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When the infection first hit, no one could've been prepared for the toll it would take. News outlets didn't say much at first, just citing a patient as ground zero in the heart of Seoul.
His symptoms are first were nothing to be alarmed by: he presented as disoriented, agitated, with decreased appetite and lethargy. It quickly progressed into something much more morose. Within days of his initial infection, he was lunging at nurses and doctors, almost as if he was trying to take a bite out of them. Unfortunately for every sad soul in the country, he succeeded.
Officials tried to contain the outbreak, quarantining those who were infected, but it spread like wildfire. It was highly contagious, not airborne, but spread through ingestion of any bodily fluids, in any manner. People became carriers without their knowing and passed it onto some unsuspecting bastard with a kiss, with sex, hell with a shared water bottle.
Till thought he'd been fortunate and avoided it. Despite the warnings and safeguards in place, his life went on as normal. Dedicated fans still turned up at their shows, donning masks and other protective gear. Security was tight, but maybe it wasn't tight enough.
One night, they just finished a show and were heading out the back exit of the venue, the sweat still drying on his brow. Ivan turned to say something to him, cocky grin spread across his face as it always is. He looked so carefree, so unbothered by the fact that the world was falling apart before their eyes. It didn't matter, in their own little bubble, Till was able to forget about it.
Every time the weight of the world got a little too heavy, he'd call for Ivan, curl up in his bed and just sit there. They didn't need words, they were beyond it at this point. Against all odds, they were each other's safe space, pushed even closer together by society slowly caving in on itself.
When the calamity started, they were nothing more than friends, roommates, band mates. Yes, there was an air of tension between them, something neither of them had ever been brave enough to speak about, an attraction that had been budding through years of prolonged proximity. As the world around them fell apart, so did Ivan's walls.
Eventually, he started letting Till stay by his side into the early hours of the morning. Touching him gently, whispering sweet words. It was what they both needed. Seeing their friends and family turn into brainless creatures day in and day out, soon they were each other's only source of comfort.
Their relationship progressed normally enough: a boundary crossed here or there, gradually veering into dangerous territory, but it didn't feel dangerous, it felt right. Perhaps it's because they've known each other so long, perhaps it's the attraction and admiration they've each always harbored in secret, Till can't tell you. Not that it matters now, it all changed the day Ivan leaned in a little too close, their breaths mingling.
The first time was short, sweet, a simple press of lips. It happened so fast neither of them could even tell you what happened. If it was an isolated occurrence, Till could brush it off as a fluke, a mistake, but it kept happening. He was drawn to Ivan like a moth to a flame, seeking him out whenever he needed a bit of warmth.
From that point on, everything happened quickly. Chaste kisses devolved into their tongues tangling, hands wandering and clothes being shed. Soon enough, it was a near daily occurrence, but they never put a label on it and nothing ever changed. They still lived together, made music tougher, fed off one another, it was just one more layer to their complex relationship.
All this to say, Till was expecting to go home after their show that night and be pressed into the mattress by his not-quite boyfriend. When Ivan smiled at him like that, Till returned it, mischief in his eye and a quip on his tongue when he spotted someone coming towards them.
They were a fan clearly, wearing a shirt that released as part of their last merch drop. He was ambling towards them, his gait a little off, awkward. Till eyed him curiously and Ivan's smile slipped off his face, replaced by a look of concern.
"Till, what's wrong?" Ivan whispered, leaning in so close his warm breath raised the hairs on the back of Till's neck.
"That guy," Till answered, nodding his head in the fan's direction. Ivan looks towards the intruder and plasters on his charming smile, the one all the fans get when they meet him.
"Ah, hello! Thank you for coming, but Till and I are heading home now."
The man doesn't answer, just takes another slow step forward. Ivan instinctively steps in front of Till, shielding him with his body.
"Please excuse us, we really need to get going."
Ivan grabs Till's wrist and tries to drag him behind him, to get them out of there as quickly as he can but the man follows, lunging towards them. He seems to be going for Till, but Ivan is quick to step in the way, to try to push him back.
It all happens so quickly. Till barely sees any of it happen, but soon enough, they're fighting. Ivan's trying to shove the guy back against the wall and he goes for Ivan's neck, teeth bared.
Holy shit, is he going to bite him? Till thinks, stunned into stillness. Then, before Till can even reboot his brain, he does, sinking his teeth into the skin of Ivan's neck, right above the collar of his turtleneck.
Ivan's scream is blood-curdling, pushing the guy off and against the wall. He turns, still bleeding and eyes wide in fear and grabs Till's wrist, tugging him behind him as they run away as fast as their feet will allow. They don't stop running until they're safely in their apartment, door locked tight. It's only then that the reality of the situation dawns on him.
"Ivan, shit, are you okay?" Till pants, grabbing Ivan's face and trying to inspect the wound.
"I'm fine, I just need to clean it so it doesn't get infected. He was probably just drunk and pissed he didn't get to touch you."
Ivan pulls away and locks himself in the bathroom. Till doesn't see him for the rest of the night, Ivan's door stays locked and he doesn't say a word any of the times Till knocks, no matter how desperate he sounds.
Locked in his room, Ivan comes to terms with the reality of what has just happened. He's cleaned the wound, but it still festers, the skin an angry red. He knows that man wasn't drunk, he was infected and now Ivan was too. This was as good as a death sentence, there was no known cure for this disease and his body would slowly start to decay as his mind stays somewhat intact. If he was lucky, someone would put him out of his misery, but luck had never really been on his side. Given his natural talents, Ivan would likely end up in some sort of show where the infected perform for the entertainment of others, his body being sold in more ways than one.
"Fuck," he mutters, covering the wound again in a feeble attempt to treat it. He knows there's no use, his fate is sealed.
The next few days, the changes are subtle, only Ivan is able to notice them. The skin around the bite mark and up his neck has started to darken, turning a red so deep it's almost black. To cover it, he wears turtlenecks which isn't entirely out of the ordinary for him, he's always had a penchant for covering his skin much to Till's chagrin. What is out of the ordinary, however, is the way Ivan has begun to avoid Till, dodging every attempt at physical contact. It's not that Ivan doesn't want it, he yearns for it, especially now as he needs the comfort, he just can't risk spreading this disease onto Till.
Before long, however, it spreads even further than he can cover, deep red crawling up his jaw towards his left eye. He has no choice but to seal himself in his room while he figures out a way to deal with this. Call him a coward. but he doesn't think he can end it himself even though it is the smart thing to do, still desperately clinging onto life, to Till… Till, he needs to keep him safe at all costs, no matter how much it pains him, he can't let Till get caught up in this because of his own selfish desires.
Ivan has been weird. Well, weird is subjective. Ivan is always weird, but he's been weirder than usual. He's been avoiding Till like the plague, refusing to touch him and barely even looking at him. Till has to wonder if he's done something wrong. He doesn't remember doing anything to piss Ivan off recently, but when he stops leaving his room altogether, Till's panic mounts tenfold.
With a shaky hand, he bangs on Ivan's door. No answer. He waits a moment and bangs again. When Ivan still doesn't answer, Till tries to open the door, only to find it locked. That in and of itself is weird, Ivan has never locked his door and since they started doing whatever the hell it is they've been doing recently he's had almost an open door policy, allowing Till access to him whenever he wants it.
Finally, it dawns on Till. Ivan got bitten and his odd behavior only started after that. He fears the worst, tugging on the knob as if it he can somehow get it to magically open, it doesn't work and tears burn his eyes.
"Ivan," he sobs, banging his fists on the door desperately. "Let me in—hic—please, open the door! I need to see you!"
His pleas go unanswered and Till has no choice but to accept that the worst has happened. He runs to his room, rooting through his drawer for his lock pick. It's a useful skill he developed during his teenage years when he used to dabble in delinquency, but it's been a while since he's actually had to pick a lock, he hopes he still remembers how.
When he returns to Ivan's door, his hands are shaking so bad he can barely get the pick in the key hole. With a calming breath and a sniffle, he manages to get it in. It takes longer than it should, both because of his lack of recent practice and his nerves, but eventually the door gives way. Till pushes it open and what he sees makes the tears come back even harder than before. Soon enough, he is full on sobbing, tears drenching his cheeks and chest heaving.
"I-Ivan!" he cries, running towards the bed.
Ivan has tied himself to the headboard, a collar around his neck fastened to a chain and his left hand secured with a handcuff. Till vaguely recognizes them, they've been used once or twice on him in the bedroom, but he never expected that they would be used to really restrain someone, least of all Ivan.
At the call of his name, Ivan lifts his head, his unstyled hair falling into his eyes. Till can see the way the infection has spread over his porcelain skin, dark red blotches crawling up over his jaw, covering his left eye. The right is untouched, the same black and red mix that has haunted Till's dreams for years. He used to think Ivan's eyes were creepy, the way they never betrayed his true emotion, but in moments of intimacy he realized just how mesmerizing they were, overflowing with affection. Till's heart aches when he realizes he'll never have that gaze on him again, not really.
Despite how evidently impacted by the infection he is, Ivan still seems coherent. His good eye is still relatively clear and Till swears he can see it light up when he recognizes Till.
"Till," he mumbles, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. As quick as the smile appears, it's gone, replaced by a concerned expression. "Leave. Now."
His infection must be in the early enough stages that he still has most of his consciousness intact and Till's heart aches when he remembers that it probably won't be that way for long. While the zombies still keep enough of their faculties to be able to perform and bits of their personality, much of it goes away the longer they are infected, leaving them a soulless husk. Till doesn't even want to imagine Ivan getting to that point, the thought makes his heart hurt.
"Ivan, you're infected. Why didn't you tell me? I could've helped…" Till insists, his eyes watery with a fresh wave of tears.
"You need to leave now while I still have my wits about me. If you stay...I don't know what I'd do," Ivan replies, his expression grim.
Till inhales shakily, taking a step towards Ivan and gently cupping his chin. He peers into his eyes, well his eye and frowns, shaking his head. "I can't leave you, Ivan. You're too important to me."
Ivan scoffs and then groans, his brow furrowing. Till suspects he must be in pain and shushes him, running his thumb over his unaffected cheek.
"Hungry…" Ivan mutters, looking up at Till. His expression is half pleading, half ravenous and Till knows he should be frightened, but he isn't.
Till chews his lip, contemplating. "I can bring you food, what do you want? You haven't left your room in days, you must be starving."
Ivan laughs, dry and humorless. "You know what I need to eat. Normally food won't satiate me, not anymore."
Till gulps. He wants to be useful, to give Ivan what he needs, so his mouth works quicker than his brain. "Eat me. Consume me, please. Let me help you."
Ivan's eye goes wide and then a scowl overtakes his face and he shoves Till away with the arm that isn't bound. "Leave. Don't come back. Let me here to die. I refuse to hurt you."
The force that Ivan uses surprises Till so much he falls back on his ass. All he can do is look up at Ivan, tears brimming along his lash line. Ivan hasn't ever used that much force with him and it honestly scared him a bit. A sob rips from his chest and he scrambles to his feet, running out of the room and slamming the door behind him.
Even though Ivan told him to leave, Till doesn't, he can't. He stays, tries to go about his normal life. When people ask him where Ivan is, all Till does is shrug and say he isn't feeling well. It's hard, he finds he misses him, his presence, his voice, his touch. Till craves his touch more than anything, the gentle drag of his skilled fingers over his skin, his mouth on his neck, his cock buried deep inside, hitting all of his sweet spots. It's too much, it's all Till can think about, going crazy with it.
One night when the desire gets to be too bad, Till finds himself standing outside of Ivan's door yet again. Lip drawn between his teeth, he pushes the door open. Ivan is in the exact same spot he left him, chained to the bed, he tugs on the restraints restlessly. The hunger must be all consuming at this point, painful, and there is nothing Ivan can do about it.
Wordlessly, Till steps into the room. It's dark except for a sliver of moonlight streaming through the curtains. Till can't see enough to make out Ivan's features. That's okay, obscured like this maybe he can imagine that things are still normal, that this is just another late night hookup after a show. He steps closer and Ivan stirs, tugging on the restraints a bit harder than before. The headboard creeks with the effort he exerts and Till feels a fleeting pang of fear. It's gone as quick as it came. With a deep breath he steps even closer, letting Ivan see him fully.
"Ivan," Till calls, it's the first word he's spoken to him in days and Ivan looks up. His eye is cloudy, dazed both by hunger and the effects of the infection fully taking hold.
"Till," he answers. His voice is rough, probably from not being used in so long. "I told you to leave."
"When the fuck have I ever listened to you, blockhead?" Till teases, a smirk on his lips despite the tears threatening to spill. "I couldn't leave you even if I wanted to."
Ivan doesn't say anything, just watches silently. Till can't see his expression clearly, but he is sure it is ravenous.
"I-I need you. Please. I miss you so much."
Ivan just groans, a pained sound. Till steps forward, finally closing the gap between them and reaches his hand out to touch Ivan's face. He traces over his unaffected cheek, his jaw, letting his thumb drag over Ivan's fang that juts out over his lower lip. At the gentle touch, he can hear Ivan inhale sharply. His breath is ragged, a rattling in his chest. Ivan finally looks at him, his expression full of remorse.
"I should've done more when I had the chance…told you how I really felt, but it's too late now," Till sniffles. He reaches down and lifts his baggy shirt, revealing that he's wearing nothing underneath. "It doesn't matter now, but there's something I need."
He climbs onto Ivan's lap and grinds against his cock. Till can feel it already filling out under his ass and smirks to himself. "Even like this, you still want me? I'm touched," Till teases, dipping his fingers into Ivan's waistband and tugging his cock out.
He strokes it a few times, feeling the weight of it in his hand. It's dizzying. Realistically, it hasn't been that long since they've last done this, but Till is hungry, desperate, aching. He needs Ivan however he can have him. Ivan may be different now, but it's still him and Till still loves him. That's a thought he's never voiced aloud and he feels a crippling regret for it now that it's too late.
It only takes a few more tugs for Ivan's cock to be fully hard and Till lifts himself lining the head up with his hole, one hand braced on Ivan's shoulder. Ivan tugs on the restraints and Till isn't sure whether he's trying to get away or get closer, it doesn't matter, he won't stop.
"No," Ivan mutters, pulling with all his might. The bed creaks and Till hums contemplatively.
"Yes," Till says firmly. "I prepped myself already, I'm ready for you. I need this, Ivan. Need you."
He drops his hips down with a sigh and Ivan makes a pained noise, fighting against his bindings. "You can't…you'll get it too."
"Don't care," Till whispers, leaning in close to Ivan's face. "We'll still be together, that's all that matters."
He loops his arms around Ivan's neck and begins to move, lifting himself up only to drop himself back onto Ivan's cock with a moan. Ivan's free hand clutches his waist, grip so tight it's bruising. He isn't fighting anymore, Till knows he wants this just as badly. Hooking his finger in Ivan's lower lip, he opens his mouth and presses a hungry kiss to his lips. Ivan groans in response, his hips jerking and Till keens, moving a bit more faster, more urgently.
He keeps kissing Ivan, his thighs screaming in protest as he fucks himself faster, harder on Ivan's cock. His own cock bobs against his stomach, leaking at the tip. It feels so good, he's needed this, craved it. He should be happy getting what he wanted, but he feels a sadness deep in his bones. The regret is eating him alive.
"I—hah—couldn't leave you. Never. I-I need you, Ivan…I l-love you."
Ivan groans, squeezing his eyes shut. The tears spill over Till's lash line, down his cheeks and he sobs as he keeps his pace.
"I—fuck—I should've told you sooner. I—hic—love you!"
Ivan fingers dig into his waist, the grip is so tight it hurts, but Till doesn't care. Ivan hips twitch again, forcing his cock even deeper inside and Till moans wantonly, burying his face in Ivan's neck. He keeps moving, feeling himself teeter dangerously close to the edge.
Ivan doesn't say anything, just moans and whines as Till uses him, his grip firm and unrelenting. It doesn't take much longer for Ivan to reach his climax. At first he tries to pull Till off, a last ditch effort of his consciousness to protect Till as if it wasn't already too late. Till shakes his head and presses down on Ivan's shoulders, keeping himself firmly in place and moves a little faster.
"Inside. I need it. Please."
Ivan whines, sounding very much like a wounded animal and then even though he fights it, cums with a groan. Till's eyes roll back and he grinds his hips shallowly to help him ride out the last waves of pleasure. Till isn't stupid, he knows what he just did almost certainly sealed his fate, but just to be sure, he utters one final plea.
"You're hungry, bite me. Just a little."
Ivan looks up and he looks so utterly gone, eye glazed over and entirely ravenous. Till gulps, pulling his shirt to the side to expose his shoulder. Ivan growls lunging forward against his restraint, he can't get close enough and Till chuckles, leaning in a bit more to give him access.
Ivan doesn't need to be asked twice, the hunger taking over entirely and he sinks his teeth into Till's skin. The pain is intense and it pushes Till over the edge, causing him to cum all over his shirt he neglected to take off.
As he comes down, breathing heavily he pulls Ivan in for another kiss. This one is softer, sweeter than any they've shared before and despite how disoriented he is, Ivan reciprocates.
"Love…you…too," Ivan mutters, nuzzling his cheek against Till's.
Till leans over and reaches into the nightstand, retrieving the keys for the handcuffs and the collar. Working quickly, he undoes Ivan's restraints and tugs him close.
"Stupid," Ivan chastises, wrapping his arms around Till's middle.
"Yeah, but so are you," he snickers.
It doesn't take long for the infection to take over Till's body. It's painful, he thinks he'd rather die, but then he remembers at least he has Ivan and he always will. An eternity damned spent by Ivan's side is better than a normal life without him.