Work Text:
Ivan stared at the bathroom floor, the once white pearly tiles smeared with red strokes like a ruined canva, his black eyes, dull and empty, like the polluted night sky devoid of any stars. The blade in his hand—small, sharp, and now slick with blood—trembled between his thin fingers and nails.
This was supposed to be the end. He had made the decision, hadn’t he? So why were his hands shaking so fucking much? Why did he feel so… hesitant?
The world around him felt distant, like trying to listen through a thick wall or trying to talk underwater. He didn’t and couldn’t hear the footsteps thundering up the wooden stairs of the shared apartment. He didn’t hear his name being shouted, growing louder and more desperate with each call that was answered with radio-silence. Even when the bathroom door burst open with a crash loud enough to rattle the walls, it barely registered, like thick vegetable soup drowned and rot his brain.
"Ivan..?! What the fuck are you doing?!"
Till’s voice tore through the fog like a lightning strike, but Ivan barely reacted. His grip on the blade faltered as it was snapped away from his hand, leaving his fingers to twitch uselessly in the empty air. His gaze sluggishly moved upward, unfocused, until it landed on a familiar face.
Teal eyes stared back at him, wild and brimming with panic. Till’s silver hair was a mess, sweat-dampened strands sticking to his forehead as he dropped to his knees in front of Ivan, his big blue-colored jeans staining with the blood on the tiled floor.
"Oh my god fucking god- Ivan!" his roommate's voice cracked like a whip, trembling as his gaze darted to the blood pooling on the floor and the wild gashes on Ivan’s wrists. "No, no, no. Fuck—what the hell are you thinking?! What are you doing?!"
The raven blinked slowly, his lips parting as if to respond, but no sound came out. Everything felt so far away. He was so. Tired.
Till wasn’t waiting for an answer. His hands moved frantically, grabbing the nearest thing—a crumpled pink towel from the floor—and pressing it firmly against Ivan’s bleeding wrist to attempt to stop the bleeding desperately.
"Stay with me! Just—fuck—stay with me! Don’t fucking fall asleep, sicko!" Till’s voice was rising, sharp and frantic. His hands trembled as he applied pressure, the towel quickly soaking through with crimson as he shook. "Why would you do this? Why would you—god fucking damn it, 'Vanny!"
The sharp sting of the pressure finally pulled Ivan slightly closer to awareness. He winced, his head lolling to the side as he muttered, almost close to bump against the hard edge of the white bathub, "Till…?" His voice was soft, barely above a whisper, detached.
"Yes, it’s me!" Till’s words were rushed, cold sweat dripping down his forehead and brows like thick droplets of cold milk, as he kept glancing between Ivan’s dazed out face and his wrists. "Do you know what you almost—no, you don’t, do you? You don’t fucking care!"
There was no malice in the words, just raw, anima-like fear. The gray haired’s hands pressed harder against the towel, making Ivan squeak like a toy bunny, and he let out a shaky and trembling breath. "Why didn’t you say something? Why didn’t you tell me you felt like this?!"
The black-haired man blinked again like butterfly wings in slowmo, his head lolling forward as if it were too heavy to hold up, full of sugary sweet cotton candy. "I… couldn’t," he murmured, the words sluggish and slurred.
"That’s bullshit!" Till’s voice cracked, "You couldn’t? ‘Vanny, I’m right fucking here! I’ve always been here! Why—why didn’t you tell me?!"
Ivan’s gaze drifted down to his blood-stained and bare thighs, ashamed, "I didn’t want to bother you," he mumbled like a puppy caught stealing food.
"Bother me?!" Till’s voice rose to a near shout, his eyes brimming with tears, it was as if he was close to crazed laughing. "You think I care about being bothered when you’re—you’re..."
His hands shook as he kept the pressure on the raven’s opened wrists, biting back a gag as he felt something wet and slimy crack , tears dripping down his cheeks as he grinned. "You’re my best friend! Do you have any idea what it would do to me if I—if I walked in here too late? If I found you—" His voice broke entirely, and he bit back a sob which rattled his entire throat.
Ivan blinked up at him, his expression still dazed, as though he wasn’t fully processing the words.
"No. No. You don’t get to do this. You don’t get to leave me, not like this. I don’t care how much you think you don’t matter, because you fucking do. You matter to me, Ivan. Do you hear me?!"
Ivan’s lips trembled slightly, but he didn’t speak.
"Stay with me, okay?" Till said, his voice softer now but no less desperate. "Just—please. Don’t close your eyes. Don’t you fucking close your eyes on me. You’re not going anywhere. I won’t let you."
The raven let out a shaky breath like ice was growing in his esophagus, his head dipping forward as a tear drooled down his pale cheek. "Okay," he murmured, so quietly and serene that his gray-haired roommate didn’t hear it. He thinks.
Till pressed down harder on Ivan’s wrists with both of his hands, his knuckles turning a foamy white as he applied pressure to the deep, opened gashes, which flared disgusting red and white. The towel was soaked through, the faded pink fabric now a deep, carmine red.
He had no idea if he was even doing the right thing.
Should he call an ambulance? Was there even enough time for that? His eyes hovered at his phone, but he couldn’t bring himself to let go of Ivan’s wrist to make the call. The thought of leaving him, even for a second, made his chest squeeze painfully like a chain tightening around his heart.
“Ivan,” Till mumbled, staring straight through Ivan’s skull, his voice shaking as if fearing to be whisked away like an annoying weed in a picture-perfect garden, “Stay with me, okay? Don’t—don’t pass out on me.”
Ivan’s head lolled slightly, his eyes glassy and unfocused like a doll in bad condition. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled, his voice faint and slurred, the words tumbling out in a weak, repetitive mantra, as if Till was his God. His universe, which he offended with no remorse. “I’m… sorry. Till… I’m sorry.” his inky-black bangs stuck to his forehead as he wheezed painfully.
“Stop saying that,” Till snapped, his jaw clenching and unclenching like a robot as he looked at the blood still oozing from the wide cuts despite his best efforts. “Just—stop, okay? Don’t talk. Don’t apologize.”
Swallowing down a thick globule of spit and snot, Till scooted closer, making Ivan’s clean arm wrap behind his arm and clutching it for better stability, “We need to get you up,” he said firmly. “Come on. I can’t do this here.”
He carefully helped Ivan to his feet, wincing as the man swayed unsteadily. Ivan’s legs wobbled, nearly giving out beneath him like a newborn fawn, but the gray-haired man tightened his grip, practically holding the raven's dead weight like a big fat, sad sack of potatoes as they stumbled toward the roommate's bedroom.
“I’m sorry,” Ivan whimpered again, his head resting limply against Till’s shoulder. “I’m sorry…”
“Shut it.” Till said through gritted teeth, his voice strained as he half-dragged Ivan across the hallway. He didn’t even bare to look at him, the black-haired man seeing this from the corner of his eyes, his roommate's focus entirely on getting him to the tiny bed. “Just stop talking.”
Till eased Ivan down onto his small, baby blue-colored sheets, grabbing the few nearby pillows and the few plushies he owned for better comfort, propping his back against the soft and warm fabric which smelt just like the silver-head.
He hurriedly grabbed the tiny first aid kit and set to work, his movements sharp and efficient despite the trembling in his limbs, they felt sore and useless like when the time he forgot his gloves in minus 17-degree weather. Ivan sat quietly, his head bowed, and his lips pursed, the occasional soft “sorry” escaping between uneven breaths.
Till didn’t respond. He couldn’t. His chest was too tight, his thoughts too loud. He focused instead on cleaning the cuts, wiping away the blood that seemed endless, like an abyss.
A few hours later, Till’s bony fingers were sticky with the raven’s dried, crust blood. The cuts, though there were definitely alot of them, were pretty shallow—painful but not life-threatening, finally placing a thick, milky colored compress over Ivan’s wrist and wrapping it securely with bandages. For the first time in years Till felt the urge to thank God.
They stayed silent for a little bit like this, Ivan squirming, not sure what to say before the gray-haired thankfully closed the silence like a sewing box.
“You fucking scared me.”
The raven flinched at the words, his black eyes wide and glassy as they darted to meet Till’s. “I—I didn’t mean—”
“Don’t!” Till cut him off sharply like a well sharpened knife yet was as harmless and hurt as a butter knife, his voice rising. He shot to his feet, his hands shaking at his sides as tears spilled down his rosy cheeks once more. “Don’t you dare tell me you didn’t mean it! Don’t you dare act like this was some fucking freak accident!”
Ivan shrank back slightly, his shoulders hunching as if trying to make himself smaller like a shy, wobbly hamster. “I’m sorry…” he whispered, his voice barely audible.
“Sorry? Is that all you can say?” Till snapped, his hands trembling as he gestured toward Ivan’s wrists through the fresh compresses. “You’re sorry? Do you even understand what you just put me through? What you could’ve done?!”
“I—I just…” The raven stammered, his words trailing off as his gaze dropped to the bloodstains on Till’s hands, his normally deep, empty eyes crinkling and shaky like a lost kitten.
“No, you don’t get to ‘just’ anything right now!” The gray-haired's voice cracked, “I walked into that bathroom and saw you—saw all that blood—and I thought… I thought I was too late. I thought you were already gone , Ivan.”
Ivan’s lips trembled and pursed, but he didn’t dare speak, what can he even fucking say without making it worse? He could only but shamefully look down at the oh so interesting floorboards of his roommate's bedroom
Till took a shaky breath, his throat clogging up like a badly maintained sink, his fingers curling into fists at his sides as he saw the black-haired's eyes lower to the ground, not daring to meet his gaze. “Do you know what that felt like? Do you have any idea what it’s like to see someone you care about like that? Do you?!”
His voice broke again, and he quickly turned away, running a blood-streaked hand through his disheveled silver hair. “It felt like my fucking heart and brain stopped, Ivan. Like the floor sank from under me. I went into fucking auto-pilot.”
He paused, swallowing hard, before sighing to get somewhat of a grasp and calm down. “Why didn’t you tell me?” he demanded, his voice quieter, “Why didn’t you say something before it got to this point? Why the hell did you think you had to go through this alone?”
“Again, I didn’t want to bother you, Till” Ivan murmured, his voice trembling, imaginary puppy tail tucked between his legs.
“ Bother me? That damn fucking excuse again.” The silver head’s teal eyes narrowed, scoffing. “Are you kidding me right now? You think I care about being bothered when you’re— You’re—you’re my fucking everything. And you scared the shit out of me tonight.”
Ivan's face crinkled as a tear slipped down his cheek, his jagged tooth biting his lip harshly making it ooze a small amount of blood, “I’m sorry,” he said again, his voice cracking near the edges.
Till let out a sharp exhale, his shoulders slumping as the fight drained out of him. He sat back down on the edge of the bed next to his trembling black-haired roommate, rubbing the bridge of his pale nose, “Don’t apologize,” he said softly, “Just… don’t do this again. Please. That’s all I’m asking.”
Till reached out, his bloodied fingers brushing against Ivan’s bandaged wrist. “I don’t fucking care how hard it is, okay? If you feel like this again, tell me. I don’t give a fuck if it’s 3 in the damn morning or if I’m halfway across the goddamn world. You call me. I'll head over there as quickly as fucking Sonic, or the Flash, or whatever the fuck! I don’t care how you do it—just don’t ever let it get this far again.”
Ivan could only stay silent before he nodded weakly, his voice barely above a whisper, “Okay.”
“You promise?” Till pressed, his finger gently squeezing the bandaged flesh.
“I promise, I promise Tilly.” Ivan answered, his gaze meeting Till’s for the first time, a tiny smile curling his cherry-tinted lips.
Till nodded, his chest tightening at the sweet nickname, smiling too. “Good. Because I can’t do that again, Ivan. I can’t lose you.”
“I can’t lose you either, Tilly, who knows what’ll become of you if I leave.” The raven grinned, his snaggletooth perking out like a child playing hide and seek as usual, earning a playful and soft punch from the teal eyed man next to him.