Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Darkness. It was all Ivan felt. Was he finally free from it all? The tumor, the grief, losing Andrew, was it all finally gone? Would he finally be able to see his father again without having to see him in his hallucinations..? 

'It appears he's waking up! Quick! Call the doctor!' He had heard someone speak out, God his head hurt. Was this heaven? Or.. Hell, even? His vision was white, and blurry. He couldn't see, and his entire body ached. It wasn't until his vision finally cleared was when he gained his hearing back as well. He heard the tell-tale sounds of a heart monitor beeping. And the white room around him. 

…Fuck, he was still alive. He was still stuck in a world where Andrew still hated him. And even now, Andrew was still on his mind. He couldn't have even forgotten him? Couldn't have had some sort of amnesia that would've made him forget everything about his life? Everything about… His father in that casket? 

He took a breath in again, which caused him to gain a coughing fit, making his ribs hurt agonizingly. He was still out of it, however, all of the voices seemed to overlap, and he couldn't focus on anything around him, causing him to disassociate for a little while. 

It wasn't until the doctor finally came in was when he finally was able to register at least a few words. 'Coma', 'Five years', and 'Miracle'. Though, he could tell what that last sentence was. It was a miracle that he survived. But, was it really? There was no one there for him. Well, except for his mother. But. God, did he really not have that much of an impact? 

He could feel tears start to sting his eyes, and the rest of the day was a blur after that. He stayed hospitalized for a good month or so. Throughout the days he went through physical therapy, tests, and took pain medicine. His hallucinations were still there, he hadn't told anyone about it until before he was discharged. He couldn't continue to be like this if he wanted to feel.. Whole again. He already figured Andrew wanted nothing to do with him, but. That final message that was given to him by his previous friend was a wake up call. He Needed help. 

He explained his situation to the doctor, and, again, busted into tears. God, what was wrong with him? He was never like this. This wasn't normal. The doctor listened intently, before beginning to leave. 

Ivan was alone with his thoughts again. He hated it. He hated being alone, he just needed someone, anyone to be there with him. Visiting hours was over, and his mother couldn't be there with him anymore. Before he could start to spiral, he was snapped out of his disassociation by the doctor, now with someone that he had never seen before. 

The individual introduced themselves as a psychologist. Apparently they were skilled in figuring out what was wrong with him. Apparently. He didn't particularly appreciate all of the questions that was asked of him and grew offended, asking them to leave. 

He watched both the psychologist, as well as doctor leave. Though, he could remember at least one thing that the doctor had mentioned. That it was going to take a little bit longer for him to be discharged. And even then, it would be of best interest for him to continue to see the psychologist afterwards… Great, just great. God, he wished he were dead. He wouldn't have to deal with any of this. 

But, for now, he'd comply. He doesn't have anything else to do. He definitely doesn't have an apartment to go back to anymore, he's flat broke, and his only friend that he had all of those years ago definitely still hated him. He had nothing, and he sure as hell is nothing. 

Chapter Text

Andrew had heard about Ivan's suicide attempt. As much as he couldn't stand him anymore, he still felt. Bad.

Some part of him was hoping that Andrew would live. He never wanted Ivan to die, especially after their argument and he left. But, he had to. Andrew needed to get away from that toxic relationship that the both of them had.

They were both unwell, they both needed the space from each other. He knew Ivan would've tried to patch things up with him, but just turn back around and make it about him again. He always did that. He was sick of it.

But. He couldn't help but still think about him. He had even thought about visiting the man in the hospital months after the incident. He was in a coma, so he had heard. Truly a shame.

He had to focus on himself. He was finally getting livable income through the games again. Hell, he even got help for himself. A life coach, a therapist, he's even got a new job in the works as a barista.

Didn't pay much, but. It was something that he thought would be quite comfortable. He decided to dress a bit less casual. His pink 'pwn' hoodie and green jeans definitely wasn't going to fit at a barista such as that.

He bought some new clothes for himself, finding his own style. He even grew out his hair a bit.

He sighed, threading a hand through his soft curly hair. He didn't know what to do with it, so he just put a beanie on, along with a plaid shirt, and tanned khakis. Definitely wouldn't have been his style back in highschool, that was definitely the times.

Damn. He looked good. A little too good. Should he mess himself up a bit so no creeps tried to hit on him? Nah, maybe not. He was a pretty big guy, 6'0, a bit on the chubbier side, and pretty strong, too. He'd just clock whoever would try in the face.

…And potentially lose his job, but. Details, details. He'd be fine. Before he stepped out, he popped the collar of his shirt, and tied a white bow tie underneath it. He spoke with his therapist yesterday, it was the day before his first day at work, which was today now, of course.

He looked himself over a good few more times before silently nodding to himself. Definitely looked like he worked at a coffee shop, that's for sure. Though, he couldn't help but pride himself in how he carried himself now. With a slight shiver, he remembered that it was rather cold, so he had to grab a jacket. Definitely didn't immediately warm him up, but did the trick.

Wait, damn! He almost forgot his keys. He rushed back, and went to grab his keys from the counter before walking outside of his rented house, locking up the door before heading to his car.

He drove to work, a bit nervous. Took the right turns, then a left, then into the parking lot. He'd just have to do training today. Seemed easy enough for the next 7 hours or so. Make coffee, set up the ingredients and machines, bag up the occasional desserts, collect cash, and let the customers go on their merry way. Simple work, even. He could do this with his eyes closed.

Or, well, that's what he thought. Loud as fuck and annoying customers, people giving him a hard time, him spilling coffee beans everywhere, God he just wanted this day to end.

Before he knew it, the 7 hours were up, and he could finally go home. His manager told him that it was just a rough day and don't let it get to him. Yeah, that's easy for them to say, he felt awful. But, hey at least it's good amount of cash underneath making his games.

He drove home, throwing off the company's apron and hat, groaning as he relaxed against the seat of his car, closing his eyes for a bit as he watched the sun start to set. He figured it'd be time for him to grab some dinner before heading to bed to redo everything all over again tomorrow.

He yawned, picking up some fast food instead since he was too exhausted to cook. He ate a couple of fries on the drive back, but held back on the burger and strawberry shake. Save for dipping a few fries in it.

As soon as he got home, he picked up his shake, and bag, and headed into his house, closing and locking the door. Holding everything in one hand, he decided to get into some pajamas to be more comfortable instead. He sat on his couch and watched some TV as he ate. Though he sorta just, tuned it out as his mind started to wonder.

He'd have to work on a few more models after dinner, maybe even check up on any bugs and ask a few buddies to test out the game for him.

Oh, hey he's done with dinner. He stood up, turned the TV off, and grabbed up his half-finished shake, throwing away the trash before heading to his bedroom. He felt more exhausted than he thought, and before he knew it, he fell asleep at his desk.

Once he woke up, he realized it was already morning. He frantically checked the time. Still early… But his phone was completely dead. Great. He put it on the charger before going to go take a quick shower and eating some toast with eggs. Pretty light, but its fine.

Oh, right, he's going to have to make lunch too. He opened up his fridge, grabbed some cheese and bologna before making himself a sandwich.

…He didn't buy an insulated lunch bag. Fuuuuck, that's what he was missing. With an audible groan, he just hoped the sandwich didn't go bad before lunch time. He promptly got dressed, put on his 'outfit', and ALMOST forgot his phone this time. He rushed back to his room, unplugged his phone, and walked to his car with his keys, wallet, phone, and sandwich in his hands. He really should get a bag.