Chapter Text
The corridors of Anakt School buzzed with the usual hum of teenage chatter. Students wandered between classes, some exchanging tales of their weekends, others whispering juicy rumors. Two girls stood near the lockers, their voices sharp with gossip.
"- Hey, have you seen the new student?" The first one asked, loudly enough for her voice to echo.
"- New student? I haven't. Why?" her friend replied, curiosity piqued.
"- Everyone's been talking about him since he arrived. Apparently he's super hot, want to sneak a peek with me?"
"- Sure, what class is he in?"
Till hesitated for a moment before approaching them. Of all the places they could have chosen to linger, they had settled right in front of his locker, laughing and chatting as if the hallway belonged to them. The coincidence felt almost deliberate, another quiet proof of his misfortune, and he hated how easily bad luck seemed to find him.
As he stopped in front of them, heat rushed to his face, his cheeks burning with a sudden, humiliating flush. He stood there, painfully exposed and yet utterly unseen, while their conversation flowed on without interruption. Their voices overlapped, light and careless, filling the space where his courage should have been. His mind urged him to say something -anything, even a small cough or a timid excuse- but an oppressive awkwardness wrapped itself around his throat, locking his tongue in place. He didn't dare interrupt them. He couldn't summon the bravery required to inconvenience them, or even to make them aware that he existed at all. And he despised himself for it.
He hated, with a familiar bitterness, his inability to approach other people, especially when he needed something from them. He knew it was reasonable. He knew he had every right to ask them to move. His books were in that locker; he needed them for his next class. Yet their frivolous conversation made them stand there carelessly, blocking his path as if he were part of the wall, and still he remained silent.
After a few seconds that felt much longer than they were, one of the girls finally glanced in his direction. Her gaze flicked over him, quick and assessing, before lingering just long enough to register his presence. She raised an eyebrow, clearly questioning what he was doing there, what he wanted, and why he hadn't spoken yet. The weight of her scrutiny sent a jolt of panic through him. His chest tightened. He opened his mouth to explain himself, but his voice betrayed him, collapsing into miserable stutters and half-formed sounds.
"- I... um..."
Before he could steady his breathing or gather his thoughts into a proper sentence, she cut him off sharply.
"- I have a boyfriend." Her tone was edged with arrogant dismissal, as if Till were nothing more than a nuisance, a bothersome insect that had dared to drift too close.
Her friend turned to look at him as well, her expression faintly irritated, silently wondering why he was still standing there and why he hadn't already taken the hint and disappeared.
"- Oh... good for you?" he stammered, confusion thick in his voice.
His embarrassment blurred his thoughts, making it difficult to understand what had just happened. He tried, in vain, to grasp why she had said that. Perhaps, he reasoned weakly, she was simply happy about it, happy enough to announce it to anyone who happened to be nearby.
"- Sorry girls, could you move ? You're blocking his locker." A calm and warm voice rang out behind him. Till's heart skipped a beat as soon as he turned around to look at her.
There stood Mizi, her body mere inches from his, way too close to allow him any sense of comfort and relaxation. She never minded personal space. Yet, no matter how many times it happened, he never grew accustomed to the proximity. For a moment, his gaze got lost tracing every detail of her neat appearance. He always did this, as if engraving her image anew his mind. He knew perfectly everything about it, yet, he never grew tired of the sight. No matter how many times he looked at her, he was always as mesmerized as when he saw her for the first time. Her long pink hair cascaded softly over her uniform, her big clear eyes shifted from him to the two girls. She adjusted the position of her glasses, which threatened to slip from her nose.
"- Locker?" One of the two girls repeated aloud.
Her gaze shifted from the label on it, to the matching one on the boy's uniform. She looked back at him, before sneering.
"- Oh, I'm sorry. You could have said something. Why are you mumbling like that?" She rolled her eyes, and with a final disparaging glance, both girls stepped aside and disappeared down the corridor.
"- Isn't he creepy Till?" he could hear them mumble as they were leaving.
The grey haired boy opened his locker, cheeks still burning red with embarrassment.
"- Don't listen to them." Mizi said, her lips pursed in a soft pout. She wanted to scold them for their cruelty, but they were already too far to hear. "They're just too proud to apologize."
"- Thanks Mizi." he murmured, fighting the tremor in his voice. "You didn't have to."
Her brow furrowed gently.
"- That's not true. It's my role, Till. You're my friend."
He forced a small, polite smile :
"- You're too nice."
Her gaze flicked to the clock on the wall.
"- I'm supposed to eat with Sua right now. Do you want to join us?"
"- Sua?" he echoed, brows slightly furrowed.
She tilted her head, strands of pink hair brushing her shoulder.
"- You don't remember her? The black haired girl that joined my tennis team for a while last summer. You two have talked before."
He remembered her too well. Sua had been their childhood friend. She arrived in Korea when they were all still children, and it had taken Till weeks of effort to befriend her, until she finally let him in. For a time, he had believed the bond they formed was real. Then, without warning, she began to ignore him completely. As if the friendship they had built had never existed at all, she passed him without looking, spoke around him as though he were absent, and never once acknowledged the confusion she left behind. Not long after, she returned to her home country, reappearing only during summer vacations when she came back to Korea. But time had done nothing to soften her indifference, whenever she returned, she seemed to regard him with the same cold distance, almost with disdain. Till never understood what he had done wrong, only that something had irreversibly shifted. Since then, he had never dared to speak to her again.
He wasn't dumb, he could see the way she was always glaring at him whenever he was talking to Mizi, and if her eyes could kill, he wouldn't even have survived primary school.
He too, with time, grew uncomfortable in her presence. Because she looked at the pink haired girl the same way he did. Or more accurately, she looked at her better. She stood closer to her, Sua made Mizi laugh louder and speak more freely than he could. She knew much more about her than he ever did, despite having knowing her since the day he was born.
Mizi was his neighbor, and their mother were best friends. Naturally, they spent all their life together, hanging out at each other's house. The pink haired girl considered him her brother, that's why he couldn't help feeling guilty about the nature of his feelings. Because Till was in love with Mizi, despite knowing it would never be reciprocated.
"- I remember her." he simply said, gaze drifting to the floor as he reminisced the awkward memories. "But why is she here? Is she back in Korea? For good?"
"- Yeah." he nodded, and at the lack of answer she asked again. "So? If you're free, come eat with us."
He hesitated before gently shaking his head, well aware that Sua wouldn't want him to ruin their moment anyway.
"- I've got to finish a project so I'll eat in the art club."
Mizi pouted for a second, then nodded.
"- Show it to me when it's done. You know how much I love your paintings!"
"- Sure." he replied, forcing a smile.
"- See you later then." she winked, before walking toward the cafeteria.
And just like that, the two teenagers parted ways, drifting in different directions.
ˋ°•*⁀➷
1:00 pm
"- He's so handsome..." The whispered words drifted to him again from somewhere in the rows behind
Till hated everything about this day : The memory of that morning's awkward exchange with the two girls still clung to him like a stale aftertaste. The way students had crowded the classroom doorway, pressing together and blocking his path just to catch a glimpse of the new student. And now this : being seated right next to that same boy, as if fate were determined to make the day unbearable. He couldn't understand how a single human being could draw so much attention. Every gaze in the room seemed pulled toward the boy beside him, every voice lowered into conspiratorial murmurs. The air itself felt thick with curiosity. Till sat rigid in his chair, acutely aware of every movement, every breath, unable to shake the feeling that he, too, was being watched.
He knew it wasn't true. Of course they weren't looking at him, their eyes were fixed on the boy at his side. And yet, knowing that didn't ease the discomfort. The mere fact that he stood within their line of sight made his skin prickle with unease, as though attention might spill over onto him by accident.
He hadn't even looked at his classmate, though he already resented him. No one should inspire that much admiration, draw that much attention, simply by existing. It felt excessive, undeserved, almost indecent.
Girls from other classes had begun to linger near their classroom between bells, hovering in the hallway under the pretense of casual curiosity, all for the chance to catch a glimpse of him. Their presence grew so obvious that teachers eventually had to intervene, stepping into their path and sending them back to class. The whole scene was absurd and unreal.
And Till, trapped in the middle of it, could only sit there and simmer in a resentment he hadn't earned and didn't know how to justify. Popular people were aliens to him. He had spent his entire life trying to blend in, and even then, it had been in vain. No matter how carefully he adjusted himself, how small he tried to make his presence, he still stood out in the wrong ways. He was often mocked, openly or in passing, and sometimes simply met with disdain for reasons he couldn't fully grasp. One day it was his clothes. Another, his piercings. For some, it was his hair color; for others, his height or his weight. The list shifted constantly, as if the reasons themselves didn't matter.
He wasn't even small. At 178 centimeters (5'10) he was perfectly average for a seventeen-year-old. He still had time to grow, to fill out, at least that's what he told himself when the doubt crept in. They'd mock anything, he often thought. And yet, he couldn't help but wonder why it was always him they chose, while people like the new student were admired, almost worshipped actually, from the very moment they stepped into the school.
"- Till?" The new boy called, for the third time, more loudly this time.
Only then did he finally catch his attention.
"- What?" the silver haired boy turned around, almost startled.
The moment his wide green eyes met the boy's narrow, dark ones, something inside Till twisted violently and he froze. His breath caught in his chest, his thoughts scattered like loose pages torn from a book and thrown into the wind, and then there was nothing. Only stillness. Those eyes. That face. The familiarity of it made his stomach turn. It wasn't the kind of recognition that came from school, or from life. He knew, with unsettling certainty, that this was the first time he had ever seen him. And yet the feeling persisted, heavy and nauseating, as though he were remembering something he had never lived.
Till couldn't look away. He couldn't process the boy's words either. The teenager was speaking to him, his lips moving right in front of him, but Till heard nothing. It was as if he were submerged, the world muffled and distant, sound swallowed by an invisible depth. The grey-haired boy felt himself slipping into something unreal, a waking dream he couldn't pull himself out of : The stranger's pale hands were gently wrapped around his throat. He remembered the sensation with horrifying clarity: the pressure, the warmth of blood soaking into his skin, the metallic taste lingering on his tongue. He had seen him die. More than once. He could still feel the weight of his body, cold and unmoving, pressed against him.
His heart began to race, but not in the familiar, fluttering way it did when he was shy or caught off guard. This was different and wrong, it thundered violently against his ribs, each beat too loud, too fast, as though it might tear itself free. Soon, breathing became difficult. The air refused to reach his lungs, and Till found himself gasping, trapped between the boy in front of him and the nightmare rising inside his own chest.
"- What's going on? What did I do?" his classmate's thick brows furrowed, voice low, cautious. "Do you hate the idea of sharing your textbook that much? I'm sorry. I won't borrow it if-"
"-What?" Till's voice cracked before he could finish.
His chest tightened with a sudden, suffocating pressure, and his head swam as though gravity itself had turned against him. He couldn't understand what was happening, where reality ended and some other, darker edge of his mind began. The lines between his thoughts and the world around him blurred, and panic coiled in his stomach like a live thing.
"- I'm new... I don't even have a book yet, but if you don't want to share-"
Something inside him snapped. The chair scraped against the floor with a high, shrill screech as he pushed himself up, sudden and violent. All eyes in the room swung toward him, even the teacher froze mid-sentence to look at the teenager. Normally, Till would have sunk lower in his seat, vanished into the shadows, avoided the stares, the embarrassment. But not now, he couldn't breathe, his stomach twisted, nausea clawing at him, and the walls of the classroom felt like they were closing in. He had to move and to escape or else he was going to throw up in the middle of the classroom.
He urgently walked out the door without a word, not bothering to explain anything to anyone. The hallway seemed to blur around him as he hurried straight to the nearest bathroom. Something was wrong, he found himself unable to breathe, unable to think. He couldn't understand why he was overreacting in such way, certain that he didn't know the teenager at all. He had no idea what his name was, yet everything about him, from his face to his voice, felt utterly familiar. He slammed open one of the bathroom's door aggressively before collapsing in front of the toilet. Without a warning, he vomited -a mix of water, acid, and nothingness as he hadn't eaten yet-. The dry heaving hurt more than he thought it would, he felt like something was stuck deep in his stomach. Some foreign mass tangled in his gut, and no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't expel it.
He finally sat down, sinking to the cold tile floor, back against the stall door, breath shallow. Everything spun around him. His mind raced with fragments : of the class and how the students would gossip about what had happened, but mostly of the boy. His deep voice and piercing eyes, and the way Till's heart ached as soon as he saw him. He knew he must have been confused by his strange reaction, he wondered if he would ever dare to apologize to him in person.
Suddenly, it clicked. He had seen it before, that dark gaze, steady, unblinking, holding something twisted inside it, a strange, tangled affection that made Till's skin prickle. He was certain of it. This was the man from his nightmares. The one who haunted his nights and robbed him of sleep, who lingered at the edge of his dreams like a curse. The same one who lay dead at his feet again and again, eyes still open, accusing even in death. The boy whose presence followed him into waking life, leaving him breathless, his chest tight with a cold, irrational guilt every time he opened his eyes.
It didn't make sense. He was sure he had never met him before. And yet, how could he be standing there, breathing, looking at him? He had the exact same face. The same sharp angles, the same unsettling stillness. Even his voice, deep and familiar, slid into Till's ears like an echo pulled straight from his sleep. Had their paths crossed once, briefly, without him realizing? A passing glance in a hallway, a face lost in a crowd? Had his mind betrayed him, had it stolen a stranger's features and dragged them into his subconscious, reshaping them into something monstrous just to torture him? He didn't even know the teenager's name, not in his dreams, and not in real life. Perhaps a part of him didn't want to, because he was troubled enough to learn that the boy who haunted him had now a body, a voice and a presence. Soon inevitably, he would have a name, an existence and a soul that he didn't want to acknowledge. Till wasn't ready to name the ghost that had been haunting him throughout his teenage-hood.
It pained him, as he had always tried to comfort himself believing that the boy was no one at all, only an illusion from his brain playing him. How could the cold corpse he used to hold with despair in his most chaotic nights be in the flesh right beside no one else but him in class? Till wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, heart still pounding erratically. He had to accept and to acknowledge it, in order to know what he would do next about the situation.
The boy was real. Not only was he, but out of all schools, he had been transferred to his. Out of all classes, he had ended up in his. Out of all seats, he was sitting beside him.
✦·┈๑⋅⋯ ⋯⋅๑┈·✦
Till skipped the rest of his classes. He knew he shouldn’t. It was a bad habit, one he’d adopted over the years whenever the walls of school began to feel like they were closing in and when the weight of being perceived, of navigating a sea of strangers, grew too heavy to carry. He needed space to think, to let the static in his head settle without the buzz of crowded hallways and watching eyes. He knew his mother would scold him again, her worry sharpening into frustration when he’d have no explanation to offer her but silence or a flimsy lie, and the disappointment in her eyes was its own kind of punishment. But today, it was necessary, not only to avoid the dark haired boy, but to think, to breathe and to define a strategy. He needed to protect himself from the weight of that -unfamiliar yet too familiar- gaze, from the presence of the man that unsettled him and pained him the most in the world.
He was still wandering without any clear direction in mind when his feet eventually led him to the park behind the school. His gaze softened at the sight of the familiar place, knotted with memories : His first friends, not only Mizi but Sua too, even though he guessed she had forgotten all about it. His mind drifted to the teenage girl, and he was glad it did so, because it allowed him to avoid thinking about the boy who caused him so much anxiety.
Sua had grown up in the same neighborhood as Mizi and Till. She was seven years old when she first arrived in Korea, and since then, the two girls were inseparable. She never joined Till when Mizi was around, instead, she kept on giving him threatening glances whenever he approached. However sometimes, as he sat there alone, she would sit with him. Based on the memories they shared, he always thought that they used to be close to each other.
However, one day, she suddenly began to ignore him for good. Soon after, she left the country and would only come back in Korea during the summer holidays. Now he doubted that she even remembered the time they spent together, as Sua always acted as if none of that had ever happened. Sometimes it made him wonder if it was ever real, if it wasn't just dreams he had mistaken for reality.
He gently sat down on one of the old swings, the metal chains squeaked in protest, rust and time having weathered them. The seat still held, swaying gently beneath him, and he dragged his feet through the soft sand like he used to when he was a child. It felt melancholic, and he wondered how the swings he used to play with at such a young age still held, remaining strong enough to lift his now more than tripled weight. His hand moved almost on its own, slipping into his pocket to retrieve a pack of cigarettes. He handled it with careful precision, bringing one to his lips, then pausing to stare at the sky, as if hoping for a reason to stop. He had promised himself he would quit, again and again, but the ritual outweighed reason. He sighed as his fingers reached for the lighter in his back pocket almost instinctively. He brought it to his mouth and flicked the flame to life. The first inhale hit sharp and burning, yet it carried a weightless relief, seeping through him like an exhale he hadn't realized he was holding. He closed his eyes, letting the smoke curl around him, suspended between guilt and craving, trapped between the promise he had broken and the comfort he could not resist.
By the time he remained there, lost in thoughts, the sun had set and the sky burned orange and gold. Till was shivering from cold and began to rub his arms, trying to summon warmth from within.
In that fragile moment, what he hated the most was the need to talk to Mizi. He had loved her for as long as he could remember. Since the day when scrapped knees and eating sands was all that mattered. She had always been kind and tender, in ways most weren't. Among all the kids he ever knew, she was the only one who used to treat him gently, with carefulness and kindness. She always noticed him and paid attention to him. To the point it often felt like she could read his mind. She knew when he wasn't doing well, when something bothered him, and she always offered him comfort without even being asked to. Till's mother often repeated that to be loved is to be seen. If he didn't count Sua, as he disappeared in her eyes too with time, he always felt like Mizi was the only person in the world who ever saw him.
Though he thought it was funny, that the only thing she never saw was that he loved her. He didn't want her to know anyway, and the last thing he planned to do was to confess to her. How could he admit such shamefulness when she always called him the little brother she always wanted? When she firmly believed he felt the same about her? When she didn't even like men that way, and hated them for how they viewed her -a potential lover, a potential breeder- ? He despised himself deeply for loving her. But love doesn't ask permission, it wasn't something he could control. He did try to suppress it, especially because of her relationship with Sua : He wasn't dumb and blind enough to not realize that the black haired girl was everything that Mizi deserved, everything that she needed. Till felt like a shadow beside her, worthless and small, unworthy of loving someone like her.
He knew it, yet he selfishly clung to her kindness. He basked in her care like a thief in the sun, well aware that he had no rights to do so. That's why even now, his trembling fingers reached for his phone, dialing the number he knew by heart. It only rang a few times before her voice came through, soft and warm. "- Till?"
"- Hi, Mizi, are you busy..?"
"- I'm not. What's wrong?" she sounded concerned. "I heard you left class early, I have your bag and everything with me."
"- People are already talking about it?" he sighed, trying to gather all the strength he had in him "I just... Can I talk to you about something? It's been bothering me. And I don't really have anyone else to-"
She interrupted him.
"- Where are you right now?"
"- Not far from school, the park behind the gates."
"- Meet me at the café next to the library." she said gently "I'll walk you home." Her soft and caring tone made his heart melt, both from relief and agony. His affection always seemed to drag suffering behind those recent years. Love and pain, like twin shadows, became indissociable in his heart. But pain always drowned her sibling.
"- You don't have to." he murmured, hand pressing against his chest, as if trying to stop his heart from caving in.
"- I do. You're like my little brother Till, I'll always be there for you. I'll stay as long as you need me to. So just come and find me when you're ready, okay?"
She probably thought her words would comfort him.
"- You can just leave my bag there and go home. I'll talk to you later."
He couldn't see her face, but he knew her well enough to picture her frowning.
"- Is it because you don't want to talk right now? That's okay, I can wait. I know you need space sometimes. I'm not moving, so take as long as you need."
Her sweetness and patience made him feel worse, he hated himself for being bitter toward someone so endlessly gentle. Their relationship frustrated him, he felt like a liar and an imposter. He had tried a few times to put some distance between them. However, Mizi was his childhood friend, he couldn't do that to her, or at least not without communicating first. He had to admit the repulsive truth he had buried for so long. Sooner or later, he needed to summon the bravery to face all of her reaction : the disappointment, the discomfort, and the disgust. He loved her so deeply it poisoned him, and the thought of her finding out about his twisted love haunted him. He knew that, the moment she did, she would begin to hate him, she would feel uncomfortable and unsafe around him. Even now, the words remained lodged in his throat, they had lived there for years, unspoken and heavier with time.
Till forced a smile, perhaps was it as a habit, because he did it knowing she couldn't see it anyway.
"- Thanks Mizi."
"- That's what friends are for." she replied, and he could hear the smile in her voice.
He hung up and started walking, his footsteps dragging across the floor like they weighted more than him.
He wasn't sure if he wanted to rest or to completely stop existing. He was tired, tired of being Till. He hated his sensitivity, his constant confusion. He hated how quiet he was, how ungrateful he felt, how he never knew what to say or when to say it. She had given him so much, and he despised himself for wanting even more.
When he finally reached the café Mizi always hung out at, anxiety prickled under his skin in a mixture of fear and apprehension. He knew he was a coward. He wasn't sure anymore that he could handle a serious conversation, not about the nightmares, not about his feelings. If he spoke about the former, he couldn't handle the possibility she could see him as weak and pathetic, even though he knew that was what he truly was. And if he confessed the latter, she would see him as revolting. Nothing else than a disgusting boy who didn't know how to be friend with a girl, even though they had grew up like family.
Still, he couldn't simply run away. She had his school bag, his books, his notes, the mundane artifacts of his life were slung over her shoulder because of his own undignified exit during class. He couldn't just flee again and leave her with it, forcing her to carry it all the way to his place.
He let out a sigh as he reached for the café door. Before he could open it, he heard his name being called from behind him. Till recognized the voice instantly : warm, familiar, hers. He turned and met her bright green eyes behind her glasses. She waved him over. Without a thought, he walked toward her, his pleasure accompanied by twice more guilt.
He hated how happy he was to see her.
As he approached, he slowly noticed she wasn't alone. What he thought was a man standing beside her coincidentally wasn't juste a random man. He stood close to her, so tall that Till had to lift his head a little in order to see who it was. He hadn't done it before he felt his gaze on him, and his breath hitched as he recognized his black hair and unreadable eyes. Of all people, he was the only one Till absolutely hadn't wanted to see. Not now, and not ever at all. Yet, there he was, standing motionless, carrying the ashen haired boy's belongings in his hand, his face void of expression. His dark eyes locked on Till all this time as he remained quiet.
In a twisted way, Till felt grateful for his silence.
He didn't want to hear the voice that stained his sleep continuously again. Troubled by his gaze, he looked away, focusing on Mizi.
"- Are you okay?" she took both his hands in hers, brows furrowed in worry.
His face turned red instantly and he tried to open his mouth to talk, but could barely get a word out.
"- I... Hm... Yeah..." He sounded like a complete idiot, and he hated himself for it.
The boy's gaze didn't waver, it clung to Till, making his skin crawl. It was even more difficult to make a proper sentence in this situation. Why was he still there? Couldn't he leave now that Till had joined the girl ?Couldn't he give him back his bag and go home? Mizi's gaze followed Till's on his own bag, held by the tall teenager. She understood his confusion and explained:
"- Ivan is the one who put your things in your bag. He waited there with me so I wouldn't have to carry it. We were all worried about you, you know?"
"- It's okay.. I just felt sick." he said, scratching the back of his neck. At this point, he didn't know where to look at. He simply stared between them two, avoiding the boy's gaze."You didn't have to... but thanks."
He only thanked him as a formality. He didn't expect the boy to answer him, and he almost startled as soon as he heard his voice.
"- Shouldn't you at least look at me when you thank me?" Ivan asked, tone flat but piercing.
He didn't miss his voice, he didn't miss the strange and oppressive sensation he felt at the sound of it. And he didn't like the fact he had been called out, even though he knew the teenager wasn't wrong. Till swallowed hard and forced himself to meet his classmate's eyes.
"- Thank you." he repeated, before immediately turning back to Mizi.
Her soft presence, her pale hair and beautiful but familiar eyes reassured him. It contrasted with whatever he was feeling whenever Ivan was there : fear, discomfort, pain, and most of all, guilt. The boy's every glance felt like a punch in Till's guts.
"- You're avoiding my gaze." The dark haired noted, the sound of his voice made the youngest shiver again. At the sight, he raised a thick eyebrow. "You said you felt sick, is it me? Am I the one making you sick? You left after I talked to you, and you were looking at me like I was disgusting. Even now, you can't even look at me."
The emerald eyed boy felt his heart skip a beat as he tried to find anything to answer.
"- Till is just very shy." Mizi explained, a soft smile shaping her lips "It's nothing personal Ivan, don't worry."
The boy frowned, his tone more frustrated:
"- Are you his mom? Why are you answering for him?"
Her smile faltered. She clearly hadn't expected that.
"- He's shy so he often gets misunderstood." she explained, less cheerfully. "You already-"
"- I didn't ask you though? I asked him." his voice sharpened smugly. "Maybe that's why he turned out like this. A pathetic loser who cannot even make a proper sentence without stuttering. You talk so much for him he doesn't even know how to talk for himself?"
"- It's not like that." she lifted her eyebrows, surprised. "I'm just helping him because-"
"- Aren't you a bit arrogant, Mizi?" he chuckled. "Thinking you can speak for someone else? You've always been like this, convinced you understand everyone so well, aren't you getting too ahead of yourself?"
She bowed her head, looking at her feet, her fists clenched so tightly they trembled. When she lifted back her face, she breathed deeply, as if trying to remain calm.
"- What's wrong with you?" her voice shook with restrained anger. "Is this about your fight with Sua? It's not my fucking fault that you guys don't get along. Stop taking it out on me! Fucking asshole!"
Till almost startled at her words. In all of his life, he had never heard her get angry. Ivan's lips curled into a smile.
"- Careful, miss perfect girl. You're showing your true self now. Hypocrite."
She looked at her neighbor, and he saw something rare in her eyes : embarrassment, uncertainty, discomfort. She didn't respond, and that lack of answer annoyed Till, as childish as it sounded, it felt like she had just lost to the black haired boy.
"- Don't talk to her like that."
Mizi blinked in surprise, while Ivan only tilted his head, innocently.
"- 'Like' what?"
He moved slightly, just enough to get into Till's line of sight. However the grey haired boy kept his gaze fixed in the space between them : not quite at Ivan, not quite away. As if about to look at him, but lacking the courage to actually do so.
The teenager hated the way the grey-haired boy never looked at him, while his gaze met everyone else's. He could even stare straight at Mizi, even though she intimidated him and held his unspoken admiration. But with him... nothing. Only avoidance, sharp and deliberate, like a wall he could never climb. It made no sense. The reasons his mind imagined only fanned the heat of his anger, each one more infuriating than the last. Was he unworthy? Was it fear, disgust, or something darker he wasn't meant to understand? The thought gnawed at him, twisting in his chest and curling at the back of his mind. Being singled out like this, rejected without explanation, was maddening, and yet part of him couldn't stop staring, trying to catch even a flicker of acknowledgment from the boy who refused to meet his eyes.
"- 'Like' reducing her to a reaction." Till began, his tone frustrated "Saying that she's showing her 'true self' just because she got angry. That's what I mean. You can't define someone by a moment, especially when she reacted to you being an asshole."
"- And what do you even know about her?" his dark eyes narrowed. "Trying to play knight now ? At least have the courage to look at me while you're doing your speech, because right now you sound more pathetic than anything else. You're not brave, you're not strong, just a creepy pariah lost in his own world. It's ridiculous. Is that why everyone call you 'creepy Till'?"
The silver haired boy clenched his fists. As much as he hated to admit it, he actually was offended by those words, and he hated that nickname more than anything.
"- You're right." Till turned toward him, meeting his gaze "I should at least look at you in the eyes. The truth is... looking at you makes me sick. That's also why I left the classroom earlier. The simple sight of you made me throw up." he smiled awkwardly, trying to appear confident.
"- Till..." Mizi tried to defuse the growing tension, yet it seemed to be too late. She tried to grab his arm, but he didn't even seem to notice. He expected Ivan to be more shocked and more hurt by his words, but only a glimpse of curiosity shone in his eyes, while his smile grew.
"- Do I? What about me makes you sick exactly? I'm curious, go on."
"- Your eyes, your voice, your whole presence. Everything about you. The moment I saw you, I felt the urge to vomit. You disgust me."
"- Till !" Mizi's voice rose in alarm, and he finally turned to look at her. "I know you're trying to defend me, but you're going too far!" For a moment, her gaze calmed him down.
Ivan chuckled :
"- Do I? Isn't it the first time that you've been honest with anyone?" he asked, falsely surprised. "You aren't with Mizi about your feelings, you aren't with your mother concerning your sexuality, yet you are with me. I'm honored. It makes me special, doesn't it?"
He frowned, troubled and confused on why he was talking as if he knew him. It scared him, the accuracy of his words, he had never told anyone about his bisexuality, he couldn't possibly know, and now the light haired boy was scared that his classmate could reveal even more. Ivan stood tall, smug, almost gleeful. Till hated everything about his smile, it was haughty and mean. As if he only wanted to ruin and to pain as much people as he could.
"- 'Special'? Is that what you want to be? Right now, you only appear pitiful and miserable. But hey, maybe one day you'll achieve it."
For a while, Ivan's smirk dropped and he even began to frown. When his tone hardened, Till felt a flicker of satisfaction at the realization he had hit something. All he wanted was to make him lose that stupid smile, he wanted to hurt him, and it seemed to have worked.
"- 'Pitiful'?" he repeated "What about me is? You're just saying things to hurt me huh? That won't work." He tried to fake a smile a second, but it only turned out awkward and strained. He wanted to pretend that he didn't care, but everyone noticed his hand clenching around Till's bag, and his knuckles turned white from the action.
"- I'm just saying what I think, based on what I see. I bet your parents don't give a shit about you. You crave attention like a starving dog. Deep down, you're nothing else but an attention whore, aren't you?"
As soon as he finished his last word, and before he could even take a breath, Till felt a hand on his face. His head snapped to the side, and his cheek began to sting. He stared blankly, realizing the person who had just slapped him was no one else but Mizi.
He remained in this position a while, realizing what was happening. If only it had been Ivan, it wouldn't have hurt that bad. But the raven haired boy was quietly crying on the side, and he didn't even know how to feel about that. Why would he be crying? It didn't make sense.
One thing was sure, Mizi hated that sight. So much that she used violence to avenge him.
"- You're going too far, Till." her voice was as cold as the look in her eyes. She seemed disgusted. "I don't need you to talk for me, it would be troublesome if I did, considering you usually can't even defend yourself."
"- W-What?" he could only stutter , his voice breaking slowly.
"- Is that fun to you? To insult someone like that? You're not impressing anyone. You're pitiful." She grabbed Ivan's hand, before turning around."Let's go."
Ivan dropped the bag at his feet without a word, before being dragged by the pink haired girl. The ashen haired boy didn't dare to say anything else, or to stop her from leaving. His hand pressed against his burning cheek, not only from the pain, but from disbelief too.
He had never expected someone like Mizi to ever slap him. He had said it all for her, just to defend her. And yet, she had turned against Till, leaving and comforting the one who had said such mean words to her.
As she walked away, he finally looked up at Mizi's back receding down the street. His heart skipped a beat when Ivan turned back, staring at him with a cruel smile. Quietly, the boy mouthed :
"- Who's pitiful now?"
Till eyes widened, as he understood it was all an act.
The tears, the sad expression on his face, everything had been planned all along by the dark eyed boy to make him regret his words. And now he had lost his best friend, who also was the only friend he had.