Op. Desert Storm

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Till and Ivan used to draw pictures.

Lots and lots of pictures.

On hot summer days, where the only relief from the scorching sun was underground, in their cells or on the Stage, the two young boys would sit underneath a giant tree, away from all the other kids, and draw.

For a long time, the image portrayed on those flimsy yellow pages stayed the same.

A bright, beautiful girl with long pink hair, laughing, arms spread out like she was free, and nothing could weigh her down.

The same girl, sitting by a stream of water, pink hair curtained over her shoulder only to reveal half of her gently smiling face.

And yet again, except this time, the girl was looking straight into the eyes of the viewer, soft hand outstretched in front of her, a small smile in her eyes, expression welcoming and warm.

It took a long time for those images to fade.

But Ivan insisted.

"Mizi would be upset if she knew."

Till rolled his eyes, shoving Ivan's shoulder barely hard enough to knock him away as far as he actually fell.

"Get up," he said. "And no she wouldn't. She'd probably love them."

"If you ever grow a pair and show her, that is."

Till clicked his tongue and stuck out a leg, kicking Ivan away as he inched closer again.

"Shut up," he grumbled. He could feel Ivan's victorious expression from here.

As the two boys settled down, Till grabbing the pink pencil and coloring in those long, familiar locks, Ivan leaned against his shoulder, glancing at his work.

Till drew for a while, picture after picture piling up on the ground beside them. It always went like this; Till drew and Ivan just. . . what did he do?

Till decided it'd be easiest to just ask.

"What are you doing?"

Ivan's reply came instantly. "Nothing."

Till blinked, his pencil stilling where he had been outlining Mizi's eyes. "Well. . . quit doing nothing and help, I can't be the only one working on this thing."

It's for Mizi, after all. I have to draw it well.

Looking back, Till should have been shocked that Ivan had agreed so easily.

"Okay." Ivan said, shrugging. He made grabby hands for the pad of paper and pencils and got to work drawing right away. He talked Till through his piece as he drew.

"—and then you have to shade over here, and outline this side to contrast the light."

As he spoke, strange lines appeared under his hands. They looked nothing like Mizi, so Till couldn't really understand what relevance they held and why Ivan would be drawing them. Surely he didn't intend to give it to Mizi, right?

While Ivan, Till, and Mizi were very close, Mizi almost always preferred hanging out with Sua, one of her friends from the Before Stage, over the two boys.

"You guys fight too much!" She'd giggled before running off to find Sua.

Till took that to heart and tried his hardest not to fight with Ivan, but the kid was just so strange. Be that as it may, Ivan looked like he never had many thoughts and there wasn't much Till could do against Mother Nature making people stupid.

More often than not, he simply deserved to be punched in the gut.

So, Till thought, giving this strange picture to Mizi wouldn't be completely uncharacteristic for Ivan.

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