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Ivan considers himself a relatively strong player. Frankly speaking, the objectively best player on his high school’s football team. Not a single fumble on the field, and if his team ever lost, he wasn’t playing that day.
Was it for the love of the game? No, not really. In fact, Ivan was pretty sure he’d only picked the football club because the music club’s spots were already filled, and he had nothing better to do on a Wednesday night.
That, and it meant he could beg his unwilling best friend, Till, to watch all of his matches. Of course, his attempts were mostly futile. Till sneered at the prospect of watching ‘sweaty guys homo-erotically tackling each other for two hours’.
Ivan assures him that they were mostly straight, and Till looks Ivan up and down before snorting, “Yeah, sure. Still not going.”
“But Till,” Ivan whines, burying his head into the crook of Till’s neck, “I always show up to your band recitals!”
“I’ve never asked you to,” Till grumbles, “You just show up anyway. Seriously, I don’t even know how you keep up with all the dates.”
“That’s for me to know and for you to find out,” Ivan smirks, “Besides, if I didn’t show up, you’d sulk about it for days.”
“I would not.” Till hisses, despite making no effort to shove Ivan off his shoulders.
“Really, Till? What about that time I had the flu and missed your Spring Fling performance?” Ivan prods, relishing in the growing flush rising up Till’s neck.
“That’s not because you missed the performance, you idiot! It’s because you didn’t bother telling me you had the fucking flu,” Till snaps, “Your good-for-nothing father wouldn’t have done shit, you were lying on the floor when I got to your place. The floor, Ivan.”
Ivan blinks, “You would’ve missed your recital.”
“Fuck my recital, you not dying’s more important to me than one stupidly cheesy festival,” Till groans, before he mutters under his breath, “Not like there was any point to being there if you weren’t.”
Ivan tries to ignore his heart racing at Till’s ridiculously endearing way with words, “Well, that’s how I feel about my games, when you aren’t there.”
Till lets out a confused noise. “I don’t think there’s any point playing without my favourite cheerleader,” Ivan croons, as Till smacks his head, Ivan wincing in response.
“I thought Mizi was your favourite cheerleader. She might get upset at you saying otherwise,” Till says, gently rubbing at the spot he hit Ivan’s head at.
Ivan smiles at the gesture, leaning his head down to give Till better access, “She is, officially. But that’s because you aren’t there,” He leans closer, his lips grazing the shell of Till’s ear, “You know I’m biased. Terribly so,”
He relishes Till’s resulting shudder.
“Yo, Ivan!” Ivan shuts his eyes immediately, before he schools himself into a charming, practised expression, ignoring Till’s amused huff at the change.
“Guys, the match isn’t for another half hour,” Ivan chuckles, raising his hands in a fist-bump motion as his teammates greet him amicably, before waving at the other boy. Till leg raises to lean himself over his locker, nodding awkwardly at his teammates in acknowledgement.
“The team could use a pep talk, Cap’” Marty says. Ah, right. Captain. A role he didn’t necessarily desire, but was unanimously voted to undertake.
Ivan sighs, before his smile grows wide, too wide. “Alright then, lead the way,” he says, looking back at Till, who shakes his head fondly, before his hands swat him away from afar as he mouths, shoo.
Fine. He’ll shoo. It’s fine.
###
Ivan glances at the scoreboard briefly. They were leading, but only by around a point. Whatever, he’s worked against worse odds. He passes effortlessly to Yeong, who stumbles immediately. Honestly, it was on him for passing it to Yeong. He has no idea how that guy made it to the team.
“Ian!” Yeong yells, as Ivan feels his eye twitch, “Isn’t that your boyfriend?”
My boyfriend?
“I don’t have a—”
“That emo dude!”
Oh, Till.
Wait.
“Till?!” Ivan’s head whirls towards the stands, scanning over the crowd instead of his team’s play. He zeroes in on a skull-patterned-tee, before he focuses on piercing teal.
“Till!” Ivan’s eyes sparkle, waving at the boy aggressively as everyone else in the crowd shuffles around to look over at whoever Ivan was clearly rabid over. Said subject of his affections seems to be yelling at him, his words muffled due to both their distance and Ivan’s current state of delirium.
Till was here. Till. Match. Here. Ivan had to win. He had to establish his dominance over the field, prove that it was worth Till’s time, use this as ammunition to ask him out after the—
Ivan gets knocked over.
He doesn’t see who did it, Yeong, maybe? Probably? Sure, they were on the same team, but Ivan wouldn’t put it past him. All he sees are blurred figures running towards him, a weird amalgamation of sounds and colours. He feels his butt sting, and his thigh ache slightly.
“Dude— what do you think you’re doing?!” Ivan winces at the noise before he registers a certain grey mop of hair above him.
“Till?” Ivan groans, groggy. He feels bony fingers dig into the flesh of his ass and under his upper back as he’s lifted off the ground.
“A-are you okay?” Till stutters under Ivan’s weight as a crowd surrounds them. Ivan’s brain slows as it begins to process the fact that Till was lifting him. Bridal-carrying him, if you will.
“Uh,” Ivan manages intelligibly, as Till’s brows furrow with concern.
“D’you think he has a concussion?!” A cheerleader screams, as Till throws a glare in her direction.
“You screaming in his goddamn face isn’t going to make it any better,” He hisses, before he— kisses Ivan’s hair?
“What—” Ivan attempts to ground himself, “I’m fine,” He manages, before looking up at a completely red-faced and heaving Till, “You sure you don’t want to hand me off to the other guys?”
“No!” Till snaps, as Ivan’s eyes widen, “They’d drop you or— or I don’t know, I don’t trust them, they’re fucking stupid.” His grip on Ivan’s ass tightens as he attempts to use his knee to regain his hold on the raven-haired boy, and Ivan thinks he’s seeing stars. Maybe this was Heaven; the afterlife wasn’t just a concept.
“Yes, well, my sweet, I believe that brawn is more apt than brain is in this situation,” Ivan says, yet his mind was clearly elsewhere, his voice sounding distant as he feels Till’s hot breath fanning over him, at Till fussing over his state.
“Y-your sweet?” Till manages, before an undignified noise escapes him at Ivan’s shifting weight.
“Mine,” Ivan finds himself affirming, dazed.
Till promptly passes out, Ivan falls right on top of him.
###
Ivan watches as Till’s eyelids slowly scrunch together, eyelashes fluttering before he eventually opens his eyes.
“Ivan?” Till rubs at his eye, Ivan gently prying his hand out of the action.
“Till,” Ivan says. Till looks him up and down, then looks at their surrounding, at the pastel blue walls and marble flooring, at the sick-bed he was currently lying on.
He sighs.
“I passed out.”
“You passed out,” Ivan echoes, smiling.
The front door bursts open, as Mizi rushes towards Till’s bed, Sua trailing behind her— slower, yet concerned nonetheless.
“Till! Are you doing okay? We saw what happened,” Mizi gasps, worriedly, as Sua’s eyes rake over Till’s state, seemingly ascertaining his well-being herself.
“I’m fine Mizi,” Till says, ignoring the flush to his ears at their concern.
Sua frowns, “Are you stupid? Lifting a guy like Ivan up? Where’s your sense of self-preservation?”
Ivan’s gaze slides over to Till, feigning disinterest, hiding burning curiosity.
Till purses his lips, “I couldn’t not do anything when I literally saw him get tackled over in front of me,” He shakes his head, before glaring at Ivan, “How often does this happen?”
“Never,” Sua cuts in, as Mizi smirks at Ivan, a knowing glint in her stare.
“Huh? Then why—”
“Luck wasn’t on my side. Listen, Till,” Ivan crosses his arms, leaning against the wall, “That was reckless,” That was hot, “The players could’ve carried me,” I hope you grope my ass like that every day, “Don’t do it again, blockhead,” Carry me like that at our wedding.
Till stares, his face completely and utterly flushed, cherry red to the brim.
Ivan blinks rapidly, “Why are you all flustered?”
“Did you hear yourself?” Sua says, rolling her eyes as Mizi squeals.
Did he hear himself? What did he even—
Oh.
Oh no.
“My thought and speech bubbles seem to have inverted,” Ivan realises, with an airy laugh, awkwardly. Sua snorts as Mizi clutches her arm in excitement.
Till continues to stare.
Ivan looks at Till, “I uh, I should go, have to give the nurse your status or whatever—”
“We’ll go do that,” Mizi assures, grasping at Sua’s hand as she drags them away, “Have fun, boys!”
Ivan gulps, as Till tilts his head slightly before his fingers circle around Ivan’s wrists.
“You thought me flailing and passing out beneath you was hot?” Till asks, a whisper.
“I think anything you do is hot,” Ivan admits, slightly breathless. Ivan thinks Till beneath him in any capacity could only really be described as hot as a baseline, really.
“I kissed your hair,” Till blurts.
“I know,” Ivan says, smooth. “Why?”
Till shrugs, looking away, “Dunno, wanted to comfort you somehow.”
Comfort?
Ivan droops down to Till’s level, landing a soft peck at grey locks of hair, relishing in the strangled noise Till lets out.
“Till, would you like to maybe— go out Friday night?” Ivan asks, keeping his gaze fixed on Till’s hair.
“We go out every Friday night, dummy,” Till smiles, wide, as he begins to catch on to what Ivan was trying to say, “We should go out to that fancy Italian place that opened up at the corner of the block.”
Ivan flushes, as he laughs, hoarse, “A fancy Italian place? Sounds like a date,”
“Isn’t that what you wanted?” Till asks, annoyed, endeared.
Ivan laughs, sliding next to Till on the bed, pulling him close.
“Guess so,”
Maybe Ivan had to get knocked over a little more often.