Archive of Our Own ^beta

To the Stars and Back

2 months after ALNST Finale

Till woke up. He was instantly blinded by the bright neon lights flickering above him. Upon opening his eyes he found he was laying on a bed he didn’t recognise, in a place he wasn’t familiar with. He didn’t know what he was doing there, his whole body was sore, his eyes hurt and he could feel sharp waves of pain come from his neck. He moved his hand to the back of his head and winced when the tips of his fingers made contact; his neck was covered in bandages. Beads of sweat were forming around his face as he was regaining consciousness of his environment.

Then it all came back to him.

Yes; the lights, the crowd, seeing her again… and then a sudden, pounding pain in his neck, the metallic taste of blood pooling in his mouth, his ears ringing, and finally everything going dark.

I had just died, hadn’t I? Then where am I… some kind of fucked up heaven? He was trying to understand what had happened when he saw another person enter the small room he was in: He had a darker complexion and an eight-inch scar running across the left side of his face, the man didn’t look to be much older than him. Till startled and sat up straight, a movement that caused him a surprising amount of discomfort.

“Who are you!? What do you want?” He essentially screamed at the man who had just entered, only to suddenly freeze. The sound emitted from his mouth was different than usual, it was somehow almost deformed . His voice was weaker, rougher and a lot more strained than how he remembered it. He instinctively brought his hands to his neck, ignoring the sharp stinging sensation it caused him. That couldn’t be… how was he supposed to keep competing now, how was he supposed to keep singing when his voice sounded like the scraping of two metal plates? He was just starting to spiral when the young man sat by the side of his bed and started talking. At first he was wary of him, but the longer he talked, the more Till felt he could trust him. His name was Isaac, he was one of the leaders of the Rebel Group and he had rescued him after the events of the Alien Stage final. He explained how Mizi, his once-fellow-competitor now become part of the Rebellion, had destroyed all of the Stage and had saved him, how he was lucky to be brought back and even luckier to wake up, “They shot you in the neck but apparently missed your carotid artery. Luckily this means that with some help from us you were able to get better quite quickly… but your vocal chords have been severely damaged. I’m really sorry to say this but… you may never sing again.” Isaac explained.

“…and Mizi? What about her, is she okay?”

Isaac remained silent for a while.

“She ran away and hasn’t been found yet. I heard her saying something like being undeserving of life before burning the Stage to the ground, I- I think we lost her, Till.”

Till hated it. Every moment of it.

He had tried to keep singing, to get some decent-sounding noises out of his extremely damaged voice-box, but he couldn’t do it. Every time he opened his mouth nothing but strained and suffocated sounds came out, it was too painful for him to endure, not to mention how much it hurt to use his voice. He couldn’t stand it; sure, he could still play guitar but it wasn’t the same without a voice to accompany. The talent he had spent so many years cultivating had been stripped from him, just like that. He spent hours looking at himself in the mirror, examining all of the scars that plastered his neck. Isaac said he should be proud of them, that they were a sign of strength and character, but to Till they were only constant reminders of his misfortune, of the sacrifices others had made for him. There was a silver lining, however. His name tag, that was once etched into his neck spelling the name TILL, was gone. At least that gave him a sense of power, like he’d broken free from whichever control he had been subjected to in the past.

He started learning sign language and expressed himself through writing most times. While, yes, he could talk, he preferred not to hear the sounds that came from his mouth. It was quite difficult in the beginning as Till’s personality had always been explosive and borderline aggressive, requiring loud bursts of energy and oftentimes shouting, though after some time he got accustomed to this way of life and hardly ever spoke anymore- that wasn’t to say he couldn’t get pissed off easily, which he still did. He simply had to find other ways of showing it.

After a few months he had become an esteemed member of the rebellion and often worked along with Isaac to try and change the cruel world they were both forced to live in. They knew they would’ve hardly made a dent in that society, but any life saved was a huge accomplishment for them nonetheless. 

He tried not to think much about his current situation- what did he do to be the only person left alive? Why him and not any other of his friends? What made him so righteous in others’ eyes to make them feel like he deserved to be saved? He so desperately tried to avoid those questions, certain things were simply much too painful to wonder about, so shoved his problems and guilt under the rug, sure they would come back to haunt him some day but hoping he would be more ready to face them when they did. He attempted to distract himself from those matters with missions, drinking and whatnot, but sometimes, at night, he couldn’t stop thinking about why, of all people, he had deserved to live while others didn’t.

Then the dreams started.

At first they were subtle: they only manifested as a lingering feeling of uneasiness that the boy was unable to explain upon waking; then he started to remember glimpses of them: a boy with dark hair, a sky tinted with black, red and orange hues, shooting stars; until these dreams became so frequent and detailed he couldn’t stop thinking of anything else. Desperate, and not really knowing how to make them stop, he did something he hadn’t done in years. He took out a pencil, his notebook, and started drawing. He had always liked to draw, ever since he was little he doodled everywhere, filling sketchbook upon sketchbook. He was extremely out of practice now, but his drawings were still far superior than anything an average person could whip up. He emptied out his feelings on that piece of paper. His pencil started moving on his own, and stroke after stroke, something managed to emerge from his foggy mind. Before he even knew it, he realised he’d drawn the face of a young boy: black hair, dark eyes, red pupils, a little sharp fang sticking down from his upper lip; he was somehow the first thing Till had managed to sketch. It took a while for him to recall who he was: the boy he dreamt about so often. Up until then he had only remembered glimpses of his face after waking up but once he started drawing, sketching his face felt almost natural, familiar even, as if his pencil was moving on his own. He lifted his head from the notebook to capture the full picture of the slightly eerie figure he had drawn.

Memories came flooding back in.

He had spent the past months thinking about what had happened in the finale, but had a very cloudy memory regarding what had taken place before that. Now he remembered. He remembered the time when he was little, the shooting stars, the boy’s dark gaze, his lips parting from his own, his sacrifice, the same eyes looking at him with fear, then melancholic joy as he toppled over, blood spouting from his lips. He remembered his body laying in a pool of blood, the only sound to accompany being the heavy rain crashing down on the arena floor.

Ivan .

The more he drew, the more memories came back to him. Sadly, rediscovering them only brought him more pain. He stayed up entire nights filling notebooks with drawings, asking himself questions and thinking of the past. It wasn’t as if nobody had noticed, it was quite clear to Isaac that something was the matter with Till. He sometimes spent days cooped up in his room, which he never used to do before, and every now and then he could hear, at night, sobs coming from his room. He didn’t mean to pry, figured the kid had his own things he was going through, but he was still worried. After Hyuna’s death he almost viewed him as a younger brother and grew attached to him- he didn’t want to see him suffer. He knew however that it was best to let him process everything by himself, that was just how Till was- always too stubborn and proud to accept help, despite deep down needing it.

Till was, in fact, struggling. He felt the crushing weight of his dead friends on his shoulders, wondering why he, out of all people, had deserved to live. Survivor’s guilt is never easy to manage, much less when you think of your best friend sacrificing himself for you, not to mention finally showing his true feelings towards you just before dying. If only he had stayed alive so Till could have told him that-

He immediately cut off his train of thought. There was no use in thinking of what could’ve been. This was his life, he had to honour all that his friends had sacrificed themselves for. Living stuck in the past wouldn’t help him heal any faster.

After time he managed to move on- well at least move on as much he could, considering everything he’d been through. He was fairly content with his new life, it felt rewarding to go against the very system that had once oppressed him. Of course, he still felt an empty, aching spot in his chest every so often- like someone had ripped out a piece of his heart right in front of his eyes- but the thing about grief is that you never fully get rid of it, you just learn to live with it. 

5 years after ALNST Finale

Till was still up drawing. Yes, it was way past three in the morning, but when the vibes were there there wasn’t much else for him to do but draw. He was doodling away when he suddenly thought of something. He was brought back to that night with the shooting stars- the sky cycled through all the shades of orange, red and black while small fireballs lit up the atmosphere above their heads. He wasn’t alone; the little boy with the jet black hair was in front of him, dragging him forward by the hand. He recalled the sheer awe on his face as he saw the light-show unfold before his eyes. He’d never seen anything like that before. They’d left the Garden. Suddenly he remembered an overarching sense of guilt befalling him. He couldn’t leave the others behind, could he? So he let go of the boy’s hand and ran away, back to the place he’d grown up in. Based on that memory, he managed to start drawing out a floor plan of Anakt Garden, the place where he was brought up, and managed to recall the route his friend had shown him in order to escape. 

Wait.

He knew how to run away from the Garden.

“jfdhkhfdhhh… Till whaddaya want… it’s like- 3am” Isaac stared, eyes drooping, at the overly excited boy in his room.

“I know how to escape from the Garden. Imagine how many kids we could save, how many could join the rebellion with this information!” Till signed.

“Wait.. Till. This is amazing!” He jumped from his bed and hugged till, spun him around and dropped him where he had picked him up. Oh shit I think this is the first time we’ve hugged- shitshitshit Till hates physical contact noo I’m gonna lose all the progress I’ve made with him Isaac started spiraling, only to feel Till’s arms wrap around him and squeeze tight. He was smiling. A question sprung up in Isaac‘s mind.

“This is amazing, but…”, Till looked at him, puzzled, “How did you find out about this route?”

“ Well, I know it’s hard to believe but… A boy I knew- Ivan- he once led me outside of the Garden to see the shooting stars. I know it sounds childish, but I remember it like it was yesterday! We- ”

Isaac’s eyebrows furrowed, “By chance, do you remember what he looked like?”

Till was confused, but showed him his sketchbooks along with the floor plan.

“My God… I remember this kid.”

“ Wait, you knew him? ”

“Yeah, he- we found him in the slums and offered him to join the rebellion but.. he was caught before we had a chance to come get him.”

Ivan was from the slums? He never knew that.

“Till, I believe that night he was leading you here.”

A strong ache in his chest hit him together with the weight of that information. The night with the shooting stars, he had been offered to run away, to join the Rebellion, but had been too much of a coward to say anything and turned back. If he had just joined him then he definitely wouldn’t be in this mess and… his best friend would still be alive.

And thus began the whole errand of rescuing children from the Garden, taking them to the Rebellion’s headquarters and making them grow up there, away from the aliens’ reach. Till started going out on missions more often, learned how to drive Isaac’s bike and finally started to look more alive. The feeling of guilt accompanied by his very existence decreased every time he managed to help another child, and nothing made him happier than seeing their smiles back at Camp: he was finally making a difference. He became aware of the fact that he was surprisingly good with children and all of the ones at HQ considered him a big brother or father figure. And it was all thanks to…

Thanks to-

Tha-

His eyes widened. He was drinking with Isaac and Dewey when the realisation hit him. Hard. His pupils shrank, eyes starting to fill up with tears. Isaac immediately noticed, soon followed by his Dewey (who was honestly freaked out, no one had ever seen Till cry). 

“Till, are you okay?”, Isaac asked.

“ I- I can’t remember his name” Till signed, hands shaking.

“Whose name? Till, what’s wrong?”

His breathing grew heavier and irregular. ‘ The person I love’ , he wanted to say, but he couldn’t muster up the courage to do so.

“ My best friend” , he signed, instead.

How is someone supposed to honor the memory of a loved one if they can’t even remember their name? It’s like an angel losing its wings. The following days were spent filling sketchbooks to the brim with drawings of him- he might’ve forgotten his name but there was no way he was forgetting that face anytime soon. Till almost looked possessed, frantically etching the pencil on the pages of his sketchbook. “ I’m sorry. I’m sorry”, he kept saying to himself, teardrops continuously falling onto the pages. His broken voice echoed through the walls of his room. God, how he hated that sound.

7 years after ALNST Finale

Till was hanging out with Isaac in the Rebellion’s common room. They were reminiscing about old times, how Till essentially looked and acted like a wet cat when he was first rescued, how long it actually took for him to open up and other such things. It was true, Till had changed a lot. Not only personality-wise but now his hair was also shorter, his neck was covered in scars, he was a bit taller (emphasis on a bit ) and he‘d grown a fair bit of muscle over time. He’d certainly gotten better now; he felt more free than ever and he was surrounded by people who supported him and cared for him. Sure, every now and again he sensed that something was missing, like he’d left behind an important part of himself somewhere somewhen, but that was a lingering feeling that never stayed around too long.

They were discussing passionately about some event that happened a few days earlier when a shout from Dewey, coming from a back door, interrupted their conversation.

“GUYS! COME HERE, YOU’LL NEVER GUESS WHAT I FOUND!” The two men rushed over to see what was up. They saw Dewey gleefully holding up a dusty laptop with the biggest shit-eating grin on his face.

“That looks ancient. What even is it?” Isaac asked.

“Well, my dear friend, it is ancient.” The two men looked at him, confused

“This is Hyuna’s laptop. The one we used to break into the Alien Stage security system.”

Everyone’s eyes widened, the air became heavier.

“ So… that has all the data from the competition’s rounds?” Till asked

“Hell yeah, baby! Do you know how much we could do with this?”, Dewey had been learning some sign language to better understand Till- he was still not very good at it, but he understood him well enough.

“Dewey, put that away. Don’t you remember how much we lost when we tried pulling a stunt like that?” Isaac intervened.

“Yes I know, but still! Think of what we could accomplish with all this extra knowledge! There’s no need to always be so strict about these things. We have more info this time, more people and-”

“What do you mean, ‘strict’. Dewey, have you lost your mind!? We can’t take a similar risk again!”

The couple started bickering. Isaac felt responsible for Hyuna’s passing, she was like an older sister to him. He couldn’t bear to see that happen to someone else, much less bear to take responsibility for others’ deaths.

While the pair was busy arguing Till managed to get the laptop from the ground and rushed over to his room. He didn’t know why, but he had a feeling there was something for him to uncover on that computer.

He charged it, typed in the Rebellion’s standard password for everything (it was honestly a very dodgy security system but oh well) and unlocked it. He scoured through the various files the PC stored until he found what he was looking for: “Round Details”

His breath hitched. A small, faint voice in his head was screaming at him to click it. 

The file opened

ROUND DETAILS: ALIEN STAGE SEASON 50

ROUND 1

MIZI - status: survived

SUA - status: deceased

ROUND 2

TILL - status: survived

ACORN - status: deceased

ROUND 3

IVAN - status: survived

MARTY - status: deceased

ROUND 4

LUKA - status: survived

DURIAN - status: deceased

ROUND 5

LUKA - status: survived

MIZI - status: missing

Till’s breathing stopped as he read the following words. He didn’t know what he was praying for but he knew whatever words he was about to read would’ve had an enormous impact on his life.

Then he saw it.

ROUND 6

TILL - status: survived

IVAN - status: comatose

——————

Ivan. 

That was his name.

His eyes filled up with tears as his eyes scanned the document. Comatose . He had never thought the word would have ever brought him such happiness.

Just then, Isaac entered his room.

“Isaac. Come here.”

The man did as he was told. Till showed him the computer screen. Isaac’s expression grew dark.

“No, Till. You can’t be serious. This data is from before the end of round 7- it’s from seven years ago, it can’t be trusted. Besides, nobody has survived a direct shooting at the end of a round before,” Till pointed a finger towards himself with an annoyed expression.

“Okay fine, besides you.”

“I’m telling you, I know the bastard’s alive. The aliens loved him too much, he was too expensive to let die like that!”

“If he lost the round, he lost the round. No exceptions.”

“Except there was an exception. He… he sacrificed himself to save me - he was actually in the lead when he-”

Images of the sixth round of the competition flooded his mind. Despite seven years having passed he really wished they’d stayed hidden and not resurfaced. The wound was mostly healed, but like most scars it could still tear open again.

“He pretended to strangle me so I would move onto the next round. They didn’t shoot him in any vital places. Trust me, I would remember.”

“Still, what do you want to do? Go search for him?” Till nodded. “And what if he’s dead, Till? Have you thought of that!” He was growing more aggressive by the second.

“Well fine then. I never said you had to come with. I’m leaving.”

Isaac rushed after him, “Till! Think this through- I!” It was too late, Till had already gotten his motorcycle and driven away. 

“…I can’t afford to lose you too.” 

———————

Till had left without thinking. Shit, what am I supposed to do now? He didn’t have any plan whatsoever, just a loose hunch he was following. After all, the two of them had been best friends up until the competition, he should’ve known where to find him, right? The only issue was that he remembered the alien cityscape being full of posters of Ivan- he had worked for God-knows-how-many modelling agencies before- so he figured finding a billboard of him wouldn’t have been too hard of a feat. Much to his surprise, it seemed he’d been the only one to stay still while the rest of the world had forgotten about him; it was strangely eerie to see all the big screens without his face plastered on them. He did cycle past a few announcements that said “Luka is back!”, but that was the only thing of note he saw. Luka, that bastard. Till felt sorry for him, deep down. He never managed to break free from the cycle, I guess.

Luckily, just next to that he saw a sign pointing towards an Alien Stage Memorial Museum . Oh right, it’s around that time of the year… I guess it’s my seventh freedom anniversary… His words held a hint of bitterness as his mind rushed to all his other friends who didn’t have the same privilege as him. Anyways, he figured that the museum would be a start and decided to go check it out. 

Luckily, there were only a few segyeins inside the building when he entered and he was able to look around without too many worries. His gaze fell on the countless objects on display: Mizi and Sua’s dresses for round one, all of the other contestant’s wardrobes, even instruments, were there. He caught a glimpse of Freddie, his old guitar - well, a recreation of Freddie since he had smashed that guitar on-stage - and the new one they got him to perform in the final round. Luka’s violin was also there. Till shuddered- he did not want those memories coming back, they had already haunted him long enough. He couldn’t help but wonder, however, whether they had to recreate all of those props or if some of the relics had somehow been salvaged in the rubble after that rocket ship crashed onto the stage. Till didn’t see it happen for himself and Isaac had hardly been of any help, since he’d never been too keen on explaining the details of what happened after losing the Final. He did know that Isaac was shot in the leg, since his wound was still recovering when Till first woke up. He also knew that Mizi was somehow tied to all of this. Apparently she had been saved by the Rebellion after Round 5 and once he had been shot and Hyuna had died she sent the Rebels’ rocket crashing straight into the stage. He’d heard the other members of the Rebellion whisper her name, calling her a witch and countless other horrible names. Till didn’t know how to feel- after all, she was the one who had saved him… and the girl he’d fallen for, all those years ago. He shook his head thinking about her. 

Poor Mizi, reduced to a ‘witch’, a threat, an idiot who gave it all up for her selfish desires. The Mizi I knew wouldn’t have done those things without reason, but then again, did I even know her at all?

Mizi had been his crush ever since he’d laid his eyes on her at the Garden. He admired her more than anything or anyone and was always desperately trying to impress her. Unfortunately, it was quite clear she had no interest in him and that he wasn’t exactly… her type . Till physically cringed at how his past self had acted in the Anakt Garden and how uncomfortable he must’ve made her. He would’ve liked to apologise, but there clearly wasn’t going to be a chance for him to do so anymore. She did save his life, in the end, so maybe more than an apology he would’ve liked to thank her.

Till managed to find a small metal side-door in the deepest part of the museum. Having no access key, he decided to wing it and cut the wires to the door-locking mechanism in the museum’s electricity panel. Sure, that could’ve technically set off the alarms, but who in their right mind would’ve thought to steal from a memorial museum ? Luckily, no alerts sounded and he was able to walk into that side-room with no issue. After sorting through the cabinets he found a few relevant sheets of paper. He didn’t want to risk being caught so he took the most relevant-sounding files and bolted out of there- who would’ve noticed a few missing documents, anyway?

He didn’t feel like going back to the Rebel Camp so he stayed out the night. Surprisingly, in his seven years of being a rebel and 28 years of living he had never really spent a night sleeping outside. He drove into an alley that led to a dead end, parked his motorbike, took off his helmet and laid down on the floor. It was cold and slightly damp. He took out the papers from under his leather jacket and started reading. He wasn’t going to stop until he had found some information regarding Ivan’s condition and possible location.

His eyes became more tired paper after paper, his eyelids began to close by themselves and his already dark under-eyes were starting to become purple. Paper after paper he got more drowsy and started rereading lines three or five times regularly. Paper after paper he started to lose hope. He had taken, what, about ten folders- twenty or so pages each- from the museum in hopes of finding something useful. So far he had only learned every single detail of Ivan’s biography, commercial history and past jobs, how the museum had only been able to retrieve part of the missing objects from the rubble of the blazing stage and other pointless information… His eyes were just barely hovering over the words written on the paper he had in his hands when a few words stood out: Ivan’s guardian, Unsha, had a multitude of clubs scattered around the metropolis and held several parties in private, apparently to which only a select number of particularly renowned aliens had access to. Great. If Ivan was alive, he would’ve certainly been performing at one of those events. If he was alive . Unsha probably wouldn’t have wanted to lose face by openly showing off how his ‘pet’ was alive and essentially telling the whole world he had gone against the Alien Stage rules. The man was loaded so it would’ve made sense he didn’t want to lose such an expensive investment and probably bribed the competition organisers to make an exception- he technically didn’t lose, he was just shot because he tried to attack me . The presence of an ex-competitor of the infamous 50th season of Alien Stage would’ve made for a neat party trick to impress all of his stuck-up rich friends, for sure. 

Till knew this was probably wishful thinking. He knew it still wouldn’t have made sense to nurse Ivan back to health and that no one survived losing an Alien Stage round.

But, then again, he did.

It made no sense, yet here he was.

Was it too much to ask for another miracle?

Now he just had to find some clues as to where Unsha held his secret millionaire-parties. His eyes were closing by themselves, so he decided to rest and look for more information the next day. For now he could sleep with some hope in his heart.

He woke up to a strange sensation on his cheek. A six-eyed creature, similar in size and form to a dog, was licking his face. He swatted the creature away, grumbling. It was too late when he realised it had taken one of his papers in his mouth while being chased off. Oh fuckfuckfuck.

“COME BACK HERE YOU SON OF A-!” he couldn’t help but shout after it. He only realised he’d said something out loud after the unruly sounds his mouth made met his ears. There was no time to mind that though, as the creature was getting away and there was no way in fucking hell Till was gonna let it steal that file from him. Completely forgetting about his bike left against the wall of that dead end, he desperately chased after that thing. He ran past numerous buildings, signs and streets, partly losing sense of where he was going. Till was quickly losing stamina and panting like an old dog, but he couldn’t let go now. Not when he was so close to finally finding Ivan. Finally,  after what seemed like hours (It was five minutes but Till had no stamina), what he had been chasing after ran into a dead end, by the side of a building that was blasting loud music. Too tired to keep the chase going, it very slowly turned around and opened its mouth, letting the pieces of paper it was holding fall down on the ground. Till let out a sigh of relief after immediately realising: the files had been very carefully placed in a puddle of water.

FUCK.

He rushed over to grab the files, desperation filling his eyes. Once he got the papers out of the water their text was nearly illegible. How was he supposed to find Ivan now? Was everything that he’d done for nothing? It really was too good to be true, huh. He’d been such an idiot to let himself be fooled by some impossible delusions. Despite knowing it was stupid, he’d wanted to believe with all his heart that there was some hope for them- and damn, it hurt. He felt like he’d just slammed head-first into a brick wall.

He let out a choked scream. He was sitting on his knees by that small pool of water, looking up to the sky as if asking why he was going through all of this. No tears came out, but the light in his eyes grew dimmer by the second. He let himself be lulled by the very upbeat and loud music coming over from the building next to him.

He felt as if drowning, but in a desperate attempt to find some closure he decided to check out that bar. The line to enter was extremely long, though thanks to his slender figure he managed to squeeze into the crowd and, putting his hood up, blend alongside some other humans probably belonging to some crazy-rich alien. He definitely received some strange looks from the rest of the segyeins, but who cared? He just wanted to get drunk and drown all his sorrows in alcohol. When they allowed Till’s “guardian” into the building the young man immediately rushed to the counter. The drinks area was quite far away and hidden from the stage. From where he stood, he could faintly see a group of three girls singing some overly catchy and upbeat song. Till despised those kinds of compositions without any meaning to them: they were only designed to get stuck in your head and inevitably grew popular. Now that he had lost his voice, he hated them even more- not being able to sing his own songs but being forced to endure the torture of listening to that garbage. He saw a blue alien sitting to the right of the stage, wearing what looked like a dumb suit and monocle. He didn’t pay any mind to that though, his main goal was something else entirely: he proceeded to order all of the drinks with the hardest-to-pronounce names, sure something was going to work to get him absolutely wasted.

Whatever he drank worked and, sure enough, he was out in record time. He didn’t quite remember what he’d dreamt about, he only remembered it was accompanied by a sweet voice, humming what sounded like a lullaby, singing him to sleep with a beautifully haunting melody. Like a source of light in a dark tunnel, he so desperately wanted to follow that voice but no matter how fast he tried to chase after it, it grew ever more distant from him. 

Till woke up in a cold sweat. He looked around: the lights were mostly off, there was just the low illumination coming from a few safety-exit signs to light up the room together with some dim, purple LEDs. A pre-recorded song was humming at low volume from the speakers, the noise muffled. Till felt like absolute shit. God, why had he decided to get drunk again? His head was pounding and there was a loud ringing in his ears, not to mention how there was a forest fire in his throat. It seemed as if he’d slept through most of the night, past closing hours, as nobody was really around anymore. Thankfully he’d picked a pretty well-hidden spot to stay in, otherwise he would’ve definitely gotten kicked out, if not worse.

He heard some muffled conversation coming from the other side of the building near the stage, in a tucked-away little corridor leading to who-knows-what.

“That performance you gave this evening was utterly embarrassing. Did you seriously think that had what it takes to impress my patrons? You’re pathetic. You’re lucky I haven’t been stricter with you, otherwise I would’ve thrown you out on the streets a long time ago.” A gruff, distorted voice echoed through the walls- definitely a segyein’s. Till grew curious- yes, it was irresponsible for him to get any closer, but there wasn’t really anybody around to catch him so he walked towards the side-corridor, making sure to stay behind a wall and stay out of those people’s line of sight.

“I already told you not to hold my current material at the same standard as before…” A deep voice replied, before trailing off. That voice had a hint of softness to it, it was definitely a human’s, “I already warned you. You shouldn’t keep me here any longer since I’m just going to make a fool of you.”

“Don’t be so dramatic! You’re far too much of an investment for me to allow you to die.”

“Well maybe you should’ve let me die. I don’t have anything of value left here anyways.”

“Oh, be quiet! Just quit it with this whole ‘I want to die’ act. It’s been years, you know. If you were just able to move on from that we wouldn’t be in this situation.”

“Well, and what if I can’t!?” The human voice grew more aggressive. Till’s breath hitched, almost like he was already far too familiar with the situation. He was starting to think he might’ve been eavesdropping into a conversation a bit too personal to his liking, when the segyein replied.

“For God’s sake. Pull yourself together, Ivan.”

Ivan.

Those words stabbed him like a knife to the stomach. He sat there, frozen in place, trying to process what he had just heard. There was no way… it couldn’t have been the same Ivan…

Right?

He heard the scuffling sounds of the alien getting closer to him. He quickly ran to hide behind a flipped-over table and prayed he wouldn’t be seen. Thankfully it didn’t seem like he’d been noticed at all. He drew a sigh of relief. Finally Till mustered up the courage to walk out from behind the table, approached the nook with trembling hands and peeked his head out.

No one was there. The corridor was empty.

Fuck, I came too late. I’m such an idiot. I should’ve intervened earlier-

He figured it probably wouldn’t have been his Ivan anyways, but just when he was about to turn around and leave, he heard a voice come from behind him.

“I thought I saw a figure moving around before.”, he stopped in his tracks. It was the same one as before.

“Just who do you think you are?”, a voice he knew far too well.

Till turned around, facing the direction where the sound came from.

“And what are you do-” He stopped as their eyes met.

Till was staring right into the eyes of a tall, pale man with long, dark hair in a style that loosely resembled a mullet. He had a fang that faintly stuck out from his upper lip and dark eyes, with a hint of red at the pupils. His eyes were wide, they stayed fixed looking at the man in front of him for what felt like years. A million words wouldn’t be enough to express what they were feeling. 

Ivan took a step forward, voice trembling- barely more than a whisper.

“Till?”

Till lunged at him, swinging his arms around his neck and trapping him in a full-hearted hug. Ivan welcomed the embrace, looped his hands around Till’s waist and spun him around. Till clawed at the skin on Ivan’s neck fearing that if he didn’t hold him tight enough, he would slip away from his arms again. There were so many things they had to tell each other, so many years’ worth of catching up to do- but somehow that didn’t seem to matter. What mattered was that they were here and they were alive. After an eternal hug that still felt too short to the both of them, Till took out his notebook and pen. He quickly jotted down ‘ Miss me?’ on the paper and turned it to face Ivan. In return he pulled him closed, nuzzled his face in the nook of his neck and whispered “You have no idea”. Till’s ears became red, he figured from the joy of hearing that voice talking to him again. Ivan eventually pulled away from the embrace and pointed to Till’s notebook. “Why are you-”

Till, slightly ashamed, pointed to the scars on his neck and quickly looked away.

Ivan’s expression turned somber, “Oh, I- I see. I’m really so-”

Before he could apologise Till elbowed him, as if to say don’t you dare apologise, you big dummy. Ivan clearly got the memo and laughed. Till smiled.

“ Wanna get out of here?” He wrote on his notebook.

“Lead the way, Prince Charming.” Till elbowed him again, harder this time. Unbeknownst to him, a stupid smile was carved on his face- he hadn’t actually realised how much he’d missed him.

He grabbed Ivan by the arm and the two of them ran like a couple of schoolboys past countless buildings, stumbling over each other, tripping and falling multiple times from joy and excitement, until they reached Till’s motorbike. 

Till’s expression stiffened when he realised his motorcycle was only meant for one person. Ivan seemed to have come to the same conclusion as Till. They found a workaround- as in Till basically spent the whole ride sat on Ivan’s lap- it wasn’t the most comfortable situation ever but they didn’t really have any other choice. Mid-ride Till felt a tug on the strands of hair sticking out from his biker helmet.

“It’s shorter.” Ivan hummed as the cold wind howled by their faces. Till held his breath

Strangely enough, the air seemed very tense around the two. They clearly couldn’t make conversation as Till wasn’t exactly able to, having both hands occupied steering, but it didn’t have much to do with that.

The last time they had seen each other, Ivan had kissed Till. Not only that, he’d died for him as well. Those events sat heavy on the souls of them both. Why had Ivan kissed him anyway? Till was far more used to him beating him up or something. Did he actually… that was supposed to mean something, right? Till had mostly avoided the question up until then, dismissing it as panic or self-sacrifice on Ivan’s part, but he wasn’t so sure now. If that kiss had actually meant something back then, did it still mean anything now?

By miracle, they somehow managed to get back safely. Once they arrived at base he instantly set those feelings aside and started banging on Isaac’s door.

“Oh for fuck’s sake… It’s five in the morning, what do you-”

Isaac cut himself off when he saw Till with another figure behind him, creepily smiling at him. Needless to say, he was speechless. Till pulled him the middle finger and stuck his tongue out.

“See, I told you ,” he signed.

Much to the surprise of the three of them Isaac slapped Till. He felt the skin on his cheek tingle numbly before a wave of pain was sent up his nervous system to his brain.

“Have you gone CRAZY!? Do you know just how worried I was! God! You’re lucky you came back alright, otherwise I swear I would’ve-”, what was even more surprising was how he then proceeded to hug Till. Ivan silently shot him a death stare.

Till and Ivan headed over to his room. They sat down on the floor by the bed, the awkward silence was growing deafening by this point. Ivan tore a piece of paper from Till’s notebook and handed it to him; “So, it’s been seven years, huh? Tell me, what’ve you been up to?” 

The two of them spent the night catching up. Ivan explained how they hadn’t really shot him in any vital spots, just a few times on the arms and once in the stomach, so his guardian was able to bribe the Alien Stage staff into allowing him to live, since he technically hadn’t lost the round, but was simply disqualified. They both winced when he started talking about those moments, neither of them wanted to think too much about Round 6- or generally any round of the competition, to be honest. Apparently he kept singing in private for Unksha, though due to the blow to the stomach he’d only been able to recover and effectively take up singing again after five years of therapy or so. Instead, Till told him everything about how he was saved by the rebels and used the very route Ivan taught him to help save other children from Anakt.

“So you do remember,”

“ Yeah… I mean, Ivan, think of how many children we were able to save thanks to you!” Till jotted down. This was followed by a few seconds of silence. Ivans expression grew dark, Till stared at him with confusion written all over his face. Ivan finally broke the silence:

“That night- why didn’t you come with me?” The way he said those words showed worry rather than anger or disappointment. Oh God, Till though, not this question.

He tried looking away from him but Ivan’s eyes were too intent on staring at him. No matter how hard he tried to brush off the question, his friend wouldn’t budge.

“Hey, I’m really tired. Can we talk more tomorrow?”

“Not until you answer this.”

The truth is, he was scared. That’s right. He was just a coward who didn’t want to leave the other children behind, who didn’t want to be left alone or run the risk of losing his shelter, a stable food source or his friends. He was afraid of what they could’ve come across, what could’ve happened… his pressing fear of the unknown had stopped him. If he had the choice, he would’ve gone back in time and stopped his younger self from making such a stupid decision by turning back. 

He looked away. Ivan had grabbed a hold of his hand while they were talking. The dark-haired man decided not to pry any further and with a defeated look on his face let out a sigh.

“It’s okay, we can talk tomorrow.” He cracked a smile.

——————

Till dreamt of the last time he saw Ivan, before all of this happened; the rain, the forceful kiss, the smile that had haunted Till for the past seven years of his life. During that night they both slept uneasy, hoping the tension between the two would go away the following morning. It didn’t. Things were weirdly awkward between the two of them. Till would’ve thought they’d be happier than this, reuniting after 7 years and all. The issue was, with the way they’d left things off, it was difficult not to think about the implications it held now.

Another glaring issue were Till’s complicated feelings towards the other man. He didn’t know how he should feel around him, he didn’t even know what he felt. They spent the next few weeks tiptoeing around each other, stealing secretive glances of the other when no one was looking. It was clear they wouldn’t be able to go on like this much longer but Till had always liked to run from these sorts of issues. On the other hand, it was obvious to Ivan that something wasn’t quite right with Till. One day he heard a knock on his door: it was Till. He sat down next to him, took out his pen and paper and started writing.

“ We need to talk.”

Ivan looked amused, “Oh? About what?” he was still as sarcastic and nonchalant as before. Till clearly showed annoyance towards the other man’s expression. He waited a bit before writing anything down. With trembling hands, and scared of what the other might answer he wrote down: 

“ Why did you kiss me?”

That was the one thing Ivan didn’t want to talk about, it was the main reason they had been so distant from one another.

“Till, I’m really sorry I forced that on you. It was a stupid thing to do but I thought I’d never get to see you again and… I really don’t know what I was thinking.”

“That doesn’t answer my question .”

“ Why?”

After a long silence and a few uneasy looks from Ivan he replied with, “I don’t know. It was seven years ago, I guess I just wanted to lose points… It, uh, didn’t mean anything. If, uhm, that’s what you were wondering.” He looked away, eyes staring at the ground. Oh, Till thought, yeah, okay. That’s good. He was surprised to find himself wanting more from that answer- he didn’t know what he wanted to hear, but it definitely wasn’t that.

“If that’s what all this is about then please, can we go back to how things were? I miss you, Till.” He extended a hand towards his cheek, and Till trapped him in a tight embrace. 

“I miss you too, ya big idiot.”

Before he knew it the words had come out of his mouth, sounding weak and coarse. Ivan startled and broke away from the hug, cupping Till’s face with his hands, a bewildered look on his face. Till quickly covered his mouth. He couldn’t believe he’d just let those words slip out. Now Ivan knew how horrible his voice was, how was he ever going to live this down?

“You can talk.” His voice was soft and gentle, not much more than a gasp.

“…yeah.” Till’s cheeks became flushed and he averted his gaze from him.

“Your voice is as beautiful as I remember it.” The man’s eyes softened, a sweet smile carved on his face.

Ever since that day, the two got closer. They started spending all of their time together, as if they hadn’t just found each other after 7 years of searching for their missing half. Things were starting to become normal. Every time Till woke up, he had to remind himself that his friend was alive and that he was with him at that very moment. He sometimes snuck into Ivan’s room early in the morning just to look at him.

He was alive.

They were both alive.

And they were reunited.

Before he knew it, almost a year had passed since their meeting. One morning he woke up feeling more dreary than usual. Today was the anniversary of- well, of Ivan’s “death”. Most years he either stayed cooped up in his room all day or tried to somehow distract himself throughout the day and not think of the date. 

This time was different.

He wasn’t alone anymore. 

He got out of bed when he heard someone knocking on his door. Upon opening it he was greeted by dark eyes with a hint of red, jet black hair and a snaggletooth. He was holding a tray with some decently-looking food on it, probably cooked by him.

“Oh, you have got to be kidding me,” Till said, half-joking. He was actually quite comforted by his presence. Ever since that conversation they had he’d also started talking more. He was still disgusted by the sound of his voice and talking too much caused him great pain, but it was a stretch he was willing to do for Ivan. Ivan, on the other hand, had started learning sign language to understand Till without having to rely on pen and paper.

“Isaac told me that uh,, today isn’t really an easy day for you, so I made you some breakfast- ” he smiled.

Aside from that, the morning and afternoon went on as normal. Now that Till had Ivan by his side this day was much more bearable. When the sun started to go down and paint the sky with reddish hues he grabbed Ivan’s wrist and led him to his motorcycle. He just told him to trust him and they drove together to a remote spot, away from the Rebel Camp. Over time, their questionable seating arrangement on Till’s motorcycle had somehow become more comfortable for both of them. The Rebellion had its headquarters in the middle of a sort of desert biome, so finding greenery nearby wasn’t the easiest feat. After a half-hour drive, they reached it- what looked like a grassy plain, full of apple trees and berry bushes. Ivan didn’t think such a place even existed anymore.

“This looks like…”

“Yeah, Anakt”, Till explained, “I found this place not long after waking up from the coma. It does remind me of the garden, but in a happy way. I guess it’s my little paradise.”, he then started coughing a bit- he’d worked his voice a tad too much.

They sat down on the grass, legs crossed, and stared at the sky together. Till was clearly tired and rested his head on Ivan’s shoulder. 

“You know Ivan, you really scared me. I thought you were dead.”

“Everyone told me you were gone too, Till. Now rest your voice- you’ve already strained it enough today.”

“No, but I was really really worried.”

“Aww, how cute. Till spends seven years without my company and still thinks about me.”

“It was hard not to, considering the last impression you made on me. I never thought you would’ve… you must’ve known they’d have saved you, right?”

Ivan’s eyes darkened, “Not really. I was kind of hoping that would be the case but when I woke up and I was told what happened with the stage and everything… you getting shot- I wasn’t so sure I wanted to be saved anymore.”

“So you did sacrifice yourself for me.” Till muttered.

“I did sacrifice myself for you.” Ivan’s words were not more than a whisper, uttered as he tilted his head to the side and got closer to him. Till let out a nearly inaudible gasp.

Why the fuck had his heart just skipped a beat?

Hours passed and they both laid there, looking at the stars. They talked and talked, up until the sun was about to rise again- it really did feel as if they were back in Anakt, as if time had stood still and nothing had changed from then. They eventually fell asleep on the soft grass while caressed by the gentle, slightly minty breeze. Till thought that maybe this wasn’t such a bad day, after all. 

He woke up with a pair of arms wrapped around his chest, Ivan’s face snuggled on his shoulder. He felt his face become flushed and attempted to wiggle out of the position he was in, trying his hardest not to wake the other party up. Much to his disappointment, just as he was freeing his arms from the bear-hug he felt Ivan begin to move around. Completely panicking now, he just shoved him away from him and quickly sat up, making some distance between the two of them.

“Oh, I didn’t realise you were already awake.”

“ Oh yeah, I just got up ,” Till signed rapidly. 

Shortly after, they were back at camp. After Isaac had cussed both of them out for having stayed out the night, they shrugged it off and went back to their rooms. Till was tormented by a weird feeling- he couldn’t quite put his finger on it, but he felt something had changed, or at least that something was different from how it used to be. He wasn’t really good at dealing with emotions, or really any feelings for that matter, so he just ignored the slight shift in his perception of reality.

Only issue was, that feeling kept growing stronger and evermore present.

Especially when he was around Ivan.

He started noticing things he hadn’t before, such as how annoyingly long his eyelashes were, how this new hairstyle suited him ridiculously well, how he always managed to look irritatingly good even after the worst of catastrophes, how his voice had gotten slightly lower than how he remembered it being seven years ago… All of this pissed Till off even more. It was safe to say he had matured from when he was 21 but he still had a fiery personality, was quick to pick a fight and kind of an asshole sometimes. As much as he refused to admit it, he was also a coward- at least when it came to emotional baggage- who was scared to face his feelings and tended to mask how he felt by putting on an overly-aggressive persona.

Thus, Ivan became subject to Till’s anger and evasiveness. He always made sure to add in the extra insult after every sentence when talking to him, though Ivan at first missed most of them as he wasn’t proficient enough in sign language to understand them. He started avoiding physical contact with him as much as possible too, which wasn’t easy due to Ivan’s naturally touchy and affectionate nature. The final straw, however, was on a day in February. To be precise it was the 14th of February, known as St. Valentine’s day- or Ivan’s birthday. Ivan’s actual birthday probably wasn’t even close to February, as he didn’t know when he was born- growing up in the slums and all. It was, however, the day he’d been adopted and viewed it as his birthday, as did everyone else in his life.

Despite everything mentioned above, Ivan and Till were very close and spent most of their days together, so Till wanted to make sure this year he had something to look forward to. Till thought about all of Ivan’s birthdays that he missed. He wanted to make up for that, so he decided to prepare him something special. 

“Okay… 3, 2, 1- you can open your eyes now.”

Ivan let go of the blindfold Till had put on him earlier, when they hopped off his motorcycle. Ivan wasn’t sure where he was taking him but he’d already gone to the ends of this mortal plain for Till, so why should he have stopped now?

When he opened his eyes he was greeted by the same grassy field Till had taken him to on the anniversary of Round 6 the previous year. However, this time a picnic blanket had been laid down on the ground; around them, the dark night sky was lit up by some warm, portable lights and close to them a guitar was on the grass. There was a straw basket on the blanket, from which Till took out a bottle of wine and some pastries.

“Happy birthday,” Till was gleaming, holding up one of the sweet treats.

Ivan chuckled and shook his head, “You know me too well.”

“Whaddaya expect? We’ve been best friends since we were ten, after all.”

The best gift for Ivan, at least that he remembered, was spending time with the people closest to him. Back in Anakt he knew not to bother getting him anything as he was much happier just to spend the day by his side, preferably without bringing up a certain pink-haired girl into conversation. As they sat down, Ivan got almost uncomfortably close to Till. Though his cheeks became flushed, he started taking out two glasses from the picnic basket. As he poured some wine into them Ivan couldn’t help but avert his gaze towards the guitar that lay on the ground. It was wooden and looked quite old. He wouldn’t have been surprised if Till had made it himself sometime in the past seven years. “You know what would make me even happier?” He basically whispered into the other’s ear.

O h, please God, no. Till already knew what was coming.

“Till singing happy birthday to me.” He laughed, a smirk appeared on his face.

That asshole. Luckily, he had come prepared. Though he still couldn’t bear to hear his voice and he was still far too weak to actually sing, he did the next best thing.

He grabbed his guitar from the ground and started strumming the chords for ‘Happy Birthday to You’ whilst lowly humming the melody. This was something much easier for him to do as it didn’t put quite as much strain on his voice. Ivan looked surprised, to say the least. He wasn’t really expecting Till to actually start singing him happy birthday, he mainly meant to tease him. Safe to say he was extremely touched- he was aware of how his love for music had damaged him, so he felt a hint of guilt for making him start playing again. But most of all, he felt a warm, fuzzy feeling in his chest. He knew that Till hated his own voice, but he couldn’t help but think of how beautiful it was- maybe not to everyone, but certainly to him.

“..I can’t believe you really did that- for me.”

“Well, seeing as you died for me, let’s consider us even.” Till laughed, a hint of bitterness seeping through. He seemed to notice something glistening in Ivan’s eyes.

“Wait- are you crying? ”

“What! No, it’s just, uhh- the moon’s reflection” Ivan quickly turned away, rubbing his right eye. Not long after, Till felt a hand resting on his shoulder. Ivan got closer to his face and softly laid a kiss on top of his head, ruffling up his hair.

“Thank you.”

Those words sent a shiver down Till’s spine. Maybe it was the kiss, maybe the sincerity of the words or maybe the atmosphere around them, but he felt his heart flutter and his stomach fill with butterflies. He didn’t fight the feeling or try to avoid it, for once it felt nice to welcome his emotions as they passed. If he hadn’t before, he now realised what he felt towards Ivan.

They were laying down on the blanket, looking at the moonlit sky. They hadn’t talked much, but there wasn’t really any need to.

“Do you ever think there’s more to life than this?”

Till didn’t reply.

“Don’t you ever wonder what the world would look like if we were to leave this place and never turn back?”

Silence.

“..Would you follow me?”

“To the stars and back.”

Once they got back to the Rebel camp (thankfully this time Till had warned Isaac they would’ve stayed out beforehand, otherwise they never would’ve heard the end of it) Ivan was greeted with yet another peculiar sight: Isaac, Dewey and a whole group of others were waiting for them just outside their dorm building. Next to them was what looked like a brand new jet black motorbike and helmet, probably a matching set. Till placed a pair of keys in Ivan’s hand.

“Here, so now you’ll have your own motorbike.” Isaac chimed in, “Consider this an official welcome-gift from the Rebellion.”

Ivan looked at Isaac, then at Till, at Isaac and then Till again. He gave out a genuine, honest smile that, as Till noticed, made the corners of his eyes turn upwards. After thanking all of the members present, the two of them headed indoors.

“You little- told them it was my birthday, didn’t you?”

“ It may have slipped out.” Till signed back; he couldn’t help but smirk. Ivan laughed.

“ Well, goodnight then.” Till was about to go to his room when he was grabbed by the wrist. When he turned, his gaze met with Ivan’s. Those dark eyes were staring intensely into his own, Till felt uneasy but didn’t dare look away. The man’s gaze softened; “You’ve made this birthday my most special yet, Till.” He let go of his wrist and cracked a smile, which made Till’s heart start beating rapidly inside his chest.

Oh, for fuck’s sake! I can’t believe I’ve actually fallen for him.

Back in his room, he’d decided to be honest to himself, for once. He stopped trying to deny it: he liked Ivan, there was no use in avoiding it. No- he didn’t like Ivan, he loved him. He always had, he’d just been too much of an idiot to realise it before. He loved his dark, bushy eyebrows, his soft black hair, his passionate gaze, his true, honest smile, made more unique by that fang sticking out from his upper lip. Okay, let’s cut it with this sentimental crap- he thought as he repeatedly smacked his forehead with his palm. At least he’d now come to that conclusion, which was already a big step forward. The only problem? He had absolutely no idea what to do now. 

Till had been in love once before. When he was still little he developed a huge crush on Mizi, the pink haired girl who he grew up alongside in the Garden. Thinking back on it, though, it didn’t quite feel the same as this. Till remembered looking up to Mizi and feeling overwhelmed by a sense of awe every time he passed by her. He desperately wanted to impress her but ended up making a fool of himself as he was eaten alive by anxiousness every time he tried to approach her. That was a love based mostly on admiration. 

Ivan was different.

He’d seen his good and bad side, he knew how imperfect of a person he was, despite how he presented himself. And he still wanted him, despite all of this. It was a love founded in sincerity, over time, based on a person he knew inside and out. Sometimes, the deepest form of love shines through after seeing every part of a person and deciding to cherish them anyways, whether at their lowest or highest. At least, that was Till’s case. And it was the first time he found himself adoring someone after seeing their imperfections, flaws and secrets. He was overwhelmed by the tingling sensation that had made its way through his whole body. He closed his eyes shut as thoughts of Round 6 filled his mind, the kiss- Then recalled a past moment between the two.

“ It didn’t mean anything” he heard Ivan’s voice repeat. 

It was true. From what he remembered, the kiss had felt real and sincere- but even if that was the case and he did mean it back then, seven years had passed. Would Ivan still love him back? 

His behavior towards Till had always been overly warm and affectionate, but that was just how Ivan was- when he was with him anyways. He did wonder if him being the ‘cause’ of his death had changed how Ivan viewed him. He had sacrificed himself for Till, technically, but it was still his fault if Ivan had taken a bullet for him- three, actually. Afraid that his newfound feelings would probably only make Ivan more uncomfortable, he decided to love him quietly, admiring him from the sidelines without being noticed or saying anything or being open with his feelings. While Till had had seven years to mature, he still had difficulty opening up and showing himself as vulnerable in front of others.

Till was somewhat successful at hiding how he felt in front of Ivan, but he had less luck when it came to not being noticed. Every time he tried to steal a secretive glance at the man, he was met with Ivan’s deep, dark eyes staring right back at him.

“Oh, Till were you staring?” He giggled.

“ No, I was just noticing how ugly your face was. ” He furiously signed. Truthfully, it was quite the opposite: to Till, Ivan’s face was perfection. This wasn’t a time to say that, tough. In the end, Till found himself hurling double the amount of insults at Ivan in an attempt to not make his feelings apparent. Ivan probably didn’t mind, he’d spent years hanging out with Till after all, this didn’t even get close to how he behaved when they were little. He was, however, afraid that Ivan would notice the small signs that were beginning to shine through: the tips of his ears becoming scarlet with increasing frequency, his heart beating faster than normal around him, the not-so-discreet stares directed at him… the list grew longer each passing day.

After about a month of this, one afternoon Ivan knocked on Till’s door.

“What do you want?”

“Wow Till, so cold.” Ivan chuckled. “I want to write a song.”

Huh?

Now, why the hell would he want to write a song? Singing was what got both of them almost killed. Till remained stunned for a second. Songs were a particularly touchy subject around him, being partly mute and all.

“I know what you must be thinking, but I’m feeling inspired now- don’t you feel it too?”

“Well, seeing as I can’t sing, not really, no.” Till signed, sarcastically. He noticed how Ivan’s eyes saddened. “Oh c’mon, I’m messing with ya.”

“So you’ll help me?” He instantly lit up.

“I actually might have just what we’re looking for.”

He got down from his bed and started rummaging under it. He searched for something amongst the mountains of old sketchbooks and scrap paper accumulated there over the past seven years, letting out a triumphant “ Ha! ” when he found what he was looking for. He emerged from under the bed, waving a music score in his hand.

“The first year I was here I tried writing some original pieces… before it became too painful to do so. I mean, nothing much came of it, I just have some guitar chords written here and there. You were always the one helping me with the lyrics.” It was true, Ivan had always helped him write songs. Technically, even the one he’d composed for Mizi when he was younger had been partly written by Ivan.

“This is the only arrangement I was able to half-finish, a few years back. It’s a lot darker and slower, um.. very different from what I usually played-” because it was written with someone else in mind, “I got stumped when it came to the lyrics, so I just kind of… left it there.”

He handed Ivan the piece of paper, who was clearly confused due to Till’s very messy handwriting, added to the fact that sight reading had never been his forte- much less when it was for guitar. Till inhaled sharply.

“Fine, wait here. I’ll go get my guitar.”

When Till came back, guitar in hand, he found Ivan gleefully sitting cross legged on the floor of his room- he looked like a small child patiently waiting. He sat down next to him and started playing the chord progression. The last time he’d played guitar was years ago; he was definitely rusty but his talent, years of practice and passion for music allowed him to play as well as before the competition. The piece was slower than his usual style, a lot less explosive than what he used to write but also left space for some faster, more high-energy moments. Ivan was stunned. Till was, too. 

“…It’s perfect- of course, I wouldn’t have expected anything less from you” Ivan smiled. Till felt his face flush. He brought a hand behind his neck and averted his gaze, as if to say It’s nothing, really.

“So, what does my lyricist think?” He signed, after a while.

“It’s a beautiful piece. I will agree that it’s not your usual style, it almost sounds like something I-” Yes. Because it had been written for him to sing. “Never mind, it’s nothing. I do think the electric guitar would suit it better, though.”

“Yeah, you’re right. But finding a decent one here is practically impossible.”

“Give me some paper, I’ll see what I can come up with for the lyrics.” Despite not being skilled in sight reading, Ivan was remarkably good at remembering tunes and melodies after hearing them only once.

“Alright, see you tomorrow then.”

Now that Ivan had gone, Till was left with an empty feeling in his heart. Their discussion had been short, but it somehow managed to get him looking forward to their next meeting. He felt somewhat inspired, so he stayed up most of the night to finish writing the guitar part. He couldn’t believe it. He… he was beginning to enjoy making music again.

When morning rolled around he found himself staring at the finished music score, proud of the fruits of his labor. However Ivan’s comment on the piece kept nagging at him, from the back of his mind: he needed to find an electric guitar. And thus the chase to find Isaac began- he’d always been the person he looked to for help, after all. After checking his room, the bar, the common room and the cafeteria he finally found who he was looking for in the meeting room, hunched over some papers regarding the Rebellion’s next attack. After Hyuna’s death he’d taken her place in the Rebellion and became its sort of leader. He’d been working himself to the bone the last few days trying to plan an elite-corps-only heist, and the details had really been wearing him down. When Till approached him they both were taken aback by the other’s dark under-eyes. It seemed neither of them had slept. Saying anything would just make them sound hypocritical so they just stared at each other enveloped in an awkward silence for a while.

“Um… were you looking for me?”

Till nodded. “Yeah. I was. Wondering. Hyuna had an electric guitar, right?” Isaac’s eyes widened for a second at the uttering of the girl’s name.

“Uhh… yeah, she did if I remember correctly. Why?”

“Do you have it?”

“I mean, it should be in her room. I think. Why don’t you go look?” He cracked a comically forced smile as his lips twitched. He was still sensitive when the topic shifted to her. Till thought it was fair- after all he’d had a hard time moving on too.

He’d never been in Hyuna’s room before. It was more spacious than the others, had a big window that illuminated every corner, and a king-sized bed. Compared to that, Till’s room was basically a closet. The Rebellion had decided to keep Hyuna’s room untouched, at least until further notice, to honor her memory alongside all of the other Rebels who gave up their life for them. It slowly started to become a shrine to make sure all the people they’d lost weren’t forgotten - everyone brought over trinkets that belonged to fallen comrades as something to remember them by. It was quite sweet, honestly. He’d never really known Hyuna but from what he’d heard she was amazing. He knew it was also thanks to her that he was alive now. He looked up to her as anyone at the Camp did, despite never having met her.

Next to the bedside table lay Hyuna’s electric guitar. Over time it had accumulated layers upon layers of dust, Till shuddered just thinking about how out of tune it probably was. He lifted up the guitar- praying it wouldn’t crumble as soon as he touched it- and brought it back to his room. He was able to find an AMP in a storage closet and tried plugging in the ancient instrument. To his surprise, it didn’t even sound half-bad. Of course, it was out of tune, but it had passed the test of time and the sounds shone through loud and clear. He remembered how many times he’d played an electric guitar in the past and the rush that would go through him every time he touched the strings. He felt a similar tingling sensation on his fingertips, as goosebumps started to cover his whole body. Had he reignited his spark?

That afternoon he made a few changes to the piece to better suit it for the instrument. 

Later that day Ivan waltzed into Till’s room, proudly waving the lyrics around. He really was something remarkable when it came to songwriting- well for the words, at least. Till showed him the parts he added the night before as well as some tweaks due to the different instrument. They then looked over the lyrics together. As expected, Ivan had done a wonderful job- like he always did.

“Hm, there’s this awkward gap in the chorus… I feel like something should go there.”

“You’re right, this pause is too long. I can’t think of anything to put here though,”

“We could do some word play- the words paradise and parasite sound really similar, what if after ‘I like it’ we…” Till grabbed the pencil from Ivan’s hands and wrote down ‘ Let’s call this paratise’ at the end of the chorus (wordplay in sign language isn’t the most intuitive). He could see literal sparkles in Ivan’s eyes, a big smile on his face. They were both smiling like idiots. Till couldn’t remember the last time he’d enjoyed himself this much while writing a song. They kept on tweaking the music and lyrics together, until they finally had something they were both satisfied with.

The only thing left now was to sing it. Till wondered how they would sound as a duo; they never really got much of a chance to play together before- well, except for in Round 6. Still, now things were different. He started strumming the intro- it was a very solid piece, but it only felt complete after Ivan began to sing.

Wrong or right, win or die

They played like clockwork. Now isolated from the rest of the world, it was only the two of them in this bubble. Ivan’s singing took Till’s breath away. The softness of his deep voice made him draw closer, hanging on his every word, paying attention to every breath and every note.

My wish, to live in you like parasite

You, be my own private paradise

The chorus hit hard, every note played and sung to perfection.

Let’s call this paratise

Till felt his face become hot at hearing Ivan sing the lyrics he wrote, with such a beautiful voice and such conviction.

He paid close attention to the lyrics, just now taking in the meaning of the whole song. He couldn’t help but notice his heart beating faster after every verse- he felt like he knew this story far too well. When Ivan wrote the lyrics, what - or who- did he have in mind..? The song was nearing the end now.

Let’s call this paratise…

Both of them were leaning towards the other.

Let’s call this paratise…

Till played his last note, leaving Ivan’s voice to finish the song. He slowly set down his guitar, their faces now extremely close. Till was enthralled by the other’s face and features, the way his eyes were so peacefully closed, how he looked effortlessly perfect…

Let’s call this paratise.

Till placed his hand on Ivan’s cheek and leaned in. Their lips touched. It was a soft and gentle kiss, merely a peck. Till opened his eyes and pulled back with a small gasp, only to find Ivan staring at him dumbfounded. 

No way I just did that.

Shit.

He quickly got up and bolted out of the door, leaving a very confused and heartbroken Ivan all alone. His legs moved on their own, he just followed where they took him.

Great. He hates me now. He’ll think I was just making fun of his feelings or something.

Before he knew it, he was at his usual spot, in his safe haven. He didn’t think he was going to go back to camp that night, he wasn’t even sure about the night after. He just wanted to get away from that base and from him , hoping that he’d just forget what had happened. Although, deep down, he secretly hoped Ivan would come after him. 

Hours passed, the sun was going down and Till lay still on the grass. He was going to close his eyes when a soft voice came from above him, “Thought I’d find you here.” That’s right- Ivan had his own bike now. Till’s heart was about to come flying out of his ribcage from how fast it was beating. He rolled over, feigning indifference. Ivan sat down beside him, resting his arms on his knees. “It’s okay, you don’t have to be all freaked out. It’s fine, really.”

“But it was wrong on my part, I should’ve at least said something first-”

“Till, don’t worry. It was an accident.”

Except it wasn’t.

“I know you didn’t mean it.” Till felt his heart sink. He meant it, every bit of it.

“I did the same thing in Round 6,” 

How dare he bring Round 6 into this. 

He was growing progressively more pissed off after every word Ivan said.

“If that’s what this was about, you really don’t have to pretend-”

“I was scared.” Till whispered, his tone sharp.

“Sorry?”

“The first night you were at Camp, you asked me why I’d turned back that night- the one with the shooting stars.

“I was scared. I was afraid because I didn’t know what would await us ahead, I was afraid because I didn’t want to leave the others behind and I was afraid because you made me feel… things I’d never felt before. I was scared, so I ran away.”

“Till, what do you mean?”

“I kissed you… because I wanted to.”

“It’s fine, I know there was nothing behind it-”

“You just don’t get it, do you?” Till was practically screaming, his throat was on fire.

“I’m trying to tell you I love you!”

Well, now he’d done it.

For once, Till’s mind went quiet. The silence that followed seemed to never end. Until it was broken by a chuckle.

“Till is so adorable when he gets all flustered.”

“The fuck do you mean?” Till croaked. He’d used up enough of his voice that day. Ivan just smiled.

“And here I thought I was the obvious one.”

“Wait, so you-” 

Ivan nodded.

“To the stars and back.”

9 years after ALNST Finale

“IVAN, WHY THE FUCK ARE THE CHILDREN PLAYING WITH MY GUITAR??”

Till had just come back after a reconnaissance mission, only to find his (well, Hyuna’s) guitar in the grimy hands of the children that had been rescued by the rebellion. He got chills just seeing them carelessly tug at the strings.

“Aw, c’mon Till- they were just curious”, Ivan was surprisingly good with children, so he mostly stayed back to keep watch and play with them.

“Curious, my ass! That might be the last electric guitar in the whole galaxy, for all I know.” Ivan’s puppy eyes stared right into his soul. He clicked his tongue, then placed a kiss on his forehead and sighed.

“What ever am I going to do with you?” He signed, smiling, “Well, I’m going to try and get that guitar back. I’ll be back soon, love you.”  

“Love you more” Ivan signed back. Till’s heart still fluttered every time his boyfriend said or did anything corny- he’d even started talking to him in sign language sometimes. After they’d gotten their feelings out in the open, they almost instantly became official. Their relationship hardly changed, Ivan had just gotten more affectionate and Till more comfortable with them being together. They quickly became the talk of the Rebel Camp, so much so that they had Isaac and Dewey rolling their eyes at them every time they saw them walk by.

“You’re lucky they didn’t break anything” Till signed as he came back, holding his biker helmet underarm. He placed it on his bedside table. Only then did he notice Ivan flipping through one of his sketchbooks. He instantly grabbed it from his hands.

“And where the hell did you find these!?” He was red from head to toes.

“I didn’t know you liked me so much.” Ivan said, smiling innocently. He was looking at the sketches Till had made of him before they reunited.

“Of course I do, idiot.” Before he could stop himself, he started smiling too. He sat down on the bed beside Ivan, who immediately wrapped his arms around his waist and rested his head on his shoulder. Till was still getting used to all of that; not Ivan’s touchiness- he was very familiar with that- but feeling allowed to enjoy it without having to push back.

“Long day out?”

Till nodded. Ivan placed a kiss on his cheek. 

“About the mission, actually…” Till started fidgeting, “We were given a tip- they found some children, in the Alien Stage Memorial Museum.” He paused, Ivan was intent on listening. “Only thing is- they’re not really your typical children. They’re clones. Of you, me, and everyone else. Our genes mixed together.” His boyfriend stared at him, in silence.

“So they’d look like our children?” 

Till bolted up straight and whipped his head towards him, face redder than a tomato.

“WHY YOU-”

The following day, Till left Camp early and headed towards the museum. He’d half expected security to be up since the last time he came here, but no. Guess nobody really cared about Alien Stage that much. Till agreed. As he was riding through the cityscape he, again, failed to see any posters of Ivan- of course, since he’d been kept a secret, publicly announcing his disappearance would’ve only made Unsha the target for more hate. It was better this way, he didn’t really want to share his boyfriend with the rest of the world anyway- not after everything they’d gone through. He remembered the last time he walked through those halls and thought about how much had changed since then. He recalled how desperate he’d felt, frantically searching everywhere to look for clues as to where he could find Ivan, clinging onto any sliver of hope that he might still be alive. Funny, how things change. He was taking his time, strolling through the various halls, until he found them. Cooped up like animals in a zoo, the children, who all looked to be seven or eight, were behind a glass enclosure, behind them a painting of Anakt Garden.

Every muscle of Till’s body froze as he carefully examined all of the children’s faces. God, what they’d done to them was horrifying. He saw a child with a mix of Hyuna, Luka and Sua’s genes, one that had his same hair and Sua’s eyes, another one with Sua’s hair and Luka’s eyes, one that had his eyes and Hyuna’s hair. Finally, he saw a kid with bright pink hair and deep dark eyes with a hint of red to them. His heart stopped. Mizi and Ivan, the two people that were dearest to him and the two people that had saved his life.

He shattered the glass they were behind into a million pieces. The children stared soullessly into the void, as if nothing had happened. On his radio Till called Isaac; that was their code for sending backup- they would need a shit-ton of motorcycles to take all of these kids back to camp. 

Luckily, Isaac had already prepared a backup squad just for the occasion. They were quickly dispatched and sent to Till’s location. Upon arrival they managed to safely get the children onto their vehicles and rode away, back to Camp. If nobody had minded Till stealing documents from the museum in the past, now he would’ve definitely been on their blacklist. It wasn’t like he had any intention of coming back anyways.

Once they arrived at the Rebellion’s HQ, all the children were sent to stay with the other kids. Immediately after seeing them safely escorted to their playroom, Till ran to Ivan’s room and hugged him tightly. 

“So, were you able to find them?”

“Yeah… It’s horrible, what they did to them.”

“Well, now they can grow up like normal children and hopefully get to live peacefully. Thanks to you.”

“Oh, come on, quit it- I was just doing what I had to.”

“I couldn’t be prouder of my boyfriend .” Till’s heart skipped a beat. Ivan gently pecked his lips, before they both broke out into big, stupid smiles.

“You should come see them.”

It was eerie how they could clearly identify who was a copy of who, yet there was something about those children that didn’t feel quite right. They were completely devoid of any emotion or expression, like completely blank slates. They still had to learn to be human, since they clearly hadn’t been treated as such. Till was sure they had souls, they just had to start living. Staring into their eyes they both only saw their friends’ faces. A quiet sense of discomfort and guilt filled the room. Ivan took a hold of Till’s hand- it was shaking, despite how hard he tried to hide it.

Then, dragging him by the hand, Till led him to that kid, the one who had a mix of both Mizi and Ivan’s genes. “Look, they have your eyes.” Till pointed at them. “That one’s ours.” he signed, without a trace of uncertainty in his eyes. Ivan turned a bright shade of pink and laughed “If you say it like that, how could I possibly say no?” He tilted his head downwards and brought Till’s hand to his lips, before gently kissing it. 

“So, what are we gonna name the little guy?”

“I was hoping you’d help me with that, actually.”

“Hm,” he thought for a while, “Aster; it means star. Because they’re gonna light up this world, like the stars. I know it.”

“See, that’s why I asked you- you’re the lyricist, after all.” They both laughed. They were still writing music together- after Paratise had become all the rage throughout the Rebels they just kept composing pieces: Till was the musical mastermind and Ivan the lyrical genius. Even they had to admit they made a pretty good team. They were still using Hyuna’s old guitar, keeping her memory alive with every song- as for their other friends, the kids they’d saved were enough of a legacy to remember them by. Not a day went by where Till didn’t think of them. Over time he’d learned to focus on the bright side, to cherish the people he’d met, no matter how long he’d been able to know them for, instead of just mourning them. Same thing went for his voice: though sometimes he wished he could go back to sounding normal, he didn’t hate it anymore, thanks to Ivan - though he still found it hard to talk more than a few times a day. Of course, some days were harder than others but at least he knew he wasn’t alone anymore.

“That day, during the competition, were you afraid of dying?”

The question came up naturally, Till just blurted it out without thinking. The couple was sitting at what had now become their spot.

“Deadly scared. But that didn’t matter. Nothing else really matters when it means saving the person you love.”

“You’re awfully cheesy, do you know that?”

“I guess you’ll just have to deal with it.” Their hands got closer, fingers intertwining.

“There’s nothing I’d be happier doing.” Till whispered into his ear, then with his hand propped up Ivan’s chin and pulled him into a long, deep kiss. Ivan brought one hand to Till’s neck and ruffled his short, spiky hair with the other.

They ended up laying on the grass, cuddling and laughing without a care in the world, looking at the beautiful night sky.

After so many years, they’d done it.

All that longing, the running after each other, the misunderstandings, the loss, the grief-

Now they were finally able to be in the other’s arms, never to separate again.

They would forever follow each other

Through thick and thin

Through sorrow and joy

To the stars and back.