We fight a lot. When you leave or stop talking to me, I realize that something went wrong, but most of the time it's hard to know what that was.
[ So no, sometimes it was difficult to know when he was actually mad or just being the way he is. Ivan pokes and prods, Till gets mad. It's how things always are, but what things specifically makes Till mad was a mystery to him. He had decided before that he should be nicer to Till, yet he somehow still made the other mad.
The explanation from Till cemented it. The way Till hears his words aren't the way that Ivan means them. Ivan lacks warmth. Understanding. Why did it still feel like he lacked 'humanity' when everything constantly hurt? Blinking slowly at Till, he took a short breath and tried to figure out how to fix this. ]
When I said it, I meant something different. I don't want to forget the past or let it go. I want it to become a part of us as we move forward into the future instead. We aren't there anymore. We're here. That's what we have to figure out. Where do we fit in this new place...
[ His eyes closed, going back to resting against him. He could imagine that the lack of use was also getting to Till, but there was very little they could do with their skills that others couldn't. They had to become a part of this place, like they did Anakt. ]
[ No sooner than that question gets past Till's lips than he realizes just how stupid it must sound when it even rings idiotic in his ears. Till knows he is a moron; however, he doesn't lack awareness. The obvious is clear. He knows the reason why Ivan never asks why he becomes upset, why they fight. Previously, there was an assumption that Ivan understood (to a degree). That's one problem. Assumptions. The confession that Ivan had difficulties processing feelings recontextualizes previous interactions. Not enough to explain every misunderstanding or mistranslation of words. But it is a start. However, this doesn't prompt Till to give any explanations. That would take a long time; he can't say his memory of events would be entirely reliable when he is the narrator of his own story. His perspective could warp the truth. And it could hurt. They're mending, but does that mean opening up old wounds?
They could start now.
He also knows Ivan never had an opportunity to ask. Would he have? When Till is quick to anger and react, there is never an opportunity to smooth out misconceptions and erroneous interpretations. Till was always left to formulate a reason for intent alone, even when willing to give Ivan the benefit of the doubt; something hurtful followed. And that's what he tries to avoid. ]
I suggested I could stay before. You only asked why.
Can't you want me to stay, like I don't want you to leave me? Then I won't have to think about there and maybe I can focus on a future here instead? Otherwise, why would I think about here? Why would I spend time fitting into this?
[ Once again, Ivan is close to him, and like before, he envelopes him in his arms. He holds him close. He caresses his hair. He may not be pouring what there is left of himself into song, but he can spill it into comfort. This is something? It gives him some kind of meaning? Maybe? He isn't entirely sure, but Ivan appears to enjoy it, and he can't say he hates it. It feels almost nostalgic, warm, despite the bubbling distress of their conversation. ]
Because you go away. and we stop talking when you get mad. When you come back, you never say anything was wrong.
[ There was only a moment of thought after that. ]
I should have asked.
[ How do you ask when you aren't even entirely sure anything was wrong, and sometimes the answers you get are flippant or never come? Ivan, though, was mean. He knew that. He had been trying to improve that, but now he thinks he's maybe gone into being too cold. Trying to figure out the way to handle these things ended up being a lot of trial and error. ]
...
[ It wasn't the first time he's been asked why he doesn't have 'desires' of his own. It's been a downfall of his for a long time. Even the Segyein thought his lack of desire and drive was a hindrance. It followed him here as well. Till wasn't the only one to ask him why. Now he had to think about his answer. It was never that he didn't want him to be here. ]
Stay. We can both be alive here.
[ It wasn't up to them. Hiyori told him about death and the statues and all of the weird stuff that had no explanation. That talk with Hiyori was only a few days ago, and it gave him perspective on things he hadn't thought about. ]
I want to hear about the friends you make and the people who upset you. Let's live here.
[ A sigh escapes past Till's lips. It's true, realization comes swiftly, and Ivan's words only confirm how foolish his question was. Upset he doesn't clam up, instead his words turn ugly, and what follows is distance. He creates that divide, an impulsive reaction from fear. It's a time to mend his wounds, and he easily hurts and bleeds. When he comes back, he doesn't want to pick at scars; he lets them heal over all wrong. Even now, fright is present. Isn't that why his heart is beating all too swiftly? The door isn't far; however, he doesn't want to let go. That's also something to fear.
And yet, Ivan still says he should have asked, even when they're both aware Till never gave him the chance. He is fleeing, hiding, and diving into distractions. His room is filled with them. Pencil on paper, over and over again. Images that pour thoughts into reality. Letters cascading onto sheets strung into words that give a defined meaning to his torrid emotions. ]
I shouldn't hide.
[ He cannot detach himself from reality for all eternity. There is no living if a person becomes divorced from the world around them, and he knows that's something he engages in too often. However, that's a change that cannot happen overnight. There is that need, that serenity and stillness that comes from that fabricated existence. ]
I want to try that. Living with you.
[ His hand falls to Ivan's shoulder, grip tightening enough to draw his attention. ]
[ With the touch to his shoulder, Ivan looked up again, opening his eyes and looking at Till. Ivan wasn't blaming Till for his reaction. If he never brought up, that much mean he didn't might, right? Being around Till was painful, yes, but that was a life behind him. He had figured out how to live with all of Till's shortcomings. They were friends now. It was going to be impossible to fix everything about themselves, but they could still be friends.
They both were choosing to live here, so they were also choosing to participate in what being here meant. Ivan wasn't going to bring it up in any fashion. There was no need. Till wanted to try, so they both would try. They both would do their best to live without the segyein and their oppression.
But for right now, he wanted to focus on what Till was going to say.]
[ No words follow when he calls Ivan's name, nor when their eyes meet. Till takes this opportunity to look at Ivan's face again in a search for some meaning. It's futile as always, but this time failure isn't accompanied by disappointment. They would have time now. In Anakt Garden, time was a limited commodity, and he had failed to utilize it effectively. All those moments spent together in silence during each session of mandatory playtime could have been used to gain perspective, comprehension, but too hurt Till wanted to be lost. Briefly, he considers that maybe this could be the same. The difference is that he is pulling at the threads binding him together; a misstep means pain would follow.
This is supposed to be trust?
If the wound becomes too deep, unbearable, he can always go back. That may not mend things, but he can escape reality once more, or maybe he can hold on to it tighter—that other reality. The one that has an obvious conclusion in its future. Till will let it hurt a little, enough, because they are both deserving of an opportunity to know something different; however, that requires him to take a chance on this. Ivan is striving forward; he can do the same.
His hand remains where it's at, his grip still firm, and his eyes continue to study Ivan's features. ]
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no subject
[ So no, sometimes it was difficult to know when he was actually mad or just being the way he is. Ivan pokes and prods, Till gets mad. It's how things always are, but what things specifically makes Till mad was a mystery to him. He had decided before that he should be nicer to Till, yet he somehow still made the other mad.
The explanation from Till cemented it. The way Till hears his words aren't the way that Ivan means them. Ivan lacks warmth. Understanding. Why did it still feel like he lacked 'humanity' when everything constantly hurt? Blinking slowly at Till, he took a short breath and tried to figure out how to fix this. ]
When I said it, I meant something different. I don't want to forget the past or let it go. I want it to become a part of us as we move forward into the future instead. We aren't there anymore. We're here. That's what we have to figure out. Where do we fit in this new place...
[ His eyes closed, going back to resting against him. He could imagine that the lack of use was also getting to Till, but there was very little they could do with their skills that others couldn't. They had to become a part of this place, like they did Anakt. ]
no subject
[ No sooner than that question gets past Till's lips than he realizes just how stupid it must sound when it even rings idiotic in his ears. Till knows he is a moron; however, he doesn't lack awareness. The obvious is clear. He knows the reason why Ivan never asks why he becomes upset, why they fight. Previously, there was an assumption that Ivan understood (to a degree). That's one problem. Assumptions. The confession that Ivan had difficulties processing feelings recontextualizes previous interactions. Not enough to explain every misunderstanding or mistranslation of words. But it is a start. However, this doesn't prompt Till to give any explanations. That would take a long time; he can't say his memory of events would be entirely reliable when he is the narrator of his own story. His perspective could warp the truth. And it could hurt. They're mending, but does that mean opening up old wounds?
They could start now.
He also knows Ivan never had an opportunity to ask. Would he have? When Till is quick to anger and react, there is never an opportunity to smooth out misconceptions and erroneous interpretations. Till was always left to formulate a reason for intent alone, even when willing to give Ivan the benefit of the doubt; something hurtful followed. And that's what he tries to avoid. ]
I suggested I could stay before. You only asked why.
Can't you want me to stay, like I don't want you to leave me? Then I won't have to think about there and maybe I can focus on a future here instead? Otherwise, why would I think about here? Why would I spend time fitting into this?
[ Once again, Ivan is close to him, and like before, he envelopes him in his arms. He holds him close. He caresses his hair. He may not be pouring what there is left of himself into song, but he can spill it into comfort. This is something? It gives him some kind of meaning? Maybe? He isn't entirely sure, but Ivan appears to enjoy it, and he can't say he hates it. It feels almost nostalgic, warm, despite the bubbling distress of their conversation. ]
no subject
[ There was only a moment of thought after that. ]
I should have asked.
[ How do you ask when you aren't even entirely sure anything was wrong, and sometimes the answers you get are flippant or never come? Ivan, though, was mean. He knew that. He had been trying to improve that, but now he thinks he's maybe gone into being too cold. Trying to figure out the way to handle these things ended up being a lot of trial and error. ]
...
[ It wasn't the first time he's been asked why he doesn't have 'desires' of his own. It's been a downfall of his for a long time. Even the Segyein thought his lack of desire and drive was a hindrance. It followed him here as well. Till wasn't the only one to ask him why. Now he had to think about his answer. It was never that he didn't want him to be here. ]
Stay. We can both be alive here.
[ It wasn't up to them. Hiyori told him about death and the statues and all of the weird stuff that had no explanation. That talk with Hiyori was only a few days ago, and it gave him perspective on things he hadn't thought about. ]
I want to hear about the friends you make and the people who upset you. Let's live here.
no subject
And yet, Ivan still says he should have asked, even when they're both aware Till never gave him the chance. He is fleeing, hiding, and diving into distractions. His room is filled with them. Pencil on paper, over and over again. Images that pour thoughts into reality. Letters cascading onto sheets strung into words that give a defined meaning to his torrid emotions. ]
I shouldn't hide.
[ He cannot detach himself from reality for all eternity. There is no living if a person becomes divorced from the world around them, and he knows that's something he engages in too often. However, that's a change that cannot happen overnight. There is that need, that serenity and stillness that comes from that fabricated existence. ]
I want to try that. Living with you.
[ His hand falls to Ivan's shoulder, grip tightening enough to draw his attention. ]
Ivan.
no subject
They both were choosing to live here, so they were also choosing to participate in what being here meant. Ivan wasn't going to bring it up in any fashion. There was no need. Till wanted to try, so they both would try. They both would do their best to live without the segyein and their oppression.
But for right now, he wanted to focus on what Till was going to say.]
Till?
no subject
This is supposed to be trust?
If the wound becomes too deep, unbearable, he can always go back. That may not mend things, but he can escape reality once more, or maybe he can hold on to it tighter—that other reality. The one that has an obvious conclusion in its future. Till will let it hurt a little, enough, because they are both deserving of an opportunity to know something different; however, that requires him to take a chance on this. Ivan is striving forward; he can do the same.
His hand remains where it's at, his grip still firm, and his eyes continue to study Ivan's features. ]
Close your eyes.