Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Mizi didn't want to be found.

Till tried to find her, reach out, anything, but she always slipped away. Now and then, they'd briefly communicate through notes. Dewey suggested a stakeout to catch her, but Till turned down the idea. Mizi and Till's sect of the rebellion had come to a tentative agreement of sorts. She'd leave a note or a map, and Till left her alone. Till knew a stakeout and physical contact would scare her off, so he refrained from it, no matter how much he wanted to see his friend again. He'd be lying if he hadn't thought about it, but she did give him one of the best things he could have gotten from this whole mess.

It had to have been two years ago at this point. Till remembers the note and map appearing at the most recent encampment that the rebellion set up.

He's not dead. Unsha never figured out a way to get him back into the spotlight, but his wife likes him too much to get rid of him. You'll find him here. Good luck, and thank you for respecting my wishes.
- M

Till remembers sitting in shock for a while, reading and rereading the note. Mizi didn't name him, but he knew who she meant. Till couldn't believe it; he had watched Ivan die in front of him. Ivan had died in front of him. The hallucinations stopped after three years, but the nightmares of not being able to do more, to save him or die in his stead, still visited him five years later. Ivan's genuine smile as he fell to the ground is still ingrained into Till's memories. How can he still be alive?

The mission to retrieve him came rather quickly. Isaac wouldn't let Till go, just in case things went south. He remembers pacing for hours, unable to think of anything else.

Till saw Ivan walk through the entrance of the encampment, and he stood there in stunned silence for a minute. He was still processing the fact that Ivan wasn't dead.

Till had imagined their reunion to be happy, emotional, and it was obvious Ivan was expecting the same thing, showing that stupid, beautiful, authentic smile with his stupid ass snaggletooth peeking out.

However, that was not the case. Till's body moved before his brain, socking Ivan in the face. He remembers pinning him to the ground and beating the shit out of him. A couple of the rebellion members looked stunned before pulling Till off.

"Fucking let me go!" Till bulked up since his days at Anakt, and his emotional outburst took three people to pry him off of Ivan. "Ivan, you are the stupidest, most selfish motherfucker I have EVER had the misfortune of knowing!!"

Ivan shot Till one of those damned smiles again, this time with a smug look that pissed Till off. His nose was bleeding, and the bruises were already blossoming on his cheek and eye. "Had I known this is the welcome I would get, I might've turned them down instead of blindly following strangers in the hopes I'd see you."

"You fucking shit! I watched you die, and that's all you have to say?!" Till struggled against the grip of his comrades again, "You can let me go now!"

"Are you going to punch me again?" Ivan raised his brow.

"No," Till was slowly let go. "Now, can you leave us alone?"

The rebellion members looked at each other for a moment, then at Till, as if trying to confirm he would not try to kill Ivan. "Alright."

Till waited until they were alone and out of earshot. "Why didn't you try to find me?"

"Till, I didn't know you were alive. I was out for a few weeks, and then when the reruns hit, I watched you get shot. Everything went to shit when Mizi showed up, and the cameras constantly cut out. It wasn't until these guys showed up at my window that I was told about it. They could've been lying, but I'm the fool who would still run at the chance of seeing you."

"You are so stupid, and I'm the idiot who still loves you." Now Till felt the tears. Who could blame him? Till has lost so many people; having one miraculously return from the dead was a shock to his emotions.

The tearful, emotional reunion that Till had first imagined happened after. Ivan let Till cry in his arms while smiling at the insults Till continued to spew. Ivan had been called everything from a "stupid bastard" to a "shit-for-brains faggot with no survival instincts." He did deserve those insults. What kind of idiot follows random strangers somewhere without any proof that Till was even there?

Till initiated the first kiss, desperate and full of every single emotion he didn't get the chance to tell Ivan before everything went to shit. Till remembers dragging Ivan to his room as fast as possible without separating their lips too much. It went from there, clothes strewn on the floor and sweat-slicked limbs tangled together. He fell asleep that night still intertwined with Ivan, the latter already asleep against Till's shoulder.

It only took a week for them to become sickeningly domestic. Dewey would sometimes fake gag at their public displays of grossly romantic affection. Ivan always had to be touching Till in some way during meetings, be it holding his hand or dozing off on Till's shoulder. Till wasn't much better in the touch department. He'd sit in Ivan's lap and draw, the latter always watching every pencil stroke. Fleeting, sappy kisses were frequently given, but it wasn't uncommon to see one or both of them sporting barely concealed marks from more devious activities.

Ivan eventually asked about the scars Till had on his neck and the lack of metallic letters carved into the side of it. That was a memory he had always tried to forget. Mizi was knocked out for hers, but he remembers every scorching second that the seygein held him down to brand those damned letters into his neck. The brand being taken out was another memory he wanted to forget. He wasn't sure yet how to break it to Ivan that his horrific guilt about everything manifested as a hallucination of Ivan's dying form. Till scratched so horribly at his own neck that they had to remove the letters. It stopped the itching, though. Hallucination Ivan calmed down as well.

He asked Ivan if he wanted to remove his brand, as it was in a place that could be easily hidden, but he declined. The only other name he had was 0214, the date he was bought and gifted to Unsha's wife. It shortly became one of Till's favorite places to leave gentle kisses on.

However, it took Ivan about eight months to get into the field. The previous break in his scapula healed okay, but he never got the necessary physical therapy and couldn't move his arm fully. Whatever else Ivan had been through in the past five years completely erased every shred of the social skills he had. It took quite a bit of socialization with the rest of the rebels to get him up to speed. While he underwent physical therapy, he was trained as a medic and assigned various roles at the base. That helped him with his social skills as he was able to empathize more easily. Learning to cook helped as well. He was even put on babysitting duty a few times.

When he was finally cleared for field work, the others would take him on outings to get him out of his comfort zone, which is where he picked up book thievery. Isaac took a liking to him and personally taught him how to ride a motorcycle. For all the dozing off Ivan did in meetings, he was still killer in the field. He always attributed it to his previous life in the slums, but sometimes shot some stupid innuendos directed at Till, who usually punched his (good) shoulder or yelled at him after that. He still managed to find endless ways to infuriate him.

Till still had to deal with Ivan's deeper emotional block. He answered every question Ivan had about love and what feelings even were, even if the end result was muffled gasps and Till dealing with snickers the next day because Ivan left marks too high up again. The shameless bastard didn't care, but Till still had a little bit of dignity he'd like to preserve. At least that's what he tries to convince himself of. Deep down, he is just as shameless.

It was long past midnight, and Till and Ivan were riding on the adrenaline high of a successful mission. A little too much drinking on both ends led to their current situation.

Ivan had Till pinned and was attacking his neck like some wild dog, both of their shirts and Till's pants having disappeared sometime within the last five minutes.

"Could you maybe- fuck-" Till's leg unconsciously wrapped itself around Ivan's waist. "Go a little lower, you asshat?"

"You say that every time, yet you're the one who keeps me from moving." To prove a point, Ivan pulled away (as far as he could with Till's leg holding him in place) and stared at Till with that annoying look in his eyes. "I give it 10 seconds before you insult me, tug me back down, or ask for something else. Bonus points if it's all of the above in that order."

Also to prove a point, Till stared back, eye occasionally twitching, for exactly 11 seconds before saying a simple, "Fuck you."

"Go for it." The "I won" look in Ivan's eyes never left his stupid face.

That was all the motivation Till needed to flip their positions and start fumbling with Ivan's belt. "You are so fucking insufferable. I would kill you, but I'd miss your annoying face."

"Yeah, yeah, I love you too, now shut up and kiss me." Ivan dragged Till down to meet his lips, melding together again.

Both of them tended to pay extra attention to their various scars from the Alien Stage. Ivan's most prominent bullet scars, being on his abdomen, made things difficult for more sappy moments, but Till tracing them with his tongue during heated activities was way too easy. However, kisses and bites of all kinds were always present on Ivan's shoulder. Till's scars were all on his neck, which probably contributed to Ivan's fixation with leaving hickeys and bites there. Both of them viewed it as reclaiming the autonomy that had been taken from them.

Ivan continued his obsession with book theft when they went out on missions. He claims it was because he "missed reading classic literature," but Till thought that was mostly bullshit. He actually has no clue if Ivan had genres he preferred, as the titles of the books he steals range vastly from old instructional manuals to flowery poetic shit. This did lead Ivan to pick up new information about human society before the seygein took over. It ranged from fun facts to various traditions, which is what landed Till in their current predicament.

Ivan found out what a wedding was and became very intrigued. He kept making comments about the various traditions he read about in different books. Apparently, different human cultures had varying traditions, but one common practice was the taking of one's last name. Having to explain to Ivan that they don't have last names, and if they did, Ivan would be taking Till's, was strangely a giant ego boost for Ivan.

He managed to turn Ivan into a blushing mess after telling him that they could be classified as "married" based on their current dynamic. Marriage was often seen as devotion to one another, and they had that. Ivan is Till's and Till is Ivan's, so why did they need what was essentially a certificate to prove it?

However, that did not stop Ivan from asking Till to actually go through with a ceremony. Till did not want a ceremony, as his relationship with Ivan and, unfortunately, his sex life, was already well-known to the rebels. He thought the whole thing would be embarrassing. He told Ivan to shelve it and they'd talk about it again when more "progress" (whatever the fuck that meant) was made in the rebellion. That doesn't mean he hasn't caught Ivan scribbling down notes about "vows."

"What are you writing about?" Till draped himself over Ivan's shoulders to take a peek.

"Till! My dearest! You scared me!" He scrambled to try to hide whatever piece of paper he was writing on.

"It looked like something sappy. Any reason, or are you plotting some sort of scheme?" Till had a general idea of what had Ivan so flustered, but it was fun to tease him anyway.

"It was nothing of the sort. Maybe you need glasses," Ivan smiled that ridiculous smile of his. "Mizi's were always quite cute, don't you think?"

"Uh-huh. Sure." Till gave Ivan a quick peck on the lips and detached himself. "I'm getting food. Keep writing your sentimental shit."

"Hey!" Ivan got up and followed him out. "At least invite me along."

Chapter Text

Mizi still left occasional notes. A few months after they retrieved Ivan, she wrote a letter asking how it was going. She wondered how they were holding up. This was still a slightly touchy subject that Till and Ivan had been trying to work through together.

There were still very deep wounds between them, but they both decided that acts of affection and love, instead of running away from each other, was the best way to work through it. They knew they loved each other, but love was tricky. Mizi once said that humans are creatures who don't know how to love without exploiting, but Till finds only some merit in that. None of them knew how to love, and none of them understood it. Who could blame them?

Getting used to Ivan being with him all the time again took some time, and the emotional aspect was still rather fresh for them. Till would sometimes wake up in a cold sweat and scramble to find Ivan to make sure he was still breathing. Even though Till's hallucinations had subsided two years prior, this Ivan being the real one was sometimes a shock.

Ivan would sometimes wake up dazed, almost as if he didn't remember anything about himself. Till would see this dead look on his face, and fear would surge through him that everything was just a dream. Ivan would then look at Till and startle out of that dead state.

However, "Ivan" and Ivan were very different. "Ivan" never looked at him with adoration. "Ivan" wouldn't let Till get a moment's peace, while Ivan would be content watching Till draw or practice guitar. "Ivan" mocked him and took his deepest regrets and spat them in his face, while Ivan listened to him. "Ivan" kissed him to shut him up. Ivan kissed like Till was the most precious thing he'd ever known.

Singing was still a painful point for them. Till's voice had fully come back, but he hadn't sung since the Final. The closest they ever got to singing was Ivan softly humming the melody of "Wiege" one time to lull Till to sleep after a particularly horrible nightmare.

Till still scribbled down notes about song lyrics. He eventually showed Ivan the song he wrote about his feelings concerning him and Mizi. Ivan was always very understanding when it came to Mizi. No matter what he says, Mizi is his best friend. When the initial profiles about the contestants came out, Till actually laughed at Ivan's 30% affection rating for Mizi because even though he didn't understand Ivan at the time, he knew that he cared about her more than that. If Ivan wasn't with Till and Mizi wasn't with Sua, the two of them were off doing something together.

He wrote her a letter once, hoping for some sort of substantial contact. She only wrote back that this is her punishment. She didn't deserve love after what she did. The contents of her reply showed subtle signs that she might abandon the spot where her notes show up, so Ivan dropped the subject. Till held him that night as his shoulders softly shook.

It almost felt like Ivan had never processed anything; he had just been living in a stasis, because whenever Till asks how he felt or what he was doing during his time between Round 6 and now, he doesn't know.

Till figured there was a lot under the surface that was blocked off and hadn't gotten an opportunity to surface. Till attributes this to Ivan's small breakdown the first time they had sex. He was an emotional mess. An aggressively consenting emotional mess, but an emotional mess nonetheless.

It was hot, heavy, and desperate at first, and then Till felt the tears. He had pulled back immediately, because he knows damn well what non-consensual sex does to a human.

"Hey, hey! Ivan, you okay?" Till rarely sees Ivan cry. For a while, he wasn't sure he had the ability to.

Ivan threw himself back into Till's space, "Please, I'm doing just fine, just please."

"Hey, just tell me what's wrong. I promise it's fine, you don't have to do anything you don't want to."

Ivan's eyes swirled with conflicting emotions. "No. Please, don't stop. You can hit me, insult me, kiss me, fuck me, I don't care. Just, please, make me feel something again!"

Till wasn't quite sure how to process this, but that last sentence carried a heavy weight. What had he been through? "Are you sure you're okay?"

The tears started to settle as Ivan looked at him with resolve. "I already gave you my heart, and now I am giving you my body. Do whatever you want, just make me feel again."

Till started to understand. "Alright, I hear you. We're going to slow down a bit, okay?"

"Okay." Ivan gave him a small smile. That was good.

Till changed the pace. Frenzied kisses and touches turned into slower, more delicate things. Both of them were inexperienced and relying on human instinct, so there were some small laughs muffled by slow kisses. He kept it slow and steady, even though the man below him was scratching the fuck out of his back. Ivan was trying every trick in the book to rile Till up enough to increase the pace, but that made Till want to draw it out even more. Whiny impatience was frankly an incredibly hot look on the man.

When they were all at Anakt, they did have minimal sex education. It was mostly focused on sex being only for reproduction. Till thought it was incredibly uninteresting as reproduction wasn't something he ever considered. So, he never thought about sex because what was the purpose if not reproduction?

After the first round, Till was stunned. How could he not realize he was missing out on something this beautiful? He gazed at the man below him with absolute adoration. Ivan got this glint in his eyes, and before Till could think, he was on his back with Ivan straddling his hips. The bastard had managed to do so without separating them.

"What, you thought we were done?"

That look in his eyes would frequent Till's most explicit dreams for years. He slightly shifted, and Till felt that fire rise again. He should have known better. That fucking freak had always been like this. Till sighed and grabbed the back of Ivan's neck.

"Don't make me regret this, you shithead." He grumbled before dragging Ivan down to meet his lips.

Ivan had all but collapsed onto Till's shoulder when he was finally spent. Fell asleep almost instantaneously. Till was not exactly pleased with this, so he woke Ivan up so they could clean up and get some water. Ivan grumbled at first, but accepted the affection like a sleepy kitten. They settled back down to sleep, and Till whispered a short "I love you." Ivan was mostly asleep, but his response was a soft nuzzle to Till's cheek that felt so familiar in a way he couldn't place.

Mizi's notes were another sore spot for the two of them. Till loves Ivan, no doubt about it, but he loves Mizi too. Childish love may have faded, but she was still family to him, and he knew it was the same for Ivan. Knowing she was still out there and that she cared about them, but refused to be seen, sometimes left an ache.

She didn't want to be found, which was frustrating for them, but it was still progress. Slowly gaining enough trust with her so that she'll finally want to see them again was arduous. But Mizi wasn't content to sit on the sidelines. She was suffering in the way that only he and Ivan knew, but Mizi's preferred way of "atonement" was giving Till information. He just hopes that one day, she'll be able to face herself enough to come back to them.

The note that led him to the Alien Stage museum was rather strange, but finding the kids was a gut punch. Seeing a child with the eyes of the one who has his heart and the hair of the one who ran away shattered a small piece of him. The seygein combined the DNA of the two people he loves most, but he also noticed the others. The one with his eyes, but with features resembling the Hyuna mentioned by his comrades now and then. A combination of him and Sua, one with features from Sua, Luka, and Hyuna, and one with the stature and presence of Sua, but with Luka's unmistakable eyes.

None of them had names branded into them. Till viewed it as a good thing, but it made differentiating them a bit difficult. Till decided to wait for them to decide on their own names, even though it had been a month and they still hadn't made a decision. For ease, they were referred to by codenames. While babysitting during physical therapy, Ivan had taken a liking to kids. He wasn't sure what exactly to do at first, but the kids gravitated to him. He'd tell them exciting stories, perform his famous fire show, and let them curl up and take a nap with him, but the one thing he never did was sing.

Isaac groaned every time Till brought more kids back to base, but never actually complained enough to stop Till from doing it.

"All they are are more mouths to feed!" Isaac whisper-yelled at Till while trying not to wake the child snoozing on his lap.

"You say that, but you don't mind the little ones using you as a pillow or following you around like a bunch of ducklings."

"Not my fault Till Jr. over here only falls asleep around me!"

"For the love of god, stop calling her that."

"She looks exactly like you!!"

"I mean, he's not wrong. She does look like you. But I wonder..."

That tone of voice sent a shudder through Till's entire body. He turned around to look at the absolutely diabolical smile the man he loves is wearing. Till's terrified to ask what Ivan is thinking.

"...What god-awful thing are you thinking about right now?" Till started mentally preparing himself for the worst.

"What if they mixed the two of us, or better yet, what if you could-" Ivan started.

"You can shut up now, you fucking freak!!" Till's entire body was a shade of bright red as he understood the implication. It was worse.

Isaac had his mouth open in shock, covering the sleeping girl's ears with his hands. "You two disturb me sometimes."

A second chill went through Till's body. In his mortification, he forgot Isaac was right there. "Hey, so it's been great serving the rebellion. I am going to go blow my brains out real quick and make sure the bullet actually kills me!"

"Oh, come on, it wasn't that bad this time," Ivan pouted.

"I don't give a shit, no kisses for the rest of the day." Till was still burning in shame. "You seriously need to lay off whatever fucking books you keep finding."

Till could barely look at him for a few hours after that.

A few of the DNA mixes decided on tentative names. The mix of him and Sua got so used to being called "Till Jr." that she currently goes by Tilly. Till hopes she stops going by that soon, as the teasing has been non-stop. The one with pink hair and red eyes said Mivan was fine for now. Ivan was oddly touched and nearly cried. The one who looked mostly like Hyuna took after her late brother's name, Hyunwoo.

The blond boy hadn't even sorted through his top five and still went by his codename "Pigeon." A pigeon landed on his head one time, and Dewey decided that was a suitable name for a human being. Mixing Sua and Luka proved to be an odd choice for the seygein as she was rather nonchalant about things, but she strangely inherited Sua's one-sided issue with Ivan. Ivan thought this was hilarious. When asked what she wanted to be called, she said something along the lines of, "As long as it doesn't contain any of the letters in that freak's name, I don't care." Ivan continues to find it hilarious and still laughs about it if it crosses his mind. Ivan calls her "Navi" to mess with her, but she'll answer to just about anything else.

"Till," Mivan tugged on his sleeve. "Why don't you sing anymore? You play instruments, and we've heard your songs played, but you never sing."

This was where Till knew he needed Ivan. The last time he sang was under extreme duress and ended with him getting shot and his friend disappearing as a "witch."

The very last line Till ever heard Ivan sing was "face to face we dance." Maybe it was a dance. Till refuses to watch the playback of Round 6. That face haunts him enough, and he still doesn't understand what Ivan was thinking. They keep dancing around the subject because it would require them to go through and watch it together. Give each other a play-by-play of their own emotions and thoughts. When that time finally came, could he sing again?

He wasn't physically able to sing for a while. "Ivan" prevented him from using his throat, but even the thought of singing was leagues away when he could still barely manage a whisper. He has the ability now, but the thought of it makes his throat close up.

"It's... hard. My vocal chords were damaged, so I can't sing much, or it hurts." That was a lie, but are ugly truths truly better than noble lies?

"What about Ivan? He wasn't injured, but he won't sing. We ask and ask, but he doesn't even give us a reason."

Till can't blame the kids, they heard Ivan's voice in the museum. Shutting down and changing the subject was always a tactic he used to prevent people from getting too close.

They needed each other, and they needed to stop dancing around it. A careful dance, face to face, lost in forever's embrace. Yet, twirling around on broken glass doesn't make the dance beautiful. It digs into old wounds and threatens to reopen them. It's like they were waiting for a moment or something that might never come. They had worked through everything, but neither had touched Round 6 out of fear.

And then, Mizi's next intel came with a message.

Do you see them in your dreams? The ones we had to kill?

Chapter Text

Do you ever see them in your dreams? The ones we had to kill?

Ivan's five years of emotionless hell started two weeks after he woke up in that damn hospital bed. His first thought was fear. Did he actually manage to give Till the win? He'd die if he went against Luka, but Till could do it.

Unsha was just there as usual. For the first couple of months, his wife was more doting towards Ivan, as if she were still treasuring the gift she had adored all these years later.

About two weeks after he woke up, he finally heard about the tragedy. Hearing about it in passing put all of the focus on the seygein, but there was something else. He never heard about the pet-humans. What about Till, Luka, Mizi, even? Ivan watched the entire season, start to finish. He didn't want to, but he had to know how it ended. What led to everything? Was everything for nothing?

My Clematis:

Ivan regrets how he treated Sua in some circumstances, but he once again saw the damage done to Mizi. He briefly heard them arguing before the performance, but didn't listen in. It wasn't his place. Mizi was his friend, and Sua had always felt like a sister to him. Watching them be pitted against each other again filled him with the same strange feeling he had the first time.

It seems Mizi truly tried to fool herself into ignoring Sua's plans. The change in expression when the blood spattered against Mizi's face was drastic. Comparing the expressions of the two, one would think Mizi was the one killed. She was frozen on that stage, staring at Sua's body for a long time. They must have realized she couldn't get up on her own and guided her off the stage, eyes still blank.

Unknown (Till the end):

The situation surrounding Round 2 was rather strange. First, Till sabotages Acorn, then he sings a love song to Mizi. Ivan doesn't think Mizi heard a single word of it, still locked in a trance.

He felt a strange bitterness. He has nothing against Mizi, and it's not like she can control Till's every action, but there was envy. Why not me?

Ivan is still shocked they didn't kill Till on the spot for murdering the lesser alien. He thinks they did some sort of obituary for it, but it's foggy.

Black Sorrow:

Ivan wonders if Till ended up hearing any of it. They knocked him out after his round, and he isn't exactly sure where they dragged him off to.

During his performance, Ivan's mind was split between two places. The first was making sure he was presentable and likable on stage. The second only saw a red sky and flashes of gray hair and teal eyes. He may feel desperate at times, but he was still just a pet.

He still gets pain around his mouth from the "training". One wrong microexpression and the pain is back. It was easier to remain neutral as much as possible to prevent this. Regardless, he had to be likable. Unsha had spent a shit ton of time and money on him. He was an investment or something.

The end of the song was the most painful. Ivan had never been able to express himself normally, and he knew Till was knocked out somewhere and couldn't hear him, but he had to try. Maybe he could still get to him.

The entire time, he seemed to forget that surviving meant either he or Till would die next.

Round 4:

Durian died. That's all there was to it.

Till reappeared, bandages and bruising on his face.

Ruler of My Heart:

Something Ivan had noticed about Luka was his ability to subtly mimic the voices and mannerisms of the deceased. He was too bold to fully encompass Sua, but it was enough to freak Mizi out. Ivan could tell it was getting to her, and the cameras had better angles than his place in the audience.

Eventually, Mizi froze for a minute, voice still softly making out the lyrics, and then she snapped. Ivan knew Mizi's sunshine persona was a farce. However, seeing it shatter that violently was unexpected.

He wasn't sure how he felt as the gun pinned Mizi's head to the stage. On one hand, Mizi broke the rules. On the other hand, he was about to watch someone he's known for over 10 years die.

Then came the smoke, and then the rebels. Why they went for Mizi specifically wasn't obvious, but Luka knew one of them. Luka's facade briefly fell as he stared at a girl with brown hair. Luka didn't get the chance to do anything, bleeding from Mizi's attack, and the rebels had already vanished in the smoke.

In the moment, he couldn't help but keep glancing at Till. He was distraught as he could do nothing but watch. It made sense. Till always wore his heart on his sleeve. That's the one thing his guardian never managed to beat out of him.

Due to Mizi's missing status and Luka's injuries, the next round was postponed briefly. Ivan doesn't know if it was a blessing or a curse.

Cure:

When the rerun of his and Till's match replayed, Ivan was caught in a war of feelings he didn't understand or know how to deal with. He also doesn't understand why he's alive. Being shot three times and left to bleed out for god knows how long isn't something a human should come back from.

You will be nothing more than a trauma to the left-behind Mizi. That's what he told Sua. And when it came right down to it, he was just as selfish and twisted as she was. He didn't mean to make her cry, but the whole idea was so ridiculous to him. Intentionally throwing your life away for someone else made no sense to Ivan. He had to fight tooth and nail to survive. Why would he ruin it?

And then, under that cold rain, Till stopped singing. That wasn't how it was supposed to go. Till was supposed to use his genius, and Ivan would die. The interview where he downplayed his entire relationship with Till should have pissed him off. Why did he give up? Till wasn't twisted, screwed up, yes, but not twisted. He and Sua had similarities, and Mizi was barely holding her sunshine facade together, but not Till.

You will be nothing more than a trauma to the left-behind Mizi. Those words wouldn't go away. Why did he say that to her? Why was he so hard on Till? He should have been kinder to others, but that doesn't matter now, does it?

Time is up. The hourglass is on its last few grains of sand.

Time is up.

Time is up. Make a decision.

He dropped the microphone. Till wasn't going to die here. Not on this fucking stage, or in this hellscape of a "game."

For a brief moment, as he walked towards Till, he heard Sua's voice mocking him.

You will be nothing more than a trauma to the left-behind Till. (Make it count.)

The kiss was selfish. He knows it. He could hear Till's thoughts screaming at him to cut it out and that he'd get himself killed. He had to tank his score, he had to make Till hate him, and he had to do something to at least leave a small piece of Ivan on the one he cherishes the most.

He wasn't a choice, anyway. Till loved Mizi, not him. Better me than her because you won't really dwell on it if it's me.

89:70. Till's score should be higher, but that doesn't matter now. Ivan would be dead soon.

Something other than adrenaline kept him standing. The searing pain on his side was easy to ignore. The blow on his shoulder almost made him lose his grip. He had to keep going, just a little bit longer. Dizziness from the shock and blood loss started kicking in. The final blow to the center of his back was the worst. Ivan has always been terrified of death. The blood pooling in his mouth filled him with dread. That was it. Why did he do this?

And then he looked back at Till, and the fear washed away with the rain. The smile was on his face before he realized. That was why.

Everything went unspoken as he released his grip on Till's neck. He couldn't speak anyway, his vision going blurry as adrenaline wore off. His task was finished. Till would live, and Ivan would die.

Thank you for being the victim of my shallow emotions.

Had he faded out just a second later, he would have seen the damage he inflicted.

But it was different now. He is seeing the damage he caused. It's right in front of his fucking face on that damned TV screen. The look on Till's face as he fell to the ground. The shaking as Ivan's blood pooled out further and further. They don't take the bodies away if the victor is too close. After all, it rarely ends like this. The guards dragged him away. Ivan could see his lips moving, but couldn't make out what he was saying.

What have I done?

Blink Gone and The Tragedy of Alnst 50:

Everything appeared to be going fine. Till looked slightly out of it, which made sense. Yet, Till seemed confident enough. The song was slightly tailored to his vocal style, but it's not necessarily an advantage against Luka.

And then it went to shit. He thought Luka would imitate Mizi. But instead, Luka grabbed Till's neck and touched his lips. That wasn't supposed to happen.

Ivan also didn't expect the sheer panic radiating from Till after Luka screwed with his head. Making sure his mic hadn't been disabled, freezing as he noticed every gun trained on him, and eventually giving up.

And then, Mizi appeared. They reached out to each other, and Ivan truly thought Till had a shot at making it out of there. Instead, Ivan watched the bullet hit Till's neck, he watched Mizi catch him, and then Ivan had to watch Till die in her arms.

He died. Till died, and it's Ivan's fault. He should have known better after watching what Luka did to Mizi in Round 5, but he didn't. His selfishness in the end killed the best thing that had ever happened to him.

Ivan felt himself start to shut down as everything unfolded.

The cameras started constantly cutting out. Mizi was still on the stage, holding Till and sobbing. Luka was trying to head towards one of the rebels, who then took a bullet for him. The cameras cut from Mizi punching Luka again to her shooting someone in the leg. Mizi was in the center of it all, clutching a laptop as people tried to get her to let it go. The stage practically exploded after that. The cameras cut again; Luka was by the rebel girl, cleaning her face, and Mizi had gone back to Till. More fire engulfed the stage as Mizi got this unreadable look on her face, and then the cameras cut for good.

Mizi was missing. Till's body was suspected to have been incinerated in the blaze, but no one cared enough about a pet-human to find out what happened. Luka disappeared as well. His guardian claimed he was in recovery for his injuries and would be back. Ivan wasn't so sure, though. He saw Luka break down completely and lose whatever spark he had left.

As the footage ended, Ivan had trouble processing. He got to see his own death on stage, meaning he saw his own face for the first time. There were so many emotions he couldn't put into words. What was it that he had told himself in the moment again? Better me than her because you won't really dwell on it if it's me.

Ivan is a fool.

Puzzle pieces clicked together. 70% affection, the look in Till's eyes after Ivan's "death", Till not blinking at his strange ways of trying to get his attention, all of it. His agreeing to run with Ivan, even if he went back, was a huge statement. He was so caught up in his own mess and Till's fixation with Mizi that he didn't even bother to look twice.

Luka's manipulation tactic made sense. Because you won't really dwell on it if it's me. He is such a fool. The words he had told Sua were thrown back in his face then, and now his own words are being thrown at him.

Under that beautiful red sky, Till let go of his hand. Ivan remembers his voice wavering, trying to weigh his options. He had said something about the others, but Ivan thought they'd just come back for them later. He knew where to run. It would all be okay; they just needed to get out of the garden.

Before he could respond and let Till know that they'd come back, he heard footsteps running back.

Seeing Till's back turn towards Anakt, towards a prison, made something in Ivan's mind break. Emotions were unfamiliar; if he had them, there wasn't exactly a way to name them. But what he felt at that moment was pain. Running alone was never an option for Ivan. Even if logic and survival were telling him to keep running, he knew he couldn't leave. He had found stability, someone who was always there. Till was more precious to him than freedom, even if he didn't quite understand why.

Stealing his things meant getting punched sometimes, but it was better than nothing. Till tolerated Ivan's constant need for physical touch and closeness, even if he rolled his eyes. He was different than the others in Anakt. He wasn't predictable. Ivan still isn't exactly sure when his feelings turned to love. He didn't understand it; he couldn't. Who could blame them? They were all dealt the world's shittiest cards and couldn't draw another from the deck. Folding meant death.

His mind was overloaded with so much information and so many emotions. Desperation, regret, despair, pain, and others that he could never place. All of it blew up into emptiness. He had effectively felt so much that he felt nothing.

That's how he spent the next five years. He felt nothing. If any of the reruns played on TV, he'd turn it off. He didn't want to witness the tragedies of the past through the current empty lens. It was back to the blank he grew up with. He vaguely recalls Unsha asking him questions about later matters related to the pet-human entertainment industry, but he can't remember why. Days blended together. Or was it months? Years? He didn't know.

He had asked himself multiple times if staying alive was even worth it when there was nothing left for him. He thought about offing himself a few times, even made plans, but he knew he wouldn't be able to go through with it. Death scared him too much to do it himself.

And then, something he wasn't expecting happened. He gets a knock on his window in the middle of the night. If Ivan had cared enough about potential danger, he might have ignored it, but something felt off about it. He waited a moment, and then another knock sounded. Fuck it.

In hindsight, no sane person would have willingly opened their window to masked people claiming a dead person was still alive, but was he truly sane to begin with?

"You're the resistance, aren't you?" Ivan didn't even bat an eye as he stared at them. The familiar emptiness weighed on him.

They looked at him like they were seeing a ghost. Ivan doesn't blame them; he should be dead.

"Holy fuck, she was right." A man with a scar running down his face was the first to reply. He looked vaguely familiar, but he wasn't quite sure. Maybe it was something about his face?

"I guess I should probably make introductions. I'm Isaac. These are some of my friends. Mizi told Till you'd be here, and he sent us after you." Isaac knew he had met Ivan in the past, but this one seemed nothing like the one Till would draw or describe. This one was empty and eerily familiar to that little kid by the fire.

"If a dead man sent you, where is he?"

Whatever light and personality he had five years ago was gone. The eyes that once shone with something on stage were back to being empty. The red was drowned by the black. He had waited up that night, wondering if he'd show up, even though the kid was wary of everything. Most likely because he had to be. The kid never did. Isaac always wondered what would've happened if they had given him two more pieces instead of just one.

"We didn't want him coming. He fought us, but if things didn't go as planned, we didn't want him to be there. Seeing you die a second time might put the nail in the coffin."

Ivan looked at Isaac again, and the connection was made. He really had thought about going with them, too bad he got caught first. Something in his eyes made Ivan feel something for the first time in five years. He came back from the dead. Was there any difference between them? Till could still be out there.

Ivan wanted to feel more. He didn't care if it was a trap. He needed to feel again. Fear is an emotion, too.

"I'll go. This time, I'll go with you."

The first time he saw Till again could be classified as a meeting between dead men. They were supposed to be dead. Ivan didn't realize he was smiling until it was punched off his face.

It was nice. Would it have been a grand reunion between the two of them without it? Ivan will admit Till's blows hurt more since he wasn't as scrawny, but it was something to feel.

Holding Till in his arms as he spewed insults through tears was everything he wanted at that moment. His own tears were lost to him, but he didn't care. He felt warmth again. He felt alive again.

Till kissed him hard. It was a little shocking, but when Till pulled away and Ivan saw his face, he knew he was fucked. He dove in for the second, and the third, and the fourth.

"I thought you said you'd only consider kissing me when my birthday came around." It was hard to get the words out while being kissed senseless, but what fun would it be if he didn't remind Till?

Till roughly grabbed his collar. "Shut up."

"Make me." He was breathless. Make me feel something again. Please, make me feel again.

Reuniting with Till was a shock to Ivan's system. He'd sometimes wake up completely emotionless again. He'd look over, see a horrified expression on Till's face, and then immediately snap out of it. Sometimes, he'd wake up to Till shaking with his ear pressed to Ivan's heart. The first few times, Ivan got up to try to comfort him, but it wasn't exactly the right move. Till was making sure his heart was still beating, so Ivan pretended to be asleep. They both knew about it, but it gave Till the time and space to deal with it himself.

Finding out about Till's hallucinations wasn't easy. Ivan isn't mad at him for it. Till told him that they were a manifestation of his guilt about being the sole survivor. He had no reason to doubt him.

After all, Ivan doesn't claim to be a "good" person. Morality isn't a concept he fully understands. Reading books about humanity and being around other humans was beneficial, but Ivan doesn't understand how to be "good." Unlearning the mentality of being a pet rather than a person wasn't easy. Till and the rebels were instrumental to progress, but what was even the definition of a "good person?"

He thought it would be Till, but he denies it. Both of them have the blood of friends on their hands. Whether it'd eventually wash off is unknown.

His thoughts finally circled back to Mizi's question. Do you see them in your dreams?

Ivan dreams quite often. He has occasional nightmares about the Alien Stage. Sometimes his life in the slums visits him. Being dangled off the edge of a building before being dragged to an auction and sold to the highest bidder haunts his nightmares, too. But most often, his dreams are of a beautiful red sky, streaked with meteors. Sometimes, they repeat the events of the past, but most of the time, events play out differently. Sometimes, Till runs away with him. Other times, it's their current selves sharing a night under the glow created by the meteors. His favorites include Till playing with the kids they rescued.

However, Marty never visited him. They had a fair fight according to the rules. Ivan didn't sabotage him like Till did with Acorn. He didn't have Mizi's experience and wasn't a victim of Luka's manipulation. He does wonder what Luka would have done had he won round 6. Luka wouldn't hesitate to use Till to try to decimate Ivan's spirit, but what would he do? How would he even react to it? Mizi had a breakdown, and Till had to constantly snap himself out of whatever he was seeing, but would Ivan feel anything at all?

He has blood on his hands; he knows that. Although sometimes he wonders if he feels like it's Till's blood rather than Marty's. He may not feel guilty for killing someone vaguely familiar to him, but he had to take significant time to work through the guilt he felt for throwing his life away and dying violently and bloody right in front of the love of his life.

What haunts Ivan the most is Till's reaction to his "death." Being out cold and in limbo between life and death made him oblivious to the torture he caused. Watching Till be dragged away from his body was what broke him for those five years. The last thing Ivan saw before he woke up in that hospital room was the face of the one he thought wouldn't miss him.

Ivan is 29, Till is 28. They should be able to communicate about this. They're adults, and they've talked through everything else. Why is this different? And now, he can't avoid dancing around the subject anymore. Maybe that was Mizi's intention. The problem is trying to put everything into words. There's so much to process together, but both of them are too terrified of reopening that wound, even if it's to properly stitch it up rather than pretending the ugly scab isn't there.

Chapter Text

So this is what dying felt like. Cold. Lonely.

Even though he could feel Mizi's hands on his face, it didn't feel real. There was a disconnect between thoughts and reality.

Why was he on the floor again?

The feeling of a bullet replayed in his senses. The blood running down his neck felt cold. Shouldn't blood be warm?

God, it's so cold.

Faint sobbing can be heard, and the tears barely register on his skin.

Everything grew fuzzier until it stopped.

And then he woke up again.

He has no idea who these people are who keep talking to him. He can't form words, can't even vocalize distress without pain or a choking sensation flooding his body.

Didn't help that he was right there, watching him.

What was even the point of that guy's existence? Was he there to remind Till that his worthless ass is the only one left? Maybe he was to be a constant reminder of everything Till lost.

Mizi was gone. The one with the scar on his face said she may be dead due to the intense burns she got. He had a slight bitterness in his tone as he would glance at his leg. Regardless, he was not to bring her up around people.

Till doesn't know why. He was given a third chance because of her. How lucky must one be to get three chances? Maybe that explains why that guy keeps watching him. He talks sometimes, but mostly stares through Till with dull, black eyes.

Ivan's eyes were pitch black when he died. Normally, they were burning red in the center, but not even a speck of red was present when he let go of Till's neck.

Maybe that's why the guy in the white suit has blood dripping from his mouth as he spews venom. Till just wishes it didn't wear his face. He eventually settled on calling it "Ivan."

Why couldn't it have worn Sua's face? Luka? Hell, Acorn probably would have been preferred compared to those black eyes and that cruel smile. It'd be easier to ignore.

"Ivan's" touch was ice-cold. The real Ivan is dead, so it makes sense, but it doesn't help.

Right. Dead. Just like Sua. Just like Mizi. Just like he should be.

Sleeping didn't even spare him from the hallucinations. Cold rain, blood dying a white suit, a girl with pink hair motionless on the ground, covered in burns, lilac eyes filled with bittersweet sorrow, the sound of gunshots, bright red eyes, a pair of glasses, his own blood draining from his body, purple fingertips.

All he could do was learn to live with it. Even though he wasn't sure he wanted to live.

Every now and then, someone comes to talk to him. A psychologist or something. It's a relatively pointless meeting. Till can't speak. If "Ivan" lets him get a sound out, it's not a string of words. Maybe he can manage a one-syllable word, but anything else lights his nerves on fire.

9 months, 4 days post-Alnst 50:

The psychologist had said that watching Till's season of Alien Stage might help him get through or point out where and how his trauma manifested. Round 1 was hard. Sua's sacrifice and Mizi's reaction hurt just as much as it did the first time. Seeing a girl he cares so much about shatter into pieces is something that doesn't just go away. Round 2 left him with questions and emotions he couldn't quite put into words. In all honestly, he looks back and almost cringes at the scenario. Mizi had just lost the most important person to her, and he did that. Hindsight is humiliating.

When Till finally saw Round 3 again, he had to leave the room when it was finished. He couldn't take it. He heard the words; he knew it was for him, but understanding what Ivan was saying, resonating with it, was still hard. No matter how hard he tries, he still doesn't understand him.

He remembers breaking down while "Ivan" stood across the room and watched. As water droplets rolled down onto that damned white suit, "Ivan's" eyes were full of pity, watching Till fall apart and claw at his neck again.

Till hadn't realized "Ivan" had crossed the room until he placed his hands over Till's. Ivan's hands were warm, but these were ice cold. Till could feel the first layer of skin under his fingernails as "Ivan" squeezed his neck again.

And then Till was back. Cold rain, a warm hand on his face, and eyes filled with wild uncertainty. Cold rain, a soft pair of lips harshly pressed against his own. Cold rain, warm hands squeezing his neck, not too tight, but just enough. Eyes that were once filled with shock, then fondness, had now turned to icy determination. Till couldn't look at those eyes, so he gave up. And then, the warmth slowly released, and those eyes once full of life dimmed until the body hit the floor of the stage.

Cold rain, and Ivan's blood seeping against his shoes as the reflection of his victory in the pool of blood mocked him.

Cold rain, and hands dragging Till's frozen body away as he reached out. They were checking for a pulse. He still had one, right? This was all wrong. Till was supposed to be the one lying on that stage, not Ivan.

Icy hands grabbed his trembling ones as Till felt the slight stickiness of blood on his fingertips.

"You, of all people, were given another chance. What, you're going to reopen your wounds over something as childish as regret?"

Till doesn't remember much after that. His neck was covered with another layer of bandages, and his rewatch of the footage was postponed.

A month later, he watched Round 5. It was jarring to see again, but seeing Mizi get rescued left a bitterness because she's missing. Most likely dead. He's seen the posters. If she didn't die from her injuries, did someone else kill her?

The first notes of "Cure" started to play, and he felt the icy rain again. He turned off the TV and walked out without a word. He refused to watch any more footage. No one seemed surprised by his reaction.

2 years post-Alnst 50:

The different "Ivans" were difficult to deal with. Each one had different triggers. The cruelest version still had freezing rain dripping onto his suit and sometimes, blood spilling from his mouth. The kindest version had messy hair, bright eyes, and too much energy. The one in the black suit was the most obsessive and bordered on creepy sometimes. The one that he can place as 18-21 was the closest to Till's memory of Ivan. He doesn't mind that one as much.

Till's voice came and went. When anything stressed him out, he had to use the notebook again. He still couldn't yell, and he hadn't tried singing. The person he has to talk to every now and then thinks the block is psychological in nature. Whatever the fuck that means.

Till wasn't doing well. He never told anyone when he went into a slump, so it's his own damn fault, but his neck had been itching for the past few days. At least he's only had to deal with 18-21-year-old "Ivan." The obsessive one would piss him off too much, he wasn't in the mood to deal with a child, and the other one haunted his nightmares enough. He'd been carrying around the notebook most of the time.

Till was cleaning up around the motorcycles with Isaac. He'd sometimes strike up conversations that didn't require Till to overuse his voice. This wasn't one of those conversations.

"You know, Till," Isaac said, "I met Ivan once."

Till scribbled on the notebook as he felt his throat closing. "What do you mean?"

"We were doing something out in the slums, maybe 20 or so years ago. We found this kid by a fire. Tough as nails for someone that young, maybe 5 or 6?"

More scribbling as Till's thoughts started spinning. "Ivan had a fire show that he performed every now and then. He could start fires with rocks, but always dodged the question of how he learned."

"Anyways, Jacob thought he might be useful, and asked him if he wanted to come with us."

What.

"He drove a hard bargain, only answering questions after we gave him scraps of food. Said he didn't have a name. He told us that if we gave him one more piece of food, he'd think about it, two, and he'd come with us right then."

No, no. This isn't right.

"We only gave him one piece. We gave him specific instructions to get to where we were at the time, and then left. We left him there." Isaac's voice betrayed slight guilt. "He didn't show up. Never got the chance to ask him why."

"I need to leave for a bit. I'm sorry."

Red skies. Meteors. Ivan's hand was gripping his as they ran. The bastard knew where to go. He actually knew how to get them out of there. Conflicting sensations and flashbacks were overwhelming his senses, and then he heard a small voice.

"You know, I did tell you that I knew a place."

The bright red eyes of a child stared him down. This was not the time. His hands twitched at the impulse to claw at his neck. He hadn't done it in so long, but this was too much to process without something.

"Why didn't you tell me the full story. It could have been different."

"Ivan" didn't seem to understand the full implication. "Was it really necessary to tell the full story? After all, you never asked."

The kid was right, Till didn't ask. He took Ivan's word that he "knew a place," and ran. Had he known the full story, would he still have gone back?

"You can leave now." Till was exhausted, and this was too much to handle.

"Not until you show me the song lyrics you've been scribbling down."

Does he have to pull this now?

"I'll make you a deal. Let me sleep for a few hours, and I'll show you everything I've written down recently. As well as my recent drawings."

"Okay, but I'll be waiting." He was hesitant, but complied and sat back against the wall.

The "Ivans" will hopefully switch out, and he won't have to deal with this one anymore for a bit. Preferably, the one in the black suit. He was creepy, but not as annoying and not as cruel. Till crawled into bed and hoped he could get some sort of peaceful sleep. Too much information in the span of about 15 minutes.

The nightmares visited. Till woke up with blood dried on his fingernails.

Isaac apologized as he redid Till's bandages. The entire time, those bright eyes stared at him in anticipation.

Isaac left, and Till sighed as the kid had put himself into Till's space.

"You made a deal with me, you know."

Till really didn't want to deal with this, but he made a promise to a fucking hallucination.

"Fine. Let me get my sketchbook."

2 years, 7 months post-Alnst 50:

The first note was short, but the handwriting was all too familiar. A map with markings on it had a message written on the back.

Till, there's a pet-human center here like the ones we both came from.
- M

There was a bit of uproar when others found out about it. A few wanted to try and hunt her down, while others thought it best to ignore the note entirely. There was a deadlock between those who wanted to pretend she didn't exist and those who still hoped for revenge.

Till still doesn't understand why there's so much vitriol. Mizi didn't kill Hyuna. She also destroyed the Alien Stage. It was never coming back. No one else had to go through what they did. Maybe it's because only one or two rebels spent any time at Anakt, and none aside from Till and the late Hyuna had competed in the Alien Stage.

Isaac made the final call. He decided they needed to put aside whatever grudges they had against Mizi and focus on humanity. Isaac had asked Till throughout the past two and a half years about Mizi. What was she actually like? Till was honest. She was kind and affectionate, but also had to find a way to survive somehow.

A second note appeared about two months later, and a third, fourth, fifth, followed after. The only reasoning Mizi ever shared for this was atonement. It didn't matter to Till. He wasn't as alone anymore. He wasn't the only one left.

3 years post-Alnst 50:

How did I not know?

Even though he had disappeared, the tears kept coming. He had gotten used to "Ivan" existing to taunt him, but the company was sometimes nice. After "Ivan" calmed down a bit, the only thing he was tormented with was the face of the man who tossed aside his life to give Till a second chance. And then, Mizi gave him a third one.

He was actually gone now. Maybe that was for the best. But this felt like his actual death. Bleeding out on stage underneath the freezing rain may have been his cause of death, but his vanishing was worse.

Deep down, he knew Ivan loved him. He didn't understand it. The bastard sucked at showing his emotions. But those final moments. That last minute he spent with Ivan. Those were confusing. That kiss was full of so many emotions. It was overwhelming, but Till remembers the fear. Ivan was going to get himself killed if he didn't stop. Even though Ivan was squeezing his neck, the gesture wasn't violent. It was a farce. That last kiss held weight that Till had no idea what to do with. One of them was going to die. Both of them wanted to die. It was a race.

He isn't mad at Ivan for dying on that stage. They didn't exactly get a choice. The guns would fire at one of them; it was a 50/50 chance.

Except it wasn't. They should have killed Ivan with the first shot, but they shot him three times in non-fatal areas before the blood loss took him down. Till wasn't stupid; he knew that Ivan was the favorite to win, and it would take a lot for them to kill him and give Till the win. But Ivan didn't want to survive the round, so he didn't.

"We were fine, I guess. That's about it."

What a line of bullshit. How Ivan talked about them in his interview was bullshit. It did make him mad, but he also felt betrayed. Best friends for over 10 years, and that's everything he had to say.

And then a few nights later, Ivan collected his drugged and unconscious body from a bar and brought him home.

Something was jostling him. The seygein again? Till thought they had left. It stops being fun for them once he's knocked out. However, whatever was currently moving him didn't entirely feel alien.

This is too careful. He could feel that the collar was no longer around his mouth, and the touch was gentle. When he felt the gaze of whoever it was leave him for a second, he slightly cracked his eyes open.

Ivan. Till's surprised he didn't figure that out at first, but his head is still foggy from the drugs. Knowing he was going to be fine, he shut his eyes again and fell asleep.

It was an act. It was all an act. Till knew Ivan wasn't counting on him to know about this incident. At the time, it made his motives even more confusing. He downplays their relationship to make it seem like he doesn't even care, and then he did what he did that night.

Yet after everything, Till somehow still loves him. He finally understood that he loves Ivan. If they had more time, just a little bit more time, could they have loved each other? Time was their worst enemy. Any chance of it was shattered the moment they both stepped on the stage.

His hallucinations would come back when he inevitably fell apart again, but for now, he was okay.

5 years post-Alnst 50:

Ivan died on that stage. How is Mizi so sure? She can't be. It has to be a mistake. The shit he refused to deal with surrounding Ivan washed over him in full force. Ivan was shot three times, and Till watched the light leave those eyes. He bled out as Till could only watch.

It seemed his PTSD was just as confused. The rain he felt pouring onto him was both freezing and warm. That rain has never brought him a shred of comfort, but it was different in this moment.

He practically begged to go with Isaac to get him, but he was firm in his denial. Till can't blame him, the guy had to deal with his three years of hallucinations. Still, Till wants to know he's alive. Mizi wouldn't lie to him, but how could she even confirm it?

"Absolutely not. If he dies in front of you again, I can't even imagine what that would do to you." Isaac sighed. "Listen, it's only been two years since you snapped out of whatever the fuck was going on in your head, and I cannot afford to have you revert to that state. You may scribble him down in notebooks with your other friends, but you can't even see him on the TV screens without freezing."

"I know. You don't have to remind me." Till knew he was right, "Just please, bring him back. I don't care if you have to knock him out and drag him back. Promise me."

"I give you my word."

6 years post-Alnst 50:

The closest they ever got to discussing Round 6 happened briefly during sex. Ivan was on top this time, and as Till saw those eyes softly gazing at him, he had an overwhelming urge. Before he could process it, he had positioned Ivan's hands around his neck.

Ivan froze immediately, and his soft eyes turned panicked. "What are you doing?"

"Do it. Please." Till's voice betrayed his own panic.

Ivan was conflicted. "Are you sure?"

"Your hands are warm, there's no rain here." You aren't him. I'm not cold. "You don't have to put any pressure; just leave your hands there. But if you aren't ready, tell me. We'll put this to the side."

Ivan slightly readjusted his hands as he thought about it. He took a couple of deep breaths before briefly putting light pressure on Till's throat.

"Please, stay close to me." Ivan leaned down further, softly kissing Till's cheek. "And... hit me if it gets too much."

Till wrapped his arms around Ivan and held him close. "Don't be scared. I won't break, I promise."

Till felt the familiar tears land on his face. Ivan's tears were warm, not cold. That cold rain was nowhere near this moment. Ivan crying during times like these wasn't uncommon. He finally figured out that most of his tears were due to feeling loved.

Ivan started moving again. The pressure on his neck changed every now and then. He kissed everywhere on Till's face, but avoided his lips. That must have been Ivan's red line.

He most likely wouldn't do this again. The sensations were different, but that bitter cold wasn't present. The entire time, he held Ivan as close as possible.

One moment of intense pressure sent Till over the edge. Ivan didn't seem bothered by his own wants, immediately taking his hands off of Till's throat and replacing them with gentle kisses.

"Are you sure?"

Ivan buried his face into the side of Till's neck, right over where the letters used to be. "I'm fine. You are the only thing that matters to me right now."

Till's hand softly carded through the other's hair for a few minutes as they held each other. That telltale burning in his eyes signaled his own tears.

Then, Ivan's body started shaking. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." He tried his best to hold back more tears, "I promise, back then, I wasn't trying to hurt you. I swear it. I just-"

"I know. Trust me, I know. Don't push yourself, okay?"

They held each other for a while, but the endless dance continued. It wasn't because of resentment toward each other, but terror. Terror of what was hidden.

Present:

Mizi's note put a slight air of tension between the two. It felt like a thread was about to snap. The glass broken, and the dance rushed and frantic.

A couple of people had noticed the tension between them, and one of them asked if everything was okay. Everything was too normal, and that's the problem.

That night, Till looked at Ivan's careful distance between them. His face betrayed some of his own torrent of emotions. Till took a couple of deep breaths. They are adults, and they promised each other to communicate better.

"Do you feel guilty for killing Marty?" Till asked rather abruptly.

"I... don't know. Never have. I didn't know him well, but he was nice, if my recollection serves me right." Ivan turned to Till, "You intentionally sabotaged Acorn, plus you killed that seygein in your match. I'm shocked they didn't kill you on the spot."

"Apparently, Freddie had kids. He was still a fuckass seygein, so I don't regret killing him, but Acorn didn't deserve what I put him through. I was trying to impress Mizi. At least that's what I told myself. I don't know why I did what I did. Maybe it was pure survival instincts." Till sighed and put his head in his hands. "The whole system was fucked. All of us were fucked. We had to play the cards we were dealt, and the cards were always stacked against us."

Till took another deep breath. Why? Why did you do what you did on that stage?

"Ivan..." Till was still hesitant, not quite able to broach the subject without everything flooding back to him. "Why did you do it? In our match, why did you throw everything away?"

Ivan froze. It felt like he was expecting the question, but was still unprepared at the same time.

"I had called Sua out previously. I found out about her plan to die for Mizi, and I thought it was ridiculous. I told her that she'd just be a trauma for her. And then I realized that it would be one of us walking off that stage, and I wanted it to be you. It wasn't supposed to be that violent, but you stopped singing and just looked at me with this shattered, empty expression. I didn't think you'd care, so I thought Luka would exploit Mizi, not me. I truly thought you had a shot to make it out alive."

It was an answer, but Till knew he was unconsciously trying to pivot to something else.

"No, I mean, why? If you knew that I had given up, why did you go the extra mile to lose?"

"Saying that I don't know is a lie, but it's hard to put into words." Ivan was avoiding Till's eyes, "I tried my best to sabotage everything to give you an edge, but you didn't take the bait or exploit the chances. I intentionally downplayed our relationship in interviews, tried to give you the spotlight during the song, and did everything I could to make you angry enough to fire back at me."

"I knew the stuff you did before the match was a bluff. Had you actually meant what you said, you wouldn't have gotten me from the bar that night." Memories Till never wanted to revisit threatened to surface.

Ivan slightly stiffened, "You knew?"

"I did. I'm not mad at you. You may have taken away your own bait, but I appreciated it. I didn't know how to bring it up when things were already so tense before the match. "

"I know what I said in my interview hurt you. That was my goal. But... I couldn't just leave you there in some corner with that damned muzzle. You weren't supposed to know."

"That's why I was so confused. You have the strongest survival instincts out of everyone I know. Yet, you got yourself killed because of me."

"I've always been bad at expressing things to the people I care about. I just wanted your attention. It's why I stole your things so I could "find them," sparked rocks above your head, started stupid fights, all of it. I wanted you to stay, even if it meant you hated me."

"You certainly got my attention. I still think the most horrifying thing you ever did was eat crayons in front of me. I was so stunned at this scrawny little shit doing something so especially stupid that I could only watch. But, as you know, rage-baiting me didn't exactly give the impression that you liked me. As we got older and you calmed down, then I could tell that you felt... something. It was deep, and it was complex, and I didn't know what to make of it. I know you didn't, either."

Till sighed. "It felt like you were this parasite I couldn't be rid of, but you were the only one I could count on to always be there. No matter how annoying or confusing you got, you were always there. So, when you killed yourself for me, the realization that I was the only one left hit hard."

"I know what I did was selfish. My motives weren't the best, and the way I left you was traumatizing. I knew you could live without me, but I wasn't sure I could live without you."

So, that was the root of it. He truly thought no one cared about him. What a blockhead.

"Have you seen the footage at all? I can't bring myself to even listen to the song. The last time someone tried to have me watch the playback, the first few notes caused me to just... shut down."

"I did. I watched everything from start to finish because I had to know what happened. I needed to know what happened from our point of view, not the seygein."

"What was it like?"

"I realized I was a fool. A complete and utter fool. My entire view was flipped upside down, and then the realization at the time that I was the only one left caused something to snap. I was breathing, but not alive. I slowly got closer and closer to building up the mental strength to take my own life. Everything else sort of blurred together until Isaac showed up."

"Do you think you can watch it again?" Your own death? My despair? "I want to know what exactly you were thinking, and I want you to know what I was thinking."

Ivan hesitated. That slight change in body language almost made Till drop the subject entirely, but they had to confront this eventually. Even if it meant pausing, rewinding, and studying some of the worst moments they ever lived through. Having to confront the fact that it was all for entertainment was something they needed to do, even if the animals in the circus aren't supposed to fight back.

"We'll have to do it eventually. Let's just stop avoiding it."

And so they did. It wasn't difficult to find the footage, as the catastrophe was still talked about among the seygein. The first notes began to play, and Till had to fight the icy rain again. There's no rain anymore. It's gone.

Watching himself relive that night at the bar, uncertainty overtaking him, all of it. Till remembers the feeling of giving up. He truly gave up. He was just as selfish, but can he really blame himself?

Ivan looked conflicted during his verse, keeping an eye on Till the entire time. Watching his every move to calculate when he could finally cause Till to snap and take him down. It was obvious both of them were trying to die, even if Ivan had planned things to the last detail. And then it all went out the window.

Till still isn't sure why he stopped singing. He could tell Ivan was doing what Sua did by limiting his vocal abilities. Something was off. He had never seen how pissed off Ivan looked before he dropped the mic. The flash of anger disappeared within milliseconds, but it was there. Till had to fight the urge to close his eyes as he watched Ivan walk toward him. The rain threatened to start pouring again, so he grabbed Ivan's hand as something to keep him tethered.

The shock on his face, his body language, everything was screaming at Ivan to stop it or he'd get himself killed. Ivan had apologized at some point early on for the kiss specifically, but Till wasn't angry, just scared because this had never happened before on the Alien Stage. Looking at it now, neither of them was exactly thrilled with it.

The way Ivan looked at him before his hands wrapped around his throat should have told Till everything. Maybe he was just too in shock to figure it out.

He could feel the aftershocks go through Ivan's body from each shot, but Till never saw the look of pure terror as that final shot hit him. He didn't see the smile in relief either. Had he kept his eyes open, would he have viewed things differently, or would it have made everything worse? The cameras didn't capture the life draining from Ivan's eyes with that haunting smile, but it did capture Till's own horror.

His grip on Ivan's hand was most likely painful, but he made no motion to pull away from Till. He felt his heart pound watching his own figure shatter into pieces as he was dragged away.

If Unsha's wife didn't like Ivan as much as she did, would they be together like this again?

He didn't even notice the tears until Ivan brushed one from his eye.

"Our original stage setup had us dancing together."

In true Ivan fashion, he managed to create more question marks.

"Yeah," Tears ran down Till's face, "But what does that have to do with anything?"

"Till, we never finished the song. I know it was me who caused that, but we never got the chance to sing together." Ivan's voice shook slightly.

"You want to finish the song using the original choreography, don't you?"

"I know neither of us has sung a word since the Alien Stage. It's been seven years, and I know you miss it. You write song lyrics and music to accompany them, but as soon as you open your mouth, everything freezes."

He's right. Till can't even form a note without feeling icy rain or a bullet.

"The kids have asked me why you won't sing for them. My "damaged vocal chords" have kept them at bay, but you don't have an excuse. You change the subject and go to something else. You miss it too, am I correct?"

"I do. At one point, it may have been a tool for survival, but I can't deny enjoying it."

"Do you even remember the choreography?" He knew there was a solid chance Ivan remembered, but the question was also for himself. "I suppose I found it so interesting that my mind retained it. The idea of pets dancing something so emotional, and two men on top of that. I still wonder who came up with it."

"How could I forget it? It may have been the last piece of you I had."

"Regardless, we're out of practice. Try not to stomp on my feet."

After quickly discussing the choreography and remembering the step cadence, Till felt comfortable enough that it wouldn't be a disaster.

No music was necessary; the melody playing in their heads worked just fine. They got into position and started to dance.

Until these falling stars

Till would be lying if he said he hadn't danced this on his own multiple times. If he remembers correctly, Till thinks their dance was styled to a modified tango. The other paired dances Till heard about didn't follow the same feel their's did.

Are buried in the blur of time

He understands why the idea of a dance was scrapped. It's hard to hit a target if they're twirling around the stage. Till isn't sure the seygein would've liked it. There wasn't much weight or attention put on love between pet humans. Even then, the idea of two men together wasn't exactly encouraged.

On your icy lips

The first turn of the last chorus was more complicated than the simpler ones at the start of the song. Their dance wasn't tied to a traditional tango. They weren't as close to each other, and the steps weren't as set. Tempo was adjusted to the song, which slowed it down some. He always wondered who came up with the original idea. Did some seygein out there want to see two human pets dance? Maybe the thought of forcing the fandom's favorite and the pissed off rebel together in a rather intimate way was funny to someone. It was all entertainment at heart, even if it came at the expense of a human's dignity and livelihood.

Read my soul

Both of their voices shook from disuse. The pain present in every note. The harmonies still worked, transitioning from lead to harmonizing for the final part. Till knows Ivan would have lowered his own volume to let Till's voice shine even as the backup harmony. Sua did it for Mizi by stopping her notes short and singing quietly during the sections they sang together.

Sick of these nights to come

The step sequences and footwork were a bit tricky to do with Ivan. They never got fully comfortable with the dance before it was scrapped. On his own, it was easy, but now he had to watch his feet better. It helped that they were more in sync with each other emotionally, as that's what dances are founded on. If the dancers aren't in tune, it falls flat.

To be engulfed in silence

If Till was honest, the song itself felt like a slap in the face to both of them. It's like the songwriter looked at their relationship with each other and picked at it under a microscope. The lyrics for the individual verses may as well have been ripped from their own thoughts.

In your gaze, where I'm seen

Ivan had wanted to be seen. His ways of doing so were a little weird at times, disturbing at others, but Till looked at him. But did he see Ivan the way he wanted to be seen?

Consume me

He had felt like a parasite at times. Like he wanted to live inside Till and never leave. At times, his obsession was a little creepy, but it was also endearing at others. Ivan was a walking contradiction, violence being the only language he knew, but there was never a speck of malice. Moreso desperation.

Yes, me

The dance ended, and as they looked at each other, there was something Till needed to do. He had to recreate it, reframe it, make it pure. There was no rain, no guns, no blood.

Mirroring the actions of the past, he moved his hand to Ivan's face before moving it to his hair and pulling him down into a kiss. This time, he wasn't scared.

They're both alive. Ivan isn't trapped in stasis, Till isn't a prisoner of his own memories. By some fucking miracle, they are alive. How lucky must they be? There have never been survivors of the Alien Stage, only victims. Luka is the best example of it. Even if he's back, Luka as a person is gone. He died along with Hyuna.

Neither of them wanted to let go or pull away. Air is a necessity, however. The way Ivan held him made Till think he was trying to crawl inside him again. He didn't mind it this time.

We're alive.

But something was always in the background. The girl who torments Mizi still fills Till with regret. Ivan is always hesitant to talk about her. It's the pain only the three of them understand.

Sua hasn't been put to rest yet. She's still haunting them as the only one they couldn't save. They couldn't save her. None of them could do anything to save her. He wants to know how Mizi is doing. If he and Ivan could finally put their trauma to rest, has Mizi been working toward it? Is she living in a perpetual state of agony?

He wants to know. He has to know. He may not have a crush anymore, but she was still like home. Sua was part of that.