myblacksorrow

[ Ivan was laying on top of his bed, but he guesses he's getting up now. When Till knocks, Ivan opens the door. It's the expected protocol. The door was pulled open and Ivan stood there, shirtless and blank-faced. Strangely, it's almost reminisce of how Till left him. In this case, the misting of moistness over his skin and hair made it look like he just came from working out, or the shower.

What he doesn't do is reach out for the shirt. ]

[ While he could attempt to guess the reason behind Ivan's current state of half undress or the dewy glow of his skin, Till decides it is better to avert his gaze and forget about it. He holds out the shirt with one hand for Ivan to take. Conversation is also best left out of this. It's a return of an item; they don't need to speak to complete this exchange, his intention has already been conveyed.

He now needs Ivan to take his shirt back. Then why isn't he taking it? ]

[ How long Ivan stands there not taking the shirt is torture. The man's dark eyes remain on Till, not even glancing at the shirt.

And then, after what seems like an eternity, he takes it and throws it behind him without breaking eye contact. ]

[ This is reaching extreme levels of awkwardness. It's as if being cast under Sua's gaze. Don't do that to him! Take the damn shirt! And if Ivan had not snatched it out of his grasp, Till would have tossed it in and made a break for it. Instead, Ivan finally takes his shirt... and does exactly as Till had entertained. The sigh of relief is cut short as Till almost chokes on air when Ivan ends up throwing the shirt.

The fuck?!

He drops his gaze to their feet. ] You have your shirt. [ So bye. ]

[ Was that really it, he asks himself. Would Till really walk away after that? Till always did this. They fought, parted, and then Till said something arbitrary that lead to them acting like nothing happened. The situation was always awkward. They couldn't and wouldn't talk about the situation, merely brush past it. Ivan's understanding was too low to know what to do about Till's avoidant nature.]

Have you eaten?

[ With the way Ivan stood in the door, there was apace for Till to walk in if he wanted, but Ivan doubted that he would. ]

[ Before he can turn to leave, there is a question for him to answer. Food is the last thing on his mind, but now he has to think about when he last ate. It was? Earlier? Something like that. This is the kind of question that leads to a follow-up. There will be an invitation to share a meal. Maybe? He could be honest, say he hasn't recently, probably. He is forthright about his appetite. ]

I'm not hungry.

[ Being shut down out the gate. That would have been painful if he had feelings. Ivan nods slowly, rubbing his neck. There wasn't much else he could think to say, so he left it at that, remaining in the doorway. He would be there until the moment he was sure Till was going into his room and the door closes. Until then, he stood there, looking at the walls, the floors, anything that would take his attention. ]

Okay.

Yeah.

[ This is devolving into the least intelligent conversation they have ever shared, which is still ten billion percent better than some of their past discussions... ugh ten billion percent. That's still fucking weird. Wait. Why are they just standing out here? Ivan should go back into his room, return to that space, and shut the door; then Till can do the same. He can lock himself away within the confines of his suite. It's his place, alone, because isn't that how it will be? ]

Have you eaten?

No.

[ It wasn't unusual, but Ivan was sure Till has never once paid attention to Ivan's schedule. Back in the garden, Ivan usually skipped the midday meal to find Till. Now he was just upholding certain routines just for the sense of familiarity. None of it mattered. He wasn't striving to a purpose or goal. This was the way his life had always been like. There was no reason to change it until something came along to take his attention

With Till having left him alone for so long, it was easier to fall back into other routines than sit around and do nothing. ]

Okay.

[ That's the riveting response from an artistic genius; Till does finally lift his gaze to meet Ivan's. The answer makes sense if he takes into account his earlier assumption. There had been an invitation planned had he responded differently, right? That's what it was going to be? Or was Ivan going to give him a lesson about the human body needing proper nutrition and care, as well as advising him to take care of his appetite... ]

Shouldn't you eat? Don't you move around a lot and stuff?

I do.

[ It was suggested usually for pets who move around to be given ample food and water afterward. Ivan, however, would do what he could get away with. There were many reasons he couldn't speak to Till about all the problems percolating in his head. He was contending with his own fears and the end of his mortality being extended, and what they meant to him. The routine quieted the whispers in the back of his head, but meals did not. ]

So?

Go eat.

[ That's the so! Why else would he mention anything to do with Ivan's typical routine? He requires proper nutrition and care. Did he misread the situation? Was he supposed to interpret Ivan's words differently? Perhaps this was Ivan's way of requesting aid in obtaining a meal? Did he run out of vouchers? Did he need chips? Till could give him both. ]

I'm not hungry.

[ Throwing the same response back to Till was so amusing, he had to fight with himself not to smile. If Till had accepted in the first place, they wouldn't be going around in circles like this. Except now, Till was pressuring him to take care of himself. It was cute in a way. Every time Till wanting to reopen communication, it was always so stilted and awkward. Like he didn't know how to proceed.

It could be so easy. There were so many things Ivan could say, but if Till couldn't understand them, then they were pointless. ]

Do you want to come inside?

[ Then why the fuck did Ivan ask him if he had eaten earlier? He thought he had that figured out, but apparently, he knows nothing. Shit! It's time to start from nothing in his attempt to figure out this entire conversation. It's so frustrating! It's stupid! What was the point of that question? Clenching his hands into fists, he pauses a moment and rethinks this situation. Hadn't he just come out here to deliver a shirt? That was done. The next question prompts Till to look at Ivan in bewilderment. ]

To pick up your shirt. Why did you throw it?

I threw it because it wasn't important.

[ He can be honest. There was no point in lying about the importance of a shirt he was originally going to tell Till to keep. It brought them back together, and that was it's only mission as far as he was concerned. With a job well done, it can lay there until he decides to figure out the laundry thing later. Then again, Till did wear it. Did Ivan WANT to wash that out? Things to think about later. ]

[ Not important? Either Ivan found a way to get infinite clothing vouchers or he has somehow gathered a lot of chips. Till spends a good while trying to decide which scenario is more likely and the latter he decides is probably the answer. He knew a guy like an Ivan would be popular but he didn’t know he would be that popular. Then what is he doing here? And what is Ivan thinking? He isn’t struggling by any means. Hadn’t he proven that? Or was Ivan trying to repay him for his initial assistance in obtaining meals?

There is still a question that remains unanswered. Instead of finally giving Ivan a definite reply Till makes another inquiry. This one relevant and directly tied to whether or not he wants to enter Ivan’s room. ]

Don’t you want someone else in there with you? Your lover?

[ Ivan stared at him, mildly at a loss for words over the accusation. Has Till ever known him to do that sort of thing with people? Especially after seeing how little of his card he even did during the cruise thing. No, he would have to explain this, he thinks. He couldn’t understand why this was suddenly being asked, but he will go along with it. ]

I don’t have a lover. Esikko was sick on the cruise and I helped take care of him. In exchange he had sex with me either out of pity when he saw my empty card or as payment for helping him. Also, he lives on a higher floor and does that sort of thing with a lot of people. I’m not even sure we’re friends, much less whatever else you’re thinking.

[ Why was Till thinking of Ivan having a lover? Did he want him to move on and leave him alone? ]

[ It’s a genuine question rather than an accusation. A simple answer would suffice. Yes or no. That wasn’t an invitation for details. It’s why he had been scant on information. The bingo card had proven him capable and that was all that was necessary. He wouldn’t tell Ivan everything that happened and much less with who. Yet here is Ivan prattling away, and despite everything said Till looks baffled. He understands nothing.

Should he assume Ivan’s uncertainty about whether he made a friend out of that guy to mean he has a desire for that bond with him? He guesses that Esikko guy isn’t a loser then unlike… ]

Isn’t that how it works? You kiss and you’re lovers.

But I get it. You told me once. But I’m not loser. I never was. And I’m not that other thing…

[ So there. ]

If it worked that way, wouldn't we already be lovers?

[ Ivan had to point out the obvious fact in what Till said. It wasn't the first time he mentioned the kiss, but it was the first time he so blatantly referred to it. There was no point in lingering for the answer to that. He was well aware of Till's feelings toward him, but the resurfacing of that thing he said when he was no older than 8 confused him deeply. Did it hurt him that deeply? ]

You never said you wanted to be my friend, Till. You never said you wanted to be anything.

[ He should have taken a long deep breath when he found himself at the bottom of that cruise pool. Not that it would have meant anything in the long run since nothing stays dead here. And Ivan is wasting his second chance speaking to him when he could be doing something pleasant, something he likes. Or perhaps it’s resentment that makes him linger? If he sheds enough tears, if he bleeds enough would that be satisfactory? Should he hurt?

The reference to their last moments together would suggest he is correct about assuming it’s resentment that draws Ivan to him. Lowering his gaze and biting his lower lip Till doesn’t have an answer. He doesn’t fully comprehend how that works. Instead, he focuses on that fact that Ivan left him and with his parting Till is alone. ]

I don’t know.

[ Besides, who would want something like that? Is Ivan upset? Are all his choices hated? Is he hated? It would be deserved. ]

And weren’t we? I thought I was yours.

[ 'I don't know' is a little more than he actually expected Till to respond with. Not wanting to push it, he doesn't say more about the lover thing. If Till had been hanging on to that altercation from when they were children, that must have meant that not being called his friend hurt more than Ivan thought. Sure, being hit back then was already confusing. If it upset him, why didn't he just say something?

How much had he hurt Till without knowing it? ]

I wanted to be. You never gave me the chance to be.

[ It was hard. Ivan barely understood his own before he resorted to locking them all away. Till's was indecipherable. Did he hate him? Did he prefer his solitude? Had Ivan's presence ever mattered? ]

I stayed with you even when you wouldn't call me your friend.

[ Ivan remains incomprehensible; why had he expected something different? This only proves how foolish he is. An idiot, really. His admission feels as if it has barely been acknowledged. That hurts too, but is it Ivan's fault? He is only good for one thing; it makes sense if his words don't reach Ivan. No matter what he says, even if he thought they were something, it doesn't mean it's a shared sentiment. Yet, Ivan says differently. He had the same desire, so why did things have to go awry? Why is Ivan saying he never gave him a chance?

What does it mean to be a friend? What does it take? Were all those countless moments between them meaningless? What about all that time they spent playing together? Even Ivan went so far as to point it out. And it had been upsetting. He had long relented to Ivan's company; he had accepted that constancy. Complaints were just that; the only times he was agitated were when he felt provoked. Ivan was good at that. He probably still is. Perhaps he isn't boiling over, but he feels awkward, clumsy, and stupid. Shedding tears is ridiculous, but there is that bitter feeling he is acquainted with. He takes a breath, keeps them back, fails, and opts for his usual approach of ignoring it, much like everything around him has done while growing up. ]

You always played with me. And I played with you.

[ Wasn't that enough. Had that not satisfied the requirements for friendship. Isn't that what Mizi and Sua had always done? Hadn't they spent time together out in the garden, weaving flowers together and playing among them? They had done that too; they hadn't spent countless hours together. Maybe it wasn't always laughing and singing, like those girls, but they had been together.

Mizi is easier. He also knows fuck all. Or he knows enough. It's easier to admire and cherish the person who has a defined answer for him. He knows he cannot be hurt; there can't be hurt when it comes to Mizi because she can only be a far-away light. A shimmering star, unattainable, an angel. It's not messy like this. Not messy, like his rejection and tumultuous connection that it inspired. That was the turning point—the initial start of all resentment. Then would hurting him alleviate Ivan's pain? ]

What do you want me to be?

[ He can make amends. He can try. Taking Ivan's hands in his, Till guides them to his neck. ]

[ Ivan did not speak at first. If there was a possibility that he could be honest about such a thing, he knows what feelings he'd want to say. When it's a question of what he wanted Till to be? That was difficult to know. He didn't know what he wanted Till to be. Did he have to want him to be anything other than himself? That's been enough the whole time they've known each other. Did he have to become anything? Neither of them had to fit someone else's ideal anymore.

It wasn't an easy question to answer, nor ponder, but Till wasn't done.

The next part stole his breath. Till's touch was gentle and so much more soothing than the time they've been apart. It was fine when they were touching. When it was quiet. Where Till brought Ivan's hands was the part that made his blood run cold. Ivan barely wanted to do it the first time. It wasn't his finest moment, but what else could he have done at that moment?

Till was going to die. He was going to give up and die right in front of him. After a lifetime of fighting the segyein, and the way of life everyone put on them. When Till stood up and fought an unknown threat despite not knowing the danger. Despite enduring years of painful experiments, strict schedules, and impossible expectations, Till was going to die over someone else.

Did he think of Ivan even once when they were standing so close to one another?

So why were his hands around Till's neck again? No one was watching. No one was going to stop them this time. Did he really hate living that much?

All Ivan could do was stand there and hold him by the throat, breathing shallowly. ]

[ Silence is easier than words. That has always been true for them, and this time, there is no reason for irritation when even he feels uncertain about how to proceed onward. Communication is difficult, impossible, and he knows he will never completely be able to reach Ivan. That has always been true, and perhaps if they continued talking, they would arrive at the same conclusion. It's the same song, the same dance. He won't be heard; apprehension makes his heart race. His fingers remain on Ivan's hands, a soft brush from their worn tips, a testament to all those years of practice. Through half-lidded eyes, he watches Ivan.

It's fine. This is fine. This is how they can reach a compromise. Ivan can hurt him, Ivan scar him, and then maybe his resentment would lessen. Perhaps they could slowly rebuild something. Or, if it were wished, Till could disappear, and Ivan would have an opportunity for a second chance without any burdens. He won't linger around, waiting for that inevitable end.

There is that place, he can't recall its name. It's filled with a wide variety of plants and flowers. It feels the most real. The most like what Earth should be. He wonders if Ivan has seen it. Wetting his lips, there's a sting and the metallic taste of blood on them; he had bitten down hard earlier. What an idiot, he is trash, so he hopes that maybe this is some solace. Closing his eyes completely, he leaves himself at Ivan's mercy. He did ask him what he wanted him to be, and Ivan was free to make that decision. For now. For today. He doesn't know.

He could even go into that room and pick up the damn shirt like he offered earlier. ]

[ ... Why was Till so stupid?

Was this part that was the most real to him? This was what stuck with him? Did Till enjoy his hands around his neck? Did he like being choked, or was this an out like Ivan originally thought? Why wouldn't they talk about these things? What was this supposed to do for them? Is this what Till thinks Ivan thinks of him?

Till's neck was so fragile.

There wasn't time the last time to contemplate how it felt with his hands wrapped around it. After everything else, his skin was soft, and it didn't take much to feel the delicate bones and muscles under his fingertips. If he wanted to, he could press his thumbs against his windpipe and press until that sickening snap. He didn't want any of that. Ivan barely wanted to be in this position again. A stubborn child that was afraid of losing something was the one who did this. The person Ivan was now didn't have to make that sort of split second decision.

So, like last time, Ivan pulled Till in close to him, stopping with their lips hovered just far enough apart where they could feel each other's breaths. There were no points to keep track of, no shocked crowd looking at Till in horror. It was just them, the doorway, and the hall. ]

You still don't get it.

[ It was all he could whisper to him before kissing him. It didn't matter where they were or the state they were in. He could taste Till and the copper tang of his blood for a precious few seconds. If Till pushed him away again, he'll accept it, but he didn't know how else to show Till the kiss was more important to him. His hands were merely a means to an end. ]

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