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Interlude: I Moved Further Than I Thought I Could

Hnng, that tickles. . .

Till shifts his head around, pressing his ear into his shoulder, trying to relieve himself of the annoying itch. Strangely, the more he moves, the worse it gets.

He wants to open his eyes, but a startlingly bright light beyond his closed lids forces him to squeeze his eyes shut tighter. He feels there is no escape and he burrows deeper into the steady thump thump thump humming beneath his ear.

But then the itch starts up again.

Till lets out a low groan of dissatisfaction and picks his head up, forcing an eye open against the blinding light.

Oh.

Am I dreaming?

"Ivan?"

Ivan leans down and flashes him a cheeky grin, his fingers paused where he'd been petting behind Till's ear. "I'm right here, so why are you calling my name?"

Till can't breathe. Thinks that if he tries every bone in his body will crack and shatter. If he blinks, Ivan and his boundlessly patient eyes, always gentle touch, will wither and dissolve right before him, slipping through his fingers like water like he always does.

He has one breath left in his crushed lungs. One last breath to use for Ivan.

And still, he completely fails to say anything that will convey his true feelings. Fails at attempting to reprieve Ivan of any lingering sorrow, and give him peace away from this life.

"You bastard." Till hisses, a furious blush consuming his cheeks. "What the fuck were you doing?"

A boisterous laugh rips its way from Ivan's chest, pulled from him so suddenly he collapses forward, making all that racket and giving Till a headache.

Till's eye twitches. It's loud. Real.

"Stop laughing, asshole." He grumbles, pushing Ivan's head away with a firm hand. "I'm being serious."

"I know, I know." Ivan gasps, clutching his side as his laughter tapers off into quiet chuckles. He grows serious quickly enough and tilts his head to the side. "I already know I'm not allowed this close, I just. . ."

Till winces. Why is his tone so. . .

"Couldn't help myself. You're too pretty." Ivan shakes his head, a soft smile growing on pink lips. The movement catches Till's gaze and he looks away immediately, pink flush jumping spryly to his earlobe.

Sad?

Till's not happy he had to wake up the way he did, after such a long nightmare, but this is the best light he's seen Ivan in in years.

He can admit (grudgingly) that maybe the touching isn't all that bad.

Till glances at the boy above him, thinks Ivan might say something, but he helpfully keeps his mouth shut, satisfied to smile down at Till with a sickening amount of affection in his eyes.

Till used to deny the truth about most of what he saw in Ivan's eyes.

He knows better now.

"Whatever," Till grumbles, working around the lump in his throat as he lays his head back down, looping his arms loosely behind Ivan's back very carefully. It is as if he is being gentle so as to avoid an injury.

"Let's not talk about it anymore." He sighs.

"Mn." Ivan agrees.

As they lapse back into silence, Ivan's arms circling Till's waist with a sigh of contentment, Till is able to delude himself into believing that he is back at the Stage, before Round 6, before everything, so that it is only him and Ivan against the world once more. Just as it had been before.