Work Text:
Till has a reputation in Anakt garden, as the kid who always ‘loses’ things. Ivan also has a reputation in Anakt garden, as the kid who always manages to find Till’s ‘lost’ things.
The same routine goes today. Ivan gives Till the book he lost two days ago and made a fess about in class. Till narrows his eyes at him, zooming in on every word of the bastard’s carefully crafted excuse. It’s not that Till is ungrateful. It’s that he is sure as hell Ivan didn’t happen to stumble upon it under a tree.
“You’re looking at me more intently than you’ve looked at the board in class,” Ivan remarks, nothing but his fake ass smile as per usual. “If you don’t want the book, I can keep it for you. That way, you won’t lose it again.”
“I didn’t lose it,” Till clutches the book to his chest and raises his voice, making sure his confidence in his cause drips through every word. “And you…” He breathes. “Fucking know that.”
Ivan’s grin grows a fraction wider, infuriatingly. It looks unsettling, but it’s somewhat better than his perfect, snaggletooth-less smile, so Till just barely allows it without giving him a punch in the face and landing them both in the infirmary again. He scowls at him. Ivan laughs.
“What do you mean you didn’t lose it?” He asks, shaking his head. “You must have dropped it after running so fast out of class. Good thing I’m such a talented finder. Remember hide and seek yesterday?”
“Yes! Of course I do! You goddamn cheater!” Till shoots back at once like a dam broken down, all complaints and kicks in the shin flying out like they’ve been kept under wraps for decades. “You made me get caught! I was so close to winning!!”
Ivan takes the kicks without complaints. “I was in that hiding spot first.”
Till huffs at him. “I always hide there! It’s mine!”
“Well, it’s mine now.”
The book falls dully onto the ground. Ivan and Till, pulling at each other’s hair, roll down the hill and fall straight into the lake. Ivan wraps himself around Till like the evil little thing he is, keeping them both in the freezing water until Till is all shivers and clattering teeth. A robot fish bites Till’s leg, and he screams and swears until a segyein guard comes to pluck them both out.
It isn’t until night, tossing and turning in bed, that Till finally realises Ivan had changed the motherfucking topic, right in the middle of Till’s perfectly crafted confrontation. He writhes in frustration, kicking and punching everywhere he can. The bed sheets, the pillows, and the hard, iron wall. Till yelps, holding his foot and rolling on the spot, the bed creaking entire music notes beneath him. Acorn from the top bunk sends a pillow flying down the tells him to shut up.
.-***-.
Since plan A: interrogate Ivan while he’s off guard, failed, Till cleverly moves on to plan B: Find evidence.
He looks after his stuff, making sure to bring the bare minimum to class, and to keep everything else in his dormitory, which he is sure to be Ivan-proof, because the annoying segyeins had some kind of super complex and personal security system. Beyond that, for faster progress, he would follow Ivan around during free time, hiding behind trees and lurking in the shadows as to not get caught. Ivan must have a stash or somewhere he hides all the stuff he didn’t return to Till, like his neon green colouring pencil and the five whole pages from his sketchbook.
It doesn’t take long for him to realise the stalking part is completely unnecessary.
“…”
“...”
Behind the same tree, Till looks at Ivan, and Ivan looks back, ‘who are we watching?’ written all over his face.
“You skipped lunch for free time. Don’t you have anything to do?” Till asks. “Like reading classical lee-ter-rah-ter-all to keep your stupid top student grades.”
“I have a very neat schedule, unlike you. I only read from 8:10 to 8:50. Don’t you know reading early in the morning is very beneficial to your studies? 40 minutes a day is four and two-thirds hours a week. If you had read that much, you could use all the fancy words I know properly in your lyrics writing. Camilla isn’t a flower, by the way. It’s a type of milk.”
“What?!!” Till sways, doubtful. “You’re lying! Mizi said it’s a flower.”
“I read more.”
“You always lie.”
“I’m right this time, you’ll know if you read.”
Annoying. Till fumes. He learnt his lesson from last time, though. He is not getting distracted so easily. He has a plan on hand: expose Ivan and get him to stop stealing his stuff.
“Why don’t you show me what you read, then?” Till laughs gleefully in his head. This plan is so perfect. Ivan’s bound to have some sort of evidence of his crimes in his dormitory. Till is going to expose him for once and for all.
“OK then, follow me.” Ivan grabs Till’s hand and starts leading them in the opposite direction to the dormitory. Till’s smile freezes on his face.
“Wait wait wait!” He panics. “Where are we going??”
The sign fades into view. Library. His entire time at Anakt Garden, this is the one place Till never entered unless he was dragged by the ear. He tries to turn back.
“Ah no! Go back! Go back! I don’t wanna go to the library!!”
“Don’t you want to read?”
Till wants to travel back in time and punch himself in the face. “No! Well… Yes… I mean… Aaaaaaaaah!!”
They spent the rest of their personal time in the library, listening to Ivan ramble on complex sentences with words Till never heard his whole life. The word ‘paradigm’ sounds cool. Maybe he can use it in songwriting, if Ivan would pause in his yapping for a second and tell him how it works.
Till’s plan failed again, but at least he found out Camilla is actually a flower.
.-***-.
Ivan is a tough nut to crack, but Till is not giving up.
Plan C: Set a trap.
Even if Ivan is careful and crafty, judging from all the things Till loses, he is super greedy, and he likes to play as a lost and found box, so Till will give him plenty to play with, and then catch him red-handed. He brings his box of colouring pencils and scatters it messily on his desk, pretending to doodle on his book.
Good. The hook is cast. Ivan’s glancing over already. Till praises his own genius.
Ten minutes. Ivan hasn’t made a move yet. Cautious bastard.
Twenty minutes. Still nothing. Till scribbles furiously, drawing Ivan getting bit by the robotic fish.
Thirty minutes. Mizi’s hair is so pretty.
An hour later, the lesson ended, and Till’s book is covered in drawings of Mizi. His new green-coloured pencil is gone. The blue one too, and Ivan is gone, out of the class to do studious things as usual, except Till knows he is not doing studious things right now. He is hiding evidence of crime. Till bolts out the door and chases after him, catching him in the dormitory corridors.
“Till? What are you doing? You don’t sleep this early.”
“Empty your pockets,” Till demands smugly. “Now.”
Ivan does so, nothing falls out. Till crouches down, confusion written all over his face. He spins Ivan around, shakes him, and finds nothing.
What? Did he really just lose it? Did they fall off the table when he was drawing?
Just three days later, three days of Till not losing anything, Ivan’s name is almost getting cleared of crimes, until he comes to Till again under their exact same spot, handing him two colouring pencils.
“Y-y-y-you!! I knew it!”
“Knew what?” Ivan asks, tilting his head to the side.
“You took it when I was drawing, didn’t you?” Till accuses. “In class yesterday.”
“No. I found it.”
Liar. Till scoffs at him. “Where did you find it this time?”
Like a true bastard who doesn’t even know how to make new excuses. Ivan smiles, and replies.
“Under a tree.”
.-***-.
Bonus:
This is his chance! Till picks up his pen, eyes sparkling as he looks at the graduation messages sheet. They are graduating anyways, no more need to lie, but Till figures he can give Ivan a piece of his mind, let him know he wasn’t fooled by his woven excuses and lies.
‘You are the one who stole my pencil at that time, right?’