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The rain is overwhelming. Ivan looks out his window, the sound of it so loud that it makes his caged world feel even smaller.
He’s never been a fan of the rain. He can’t see the stars and and it’s always so heavy, dense. He supposes it’s a marvel, though. It doesn’t rain as much as it used to—the climate here’s always changing so drastically that even the Segyeins can’t keep up with it.
His guardian’s out today, and he’s free from classes for a week as a reward for good behavior. Ivan always tries to insist that he doesn’t need it, doesn’t want it, but they insist anyway. Ivan hates feeling separated from everyone else—hates not knowing what’s happening with them. With Till.
He reads in his free time. Most of the books are heavily censored but if you’re smart, you can either read between the lines or find the uncensored versions. Segyeins don’t have a full grasp on what’s important to humans so sometimes they redact things that are perfectly innocuous while leaving information that Ivan holds onto. Information like how humans have always yearned to visit the comsos and beyond, something reminding Ivan that he himself is not just a creature to be pet and used, but a human. Overwhelmingly human and still alive.
His guardian doesn’t allow him to use the Internet or any messaging applications if he’s not being monitored so Ivan simply eats the meal that was left for him, watches the rain, and vaguely wonders about Till. If he’s happy right now. If he’s okay or if he’s bored as well. If he likes the rain. Ivan wishes he knew whether Till liked the rain or not. Ivan thinks he’d like it more if Till liked it.
Ivan sighs. The rain pours.
Sua’s having a bad day, Ivan can tell. She’s been so withdrawn that it’s making Mizi upset, which is making Till upset. Ivan’s not upset. He simply watches across the playground that all of them are much too old for now. It’s almost a mockery of Anakt Garden, appealing to the older kids, but everything about this school is fake. They all know it to be true, but they play as if they’re young, as if they aren’t still fully aware of the world.
“Ivan, are you listening to me?”
Ivan’s gaze snaps away from Till’s tense body while he tries to comfort Mizi. Samy, another boy in their class, is smiling at him.
"You didn’t hear anything I just said, did you?”
Ivan swallows. “What did you say?” Why is Samy even talking to him? It’s not as if they’re close friends.
“I was just asking about you. You were gone last week again. What’s it like?”
“Boring.”
“That’s it?”
Ivan isn’t sure what Samy wants to hear from him. Maybe Samy thinks Ivan has some kind of trick or wisdom to impart on him, but Ivan isn’t sure what he’d do with the information anyway. It’s not like Samy’s even top of the class—he wouldn’t even be able to be “rewarded” like this at his current state.
Nodding, Ivan replies, “That’s it. I usually just end up reading or practicing at home instead. I wish it wasn’t always a whole week.”
Samy’s face twists up like he didn’t want to hear that; Ivan almost feels bad for disappointing him. But, it’s not like any of them truly win in this world, anyway, right?
It’s not as if Samy is going to—
Ivan blinks, feeling suddenly so awful for even thinking something like that. He’s no better than some of their teachers at that point.
Still. Ivan’s too smart for his own good.
“Do you wish you could have the time off?”
Expectedly, Samy nods, miserable. Ivan sighs and looks back at Till. Sua’s joined them both now, Mizi and Till making some kind of conscious effort to play with her. Ivan holds his breath.
“I was thinking… maybe one day we could switch?”
Ivan’s head turns quick at that. He raises an eyebrow at Samy, but Samy’s obviously made up his mind about asking.
“And how do you propose that could possibly work? And why would I do that?”
Samy’s eyes flick to Till’s; Ivan understands immediately what he’s going to say.
“I know. About… about you. So, if you don’t want me to tell him then you’ll let me have a day, right?”
Ivan’s heart is racing so quickly he almost thinks it’ll burst right out his chest, spilling out, making a mess of the cold, artificial green ground. “What are you going to do with it?”
Samy’s gaze hardens. “Don’t worry about it.”
“Fine.”
“Fine?”
Ivan clutches his wrist, holding himself very still. He has an idea of what Samy is planning—he’d be stupid to not catch on. He’s tried it himself before, too, of course. He even managed to do it, managed to find the proper way out, the proper timing, even managed to bring the only one who matters along with him.
Though, it didn’t truly make any difference, in the end. Ivan was stuck for as long as Till was. Ivan accepted that long ago. In just over two years they’ll all be graduating, already nearing the time they’ll finally have to enter Alien Stage as contestants.
“Yes, fine. We’ll coordinate it together. I should be offered it again eventually—I’ll make sure that I am—and we’ll figure it out. If you think it’s possible then you must have already concluded that they truly won’t notice the swap, correct? It’s not as if I’m here to see how they treat my absence when I’m gone.”
Samy nods, his eyes alight with mania. “Yes.” Then, he’s reaching out and hugging Ivan. Ivan immediately pushes him away, having to bite his tongue from yelling. “Thank you, Ivan. I am sorry about how I made you agree, but thank you. I can’t express it enough.” As he pulls away, he sends another meaningful look at Till with Mizi and Sua. Ivan can’t help but look over as well. Till is laughing, such a rare sight if he isn’t with Mizi, but he is, he is, and so Ivan basks in the sight.
He looks back at Samy.
“I’ll let you know.”
Till approaches him at the end of the day that same day.
“Ivan,” he says, and it’s always almost a shock, that he even knows Ivan’s name. Ivan knows that’s ridiculous. They’re friends. They’ve known each other since they were both children, but, still. It’s always such a shock and, embarrassingly, Ivan feels his face warm.
So pathetic.
“Till?” he replies. Till isn’t looking at him, gaze caught on something behind Ivan’s head, and Ivan knows it didn’t always used to be like this. Ever since their almost-escape, though, it’s as if Till isn’t quite sure what to do with him. It’s as if Till doesn’t know what to say or do about everything. Ivan’s thought about all the whys so much that he can sometimes hardly remember what the true questions he used to have were.
He knows why Till turned back. He doesn’t know why he ever tried to reason otherwise. And he knows why Till feels awkward around him now, knows that Till doesn’t know how to reconcile with the fact that freedom was once so close, but it wasn’t quite the correct freedom. Ivan is just another classmate to Till—Ivan knows his place well. Intimately so.
“Yeah, so, I saw you talking to Samy. Sua asked if I could ask why.”
Ivan raises an eyebrow. “Why wouldn’t she just ask me herself?”
Till flushes, biting at his lower lip. Ivan can’t breathe.
“Well, she’s hanging out with Mizi. And, she wanted me to ask you if he said anything weird? So, she’s been worried about him recently. Apparently.” He says the last part as if he’s annoyed by something, but Ivan’s not in on it, in on whatever they discussed.
“Oh,” breathes Ivan. He’s going to have to lie, at least partially. “No, not really. He was just asking how my time on break was. I think he was feeling a bit jealous about it.”
Till nods like that makes sense, tugging at the ends of his hair subconsciously. Ivan wants to reach out and tuck Till’s body against his own.
“Right. I’ll tell Sua, then.” He pauses and Ivan assumes he’s going to leave, but, the moment lingers and lingers and lingers. And, then, Till is looking straight at him, teal eyes piercing in their distance. “How was it, then? Or all of them, I guess. Your breaks?” Another pause, and then a small huff. “You sure get them a lot. Must be nice being the teachers’ favorite, right?”
Ivan inhales. He wonders if Till is aware of how rude that question sounds, but since he knows it’s Till asking, he knows he’s truly just commenting, curious.
“It’s good,” he lies again. “Kind of boring, sometimes, but I just get to hang around reading or singing. Usually, it’s just me alone in the house, too, so.” Ivan shrugs.
Till’s mouth twitches up and Ivan’s breath catches all over again. This is ridiculous.
“You’re good at that, aren’t you?”
“What?”
“Being alone.” Ivan’s stomach drops. “That must be nice, too.”
No, Ivan wants to say. No, but yes, but no. No, it’s awful and isolating, but, yes, it’s made me stronger. It’s the only reason I’m able to withstand still being here the way that I am. But no, sometimes I truly hate who I am and hate the reason why I exist. I wish I had people in my life who truly understood me. I wish you were my friend. A true, close friend.
I wish I had you.
Till seems to realize Ivan is stumbling over his answer because he shakes his head, scoffing.
“Sorry, that was shitty, huh? What do you read about? Do you still like to read about messy, philosophical questions?”
Ivan can’t even believe that he remembers that.
(Anakt Garden is a dreary place dressed up with cheer and talent. Ivan’s too awkward for any of it, too different, and no matter how many times he practices each and every facial expression, he still doesn’t know how to control the beating of his heart or the slight shake in his hands. How can he remain steady in the face of an inevitable tsunami?
Till’s beside him, though, and maybe that’s enough.
Maybe it’s enough—the way that Till’s hands just barely brush Ivan’s, as if it weren’t important, as if Ivan didn’t want him to be even closer or find out everything there was to know about the other boy.
They’re having a longer recess today—one of the students was misbehaving and all the teachers sent them outside while they “dealt” with her. Mizi’s not here today so Till’s beside him.
“Do you believe in God?” Till asks him, as if he just learned the very concept.
“No,” is Ivan’s immediate reply. He pauses, sees the embarrassed flush on Till’s cheeks, and changes his answer. “But yes.”
Till’s face scrunches up in confusion. “What does that even mean?”
Ivan grins. “I don’t know.” He does know. “It’s, like, not truly. There are a lot of different philosophy books about it and so far, they all talk about God differently. But they all talk about God in some way, you know? I guess… what I believe is that there’s no way that someone like that could exist and not do anything. But then you have to wonder if that “God” is God to the Segyeins and everything else too. So, maybe God doesn’t know how to choose. Or maybe God just doesn’t care.”
Or maybe God is the way I feel about you, Ivan bites back. Because if that’s true then Ivan knows there’s never been anything truer than God. Nothing more real. Not for anything in the entire universe.
“How do you know about God anyway?”
Till scowls. “I heard about it. You know. From around.”
“Mizi?”
Surprisingly, Till shakes his head, puffing out his chest a bit before he replies with, “No, not from anyone our age. I wasn’t supposed to hear about it—I got in trouble.” His hand comes up to his collar, tugging lightly, and Ivan catches his meaning, his stomach turning.
“When will you learn you can’t keep sneaking into places you shouldn’t be in? You’ll get in serious trouble one day, Till.”
Till’s scowl darkens. “It’s not like it even matters. They punish me for much less.”
Ivan looks down, his hands that were once folded in his lap now twisting into fists. He hates the way his helplessness threatens to choke him. He hates that he can’t even fully understand why he feels so strongly in the first place. He just knows he’ll protect Till. He’ll protect Till until the very end.
“Still,” Ivan finally replies, feeling heartbroken. He wishes Till would do more to keep himself safe. “It does matter. None of us want you to get badly hurt.”
Till blinks at him. Nods. “Yeah.” He withdraws his hand, the warmth that heated Ivan’s bones dissipating into nothing. Ivan’s made it awkward. Of course.
“Anyway, the whole God thing sounds messy, especially if you’re telling me there are all these different kinds. Who can even keep up with that?”
Ivan laughs, soft, dry. “I think God is just whatever thing people need to believe in, at the end of the day.”
Till’s eyes are wide as he contemplates Ivan’s response, but Ivan’s already feeling the distance between them grow, and he feels too bad forcing his presence on Till like this, especially if Till isn’t interested in being near him anymore. He goes to stand up, but, then, Till is reaching out, grabbing Ivan’s wrist and squeezing it tightly, forcing him to stay instead.
Ivan goes entirely still, his heart racing wildly. Oh.
Till seems shocked, pulling back immediately, and being the one to stand up instead.
“Sorry,” Till says, and Ivan’s not entirely sure what he’s sorry for. “I think… yeah.” Then, he’s running off, disappearing into the trees, and Ivan can only sit there, wondering, hurting.)
It’s Ivan’s turn to smile now, not even hiding it. Till's finally looking at him, his knowing eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly.
“Sometimes,” Ivan replies. “Although, recently, I’m reading a ton of romance books. None of them are very good, though.”
Immediately, Ivan regrets saying it, feeling like an absolute idiot. Till blinks, obviously surprised, but, then, then, he tilts his head back and laughs. Ivan’s ears ring with the sound of it.
“Where are you even finding romance books to read anymore? Are they written by Segyeins? What would they even have to write about?”
Ivan’s so overwhelmed by the wild amusement on Till’s face that he takes a second longer than usual to reply.
“There’s a surprising amount of ones about Segyeins and humans, actually," he dryly comments. "You’d think that’d be morally reprehensible, considering, but… seems not. Although, in a lot of them, the humans end up either dying or being left for another superior Segyein.”
Till laughs again, abrupt and beautiful. His eyes are scrunched up with mirth. It’s so cute.
“Right, yeah, of course, makes sense. What else could we have expected from them?”
“Some decent writing,” Ivan deadpans, just to see if he can make Till laugh again, devastated when he soon realizes that it works. Ivan doesn’t think he’ll stop thinking about today’s conversation for a very long time. The way it almost feels easy.
But, then, as it always seems to, the ease slips away. Till glances at something over Ivan’s shoulder again, and Ivan has to hold himself from turning to see what it is. Till’s pulling at his hair again before he exhales, small and nearly unnoticeable.
“Fuck, I need to go. Talk to you tomorrow, yeah?”
Ivan nods. He doubts it very much.
Till is running off before Ivan can even reply, and Ivan doesn’t turn around—sometimes, what he feels is just too much for him.
The time finally comes nearly three months later. The teachers applaud for Ivan publicly, always to make an example out of him, commenting on how they’re so lucky to have him in his class, how he’s such a pleasure and joy to have as a student, and Ivan catches Samy’s eyes and nods.
Ivan’s break begins next week and so, Samy starts to play the part. He fakes an illness for a few days before finally coming back the last day before the new week begins, completely covered in nondescript clothing, just a black shirt, black hoodie, black face mask, and dark blue slacks. He claims he’s no longer contagious but that his illness shows on his body and his guardian refused to let his “pet” by seen in such a state, even by his own classmates.
Samy only has a few friends so nobody truly cares, shrugging it off and going along with it. At the end of the day, Samy slips Ivan a note with the plan, which Ivan reads twice before ripping it apart, throwing some of it away at the school itself and keeping some to flush down the toilet at his home.
The next morning, quickly, they switch places. Even on Ivan’s “breaks,” he’s required to come in the morning to check off that he won’t be there for the day. Ivan’s guardian is a busy, rich, and famous Segyein, and since Ivan is such a well-behaved human, they don’t mind if Ivan does these check-ins himself, as long as he returns by a certain time.
So, they coordinate, Ivan checking off his name and walking casually by the restroom stall that he knows Samy’s inside of, and just as he nears it, Samy rushes out, turning them so they aren’t facing the cameras, Samy acting like he’s forcing Ivan inside. As soon as they lock the door, Samy is frantically dying his strawberry blond hair to black with a quick acting dye, and they switch clothes, Ivan pulling the mask and hoodie up, and fastening Samy’s collar around his neck. Ivan doesn’t have a collar anymore—he’s so good that he doesn’t need one.
Samy told him that he only needs a few hours to escape so as long as Ivan can keep this up for a few hours, it’ll be fine, especially since the first hours of class require all students to be absolutely silent. Afterwards, when it’s inevitably revealed that Ivan and Samy switched places and that Samy has escaped, Ivan will claim that Samy threatened Ivan’s life. He’ll lie and say that Samy held a knife to his throat, dragging him to the bathroom and telling him that he wanted to switch for the day, and that if he didn’t let Samy have his break then he’d kill Ivan. When they ask why Ivan didn’t say something about it as soon as Samy was off the school premises, he’ll say that Samy told him he implemented a listening device on his collar, and that his collar is equipped to lethally inject cyanide at Samy’s command if he heard anything amiss.
It’s partially true. There is a small container of cyanide (easily snatched from their guardians) that’s been attached to it, but there’s no listening device nor way for the poison to inject Ivan.
But how was Ivan supposed to figure that out in just a few hours? He was panicked, slightly traumatized, and anxious about what this would mean for his future—the future of a good student, who was just wanting to go home and start his break.
If they still don’t believe him for some reason then Ivan will talk his way out of it, will convince them otherwise, he’s not worried about himself—only partially worried that Samy will be caught too early and that Samy will die because Ivan agreed to a partially-stupid plan just because he didn’t want his feelings to be exposed.
Ivan doesn’t want that on his conscience.
When Samy is fully ready, dressed in Ivan’s clothing, hair as dark as his expression, he pulls Ivan into another hug, clutching fiercly at his back.
“Thank you, Ivan, and I’m sorry. But… you’ll be okay, yeah? You need to be okay. That way, you can protect Till, right?” He pulls back, Ivan’s body tense with shock, but Samy keeps talking. “Everyone likes you, Ivan. You should always use that to your advantage because you have something that we don’t all have. It’ll save your life one day, I’m sure.” He sighs. “Goodbye, Ivan. Say ‘sorry’ to Sua, too, okay? She’ll be pissed I left without saying goodbye to her, but I’ve always appreciated her as one of my friends. I hope she can feel that sincerity.”
Awfully, Ivan almost wants to cry. He’s never been close with Samy—the two of them always just more acquaintances than anything else, but knowing that this other boy will soon be free makes Ivan feel as if he’s truly doing something with his life. He can do this for Samy, and a part of him is still impressed Samy was able to use Ivan’s feelings to his advantage.
“Be free, Samy,” Ivan finally replies, and with a quick smile, Samy nods, and then slips out of the bathroom stall, leaving Ivan alone in his wake to play the part. Ivan takes another glance at the mirror, adjusting his mask so it rests higher on his face and tugging uncomfortably at the collar.
Just for a few hours, Ivan thinks. Don’t overthink it.
Upon entering the classroom, hardly anybody notices him. The first two and a half hours of class are always dedicated to societal terms and languages followed by self-study. Ivan listens, bored, as the teacher goes over different terms for humans in a professional versus personal context. When self-study finally comes around, Ivan is grateful for the time to try and calm his rising anxieties. Samy must already be on his way out the city. He wonders how far he’s gotten. He wonders how long it’ll take for his guardian to realize that Ivan hasn’t come home yet.
Ivan tugs again at his collar, the press of it making his skin itch. He hasn’t had to wear a collar for several years now—he didn’t miss the feeling.
Raising his eyes, he stares at Ivan’s back, gaze settling on the collar that’s always around his neck. Ivan hates the fucking thing. Wants to tear it off and tear it apart. Wishes that Till wasn’t treated like a feral animal whenever he does act up or speak up about something. Resentment claws at Ivan’s heart so Ivan takes a deep breath in, trying to let the feelings go when he breathes out.
After self-study, they have a short playtime. The Segyeins determined years and years ago that if pets would be allowed to enter any kind of education system, they’d still need scheduled “play” periods, lest they begin to either act up or feel some kind of development from the learning. Playtime is always a period of degradation, but Ivan’s class is particularly used to it at this point, each student having found a rhythm in which they all work together, silently.
Ivan wasn’t particularly worried about this part. There is definitely talking amongst everyone during playtime, but from what Ivan has seen, Samy didn’t usually start speaking until one of their later recesses. So, he holds himself small, making sure he’s looking down as he grabs a ball and starts bouncing it against a wall.
When he hears a familiar laugh, though, Ivan can’t help but look up, catching sight of Till immediately, and before he can look away, Till is looking back at him, expression shifting into one of obvious curiosity.
Instantly, Ivan looks away, heart racing as he refocuses on bouncing the ball. He hears the footsteps nearing him, though, and Ivan knows he won’t be able to get out of this. Maybe he can just walk away and ignore Till completely? Maybe—
“Got tired of reading the romance books?” Till asks, voice low and smug.
Ivan’s body, previously tight with tension, relaxes. Too late. He meets Till’s confused eyes, Till’s eyebrows furrowed prettily. He watches as Till seems to take him in fully, his gaze shifting from his eyes to the mask covering his face and then to the rest of his attire.
Ivan swallows and prays that Till won’t make a big deal out of this. “Don’t say anything.”
Till’s eyes meet his own again, his frown deepening. “Why would I? It’s not like I don’t trust you or something.”
Ivan blinks. What?
“What?”
Till flushes a bit, but he doesn’t look away. “I mean, I know you’re not a bad person. I’d even say you were a really good person. You wouldn’t be here unless it was for a real reason. So, what’s the reason?”
“Samy wanted a break,” Ivan hears himself reply, the words I’d even say you were a really good person a tidal wave in his ears.
Till snickers. “That’s it?”
Ivan nods. He hates lying to Till—hates not being able to include him, but if this all goes wrong for whatever reason, Ivan can’t have Till in the know. He can’t risk Till being harmed for any reason. He doesn’t even want Till to feel guilt over the knowledge.
Ivan doesn’t mind talking about it after the fact, after Samy’s escaped and any investigation is finished, but until everything is done with, Ivan will keep his mouth shut.
He quirks a small smile. “Yes, just for a day. He promised me a rare book from his guardian’s collection. Besides, being all secretive like this almost makes me feel like a spy. Definitely not a boring day.”
Till’s eyes scrunch together as he laughs. “You definitely look like the cool, mysterious spy type. Nearly everyone in our class has a crush on you for it.”
Ivan’s eyes widen, awful momentary hope blooming in his chest just for it to wither and die within seconds. Everyone, but not Till.
So, what does it matter?
“Well, maybe they’d think differently if they knew what I like to read.”
Till’s answering smile is gorgeous, stealing the breath right out of Ivan’s body. “Doubt that.”
“Till! We’re about to start the game!”
Till glances back at one of their other classmates, who’s obviously leading a group, Mizi and Sua included. "Yeah, yeah, I’m coming!” he yells back. Turning to face Ivan, he gestures towards the group. “Do you want to play with us?”
Yes. Yes yes yes.
Ivan grimaces, shaking his head. “I can’t. I need to stay low today. Playing would bring too much attention to myself.”
Till almost looks disappointed. “Right, of course.”
“Have fun.”
Till laughs again. Ivan wonders what he did to deserve the sound, the feel of it. “Don’t get caught. You don’t want that collar to be permanent again like mine, right?” Till says it like it’s the funniest joke; Ivan doesn’t smile.
“No.”
Till nods. “Yeah,” he breathes.
Then, he’s rushing off, joining the group as they separate into groups of two. Ivan simply watches for a few seconds longer before he looks down and away again, grabbing his ball and returning to playing pretend as unobtrusively as he can.
He wonders if Samy’s made it out by now.
He hopes so.
Ivan is caught just one hour later, right at the beginning of their next class period. A Segyein comes storming into the classroom, loud and demanding, and when she points at Ivan with an accusatory stance, Ivan does his best in acting both scared and relieved. After all, he’s supposedly about to be “freed” from the collar and this burden of knowledge.
Ivan is seized immediately, being brought to his knees as one Segyein attaches a leash to the collar to drag him out the room. He hears the horrified gasps from his classmates, all of them catching onto the fact that something’s not quite right, and it isn’t until one of the Segyeins rips off Ivan’s mask and hoodie, revealing Ivan’s full face, that it dawns on them what’s happened.
As he’s pulled out the room, he sees that Till is staring straight at him, eyes wide with fear, and Ivan wants to comfort him, wants to tell him that there’s no reason to worry about someone like him, but the classroom door is closing before those thoughts can even find some kind of conclusion.
There’s an audience of Segyeins waiting for him in the hallway and, immediately, Ivan recognizes his own guardian. His mouth opens in shock—how did they inform his guardian so quickly?
“Human,” one of the Segyeins starts, voice stern with venom. “What do you know of the human pet Samy’s death?”
Ivan’s heart stops.
The human pet Samy’s death.
Samy didn’t make it.
They failed.
Ivan doesn’t consider himself a gullible person.
He’s been raised as a perfect pet to be shown off to others. He understood from a very early age his place in the world, which meant, by extension, he understood that he should never let his guard down. Despite the mere concept of having a guardian, his guardian was the one to teach him that, always speaking on what it means to hold oneself above others. Since Ivan was a pet to someone like his guardian then he could never do anything to embarrass them.
So, Ivan doesn’t consider himself a gullible person.
But when he’s informed that Samy was found at Ivan’s own home, death by cyanide poisoning, a small suicide note left behind explaining his intentions, Ivan realizes that he’s much more gullible than he thought.
“Thank you, Ivan, and I’m sorry.”
Samy had never been planning on escaping, not in the way that Ivan assumed, and Ivan wants to scream at him, scream at him for using him like this. Ivan never knew much about Samy’s home life, but it must have not been good if he didn’t even want to end his life in the comfort of his own room.
The investigation doesn’t even last a full week—Samy’s guardian seems to hardly even care, more upset about getting reimbursed for it all than anything else. Horribly, that works in Ivan’s favor, the Segyeins writing the whole situation off for the surface-level lie Ivan explained to them. Ivan’s guardian, however, seems to think otherwise, their anger a storm in his home due to his shame of having his own human involved in such a crass situation. Ivan’s not allowed to leave the house for two full weeks, all contact and items cut off from him, the only thing entertaining him his own gnawing guilt.
When Ivan does return, there’s a stilted, somber tint to the air. Ivan can sense their questions, their need to know all the gritty details. He can also sense their grief and confusion, their incessant inability of understanding why what happened seemed to happen.
Ivan quickly learns that most of them don’t even realize it was a purposeful act. They think Samy losing his life was simply an unfortunate accident that happened to occur at the same time Ivan and him switched places.
A part of Ivan wants to sweep it all under the rug and never open the lockbox again, but he remembers the last words Samy said to him, and the guilt eats and eats and eats.
During recess his first day back, he forces himself to approach Sua, who’s sitting alone with Till. Ivan isn’t sure where Mizi is; he doesn’t really care.
“Sua,” Ivan says, and Sua seems to understand that Ivan has something important to say because she sighs, looking at Till sitting beside her with a warning gaze. “It’s okay,” Ivan continues. “He can stay, he already knows some of it anyway.”
“Are you going to tell me he did it on purpose?” Sua asks, gaze resolute, no-nonsense as always.
Till inhales sharply next to her. Ivan ignores him.
“He did, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize. I thought he just wanted to escape. I just wanted to help him. He… I should’ve known better.” Hanging his head, Ivan can’t help but feel like this isn’t good enough. How can he claim to want to protect Till and Till’s feelings when he can’t even protect his own?
Sua’s expression falls at Ivan’s words, as if she was hoping she was wrong. She sighs, folding her hands together in her lap.
“No, Ivan, no, it’s not your fault. I should’ve realized too. I’ve known he’s been struggling for a while now. I just… I just hoped that it would pass like it always used to. I miss him. I hope he’s finding peace in his next life.”
Swallowing, Ivan finally relays Samy’s final words. “He said to tell you ‘sorry’ and that he knows you’ll be pissed at him for not even saying goodbye. Then he said he wanted you to know that he’s always appreciated you as one of his friends and that he hope you can feel his sincerity.”
Ivan watches as tears form in Sua’s eyes and he looks away, not able to face the full force of her emotions right now.
He should’ve known better. When did he become so gullible?
“Maybe he’s with God,” Till says then, voice quiet, meaningful. Both Sua and Ivan look at him.
“You don’t believe in God,” Sua retorts, frowning. Ivan catches that piece of information and holds it close to his heart. He almost wishes Till could believe in something like God.
Till glances up at Ivan from where he’s sitting, eyes shining with understanding and something else Ivan can’t name. “No, but I think that God is probably just whatever thing people need to believe in. So, maybe I can believe in God for Samy. Maybe God will be real for that.”
Ivan bends down now, settling on the ground across from them both. Till’s still watching him and Ivan doesn’t think he’ll ever be able to tell Till what Ivan believes is truly holy. What Ivan will have faith in and for until the very day he dies.
Sua’s crying more openly now, bending her legs and head so she’s crying into her knees. Neither boy moves to touch her, letting her grieve as long as she needs. It’s not often that Sua shows her emotions so openly like this so it’d be terrible of them to interrupt the moment.
While she cries, Ivan realizes that Till is staring at him, heart so startlingly open that Ivan’s chest constricts.
It feels like watching the stars, looking at Till like this, free of shame, free of doubt. He wishes he could let himself get lost in the cosmos, wishes that the nighttime was even half as brilliant as this point in time is. Ivan doesn’t think he’d ever be able to sleep, though, if that were the case.
Till is a lesson in accepting that sometimes the distance isn’t something so easily overcame. Sometimes, the stars are only meant to be viewed from the ground.
“Thank you, Ivan,” Sua finally mumbles, minutes later, wiping away her tears. She’s still looking down at her knees. “For telling me. You didn’t have to, but you’re a good person… thank you.” She sighs softly. “Mizi will be sad to hear it, too. I hate it when she’s sad.”
Do you understand me? Ivan can’t help but wonder as he watches Sua start talking about Mizi. Does Sua know what it’s like to love without any return? He’s suspected Sua has stronger feelings than platonic for Mizi for a while now but seeing her now, seeing how she shifts into devastation at the mere thought of Mizi sad, confirms it.
Ivan wonders if Till knows; what Till thinks about it.
“We’ll all be okay,” Ivan hears himself say, his words dragged out entirely by wanting to fill the uncomfortable silence that Till obviously doesn’t know how to fill.
“But… you’ll be okay, yeah? You need to be okay. That way, you can protect Till, right?”
Ivan hopes so.
He truly, truly does.
When it comes down to it, in the end, Ivan knows he’s never believed in God, not truly, not in the way that matters, but as the years have passed, and the anger in Till’s eyes only hardened, Ivan decides to uphold some kind of faith for him, for the two of them.
As Ivan watches the aching hole in Till’s heart grow into an inescapable chasm after Mizi goes missing, he can’t help but look at him and see every god every text has written about. He wonders what sin feels like—if it feels like yearning, not having.
And as the rain pours down, the stage lights a mimicry of the stars Ivan wished he could become lost in, he realizes that God isn’t whatever people need God to be. Instead, he realizes that God is the catch of Till’s breath, the deafening, resounding silence, the way that Till tastes, the pain from the first gunshot, trying to strike him down.
When the alarms start to blare, apparent rebels infiltrating successfully, when Till holds him close in his arms, his cool gaze transformed into heartbreak and horror, Ivan realizes that God is just Till and his journey meeting him here on this stage.
God is the way Till drags at his body, hands shaking, blood pouring and then stopping, and God is the way that Till breathes out his name, voice shaking, and God is the way that Ivan responds, always always always, with his one true faith: I love you.
The rain is overwhelming, Ivan thinks, eyes slipping shut as his body is held by the one he loves. The sound of it is so loud, so very loud, but he feels its weight now for what it is, what it means.
He’s free.