Work Text:
"Tillie?"
Till turned to glance at the kids. They were all so short— It was kind of fun to see them like this. Makes him imagine how tall he was when he was a kid. And how his mother saw him.
"Yes, kids?"
"Why did you play a guitar in Alien Stage?" Mivan asked, pointing to the poster of him in round 2—in all his (late) teenage rebellion. The 10th year anniversary of Alien Stage, 10 years of escaping from that hell.
Smiling softly, he says, "Because it's cool."
But only he knows it's because his mom wanted to see him play one. You can make the drums out of boxes, recorders out of vegetables, and even some sort of xylophone with glass and water — but a guitar was precise.
It was the first instrument Till saw when he was looking at the giant ads on the tall buildings outside their little abode. He had heard passerbys say the word guitar before, but he never saw it.
Up until this moment, when the moving ad was showcasing the alien guitar—strumming the strings, tuning the thing, and even singing a song with it.
It was glorious. The infinite potential contained within those strings expanded beyond the things he could achieve with stomping his little feet while using a fork to tap on the glasses of water.
"Guitar!" Little Till beamed.
His mother giggled. His first words were not Io, not aliens, but guitar—his world was already far beyond the tiny place they live in. He was stretching his hand towards the sky, seeing if he could pluck a star down.
He is, and always will be, Io's star.
Even if music was 'forbidden', lest Till gets dragged to Alien Stage, his mom never stopped him from loving music; she understood it was as if asking her to not love him, and she could not bear to do that to her 'product', her son (as the aliens call their children, a word that came so naturally and yet was so foreign), even if it shortened their time together.
She saw his impeccable joy for music—for each melody the passersby hum, he would recreate in his little set of glasses of water. He yearned for a guitar he would never have, and Io would try to get one for him without getting the alien's attention.
But it was futile. Guitars were a luxury, something only aliens (unless they were Alien Stage contestants) had.
Helpless, she made a lullaby instead.
It was the only gift she could give to her son musically, to show her support for his passions.
She sang it to him for the first time when Till lost his first tooth and was confused by the pain. Then, she kept singing it to him to lull him to sleep.
It was a quiet symphony, just enough to not get the alien's attention, but for Till?
It was sacred.
It was the only reminder—aside from guitars—that he had of his mother and her love (even if he didn't know it was called love at the time, he only found this word out when he was researching the history of humans). He even recorded it in case he forgot one day.
Till sang it to Ivan when he crawled into his bed from nightmares that Till, to this day, doesn't know the cause; when Ivan was sad after the fact that Till accidentally smashed the recorder on his head and they had to be separated; when Ibanny went missing; when Ivan watched him draw under the tree; when everything in the world went wrong.
He didn't realize he only shared it with Ivan and no one else. He didn't even realize the love Ivan harboured until the very end.
That crushed him. Far more than any abuse he suffered from the aliens.
Not even her lullaby helped at one point.
How could he be so blind? He didn't even tell Ivan how much he liked his presence, even if he was a little shit for doing things like gluing his hands to flowers. Ivan was a distraction to the world he wished to ignore—the world without the comfort of his mother's embrace. Yet, missing that love made him lose another.
The only thing that kept him going was Ivan's wish for him to live. There was a letter in Ivan's room, stuffed inside Ibanny. Till only noticed it when he hugged the stupid-looking thing in search of some sort of comfort from the overwhelming grief.
Dear Tillie,
When you read this, I'm probably gone! Unless you sneaked into my room pre-round 6.
Live well, Till. Chase the love you want—I'm not good with words, but you're the most lovable person in the world. You give all your heart to something you adore.
I hoped one day it would've been me.Have fun living. I know you still remember the escape route I showed you when we were kids—I've seen you stare at those gates before. Go to Anakt through a lie, and escape. I heard that the rebel leader, Hyuna, was also an escapee. I'm sure she will take you under her wing.
Leave before round 7. Don't get caught! Take Ibanny with you if you want. I know how much you like this plush.
Honestly? I made it for you, but I just never gave it to you. You always came to my room to find it, so it was... convenient to have you find me. I get your company; you get Ibanny. Fair trade, right?
Well, now that I'm not here, you can have him. It was my selfish wish to make you stay with me anyway.
Don't drown in sadness, okay? Maybe an hour is okay but I don't want to see you depressed, like the way you were when you heard Mizi lost and is now missing or kidnapped. I know I like evoking emotions from you, steal your attention, but I don't want you to wallow in sorrow. Sorrow is for me. Black sorrow, you get it? Bad joke.
The round is starting now. See you in 50 years, Till. (You better live for another 50 years!)
Ivannie.
Every word made him choke on tears. He could feel his care from across the paper, across from heaven (another concept he learned from sifting through information of human history).
He swore he would never be so oblivious to someone's love ever again. He would always give the person he adores love, no matter what.
But it could never be Ivan he gives this love to ever again.
Till stared at Mivan from across the garden. It was bittersweet to see Ivan again in that form—the same eyes that were so bright and filled with love that Ivan never knew he had.
He thought of writing a response to the letter Ivan wrote him—something to comfort Ivan no matter how small an effort it was—but nothing he could ever write could ever compare to the weight of the feelings he carries ten years later.
He only wished Ivan was happier and loved in heaven.
He'd make sure the kids know what love is first before finding Ivan again. Then, he'll spend the rest of eternity loving Ivan the way he deserved.
