#student ivan

Where the hell am I?

The room is ridiculously lavish, decorated in dark woods, silver accents, and plush leather furniture. A thick, blue carpet stretched out beneath his feet, and there's an enormous desk piled with paperwork.

His head ached. He remembered singing and the rain. He remembered the the desperate kissing under the rain. He remembered trying to grasp for air and the pain of teeth biting into his lips.He remembered the hands gripped his throat, ironically gentler than those kisses.

Till remembered accepting his death if it was by that guy's hands. Till would rather die than allow Ivan to die.

But then, something shifted. The hand on his throat loosened slightly, Till opened his eyes and looked at those mesmerizing eyes looking at something behind him. Ivan looked so beautiful, eyes a lit with galaxies as he looked at Till.

Ivan kissed him, gentler this time. It was as if he was saying goodbye.

Ivan was saying something but he can't here a thing. The rain was loud and the ringing in his ears was loud. The tears that cannot be shed blurred Till's vision despite his desire to look at Ivan. Beautiful Ivan without his mask of perfection.

Then came the sound—the crack of a gunshot.

Then another.

Then another.

It was over, just like that. The person who had held him, who had kissed him, and who had caused so much turmoil, collapsed with the lifeblood draining out. In that split second, it wasn’t just the shock or the violence he felt. Something deeper stirred in him, an undeniable realization that hit harder than any force.

He loves Ivan—He loves Ivan underneath the anger, the fear, the aggression. The realization stung. What could have been, what could never be now. All he could do was watch, feeling a mixture of regret, loss, and an overwhelming, unbearable sorrow.

Till froze as his universe drowned itself in red.

.

.

.

Till remembered nothing after that. He felt numb, body on auto-pilot at the shock.

His head ached. Till rubbed face and felt something wrong. His hands way too massive. They're with fingers that are way too thick, veins popping out like he'd been doing extreme exercises. Till could almost expect to see tattoos his arms, but there’s nothing. The skin is smooth, but the sheer bulk is unsettling.He glanced around, trying to get his bearings.

Then, he noticed something even stranger. The reflection in a giant mirror across the room.A man was staring back at Till. He’s not just some random guy. He looks dangerous. His sharp jaw, thick eyebrows, and cold, unreadable eyes scream power. His suit, despite being crumpled, was tailored to perfection, feels like it was made for someone else entirely.

What the hell is going on? This is not me

Till stumbled out of the chair and walk toward the mirror, feeling the weight of a body that doesn’t belong to him.

Dark circles under the eyes, a scar across the lip, and this weird aura of authority. His head ached and memories not his own flashed.

This was not a pet. This was not the world Till used to be. This is not the world were Till had to sing or be killed. This was the world Ivan used to talk about, only Till was living a life darker than Ivan's stories.

Suddenly, the door creaked open, and two men in black suits step inside, their eyes flicking to Till with respect, but also something else.

Fear

Till feel it—an instinctual shift in the air. They’re looking at him like he's the most dangerous person they’ve ever seen. Till likes it. He was the one who lived in fear in the past. He likes this sense of power.

If only Ivan was here then it'll be better.

"Boss, here is the file you requested," one of them says, his voice a mix of caution and deference as he handed Till a folder.

"You're dismissed." Till's voice had an edge to it, commanding and sure. It was strange, but Till could feel that he was truly in charge. He was grateful he had the original's memories to pretend.

The men nod and stepped back, their eyes never leaving him as they make their way out of the room. Till opened the folder and froze at the picture. It was a picture of a younger him, only younger and softer.

Till began to read the report and chuckled at the findings that this teen Till was not this body's child. Then he froze again as he was struck with sudden realization.

If there's a me in this world then surely there's an Ivan too?

Till flicked the pages and he slowly smiled at what he saw. There was his Ivan, so young and carefree slinging an arm to the other Till.

Perhaps God answered my wish after all, Till thought as he widened his grin. His eyes, dark yet gleaming with fervor. His breath catches slightly, his chest rising and falling with the weight of that desire, and it’s clear—whatever comes next, he will stop at nothing.