Chapter Text
To grow is to learn to live.
Emotions, feelings, experiences. Learning to control ones base desire until you became worthy of society. Those who failed to, crumbled beneath the weight of it.
For Ivan, it was less about living and more surviving. Controlling his emotions, not to prevent him from exploding but to pretend he was experiencing. Being worthy wasn’t a choice for him but an expectation.
A smile here, a nod there. A perfectly timed quip when necessary and a laugh that was neither too loud nor too soft. What lay beneath the mask wasn’t worth presenting, so he buried it.
Expectations required results, and the twisted mass that writhed inside him only threatened to destroy them.
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But to be human is to mess up. Mistakes made and promises broken. Apathy turned to fascination, and later desire.
Ivan had never met someone as human as Till. So it was only natural, that it was Till who made him feel human.
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It started with a flower.
A broken stem with crumpled petals. An ugly thing, in Ivan’s opinion, if only because the centre of it resembled his own dark gaze.
It wasn’t the flower that caught his attention, but rather the young boy kneeling beside it. Red petals littered his own silvery hair, fat tears dripping down flushed cheeks.
“Cheer up,” the boy hiccuped, hands curved protectively around the broken thing. “Cheer up, I didn’t mean to hurt you.”
Ivan tipped his head to the side, kneeling beside the boy and the flower, watching them curiously. He looked to be his own age, but Ivan himself appeared deceptively young. Not that he knew his exact age, orphan boys don’t have birthdays after all.
“You know it can’t understand you,” Ivan said flatly, startling the boy. He usually wouldn’t linger, going to the playground was rarely a trip for his own satisfaction and more that his guardian felt the need to show him off. Interacting with other kids was rarely the top of his priorities.
And yet, he’d watched this kid trip over his own feet trying to catch a butterfly and land headfirst in the patch of flowers growing. And instead of moving on like countless others would have, he was here doing this.
Ivan was curious. That was all.
The boy spluttered, his cheeks turning an even darker shade of red while his hands balled into fists. “You don’t know that!”
Ivan did, in fact, know that, and he was rewarded by the boy's thin brows furrowing into an angry pout when he said as much. “Shut up,” he snapped, turning back to the flower. “Mama says I should be respectful to everything.”
”Telling me to shut up isn’t very respectful,” Ivan pointed out, leaning forward in fascination when the boy spluttered again, a multitude of emotions crossing his face all at once.
Before he could respond however, he whipped his head up at the sound of a name called, eyes brightening. He scrambled to his feet without another word, running away from Ivan and the flower and towards a woman with the same silver hair.
Ivan stayed put, knees going damp from the grass beneath him while he watched them both disappear.
Till, he thought, running the name through his mind like the sentences his guardian asked him to recite. A name as unique as it’s owner.
He looked back at the flower. Maybe it was the trick of the dying summer light, but he could have sworn it looked less pitiful. He leaned forward, placing his hands atop the indented grass left behind by Till’s touch.
”Cheer up,” he whispered. Just in case. “Cheer up…”
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That fascination never left, not when Ivan started to seek Till out at the playground and not when Till somehow allowed him access to his space. There was no end to Ivan’s curiosity, always some word or action that fascinated him more than the last.
Till was an anomaly to Ivan’s preconceived idea of how the world worked, and his hunger to learn more could never be sated.
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“That doesn’t look like Mizi.”
”Yes it does!”
”Her nose isn’t as straight.”
Till squinted, the tip of his tongue peeking out in concentration. “Oh. Yeah.” He quickly rubbed out that line, carefully drawing a softer arch.
Ivan looked over Till’s shoulder, expression carefully detached while he sipped on his coffee. If he bet a coin on how many times they were here, after school, with Till drawing Mizi instead of studying then he’d be a rich man. Well, richer.
He couldn’t quite catch when exactly the shift had happened, only that at some point he realised that this was where they ended up instead ditching their study to visit the nearby beach. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t mind, but he could never truly be unsatisfied when allowed these quiet moments by Till’s side.
“Mizi mentioned that you’re planning on going to the local art college instead of out in the city,” Ivan said off-handedly, as if that particular piece of information didn’t cause something dark and twisted to curl in his gut.
Till hummed in response, then straightened, laying the pencil down for the first time since they’d arrived. “Ma isn’t doing too good with the bills,” he said casually, and yet Ivan could catch a hint of remorse beneath his easy smile. He could never quite hide his emotions like Ivan could, always wearing his heart on his sleeve. It was part of why Ivan was so fascinated.
“I told you I’d pay for it,” Ivan said in a hushed voice, leaning in closer.
Till’s jaw clenched, expression stuttering for a moment before he hunched over his unfinished drawing. “And I told you that I won’t accept your charity,” he shot back curtly.
Ivan said no more, simply watching Till in silence. He knew a dead end when he saw one, and feared if he pushed too much then Till would leave.
”I’m going to the city,” he said finally, voice as heavy as his gaze. Till’s hand clenched around his pencil, and in his silence Ivan continued. “Father has left me no choice.”
I’d stay if I could, he thought desperately, hands turning to fists where they lay on his lap. For you. Only for you.
“Good for you mate,” Till muttered eventually, not looking up from his art. “You’re too good for this place anyway.”
”You’re here though,” Ivan said, leaning forward just a fraction. Till only flinched, and was silent.
If his pencil strokes were rougher than before, sharp angles cutting across the gentle curve of Mizi’s jaw, Ivan didn’t mention it. To hope was too lose after all, and he had long given up on that.
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Ivan’s hand lingered over the exam sheet, gaze heavy. I could fail this, he thought suddenly, pen still laying on the desk while time ticked past. He could fail. If he didn’t get the required scores he wouldn’t be accepted for the college Unsha was pushing him to go to.
It could be so easy. Fail this, stay in town, study a course on literature like he actually wanted to. Stay with Till.
But expectations required results. And he knew his guardian enough to know that failure was not to be tolerated.
He sighed, picking up the pen and turning the first page, precious seconds behind everyone else.
He passed with flying colours. He pretended to be happy about it.
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“You’ll call everyday?” Till insisted as they walked, one hand twisting in the sleeve of Ivan’s jacket. He snorted, subtly leaning into the contact. “Do you want a good morning and good night text as well?” He teased, laughing at the red eclipsing Till’s face.
Till spluttered in response, shoving him away and blushing harder the more he laughed. Oh what Ivan would do to make him blush like that everyday, to forever be the reason his cheeks bloomed so beautifully red.
”Seriously though.” Till pulled him to a stop on the platform, staring straight up at him through furrowed brows. “Don’t be a stranger. You’ve bothered me too much all these years to suddenly be too cool for me now. In your fancy fucking school, jackass.”
Ivan’s smile softened, stomach twisting painfully. “Never Till,” he murmured quietly, watching Till’s eyes glance away once more. He’d never leave him, could never survive leaving him. Ivan didn’t know how to be human without Till, he couldn’t cope with that permanent absence.
The platform rumbled as the train pulled up, echoing through his body like some terrible omen. It was taking him away from Till, it may as well be.
He turned to face him, mouth open in preparation for a farewell before he was interrupted by a tug to his arm, Till pulling him towards him and wrapping around his torso.
Ivan froze, but Till was shoving him away before he could move, cheeks flushed a vibrant red. “Get out of here or you’ll miss your train!” He shouted, shoving him harder until Ivan’s brain kickstarted into action.
Ivan was left with nothing to do except smile and wave, allowing himself to be swept away by the crowds. His gaze stayed zeroed in on Till, watching his small frame until the crowd of people closed in around him.
And then he was gone, just like that.
The train rumbled into action, station slipping past as it steadfastly moved out. And all of a sudden, things became very real, very quick.
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“You gotta tell me more about this rich-ass fucking school.”
Ivan chuckled, balancing his phone between his ear and his shoulder while he carried his grocery bags in from the car. “I’ve told you all there is Till, it’s just a school like any other.”
”Okay but like.” There was a rustle from the other end, a muted bang followed by a muffled string of curses. “Stupid fucking desk— sorry.”
”I don’t think the desk is the stupid one,” Ivan murmured, grinning wildly as he was promptly cussed out. “I’m being honest Till. There is nothing here that is newsworthy. You, on the other hand, are always interesting.”
”I can’t tell if that’s a compliment or an insult.”
”Both.”
”Fuck you!”
The hours passed as easily as if they were together again, mindlessly drifting between topics. Ivan’s eyes were closed, phone held up to his ear so he could pretend Till was talking right into it. If he could try hard enough…
“Ma misses you,” Till said suddenly, jerking Ivan out of his fantasy.
He smiled, thinking of the woman who would have adopted him as her own if only he let her. “Tell Auntie I miss her too.” Till hummed in response, and Ivan waited a beat before adding teasingly: “just her?”
The phone line exploded with a frenzy of fuck offs and shut ups, but Ivan’s smile only grew and grew.
”I miss you too Till,” he said once the line fell into silence, the words weighing heavy on his tongue. He missed Till, like a snake curling round his lungs, constricting every breath he dared take when not in Till’s presence.
”Yeah, yeah.” Till mumbled, and if Ivan’s ears weren’t deceiving him he just might have sounded fond.
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Promises are rarely made to be broken. Always spoken with the best of intentions, filed away somewhere in the back of ones mind until it can be fulfilled.
People don’t tend to want to break a promise.
Sometimes it just, happens.
A shift suddenly dragging late, assignments piling up with due dates racing closer and closer. Expectations growing higher, life’s road turning rougher.
Ivan didn’t mean to break his promise. And neither did Till. But daily calls turned to weekly, and then monthly. And then none at all, simply communicating through text.
Until that slowed too, and Ivan was so deeply buried in his work, that he didn’t notice when they too had stopped completely, until their chat log had been empty for days.
People were often like the tide. They crash into your life, wild and exciting, carving their space into your heart with the rush of them. They bring with them experiences and gifts, leaving it with you and staking its claim.
But the tide never stays forever. Eventually the pull of the sea is too strong, and they slowly drift outwards, leaving only traces of their presence.
Till had always been comparable to the sea, so wild and beautiful, dangerous for those who underestimated it. So it made perfect sense that he were the tide in Ivan’s world too.
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College was supposed to be one of those places that one found themselves in. To grow is to learn to live after all, and what place offers a better opportunity to learn all the things that came with being an adult than an establishment full of young adults learning just that.
Parties and hookups, dating and premature proposals. People discovering themselves in the warm embrace of someone else, learning the deepest and most intimate aspects of life.
Ivan had never been unpopular in school. He was always the one with the most roses on his desk on Valentine’s Day, the one who’s locker was always full of confessions.
But he never really… noticed, back then.
Because back then he had Till, and the ability to spin said confessions into a way to make Till jealous, because Till always looked so adorable when he was jealous.
Now though, Ivan was alone. When he turned down a confession with a polite smile, there was no one by his side to scoff and roll his eyes about being ungrateful.
Now there was only the disappointed face of those he rejected, and an empty spot at his shoulder.
You’d find it funny, he typed on the way out of his lecture after such an encounter. He even presented me with a poem he wrote. Absolutely nothing compared to all those songs you used to compose. Do you still make music? I hope you do. I hope you’ll show me.
He didn’t send it. Till was too busy to be troubled with such trivial things as a rejected love confessions. One of their last conversations had included Till stressing over bills and assignments, yet once again rejected Ivan’s offer of help.
He didn’t need Ivan on his plate. He’d be here whenever Till had time, always.
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The night was lonely.
Oh how Ivan yearned to hear Till’s voice, to feel his bony knee pressed into his stomach on the nights he slept over at Io’s. There was nothing he craved more than the company of that beautiful soul, feeling that fire touching his cold heart and making him feel truly human.
With Till there were no expectations. No high bar for Ivan to pass, no smile that needed to curve just right or words picked with careful consideration.
With Till he could just be Ivan. But now there was no Till, and nobody to stop him from falling too deep into that mask he wore.
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Days stretch into weeks, weeks turning to months. One year becomes two, and then three, and suddenly the pass of time becomes something that Ivan can no longer control, slipping past him like sand.
His days are mundane and crowded, with assignments and work piling up until he’s drowning beneath the weight of it all. His guardian expects more and more from him with every passing semester, and there is nothing Ivan can do but rise to meet every raised bar.
The pressure consumes him, twisting with his loneliness and filling his lungs until it chokes him.
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You have reached the voicemail of…
Ivan clicked the phone off, a bitter smile curving his lips. Just as anticipated.
To hope was to lose afterall, and he should have given up on that long ago.