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What is a man to do when faced with death?
Ivan himself didn’t know nor care about the answer to that question. From the beginning, he’d always known that death was not something worth fearing in this world. After all, when you’re treated as something akin to a toy, then the idea of death begins to sound like a sweet release. No more violence, no more pain, no more of the constant whispers of whichever rich creature his master decided to sell him to.
And yet, when he feels the first wound graze his side, the question answers itself.
It’s a terrifying feeling, yet you have no choice but to push forward anyway.
In just a matter of seconds, Ivan feels the way his legs begin to tremble as his strength dwindles, the roars of the crowd morph into a ringing sound in his head, his vision blurs, and the pain of the wound sears his side like fire. His hands shake from where they gently hold Till up, adding little to no pressure to make sure the man who won’t look at him doesn’t get hurt. This is all a performance, after all.
His life doesn’t flash before his eyes, unlike what the rumors say. No, all he sees in his last moments is Till. All he sees is the man who held his heart without even trying, the man he was willing to give his own life and freedom for, the man who he’d rather live than watch perish under the calculating gazes of the creatures that owned their every being.
The feeling of bullets raining down on him hurts; it burns so much that all Ivan wants to do is collapse onto the ground and maybe beg the guards to stop. But he didn’t, he couldn’t, for if he did, then his carefully crafted plan would fail. He has no choice but to see this through, to ensure that his score continues to dwindle and that Till’s remains a steady 89.
In the haze of pain, he thinks he sees Sua glaring at him from the shadows. She’s got half her head banged up from her loss in the first round, but those magenta eyes remain bright. “Hypocrite.” She mouths; her beautiful white dress is stained with blood, a permanent mark of her sacrifice that changed Mizi for good. This makes him want to laugh, because he knows he is nothing like Sua. Sure, their acts may be of similar fashion, but she fails to see what makes Ivan better than her:
Till doesn’t love Ivan. He’s never even seen Ivan. So his death doesn’t matter.
All Till ever sees is Mizi. Never him, never the one who held out his heart on a silver platter, silently begging for Till to glance his way just once.
But Ivan carries no resentment for Mizi. No, he accepts that the battle he chose to fight is a losing one. He knows that Till will never look at him the way he does at her. It’s a truth he believes is meant to sting, but it doesn’t, for Ivan accepts it wholeheartedly. He’s content with the fact that he stood by Till’s side, content with the fact that he was able to give Till a taste of freedom, even if it was short-lived. He’s satisfied with simply watching Till, thankful for the times Till would let his anger out on him if it meant he’d look at him for once.
It was sick and twisted, but it was the only kind of love Ivan had ever known.
What even is love?
Another question Ivan doesn’t dare to answer. He doesn’t care enough to articulate what love is or to make other people understand why he chose to be in the position he’s in now. All he knows, all he understands, is that the feelings he harbors for Till is the love he understands, the concept of the feeling he’s come to believe. Some may call it unorthodox or foolish, but he could argue that he didn’t have the chance to actually know what it was like to be loved. So, who were they to question his standards?
Still, he won’t deny that even the slightest sliver of him holds envy for Mizi and Sua, particularly in their relationship. They seem to understand each other so well as if they were two puzzle pieces meant to be together. When the two of them are together, it’s like the whole world falls away, and it’s just them in their own little universe. Maybe, Ivan thinks, I could’ve had that with him in another life .
But alas, this life is a cruel one. It’s unforgiving, and it’s abrupt. He lived to entertain, lived to follow, to serve, to kill, to die. Ivan did not live for himself; he lived for others. He lived for his master, he lived to survive, he lived to bring smiles onto the faces of disgusting aliens watching him from the comfort of their own home, constantly wishing they could touch him in ways so vile it would’ve had Ivan hurling had he not learned how to steel his resolve at such a young age.
But now, for the first time in his life, Ivan got to choose for himself.
He chose to die for Till.
The water soaks through his now torn up white coat, diluting with his own blood as it drips down onto the floor beneath them. He tastes metal in his mouth and feels warm liquid dribble down his lips. For the first time in what felt like forever, Ivan takes his eyes away from Till’s face to see his blood dripping down his chin. Relief flooded his being as he finally let Till go, knowing his fate was sealed. He stepped back and watched as Till jerked his eyes open, a hand flying to his unmarked neck before his eyes landed on Ivan in what looked to be a mix of shock and horror.
Oh.
Till was looking at him.
He could feel his consciousness seeping out of his skin and into the ground, mixing with the pool of blood that lay beneath them. Perhaps life wasn’t so cruel after all, giving him what he wanted after all this time. The burning pain he felt from the wounds instantly disappeared as he did his best to keep his eyes on Till’s face, to revel in his gaze for the last time.
Then, the world began to blur and tilt as Ivan fell, but all he could think about was his love.
His love that looked back at him after so long.
For to be loved is to be seen .