Chapter Text
Rotten World
The last thing Ivan remembered was the tearing of flesh. It was a slow, agonizing disassembly, his final duet with Till, a calculated slaughter. Yet, as his body was cut to pieces, a sickening surge of gratitude had pulsed through his failing heart. He was happy to be the sacrifice. He was happy to let his blood buy Till’s freedom.
Right before the darkness took him, his eyes had flicked down to his left wrist. There, carved into the skin with raw, desperate pressure, was a crude shape resembling a cockroach. He had done it the exact moment the infection took hold, a jagged proof of life to remind himself that he was still conscious, still himself.
Now, it meant nothing.
Ivan’s eyes snapped open. He bolted upright in bed, his breath hitching into a raw, fractured gasp. His limbs felt like leaden jelly, drenched in a thick, cold layer of sweat. Trembling violently, his palms slid up his chest, tracing his collarbones, his neck, his jaw. He clawed at his skin, checking for the slick, sticky give of rot.
Nothing. Smooth. Whole.
A small, sob-like gasp escaped his throat.
Thank God. It was a nightmare. Just a nightmare.
He was a second-year student in the fashion modeling department. He had classes to attend. Tonight, he was supposed to watch movies with Till, Mizi, Sua, and the rest of the gang. He was living a completely normal life. He could finally find a way to confess.
Then, the vertigo hit.
His throat constricted, a violent wave of nausea forcing him to gag as the glimpses of other nightmares rushed back. It wasn’t only the zombies. A carousel of horrors spun behind his eyes… Different worlds, different stages, but the exact same core: never getting his feelings reciprocated. Never satisfied. Always a parasite, never a lover. Every single time, he loved, he sacrificed, he died. Rewind. Repeat.
He was trapped in a loop, a doll on cosmic strings, forced to act out the same tragic script while trying to decipher microscopic differences in the pattern. And it always ended in blood.
Ivan pulled his knees to his chest, burying his face in his arms as a feverish, choking heat broke over his skin. For the first time since he could remember, he sobbed like a child, completely undone by the weight of a thousand lifetimes.
Why am I so affected by a stupid dream?
~~~
It took half an hour for the sun to bleed fully through the window blinds before Ivan managed to crawl out of bed. He stumbled into the bathroom, desperate to shock his system with cold water.
He threw his head back, wiping the water from his eyes, and looked down.
His heart stopped.
Covering his left wrist was a faint, jagged scar. A crude, unmistakable shape of a cockroach.
He had never gotten a tattoo like that. He had certainly never left a scar there. The violent heave in his stomach returned, and he threw up into the sink, instantly deciding to skip his morning classes.
His phone rang on the nightstand. He ignored it, staring blankly at the wall until the screen lit up with a text message.
Till:
I know we partied hard last night but still, answer your phone. We got concerned. Next time warn us before you just dump everyone.
A small, fragile spark of hope lit up Ivan’s crimson eyes. Maybe Till saw the dreams too. Maybe Mizi did. Maybe they were all experiencing this bizarre psychological hangover, and he was just being dramatic. They had hung out the day before, after all. Maybe they drank too much and he forgot getting a stupid stick-and-poke tattoo.
Driven by a desperate need for reality, Ivan forced himself to go to campus.
The moment he stepped into the main building, a sudden wave of vertigo made his eyes flash. He had to slam his palm against the brick wall to balance himself as a memory flooded his consciousness…
A kiss.
Forceful, desperate, completely unreciprocated. The gut-wrenching feeling of dread and a acute fear for his life washed over him so vividly he could taste it.
His ears rang, a blinding headache pulsing behind his eyes before slowly fading into a dull throb. Shaking, he walked into the cafeteria, buying an overly sweet energy drink and a bag of chips, pretending the artificial sugar could cure a fractured soul.
He slumped into a booth. A second later, the chair opposite him was violently dragged back.
Ivan flinched hard, his hand instinctively snapping up into a defensive posture.
Luka sat across from him, looking entirely unbothered as his pale fingers reached straight into Ivan’s bag, stealing a handful of chips.
Ivan gritted his teeth, forcing his hands down to ground himself. “Nothing, Luka-hyung.”
Luka’s lips twisted into a look of malicious curiosity. He tilted his head, eyes gleaming with evil excitement, always ready to probe at someone who looked vulnerable. “Ohhh, but you look unusually annoyed today.”
“I’ve had trouble sleeping lately. Nothing to worry about,” Ivan lied, forcing the bag of chips closer to his side of the table. “Just study stress and all.”
It didn’t stop Luka. The older student reached out, snatched another chip, and deliberately, slowly dipped it straight into Ivan’s sweet drink.
The petty defiance broke something in Ivan's restraint. The images of the unrequited love, the suffocating realization of being trapped, and the horror of the previous night kept playing behind his eyelids until it finally spilled out.
“A loop,” Ivan muttered under his breath, his eyes staring blankly at the table as he gripped his drink. “It's a fucking loop.”
Without even looking up, Luka says.
“Yeah.”
Ivan freezes.
“…What?”
Another chip.
Crunch.
“The loop.”
Crunch.
“It’s getting annoying.” Luka shrugged nonchalantly, crunching on the soggy chip. “Yeah. I saw the weird dreams about past lives too. It’s like a cycle.”
Ivan’s eyes went wide as saucers. Every muscle in his body locked up, but years of idol-like conditioning forced his voice to remain chillingly calm. “And you didn’t think of mentioning that first?”
Luka just blinked sleepily, giving a dismissive wave of his hand. “Nah.”
“How long have you even been aware?” Ivan leaned forward, the desperation bleeding through his composure. If Luka knew, he wasn't alone. He wasn't losing his mind. “I keep getting these weird flashes. Now it happens even when I’m just walking around, like a memory replaying itself.”
Luka inclined his head, chewing thoughtfully on the edge of his thumb. “Probably same as you. Maybe a bit earlier. Can’t sleep either, ahh…” He yawned dramatically, stretching his arms.
Ivan bent over the table, gesturing sharply. “It’s the same actions. The same events happening again and again. Do you think it’s going to happen again? This universe?”
“Should I guess?” Luka murmured, leaning back. “Most likely.”
“We should do something to prevent it.”
“If it’s a loop, what’s the point?” Luka shrugged, his tone completely nihilistic. “I don’t feel like doing anything.”
“You’re joking.” Ivan’s grip tightened on the edge of the table. “And what you saw exactly… was it a stage, too?”
Luka nodded slowly. “Yeah.” He pushed himself up from the table, preparing to leave. “Well, you can break your mind trying to solve the cycle. Enjoy breaking yourself. Bye-bye.”
Before Luka could step away, Ivan reached out and grabbed him violently by the fistful of his shirt.
“Why are you so clingy?” Luka hissed, his eyes narrowing with mild annoyance as he looked down at Ivan’s grip. “Do you need my help so much? Are you really that helpless, jeez.”
“I don’t need your help,” Ivan punched the words out, his voice dropping into a dangerous register. “But don’t you think if we’re the only ones who became aware of the loop, there's a reason? Maybe it’s a sign to do something and break the cycle. Besides… I don’t know much.”
Ivan hated admitting it, but it was true. He died early in almost every iteration. He needed Luka, who always seemed to survive until the curtain fell.
Luka clicked his tongue. “Or we’re just the unluckiest bastards of the bunch to accidentally get an error in the matrix.” Instead of resisting, Luka let his body go entirely slack, falling back into the plastic chair like a discarded doll on strings.
“How long did you survive before?” Ivan asked, his grip loosening slightly but not letting go. “What even happened to you? You’re usually the blessed star of the show.”
Luka paused, wrinkling his nose before pretending to shed a theatrical tear. “I kept winning.”
Ivan deadpanned. “Poor you. Well, I kept getting killed.”
Ivan snatched his bag of chips back, the appetite he didn't have vanishing completely. “That’s where it ends for me every time. I don’t even know if my sacrifice matters. Did Till make it out, or did he…” The realization made his throat feel like coarse sandpaper. He turned his gaze sharply to the blonde. “You said you won every time.”
Luka blinked slowly. “I will ease your mind. Till escapes whatever imprisonment we have every time.”
Ivan’s lips twisted into a bittersweet, tense nod. “Good. Does he… does he start a family? Fall in love with someone else? Does he remember me, or not?”
“I said, I just win every time and continue performing,” Luka trailed off, his voice entirely flat. “I don't know much after that.”
“Do you just perform until you die, you mean?” Ivan pushed, irritated by Luka’s total lack of motivation, his absolute refusal to help find a solution. “So you don’t know anything. Despite being the sole survivor every single time, you’re completely useless, aren't you? All you’re good for is tricking people, laughing at victims, and winning over the audience with your swaying hips and fake-ass act.”
Luka let out a soft, delighted giggle. “Aww, I almost got hurt. Okay, fine, if you must know, in one of them, we actually get together with Till. We start dating, being all kissy and lovey-dovey.” Luka raised his hands, cheekily pretending to hug and kiss the empty air.
Ivan slammed his hands on the table, shoving Luka back into his seat, a toxic mix of irritation and bitter jealousy burning in his chest. Luka didn't fight back; he just let himself be pushed, holding Ivan’s furious glare with a perfectly calm, sweet expression.
“If you don’t take this seriously, I will break your pretty face, Luka.”
“Nah, that’s Mizi’s job usually,” Luka said randomly.
Ivan blinked, completely thrown off. “What?”
“God, did just that get you so riled up, Ivan? You’re pathetic,” Luka snickered, waving his hand. “I’m joking.”
“You know what? You’re just a coward,” Ivan spat, his voice sharp. “You’re left trapped here every single time because you don’t even try to change it. And since you’re such an asshole, no one even cares to help you out.”
Luka’s playful expression vanished, his lips twisting into something mocking. “Hypocrite much? It’s not like you’re any better. You just kill yourself off out of pure selfishness, never caring about the aftermath for your treasured lover. You hurt him every single time.”
Ivan shot back instantly, “Like you’re any better!”
~~~
The argument hung heavy between them until Ivan’s eyes caught the cafeteria clock. The movie hanging-out session was supposed to start soon.
“I don’t think I’ll be able to sit still and watch a movie,” Ivan muttered, trying to cool his temper. “Is it a zombie movie? Does a normal universe mean we’re safe, or is it just going to happen again?”
Luka suddenly shivered, rubbing his arms as if a cold draft had just passed through the room. “Ugh, I don’t feel like doing it all over again. The zombie one was painful. Rotting is incredibly uncomfortable. Aww, my body really doesn't want to go through that again.”
“Well,” Ivan leaned in, a dark smirk touching his lips. “There’s your motivation to help me out.”
Luka looked up, shifting his gaze as Ivan reached across and lightly tugged on a strand of his blonde curls to keep his attention.
“We’re not in the alien hellhole,” Ivan mused, analyzing the pieces. “You’re a third-year in the dance department, I’m a second-year in fashion modeling. We’re in a modern, normal setting. It’s similar to the last circle. We just need to stop the catalyst. Prevent it.”
Luka deadpanned, mimicking Ivan’s wild gestures with a robotic, mocking tone. “What’s your idea? Stop the zOmBiE apocalypse?”
“I don’t know! Maybe!” Ivan threw his hands up, looking thoroughly unhinged. “How do people even do that? Do I leave the art department and suddenly study science? Medicine?” Ivan gripped his hair, looking like he was spiraling into a massive existential crisis right over his bag of chips.
“What, you plan to find a cure?” Luka’s brows twisted in genuine concern. “You have to study for a lifetime for that. That’s like, seven years of extreme, hard studying. I’m far too ill for that. You know what? I’d rather go through the alien stage or the zombies again.”
Ivan ignored him, secretly agreeing that suddenly turning into a genius scientist wasn't logically possible within their timeframe anyway. “Maybe it doesn’t have to be something global. Maybe we just need to break the cycle from within. Do something we have never done in any past lifetime.”
Luka stared straight into Ivan’s eyes. Iris to iris, his expression didn't contain a single trace of a blush, his voice entirely flat as if he were suggesting a change in the weather.
“Do you want like, the two of us to fuck or what?”
Ivan froze, his brain stalling out as he tried to process the sheer absurdity of the question. Luka wasn't ugly, the entire campus called him an angelic prince, a ruler of the stage, and a dozen other insufferable titles, but the bluntness of the suggestion left Ivan sputtering internally.
“I… I don’t think that will do much to help, Luka,” Ivan managed to say, desperately trying to maintain a logical front.
Before Luka could reply, the cafeteria doors swung open with a loud clatter.
“God, it is absolutely boiling today!” Mizi’s voice carried across the room as she walked in, fanning herself with a notebook. Right behind her, Till and Sua entered, Till instantly scowling at the humidity as he looked around for a place to sit.