Chapter Text
Till looked up from his phone. He was here. It was a cat café, named, “Till the End”. How ironic. That’s what made Ivan come here in the first place, unbeknownst to Till. Till walked into the café, which was covered in cats, and underneath them, pastel furniture. There was a strawberry smell wafting through the café, and little treats on display at the front. Till looked around for Ivan. There he was, in the corner of the café, petting a gray furred cat. Till walked up to Ivan, who was now feeding the cat. Ivan looked up, surprised, and Till sat next to Ivan. As soon as Till sat down, a cat jumped onto Till's lap. It looked… exactly like what Ivan would be if he was a cat. The little fang, the black fur. It was adorable.
“So why did you call me?” Till asked Ivan, petting the cat.
“Well-“ Ivan started, flushing.
“Excuse me, but would you like anything to eat?” The waiter asked, looking at Ivan.
“No, thank you.” Till said, abrupt, then shifted his attention back to Ivan.
The waiter blatantly stared at Till, then left.
“Do you know the name of this one?” Till asked Ivan, gesturing to the cat.
“That’s cat Ivan. Not really original, but it kind of looks like me so I thought. You know. Yeah.” Ivan rambled, then stopped.
“What about that one?” Asked Till, looking at the cat Ivan was petting.
“Take a look and guess,” Ivan lifted the cat from his own lap, and lightly moved it so that Ivan could see its eyes.
The cat had green eyes, close to Till’s eye color, but not exact. Till smiled, and looked back at Ivan, who was looking at him.
“I’ve told you to stop that habit. It’s weird.” Till flushed, and looked away. “It's Intimidating.”
“Intimidating?” Ivan teased, raising his eyebrow. “I? Just because of the way I look at you? I thought it would be due to my height, or how beautiful I look, but because of how I look at you?”
“Stop flattering yourself.” Till grumbled, glaring at Ivan, only a hint of flush left.
“You never said it wasn’t true,” Ivan relaxed, this felt normal. Until Ivan confessed. Then everything would go bad. Maybe Ivan should just not tell Till he likes him.
“Well, it isn’t.” Till averted his eyes, like he usually does when he lies. Till reached over for the bag of treats, and fed cat Ivan. “This is a cute place. Also, why did you call me here?”
Till looked up at Ivan, who flushed again, which was unusual for Ivan. Might as well get it over with. Ivan looked at Till. Here goes nothing-
“I like you.” Ivan gaped at Till, shocked. Those words didn’t come out of his own mouth, but Till’s. Till looked away, flushed a deep red, but Ivan could hear the sincereness in his voice.
“What?” Ivan was lost. He was blissed, but puzzled. Till? Liking Ivan? That seemed impossible, only something to be dreamt of.
“I know you probably don’t like me back, but I just wanted to tell you since you mean a lot to me, and I don’t want this to ruin…” Till yammered on, and Ivan was in profound joy. IVAN MEANS A LOT TO TILL! Ivan was… gleeful, really.
“I like you, too,” Ivan said, smiling. Ivan, on the inside, felt like crying and sobbing out of happiness, but he’ll leave the chalant reactions to Till. They were practically Till’s trademark.
Till blinked a few times, processing Ivan’s words. He, too, was lost. They liked each other. Till could explode this moment and die happy. Well, actually, that is a bit extreme. Still, you get the point. Till was freaking out, and Ivan was just observing him, smiling. Gauging for Till’s reaction like he always does. This resulted in Till flushing so badly it must be unordinary. Ivan reached out and played with Till’s hair while Till remained broken, still processing what Ivan just told him. Till swat away Ivan’s hand, regaining reality.
“You just confessed to me!” Till flushes again, still unable to process what happened.
“Would you like to take a walk to clear your mind?” Ivan offered, standing up and holding out his hand.
“Sure.” Till replied, taking Ivan’s hand absentmindedly. The cats that they were feeding earlier now sleeping side by side, cuddled next to each other.
Till and Ivan left the café hand in hand. Till won’t acknowledge this until dawn while he is reflecting, leading to him being kept up even longer.
“So you reciprocate my feelings?” Till asked steadily, gripping Ivan’s hand naturally.
“Yes. I love you,” Ivan grinned, and Till glared at him. What gave away Till’s true emotions was the flush that immediately bloomed over his face.
“Then what about the letter you wrote in Literature & Language Arts?” Till asked, walking at a faster pace.
“That was for you,” Ivan replied, seemingly calm. Though Ivan wasn’t expressional like Till, he definitely loved Till first, and was somewhat dependent on Till, as unhealthy as that sounds.
“Then can I see it?” Till looked at Ivan, who was watching him. Till blushed lightly once more.
“Maybe later, for I don’t have it on me. Why do you ask such questions? Do you not believe I love you?” Ivan inquired, looking prolonged at Till. “I can show you how, if you’re not convinced. Or if you’d like.”
Till almost choked on his saliva, turning bright red.
“Verbally speaking is just fine.” Till assured Ivan, who was smirking.
“Are you sure you don’t want me to?” Ivan teased, earning him a half-hearted glare from Till once more.
Though the pair masked their genuine love towards each other with charades of playful banter, they were both feeling elated and jubilant. Till murmured something to Ivan, and in response, he laughed. They walked in comfortable silence together, hands swaying. Till occasionally peeked at Ivan to see Ivan peering back at him with nothing but love in his eyes, causing Till to blush. Finally, they reached Till’s house. To Till’s surprise, Ivan decided to walk Till to the door. Ivan turned the doorknob after using the keys to unlock the door, and at that moment, Io’s light turned on. They looked at each other, surprised. Neither of them know Io was a light sleeper. Well, this is helpful, Ivan thought. As Till went in after Ivan opened the door, they were going to bid goodbye to one another.
“Ivan!” Io exclaimed, sighting him. “Thank you for bringing my son home.”
Till groaned, knowing what was to come now.
“It’s so late, why don’t you stay the night? I’ll let your mom know. Again, thank you for taking care of Till. You two have such a sweet relationship. I knew from the day you two met. You were each other’s- excluding your sister, of course- first friends. You two have such a special bond!” Gushed Io, beaming at Ivan.
“Well, thank you for your hospitality, but-” Ivan started, only to be cut off by Io that it wasn’t a problem to let him stay over at all.
Ivan wasn’t going to attempt to win this losing battle, so he took off his shoes at the front, and entered the living room. Io offered to make something for Ivan, but he refused politely. Ivan followed Till to his room, where he would be staying the night. The room was messy, to say the least. It’s okay, Ivan wouldn’t mind being Till’s housewife when they grew up, to be honest. All Ivan needs to learn is how to cook…. Till’s room was covered with various tools used for art. Paintbrushes, markers, pencils, oil pastels, spray cans, coloring pencils. There were crumpled sheets of paper carpeting the floor, but also some ones with just rough drafts cluttering his desk. Till’s closet was open, and in there, art projects along with a red electric guitar. There were also hundreds of sketchbooks lining the walls, some stacks even being used as shelves. Ivan assumed Till painted his walls, along with his windows and bedframe due to the intricate designs.
“Your room is chaotically beautiful,” Ivan complimented.
“Thanks.” Till sat on the bed, and lay back.
“So where will I be sleeping?” Ivan asked, watching Till clear off the papers on his bed.
“I don’t know. The floor, maybe?” Till replied, and Ivan glanced at the floor once more.
“Its space is at its maximum occupation, I assume.”
“If you want, we can sleep in the same space.”
“Are you saying we can sleep together?”
Ivan got a pillow thrown at his head. “Ow!”
“Don’t twist my words.” Till grumbled at Ivan, scooching over on his bed and making space. Ivan sat next to Till, and then lied down next to Till.
“Do you have extra clothes?” Ivan asked Till, though his closet seemed bare.
“Yeah. Let me just change first.” Till replied, getting up from the bed and grabbing clothes. Till headed to the bathroom, and Ivan stayed, lying on the bed.
“I’m done.” Till announced, rummaging through his closet to find clothes that will fit Ivan. He found a few pieces of clothes that fit him large, and tossed them at Ivan.
“Thank you,” Ivan replied, taking the bundle of clothes into the restroom with him.
Once Ivan came back, Till was tidying up his room a bit. The balls of paper were now in the trash bin, at least.
“Wanna go brush our teeth?” Ivan offered, and Till nodded.
Once they exited the restroom, Ivan looked over at Till. He tells Till, “I love you.”
“You say that only after you look at me.” Till responds, his face tainted pink but resilient to Ivan’s words nonetheless.
“I love everything about you, you should know that.” Ivan replies. “Although I do love your looks, too. I’m telling you this because you finally acknowledge my feelings.”
It was stupid of Till to respond, honestly. He should’ve known that Till would respond with some amorous line similar to that. A line that would make Till blush even more.
“Whatever. Let’s just go to sleep.” Till grumbled, crawling onto his bed to lie besides Ivan.
Till’s heart ached from being so close to Ivan; it was foolish of him to not have recognized his feelings for Ivan earlier, to have ignored them all this time. Till turns to face Ivan, just to see Ivan looking back at him.
“I love you too, Ivan.” Till confesses to Ivan.
“I’m glad.” Ivan tells Till, embracing him.
They lie together for a while, holding each other in a forever embrace silently. Till focuses on Ivan’s breathing, and Ivan listens to Till’s breathing. It was calming to one another, and Till wished he could listen to Ivan’s heartbeat forever while Ivan wanted to listen to Till’s breathing forever, though knowing it wouldn’t last. Till started to trace Ivan’s arm, feeling as if he had done this before. As Ivan traced Till’s nose, and Till traced Ivan’s cheekbones.
“I don’t think I ever really loved all of Mizi like I love all of you. I loved the idea of Mizi, what she represented to me, what I thought her out to be. For you, I see you as you. I know who you are. That is what the most distinct difference in my love for you and Mizi is.” Till told Ivan, tracing Ivan’s arm and hands.
Ivan listened, and nodded. He didn’t want to disrupt the peace and sereneness of their moment with his voice. They traced each other’s bodies. Their hands, their faces. Necks, ears, everything. Ivan smothered Till in kisses on his forehead, nose, and everywhere Till would allow him to. Till clinged to Ivan, still yearning for his touch as Ivan seemed to be slipping from his grasp each time they parted from one another. Till didn’t want to sleep now, he didn’t want to leave Ivan now. Till clinged onto Ivan more, desperate for Ivan to stay with him.
“I love you, Ivan,” Till repeats.
“I love you, too,” Ivan tells Till. “Always. No matter your actions, no matter your words, I will always love you.”
Till woke up in Ivan’s arms, huddled in Ivan’s warmth. Sweet, beautiful Ivan whom he’d yearn forevermore for. Till was glad he was in Ivan’s arms, it brought him relief, comfort, and security. Till looks up at Ivan’s face, which portrays blissful sleep, and is perfect. Till reaches out to play with Ivan’s hair, conveying his love for Ivan through innocent, normalized actions. Till then brushes his fingertips on Ivan’s eyelashes, Ivan’s cheekbones, his jaw. Ivan’s eyelids flutter during this display of emotion, and Till smiles softly. Till kisses Ivan’s cheek lightly, not wanting to disturb him. Till continues to caress Ivan’s face, and presses his forehead against Ivan’s, cupping his face with both hands. Although it didn’t do much for not wanting to rouse Ivan, Till was sure Ivan wouldn’t mind. As if on cue, Ivan woke up and intertwined his fingers with Till’s.
“Who knew you could be caring?” Ivan jokes, and Till narrows his eyes, giving Ivan a nonverbal response. “You’re giving me the silent treatment now? Ouch.”
Ivan smiles, probing Till’s fingers off of Ivan’s face.
“I’m going to get ready for breakfast, will you join me?” Ivan asks and Till nods, still half-heartedly annoyed by Ivan’s comment, and they both get off the bed.
Once they finish getting ready, they head to the kitchen where Io is making their meal.
“Would you like me to help?” Ivan asks politely while setting the table with Till.
“Thank you, Ivan, but I can handle it. Breakfast will be ready in ten minutes!” Io dismisses them, focused on her cooking.
Ivan and Till go back to Till’s room, unsure of what to do.
“Can I have a bag to borrow? I need it for something.” Ivan told Till, who was looking for a bag already. Once Till found a bag, he gave it to Ivan.
“Here. I’m going to draw for a while, so do whatever you want. You can watch, if you’d like,” Till offered, and then went to go in search of a notebook with blank pages.
Ivan watched Till, clearly forgetting the purpose of the bag. Till sighed, unable to find a notebook, then reluctantly pulled a light blue notebook from under his bed. He narrowed his eyes at Ivan, once again with no passiveness, just for show.
“Don’t think too much about this.” Till sternly said, a cryptic code which Ivan couldn’t understand.
As Till flipped through the pages, Ivan noticed something. The only person drawn on the notebook, filling up the pages, was Ivan. All of it was drawings or paintings of him. In charcoal, color pencil, watercolor. Ivan even saw an acrylic painting of himself looking at flowers. So that’s what Till meant. It was like the love letters to Till, but a thousand times better. Ivan recalled the reason for the bag, and slipped away from the room. Yet not before pecking Till on the cheek. Till scowled, not wanting to be disrupted, but Ivan saw the blush bloom on his face and the tips of Till’s ears reddening. Eventually, Ivan came back to Till’s room in the clothes he was wearing when he came to Till’s house. He went to look at what Till was working on. It was a sketch of Ivan sleeping. It was a rough sketch, but a distinct one. Ivan pulled an abandoned chair from the corner of Till’s room that was also covered in light blue notebooks, notably with “DON’T LOOK” on the cover of each one. The other notebooks that didn’t have the color of light blue were random, and mostly grey and black. Ivan looked at Till’s drawing, then looked back at him. He felt as if this was the millionth time he’d done this, when in reality it’s only happened minimal times. Till, once he was done with the base, started working on Ivan’s hair, giving it detail and texture. Till’s fingers held onto the pencil as it gracefully danced across the page. Though Ivan was more fixated with Till’s hands, he had to admit the drawing of himself was gorgeous. Almost the best thing he’s ever seen, but he’s seen pictures of Till.
“I look pretty,” Ivan remarked.
“That’s because you are pretty. I can’t capture all your beauty, though, so don’t say anything bad about my drawing. Or else you’ll never see them again.” Till responded, and Ivan nearly fainted out of happiness.
Beauty? Ivan? Till saw Ivan as beautiful. That was a statement. Ivan thanked all the gods of the world, of all religions. Ivan was near tears of bliss. Ivan always viewed himself as overly flawed, but the love of his life calling him beautiful? This changed his perception of everything in the world. The most beautiful, wonderful, lovely, talented person in the world called him beautiful! Ivan was heartstruck.
“Can I kiss you?” Ivan asked Till, definitely moved by his words. Till was caught off guard, and taken aback.
“What?” Till looked at Ivan, making sure he didn’t mishear what Ivan said.
“Can we kiss?” Ivan asked again, hopeful.
“No.” Till replied, moving his head for good measure. Ivan sulked, but he wouldn’t force Till to kiss him.
“Till! Ivan! Breakfast is ready!” Io called for them from the kitchen. Ivan got up from the chair, and knew that Till and him would have time to do everything they desired.
One month later…
(January 6)
At the park, on a walk with Ivan, Till was shivering in his jacket, and rubbed his hands together in a vain attempt to warm them. Ivan, however, was just looking at Till, bundled up in multiple layers.
“Do you want my scarf?” Ivan asked, and Till frowned slightly. Till didn’t want to ask too much of Ivan.
“No, I’m fine.” Till refused. Till, in contrast to Ivan, had on ear muffs instead of a hat, and only a thin long sleeve shirt with an equally thin jacket on top.
Ivan, the stubborn person he is- only when it comes to Till, of course- took off his jacket, his hat, and a singular glove.
“Here,” Ivan smiled as he handed the bundle of warm clothes to Till.
Till looked over at Ivan, before grudgingly accepting. “Thanks.”
Till put on the hat, the jacket, and singular glove. He didn’t want to ask why he only got one, since that would seem selfish. Ivan could see the question in Till’s eyes, though. Ivan could always easily read Till, which also bugged Till.
“I gave you one so we could be equally warm. Also, if we really wanted to be warmer, we could hold hands.” Ivan held back his smile, while Till was looking at him with disbelief.
“If you wanted to hold hands you could’ve just said,” Till replied, offering his hand to Ivan.
Ivan smiled in gratitude, though he wasn’t being genuine before. He really wanted to see Till refuse him, but Till agreeing was even better. Ivan took Till’s hand, and looked at him longer.
“Why do you always look at me?” Till asked Ivan, curious.
“Why wouldn’t I look at you?” Ivan prompted. “You’re the only person I’d ever want to look at, and willingly look at.”
“Stop that.” Till told Ivan, another meaningless glare given to Ivan.
“You’re only saying that because you know it’s the truth,” Ivan replied happily, swinging their hands.
“Shush.” Till feigned reprimanding Ivan, when in reality, he was nothing but fond of him. They walked around the park in comfortable silence, until Till remembered something.
“What ever happened to my bag?” Till asked Ivan, looking at him.
“About that…” Ivan replied, looking anywhere but Till.
“What did you even need it for?” Till asks Ivan another question, gaze stern. Ivan remains quiet, and Till just wants his bag. “I need it to carry my notebooks, and if you don’t answer, I’ll just ask Sua.”
“Wait, don’t.” Ivan replied, anxious that Till would ask Sua what Ivan needed Till’s bag for. Ivan could just fib, right?
Till, in reality, wouldn’t ask Sua. Not when their last interactions were her catching him leaving Ivan’s bed in the morning in sleepovers. They weren’t doing anything, but it could cause misleading thoughts that Till sincerely didn’t want Sua to think of. Till asked, “Then what happened to my bag?”
“I’ll just give it to you after our walk. That should be okay, right?” Ivan asked, nervously.
“Why are you refraining yourself from telling me the purpose of using my bag?” Till questioned, holding Ivan’s hand with both hands.
“Well- it was because I just wanted to keep your clothes, okay?” Ivan dwelt, not wanting to have released this information to Till. That was so languishing, even for Ivan. Till stopped, dumbfounded. It gave him dejá vu of something else.
“Why would you want to keep my clothes?” Till asked, feeling half disquieted-actually, just disquieted- for Ivan’s actions.
“Since it reminds me of you…” Ivan replied, hanging his head, and looked at the floor.
“Just don’t do it again,” Till said, continuing to walk.
“Alright… I’m sorry,” Ivan apologized, and Till accepted it.
“It’s fine. We’re almost at your house, so give me my bag, okay?”
“Okay.”