Chapter Text
Ivan has long known that the things he does for his best friend is borderline psychopath behavior. No one blames him, though, as they already knew the reason why. It’s been obvious since they were children, before Ivan could tell head to tails about his emotions—Ivan has been in love with Till for sixteen years.
At the age of 23, there’s no one more experienced in healthy psychopath-ery unrequited love than him. From following Till to university, joining his high school band until it disbanded, taking him all around the world for vacation, to exposing his father for domestic abuse at nine, Ivan’s done all the things he could that didn’t cross the threshold for illegal. (That does not count the cameras he had secretly put in Till’s home to record evidence and send to the police. That was, of course, for a good cause.)
So, as he sat across from Mizi for their therapist-mother-son best friend talk, he was not surprised to see her having a resigned expression at the clipboard in her hands.
“Ivan,” she sighed, putting the clipboard down and trying to ease him up by grinning comfortingly. “I really… I didn’t think of this, okay? I saw it on Reddit the other day, and I thought that it’d be perfect for you.”
Ivan smiled kindly, knowing he would not like the solution Mizi had found. Reddit? Seriously? “It’s alright if you don’t want to tell me, Mizi. I’ve been fine the past sixteen years–”
“No. you have not!” Mizi yelled, more to herself than anyone else. It turns out she’s really committed in whatever she has found. “Alright, Ivan, this is how it’s going to go. You’ll make an account on LOVR, send me the pictures, and give me daily updates.”
Ivan opened his mouth, found that he had no words to possibly say to that, yet was cut off regardless.
“No, nope! This is for your own good! LOVR verifies users on ID and stuff, so it’s safe, and you honestly need to move on!” Mizi said, edging on insanity. Ivan decided to let her rant. “If I let Sua love me for sixteen years unrequited, then I’m an asshole. If I let her one-sidedly hold up our friendship, then I’m an even bigger asshole! Till’s an asshole, Ivan! You need to find someone new, someone better, someone who will appreciate you!”
Mizi was an angel. She was patient, she was kind, she was understanding. Till must have really gotten to her nerves to have her curse at him, but Ivan knew it really wasn’t like that. “Till’s not an asshole, Mizi. I just don’t let him know that I love him, that’s all.”
“That’s worse! That means that Till doesn’t know you at all! He doesn’t know each and every smile you have, the red pupils in your eyes, the little bad habits I helped you get out of!” Mizi was truly distressed. Ivan could imagine why; she and Sua had been lovers for quite a while, and they had time to get to know each other before and after the fact. Being childhood sweethearts had that perk. It doesn’t mean she has to project her relationship onto his and Till’s, though. “You–! You are getting that LOVR account and finding someone who can love you like you love them!”
An hour later, Ivan is holding his phone, the screen proudly displaying his latest shame. Mizi is on the side, nodding in approval despite the fact she’s the one who single-handedly set it up for him. It’s all fine—it isn’t good to let your best friend go insane over your love life, after all.
It’s not fine. Ivan’s not used to his phone blowing up so much. He never really gets messages from Till, Mizi knows to limit herself to three at a time, and everyone else has no reason to message him so much.
Despite being listed as homosexual, dozens of women sent messages thinking they’d be the exception. The men who initiated it weren’t any better, either. He’s had to block at least fifty accounts for sending nudes. Ivan has probably seen the most porn he’s ever seen the past few days than the entirety of his life.
So, his method of sorting the accounts goes as such:
- Filter and reject all women. He’s clearly gay.
- Filter and reject anyone who’s sent pictures. The very small percent that weren’t nudes were not worth him personally combing through them.
- Filter and reject those who sent the eggplant and peach emojis. There’s a high chance that they are not his type.
It’s not anything groundbreaking, but it does save his sanity. The amount of chats after the fact leave him scrolling for an hour or so, if only to fulfill the requirements Mizi imposed on him. Unfortunately, some people recognized him as his father’s heir, further cutting down on potential companions for a short-lived relationship. Ivan doubts he’ll get over Till fast enough for someone to stay.
If only there were a rich and conventionally attractive guy who didn’t only want what went under.
As if the heavens had heard him, a new message dinged on his phone.
The pictures said it all; genuine luxury brands, blonde hair that somehow worked, the white blouse that was loose on a broad frame–and a bisexual label under the male one.
The message, somehow, was even better.
Luka: Hey, want to go see a Rebel concert together?
No nudes, no crude emojis, no innuendos. Just an invitation to a concert of a band that Ivan was sure Till had on his playlist.
Ivan: Sure.