Work Text:
ivantill(over)
Ivan stares at the now dead body that lies beside him.
He’s still singing, he’s still trying. Trying to stop himself from crying.
If he continues singing, the body beside him can stay beside him longer.
The eerie music is still playing, he can make up lyrics on the spot just to drag the time by a little.
As long as the song goes on, no one can take Till’s freezing body away from him.
One hand embracing the now freezing corpse, Ivan sings till he can feel himself slipping away.
Ivan gives his warmth to Till, as if he will cure him this way. Will shelter him away from the cold. Will protect him. An already dead man.
The aliens are still roaring and cheering over the sounds of Ivan’s gradual soft and broken voice. Happy that another “pest” has died.
No one seemed to realize that the song is way over, or maybe no one seemed to care. An alien can never be human after all. They will only be a human’s predator and nothing less.
Ivan wants to scream and shout in anger and frustration to all the aliens, but a perfect human pet does none of that, and if he’s no longer perfect will they try to keep him perfect again? Or will they take away the last thing that kept him perfect? Which was none other than Till.
The mere thought of losing Till again made him sing higher, made him sing louder, smoother, better. Anything, anythig he did to keep the body by his side.
Yet of course, every show must come to and end.
Ivan hugs the body with both his hand now, microphone thrown to the side.
Till was the cure to his imperfections.
Till was the cure for him to be human.
Till was, his light.
So when that light was taken from him, darkness replaced it instead.
No matter how much he screams and shouts for Till to be back in his arms, the only one answering back to him is the cold silence of the dark.