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Summary
“Till! Good afternoon.” Ivan greeted him, exactly how he would greet him on any other day. Seeing how Till was holding the window open, Ivan let himself in, feet landing in the room with the precision of a raven.
“You don’t look so good, have you eaten today, Till? It’s a shame I didn’t bring any food today.” He stepped forward analyzing the shorter boy’s figure.
Till flinched back, his heart beating so hard it felt as if it was going to break his ribs.
“You’re not real..” He forced the words out of a dry throat, His voice hardly reaching above a whisper.
OR
Ivan’s dead. Buried deep (enough) under the ground and left to rot. Except, the very next day; he’s back.