Work Text:
Till didn't know how long it had been since the incident where the Rebels saved him, since Mizi saved him. It felt like it was just yesterday, based on how terrible he felt physically, but also a lifetime ago. It didn't matter really.
People often check on him, asking him how he's doing. Till found the Rebels were nice. One of them, who introduced himself as Isaac, was kind. He often tried to make conversation with Till despite Till being unable to speak. He was the one who had the idea and provided Till with notebooks too, so he could at least reply in writing.
Isaac had told Till about what happened, how Till ended up here… but honestly, Till could hardly hear anything when a certain guy seemed to occupy his every sense every day and night since the moment Till woke up after the incident.
Till could hear it. The sound of water dripping down the floor. It sounded so close, right next to his bed.
“Till,” a whisper called his name. Till felt chills run down his spine. He couldn't bear to respond, couldn't even bear to open his eyes, lest he see His piercing gaze.
“Till, won’t you look at me?” He asked. He sounded closer this time, like crouching next to his bed, pleading to Till.
“ Till .”
The sound of His pleading voice made Till open his eyes, and he met His eyes instantly. He was looking at Till intensely, unblinking. Till was so frightened he wanted to scream, but he couldn't make any noise, couldn't breathe. A hand muffled his nose and mouth.
He said, “It's in the middle of the night. Are you sure you want to scream? Come on, Till, don't become more of a burden, hm?”
The hand let go of his mouth. But it didn’t make breathing easier. Till was breathing heavily and violently scratching his neck, at the same time desperately trying to look away from someone's mocking eyes. But no matter where he looked, all Till saw was Him. He saw a floor that was covered with blood, and His bleeding body in a drenched white suit.
Till could only silently cry.
When Till woke up the next day, his first thought was that everything hurts . He figured he didn’t sleep very long because he didn’t feel well-rested at all. His head and chest hurt, his neck felt stiff, and its skin stung and itched. He must’ve made new wounds, he thought. Why else did the sound of a boy’s voice humming a song behind him come from? He always appeared after Till hurt himself.
“Good morning, Till!” The Boy greeted.
“...don’t stop,” Till said. Somehow, He was the only one who could hear Till. The Boy replied with a questioning sound. “Keep singing,” Till answered. Despite the appearance of Him as a boy signified Till hurt and bled, Till felt relieved. Facing the boy version of Him was easier and…in some way comforting.
The Boy was singing some kind of lullaby. Till couldn't help but think he had heard it somewhere before. But couldn't recall when and where. Either way, this familiar lullaby sounded nice.
Till turned his body around to face the boy, finding Him lying down and looking at the ceiling, playing idly with His hands. Dawn sunlight slipped through the curtains, slightly illuminating the room, the bed, and both of them. Till wished this sliver moment of peace could last forever.
A few hours later, someone knocked on the door and opened it. It was Isaac, holding a tray of food. Every morning and evening, Isaac would bring Till's breakfast and dinner, then ask how he's doing. It was a very nice gesture that Till was thankful for. During lunch, different people would bring his meal. Till was fine with that, they were equally nice, too. But Till wondered why Isaac didn't come during lunch, maybe he was busy. Or maybe he couldn't handle Till that much in one day.
“Good morning, Till, how are you do- Ah! Your neck,” Isaac exclaimed. He looked concerned. Putting down the tray of food on the bedside table, he said, "I'll get the first aid, okay? I'll be right back.”
Till forgot about the new wound he inflicted on his neck, and now he was feeling really bad about troubling Isaac first thing in the morning.
“Cheer up,” The Boy suddenly said to him with His big doe eyes and sweet smile. Till could only stare at Him.
Isaac entered the room with a first aid kit and started to take care of Till's wound carefully. By now, he was a master at healing Till’s neck with how often he violently scratched his own neck. They tried ways to stop Till's hand from hurting himself, but Till still seemed to find ways to do it. Even when they managed to restrain Till, he instead got more and more distressed.
Isaac didn't know what else to do about it except pray to whatever gods or deities out there, if there were any, that Till would stop and heal in time.
Seeing Till trying to reach his notepad, Isaac stopped him. “Stay still for now. And you should eat after this. We can talk after you finish everything,” he firmly said. Till slightly nodded and sat still.
After cleaning and bandaging the wounds. Till ate the breakfast that Isaac bought. Till didn't have much appetite, but he had troubled Isaac too much today, so he didn’t want to add any more.
Looking at Till eating his food, Isaac felt relieved. It didn't seem like Till would leave his food uneaten today. Any progress was good, no matter how little it was.
Isaac started to talk to Till about random things, one of them was about this weird, funny dream Isaac had last night. Till appreciated him a lot and gave him a faint smile.
After Till finished eating, with no food left behind, they started talking, with Till replying in writing. The Boy, thankfully, was quiet. Lying his head on Till’s thigh, though with an unreadable expression.
He started by thanking Isaac for the food and apologizing for causing trouble, but Isaac shrugged him off. Telling Till not to worry about it, and they were way past that at this point.
Till knew that Isaac avoided talking about anything even mildly sad or stressful to Till. So he often talked about mundane happenings in the Rebels, occasionally complaining about Dewey, another nice person from the Rebels who saved his life. Till didn’t mind. He knows Isaac didn’t want to stress Till any more. And Isaac had already filled him in on what happened during the incident, or as the aliens call it, The Alien Stage Tragedy.
More or less, Till already knew all about it, except for what happened now to Mizi. Isaac didn’t know, no one did. And the Rebels didn’t want to talk about Mizi that much, if at all, after what happened. In the back of his mind, Till was still worried. Maybe she was still out there, and maybe he could find her. Till missed her.
Suddenly, a commanding, distorted voice filled his ears: “Tell him to leave.” Till froze.
In the middle of talking, Isaac noticed that Till looked shaken, eyes unfocused. Isaac asked what was wrong. Till’s hands were trembling, he could feel a cold hand gripping him on his left shoulder, and a chill ran down his spine. While trying to stop the trembling of his hands before Isaac noticed, Till gave an apologetic smile. He then wrote, “Don’t worry, just a sudden headache. Can I rest a little bit more?”
Isaac complied, “Of course. Sleep more, okay? I’ll be back later. Are you sure you’re okay? Do you need anything else?” Till could feel His hand slowly move up from his shoulder to his neck. Till panicked and quickly wrote, “I’m fine.”
Isaac finally left. The cold hand gripping his shoulder was gone. Before Till could sigh in relief, He hugged him from behind, putting His head on Till’s shoulder.
“Longing for others’ company while I’m here accompanying you, Greedy little thing, aren’t you?”
Despite his unease from the mocking question, Till felt irritated, “Can I have a fucking day of peace? For once?” Till waited for His reply, but met with silence. He couldn’t see His expression either, Till assumed He was smiling.
Before Till could say something, He suddenly said, “You can ask me to leave you know, if you want. You can ask me to leave and never come back. Anytime. I will leave.” This time, it was Till who was silent.
“Ask me, Till. Ask me to leave.” His tone was commanding, saying it beside his ear. His hands were tightened around Till’s body, so tight he could hardly breathe.
Till was hyperventilating. His chest hurt.
Not long after, he let go of Till and let out a sneer. Till just wanted to curl up on himself, but before he could do that, he appeared in front of Till. Till tried to look away, avoiding Him entirely.
“Till,”
Silence.
“Look at me in the eyes and tell me to go away.”
Another silence.
“Are you gonna run away again?”
Without warning, His hands reached out to strangle Till’s neck, scratching his new bandaged neck. It hurt, Till couldn’t take it anymore.
“Say it,” He commanded. Till was sobbing. And slowly, he hesitantly started looking up, looking at Him.
“...no I-I can’t.”
At least when Till looked up, it was not the version of Him that lay bleeding the last time Till saw Him, nor the little version that Till admitted he missed the most.
Till often spent his days drawing in the notebooks Isaac brought for him. Drawing or sketching something helped Till calm down. Sometimes he drew the view outside his window, the sky, or the Rebels’ member, he drew Isaac and Dewey too. Other times, he drew his happy memories from when he was in Anakt Garden. Oftentimes, though, he drew Him.
However, Till couldn’t seem to draw him properly. Something always felt off. He managed to draw his eyes once, but he couldn’t make out the rest. Something was always holding him back. Despite having drawn him countless times back then, now, nothing felt right. Now, every time he tried, he could only see blood.
Pages upon pages left with unfinished drawings of Him in scratches.
Days went by slowly for Till. His days were more or less the same. Till spent most of his time in bed, where he was supposed to recuperate. But how could Till recuperate when every day feels like purgatory?
He could hardly do or be motivated to do anything. Every day, taunted by Him, memories, and regret. Sometimes he wished he had died that day, that Mizi had never saved him. Everything would be easier. Nothing mattered here anymore anyway. He was nothing but a burden.
Isaac thought that he might be wrong. The only progress with Till was how Isaac got progressively worried about him. Till didn't seem to get better, and every time his previous neck wounds started to heal, new ones appeared. There were days when Till seemed to be getting better, no self-harming at all, but even in those days, Till was more distracted than usual.
Isaac tried to visit Till more and asked others to accompany Till when he was alone. To cheer him up and prevent him from doing anything more harmful to himself. But those days never lasted that long, because the next morning, new wounds would appear.
Once, he tried to ask Till about it. But Till never answered.
Isaac didn’t quite know how to approach him. He wished that Hyuna were still here, or Mizi. If they were still here, they probably could relate to each other better. He also wished he could accompany Till more often. But he had been busy. He and Dewey have been secretly planning to look for Mizi, because apparently, she was recently declared missing. So there was a small chance she was still out there. But he still hadn’t come up with a full, sure plan yet. There was no guarantee they'd be able to do it either, especially doing it behind the members of the rebellion’s back.
Would they come up with a full plan, and Till is better, Isaac planned to tell him. But again, Till didn’t seem to get better.
The truth is, Till was physically getting better. The Rebels took care of him well. At least, Till felt better than the first time he woke up, except for the self-inflicted wounds on his neck. But Till still felt extremely exhausted every time he woke up. Doing anything felt challenging. And he didn’t have any motivation in him to push through.
Talking to people helped him in a way, they distracted Till from spiraling into his fear, anger, and deep sorrow. But they also distract Till from Him.
Maybe Till had truly lost it now. Because he realized that the more Till interacted with others, the lonelier he became. And in a fucked up way, the appearance of Him started to comfort Till instead. Till thought that maybe He felt lonely too.
The thought of Till abandoning Him, again…followed a feeling of guilt eating Till alive like no other.
“Mizi is out there,” He unexpectedly said one day.
“What?”
“That guy just said so.”
“I know.”
“Shouldn’t you look for her, then? Join them?”
Till was silent.
“Hm? No? Are you coming with me instead, Till?” After a while, Till silently nodded, tears streaming down his face.
“Will you really? Or are you just saying you’ll come with me now, just to leave me behind later? Like back then,” He questioned Till with a mocking voice and a sneer.
“...not this time,” Till answered.
Confusion, desperation, regret. Him. Every version of His appearance felt like a punishment, but a punishment that Till could not go on without. Every day, he longed for Him and His presence. Thinking that maybe He could take Till with Him instead.
That night, Till cried himself to sleep.
Till felt someone stroking his hair, and they were so gentle he leaned into it.
“Oh, you're awake. Hehe, you're bad at pretending,” an all too familiar voice quietly spoke to him, but the usual mocking tone was replaced with gentle teasing instead.
When Till opened his eyes, he met with a gaze so gentle, he thought he had gone back in time. A time when he would catch those gentle eyes directed at him, so fleeting, Till thought he imagined it.
He looked like the last time Till saw him that day, but there was no rain, and no blood.
“Ivan, you bastard…” After a moment, that was all Till managed to say.
Ivan laughed so hard he rolled over onto his back beside Till, “Really? That’s the first thing you say to me? Cursing me out? So typical of- Till?” Ivan stopped mid-sentence when he saw Till covering his face with his hands, his body visibly trembling, and tried to curl up into himself.
Ivan sat up and reached out to Till, gently pulling and grabbing Till’s wrists to help him sit up. Till was visibly distraught. He was crying and sobbing, his body was shaking so much. Ivan immediately enveloped him in his arms.
I’m sorry.
Till was sobbing so hard he was almost hyperventilating. Ivan tried to calm him down and kept telling him to take a slow, deep breath, while his hands stroked Till’s back.
Once Till started to calm down a little, Ivan began to speak, but Till beat him to it: “Don’t you leave me anymore.”
Till could feel that Ivan tensed up. His hand that had been stroking Till’s back stopped. Ivan was quiet for a moment. He then said, “Till…”
“Please,” Till was holding Ivan’s shirt so tightly, unwilling to let go.
I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.
“...You know, if you were this clingy to me back then, I think I would’ve cried happy tears. Then I would never let you let go of me ever again. And as much as I want to do that right now, you can’t, Till. You have to let me go, don’t stay here, okay?” Ivan said.
Teal eyes filled with tears looked up at Ivan, “Please… I can’t, Ivan, I-I can’t. Without you, I-” It was difficult for Till to come up with words. So many feelings welled up in him all at once. He wanted to tell Ivan everything, every apology, every regret, every unspoken word, every secret.
Feeling distressed, unconsciously, Till’s hand moved up to his neck, but before he could scratch it, Ivan stopped him. “Don’t. Till. Please. Don’t ever do that again,” Ivan pleaded.
Till had never seen this expression on Ivan. Distraught, pleading look. The guy always looked like he was one sentence away from provoking Till with his teasing or mockery. Fake and unreadable smiles were how Till associated him with.
Ivan reached out to Till, nearing his neck. But he unconsciously flinched and looked away. Ivan’s hand stopped mid-air. Ivan’s face was gradually getting more distraught, Till couldn’t believe that it was possible. Then, Till caught Ivan’s hand and placed it on his neck. Despite it was Till who put Ivan’s hand on his neck, Till still shivered. “It hurts me when you do this to yourself,” Ivan said, his thumb tenderly grazing Till’s neck.
Till then replied with a question that Ivan didn’t expect, “Don’t you hate me?”
“What? No! Till I never hated you, and nothing ever will make me hate you.”
“Th-then why?! Back then, I- Why were you always- I-I thought- Fuck-”
I’m sorry.
“Till, listen to me. I never hated you. I wanted to give you everything I have if you’d let me. But you never did. I thought I was okay with that. But I wanted you so bad, I couldn’t help but crave and do anything for a bit of your attention. I’m sorry, I didn’t think… everything came to this.”
Till guided both of Ivan’s hands towards him, pulling them closer, then he put Ivan’s hands on his cheeks. Till nuzzled into it, he said, “I want to come with you, please take me with you, Ivan.”
Ivan looked speechless. Various expressions crossed his face, from shock to happiness, but in the end, he gave a sorrowful smile.
No one knew who leaned in first, but they kissed. Till was unsure for a moment, recalling a bad memory that came with it. But this time the kiss was soft, the hands around him were gentle. Till couldn’t help but lean in deeper and melt into it.
When they were finally out of breath, they separated. With their forehead touching, Ivan said, “No, you can't. As much as I want you... You can't. Not yet. Till… My Till. I love you so much. But I wish for you to live and be happy, Till. You have so much to live for now, you’re free.”
Till was uncharacteristically quiet. Eyes never left Ivan. Seemingly studying every part of him. Ivan continued, “Now that you’re free, you can do anything, Till! Find Mizi, isn’t she still out there? Start there... After that, you can do whatever you want. Maybe...you can save others like Mizi saved you, too.”
“No! What about you?! I left you alone...before, I’m not going to do that again. Ivan, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry that I was an idiot that never realize-” Seeing how distressed Till was, Ivan interrupted him by nuzzling into Till. Ivan would not accept Till insulting himself.
“Don’t apologize, Till. It’s okay. I’m okay. I never blamed you for anything. Please don’t worry about me. I’m happy. I’m so happy right now, you have no idea. But you can’t come with me yet. Please live, Till. My wish for you to live happily exceeds my desire for you to be here with me. And you have no idea how much I want you.” Ivan confessed. Till thought he could feel something wet that grazed his neck. Ivan was crying.
Ivan kissed Till again, more passionately this time. Till never want to let go.
“Besides, that guy has something to show you, and I think you’re going to love it,” Ivan said breathlessly. Till was dazed. What was he talking about?
“I assure you, I will be here waiting for you. We will meet again. But not today, not anytime soon. Promise me?”
Looking at Ivan’s eyes, Till said, “...I promise.”
When Till woke up that day, he felt very well-rested for the first time in a long time.
He remembered everything. He remembered his promise.
Suddenly, Isaac came in through the door, “Oh good, you’re awake. You were sleeping very soundly, and I couldn’t bear to wake you. It’s noon, and you’re just in time for lunch. How are you doing today, Till?”
Till reached for his notepad and wrote, “I actually feel really well today, thanks.”
Looking at Till, Isaac noticed he looked different. His eyes had more life to them. Maybe today is a good day , Isaac thought.
“After you ate, there’s something I want to show you. Maybe I can teach you how to ride it too. How about that?” Isaac asked, hopeful.
Recalling what Ivan said to Till, Till smiled. “I can’t wait,” he wrote.
Thank you, Ivan.
Live, Till.