#POV Ivan

[jumbled-messy-confused]

Interlude

Summary:

As Ivan had sat beside an unconscious Kirigan the night after the bridge's collapse, he’d promised himself he’d make things right. But when the long-overdue conversation begins with Kirigan’s unexpected apology, Ivan finds himself caught off guard, struggling with emotions he’d thought were long buried.

Notes:

Plays immediately after "Bound by Duty, Torn by Care" While this story can stand on its own, I highly recommend reading “Bearing the Burden” and the related works first for a deeper understanding and richer context. (Warning: Well, this is SO out of character.... But hey, who cares. It's fanfiction.)   The "Bearing the Burden"-universe is AU, based on the first episodes of “Shadow and Bone”, when Alina is still relatively new to the palace. As in each of my stories, Kirigan is a leader, not the villain from the series. Please note that English is not my first language, but I did my best to find most mistakes. (Feel free to point them out to me!). I took certain creative liberties, particularly with respect to magic, medical details and the characterization of the main characters but I hope, you will just roll with it. And now have fun! And thank you for reading.

The room was quiet, save for the steady, rhythmic sound of Kirigan’s breathing. Ivan sat beside the bed, exhaustion weighing heavily on him. Fedyor had left not too long ago, needing to take over watch duty, and though he had offered to accompany Ivan to their quarters, Ivan had waved him off. He had wanted to stay a bit longer.

His plan had been simple—sit for a few minutes, take a moment of reprieve while ensuring the General was still resting, then return to the preparations for the upcoming event at the Grand Palace. But as he sat there, the tension slowly ebbed from his muscles. His body ached; his thoughts grew sluggish. The tranquillity of the room, the quiet stillness, and the reassuring presence of Kirigan sleeping just a few feet away lulled him into an unexpected calm. It had been three days of relentless stress, constantly on edge, first the bridge collapse, then worrying over the General’s health, managing duties in his absence, and attending to the endless needs of the Little Palace. Ivan had been running on little more than sheer willpower, but now that he was still for the first time in what felt like forever, the weight of it all came crashing down on him.

His eyelids grew heavy. Just a few minutes, he thought. He only needed a few minutes. Folding his arms over his chest and leaning his head back, his mind started drifting. Faint sounds of the palace life filtered through—the low murmur of voices somewhere down the hall, the rhythmic echo of footsteps as Grisha moved about. Bit by bit, even these faded. His breathing slowed, matching Kirigan’s regular motions, and before he knew it, sleep overtook him. --- When Ivan awoke, it was to an unfamiliar warmth wrapped around him. The soft pressure of a blanket, heavier than the one he usually used, covered him from his shoulders to his feet. He blinked groggily, the world coming into focus as his mind caught up with his body. He wasn’t in his bed, nor was he in his room—he was still in Kirigan’s quarters, slouched in the chair beside the bed. His hand instinctively grasped at the cover. Dark, heavy fabric. It wasn’t his.

It was Kirigan’s.

Ivan jolted upright, stifling a grimace as a sharp ache jolted through his back and neck, a reminder of his awkward posture. The fog of sleep cleared as he processed what had happened. He looked toward the bed and saw the General, no longer asleep, but sitting on the edge of the mattress. His back was hunched slightly, one hand pressed against his ribs, the other resting on his knee. His dark eyes, though tired, were focused entirely on Ivan, watching him with the kind of silent concern that usually passed between them only when Kirigan was the one in distress.

“You’ve overdone it, Ivan.” Kirigan’s voice was quiet, but there was a firmness beneath the fatigue. He didn’t ask; it was a statement of fact.

Ivan swallowed hard, forcing himself fully awake. “You’re one to talk,” he muttered, though the edge of his usual bite was missing. He rubbed his face, trying to shake off the heaviness in his limbs. “I’m not the one released out of the infirmary just today and already overexerting myself again.”

As expected, Kirigan didn’t respond immediately. Ivan had known the General wouldn’t rise to the bait. He never did. His dark gaze simply searched Ivan’s face with that unnerving calmness of his, the kind that saw straight through Ivan’s defences. For a long moment, he said nothing, letting the silence speak for him.

Then, finally, Kirigan broke it with a quiet, firm, “No. You’re not. But you’re tearing yourself apart just the same.”

Ivan clenched his jaw, not knowing how to respond to that. Kirigan’s words cut deeper than he expected, because they were true. So often in the past had he criticised Kirigan for pushing himself too hard, for sacrificing his own health for the sake of others. And now, here he was, doing the exact same thing. Clearly, they were spending too much time together; Ivan had picked up more of Kirigan’s bad habits than he’d care to admit.

But Kirigan wasn’t done. His eyes narrowed slightly as he shifted on the bed, wincing at the movement. “You’ve been handling everything more than well,” he remarked, a note of appreciation resonating through. “I know how hard that is. But you can’t keep going like this.”

Ivan straightened his posture, forcing himself to appear steady, even as he shook his head. "I’m fine," he insisted, the protest gruff, though he could feel the effort it took just to sound convincing. “I just... needed a moment. That’s all.”

The duvet was still wrapped around him, its warmth a reminder that Kirigan had woken up and seen him like this—exhausted, vulnerable. And instead of rousing him and sending him off to his quarters, Kirigan had covered him with his own blanket, a gesture filled with a care that Ivan wasn’t sure how to handle.

His throat tightened. The General wasn’t supposed to worry about him. He was the protector, the one who was always there to ensure Kirigan’s safety, not the other way around. But here, in this quiet moment, Kirigan was looking at him with concern—true concern—and it felt too much, too tender.

“You shouldn’t be up,” Ivan muttered, deflecting. He observed his leader, noting the pale complexion, the tension in his shoulders. “You should be resting.”

Kirigan let out a small, breathy chuckle, though it was laced with fatigue. “Says the man who just slept through half the evening.”

Ivan stiffened, about to argue, but then Kirigan reached out and placed a hand lightly on his forearm. The touch was gentle, grounding. Rare. It was unlike Kirigan to initiate such contact, and Ivan knew immediately that it meant something. The General didn’t touch people unless he wanted to convey something significant. “You’ve been carrying everything.” Kirigan’s gaze held on Ivan, the rare acknowledgment settling heavily between them. “For me, for the Little Palace. I see it, Ivan, and I’m grateful.”

Ivan’s fingers curled, pressing into the fabric of Kirigan’s blanket as he tried to absorb the General’s words. He exhaled sharply, feeling a knot of unease form in his chest, the weight of Kirigan’s gratitude almost too much to bear. “I do what I have to.” The response came out a touch too rough; he could feel it catching in his throat.

Kirigan’s grip on his arm intensified, as if urging him to listen, truly listen. “No, Ivan. You’ve taken on more than I ever meant to ask of you.” He sounded extremely tired all of a sudden. “And for that... I’m sorry.” His voice was raw, carrying a weight that spoke of more than just today, more than just the pain in his body—it was the guilt that had haunted him since the bridge collapse.

Ivan felt a cold knot tighten in his chest. It hurt, hearing the self-reproach in Kirigan’s voice. He had hoped, by now, that Kirigan, like he himself, might see it differently, might understand that there had been more than just his own recklessness at play—that some things had been beyond anyone’s control. But here it was again, that burden, still so heavy in Kirigan’s voice.

Ivan clenched his teeth. He didn’t want to hear this - it didn’t sit right. Not after everything. “I don’t want you to apologize,” he muttered, subdued. “If anything,... it should’ve been me.”

Kirigan’s brow furrowed slightly, but he didn’t interrupt. He waited.

Ivan inhaled, fighting the tightness in his throat. “I let it get to me. The panic. I wasn’t thinking straight.” He ran a hand through his hair, feeling the pressure of all he’d held back over these past days, the stress of almost losing Kirigan, the guilt he couldn’t shake for what he’d said. “I overreacted… that day. When I said what I did—” He stopped, the sharp remorse making it difficult to continue. “I don’t even know if you remember it, but I regret it. Truly.” Kirigan’s expression eased, his head inclining almost imperceptibly. “Ivan… stop it.” Though faint, there was a quiet strength beneath his fatigue. “Given everything that happened, your reaction was more than understandable.” But Ivan shook his head in vehement denial. "No! I shouldn’t have said it," he repeated, and this time, he couldn’t quite keep the thickness from creeping into his tone. The apology he had been holding back broke free in a halting rush. “I had no right. You were barely hanging on, and I…I lashed out. It was unworthy of me, and it did nothing but cause you more pain.”

Kirigan’s expression clouded as though the memory still stung. His voice dropped, each word measured and deliberate, like he was choosing them with care. “I think I deserved it.” Ivan shook his head sharply, the guilt gnawing at him, clawing up from deep inside. “No. You didn’t. It wasn’t your fault—at least, not in the way you believe.” His eyes searched Kirigan’s face. “You think you’re to blame because you didn’t stop, because you didn’t go to the healers, but… no one could have foreseen that it would get this bad.”

“Yet, I could have sought help.” Kirigan paused, meeting Ivan’s gaze with unguarded sincerity, no shields left between them. “I should have.” There was a rawness in his expression, a pain he rarely showed. “Your reaction... it was justified. You had every right to be angry.” Ivan’s stomach churned at the reassurance. This was Kirigan at his most disarming—tired, genuine, and calm. His eyes held a depth of sincerity that Ivan had rarely seen; the unvarnished honesty brought a fresh wave of guilt, sharper than any rebuke could have been.

“Still,” Ivan managed, glancing away, “I shouldn’t have put that on you.” The regret sat heavy in his throat, unwilling to be ignored. “The truth is, I’d probably have done the same in your place. I know I have in the past, more than once,” he admitted with difficulty. “It’s not easy to pull back, even when you know you should.” He paused, his eyes drifting past Kirigan, as though looking for something beyond the quiet room they occupied. “I know that now,” he continued, slowly, “but back then…” His chest tightened, and he inhaled deeply, steadying himself. “When I was there, tending to you… helpless...” The words caught on his tongue as the memory surged to the surface. The sharpness of it hit him hard; the images of that day—how Kirigan, bloody and motionless, had simply stopped breathing—flashed in his mind as vividly as though it had just happened. “In that moment, I couldn’t bear it, seeing you like that,” he whispered, low and worn. “You were dying right in front of me… I just couldn’t accept it. I thought we were going to lose you.” The anguish was unmasked, too much to hide.

Kirigan’s eyes fixed on him, dark, unwavering. "And yet, you held on." His gaze carried all the regret of a leader who knew exactly what he’d asked, but was also filled with a respect and gratitude he rarely showed openly. “Despite all of it—your fear, the impossibility of it—you kept me alive till the healers arrived, Ivan. It’s because of you I’m still here.”

The simple acknowledgment was a balm to the wound Ivan hadn’t known he still carried. He felt it settle into him, grounding him as he wrestled with both the regret and relief of this impossible bond they shared. He took a steadying breath, his eyes closing briefly in exhaustion. “Just… never put me in such a position again,” he murmured, something dangerously close to a plea behind it, “Don’t make me watch you suffer like that.”

For a long moment, Kirigan didn’t respond. Then, slowly, he inclined his head. “You know I can’t promise it won’t happen again.” His gaze held a steady resolve. “But I swear I’ll try.”

The words settled something deep within Ivan, as though a knot that had been wound too tight was finally easing. He allowed himself a fragile, quiet exhale, letting the weight of the past few days lift, if only slightly, at Kirigan’s reassurance. He met Kirigan’s gaze, seeing, the unspoken pact between them both, stronger for all they’d endured. This was enough. There was no room in their lives for absolutes, but this promise—to try—was real, and Ivan could feel himself unclench around it. Eventually, Kirigan gave a short nod. They’d said what needed to be said. “Rest,” he ordered, his eyes softening just a fraction as he moved to carefully lean back, too weak to sit up any longer. “For both our sakes.”

Ivan didn’t argue, he just shot up from his chair as Kirigan began to shift and gently helped the General ease his battered body back against the pillows. Kirigan’s muscles tensed, and he suppressed a wince, but he didn’t pull away. For once, he let Ivan shoulder the weight without complaint.

Then, with careful hands, Ivan pulled the blanket he had been covered with back over Kirigan, smoothing it out over his shoulders. Yet, while he did that, the General’s gaze, though heavy-lidded, fixed firmly on him, sharp and steady despite the fatigue. “You know,” he remarked unexpectedly, “it took some guts not to wake me for the meeting this evening.” Ivan stiffened, caught off guard by this sudden change of topic. But contrary to his fears, Kirigan’s voice held no anger - there was only a quiet recognition, something that bordered on grudging respect. Ivan let a breath slip, steadying himself. “It wasn’t easy,” he confessed, the weight of his actions lingering in his voice. “But you weren’t in any shape to sit through that. You were barely able to stay upright all day.” Kirigan studied him for a moment, before he spoke again. “It was a bold choice, and not one without its risks...” His words trailed off, a thoughtful silence stretching between them. Then, with a small sigh, his gaze softened. “But you made the decision for my own good, and... I won’t argue with it. You were right.” Ivan stayed silent, nodding once, thankful. There was nothing left to say, not really. They would move on, as they always did. No more words were needed.

With a slow, exhausted blink, Kirigan’s eyes closed again. His body seemed to sink deeper into the pillows, the weight of the past days finally pulling him under. Ivan remained on the edge of the bed for a moment longer, watching Kirigan’s face relax in sleep. The lines of pain and tension eased, leaving him looking almost peaceful.

And in the silence that followed, Ivan allowed himself, for just a moment, to breathe. Then, with a final glance at Kirigan, he stood up and quietly left the room, seeking his own rest at last.

[squidokja]

Because I'm a Villain...

My interpretation of Luka's POV - Villain Song by Stella Jang

[chill--cat]

[ivanttakethis]

Oh.

.

.

.

.

Oh.

[dulcelem]

Seeing things from Till's perspective, everything must be so very confusing. Like his life is getting progressively worse than it already was, the person who is his only source of comfort and hope has disappeared and may have died(he failed to protect her. she is the only reason he stayed in his own private hell, the reason he gave up his longed for freedom from the aliens and he failed). He was completely alone and on top of that he was being abused, dehumanized and violated in every way possible. Gradually losing all motivation and strength until he became so depressed that the sense of self and danger no longer exists.

Then, he's going to sing in a deadly competition against this boy he was kind of friends with when they were kids. He was kinda weird and got on Till's nerves occasionally, but yeah they played together, they fought sometimes and one time he sort of offered all the freedom in the world outside of that place for some reason. But anyway, life has no more meaning so he gives up singing and decides to die. Understandable.

But, out of the absolute NOWHERE, that boy who was almost his friend kisses him(??????) for no reason and he doesn't stop. Then, as if it wasn't already fucking weird, Ivan chokes Till. And. Honestly. It makes more sense. Maybe Ivan has a desire to live or something. He doesn't tho. Not right now. Or, who knows, Ivan was taking out his anger on him because if only Till had agreed to run away with him that night, they wouldn't be in this situation. Practically suicidal, he accepts death by Ivan's hands. But then, out of nowhere(again) Ivan FALLS TO THE GROUND with BLOOD DRAINING from his mouth. And he DIES. His plan to die was over and Ivan died for him without any explanation or warning.

Many people say he is sad or angry, but I swear I think this man is in the deepest state of shock. He hadn't been able to move an inch since the end of the performance and stared at Ivan's dead body until the lights went out. He wasn't conscious enough to even try to stop the bleeding. I'm very curious to see how he will react to all this

[ingridgh0st]

So you mean to tell me that after R7 dropped on Vivinos Patreon it was revealed that Ivan and Till had a mutual deep love-hate bond

Like, I won but at what cost

[crustyfloor]

The idea of Till having a certain sentiment of regret, hate? towards Ivan for what he did in round 6 jumbled up with his already mixed feelings about Ivan because of the person he is and how he treated Till when they were kids up until now, it's a lot. It breaks my heart but feels a little too real.

[clarkkantagain]

ivan cidrian

[kitsquared]

Ive had this in my head a whilee and now im like. Before round 7 could prove it wrong

My one take that is my wishful thinking

Is that the whole sequence of the meteor shower scene in round 3 was being remembered by Ivan AND Till in that same moment as Ivan sang Black Sorrow

because it's clear Ivan did not see Till's hesitation and is proven by what he remembers in Round 6

And Round 3 is mostly in Ivan's memories and point of view (there being a moment where it is Unsha's and the audience's pov)

Until the meteor shower scene

That is also bathed in green. Which could connect to Till who is mainly represented by green or teal.

And right before this scene

Till is shown to gain consciousness while covered in his green light

And i used to think Till had just gained consciousness so he couldnt completely register the song was for him

(I do think it's possible he woke up because of Ivan's voice if not also the comfort it gives and thus the green mood light 🤷‍♀️)

But maybe he was very aware. Maybe he was listening for a while.

Maybe he was feeling guilty. As he did then

We know Ivan had not seen Till's hesitance and this is purely Till's pov. This is Till remembering it right then in r3

And especially that Till is completely in green. And when Ivan watches his running figure his face is shone in red light not green. Only Ivan's pov

And that he sees Till the same as the beautiful burning meteor shower as his eyes for once dont have the red camera-like pupil, only flashing white like a star

and i think by the fact that this illustration of Till in his round 2 attire was posted before round 3 shows how affected he was by the meteor shower

Also that. Till had only seen Ivan's back, too. He didn't see the kind of smile Ivan gave him as he watched Till run.

But seeing Ivan back in Anakt garden could mean so many things. Mainly that he chose to come back instead of running free

[alfpage85]

Ahhhhhh

[shakingparadigm]

I wonder if they'll post any new magazine articles, public announcements or interviews regarding this round since they did so for previous rounds. Imagine the shit aliens would say about ROUND 6.

[ivanttakethis]

Round 7

Till doesn’t fight back as he’s fitted into his costume; a tailored, white suit.

Far more expensive than anything he’s ever worn or owned. Restrictive in a way he knows Luka’s isn’t.

He doesn’t argue when they slick his hair back. Or when they take out his piercings.

He doesn’t even look in the mirror once he’s ready.

Someone nearby whispers that he “looks like a prince.”

The collar of the jacket is too tight around his neck.

Don’t think about it.

The stage is dark when Till is shoved out to take his position.

A sea of stars unfolds above him, stretching out across the deep black yawn of space. Till allows himself a moment to look.

His heart stutters as something bright and fast streaks across the sky.

A meteor.

A shooting star.

He remembers when the sky was a brilliant orange and dozens of stars fell as easy as the rain.

Don’t think about it.

The overhead lights come on, nearly blinding him, and the crowd roars below. Luka must be making his entrance.

Till doesn’t look at the audience. He doesn’t look at Luka either.

His gaze drops to the stage beneath him, trying in vain to tune out all of the noise.

He blinks.

Once. Twice.

Blood pools at his feet. Soaks the soles of his boots.

Don’t think about him.

Till grips the microphone and squeezes his eyes shut.

The music starts.

Luka sings the opening lyrics… but it doesn’t sound quite like him.

This voice…

It’s higher. Sweeter. Familiar.

His eyes snap up, locking on to the figure across the stage from him. Glowing like an angel under the spotlight.

Mizi.

Still in her white dress with her long pink hair pulled back.

Just as she left them. Left him.

Till’s heart aches.

She turns to him, letting her golden gaze settle over his.

What he wouldn’t have done for her to look at him like that when they were kids.

Slowly, as she draws out the last note of the line, her lips lift into a gentle smile.

Something cracks.

Wait—

That smile doesn’t look right. It doesn’t feel right.

It feels like—

It feels like Luka…

Flashes of Round 5 hit Till hard and fast.

Mizi in a daze. Luka dancing circles around her. Getting too close. Smiling that same smile.

This is exactly what Luka did to Mizi. This is why she snapped.

Till doesn’t question who Luka pretended to be to get a rise out of her.

He knew it wasn’t him.

Luka comes closer, still wearing Mizi’s face.

He can’t move. Can’t run. Can’t think.

A strong hand cups his right cheek.

Till lunges.

He can barely hear the music over the thundering in his ears and the sound of his fists meeting Luka’s face over and over again.

That bastard is grinning up at him like he already won.

Till just hits harder.

Blood pours out of Luka’s nose and splatters on his suit.

For a moment, it’s Mizi looking up at him with a bloodied face.

Till doesn’t stop.

He won’t stop until they put him down.

Just like Sua. Just like Mizi. Just like—

Ivan.

Dark eyes bore into him as they slowly drain of life.

White suit. Slicked back hair. He looks like a prince.

They dressed me just like you.

His lips are still red.

Till stares back into the only gaze that ever wanted to hold him.

As if it could make up for all of the times he looked away.

The fire raging inside him freezes over. For a moment, everything is quiet.

At the end of this story…

There is only a cold spot stained with blood…

No gods. No worshippers.

[redrandomposts]

hi, I think the little mermaid au idea is so cool and I really like the concept! How does Mizi feel when she sees what left of Ivan and figures it out? I feel like since they are very close she would be very sad and mad at herself :(

Maybe Ivan can come back and everyone can be happy! :D

-🍎

hi 🍎!!!

mizi wouldn't notice, actually, because sua didn't tell her (or let ivan tell her) what would happen to ivan if he failed. sua's just like that. and... idk, man, she's pretty sheltered. too much to even make conclusions based on death, because she barely knows of it. she only feels something is wrong when she has to go back to the ocean without catching a glimpse of her best friend.

(she doesn't notice the letters, either. perhaps a passing servant had dropped them on accident, or it was specifically left for till)

but i can one up you!!! hahaha!

...it's kinda implied that till actually falls in(sane) love with ivan. why else would ivan would have his own entire wing near till's personal office, with jewelry and all kinds of clothes at his disposal?

ivan doesn't notice this because he was a prince and thought that ah yes, fancy lobster dishes and clothing made of the finest silks... this must be how everyone is treated. (guys ive grown fond of ivan and long black hair??? i knew what i was doing)

i have ideas for a HE, but for now...um, ok, here u are, something u did not ask for (till's pov (might be ooc))

===

it started at the beach. till ran away from his duties yet again (he was six! who entrusted him (of all people, nonetheless) with duties?!), this time heading to the beach. he's never been to the ocean so closely before, and couldn't help to just... get closer.

he never learned to swim before, as he was swamped by all other tasks that he despised. oversight on everyone's part. he was swept away by the waves, hopelessly fighting against the salty water. the salt burned his eyes, making him close them, but when arms (...smaller than him, what the hell!) wrapped around him he tried to open them.

pale skin, a pearl breaking through the water's surface. red and black scales that reflected the light so beautifully, as if sunset had just reached its end. jewels and silver chains that slowly fell back to place when displaced.

...skin? scales? what was going on?! is he like those... those addicts his mentor talked about?!

he closed his eyes. this was not happening. this was not happening.

when he opened his eyes, he caught sight of an angel from the sea. her face was beautiful, her pink hair, wet, fell like waterfalls. she had... blue scales, slightly tan skin, with gold decorating her. (what about the black and red sunset scales? the pale as pearl skin? the silver that reflected the sunlight like the moon did?) she was the most beautiful person he's ever seen in life.

a week later, he couldn't help but sketch the angel that had the wrong colors again and again by the beach. perhaps, if he got her attention again, they could become friends and eventually the king and queen of his kingdom! in his fervent imagination, he didn't notice the pearl until it slipped into the waters again, far from his grasp.

annoyingly, this repeated for weeks on end. over a year (or way more) of weeks, actually! the only reason till didn't think this was a weird doesn't-actually-exist image were the odd things he'd find when he was done sketching. fish, crabs, actual pearls, clams, a shattered but ornately-made hand mirror, a locket without anything inside, dadada...

and when he went into the library to find out (the first time he's stepped into there! everyone weeps in joy!), all he found were books about creatures in the sea that love music and make others love music.

music? he could do that! he brought a guitar out to the beach, and somehow got so lost in the music he forgot to check for the pearl! when he looked again, all he saw was black slipping underneath the waves again. what the fuck?!

each time he'd try this, it'd have the same result. he'd be so engrossed in his music and making songs that he'd barely, if at all, catch black hair and silver jewelry slipping into the ocean before he could clearly see it.

and he had a solution! if he came at night, then he'd surely catch the pearl before it could see him!

...listening to the singing, till once again missed his chance. pearl-pale skin reflected the moonlight, the ocean grew quiet to listen to the music, birds and fish crowded the rock the pearl sits on. black hair blended into the night, and the silver took and stored the moonlight, reflecting it to mimic the moon the best anything ever could.

and when it stopped, till was too dazed to react! he had to watch helplessly as it slipped into the ocean once again.

this continued for years. till was driven insane. a face he's never once seen, yet one he kept on chasing and chasing. he bought silver jewelry, imagining that one day, he could lay it out and trap the pearl once and for all. he bought various clothes, both men and women's, so one day he could cover the pearl and keep it for his eyes only.

it turns out he didnt need it, though! on his sixteenth birthday, the pearl was in the sand, a coat on his body, covering his thighs from the sun. long black hair splayed out, framing the face he's gone insane over trying to catch a glimpse of.

till decided to put him in the unused wing, the one right next to his. he carefully washed him, combing his hair and dressing him up to the neck. this could be a foretelling of his future, maybe. it's a much brighter future than he could have ever imagined.

ice-cold water, the kind that only appeared when the snow fell and the nights grew longer than day, poured on him when letters slipped through his door, sea foam decorating the parchment.

[ingridgh0st]

If the mutual IvanTill truthers turn out to be somewhat right and the unrealized feelings interpretation is the closest to canon, then I might as well just start crying in a corner

Like, it's a cool interpretation don't get me wrong, but for now it seems like wishful thinking, something I would read in a fan fic and enjoy if written well (aka not the "I never looked at him before R6"), but at the same time It would be all the more tragic and angstier if they actually take this rout and also I think that for what we know so far HyunaLuka fills the spot of the unrequited feelings

Well, I have to wait only 3 days at this point so we'll see

[atlas-atsus]

I had a vision

[crustyfloor]

Ways of endearment for the observers

Was there a part of you hoping you could mimic what they had?

Status: Completed

Words: 2k

Read on AO3

Read here:

Mizi and Sua were something special, among all the other kids in Anakt Garden. They were the closest to each other. Ivan hadn’t seen Sua smile more when she wasn’t near Mizi. Mizi had that kind of effect on people Ivan guessed.

“Mizi….for you.” 

Ivan observed the two from his desk nearby. In Sua’s hand was a miniature version of a flower crown and a rare look of nervousness on her face when the creation was taken by Mizi. But of course, even though it looked bad. Nothing compared to the ones Till made. Mizi still accepted it with a big smile and grabbed Sua in a tight hug to which the other girl averted his eyes and mumbled something Ivan couldn’t hear.

Till liked flower crowns. If the many hours Ivan had spent seeing Till make flower crowns with ease all the time even when they weren’t meant for anyone in particular was any proof. If he liked them so much, Ivan wondered. If he were to make one for Till instead, would Till like it the way Mizi does?

And so here he was now, carefully threading two stems together as he remembered seeing Till do it many times before, though admittedly Ivan wasn’t as good at this, the result was anything but a proper flower crown. But he still found himself proud of it, proud enough to present it to Till with a smile. 

“What’s that..?”

Till asks as he glances up from his notepad and pauses his rapid scribbling. Instead, focusing on the flower crown Ivan was holding. And not the Mizi doodle. Just Ivan. 

“It’s a flower crown,” Ivan said with a practiced chirpy tone as he placed it on Till’s head, a single flower fell onto Till’s lap. “Do you like it?” 

Till slowly took the flower crown off and gave a look when the whole thing crumpled from the impact and then snorted. 

“No. it’s bad.” 

“Oh.” Ivan breathed. Well, he knew that already. So it didn’t hurt when Till said it, but maybe a part of him was expecting Till to put on a smile anyway and be happy about it, but alas he wasn’t like Mizi in that sense. 

There was silence a long stretch of silence between the two, awkward as Till averted his eyes and huffed, grabbing the bundle of flowers with bent stems. 

“Sit down…. I’ll teach you how to make a better one” Till replied curtly, snapping Ivan out of his thoughts and he immediately took a seat next to Till as he began explaining how to properly tie the stems together. 

‘Well….This is good enough too.’

————

Till was beside him, still visibly seething after taking a thorough scolding from their teacher for drawing during class. 

This didn’t stop Ivan from trying to tease Till about it when they took their seats at lunch, which caused him to get a thorough verbal beating from Till…. so it was apparent Till was too busy to talk. 

That left Ivan with nobody to talk to but two eyes to look around and entertain himself by watching his peers. Mostly everyone was minding their business and eating if not talking to the person beside them. Ivan’s eyes were easily drawn to the vibrant pink hair that stuck out among the crowd first. A few tables away Mizi and Sua were sitting together as they always were. Seemingly in their own world as Mizi was happily talking, facing Sua who was more focused on the braid she was making with the thick strand of Mizi’s hair than what Mizi was saying but still nodded and replied things Ivan couldn’t hear now and then. 

Ivan averted his eyes away from the girls and back to Till who had looked to calm down, distractedly stabbing the small pile of white rice on his tray with his spoon. Ivan’s mind went to a time when Till had mumbled something along the lines of “Would she touch my hair too if I grew it longer…” and when Ivan popped up behind him and asked what he said Till jumped in place and proceeded to shout at Ivan. 

Ivan had read in one of those cheesy romance books that he happened to pick up one day and put back the next, a girl was getting her hair braided by a guy she had a crush on. She described her feelings as “butterflies.” It sounded silly to Ivan, but he wondered. Was that what Mizi felt when Sua touched her hair? Would Till get that same fluttery feeling if it was Ivan doing it to him instead? 

It was now later in the day. The sky was a bright orange and curfew creeping around the corner Ivan had gotten bored of making faces at the sky so he sought out Till as he always did. And he wasn’t hard to find. Ivan, as expected found Till already lying by the tree asleep. Till had a weird knack for sleeping everywhere but his bed and Ivan had half a mind to throw something at him to wake him up but decided against it when his eyes caught on the sight of Till’s usual untamed, wild grey hair, and then his mind wandered back. Till’s hair wasn’t quite long anymore so it would be difficult to make a solid braid but it didn’t stop Ivan from slowly settling down beside the boy and grabbing at a few strands.

Till’s hair was rougher than it should be. 

Well, to be expected Ivan guessed. If he couldn’t help to go a day without causing his uniform to rip and stain then why would he bother keeping up with his hair? Thats okay. 

And so for the next few minutes, Ivan meticulously ran his hand through till hair, meticulously taking out and tearing at every knot until he was unable to catch on anything else. 

It looked softer now and Ivan couldn’t help but feel proud of himself for his work. It was only when Till started to shift did he realized he was waking up and removed his hands. Looking innocent when till woke up, at the weird dull throbbing in his scalp he cast Ivan a suspicious glance. 

————

Ivan had expected Mizi to be the first one to go. But in a less than surprising turn of events Sua had been the one to fall to the floor, surrounded in a pool of her blood. Ivan watched as Mizi’s stiff body had to be dragged away from Sua after not responding to her name for the third time. Ivan felt a little sympathy for her. He remembered her being so excited only a few hours ago, hugging Sua tightly after assuring her that they would show the aliens ‘the best duo they’ve ever seen’ and that they could make it out together. All they needed to do was be themselves. That mizi loved her and she believed in them. All that positivity amounted to nothing at the end of the day. It’s such cruelty that she had to have her bubble popped in such a horrific way. Wouldn’t it have been better for Sua to spare that innocence such a rude awakening?

It put a knot in Ivan’s stomach.

Through the side of his eye, he looked to Till who was a few pods down staring down at the scene with widened eyes, Similarly, the reality was dawning on Till too. Just where the hell they were right now. What they were fighting for. 

Minutes after Mizi was taken off the stage cleaning crew came in. For the few minutes to an hour cleaning crew would spend ridding the pristine white stage of crimson red the participants were allowed back into the building for a breather. He, Mizi, and Till were all gathered into a room, two heavy doors weighed down by heavier iron kept them inside, a precaution for those who may decide to try their luck at escaping. 

The silence was profound as everyone stood in separate areas of the room, taking in what they had just seen. And for once, Till wasn’t even looking Mizi’s way as he was seemingly lost in his head thinking.

Mizi, on the other hand. She was well, not okay. At all. It didn’t take a genius to know why. She had a distant look in her shocked eyes as she touched the long-since-dried blood splatter on her cheek with a gloved hand. 

After a minute, an alien came in and pulled Mizi out taking her somewhere else and leaving only him and a still stunned Till. Huh. He and Sua weren’t even close, so why was he acting like this? Perhaps now would be a good time to say something. The cleaning crew wasn’t going to take forever, and Till still had his round to win. So Ivan did that. 

“Till.” No response came when he approached the boy’s side. 

“Till.”

“Till?-“ 

“Ivan.” 

The sound of his name from Till’s mouth sent a shiver down his spine, he hadn’t heard that in a while. But he didn’t stay that way for too long as he settled down on the floor next to Till.

Don’t let it get to your head. 

“Sua’s dead.. They killed her…” Till breathed out, pulling his knees close to his chest. 

“I…I mean…shit, I don’t know. That is what this is about but, she and Mizi were doing so well…the plan looked like it was working..” 

“It was always just meant to be a shallow hope.” was what Ivan wanted to say. But that wouldn’t be helpful. And Till was still talking, to himself at this point. He wasn’t addressing Ivan but also simultaneously using him as a brain dump.

Till then seemed to have realized he was rambling and shut his mouth after a while. Awkwardly averting his eyes from Ivan’s direction. Well, to be expected but at least Till hadn’t moved away yet. Looking at him, it was clear he was still on edge. when Ivan thought up some small words of comfort they didn’t come to light on his tongue, it didn’t feel right. It probably wouldn’t be of any use anyway considering it would only work if it was genuine. So instead, without much thought he extended a hand and brushed it over Till’s shoulder in a brief show of hesitancy before giving in and grabbing Till’s shoulder in a firm grip. Ivan hoped Till knew what he was trying to say with that when they locked eyes for a second and Till wordlessly eased into the touch. 

—————

Ivan felt like he was burning

Despite the bone-chilling drops of artificial rain pouring down on him, suffocating him the same way he was suffocating Till now. Just barely. Because no matter how much he willed himself. His grip never got tighter. He didn’t know why. But it didn’t matter, he just needed to make it look convincing. 

And it seems it was working. 

Thump. 

Till was like a dead weight in his hands. Ivan wanted him to move, to keep trying to pry him off, anything. He was trying to find Till. Instead, he was looking straight at a hollow body that was supposed to hold a person but was more like what he always was, a beaten-down boy with nothing left to lose and nothing left to live for. It was like he was already dead in Ivan’s hands. Ivan didn’t know how to feel. 

‘Do you want to leave me that badly? Of course, you do. It’s not me you care about leaving, after all.’ 

Thump. 

Ivan wished he had the heart to give Till what he wanted, but he was selfish. Unworthy of Till’s grace, his attention, even in his last moments. Ivan was nothing compared to Mizi anyway. He would never have the place he desperately tried to claim in Till’s heart for years. He was okay with that. 

‘….’

Was this how Sua felt? When Mizi was singing her heart out thinking that together, they were stronger than the chains holding them down. Whilst she was always too aware of the weight that would inevitably crush them and their spirits? 

Ivan would’ve laughed if not for the stinging in his side preventing him from even retaining the hold he had on Till. To think he was once disgusted at Sua for doing what she did. Painfully etching her memory in Mizi’s mind the way she did. And then turning around and doing the same for the man who wouldn’t even glance his way, even now. Ivan wondered what Till would think if he did.

He was a hypocrite. 

He could accept that. 

But at least, Ivan was better than Sua. Ivan would only be a fleeting memory to Till. And what was Ivan if not a hopeless follower if he was content with that? It was more than he deserved for the person he was.

Thump. 

For these shallow emotions that never mattered, Ivan would die and Till would survive to the end of this, maybe even find Mizi again. Maybe escape Alien stage. Hopefully, live a life worth living like he dreamed of when they were kids.

Ivan’s vision started to blur as an indescribable weight burdened his eyelids. A stinging in his throat and the feel of burning liquid running down his chin sealed his fate as his shaking hands separated from Till’s neck, instantly the other eyes shot open, and then—

…

‘Oh. You’re looking at me.’