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The car bumped along the narrow city streets, weaving between lanes to try and beat the flow of traffic headed to the Studio. Ivan leaned back in his seat, arms crossed over his barrel chest as he watched the Studio get ever closer, trying to ignore Till's presence in the seat next to him.
The driver was, unfourtunatley, seperated from them by a sheet of clear, bulletproof, soundproof glass, preventing Ivan from complaining to him that the AC was turned up too high. He was fine, used to ice baths and the like before his morning runs and practices.
But his boyfriend was cold. Very cold. Ivan could actually see Till shivering in his seat. Wordlessly, Ivan pulled off his hoodie and handed it to Till. Till looked at it quizzically, then pushed it back towards Ivan.
"Im fine. Plus, you need it too." Ivan raised an eyebrow.
"Bro, im fine. You're the one shivering so hard i can practically hear your teeth chattering." Till rolled his eyes, and pulled the garment on. While it was fairly well fitting on Ivan's broad, muscled physique, it was practically swimming on the shorter, skinnier man.
"Remind me to give this back as soon as we're done recording Cure." Despite his words, Till did seem to be enjoying the warmth of the sweatshirt.
"Keep it. Either... either you wont be able to return it after tomorrow, or you wont have anyone left to return it to." The two lovers sat in silence, both feeling a chill that had nothing to do with the air conditioning. Ivan placed his hand on top of Till's and squeezed gently. He wanted to enjoy their last days together.
"A spot stained with empty air and blood." Ivan sang it softly in Korean, just like he did in Black Sorrow. Except this time, instead of the whole world, the words were for Till and Till only.
"Dont leave me, la-la-di-da-da." Till responded with a line of Unknown Till The End. Without any words exchanged, they began rehearsing.
Soflty, gently, the strains of Cure, their pride and joy, their confession of love and acceptance of death filled the car untill the space was riging with the last fading bars of the two lover's final song.
Ivan smiled as he remembered the day they first met. Their first song. First hug. First kiss. First confession of love. Ivan traced Till's lips with his thumb.
Stared into those piercing eyes, full of love.
Ivan pulled him in.
And kissed him.
He could feel Till's shock, then joy through the electricity that surged through their veins and connected their bodies as their lips met.
Time seemed to slow. The whole world stopped for the instant that they were locked together, connected by so much more than the pressure of their lips against each other. Then, just as quickly as it started, they broke apart.
Time flowed on. The world was none the wiser from the love that had been strengthened between the two men. One victorious, one condemned to death by the others doing.
Only, who would be who? Who would be the first to feel the bite of the Reaper's scythe, and who would have to live with swinging the blade?
It was a a matter of life and death. A matter of love between two so strong that not even death could fully seperate their souls.
That was two days ago.
Till sits on the edge of his mattress, draped in Ivan's hoodie, clinging to the worn blue fabric like it's his lover's very life.
The die's been cast.
Fate pointed it's wicked finger at Till and said,
"Its his time." And Till stood there, powerless, as Ivan paid the ultimate price in exchange for Till's life.
It should have been Till.
Death wanted him for its own.
Ivan should have respected its wishes.
Now look where he is.
And look at Till
Two days.
Two days without eating, drinking, or even budging from this mattress.
Two days since the last light in Till's life has been extinguished.
Forever.