet of paper. He left the notebook open on that sheet of paper so it wouldn't get any more ruined than it already was, and so it could dry thoroughly while he ordered and ate his lunch.

The bustle of the dining room had always seemed one of the most horrible things of all, which is why he always waited an hour after the buffet opened to go and get in line. By that time, half the kids were already starting to leave for the playground, and not many people were still inside the dining room. That way, he could be more relaxed, without so much noise or people disturbing his peace. So this day, he wasn't going to change his plans; he arrived an hour later, there were few people, and the good food still hadn't disappeared. But this time, unlike other times, Mizi was in line with Sua.

He didn't want to sound like a stalker, but Till knew Mizi's schedule pretty well. So it was strange to see her at this hour in the dining room.

With shy, slow steps, he went to the line. He stood behind the girls and listened cautiously to their conversation. Mizi was talking about a song she wanted to write with Sua and...

"Oh, Till!" Till felt the hairs on his body rise in surprise at being noticed. "Hello!"

"Mizi... hello," he tried to smile, looking at the girl's forehead. If he looked into her eyes, he wouldn't be able to speak. "And Sua. Hello."

"What happened to your cheek? Are you okay?" Till brought his hand to the small cut on his skin, brushing it with his fingertips. The blood was still fresh. “Oh, no, your notebook…”

“We’re fine—I’m fine,” he corrected himself. Who´s we…? “I just fell in the lake, and, and it got wet. It’s nothing!”

“Sure?” Till nodded quickly. He felt his head start to hurt. When he saw Sua, the girl looked bored. He looked back at Mizi. “Good. That’s good. Do you need fresh paper?”

“No,” he felt his ears heat up. “I have, um, some in my room.” He scratched the back of his neck and turned his eyes back to the wet paper. “You… I mean, what are you guys doing here at this hour? I thought- I thought you liked to eat early.”

“Oh, yeah!” Mizi laughed softly, and Till felt as if trumpets were blowing in the sky. “It’s just that we were playing with Sua, and it got late.”

They reached the buffet area, so Mizi turned around to order their food with Sua, while talking with Till about trivial matters. Till, for his part, tried to follow the conversation, even though it seemed like something completely different and made him feel out of sorts. His heart was pounding in his chest, and he was sure his neck and ears were completely red. He felt a heat running through him, slowly engulfing him. He ordered his food with some difficulty, as he was easily distracted by his friend´s beauty.

"That song last time was great!" she said when they reached the end of the line, and all three of them already had their trays of food.

"It was good." Till smiled at Sua, as if it were something simple and effortless. Although her voice disconcerted him a little; it was strange to hear her speak.

“Um, thanks,” he bit his inner cheek, staring at Mizi for a few more seconds before saying, “I'm actually finishing another one.”

“Really?!” Till felt heat rise to his cheeks. “You have to show it to us before the rest!”

“Sure. Yes. I will.”

“Fine!” There was a brief silence in between, and Till felt like if no one said anything, he would be the first to die. “Well, Sua and I will go eat over there. See you later!”

Till also said his goodbyes, between whispers and stutters, and stood in the middle of the cafeteria like a lovesick lunatic. He glanced behind him, at the two girls who were about to sit far away in the corner, and, uninvited, he decided to go the other way. Although, as he sat down and left his notebook beside him, he regretted it immediately.

“Till,” the aforementioned rolled his eyes when he heard Ivan, who was sitting down with some other boys some seats ago on his left, “how's your cheek?”

“Don't act like you care,” he replied as he began to eat.

He glanced at Ivan and his apparent friends and realized no one was really paying attention to him. Till managed to see movement beside him, but he didn't care enough to turn his head, instead focusing instead on the rest of the crowd; he watched the people walking back and forth in the dining room. He looked at some people ordering food, and then at others laughing loudly. A body settled down next to him, but before he could turn his face to look at Ivan, the boy ran one of his fingers over his wound. The blood seemed to have dried, but because of the force with which he squeezed, Till felt small droplets reappear there, which Ivan wiped away.

“Hey, what are you doing?” he complained, moving back and raising an arm to put some space between Ivan and him.

When he turned to look at the dark-haired boy, he had his thumb in his mouth, sucking on his blood. Till grimaced, feeling two strange things happening inside him. On one hand, an icy sensation ran through his whole body, from head to toe. But on the other, he felt his chest subtly warming up. He attributed the latter to anger, although it wasn't an emotion he was feeling at the moment, and the last thing he wanted to think was that he was just as insane as Ivan.

"They say saliva is good for healing wounds," he sounded mocking, but his face didn't match his voice.

"It's disgusting," Till snorted, returning his attention to his food. "You're disgusting. You're always doing things like that with saliva."

"First of all, putting our lips together doesn't necessarily have to involve saliva. If that's what you´re talking about," Till felt his entire face redden.

"I'm not!" Maybe he was.

“And second, saliva really helps with wounds. Unsha… taught me that,” he said, leaning his elbow on the table and letting his head fall into his hand. Then he looked at Till from the side. “A little, at least.”

“And why do you believe in aliens?” He rolled his eyes and continued eating.

“Unsha is a bad liar,” he almost whispered, and Till stopped eating for a few seconds. “Besides, it doesn’t hurt to try.”

“You trying to suck my wound? It actually did” he sighed, putting the fork back in his mouth.

“Well, I wasn’t going to suck your cheek directly. My idea was for you to put your saliva on your finger and for you to heal yourself.” Till looked at him sideways. There was that damn smile again. “But if you want me to help, I´m not objecting. It would be an honor to suck you.”

Till choked on his food and had to set everything down on the table as he coughed. He heard someone, a friend of Ivan's, ask him if he was okay, so he raised a hand with his thumb up. When he felt his throat was no longer itchy and he could breathe again, he looked at Ivan as if he were another alien.

"You're fucking sick."

Ivan shrugged, and Till felt a tremendous urge to punch him. But instead, he got up from his seat, grabbed his notebook, and walked away from the black-haired boy.

Ivan made Till want to run away, always. He was his only true friend, or at least that's how he sometimes thought of it. Till wasn't popular by any means, compared to Ivan, but that didn't mean he didn't talk to other people within ANAKT. He just couldn't consider any of them as close as the annoying boy who wouldn't leave his side. And even though he'd tried to get along with Ivan many times, the boy always did something that embarrassed him too much or made him feel like an idiot, and he'd end up running away as if Ivan had a contagious illness.

Till believes their closeness is due, more than anything, to the fact that they share a little secret. The only people who found out about his escape attempt were Urak, Till's guardian, and some of ANAKT's guardian aliens. Till didn't know if Unsha, Ivan's guardian, was aware of it, though he assumed he wasn't since Ivan hadn't been reprimanded. So yes, maybe sharing that had made them strangely close, but Till's betrayal had put them in a complicated situation that the light-haired boy didn't know how to get out of. He didn't even know how to fix the whole mess.

Till hated ANAKT, Urak, and everyone. He loved Mizi because she was that glimmer of hope in such a cold and cruel world. He loved Ivan because... well, it's not like he knew if he loved him or not. Ivan was Ivan, and he was always there by his side, whether he liked it or not. They got along well for the most part; sometimes they argued and annoyed each other, but they were always together. So maybe he did like him in a way. Except when he made his heart race, or when he purposely embarrassed him by saying those stupid things. Who would want to lock lips with Till? No one. Only Ivan. But Ivan had strange ideas. So strange that he was willing to suck Till's blood and...

He was going off the rails.

The light-haired boy didn't understand Ivan no matter how hard he tried, although he often felt he wasn't trying hard enough. Ivan was like that because that's how he was, period. There shouldn't be a reason beyond what existed; that's his personality. Although he often wasn't sure.

Till entered the ANAKT building and went straight to the rooms. The hallway was narrow, as if the aliens had created this space so only two people could pass through at a time; one going, one coming back. Everything was white and gray, and the lack of color sometimes made Till dizzy, as if something was missing that could give it more life and make everything more welcoming. But he knew the aliens didn't want this to feel cozy. Unlike the hallway, the rooms were spacious and shared. In Till's case, he had to share his entire life with two or three people, who rotated as they grew older. He assumed it was because they couldn't stand him humming all the time, and they demanded a change despite the risks it entailed.

Furthermore, these changes had consequences for Till. He'd need ten hands or more to count the number of times Urak scolded and hit him because of it. According to Urak, Till was unbearable enough that no one wanted to spend time with him. The first time, the comment hurt him. The second time, it angered him. He barely remembers the subsequent times.

He was grateful his roommates were gone, as he would have complete freedom to sing and hum his music. He went to his bed, found a pen and a dry notebook on his nightstand, and began transcribing the staves with his music.

⋯⋯⋯ ⊰ ᯽ ⊱ ⋯⋯⋯

The day Ivan had destroyed his flower crown, Till had run away as he always did, with what remained of his blood-red gift. His eyes were filled with tears, and he felt a deep swelling in his chest. And as he walked away from all the children and their wreaths of soft, neat petals, Till told himself over and over again that he wasn't going to cry. And so he did.

He made his way to one of the most secluded spots he could find, past the lake. There were no shadows or trees to hide him, but he didn't care. What did matter was that he was far enough away from everyone. Especially from Ivan. He knelt on the ground and carefully laid out the remains of his crown, and stood for a few seconds, looking at it. He ran his fingertips over the rough petals and then over the yellow center of one of them. It was cold, very cold, under his touch. But at the time, it didn't seem strange.

Till had hunched over the flowers after a couple of minutes of staring at them. Often, he couldn't tell if Ivan truly liked him or genuinely hated him, and this was one of those times. He began to whisper a few soft "cheer up... cheer up" over the wreath, cupping his hands around his mouth like a megaphone. Then his voice grew a little louder, his lower lip trembling slightly as he mentally told himself that he shouldn't cry. That this was insignificant and the reason for it was meaningless.

A few minutes later, a shadow appeared beside him, but he cared little as he continued to sing his "cheer up, cheer up!". Ivan was now with him, looking at Till as if he were something strange, but following suit after a few seconds. Now they were both trying to bring destroyed flowers back to life.

When Till looked up, Ivan did too. The soft red light in his eyes made his chest ache, and, as often, he didn't understand what was happening. First he destroyed his things, and then he was by his side trying to fix his mistake. Those dark eyes, devoid of emotion and seemingly lifeless, looked at him with something new. Those small red dots in their irises were proof of this. Till looked down again, followed by Ivan, and they both continued chanting their words of encouragement.

"What are you losers doing?" a third person asked.

"WHAT?!" Till quickly knelt down to look at their brown-haired classmate.

He hadn't expected Ivan to come and keep him company, although it didn't seem strange to Till either, but the presence of this new person had taken him by genuine surprise.

"What's a loser?" Ivan's soft voice made Till stop paying attention to the newcomer. He didn't care about that person.

“A loser is a moron without any friends, you moron.”

“That is you then.”

Till could call Ivan a moron—he had, more than once—but he couldn’t call him a loser. Because a loser had nothing. No place, no people, no sense of belonging. And Ivan… Ivan had all of that. Since they'd come back, he had slipped into the world like he belonged to it—talking to strangers, laughing with classmates, sitting next to Mizi as if they’d known each other forever. Till watched from the outside, unsure how Ivan had managed to make the cage look like freedom. He couldn’t even speak to Mizi without fumbling. He didn’t have a pampering, doting owner who treated him like something special. He didn’t have friends. He had bruises and broken sleep, a sketchbook with too many empty pages, a notebook full of half-melodies that felt more like obligations than dreams. He had Ivan—sometimes. When Ivan felt like it. But Ivan didn’t have him. Not in the way Till wanted.

And if Ivan looked at him and saw a friendless, useless, pathetic stray, then maybe he was a loser. Maybe Ivan saw him as hollow. Stupid. Not worth the time. And the worst part—the part that made his chest ache like something had caved in—was the realization that Ivan never really called him a friend at all.

Then he hit him on the head, causing Ivan to fall backward onto the grass. Again, he turned away from Ivan, upset. But this time, he didn't take the rest of the flowers with him.