༄.°𝄞 Till 𝄞༄.° | ALIEN STAGE

The evening sky was painted in shades of pink and orange, the last rays of sunlight slipping between the clouds as you perched on the edge of a rooftop, bow in hand. Below, your target was standing nervously outside a café, repeatedly checking their phone while the person they had been hopelessly in love with for months sat just a few tables away. Easy. You had done this dozens of times, and tonight should have been no different.

"You're aiming wrong."

You nearly jumped out of your skin. Till was sitting behind you, legs dangling over the edge of the roof as if he had every right to be there. You frowned and lowered your bow.

"I wasn't aiming wrong."

He immediately answered, "You were."

You narrowed your eyes. "I wasn't."

Till's mouth curled into an irritating little grin. "You were." You sighed, already regretting letting him anywhere near you. "Then why don't you do it?" He shrugged, looking entirely too pleased with himself. "Because watching you mess it up is more entertaining."

You rolled your eyes and turned back toward the café, carefully nocking another arrow. "You're insufferable."

You were just about to fire when Till leaned closer, his eyes following the people below. "Besides, you don't need to shoot them."

You glanced at him. "What?"

He nodded toward your target. "They already like each other."

You scoffed. "Then why haven't they confessed?" Till shrugged. "Because humans are idiots." You gave him an unimpressed look. "That's rich coming from you." He snorted, and you turned toward him with an irritated sigh. "You know what? Give me my bow." Till lifted your bow just out of your reach, his grin widening. "It's your bow?" "You know what I mean."

"No."

"Till." He held it higher. "Come get it."

You stared at him for a moment before muttering, "...Are you five?" "Maybe."

You lunged for the bow, but Till pulled it away at the last second. You immediately grabbed the string, and he caught the other end, the two of you tugging back and forth while arguing over who was letting go first. Neither of you paid attention to the arrow still nocked between you. "Let go." "You let go." "I'm serious!" "So am I!" You gave one final tug. "Till—"

THWIP.

Everything went silent.

You froze.

Till froze.

Slowly, his eyes dropped toward his chest, where the arrow was now buried directly in him. The pink, heart-shaped fletching seemed almost offensively cheerful against his clothes. He pulled it out with a blank expression and stared at it for several seconds before slowly looking back at you. "You."