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Buying a gift for Ivan is nearly impossible. Till has been trying to pick one for the better part of a month.
But it's hard to out-gift the man! Especially since Ivan just seems to always know what Till wants and needs. And Till can't even pull a classic and propose, because Ivan already did that. That fucking bastard. Till can't believe they're engaged sometimes. He absolutely ignores the butterflies in his stomach at the thought.
Back to the gift at hand. He stares and stares at store windows as he walks past them. He riffles through clothing racks, looks at shoes, watches, necklaces, rings, even earrings! Ivan doesn't even have his ears pierced!
Still, he tries. He desperately searches, googles gifts for my fiancé, he even asks Sua for help. She merely glances up from her spot beside Mizi at the coffee shop they met, snorts and says “Figure it out, guitar boy. He's not my boyfriend.”
“Fiancé.”
“Case in point.”
Which! Did not help! Also, he played Wonderwall on the guitar one time! Once! And she still calls him that!
Whatever. It's fine. He'll figure something out. He has to.
Because Ivan is so good to him. He's so good. He's kind, and affectionate. He's sweet and comforting. Ivan smiles at him and soothes all his worries and unruffles all his feathers. And Io also loves him, which is so incredibly important for Till.
As long as he can remember, it has been just him and his mom. No cousins, no father, no siblings, no grandparents. Just him and his mom against the world.
And then, five months ago, Ivan proposed to him, under a meteor shower. He learned that Ivan had had the ring for over a year, but waited for a meteor shower to propose.
A lady touches his arm. “Are you okay?”
He jumps, and turns to her. “Sorry?”
“Young man, you've been crying at that perfume stand for a few minutes already.”
Embarrassment fills him. He didn't even notice he was crying! Why was he even crying? He was just thinking about Ivan! And… how much he loves him… and appreciates him… and okay he's crying even harder now.
He stutters something to the lady and hurries his way to a bathroom.
His face is a little blotchy, but nothing too bad. He cleans his face and looks at the time. Ivan should be home soon, he better hurry.
Till sighs. Another day without a gift. But he will find something.
A week and a half later, he's exhausted. He's not sure why, given that he hasn't done anything strenuous outside of their… aham, usual bedroom activities.
Still, he's bone deep tired. And nauseous.
He's visiting his mom that day, arranging the last few details for Christmas, when he has a fainting spell.
Till has never, in his entire life, fainted. But he opens his eyes to his mother's worried face, fanning him with a magazine.
“Till, love, how are you feeling?” She asks, in that worried tone that only parents are capable of using.
He blinks a few times, taking a few deep breaths, and sits up. His stomach immediately disagrees with his movement, and violently revolts against him.
His eyes widen, but he's too dizzy to even puke.
Io fans him harder. Realization dawning on her. “Oh. Oh honey. Why didn't you say anything?”
But he just looks at her confused. His voice is weak when he speaks. “Say what?”
She eyes him, confused. “You… Till, honey. Fainting, exhausted, nauseous… When was your last period?”
Till just stares at his mother.
There's no fucking way.
There's no FUCKING way.
His hand drifts towards his stomach as he mentally calculates.
October 11th. He thinks, instead. October 11th, when they came back home, drunk, and had very loud, very messy, sex. Unprotected. A single memory of him moaning directly in Ivan's ear as Ivan came inside him hits him like an eighteen wheeler.
Till thought it was fine! He's been taking his T-shots for so long! How did he even get pregnant?!
Well. He knows how. But like. How.
He looks at his mom, panicked eyes. “Mom. Mom. Mom.” He seems unable to say anything else.
Io immediately clocks in. She holds his hand, squeezes it and guides him through some deep breaths. “It's fine. What would you like to do about it? Do you want to keep it?”
Keep it. He can't think. His hand prods his lower stomach. Keep it. Oh my God there's something inside him. There's a tiny cluster of cells inside him right now growing, trying to form a whole ass human baby.
Does he want a baby? Does Ivan? They've discussed it before, shortly, but both decided it was an idea to revisit in the future.
Well. The future was now. The future was, possibly, growing inside of Till.
Fuck.
He looks at his mom. She's a little blurry.
He opens his mouth to speak but what comes out is something like “Ablubluehdjehehhhhhh”
Which, thankfully, Io completely understands, after over 25 years of experience with her son.
“He'll still love you, baby. I dare say he'd love being a father, especially to your baby.”
“Mooooooom.” He hiccups.
She hums, hugging him and softly rubbing his back. “I know, I know, shhh, mama knows. Whatever you decide, we'll both love you.”
So. That conversation happens. And after calming down, crying, and calming down again, he heads home. He's waiting in their living room. Alternating between pacing and sitting down. He takes several deep breaths to calm himself, before working himself up, over and over.
There's, surprisingly, a knock at their door, which is weird, considering he's not expecting anyone but his fiancé right now. Still, he goes and opens it.
Lo and behold, it is his fiancé. With his stupid face and stupid grin holding a stupid plastic mistletoe above his head.
Till hates him. He can't wait to marry that asshole.
“Oh, would you look at that! A mistletoe! We have to kiss now, blockhead.” Ivan says, weirdly cheery.
Till scowls. He fucking hates Ivan's stupid fucking face so much that he starts crying right there and then.
Immediately, Ivan drops the mistletoe, face turning worried.
“Till? What happened?”
Till pulls him inside. Their neighbors are already nosy enough as it is.
He pushes Ivan against the door. Ivan's hands naturally fall to his hips, gently massaging them. Till wants to chop his hands off and eat them.
“You… you…” He sniffles. “You're impossible to buy a gift for!” He scowls.
Ivan is baffled and confused. “I'm…sorry? I'll be happy with anything you get me-”
But before Ivan can finish his sentence, Till grabs one of his hands and guides it to his lower stomach. “So, I went ahead and made one for you.”
There's silence as the gears in Ivan's head turn.
“Till.”
He sniffles. “Ivan.”
“Till.”
“Ivan.”
The hand on his stomach rubs back and forth.
“Till.” He repeats, for the third time, as if suddenly things will change this turn. “You… But… When did we- Oh. October 11th.”
“October 11th.” Till nods.
“Till… You want to keep it?” Ivan asks, voice unbearably soft.
And that's the question isn't it? He thought about it a lot. He does, and he doesn't. He's incredibly afraid of what it could mean. It would be an addition to their family, but does he want it? This soon? Does he want a child at all? The dysphoria he's inevitably going to go through, the pain. Their lives would have to center around this child, until death.
“I don't know. I do. I don't. Does it make sense? What do you want?” He sniffles. It's a big decision to make alone. Maybe someone else could. He's not sure if he can.
“What I want doesn't matter-” He starts.
“Ivan.”
His fiancé sighs. He looks down at where their hands rest, together, on Till's stomach. Looks back up into his eyes. “I do. It's early, but… I want this. With you. I was hoping we'd get married before.”
His eyes fill and he squeezes Ivan's hand. “Okay.”
“Okay?”
“Okay.”
The mistletoe is on the floor, but they kiss anyways. Just because they can.