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till’s current status: drunk, rejected, staring down at a bunny in a box.
it’s not that he didn’t know mizi wasn’t interested in him, it’s more that he never expected her to soft launch a relationship on instagram with sua of all people. sua! her best friend since their school days!
which, till will have you know, was exactly the time period when he started admiring mizi from afar himself. does that mean he was doomed all this time? was it a sign?
“it was a sign, bunny.” till buries his face into his hands, still crouched down by the box on the sidewalk near his apartment complex. “i was dumb. i’ve always been dumb. how could i be so dumb? and why did i drink so much? my head hurts, bunny.”
the bunny doesn’t do anything. not that this abandoned bunny could do anything to begin with. in fact, as dumb as till was, at least he was able to secure his dream job as a songwriter and escape the hellhole that was urak’s house. besides his mother passing early in his life and mizi waving the lesbian flag in his face, his life was swell. this bunny though? his life wasn’t as great. he had no home. but till had a home.
till thinks about how sad he would be without his friends, without the safety and comfort his home provides him.
“i wish you had the same, bunny. you’re just a lil guy, all alone in the dark expanse of this lonely world, where life sends you conflict after conflict and you have no choice but to pick yourself back up. and you’re just a bunny. what can you do on your own?”
the black bunny blinks those large, button eyes at till.
till nods severely. “that’s exactly right. you can’t do anything. what you need is a chance, bunny. you need someone to give you a leg up in life. maybe an amazing human. someone who could give you a home, give you love and care, give you the things you need in order to live your best bunny life. someone like me, except not me, cause i don’t know how bunnies work, you know? i’m just a guy who’s drunk off of three bottles of soju because i’m a fucking lightweight. i can’t do anything but talk to you. you’re a good listener too, by the way. my name’s till. do you have a name?”
he looks around the box, sees a four letter word scribbled on the side.
“ivan? that’s a weird name for a bunny. you know what i would name you? sorrow. because that’s what you and i both feel. you because you’ve been sent to live on the streets with no money and me because i don’t know if i’ll ever find someone good enough to look at me twice. hey, at least now i know why sua always glared at me when i talked to mizi, huh?”
till decides the best thing to do would be to lie down on the sidewalk next to the box. he’s facing the sky now, unable to see the bunny, but that doesn’t stop him from continuing their scintillating conversation. it’s not his fault that the bunny is so curious and actively wants to hear him out, okay? besides, till’s got a lot of laments he needs to get off his chest.
“and then! you know what this fucker decides to do?! he tells me my song isn’t worth shit and i should redo the lyrics! motherfucking jackass of an idol. if luka ever gets in touch with me again, i’ll rip him a new one, bunny, i swear. oh, but don’t worry. he still ended up using my song and i still made my money. his company made him apologize. as they should because that song went platinum. platinum, bunny! i’m a fucking genius.”
till hears a rustling from the box, the sounds of bunny paws tapping against the cardboard.
“aw, thanks, bunny. i knew i could count on you. luka will always be our enemy, huh?”
what answers till isn’t the bunny, but a drop of water hitting his nose.
“what?”
followed by another hitting his cheek.
till sits up, scrambles for his phone and whines when the blue light irritates his vision. he clicks on the weather app, looks at the rainfall percentage for the current hour, gets hit with a few more drops of water, and then stares at the bunny.
the bunny—ivan—stares back at him, red ribbon around his neck askew, looking all sorts of pitiful.
“ivan, right? so like, please don’t poop all over my apartment. i’ll cry, okay?”
ivan sneezes.
it’s not a promise, but till will take it.
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two hours later, it’s pouring buckets outside till’s warm and cozy home. since till brought the box inside, he has fed ivan some bok choy that was mostly not wilted, has set up a plastic box with newspapers and pleaded his case for a clean and poop-free apartment once again, and has set up a nice little area with his softest blanket and smallest pillow.
“ivan. bunny.” when till speaks, the bunny hops forward. it’s just a few inches toward him, but till is pleased regardless. “sleep here. it’s very comfy, okay? if i was a bunny, i would definitely sleep here.”
the bunny takes his time judging the sleep area. he hops close to it, sniffs it cutely with his black nose. till notes that the red ribbon around its neck is still lopsided, but before he can reach out to fix it, or take it off at least, the bunny settles onto the makeshift bed, settling on its paws and looking up (thankfully?) at till.
till immediately takes out his phone and takes like twenty photos.
“oh my god, there’s a bunny in my room. and it’s fucking cute. hehe, i bet luka doesn’t have a cute bunny.”
after the photoshoot is over, till stands up with maximum effort, as his legs are tired and his head still hurts. he blearily makes his way to his bed, plops down on his back and closes his eyes.
his last thought before passing out is how he did good by the bunny, how he hopes it doesn’t come back to bite him.
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it bit. it bit hard.
till gapes, aghast at the sight before him. “who the fuck are you?!”
the man in his kitchen winces at the screech. “ow. that’s loud, till. i have sensitive ears, you know.”
“i don’t care?” till picks up the closest heavy object, which just so happens to be his unplugged toaster. “who are you? what are you? and how did you get in here?!”
the man turns around from whatever he’s cooking on the stove. till belatedly notices he’s only wearing till’s old sweatpants, the ones that stretched out in the wash and were too big on him. till’s face turns red at the realization that the man has been through his closet, and he holds the toaster up higher, ready to launch. “i’ll call the police! don’t think i won’t!”
the man frowns, and till hates how attractive it looks on him. “but you brought me in here in the first place! i was just sitting in my box, minding my own business. why are you getting mad at me?”
till frowns as the words register properly in his sleep-addled head. “are you…. did i pick up a bunny hybrid by accident?”
“not an accident!” the man is full-on pouting now. “didn’t you notice that my name was strange for a bunny? even sorrow would have been a better name if i wasn’t a hybrid.”
till slowly lowers the toaster, face tinged with pink. “i was drunk, okay? and why didn’t you transform and tell me who you really were?”
the man—ivan—turns back to the stove, not deeming the now-calmed till a threat. “if a hybrid doesn’t have enough energy, it can’t transform into its human form. i’d been abandoned for almost twenty hours before you came and found me, so i was only able to transform back after resting here. thank you for that, by the way.”
“oh, uh, you’re welcome?”
ivan turns to look at him, flashes him a toothy grin with a hint of fang. “breakfast is almost ready. sit down after washing up please, tilly.”
till gapes once more before turning on his heels and washing up as dictated. as he’s scrubbing his face, he ponders over this latest predicament.
hybrids in society weren’t uncommon, but the chances of coming across them randomly were still low. they usually tended to live in hybrid-only neighborhoods, which till’s complex definitely wasn’t. for the most part, hybrids were free, but there were still some cases where hybrids were bought or sold, an archaic practice which was still utilized by the upper class. it wasn’t right, but hybrids didn’t have as many rights as humans to begin with. there were movements for change, but laws were always slow to amend.
before till had left for the bathroom, he’d noticed the tattoo on ivan’s inner wrist with his name scribed in capital letters, a common sign of a hybrid that was once sold. till tries to ignore the lump in his throat at the implication of what that meant for ivan, a hybrid who’d been abandoned by his owner.
when till sits down at his dining table, he’s met with a steaming bowl of gyeran bap. it’s simultaneously the fanciest and coziest looking thing till has ever eaten at home. the egg is gooey in his mouth when ivan speaks, sitting across him with noticeably no food at all.
“till, i really am thankful you brought me in,” he starts slowly, eyes looking down at his own hands, fingers laced together. “you might not have made a big deal out of last night, but it was a sort of kindness i haven’t been able to experience in years.”
till swallows his mouthful of food. “i know i shouldn’t be nosy, but…” he hesitates for a second before continuing. “you weren’t abused or anything, right? i know hybrid rights are shit, but owners are still supposed to take care of their hybrid’s basic needs. we can go to the police station and report them.”
“no, that’s not necessary,” ivan says, shaking his head. “i just wasn’t right for my ex-owner. he wanted a plaything more than a companion, and i couldn’t do that for him. so when i was asleep, into a box i went and i was dropped off in an area no one would recognize me. i’m sure he has a new hybrid by now. laws dictate a human can only have one hybrid at a time, so there’s no luck for me. not that i want to go back, haha.”
till’s hand clenches his chopsticks tightly. “that’s still shitty. what kind of person treats another living being like that?”
ivan seems amused. “it’s common for us. at any rate, i’ll have to get out of your hair sooner than later. now that i’ve regained my energy, i can try to find my own way in life. maybe find a job that accepts hybrids, too.”
till looks down at his half-eaten bowl of egg rice. he knows how difficult it is for hybrids without support backing them. it wouldn’t be easy for ivan, not in the long run.
he doesn’t particularly want to, but the words tumble out of till’s mouth before he can stop them.
“what if you stay here with me?”
ivan’s eyes widen.
till doesn’t pause, and keeps going. “you could stay with me. you could still try to find a job, but as long as you take care of the chores here, there’s a place for you. i have a spare room and everything, so…”
he tapers off, embarrassed by his words. silence sets in as ivan stays mute. at this point, till’s face is red, so he distracts himself by shoveling more breakfast into his mouth.
finally, ivan speaks, voice small and unsure. “would it really be okay for you to have me here?”
till looks up, meets ivan’s eyes, feels a determination run through and fill his heart. “of course! i’m busy as it is, so i could use the help. and, you know, if you cook more often, it’ll only help your case. i’m not trying to be your owner, more like… i wanna be your friend? you did listen to be ramble on and on last night, so we could be friends at this point…”
ivan blinks before laughing loudly, happiness in every sound. “you really were so drunk, weren’t you? hahahaha!”
till’s face burns even hotter, and before he can retort and take back his words, ivan reaches for till’s hand, picks it up and nuzzles it with his cheek.
“thank you for continuing to be kind, till,” he says gently, eyes closed as he continues rubbing his scent on till. “i look forward to living here with you.”
till is so hot, he finally explodes.
“let go!! and go make yourself breakfast! you’re making me feel bad!”
“hahaha, whatever you say, tilly!”
“and, and don’t call me tilly! it’s till!”
“and i’m ivan, not bunny, haha. we’ll both work on it, yeah?”
till groans.
it’s just living together, right? like roommates? it’s nothing more, till reasons to himself, not like anything more will ever happen, right?
right?
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