Chapter Text
Ivan is in love with Till. That’s something anyone can unequivocally, undeniably understand by spending enough time with him and getting to know him – it just means it takes five seconds, or even less if Till is present in the same building as him. Anyone can see it. Almost anyone, that is. Which is kind of a blessing for Ivan, because that means that Till doesn’t know how pathetically in love he is with him, the person he’s known his whole life and has loved for as much time.
The reasons why Till is oblivious to it are numerous – he can be a bit of an idiot, he finds Ivan annoying, he’s straight, he likes Mizi to a devoutish amount, he doesn’t see Ivan as anything more than a childhood friend, he doesn’t look at him like he looks at Mizi, full of attention and careful to catch each shift of her sweet face.
It’s the way Till looks at things he loves. When he’s tapping his pencil on his lips, while his thin fingers press on the invisible guitar on his lap, playing the music circling in his mind in an attempt to write it down for everyone to see and admire. When he stares at the bare wall of his room, and moves his arm in arches with strong brushes to fill the empty canvas with life and cheer, with the colours only he can see. When he plays with the shiny earrings on his lobe and pierced ear, which are tinged in a pretty red blush as he admires Mizi’s bright smile, the way her pink-blue hair flows down her back like water, her graceful steps and waving, how pretty she looks in her outfits, how she jumps like a cute bunny (Ivan can attest to everything that has been narrated, he reads Till’s diary regularly).
Ivan has never been looked like that by Till, he knows that – plus the love of his life has never mentioned any such thing in his diary. So it’s pretty much confirmed that Ivan isn’t even at the bottom of possible love interests, his name isn’t written down in Till’s messy letters at all. Which makes sense, he is straight; still, Ivan takes offence to not even being considered as a possible romantic lead for Till’s love story that ends happily ever after, especially since in Ivan’s list there’s only one name (Till's). He expects better for himself, they are best friends after all.
They are, indeed, no matter how much Till grumbles and growls at him like a chihuahua thinking himself a lion. Their relationship has always been kind of a push and pull, Till doing the pushing away and Ivan doing the pulling in. Ivan’s pulling used to consist of stealing, breaking Till’s pencils, even blackmailing him into giving Ivan hugs and kisses to get them back, and pulling his metaphorical hair – meaning annoying the shit out of Till to get his attention on him and him only, on the weird Ivan whose smile scared people off. Till’s pushing used to consist of either running away or starting a fist fight with Ivan.
Now Till’s gotten used to Ivan’s clinginess and weird actions, to his delight – though he nevers spares him with his words, always telling him how annoying he is, to let him go and leave him alone. He doesn’t fight hard enough to be in any way believable.
Which leads us to Ivan cuddling against Till, his arms wrapped around his waist, pressing him closer to him back-to-chest, nuzzling his cheek on Till’s very bare, very attractive neck like a dog trying to imprint his scent, and spying on his phone as he mindlessly scrolls through countless posts.
Ivan takes a deep breath, inhaling the scent of softener and light sweat. He sighs, closing his eyes. He really wants to lick Till’s neck, lapping at him and sucking on his skin until countless red marks are scattered on his skin like stars in the night sky, as if he were a mosquito that can’t get enough of him.
He settles on nuzzling a bit more before traitorously biting on the rightly available soft neck he was resting on. Ivan gets immediately shouldered away as Till lets out a whiny scream of pain. “You fucker, why? Stop biting me!”
He rests his hand on his shoulder and pushes him to the floor. Ivan lands with a heavy thud and curls up as if mortally wounded, shaking like a puppy unable to restrain his excitement. It’s really unfair how hot Till is when his crystally clear voice becomes shrill with annoyance and pain. Makes him imagine all kinds of things.
“Because I can. Because I want to. Because I like it.” Ivan looks up at Till, still lying on the bed but now frowning at him with that cute twist of the lips, close to a pout.
“I knew you would say that,” he lets out a huff. Ivan simply smiles and crawls his way back onto the bed to go back to hugging Till. “Then why do you ask, Till?” His low murmurs tickle Till’s sensitive ear. As expected, he immediately slaps a hand over the offended ear, “Ugh, stop it! Shut up!” and tries to push him away again. Ivan doesn’t let himself be moved this time though, he clings harder instead.
Till’s grip on his shoulder gets tighter and then he stops. He tightens it again, as if testing something out. Ivan curiously looks down on him, wondering what Till’s mind is making up, gears turning and churning. His hand travels further down and gropes his bicep. Ivan’s eyes fixate on the violent blush spreading on his soft pretty cheeks, as squishable as a marshmallow. Till’s face grows redder by the second. Ivan doesn’t think much of it. He wants to eat him up and feel the warm blood under his teeth, on his tongue.
He must be exerting his little brain a lot. He grins.
“S-since when are you so bulky?” His voice cracks under his stutter. Ivan just hums as he questions his reaction. He feels his fang dig into his lip as his grin unconsciously widens.
Till shivers in his arms. “Don’t give me that slimy look.” Ivan blinks at that. He isn’t even thinking anything perverted this time, why is he scolding him? That was so uncalled for.
He pouts. “Well, unlike someone I go to the gym, so.” Till squeezes his arm again. Has he become his personal stress ball? Locking his arms tighter around his waist, Ivan tangles their legs together, blocking Till’s every move. The prisoner doesn’t fight back, mumbling something under his breath as if in shock.
“If you didn’t want me to hear, you should have just thought that,” his jailer teases.
Till scowls, though his blush remains unbothered. He squirms a bit. “I said, how about you spend that time being less of an annoyance. You’d think university would do something to that personality of yours.”
“You like me the way I am though, don’t you Till?”
“Don’t push it,” Till finally frees himself from the chains called Ivan. Had he heard this non-response as a kid, he would have immediately started a fight with Till until either one or both of them started crying. The indirect rejection stung harder than any possible bruise he’d get trying to get Till’s anger and later pity. Long gone are those days though, now Ivan understands Till’s words and his tsundere-like personality, and he’s learned that pestering him as he did as a kid wasn’t the best strategy to get his good grace. Doesn’t mean he still doesn’t slightly annoy him from time to time, Till’s reactions are too cute for Ivan to give up on his old ways.
He simply chuckles and lays his head on top of the other’s, breathing in his scent. “You truly are a creep.” Cute, Ivan corrects in his head. He feels Till’s hair shift under his cheek as he slightly shakes his head.
Despite his apparent disapproval, he raises one hand to pet Ivan as if he was a disobedient dog he can't stay mad at for long, while staring at his phone as he scrolls through art and music posts, and their friends’ accounts.
They quietly enjoy each other’s presence in the comfortability of Till’s bed. Ivan almost falls asleep like that, resting against Till, seeping in his warmth, in his softness. He feels his eyelids drop heavier and heavier just as Till’s comments under Sua’s pic with Mizi holding hands, but their togetherness gets interrupted by a notification appearing on his low-lit phone and its accompanying buzzing. It reads: 'Ivan work'. “You’re late, idiot.”
Immediately after, Ivan’s phone starts playing one of Till’s songs he had put as a ringtone. Till’s musical talent is obvious from the little that gets the chance to play out, though his lyrics can be pretty simple at times, containing a lot of English too – Till’s attempt to show off his language knowledge.
With a groan, Ivan fishes his phone out of his sweatpants, and sees Luka’s, his coworker, name in full display, though it looks different than before.
For one, why is there a green heart next to his name, the one and only heart he has ever put in a contact name, exclusive to Till only?
And secondly, what the hell is that picture? It is a pretty good photo of him – with his curly blond hair tied up in a loose low bun, staring at the camera in a blue-lit room, with his amber eyes pulling you in like a magnet.
But it shouldn’t have been there in the first place, it should have been Luka curled over sitting on the bench in the staff room like a shrimp. Plus, no matter how good the photo is, it doesn’t compare to beauty of Till’s blushy embarrassed face as he glares at him with his bright teal eyes shining like stars, glassy, while trying to fix his messy soft hair (which Ivan had ruffled in front on Mizi, trying to fluster Till and achieving exactly that).
So if no picture can be as beautiful, as mesmerising as Till’s sole existence, might as well put unflattering ones instead.
“What the…”
Ivan quickly answers the phone. “Leave Till’s house now,” is what he hears.
“What did you do to your contact?”
“Oh, that?” Luka laughs as if he were singing, musical and elegant. “Thought it’d be funny to see if your paramour would get jealous. I’m also easy on the eye, and you deserve to see something pretty once in a while.”
“You say that as if I already don’t have him next to me.” Ivan rolls his eyes, passing a hand through his hair. Till immediately takes his hand away and smooths it out with quick swats. “Don’t mess it up,” he whispers hastily with a scolding frown. “You have work.” The black haired man feels his heart stop at that, and restart in quick succession, his heartbeat accelerated to incredible speed and strength. He just hopes Till doesn’t hear it. And that he isn’t blushing.
Ivan suddenly really wants to maul Till so bad, wants to kiss him and leave him breathless. How dare he be so cute?
“-ello? Ivan? …If you’re making out, put speaker mode on,” Luka drawls out.
“I’m coming,” Ivan simply answers, and hangs up on him before the blond can say anything else. He’s gotten used to Luka trying to get the best of him, not that it really works on Ivan – though it does on Till as expected, and on Mizi too weirdly enough. It takes only a couple of words to have her glaring lasers hot enough to combust him, especially if he gets close to Sua. Ivan guesses it’s the same kind of jealousy he feels when he sees Till having fun with someone else.
He throws his phone onto the bed, leaving picture-Luka to stare at the blank ceiling, to ruffle through his bag to change into his work clothes. He works at a coffee shop, a quaint cozy one but still popular enough to get quite the clientele, while Till has a part-time job at a music shop right on the other side of the road.
Usually their shifts coincide and Ivan made it a habit to accompany the without-a-driving-license Till first, making sure he gets there safely (it looks like Till is his boyfriend!!!) – even when he groans about it because he doesn’t need protection or anything like that, and the shop is two steps away from the café – and then going where he’s supposed to be, behind the counter with his perfect studied smile handing over whatever concoction is on the menù and talking shit with Luka, having some fun. That day though it’s Till’s day off.
“Is Luka, like, your boyfriend or something?”
Huh? Ivan turns back towards Till, buttoning his shirt up. That idiot isn’t even looking at him as he asks such a weird sudden question, casually scrolling through his phone, sprawled over his bed without a care after Ivan left him.
He can’t help the pang of sadness weighing on his heart, coiling into a knot. Guess he really doesn’t care if I’m dating someone. Ivan sighs and smiles resignedly. “And if I were?”
Till’s head snaps to look at Ivan so fast he almost fears it’s going to fall off. Ivan gives a start, and lightly tilts his head confused. He bets his eyes are wide open, as he is often teased about.
Till looks… scared? Anxious? But why? His eyes stare at him unflinchingly, unwilling to stray away, slightly squinting as he frowns without even hiding his distress. His lips are parted as if trying to find the courage to say something, anything. Ivan hears his hand scratch the sheet as he grips it until his knuckles turn white.
Ivan regrets even trying to tease him, he didn’t expect Till to get his upset over it. He just wanted to have some fun to get over his disappointment.
“Aw, no need to be jealous, Till,” Ivan sits down on the bed next to the distressed man. He takes his clenched hand and slowly and carefully frees them, finger by finger, feeling his rough fingertips in his hold. Looking down at the smaller hand in his, he brushes his thumb over Till’s knuckles, smiling. “Of course me and Luka aren’t together,” Ivan lets out an amused huff.
He feels the moment Till relaxes in his hand, he can’t help but grin even more widely at that. Till really was worried about losing his friend’s time? He really is way too cute. Ivan’s lucky no-one has tried to steal him away from him.
Looking up, he sees Till’s relieved face go blank, before getting all flushed in anger. His frown grows deeper, and he sees a flash of white as Till bites his lip in frustration. He hastily jerks his hand away, as if instead of comforting, Ivan’s hand was fiery hot.
He simply spits out, “You asshole” and goes back to laying down by turning his back to Ivan, completely ignoring him. That is a fate worse than death.
“Aw c’mon, I’m sorry Till!” Ivan throws himself onto Till, wrapping his arms around his stomach and squeezing tight. “I was just teasing you.” He slips his hand beneath his hoodie and runs his hand over his warm skin, trying to either soothe him into forgiving him or be ticklish enough to make Till laugh.
Two hands grab his own and drag them away from him. “Go away!”
“No.” Ivan pushes his palms against his skin, tracing invisible lines with his fingers. Till’s really soft. He presses his fingertips into him until he pinches one of his sides.
Till pushes a fist up to his mouth, puts some distance between him and Ivan, and launches the other to punch his junk. Fuck it hurts! Ivan lets go with a breathless oof, and allows gravity to make him fall down to the floor again, rolling in place while holding the offended party. “Fuck…” He motionlessly stays curled up in a palmier.
Ivan hears rustling behind him. “Now, I can accept your apology.” He can already hear the smug smirk painted on Till’s face. Had Till been in any way gay, or had they been in a relationship he would have surely gotten his satisfying payback (“You have to kiss it better now,” and he would make a frowning Till kneel at his feet, with his flushed red face looking up at him); but alas, such is not his luck or fate, so Ivan will have to think of another way to get his revenge. Later though.
He slowly gets back to his feet, as if mortally wounded (which he is), sending a glare at Till, who has sitten up from his sprawl and holding his pillow in front of him on his lap like a mock-shield. Ivan smiles, it really doesn’t work much as a shield since he can easily tear it away.
“I know you want to monopolise my time, Till,” Ivan says as if he isn’t the one that wants that. “But if you treat me like this, maybe I’ll really make Luka my boyfriend, then you’ll have to find another best friend to get jealous over.”
“As if that asshole deserves you. And I’m not jealous!”
“Of course, of course.” Ivan hides his face with his hand.
He didn't expect Till to make him so flustered. He’s always rude and straight to the point, despite Ivan being his hyung – but it’s exactly because of that that those words made his heart skip a beat. He doesn’t care about manners, he’s honest and genuine, and he believes he deserves somebody good. Ivan knows that if Till knew of his feelings, so shallow and impure, he would have never said that.
Ivan is not like Sua, who has someone that loves her back, her qualities and her flaws, someone who looks at her the same way she does; Ivan doesn’t know how to love as one should, he’s annoying, he’s needy and clingy, he wants to possess everything – Till’s love, time, attention, hate, anything is good.
And yet, he clings to those words. Maybe he could have deserved Till, he could have been worthy of him.
“Don't make fun of me.” Till turns his head away from Ivan. “Tch, that’s what I get trying to be nice.”
“I wasn’t,” Ivan rushes to him to cup his face, forcing him to look at him. His cheeks are hot, he observes pleased. Till still frowns at him, though his eyes are sparkling and shiny, so Ivan can’t even take him seriously with how pretty he is. Ivan stares into them until the other diverts his gaze.
“I’m going now.” Then he kisses his forehead and the top of his head with its soft hair, as he always does – he feels like a husband leaving his wife.
It’s something he has taken up since he’s met Till and his mother, Io. They were just kids then, going to the same school though in the different classes, since Ivan was a year older than him. But he remembers seeing him get dropped off by Io, and he remembers the tightness that crushed his heart when he saw her kiss his forehead and his hair to say goodbye. He had felt somehow empty, lacking.
Ivan had been adopted when he was eight, and his guardian had never done anything like that, had never shown affection towards him. That didn’t mean that he wasn’t provided with what he needed, or that he was abused by Unsha; still, Ivan had never known how it’d feel to be kissed, to be hugged or caressed. He’d always seen parents leaving their children with hugs, it wasn’t a novelty to him, though he always looked away as soon as he noticed what was about to happen – but he had never seen such love and care in a single simple gesture.
Ivan had to have something twisted in him, to not be deserving of affection.
He was jealous.
So when he met that kid, younger and yet taller than him, holding a flower crown in the courtyard during their break, he stomped on it. He didn’t feel any better. Then he got punched, and he fought back. It’s the most exhilarating feeling Ivan’s ever experienced – being in the centre of someone’s world, having Till looking solely at him as rolled around on the grass throwing fists and kicks.
They were both reprimanded, and that's when he learned the other kid's name: Till. So pretty.
Ivan knew he had to keep on meeting Till, to be seen in someone’s gaze. Except after that encounter, he would always run away whenever he caught even a glimpse of Ivan. He started to panic. Why was he avoiding him? Why was he always running away? Was Ivan really so unlovable? And that’s what Ivan asked Till when he finally got the chance to corner him.
He crossed his arms and turned his back to him. “You didn’t say sorry, so I don’t wanna be friends with a meanie.”
Ivan didn’t say anything for a bit. “I’m sorry.”
Till shifted in place. “I’m really sorry, Till.”
“Why did you destroy my flower crown?” he mumbled.
Ivan looked at pretty colourful flowers in the green grass at his feet and picked one up. “I was jealous ‘cause your mom loves you and kisses you and gives you hugs.”
“Your mom doesn’t?”
“I don’t have a mom, but I have a father and he doesn’t do that.”
“Oh.”
Till turned around, twisting his fingers. “Then,” he blushed. “Then, what if I do that?”
“Huh?” Ivan stopped twirling the flower stem in his hand.
“You know what I said!” he shrieked. “I’ll kiss you goodbye then. ‘Cause we’re friends, right?”
Till wants to be friends? Ivan looked up hopefully and saw Till’s stretched out hand in front of him. He put the red flower he was holding in Till’s palm and closed his fingers around so that Till was the one to hold it. “Yeah.”
During that same break he was introduced to Till’s two other friends, Sua and Mizi. Sua, who may seem indifferent and icy to others, but is actually one of the kindest souls, even if she doesn’t pull back punches and always tells Ivan how things are straight on. Mizi, bright as then sun, who Ivan carries around on his back, laughing together like there’s no tomorrow, with whom he lays down and relaxes under the sun without a worry, he’s her confidant.
That day the two boys also started their tradition of kissing the other’s forehead and head when being the first to say goodbye. Ivan really misses the time when Till would do it too, though he’s surely never going to miss on the chance to put his hands and mouth on Till.
Pulling back from his kiss on his hair, Ivan runs his hand through his hair and ruffles them beyond recognition.
“Ugh, you’re so annoying,” Till slaps his hands away. “Just go to work already.”
The black haired man just admires his handwork – his hair is so messy now, with strands standing on all places like in anime. It’s kinda obvious someone ran their fingers through, he looks like he’s been thoroughly ravished. Ivan wishes he’d see that look in another context.
A hand flashes in front of him and he grasps it by the wrist. Then the other one too.
“What are you trying to do?” Ivan looks down at Till amused.
He huffs, “Trying to get revenge, duh.” He squirms a bit in his hands, trying to free himself.
Ivan just rolls his eyes and throws him back onto the bed. “Acting like you didn’t punch me on the dick.” He takes his phone from the bed.
“As if you’d ever use it.” Till rests his head on the pillow, hanging onto it like a baby koala. He's flushed red from being tossed so easily; seriously, when did Ivan get so strong?
Having already put on his jacket to face a cold day of early May, Ivan just takes his bag. He chuckles. “And what do you know? Want to try it?”
He barely manages to escape the pillow aimed at his head as he ducks behind the door. Before going out, he calls out, “Bye ahjumma.”
“Be safe, Ivan!”
“Always!”