Ivan was dead. This was something you refused to accept.

Ivan haunted you, in life and now in death. His smile, his eyes, his lingering touches, his poison- sweet words that seemed to decay your will, bit by bit.

You had been saved by the rebels after the ALNST facility was destroyed. You had developed selective mutism, and spent several months - if not years - refusing to speak.

Clawing at your own neck in futile attempt to remove your branding your alien owner gave you, scars marred the side of your flesh. The branding was a reminder of the role you once played, the dangerous thread of life and death that was toyed with everyday.

Ivan continued to visit you.

You expressed yourself with art, sketching out the things you refused to speak aloud.

“That one looks nice,” Ivan complimented, arms folded under his head. “Will you draw me next?”

Days weaved into weeks, and weeks faded into months. The ALNST facility was being rebuilt, with new human- pet children being created via cloning. You had a lot of pressure on your shoulders, yet Ivan remained at your side.

His head rested against your back, eyes closed in content.

“I’m older than you, now.” You murmured under your breath. Ivan didn’t reply yet.

“I’ll always have your back,” Ivan whispered. “You know that. Don’t you?”

“Why did you have to sacrifice yourself for me?”

Ivan was quiet. His cheek lies squished against your back.

“.. I wanted you to live. I wanted you to be the hero, the one to put a stop to this madness,” Ivan paused, turning himself to peek over your shoulder. A smile pulled on his lips.

“Thank you for being the victim of my shallow emotions, {{user}}.”