Work Text:
Can you have it all when you are this despicable? Luka certainly thinks so. But to have it all… it is a structure built on sand; easily crumbled, impossible to retain.
So maybe, that is what the benefactors sought to achieve. A shaky, rickety shack for their own amusement. Maybe they took more pleasure in the fall than the moment of glory when it stood.
Yes, perhaps he has hit the nail on the head indeed. Truly despicable.
Luka’s hands fall to his sides as he stares at the screen before him, the only flash of color in this pale, lifeless room aside from the cold blue of his fingertips.
[ HEPERU: Pet1_LUKA’s priorities have been shifted to EXPERIMENTAL COMPANIONSHIP and CONDITIONING ]
Luka’s eyes narrowed. The mic slipped from his grasp, then evaporated into pixels. How dull, He thinks, Does Heperu truly thinks I will lash out if he suddenly makes my hard work useless?
Well. Perhaps he can’t blame him, after his inhibitions suddenly vanished during the ALIEN STAGE disaster.
But Heperu should know better by now. There is no mistake Luka will not cover up.
Luka sighs through his nose, swiping at the hologram, and it sputters and spits disgustingly until new text gets thrown out like an afterthought.
[ HEPERU: The pet that needs conditioning is Pet_IVAN of Unsha’s collection. Though the ‘original’ IVAN has died, Unsha has, unfortunately, gained enough access to illegal advanced technologies in order to clone IVAN. ]
Luka doesn’t read any further. He doesn’t need to. A scoff escapes his lips. Was his career in ALIEN STAGE being shafted to babysit some new born clone? Why should he even care?
“Ivan…” He mouths the word, just to taste how it feels. His brows drew together. The Top Third contestant last season. The one he mimicked to exploit the Top Second. Hm. Luka had always been a little curious of how a round between them would have gone.
Luka crosses his arms. Interesting, indeed.
He skips through blocks of text he doesn’t want to read, figuring he already has everything he needs. Ivan. Ranked Third last season. Composure immaculate, even in the face of death.
If his clone is anywhere near that glory, Luka will take delight in having just a bite.
The Ivan in front of him looks exactly like the photos. It should be expected, but Luka can’t stop his inherent surprise: Perhaps it is just instinct, a folly of his mind. He had expected a little flaw he could pick out, but even after looking carefully, Luka cannot find even one.
Heperu’s voice comes out slow, lazy, and grating. It takes years of practice for Luka to not flinch. “Luka, Ivan. Ivan, Luka.” He gestures at the space between them, and doesn’t add anything more.
Internally, Luka scowls. Heperu clearly knows they’ve most likely both done extensive research on each other, why even bother trying to half-ass an introduction? To save face? Save your breath instead.
But because Luka will always put his image first, he smiles. It is empty and void of meaning, but he makes sure it doesn’t look like it. He reaches out his hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Ivan.” Luka says, cordially.
Ivan at the very least has the sense to take it. “Luka,” He nods, and Luka takes the time to observe how firm Ivan’s grip is, “It’s a pleasure to meet you, too.”
Luka smiles, and pauses in that way when he’s expecting Heperu to insert himself. Like clockwork, his benefactor does. Heperu’s hand is small, but it is heavy and fleshy and disgusting all the same.
“It is pleasing to see that your relationship has gone off to a good start,” Heperu intoned, and Luka clasped his hands behind his back. He does not grit his teeth. That would be bad for his dental health. “After all, you two will be each other’s company quite often, now.”
Luka’s smile widens, and his hands slip out of Ivan’s grasp. “I sincerely hope we get along,” Luka says softly, and he hopes it comes across as genuine.
Ivan’s lips lift into something that could be considered a smile, a little fang poking out. Luka finds it, shockingly, a little interesting. “I hope so, too.”
It hardly shocks Luka when he realizes Ivan has been watching. He’s read the files, watched the footage. Ivan always observed quietly in Anakt Garden, so it’s no surprise he would do it here.
Still, it doesn’t stop his skin from prickling out of instinct.
“Are you finished ogling?” Luka asks, not irritated, exactly, more… Curious. Always curious. “I’m afraid you’ll punch holes into me, at this rate.”
Ivan blinks, looks startled. Different from what Luka saw in the videos. But then again, this Ivan is simply just a clone. “Oh. Sorry.” He says, but he doesn’t stop.
Luka huffs. Liar. But, oddly, he doesn’t say anything more.
“I can’t stop you,” He sighs, almost regretfully, “So I guess I’ll let it slide.” The following silence isn’t suffocating, but maybe that had less to do with the company and more to do with how accustomed Luka is to quiet by now.
Luka attends to the paperwork he needs to fill out as Ivan’s ‘companion’. It’s a bunch of useless things, in his opinion, little things about Ivan that the aliens had no business knowing. Luka puffs out a sigh, ticking off a box about Ivan’s ‘biting and choking tendencies’. Just because Ivan had a sharp tooth, doesn’t mean he would bite at anyone or anything. It’s absurd, but Luka still must complete it, unfortunately.
Ivan’s hands slip around Luka’s neck. Luka doesn’t move from what he’s doing. “What now, Ivan?” He asks.
Ivan’s fingers are warm, shockingly. Unfortunately. His hands float across Luka’s neck, his collarbone, his cheeks. “Did you know that I’m a clone, when you first met me?”
Luka’s writing hand stutters, but the pause is quickly over and he writes again. “Of course I did. I refuse to be ignorant about anything; I researched you thoroughly. I won’t be caught off guard, much less by a newborn.” He doesn’t mean it, not really. But… Well, he’ll just think of it as extra research for the paperwork. Nothing more, nothing less.
His gaze shifts to Ivan’s face, watching his expression. It hasn’t moved. Luka’s lips thin as they press together. What odd composure.
Ivan laughs, voice low as he presses his nose against Luka’s neck and breathes it all in. Luka doesn’t see the sense in that. There was nothing interesting to smell. “Don’t call me a newborn, Luka,” He said, voice soft, probably deceptively so. “It might be rather incriminating, don’t you think? People might catch on that I’m a clone.”
Luka scoffs. “I’ve already been interrogated before. There is nothing I’m afraid of, now.” He flexes his fingers, once.
“Mmm.” Ivan hums, quiet. “Well, regardless… I suppose it doesn’t surprise me that you know about the cloning thing.” Ivan’s gaze passes over Luka’s face briefly. “As expected from the Top One.”
Luka’s brows drew together. “...Never would I have expected such words to leave your mouth,” He says, finally.
Ivan smiled. “Well,” He leaned forward, “I’m not exactly the ‘original’ Ivan, am I?” His gaze locks with Luka’s, pale moonlight swallowed by abyssal depths. Luka follows the laser pin-point of Ivan’s red pupils.
“I guess not,” Luka hums, “But to me, you’re still Ivan.” His finger lightly taps at Ivan’s pulse point and delights in his instinctive shiver.
“Really?” Ivan’s fingers curl tighter around him. Luka can’t bring himself to care. “But you’ve probably seen the differences by now.”
Luka doesn’t answer. He just nods and returns to paperwork.
He expects Ivan to fill the silence. He doesn’t.
Glancing over, Luka is finally caught off guard when he realizes that Ivan is staring at him, wide-eyed and unblinking.
Once again, Luka sets down his pen. “What?” He asks.
Ivan doesn’t move. “Do you like the original Ivan better than me?” At that, Luka turns to look at him fully. He frowned.
“...I’ve never even met Ivan,” He says, “So obviously, I’d choose you over him, if I had to.”
Ivan finally, finally, pulls away to look at Luka as his eyes sharpened. He goes quiet again, then smooths it over with a chamingly deceitful smile, as if trying to hide the thoughts Luka knows are swirling through his head.
“Good.” He says, “I hope it stays that way.”
Luka lied. He has met Ivan before.
It was in the waiting cubicles. Just before Round 6. Luka had bargained enough to be let out and finally meet the man people have compared him to.
“You’re Ivan, right?” Luka said. He didn’t introduce himself. He didn’t need to. He knows that he’s the Prince of the Stage, why wouldn’t anyone know him?
Ivan looked up. His eyes were dark and stormy and Luka thought, and still does, he’s never seen anything quite so captivating yet dull. But he covered it up nicely with a smile. Practiced. Polished. “Luka. To what do I owe your visit?”
The smile Luka gave him was pretty and empty. “I just wanted to see a potential adversary.” It’s not a lie. He wanted to see the man people were comparing him to, wanted to see what made him crack.
Ivan’s eyes narrowed, but then he relaxed. “Well, I suppose it’s an honor to be considered a rival by the Winner of the last Alien Stage season. That means I have trained well enough.”
“It’s not just that.” Luka said, “But we’re both quite similar, too.” It could mean, We are both princely. But he is sure that Ivan is smart enough to figure out what he really means.
Ivan’s eyes flicked to where the Top Two’s room is. Luka felt a thrill of delight. There it is. “Do you call what you feel love?”
Luka smiled wider. “Do you?”
Ivan quiets. Luka steps forward. “For your next round,” He said, “Do you think you’ll win?” He probes, just because he can.
The set of Ivan’s jaw does relax. “I would have.”
Luka’s smile didn’t waver, but he does tilt his head. “ ‘I would have’,” He echoed, “What an odd way to phrase it.”
The look Ivan gave him then, somewhere between a smile and regret, was the most sincere thing this whole conversation. “But it’s true.”
Luka has never thought once, ever since that day, that Ivan was lying.
He threw it. Till had tried to sabotage and he threw it.
Something bloomed in his heart— A heavy thunk in his chest. Something like disappointment. That feeling only grew after the Final Round.
Luka donned Ivan’s face that day, just to test Till. So close, yet the charm had been broken by the pink-haired girl.
He still clicks his tongue thinking about it. That’s what is had always been like, hadn’t it, Ivan? He thinks to himself. What a sad life we both lead.
Ivan loved Till. That much was true.
But as Luka stares at the Ivan before him, he can’t help but think, What about right now?
It is after singing practice does Luka decide to finally settle it.
“Do you still love him?” Luka asks. Blunt, because he is childish in his curiosity.
Ivan blinks, snapping out of the trance he seems to always be in, nowadays. “Love who?” His brows knit together.
Luka gestures. “You know.” He shrugs. “You have the ‘orginal’ Ivan’s memories, right? So surely you know who I mean.”
Ivan pauses, seemingly shifting through memories. “...I don’t remember.” He says, simply. But Luka knows he’s lying. Ivan’s looking at his ear instead of his eyelashes, because he knows Ivan likes to try and count each one.
Luka scowls, placing his hands on his hips. “You shouldn’t lie to your elder.” He says, matter-of-factly. “It’s quite rude, you know.”
Ivan leans back. “Forgive me, then,” He smiles, tilting his head up, “I should’ve known I couldn’t ever lie to someone as held in high regard as you are.”
In response, Luka just huffs. “Flattery won’t get you anywhere,” He warns, “So spit out the truth already.”
He’s met with the most infuriating smile he’s seen in his life. “What if I don’t want to?” Ivan tilts his head, tone light and innocent.
“Then I’ll draw the truth from you somehow, one way or another.” Luka says, confident.
The look on Ivan’s face is something ecstatic. “Try me.”
The humans of eras past used to say that gluttony’s a sin. And, oh, it is, Luka knows it is. But it’s like an addiction, a drug he can’t set down, the way Ivan will pull from him an inch and take it to a mile. The way Ivan will let Luka do the same to him.
It’s all consuming, disgusting in its gluttonous nature, but Luka always did wanted more than he could chew.
So maybe, to bite so much and still be allowed more, makes gluttony his dearest virtue.
The dare had ended in a brawl, one that had most displeased both of their guardians. Thankfully, neither of them had lost much of their composure, nor were the wounds too serious, so they were able to get of relatively scot-free.
And now, with scars stitched and wounds treated, Luka lies on the ground, Ivan touching each of Luka’s scars and burns with religious care.
“You never answered by question.” Luka says. But he’s not mad. He couldn’t ever be truly mad at Ivan. They push and pull, hurt each other, but they always lick each other’s wounds in the end.
“Do you want me to?” Ivan asks. It sounds an awful lot like avoidance.
“I do.” Luka turns over on his side to face Ivan. “So tell me.”
Ivan’s fingers come to intertwine with Luka’s absent-mindedly. “...We are separate, he and I.” Ivan finally says. “We’re not the same, not exactly.”
A laugh escapes Luka’s throat. “And what does that mean?”
Ivan smiles. “You’d pick me over him, right?” He leans forward, bumping their noses together.
“Neither of you were my first choice.” Luka says, bluntly. Ivan’s smile blooms into a grin, like that’s something beautiful to hear.
“I say the same for you.” He leans forward, until Luka’s lips are nearly touching his. “But honestly? You are like me in the way he never was.”
Luka’s eyes follow him. “So?” He presses, “What does that matter? I could say the same for you.”
Ivan looks at him. “What I mean is,” His voice is softer, now, “Is that you are the only one who can keep up with me.”
Before Luka can even breath, Ivan is on him; clashing and bloody, and Luka thinks he’s never felt more alive.
They shove each other away just to gasp for air, and then it’s all warm heat and spilling red from split lips.
As they tumble through something that could hardly be called a kiss, Luka thinks back to gluttony.
Like the snake that will swallow itself whole, they’re set for total and utter destruction.
But delicious all the same.
“I hate you,” Luka gasps, blood and drool a mess on his face. Ivan’s tongue had reddened from how much of Luka’s blood he’d tasted.
“You don’t,” Ivan grins, and Luka knows only one of them is lying in this moment.
Gluttony.
“Show me proof, then.”
Ivan does.