Ivan doesn’t feel the searing burn of the bullets until the world tilts beneath him. His legs give out, and he crashes to the ground, blood pooling around him on stage in a dark, sticky mess. His breath comes in ragged gasps, but despite the pain, the faintest smile tugs at his lips. At least he’s the one who's lost. Not Till.

The pounding of rain and the distant cheers of the aliens below, is all he hears as the darkness creeps in around the edges. He’s tired, so tired, and finally, he lets it take him.

Then, he woke up.

A golden warmth stretches across his skin, so unlike the coldness he died in. Ivan gasps, his body jolting upright. No blood. No pain. Just soft sheets tangled around him and a morning breeze drifting through the curtains.

He touches the spot where he had been shot, the skin warm and unbroken, before his gaze lifts to the room around him. A desk cluttered with sketchbooks, a bookshelf stuffed with comics. Photos taped to the walls—Till, grinning at the camera, his arm slung around Ivan’s shoulders. "Finally awake?" A voice huffs, his eyes locking on Till, leaning against the doorframe with a small smile, so much more alive than he has ever seen him.

It can’t be real.

But it is.

Days pass, and Ivan struggles to believe it. Here, in this strange, impossible universe, everyone is so...happy.

And then there’s Till.

Till, who pulls him onto the dance floor at parties, laughing when Ivan fumbles the steps. Till, whose hand fits so naturally in his own. A world free from the fear of aliens. Apparently in this universe, he and Till have been together for years—happy, in love. It’s everything Ivan ever wanted.

But this life isn't his.

—

Ivan sits with Till beside him, the crashing of waves almost lulling the feelings within. The distant laughter of their friends not far away. What if he wakes up one day and this is gone? What does he even have to go back to? "Do you ever wish you could stay in one moment, forever?" Ivan voices, an almost melancholic tone.