Chapter Text
He zones out throughout the entire check up, a quiet boiling rage under his flesh as he does.
Dewey has to tap his arm a few times during it to ask about any symptoms he might have. Till supplies him with a simple no every time before going back in his trance like state.
He retains nothing from the check up, he might as well have been in another plane of existence entirely throughout the whole thing or with his head under water.
Dewey looks at him with a look of concern, like he can tell something’s off with Till despite barely knowing him. Maybe it’s written all over his face, he’s always been far too expressive for his own good.
“You should probably change out of those, you’ll get sick.” Dewey gestures to his outfit and Till just hums.
He zones out again, hearing Dewey radio for some spare clothes before he blocks everything out.
A gunshot echos in his mind, making him flinch and swallow. It rings in his ears and spikes his heart rate, makes him break out in a sweat.
Till glances at Dewey who looks back at him with pure sympathy. He looks like he wants to ask him something but is refraining from doing so.
Till hunches and stares at his stupid, uncomfortable metal shoes. There’s dried blood on them, something that makes his stomach turn.
Dewey passes him what he thinks is a waste bin and the grey haired man ducks his head in it, retching as he does.
He’s barely eaten, there’s nothing really to throw up.
* * *
The clothes vary in sizes.
Grey pants a tad too snug and a black t-shirt that practically swallows him. He doesn’t complain though. If anything it’s almost pleasant being in something dry.
He ditches his metal shoes, leaving them in the room with his round six outfit.
“Are you going back to your buddy, kid?” Dewey asks.
He could visit Ivan but honestly he just wants to be alone, to try and process what actually happened. Is it too much to ask?
“No.” Till’s just barely audible.
Dewey assesses him before writing something down and handing it to him.
“What’s-”
“Directions to the dorm’s…You look exhausted, dude.”
He is.
Till hums and turns on his heels.
“You good going alone?”
“Fine.”
* * *
The grey haired man walks silently, to the sleeping quarters. His bare feet tap against the floor with every step, the floor’s slightly cold but it doesn’t ground him, no he feels like he’s drowning.
His brain feels like a chorus of screaming voices overlapping, overwhelming, annoying. He resists every urge to cover his ears. It won’t fix it.
Till grits his teeth and continues to walk until he reaches a door. He opens it far more aggressively than needed, startling at the sight of Mizi.
His face heats up with pure embarrassment.
She jumps, equally surprised before that surprise shifts to concern.
Did I fuck up directions?
He glances at the crumbled paper in his hand, confused.
“Did he not tell you which room?”
Did he say that out loud?
Till shakes his head.
“It’s next door.”
He quietly apologises and turns to leave but her voice stops him.
“Are you ok?”
He flinches. He’s the furthest thing from ok if he’s being honest.
“How…Is he?” Till asks, trying to change the subject.
“Taking a nap, he’s exhausted.” Her chartreuse eyes study him. He can’t help feeling like he’s under a microscope, he’d be lying if he wasn’t a tad uncomfortable. “Are you ok?” She asks again.
For some reason he lies and nods, offering her a forced awkward smile.
Mizi clearly doesn’t buy it. She pats the bed, he glances away.
An awkwardness hangs in the air before Mizi breaks the silence.
“Do you want a hug?”
Till backs up and swallows.
His hand goes up to his throat, touching the silver choker around it. He had put it back on after his examination. He didn’t have to but he had done anyway for some unknown reason.
Why?
“Actually I think…Um I’m gonna go sleep.”
Mizi blinks and nods, for a second a look of hurt flashes on her face causing Till to wonder if he just imagined it or not.
“Come find me if you need anything.” She offers a small smile as he leaves, he offers a half hearted wave before heading next door.
* * *
Sleep eludes him. Well complete unconsciousness does. He’ll have short bursts of sleep before jolting awake, gasping for air like a man starving for oxygen.
Frustration rises. The stupid cocktail of emotions continue to swirl around inside him and his brain continues to scream at him.
Every time he closes his eyes he sees him drop. Every time it makes nausea rise, makes his eyes burn.
His throat feels like it’s closing. He can’t breathe.
Fingernails dig into it as tears roll down his cheeks, he gasps for air but it feels like none reaches him.
He can’t breathe.
Till claws desperately at his flesh like a wild animal until it hurts, until skin embeds itself under his fingernails, until it bleeds a little.
He can’t breathe.
Then he grips onto his hair, tightly, practically hyperventilating as he does as he glances around the room.
He can’t breathe.
Everything feels too loud, too closed in. He needs to leave. Now.
Till gets up, puts his choker back on, its chill weirdly comforting and heads for the door.
His feet carrying him back to the only person he’d seek comfort from, Ivan.
He couldn’t bring himself to bother Mizi. Sure she’d told him to find her if he needed anything but he didn’t want to burden her right now.
Right now he wants Ivan and truthfully that frustrates him. He needed alone time and yet here he was wanting the one person who currently made him a mess or overwhelming emotions.
Ivan. The thought of him causes his heart to pound more and a weird feeling washes over him that confuses him.
Maybe it’s shock
Has to be
After everything that happened it’s natural to be in shock right?
Yeah
Why wouldn’t it be
* * *
When Till enters the room, Ivan’s in the bed, eyes wide open. Mizi said he was asleep. But he calls out to make sure.
“..Ivan?”
No response.
Till heads over, teal eyes landing on a pure blank expression. His stomach drops and a fear overtakes him.
“I-Ivan?” he stutters out.
His eyes start to burn, nausea rising. He looks like he did when he hit the ground.
Please don’t leave me
Please don’t fucking leave me
He swallows and reaches a hand out, hovering it over his mouth and nose. It trembles, fingers almost brushing against his skin.
He holds his breath, waiting for a sign of life as his heart rapidly beats, as his throat starts to close up again.
Ivan breathes softly seconds later and Till almost chokes out a sob in pure relief before bringing a chair closer to the bed and curling up in it.
“...Why do you sleep like that?” Till mutters, wiping at his eyes. “It’s fucking creepy.”
He leans over and carefully closes them feeling a little more at ease as he does.
The rage he feels has been overtaken by a grief, a need for comfort, more proof Ivan’s alive despite just feeling him breathe against his hand.
Till doesn’t even know why he feels grief. Can you grieve over someone alive? Over someone you almost lost? Who knows.
He swallows and moves the blanket, grabbing Ivan’s hand and gently squeezing it. It’s warm against his and a little comforting. Proof he’s alive.
He smiles weakly before eyes start to flutter closed. He doesn’t even fight it, he just gives Ivan’s hand another squeeze before sleep finally claims him.