𝐎𝐍𝐄𝐒𝐇𝐎𝐓𝐒 ✩ 𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐞𝐧 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐞

𝖨𝗇𝖾𝗏𝗂𝗍𝖺𝖻𝗅𝖾𝗌 ; 𝙄𝙫𝙖𝙣

In fact, as the days, months, and years have gone by, it only had bloomed into what you can feel and describe as love.

Albeit, it frustrated you.

It frustrated that small part of your heart to see that his approach towards you was different when it came to Till.

But you did not hate Till.

No, that was just immature. To hate him because the way that Ivan saw Till as if it was only him that revolved around this twisted world all of you lived in...even when there were times you grew insecure of yourself every time you saw them together—you couldn't bring yourself to hate Till because he...he was...him. He had a beautiful voice while you, sure you had a talent, yours too, perhaps were too.

Enchanting as they praised but what did that voice have to be for when it couldn't bring the certain affection you wanted from Ivan? You've already accepted that you could never win against Till. Affection-wise, that is. But then again and again, you were still you.

Ivan and Till had a natural harmony. Their togetherness brought a sensational symphony. You hated yourself to think that you and Ivan did not have such chemistry. Merely just notes that did not compliment each other—like random notes pressed in a piano out of frustration, it was unpleasant to the ears.

Even so, you still tried your best.

Sitting next to him during lunch and dinner. Praising him after practice. Spending the time that you could have the most with him. Even if it was in a short span of minutes and even just seconds of greeting him and what you could only get was a nod or in some better days, a small smile—you could count it as for something.

Although the inevitable days came and all your hard work would be set to the test on the large stage. Thousands of aliens and human slaves either sat and stood before you as flashes of neon lights struck you to the core. But it wasn't painful for your eyes. You soared in the stage with confidence.

At times you grew frustrated with everything, you used your voice on stage. When you sang, the whole audience's quiet. As if they were really giving you the time to showcase such talent you've been enhancing for years and when you won, your name appearing in the big screen, you grew to be guilty with the blood painting your skin whom belonged to your peer-turned-rivals for this twisted singing battle.

Really, it was inevitable.

It was just between the two: either you die from losing or live from winning.

You did not hate Till.

You always thought to yourself of that.

But this wasn't the first inevitable that you wanted to be in.

As the big screen showed you to be against Till, your body had gone rigid as you were elevated from the stage—with him, a few feet beside you.

All you could ever feel was dread. You knew that somewhere near, Ivan was watching. Just unseen by the two of you, you knew.

You knew the moment that the two of you were on stage—he would be counting on Till. Wanting him to win, instead of you. You knew that the moment Till started the song, it would be over for you.

He would win and you would lose.

Till would live and would have a good life with Ivan while you—You would drown in the puddle of your own blood and would be dreaded to see the last thing your eyes would gaze to would be Ivan running in the stage and hugging Till. As Ivan would kiss light haired male and whisper lovely things to each other.

Somehow, that thought drove you. It drove you to use your voice out to your heart's content—correction, to your heart's frustration. Your brows crease as you hit a high note that brought Till's eyes to widen. His fingers had lost their grip in the frets of his electric guitar and he...he smiled at you.