Chapter Text
“Thank you for being the victims of my shallow emotions.”
❀
Even with his mind staying quiet—the dark part of his head deciding to spare Till from a single night’s torture—the grey haired man still found himself lying awake at three in the morning.
In no more than a day's time, Till would have his answer.
God he hoped Ivan would show up.
But he would, wouldn’t he?
Ivan would always be there, waiting.
In this life and the last, no matter what Till did—whether it be cursing him out or pushing him away—Ivan never left him.
He supposes that’s what love does to a person. Or maybe that’s selling Ivan short—because, quite frankly, Till loved him too. Till doesn’t think he could bear another day without his other half by his side.
Even with the early morning light, the hallucination didn’t come back.
Till didn’t want to test fate, but even when he spoke into the quiet of his room, there was no response.
That damned parasite was nowhere to be found—not that Till was complaining.
But it would be a lie if he said it wasn’t weird. It was so calm, so peaceful.
Are you really gone?
The silence was deafening.
For so long, the hallucination had been there, reminding Till of his past mistakes—so he couldn’t help but feel as if this was another ploy.
He’s gonna show up when I’m on stage, isn’t he?
❀
Till wasn’t sure how to act when he saw Luka today.
Of course they had grown close over these two weeks, and of course Till considers him a good friend now.
But they were going to be competing against each other at the talent show.
Would it feel like a rematch to the blonde?
Till didn’t think of it that way—but that was solely due to the fact that he didn’t care about winning.
Well, that’s not entirely correct.
All Till cared about was winning Ivan over.
He was almost certain the idiot would forgive him even with the slightest apology, but God he hoped Ivan understood what he was trying to say.
Because the talent show was a huge event for the school, every contestant was allowed to skip their classes in favour of preparing for their upcoming performance.
It was strange, though.
It wasn’t as if he were looking for him, but Till hadn’t seen Luka around anywhere.
He didn’t know the blonde’s habits all too well, but he definitely would have thought he would be here to practise.
Maybe he thinks he doesn’t need it, smug bastard.
Just as Till was tuning his guitar for the millionth time, the door opened.
Till’s heart skipped a beat, trying and failing miserably to conceal his disappointment when he realised it wasn’t Ivan who had walked into the room.
Idiot, what would you have even done if it was him?
“Wow, try not to look too happy to see me,” Luka deadpanned with an eyeroll.
“Yeah, whatever,” Till muttered back, his eyes narrowing as he noticed the sheepish expression growing on Luka’s face.
“What? What is it?” Till questioned wearily, his grip on the guitar tightening when the blonde stayed silent.
“So umm,” Luka started, before cutting himself off with a loud gulp.
Till blinked owlishly.
“Please don’t kill me.”
Luka’s hands were clasped in front of himself, and he was staring holes into the ground.
Till shuddered at the sight. This was nothing like the Luka Till knew.
“Spit it out, what the fuck is wrong with you?”
Now Till was getting nervous. He settled his instrument down beside him, opting to wipe his damp hands on his jeans.
Luka inhaled deeply before practically word vomiting everywhere.
Till’s eyes widened as he caught some of the words that had been said.
“What did you just say?” He asked slowly, voice eerily calm in a way that made Luka shrink up on himself even more.
“I said umm, I’m sorry but I have decided to withdraw from the talent show so we won’t be competing against each other anymore.” Luka looked up, meeting Till’s gaze, which just made everything one hundred times worse.
He’s—he’s withdrawing?! What the fuck? Why would he do that? This is Luka we’re talking about!
Till chuckled, shaking his head.
“I’m sorry, did you just say you’re withdrawing? I must be going crazy.”
Till made an annoyed ‘tsking’ sound, crossing his arms as his normal demeanour came back.
“We all know you’re insane, Till. But yes, I’m not participating in the talent show anymore.”
“Why? What are you getting at?”
“It’s nothing like that,” Luka assured him. “I’m going out with Hyuna today, she said she would hear me out this time.”
Any snarky comments Till was going to make died in his throat.
Instead, he was left staring dumbly at the blonde.
“Hyuna wants to meet with you?” Till asked, feeling genuinely happy for the other.
Luka nodded once, walking over.
“Yeah. I guess whatever you did really got through to her, so thanks.” Luka turned to face Till. “Seriously, I mean it. Thanks.”
Till rolled his eyes, hoping Luka wouldn’t see how red his face was.
“W-whatever, idiot. It’s not like I did much.”
Luka let out an actual laugh.
“Stop being so modest, Till! If it weren’t for you, I could never even have hopes of seriously fixing things with her.”
“Yeah, well don’t go fucking it all up,” Till grumbled. “I’m not gonna get you this opportunity twice.”
Luka hummed as he walked around the room towards the exit, careful not to step on any of the loose sheets of paper that had been strewn around by Till.
“It’s a shame, though. I wanted to hear you sing again.”
He paused at the door, looking back at Till.
“I hope things work out for you and Ivan.”
“Yeah. M-me too. And likewise, obviously. We both have some apologising to do.”
“First time for everything. Break a leg out there.”
❀
Before he even knew it, the people in front of him were being called—walking past the threshold of the curtains and onto the stage.
Till didn’t allow himself to focus on the other participants’ performances. He needed to stay concentrated.
He felt as though he would be able to handle anything on that stage.
If the lights shone directly in his eyes? Just an annoying technical mishap.
If it started to rain? Well, they’re literally indoors.
If that hallucination showed up? Till would just ignore it.
If Ivan didn’t show up? Till would… He would… Ivan would show up, or Till would go find him himself.
Once again, Till was the last contestant. He knew if he and Ivan had been talking, he would have said something like ‘It’s because you’re the best, Till! The closing act!’
As the number of people ahead of him decreased, Till’s nervousness increased.
You’re fine. You love performing.
But no matter how many times Till tried to assure himself, the gnawing fear wouldn’t go away.
He needed to trust himself—trust in Ivan!
He could do that—he trusted Ivan the most—but it did nothing to quell his worries.
There were no more people in front of him, and Till could faintly make out the sounds of the contestant being introduced.
Till hummed the song quickly, ensuring his guitar was perfectly in tune before trying to blindly fix his hair.
Now, Till wasn’t particularly one for caring about his appearance. He usually just threw on whatever shirt he could find first and did his makeup.
But today was important, so he had taken extra care when getting ready. He had even brushed his hair!
The girl who had just gone was buzzing with excitement, and she gave Till a ‘Good luck!’ when passing him on her way off stage.
He barely registered it.
His ears were ringing, and his breath was shaky.
He clenched his eyes shut and let out a deep exhale when his name was called.
His legs moved surprisingly easily towards the amp, plugging his guitar in first try despite the shake in his hands.
He squinted against the harsh light that fell down upon him, and Till had to remind himself he was at school, safe, with no guns pointed at him.
He cleared his throat, wincing at the way it reverberated in the speakers. But that’s all it was. His voice.
He was alone up here.
He glanced to his left quickly, and there was no one there.
“Umm, I’m Till, and this is a song I wrote.”
Till smiled to himself as he began strumming, remembering how the last time he had seen the two girls, Mizi was desperate to know what song Till would be singing. Sua acted indifferent, if not still annoyed at the mess Till had made of their friend group, but she couldn’t completely hide her curiosity.
“Come on Till!” Mizi had pleaded, dragging out the vowels as she whined. “Just let me hear a little! It’s a new one, isn’t it? Oh come on! You have to tell me!”
It had been a reprieve from the girl’s constant worrying. Before that moment, she had been acting as if Till and Ivan would never make up. Which, honestly, Till had also been concerned about.
He had seen Mizi and Sua walking into the hall before the show began, so the two of them would finally get their answer. Till didn’t particularly care about satiating their curiosity though.
Once upon a time, the song Till was going to perform would have been for Mizi.
But it’s not.
“It’s called Scars.”
At first, Till’s voice came quietly, almost uncertain as he sang the opening notes.
But, everything seemed to fade out into background noise, a strange calmness taking over him and slowing his rapid heartbeat.
His eyes fluttered shut as he gained courage, his voice becoming stable as he relaxed.
Till opened his eyes, scanning the crowd until he found what he was looking for.
Ivan was here.
Standing in the centre of the crowd.
Looking at Till.
“Scars remember everything
The mold and flowers keep walking, bleeding
See the eyes grow rust, then fade.”
Till looked directly at Ivan for the rest of the song, literally pouring his heart out to him.
Ivan’s gaze never wavered, either.
In fact, he didn’t move at all.
Till was starting to wonder whether it really was Ivan with the amount of time he had gone without blinking.
The guitar eventually came to a stop, and it was silent.
Till couldn’t even bring himself to look around at the crowd, his gaze transfixed on Ivan’s, whose eyes were wide with understanding and awe.
His chest rose and fell quickly, the adrenaline wearing off.
Belatedly—as though everyone had been stuck in a trance—people began clapping.
Cheers echoed inside the room, but none of it registered to Till.
It didn’t matter to him.
All that did was that Ivan understood what he was trying to tell him.
As soon as he saw Ivan move, Till all but dropped his guitar and ran.
He ran off the stage, past the curtains and down the stairs before nearly colliding with someone in the walkway outside the hall.
Till stumbled backwards, his arm reaching forwards to grab onto whatever he could find.
“Shit. Sorry, I wasn’t—Ivan?”
It felt as if all the air had been knocked out of Till’s lungs—and with the force he ran into Ivan with, it was very likely.
Till stared up at Ivan blankly, his mind racing too fast to know how to react.
By the looks of things, Ivan wasn’t fairing much better, either.
“Holy shit,” Till gasped. “Are you fucking crying?”
Ivan’s free hand—the other having grabbed Till’s waist when they collided—moved upwards to lamely wipe at his eye.
His brow furrowed as he looked at his wet fingers, and let out an intelligent ‘Huh’.
Till just looked up at Ivan—his gaze feeling magnetic—like he couldn’t help but be drawn to the raven haired boy.
He felt so silly at that moment.
His breath caught in his throat and he found himself fighting back tears as well.
“I–I don’t… I can’t—I’m so sorry.”
Ivan’s eyes widened as if that was the last thing he expected to hear.
Till’s mind was racing almost as fast as his heart and he couldn’t formulate a single coherent sentence.
“Come home.”
Ivan spluttered, his face growing red at the same time Till’s grew warm.
“C-come home?” The older man asked, bewildered. It was the most emotion Till had ever seen on the other.
“T-that’s not what I—” Till began, trying to back track. “Wait, no. Come to my house, please let me apologise.”
It was obvious by the look in Ivan’s glassy eyes that he didn’t need much convincing.
A muffled sound caught Ivan’s attention, and his head whipped around the door of the hall.
“But Till, the talent show!”
Till scoffed as he grabbed Ivan’s hand and yanked, turning away.
“That’s seriously what you’re worried about? Who cares about some stupid competition?”
Ivan followed after Till easily, though he still made sure to voice his opinions about it.
Idiot. Why do you even care about hearing the winner? We have more important stuff to talk about.
“But this is important to you, Till! Don’t you remember how nervous you were when everyone was waiting for the list of contestants to be released? Shouldn’t we wait?”
“Yeah, well things are different now!” Till argued, continuing to lead Ivan to the back entrance of the school. “There are more important things than a talent show.”
Ivan didn’t say anything in response to that.
Till looked over his shoulder and nearly tripped right over his feet when he saw the expression on his best friend’s face.
What’s with that look?!
“S-shut up! We’ll find out anyway tomorrow!”
Ivan giggled, squeezing Till’s hand. “I didn’t even say anything.”
“Shut up!”
❀
“Aww, is Io working again tonight?” Ivan asked, looking around curiously as Till pulled the key from the door.
“Why ask when you already know?”
“Well, I haven’t been around in a while, so I couldn’t be sure of her schedule now.”
Guilt clawed up Till’s throat, stopping him from responding.
This is what he had been scared of.
It was inevitable, of course. They couldn’t just pretend nothing had happened—of course it did!
The car ride had been suffocatingly silent—neither brave enough to say anything and disturb the small peace they had acquired just moments before.
Now Till’s heart felt like it was going to push through his ribcage and jump right out of his chest.
Ivan was back at his house—back inside his room—and God, he couldn’t even bring himself to hate how much relief it brought him.
“Yeah,” Till croaked out belatedly, “I’m sorry about that.”
Ivan didn’t say anything, opting for sitting on the edge of Till’s bed instead.
Usually, the raven haired boy would just flop right into the middle of Till’s bed—shoes on and everything—so the politeness of it all made him sick to the stomach.
It’s just because it’s been a while. You’re fine. He’s taking this talk seriously is all.
Till came to sit beside Ivan, staring at the blank wall across from him.
He could still see the red thread connecting his half deluded theories hanging up there.
Ivan cleared his throat, and only then did Till realise the other had been staring at him.
Waiting.
Right. Till had an explanation to make. An apology to make.
Where the fuck do I start? What do I—
“I’m sorry.”
“Sorry?” Till repeated incredulously. “For what?”
“Everything. A lot.”
“You don’t need to apologise! I do! Ivan, I’m sorry for the way I treated you—you’ve been waiting all this time, and I pushed you away when we needed each other most. I’m sorry for the way I treated you back then. I’m sorry that you had to die for me, and I’m sorry that it took me so long to—”
“Till, stop.”
Till’s jaw snapped shut instantly.
Ivan’s head dropped, and he ran a hand through his hair—tousling the otherwise perfectly styled dark strands up.
“You don’t need to apologise, Till,” Ivan began, and Till could already feel the disagreement on the tip of his tongue. “I understand why you did what you did. Of course I was upset, you’re my… best friend, but at the end of the day I deserved it. I’m sorry Till. I probably traumatised you.”
Till sucked in a sharp inhale, scanning the room once.
Empty.
It was only him and Ivan—his Ivan, the real Ivan.
Technically that last statement wasn’t incorrect, but Till still wholeheartedly disagreed with the rest of what Ivan had said.
“You’re wrong, you know,” Till grumbled, reaching out to interlock his fingers with the other’s.
Ivan’s head snapped towards Till. His eyes were wide and ablaze, and Till had never seen a red more beautiful.
“Yeah, leaving me was a dick move, and I’ll never forgive you for it, but you gave me life, you know?”
Somehow, Ivan’s eyes widened even more.
“I–I what? B-but Luka said—”
“I don’t care what Luka told you,” Till interjected with a scoff. “He was an idiot and didn’t know what he was talkin’ about. Even though he won Round 7, I still survived.”
Once again, tears were welling in Ivan’s eyes, and it threw Till off.
“Don’t cry, idiot. I got to live a happy life after the rebellion rescued me.” He made sure not to mention the fact that he hallucinated Ivan for years after, nor the fact that said hallucination rendered him practically mute for a decade.
“The rebellion?” Ivan asked as he nuzzled into Till’s hand, his eyes closing softly when Till swiped a stray tear away. “Hyuna was part of the rebellion.”
“I know, I got to speak with her. I even got to see some of my old friends from back then too, but they don’t remember me.”
“You were talking to Hyuna? What for?”
“You’re probably not gonna like this,” Till said quietly, internally bracing himself, “But it was actually for Luka. I wanted them to be able to have a fresh start, just like us.”
Ivan was quiet for a moment, looking thoughtful despite the scowl on his face.
“Very well,” he said lightly. “So you and Luka are friends now?”
“Mhm. He’s not as bad as you might think. I would actually wager you two would get on quite well, if you were able to put your differences aside that is.”
“He literally punched me in the face,” Ivan remarked with a pout.
“And who started the fight?”
Ivan didn’t answer.
Till caressed Ivan’s cheek one more time before pulling his hand away, opting to place it back over Ivan’s once more.
Till cleared his throat.
Right, stay on task. We’ve talked about basically everything except…
“So,” he croaked, coughing awkwardly to clear his throat again, “about the song… Did you?” Till left the question hanging, too much of a coward to actually say what he meant.
All of his courage disappeared with the music.
Ivan straightened himself, noticing the shift in the mood.
“Yeah—Well I mean I think I did.” Ivan looked at Till with bright eyes, full of hope. “Please tell me I didn’t misinterpret it.”
“I—” Till’s mouth felt dry, and every nerve in his body was screaming at him. “No, you didn’t. Ivan… I’m sorry it took so long. I really like you.”
It didn’t take long for Till to notice the tremble in Ivan’s hands—though with the amount they were shaking, it’d be pretty difficult not to.
Till squeezed Ivan’s hands reassuringly, smiling softly when the raven haired boy returned his gaze with glassy eyes.
“I really like you. In this life and the last.”
Ivan’s face finally crumbled, his tears overflowing as Till pulled him in for a hug.
Countless times since they had met, Till had cried to Ivan, yet Till had never once had to comfort the other like this.
There was even a time back in second grade when Till ignored Ivan for a week and told him he didn’t want to hang out anymore—just to see if Ivan would actually shed a tear. He didn’t, of course, and it had ended up with Till blubbering into Ivan’s shirt as he apologised profusely.
But now, Ivan was full body sobbing, his shoulders shaking from the cries wracking his body.
All Till could do was hold him, whispering soothing words as he reaffirmed his feelings over and over again.
Eventually, once the worst of Ivan’s crying had subsided, they sat there in Till’s room, the silence occasionally broken by muffled sniffles or hiccups.
Till had a feeling Ivan was just hiding from embarrassment.
“Come on,” Till said lightly, squeezing Ivan’s shoulders as his arms stayed wrapped around his back. “Aren’t you gonna say anything back?”
Ivan mumbled something into Till’s shoulder, and he felt it more than he heard it.
Till shrugged his shoulders gently, jostling Ivan’s head.
“Don’t leave me hanging, say something.” Till spoke as if he were annoyed, but they both knew he would wait forever if he had to.
Luckily, it seemed forever wouldn’t be the case, and Ivan turned his head so his face wasn’t buried in the fabric of Till’s shirt.
Till’s heart was pounding hard—both from the proximity and his confession—and he was certain Ivan could hear it.
“I…” Ivan opened and closed his mouth a few times, as if the words kept running away from him.
With a new found confidence, Ivan pulled back, though making sure he didn’t stray too far from Till.
“Till,” Ivan said, and Till felt enraptured by those eyes—spellbound. “Can I kiss you?”
Till nodded distantly, and he didn’t know who moved first. All he registered was the feeling of Ivan’s lips on his.
It was slow, at first, before the two melted into it.
It was perfect. Till was almost certain he would never feel this way again—but with Ivan, anything was possible.
It was as if everything that had happened in their lives—both this one and the last—was leading up to this single moment. As if this is what the universe had intended for them all along.
It was certainly better than their first kiss, Till acknowledged, tilting his head slightly so his lips slotted better with Ivan’s.
The two parted when they had run out of air, panting heavily as their chests heaved in synchronised breaths.
“...That was nice. I appreciated the tongue, by the way,” Ivan noted with a nod. Till grimaced, cussing the other out as he tried to push him away, but Ivan just held onto him tighter.
Sometime during the kiss… which had somehow turned into a makeout session—which was definitely not Till’s fault at all—Till had ended up on Ivan’s lap, straddling his hips.
It had been nice, but then Ivan had to go and ruin it by being fucking weird.
“Aww, don’t get angry Till,” Ivan pouted, resting his chin on Till’s chest. Till looked down at Ivan’s stupid face, yet his heart swelled and he couldn’t help the smile that spread across his own.
Before long, Ivan’s expression matched Till’s, reflecting all the joy and love he was feeling.
“Till? I know I didn’t say it earlier, but I like you too. A lot. Like a lot, a lot. Like so much you couldn’t even—”
“Shut up!” Till interjected, face red. “I got it, alright? So would you just stop with that already?”
“Does this mean we’re dating now?”
“Obviously, dumbass.”
❀
“Oh my goodness! Till!”
Till sat up groggily, wiping his eyes as they adjusted to the harsh, bright light. The source? Ivan shoving his bright-as-fuck phone in his face.
“What am I looking at?”
Ivan turned the phone towards himself, as if he himself didn’t even know what was on there.
“People have been trying to contact us all day! Till, you won the competition!”
Looking at the smile on Ivan’s face, and listening to him ramble on about how “See Till, I knew you would win!” and “Encore! Encore! Just for me Till!” The grey haired boy felt as though he had won way more than just a talent show.