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ivantillz · 5 days

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stronger together;

alnst, ivantill, 2.8k, chapter 1/? ivantill are both saved during round 6 but ivan is injured

“What exactly do you mean?” he asked finally, heart beating just a little too fast. She peered at him from over her shoulder. “How bad?” Mizi’s eyes darkened as she turned away from him again. “He’s lucky, really. Nothing so bad our people here couldn’t fix him up.” Till waited, knowing there was more. “But,” she continued as predicted, slowing down a little. Till finally caught up to her again, watching from the side as her face twisted in a frown. “His leg is pretty much ruined. We were able to save it, but even our best healer isn’t sure he’ll ever be able to use it like before.”

The last thing Till remembered when he woke up was staring into Ivan’s eyes, tender and relaxed as the ring of gunshots echoed around them. For a fleeting moment, he hoped it was a dream.

But looking around, he quickly realized it wasn’t. He didn’t know where he was, just that it was a new place he didn’t recognize. He didn’t know if he was relieved or not.

But either way he had more important things to worry about. If what happened hadn’t been a dream, then, Ivan had been shot at least twice from his memory, maybe more. He could’ve survived, right? He hadn’t really been looking at where the shots were being aimed but he knew for certain they hadn’t ended things quickly like they usually would; Ivan hadn’t been shot in the head.

Why, he didn’t really care to know. Maybe the aliens didn’t want to lose one of their most popular players. Warning shots, maybe.

But if it had saved Ivan’s life, he couldn’t help being grateful Ivan had established himself at the top. Shucking off the old ratty blanket that had been laid across him at some point - by who, he didn’t know - Till stumbled to his feet and went to the door.

He didn’t even get to touch the doorknob before the old metal door was being swung open with a sickeningly clank. He barely avoided being hit as he rushed back a couple steps.

Till wasn’t sure what to expect but it wasn’t — “Mizi?”

She looked differently, starkly so, with her once long hair messily cut short and a bare face. The aliens had always liked to doll them up. More importantly, maybe, was the look on her face.

“You’re awake, good,” she didn’t even wait for a response before turning around and starting to walk. Till blinked once before quickly following at her side.

Till didn’t like silence - never had - but he was too scared to ask the one question he really wanted an answer to. In case the answer wasn’t what he needed to hear right now.

As if sensing his inner turmoil, Mizi side-eyed him, a thoughtful twist to her mouth. “He’s okay,” she said, and Till was amazed by how just two words made him feel a little lightheaded. He stumbled for a second. If she noticed, she politely didn’t say anything. “But it’s — ” She pursed her lips, sighing. “It’s bad.”

Till didn’t even realize he was squeezing his hands into fists - tight enough his nails were digging painfully into the flesh of his palms - until Mizi gently took one of his hands and pried his fingers open. Back then, he would’ve loved the attention from her, the gentle care for which she brushed her fingertips over the small crescent-shaped cuts on his palm, drawing the tiniest bit of blood, but now he just felt sick.

“He won’t really talk to us,” she continued, a little softer. “He asked about you a couple times, but that’s it.”

Till swallowed as she dropped his hand, looking ahead again as she continued down the hallway. He followed, moving without even thinking. “What exactly do you mean?” he asked finally, heart beating just a little too fast. She peered at him from over her shoulder. “How bad?”

Mizi’s eyes darkened as she turned away from him again. “He’s lucky, really. Nothing so bad our people here couldn’t fix him up.” Till waited, knowing there was more. “But,” she continued as predicted, slowing down a little. Till finally caught up to her again, watching from the side as her face twisted in a frown. “His leg is pretty much ruined. We were able to save it, but even our best healer isn’t sure he’ll ever be able to use it like before.”

Till didn’t know what to say. What to think, even. He wasn’t familiar with this, none of them were. Injuries weren’t actually common among them, he was realizing. Death, yes. They knew death, but injuries beyond a few bruises or cuts from infighting was rare.

He did remember once a person – contestant – being taken away when she had broken her leg. For whatever reason, she never returned. None of them had ever bothered to ask, knowing they wouldn’t get any answers. But the aliens had obviously liked them at their full capacity, for whatever reason. Maybe it made the thrill of them dying even sweeter to them.

“He won’t need it,” he said finally, unsure if it was the right thing. “I mean, he’s safe here, leg and all.”

Mizi smiled, a sad thing. “I suppose so, but I don’t think that is bringing him any comfort right now.”

When they stopped, Till realized their destination had been another room – the door was closed. He couldn’t hear anything from through the thick metal door. Mizi gently touched his arm.

“He’s in there. Like I said, the only thing we’ve been able to get him to talk about was you. It might do him some good to see you. Maybe he’ll open up more.”

Till swallowed, staring at the door. It was rusted. He didn’t know where they are, but it was obviously abandoned and hadn’t been used for a long time. He didn’t even know why he cared. He was just avoiding thinking about the far bigger issue.

“He kissed me,” he blurted. It wasn’t even what he had meant to say. He wasn’t even sure if Mizi knew already or not. How much had they seen when they came to rescue them?

But considering the lack of surprise on her face, he assumed she had already known.

“You shouldn’t talk to me about that,” she said, but it wasn’t mean. Just firm. “Go on. I’ll make sure no one bothers either of you for a while. Mealtime is in a couple hours. He hasn’t been eating much so if you can convince him to eat more when the time comes, please do.”

Till wasn’t making any promises – he wasn’t even sure, really, where they stood with each other after that stage – but he nodded anyway and waited until Mizi was around a corner before knocking on the door. His knuckles stung a little from how hard he knocked, which proved to be pointless anyway when he didn’t get a reply or acknowledgment.

He wondered briefly if Ivan was asleep. If he was, he would wait and come back. Gently, he pushed the door open. If Ivan was asleep, surely the terrible clanking of the door would’ve woken him up.

He opened the the door just enough to slip in, letting it shut behind him. For a moment, he just stood there, frozen by the pair of eyes staring at him. Selfishly, maybe he had hoped Ivan really would be asleep. He wasn’t sure what to do or say. He felt completely unprepared.

But Ivan had done something inexplicably brave for him, hadn’t he?

They had a lot of discuss, yes, but at the end of the day Till wasn’t a fool. He knew what Ivan had done, what his goal had been. Without thinking, he reached up and gently touched his neck. He hadn’t looked in a mirror but he wouldn’t be surprised to find he didn’t have any bruising. Ivan had been as gentle as he could’ve been, to still make it look convincing enough.

He had planned everything. Till hadn’t thought about anything. He had been ready to die, honestly, but now here he was. Alive, and so was Ivan. The best case scenario, really, but somehow even that wasn’t enough.

Ivan was still just staring at him. He looked good, actually. His hair was clean – maybe someone had washed it for him? - and his skin was surprisingly spotless, even after near death. Till would’ve laughed if the situation wasn’t so terrible. Of course Ivan would look stunning – untouched perfection – even after looking death in the face.

But he supposed that wasn’t the problem, was it? Till couldn’t stop himself from glancing at Ivan’s legs, both covered by a thin blanket. Like if he looked hard enough, maybe he could see the damage.

When he looked back up at Ivan’s face, his mouth was a thin line. Till swallowed around the lump in his throat.

“You saved my life,” he said because he figured that was a good place to start. The other stuff could wait a little while longer.

Ivan just continued to stare at him. Till knew him well enough he didn’t miss the way his jaw clenched, just barely. Stepping closer to the bed, he hesitated before gently perching on the edge. If he caused Ivan any pain or discomfort, he didn’t show it. He didn’t know if that was relieving or not.

“You didn’t have to do that,” he continued, a little quieter. “I was ready to go.”

To die, he didn’t say because even now he was just a little too cowardly, but it was true. He had prepared himself to die. He had expected it, even. Ivan could’ve beaten him with ease. He should have.

“But you wanted to decide for yourself, didn’t you?” Ivan still didn’t respond, just stared at him. “That was the last show of power we could give them, right? Deciding on our own time when to end it.”

He had been doing the same, in his own way. Not quite as bold as Ivan, maybe, but still he had been expecting the end. If he’d been a little braver, he would’ve gone up on that stage and not sung a single word. Guaranteed it. Ivan had always been the braver of the two of them.

Realizing this was getting him nowhere, Till sighed, throwing his head back. The ceiling was just as rusty as the doors. Everything was metal. He could’ve left, then, returned later to try and get Ivan to talk, but he was feeling frustrated. Not with Ivan, really, but himself. The situation.

“You kissed me,” he said to the ceiling. “I was stupid, I think, looking back. It was obvious, wasn’t it?” He didn’t say it, didn’t need to. “I was too focused elsewhere.” On someone else, he didn’t say. “But looking back now, I see it. I don’t know how I didn’t, before.”

Ivan always bothering him, always doing anything for his attention, but more than that — those moments where Ivan was soft, sweet, gentle; when Till was too out of it with whatever the aliens had forced into his system, Ivan was the one who helped him, took care of him.

He barely even remembered those moments, as drugged up as he was, but he had also never bothered to mention them. Maybe he was afraid if he brought it up that Ivan would stop. Destroy whatever delicate thing they had between them.

“You were willing to die for me on that stage.” Till licked his lips. “I don’t really get it.”

He had been willing to die for Mizi, too, he used to think, but now he wasn’t so sure. Maybe he had never really understood what that meant. Loving someone so much you would die for them. He had only ever imagined it, but could he have really done it? Could he have stood there, like Ivan, as bullets pierced through his skin?

He wasn’t sure, not anymore.

When Ivan finally spoke, hoarse and quiet, Till startled, quickly dropping his head to look at him. He was still staring at him, as intense as ever, even as he smiled something that looked a little too sad for him. “You don’t get to choose who you love, I suppose.”

He realized how much he had missed his voice. “You won’t talk to the others,” he said, aiming for soft, gentle. It wasn’t really his forte, never had been, but he could try. “Is it—?” He gestured wordlessly at his leg. “Or is it something else?”

The smile was gone from Ivan’s face in a flash, his lips smoothing back to a thin line. Till wondered if he was even going to answer for a while, but finally he nodded.

“It’s both,” he answered. His voice was void of any emotion, but Till knew he was doing that on purpose. People could say whatever they wanted about Ivan but he knew he felt more strongly than any other person he knew. He just didn’t always want to broadcast it, which Till thought was fair. “I was supposed to die up there.”

Till opened his mouth, ready to say something – anything – but then he closed it. Ivan wasn’t done yet. He could at least let him finish.

“I would’ve never done any of that if I thought there was even… a chance of surviving.” Ivan let out a small sigh. “I never intended for you to know how I feel, not when I was still here to deal with the consequences.”

Now Till was silent simply because he didn’t know what to say; he had been upset, in the moment, but now looking back he wasn’t sure why, exactly. He cared for Ivan deeply, he did, but he wasn’t sure to what extent. He had never considered Ivan loved him, not in the way he so obviously did. A part of him wanted to assure him without a second thought but Ivan deserved better than half-assed sentiments.

“I’m not upset with you,” he settled on, because that much was true.

Ivan’s lips twitched, not quite a smile but something like it. “I guess I should be thankful.” He slowly spread his hand out against his thigh. “I suppose I should also be honest, here. I’m not thrilled at the prospect of not being able to walk again.”

“You will,” he replied instantly, a sudden flare of hope blooming in his chest. “I mean. I’m sure we can find a way.”

He wasn’t educated in the world of medicine at all; the aliens hadn’t been, either, usually just preferring to put them down if things grew too complicated. They had healers here, though, certainly there was something that could be done to help him walk again.

Ivan side-eyed him. “They – ” He paused briefly, pursing his lips. “They mentioned physical therapy.” When Till blinked at him, he gave a small smile again. “Training the muscles that were hurt to help them grow stronger again.”

Till couldn’t help the way he smiled back, the hope a little brighter. “See?”

“It doesn’t mean much,” he continued, looking away. “Even with it, I likely would never be able to walk again without some form of…” He gestured vaguely. “Crutch.”

Till felt his shoulders slump. “We can find that, then. Something to help.”

“’We’?” Ivan still didn’t look at him. “You intend to stay here?”

Till felt like he was missing something. “Yes?”

“But – the others, they’re building up to something bigger.” Ivan cleared his throat. “You should be with them. Help them.”

And the thing was, he would’ve jumped at the chance of helping the rebels before. He would’ve given his life if he thought he could help take down the aliens once and for all, but that was before. He was starting to think a lot had changed on that stage.

“You need someone to help you,” he said. “The healers are great, I’m sure, but.” He looked down at his hands. “I don’t know if this actually helps, but I think having a friend around would make it a little easier.”

Ivan let out a small huff of air, something akin to laughter. “A friend,” he repeated. He didn’t sound angry, or disappointed, even. Just resigned. Till bit the inside of his cheek, chewed on the sensitive skin for a moment. Finally, he looked back at Ivan, mustering up every bit of courage he had.

“A friend,” he agreed. “I can’t promise you anything more than that.” But he was also starting to think, maybe, there was something there. Maybe he didn’t quite feel what Ivan did, not yet, but he was starting to think the idea wasn’t so outlandish. Wasn’t so out of reach.

He didn’t say any of that. Not yet. It was true; he didn’t want to promise anything.

Ivan nodded. As usual, he didn’t give much away in his voice or expression. “I would never expect you to pretend for my sake.” He breathed out through his nose. “And I do apologize.” When Till just stared at him, he continued, “I shouldn’t have kissed you like that. It doesn’t excuse it, but I really did think that was the end.”

Till gave a small smile. “It’s okay,” he said, meaning it. He reached out his hand. For a moment, Ivan just looked at it before he seemed to understand; reaching out, he took it. “Friends.” As he said it, he felt an odd pain in his chest, sharp and tight. Ivan squeezed his hand.

He wondered if he felt the same thing.

“Friends,” he agreed evenly.

#alnst #alien stage #ivantill #alnst ivan #alnst till #ivantill fic #mywriting #stronger together

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