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Summer after high school when we first met,
A black head of hair peeked out from the corner of Till's eye, inching closer to see what he was drawing. Till immediately shut his sketchbook with a disgruntled expression.
"Has nobody told you that peeking into other people's sketchbooks is disrespectful?" Till asked, crossing his arms. "It is my privacy for what I draw."
The boy pondered, his head tilting slightly to the side. He blinked. Under his long eyelashes were dark eyes with a little red dot that reminded him of red poppies, which were his mom's favorite because they represented hope. (His mom probably thought he didn't really understand her cause of his young age, but he remembers how she picked up a dried poppy flower hidden under her pillow, telling him that it was the only thing she managed to retrieve when she tried to escape.
"No," the boy replies after thinking for a bit.
Till sighed. This boy was hopeless.
But he seemed familiar; not many attended Anakt Garden after all.
"What's your name?"
"Ivan," the boy says, his lips slightly tutting out. "You're Till."
Till jumped. "How did you know that—"
"The other kids talk about you. They say you always make trouble and get punished for it by your guardian."
Till huffed.
Of course.
We make out in your Mustang to Radiohead.
Secret kisses, exchanged when the aliens weren't looking, when they were privy to five minutes of privacy—mostly thanks to Ivan.
His boyfriend, who was just 16 and was just barely older than him, somehow cracked the code to collars, could make fire from wooden sticks, and so on. It was inconceivable for Till for how talented his boyfriend was.
Ivan always said that he was a man of talents, just to tease Till.
Till liked those kisses. They were fleeting, but it meant that they were together, despite their situation.
They knew the truth of Alien Stage, like most other Anakt Garden students, and death always loomed over them. They were merely pets for the aliens, to Till's dismay and protest, and they were easily discardable.
After all, they could purchase them at a discount. (Which Ivan always jokes about, asking if Till would buy him if he was not on discount, to which Till flicks his forehead.)
And on my 18th birthday, we got matching tattoos.
Well, they couldn't get tattoos. They weren't allowed to make any sort of major change to their body. (Yes, tattoos were one, which Till always complained was stupid because no one could see it anyway if they hid it.)
So, they settled on matching signatures. Just something for themselves, which likely no other would notice.
After all, they usually beat each other up, even after starting to date.
Used to steal your parents' liquor and climb to the roof,
Ivan always tried to convince Till to escape, but Till didn't want to.
He didn't like Mizi anymore, but they were still family to him, and he wanted to stay and support them.
(He would never admit it was because of his mother—that she said that she wished that she never escaped in the first place, so that she wouldn't be subjected to mroe cruelty from the aliens to a pet human who they otherwise never cared for. But now? God, he wishes he escaped with Ivan that day.)
Talk about our future like we had a clue.
"I'll show you the stars," Ivan would say. "They shine bright like you."
Till scoffs and comments sarcastically, "Are stars even real? We have a stupid fake sky in a place as 'luxurious' as the one and only Anakt Garden."
"They are."
Till turns to him.
Their asses were slightly sore from sitting outside on the grass for so long (which was abnormal for them either way because they never just sat—they fought, they argued, they yelled, and do anything for them to feel that they were alive) but Till doesn't feel like pain for that moment.
He knew everyone thought that the sky in Anakt was real—that the stars mentioned in the stories told to them, to feed them the propaganda that they would be free from the cycle after they win Alien Stage—so how did Ivan know it was fake?
Ivan chuckled, seeing Till's reaction.
Till elbowed him.
Ivan always had a field day with Till's expressions and reactions. It seemed to feed him, in a way.
"I saw the stars in the sky before the aliens took me from the streets and sold me on discount," Ivan says, recounting the past. He wore a small smile, oen that was sadder compared to the grins that he would gift Till.
Till yanked Ivan closer with his arm around his neck, as if to say I'm here.
Never planned that one day, I'd be losing you.
Pitter patter— The rain drenched Till.
Red spread across the floor—faster compared to the other contestants he saw. Like Sua.
The edges of his silver shoes were getting dyed, but Till couldn't move.
The rain was supposed to be a good memory of when they went dancing and running in the rain during the mere moments they escaped from Anakt before getting caught. Yes, they got caught, but those mere moments of freedom with each other were the best thing that happened in Till's life, and even gave him hope that they could escape.
In another life, I would be your girl. We keep all our promises, be us against the world.
"Till."
"Yeah?" Till mumbled, disoriented after receiving punishment for escaping.
"We'll escape one day, I promise you."
"I trust you, Ivan."
In another life, I would make you stay so I don't have to say you were the one that got away. The one that got away.
Till sighed, downing another bottle of beer. Dewey and Isaac came by to comfort him, but he just shooed them away.
Pitter patter—
Till buried his head between his crossed arms, curling into himself. He snaps his eyes shut, not wanting to look at the ground or the sky or anything else in the world.
He sighed again, his throat twisting, his heart pounding. He can't forget this day, even five years after.
April 5, 2XXX. His most dreaded day of each year, even more than every Valentine's (at least he could pretend that day only served for Valentine's).
I was June and you were my Johnny Cash
"Get a room," Sua commented, staring at them menacingly as they fought over the flower crown again. They were all more grown by this time, around fifteen, a couple of years before their graduation and their solo training.
"No," Ivan shot back. "How about you get a room with Mizi?"
"We already do," Sua said, almost smugly as her fingers flowed through Mizi's hair.
Those were the better days.
Never one without the other we made a pact.
"Ivan, where's Till?" A teacher asked.
"He's by the garden."
"Could you go get him for me?"
"Okay."
Wordlessly, Ivan ran to get him.
Till wasn't in the garden, Ivan knew that. That guy must be with Mizi—he liked her after all.
(Little did Ivan know, the two of them would somehow get entangled with an alien.)
Till laughed when Ivan recounted the story. He already forgot about the incident, who knew Ivan still remembered?
Sometimes when I miss you, I put those records on.
The half-wrecked record started to play—Ivan gave him those stupid CDs with his songs with flowers for his 10th birthday.
Back then, it touched him that Ivan wrote songs for him and shared vulnerable stories with him through these songs that they usually were too stubborn to talk about. Vulnerability and communication were never their strong suit. They did better with arguing, punching, and doing stupid things.
But one of those CDs was Cure, their final song together.
Till refused to write Cure with Ivan. He refused to face that their time together was coming to an end.
He (still) avoided Cure, but he adored Paratise and Nowhere. It was Ivan's first few songs that he composed after annoying Till to teach him. After pestering him for months, Till taught him. Despite their tutelage, half reluctant, half forced, Till couldn't deny that teaching Ivan was exhilarating.
Ivan was a man of many talents after all, and he picked things up really quickly.
누가 죽어서도 사라지지 않을 벌레 같은 존재 (A bug-like being that will not disappear even after death)
Till chuckled to himself. You will never disappear from my mind, ever, Ivan.
Picking up a pen beside him, he started to write as Nowhere began. He'll continue to write songs—that was Ivan's favorite talent of Till's. And if anything, he'll make Ivan live on through these songs that no one will play.
Title: Scars.
Someone said you had your tattoo removed.
Till always hated that Ivan was the only one who was free of the collar—free of the restraints.
He never understood why Ivan never just ran away. There was no collar, no restrictions, and no issues with him running away. Hell, he knew the escape route and how to live outside and what it looks like. He lived there before, after all. So why?
Till understood that he was Ivan's collar, his chains, when Ivan lay on the floor, blood pooling on the floor.
Saw you downtown singing the blues.
Ivan was practicing the song My Clematis, which Mizi and Sua bonded over. It was basically their most iconic song. They sang it for their performance checks, during play time, and even started humming it during breakfast, lunch, and dinner.
Why?
He spotted the little paper that said My Clematis on Till's hand. This time around, the songs for their performance check were randomised, but all the songs were made by another student. Till had Mi Vida Loca sent to another student, while he got My Clematis.
So what did Ivan do? Pair up with Till, of course.
The heartwarming ending to the usual My Clematis became:
"But, if belief in god is human, and all I can do as a human is to believe. My god—"
"Hey, what are you looking at?!"
"My universe."
Everything went sideways from then on, and Sua (again) menacingly stared at them for changing the lyrics like that. Till understood, of course—it was her and Mizi's precious song that kickstarted their friendship, she was understandably protective of the song and its meaning.
It's time to face the music. I'm no longer your muse.
Till stared at the lyrics for Black Sorrow.
He wished that he weren't Ivan's muse, boyfriend, and best friend.
Maybe then he would've lived.
In another life, I would be your girl. We keep all our promises, be us against the world.
His hands cradled around Till's neck, his messed-up black hair against Till's silver-grey hair, his lips against his for the final time.
How long has he planned for his? How has he condemned Sua for doing the same for Mizi when he is doing the same thing for Till?
He envisioned this in so many different ways as he wrote Cure and set the stage, and now it was coming into fruition.
He left a note in Till's room before the performance.
Win this, Till. Or leave the stage. Survive, you can do this !! ꉂ(˵˃ ᗜ ˂˵)
Happy early birthday, Till. Sorry that I can't celebrate it with you this year, or the years before. Make sure you eat well and get lots of sleep after the last round and in the future !! ᶻ 𝘇 𐰁
I believe in you Till. ദ്ദി◝ ⩊ ◜.ᐟ
(When Till found them, he wanted to scrap them in his hands so badly. But it was Ivan's last gift to him, so he didn't.
"God, I hate you so much, you bastard—" Till sobbed, pushing away the paper so the last traces of Ivan doesn't get caught up within the mess.)
In another life, I would make you stay so I don't have to say you were the one that got away—
The one that got away.
Till leaned against the wall, beer in his hand.
He closes his eyes.
He misses Ivan.
So much.
The drawings of Ivan lay scattered across the floor, his walls covered in them.
His old drawings of him were gone—gone with the fire. His belongings were all either in the ALIEN STAGE museum or tossed in the trash by the fury of Urak.
He will never have those drawings he made for Ivan in secret—the ones that he was too embarrassed to show the other, even if he desperately wanted to see it—ever again.