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It had only been a second.
The sheer brutality of the rain that had crashed down felt like it lasted for hours. Till could still feel the prickling chill of the coldness in his skin. The pure harshness of the water that stained his hair, that mixed between his sweat, that swirled within his confusions and uneasiness and hesitances. It was as though he could fall in a shortness of breath any second. His eyes sunk deep to the floor as the lights dimmed down. These, at least, he could comprehend.
What he couldn’t, was the disappearance of him in just a blink.
He walked away from the stage. Diluted eyes. Fingers pressed against his lower lip. It had only been a second that he looked at Ivan in the eyes before his body dropped to the ground. Before he grew limp, unmoving. All Till could stare at at that moment was the fang that marked his mouth deeply so. It wasn’t so much that it bled, but it scratched him hard enough for him to feel the impact of the mark against his lips. He furrowed his eyes. The rain stopped, but he still felt that confusion. That uneasiness. That hesitance—and it felt like it lasted for hours.
Till, at that moment, could only sit in his thoughts and reflect. Reflect at what could’ve made him so impressionable that made him the center of his life. The signs that posed in front of him that he didn’t notice–or ignored–that could explain a fraction as to why his heart submerges deeply in a black sorrow.
The meteors. The flowers. The cut on his cheek. The time he let go of his hand, the time he ran towards the blowing red, the time Ivan stared at his face, unnoticed. The times he’d lay next to him, the times he drop his head to meet his gaze. The favors, the touch. The graces on his skin. This, was all Till could think of at the moment. He pinches the mark in his lip. Pricks at it, scratches it, bites it. It irritated him. It irritated him as much as those memories did. It irritated him how much he didn’t notice—and how much it’ll leave an imprint on him forever.
Till wishes it could rain again. The rain could come and go, waiting until it’s in season to return again. Till begs in his mind—he prays for the god above to hear him, if not his sound then his prayer. His cries to let these memories go, to forget about them once and for all. He prays to forget the memories he dug up once again, to quit planting seeds of reminders between him and Ivan. The thought of them was enough to send Till down a reflecting spiral, and that kiss–that soulless, desperate, sodden kiss–rendered Till dull.
That kiss, how can Till forget. There was no hope, only blackness. There was no bliss, only sorrow. There was no Ivan, only him.
It had only been a second.
It felt like a gust of wind when Till caught news that he had to perform once more. That quickness was enough to have nervousness fill his whole body; leave a sick feeling in his stomach. He had prayed to the god above, yet it hadn’t heard his prayer yet. He could still remember the hand he held. The look in his eye. The touch of his lips that he withheld so strongly. He wanted to forget it all.
Till stared at himself with the backstage mirror. The circular bulbs seemed to taunt him—their theatrical and performative look seemed as though Till was merely doing it for entertainment. For the aliens, sure, but at what cost? What does enjoyment feel, when all Till’s ever felt was robbed? Robbed from his love, his hope, his understanding of anything. He was clueless, lost. He stared at his lips, moved up to his eyes.
He couldn’t recognize the reflection in the mirror. He attempts to sing, but all that came out was a sore voice. He tries to wipe his face but the sweat kept coming and so did the nervousness and in came the tears. In came the tears that trickled off his eyes, that salted his mouth and sunk in his lower lip. He hics, wipes it off—but his mind couldn’t change no matter how much he wanted it to. He could only see his face. That face that he barely acknowledged. That face he barely saw. That face he couldn’t love and couldn’t bare to understand that it was he who endured the pain of being disregarded.
It was all his fault. It was all his fault.
That round. That round is the reason his only hope is gone. The reason why he’s gone into a deep hatred for the system. He could only remember flickers of her face. The bright pink that blew within the wind, and that smile so bright it could light up even the darkest of souls. Till missed it so much. He missed the passion she gave him. He missed the desire she brought upon him to continue pursuing his path.
That round. That round is the reason his only hope is gone. He couldn’t even fathom the way he held him as soon as he grew silent. His grip on his neck that tightly held him as he forcibly mushed his lips against his own—his hand on his hair, cupped securely despite the slipperiness of the rain. His falling body. Till missed him so much. Till could only wish he was alive by the time he truly understood his feelings.
It had only been a second.
That round, which felt cruelly long as the last one, lasted painful all throughout his performance. Till shook within mere proximity of Luka, his presence casting an intimidating shadow on top of him. He could feel his power, his superiority—and most especially the control he had over the aliens. It was almost like he understood how he tugged and gripped their heartstrings, and he hated it.
He could only ask in his head: How long did it take? How long did Luka have to endure the arduous training, the neverending abuse, the pain and blood and sweat and tears for him to be smiling so sweetly today? The silkiness of his voice, the pleasure in his face. What ugliness did he endure for him to look so beautiful?
Till used up the remaining breaths he struggled to maintain in his body to sing. To give it his all. This was what Ivan used up his life for–and Ivan was in his thoughts again, interrupting his performance, in his mind like a parasite–this was all Till could do to repay him, to repay the debt of misunderstanding that only built up since they first met.
“Oh, in a blink, gone.
Forget everything and just enjoy”
After a sweatful battle and a constant distressed attempt to keep himself away from Luka, he couldn’t escape. Luka held him—he held him so tight he couldn’t breathe. He swiftly placed his hand under his chin, lifted it up to meet with his eyes. But it only grew worse. He cupped his cheek, fingers within his ears. He looked at him straight, with those sadistic eyes. It was hard to pinpoint what Luka felt most times. But all Till could do was wonder, to suffer in that curiosity, as Luka sung in that sugary voice with eyes that pierced his soul.
Luka put pressure on Till’s bottom lip as his hands got lower. Till’s sweat became more frequent. Suddenly, his voice became sore again. He tries to recall the mirror he looked at, but he couldn’t make out the reflection. He drowned within the sea of his own thoughts and all he could do to live in the present was to endure the torture Luka gave him.
He then lowered his fingers to his neck. His thumb harshly pushes on his throat, leaving Till voiceless. He almost chokes, and he pushes Luka away. Luka finally got to him.
“Oh, in a blink, gone
Don’t miss this moment”
Till could barely control himself. He promised to keep himself composed, to persist—to maintain serious during the entirety of this battle, but Luka understood his pain. It was as if he knew it more than he, himself, did. As if he read him like a book and knew just where it hurt, just where it hit the most in his heart.
Then, Luka did it again. He inched closer to Till once more. Till couldn’t do anything but take a few steps back. His voice was shaking, maintained, but weak. He could only look at Luka to keep the least bit composure he had left in his body. But the memories wash up in his mind like a shore.
It was as though he saw Ivan for a moment. He thought he was performing with him, or that it had all been an illusion and he was still in the middle of his round with Ivan, he thought he still had a chance to tell him everything.
His explanation for everything that he thinks still isn’t enough to excuse the amount of things he didn’t mind, all the things he refused. His recognition of his efforts, he wanted to scream at Ivan how much he was finally seen; he was understood and he wanted to have a long, exhausting talk with him about it. He wanted to get angry at him. He wanted to argue and scream at Ivan. He wanted him to be alive again, to get mad at him again, to rage at him again, to talk to him, to see him. He wanted him back.
He wanted him .
“I’m tellin’ you Blink, gone
Leave no regrets”
In the corner of his eye, he could feel his hope restoring. He shoved Luka. He stared at what seemed to be the audience but his eyes were fixed on one thing only: Her. His eyes lit up, his face brightened. He could feel the pain in his heart lifting once more. At least she could be there to understand. He could fall within her grasp and tell her and everything would be okay; hope would be restored and he wouldn’t have to pray to forget anything again. He didn’t care if that god above didn’t listen to him as long as she was there to help him ignore them.
He reached out his arm, hers extended. She was right there, just within his grasp. He could feel himself submitting to bliss once more. This was it.
“The clock goes tick tock tick tock tick tock
Blink, gone .”
It had only been a second.