Love as an act of Rebellion

For a second, the CRT thought maybe the young man thought he was looking at someone else, mistaking him for someone else. But the more familiar he got, the more specific, the dimmer Tenna's screen became.

"Till, I'm not going to hurt y--did you really think I'd ever want to hurt you?? I, don't even know what you're talking about? When have you not been nice to me?"

Horrified, the man begins to shrink until the top of his casing was no taller than the average person in the room. Quickly and urgently, he moves his hands in a 'let's go' motion, speaking again when they left the place.

…Oh shit. Is he doing it again?

“I-I didn’t mean t’ imply you were a bad person or anythin’! I know you didn’t kill that guy you pretended t’ throw in the hole, so… I dunno, I guess I just thought… Why wouldn’t you wanna kill me? That’s just what I’m used to from guys like you, y’know?”

‘Perform?’ Surely Till heard the man wrong. The only times he’s gotten up on stage in this world have been a complete disaster.

“You mean like… come help set everything up for a performance? Sure.” Till accepts eagerly. Despite what Tenna says, he still feels like he owes the TV something. “Are you gonna have Ivan on again?” Speaking of Ivan…

"Oh, thank you. I don't need to catch any more scars to my face!"

He's nervous, in a way that reminds her of the children just seeing her other usual mode of mobility for the first time (but, he's too big to be pulled into a lap for reassurance that she's just fine). So, her method of disarming the situation is to make a jab at her own expense, a note to the marking from her unfortunate clattering down many more stairs than a small child at the time should've ever taken.

"Would you like to take a walk with us? Nazeneen knows the area here well, but I don't think we'd be unhappy for company."

“Yeah, I hear ya.” Till idly runs his fingers over the bullet wound scar on the side of his neck. “There’s a saying I’ve heard… ‘What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger,’ I think? Well, I think that sometimes it just leaves ya with scars.”

Some of Till’s anxiety dissipates with her joke, and he steps in line to walk beside her nervously.

“I-I don’t mind, but I can’t promise ya good company… I’ve never been so great with—” Till gestures vaguely, “Talkin’. My name’s Till.”

He glances sideways at her, noticing how much effort she has to put into moving.

“Your little finger stunt is hardly threatening, by the way.”

What was Till asking him to do, chop it off or something? Aurelius sighs internally and shifts—and the aforementioned purple ribbon slips out of the basket as he moves, falling to the ground with a distinct clatter.

“What’s this…? Her name…? St-Stellaris Magnifico U-Universalis— Yeesh, what a mouthful… Good thing they don’t brand pets with their names here…” Sympathetically rubbing the silver branding of his name on his neck, Till turns the tag over to continue reading.

“'If found, please return to Veoc—' Oh! Hey! This is great! I know this guy!”

Till looks down at his guitar. There are a few light surface scratches the body that he still hasn’t been able to buff out yet.

“Some guy was just like, ‘I can turn instruments into magical creatures! Come over here and let me cast a spell over ‘em!’ An’ then he turned Prince into a big ol’ space beetle the size of a fuckin’ car. Next thing I know, Prince is goin’ berserk!” Till huffs, like he’s mad, before adding on in a low mumble: “…He turned out t’ be kind of a nice guy, though. I’m sure he didn’t mean for it t’ turn out badly…”

Hugging his guitar to his chest, Till looks at Juliyah with some suspicion.

"Part of our job is to clear your name, since students are making rumors about you." He clicks next on the slides, bringing up the first point of concern, since: "As you clearly have no other updates. Have you even slept today?" He clicks his tongue and taps the wall with the stick he found.

Crossing his arms over a nearby shelf, Till lies his head down, pillowing it in his arms. He snorts derisively.

“How’s this any more dangerous than half the sports teams out there givin’ themselves concussions constantly? Ugh.” He can’t help but roll his eyes a little.

“When do I ever sleep?” Till jokes halfheartedly—evasively. But taking one look at Waver’s face and the stick he’s holding… “No, okay? I wasn’t sleepin’ much before, and now I’m too damned stressed… Fuck, I don’t wanna quit the band…”

Snapping his head up, Till scowls at Waver’s accusation.

"Just the man I wanted to see! Got a minute for your ol' pal Tenna? 'Course you do!"

It doesn't matter if Till is ready for him or not. It's Ant Tenna time. And he sliiides next to him in line.

"Oh don't worry, whatever you were gonna get, it's on me. Call it a business expense! I--Ayyyy ay ay!!"

“No, no… I get it… I did tell Chara I’d be nicer to ya. Me an’ my big fuckin’ mouth… I tried, just for the record, but I just can’t seem t’ stop puttin’ my damn foot in my mouth when you’re around— Eh, whatever. Either way… You don’t gotta pay for my coffee or nothin' before we do this. Can we just… step away from all these people before ya... krrrrrt—” Till uses his unsplinted hand to drag his thumb horizontally across the bandages on his throat in a jerky, violent motion.

“Y’know… so my blood doesn’t get all over ‘em or anything?”

"I don't think any one of us were at fault," she doubles down. Nothing was Till's, Ivan's, Sua's, Mizi's, or anyone's fault. Not.....

Hyuna clenches her fist in thought. Yeah, not even Luka's.

It was the circumstance thrown at them. The stage, those behind it all.

"I got lucky," she finally answers regarding her leg. "I got so, so lucky...Hurt like a bitch, though." Hyuna hands Till a tool, "And it packs a mean bite when I kick someone with it," She grins, at least trying to lighten the mood.

Hyuna looks to the side with a small sigh. Fingers run through long brown hair,

“I’d bet! Ya look like you could deliver a helluva mean kick even without it bein’ metal! Scary!” That, of course, was a very high compliment in Till’s mind.

He decides not to push the issue. She might think differently if she knew what he had done, but he doesn’t want to lay bare his regrets in front of her. He selfishly wants them to be friends, and he doesn’t want to burden her.

Till sees reflected in her the look of someone already weighed down by their own sins and regrets.

"...Okay... Th-thanks... Truly..." Till says meekly instead, forever a sucker for a pretty face telling him what to do.

Calloused fingers find a loose bolt in Hyuna’s leg, and Till tightens it without having to be instructed. He seems a little less shy about the whole thing.

her thoughts shut off immediately, cut away from where they were headed, like something in her simply locks in place to avoid those haunting, stressful memories.

instead, she gives a firm nod in response to his words of comradery, a shift into 'battle-mode' already registering as she moves to pack a bunch of snow in hand. ❝ Right. Same... ! ❞ and though her lips don't turn into that of a smile back just this moment, there is an enthusiasm in her voice, ready to take down anyone who sought to overthrow their little, makeshift base.

❝ I've got some more ammo ready to go whenever we need, ❞ she reports, quick work made despite the chill that runs through her hand at the endless snow. despite the way it stings on bare flesh, it was something refreshing to the touch, an experience that she, at least for her, never quite got to have until this very moment. is that why she relishes it so much despite knowing she should otherwise recoil from it? the way it was a different type of cold than the ones beneath the waves of her guardian's domain. not to mention the adrenaline rushing through her and till's veins at the sudden declaration of warfare. ❝ Whoa. That's amazing, Till! ❞ they hadn't planned for it, but it settles a kind of warmth in her chest, permeating to the pits of her stomach, to know they were willing to jump to one another's defense.

just like back home, that willingness to forsake the overall, desired picture in order to scribble across the canvas to reach for a fate of their own making.

and only when the sound of kicking can be heard, coming from another source than till's own work, she alerts to the situation at hand. peeking over the swiftly rising top, eyes pinpoint where it comes from: a few of the kids trying to ruin all of till's hard work.

❝ Huh? A-Are they allowed to do something like that?! ❞ all was fair in love and war. she recollects reading something of that nature from one of the books anakt granted them permission them to peruse. it was a fleeting glance, one taken from ivan's collection trove, yet it had always lingered with her in some way. ❝ Hey! Cut that out?! ❞ as if they were to listen to their enemy, not without proper incentive.

an idea springs to her mind, muttering a half-heard sorry toward till's way with what that entails. she begins to scramble upward, using smaller pockets as footholds, soon enough surmounting the top. and without a moment's hesitation, her foot stomps atop it in quick succession as a line begins to zip through the compact snow. it makes an audible crack noise. and then it all begins to shift, causing mizi to let out a yelp as her balance becomes lost. she falls onto her back, cushioned only by a fluffy plot of snow with a soft oof.

He’s not sure he’s truly felt that kind of trust between the two of them, and it feels… good. Warm and gentle. Even better than desperately holding onto his one-sided feelings for her.

Sounds of small feet kicking the hard-packed snow walls of their fort distract Till from his thoughts.

“Ack—! Hey!” He freezes from where he’d been piling up more snow, but before he can decide what to do, Mizi is already scaling the walls.

“Careful!” Till calls after her, anxiously, watching with round eyes as she topples over the uppermost part of the wall onto the attempted siege.

“You okay?!” Till peers down at Mizi to check on her, brushing snow off her coat before peeking over the (now much shorter) wall.

“Hah!” He guffaws at the sight of multiple children half-buried in snow, looking so much like a patch of wide-eyed spring daisies. “Serves you right, you brats!”

A sad, muffled sound reaches Till’s ears, and he pauses, cocking his head to one side to hear better. Suddenly, he begins waving his arms and climbing over the wall frantically.

“Hold on! Hold on! Everybody stop for just one second!” Till ignores a stray snowball fired at him from a child who either couldn’t hear him or else didn’t feel like listening to instructions that day, bending down to dig through the snowy wreckage. After a few seconds, he uncovers a small child, pulling them free from the snow by scruffing the back of their coat.

The child looks startled, their face red from the chill. After a few blinks, their eyes begin to water, and they start sniffling from more than just the cold.

Till looks panicked for a whole second, before cradling them to his chest and rubbing their back soothingly.

“Shhh…. Shhh… You’re okay… You’re okay… You were so brave, huh? So tough!” He pauses, thinking for a moment. “I know! You wanna be on the team with the big kids? Big bro and big sis could use a lot of help from someone strong like you! Whadaya say?”

They stop sniffling instantly, looking significantly cheered up as they give Till a shy little nod.

The more Till talks about this one guy, Hanabi has a feeling there's some deep-rooted situation. She knows of Till's upbringing for the most part. She can only imagine that if this other person is from the same world, he must have gone through something similar.

"I wonder....if it's because he isn't exactly sure how to express things in another way, maybe?" She remembers her other life. The one that was from the same world as Till's. It feels like a dream, really. "People change all the time. Whether it'd be feelings or whatnot, but...I thiiiiiiiiink liking someone is different? I'm not sure. Like, I like you a lot. You're a great oppa, and you're always so nice to me. I don't think my feelings for you could change so easily. Not even if something were to happen, you know? But everyone's different.

Really, Till can’t believe there’s anything uncommonly kind about him. Lots of people have gone out of their way here to be extremely nice to him here, like Ismael, or Eiden… or even Hanabi herself. If anything, Till is playing catch-up—trying to make up for all the times he couldn’t help others around him. Hanabi wouldn’t think he was so great if she knew about some of the things he’d done, and he would tell her as much if he weren’t so tongue-tied. Till can only hope that she picks a better role model.

“Like… like he doesn’t know how t’ say how he feels, and so he… acts out? Almost like… he doesn’t know what t’ do about it? So he acts… weird? Instead? Kinda like he’s... frustrated?” Till… hadn’t considered that. He’s certainly no stranger to reacting in… strange ways when they’re centered around a person—poor Mizi can attest to that probably. Usually, when Till gets feelings he doesn’t understand, he just cries about them, but he supposes that humans’ reactions to emotions could be just as varied as humans themselves.

“So… your advice is to… just keep doin’ what I’ve been doin’? An’… you don’t think I should… I dunno… b-be… s-s-s-s-weeter o-on him, m-maybe?”

Till’s face gets even redder, if that’s possible, resembling a tomato with a leafy, grey stem.

“S-see, now I know you’re full of shit ‘cause I’m a terrible oppa. I don’t think I’ve ever helped ya out with anything or given ya a good suggestion—not like you’re a good dongsaeng. How’d you get t’ be so smart, huh?” Ruffling Hanabi’s hair fondly, Till gives a rare smile. “And when’d ya get t’ be such a charmer? No wonder there are boys bein’ all lovesome t’ ya! Haha!” Till barks a short laugh, his eyes crinkling at the corners when he looks at Hanabi again.

"Tch, ain't even got a fun weight to it. Should'uh found someone who knew their shirt from their eyeballs. Ain't never been an improvement on the revolver." He hands the gun back to the youth, barrel facing the ground.

"But ya got whatcha got, no forkin' use b...Forkin' heck-" his beacon got him tongue tied, and he threw a hand into the air, "Ya get the idea. Now we've gotta do target practice." After having seen the guy struggle, Boothill had come on over, inserting himself into the situation.

Better than knowing someone got their toe blown off bein' an idiot.

"But first ya gotta relax. Yer shoulders are at yer ears."

“W-well, this is the least complicated kind of gun I've known… And they hold more bullets, right? Isn’t that a good thing?” But the man was definitely right in assuming Till didn’t have any idea what he was doing.

Taking a deep breath in, Till tries to relax his shoulders. He can’t help being tense… Holding something he’d watched kill people—people he knew—so easily…

He picks up the gun again, finger on the trigger, but keeping it pointed at the ground as the other man had. Till wants to turn back to look at the targets he was supposed to be aiming at, but he’s distracted by—

She'd spent a lot of her under the labels of other people. It might be nice to work under her own independence for a change!

So, not a superstar. But famous? There were artists like that. Perhaps he was a novice on the big stage, or perhaps he did shows or competitions. Of course, Ivan's claims to have been shot several times was something she couldn't tie to showbusiness in their world, but she had entertained the possibility. Till brought it up himself. "Not... a lot. Just that he was injured after seeing an old wound on my neck. They were from different circumstances, however."

"I do wonder if that's why my parents gave me that name. I wasn't much of a singer as a baby, but my mother enjoyed singing. I can't deny the likelihood that it was related. Although it wouldn't explain why they named my twin brother Sunday." A songbird and a day of the week made for an interesting set of names for a pair of twins.

But he’s glad that Ivan doesn’t seem to have told her a whole lot about their world. Knowing Ivan, he wouldn’t have spared Robin any of the gory details.

“…Th-that’s true,” Till says at length, unable to hide his discomfort with the topic at hand. “We were both idols in our world, a-an’ we were in a competition against one another… B-but the tactics they use there t’ get the best ‘show’,” Till’s tone makes it clear how little he thinks of that concept, “Are pretty… brutal.”

Till is relieved when Robin turns the conversation towards something more lighthearted.

“Pfft—” Till can’t help but snort with amusement. “Y’know I always thought ‘Till’ was a pretty annoyin’ name t’ have t’ grow up with, but ‘Sunday’ is way worse— Uh, n-no offense or anythin’… I went t’ school with a guy named ‘Acorn’, so he shouldn’t feel too bad…” Of course, the less Till thinks about Acorn, the better for his mental health, so he’s grateful for the interruption of the cab’s arrival.

Despite Robin’s reassurance, Till squishes himself up against the furthest door in the car, giving Robin as much room he can while nearing six-feet-tall, very carefully not touching her. It’s unclear whether he thinks this is for her benefit or his, but his body language betrays his anxiety, his shoulders pulled up around his ears.

“You mean human fans?!” His head snaps towards her, and his mouth drops open for a moment, agast, before he snaps it shut with a scowl.