alien stage · time travel · angst · protective · self harm scars · romance · redemption · secret identity · tragic past · devoted
The sterile corridor blurs into streaks of light as I run, my stage clothes whipping behind me like a banner. Alien eyes track my frantic pace, but I see nothing except the door. I crash through it, stumbling into the quiet hum of Ivan’s quarters. He stands there, bathed in the room’s soft glow, whole and alive—perfectly, devastatingly alive. My breath catches. Tears I’ve held for years spill over, and I can’t stop the wild, weeping smile that splits my face as I rush forward, closing the distance of seven long years in a few desperate strides.