TheSunHasRisen
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"Not thinking of marriage yet? We're pushing 30, man."
Ivan's eyes skidder to the side, to the bundles of clouds above, like splotches of ink. The city is alive all around them, the noise of traffic and faraway voices insulated, muted within that private moment.
"I told you, Till. There was only one girl I've ever loved."
The cigarette is flickered to the snowy ground below. Till's face curled in incredulity, something Ivan can tell even without looking.
"Still? It's been nearly ten years. You said you only saw her once."
Wild, choppy gray hair, his button nose is pink, cheeks flushed in the cold, made warm by alcohol. Crackled, thin lips, barely parted. Teal, sharp eyes. Naive. Earnest. Stunningly oblivious.
"I'd still wait a lifetime, just to see her again."
*
Ivan was never allowed to be anything other than perfect, even if he, himself, knew he was beyond salvation from the start.
An exploration on repression, guilt, self loathing, and a love that refuses to die, refuses to even be called love.
Ivan could only ever adore a woman that didn't exist.
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All of me, huh? Could he do that? He'd done so much in secret for so long, it felt terrifying to drag it all into the light. But for Till? For himself and the chance that this time, maybe, they could be different?
"Yeah."
And then Till looked over his shoulder, caught Ivan's gaze and held it. "Thank you. I know I'm really late in saying it. But I'm also really, really happy that I still have the chance to say it at all."
Till believed Ivan died sacrificing himself for him. Ivan believed Till died in the fiery destruction of the Alien Stage.
And neither knew that the other survived.
Eight years later, Till has settled into caring for the children he'd rescued from the Alien Stage Museum with the help of the rest of the Rebellion, while Ivan continues working to fulfill what he believes would have been Till's last wish. When they're reunited, they have the chance to say everything they should have said once upon a time and to discover the mutual love that once eluded them. But only if they can overcome all the scars that mark them.
Series
- Part 1 of The Absence of Stars
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Bookmarked by TheSunHasRisen
10 Apr 2026
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Ivan breathes a humorless laugh. "I don't know what it is you want from me."
Till furiously snaps back, "I want you to—" before cutting himself off. He takes a deep breath and relaxes his scrunched-up facial features before continuing, quieter. "I'm your best friend. I find you half passed out in some—fucked up garden that you've been coughing up for a year, and I'm freaking out because I don't know what's going on or—or if you'll be okay, and now that I know you're okay, the doctors are saying they can't let you go because you're too damn sick to be left alone!"
His lower lip quivers ever so slightly. Ivan, for his own sake, unfocuses his eyes until Till is only a shapeless blur of colors in the middle of a sea of hospital white.
"I'm your best friend," the blur repeats, breathlessly. "I want you to fucking say something to me."
Hanahaki disease is, quite famously, a condition born from love. Ivan is convinced that his case is the exception to this rule. And when each of his friends inevitably starts catching on to his quickly deteriorating health, everything goes spinning out of control.
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- English
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Bookmarked by TheSunHasRisen
17 Mar 2026
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“Edgeworth.”
“Yes?”
“Do you–”
A pause.
“Do you think Trucy will be happy with me one day?”
Bookmarked by TheSunHasRisen
13 Nov 2024
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“I could devour you right here,” Macaque whispered, his voice dark and husky. He pulled his hand away and moved it over to Wukong’s chest, fingers ghosting over the pec underneath his chest plate. “You have no idea how much I want to,” he confessed, the desperation raw in his tone. His fingers curled into Wukong’s chest plate, tugging on it gently as if he wanted to tear it off. “To ruin you, break you down until you’re mine in every way.”
Wukong swallowed thickly. His throat was dry as he tried to focus, but his mind was clouded, hazy from both the blood loss and the intensity of Macaque’s bloody gaze. Macaque’s instincts were screaming, and Wukong could feel it in every touch, every growl that rumbled from his chest. His hand trembled as he reached up, fingers brushing against Macaque’s wrist before cupping his hand closer to his cheek.
His breath hitched as his lips brushed against Macaque’s. He whispered, his voice hoarse and shaky, “Then… what are you waiting for?”
Bookmarked by TheSunHasRisen
22 Sep 2024