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Error: No Better Option

He knows as soon as he wakes up that something is severely wrong with the universe.

But his brain is addled, every sound swimming around in his ears, shapes floating across the back of his lids. It feels exactly like the time Ivan clapped his hands over his ears from behind, just to be funny. His tongue feels leaden in his mouth and he can't locate any of his limbs in this comfortable darkness.

But a voice— that voice— was like a crack in the domain, a single point in which all his hope resided, breaking through the fog and reaching out a tender hand.

"Till?"

At the sound of his name off those lips, he fights to open his eyes even harder, more and more pressure building in the back of his head with every breath.

"Till, are you awake?"

Till groans, rolling onto his side and pushing his strained body up. "Yeah, I'm— I'm awake."

As his vision clears and the hazy smog subsides he sees Mizi sitting directly in front of him, breathing heavily and eyes blown wide. He wants to reach up and smooth out the pinch between her eyebrows but he still can't seem to locate his limbs. His voice trembling, he asks, "Are you okay?"

Mizi worries her bottom lip between her teeth, a strange light settled in her golden eyes. She swallows hard, and looks to her left and right rapidly, as if afraid of something.

A fierce shiver wracks Till's body. Something about that look in her eye feels familiar, like he should be—like he'd been—

"Oh, my God, Mizi." Till gasps, lurching forward and grabbing her by the shoulders.

Mizi looks frightened but she holds him up all the same, placing her small hands on his biceps and holding on tight. "Till?"

"Mizi, thank God you're here!" Till exclaims, his throat tightening. "Thank God you're here—"

"Till, calm down first, we—"

"Mizi, you're—" he chokes, his words coming fast and slurred. "You're gonna save Ivan, right? We're gonna save him?"

"Iv—?"

"Mizi, I— I fucked everything up and he got shot, and then he— I—" Till's vision blurs and he slumps suddenly, his head falling to Mizi's shoulder, cold sweat rapidly coalescing on his pale skin. "I'm so sorry, it's all my fault, but please Mizi, we gotta go back for him—"

"Till, Ivan's gone."

"I know," Till nearly wails, "that's why we have to go now—"

"I'm sorry, Till, but Hyuna got hurt, and. . ."

Till stiffens, his back going ramrod straight. Mizi's tone holds nothing like composure, or hope in it; it carries only sadness.

Fuck, Till thinks.

". . . We couldn't save Ivan."

"Hyuna got hurt." Till repeats, staring blankly over Mizi's shoulder, his grip on her loosening with each agonizing second of silence that passes.

Mizi says nothing.

"We couldn't save him."

Nothing.

"And yet. . . I couldn't even look at him."

Pressure builds behind Till's eyes and he thinks his head might crack open and spill bloody brain matter all over the floor, all over Mizi. Maybe he'd scream, then. Maybe he'd be capable of feeling anything outside of this numbing buzz that fills his entire body. Maybe then, Mizi would be able to see every black spot festering in his brain, each one worse than the last, eating away at him until only thoughts of Ivan's dead body remained.

She would have to know, then, that Till's existence was a worthless one.

"Till. . ." Mizi begins hesitantly.

Till can hear it in her voice, her tone lilted with pain.

She's going to suggest they leave. Suggest they leave him behind.

And if Till was any better of a man, he wouldn't have agreed.

But as Mizi places a hand on his shoulder and pushes him back gently, bending down to look into his eyes, that damn butterfly makes an awful lot of racket in his stomach. He swats at it, makes useless grabs for its tattered wings but still, it persists.

The butterfly gets away, flapping its way up his throat and out of his mouth.

"Okay."