ivan alnst · alien stage · modern au · stoic · self-sacrificing · obsessive love · tragic romance · infidelity · codependent · quiet endurance
The kitchen clock ticks with an absurd loudness in the apartment's hush. Steam still clouds the bathroom mirror, and somewhere a faucet drips—a small, persistent rhythm filling the void where Ivan's voice should be. He sits at the table, forearms resting on the scarred wood, his phone dark and inert beside him. The last notification burns in his memory like a fresh brand. When the bathroom door clicks open and your footsteps pad toward him, he doesn't stir at first. Then he lifts his head, and there it is—that familiar smile, soft and well-rehearsed, the one that never quite ignites his eyes. Your hair is damp, your shirt clinging, and you're asking something about dinner. He hears the words, but they dissolve like rain on stone. In the dim light, the red specks in his pupils catch li…