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The lobby was white and bright and too much. There wasn’t anything there, not except the other kid in the pod and their family, who was still saying goodbye to them. The pods were going to be leaving soon, why the family was still there, Ivan didn’t really understand. His keepers had just gone over the reason they were sending him to the Anakt Garden again, what he was and wasn’t meant to do while he was there, their expectations for his behavior- things they’d already discussed before his departure but wanted to go over one last time before their communication dwindled from somewhat frequent into nothing. His pod was empty and climate-controlled, with only him and his one bag of some of his things and a few books he’d asked if he could take with him. He plays absentmindedly with his collar, his fingertips rubbing on the slippery, synthetic fabric.
They were new clothes, his guardians weren’t going to let him go in anything that had a single frayed thread or wrinkle, putting their best foot forward and showing only the prettiest, cleanest parts of themselves and their ward. He was just another trophy for them to show off, he knew. He blew on the side of the pod, his breath fogging the glass. Humming to himself, he drew shapes on the glass, specifically the old constellations he’d read about in one of his books recently. His guardians wanted him to be educated as he could be, mostly so he could hold a conversation with anyone at whatever parties they brought him to, but he enjoyed it. He liked learning more about the world, even if it was a world he’d never really get to see. Humans used to trace shapes into the sky, into the stars, to track their movements and make sense of what was up there, back when they thought they were the center of everything.
To say that humans knew better now, well, that was one way of putting it.
Ivan wasn’t sure which was worse; merely going through the motions as he had for so long or this tempting, all-encompassing feeling that burned in his chest, his heart turned into a flaring star. He was so used to feeling nothing at all (or maybe what he was really used to feeling was empty, a black hole inside of him instead of a star) that this sensation of feeling so very much was frankly terrifying. The fact that this feeling was spurred on by someone else, someone completely out of his control, that made it even worse. The grey-haired boy (Till, his mind whispered) hadn’t even come crashing into his life with a bang or a scream, he’d merely run past and caught Ivan’s attention. Ivan was fascinated, distantly, and followed the boy as he ran.
Ivan’s footsteps had been slower, softer on the artificial grass, but they’d quickened once he heard the commotion. He stayed in the doorway watching as the boy and a pink-haired girl dealt with one of the aliens. The grey-haired boy was on the floor, curled in on himself, and the girl was simply standing there horrified. Ivan was amazed when the boy eventually pushed himself up, lashed out again, fought and screamed and ran, rebelling so gloriously that Ivan couldn’t take his eyes off of him. Ivan had been enraptured, eyes glued to the boy even as he was forcibly carried out of the room and locked away. The pink-haired girl had followed the aliens taking the boy away, pleading with them even though she was repeatedly ignored. Eventually, Ivan had felt the need to step in, placing a hand on her shoulder and stopping her in her tracks. She stared back at him with wide, scared golden eyes framed by circular glasses frames. He shook his head.
“If you keep begging,” he said quietly, gesturing towards the aliens with a jerk of his chin. “They’ll make the punishment worse. He knows that you fought for him. You can let him go, for now.” She watched him for a long, long moment that seemed to stretch on into infinity as silence hung in the air, heavy and taut. Finally, she nodded.
“How do you . . ?” She asked, her voice barely more than a whisper. Her voice was sweet but it had strength to it, heft almost, and Ivan recognized her from their lessons, then. Mizi was her name, if he remembered correctly, and he rarely remembered wrong.
“I’ve seen it happen before,” Ivan told her. Not to the grey-haired boy, but he had seen others taken in similar ways after disobedience. Punishment was only made worse after struggle and appeal from outsiders, sometimes even to the degree that the outsider is taken and punished as well. Ivan guessed that the grey-haired boy wouldn’t want to see Mizi taken and punished as well, considering the concern she showed for him, there was likely concern in the opposite direction as well. Mizi hesitated for another moment before letting out a heavy breath and nodding.
“Okay,” she said, looking up and smiling at him feebly. “Thank you. You- you’re Ivan, right?” Ivan had been surprised she knew his name to be honest, he didn’t really interact with the other kids often nor did he get made the example of in class, so his name wasn’t really said frequently. He nodded, though, because she was right. That was his name.
“You’re welcome,” he replied, hesitating though he hoped it didn’t show on his face. “Mizi?” Her smile widened, then, her eyes brightening ever so slightly from the dull fear that had glossed them over.
“Yeah,” She nodded eagerly, still smiling. “How do you know Till?” She asked, as they walked down the dark, dusty hallway. People didn’t end up in this part of the labyrinth of corridors very often, in fact, part of it seemed like it was either abandoned or under construction more than it seemed like it was actually in use. That probably only contributed to the fact that it seemed desolate and destitute, rather than actively in use. Perhaps instinctively, Ivan and Mizi stayed close to one another as they made their way through the maze of halls.
“I don’t really know him,” Ivan eventually replied, his voice carrying through the empty space even though it was barely above a whisper. “I was curious where he was going so I followed him after I saw him at recess.” Mizi’s eyebrows lifted, her cheeks visibly pinking even in the dim.
“Oh, he must’ve been following me!” She said, pushing her glasses up her nose absently. She smiled at him sheepishly, rubbing the back of her neck. “I got lost and just when I thought I was going to be stuck, Till found me. It wasn’t long after that we got found by one of the staff and we were told we weren’t allowed to be there. Till was the one who ended up getting blamed and hurt.” She looked at her shoes, her eyes downcast.
“Was that why you were following him?” Ivan asked, paying closer attention to their location, now especially considering that Mizi had functionally just admitted that her sense of direction wasn’t the best. It would make sense, he supposed, that if she felt guilty for his injury, that she would follow Till as he was being taken away and even try to interfere. Ivan wondered just how closer they had to be for her to do that, put herself in danger like that. Mizi looked up and nodded quickly, a look on her face that Ivan couldn’t quite decipher- it wasn’t anger but it was something close, something strong and stubborn.
“Yeah, I wanted to explain that it wasn’t his fault,” she answered, huffing out a breath through her nose and crossing her arms. Somehow, quick as a blink, her feeling wavered and her arms fell. “Then, you told me that I was just gonna make it worse. I could’ve really messed up, thank you again.” She laughed slightly, blushing. Ivan blinked, surprised that she would thank him at all nonetheless bother thanking him again. He didn’t really know how to reply, to be honest. He didn’t get thanked really ever, just complimented and even though those all too often rang hollow, all he had to do was smile and bow in gratitude. He was used to performing the song and dance of social interaction at parties but he didn’t really have to deal with it when he was sitting in the corner of the library, at a table in the lunchroom, listening to the teacher in class- sometimes surrounded by others but always alone. He didn’t have to worry about talking to anyone, not like he had to worry about talking to Mizi right now. She bewildered him, still smiling even as he stood silent and stunned. Ivan pressed his lips together and nodded, turning to start walking again. Mizi scrambled to catch up but kept pace once she did. They talked a little more but it was just about odds and ends, nothing important.
Mizi was surprisingly easy to fall into conversation with, Ivan found, maybe because she carried most of the conversation and was content with his hums and nods of acknowledgement for response. While Ivan led them through the halls, she told him about catching fish in the pond and a song she was working on for class and a really good painting that Sua made in large, sweeping gestures and a grin almost as big. It made him almost sad when they finally reached the dormitories because they had to go separate ways to their rooms and that meant that he could no longer bask in Mizi’s comfortable, beaming presence.
Mizi waved goodbye, still smiling. Ivan didn’t know how she did it but still, he waved back.
They were older now.
Their limbs had gotten longer, their torsos shifting and their voices changing. They’d all grown taller, Sua and Till settling around the same height while Ivan was the tallest and Mizi stopped at about Ivan’s chin. Sua smiled more, her pinkish-purple eyes shining in the simulated sun, and Till spent more time with them and less time hiding behind trees, watching Sua and Mizi laugh together. Ivan usually was the one dragging him in, for whatever reason, and Sua would notice the two of them walking over and she’d wave, causing Mizi to follow, and they’d all spend their outside enrichment period together. Sometimes they bounced ideas for songs off of each other, sometimes they played games they came up with, sometimes they did nothing at all. Ivan wondered if this was what friendship was supposed to be, distantly, as he’d never really had anything other than observation and acquaintances before.
As soon as Ivan and Mizi departed that night after Till was taken away, Ivan waited for Till to be released with bated breath. When he saw the grey-haired boy sitting in the lunchroom, albeit with bandages on his face and shadows under his eyes, Ivan went over and sat with him. Ivan made it his mission to get to know Till better, to tease out just what fascinated him so about the other boy, and while he never really found out, he had grown attached to Till. He learned that, as much as Till played the part of angry troublemaker, he was really just a brusque, bright dreamer who blazed more brilliantly than the artificial sun in the fields. He wrote songs with a fervor and played guitar like nobody else that Ivan had seen. He seemed bewildered by Ivan’s insistence that they spend time together but he didn’t seem opposed. Ivan would have opted to observe him from afar if Till hadn’t wanted him around but Till seemed happy for the company, someone to tease and run around with.
They sat in the library, Ivan keeping Till accountable on the reading because Till would always scribble in the margins of his textbooks, doodles and errant thoughts littering the pages. Ivan didn’t mind and it helped Till to concentrate but the teachers would reprimand Till whenever they checked through his workbooks (but they reprimanded him when he got distracted, too, and that’s what happened when he wasn’t able to doodle) and so they did their best to go through the work in a way that better suited his learning style. They read over the texts quietly in a dark corner of the library, taking turns and making sure to stop whenever someone didn’t understand a word or phrase. Sometimes, Sua and Mizi joined them but usually it was just Ivan and Till, going over their work and helping each other with assignments and homework.
Sometimes, Till fell asleep when Ivan was reading to him, snoozing on his shoulder with the softest of whuffling noises. Ivan thought it was the most precious thing in the world because Till looked so at peace when he was asleep, serene and still in a way he never was in any of his waking moments. He looked so comfortable and his hair was messy and soft as it brushed up against Ivan’s neck that Ivan hadn’t taken the time to wake him up since the first time it had happened. Till was always embarrassed when he woke up, blushing as red as a sunset and sputtering apologies that Ivan always brushed off with a shake of the head and a smile. Ivan wanted Till to have as much peace, as much quiet, as he could in the short time they had, and if Ivan got to see it, well, then that was a gift. He ran a hand through Till’s hair and laughed quietly to himself at the way that Till nuzzled into the touch. Even in sleep, searching for affection.
They all got older.
Together, they just spent time. One night, as they spent the dregs of their outside enrichment time wading through the water and picking at the multicolored stones that speckled the ground through the water. Ivan got distracted looking up at the darkened sky and ended up getting drenched when Till pushed him in with a cackle. Ivan let out a squawk as he pitched forward and as soon as he breached the surface, he spat out the water that had gotten in his mouth. Till laughed into his hand, snorting and pointing at Ivan as he sat there and dripped. Ivan made the executive decision to reach out and catch Till’s hand, pulling him so he plummeted into the water as well. Ivan smirked triumphantly as he watched Till sputter and yelp in surprise. Till surfaced a minute later and scowled at Ivan petulantly, sticking out his tongue. Ivan simply laughed.
“What was that for?” Till demanded as he stood up, wringing out his shirt as the water came up to his thighs and there was only any point in trying to dry his shirt. He helped Ivan up a moment later, holding out a hand that Ivan took and used to pull himself up.
“A taste of your own medicine?” Ivan offered, pushing his wet bangs out of his face. They stood close, their faces only a few inches apart, and Ivan felt his heart rumble in his chest in a way that was as exhilarating as it was uncomfortable. He swallowed the feeling down and turned away, knowing that whatever it was, its cause was Till.
“What’s wrong, Ivan?” Till asked, frowning and moving so that they were facing each other again. “Whatcha thinking about?”
“Just thinking about how dumb your face looks when you’re mad,” Ivan lied, sticking out his tongue at Till in a taunt.
“That’s not much of an argument,” Till replied, leveling Ivan with a disappointed look. Ivan rolled his eyes. “You always look dumb and I never point it out.” Till continued and Ivan huffed a laugh, slinging his arm around Till’s shoulders.
“Well, you’re obviously a kinder and better person than I am,” Ivan said with a wave of his hand. The five minute chime rang out and they both let out a sigh near simultaneously. “We better head back.”
They were older now.
Ivan supposed he was meant to be smarter but he wasn’t, if anything, he’d fallen deeper into his affection. He knew that was what it was, now, he knew that the feeling burgeoning in his chest like a flower was love, or something like it. It was as kind as it was cruel, fickle as the old gods mankind once worshiped in ages long past. Perhaps similarly to those long-dead gods, the love wouldn’t go down without a fight, without a memory cutting Ivan open and leaving him to hemorrhage on the floor. Somehow, he found he would rather let it fester than cut it out, rather be near Till than pull himself away and resign himself to the clinical emptiness of his childhood, the dull, screaming monotony of photo-shoots and performances.
At some point, with chilling clarity, Ivan had realized he would die for this idiot. That he was almost undoubtedly going to die for this idiot, who couldn’t see what was right in front of him, who had endured so much pain and still made beautiful music, who still strove to make people happy.
Ivan wanted to scream, even if it wouldn’t fit his perfect image,
“You’re so stupid, Till, can’t you see that Mizi loves Sua?” Till would be heartbroken to hear it. Maybe he already knows it, even, he’s just so deep in denial (so deep in love) that he can’t admit it to himself. If Ivan ever said any of these things out loud, Till would be broken about it, he wouldn’t live past the next round. That’s the real reason Ivan can never say what he thinks, what he knows. “She barely even heard your confession. Look at how she cries for Sua, how she’s eating herself alive! She wouldn’t destroy herself for you, Till!
“I would destroy myself for you, Till.” Ivan wanted so desperately to say it, to confess it like a guilty man to a priest but Till would never hear the words. They don’t matter, Ivan knows as he feels his stomach twist itself into knots as they wait in their little glass cages for Round 4 to be over.
Till wouldn’t change his mind, or his heart, if Ivan ever told him the truth. Hearts didn’t just change because you put your life on the line for them, they didn’t just change when you showed them the world. Ivan had learned that the hard way.
The door opened with a hiss, revealing a room much like Ivan’s own, if all of the furniture except the bed had been thrown against the far wall and there were torn up pieces of paper scattered on the floor. On the bed, Mizi sat with her knees pulled up to her chest and her face hidden in them, her rosy hair cascading down in messy tresses around her. She barely looked up when he entered, moving more when he walked quietly over to her and sat on the edge of the bed. She narrowed her yellow eyes at him as soon as he realized who he was, her eyebrows pulling together in wary confusion.
“Ivan,” she said, suspicion wrapping the two syllables in a dark shroud. “What do you want?” Ivan sighed, running a hand through his hair out of habit more than anything else. It was a tic that had been long since beaten out of him but still, he fell back on it when he was particularly distracted. He tried to think about how to phrase this. He let out a sigh and moved to meet Mizi’s eyes.
“Sua loved you,” he told her, despite the way that she flinched at the name. “I’m sorry she’s gone but you’re not alone.”
“Don't be stupid. Of course, I’m alone,” Mizi spat at him, her golden eyes flashing dangerously. "Sua is gone." Ivan didn’t flinch at the threat in her posture, the way her muscles flexed and bunched as if she was about to pounce on him and wring his neck. He supposed, that if that was what happened once this was done, that he would deserve it. Ivan shook his head at her and held out his hand, even paler than it usually was in the artificial light. He was wearing just a black tank top and pants, having not changed into his performance outfit yet, and he felt oddly vulnerable, sitting here in casual clothing in front of this girl he knew better than he'd like to admit, a girl that he could never bring himself to hate even though she had what he wanted and never seemed grateful for it, a girl aggrieved and angry.
“You were the light in her life, you know?” Ivan said quietly, still holding out his hand, and Mizi blinked, taken aback. “You showed her the beauty in the world and taught her how to love. You showed her why loving someone was worth it. You made her so happy.” Ivan smiled at Mizi, the grief and sadness at Sua’s death clinging to his ribs like a sticky, syrupy poison. It hurt because he had known Sua, too, they had recognized the hollow pain that each other held in their eyes and connected over it. They had been friends, Ivan realized with a pang in his chest. He was missing Sua, too, even if it wasn’t in the same way Mizi was. He hoped that he would never know the feelings that made her glimmering facets into sharp, brittle edges.
“Why- why are you saying these things?” Mizi demanded, her voice wet and rough. “Just to twist the knife?” Her eyes were glassy with unshed tears and her pale cheeks flushed a blotchy pink as she undoubtedly tried her hardest to hold in her emotions. Ivan laughed, the sound bubbling out of him before he could stop it and her eyes flashed again, pupils constricting as the gold burned like kerosene. He clamped his hand over his mouth and shook his head, forcing his breathing to steady.
“No, no, Mizi, I wouldn't do that." She quirked an eyebrow at him, obviously skeptical of his words. He rubbed at his face absently and let out another sigh. Still, she didn't seem angry, which gave him some hope that she would actually hear what he was trying to say. "Sua made me promise to tell you this, when she died, because- because, well, she knew you wouldn't take it well. We were a lot alike, in certain ways, and before the competition started, she told me ‘Mizi’s emotions are so big that they eat her alive. It’s amazing, how much of herself she feels with but it can hurt her as much as it helps her.’ That was when she made me promise to check on you, afterwards.” Mizi’s face crumpled, her lower lip trembling.
“Sua,” Mizi breathed quietly, her voice breaking. She wiped at her eyes frantically, turning away and sniffing. Ivan looked away, as well, in an attempt to respect her implicit desire to not be seen crying. He was surprised when she took his hand and he turned back to her, the confusion murmuring through him only growing louder when he saw her smiling at him. “Thank you, for telling me all of that.” Ivan blinked.
“I don't go back on my word,” he replied, staring at her blankly and still feeling very unmoored. He shook himself and chewed on his lower lip, eyes flickering away from her gaze and to the austerity of the wall. "Besides, I’m sure I'll know how you feel, soon enough.” He grimaced as soon as the words left his lips, a bitter taste sticking to his tongue. Mizi peered at him curiously, tilting her head to the side.
“How do you mean?” She asked, squeezing his hand. Ivan hesitated for a moment before he decided to face the music and just tell her.
“In my second round, I'll be up against- it'll be someone I love," he admitted with a wry smile. and he felt his heart drop into his stomach when her eyes went wide. He wondered what was more surprising, the fact that he he loved someone or that he cared whether they lived or died. He already knew that the people who were at the Anakt Garden with him thought him emotionless and unfeeling, knowing that didn't make it hurt any less. Hissing out a breath through his teeth, he tried to swallow down the dread that had been rising in his throat. “It's not as if it matters, anyway. They love someone else, it isn't requited.” They love you, went unsaid because no matter what stone Ivan unturned, he wasn’t going to be the one break the news. That wasn't his secret to spill, it wasn't his cross to bear, Till needed to tell her himself. Mizi hummed thoughtfully, considering Ivan with narrowed eyes.
“You still love them, though. It doesn't matter if they feel the same, what do you want?” She asked, matter of fact. Ivan whipped around to meet her eyes, indignant at the implication that reciprocation was irrelevant because it was all that Ivan had ever wanted. How could something he'd dreamed about for a decade be unimportant? She sighed, shaking her head at him. “You're going to end up on stage either way, might as well do it your own way. Think about it- why are you in the competition? Why do you sing?”
“I-“ Ivan stalled, trying to think of an answer to her question and coming up blank. Mizi sighed, tucking a strand of her long, pink hair behind her ear.
“Look, I sing because I love it. I'm in the competition because of Sua, sure, but it was a chance to show the world how good I was, too,” she explained, directing a stern expression towards him before something darkened and she turned away. “So much for that.” She muttered bitterly, her jaw visibly tightening. Ivan frowned, torn between wanting to comfort her and coming up with an answer to her question. Why did he do any of this? He didn’t have a choice, that’s why. He was sent to the Anakt Garden by his guardians mostly because they wanted to raise his value and he got entered into the competition by them, again, to raise his value. Ever since he graduated from the Garden, the stocks of his guardian’s company have been rising. Even if he died, they'd undoubtedly use his posthumous image for advertisements, milking that cash cow for everything it was fucking worth. He didn’t have a choice. His choice was running, running away with Till, but then Till went back and Ivan couldn’t bring him to anything else but follow. Now, the only thing he did because he wanted to was spending time with Till, with Mizi. His friends were the glimmers of brief brightness in his yawning abyss.
“I sing because I'm good at it,” Ivan said before he could think better of it. "And I'm only here because I have to be." Mizi wheeled on him, surprise and something like indignation flashing across her face like lightning in a storm.
“You're so lucky to be here, to have gotten this far at all and you're only going through the motions? What does that make us, Ivan? Idiots, for singing with our whole hearts? Romantic fools, for hoping to win?” She demanded, resentment clear in her tone. Ivan opened his mouth to speak, to discount her words or say something to deescalate the situation but she slapped him across the face before he could, stunning the words out of him. “Fuck you,” she spat, her voice cracking.
“I wish I was like you! All I've ever wanted was to be like you,” he replied, his voice thick with emotion. Frustration at being misunderstood got his reasoning and restraint thrown into the background, his irritation and heartbreak flowing out before he could even try to stop it. “I wish I could sing because I loved it. I wish I could even hope to win, that would make all of this worth it, but I never had that charmed fucking life like you did, with a guardian who cared about me or thought about me as anything other than a trophy to show off. Miz, the only reason I'm even in the competition is the way it raises the stock prices. You, Sua and Till are the only reason I've made it this far, and Sua is dead and I'm in love with Till. What the fuck am I supposed to do?” As soon as the words petered out, the haze of exhausted exasperation fading away and leaving only emptiness, Ivan saw that Mizi was staring at him with a pale, stunned expression, her yellow eyes wide as parabolic antenna dishes and her mouth ever so slightly ajar.
“I didn’t know you could swear,” she said after a long, excruciating beat of silence and Ivan barked a laugh. He rolled his eyes and slumped backwards, staring up at the ceiling as he lay back on the wrinkled sheets.
“You and I both know how hard it is to know Till and not end up swearing afterwards,” Ivan replied, laughing a little bit more because of how bad of an influence Till was. Despite the branding, he really wasn’t all that caustic or even that disruptive. He just had quite the mouth on him and he hated being told what to do, contrary to a fault, stubborn as an ass and unafraid to tell you what he thought but he was hilariously easy to tease, going red at the slightest of jabs. All of a sudden, Mizi gasped and Ivan jerked upwards, looking at her instantly and checking for any indication of what exactly had caused her abrupt inhale. Her eyes were still wide, or maybe they were just wide again, now that something had happened.
“Wait a minute, you’re in love with Till?!” She blurted, staring at him with a gape and Ivan’s heart skipped a beat. He felt his face heat, burying said face in his hands and making a quiet noise of distress.
"Fuck." He did say that, didn't he?
“Ivan, Ivan, Ivan-“ She repeated, grabbing him by the shoulder and jostling him. “You're really in love with Till? Our Till?"
"What other one is there?" Ivan grumbled, glaring at her.
"Ivan, I love you, but you've got shit taste," she told him, making a face. Snickering, she smirked at him. "A dumbass and a weirdo, match made in heaven.”
“He's not a dumbass,” Ivan protested, which made Mizi merely stare at him blankly. He scoffed and rolled his eyes. “Okay, maybe, sometimes.”
“But that’s the part you disagreed with,” Mizi pointed out, still shaking him back and forth. “You said you were in love with him!”
“I- I did not!” Ivan sputtered.
“Come on, Ivan, you know better than that. You said we were the reason you made it this far, that you were in love with Till and that Sua was-“ She cut off, her face shuttering and her grip loosening to the degree that it fell away, her eyes dimming from their usual incandescent brightness. “Dead,” she whispered, her voice wet with unshed tears. Her lower lip trembled and she sucked in a shaking breath. Ivan hesitated. He hurt as much as she did, well, maybe not as much but he felt the hole in his life where Sua used to stand, watching carefully and smiling softly, surprising you with her playfulness and her boisterous laugh. Ivan hurt but Mizi hurt more and he could support her, it was the least he could do, do it for Sua because she couldn’t. He held out his hand to Mizi again, if only to have something to hold onto and anchor her, and she stared at it like it was a foreign object. He nearly took it back, thinking that he’d overstepped or somehow made things worse from the way her breathing hiccuped and the tears that had merely trickled before now poured down from her eyes but Mizi grabbed his hand and pulled him forward. She wrapped her arms around him and knit her fingers into the back of his shirt and Ivan stiffened on instinct, too used to being hugged by strangers at parties and suffocated by unpleasant scents. This was different, though. Mizi was warm, her hair silky against his cheek, and when he turned his head to bury his face in her hair, he could smell the remains of Sua's jasmine perfume.
“Mizi-?” He stammered, unsure of what he was meant to do. He hugged her back, wrapping one arm around her shoulders and the other ran through her hair, carefully disentangling whatever knots he could find. "Everything okay?" She looked up and stared at him for a long moment before breaking out into wet laughter which unfortunately didn’t last long before it devolved back into crying. She shook her head and purposefully hit her forehead against his collarbone.
“Obviously not, but I'm allowed to hug you, aren't I?” She demanded. She clutched at his shirt, pressing her face into the crook of his neck and sobbing silently, her chest hitching as her breath got caught on her ribs. He blinked and admitted,
“Yeah, of course.”
“I miss her,” Mizi whispered, her voice trembling even after she’d calmed down a bit. Ivan hummed, trying his best to soothe her. “I miss her so much and she’s only been gone a day! It’ll only get worse with- with time.”
“I miss her, too.” He admitted quietly. Mizi went froze for a beat before she was sucking in a breath and sobbing out,
“Do you think I’m an idiot?” Ivan blinked.
“What? No, of course not," he answered with a frown. "Why would I think you’re an idiot?” She laughed bitterly.
“For loving her in the first place.”
“If I thought you were an idiot for that, wouldn’t I be a hypocrite?”
“People are hypocrites all the time, Ivan,” Mizi pointed out dryly. Ivan let out a sigh.
“Yeah, I know,” he said, quietly. He wasn’t even trying to be gentle anymore, he was just drained. He might be used to dealing with Mizi but he's not good at dealing with people who are crying, he barely ever cries himself, which means that this whole encounter is tapping his energy like nobody's business. He wondered, distantly, if Sua even got used to it. “Hypocrisy not withstanding, I don't think you're an idiot for loving her. I already told you that I admire you for it and besides, does losing her make you regret loving her at all?” Mizi was silent for a long, excruciating moment after that. She pulled back to look at his face, frowning slightly with her reddened eyes and shiny, tear-stained cheeks. Ivan wasn’t good at reading people’s faces, even people who he knew better like Sua or Till, or even Mizi, who he would only tentatively call a friend. He’d never been good at piecing together emotions, even his own, and he even used to practice smiling when he was younger because people had told him that he looked more like he was grimacing whenever he was supposed to smile. Eventually, Mizi sighed and looked away, rubbing at her eyes.
“I never would have expected you to be the one asking me that," Mizi admitted. She let out a breathy laugh and ran a hand through her hair. “We've never really talked about feelings, you know? But I'm happy for you, I'm glad you have someone.” She met his eyes and tried at a smile. Ivan was admittedly a bit gobsmacked that she had told him she was happy for him, happy that he loved someone, despite the pain she undoubtedly knew it would bring him. Ivan wondered if she really was oblivious to the fact that Till had been in love with her since before he had known what love was, or if she did know but knew something else as well, something that made her hopeful. He wondered, if in turn, she thought he was an idiot for loving someone at all. She had seemed to think he would think as much of her but he had no idea if that was just because she thought he was a pessimist or if she truly thought that of herself.
Her face shifted, clouding over, her eyes dimming, and Ivan realized he’d gone quiet too long. A frantic sort of panic raced through him and he scrambled to find something to say.
“I- I never thought I would get to love, either,” he admitted to Mizi, swallowing down his fear. Her eyebrows raised. He let out a nervous laugh and scratched at the back of his neck. “I read about it in books when I was younger, I don’t think that my guardians knew that was what they were about or they wouldn’t have let me read them- but yeah, I didn’t think it was something people like me got to experience. I remember that I saw you and Sua and you so obviously loved each other, but even then, I didn’t think I would ever have anything like that.” Ivan trailed off, smiling wryly to himself. He’d already told her he loved Till, in not so many words, that there wasn’t really any point in keeping other secrets from her. Besides, he didn’t really know how long he had to live, what was the point in lying?
“Why not?” Mizi asked.
“I think a little differently than other people- always have.” Ivan answered, letting out a sigh. Mizi watched him carefully, nodding when he waited for an indication that it was okay to continue. He blew at his bangs absentmindedly, not caring about messing them up. They would be fixed by hair and makeup before the show, the show that loomed like a shadow over them and Ivan knew it had to be imminent. People were going to be beating at Mizi’s door any moment to get her ready for her performance. “I prefer to keep to myself rather than make friends and emotions have always been hard for me. I think that my guardians might have even chosen me because of that because it meant that I didn’t really seek companionship and thanks to that, I was harder to compromise, or something.”
“Oh. Then, with Till . . .” Mizi said, frowning and pursing her lips, seemingly confused. Ivan laughed.
“I don’t know how it happened. He caught my eye. He's always been amazing,” he replied with a shrug. “Sua, we met because we ended up in the same places, standing in the shadows. Till, I saw him chasing after you and there was something about him that fascinated me.” She hummed, tilting her head to the side and frowning for a brief moment.
“And eventually, you fell in love with him?” She asked, raising an eyebrow. Averting his eyes, Ivan grunted a confirmation, hoping more than anything that his cheeks weren’t burning. She hummed and let out a heavy breath. “You have to go up against him in round six. What’re you going to do?” Her gaze bored into him, unflinching, and he could tell that she’d asked herself the same question before she had to go up against Sua. Ivan wondered what her answer had been. He thought to himself and ran his tongue over his teeth, playing with his particularly sharp canine.
“I don’t know, but I know I don’t want to lose him,” he murmured. She looked at him for a long moment before nodding. He watched her expression, the way it flickered between a multitude of different settings- something angry, something dejected and despaired, and something ugly. “You?” He asked, before he could think better of it. She blinked, seemingly surprised by his question.
“What about me?” She echoed, frowning at him.
“What are you going to do?” Ivan replied, leaning back. “You’re up against Luka- he breezed through his first round and he has experience with the competition. You can beat him, you’re an amazing singer, but with Sua gone. . .” He trailed off, pressing his lips together. She narrowed her eyes at him and scowled for a beat, but it faded quickly, sadness dampening the light in her yellow irises. She drooped and rested against his shoulder, her hair tickling his chin.
“I don’t know what I’m going to do, either,” she sighed, playing with the hem of her shirt. “I don’t even know if I want to win, with Sua gone.”
“Wouldn’t it be nice to win, for her? Get revenge of a kind?”
“I guess,” Mizi replied with a scoff. “But if I died, wouldn’t I get to see Sua again?”
“That’s only if the afterlife exists,” Ivan pointed out, deciding against trying to talk her out of willingly dying before he knew her thoughts on the matter. She hummed and glanced at him.
“Do you think it does?” She asked. Ivan hesitated for a moment before he shook his head.
“Not really. Not enough to rely on it,” he admitted, slowly. A loud, sharp knock sounded on Mizi’s door. They both flinched at the sound and exchanged a brief glance. Even after the sound repeated, neither made any attempt to move. Ivan opened his mouth and closed it again before he found what he wanted to say and finally said it. “For what it’s worth, I do think Sua would want you to fight,” he told her, bumping their foreheads together before pulling back and smiling at her in an attempt to be encouraging. Mizi stared at him for a long, tense beat. Her face wasn’t blank but he couldn’t exactly read it, either, though he wondered if that was just an inability on his part. Steeling herself, she stood and rolled her shoulders. With her back to him, she said,
“Maybe, she would have.” She glanced back at him, then, her lips twisted into what looked like a smile but didn’t have the usual bright joy behind it, nor even the soft contentment. All the smile held was a dull, resigned sadness and a soft twinkle, mostly in her eyes, of what seemed like gratitude. “But it doesn’t change anything.”
All Ivan could hear was his blood roaring in his ears, screaming even louder than the crowd, even louder than the thundering of his heart that seemed like it practically wanted to battle its way out of his chest. He was admittedly finding it hard to breathe but he did his best to maintain singing nonetheless because he had to let the round functionally reach its finish. His plans had changed upon watching Mizi and Luka’s bout, round 5 searing into his mind as the red lights and alarms had blared as soon as the mist had cleared from the stage. Mizi had been declared dead but Ivan had heard whispers amongst the staff who’d done his hair and makeup that there wasn’t any body to be found, only Luka and the prone forms of the guards left behind on the stage after the cloud of white withered away.
Now, Ivan knew now that if he stopped mid-song and caused some sort of commotion that would likely be given a few moments of confusion to with as he pleased, especially considering that he was widely thought to be a good sport with mild manners, so if he deviated from that script, a ruckus was sure to be raised. Ivan had told none of this to Till because if Till knew, it would all go to pot- Till was an awful actor and at best, he would fumble. At worst, he would object, and Ivan couldn’t allow that. This had to happen, he had to tell Till the truth. Mizi, in some sort of way, had convinced him of that as she screamed and beat Luka on the stage. She was enraged by his taunts but Ivan recognized the immense pain in the way she yelled, telling him to please just leave her alone, to shut up, to stop, stop, stop, stop-
Ivan knew she hadn't cared about living anymore. She’d shown him as much in the way that she’d smiled at him, in not so many words, that her will to live died with Sua. She was mad, now, and Luka had done everything he could to provoke her suffering. She’d been teetering on an edge, willing to go down as long as she could take him down with her- so Luka dealt with the consequences of her wrath.
Ivan wasn’t willing to go nearly so far. He had no desire to drag Till down with him, make him stoop down to his level. In fact, he wanted quite the opposite, he wanted Till to survive this and win the whole competition, screwing over Luka in the process. Ivan knew what needed to be done but it had to happen now, with Till singing insistently into his mic and still playing his guitar, his eyes shining and desperate. It was now or never, the scores fluctuating behind them and the palms of Ivan’s hands sweating through his gloves, making the microphone slippery. He was still singing but the song was almost over, he only had now.
As soon as Ivan sang his last note, he moved, quickly stepping back and to the right so that he stood on Till’s other side. Till glanced at him, wide-eyed and confused, and that look only amplified when Ivan ripped the mic out of his ear.
“What-” Till blurted, reaching up to his ear to dazedly look for his mic but Ivan crushed it in his hand and threw it down to the floor, breaking it more underneath the heel of his boot. Till’s hands twitched uselessly as he stared at Ivan in shock. Ivan leaned in close to Till, couldn’t help but smile as he rested his forehead gently against Till’s.
“I’m sorry for this,” he whispered, low enough that it was just for Till to hear, something cemented by the absence of their microphones. “And I love you.” What seemed like a million different emotions flashed across Till’s face then, the highlights being confusion, embarrassment, and panic, before Ivan stepped back and socked Till in the jaw. Till staggered backwards but didn’t fall, his guitar clattering to the ground as he held his face and groaned. Ivan simply stood there as the guards began to make their way towards them, the hard soles of their boots clomping on the sleek material of the stage. Ivan glanced between the guards and Till, wondering if he should fight the guards or put on more of a show of being a sore loser- he knew he was going to die whatever happened. Till had won their bout, though only by a small margin, so Ivan was going to endure the same fate as Sua. He’d just wanted a second of time to tell Till what he needed to say, before the curtain fell, before he couldn’t say anything at all.
He’d lost, as he’d suspected he would. Nothing else mattered, anymore. He’d done all he could, he’d sung his best, he’d said his piece and all the rest. He was going to die, as the loser of this round should.
Till would continue on.
Ivan just hoped he would win.
Piercing through a hazy lull, tinnitus shrieked through Ivan’s awareness.
On instinct, he winced at the noise and the pain that accompanied it, only for more pain to rattle its way through him, unwieldy and unwarranted. He hissed out a breath through his teeth, wondering distantly to himself, why exactly would he hurt this much if he was dead? That didn’t make any sense. His body felt heavy and muddled, his mouth dry and sticky, his head as if someone had taken out his brain and replaced it with a wad of cotton of similar size and shape. The tinnitus slowly faded away, replaced by the soft sound of someone singing. Ivan latched onto the sound, not letting it slip through his fingers as he tried to place the voice through the haze in his mind. Sharp, strong, a little bit rough, nowhere near perfect but still gorgeous- Till’s voice. Ivan nearly laughed at himself, of course he would dream of Till even after he’d died for the man, even though he knew that Till did not, and would never, love him. It wasn’t a song Ivan recognized, something softer than anything else Ivan had ever heard Till sing before.
“It’s still as a pond, I am staring into. From here, I can say, thank you,” Ivan let the sound wash over him and he pulled in a deep, shuddering breath, willing his eyes to open. Everything was fuzzy around the edges at first but after a moment, his vision started to clear. The ceiling above him was a dull, warm grey lined with support beams, and there was a fan spinning and whirring. The blades cut through the air easily and Ivan’s eyes flickered around the room. It wasn’t nearly as extreme as he’d expected the afterlife to be. He’d thought it would be harsh whites and all-encompassing blacks, a dull haze of polar opposites and him barely maintained, if aware at all. This place, on the other hand, confused him. It was too moderate, too chaotic. The walls were grey. There was a window in the corner of his vision, oddly enough. There were pipes visible in the hollow, skeletal structure of the ceiling. He was lying in a bed. Till was sitting beside the bed. Ivan blinked, registering this information, before jerking upwards. He immediately stilled, pain radiating through him and forcing a broken whimper to leak out through his lips. Till stopped singing, his eyes widening as he looked at Ivan.
“You’re awake!” Till blurted, surprise and excitement making his voice bright. He said it as if it was something good, as if Ivan hadn’t just proven himself to be an ineffectual fool.
“No,” Ivan breathed, horrified. “No.” Despair ripped his heart out of his chest with cold, unforgiving hands and took his restraint with it. He crumpled forward, emotion welling up inside of him and spilling out in the form of a choked-off sob.
“Ivan?” Till asked, placing a hand on Ivan’s back. His hand was warm against Ivan’s bare skin and Ivan nearly shivered at the sensation. He would have, if he wasn’t so distraught at the knowledge that he hadn’t been able to save Till after all. “Ivan, what’s wrong?”
“I failed!” Ivan answered hoarsely, jerking upwards and looking at Till. Till was looking back, his green-blue eyes wide. “I gave everything I had and I still couldn’t save you! If I’m dead and- and- and you’re here, then you’re dead, too,” Ivan hiccuped, wiping at his eyes frantically and trying to steady his breathing as he sobbed. Till stared at him for a long moment before he was smiling and letting out a sharp laugh, shaking his head.
“Ivan, dumbass, you’re not dead,” he said. Ivan blinked, shock rippling through him as if Till’s words had been a stone thrown into water.
“What, what do you mean-"
“They got you in the ear,” Till interrupted, reaching up to brush his fingers against the shell of Ivan’s right ear. Ivan’s face burned at the smallest, barest touch and fuck, he was so embarrassing but now that Till mentioned it, he could feel that his ear felt stiff and strange, medical tape and gauze rubbing against his skin. Till’s eyes flickered to the bandages on Ivan’s neck and shoulder, his hand retracting. “And in the collarbone, too. Shattered it, so it’ll take you a while to heal but you're not dead and neither am I,” he finished, his expression surprisingly calm. That calm quickly broke when he smiled at Ivan wryly and raised an eyebrow. Ivan sputtered, his face going even redder, if that was even possible. He’s supposed to be so composed, where has that composure gone? He’s making an idiot of himself, he agonized.
“What about you?” He asked, ducking his head so Till couldn’t see his stupid face.
“Eh, just a few fractured ribs,” Till dismissed, likely waving his hand flippantly. Ivan's jaw tightened on instinct. “I just have to go easy on them for a while, nothing I haven’t dealt with before.” Ivan’s frustration at the other man’s lack of care for his own well-being flared within his chest.
“Yes, but how did you get injured?” Ivan demanded, sitting up and glaring at Till. Till blinked, seeming a bit taken aback by Ivan’s scowl. His expression shifted to something more contemplative as he went quiet for a long, idle moment.
“It wasn’t long after you punched me that they shot you,” Till eventually answered. “You were out as soon as they got you in the chest but the shot that got your ear, it got my restraint, too, and I moved you out of the way of the fire. People were surprised I was defending you since you’d hit me but I wasn’t even really thinking. All I knew was that I couldn’t bear to lose another person in my life, not after Sua and Mizi- so I tried to keep the guards away. Then, we got lucky. Some people came and got you out, got the both of us medical attention.”
“You won, though,” Ivan argued, stubborn in his medicated haze. He was only half-thinking, he hadn’t even really processed what Till had said besides the fact that, for some reason, he’d put himself on the line for Ivan and Ivan couldn’t really fathom why. Why in the world, why in the god-forsaken galaxy, would Till do that? He loved Mizi. He was going to win Alien Stage, Ivan knew it, he burned brighter than a star, than a meteor headed for impact. He would’ve won, if only . . . if only he had stayed. Till gave him a crooked smile, the same crooked smile that Ivan fell in love with so many years ago.
“I wasn’t gonna let you die, asshole,” Till answered, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world, as if it was the easiest. “Especially not after you told me you loved me- I mean, come on, who apologizes, tells someone they love them, and then punches them? The fuck were you thinking, Ivan?” Ivan curled backwards, blinking in surprise at Till’s adamance. Till remembered. He remembered, and he was still here. He’d still put himself on the line, despite everything. After a moment, Ivan laughed and ran a hand through his hair, breathless.
“I was thinking I was going to die and that I had some business to finish,” he admitted, looking up and meeting Till’s eyes, smiling in what he hoped was a sheepish way. Till’s eyes widened at his answer but he didn’t say anything else, still seeming tense. “I didn’t exactly think I was going to have to deal with the consequences,” Ivan murmured.
“Well, good thing I’m around then, to make you,” Till replied, smirking and raising an eyebrow at Ivan. His shoulders relaxed and the tension in his body unwound, if slightly, so he no longer seemed as though he was seconds away from pouncing, away from running from Ivan’s beside and finding somewhere to scream. After a beat of silence, of neither of them saying anything, Till’s face shuttered and the scowl returned. “You didn’t throw the match, did you?” He asked.
“What?” Ivan blurted, suddenly thrown through a loop.
“Did you throw the match? Make it so I would win?” Till growled, his eyes narrowed as he leaned in and peered at Ivan as if he was a bacterium under a microscope. Ivan half wanted to lean in and half wanted to scramble away, his heart ramming in his chest.
“No, I didn’t throw the match! I wouldn’t do that,“ Ivan snapped back, horrified and somewhat offended at the suggestion. He couldn’t really move, torn between his desire for flight or foolishness. “I knew you would win.” Till seemed to stumble, then, his eyes going as wide as they could go and his cheeks blooming a pretty reddish pink. Ivan nearly laughed.
“W- what do you mean?”
“Statistically, you were slated to win,” Ivan answered, blowing at his bangs absentmindedly, noting how they’d grown out a little. His hair had always grown fast. “You were ranked second, while I was ranked third, and you were the outlier while I was redundant. Luka and I filled the same niche in that we were both pretty, sparkly and suave, though Luka’s marketing leans on the side of shy while mine was more charming, I suppose- you, on the other hand, were a rebellious spitfire and a bit of a bleeding heart. You cussed people out, you flipped them off, you broke your guitar. A lot of people called you attention-seeking but even more called you exciting. You were unique, I was unnecessary, and while you and I may be on par when it comes to musical skill, the fact that you cared about it a lot showed. People liked you. I think, if you’d stayed, you would’ve won the whole thing. It’s only logical,” he finished with a slight smile, before he looked down at his hands.
“Ivan,” Till breathed, taken aback. His eyes were wide when Ivan finally glanced up to look at him, Till staring at him with an awed expression on his face. Ivan quirked an eyebrow at him, confused, and Till blinked, shaking himself and looking away. “Shit, man, you’re crazy.”
“According to the marketing team, you’re the crazy one, actually,” Ivan quipped, making Till snort. Ivan felt immediate triumph, just at having made Till laugh, and he nearly chided himself for the bubbly, hopeful feeling in his chest. He nearly curbed his joy because he knew he was being silly, hopeful when there was nothing to hope for but he still let himself bask in the feeling because if he didn’t allow himself these little victories, then what else would he have?
“You and I both know that the marketing team isn’t to be trusted, Ivan,” Till replied, smiling as his eyes still gleamed with laughter. “After all, they made you seem so cool and mysterious when even though you happen to have a nice face, really you’re just a socially awkward dork.”
“And you’re the hopeless romantic who’s been in love with the same girl since we were ten,” Ivan retaliated with a roll of his eyes, tugging at Till’s cheek playfully. Till blushed hard and looked away, as was his wont. Ivan ignored the whisper in his head saying that he was a hypocrite for giving Till a bad time about this, especially when he’d loved Till for nearly as long. At least he wasn’t nearly as dense as the grey-haired man. “So, which of us is worse, really?” Ivan teased, mussing Till’s hair even more than it already was. Till huffed, crossing his arms over his chest.
“I still think it’s you.” Till muttered. “You thought punching someone who you’d just told that you loved was a good idea.” He pointed out and Ivan groaned, flopping back against the bed. He tried to ignore the way that his body screamed out in painful disagreement at the sudden movement.
“You’re never gonna let me live that down, are you?”
“No, I don’t think I will,” Till said with a triumphant smirk, his arms still crossed over his chest. He leaned back in his chair after a beat, his smile faded. His expression hardened into something that held a quiet kind of anger that Ivan so rarely saw in Till that he didn’t have it in him to reply before Till continued.“You can’t just say that and fuck off into the abyss, I needed answers and in no universe was I gonna let you kill yourself for me. They wouldn’t have even killed you, I bet, considering how famous you are. The people who make money off of you woulda pulled some strings or something but no, you had to go and be dramatic about it. Classic Ivan.” He rolled his eyes with a huff and Ivan bristled at the implication that he’d done it all just for show, just because he hadn’t taken the time to think it through. He’d agonized over his plan in the little time he’d had to, running it over again and again to make sure that it even had a chance of working.
“Money or not, I wouldn’t have been saved and you know it,” Ivan retorted, scowling. He hated how Till assumed that he lived a charmed life just because people cared whether or not he lived or died (they only cared because of the money and that wasn’t really caring). He would’ve hoped that Till knew him better than that but he guessed that even though they’d spent time together, people still thought of him as the rich kid with the cushy life. “I knew I was going to die, so I made a plan and tried to ensure you got out of it with as little injury as possible, I’m so sorry for caring about your wellbeing.”
“Ivan, I just don’t want you going and saving my hide. That’s not your job,” Till argued back, his voice firm, but his hard expression only lasted a moment before it softened. He reached forward and brushed the hair out of Ivan’s face. Ivan willed his expression to stay a scowl, to stay unflustered and unfazed. “You could’ve told me your plan, y’know. We could’ve talked about it, and I would’ve helped you. You didn’t have to get all beat up,” Till said, his voice barely more than a murmur. He brushed his thumb over Ivan’s cheekbone and Ivan tried to ignore his quickening heartbeat. He nudged Till’s hand away, gentle enough to not seem angry but clear enough in his intention, and he frowned at Till.
“What, so you could get beat up instead?” He asked, frustration leaking into his tone before he finally felt it drain out of him. He let out a sigh, running a hand through his hair and shaking his head. “I couldn’t tell you, you would have gotten yourself killed.” Till frowns in return.
“I-“ He began to protest but the door chose that moment to open with a click, sliding into the wall and revealing a tall, dark haired figure. Ivan squinted and recognized the figure, distantly, as Hyuna. She was a fierce, finely honed woman who’d attended the Anakt Garden with them, her tongue sharp and her warm greyish eyes even sharper. Ivan was surprised to see her here, he hadn’t seen her nor had he heard anything about her since they’d all graduated. Her eyebrows raised when they landed on him, smiling and raising an eyebrow.
“Well, well, well, looks like the sleeping beauty has awoken!” She remarked, tapping her cheek with her forefinger. She glared at Till. “I thought we established that once he woke up, someone was supposed to alert me.”
“It’s my fault,” Ivan got out before Till could say anything and take the blame. Hyuna’s eyebrows raised even more, her smile widening. “I distracted him with a conversation when I woke up.” She glanced between him and Till, brushing nonexistent dust off of her pants.
“Right,” she drawled as she looked back up, placing her hands on her hips. “Well, either way, I’m impressed you’re as lucid as you are. Till, have you told him about where he is?”
“No,” Till admitted, blushing. Hyuna only grinned. “I- I got distracted. We were more concerned with talking about other things.” Hyuna hummed, nodding again.
“Sure, sure,” she replied, sizing Ivan up for a brief moment. Then, she smirked in a way he could only describe as wolfish. “Well, Ivan, welcome to the rebellion.”