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There’s this small, black, plush bunny that Till has had since forever. When he was young, he’d bring it around wherever he went.
To school?
Ibanny is tucked snuggly into his backpack.
To lunch?
Ibanny sits across from him. A couple books are stacked underneath it so they sit eye- level to one another.
To sleep?
Ibanny is held tightly within his arms, its face bulging slightly with the sincerity of the force.
Recently, Ibanny has been seen around less and less. Well, that’s expected isn’t it? Till has to grow after all.
Even as he ages and grows, the plush isn’t all that far from reach. In its own way it acts like a charm, something to guard him in his sleep. At first it moves from the bed to the night table. Then from the night table to the desk. From the desk to the floor and the floor to the closet.
It’s been a while since Till last saw the doll but it does make its way out from time to time, usually when he’s upset. It’s not that he has no friends… no not at all. But sometimes things are better told to something without the ability to respond.
Till pulls the stuffie from the recesses of his closet, patting off the dust that’s accumulated on its head and plopping it unceremoniously onto his bed. He clears his throat once, twice and starts, trying to keep eye contact with the plush bunny.
“Mizi from the moment I first saw you-”
Ibanny’s eyes seem to shine red for a split second before it tilts forward, falling face first into the sheets. Without looking down, Till rights the plush and continues.
“I uh- I was wondering if you and I could-”
Ibanny falls again. Further this time,
Maybe this isn’t working out. The plush bunny is righted once more. Till looks at it carefully, at its resin coated eyes and its little crooked bow. It’s been a little while since he last held it.
Were its eyes always red?
Till holds the little black bunny in his hands, squishing the plush’s cheeks and pulling slightly at its ears. He puts it down again.
It’s probably nothing… right? Right. Of course.
Till brings it close to his chest and lies down on his bed in defeat.
“Maybe it’s not the best idea.”
He curls into himself a bit more, drowsiness taking over. If he were a bit more lucid he’d hear a tiny huff of agreement.
Maybe it’s not the best idea at all.
—
It becomes a habit. Hard days, bad days, tiring days, Ibanny is there by his side, glistening plastic eyes boring holes into his body as he rattles on about his day. If he were keeping watch, he’d notice it growing slowly day by day. Not enough to be obvious but just enough to see a difference if compared to pictures of a year ago.
“Why’d they care about what I was doing anyways, it’s not like I was bothering them.”
An imperceptible nod replaced by an actual nod created by a finger. There’s a telltale glint in its eyes. Something a little too real to be something non-sentient. Or maybe it’s just a trick of the light.
“Right! There’s no way!”
A nod again, unassisted. The plushie’s head falls forward. Of course it does, it’s not like its small body can support its disproportionately larger head.
At the end of each talk, Till holds Ibanny close, the stuffie balanced on his chest, by his side, in the crook of his arm. The days always end with a muffled thanks. An unspoken wish that the plush could talk back.
A wish too eager to come true.
–
It’s hot.
There’s something pressing down on his chest, making it difficult to breathe. It feels like he’s been smothered in one too many fleece blankets, firmly tucked in an oddly boxy like pattern. Did his mom come home early?
Till tries to roll over and shake off the added weight.
It doesn’t work.
In an instant Till is up. Well, as up as he can be. He opens his eyes in shock. The outside room is still dark, making it clear that it was still night time. He whips his head around, trying desperately to buying to adjust to the darkness.
There’s a low rumble coming from above. Something akin to a purr can be heard and felt through the rectangular something pressing him into the bed.
What the fuck. Since when did blankets purr?
There’s a shift coming from above. Fingered limbs travel down Till’s torso, tracing the contours of his body before stopping by his hands. The larger hands intertwine with his fingers and guides his arms so they rest closer to his head.
Till panics. He struggles as best as he can, flailing his arms and raising his neck to try and slam whatever is trying to hold him down only to be met with nothing.
Till blinks quickly. His arms are trapped, making him unable to rub his eyes no matter how desperately he wants to.
Where the fuck is his bunny. Wasn’t there something about things you’ve loved for a long time becoming something like a protective charm or something? Till could use some protecting right about now.
Till tries to rear his head to bite at whatever is on top of him.
The weight pressing down on him grows grows as legs tangle with Till’s own, wrapping around him like an octopus. The muscled calves from above interlock, effectively trapping his legs together.
He wants to scream.
Did someone break into the house?
Where is his phone. Maybe if he calls for Siri something will happen. Or Alexa. Whatever. Something. Someone. Anyone.
Two warm, thin and furred flaps drop by Till’s face, obscuring his already darkened view.
Till holds his breath, his mind a jumbled mess.
Huh?
The weight lifts slightly, the flaps no longer touching his face. Instead, a warm puff of air brushes his cheek with every exhaled breath. Till looks up to see dark eyes staring back at him, a glint of red flashing by as the person holding him smiles.
A masculine voice croons sweetly from above him.
“Good morning~”
If there’s a voice there’s got to be a face right?
With the last of his energy Till lurches forward and bites down as hard as he can.
The body stationed above him quickly crashes down. Whatever weight that was alleviated returns tenfold, knocking the wind out of Till’s chest with a strangled scream for help.
Till passes out.
—
“Hey Till!”
Mizi rushes over to him from the quad, waving her hand in greeting. She quickly drops her bag by her feet and grabs Till’s arms, scanning him up and down with a scrutinizing eye. Sua walks closely behind her but without the same rush, barely looking at Till who’s face flushes from the attention given to him.
“You look fine…”
She rubs her chin in contemplation before smacking Till’s back.
“I’m glad you seem alright! We were worried that you when you didn’t show up yesterday.”
Till frowns. As far as he knows, he hasn’t missed a day…
Till whips out his phone and checks the date.
“We went over to check on you yesterday but Ivan answered the door. Didn’t know you guys finally confirmed feelings and stuff but I’m glad! It’s been a long time coming.” Mizi babbles on excitedly, her face showing genuine joy towards the novel discovery.
Ivan?
Sua smirks. “It’s about time.”
“You might want to remind Ivan to hide those bites though.” Sua adds nonchalantly, turning back to her phone.
Till rubs his eyes and checks his phone again.
It’s been a full day since the odd paralysis? Demon? Situation.
Till’s vision blurs slightly.
What the fuck.
“Till!”
A frighteningly familiar voice comes closer and closer.
Ivan slings his arm snugly around Till’s neck, resting a good portion of his weight onto Till’s thinner frame.
On Ivan’s neck is a suspiciously deep looking bite mark. Peeking from under his shirt, one can see what looks like scratch marks, something likely from something…nefarious… or a fight.
Till’s eyes widen.
You.
—-
Bonus 1: Character relationships page
Bonus 2: Ivan’s POV
