#foreverembrace

Till is waiting on the couch for Ivan when he gets home. He’s sitting completely still except for the tapping of his fingers on the armrest, betraying his restlessness. His expression is complicated, mired with too many different emotions to give just one away.

“…You got anything you wanna say to me?”

As much as Till is fighting back the urge to immediately start yelling at Ivan, he thought it better to give Ivan a chance to explain himself first. This wouldn’t be the first time, nor certainly the last, that he’s misunderstood his long-time friend.

"Uwa...."

He looks like an idol you'd see back home.

When someone moves to hand him a drink, the angel intervenes, stepping forward to take the glass and meeting the idol firsthand. He smiles so pleasantly that no one thinks to stop him.

"Are you singing tonight?" he asks politely while holding out the glass. Like a trick of the light, the wine within disappears as water takes its place.

"Issy's company must be doing well. A pleasure to have you."

🌙 "NOOOOOO! My high score..." She'd found an arcade with a karaoke game and had poured her heart into the song that had randomly been selected for her until she'd gotten the high score. She'd actually spent over an hour trying, only for this guy to come in and steal the record away right in front of her. In all fairness, Kaguya had dared to taunt him by saying he didn't look like much of a singer and that there was no way he could beat her.

AND PERFECTLY JUST LIKE THAT, her snowman was nigh done and ready for the finishing touches. leaning over, she gives it a few brushes to round it out, not to mention adding a few more touches of color to it, the vibrance of its purple eyes stunning. ❝ Alright. I think I'm done, ❞ she speaks, seemingly a little pleased at how it turned out, albeit reminiscent to those she holds dearest. one firm nod is all it takes... before the snowman wakes up.

not only that, but it seems to be in an unpleasant mood, the little smile it once held turning into a frown. even more, it tries to reach over to knock down ivan's creation in the crossfire as it thrashes around a little, startling the pink haired woman just a little. she knew about what it would do once completed, but she thought she had been able to hide it enough to not influence it.

moving quickly, she steps in front of its path so it doesn't ruin her friend's snowman, too.

❝ H-Huh? Hey, Ivan, why is it acting like that?! ❞ well... she gets the idea as to why, but she isn't going to outright admit it...

He doesn’t want to open his eyes. He wants to go back to sleep. To will this nightmare away. But stronger than the urge to lie down and surrender to the sweet abyss of unconsciousness is the urge to get up. To fight. To resist whatever this new hell is. And so he does.

Till wishes that the sight of sterile white walls and lab equipment and metal tables just long enough to lay a human body on wasn’t as familiar to him as it is. Unfortunately and fortunately, he isn’t alone, and the dark hair splayed out next to him is equally familiar.

The single spot of darkness among the blinding white is a balm to his aching eyes, as well as a suffocating weight in his chest. Looking at Ivan lying next to him, Till has to fight to keep his heart from fighting its way out of his throat.

Slowly, so slowly, with uncharacteristic quiet and caution, Till drops off his table and slinks towards Ivan’s. He doesn’t want to wake Ivan up either. He’d spare Ivan from this torturous experience if he could. But thinking back to how Ivan would sleep with his eyes open when they were children, to how alert he would try to be, even while unaware, Till knows Ivan wouldn’t be happy with him if he let his friend sleep.

And selfishly, Till needs Ivan. He needs Ivan to tell him that this is real. Tell him that Ivan is real.

Carefully, Till runs his fingers through Ivan’s hair, trying to rouse him as gently as possible back into consciousness. He doesn’t want to startle Ivan more than is strictly necessary. When Ivan opens his eyes, and they inevitably find Till’s, as they always do, Till silently places a finger to his lips, miming for quiet. He shakes his head. Till doesn’t know any more than Ivan does, and it would be useless for Till to speak only to draw attention to them.

Silently, Till stares at Ivan with wide expectant eyes. Surely Ivan will have a plan. He always has a plan.

The douchebag waking behind Till (following really, with his lackeys surrounding him, snickering at his every word) says loudly, in the worst stage whisper Till has ever heard, clearly intending for Till to hear him. He can hardly hear Waver muttering beside him over the blood rushing in his ears. Probably something about how that guy is a dick with no life, and he’s not worth it. Knowing his friend is right, Till struggles to corral his feelings.

“Not sure why he bothers, honestly,” the fuckboy continues conspiratorially, in a tone that would put a Shakespearean fool to shame. “There aren’t enough sacrifices in the world to make him more likeable. Or bring his dad back. Or make his mother any less of a who-”

Till’s vision goes red, and the next thing he knows, he’s standing over the loudmouth who’s on the ground, cradling a bloody nose. The lackeys look just as shocked as Till feels, despite the fact that it’s his fists that are raised. The hand on his elbow brings him back to himself — Waver meekly, trying to get him back under control.

Skin prickling, Till raises his gaze to meet yet another pair of eyes staring at him. It’s that tall, pretty guy who’s been obviously shadowing him recently.

“Uh...” Till offers intelligently, his brain still trying to catch up to his damning predicament.

The tall, pretty student council member guy...

“...Shit.”