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Ivan is an observant person, almost to a fault.
He finds that he can't help but notice the little things, can't stop himself from categorizing people's expressions and mannerisms. It's just something he does without really trying to. A survival instinct, maybe, or perhaps simply the musings of a bored over-thinker. Ivan didn't often question the thought process, not when it was beneficial to him.
Having known what breakfast foods meant what mood Luka would be in saved Ivan's life when he was sharing a dorm with him. Noticing where Hyuna discarded the things she ended up losing made him come off as a responsible, helpful co-star. Knowing Sua's coffee orders down to the day of the week spared him her ire for at least a couple hours each day. Being able to tell when Mizi's smile was painted on versus genuine helped him build an understanding trust in her, slowly but surely.
Observation usually helps him come to know and be able to predict the people around him, an invaluable skill, but sometimes, just sometimes, it was an indulgence.
For Ivan, who keeps telling himself that he only pays attention for his own gain, finds himself noticing the most about Till, the most unpredictable person he's ever met.
There were consistencies in his behavior, of course. Similar meals at restaurants, soft sweaters and hoodies worn on set, his tone when he gave advice. The same single piercing in his left ear. But, ultimately, these tidbits never lead to understanding. They never end in Ivan finally figuring out how Till's mind works, how he ticks. And Ivan is desperate to find out.
Now, as he takes Till in from across the room, diligently following along during the table read (as Ivan should be doing as well, but has instead directed his focus elsewhere), he ponders on it. The little things. Or thing, to be more accurate.
It's the piercing. It's always the piercing.
Today it's a silver hoop. It's the third day he's worn it in a row, Ivan notes. The way it catches the light is almost otherworldly, drawing Ivan in like a siren at sea. His eyes lock onto it, admiring the way it rests gently on Till's soft earlobe. He wonders what it'd be like to feel it clack against his teeth, if the metal would would be cold on his tongue.
His eyes drift, scanning over the curl of Till's ear and then down his neck, watching the way the muscles flex as he swallows. In pulling himself away from such a tempting sight, Ivan locks onto Till's right ear, a blank canvas in comparison to the other. Aside from the slit in the middle of the lobe, at least— the one that signifies that even though Till doesn't often utilize it, both of his ears are pierced.
Ivan doesn't really get it, why Till only uses two earrings when he's in character or at an event. One all of the other times. He doesn't know how the hole doesn't close up, quite frankly, but Ivan's not the most knowledgeable about piercings.
He is, however, achingly curious.
Which, well, is very new. Ivan had no interest in body modifications before he met Till. Then, like a new door had been opened, Ivan couldn't help but think about it. Wonder why Till did it, if it made him feel more like himself, if Ivan would somehow feel closer, more connected to Till if he got one too.
And isn't that a thought? Ivan getting a piercing. One that matches Till's.
It makes something low in his gut bubble and burn, boiling over like a pit of lava living inside of him. He feels his ears grow warm and the telltale signs of a crooked, undoubtedly haunting smile creeping up his face, so he schools his expression and averts his eyes to something safer. Mizi, who is very obviously staring at Sua.
He tries to focus on his friend, on the glazed over look in her eyes and the way her head droops against the fist she's using to hold it up. There's a short beat of amusement at seeing her, because she's one hundred percent forgotten that she, unlike Ivan, actually has lines in this scene and it's not going to be long before that comes back to bite her. But it doesn't last, not when his mind is so preoccupied that it drifts back, unwittingly, to piercings. To Till.
Maybe getting a piercing isn't the worst idea in the world, he thinks. His manager will kill him, sure, but he'll be one step closer to Till. Just that little bit nearer to figuring him out. Or becoming one with him, bodies and minds and souls intertwined so tightly nothing could ever tear or tell them apart. One of the two, probably. Maybe.
It was worth a shot, at least. Wounds heal, piercing holes close. No harm, no foul.
But would just the piercing be enough?
No, no it wouldn't, is his first thought. His second one has to agree. There has to be some other way to involve Till, to connect with him over this thing they share. Or, will share.
Tapping his pencil lightly against his script, pondering, soon an idea pops into Ivan's head.
He's long since gained full control over his facial expressions, a necessary skill in being a public figure, but Ivan can still feel the manic grin tugging at his lips. It's not visible, not noticeable to anyone but himself, but it's there, humming around the edges of his mind.
After this, Ivan decides. He'll put his plan into action after the table read. He'll spark up a conversation, natural and casual, and he'll lay the bait. Wait patiently for Till to take it. Easy as that.
—
Ivan isn't expecting much when he manages to corner Till near the coffee machine.
There's the hope, however small, that this will go his way. That Till will clock onto his 'nerves' and agree to accompany Ivan to get his ear pierced. Maybe he'll even hold his hand while it happens, if Ivan whines enough.
But Till has always been unpredictable. Ivan knows this well. It's almost foolish to hope for things to go according to plan, but Ivan holds out just enough to enact it anyway.
Even if this goes wrong, he'll still get a one on one conversation with Till out of it. That's what he keeps telling himself as he goes through worst case scenarios in his mind, at least.
Ivan should know by this point that nothing he imagines when it comes to Till ever quite lives up to the real thing.
He approaches the kitchenette with straightened shoulders and an easy smile on his face. "Hello, Till sunbae," he greets, resting his hip against the counter and facing the older man.
Till looks up from the coffee maker, turning and mirroring Ivan's position to look at him. "Ah, Ivan," he says with a nod, "I was surprised to see you today. I didn't think it was a requirement for you to be here."
It's definitely not, as Ivan isn't in any of the new scenes they went over. He would've been perfectly fine reading the script at home or even skipping it entirely, though that's not Ivan's style. He also, of course, wasn't going to ignore an opportunity to see Till.
Instead of saying all of this, Ivan shrugs. "I wanted to get a real feel for the scene instead of just reading it at home. The entire plot has ramifications for all its characters, so I want to be able to play mine accurately, with all of the background knowledge."
The corners of Till's mouth flick up for a second, barely there. Ivan's gaze catches on it like a flash of lightning.
"I see," Till replies, something like annoyance flickering in his eyes. Or is it amusement? Ivan can't tell, not when Till is idly drumming his slender fingers against the mug in his hand. He studies the tap, tap, tap, a hair away from mystified. Till's fingers are so long, so pretty. They'd look prettier coated in saliva, carefully pulling out of Ivan's mouth, traveling down, down, until—
"Is there something you needed, Ivan?"
Reality crashes in like a rough wave. Ivan pulls his attention away from Till's hands, meeting the confusion laced in his eyebrows head on. Fuck.
"Not, really, no." Ivan forces a sheepish, almost embarrassed smile. "I just wanted to say that I like your earring, the hoop. It suits you."
Till seems to startle at that. "Oh," he says, "thank you."
Hook, Ivan thinks.
"You know, I've always been interested in piercings. I was thinking of getting one myself, but I'm not sure. Do they hurt?"
"If you're thinking of getting one in your ear then not really, no." Till laughs a bit under his breath as he speaks, the sound resonating through the air and reverberating through Ivan's bones. "It's more like a pinch."
Ivan nods slowly. "I see," he says, making it clear that he doesn't see, really.
"It really doesn't. One breath and it'll be over," Till assures him.
"I know, it's just—" Ivan sighs, lowers his voice. Hopes to hell that this is worth it. "I kind of have a thing about needles, you know? And I don't know how I feel about willingly letting some stranger put one through my ear. I'm just nervous, I guess."
Till just looks at him for a moment, and Ivan is unsure if it's pity or sympathy he's looking with. Maybe the two aren't so different.
Line, Ivan thinks.
"That's understandable," Till muses, looking a bit past Ivan's shoulder. "Would it help if I recommended you a place to go? I've got quite a bit of experience, I'm sure I could find a good one. And, if it'd help, I wouldn't mind going with you. Would that help?"
Sinker.
That was much easier than Ivan expected. Till practically waltzed right through the plan, step for step. Ivan is about to say yes, about to set a date and run home to scream into his pillow, when Till continues.
"Or," he says, and Ivan freezes. "I could do it. Pierce your ears." He smiles, small and a little nervous. "I actually used to give them to friends quite often in college. Steady artist's hands, I guess."
When Ivan doesn't say anything, just stares at him, because what the hell, Till scrambles to explain himself further. "You can say no, I just thought that maybe having someone you know and trust could help you feel more comfortable. I totally get if you'd rather a professional did it, though—"
"No," Ivan blurts, cutting the tail end of Till's word off, "I mean, yes. I'd be happy for you to pierce me, sunbae."
Till stares at him, shocked, before huffing a quiet laugh. "You sure?"
"Yes," Ivan says earnestly, looking at Till with wide eyes. "Thank you for the offer, I—" he swallows down the lump in his throat, "I'd feel more comfortable if you were the one doing it."
"I see," Till nods, and if he's aware that he's throwing Ivan's earlier words back at him, he doesn't act like it. "Well, I'm free Thursday evening. Would you be able to do it then?"
It's currently Tuesday. Ivan feels faint.
"Yes, of course."
The coffee machine beeps, and Till moves from his position against the counter to grab the pot and fill his mug with the steaming liquid. Ivan stands there, just watching him. He feels rooted to the spot, unable to move. Or breathe, really. He's probably short circuiting.
Once Till is done and successfully sipping on his (appalling, in Ivan's opinion) black coffee, he shoots Ivan a smile over the rim of his mug. "My place, Thursday at eight?"
Not trusting his voice, Ivan nods.
"I'll see you then," Till says, and wanders off.
Ivan stands there for a few minutes, staring at the now cold space he used to occupy.
It dawns on him, then, what he just agreed to. Going to Till's house. Alone. Till, piercing his ear. With his own hands. On Ivan's skin.
Oh, he is so screwed.
—
The time until Thursday evening seems to drag on agonizingly slowly. Ivan passes it by as normally as he possibly can, aside from the few more panicked than usual calls to Mizi. He also does some research on piercings and knows more or less what to expect now.
He's not nervous, per say, but he's not completely calm, either, and it has nothing to do with the piercing. It has to do, instead, with the prospect of being alone with Till in his house with Till's hands on him in such an intimate way. It's really not a big deal, he knows it's not, but the fluttering nerves in his stomach don't abide no matter how much he reassures himself.
So, when he stands at Till's door at 7:56pm on Thursday, his stomach is in knots and he can feel a thin layer of sweat on his forehead no matter how much he wipes at it. Getting this flustered isn't typical for Ivan, even when Till is involved. He's not entirely sure what to do about it other than push it down, suppress his feelings, and just get through the night. Which is, in Ivan's humble opinion, one of his best skills.
The doorbell echoes a gentle ring through the space when Ivan presses it. He steps back, crosses his arms behind his back, and waits.
When the door swings open about thirty seconds later, Ivan can feel his resolve to repress, suppress, ignore crumble beneath his feet. Till is flushed, his hair is falling in his eyes, and he's wearing a loose t-shirt that Ivan has never seen him in. He greets Ivan with a small, frazzled smile.
"Hey," he says, opening the door wide enough for Ivan to slip through, "I was just finishing up gathering everything."
Ivan nods, ducks his head, and walks inside. He waits for Till to shut the door behind him and lead him through the entryway. As he follows, he takes in Till's home. It's not nearly as big as Ivan thinks it could be, that Till could afford, but it's more than enough for one person living alone.
The living room is a little messy, Ivan notes. There are mugs of coffee and stacks of papers on the tables, pens and highlighters scattered about. The walls are covered in art, though whether it's Till's art or just paintings he bought Ivan is unsure.
They head towards the kitchen, which seems to be much tidier than the rest of the house, aside from what Ivan assumes to be his piercing supplies laid across the island. There's a chair that Till has pulled up next to it, wooden and probably from the dining table Ivan is yet to see. Briefly, he considers asking Till for a tour before they start. It feels like that'd be pushing his luck, though, so he pockets the idea for another time.
Shifting his focus to the kitchen island, he takes in a box of gloves, a few alcohol wipes, a package of piercing needles, a marker, a handheld mirror, rubbing alcohol, and a pair of black studs. Those all make sense. What raises his eyebrow a bit are the lighter and cork. The lighter is probably for sterilization, he surmises, but the cork? Ivan has no idea.
"So," Till starts, "how're you feeling? Still want to go through with this?"
"Of course," Ivan answers, probably a tad too confidently for someone supposedly afraid of needles. He'll have to dial it down a bit. "I think I'm ready."
Or maybe he's fine the way he is, because Till smiles at him, warm and pleased. It's not an expression he catches often. Ivan does his best to commit it to memory, to burn the image behind his eyelids so he can look at it whenever he'd like. Till is undeniably beautiful no matter what, but Ivan swears he can hear a chorus harmonizing whenever he smiles like that, so open and soft.
"Good to hear." Till makes his way to the sink to wash his hands and directs Ivan to sit in the chair he set up. "It'll be over before you know it, just make sure you're keeping your breathing even. That should help with the nerves."
Ivan nods, settling into the dining room chair. He knows all about controlled breathing, being an idol turned actor and all, but he doesn't dispute Till's advice. The fact that Till is so worried about him possibly being nervous makes something warm pool in his chest, a feeling only Till manages to give him. He always holds onto it with both hands, stubborn to keep it, clutching the feeling until it inevitably dissipates.
Once Till's hands are clean, he comes to stand in front of the kitchen island, appraising the supplies laid across it. He goes for the alcohol wipes first, then stops short of picking them up.
"I almost forgot," he says, picking up the black studs and resting them in his palm, "did you have a specific piercing you wanted? If you didn't bring anything, I have these that I've never used."
Shaking his head, Ivan gestures to the earrings in Till's hand and smiles. "They're perfect, as long as you don't mind me stealing them."
Till huffs a short laugh and waves Ivan off. "You'll be doing me a favor by putting them to use, don't worry."
With the earring situation settled, Till grabs an alcohol wipe off of the table and, almost absentmindedly, rips the package open with his teeth. Ivan schools his expression into something as close to neutral as he possibly can, but he can feel the heat in his ears. His heart beats traitorously fast, his mind solely replaying the moment on a loop, like his mind has made the video into a GIF, replaying it endlessly.
He's only shaken out of his dazed state when something cold and moist touches his left ear. Focusing his vision, Ivan finds Till leant over him, eyes firmly on where he rubs the alcohol wipe over Ivan's skin. The press of his fingers, even through the fabric, burns like an iron brand. Ivan finds himself thinking about Till's earlier words about keeping his breathing even. He tries desperately to quell the loud thump, thump, thump of his heart, the accelerated pace of his breathing, but it's no use. Being in this close of proximity to Till is enough to send him over the edge and right into a coffin.
It's silly, really, that being close to Till has this kind of effect on him still. Hell, they've been far closer for scenes they did together. They've kissed, even if it was in character. But here, now? After work hours, alone together in Till's house, as themselves? This is uncharted territory.
The contact doesn't last long. Till is soon stepping back, satisfied with his work. He goes to grab another alcohol wipe, and Ivan realizes that he never actually told Till what he wants. Sure, getting two piercings would keep Till's hands on him for longer, but the only reason Ivan is doing this in the first place is to quell the beast that lives inside of him, the one that keens at the idea of matching with Till.
"I only want one piercing," he blurts. When Till narrows his eyes at him, Ivan continues, "I just want one in the left ear."
"Oh," Till says. Then, "well, I guess that makes my job easier. You're sure?"
"Yes, sunbae."
Till nods in acceptance and continues. He reaches for the marker next, then settles himself directly in front of Ivan. "Keep your head straight," he mumbles, studying him with an intensity Ivan is only used to seeing in front of the cameras. His sharp eyes flit across Ivan's face, from ear to ear. Then he uncaps the marker, gently holds the back of his earlobe with three fingers, and puts a dot right where Ivan assumes the piercing ought to go.
Then he steps back, crouches to be about eye level with Ivan, and appraises the mark he made. After a few moments, he nods, clearly pleased with himself. He hands the mirror to Ivan and lets him take a look.
"What do you think?" He asks. "I can always wipe it off and redo it if you don't like the placement."
Ivan takes a second to look, turns his head both ways and imagines that the black dot on his ear is an earring. The giddiness that bubbles up his throat is both uncalled for and ignored.
"It looks good," is all he says, because it's true. If Ivan has an earring in the spot Till picked out, it'll be perfect.
Till shoots him a small, approving smile and changes into a new pair of gloves.
"Alright," he begins, "I'm going to sterilize the needle with the lighter, clean it with the alcohol, then I'm going to put this cork behind your ear and, well. Then I'll pierce it. Sound good?"
Ivan just nods, unable to say anything when Till is talking to him so gently, so reassuringly. It does nothing but make him even more nervous, but Ivan swallows down the butterflies so he can focus on watching Till work. This is a sight he won't get to see again, probably.
By the time Ivan can process what's going on in front of him, Till already has a piercing needle out of the package and is holding it above a lighter. He flicks it on and Ivan watches, entranced, as he holds the tip of the needle over the flame. His gaze travels upwards, landing on Till's face, illuminated by the fire. It casts a pretty shadow over his skin and Ivan finds he can't look away. Till is just so gorgeous, so intriguing, even more so when he's this concentrated. It's a good look on him.
The lighter clicks off once the metal turns red, gets put down, and Till reaches one handed to pick up a cloth. Ivan, seeing where this is going, grabs the rubbing alcohol for him since Till can't put down the needle.
"Thank you." Till smiles when Ivan uncaps the bottle and, after a nod from Till, pours some of the alcohol onto the cloth.
"Of course," Ivan says, a little dazed from the praise.
Praise? He just said thank you. He really needs to get it together.
The hot needle gets wiped of any debris, the cloth set back down on the island. Till grabs the cork and approaches Ivan, crouching a bit to get down to his level.
"Just a pinch, okay? You can do this," Till soothes as he puts the cork behind Ivan's ear. He makes eye contact with Ivan, quick and fleeting, but it makes Ivan stiffen nonetheless. "If you need to hold onto something, you can grab my shirt. Unfortunately I can't really hold your hand like this."
Does that mean that Till would, under other circumstances, hold his hand? Does it mean that Till wants to comfort him?
The thoughts swirl like an unruly storm in his mind, barely quieting when Till starts to speak again.
"The key is to hold the needle at a ninety degree angle from your ear," he mutters as he positions the needle in front of Ivan's earlobe. He's probably talking more to himself than to Ivan, but it shakes Ivan out of his reverie enough for him to fist his hands in the hem of Till's too large shirt. Ivan wonders if he wore this one on purpose, for this reason. The thought makes him hold on even tighter.
"Ready?" Till asks, voice barely a whisper.
"As I'll ever be," Ivan answers, hoping Till will take his flustered state as nervousness. He is meant to be afraid of needles, after all.
"Take a deep breath for me, Ivan."
Ivan, useless to do anything other than what Till says, takes a deep breath.
The moment he exhales, Till pushes the needle through. There's a sharp pain, a pinch, but it's over in a second, replaced instead by warmth and a dull throbbing. Till reaches to the side to grab one of the piercings, and loads it into the end of the needle. Ivan watches him, transfixed, oddly calm for a man with a needle in his skin.
There's something so special, so intimate, about Till being the one to modify his body. About Ivan letting Till have complete control over him in this aspect. For Till to put something in him that he can't take out for weeks.
It feels almost unreal, that he gets to have this. He savors it, even through the throbbing of his ear, as Till gently holds Ivan's ear as he pushes the needle all the way through. The earring goes right into place, and it's not long before Till is sliding the backing on it, keeping it in place.
He steps back, raking his eyes over Ivan, and his face erupts into a genuine, cheek stretching smile. "Looks great," he says, "wanna see?"
Ivan nods, not trusting his voice, and Till hands him the mirror.
When he gets a good look at the black stud settled nicely in his earlobe, Ivan can't help the tugging of his mouth forming his own smile. It really does look good, perfectly placed and complimenting his dark hair. More than that, though, this pair of black studs is nearly identical to the ones Till usually wears. This must be his spare set. Ivan doesn't think he's ever felt this close to Till, even when their mouths were fused and his hands were around his throat.
Matching earrings. It's exactly what Ivan wanted, and now that he has it, he almost doesn't know what to do with himself.
"You did such a good job, Till sunbae. Thank you," Ivan finds himself saying. It's not enough, no words will ever be enough to fully thank Till for what he did tonight, but they work as a placeholder until Ivan can find a way to properly express his gratitude.
"Any time, Ivan. I'll be here if you ever want to pierce the other ear," he says with a wink that makes Ivan's heart tumble over and scrape its knees. "But for now…"
Till trails off, eyes darting to the kitchen island where the extra stud sits. He grabs it, rolls it around in his hand a bit, and shoots Ivan a wicked smirk. "Would you mind if I wore the other one?"
Ivan is speechless. What the fuck?
He manages to nod, albeit a bit frantically. On the plus side, it makes Till laugh as he goes to undo his hoop earring and slides the black stud in its place. He keeps his hands there for a moment, lingering, as he takes in Ivan's new piercing again.
"Hm," he says, a hint of amusement in his voice, "now we match."
Ivan chokes so hard on his own spit that he goes into a coughing fit. Till genially pats his back through it, but his smile is anything but innocent.
—
After a long lecture on how to take care of his new piercing, Ivan leaves the house one body modification and one Till interaction richer. He feels like he could run home, but he took his car. Maybe he'll go for a lap around the neighborhood before he drives home, just to get rid of the restless energy.
Till walks him to the door, stopping him at the threshold. He leans against the doorframe, peering up at Ivan through unruly silver strands.
"You did really well today," he says offhandedly, like it's nothing. Like Ivan is not currently calculating another way to earn this praise, to hear such sweet words from Till's mouth. Perhaps he needs to get the other ear pierced sooner than he thought.
"Thanks." Ivan smiles, a sheepish thing. "It was all thanks to you, sunbae. I wasn't nearly as nervous as I was before."
For a moment, Till just looks at him. Really looks, like he's trying to see not just Ivan but through him, too, to the depths of his innermost thoughts and desires. A shiver shoots down Ivan's back.
Then, like he's found whatever he was looking for, his lips curl into a gentle smile. "Still, you were a good patient. Customer?" He laughs a bit, and Ivan joins, even though his insides are currently playing a game of Twister. "Well, either way, you deserve a reward."
And with that, Till leans forward and, ever so tenderly, presses a kiss to Ivan's right cheek.
His lips linger for just a second, but long enough for Ivan to know that his entire face has gone red. When he pulls back, his smile has transformed into a smirk. Ivan opens his mouth to say something, anything, but the words don't come. He just stands there, slack jawed, as Till seemingly revels in his embarrassment.
"Sorry, I'm out of lollipops." He offers with a shrug. "I hope that suffices."
"Um, yeah— yes. Of course. Thank you." Ivan manages to stutter out.
He has never been so thoroughly, obviously flustered like this. Till might be trying to kill him, actually. He definitely feels like he's dying, right here on the love of his life's front porch. He's surprised he hasn't fully melted onto the concrete, at this point.
Till chuckles. "Of course, Ivan. Now get home safe, okay? I'll see you tomorrow."
"Tomorrow, right. I will. See you, Till sunbae!" Ivan waves awkwardly, taking a few steps back as he does so.
With one last smile, the door shuts behind Till. Ivan stands there for what feels like minutes, a hand to his cheek and a low throbbing in both his head and left ear.
His legs are like jelly, and he feels more or less like a puppet who just got his strings cut, but he runs two laps up and down Till's street anyway.
Till kissed him. On the cheek, sure, but it still counts.
And they were matching. Officially, fully matching. Wearing the same pair of earrings and everything.
Ivan bites down a smile has he jogs, imagining what it'll be like to walk into work tomorrow matching with his Till. He wonders if anyone will notice.
That thought spurs another, and before Ivan knows it, he's pulling out his phone and dialing Mizi. He doesn't even let her get a word in once the call connects, just starts rambling right off the bat.
"Mizi," he exclaims, breathless, "you are never going to believe what just happened."