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Till had always loved drawing, and he was extremely skilled at it too.
Ivan always loved watching Till draw, no matter the subject. Even if he was just drawing a flower, or a tree, or even just grass; Ivan would still be happy to watch him. Occasionally, there’d be times when Till would draw the landscape of Anakt Garden, and Ivan would always be surprised as to how skilled Till really was.
It was as if he took a picture of the garden and traced it onto paper. But, no.
He’d look at what was in front of him and let his hand glide across his sketchbook to translate his vision onto paper. It was impressive, Ivan would always think. It was interesting to watch as well, to see Till’s thought process as he sketched – to see how the quick, random scribbles and lines Till makes turned into an image.
However, as Ivan would soon observe, most of the time, Till would spend time drawing Mizi, another girl in Anakt Garden that Ivan considered a pretty close friend. Till's drawings of her always came out pretty, almost like the real thing but with a little differences here and there. Sometimes, Mizi’s eyelashes would be longer than they really were, sometimes her hair was longer, sometimes her eyes were bigger; but those were just a few Ivan could recall as he observed Till whilst he drew.
At times, Ivan would even point out these things to Till, only to be met with anger. And Till would either shout at him, hit him, or just walk away. Whatever it’d be though, it never deterred Ivan.
–
One day, the two were sitting down by the trunk of one of the trees in the garden. Ivan had lost count as to what the date was then - though, it wasn't like it mattered, really. The tree didn’t really provide any shade, but it felt comfortable having something to lean against. This was almost routine for them, sitting down under this tree and doing whatever it was that they wanted to do. Usually, what Till would do was draw or write, and Ivan would always watch him as he did.
However, one thing that was different today was that Till was actively hiding his sketchbook from Ivan – which was, honestly, odd because he never did that. Even when Ivan would ask about or criticize his drawings, Till never hid it from him. But, today, he was doing his absolute best so that Ivan wouldn’t be able to see a single thing, not even a line or mark.
It made Ivan curious, but also a little upset that Till would hide something like this from him.
“When are you going to show me what you drew?” Ivan asked, his tone borderline a whine. He was leaning coolly against the tree, but his face betrayed his demeanor as he seemed to be pouting.
He had already tried grabbing Till’s sketchbook to see whatever it was he was hiding, but after Till had kicked him away, Ivan gave in and let Till just draw. He thought that, maybe, when he was done, Till would finally choose show him. Maybe, Ivan thought, it was just a case of insecurity or shyness that Till was showing.
But still…
“Just shut up for a second, won’t you?” Till bit back, his eyebrows furrowed in frustration as he focused on the paper in front of him. Once in a while, he would take a quick glance up at Ivan before going back to drawing. Ivan wished he would look at him longer, though.
A moment passed. A minute, then two, and then three. And then Ivan was back to whining.
“Are you done yet?” Ivan asked, moving to get closer to Till. He hoped that, if he were stealthy enough, he would be able to get even just a small glance.
Quickly, though, Till shoved the eraser tip of his pencil to Ivan’s forehead with force, making Ivan stumble backward. Ivan rubbed his forehead as Till paid him no more mind and went back to drawing.
“You’ve been drawing for a while. Just what is it that you’re drawing?” Ivan asked, not really expecting a response.
Viciously, Till erased something on the paper. “I don’t want to get anything wrong, or you might go off on a tangent about, oh– ‘why are the eyes so big?’, or ‘oh, the neck is too long’ !” Till imitated Ivan’s voice on the last part.
Ivan tilted his head slightly to the side. “I don’t sound like that.”
“Yeah, you’re right.” Till scoffed. “You sound a lot worse.”
“I–”
Ivan didn’t get a chance to retort when Till looked back at him. “I’m done,” was all he said.
Ivan raised an eyebrow. “That was fast.”
“Earlier, you said that I was too slow. Now, you’re saying that I was fast?” Till rolled his eyes. “Pick a side, won’t you?”
“Okay. Well, can I see it now?”
Till gripped the sides of his sketchbook, as if he were ready for Ivan to try to take it away from him again. “Fine. But don’t say anything weird, okay?”
“Okay.” Ivan was incredibly quick to agree to Till’s terms, nodding his head up and down like there was no tomorrow. He held his palms out, his hands opening and closing as if to say “gimme.”
Till took one last look at his drawing, even going as far as to distance his view from it to see it from a farther perspective in order to truly assess if it was worth showing Ivan. Hesitantly, Till began to give the sketchbook to Ivan.
But, when it was just about to fall into Ivan's hands, Till pulled his sketchbook away and hugged it in his arms. When Ivan looked back at him, Till's face, and even the tips of his ears, were red.
“I take it back!” Till shouted, kicking Ivan in the chest to push him away. “I am not showing this to you!” Embarrassment was evident in his face with how red it was. Ivan couldn’t help but find it cute. And a little funny.
But, at the same time, he was a little sad – sad because Till’s drawing was right within his reach. It was right there! He should’ve grabbed it and ran away as soon as he could, he thought.
“This sucks– I should’ve never even done this in the first place!” Till curled up in a ball, his sketchbook still against his chest, protecting it from the world – from Ivan. “This is stupid–”
Ivan knocked Till out of his mumbling and cursing by tackling him, sending them both rolling on the ground.
“Hey!” Till was met with Ivan’s hand against his face and another hand trying to grab the sketchbook. “Argh! Let me go, idiot!” He used one arm to shove Ivan in the stomach.
However, no matter how much force he put in, it never seemed to affect Ivan. Either he was much too weak, or Ivan was much too strong. And Till didn’t really like the idea of either. So, instead, he resorted to his legs. That is to say, he began to kick and knee the boy above him.
Meanwhile, Ivan began to wonder just what it was that Till drew. Mizi again, maybe? No, that’s not it. Till wouldn’t act like this if it was just that. Then, maybe, it was something inappropriate? Well… no, Till didn’t seem like the type to want to draw something like that. So, then, what was it?
It wasn’t like Till drew Ivan, right?
At that, Ivan let out a small laugh. It was impossible. No matter how much he’d hope, it wouldn’t actually happen. Still, he found the thought of it amusing – so much so that it made his heart tighten a little.
But that’d never happen. Not a chance.
When Ivan finally managed to catch Till off guard, he grabbed the sketchbook and pulled it away swiftly.
“Ivan! You– Don’t open that!” Till shouted at him angrily.
Ivan, with his quick thinking, stood up and began flicking through the pages. Till, whose face was so red it almost looked stupid, quickly scrambled to his feet, nearly stumbling back on the floor as he did, just so that he could stop Ivan.
When Till started to reach for his sketchbook, Ivan only raised it higher above his head. Then, he simply continued going through the pages as if no one were trying to kick his shins and make him fall over.
And then, he saw it. The latest page, drawing so fresh that the residue from Till’s erasing earlier fell to his cheek. It seemed as though his thoughts earlier were incorrect, he realized. Honestly - honestly - he didn’t really think this would actually happen, nor did he think that this would be what he felt once it actually happened. But... still.
Ivan felt his heart hammer in his chest and his face became slightly warmer. It felt like something had begun to bubble up inside him, and he felt like a course of energy just rushed through him. Still, a blank expression settled on his face. Yet, his eyes shined like they had just seen the sun.
Beneath him, Till shriveled up in embarrassment.
“Okay, there, you saw it. Now- now, give it back to me.” Till gritted his teeth, his words more of a demand than a request. However, Ivan didn’t miss the way Till was searching his expression for a hint of something .
In response to Till, Ivan gave a short, yet concise “No.”
“What?” Till asked, dumbfounded. “You already saw it! Just give it back!”
"I’ll give you your sketchbook back,” Ivan started, “But can I have this page? Just this one.”
“What?! No!”
"Then, I won't give it back."
"Ivan- You asshole!"
Ivan ignored Till and stared back up at the drawing and, despite the shouting of the sketchbook's owner, his heart swelled.
He observed the way precise lines were drawn on the paper, curving and straight ones, thick and thin ones, how they all contributed into making an image of him – of Ivan. It was perfect, Ivan couldn’t think of any other word to describe it other than… just perfect. His eyes, his hair, that little snaggletooth he had – was this how Till saw him?
He couldn’t stop the smile that spread on his face.
“To think that Till took so much time and effort to draw this for me.” Ivan mused to himself, which Till took as a tease.
“Ugh, you're so annoying! I hate you, you know that?!”
A mischievous glint appeared in Ivan's eyes. “I love you too, Till.” He smiled as Till’s eyes widened. Ivan wrapped his arms around him and lifted him up from the ground, swinging Till side to side as this beast of a man, Ivan, hugged him like his life depended on it. Meanwhile, Till did his best to stop his face from being squished into Ivan’s chest.
“L- let go of me– You’re so clingy!” Till shouted at him and he debated for a moment if he should just bite Ivan then and there. But, knowing Ivan, the weird bastard would probably like it. "Put me down!"
However, just like that, Ivan put him back down and immediately went back to admiring Till's drawing of him with a bright smile on his face. “This is amazing, Till. I can’t believe you drew this for me.” He traced the lines on the paper lightly, charcoal slightly smudging with his touches.
“I didn’t draw it for you .”
“Whatever you say. But you still drew me .” Ivan smiled, “I’m so happy Till thinks of me too.”
“Yeah, yeah. Whatever…” Ivan watched Till’s face and even the tips of his ears go red. He was just so cute that Ivan wanted to squeeze his face. Well, he could, but he’ll save that for another time.
“I’m going to show this to Mizi, and Sua, and–”
“What?! No, you’re not!”
But before Till could stop him, Ivan was already running with his sketchbook in his hand, waving it in the air for everyone to see.
–
Eventually, Ivan was able to keep the page as remembrance. And, throughout his time in Anakt Garden, Ivan would always treasure the drawing Till made of him. Even when he started performing on stage, he would always keep it close to his heart.
It reminded him of Till, and gave him little hope that, maybe – just maybe – there was a chance that Till would feel for him the same things Ivan felt for him. That may be delusional, sure, but so what?
And, eventually, when Ivan dies, they would search his room. And, there, they will find one of his most prized possessions framed on the wall.
And, Till, wherever he was, would be glad that, even just once in his life, he was able to draw Ivan – how he really looked like, and not the pained, messy imitation of who he was in his notebook now. It was pathetic, really. Because he couldn’t remember or draw much of anything of Ivan now except for how his eyes looked, staring at Till, even as he was dying.
But, still. Silently and painfully, Till was thankful that, at some point, he was able to put what Ivan really was on paper. Even if just once.