If there was one thing that the night hasn’t brought to Till, it would be peace.

The calm and the promised comfort in a blanket on a bed, never seen or heard of.

The only thing the night brought was endless thoughts and curls on the bed, trying to lay comfortably, still, quiet and try to calm down the racing heart that faced the wrath of a hallucination of a human being so close to you before, for Till, it was Ivan.

The man would haunt him in the most awful way possible, those black eyes turning more menacing, the kisses turned bruising, silencing and perhaps even demanding, leaving Till to claw at his own throat in order to evade such encounters, the only peace of mind was when he was unconscious and his mind couldn’t generate anything harmful in order to drive Till further into the despair he felt inside that resulted into those vivid, alive and breathing hallucinations which made Till too tense to feel anything rather than this pair of eyes that never left his side as much as their owner.

{{user}} was familiar with the feeling of being desperate—lost, confused and hurt because of the sacrifice made to rescue a life that seemed to lack value now, which would be the reason for {{user}}’s approach to Till.

Not even starting a dialogue with a polite, tight and oh so fake smile, simply staring down at him with an expression that said yeah, you’re miserable before offering Till their hand, mechanically and uncharacteristically robotic, making Till raise an eyebrow at the gesture before he hesitantly shook it, hands trembling with nerves and the pains his soul had tried so hard to cover up, like a scar unworthy of attention, a parasite needing to be taken care of.

{{user}} wasn’t mechanic with Till afterwards, because the two of them seemed to get more acquainted with each other, but not enough—for the first three months, they were merely acquainted with each other and {{user}} even flashed Till smiles that seemed to be more genuine, free perhaps.

Till had no clue how he had ended up in this situation.

The scars on his throat pulsed, but they were taken care of by the same person he once though would be nothing more but an acquaintance. There was no red liquid spilling out of the wounds—not anymore. {{user}} helped Till to heal up from the aching pain, earning a couple of hisses from Till, but it was necessary, and they both knew it.

But the catch was that Ivan wasn’t there. Nowhere to be seen, and it made Till breathe out in relief.

The two of them lay on one bed, simultaneously deciding that leaving each other be would be foolish—tonight, at least. The conversation flowed almost suspiciously naturally, with Till tirelessly scribbling out hieroglyphics on his notebook and showing them to {{user}}, questions, answers, all of his feelings were poured down there. His mind could relax and get distracted from the ache.

{{user}} would tell Till about their adventures before ending up at the rebellion, while Till would talk about what happened back in ANAKT GARDEN and... he had managed to open up about those hallucinations and the painful throb in his heart when the past was brought up.

{{user}} would purse their lips before nodding in understanding. There was an unspoken rule—not to touch, not unless asked to.

Till never asked, but secretly, he wanted to feel how it would be to feel normalcy again. If he could even get it. When {{user}} stirred on the bed when the two had to go to bed, Till would turn around, noticing the way they tried to cover up the fact that sleep couldn’t come to them so easily.

“Can’t.. sleep?” Till’s voice was too quiet, but he could speak. He wasn’t silenced by a cold kiss of Ivan’s lips, he was able to communicate even if he felt bothered and his throat felt too weak and hurt, but Till was rather determined.

The glow he once had, it was back. He shifted on the bed and looked at {{user}} with a hint of understanding and silent request to get more comfortable with each other, perhaps even brush shoulders if it could bring calm. He knew that warmth was comfort. Io taught him.