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Their footsteps echo in the silence of the hallway.
His owner has been rather pleased with him recently. Report cards were sent back the other week and Ivan had received top marks, beating the overall second place by a margin. His results had satisfied his owner's expectations and vanity, which was good. But it also brought along its own set of troubles.
These days, he is often pulled out of the Garden to attend banquets and parties where he's shown-off to his owner's associates. Ivan feels more like a pet than trophy in those moments: paraded around to be touched and not just seen.
The only thing that makes it somewhat tolerable is that Ivan also has more free-time outside of those events, even if he doesn't know what to do with it. Ivan supposed that to his owner who famously hated paperwork, taking a break from Anakt Garden's rigorous courses was a reward in itself, but he would prefer going over music exercises and classical studies than follow his owner around.
But Ivan isn't foolish enough to say that aloud.
He's well aware that all the gifts he receives are simple displays of generosity and power, not from an actual desire to reward him. This is why he doesn't think much of this latest "reward".
You don't forget the weight of a collar around your throat and Ivan's memory has always been better than most. No matter how much freedom his owner affords him, no matter the material goods and praise, there was no hiding the fact of Ivan's position.
He exists as a favored pet until there is no use for him anymore; doomed to be thrown away at the end, finally put to rest.
Ivan hasn't decided if he should anticipate it or not.
He follows his owner down the dark hall of the west wing, far from the main rooms of the mansion and his own personal chambers. Perhaps the old Ivan — the child that hadn't yet rid himself of naive fantasies of freedom and happy endings — would have taken note of the pathway.
It was always useful to know his surroundings and he's never been here before, never strayed from the areas designated to him. Once, because he had been afraid of punishment if he was caught, but now...
Nowadays, Ivan is the perfect pet-human: no flaws, no mistakes, no wants. Hah.
Till would gag if he could see him now. Till would laugh his ass off and mock his fake smiles and manners relentlessly, but it would be done with that brilliant humor in his eyes that never fails to soften his teasing. He reminded Ivan of a kitten that way, someone cute and precious trying to scratch him.
Something bounces in his chest, quiet like a pang or a drum beat. Ivan tries to steer his thoughts away from Till, not because he didn't enjoy thinking about him, but because he doesn't —
He doesn't know what's changed since that incident.
He doesn't know if he's allowed that particular joy anymore. It feels like ages since Ivan's seen Till. He's gone from chasing him from afar to chasing rumors of him at the Garden.
In an infuriating equilibrium with Ivan's newfound free-time, Till's owner has taken it upon themselves to punish him more for his rebellious behavior.
... Ivan misses him.
The quiet ache inside him grows day by day. Raging, tugging at his heart in search of the other boy; uncaring of the hole it tears in its path.
«Here we are. You've done well for yourself recently. This is your reward.»
He feels his owner's gaze flicker over his face. Ivan keeps his expression pleasantly blank, a closed-mouth smile on his lips. His feet are perfectly aligned and he trains his eyes there.
Don't show any uncertainty, but never be defiant. He keeps his voice humble. "What is it, sir?"
Approval radiates in his answer. «Your pet.»
A pet?
A huge palm with rough skin grips his shoulders and pushes him toward a door that's two times taller and wider than him. He wonders if there's another seygein behind it.
His owner often derived amusement from seeing his pet-human imitate him. A pet-alien for a pet-human wouldn't be far from what they'd consider amusing. Ivan weighs the idea of it.
«Ivan's little pet for a day.»
He's handed a familiar-looking key. Ivan's eyes narrow slightly as his mind races to remember where he'd seen it before. Oh.
The door opens. His mouth falls open with it.
"...Till?"
✦
24 hours.
The doors swing shut behind him, leaving them alone. For the first time in a long while, Ivan had the impulse to curse.
His owner's instructions are clear in his head. He can do whatever he wants and no one will stop him. Till's body was injected with euphoria — that insidious liquid that replaces every emotion in your head with happiness.
Ivan has never experienced it himself, but he's heard of other seygeins using it to keep their pets in control (both human and alien). Apparently Till was given enough so that he'd be obedient and docile enough to go along with whatever Ivan wanted him to do.
Obedient? Docile?
Ivan almost cackles at the absurdity.
He bites it down.
Wild thoughts flip through his brain: What should he do? Was he being watched right now? Or was he really alone? What was he expected to do?
There's some alarm flying through him at the realization that he wasn't as subtle as he thought when it came to his fixation of Till. Ivan hadn't realized his owner had noticed and the fact that it's being considered an amusing curiosity according to the chuckles his owner had given after witnessing his reaction to seeing Till makes him... well.
Ivan would seethe with anger if cold relief hadn't met him first.
Focus Ivan. Think.
Sexual pleasure is what comes to mind first. For obvious reasons, it's what his owner probably expects him to use this time for. The idea isn't an unpleasant one and brings to memory many late nights and wet dreams that left him feeling uncomfortably seen.
Even like this, chained and unconscious, Till makes an enticing sight.
But the thought of touching him like that makes Ivan's stomach sink.
(It always felt sacrilegious to him. To dream of Till that way.
Sometimes it even made his loneliness feel worse. Waking up with sticky pants, panting, and feeling shamefully sated before it eventually gave way to a coldness that sank deep into his bones.)
Ivan's head spins.
The part of him that was still Till's friend insisted he stay far away until the 24 hours were over. The part of him that was still hurting over Till's choice thrills at the chance to fuck him, to hold him down and lick him all over.
Crass thoughts, naked wants.
He tastes blood on his lips, blood on his tongue. He thinks of the carnal instinct to sink his teeth into something that's almost overwhelming.
Hunger is a familiar sensation that welcomes him like a friend.
There's no fighting this.
His hands shake, nerves frying with indecision. The room is unbearably hot all of a sudden. His fingers itch. He wants to—
He wants t-to take what he wants and make sure Till can never leave.
Ivan's steps surge forward, clumsy and inelegant. That heady idea that pulses through him like a living flame and he is a moth seeking his own demise.
(Pet-human. Human-pet. Human-beast, his owner had commented as they watched a pair of human-pet lovers die in each other's arms before their bodies were pulled apart by hungry wageyein. Pitiful things chained to their own desires.
Ivan has only ever had one real desire in his life.)
But when Ivan opens his mouth, when he looks at the softness of Till's face that quells and soothes the aching creature in his heart, all that comes out is a weak: "Love me."
It echoes around the empty room. Repeats back to him.
(Is that him? Is that his voice? Is that what he sounds like?)
His heart races like a chased rabbit in a hunt.
The honesty tearing itself from his throat makes his ears feel hot, makes him feel like he's spilling over.
He can barely stop himself from falling to his knees, from begging and weeping, and confessing every single thought in his head to Till's feet.
"Love me." His voice comes out stronger, stretched with thin desperation.
If he could have anything... if he could wish for anything at all...
"Look at me, Till."
Till stirs. His sea-green eyes are a flash of brilliant color in the white canvas of the room and Ivan is overwhelmed by the gripping desire to kiss them, to make sure they're always looking at him.
He wonders if he looks as exposed as he feels, if his desires are written on his face, completely free of Anakt's teachings and that perfect smile Till always disliked.
His rationality escapes him with every passing second.
Ivan wants to cradle Till's face and just stay there, breathe him in.
He wants to pull Till down and lay next to him on the ground like they did when they were children. When everything hadn't happened yet, and Ivan still had the privilege of listening to Till's voice as he complained about anything and everything.
Blue skies, soft grass, warm sun.
Ivan aches with the memory.
Till's eyes are wet and open, full of dazed trust and an obedience that Ivan's never seen before. His pride is a radiant thing that Ivan adores, but this—
This was also nice, he thinks.
Ivan studies Till with the focus of a man looking at his life's devotion. Cobweb memories cling to his limbs, slow and suffocating, and he thinks of that day.
He raises his hands.
(He raised his hands—)
With the key between his fingers, he frees Till.
(He freed Till from his bindings—)
Till falls into his arms.
(Till woke up with bright eyes—)
Ivan is the only reflection in Till's eyes.
(And Ivan held him tight—)
Gently, ever so gently, he kisses him.
✦
Ivan selfishly sinks into this beautiful, velvet dream.
Till holds him close.
✦
Soft fingers gently card through his hair, lulling him into a sort-of buzzing but pleasant sensation.
Ivan sighs and buries his face into Till's stomach, breathing quietly as he holds onto him. Till smells like flowers, like ink and sunshine. It sneaks its way into his lungs and the air seems to sweeten with each breath.
"Till, do you love me?"
Even voicing it aloud makes him want to laugh. It's a question he would have never asked before, one that would have undoubtedly been met with a resounding 'of course not!' and assortment of colorful profanity.
(It's a question he can finally hear an answer to, no matter how truthful it was or wasn't.)
Till splutters and his body stiffens. He turns red all over. "Wha—what kind of question is that?"
"Do you love me?" Ivan continues happily. "I love you so much." He kisses Till's shirt, smiling when he feels the other boy tremble. Was it mean of him that he wants to do it again and again? That he wants to kiss Till until he's even brighter with shyness and anger? Probably.
But Ivan has never claimed to be a nice person.
"I do! I do!" Till says hotly, voice hush as if afraid that someone would hear him, as if the words would burn him if he said it any louder. His fingers clutch at Ivan's hair, trying to pull him away, but Ivan isn't dissuaded. Not when Till's tugs can barely be considered that.
His patience is rewarded by a soft voice, barely a whisper in the air. "... I love you too."
Ivan squeeze his eyes shut. His heart throbs, stops, and repeats. Ivan skims a finger down Till's arm, drawing meaningless patterns on his skin, and laughs at the second tremor it gets him. "Again?" he asks.
"I— I love you."
Ivan smiles wider. His cheeks hurt a little, from smiling so much. He's never had this problem before but he doesn't mind it.
"More?"
Greedy.
"You—! Argh, I love you. I love you lots."
Spoiled.
Ivan is not a stranger to the word. His owner was affluent in ways that most would never reach and as his human-pet, he's been privy the same wealth, but material goods and luxury comforts held about the same importance as slum clothes and dirt floors to Ivan, so he never understood the hype.
This though...
Ivan laughs. "Forever?"
He is dangerously addicted to this feeling.
Is this how Sua feels all the time? He feels like a child, all bubbly and giggly inside. Is this how it feels to be treasured by someone who loves him?
Till tugs him up and this time Ivan follows the warmth of their bodies pressing together. He cradles Ivan's face, hands gentle as if holding something precious.
Ocean sea-green see black and red. Stars sprawling across the skies and into his eyes.
Two comets meeting in orbit for a brilliant, improbable moment.
"I love you," Till says, voice slow and yet utterly serious. Always so firm and unyielding when he decides on something. Every inch of Till's attention is on him, and Ivan drinks it in like a man dehydrated. "Forever and ever."
It should be illegal, the way Till effortlessly commands his heart to twist into itself.
Till smiles at Ivan, something bright and soft and only ever directed towards someone else. This is how it feels to be seen by his gaze.
Heart-aching joy surges through Ivan like a rushing torrent that promises to sweep him away and drown him whole.
How long does it take for a comet to leave orbit?
Ivan pulls him into a kiss. He tilts his head until Till's lips slide softly against his own, relaxed and unhurried like he had all the time in the world, and then tucks his head right into the crook of Till's neck where his name lies. He breathes in.
Flowers, ink, sunshine.
Ivan laughs quietly. "I love you forever too."
It turns out that it doesn't matter to Ivan.