[ 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
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.