Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Oh, hear ye, hear ye.

The gods have abandoned us.

We have been forsaken, my fellow beings!

Because, from today onward — we are no longer the power we once thought we were.

It was foolish to believe that the universe revolves around us. We were fools!

Starting today, women and men, old and young, we are but small specks in the vast system. The apocalypse of humanity has come!

The power scales have tipped! The world is changing. The universe — is changing.

We are but forsaken beings now. Abandoned to the mercy of otherworldly beings.

—click.

[Humanity Museum.

Specimen 12. Recording of a World Leader’s last speech before invasion.]

✧—————✧

And no matter what, the sound of rain seemed to persist on, the silence dragging the atmosphere into a standstill.

—pitter, patter, plop.

Till looked ahead.

—pitter, patter, plop.

Then, he glanced down.

—pitter, patter, plop.

All he could see was the ever-growing pool of red. That thick, red liquid that only expanded in size as time went on. Though he could see it flowing, he wondered if time had stopped then.

—pitter, patter, plop.

“Ivan?” Till muttered, in a sorry tone — though some might question his emotions.

—pitter, patter, plop.

Till thought he could see Ivan’s mouth moving. “Do you… hate me so much?” he says.

He wasn’t sure if it was really him speaking or if it was just a matter of his own imagination.

pitter—

The noise of the rain seemed to stop for a split second, as the clinking sound of the collar echoed through his mind.

Then, making a static sound as it appeared, the projection above buzzed to life.

[ TILL WIN ]

Till’s eyes continued to blankly stare at the words above him. The thick blood had seeped through the cracks of his metal shoes, staining his foot red.

It didn’t feel like a win, never to Till. Nobody ever wins except for the aliens.

The cheering from the crowd didn’t subside. In fact, it went from silent to loud — then to deafening.

He could still feel the warmth of those hands which were wrapped lightly around his neck. They contrasted Ivan’s then-expression so perfectly. Ivan definitely didn’t intend to kill him at all. He didn’t even leave a mark, much less a bruise.

Till was quickly dragged off the stage, though he never took his eyes off of the projection that announced his win, wondering if it were true. He didn’t glance back at Ivan, who was being dragged to the side, forming a grotesque trail of blood behind him. Even so, he didn’t spare a single second to look at him, the man who wished for his love, who craved for him so desperately throughout all these years, not that he would’ve known.

Round 6 is over. — Only for the viewers, that is. Till still had his own “Round 6” to beat, though it involves no singing and certainly no kissing.

✧—————✧

It’s been a week, Till still lives his life as usual, but he’s noticed some differences.

For one, he doesn’t feel right when eating at the cafeteria anymore, and nor does everything else. Everyone’s been gloomy since his death, and he could feel that some of them definitely blamed him for it. Till would try his best to ignore the contempt, but keeping a low profile was hard. Rather, he chose to seclude himself under the guise of “healing from mental damage” and stopped going outside, opting to request his food to be bought to his cubicle instead and only stepping out if he was summoned for performances or checkups.

Despite the shady behavior, his owner did feel some ounce of remorse, it seemed. They let him off for a week of rest, just as he had asked for — no more and no less. After that, it was back to work.

Right on time, a knock came on his door and a voice was projected from outside: “Till, you’ve been assigned to room 27 for a private performance. Don’t disappoint them this time.”

Till stayed quiet, pretending that he was in a deep sleep. Though, the twitch of his movements would easily give him away, as the segyien outside the door waiting had figured out.

“Till. Come out, I know you’re awake.”

Quickly tapping an access card on the reinforced door, the Anakt Garden staff roughly grabbed him by the back of the collar of his shirt, almost dragging him to the floor.

“Agh! I can walk on my own, you fucking-”

His mouth snapped shut after the segyein looked back at him with overflowing temper, a look of disdain washed upon him.

Then, Till raised his free hand to run it through his semi-slicked hair, ruining the style in the process.

“Haa… you- nevermind. How do you always manage to mess up your hair before private performances, I don’t know — but there’s no more time to fix it now. Just go in.”

The tall, androgynous segyien ran his slime-coated fingers through Till’s hair, attempting to somewhat fix it and press down the stray strands. Till visibly winced at the attempt, shivering slightly as the cold mucus touched his scalp.

Quickly wiping off most of it with his sleeve, he was shoved inside the room. Inside, there was something resembling a celebratory event going on, likely a birthday or a party in general. Before he could fix his posture and stand up properly, the whole room had already turned towards him.

“Ah! This one is performing today, right?”

“I heard that Mister Akfjan specially requested for him to perform.”

“He sings quite great, I believe. I have seen his performances.”

“No wonder there are so many people here today. Is it to watch this pet?”

“He’s been gone for quite some time. People are wondering.”

Several half-whispered conversations arose within the room upon his arrival. It was overwhelming compared to anything he had done before — mostly small performances for a small group of VIPs, not large-scale celebrations like this.

He patted down his outfit, then quickly stepped to the front stage. There was a microphone there, along with huge bass speakers lined up along the stage. Clearing his throat, he quickly introduced himself to the eager crowd.

By now, Till had already assumed that he had grown used to it. He had to please the eyes and ears of all sorts of people, from those who looked at him with contentment to those which held contempt, along with the segyiens who seemed to only lust for his body — the ones who were ready to pounce on him as soon as they were given the opportunity to do so.

“Hello everyone, esteemed guests of Anakt. I hope you have been enjoying your night. As you all likely know me from season 50 the hit series ‘Alien Stage’, I will be skipping the formalities and going straight into performance. Again, thank you for supporting our journey so far—”

As he continued to trail on with his speech, a couple standing near the stage caught his eye. They were both wearing designer outfits — both from the collection that appeared in a magazine which he recalled Mizi showing to him.

Yes, it was the newest collection that Ivan had modeled for. Till remembered how scandalous the news was that a human pet would be featured on a segyien fashion magazine, and how the response was still mostly positive.

It was undoubtedly Ivan himself who was the reason for all of this. He was seen as a model human with near-perfect looks and always obediently followed orders. His influence on the image of humans is commendable. Till remembered being jealous of him for not having to wear a collar nor receive any punishment, wanting to drag him down into the mud — but ultimately failing miserably. He remembered how Ivan effortlessly got closer to Mizi as if they had been friends for a lifetime, whereas he himself could only watch from afar as Sua and Mizi would play together without a care in the world. Though he never really bothered to take a closer look at Ivan, the stunt he pulled during the semifinals was making his head hurt. Recently, his dreams were also plagued by blood and tragedy, of terrible memories, and even worse so — Mizi. Till disliked how those phantasms of Mizi were keeping him chained to a strand of hope, just barely enough to support the weight of living but not quite enough to stop snagging into his skin painfully and slowly strangling his flesh.

Putting his focus back onto the couple, he carefully listened in to their conversation. Not quite a whisper, but not quite a jeer either.

“I don’t understand why our precious little Ivan would do something so foolish. I heard it was due to love. A little romance between pets is cute sometimes, but not in such a high-risk situation like the contest.”

They were avid fans of Ivan, it would seem. Though he was gone, his influence didn’t seem to diminish. There were even protests in front of the headquarters against his “unfair treatment”. It was already clear bias that they didn’t shoot his head immediately, but even now, his fans were still adamant that he didn’t deserve any of it.

Till looked down at the sheet of paper, of the songs that he had to perform

[ 1 - Black Sorrow ]

Of all songs, it had to be one of Ivan’s. Just when he was trying to take his mind off the man, his song came back to bite him in the ass. Even though he wasn’t here anymore, Till felt like he could hear the black-haired boy’s annoying, throaty voice ringing in his ear again. He wondered how difficult it would be to imitate his voice, seeing that he could imagine it so perfectly.

Taking a deep breath in and placing his attention on his vocal chords, he tapped his finger lightly on the handle of the microphone, using it to count himself in.

“The drenched darkness crouched down before me— ♩ ♬

Even if we shake our heads, it always stays the same,

—♪ I can’t reach you, so I ponder alone,

You who shines, I stand next to you,”

He looked at the one-sided projection of the lyrics and recalled a recording of Ivan’s winning song, ‘Black Sorrow’. Till recalled the way he sang it was compelling and almost dreamy, something that he couldn’t hope to replicate.

“…So black, black as it can be!”

Till always thought that Ivan looked at him weirdly sometimes — Especially those moments they shared back in the day, before the rounds started.

“♫ The dark sea gets deeper, when you approach—

Like a black, black sorrow,

A story of such woe~”

The song definitely did suit Till’s vibes at all. It was to be expected, and the audience should’ve known when they chose him to perform this kind of song which relied so heavily on raw vocals.

Recalling a few weeks ago, he remembered he was surprised when he first heard the song’s lyrics. Though it was popular among the contestants to pick emotional songs because they earned the most points, Ivan wasn’t the type to portray strong emotions in his singing, not that it made him worse, of course. His visuals and skill alone was enough to make up for that aspect.

He wondered what had inspired Ivan to write such meaningful lyrics. Till often found himself writing songs and humming melodies which he wrote for Mizi, and he wondered if Ivan was the same — and if so, who his muse was.

“I wait for you, endlessly,” Says somebody, someone out of his memory’s grasp.

Till vaguely recalls someone saying those words to him, though he can’t seem to make out the shadowy figure in his memories. It felt like a memory that was so ever slightly out of reach, he wondered whether or not he was in the right state of mind back then.

✧—————✧

After an hour-or-so of singing, he landed himself a small break. His throat was starting to rasp with the insane vocals he was forced to do.

Quickly, a staff member threw him a bottle of water along with a small towel to dry his sweat. Not wanting to cause a commotion, he quickly gave a small bow and exited to the backroom.

“Don’t make them wait too long.”

“…” He kept quiet but silently affirmed with a few nods.

Slightly lifting the stage curtains, he noticed a group of segyiens coming towards the backstage. By the way one of them led at the front, he assumed that person was the one hosting the event in the first place.

Although nobody was supposed to come backstage, the staff immediately cleared their way upon speaking to him for a mere few seconds. Unsurprising, but still annoying to see the classism amongst them in action.

He closed his eyes and leaned his head on the table, hearing the tapping of shoe soles approach him. He didn’t bother to look up, since he didn’t believe it was directed to him, anyway — or so he thought.

Before he could have any time to process, a hand tugged roughly at his hair, completely pulling him into an upright position as a jolt of pain ran through his scalp.

“Agh! What the fuck—”

“Is this him, from last time?”

His blood went cold when he looked at the one who was gripping his hair, recognizing him. It was one of the aliens in the room last time when he was being assaulted.

“Mn, not bad. I like his face.”

The segyien’s rough hand harshly grabbed his chin, manually swishing his head from side to side and stopping occasionally to inspect his features more closely.

Till only bit his lip and clenched his jaw. He didn’t want a repeat of what happened last time, he had learned his lesson not to fall into the same trap twice.

“Right, right. That’s enough now, we should go.”

He heard a voice call out from the small entourage who was following suit, nagging them to hurry. It was a saving grace that they were running short on time. As they left, they seemed to prattle on about something, and Till could just about make out the contents of their conversation.

Letting his curiosity slip, he decides to listen in.

“—whatever. I still liked that pink-haired girl more.”

Pink hair. Till wondered if they were talking about Mizi. Though it wasn’t likely since pink was becoming more and more popular among pets these days — a trend started by Mizi herself. He grinned at the notion that Mizi is a trendsetter.

“Yeah, I heard from someone that she joined the rebellion.”

If they were talking about Mizi, that would be great. So there was still a chance that she was alive — after all, natural pink hair is rare.

“Pfft. Is she stupid? With that kind of face, she’s going to get caught and sold to some pervert.”

The segyiens continued to snicker, mocking her for being delusional. Till could feel his anger starting to mount.

“I’d buy her just for it if they caught her. I bet she’d be going for a low price ‘cause of her crimes, too.”

“I wouldn’t blame her owners if they fucked her every night, she looks like she’d be the type to enjoy—”

Before he could finish his sentence, Till had already hit his breaking point, though it would be difficult to consider it a breaking point since the bar was set so low. He had already connected the dots, and figured out that even if it weren’t Mizi that they were talking about, they were clearly saying some nasty shit about a fellow human.

“ARGH! You fucking-!” The segyien slightly tipped forward at the force, catching himself just as he was about to touch the ground.

Till punched the one who was closest to him in the back of his head. It seemed to sufficiently anger him, but he couldn’t do anything since they were backstage. Till truly thought that he was safe, but he forgot that nobody in Anakt Garden was on his side.

Thinking back, he thought he was stupid for thinking so, even for a second on impulse.

It didn’t take long for him to be pinned to that table again, having his brains fucked out of him. At least it didn’t hurt so much this time, because he already expected it.

The performance abruptly ended, to the dismay of his audience. After all, their performer was busy “entertaining” in another way.

✧—————✧

Till had developed a weird habit of thinking about Mizi whenever anything bad was happening. This time, he wondered what it would be.

“Till!” A shrill voice called out to him.

“Mn… Mizi?”

It was the Mizi from more than a decade ago — the adorable pink haired, innocent little girl. Looking down at his own hands, he recognized them too, though a far memory, and an even further cry from his hands now. He had stubby fingers again, just as he did when he was a kid.

The grass came up to the top of his ankles, and the red artificial flowers seemed larger than usual. He looked on with a sense of relief, smiling at her and jumping into her embrace, knowing that he could.

“Till, I’ve missed you.”

Till wrapped his hand around Mizi’s back, pressing his face into the crook of her neck. He could feel the soft strands of her long hair tickling his face.

“I’ve missed you too, Mizi…”

“…”

The little girl held a somber look in her eyes.

“Till. You have to wake up.”

Mizi’s voice was higher than usual. Was this because this was a dream or was it because this is what she sounded like back then, Till wondered.

She wrapped her short arm around Till’s head, which was still placed on her shoulder. There was a wet patch forming where his eyes were placed. She lightly nudged him, but he didn’t budge. Perhaps, along with his body, his mind had regressed too.

“Luka won’t let you win so easily. I learned the hard way.” And despite having the image of a child, she still spoke like an experienced master.

“…”

“I know.”

“Then why not start preparing?”

Till closed his eyes and his arms went slack, releasing his grip on Mizi.

“I don’t want to win the next round.”

Mizi shook her head and sighed loudly, shaking her head disapprovingly.

“But…what if I’m alive-?”

“What if you’re not?”

Till continued to softly sob into her arms, barely making a sound. Mizi sat silently, patting his back comfortingly.

“If I were, would that make it worth living?”

Mizi asked, a hint of melancholy in her tone.

“Yeah.”

To Till, of course a life with Mizi would be one worth living. But, with all the odds stacked against him, he wasn’t sure if living the grueling pain would be worth the risk of disappointment.

“I promise I’m fine. Just missing, that’s all.”

“…Yeah, sure you are-…”

His distressed, cracking voice rang in his own ears. It occurred to him that he was being pathetic yet again.

“There was nothing you could’ve done. Till, don’t worry too much.”

“…”

Till said one last thing as he held onto a strand of her pink hair, tracing the root of bright pink down to the faded ends.

“Why… did it have to be me?”

And then, as soon as he released his hand, Mizi disappeared. He leaned forward onto nothing — face-first into the artificial grass that reeked of nostalgia.

“I guess this was never my strong suit, huh.”

What a wonderful dream it was. A world where he could cry as easily as he could sing.

✧—————✧

When he woke up, he was still in that performance room. He could still feel fluid dribbling out of his ass from the night before, those bastards hadn’t even bothered to call anyone to clean him up, and that wasn’t even the worst part. He could still feel the hands on him, and it wasn’t a kind of feeling that could be washed away with water or a good night’s rest.

“…”

He groaned as he stood up, looking like a baby deer learning how to walk. He wasn’t sure if he could walk more than a few steps before toppling over. Everything was shaking, from the tips of his fingers to the soles of his feet, and even his mind, too.

He had always hallucinated that Mizi would come to save him during times like this, but he now genuinely wondered how he even found the energy to pick himself up and clean himself so many times. He never had any memory after passing out of hours of being used every single time, but he always woke up feeling somewhat alright.

It certainly wasn’t the case now. The horrors were still fresh in his mind, and he felt just as disgusting as he had felt in the moment, perhaps even worse.

Nobody ever told him about this kind of thing — though it was already ingrained in most human pets’ minds that they risked being violated at any time, whether they wanted it or not, though he would be surprised if anyone would even wish something like this upon themself.

Yes, and that also happens to add another anomaly to his list. The way he felt after… Well, that. Last time, he had somehow dragged himself to his bed afterward and also removed his own collar, though he barely had any memory of it. Till assumed it was only because he was so drugged up by the aliens that he was completely out of it and couldn’t retain any memories, but he was starting to doubt his own theories.

He wondered, in the case that it wasn’t himself who did all those things, what kind stranger would’ve done so. It would’ve most likely been a staff member, but he doubted that any of them would willingly help him, seeing the hole that he dug himself when he constantly disobeyed rules and caused trouble whenever he could.

More likely so, it would be a fellow human — but there was nobody he could think of off the top of his head who has this kind of access. All of them had to wear thee collars at all times, which could track their location and alert anyone with clearance to the controls.

Well, except Ivan. He was a weird exception — a “damned goody-two-shoes”, as called by Till. He was probably the only one who never had to wear one, thanks to all the sweet talking and bootlicking, apparently.

But, he assumed that being such a suck-up would have made his life difficult too. Till wondered again if he should’ve chosen the rebellious image that was already gaining traction in the media.

Turning the knob on the shower, the warm water hit his skin. The bruises he got from those aliens burned under the heat, and an unnoticed cut he got on his face came to his attention.

“Agh.” He winced away from the showerhead, quickly grabbing his towel to dab off his wound, staining it red in the process.

After cleaning himself up, he threw himself onto his bed.

More so than other days, this room felt like a cage. A cage which didn’t need metal bars or a prison guard, because they were all disguised as something else. The padded walls hid tonnes of reinforced steel behind them, and the sheets were always perfectly folded every time he came back to them, and no matter how much he tried staining those walls with color, he always found them restored back to the perfect paper-white every time.

Till would usually sniff his bedsheets right before going to sleep every day. They had no scent, but gave him a strange feeling of comfort. That no matter what, the smell of his bedsheets would stay the same.

Diving face-first into the clean bedsheets, he pressed his nose deep into it and took a deep breath.

And that familiar scent of nothing was nowhere to be found.

Instead, it was a pungent scent of roses that tickled the back of his nostrils.

“Roses?”

Tossing up his bedsheet, he found the source of the smell. One full rose, already withered, and a handful of rosehips. Contrary to the withered rose, the rosehip berries seemed fresh, red as ever.

Weird.

He quickly threw the withered rose into the trash.

He left the rosehips be for a while, then moved them to the corner of the room and hid them inside his closet.

“Right. I was supposed to help clear out Ivan’s room today.” He mumbled senselessly, drifting off to sleep.

It was tradition for those participating in Alien Stage to have someone who they choose to help clear their room after they had “completed their duties”. It was an obligation, and some took pride in being chosen.

Ivan had chosen Till.

Though, Till decided to just postpone it by a day or two. What’s the worst that could happen, after all?

Clearly, he hadn’t accounted for the heaps of fresh roses which littered every inch of Ivan’s room, for when he got there, they were already all dead.

✧—————✧

That night, he dreamt of a black-haired girl.

An ear-piercing harmony shattered his eardrums, as a grand symphony began.

Till couldn’t speak at all.

When he moved his mouth, nothing came out, as if he had been silenced by a higher authority.

Sua stood far away from him, but looked him directly in the eye. Till felt a shiver in his spine as she continued to sing.

You who, bloomed from the dark walls,

The stardust spread in your eyes,

Sua continued to harmonize with the low hum of the wind, which would bend to her will.

Even if I fall asleep eternally,

I trust that you won’t leave my side.

And suddenly, she stopped singing there. Sua stood, reminiscing.

Till felt weirdly connected to Sua. Like he could feel her blood coursing in his own veins, like their souls had intertwined unknowingly.

He felt like he could hear her thoughts, but not quite. Rather than him being able to see her thoughts, it was as if he had diluted into her consciousness.

Ah. The feeling of true love. A pure, unconditional, and unperturbed love. That’s the feeling coursing through their shared veins right now.

Sua seemed to be a woman of many emotions. Guilt, shame, anger, and relief.

She hoped that when she saw Mizi again, she would have grey hair and wrinkled skin, and a bright smile on her face after living a content life.

Is this what true love feels like?

[I hope that the day you come to me, you will have grey hair and wrinkled skin, with a bright smile on your face after living a content life. I’ll wait until that day, Mizi.]

With those final thoughts, she picked up the hem of her white dress, and twirled across the intersection of life and death.

Oh, my clematis,

Hope bloomed through the abyss.

Oh, my clematis,

You will always — stay by me.

[When I reach the afterlife, I want to sing with you again.]

“Till-ah, I hope that one day, you will find your special someone, too.”

Then, her smile was immortalized.

✧—————✧

Till woke up that day with a profound sense of wonder.

Curiosity which he didn’t have before seemed to spring back to life, and the lump in his throat was gone.

That was one of the best dreams he had ever had.

He and Sua had something in common. Though, she did it better than he ever could’ve.

He made a silent vow to himself to never hate Sua ever again. He felt ashamed for ever doing so, or ever thinking to hurt her.

No wonder Mizi loved Sua so much, he thought.

Then, his collar buzzed.

Bzzt. Bzzt—

Oh, right. It was a reminder to go to Ivan’s room to clear up his belongings. He would have to pack up anything of sentiment or of value and ship it back to his owner.

Quickly throwing on some clothes, he trudged down the hall and clicked open the door.

Opening a sliver, he saw a sea of red inside. Roses. Piles among piles of them, all shriveled up.

“What the fuck is this?” He blurted out, walking inside and stepping on a few roses while he was at it, almost making him slip and fall.

The scent inside was almost suffocating. He could see, smell, touch, feel, and maybe even taste the rose on the tip of his tongue.

And on the bed, there was a letter, with a silver-gray stamp on it and his name etched onto the paper.

Trying to crush as little amount of flowers as possible, he carefully tip-toed toward the bed, reaching forward and quickly swiping it off the bed sheet, tearing it open without a care for the sealing stamp.

— — — — —

Instructions:

-Pack up all clothing items

-Carefully handle all jewelry

-Clean up the closet

— — — — —

The instructions looked oddly simple.

“Hm. I expected more than this.”

It didn’t take long. He quickly sweeped up all the roses and the stray rose petals, then begrudgingly organized all of his accessories — all of which looked to be overly expensive — into small and large boxes, making sure to take extra care of the white colored ones, which would be easily stained.

Usually, when it came to this kind of labor, he would just find someone else to push the responsibility onto or simply walk away. But, this time, he decided to just bite his tongue and get it over with, for the sake of Ivan, and out of respect for his death.

Lastly, he arrived at the closet where all of his clothes would’ve been stored. Keyword — would’ve. They were nowhere to be found.

Rather, it was a whole closet stacked with jars upon jars of rosehips — all of which already matured and some already overripe. They were sealed into large, tightly sealed glass jars, all filled to the brim.

All except one. Yes. All of them were full, except one. That one had the handful taken out right from the top, and the lid on it was loose.

Those roses and rosehips on Till’s bed last night definitely came from here.

Till pondered what to do with all this rosehip. He was certainly no herbalist, nor anyone who had ever even considered gardening before. It would be weird to ship these back to Ivan’s owner, but it would be a waste to throw them out, too.

In the end, Till sent most of the jars to burial. He couldn’t bear to just dump all of Ivan’s collection. He kept two jars in his own room, and would check on them every day to see if they would shrivel up.

Occasionally, he would take them out and stare at them, or even poke holes in them or smush them. Periodically, he would take small batches to dry in the sun to preserve them, using it as either decoration or snacking on them.

It had been almost a week now. Till wondered if these rosehips had been genetically modified to last forever, because they never seemed to start shriveling like they were supposed to, no matter how long it was.

By now, he had gone through almost both full jars of it. It felt like an achievement to him that he was even able to get through one jar, probably because they were so comically large.

He was now down to his last batch, one last handful of rosehips.

And his last finale with Luka would be tomorrow.

He didn’t want to go. There was no point to him.

Till wanted to die now, either to himself or losing against Luka. It was enough already, and not in a pessimistic way. For Till, death would be equivalent to a rest.

He’d experienced all the things he wanted to — which was a lie, because he wanted to see the outside world. But, some things aren’t meant to be. Till already accepted his fate by now. It would hardly be considered fate, actually. It would be something of his own choice and his own accord.

He grabbed the last few rosehips, and quartered them neatly, then placed them on a rack, watching them dry under the artificial sun.

Afterward, he skipped lunch. Instead, he nibbled on the last pieces of the rosehips, enjoying the tangy flavor for the last time. This would likely be his last meal, and he knew it himself.

Sitting down on his bed, he thought of a few last things before going to sleep.

He wondered about everything.

Why Ivan did what he did — why put on a show for the aliens. Or maybe it was just to go out with a bang?

Not that he’d ever know.

It’s impossible to know the thoughts of a dead person, after all.

Suddenly, the letter of instruction that Ivan left to him caught his eye, and he picked it up to re-read it, almost as if hoping the contents would change.

— — — — —

Instructions:

-Pack up all clothing items

-Carefully handle all jewelry

-Clean up the closet

— — — — —

Nope. Still the same, alright.

He let go of the piece of paper, releasing it from its envelope, letting it fall flat on his face.

It revealed the text on the backside.

— — — — —

I love you.

— — — — —

Oh. Oh?

“I love you”, he says?

Damn right, this idiot…

He shuts his eyelids. It’s a problem for another day.

He’d never admit that he felt sorry. So, so sorry.

✧—————✧

The wind blows softly, just enough to tickle your face as you turn towards the direction of the breeze.

A small figure stood in the midst of all the uncut grass and unkempt flowers.

He had short, trimmed black hair with a perfect white uniform.

It seemed like an unsuitable world for a boy like such, or maybe it was the other way around.

He hummed a little tune as he gently plucked the flowers from the ground, lightly gnawing on the red petals.

“…”

Till watched silently, as the boy who he now recognized to be Ivan, peacefully crawl around the patches of grass.

“Till!”

As soon as Ivan saw Till, he recognized him immediately.

“Wow, why do you look so old, Till?”

“I…”

Till didn’t dare to utter a word, yet Ivan continued to speak to him.

“I missed you, Till! I hope you will miss me too, someday!”

Those words made his heart ache. I hope you will miss me too, he said? Just what was he thinking?

“Ivan.”

“Yes?”

Till bent down onto his knees and opened his arms, waited for Ivan to jump into them.

“Haha! I got you! Now I know you aren’t the real Till, because he’d never do this!”

“Ivan. I’m really sorry.”

Ivan giggled and continued to hug Till tightly as he could, making use of whatever strength his little arms gave.

“I wish the real Till were like this, but it’s okay, since I still like him how he is now!”

One tear rolled down.

“Shit. I’m so sorry.”

Then, two tears.

“It’s okay! I’ll wait until Till likes me back!”

Maybe a third.

“…Ivan.”

“Yes?”

He hesitated for a second, wondering if this was the right thing to say. He could barely control his tears now, trying to muffle his sobs by biting the inside of his mouth.

“I like you too.”

Today, he truly wished that ‘Great Anakt’ existed — that wonderful place that they said the performers of Alien Stage would go to once they had completed their duties.

If only it were true.

“Yes, Ivan. The lover of the rose must bear its thorns, too. But, I can’t help but feel that the rose was never meant to be loved by you.”

He was sorry that his thorns had cut too deep, so deep that it pierced Ivan’s heart.

Now, it had come time for the rose’s short lifespan to be over, for it to wither away into naught but dust.

[I wish Till were like this. I miss him.]

He wanted to scream no, as loudly as he could. But, it was already far too late.

No. No— No!

Till left behind only the sweet, sweet scent of longing, enough for two, and Ivan left behind a thousand jars of rosehip.

[I hope we never meet again, Till.]

There, both gone like dust.

.

.

.

[fin.]

Chapter Text

Hi everyone!

As requested by a friend and promised in the end notes of the previous chapter, this is is just a little analysis on the meanings and symbolism, along with some much needed context in this story, so feel free to skip if this isn’t your cup of tea!

||“Yes, Ivan. The lover of the rose must bear its thorns, too. But, I can’t help but feel that the rose was never meant to be loved by you.”

He was sorry that his thorns had cut too deep, so deep that it pierced Ivan’s heart. ||

I found this quote a few years ago, by Isaac Hayes. Originally, it was ‘If you enjoy the fragrance of a rose, you must accept the thorns which it bears.’ I chose this because I originally planned a rose symbolism, but couldn’t put my finger on how to incorporate it, until I found this.

Reading back now, it feels a little jarring and out of place, but I still think that it was worth having Till use.

|| Now, it had come time for the rose’s short lifespan to be over, for it to wither away into naught but dust.

Till left behind only the sweet, sweet scent of longing, enough for two, and Ivan left behind a thousand jars of rosehip. ||

‘Till left behind the sweet, sweet scent of longing, enough for two’ explains the duality of his love for both Mizi and Ivan. He only realizes that he had enough love in his heart to cherish Ivan too, but only at the end of his life, where he “repents” for the death of Ivan by killing himself, thinking that it would satiate his guilt — only to come to the horrific realization that he could’ve just loved Ivan too.

It’s tragic, really. I myself cried so long after thinking of this.

The second part is ‘Ivan left behind a thousand jars of rosehip’, referencing the title of this fic. I chose rosehip because it symbolizes the wait for a true love. Ivan, just like a gardener, waits 100 days for the rosehip to mature — hoping that it will show him wonderful things and help him create an ointment that will relieve all his pains. Yes, so he waits. Hundreds, thousands, maybe even millions of days. He waits and waits, until he dies without ever seeing the end product.

Till is like the flower that has outlived the gardener. Without the gardener who has pampered the rosebush and prunes it, waters it, who tediously manages it and cares for it endlessly, the roses will quietly wither away in the following winter.

The gardener, no matter how much he loves his plants, is useless once he dies. A dead man cannot take care of his roses, and a rose cannot take care of itself. And that’s exactly what happened to Till. He withered away because there was no longer anyone to admire his petals and prune his thorns.

||He hesitated for a second, wondering if this was the right thing to say.

“I like you too.”

Today, he truly wished that ‘Great Anakt’ existed — that wonderful place that they said the performers of Alien Stage would go to once they had completed their duties.

If only it were true.||

Here, I reference ‘Great Anakt’, a place that performers who die on the Alien Stage will go to, a tale told by the caretakers at Anakt Garden. Even though all the kids know that it’s just empty words eventually, they tell children to stop them from being scared.

Till sort of laments that he isn’t naive enough to believe it. I guess I was trying to show you that he just wants somewhere to go. You could also say that he thought of Ivan when he said it. He wished that Ivan didn’t truly die for him, but rather released himself from his shackles and ascended to ‘Great Anakt’. You may interpret this line however you wish.

What is the significance of Sua’s appearance?

Sua is stuck between the border of life and death, because she has no one to hear what she wants to say. The only reason why she chose Till was because they had something in common, though to a varying degree. What Sua told Till was a piece of wisdom that he needed at the time, and that she needed to get off her chest.

Sua expressed what she wanted to, and then truly passed peacefully. Till sort of accompanied her on her way, even though he couldn’t do anything. Sua felt content after telling someone who shared similar goals to her about her own wishes, and could finally leave the realm of her own regrets.

||“I missed you, Till! I hope you will miss me too, someday!”

Those words made his heart ache. I hope you will miss me too, he said? Just what was he thinking?

“Ivan.”

“Yes?”

Till bent down onto his knees and opened his arms, waited for Ivan to jump into them.

“Haha! I got you! Now I know you aren’t the real Till, because he’d never do this!”

“Ivan. I’m really sorry.”

Ivan giggled and continued to hug Till tightly as he could, making use of whatever strength his little arms gave.

“I wish the real Till were like this, but it’s okay, since I still like him how he is now!”

“Shit. I’m so sorry.” ||

This isn’t Ivan. This idealized version of Ivan is something purely conceived by Till’s guilt.

We, as the viewers of Alien Stage, know that Ivan struggles with expressing emotions, and only learned about them from mirroring the people around him.

Till can only imagine Ivan like this when he finds out about Ivan’s feelings. Till makes up a side of Ivan that he believes he was hiding, even when it never existed in the first place. That’s how little he knows about Ivan.

Hence why he keeps apologizing. He wants to say, “I’m sorry I never saw you for who you really were,” even though the real Ivan was always standing right behind him. All he had to do was look back, but he didn’t.

Or maybe, this is the real Ivan. Maybe Ivan was stuck at the border of life and death, just as Sua was. Maybe all Ivan needed to hear was a “I love you” and that’s what he needed to pass peacefully.

Who knows?

I leave this up to you, my dear reader.

Thank you for reading.