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The iron taste of fresh blood blossoms up toward his lips, yet it feels like a sinking ship. It blossoms until it’s enough to begin trickling and trickling down his chin, neck, lower and lower until it makes him feel on the brink of something beyond his controlled grasp. Death is creeping up faster than he anticipated.
Till blinks slowly, yet the tears are building up so quickly that he loses all grip on his thoughts.
Fuck. He didn’t want to die. He didn’t want to die.
Everything is garbled. Empty. He knows that the precise gun shot knocked him straight down to the ground in mere seconds, but he must now be slightly elevated on someone’s lap. He doesn’t remember that happening. All he can try to focus on is ignoring the searing pain he’s falling under.
It feels nice in a sinister way, Till thinks.
He is not alone on this solitary death bed.
Someone is holding his face gently. How sweet to be held like this in these final moments.
His breathing is jumbled. It’s already coming in short gasps, and Till tries to hold on.
Everything feels so wrong. There is a haywire of images sweeping through his weakening mind. Jet black hair, pale skin, a pair of eyes so neverending with only a red dot in the center to reel him in. Something inside him jerks at needing to know the aftermath.
But what’s left of his beating heart soars at a familiar sight as he looks up to the image in this reality. Mizi.
Right. Mizi had been right there in the crowd. Alive and beaming as the spotlights razed through the crowd of bastard aliens he never tried to remember the faces of. He had wanted to reach out to her with all his strength. Hope.
Till musters what he can to lift his hand, at least to touch the smaller, softer ones that cup his face from both sides. You’re here .
The tear droplets from above confuse him for a few moments. The sinking feeling within him only worsens, as if the energy all around him is dimming, like a lightbulb fighting to keep flickering on as it inevitably burns out.
Mizi’s face blurs.
He can no longer hold his arm up any longer.
He blinks and blinks until it feels impossible.
Slowly. Until there is an unfamiliar darkness that envelops him fully.
He tries to accept death like a hug, but it’s only a constricting beast, squeezing him tighter and tighter until he can only give up to lay his own flowers.
Till’s consciousness floats. This feeling, it’s like being unbound by physical reality.
Where his imagination can take him, it’s only a direct path upward. A creation of the mind is a special thing, and Till finds it difficult in this moment to form a mental picture of something not present, or in an instance of a place that he has never known or experienced.
The faraway thrum of plucking a guitar’s strings rings inside his mind.
There is enough strength within him to blink again, so he does.
He does it several times, the blinding brightness of a white room all encompassing. It is a stark contrast to the strobing followers of light that had blinked green, red, and an amalgamation of everything in between as he fell to his end.
Yet there is a shadow here, its darkness a rather pleasing sight amidst the all-white surrounding. It seems that there’s also someone hovering over him in this new reality.
But there are no tears from above like before. There is no head of pink hair, or smaller hands holding his face.
The image he sees nearly shoots the remaining air out of him. There is a larger hand that gently holds one side of his face, while another has reached lower to tightly hold his hand, bringing it up so it no longer lays limp on the ground that feels like a floating cloud.
“Ivan?” Till’s voice croaks, nearly in disbelief.
There’s a few seconds of silence until something spurs this Ivan lookalike to speak back to him. He looks like an angel, dressed in holy white that could merely blend into their environment. It should feel cold, bland, and sterile to see him in this space with all light reflected back to him, as if he’s been here a very long time.
Till twitches when Ivan squeezes his hand, pressing his lips against the knuckles. It’s as if he is meeting his great white throne of judgment.
Is this eternity, or a new beginning?
He envisions a white dove flying to gently rest atop the messy bed of black hair above him.
But the white dove suddenly turns to directly look at him. Its eyes are red, red, red.
So red it nearly resembles the blinking red dot of death aiming its shot.
“Till...” Ivan’s voice is light, yet there is a war of emotions on his face, worry blending into surprise.
It eventually settles a soft smile only reserved for Till. A mix of happiness, relief and fascination.
Somewhere, a dam breaks.
Till weeps.
He hasn’t cried like this since he was child, where the emotions taking over him are so overwhelming that he can’t block this surge of black sorrow that fills him from head to toe. His face is a storm, his tears like pearls. The sobs that tear out are broken glass upending a crumbling wall.
There is an inexplicable urge to lunge at this man directly above him, to throw a solid punch at his handsome face to draw blood. Somewhere between this weeping of his soul and a deep ache within his heart, anger has been bubbling.
Ivan only leans down closer to press their foreheads together.
A harsh growl rips out of Till’s throat amidst the tears. “Get away from me.”
“Till.”
Yet no matter how much Till tries to get up and run, it’s as if quicksand is tying him to the floor. Was this another messed up universe he got thrown into?
Here, it’s only him and Ivan.
His breaths are upset, but they are soothing down, only mimicking the inner workings of his brain as he listens to Ivan whisper something quietly to him. Soft, familiar lips press against his cheek. Poured with so much feeling that Till chokes on a gasp.
Somehow, the idea of leaving Ivan alone here brings a horrid realization.
After a few minutes of stillness, he musters his strength again to lift his hand.
This time, he finds it to be an easy task.
Till’s fingers gently touch Ivan’s face, lingering by his lips. There is a sense of calmness taking over him suddenly, acceptance settling in a rightful place.
“Is this where I’m staying?”
Surprise consumes him as he watches Ivan shake his head.
“No. You’re going home.”
Till blinks. He does not move or react, only allowing Ivan to continue holding him for a long time.
He just wants the exhaustion to take over. Is he allowed to sleep in this universe?
He wants to rest for a while, if granted.
Here, the silence sings to him. It is not monochrome, but rather a language of earthly delight where sound is a melody, sight is a light, taste and smell are a banquet of sweetness and touch is like embracing the beloved.
The tide washes away.
Yet a rush of waves crash to the surface, rising and rising until his heart is beating so fast it nearly shocks him back up to sit up like a straight rod.
Till blinks rapidly. There is a pillow underneath him that is mere inches away from falling off the mattress and a bedsheet that he’s gripping onto dear life.
It’s still dark when he opens his eyes fully to scan his surroundings again, but there is a grounding reality to this world he’s returning to. He looks down, where he finds himself wearing an oversized T-shirt (likely not his own) and a random pair of lounge shorts.
In the far corner, the alarm clock reads an ungodly five o’clock in the morning.
His chest heaves. There is a tightness there that he can only let go by wheezing out deep breaths. In and out. In and out.
Light sweat frames his face. He can sense the dim city lights of Seoul peeking out from the curtains. Somewhere not too far out, life still goes on until the early hours of dawn for those who are daring to do so.
He turns his body to try and reach his sight toward the light only to push against another warm, sturdy body.
“Till?”
The same body shifts on the bed against Till, and Ivan’s face soon reappears right in front of him. Only this time he’s not draped in white. He wears a simple pajama shirt with matching bottoms, and the sight is so real, so normal that it squeezes out another wheeze out of Till.
In this reality, Till does not feel any urge to punch the man right beside him. Maybe a few years ago, but especially not now.
But he feels like if he did, Ivan wouldn’t even question it. Fucking bastard .
Instead, there’s a raging leap of gratitude to be next to him.
“You’re crying.”
Till’s racing thoughts pause at the sound of Ivan’s low voice. It’s grounding him at full tilt, despite the confusion.
“What?”
Ivan’s worry is clear cut on his face as he fully sits up, lifting his fingers to gently hold Till’s chin and wipe away some of the tears that were already falling.
Only through this does Till start to actually feel the watery sensation.
Oh. I guess he is crying.
"Nightmare…” Till shakes his head. Ivan’s hand drops, but in true Ivan fashion, it only finds its way toward another part of Till that he can hold onto. He decides to lazily intertwine their fingers.
“Shit," Till curses. "I have a migraine.”
“We have medicine in the bathroom cabinet,” Ivan suggests. He makes a move to get up immediately, only to be stopped by Till’s hand wrapping around his wrist.
“Wait,” Till whispers. His face contorts into a pleading one, confusion bleeding into a need to be held fucking close to something. To at least know he’s not going to fall again.
“Just stay a bit longer.”
Ivan pauses. He slowly sits back down.
“Yeah,” he quietly agrees. “I’ll do whatever you want.”
Till tilts his head just a bit, poking Ivan’s cheek. “Cheesy.”
Ivan hums. He’s lightly tapping his fingers against Till's exposed thigh.
“My brain feels like a shithole,” Till admits. He leans against Ivan, understanding that the man is purposefully staying quiet for him. “It was really a fucking horrible nightmare. Sorry for waking you.”
Ivan shakes his head. He gently cups Till’s face with both hands, looking deep beyond into his eyes. “I’m here.”
Till nods. His breathing is slowly returning to normal. Memories of the previous day return to him without error. It had been a sunny one, the sky-high buildings never out of place in this city. "Remind me. Are we planning to do anything tomorrow?”
“Well, Mizi and Sua invited us to go see that new movie together, but we don’t have to go.”
Till softly fists some of Ivan’s shirt as he ponders it, a habit that has become common in their relationship after initially unfolding during their years of friendship. If it bothers Ivan, he doesn’t show it. It likely doesn’t bother him at all.
Nightmares were common during Till’s childhood, but it was something that had gradually lessened as the years went by. After meeting some of his closest friends in university, these kinds of bad dreams had nearly become nonexistent.
Tonight put him through the ringer, but the shards of those blinking images, of him meeting his end, were only flying higher out into the cosmos.
Till feels Ivan softly kiss his cheek. He’s feeling better, albeit the fear that had crept into the deep crevices of his heart.
“I’ll decide in the morning and let you know.”
Ivan gives a silent agreement, bringing Till closer to lay on his chest and hold him tight until Till’s sagging against him.
In Ivan’s embrace, Till takes his time to gather more of his bearings and try to make out what else he can see amidst the darkness.
A guitar case lay by their bedside drawer. Right. Just last night, Till finally performed his own song at their local bar, Anakt Garden, the one he had been writing and tweaking for several months to get the perfect melody line. Maybe his performance had been a bit wilder than he anticipated it to be, but everyone in the crowd loved it. Enough so that the bar’s owner, Hyuna, invited him to come back in the future.
Till remembers seeing his friends in the back with soft smiles. Mizi had waved at him excitedly, using her other hand to intertwine fingers with Sua, who held a bouquet of flowers that they gifted to him after the show.
Only Ivan seemed to have bulldozed through the crowd before the start of the performance to get the best view of the center stage. His eyes didn’t leave Till the entire night, beaming with a gentle yet fierce light.
He was the first to barge into the backroom afterwards, nearly sweeping Till off his feet to hug him and close the space between their lips.
Till cursed at him quietly, but returned the kiss with a familiar grip on Ivan’s coat.
It became a few minutes of heaven, losing himself into the comfort of this love granted to him.
“Wrap it loverboys,” Sua had groaned as she opened the door. Mizi followed shortly after, squealing once she saw Till and running over to hug him. Ivan had stepped to the side, grinning.
“Give him a break,” Till laughed toward Sua, still held in Mizi’s tight embrace. “I was still giving him mixed signals a year ago.”
“Yeah, I won’t ever let you live that down,” Sua sighed.
Ivan cooed, quickly returning to Till’s side as soon as Mizi let go. “My senior is being so protective of me.” He leaned down to place his lips right by Till’s ear, whispering so softly into it that Till’s entire face exploded into an embarrassing shade of red. “Till, am I your favorite?”
Till rolled his eyes, pushing away Ivan’s lips that were approaching him. “Leave me the fuck alone.”
Mizi laughed as Till did nothing else to move away from Ivan. “Awh, you still won’t leave his side.”
“Whatever,” mumbled Till.
Eventually, he gave into the swarm of kisses that his boyfriend littered all over him once they were alone again. It was an amazing night, one he never wanted to forget.
Back in their shared bedroom, Till also notices the same clothes from the previous night strewn all over the floor. Oh yeah.
On their bedside drawer, a framed photo of the two shows them throwing peace signs at the camera, smiling. Ivan is holding Till close to him, his other arm wrapped around Till’s waist as Till holds up his graduation certificate from the K-Arts School of Music. That had also been another fond memory from over a year ago.
Only a few weeks before that photo was taken, Ivan and Till had still been dancing around the other, like two lovers following the leads of one another, including each other’s footsteps and rhythm. Sometimes, they had moved so clearly in sync and other times, so much in chaos that they'd end up stepping over and hurting each other.
They had confessed to each other in the soaking rain after missing the stupid bus one evening, absorbing each other’s feelings in a desperate measure to lay down their complicated emotions once and for all. They knew that even if they’d sink in motion, it all depended on how much challenges and struggles they could surpass together.
Ivan moves to hug him from behind, slightly lifting Till off the bed to place him atop his lap.
Till leans his head back on Ivan’s shoulder. He glances up to find familiar eyes already on him, as if he could never look away. That thought made Till gleam inside, but he would never confess that. The man beside him sometimes felt so out of his reach.
Ivan didn’t know yet, but Till often wrote about him in his songs that still stayed on paper. He usually struggled to find the right words to create a sentence and develop it into one thought so that his feelings were clearly conveyed. But sometimes there would be misspellings, or incorrect pauses and full stops where his love language could not be properly set.
“Give me your honest thoughts on my performance last night,” Till mumbled. He tinkered with their fingers to pass the time. “You have five seconds.”
Ivan doesn’t question the switch of conversation. “Five seconds?”
“Yep.”
Ivan only pretends to think about it, most likely conjuring up a reply in less than one second, most likely. Since he was skilled like that. Bastard.
“Hm, amazing. I love my talented boyfriend,” Ivan quietly singsongs in Till’s ear. He tries to blow air into it but Till quickly swats him away. He doesn’t try to hide the small smile that blooms on his face.
“Don’t do that, asshole.”
Ivan softly laughs. Till can feel the sensation vibrate against him. It feels so tangibly real, a substance in which he can swallow up whole without worrying about anything else. It further calms his heart rate. It only quickens again as he realizes that it’s a common thing he experiences around Ivan.
Till sighs. “My nightmare…can you imagine if we were thrown into an idol battle royale? Like those survival shows on Mnet.”
“Sounds like the shows that Luka tries to recommend to us,” Ivan replies. He now has his chin tucked into Till’s shoulder, listening closely.
“Yeah, a fucked up version of it,” Till swears. He closes his eyes again.
“Just a nightmare,” Ivan soothes. His arms are strong, much stronger than when Till first met him in their first year of university. Damn him. “You’re here, Till.”
Till nods. “I was on the stage. I think you were already gone…but Mizi was there. I…I can’t remember much else.”
It almost felt like a time machine, where he had been traveling to each of his close one’s past, present and future time. It had been like uncovering and letting each other see the life they would have and imagined in a hellscape.
The memories of the stage, the lights, and the terrifying crowd of aliens were already slowly fading out — like rainwater falling down the drain.
A chill shoots through him, only to have been easily washed away. Ivan’s hugs are usually their own form of medicine. They tend to come without reservation and represent the man’s ultimate expression of intimate appreciation outside of what they did in bed. It had become their version of a handshake from the heart, like a boomerang; Till would always get it back right away.
“Maybe we can go out for a walk, or want to try going to sleep again?” Ivan softly rubbed a thumb against his knuckles. “I should still get the medicine for your migraine.”
“Yeah,” Till agrees. “Then let’s try going to sleep again.”
It’s a quiet moment as he watches Ivan get up from the bed and click open the door on the other side of the room, the soft light from the bathroom radiating into their shared space. The door is left slightly ajar, and Till sees him bend down for a moment to grab the bottle, eventually stepping back out to meet him with a soft smile.
Ivan steps out again to grab a glass of water, returning to stay by Till’s side until he’s taken it and settled into a mood ready for rest once more.
Being held by his lover from behind, Till eventually surrenders to the dregs of sleep, sinking into the stars of the night. Away and away from the far universes that lie beyond his imagination.
Far away, the meteor showers of the universes come together to flicker high. Blinking and blinking until they are merely specks of dust in our existence.