Chapter Text
Like usually, Till was resting under the perfectly-shaped, artifical tree, while making messy sketches of the girl in pink, you know who.
Ever since he got his hands on the sketch book, he never missed a moment to draw. It was a nice feeling, shifting your imagination into a tiny piece of paper. It felt comforting for Till.
...Until it didn't.
There was a shadow, stretching across the sketch book. Till raised his head slowly to see who the figure was.
"Oh...Hey Ivan."
Till wasn't surprised by this encounter. As he was actually expecting to see the black haired boy's face from the moment he sat here.
Ivan rested his hands on his knees, with a small, but a pleasant smile.
"Hey Till. Draw me!"
Till took a moment to answer, while he was already drifted into his pages, trying to get the right angle of her head, of course.
"Oh, hm? Yeah, maybe later."
Ivan's smile slowly faded with dissapointment, but he didn't quite care actually. Since this was the usual answer he got from Till. Maybe he's not trying hard enough? Does he have to push harder?
Ivan crouched right in front of Till, tilting his head.
"What're you drawing then?"
Till took a moment to stare at Ivan, and when he finally understood the question, his cheeks began to flare up. He nearly jumped out of his place, quickly turning the next page of his sketchbook.
"Uh- Nothing! See- It's just- Uh...Some...Flowers! Look!"
Till shoved the sketchbook, without looking at the page, right into Ivan's face, nearly slapping him. But those were not flowers, rather a girl, with a gorgeous flower crown on her head, and round glasses, smiling like an angel.
Ivan gave a stare, he was lost surely. He pushed the sketchbook from his face, still lost.
"...Is that Mizi?"
"WHAT- NO! HUH?"
Till quickly turned the sketchbook to himself, and started to panic to the fact that he showed Ivan the wrong page...
The flaring in his cheeks began spreading to his whole face. Gosh, he looked like a tomato.
Ivan was still staring, with his blank eyes. And didn't quite understand why Till cared so much about Ivan seeing his sketches of Mizi...Nor why he was such a fond of Mizi. She was nothing special. Was it because she had pink hair? Maybe Till liked the color pink, that's why...Maybe Ivan should dye his hair pink...
Whatever.
"Stop screaming..."
Ivan took down the sketchbook to take another peek at it. It seems that it got a little messy since Till squeezed it between his arms and his chest to hide it from Ivan.
He pointed at the page.
"I think it looks fine. But you drew her wrong."
Till was surprised to the fact that Ivan finding the drawing "fine". He never appreciated something Till did, he prefered mocking him instead. So Till was feeling quite glad with this trophy, but he was still confused, how could he draw Mizi wrong? It was impossible! But not like Till watched her with prying eyes everytime she was around...
Till took a look at the drawing once more and blinked.
"...Did- Did I?"
Ivan nodded his head in approval.
"Mizi is uglier."
Till was shocked by this response, he didn't know how to answer, nor how to grasp it. Of course. It's Ivan. He would always find a way to make Till furious. An eye of Till twitched.
"What."
Ivan didn't show any sign of sarcasm, he was dead serious. He started to fidget with the sketchbook of Till, running his fingers across the pages, one by one.
"Yeah. But it's okay, you're ugly too."
Till's face was already flared up, and now it was burning. He hates it. He hates it that everytime Ivan is around, he just gets mocked. He hates it that he can't get just a minute without Ivan asking him the most annoying and obvious thing ever. He hates it that he can't be alone with his thoughts for once. He hates Ivan.
He finally snapped.
"Shut up! Why do you do this everytime? Just leave me alone already!"
Till shoved Ivan out of his way. Burning with rage. It wasn't the insult that made him furious. But the fact that he was the one getting mocked all the time. Nothing about it was fair.
"I...I hate you! I hate you Ivan!"
Small drops of tears was starting to cool his cheeks, why was he crying? He wasn't supposed to cry! Damn it! Ivan was the one who was supposed to cry! Till wiped his tears with his sleeves, the cold feeling was still there. He doesn't know what to do at this point. And god! That blank stare was annoying as hell!
Ivan just stood there, quiet and motionless, it was impossible to read him, as if he were a book with blank pages. His red centered big black eyes, wasn't helping at all.
"What's wrong with being ugly?"
Ivan asked, with a calm voice.
Till startled, not quite knowing what to say. His eyes moving left and right, his toes were slowly sinking to the ground. He was squeezing his palm so hard that his fingernails started to dig to his skin. Every inch of his body was burning.
"Ugh! You're- You're so weird!"
Till turned his back to Ivan, leaving his sketchbook and pencils behind. What was the point? He didn't want to draw anything at all. And even if he did so, all he would earn would be more mockery from Ivan.
...
Ivan watched as the distance between him and Till stretched farther, and farther. Until he couldn't see him anymore. There it was. He was alone again. All alone. He rested his back on the tree, slowly sinking to the ground. Beyond him, the children of Anakt played together, laughed together.
And there he was, alone, under the tree.