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What does it mean to love?
To look at someone and feel a swelling in your heart? A warm, compassionate, uncontrollable feeling? Well, no, it could never be as simple as a feeling in one’s chest.
Perhaps it’s a strong desire to keep that person in your life for the rest of time. To find a way to interconnect your soul with their own, keeping yourselves bound for eternity, regardless of how fate may mercilessly toss around your small, fragile lives.
Maybe it’s to be reminded of them within every little thing. To look at flowers of their similar eye color and wonder about them, to wonder if they think about you in the ways you think about them. Or maybe it’s to hear their voice, feel their presence, even when they may not even be in your physical space.
Or what if it’s to have raw, unfiltered emotions? To want to tear their chest open, form a big enough hole to climb into, and live inside of them for the rest of your short lives?
But what if it is just as simple as a silly feeling in your heart? You take a simple glance at them, feel your heart skip a beat, and as your body fills with warmth you’ve never known before, you feel large, pleasant emotions swirling through every fiber of your being. The feelings root from that tender smile they throw out so easily, so comfortably. Or the warmth in their laughter when you say something that’s beyond ridiculous.
Or, maybe, just maybe, it’s all of the above. And Till’s mind ponders on these questions during just about every minute of his days. All he knows is that the concept of love, whatever it may be, is a complex system. It comes in many different forms, shapes, and sizes, but he knows it exists. He knows as such because mother existed. Because his friends exist, because Ivan exists.
Ivan, to just about anyone who knew him even a tiny bit past his charming facade, was quite the confusing man. His emotions are complex. His faces were ones you couldn’t exactly read,
not regularly. It was difficult comprehending what he was truly feeling.
This was especially crystal clear to Till, who was, by far, Ivan’s closest... Well, he wasn’t exactly sure what they were. He’s always seen Ivan as one of his only friends, only disregarding the fact that the man ticks him off to no end.
He purposefully provokes Till into hitting him, beating each other up with fists and knees until there was no energy left in them and until they were covered in cuts and bruises, to which they would then collapse onto the ground, coddling each other peacefully. Each time, Till found himself too exhausted to push Ivan away. He would only let the boy cling to him with a sudden twist of quiet and stillness.
Each time it would occur, Till felt that there was an odd sense of peace. They would both lay silently in the blades of green, only after the small crowd they’d gathered had scattered away, look up into the sky and think. Think about what exactly? Till can’t recall as much. All he knows is that he simply felt at peace, some of the only points in his childhood where he wouldn’t have to worry about some idiotic and incomprehensible bullshit. They’d only be ripped apart from each other when it was time for them to be called back to their sleeping quarters, or for one to be called out for training, or something along those lines.
Till just remembers the slightly disappointed look on Ivan’s face, reluctantly retracting his arms from around his torso and standing up from the grass. He always waited for Till to stand up beside him before he walked the grey-haired boy to their destination. Despite Ivan’s (usually) unclear emotions, his disappointed faces were part of the few moments where Till could actually understand, or at least acknowledge, Ivan’s true feelings. He had noted the fact that Ivan would get disappointed when something pulled them apart.
Were those the emotions he felt when Ivan had lost? The memories of that day still haunt Till, keeping him up, leading to sleepless nights and waking up with sweat dripping down his neck. A sharp gasp usually followed suit, as if all the air in his lungs were suddenly pulled right out of his stomach.
Most of his nightmares left off from when the segyein were dragging him off the stage, hands clutching the collar of his shirt as his body moved across the cold floors. Another group of aliens stood over Ivan’s seemingly lifeless corpse, and Till had tried to reach out, he really did, but all he felt was the relentless tug of the segyein leading him away. As if reaching out would do much, anyway. He couldn't fight for Ivan as much as the other fought for him. Reaching out was the only thing he could bring himself to act on.
For what felt like the longest time ever, he was sure Ivan had died. Ivan died right in front of his eyes and Till was even more sure the other man hated him. He thought Ivan would’ve died, continuing to hate him.
And Ivan could have won that round if he tried, Till’s sure of that fact. The only reason he hadn’t was because of his desire to save Till. Ivan was one confusing man. Even now, he doesn’t understand why Ivan would go to such far lengths to save Till, but he’d be damned if he said he wasn’t more than relieved to see Ivan alive.
Ivan was brought in a few weeks after Till. He had already recovered most of his composure from the past few weeks when he noticed two particularly beefy guys, Isaac and Dewey, urgently bringing in a heavily slumped but familiar figure, who was draped across each of their shoulders.
Till finds himself choking on air. They only bring Ivan to the infirmary, where he’s carefully tended to by one of the nurses. He freezes where he is, losing control of just about every muscle in his body.
After Isaac and Dewey settle Ivan in the room, Till’s then sitting down on the floor in front of the infirmary, hugging his knees close to his chest. He figures he’s just waiting for something, anything regarding Ivan. He barely got to see the man’s face when he was brought inside, but he knows Ivan when he sees him. And he’s sure Ivan’s in there. Till’s brain wanders off aimlessly, thinking of every possible scenario that could happen within this small time frame.
Would Ivan hate him when he woke up? Look at him with cold, glaring eyes, and gaze at him as if he was staring daggers right into his face? Maybe he’d wake up, cling to Till, whining endlessly about how much he missed him. Or would he somehow forget everything completely? About Till, about his life, about his feelings? Maybe—
Till’s childish thoughts are interrupted by a quiet but audible clearing of a throat. He looks up weakly, noticing a familiar head of pink standing in front of him. She no longer had her long, flowy pink hair, having been reduced to short, fluffy locks. It was a big change from what Till was used to, but it wasn’t an unwelcome change.
His eyes light up for a moment, tilting his head in curiosity to what she needs. She simply had that effect on just about everyone she encounters. Mizi’s expression softens once she sees that Till’s morale is still somewhat high, high enough to look at her, at least. She occupies the space next to him on the ground, bumping her shoulder into Till’s.
She’s not sure what to say first. She gently fiddles with the ends of her sage green vest, trying to find the words to speak. “I’m happy to see you again.” Mizi starts off, letting go of her vest and turning her head a bit towards Till. He glances at her for a moment, then laying the side of his head against his knees. There’s a small smile on his gloomy face. “Yeah. I’m happy to see you, as well, Mizi.” Till manages. His voice is a bit raspy and tired. He would show more of a reaction if he wasn’t so exhausted.
Mizi, still leaning on his shoulder, sighs. “And I’m really happy Ivan’s alright,” She breathes, the relief evident in her words. Till nods in agreement. He’s happy. More than happy, but his feelings are still as messy as they once were. As glad as he is to see Ivan’s still alive, alive and as healthy as a man who was shot could be, Till’s not exactly fond of the idea of facing him again. He feels like he doesn’t deserve to see Ivan, not after everything that’s happened.
They sit in comfortable silence. As silly as it is, Till feels like a kid again. If this were any moment before Round 6, he’d be shrieking and blushing like a lovestruck schoolboy with Mizi so close to him. Now, he can finally bring himself to act like a regular person around her. Regardless, he enjoys the proximity, being close to a friend after so long was comforting to him. It was the only source of light after all of the dark experiences.
However, they’re not exactly sure how long they’ve been sitting on the floor in front of the infirmary. What Till knows is that Mizi fell asleep against him. He figures it was some well-deserved rest, after everything, and Till doesn’t remember the last time, in recent days, he found her sleeping soundly. The only other times was when he saw Mizi cuddled up against Sua, their limbs entangled within each other’s as they napped happily together. His heart ached with loneliness for himself but joy for the two. But there’s no point in sulking about that now, he thinks.
After about a few hours or so, Isaac crouches down in front of the sleeping Mizi and the half-asleep Till. “Ya awake?” He speaks, waving a hand in front of Till’s eyeballs. Till flinches gently, blinking his eyes open and looking up at Isaac.
That guy, Isaac, was nice. He was typically more serious and realistic when it came to conversing with him, with that tinge of unseriousness. He could usually be seen hanging around Dewey or Hyuna, and if not around them, working on something regarding helping the Rebellion. Till once saw him sitting at the kitchen island, hunched over writing in some notebook. Till admires his dedication to help out. He was the reason Till was even alive, after all, and he’s more than grateful.
The only thing that Till could say he disliked about the dude was that he had a knack for teasing others. He assumes it’s to help lighten the mood, but Till only finds it annoying. He finds most things annoying, though, so he’s not a very plausible source.
“Nh, yeah… I’m awake,” Till says groggily, yawning shortly. He shifts slightly in his seat, moving carefully so as to not wake Mizi. She grunts softly but never stirs awake.
Isaac hums, one of his palms landing on Till’s head and ruffling his hair playfully. “Is that your friend in there, in the infirmary? That black-haired guy?” He questions. His voice is low enough to whisper, being mindful of the dozed Mizi beside them. Till sits up a little more at that.
“Uh, Ivan?” Till murmurs. His head lifts slightly. Isaac nods, “Yeah? Is that his name?” The grey-haired man swallows. “Mhm.”
A gentle exhale leaves Isaac’s lips as he stands up, peeking into the infirmary room before glancing back down at Till and Mizi. Till’s practically on the edge of his seat. He was hoping for some news, any kind of news. “He was askin’ for ya,” Isaac brings up, gesturing to the inside of the room.
“Uh, somethin’ like saying your name, I think?” He adds, shrugging. “You’re free to go in there, if you’d like. Nurse said he’ll be fine in a few days.”
Till looks up at Isaac as if he was a gift from the Gods above, if they still existed here. There’s probably a sparkle in his eyes if you look close enough. Isaac just lets out a gentle scoff, ruffling Till’s hair one more time. “Yeah, yeah. Just be careful, he’s still prone to getting an infection.” Infection? Till has no idea what that means. He assumes it’s something to do with someone’s health, but pretends he knows what it means so he can see Ivan sooner.
Isaac clicks his tongue with a small chuckle, leaving them with a soft ‘cya later’ and walking off. Till wants to rush into that room like the wind, but remembers Mizi on his shoulder.
She would want to see him, right? The two were good friends, her and Ivan. But she seems so peaceful. Till didn’t want to ruin the moment for her. He gulps, placing a gentle hand on her outer shoulder, shaking her slightly. “Mizi,” he whispers. “Mizi, wake up.”
It takes a few minutes for her to wake up from her nap, and she slowly sits up. “Wh.. What is it?” The pink-haired girl mumbles, putting a hand over her mouth as she yawns. “Ivan. It’s… They’re giving us permission to visit him.” Mizi takes a few moments to register the information, but once she does, her expression changes into one of immediate happiness.
“Oh… Oh that’s amazing! Let’s do that then, let’s!” Mizi cries happily, instantly standing up from the ground and reaching down to help Till up. He smiles softly at her, taking her hand and using it to stand.
The two make their way to the door of the infirmary, gently pushing it open before their eyes scan the room carefully. Till’s land on Ivan, who’s sitting against the wall and looking down emptily at his lap. Ivan’s alive, Till reminds himself. He coughs, scrunching his nose. Mizi hardly notices, grabbing Till and trotting them both towards Ivan’s stretcher.
He’s dressed messily, looking to have been stuffed in something before getting here. It wasn’t anything extravagant, just a black, long sleeve shirt with dark jeans. “Ivan!” Mizi exclaims, with the biggest sounds of relief leaving her breaths. Ivan looks up. He seems dazed, barely managing to comprehend anything around him. Mizi knows better than to touch him, so she just stands in front of him patiently. Till’s a little bit behind her, off to the side.
“... Mi.. zi..” Ivan lets out. His voice is hoarse. He feels like his vocal cords were against everything he was doing, but felt compelled to speak regardless. “Oh, goodness... Ivan,” Mizi sniffles. “You’re here, you’re.. you’re really alive!”
The raven-haired man smiles. He reaches trembling hands towards Mizi’s. He holds them onto his own, the warmth of hers enveloping his own cold fingers. She can only smile, tears spilling down gently from her eyes. “Are you okay?” Ivan chokes out, gazing up at her. He notices the droplets peeking in the corners of her eyes. “More than okay.” Mizi reassures him, wrapping her arms around him for a hug.
Physical touch. It’s been quite a long while since Ivan’s felt a genuine, affectionate touch. But Mizi’s was more than he could’ve ever known, and he’s appreciative to see her again. It’s hard for him to handle his emotions, but he knows what he’s feeling is happiness. A love for one of his bestest friends. He doesn’t find himself hugging her back, but his hands holding onto her forearms gently.
Mizi continues to sob into his shoulder, tears of joy streaming down on his shirt. She mumbles mindlessly, something like she was so glad and relieved.
After a little while, Mizi finally pulls away. She wipes her tears off of her cheeks, her smile still tender. “Sorry… Hah, kinda soaked your shirt.” Mizi says with a soft giggle. That makes Ivan smile more, creating a more prominent view on his snaggletooth. Till looks over it, that small bit of white under his lip was oddly adorable. He doesn’t remember ever viewing it that way. He feels slightly out of place, without saying much.
“Mizi!” A masculine voice says, poking his head through the door. That bleached-blonde head of hair could stick out like a sore thumb in a crowd. His roots were growing in quite a bit. “Yeah–yeah? What is it?” Mizi speaks. She’s a little surprised but manages to compose herself after all the tears.
Dewey laughs playfully. “Hyuna’s askin’ for ya,” He states. “I think askin’ if you’re interested in going with her on the next supply run? Not too sure.” He then shrugs, popping back out as he waits for Mizi. “Right, okay, coming!”
She turns back to Till and Ivan, smiling at them
fondly. “See you later, Ivan, Till,” Mizi says happily. “I’m happy to see you’re okay, Ivan.” She gives them a little wave before running off to see Hyuna.
That leaves Till alone in the room with Ivan. The black-haired man is much quieter than usual. He’d usually be annoying Till’s ear off by now. He assumes he isn’t because things are oddly awkward. “... I.. Ivan..” Till’s voice quivers. Seeing the man in cold flesh after so long was, for whatever reason, unsettling. Maybe it was the idea he’s been dead in Till’s mind for the longest time. “Till.” He hears Ivan.
“Ivan… F.. Fuck, Ivan..” Till’s voice breaks. He feels his knees bucking, collapsing onto Ivan and his stretcher, arms wrapping around him like a vice. “Till?” Ivan repeats, in a more confused tone. Till starts to murmur brainless apologies, ‘I missed you’s, and whatever the hell was on his mind. Ivan’s not sure how to react. He’s not used to Till initiating affection towards him.
A few moments pass like this. Ivan then finds it in himself to wrap his arms around Till in return. His grip is weaker than Till’s, but affectionate nonetheless. “I’m here, I’m here, okay?” Ivan whispers. Till hooks his arms more tightly around Ivan’s torso. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry… For everything..” Till rambles. Tears start spilling down his face, he can’t help it.
As Till hiccups, Ivan pulls away, just enough for Till to look him in the eyes. Those deep, black eyes with that hint of red. It breaks Till even more. The same eyes he stared into when Ivan supposedly died.
The raven-haired man guides Till’s hands to press against the pulse on his neck. A reassurance he was alive. He feels as Ivan’s pulse beats evenly beneath his two fingers, his shaky and trembling breaths managing to compose themself. “I’m here, I’m okay, see?” Ivan comforts him. His voice is noticeably different—it’s calmer, comforting, and much more tender.
“Please, pl.. please, please,” Till’s not even sure what he’s pleading for. He’s just asking for something. His hands grip the fabric of Ivan’s shirt with desperation, occasionally scratching the skin underneath it. Ivan can only hum. His hands move to hold Till’s face and he strokes his features with pleasant fingers. “What is it, Till? What do you need?” Ivan says, ready to be giving. He’d give Till the whole world if he asked for it. Till can’t respond. He doesn’t know how. He barely even knows what he’s asking for.
What are they, even? Friends? Enemies? Close friends, maybe? Something beyond that, but not quite romantic? Till can’t pin it. He has no idea what they are relationship-wise, yet he never seems to bring it up. All he needs now is to keep close to Ivan. He couldn't lose Ivan again—he’d rather die than let the same thing occur. After the weeks of contemplation, nightmares, back and forth in his head, he knows now he loves Ivan. Whatever definition of love he may be feeling, he loves Ivan.
Over the next few hours, Till never left Ivan’s side. Ivan was able to walk around for a little, his nurse suggesting he get up and stretch a bit. He doesn’t do that, no, he sits on Till’s bed.
The two are leaning against each other helplessly. Till’s head is buried against Ivan’s neck. He takes slow inhales, slow breaths, trying to relish in the man’s embrace. Ivan’s fingers are touchy, though Till doesn’t comment on it. He’s aimlessly exploring Till’s figure. His fingers ran over Till’s sides, his neck, his thighs, the skin underneath his shirt. He occasionally rubs in some areas, or simply caresses him. And Till enjoys it. The coolness of Ivan’s body in general was pleasant against his own. It was all such light and tender touches, taking pleasure in each of them.
“Till,” Ivan mumbles suddenly. His voice is breathy, and quiet. Till hums in acknowledgement. “Look at me?” He requests softly. Till reluctantly lifts his head from Ivan’s neck, still hugging his waist tightly. “Mh?” Till lets out. “Do you mind if I kiss you?” Ivan speaks bluntly.
Till’s eyes widen. Fuck Ivan for being so damn blunt. “Do I what?” He chokes. Ivan opens his mouth to repeat himself, but Till knows he’ll die if he hears those words leave Ivan’s lips again. He shoves his hand over Ivan’s mouth for a moment. “... Sorry if you don’t want to. I.. wanted to do it properly if I ever saw you again.” Till grunts quietly.
“N.. No. No, I don’t mind.” Till says shakily. He wants to bury himself in a hole and die. His cheeks are red, on fire, even. Ivan recognizes the expression, but it’s usually caused by Mizi smiling at him or if a girl complimented him. “Are you sure?” Ivan responds, wanting to make sure. He doesn’t want to hurt Till, not again. Till nods in affirmation. His eyes are close to shutting tightly and never opening again.
The black-haired man exhales out gently. His hands snake up towards Till’s neck. He holds onto it. The feeling is familiar, and this time, it feels nicer, the feelings welcome. “If you’re gonna do it, do it now,” He murmurs shakily. Ivan nods in understanding. He leans in closer. Till feels it, he feels the proximity, and he’s wanting to die now more than ever. His first romantic interaction and he feels like he’s already messing everything up without having done anything.
Till shuts his eyes tightly. He hopes that somehow hides him away more from Ivan, but all thoughts are clouded once he feels Ivan’s lips press against his own again. Were they usually this warm? His entire body was cold, other than his mouth, somehow. However, it’s gentle. Less rough than how he kissed Till before.
He tries to lean into it, though he has no idea what he’s doing. His breath hitches, feeling Ivan tilt his head and deepen it a little more. His fingers grip Till’s neck a little tighter. Only is it when one of Ivan’s sharp teeth bite down on Till’s bottom lip does he yelp and quickly pull away.
“Mnf- F.. Fuck was that for?!” Till cried. His chest heaves up and down. Ivan smirks lightly. There he was, Till thinks. “Couldn’t help myself,” Ivan replies, pulling Till closer to himself. “Try.. Try that again, just.. don’t fuckin’ bite me, alright?” Till grumbles. He tightens his grip on Ivan’s waist, narrowing his eyes again. Ivan mumbles something inconherent, something Till can’t quite make out, but Ivan leans in and kisses Till once again.
“Keep it gentle…” Till mutters between kisses, pinching Ivan’s waist to serve as a reminder. He doesn’t hear Ivan say anything, but at least he’s not biting down on his lip, so he concludes that Ivan’s listening. Ivan pushes himself closer into Till, his tongue brushing against the seam of Till’s lips. The grey-haired man tenses for a moment, before hesitantly letting it in. He feels Ivan smirk against his mouth, and Till almost bites down on him in frustration.
Ivan slowly pushes himself into Till’s mouth. Their tongues meet, massaging one another’s with slow and gentle gestures. Till is more than lucky they aren’t moving any more hastily than this. If they had been, he’d probably be passed out on the bed with a permanently blushing face. The taste of Ivan’s saliva in his mouth is weirdly intoxicating.
Till learns that Ivan’s ability to hold his breath is insane. They went on like that for several minutes without pulling away once for air, but Till was probably going to pass out if he didn’t. He pushes Ivan off of his mouth with a sharp gasp, breathing in air like a drowning man. “Why the fuck are you so.. Holy fuck.” Till grumbles breathlessly. He’s probably jealous. “Pft, what is it?” Ivan smiles.
“Just.. Just shut your mouth, alright?” Till groans. “Mn, c’mon, beloved,” Ivan giggled, nuzzling his face down into Till’s neck. The grey-haired man just huffs. His hands bury themselves into Ivan’s raven locks, the strands still silky and soft. His fingers soothingly scratch Ivan’s scalp, and he hears the other man letting out noises contently.
“You’re such an idiot.” Till mutters. He leans back against his headboard, Ivan still wrapped tightly in his arms. Ivan grins into Till’s neck, pressing a soft kiss to the skin. “I love you, you know that?” Ivan says quietly.
“I love you, too,” Till speaks. He presses another kiss to Ivan’s temple.
Those words always seem foreign to Till, but he’s more than happy to explore them with Ivan.