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Till never remembered a time when he wasn’t stuck between Ivan and Luka.
He was the kind of kid who always had messy hair and a sketchbook too big for his tiny backpack. Ivan and Luka? The feral duo. Three years older, always wrestling over who got to walk closest to him. Hand wars.
Literally.
In kindergarten, he just wanted to walk home with his drawing of a lopsided cat when suddenly two bigger kids started fighting over his hand.
“This one’s mine today,” Luka declared, puffy-cheeked and stubborn, gripping Till’s right hand.
Ivan scowled, grabbing Till’s left. “No way. Yesterday was YOUR turn, Luka. It’s MY day. Hand it over.”
Till blinked at them, confused. “…I just want ice cream.”
But somehow, that became the start of it. Wherever they went, Till was in the middle. On swings, Ivan on the left, Luka on the right, Till in the middle, legs dangling. At the cafeteria table, even when they played tag. If Ivan pulled him left, Luka dragged him right, and poor Till ended up sandwiched.
He thought it was annoying back then. But as the years went on… he realized it felt safe. Like home.
By high school, things changed, or rather, they pretended nothing changed.
Ivan, taller and noiser, developed a whiny attachment towards Till. Luka became sarcasm in human form, handing Till snacks, after teasing him relentlessly. But both of them? Crushing hard without admitting it. They still orbited Till like bodyguards, escorting him to class, buying him snacks, and glaring at anyone who dared breathe in his direction.
But Till? Utterly oblivious. He just kept doodling in his notebooks, humming little tunes, assuming “oh they’re just protective because I’m younger.” Meanwhile, Ivan was out here dying inside every time Till’s smile lingered, and Luka was writing dumb love poems he’d never show.
The boys made an unspoken pact: don’t ruin the trio. If one confessed and got rejected, the three of them would shatter. And none of them could bear that.
So instead, they competed in small ways. Who carried Till’s backpack. Who got to buy him snacks. Who sat closer. They bickered constantly, but neither crossed the line.
Until one afternoon.
Till was alone in the classroom, doodling little flowers in the margins of his notebook. The light outside was fading to gold, casting long shadows. He didn’t even look up when footsteps echoed down the hall. Two sets. Familiar. Always familiar.
“Hi, Till…” Luka said, sliding into the desk beside him.
Ivan followed suit, plopping into the other seat with a grin far too forced. “Whatcha drawing?”
“Nothing.” Till’s voice was flat, but his lips curved faintly. “What are you two doing here? Don’t you have lives?”
“Not really,” Luka muttered.
Till finally looked up. Something in the air felt… weird. Tense. The two of them were exchanging nervous glances, like they were about to confess to a crime. He raised an eyebrow. “Okay. What’s going on?”
Ivan cleared his throat, shifting in his seat. “So… uh… we’ve been meaning to… say something.”
“Yeah,” Luka added quickly.
Till narrowed his eyes. “You’re acting weird. Spit it out.”They exchanged a look across him. The kind of look that screamed we’ve been waiting years for this. And then, at the exact same time:
“WE’RE IN LOVE WITH YOU, PLEASE DATE US!!”
Silence.
More silence.
God save Ivan, he's sweating so much-
SNAP.
Till’s pencil broke in half. He stared at the splintered wood in his hand. “…What.”
Ivan ruffled his hair, frustrated but desperate. “Since forever, Till.”
Luka leaned in, eyes bright, grinning sheepishly. “Since you gave me your gummy worm in grade school.”
Till’s jaw dropped. “I WAS SEVEN.”
“And I never recovered!” Ivan exploded, throwing his hands in the air.
Till gaped at them both. His two best friends. His constants. His middle. His safety. His chaos.
He should’ve been angry. He should’ve laughed it off. Instead… his chest squeezed.
“…You idiots,” he whispered, voice shaking. “You’re both so stupid.”
Ivan’s face fell. Luka’s grin faltered.
And then Till added, very softly: “…But maybe you’re my kind of stupid.”
Ivan froze. Luka’s jaw dropped.
Till, the shy, awkward Till, was blushing scarlet, staring at his broken pencil like it had the answers to the universe.
"…So what now?” Till muttered.
Ivan and Luka immediately grabbed his hands. Left and right, like they always had.
“Now,” Ivan said with a grin so sharp it was almost smug, “you’re stuck with us.”
Luka’s smile returned, radiant. “Middle forever, right?”
Till rolled his eyes, but the warmth flooding his chest betrayed him. “…Yeah. Middle forever.”