sonarcide
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He kneels on the cold bathroom floor and lets his love overflow him until he can’t breathe. His whole body is aching today, but that’s natural, it’s what the temperature drop does to him.
He chokes on his love and it spills red, but that’s natural, this is the only way Ivan could ever love.
(Red camellias, Luka would say, wearing a lazy smile with no teeth, the type that doesn’t reach his eyes. Symbol of faithfulness and longevity. Ironic, isn’t it?)
there is no softness to be found within ivan; of course his love would kill him.
Bookmarked by sonarcide
21 Sep 2026
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As if a switch has been flipped, Ivan does not stop gazing at Till, while Till is the one to skirt away.
“This might be good for you, though,” Ivan says, his voice gentle, as if each word doesn't tear into Till’s arteries. “You won’t have to deal with this burden for much longer. It’ll pass.”
“You’re not dead,” Till manages, his voice hoarse. “We'll still be us.”
For the first time, Till feels waves of terror shake through their profound silence.
Ivan gets surgery for his Hanahaki. Till deals with the aftermath.
Bookmarked by sonarcide
21 Sep 2026
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Asking For a Hand. Your Hand Specifically. pleasepleasepleasepleeeease by fflyhigher
Fandoms: Alien Stage (Web Series)
17 Sep 2026
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“Wait,” Ivan says, his words slightly slurred. If Till were to pay more attention, he’d notice a tinge of panic in his tone. “You can’t have my phone.”
Huh?
“What do you mean I can’t have your phone?” Till asks, suspicious, his eyebrows furrowing. Ivan has never had any issues handing Till his phone– He even proudly showed him how a third of his storage was (and still is) taken up by a folder of pictures of him taken without Till noticing, once. So what the hell could be in there that has Ivan clutching his phone so protectively against his chest, as if he’s guarding the darkest of secrets?
Ivan gets drunk. Till goes insane. All of Mizi's powerpoints about making the perfect proposal go to waste, but it's all alright in the end.
Bookmarked by sonarcide
17 Sep 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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“Till?”
The same body shifts on the bed against Till, and Ivan’s face soon reappears right in front of him. Only this time he’s not draped in white. He wears a simple pajama shirt with matching bottoms, and the sight is so real, so normal that it squeezes out another wheeze out of Till.
In this reality, Till does not feel any urge to punch the man right beside him. Maybe a few years ago, but especially not now.
But he feels like if he did, Ivan wouldn’t even question it. Fucking bastard.
Instead, there’s a raging leap of gratitude to be next to him.
“You’re crying.”
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OR Till awakes from a nightmare that is known as Alien Stage. He belongs to this universe, with his friends, and with his lover.
Bookmarked by sonarcide
15 Sep 2026