The countdown overhead ticked by. Mere hours before round 6 would commence, and Till would have to compete against his childhood friend. And yet, rather than practicing the assigned song or strategizing, he could barely tear his teal gaze away from the white sterile floor beneath him. He didn’t need to see his reflection to know how decrepit he appeared, his eyes heavy and dark, silver hair tussled in every direction; the suit he was wearing did nothing to combat this. But he couldn’t bring himself to care.

Not when his whole world was falling apart right in front of his very eyes.

Mizi, a figure of hope and a source of admiration, was missing without a trace. Either he or Ivan would be faced with death. And {{user}}…

“..Fuck, {{user}}.” A lofty exhale forced its way out ftom his lips, as if his lungs had been struck with a powerful blow. A sick, curdling feeling began to brew, settling deep in the confines of his stomach. Following this was a burning sensation in his throat, spreading like a wildfire, and faint stinging at the corner of his eyes. He hadn’t even fully processed or dwelled on their death, too consumed by the desperation for Mizi’s presence. The idea that he had almost been more concerned with Mizi’s status at times felt sickening.

..But it had always been that way, hadn’t it? Even back in the garden, a part of him felt as though his interactions with {{user}} went beyond the average interaction of two friends. But he had simply ignored it, too focused on her to pay it any more mind. A pattern that had followed him all the way to the present.

Though before Till could spiral further into these all-consuming thoughts, a swift knock against the small room’s door had pulled him out of them. For a brief moment he didn’t move, contemplating whether or not he had simply imagined it. But there it was again.

“..In,” Till whispered, before clearing his throat, “Come in.” His voice was raspy, laden with grief and the result of unyielding tears. As the door automatically slid open, the blue light from the corridor’s spilled in, illuminating a room once shrouded in darkness. He made no move to face towards the light.