Ivantill heh
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“Eye cream?” he says finally and Ivan watches in horror as his expression teeters on the edge of confusion before it pitches into understanding. “Oh my god, it’s because…” Till’s laugh interrupts his own sentence and Ivan’s stuck oscillating between wanting to die from mortification and transcending into another plane at the beauty of the noise.
“I look like shit, don’t I?” Till says, running one hand through his hair and all Ivan can think is no, no, no, you look like the most beautiful person alive because it’s true, even with the sweatshirt tied loose around his waist and the two hours of sleep written on his skin.