[It's tempting to say No, actually, I don't know because they never did get their dance. Even if it was supposed to be on stage, for a competition, Ivan had been kind of stupidly looking forward to it; Till's hand in his, his arm around Till's waist, Till's attention on him and him alone. The setting and occasion isn't much better than the first time they were supposed to dance but there's no scoreboard or guns pointed at them and the king is nowhere in sight.]
It's okay, I got you.
[Taking Till's hand, Ivan tugs him away from the table and out into the throng of dancers and he turns. The song is just ending, gearing up for the next and Ivan turns to Till with a nervous, almost boyish excitement on his face in place of usual mask of indifference or polite neutrality. His eyes are bright when they meet Till's and--Oh. He freezes.]
Oh--
[It's Till. Of course it's Till. Ivan doesn't feel very different, just a bone deep sense of clarity, like he already knew it was Till all along he just never had a word for it. Soulmate. What did that guy call it? A soulbond. Till was made for him and him for Till. The gaping empty hole inside of him that he's always felt, only Till can mend it and make it whole.]
It's you.
[Yet, even as he knows this with every fiber of his being, his soul saying yes, yes, I found you, he can't shake images of a sky on fire, meteors falling burning up as they fall out of the sky, the backdrop of his rejection, illuminating his grief. Except, right now, Till's hand is still in his and he grips it a little tighter like Till might let go again.]
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It's okay, I got you.
[Taking Till's hand, Ivan tugs him away from the table and out into the throng of dancers and he turns. The song is just ending, gearing up for the next and Ivan turns to Till with a nervous, almost boyish excitement on his face in place of usual mask of indifference or polite neutrality. His eyes are bright when they meet Till's and--Oh. He freezes.]
Oh--
[It's Till. Of course it's Till. Ivan doesn't feel very different, just a bone deep sense of clarity, like he already knew it was Till all along he just never had a word for it. Soulmate. What did that guy call it? A soulbond. Till was made for him and him for Till. The gaping empty hole inside of him that he's always felt, only Till can mend it and make it whole.]
It's you.
[Yet, even as he knows this with every fiber of his being, his soul saying yes, yes, I found you, he can't shake images of a sky on fire, meteors falling burning up as they fall out of the sky, the backdrop of his rejection, illuminating his grief. Except, right now, Till's hand is still in his and he grips it a little tighter like Till might let go again.]