Chapter Text
Till drifts between the boundaries of consciousness and deep slumber. He lets it pull him under, like a gentle tide swaying his body, although he knows all too well what follows afterwards.
His voice comes first, it always does– reverberating, a loud water drop crashing onto stone.
“Till?” The voice calls, smooth yet invasive.
The scene unfolds in front of him as if a weak light bulb were flickering on, and the edges of his sight is burnt and blurred.
And there he is.
Ivan’s sat beside him on the floor, his head slung back and face ever so slightly tilted towards Till’s direction. Till’s eyes, for a split second, linger on the beads of sweat on Ivan’s face and neck. Ivan chuckles, eyes squinting slightly, putting the video game controller he had in his hand to the side. The window, slightly ajar behind him lets in the slightest humid breeze during the night, as well as the distant buzzing cicadas.
“You look like you’re about to float away,” Ivan teases, the sound of his voice buzzing like Till’s senses were replaced by an old film camera, “What’re you working on?”
Till glances down at his lap, eyeing the chaotically-marked music sheets and printed guitar tabs he has in his lap. For a second, it gives the illusion that he’s fully in control, before his vision swiftly pans back onto Ivan.
“Just a new song.” Till feels his own voice responding before his brain can catch up.
It always unfolds the same– he shouldn’t even be caught off guard at this point, and yet Till still holds on to some delusion that he’ll be able to break through the memory.
Till brushes off the papers that were in his lap with an agitated hiss under his breath. They crinkle against the rug they sit on. He couldn’t conjure up a verse that matched with the rhythm he wrote prior, so he ended up dwelling on it next to Ivan while he played video games.
Till could tell by the way Ivan's eyes shifted slightly that he wanted to ask more, but as fast as that shift was, he sees Ivan let it go.
“Hey Till,” Ivan initiates, propping his feet up on the short coffee table in front of them, “What’s your plan after Kibogayama high?”
Till feels slight mumbling bubble under his breath. He hates that question, but much more in this moment since their last year of highschool was steadily approaching. Adulthood is practically knocking on his front door, ready to swallow him whole.
“Dunno. Haven’t really thought about it.” Till responds, his tone of voice not doing a good job hiding his apathy towards the subject matter.
Till has always been a passive student. Academics wise, he’s a bit below average at best, and failing at worst. Adults never expected much from him, so in turn, he never expected much from himself either. He’ll probably settle at some desk job while still making art pieces and songs in his room somewhere in Kibogayama; he’s not smart enough to make it out of this place anyways.
“What about you?” Till redirects the conversation away from himself immediately.
Ivan is his opposite: academically gifted, and his good grades are even greater when paired with his work ethic.
Till acknowledges how easily Ivan could escape the shithole of the small town they live in, and he envies him for it in silence. Well– as silent as he can. Dread is probably written on his face in this moment, and maybe underlined in the way he redirected the conversation back to Ivan.
“Eh. Dunno either.” Ivan replies detachedly, tilting his head back down.
Till is almost taken aback from his answer, but upon maybe two seconds of reflection, he figures it makes sense. They tell each other about everything, so if neither of them bring up the future, then there’s nothing much to talk about. Despite knowing this, Till was under the assumption that Ivan didn’t wanna rub his fancy dreams in his face– dreams that Till doesn’t have the luxury to fantasize about.
Then again, Ivan’s kinda a dick. A real confusing one. So maybe he would have boasted about it if he had them.
“You should just move to Tokyo and attend some big-shot college there. Get out of this town, y’know.” Till encourages as neutrally as he can, knowing Ivan knows how badly he wants to leave himself.
“And leave you behind?” Ivan grins,“You talk about me moving away like its nothing, but I bet you’d be real lonely if I leave.”
“Fuck you,” Till spits, feeling his cheeks heat up, “You wish.”
“You’d be all mopey and everyone would know why.” Ivan teases, turning his whole body towards Till while holding his hand over his own mouth as if to suppress a snicker,
“After all, I’m always with you, right here, bothering you.”
Till leans towards Ivan to shove him playfully.
“Yeah– whatever man.” Till mutters.
“You didn’t say no.” Ivan chuckles.
Till snaps back into consciousness, wheezing for air as if he were lifting his head out of water to take a breath. His vision adjusting to the darkness in his room feels like a violent awakening.
Suddenly, the blanket on top of him starts irritating his sweat-coated skin with the slightest graze, so he just kicks it off himself with urgency.
Tills eyes slow and turn heavy again. He tries to swallow down his racing heartbeat and brings his hands up to his face.
Half a year.
It’s been half a year since Ivan disappeared on that mountain then came back.
And he swears it’s been half a year since he last saw the Ivan who’s plaguing his dreams; an old memory from last summer that haunts him every night like clockwork.
It’s like his subconscious is screaming at him every night. He just wants to scream I get it, and that he’s actually trying to actively avoid this gnawing feeling of unease settling in his stomach everyday from this message.
He sits up in his bed and checks the digital clock he has across his room.
5:30 am.
The glowing red numbers strike Till’s eyes among the early morning’s dark blues. He drags himself up out of bed and makes eye contact with the sports jacket that’s hung on his closet door.
Maybe that’s why the dreams won’t stop, Till suggest to himself mentally. He’s been hanging that sports jacket on the knob of his closet ever since a few nights after the dreams started occurring. Maybe it’s like a self-fulfilling prophecy: if he prepares for the dreams the day prior, then they’ll happen again.
Till drags himself out of bed and snatches the jacket off the knob. He hurriedly zips up his jacket and is ready to dash out the door. As soon as he rips open his door–
He almost trips over her.
Stumbling back upon spotting her, he grabs hold of the door frame for support as he tries and recover from surprise. He slows his breathing and softens.
“Tia…? What’s up?” Till greets her placidly.
Tia, with her fist up as if she were preparing to knock, timidly lowers her hand. She looks up at him indolently through her tealish bangs.
“I wasn’t… actually going to…” she trails off, “why are you awake?” she questions him.
“Early morning run.” Till responds. ‘Again’ , he wants to add onto the sentence, but he assumes it’s already implied with the amount of times Tia has caught him coming back home after his morning runs. It’s a habit of his to go for a run when he’s restless, and he’s been doing it an embarrassing amount of times lately.
There’s a pause between them both. Till has nothing much more to say, but Tia’s eyes are so composed that it urges him to speak.
“... Wanna join?” Till suggests awkwardly, hoping she wouldn’t actually take the offer.
Tia’s expression breaks into one of repulsion, like Till breaking the silence was offensive or something, before she turns around and groggily stumbles her way back down the hallway towards her bedroom.
“God it’s hot…” Till mutters to himself, regretting the choice he made around an hour prior.
Chilly mornings used to extend longer into the day, hence why he’s been throwing on his baggy sports jacket. Today, he ended up tearing that thing off around half an hour into his run as it got hot, and tied it around his waist, so he couldn’t run properly with it.
Now he’s just sweating through his white tee.
It took pretty long to circle the area he wanted to cover before he went to go back home to get ready for school. The sun’s mostly up, teasing a bit of the summer’s wrath to Till as it stung his skin. He heaves, stumbling his way towards his front door.
Till notices a guest waiting at his front door, reaching for the doorbell. He pauses when he notices the figure turn to look at him.
They step towards his direction, and under the glare of the fresh sun, Till spots a glimpse of a familiar snaggle tooth within their cheeky grin.
With it, he spots the root of his restlessness.
“Morning Till!” Ivan's voice eagerly greets him, “Did you sleep good last night?”
Till keeps walking until he’s able to see Ivan's face up close, free of the suns glare. He takes note of the slightly-off expressions that he’s gotten used to for half a year. The same as always, yet held with an air of awkwardness of an alien getting used to human expressions for the first time.
Till takes this all in with silent dread, before giving the faint smile he always does.
“Morning, Ivan.”
He lets Ivan’s question hang in the air unanswered.
Till lays his head down on his desk in the back corner of the room, lack of proper sleep dragging his eyes down.
“–Then the old lady kept on saying Nonuki sama, Nonuki sama while backing away from us.” Sua recalls with her hand rubbing her wrist, eyes tilted down towards the floor. “Creeped me out.” She says somberly.
“Ahh…” Mizi hums in the same somber tone, sympathizing with Sua.
It’s a bit before school starts now, so all the kids gathered into their classroom, mostly scattered around in their cliques. Mizi and Sua stand around Till. They surround his desk as Sua explains her situation that happened while she went to visit Kubitachi with Ivan.
The other day, Ivan offered to show Sua around Kubitachi because she hadn’t really been around the upper part of the Kibogayama region. She only moved here four years ago after all– a year before highschool started.
Since they’re both cousins, Sua’s parents gave her the green light to explore Kubitachi and to stay with Ivan for the upcoming night.
After a few hours of loitering outdoors, Ivan and Sua started heading their way back to Ivan’s place, before being screamed at by an old lady crying out ‘Nonuki sama’ and other incoherent cries. Sua has always been the easily-shaken type when it came to creepy things, so it was safe to say she got little rest that night.
She caught Ivan in a deep, comfortable sleep the following morning.
Arms and legs sprawled out and everything. Sua was salty, but above all, disturbed.
“You said she was Ivan's neighbour, right? Maybe Till knows her then.” Mizi puts a hand on Tills desk and taps her finger in front of his face to get his attention. Till jolts up, face red, straightening himself out and wiping at his mouth to hide the drool that escaped.
“Huh– what?” Till blurts out.
“Till,” Mizi starts, “Do you know the old lady Sua’s talking about?”
“Uhh…” Till looks to the side, mentally scanning his memories, “you’re probably talking about Ms. Matsuura.” He responds, addressing Sua who’s peeking behind Mizi. “Some superstitious paranoid old lady.”
Till kind of just figured Ms. Matsuura was a crazy old lady that’s perception of reality started warping as a result of her age. Insensitive, but most of Kubitachi thought the same as well. Come to think of it, Till can’t recall whether he’s been told about her past or not.
“Poor lady…” Mizi ponders, placing a hand on her chin, “probably saw something in her past that traumatized her…” She cuts herself off, “–just a theory though!”
“You’re always into these creepy, superstitious things, Mizi.” Sua brings up with slight trembling in her voice. Mizi shrugs it off and agrees with a hand going to gently grab Sua’s shoulder.
Till’s gaze pauses on her lips. A bright, pretty smile Mizi has. It’s enough to comfort the room and warm Tills chest.
It contrasts the smile that Ivan has always had when it was just the two of them.
Even before Ivan went missing. A grin that both agitated and confused him. He could never really tell his true intentions– and it pissed him off that others seemed to get along with Ivan smoothly, even though he was Ivan’s best friend.
It was hard to read him.
Shit. Why’s he even thinking about Ivan? The idiot isn’t even with them right now.
Actually– where the hell is he?
Till’s eyes avert from the two girls as he starts scanning around the room for a familiar tall, black haired guy. He spots Ivan at the front of the room, chatting with another classmate while holding the first volume of ‘Master + Master’. A copy he borrowed from Till.
Ivan has always been a pretty likeable and popular guy. Seeing him bounce between conversations within different groups wasn’t uncommon during off times at school. For a second, Till gaze stops on Ivan's smile. Polite, Till notes off. But it’s different from the one he had before he disappeared on that mountain.
Ivan’s demeanor shifts, and he glances at Till’s direction like he could hear Till thinking about him. Till does a messy job of looking away quickly. It doesn’t even help, since Ivan makes his way towards Till anyways.
“What? Miss me already?” Ivan coos at Till. Lately, Till feels like Ivan gained some new found audacity that makes him bolder.
“Hell no.” Till waves his hand in front of Ivan's face, “I miss my ‘Master + Master’ volume, though.”
Ivan lets out a laugh, and it makes Till unexplainably tense. It feels uncanny. He places the volume onto Till’s desk.
“You know, I think they’re putting out popsicles again at Yamahisa’s. Let’s stop by there later today?” Ivan asks, now leaning against Tills desk while looking down at him.
“Sure, I’ll go.” Till returns, slipping the book into his desk.
“Oh! Ivan!” Mizi exclaims abruptly, just noticing Ivan’s presence. “Heard you slept well the other day.”
“Maybe…” Ivan turns to Sua, exaggerating his tone, “Might’ve been my best sleep yet!”
Sua grumbles at him.
“Must’ve been real nice.” She remarks.
“Really nice.” Ivan corrects.
Mizi has to hold back Sua from grabbing at Ivan as he starts giggling.
Everything about the whole day felt like a fever dream, where Till was partially mentally checked out and where in an instant, as fast as he blinks once, the school day passes by. By the end of last period, no one was happy. Everyone was sweating and heaving underneath the scorching sun, as Mr. Hara forced them to run outside during the peak of the heat.
The heat was grueling, but at least it was a sign that they were close to getting to their semester break.
As soon as the bell rung for dismissal, Till gestured to Ivan that they should get going, back to Kubitachi.
“Gahh…” Ivan whines while tilting his head up, “It’s so hot, I think I’m gonna riter away.”
The boys are walking their bikes down a path with a slight incline angled down.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Till questions with slight amusement suppressed under his voice.
“I mean ‘I’m gonna die’.”
“No–” Till corrects himself, “I meant what do you mean by ‘riter’?”
“Ritering away, isn’t that a phrase?”
“Oh… no dude… it’s withering away. With a ‘w’ and ‘th’ sound.” Till answers.
“Whatever.” Ivan turns the handles of his bike to bump Till next to him. “You knew what I meant.”
“Try saying it. Wither.”
“No. You’re gonna make fun of me.” Ivan sulks, “You’re gonna be mean to me.”
Till reaches his free hand up to pull Ivan’s head down, messing up his hair as Ivan winces.
“When has that ever stopped you from doing anything?” Till says.
By the time Till takes his hand off of Ivan's head, they finally reached Yamahisa’s– a corner store that the boys always stumble into every summer due to their selection of ice cream. They’re greeted by the sound of bells ringing when they open the door, and before the cashier can even turn around and greet the newcomers, the boys beelined it towards the freezer of cold goods.
Till grabbed the blue raspberry popsicle that he’s always gotten, and waited for Ivan to make his decision.
He watched as Ivan's hand subtly hovered over an orange creamsicle popsicle, before grabbing the green melon melona bar. The popsicle Ivan had always gotten without fail.
Seeing him falter for a second, so subtly, stirred Till’s unease.
“Question,” Ivan starts, finally able to relax on the bench outside of the store, “can I borrow your volume 2 of ‘Master + Master’?”
Till settles down next to him and starts peeling the flimsy plastic off of his popsicle.
“Can’t. I don’t have volume 2.”
“Huuuh…” Ivan drags with a mouthful of popsicle bits, “Okay. I’ll just buy volume 2 later.” Ivan shrugs.
Till stares down at the popsicle in his hand. It doesn’t take too long before the blue juices start running down the side, dripping onto the pavement by his feet. Ants scurry towards the sweetness.
The drops break upon contact and with each drop, frequently coming more fast than the last, they crash more violently.
It reminds Till of his dream– the crashing waterdrop before the weak light flickers on, Ivan's voice– his Ivan, muffled by white noise and buzzing cicadas and the relentless humid air around them.
It translates to the present. The cicadas buzzing building up upon one-another like overlapping broken records, the hot air weighing in on his lungs.
Till realizes the uneasiness is going to kill him.
God, Till can’t get rid of the feeling of Ivan's skin on his fingertips. The frigid night he found him– still and lifeless. He’s been trying to push the image out of his mind for months, but how could he will himself to forget something like that???
It is able to mimic Ivan well but to a fault: his pronunciations sometimes sounding like something foreign landed on his tongue, the way his eyes started lingering longer, his smile sometimes being too much or too little, and just even small body movements that seemed like glitches in Ivan’s system.
“Till?” Ivan turns his whole body towards him, swallowing the last bits of popsicle off the stick. “You look like you’re about to float away.”
Till’s nerves nearly give out here and now. The cicadas quiet down as he feels the remnants of his best friend remain, and it oddly comforts him.
But he can’t keep pretending anymore. He doesn’t bother glancing back at Ivan as he finally brings the popsicle to his mouth, biting at the softened ice.
“Do you really not remember anything that happened the week you were missing?” Till probes at the subject matter again.
“Yeah. I just remember being on that mountain, and the next thing I knew I was in a hospital bed.” Ivan rushes through his words, “How many times are you gonna ask me that?” he chuckles dully, placing the popsicle stick in his mouth and playing with it using his tongue.
“It’s been a few months and you still don’t remember anything…” Till muttered. "You know, things were weird without you.” he whispers weakly before putting the popsicle back up to his mouth.
“Missed me that much, huh? I bet you were moping while I was gone–”
“I have a question.” Till interrupts Ivan, “I’ve been thinking about this for a while so shut up and listen.”
Ivan hums, leaning forward towards Till with anticipation.
“You’re… not Ivan, aren’t you?”
Ivan freezes beside him. And Till feels the air around him shift. The popsicle stick that was in Ivan's mouth clatters against the pavement with such a loud sound, Till thought the world would collapse under it.
Till finally tears his eyes away from the ground to Ivan, seeing the grin he had prior started chipping off.
“How did you…” Ivan's voice broke softly.
A mass of swirls and patterns breaks out of Ivan's eye from his red pupil. The mass spills out of the side of his face like thick molasses with a contained shape, swirling in whichever way like the insides of a bug being splattered on a wall. The patterns pulse like oil spills in water.
And then it’s movement stop for a second.
Ivan lunges towards Till and tightly grips his shoulders, knocking over Tills popsicle and trapping him between himself and the bench, before the end of the swirling mass goes to engulf Till.
He tries fighting off Ivan’s strong grip by shielding his face with his arms and kicking at Ivan. Till’s going to die here– he’s sure of it as the endless patterns go to attack him.
“What am I doing…? I can’t kill you… not you.”
Ivan abruptly drops Till’s shoulders and backs away from him looking terrified and conflicted. Then he wraps his arms around Till, pulling him into a hug.
“Please Till, I want to keep living as a human–” Ivan continues, pleading with him as he’s paralyzed. Till tries to open his mouth and speak but all the words he wants to give voice to dissipate off his tongue.
He’s never seen Ivan so desperate and emotional before that it makes him cringe.
“It’s been so fun hanging around school, wandering town, eating ice cream… I thought I was doing a good job being Ivan.” He presses his fingers more firm into Tills back, and his staggering breath by Till’s ear sends shivers down his spine.
“Listen– I know this body isn’t mine. I know this personality isn’t mine, but please. Don’t tell anyone because I…” Ivan pauses, like the words are being caught in his throat. “I don’t wanna kill you, I can’t– I like you too much…”
What is this thing? Till thinks to himself. He’s frustrated with it; the way it tries to reason with him for his best friends identity like his body is just some vessel.
But above all else, he’s petrified. He just implied that he could’ve killed Till whenever he wanted to, but chose not to because of how he likes him too much?
Till face twitched with each spark of emotion that popped up in his head, eyebrows burrowing and eyes shifting around Ivan. Till, still frozen with shock, lifts his arms and slowly wraps them around Ivan to return the hug.
He can’t help it.
If Ivan really is dead, then he didn’t care what this thing wearing Ivan’s body and personality was– as long as it’s here, it’s better than losing Ivan completely.
“Okay…” Till says faintly, a feeling of defeat taking over his body as he slowly melts underneath his arms. He lets the weight of the situation settle on his shoulders.
“Nice to meet you, ‘Ivan’.”
It’s been a while since Ivan hugged me, Till thinks to himself as he slumps into bed face down and splays out like a cat.
He knows it shouldn’t be the first thought he has about Ivan since a few hours ago. There’s certainly far more important things that should occupy his mind, like, you know, how that most definitely wasn’t Ivan. Despite knowing that, he let’s his thoughts wander off.
Ivan’s gotten taller, and bigger than Till. By a lot, considering Till used to be taller than Ivan.
When Ivan first started growing past Till in late middle school, early highschool-ish, he’d do little things to tick him off.
Like stand toe to toe with him, just to glare down at him. Or like how Ivan would stand next to him during their vertical jump test in gym class, just to be able to point out the big gap between their measured verticals taped onto the wall. Or like how Ivan would watch Till jump up to hit the door frames in the school hallways, just to one up him by using only his tippy-toes to reach them. Or like how he’d complain dramatically about growing pains.
The side of Tills mouth twitches up for a second.
Asshole, Till thinks. There’s no malice behind it. He does it almost affectionately.
They haven’t hugged since the first year of middle school.
Ivan was getting picked on by a classmate who was considerably bigger than himself, so Till stepped in. Nothing too violent happened– maybe a couple of rough shoves before they called it off. But the whole situation pissed Till off so much that after the classmate had left, he ended up bursting into tears out of frustration.
It was pathetic. For being that age, he shouldn’t have been moved to tears as easily as he was. At least it felt like it; the whole world constantly feels like it’s ending when you’re 12 years old.
Till turned to face Ivan, who he had been shielding, and mustered up a couple of snot-full words. “Why didn’t you fight back???” he sniveled. Ivan stared at him with a lost look, before sheepishly going in for a hug.
“Sorry.” Ivan repeated a few times, while patting Tills back. He leaned the side of his face into the crook of Tills neck. He had to tilt his head a bit up to do that– that’s how short he was.
Till recalls that he didn’t like that Ivan was saying sorry. He misunderstood what Till meant. He wasn’t mad that Ivan didn’t fight for him, but he was mad that Ivan didn’t fight for Ivan.
Ivan was a passive kid when it came to himself, but he grew up to be a teen with a charming facade to maintain– being a fairly popular sports kid and all. But Till could tell Ivan never truly grew out of that passiveness, in the way he’d take some of his teammate’s little jabs with a laugh– knowing damn well he was smart enough to see that it was a passive-aggressive insult at times.
He’s gone now.
Till hears his mom distantly yelling somewhere– probably downstairs.
He’s gone now.
“Are you seriously going out of your way to throw out her letters??” Io struggles to keep her voice tamed, to keep it at an appropriate volume for night. There’s a vague voice that buzzes in response to her.
She’s on the phone.
He’s gone now he’s gone now he’s gone now–
“I can’t keep making up excuses for you. Tia’s twelve now. She’s not stupid! And what about Till?? You can’t keep avoiding your kids just because we–”
Till cups his hands over his ears with a motion so quick it makes him a bit dizzy. He curls into himself more in bed.
Ivan’s gone. He has been for six months.
The confirmation sinking in makes him want to roll over and throw up over the side of this bed.
“What am I doing…? I can’t kill you… not you.”
‘Ivan’’s voice resounds in Till head, as well as the flashing intrusive images of the mass of swirls and oil spills going in to attack Till.
But in the midst of all the noise, Ivan’s voice reaches Till.
“Till!” Ivan’s voice calls, a memory of them as kids, waving him over flashes in Till’s mind. “Till!” Ivan’s voice calls, a memory of him offering a gaming controller flashes over the last.
“Till!! I can jump higher than you now!” Ivan points to the tape with their names and vertical measurements on gymnasium wall, with the proudest light snicker.
Till laughs out loud, one full chest laugh.
It’s the most he’s felt since Ivan’s disappearance.
He feels his soaked bedsheet underneath his cheek, as well as the stream of warm tears that managed to escape trickling down his nose and chin, some being caught by his mouth.
Till squeezes his eyes shut and feels everything around him melt into silence.
“Goodnight, Ivan.” He breathes out weakly,
“Goodbye.”