Chapter Text
“You… don’t you think it’s time you cut your hair?”
“Hm?” Pausing in the midst of combing through his unruly locks, Ivan didn’t have to turn his head far to look at Till. “Why?” The sun was at this moment shining in their direction; cast in his friend’s shadow, Ivan felt so comfortable the customary intensity of his gaze towards Till mellowed into something gentle. But like always, Till averted his eyes.
“What do you mean why? It’s freaking long now.”
The heat of the sunbeams coaxed out the blood in his cheeks, rose-tinted, usually reserved for Mizi. Ivan glanced down and, as if to ascertain the truth of the assertion, fisted the ends of his hair in consideration. Wavy raven tresses fell to his wrists, silken after weekly treatments, and contrasted against his skin like black velvet thrown carelessly, artfully over fine china. The effect did not filter the sharp planes of his face into softness, but lent his appearance some delicacy anyway.
He shrugged. “Well, nothing I can do. My stylist wants to keep it this length. Apparently the fans like it.”
“Huh.”
Ivan felt the impulse to tip the scales of strenuous peace. He could poke at the sparks of Till’s easily roused temper, could say, “You should try it too. I’m sure long hair would become you–and you’d match with Mizi!” Then feel the response in vitriol of words and fist.
“You don’t agree?” He settled on a question that, stripped of its smiling teasing, was pathetic.
But bless Till’s heart. Not like he would bother to plunge that deep. “It looks messy… What do I know? I’ll never understand your fans.”
Mizi wasn’t here. If she were, Ivan wouldn’t be able to occupy Till’s attention with just the topic of his hair. So he merely laughed instead of ruffling grey feathers. “But they’re the easiest people to understand in the world. They like fast food.”
“What?”
“Flashy packaging, something simple to stimulate the hormones, sugary sweet or chock full of grease, an appeal without any depth but accessible to all.” Ivan explained his attraction with a metaphor befitting its superficiality. “Ah, I’m not insulting them. I respect my fans. They know what they want and they’re satisfied when they get it.”
Till was quiet. Ivan felt a pang–had he bored him? However, he was looking at him now, and it was under his scrutiny Ivan noticed with some startlement that his fingers had unconsciously returned to his hair, combing through the inked silk.
“You insulted yourself.”
Placing his hands in his lap, laughingly, “You don’t agree?”
Till scowled. The true dawn was coming over the horizon to replace their fake sun, pink haired and golden eyed. Naturally he went to meet it, leaving behind the familiar moniker. “Idiot!”
This time Ivan’s laugh came from his heart. A breeze rustled the blades of grass and swept them into rippling patterns; he sat on top of the verdant waves and sun-scented foam. Yet the curse of despondency that would immediately fill Till’s imprint struck with the same relentlessness. That’s why his obsession, when facing unbudging reality, refused to back down, warping itself into the only thing it could feed off of–itself–like the serpent that bit its own tail and embraced a gluttonous, masochistic, efficiently short-lived cycle of eternity. Ivan hugged his knees to his chest. The sooner he could eat himself alive, the happier Till would be.
“That was painful to watch, as always.”
It was truly his lucky day. Ivan was in a good mood, all things considered, so he tipped his head to look up at Luka. “I’m glad.” And here he'd been wondering why there was an extra shadow amongst the trees.
“You haven't given up, have you? That would make things dull.”
Give up? Ivan wondered if that was even a possibility. To give up, you needed to first have something to hold onto. For seventeen years, he had been chasing a shadow and holding onto himself. Over time, as they grew up, he had just become smarter. Fighting with Till was fun, but there was sweetness he could squeeze out of his own delusions if he learned to take a step back, or rather, to not take that step forward and cross the line. Even if that meant going nowhere.
“How ‘bout yourself?” Ivan smirked. There was no need to watch his feet here. “Hyuna looked pretty close to that new trainee on the show yesterday. Think she’ll come back with a boyfriend?”
Luka’s pretty face was as impassive as ever. “So what if she does? People are never permanent.”
“Oh?” Ivan quirked a brow.
“I can always get him to,” light eyelashes fluttered like a dream, “fall in love with me instead.”
“...Wow.” He clapped. “As expected of you.”
Abruptly, the blonde stooped in front of Ivan and took a few strands of hair in hand. He played with them, curling them around his thumb.
“Mm. I was afraid I wouldn’t be able to stomach it, but this’ll do.” Luka stretched out his tongue, and with the curiosity of a cat, wetted the tips of Ivan’s hair with pink flesh. To which Ivan surprised himself by shuddering.
It was just hair. He didn’t have nerves there, a bunch of dead cells–why feel disgust at whatever Luka’s craziness compelled him to do with them?
“Can I ask, has Hyuna’s absence finally made you lose it?”
“No.” Luka mirrored Ivan, arms wrapping around his knees. “I want to conduct an experiment. Work with me.”
“You’ve switched careers? Please don’t. You cause enough public harm as an idol. The world might end if you become a scientist.”
“Nonsense.” Luka batted away all attempts at provocation with a flutter of his lashes. Ivan sighed, thinking to himself that he’d rather deal with a Till charging at him guns blazing.
“I want to experiment with jealousy.”
“Jealousy.”
“People feel fear when they think their things are being taken away. How much fear depends on the value of the thing. Don’t you want to find out?” Luka tilted his head. “How much you mean to him.”
Ivan barely stopped himself from laughing. He’d had no idea Luka was this funny, or naive. There was pity in his voice when he said, “Forgive me. Whatever the answer is, what does that have to do with you? I have no interest in acting like a fool for your amusement.”
“You and him don’t amuse me.” Sunlight that stung the eyes was trapped in golden curls. “Don’t be coy. At this point, what do you have to lose? Instead of acting for your master, you’re acting for yourself.” Something almost human flashed in the depths of those lusterless eyes. “Don’t you want to find out?”
Facing him, Ivan felt distinctly as if they were each sitting in front of a mirror. If he moved his hand and touched Luka’s face, would dusk-dusted fingertips skim over his cheek as well?
“Not really.” Ivan leaned back. “There’s never been a question I couldn’t answer on my own.” Before Luka’s frown could manifest on his lips, he continued, “But I’ll do you a favor. Remember, it’s you who owes me.”
The silence lasted until a passing cloud dimmed the sun. Slowly, the blonde angel lowered his white wings to unshield a fragile hand. When Ivan clasped it, he couldn’t tell whose was colder.