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It’s been a week since they’ve left the confines of the Alien Stage Museum. A week since they started living with the rebel group.
For all of them, the shift has been daunting, yet utterly freeing.
Before, the only thing that had set them apart was their features as they were all forced to wear the same white robes, mimicking Anakt Garden.
Lavender, themself, was set apart through their pink hair and peculiar eyes. Black irises and a dark red pupil in the center. Very unusual.
Out of all the rebels that have taken them in, it’s Till who looks after the kids the most. The fabrications, mutations, made in a lab. Made without love, without humanity.
Lavender understands what they all are now. Disgusting combinations thrown carelessly together to recreate performers who once were.
Yet whatever the kids lack, whatever they are, Till does his best to provide—to compensate for—to return what they had been robbed of. Their lives were created pointlessly, simply for the spectacle of it all, and for being made in the name of something that was so brutal.
Till was one of them, a performer on that stage once. He lost more than just a round, Lavender can see it on his face, more telling than the scars on his neck.
And, despite it all, Till gives them love.
He ruffles up the kids’ hair with endearment, makes sure each of them gets their share of food and washes their hands after meals. No one is left behind, uncared for.
But there’s something different when Till looks at Lavender. Something uncharted.
His eyebrows furrow a little like he’s confused, and his eyes widen slightly as if he’s shocked, or even afraid.
Till’s gaze lingers on Lavender a bit longer than it does on everyone else, and looks away a little quicker than he does with everyone else.
It’s a look Lavender can’t fully grasp. Something dark or something light, something of the deepest of sorrows.
And then Till’s smile reappears like nothing’s off, like they’re no different from everyone else, urging them all to go on just like normal.
Yet, Lavender notices, as quiet as they may be, they notice.
It’s late at night. The kids all sleep together in one big room. The mattresses are lined up next to one another, and the children lie just as close, side by side.
It’s definitely not much by any means, but it means more than any of them could have asked for.
They’re free to roam where they please, at least among the safety of the rebel group. No one here to gawk at them and their engineered features, no glass separating them from the outside world, only allowing them to watch from their little bubble.
A dim light seeps in from underneath the door frame, though the room remains dark enough to sleep in.
Romh, his blonde hair splayed messily over his face, sleeps on the edge nearest to the door. His face towards all the children, as if his small body, despite being the tallest, could protect them all from any potential threats that may break in.
He huddles closest to Utte, who sleeps soundly beside him. She has hair like Till’s, created from his own blood. Lavender remembers finding she was Till’s.
An indescribable feeling had spurred in their chest. Something ugly, filthy. It could have been longing, it could have been jealousy. They made sure to quickly be rid of it.
Now, Lavender lies in the middle of their makeshift bed, stiff as a board between Utte and Allin.
They stare up at the ceiling, counting the cracks, thinking about Till, about that look.
Down the hall, they hear sudden clanging of metal and a hushed whisper of curses. Lavender blinks for a moment, considering, and then carefully sits up.
Lavender makes the effort to not wake anyone up, gently pulling the thin sheet off of them. They step on their tiptoes as lightly as they can and open the door slowly to avoid any possible creaking.
They creep into the hallway, just enough to peek around the corner. Till is there, hunched over the kitchen counter, blowing gently at a mug in his hands.
Lavender’s fingers curl at the edge of the wall, just observing. Unsure if they’re allowed any nearer, yet wanting to watch nonetheless.
Till drinks slowly and gently places the mug back down beside a sketchbook on the counter, a pencil in his right hand. Lavender watches as Till sketches, the most focused Lavender’s ever seen him. Yet somehow, the look is oddly familiar.
When Till lifts the mug for another sip, his gaze flickers over to them. His eyes widen and he spits out his drink in shock. The contents splash over the drawing.
“Ah—Lavender! I didn’t see you there.”
Lavender tentatively steps out from the cover of the shadows, letting go of the wall, and walks into the kitchen.
“Sorry,” they say, biting their bottom lip.
“It’s fine, hah… you just scared me,” he stares at Lavender for a brief moment, his eyes lingering with that usual… disdain.
Lavender just continues standing there, waiting.
Till places the mug down and coughs awkwardly.
“Sorry, did I wake you with my loudness? I tried to be quiet but you know that isn’t my strong suit.”
Fortunately, a small smile cracks on Lavender’s face.
“No… you didn’t,” they respond simply.
He waits, silent, expectant. His face morphs into concern.
“Oh, what’s wrong then? Come sit,” Till slides the book over to the side and gestures towards the chair beside him.
Lavender easily obliges, taking their place atop the stool, keeping a level of distance away from Till. Their eyes blink up at him.
“Till,” they say, slowly and carefully, “do you hate me?”
“What–? No!” Till abruptly clasps his hand over his mouth, realising the hour. He turns to Lavender and lowers his voice. “No, Lavender… why–what makes you think that?”
Lavender shifts in the seat uncomfortably, their eyes flicking downwards.
“I don’t know, but… you don’t look at me the same as everyone else.”
“I… look at you?” Till repeats, his voice tinged with confusion.
Lavender hesitates. “When we’re with everybody else, everything seems fine but then you look at me and it’s not… you don’t even look at Utte or Allin like that, and they’re literally part you.”
Lavender looks down at their hands, squeezes them into fists.
“You look at me like I’ve done something to hurt you. And I really don’t know what it was or what I did wrong, but I’m really sorry for whatever it is.”
His mouth parts slightly in surprise.
“No, no… Lavender, you’ve got it all wrong, come here,” he opens his arms and Lavender immediately leans into him.
Till wraps his arms around them, holding them closely to his chest. Lavender closes their eyes, relishing in the touch, the comfort.
It’s an unfamiliar feeling, but a welcome one regardless. One that they hadn’t really gotten besides from the other kids. It was something they were still getting used to. Being loved.
“Listen, you just–you remind me of someone who was–is–very special to me, okay?” Till assures, caressing their back in a slow and smooth motion.
Lavender clings onto Till, afraid that he might let go if they don’t.
“Is it one of the humans you fought with?” Lavender asks into Till’s shirt. “On the stage?”
Till squeezes his eyes shut like he’s in pain. Biting his lip, he nods firmly.
“Yes and–and it has nothing to do with you, okay?” Till pulls away, keeping his hands on Lavender’s shoulders. He leans down, looking at Lavender at eye level. “It’s not your fault. Never blame yourself for what others forced you to become. It’s the damn aliens– they’re to blame, got it?”
Lavender nods slowly.
“And I’m really sorry, Lavender, I never meant to make you feel that way, okay?” Till pulls Lavender into another hug. They collapse against his chest, and he holds them tighter this time.
“You’re all precious to me, Lavender. I could never hate you.”
Lavender lets out a light sniffle. “Thank you, Till.”
Till laughs lightly in response. He pats their back and Lavender eventually pulls away.
Lavender eyes the counter, where coffee seeps and dries into paper.
“Is…” Lavender looks back at Till, into those teal-coloured eyes. “Is that who you were drawing?”
Till hesitates, his gaze flickering back and forth. “I– Yes, it was.”
“Sorry for ruining it…”
Till laughs lightly, resting his hand on Lavender’s shoulder. “I already told you it’s fine, alright? I can do plenty more.”
“Okay,” Lavender replies.
“Now, go back to bed!” Till says with a grin, patting Lavender on the back. “I don’t want you tired and whiny in the morning.”
Lavender lets out a slight giggle and stands up.
“Goodnight Till.”
Till smiles back with a sigh.
“Goodnight Lavender.”
Lavender walks back towards the room with the other kids, just as quietly and carefully as before.
Till stays at the counter, listening to the footsteps fade and the click of a door in the distance.
His eyes drop to the drawing again, pulling it back in front of him. The coffee has dried, staining the edges of the lines.
“Oh, Ivan…” he whispers to nobody but himself, a plea with no one to heed it. He traces the unfinished lines of his face with the tips of his fingers, caressing it gently.
The tears prick at the corners of his eyes, and Till lets them fall, now unashamed to feel.
It’s been years, yet he still seems to haunt Till’s dreams. In his slumber, a life that he could’ve had plays before his eyes. One that could’ve been—a life with Ivan.
And when he wakes up, he draws that face. Those eyes he always sees. Those eyes he once thought looked at him with hatred, yet now only know how they adored him. How those eyes loved him.
If they ever got the will to talk for once, to iron out their feelings, to hear each other out, perhaps they wouldn’t be on this path.
Perhaps they would have actually been able to consider each other friends at the same time, or even more than that.
With a little more time, the rebels might have reached them first in Round 6, before Ivan could do anything stupid. Before Till could give up on singing.
He wishes that, under a bright red sky and a storm of falling meteors, he had held onto that small hand.
And maybe instead of alone, they could’ve been free together. They might have been able to save the others before their time. They would be side by side, and neither of them would ever have to look back.
But alas, that isn’t what happened.
7 years have passed.
Till is 28 now.
And Ivan’s still 22.
There is no time for regret, no time for wishing, no way to change the past.
And everyday, he’ll carry Ivan in his heart.
He’ll see Ivan in his dreams, he’ll feel Ivan when he breathes.
Till will be free for the both of them, to never let Ivan’s sacrifice be in vain.
He’ll always miss that warmth, that strange sense of normalcy, and those peculiar eyes. Black irises and red pupils. Always watching him, following him.
Now, they belong to someone else. A lavender.
They look like him, talk like him, act like him.
But they’re not the same.
It’s almost as if the aliens themselves are mocking him, creating a concoction of the two who he held most close to his heart.
Till won’t let that stop him living. He’ll make sure no others suffer the same fate he does, or any of the others.
He’ll protect them, make sure they have what he couldn’t grow up with. He’ll help get rid of the human-pet system, and he’ll try so desperately to make sure all could be free just as he wanted.
And maybe, in the future, he could create a world where humans won’t have to live in fear—where they could hold onto their loved ones, those eyes that loved them.
Till just hopes to be there to see Lavender, and all of the children, grow past 22.