Chapter Text
The next morning, Till wakes up with a sweaty butt. His alarm makes him gasp, violently pulling him out of his dream and bringing him back to reality. Slowly, the dream crashes its way back into him:
It was just another school day, just a regular day like any other if it wasn’t for the love letter falling out his locker when he opens it. His heart is beating fast when he reads it, even if he tells himself it was just a bad joke, someone trying to make fun of him. He couldn’t remember what the letter said, only that the writing was enigmatic and complicated. There were real centipedes crawling out of the envelope, trying to make their way into his flesh.
He’s telling himself not to get his hopes up when he makes his way to the meet up point, that tree where Ivan’s ex slapped him yesterday, but he’s secretly hoping it’s a pretty girl. He sees a female figure waiting up there and walks faster, fixing his hair, checking if his breath smells fine, his armpits. When he’s close enough, he can see her: Mizi.
“M-m-m-mmizi— ?!” He stutters intelligently. Even in his most delusional dreams, he was a loser. Mizi had her eyes closed and a beautiful smile he never saw her make before on. She held her hands clasped behind her back and approached him confidently, breaking through his personal space. There were bugs following Till the whole time, seemingly trapped in the hair behind his ears and buzzing loudly.
Her black eyes shine when she asks him if she can kiss him. Till nods eagerly, not trusting his voice, so Mizi puts her strong hands on his waist and brushes her fang on his lower lip before leaning in. Till gasps into the kiss, not expecting Mizi to be so strong and dominating but throughly enjoying it. When he opens his eyes to look at her, her eyebrows had gone black and thick. Her pink hair gets cut off by a blast of wind, and he watches the pink strands turn to black. Only then, he realizes—
“It’s cute how much you’re into it, Till…” Ivan murmurs before biting on his lower lip. “I wonder, when will you ever realize?”
So that’s how we woke up screaming. To not think too deeply about what that dream meant he immediately starts scrolling on his phone, ending up in a loophole about piercings. Having one piercing in each ear took a lot of begging from his mom— apparently, she went through an ‘emo’ sort of phase herself, and she doesn’t want him to end up in the same path too soon— wasn’t enough. The last time he tried to give himself a helix piercing, he ended up hurting himself and with a wound still healing. He’s deep into thinking about how he’ll do it better next time when a deep, too familiar voice can be heard from outside.
“No fucking way.” He says it out loud. He throws his blankets off and barges out of his room, getting met with the most grotesque sight, something straight out of his nightmares:
Io, his own dear mother, is laughing at something Ivan said. Ivan, the continuous source of his despair, is pouring coffee into her mug, laughing along as well like they’re in some kind of commercial. The breakfast table stretched with pastries, fruits and food that Io prepared. A classic song played in the background, to make it worse. Till stands and stares until he manages to gather back his energy and step in with weak knees. For a heartbeat, he thinks he’s going to projectile vomit everywhere. He’ll try to aim at Ivan if he does, but even if he just ruined his shoes he’d be happy.
“…you.” He croaks on that syllable. He has to swallow hard to keep bile down. “What is he doing here.”
“Till! Come here, Ivan brought pastries,” Io smiled like any other victim of Ivan’s ordinary manipulative ways. “But first at least put on your uniform first or you’ll be late.”
When Till goes to college, will he be free? He imagines his older self waking up with Ivan’s car honk, incessantly calling for him from under his window. Till would open the window to see Ivan in his expensive car, some obnoxious convertible without a roof, obviously. He can picture him perfectly with sunglasses and a red varsity jacket like the dumb jock he’ll certainly become.
“Get ready before you’re late!” Future jock Ivan would scream, making the girls on the back of the car giggle. Or worse— maybe it would be just one person instead, his mom—
“Till?” Io calls, snapping him back on reality. This was reality. Ivan was in his home flirting with his mom first thing in the morning. Her eyebrows are knitted with concern. Ivan’s are not. Ivan’s are doing that amused thing where they’re barely lifted, like he knows exactly what horror movie just played in Till’s head. Villainous mind reading abilities is one of the theories Till wrote down about Ivan, he just needs to find a way to prove it. “Are you okay?”
“…Bathroom.” He says, making eye contact with Ivan. Ivan smiles, as sweet as ever. Scandalous, villainous, and evil.
Till showers really quickly, and it relaxes him a bit. Still, weird thoughts about how Ivan’s lips felt on his in the dream— dominant but soft and gentle— still haunt him, so much he has to turn the water ice cold to stop himself from touching his lips and looking for the ghost of something there. Wrapping a towel around his waist, he makes his way to his room, not expecting Ivan to be there, going around his things like they share them.
If anyone asks, the scream he lets out is strong and deep like a warrior’s. He did feel like a warrior sometimes, having to constantly battle Ivan’s demonic ways. The towel almost drops, and Ivan’s eyes follow the movement quickly.
“Get the hell out of here!” He yells, grabbing the first thing his hand can find— a book— and throwing it his way. He misses, and the book falls open on the floor. Turns out it wasn’t just any book but his sketchbook instead, the one he spent hours drawing on creative, misunderstood subjects like yaoi.
The page that’s open is the one he spent two hours shading: two anime boys with spiky hair, locked in a kiss. One has cat ears, the other has dog ones, and they’re both wearing headphones with a butterfly wing. Till wanted to practice dynamic poses.
Ivan stares at it, eyebrows raised only slightly but it was enough to make Till pray for God to take him. He looks up at Till then, who was paralyzed by shame. He looks back at the drawing.
“…Are those Naruto and Sasuke?”
Ivan ends up shoved out of the room with a fresh bruise on his jaw, and Till’s skin keeps burning red even after he’s tried to calm himself down and put on his uniform. When he finally opens the door, he almost screams again; Ivan was silently hovering right there, standing straight, waiting.
“I didn’t know you were into—“ Ivan doesn’t get to finish because he ends up kicked in the jhonson, and the gasp he lets out brings Till a satisfactory sense of revenge.
Ivan’s limping footsteps echo behind him all the way outside. This was going to be a long day.
“Hey, Ivan.” Ivan was already looking at Till, so he only hummed in response. “I gotta stop somewhere before going to school. Go on without me.”
“What? Where are you going? You’ll be late.”
“I’m going to MindYourFuckingBusiness,” Till hisses and then looks absurdly proud of himself, smiling a little at himself because he thought that he just sounded so cool. Maybe he’ll tell Hyuna later so she’ll think it was cool too.
“Alright,” Ivan says. Till watches him warily, not expecting him to let him go so easily. “If you’re late, I’m not gonna cover for you again. In fact, I’ll let the teachers know you were plain irresponsible. Goodbye.”
Ivan can feel suspicious, sharp eyes glued to his back as he walks off. When he’s far enough, he sees from the corner of his eye Till turn a street and disappear on it. He keeps a steady pace for a few more steps before stopping.
Ivan is a rational man. When a feeling comes, he rationalizes it first before directly feeling it, judging if it’s worth it to respond to it or not. Most people let feelings dictate their lives and then deal with the aftermath. Ivan preferred the opposite. When Ivan is near Till, rationality dissipates like a contrary light-sensor. He has a few minutes before school starts, but there’s not a doubt in his mind that he should follow his blockhead friend because he’s up to something.
Slowly, he follows Till from a safe distance. He knew that Till didn’t usually look behind himself or at his surrounding when he walked, he was too lost in his own self. Ivan had the constant craving to know what Till did all the time, always and everywhere, what he thought about and what he breathes. And still, Till was an enigmatic force that always kept him stimulated and curious. He knows he’s not worthy of being close to Till so he chooses to walk behind him and trace his steps like a shadow— quite literally. Shadows stick closer than light, don’t they?
It doesn’t take long for him to get inside a shop: a piercing shop.
With that, Ivan makes his way back on school track. He wonders which piercing Till would choose; either a silver or a black one, if he had to guess. It’ll be in his right ear, because the left one was still healing from what he tried last time. Or maybe on another body part? Whatever it is, he’d find out eventually.
Till had just started his independent artistic project when Ivan ruins everything.
“What the heck do you think you’re doing.”
Till screams loudly, head snapping up to catch Ivan peering down at him from the neighborhood toilet stall. He coughs and clears his throat as manly as he can, urging his voice deeper because the scream came out very thinly, second time that day. His needle slipped from his fingers with the commotion, so he grabs it from the ground and points up at Ivan with it.
“Ivan, get away from me.” Till shakes the tiny needle in his direction like it was a sword. If they were to be born hundreds of years ago, Till would throughly enjoy battling against Ivan with a sword. Unfortunately they lived in modern society, where school suspension was always an imminent threat. For now, his fists would do. “I’m serious. Go away and mind your business for once. I’m in the middle of something.”
With that, he turns and presses the needle in the dot he made with a sharpie in his helix. He’s about to go through with it, but a heartbeat later Ivan opened his stall door.
“How did you even do that?! It’s locked from the inside!” Till splutters. Ivan had locked the door behind him, coming close enough to effortlessly snatch the needle from his hand. “Give me that back or I swear I will—“
“This needle just fell into a boy’s bathroom floor. Are you seriously going to use this?” He says, sighing. Till blinks. Was there something wrong with that? “Please tell me you have alcohol wipes or something, at least.”
“Uh, the piercing lady gave me this.” He shows one small pack with alcohol wipes.
“Okay, that’ll do.” Ivan says, opening it. He cleans the needle with one wipe carefully, then holds Till’s ear with his index finger and thumb.
“H-hey! What do you think you’re doing?!”
“I’m doing your piercing so your dumb-butt won’t get a fungus in your ear and die.” He says, experimentally brushing his thumb on the sensitive part of his ear. The sensation spread all the way down, making Till’s chest tingle in a funny way. “Do you have numbing cream?”
“No.”
“Ice?”
“No.”
“The helix cartilage is densely innervated with nerve endings, so the needle will pierce through a highly sensitive layer of tissue. It’s gonna hurt like hell. Are you sure you don’t want some ice, at least?”
Till thinks about it. Ivan decided he’ll do the piercing himself and strangely he doesn’t want to argue. Maybe he’s too tired because of that damn dream, or maybe he trusts Ivan knew better about this stuff, because he was a nerd and not cool like him. Maybe a cooler guy would do it without ice, but…
“…Some ice would be nice.”
Instead of saying ‘ I told you so’ like he loved to do when one of his points was proven, Ivan instead smiles softly and says he’ll be right back. Till sits on the shut toilet bowl and waits quietly, wondering why Ivan is wasting his time with him instead of reading, annoying Sua, walking around on all fours, eating moss, whatever it is he liked to do in his free time. He comes back rather quickly, upper mouth slightly damp like he’d been running. For some reason it reminds Till that Ivan’s facial hair grew much faster than his own— he discovered it one day when they had a sleepover, and that jealousy finds him again now.
“Here. We’ll leave it on for a few minutes to numb it up.” He presses an ice pack on his helix. “I got some disinfecting spray from the infirmary office too.”
The first contact of ice on his skin came as a shock. His whole body gets warmer as Ivan stands and holds the ice in place. He watched Till’s face the whole time, not saying anything, gaze focused in that way it usually is when he’s studying something complex.
Till’s body is complex too, confusing him by heating up, itching to get closer, speaking in a language that he couldn’t understand. It’s been happening more often when he’s near Ivan, no matter how much he tried to ignore it. Maybe it’s just that it was kind of cool, how Ivan so nonchalantly held the needle like he’s done it before but of course he didn’t, he was too much of a goodyshoes nerd. A nerd who surprised him. It was also kind of sexy, how unexpectedly he was caring for him.
Eventually Ivan asks if he can start, and Till nods, looking at the floor because he couldn’t trust his stupid voice and face betraying him. Maybe it’s just that Till liked cool guys who knew how to do piercings and was projecting Ivan on that, a comfortable denial his brain will force him to analyze later at night. Ivan goes silent again as he disinfects his ear, and Till distracts himself by looking at the floor, at their feet, and when he thinks Ivan’s going to do it, a hand finds its way to his chin, tilting it up.
For a heartbeat, his breath caught. His eyes met Ivan’s, and the sensations of Ivan’s fingers curled in his jaw, firm but not rough, seemed to amplify ten times.
“Are you sure you want to do this?” Ivan asks, eyebrows furrowed in worry, voice stripped from its casual teasing. “You look… kind of tense. If you want, I can try to book—“
“Just shut up and d-do it already!” Till yells. “If you’re going to chicken out, then stop wasting my time and go away.”
With that, Ivan mutters a dry fine, turns his head and teases the needle in on a non anesthetized part without pressing it, just slightly stabbing Till for fun. Till breathes in, breathes out. Every moment with Ivan felt like his immunity was being drained from him and passed to Ivan instead, like he was a fountain of youth being robbed. He mutters asshole, and Ivan claims he was just making sure he’s ready.
Then Ivan finally presses the needle in. Till gasps, instinctively jolting, but Ivan keeps one strong hand on his chin. It kind of feels like how he held me in the dream, something in his chest says. Definitely not his brain; something even stupider. His heart, maybe. The organ that has been betraying him the most.
The pain was unavoidable but bearable. Ivan quickly inserts the sterilized piercing, and in just a few heartbeats, Till becomes someone with a cool helix piercing.
“Is it done?” He gets up, opening the door to look at the mirror outside, and there, behind his bangs, a silver ring nestled in the curve of his ear. “Shit! It looks so dope! I love it!”
Ivan walks out of the toilet booth, watching him from behind the mirror. Till’s fingers ghosted over the piercing, feeling the warmth of the metal against his skin, and he grinned so wide his cheeks ached.
“You still look like a blockhead, by the way. Just a blockhead with a piercing now.”
The grin vanished. Till spins to him and grabs his wrist, ready to spit something mean— and that’s when he sees the two other guys on the toilet. They looked at Ivan, at Till, at the open toilet booth they just came out of, together, flushing pink with the implications they came up with, more incriminating than reality.
“Hi. Listen, t-this is not what it looks like—“ Till blurts, dropping Ivan’s wrist.
“I didn’t see anything!” One boy raises his hands.
“Me— me neither!” The other agrees, shaking his head.
Ivan, to his horror, slides closer to him. He throws an arm around his shoulder in that way he did when he wanted to piss him off, leaning his head down against Till’s hair, his body curving around his in a way that felt possessive. Till can’t see what expression he’s making, but he knows anyway: that smirk he did when he was very satisfied with himself.
“Good morning, Hyunwoo… Ale…” he greets them with a smile. “I’m relieved you saw nothing. Not that there’s anything to be worried about… I’ll see you around.”
The two boys exchanged a horrified glance, then practically fled the bathroom, their footsteps echoing down the hallway as they stumbled over each other to escape before Till could try to explain himself. Till’s face burns, his piercing throbs, something in his lower stomach clenches, and he looks at Ivan like everything is his fault.
“Great. Now I’ll have your fan club after my head.”
“Till, did you ever think about piercing your nipples?” Ivan asks out of nowhere, staring at his chest with an intensity that made Till’s skin prickle. The random things Ivan blurts aimlessly confirms Till’s theory that there’s nothing going on inside Ivan’s head, nothing at all.
He’s suddenly struck with the absurd thought that Ivan had advanced technology eye lenses that made you see what’s under someone’s clothes, and it makes him cross his arms over his chest just in case. You never know with Ivan.
“I could do it for you. I bet Mizi will think you’re super cool.”
He’s already approaching Till with that needle when Till shrieks and slaps his hand away, retrieving the needle because it was safer in his hands than in Ivan’s.
“I’m never letting you anywhere near my n-ni-nipples, you weirdo!”
The words echo louder than intended. They really should leave the toilet before anyone reports them for something. Ivan’s hands hovered in the air then traced down so slowly, like Till’s words physically wounded him. Till doesn’t know it, but a loading wave of sadness crashed into Ivan’s chest. Whatever hopes he had for his future were dimmed instantly. A hot sting surges behind his eyes when he thinks of his life separated from Till’s cute nipples, forever.
He’s nodding to himself as he walks out behind Till. Notifications from his phone blur his vision but he doesn’t see any; he’s just trying to look busy as Till drinks from the small water fountain, trying not to show how his gaze is fixed on the drops of water being sucked in between Till’s parted lips.
The clear liquid splashed against his mouth, running over the curve of his bottom lip, catching in the corner where it pooled before he swallowed. His throat moved. A bead of water escaped, trailing down his chin, and he wiped it away with the back of his hand, leaving his lips wet and shining under the school’s fluorescent lights.
When Till turned away and left, Ivan stepped forward. He bent over the fountain with barely concealed excitement, pressing the button, letting the cold water rush over his tongue, desperately hoping there were traces of Till’s saliva on it. He closed his eyes and he imagined, instead of cold water, the warm embrace of Till’s tongue parting between his lips. He imagined the taste of him— sweet and sour like lemon ice cream, like summer heat, like everything he could never have.
The water was cold, the fantasy was warm. Gripping the fountain with force, he swallowed. Again and again until it turns messy, and he’s so much into it that the water starts dripping down his chin, dampening his collar, all to chase a ghost that would never be real.
Till was really satisfied with the piercing. At home, he hid it with his bangs so Io wouldn’t find out, checking himself in his phone camera to make sure not a glint of metal showed through because he didn’t want to make his mom disappointed. He’s organizing how he’ll tell her before she finds out, a plan that involved a measured amount of Ivan blaming. Would she believe him if he said Ivan tried to stab him but missed and cut his ear instead? That’s a plan he’s still going over, but anyway, at school, he proudly showcased it. He pinned his hair back with a hair pin, carrying the stud like a declaration of something he earned, walking in front of Mizi very slowly. Mizi never noticed, of course.
Inside their friend group, Sua was someone who didn’t particularly dislike him, but she didn’t particularly like him still either; Mizi, was almost impossible for him to properly talk to; his relationship with Luka was surface level; but, with Hyuna, his bond seemed to strengthen. Ivan watched her tease her junior, ruffle his hair, playfully order him around like she did with Hyunwoo. He watched Till pretend to be mad, his cheeks changing color. Till never insulted Hyuna. Never hit her. Never tried to get away from her touch the way he did with Ivan.
Was Ivan that hard to like?
Evening after evening, he busies himself tutoring a classmate in struggle. Ivan didn’t particularly love helping others but he enjoyed socialization and the perks it brought to your own final favors, plus it helped him revise his own studies as well. A win-win situation. Sometimes he was the one to ask if anyone needed help first, but there’s one guy, Yoon, who approaches him most often.
Tonight the session stretches longer than usual. Ivan has nothing waiting for him elsewhere; as soon as they could go home, Till left with Hyuna to buy comics, an outing that visibly soured Luka’s mood. He’s looking forward for the tension that will crack between their group tomorrow, a tension that Till will most likely miss as he always gets lost inside his own feelings.
When he ends the session, Ivan opens his locker to swap shoes and a letter falls out of it. He picks it up with a sigh, opening it with no interest— the color was a bright teal that reminded him, stupidly, of Till’s eyes, so that was enough to make his mind drift somewhere else— but his eyes widen a little when he sees the name signed.
“Yoon,” it read with a small heart next to it. He must’ve put it in there before the tutoring. There was a smiley face drawn there, then scribbled over, then drawn back again. Ivan stared at it, thinking of what he could get himself if he dates a boy. Could it get him out of his boredom for a little while?
“Whatcha got there?”
Hyuna’s voice was low and teasing, right behind his ear. Ivan controlled his body so he stopped himself from jolting, or so he thought. He clears his throat and instinctively tries putting the letter back in its envelope but it gets snatched from his hands.
“I thought you left earlier with Till. Comics or something?”
“Yeah, but now I’m back.” She dismisses too quick. Suspiciously quick. “Another love letter? Jesus, don’t these people have anything else to do?” She reads it boredly, expression mirroring his. Hyuna was extremely popular herself, but Ivan suspected she also had a fixed target in her mind, someone with blonde hair and a secret. He doesn’t try to get it from her hands because it was going to end up in the trash anyway— someone saw it, once, him throwing gifts away. Ivan had thought it didn’t matter, but rumors that he was heartless spread by that week. His reputation was important, so he avoided doing it in public. “Who’s this Yoon guy, anyway?”
“Some second grader,” Ivan shrugs. “I was studying with him just now. I think he’s in Till’s class.”
“So, you like him?”
“Huh? Of course not.” Ivan watches her, that expression she wore when she planned something. With the thick eyebrows and intense eyes, one could say it wasn’t that much different from his own.
“Give it a try, anyway.” She shrugs, grey eyes shining like laminated silver. She never, ever gave an input on Ivan’s relationships. What she was up to, Ivan wouldn’t know, but he could go along with it.
He considers the possibilities. He calculates his boredom levels and sees that they were unusually high this week. He thinks about Till, about giving him a break. He thinks about the slap he’ll receive from Yoon in a week. The results he come up with make him slowly approach Yoon’s locker.
He doesn’t know why people keep trying their shot with him when the tragic ending of his relationships get spread around and amplified in hushed whispers they think he’s not hearing. Still, some try.
Yoon was different from most of the girls he dated, and not because of his gender. It seemed like he didn’t expect anything from Ivan. He blushed when Ivan got too close, fiddled with his sleeves, listened to him talk even if he mostly talked about topics that are uninteresting, as his precious girlfriends said; topics that mainly consisted of a boy with messy silver-turquoise hair.
Till seemed even happier now that Ivan spent less time following him around. He talked to Sua more often, worked on his theater plays. Ivan still kept a close watch as always, but now slightly afar.
Till wouldn’t get rid of him so easily.
So for a whole week, Ivan spends minimal time with his new boyfriend. Yoon blushes when their arms brush when they walk, and it reminds him of Till. But trying to see Till in someone else would be impossible; Till was unique. His shining, rebellious presence is what drew Ivan in since the beginning.
Another boring week passes, and Yoon still hadn’t broken up with him.
“Hey Till, what’s Ivan gonna bring this week for our movie watching?”
Hyuna turned off her phone immediately when someone called. Her thick eyebrows furrowed, but it was gone in a heartbeat, expression relaxed when she turns at Till.
Till looks up from his sketchbook— he had been watching videos on how to get a tongue piercing at home and ended up drawing just that, variations of mouths parted showcasing tongue piercings he’ll probably never get. If some of the mouths he drew had a snaggletooth, it had no deeper meaning at all. He meets her gaze, blinking back to reality. Ivan.
Where was, Ivan?
“How am I supposed to know? Ask him.” He rolls his eyes, already triggered because it reminded him of people using him as some sort of tunnel to reach Ivan. White day is a day he dreads every year, and if he ends up eating some of the stuff that was meant for Ivan, it’s not his fault it was directly given to him instead.
“Be nice,” she scolds, peering down at his sketchbook. Having people other than Ivan watching him draw always made him embarrassed and uneasy. “Jesus, don’t tell me you’re thinking of getting something like this…”
“It looks so cool though…” he mutters, mind already drifting back to Ivan. Yesterday, Till managed to eat lunch in peace. The day before, he sat in math class by himself and even managed to peacefully sleep without being woken up with a hot breath in his ear. Finally, the bastard was leaving him alone.
But then why—
“Speak of the devil and he might appear,” Hyuna smiles, nudging him with her elbow so he’ll see Ivan, walking in from the school gates.
The sight of him made Till’s heart immediately clench, which could only mean it was getting filled with venom from his hate for Ivan. His hands started to sweat, too, probably preparing to attack. It’s been so long since he talked to Ivan— like, one or two days. He’s about to scream something at him when another figure peeks though.
A guy, one of the ones from his class that he never talked to. He never saw Ivan talk to him before either, but now they walked side by side, arms brushing. The guy was— blushing? Hyuna calls over for Ivan, making him look their way.
When Ivan’s eyes meet his, they soften immediately. A charming smile tugs at his lips, and he jogs towards them in the same heartbeat. When he’s close enough, eyes still fixed on his, Till looks away.
He tells himself he just wasn’t a fan of prolonged eye contact. There was no use to it.
“How are you guys?” He asks, brushing his bangs. Till pretended he didn’t notice his eyes flickering to him every few seconds. The other guy joins too, panting from having to run behind. “Oh. Guys, meet Yoon. My boyfriend.”
That’s when Till goes very still. His head snaps up at Ivan, then at Yoon. Hyuna is saying something, their mouths are moving, but Till can’t hear anything but a solid beeping sound.
“Since when do you have a boyfriend?” He says, harsher than he means to. Yoon gapes at him, surprised.
“Like, one week?”
“Two weeks, Ivan!” The boyfriend groans, offended. He playfully slaps Ivan’s arm, and it makes Till jump in his seat, fingers turning to fists.
“Oh, yeah,” Ivan says. He watches Till one last time, mouth opening like he wants to say something, but the way Till ignored him and went back to his phone makes his mouth close back, so they say bye-bye and leave just like that.
“Two full weeks…” Hyuna whistles, watching them leave. “Has any other of Ivan’s relationships ever lasted that long?”
“Don’t know. Don’t care.”
“This is the first guy he dates. Must be something special, right?”
Till’s pencil snaps in half. He stared at the broken tip, something hot and bitter coiling in his chest, a feeling he didn’t know how to name. It was the Christmas cane pencil Mizi had given him— she gave one to all of her friends— the one he preserved like a relic. Weirdly, he doesn’t find himself sad over the loss of it. It was just a stupid pencil. It was just a stupid boyfriend.
“Maybe he actually likes this one,” Hyuna pressed on, turning back on her phone. “Yoon seems sweet, quiet. Not loud or angry.”
“I’m not loud and angry!”
“Wasn’t talking about you, but sure. You just snapped your pencil.”
Till angrily shoved his sketchbook into his bag and stood up, shows scraping loudly against the concrete. “I don’t care who Ivan dates. He can date whoever he wants. A monkey. A plant. I don’t care.”
“Okay?”
“I don’t!” His voice cracked, and he hated himself for it. He turned and walked away, ignoring Hyuna’s knowing smirk burning into the back of his skull.