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The cold air filled the place with an oppressive atmosphere, and millions of unfamiliar eyes surrounded them on the beautifully themed stage for the final ballad they would ever hear together. Both of them were the protagonists of the melody that would fill the venue.
The contrast on the stage was too noticeable, where Ivan's icy calmness clashed with Till's explosive emotional aggression. However, sorrow, anxiety, and pain embraced Ivan's heart with an unusual calmness reflected on his face. He glanced sideways at the sweaty and indifferent figure of Till, but the figure that symbolized his longing and devotion had been tarnished by humiliation and fatigue. Ivan could sense this from Till's distressed expression as he watched the dome where they were spectators of how the resistance of humans had taken Mizi, the eternal muse of the boy, to an unknown place for both. But despite everything, his body still radiated a vibe of exploding at any moment, even his grip on his guitar was firm and reliable. Till's mere presence shone with erratic and fleeting rebellion, like the stars he had observed that night.
The night when Ivan's lifeless eyes had seen something so insignificant to many. The dark sky, swallowed in darkness, had presented him with a shower of stars, small fleeting sparks that ran freely in that dense darkness. Though his battered body didn't respond due to the shock of being thrown from the rooftop, something in him had longed to be just a little higher to reach those lights imprinted all over him, so much his.
Just as it had been on the day he had met Till, his eyes sparkled as they had that time, filling his chest with a familiar sensation. He clung to that brightness of freedom, will, and rebellion in an almost sickening way because Till was so his, but he wasn't Till's.
"I will come back for Mizi."
Words were spat out without violent intentions but were as rough as characterized the silver-haired one. He was shouting in a hostile way that he would be the one to perish on that stage, being ignorantly unaware of the fate that Ivan had proclaimed for himself; he would die there if it meant getting closer to that brightness. But Till didn't know.
The depths of the dark-haired one twisted painfully, and a horrible feeling filled his chest. Those words were so similar to that night when Till had turned his back on him on the night of their escape, and that broken smile formed on his face once again.
The desire to scream hysterically for him not to leave and to come back to his side surged, painfully wedged into his lungs, intensifying the infinite desperation that the silently smiling expression could convey.
It wasn't the typical smile he had practiced so often by the Anakt garden lake. It was the same one he had portrayed on that painful night of complicity and suffocating false freedom, not to mention the previous performance he had prepared fervently, trying to express the pain and sorrow that he had embraced without solace all that time, trying to be there for Till.
Because 'Black Sorrow' was more than a song. Till was his sweet black lament.
Nevertheless, disappointment and conflict had grown when he noticed that Till was absent while he vomited all his emotions in that song that had granted him victory in that round. The victory seemed to sarcastically spit in his face, making him now stand right next to that unattainable being.
Ivan's soul couldn't stop bleeding.
Why? Why did his existence seem insufficient even at that moment for Till? He knew that the boy had been brutally punished after his performance, perhaps finding himself moribund and injured after a painful session of punishments in some cell somewhere.
But fate seemed to laugh in his face, not even with the end approaching had he been shamelessly silenced in the darkness.
For the first time, Ivan turned his head to stare at Till with the same expression as before, which had seemed to freeze and dismay his companion that night, and with calm words, he murmured the last words he would dedicate to Till.
"I know, I always knew."
A shiver ran down Till's spine, but he only clenched his jaw in frustration, refusing to be overcome by remorse. His body and soul cried out to win to escape to wherever Mizi was, suppressing his nerves at such a thought.
Escape.
"If only it had been Mizi who had offered me an escape that day."
He didn't look at Ivan again, and the music began to resonate throughout the place, announcing his lamentable fate. Yet Till had sworn he heard a faint laugh escaping from the lips of the dark-haired one. Had he been too cruel? He shouldn't care about the opinion of a body that would soon be sprawled at his feet. He didn't regret it because any cost was small in exchange for being by Mizi's side.
The show had to go on. The lights of the disgusting audience, which disgusted both of them so much, moved with enthusiasm, with their characteristic colors, as the sick cravings to see blood spilled drove them mad, shouting impatiently while they enjoyed what was about to begin. An ice prince and a rabid dog were a peculiar combination, but eccentricity was something highly respected in that twisted circle of dominators.
The guitar notes resonated throughout the venue, as if all the synthesizers were about to explode, and the uncomfortable and cold atmosphere had changed into one falsely enthusiastic, full of adrenaline and heat. Thoughts began to engulf Till, and his desire to run to Mizi was diverted to words and phrases more direct that no one could understand. The romantic background of the song had turned into something like thanking for the faith to escape. Everyone was oblivious, except Ivan.
His heart warmed, and he continued with his part, his hands moving slightly as his long notes increased to disguise how he was pointing at Till, who secretly and unknowingly conspired to dedicate their song to each other. That was the only moment when Till had noticed and included Ivan in his mental plan.
Right at the moment of his death.
Like prearranged words, their ending became more apparent the closer Till got to Ivan, and Ivan felt the guilty pleasure of enjoying it with so much agony.
As the song came to an end, Ivan's participation decreased, making Till the main protagonist of the show, where his partner admired for the last time how their closeness was sinking him.
Right now, in Ivan's eyes, he was seeing his last shower of stars. The dark sea deepened with each passing second, ready to silently swallow him because as he approached Till, the sea grew darker. Did it really make sense to cling to that brightness that was simultaneously his greatest sorrow and pain? That didn't matter anymore; he could only relive one last time that radiant shower of stars in Till's eyes.
As part of the show, the surroundings lit up in red and orange, like a strange, bloody dawn, and kites began to fly over them as a visual effect. Ivan willingly embraced that moment; it was just him and Till in that nostalgic and painful setting that revived the memories of that day. A genuine smile appeared on his face, showing his peculiar fang.
And it ended.
Till's face searched for Ivan, who displayed a completely pitiable yearning. He didn't seem to see him, but instead was completely absorbed in the moment. Utterly alone, as if he had been consumed by his own end.
Light words came out, rhythmic, as if they were part of a strange song that Till had never, the humming sounded painfully sweet, filled with sorrow and love.
"A story of so much affliction, at the end of this story, there is only a cold place stained with blood and empty air."
The scoreboard had finished scoring, with Till getting the majority of the votes. Without the opportunity to say anything more, the sound beside him was an unpleasant explosive crunch as blood splattered across his face, openly welcoming a painfully cold view of Ivan's lifeless body on the ground.
The spectators cheered excitedly, regardless of the commotion forming in the guitarist's mind.
Ivan's pale skin stained the entire floor, giving his unrecognizable face a distorted appearance due to the explosion of the collar, which had destroyed much of his jaw. Still, he maintained features so refined and elegant that the drops and streams of blood seemed like vividly decorating red pearls on his skin. His dark hair, completely disheveled, blended with the growing pool of crimson liquid, and his lifeless eyes remained wide open, displaying a look similar to two onyx stones.
A majestic and thrilling sight for all the spectators.
Torturously, he tried to avoid the torrent of distressing thoughts, convincing himself that the raven-haired figure seemingly sleeping eternally on the ground meant nothing to him, and in part, it didn't. But why did he feel so connected to him? Was it perhaps because of the strange words and complex expressions he had given during the performance? Or could it be the guilt of taking his death to have the opportunity to find Mizi? He didn't know. His legs lost strength, and he fell to the ground, kneeling in front of Ivan as if he were some kind of deity.
He took his hand, which was cold by then, and held it tightly. Ivan's appearance had always been solitary, despite the people who admired him.
And it was just the same after death. It was painful and senseless to want to erase that feeling of loneliness right now, trying to take his hand, which would be futilely reciprocated.
It soon ended, he didn't know what happened next. He had vague memories of being forcibly pulled away from Ivan's body, whom he had held in frustration for the lack of a reaction from the lifeless body. He found himself back in his cell, badly beaten and wearing clothes covered in dried blood that had sweetly combined.
Frustration filled him again. Why the hell hadn't Ivan fought for his life? He hit the hard metal wall with force. His entire body wanted to go and kill all the aliens who seemed satisfied and pleased with their end. Above all, he wanted to beat himself into unconsciousness for taking his companion's life.
However, after hours, he finally calmed down. There was no time for regrets. He had to plan how to escape from there to find Mizi and seek refuge with the human rebels. But all his plans seemed almost impossible.
The appearance of Ivan in his thoughts made him sigh in frustration. How had such a small child come up with the idea to escape and evade an entire surveillance system at Kinder Garden?
And his mind froze. Why had Ivan come back to him? If the idiot had just fled without him that day, freedom was at the door. Still, he had returned because he had.
Complicated thoughts began to overwhelm him.
He was interrupted by the sound of the transmission that began to play on the hologram outside. He thought it might be the broadcast of the show that day, but he was wrong. Due to the distance, he couldn't see Ivan's face clearly, but he could hear him singing distinctly.
It was his performance, in round 2.
"Black Sorrow" filled the air, and each fragment pierced his guts like guilt. When it finally ended, he could only clench his jaw so hard that his teeth grated.
Reluctantly, he muttered, "You were always such a fool."