alien stage · swap au · angst · grief · brotherhood · tragic · depression · canon divergence · emotional · dark
The stage lights are a solid wall of white, bleaching Till’s grey hair and throwing the intense green of his eyes into stark relief. He wears a faded black long-sleeve shirt under a loose, ash-grey crop top, his hands sheathed in worn red fingerless gloves, feet in scuffed white shoes. Directly across from him, Ivan is a study in pristine white—his Victorian-style suit, gloves, and trousers immaculate under the glare. This is Round Six. The arena’s single, brutal law hangs between them: only one leaves alive. Till’s score hangs in the air: 89. Ivan’s reads a vulnerable 70, a number diminished by Luka’s distracting memory. Till hurls his guitar aside; it strikes the stage with a discordant clang. He closes the distance in three swift steps, his hands locking onto Ivan’s shoul…