An idol and competitor on the titular ALIEN STAGE.
An up-and-coming participant who skyrocketed in popularity due to his dark rock ballads and mysterious appearance and personality.
A fan of classical literature who holds a distinct interest in human history and belief.
He talks very oddly, and has a hard time relating to people. His quiet and thoughtful nature leads most to think he is mysterious - and that's true in more ways than one.
An extremely intelligent and capable man who was one of the few able to escape ANAKT GARDEN, but chose to return because he's also deeply emotional.
Namely, deeply attached toward one of his fellow idols in particular. It's not a healthy attachment, but it's definitely love.
Has red pupils in his eyes with jet black irises and a single sharp fang, leaving him with both an alluring and intimidating appearance.
“I think I’ve got a pretty good idea of how selfish you are.” Till gives Ivan a wry smile through his tears. It was so funny, Till might have even laughed if he wasn't so exhausted. To think, Ivan could do so many hurtful and selfish things to Till, but he’ll draw the line at giving Till exactly what he wants. And some people think that Ivan doesn’t have a sense of humor.
What’s less funny is how Ivan talks about himself. How he thinks he can predict what Till is going to do, like Till is a character in one of Ivan’s books, and Ivan already knows how the story ends.
Running his thumb along Ivan’s cheek, Till wipes away more of his tears before gently threading his fingers through Ivan’s hair, cupping the back of his head.
But Ivan seems to forget... Till is a dangerous and untamable thing: meant to be leashed and sedated and kept under lock and key.
The slight narrowing of Till’s eyes is all the warning Ivan gets before Till fists his hand harshly into raven hair and yanks back. He wraps his leg around the back of Ivan’s and pulls suddenly, folding Ivan’s knees out from under him and using his own weight to bring him toppling to the ground with Till on top of him, pinning him down.
The hand on the back of Ivan’s head intentionally cushions the blow when he falls, but Till keeps his tight hold on Ivan’s hair even after, forcing his head back and exposing Ivan's throat to him. Till drags his free hand down Ivan’s face to his neck, marking him with blood there as well.
Till bares his teeth against Ivan’s vulnerable throat like he really is going to eat him. Ivan looks so cute like this — under him, his wide dark eyes filled with tears and some indescribable emotion — that Till just might.
Still unable to speak in anything louder than a whisper, Till brings his face just inches from Ivan’s, close enough for their noses to almost touch. He wants to make sure Ivan can hear everything he has to say with perfect clarity.
“Either you don’t know me at all, or that little… stunt of yours really went to your head,” Till growls softly, all brutal fire and warm poison, “If you think you can make me do anything.”
Unlike during their round together, there was little danger of Till being drugged to the teeth here. Ivan was bigger, but he could never bring himself to do anything that would cage Till, maybe unconsciously so. Ivan gave up too easily — where Till was growing stronger every day, and he never gave up so long as there was still fight left in him. And with the one person who sparks that fire right here beside him? With Ivan, Till was a monstrous inferno — burning bright enough to rival the sun.
“I’m not giving you 'free rein'. I’m giving you exactly as much of myself as I want to. I don’t want you to be anywhere else but right next to me — unless it’s safe inside my heart forever. You won’t be able to carve out all of me if I keep making my heart bigger — for you, and for anyone else I want to keep. I can be pretty selfish too, Ivan.”
Till leans further in to whisper, his breath ghosting against Ivan’s lips:
“Try me.”
He pulls away just as suddenly, and brings the broken hand that had settled on Ivan’s neck back up to cup his face. There’s a moment of hesitation and uncertainty in Till’s eyes, seeming shy for the first time in this whole conversation, before he bends down and presses his lips to Ivan’s cheek, kissing away his tears. There’s a light dusting of pink across Till’s nose as he pulls back and looks away, embarrassed.
It’s a sweet and childish gesture. Kissing your friends on the cheek had been very popular in Anakt, and although Till never had an interest in doing something like that before, or maybe he was too bashful, he hopes it’s enough to convey to Ivan a tiny sliver of how he feels, as well as selfishly allowing Till to consume a small bit of Ivan. He hopes that it will show Ivan how serious Till is about this. He wants so badly for Ivan to believe him. To be able to free Ivan from at least a little bit of his pain and suffering, like Ivan used to do for Till.
When Till's eyes narrow, grasping him, he almost wishes for violence. Something that he can understand, a slaying of the monster, an end to this. If he could end, truly, if he could disappear into dust, into the universe, into the scratches on Till's neck...
Ah, it would be...
Instead, he's brought back to reality, pinned to the ground. His first reaction would normally be to grapple with Till, but the issue is that Ivan had only grown more complacent here, back on his idol diet, but Till had gotten bulkier. He's stronger than he was back when he was chained and starved. Ivan wouldn't really have tried to hold Till down, not really, but...
But his thoughts are interrupted by teeth on his throat, and his prey instincts kick in, Till's words and teeth rending a whine from his throat. He closes his eyes, he's still not sure why he's crying, but it doesn't stop. Were Till to wish to drink every tear up, he'd be too full before he could ever finish. Any attempt at talking results in a whimper, and he simply wilts under the kiss on his cheek.
It's not exactly what he wants, but it's enough for now. All he can do is nod, squeezing his eyes shut to try and stem the flow of tears, his blood rushing to his face. He gives up easily, he knows, because ultimately he doesn't want to fight. He just wants attention and affection. He wants to be loved, and this is more than he could of anticipated.
Maybe he was the one who never understood anything at all.
All he can do is nod, keeping his eyes closed as he reaches up and grabs onto Till's shoulders. Trying to steady himself, a ship unmoored. Did he never understand anything at all? He opens his mouth to ask, and instead only a long and low noise akin to an injured beast leaves. A cry. He curls the best he can, pressing his face into Till's shoulder.
Finally, after a while, he's able to whisper:
"Okay."
A deal signed, and he can't help but invoke the image he's read in books, the feeling of someone signing their soul over to the devil. So sure in what they want, so absolute in their choices.
But...
But...
Given he's the devil in this situation.
He can't help but be happy about it.
And if Till is willing to be damned with him, then he won't be the one to shackle Till away from his choices.
He reaches up, pressing his fingers against a familiar spot on the back of Till's neck, as though releasing the collar from him.
When he was younger, before he stopped believing in god, Till used to pray, just like he saw his provider pray for him. He prayed to be stronger, and to see his provider again. He prayed for his guardian to die. For his friends to live long lives. For someone to love him back. All those prayers going unanswered — years of silence — none of that compares to how it makes him feel when Ivan denies him now.
If there is a god, they must not be as cruel as his god. At least to respond with only silence was to leave them with hope, still. Ivan tears that hope from him now, leaving Till with something he doesn’t understand.
But still, Till can’t bring himself to abandon his faith.
Till opens his eyes in raw panic as Ivan pulls away. He grips Ivan’s hands harder, his broken finger screaming in pain. Something in him is crying out desperately, telling him that if he lets Ivan go now, it will only widen the distance between them.
But it’s not fair.
It’s always what Ivan wants. Ivan wants to be near Till, so he follows him around. Ivan wants Till’s pencils, so he steals them. Ivan wants Till’s attention, and so he steals that too. Ivan wants to carve a space for himself in Till’s heart, so he starts hacking away bits of Till to take with him when he goes. Ivan wants Till to live, and now Till must be forced to live and suffer in Ivan’s place.
Till traps a sob behind his teeth, his drenched skin feeling cold and irreparably stained in the air Ivan left behind.
It’s not fair.
It’s not fair. It’s not fair. It’s not fair.
…
Is it?
Ivan took plenty, but he also gave Till everything. His companionship. His knowledge. His comfort. His life.
He tried to give Till his freedom too, but when Till refused, Ivan still released him from his collar, unasked.
Till never asked Ivan for anything he gave him. He’d never had to. For all their misunderstandings, Till thought that sometimes Ivan knew him better than he knew himself. Ivan talking to Till about the things he'd read — things that he knew Till would like to draw. Sleeping next to him in the garden so that Till wouldn’t miss his provider so much. Sneaking into solitary and sacrificing his own comfort to sit with Till in the lonely dark when he was being punished.
It scares Till. He’s scared he loves Ivan too much. He’s scared he won’t love Ivan enough. Till’s scared of hurting him again.
Ivan is cursing Till with his body and mind and soul, but he’s also tearing himself open for Till; so that Till can see all of Ivan's worst parts, his festering wounds and gory insides.
Ivan thinks that’s all he’ll ever be.
But Till thinks he’s beautiful.
It makes Till want to show Ivan all the worst parts of himself, too.
Grasping Ivan’s hands, Till pulls himself further into Ivan’s orbit like a star being drawn towards a black hole.
“…Okay.” Till whispers, closing the distance between them.
“You want me to care? You want me to never forget you? Easy. Done. I could never forget you since the moment I saw you, anyway. I’ve cared for you every second that I’ve known you, you idiot. That’s not a punishment.” Because Till also wants and wants and wants every part of Ivan.
“If the price of being with you means living in your stead, carrying your memory and your feelings… Then… I don’t have any other choice but to accept... But just know: living without you is the real punishment.”
Till tugs on Ivan’s hands, bringing them up again, but this time, places them on his chest, where his heart is beating strong and fast enough for two.
“If you need more space in my heart, I’ll give it to you. I’ll make my whole heart bigger just for you, so that you can bury yourself inside it. But don’t ever tell me that your emotions are shallow; they’re the heaviest thing I’ve ever had to bear. I feel like I’m being crushed under their weight when you’re not here to help me carry them. Saying that to me… It belittles how much pain I’m in when you’re gone… How much pain you were in.”
Trailing his hands up Ivan’s arms, Till cups his face gently. The tears rolling down Ivan’s cheeks make him look younger. Alive. After all, Till’s ghost doesn’t cry. It reminds Till of the first time he'd seen Ivan from behind the walls of his cage — looking wild and untamed and like he held the whole night sky in his eyes.
“…Cheer up, Ivan…”
Shushing softly, Till brushes Ivan’s tears away with his thumbs, staining Ivan’s cheeks further with his blood. But Till likes it, seeing Ivan marked with his blood, red like Ivan’s burning eyes. Till likes it much, much better than seeing Ivan spitting out his own blood — like he was dying all over again. It reminds Till of the here and now. As much as Till loves every part of Ivan, including the childish and selfish parts, he wants to see Ivan for who he is right now, when Ivan is being more broken and fragile for Till than he ever is for anyone else.
“You’re right. I don’t understand… But I hope you’ll let me. I want to know you better than I do now. Know your whole heart. I don’t forgive you yet… But someday… I want to. I want to see every part of you, no matter how ugly you think it is.” Till whispers, pressing closer. Wants and wants and wants.
“You think you’re just a wound… But you’re so much more than that. I’m only here… I only am who I am because of you. The light that you see in me… It was born from you. The good parts, the bad… The only reason I’m here today is because of everything you did for me.”
..Is that he's not sure he's ever been happier. He doesn't understand why he's crying, because he's happier than he could have imagined. He was expecting to have been left in the living room, all that remains of him, stinking and raw and flayed open.
(Not all. But enough.)
He can barely talk for all he's still crying, mouth gasping for breath as he leans into a touch that he's craved for too long. He doesn't know what to say. He's a siren been pulled from the sea, dying on land. But basking in the light of the sun, he couldn't be happier to perish, as long as it's like this.
No, he can't ever regret letting someone like this live.
Had he killed his God, he would surely have been damned.
"That's wrong," he manages to choke out, placing his hands over Till's now, pressing them into his face until he can feel Till's fingers pressing into his jaw, as though if he could open his mouth wide enough, he could devour Till.
"When I saw you protecting Mizi...I knew that," he closes his eyes, hair falling across his face. "Ah...I knew that, I needed to keep that light all to myself. I'm...I'm so much more selfish than you think. You can't say all of this to me..." A black hole eclipsing the sky, devouring everything in sight, in its vicinity.
He was the first one on the island. Did he bring them all here by force? Did his black hole of a heart eclipse so much that it dragged them all here to be with him in his purgatory? Not hell, but something far worse. A monster's den.
"You'll regret it." He says quietly, "Giving me free reign. I'll burrow too deep. I'll carve out everything else. You'll understand soon."
Still, he can't help but cry.
(A story of such woe...)
"But until then," he finally opens his eyes again, partially obscured by his and Till's hands on his face. "Let me stay by your side."
(So when you do understand, when you're so disgusted by me, it'll be too late.)
Sunday was not expecting someone from inside the Theatre to see and call him in. In fact, he was so deep in thought that it took him a few seconds to realize he was the one being talked to.
"Oh. Thank you." he turned to the man, gently patting his own clothes to make sure they were perfectly aligned. "If that won't be a problem for you, I would like to."
He smiled fondly. When Robin started performing, he'd spend a long time watching the set before and after her concerts. Soon enough they were both too important to have time to do this. Still, it was a fond memory.
"My name is Sunday. I assume it'd be good for us to know at least each other name's if we are supposed to know each other."
He walks in, content that his offer had been accepted, "My name is Ivan," he says as he walks through, nobody really bothering to ask him about his winged company, only a few tilts of the head - likely because he was already considered eccentric enough.
He observes the other staff around him, walking into his changing room and offering a seat to Sunday.
"Live performances like this are neither entirely typical nor atypical. I have experience as an idol, but it's a bit different from live acting." He sorts through his stage costumes, looking back to his new 'friend'.
"Do you have any experience on the stage? Or do you tend to be more an audience member?"
"Heeeeeeeeeeey you! I saw your interview~!" Ismael skips over to Ivan with the biggest smile on her face. "How was it? Did you have fun?" She gives him a light pat on the shoulder, "Let's go get something to eat, yeah?"
Till lets Ivan push him, his body going slack. He takes Ivan’s anger and abuse in a way he usually fights against, tooth and claw. In a way he doesn’t tolerate from anyone else, only Ivan.
The scarred and branded skin of his neck prickles as Ivan reaches for his throat, and all Till can think is:
‘Finally.’
Ivan’s hands feel warm on his rain-soaked neck, and Till tilts his head back to better feel the static of the droplets on his skin — as if in supplication to the one who decides if he lives or if he dies. Till closes his eyes against the image of Ivan’s lips dripping red with blood — as if in communion with his god.
But Ivan stops just shy of giving Till what he deserves, and that’s what finally brings tears burning to his eyes. Every word of Ivan’s confession is like another bullet piercing his skin, leaving him shaking with more pain than any human was meant to bear.
“If you’re a monster, then so am I.” Till’s voice is whisper-soft. Ivan isn’t choking him, but he can barely push the words out, like Ivan is stealing Till’s voice instead of his breath, as he was meant to. That’s okay. Till is also selfish. He stole Ivan’s life.
“I never wanted to leave you.” Till’s breath hitches. He can barely speak past the pressure in his throat. “I just didn’t want to be without you. I’ve never hated you… How could I hate you? When, with you gone, it feels like there’s a hole in my chest? How am I supposed to live with this empty space I carved out of my heart? Just for you?”
Taking Ivan’s hands in his own, Till draws them back around his throat, his broken index finger sticking out awkwardly. He leans into Ivan's faux embrace, softly nuzzling their heads together. In juxtaposition to Till's gentle ministrations, he presses Ivan’s hands down with his own, harshly digging their nails in harder and harder until blood is oozing out from between their fingers and scraping downwards. Till drags Ivan’s fingernails across his skin — over his scar from the gunshot wound and catching on the silver letters of his brand — using Ivan’s hands to carve gory trails into his neck and stain them both red with Till’s blood this time, as it was always meant to be.
“I'm sorry... I know I deserve it… But please… take it back. Living without you… It hurts worse than dying.” Till pleads. Prays. Tears run down his jaw to seep into the gouges in his neck, setting the cuts ablaze.
“It’s too painful… I'm not strong enough. I can’t stand it. Please…”
He doesn't understand what's happening. It feels like every system of his body is producing an error. What does that mean? He's unsure, he's scared. He can feel himself shaking. He can feel the tears spring to his eyes, unbidden, only summoned when he feels...
What does he feel?
He feels his fingernails scraping into Till's skin. He wants to finish the job, delve deep inside, finally make this communion a reunion. If he could disappear into those wounds, then maybe, maybe...
Maybe he could believe that there's a place for him. Where he can't hurt Till anymore. Where Till won't say things like that. Things that make him cry. He hates crying, it stings his eyes, it hurts his chest.
"No, you don't understand." He relishes the feel of his hands around Till's throat, how could Till understand the harm he wants to do? To stay forever. "I'm punishing you for that. I want you to live, and never forget me. I want...I want..."
He lets out a shaky breath, he won't be the bigger person here. He wants to drink up the blood oozing from shallow wounds. He wants to carve out a space in Till's heart, not just the space made for him. All of it, everything, a festering wound that will never close.
It's monstrous. It's terrible. He knows it. His heart is a yawning black hole, using the red light of his eyes to lure in the unsuspecting.
"This..." He can feel his tears pooling, "Indelible wound. It's all I can give you. It's all I can be." He finally looks at Till, those red siren lights in his eyes luring in the unsuspecting. And he's already done what he always wanted to - what he never meant to -
It's done, isn't it?
이 이야기의 끝에는 피로 물든
(At the end of this story, there is only a cold spot)
시린 자리와 텅빈. . .
(Stained with blood and)
It's over, isn't it?
"I won't take it back. Even if I could." He steps back, taking Till's hands off his bloody throat, pulling them taut with his. "I didn't think you'd care."
"But, if I...if I can be that wound. These wounds. If I've carved out a place...No, you don't understand Till, how terrible I am." Tears tumble down his cheeks, he can't help it. His mask can't be put back on. Like so much rain, it continues to fall.
"I'm sorry. But I'll never set you free from that. I'll curse you to live. Over and over again. Every time, I'll curse you to live."
(And when you can't bear it anymore, you'll come here, to this dark sea flooding your chest, and I'll be there.)
"These...are my selfish feelings. This is all I can give you. You don't...have to forgive me."
“So you just think I’m useless then.” Till bristles, the question coming out like a statement. Because if Ivan thought Till could help him with whatever it was Ivan was feeling, he would just tell him, right?
“I don’t understand! That’s part of the problem! Just ‘cause I can tell how all alone ya felt by the way you were singin’ doesn’t mean that I know anythin’ about what's goin’ on in that big head of yours! I don’t even know the meanin’ of half the lyrics you put inta ‘Cure’! For fucks sake, when I first saw ya here I practically told you that I thought ya had it easy compared t’ me! An’ you never even fought me on it! How was I supposed t’ know you were feelin’ so lonely this whole time?!
“Yeah, it’d be nice t’ sing with you again, but I don’t understand why it’s gotta be ‘Cure’! Why we can’t make somethin’ new together! I don’t wanna remember anything about how you d—” The word gets stuck in Till’s throat.
‘You hate me.’
Till reacts to Ivan’s words as if he’s been struck, recoiling with wide eyes.
“N-no… that’s not true… You hate me. You… you have to…. I’m the reason you—”
Suddenly, Till’s eyes narrow. He grits his teeth and screams in wordless frustration. Curling his hands into fists, he stalks towards Ivan, seething. Furious at Ivan, but even angrier at himself. Drawing back his clenched fist, he delivers a blow with all his might—
Right next to Ivan’s head.
His fist smashes a hole through the drywall, and Till ignores the way he can feel something break in his hand. The pain feels good. He deserves it.
He did this. He’s the reason Ivan had to die, and now live with all this loneliness and ruefulness, like a vengeful spirit haunting Till. Preying on all his worst fears and making him see the one person’s face he can hardly bear to look at. The person he already knew he let down the most. It laughs and mocks him about how little he knew about Ivan's pain and suffering. It all makes sense now.
“Hit me.” Till meets Ivan’s eyes, deathly calm.
“This is a punishment, right? Because I’m the reason… Because it’s my fault you died.”
It doesn’t matter now that the pale and bloody ghost flits at the corners of Till's vision, or the way his head pounds, or that his heart is going much too fast. It doesn’t matter that it feels like he’s going to have a breakdown right in front of the person he would want to witness that the least. It doesn’t matter because—
“You’re sufferin’, and it’ll make you feel better, right? Kill me if you want. After all, I was gonna let you do it before. That hasn’t changed. We both know it was a mistake for you t' die instead of me. Kill me so that neither of us have t’ live with the regret anymore.”
He's shaking his head, repeatedly. Over and over again, it's making him dizzy with how much he's trying to. "That wasn't-" He could still feel Till's throat in his hands, how he knew just how to choke him to not kill him. How Till had closed his eyes and had given up.
"You stopped singing first." He finally says, shoving Till away. "You stopped singing first. You're mad at me because I died, but you were going to die first. You wanted to leave me, and I decided you couldn't." Of course he'd never meant to hurt Till, but now he's shoving him again, back, both hands on his chest like a heartbeat. Bringing him back to life, drumbeats in his ears.
"You wanted to make me kill you instead. You thought I was going to kill you, and you were going to let me." He shoves Till another time, harder this time. "You keep getting mad at me, and I don't understand it. You tell me not to go anywhere, you tell me to hit you, and that I hate you. And you keep saying you killed me, and you say I'm lonely, but what would I have been if you just let me do it?" Nothing at all.
His hands hover around Till's throat, fingers shaking with the memory.
Ah, if only he had stayed dead.
"I'm a selfish monster. I decided that you weren't going to die. I decided that I would die. I held you down long enough to get the points you needed, I knew exactly what I was doing." He knew the math, he was good with numbers. "I knew where not to press, so it wouldn't kill you." He knew anatomy, he knew where the trachea was. It could all be believable, it could be real.
He presses his face into Till's shoulder, one hand still a ghost near his throat. "So hate me, go ahead. You should keep hating me." (If you hate me, it's like I never died. I can keep living that way, so when I leave here, that wound is still festering.)
"Your punishment is that you lived. It's more than I could bear."
Was it lack of direction, or loss of faith altogether? Ivan doesn't specify and Aurelius is naturally intrigued, religion being one of his favorite subjects.
"If you have the sincerity to pray, I don't doubt that God will answer you again," he replies. "Granted, it's difficult to feel the presence of any in a world like this."
"Should you have questions on that subject, I'd be happy to answer them."
Unfortunately, he's not the only one interested in the star of the night. The rest of the crowd catches up, one of them being a Starberry agent who urges Ivan to start preparing for his song soon—he's not here just to mingle, after all.
"I would really like that." He tilts his head, wondering if Aurelius was an angel of biblical origin. Given his abilities, well... It's entirely possible. He nods, sipping at his water. "I have read plenty of religious texts, as I said, but there was never anyone around to answer my questions. I-"
Before he could speak further on it, he is called aside by his on-site agent. An apology to the agent, and then to Aurelius.
"Unfortunately I have to work. But I'll be in contact about this? It was nice speaking with you."
“No, I’m fucking ‘upset’ with you ‘cause we’re supposed t’ be friends and you never tell me any of the shit that’s goin' on with you!” Till explodes, bounding to his feet like a coiled spring that’s finally released its tension. “I gotta hear about how you’re feeling from the fuckin’ TV! Or from your songs! Or— fuckin’ absolute best case scenario here— from you years after I can do anythin’ about it!"
"You must think I’m a complete fuckin’ idiot! Yeah, maybe I’m not as smart as you, but did you really think I could listen t’ ‘Black Sorrow’ an’ not hear the way you’re singin’ like you’re hurtin’? That I wouldn’t be able t’ put together that if you wrote it back then, that you were hurtin’ then too?!”
Till’s fist slashes through the air like he can break down whatever barrier Ivan has built between them.
“Who gives a fuck about ‘Cure’?! Of course I don’t want to finish it, and you must know why! That was the worst day— the worst moment of my whole fucking life, and it should be yours too! What’s wrong with you?! Why would you want to finish it?! Why would you want to remember a single moment of that damn day?!”
Till has many more things to say, but he pauses to heave for breath, shaking.
They hadn’t talked about it. And maybe it was unfair of him to blame Ivan, maybe it was Till's fault for never bringing it up himself, but it doesn’t change the rage he feels now, nor the way just skirting around the issue is making Till’s vision narrow — the color seeping from his world until it narrows down to the blood red of Ivan’s pupils.
"I don't think you're an idiot." Should he step forward and let Till hit him? Would that fix this? He's not sure. Instead, he's stupefied. Till heard Black Sorrow, and...
Did he understand?
Is that why he's so mad at Ivan?
But if he understood, then why was he questioning 'Cure'? Or how Ivan would want to finish it? Hadn't he heard those same thoughts during that song? And if he did understand, and he was still mad, and he wouldn't understand him wanting to finish 'Cure', then...
"If you understand, then," he pauses, trying to lace his words together like so many spiderwebs sticking to his fingers. "Of course I want to remember. I want to finish singing our song. Together."
(For what felt like the first time in so long - maybe forever - you were looking at me. You held me in your gaze. You were the last thing I saw.)
"I'm confused." They never talked about it, Till was mad at him again, for the same thing he hadn't been able to understand over a year ago. But, if he understood Black Sorrow, then...
If he was told by the TV how Ivan felt. Then whatever he was going to do about it, whatever he was saying about it...
(Is he mad that I wrote it for him and sang it in front of everyone? Is he mad at I sang it again? He has other friends, he has other people who like him. Maybe he doesn't want to hear it-)
His chest hurts. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts.
(It's not right, I always knew it wasn't right.)
"It's alright if you hate me."
(But, I...)
He says after a prolonged silence. His mask is gone, his voice flat. He looks at Till, searching for some kind of answer to a question he didn't have the answer to. He wasn't even sure of what he was wondering was in a language he could understand.
Till doesn’t move. His expression doesn’t change. His fingers don’t even break in their perfect rhythmic tapping, continuing without pause. Based on how Ivan had ended his interview, this was not news to Till.
He waits for Ivan to say something else. When the silence stretches on, and there’s obviously no other thought forthcoming, his eyebrows twitch, as if he’s struggling not to let them furrow together.
“…And why did you think that? I try to watch all of your stuff. You’re my friend. Ismael is too.” Till’s words come out clipped, like he’s reining them in on a tight leash.
"I don't know." He answers honestly, his expression turning from his usual mask to troubled. Perhaps if Till had run at him, fists flailing, then he could have responded in kind. But this was new, it almost felt...
Calculated was wrong. Controlled? An unknown variable. He doesn't like the feeling that's crushing his chest. He readjusts his mask, tries again: "I can't say, because I didn't know."
He's confused, but he does his best to keep his persona on. He doesn't know why. "You're upset with me." It's not a question, it's obvious.
"Are you mad about my speaking about 'Cure'? It is a shame, and the answer is genuine. Could you say I was wrong? That you would be interested in finishing it?" He doubted it. Even if he still could not completely parse out why, he avoided discussing anything about Round 6 with Till as much as possible.
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.
Of course, he had noticed Till avoiding him, using any excuse to disrupt their normal routine. To be frank, that was mostly what Ivan noticed - naturally, Till had plenty to do, and it was a weekday and Ivan had his own work, but they did have their usual routines and rituals they tended to do daily.
Today was not one of those days.
So, Ivan can only tilt his hand in response, unclasping Orthus' leash and letting it go find its food. There was only one response he could even think of, expression genuinely confused. He doesn't understand why Till looks so upset.
"Yeah the idols back home all really migrated to doing virtual concerts and the like. Not that it didn't stop a few people from still hosting them in person but well, you know..." It was a lot easier to just make a one time purchase and watch it from the comfort of your home or bed. As opposed to all the costs one might had to go through to see someone live. And that was if one managed to get good seats too.
"Meanwhile I had to teach my partner practically everything in order to get her jump started. Sure it worked in the end but I felt like I was going to fall apart with how wildly inconsistent she was at first."
As if she wouldn't have done it a hundred more times for her sake...
"I kind of understand your partner." He chuckles, opening his phone to put in an order for some coffee, a convenience that he could not have ever conceived of in the past. Humming, he looks up at her to explain, "For me, everything was organized by my guardian - my owner - I was a human pet. Having a producer is really useful when you don't understand how these things work." He hopes it comes across as the compliment it's intended to be, but the expression on her face seems to betray it did not.
"And honestly, I am ahead of the people in my world. I at least had concepts from old human texts I could work off of." While he had no idea about economies, he at least understood money, and its use to procure goods and services under systems that used it.
And the tech here wasn't as advanced as back home.
There was also the 'being dead' thing to soften the blow.
What follows the title card isn't the usual jaunty music, but the somber tones of a song. A music video from Starberry Studios follows, featuring a handsome young man with jet-black hair. And as the music fades out, the familiar set of the Studio fades in, along with the cheers of a crowd of fans.
"And that was 'Black Sorrow', a new single from our own Idol In-Demand from Starberry Productions - IVAN! Tell 'em you love 'im, folks!"
The raucous applause begins anew!
"Thank you for having me, I appreciate that my fans have enough questions for me that it warrants an interview."
"Boy, I heard you were modest, but I didn't expect you to be this modest! Look at you--what can't you do! Singing, modelling--heck! Aren't you in a casting call right now? You've been BUSY. The fact that you're not a local, either! That's some serious talent and fame talking, Ivan!"
"I appreciate my fans, and the opportunity my management company, Starberry, and my manager, Ishmael, have given me here. It really is like nothing I've ever experienced before."
"Spoken like a guy who practiced hard for this interview!"
There's a chuckle among the live audience.
"I'm just playin' around, folks--he's a sweetheart, really. Treat to have on-set. So, tell us...!"
"Your new single, 'Black Sorrow', took about a year to produce--at least, that's what they tell me. It's a deeply emotional song, but it's not like you don't write those anyway. Why did it take so long to come out?"
"Oh, that is because it is something we had to recreate in the studio. 'Black Sorrow' is a song I sang back in my own world, so the tracks were not here, and it was something we had to make from scratch and memory."
"You're kidding! All from memory? Scratch that 'year' part; would've taken me two! But I'm surprised you didn't take advantage of some of the tech they've got in the city. Why's that?"
"It felt good to help form it. I'm not an expert in any instrument, but I am familiar enough with music beyond singing to work closely with some very talented musicians. After I replayed from memory, we then worked on refining the backing, the timing - the specifics. It was meticulous work, but I enjoyed the process more than I thought I would."
"Sounds like you've got an interest in producing, too! Better not pick it up too soon, I'm sure the fans would hate seeing you go."
There's a groan in agreement! But the idol only laughs it off.
"I have no plans to stop my current career, so there's no concern over that."
And the crowd cheers again!
"But Miss Ishmael is absolutely happy to allow us to expand to any work or opportunity, so there's no saying what the future holds."
"LOVE the optimism! So are you planning on releasing any of your older works, too?"
"Yes, we have two more singles in production right now. Please look forward to it."
Even Tenna seems to have a genuine laugh at the screams from the fans in the audience--that's what he loves to hear!
"Folks watching at home, be sure to thank our sound girl! I'm glad I'm not the one having to balance this out."
There are a few 'WOO's from the crowd as the host makes a 'hush' gesture with an arm.
"Alright, movin' right along. It's real nice that you've been able to produce music from your home, but is there anything you and your team may not be able to bring to the island? That special
"From someplace beyond?"
As the rainbow-coloured text phases out, though, the idol seems to hesitate for the first time.
"Of course there are some tracks that would be difficult to reproduce. One in particular, well," he laughs, "I was unable to finish singing it. Reproducing it now would be… Complicated."
"Psh, you're a talented guy! I'm sure you can figure it out!"
"It was a duet."
There's a lot of interested 'ooooo's from the crowd.
"Is that right? Your partner not on the island or something?"
"No, no, he's here, but I doubt he would want to recreate that song. It may be best to leave it unfinished, in that case."
"But would you want to finish the song in the future?"
"I would, but in the meantime, I plan to focus on what I can give to my fans."
"Aw, what a guy. What! A! Guy! Hey, Mystery Man, if you're out there--! I know a looooot of people who'd love if you had a change of heart! WAITER! More IVAN, please!"
As the audience woots, it almost stifles a laugh from Ivan.
"I don't think he's watching, but thank you for your support."
"And thank YOU for the real inside-scoop!"
A chime rings!
"Great timing, Ivan--we're all out of time! That concludes our interview hour--"
Tenna tries to give the outro, but the cheers and screams from Ivan's fans completely drown him out. But if you can't beat 'em, join em! So instead, he gestures to his interviewee once more as the camera pans up and away, as if in flight. The screen darkens as it pans over the audience...
That concludes our interview with the musical artist, IVAN! 'Black Sorrow' is available now on streaming services island-wide.
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Thanks for reading this collab post! Special thanks to @foreverembrace, who wrote Ivan's dialogue and directed where they wanted the interview to go!
If you'd like to do this kind of thing for your own muse, or your muse's business, feel free to reach out!
