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“So, everything okay?” Ivan asks, suspicious.
“Yep,” Till answers shyly, looking away.
Ivan doesn’t buy it for a second, but he knows Till won’t budge.
“Okay, if you say so. But if anything’s wrong, you know you can talk to me,” Ivan says softly, placing a hand on Till’s shoulder.
Till flinches and stutters as he steps back, clearly flustered. “I know, I know—don’t worry. Just college stuff, you know?” He nearly missteps as he hurries back to his room.
Ivan sighs. This isn’t the first time this has happened.
For weeks now, Till has been acting strangely around him. At first, Ivan thought Till was heading toward another burnout, but this feels different. Till has been more attentive lately, which Ivan doesn’t mind at all—but Ivan is usually the one hovering around Till, taking care of him.
Then there are the times Ivan catches Till staring at him, with a look he can’t quite decipher, only for Till to quickly look away. Even when Ivan teases him, Till doesn’t react the same way—no playful pushing, no scoffing at Ivan’s antics, not even when Ivan flirts with him like he always does.
Ivan remembers complimenting Till’s teal eyes, like always, only for Till to turn into what Ivan could only describe as a tomato and aggressively slurp his cup noodles, clearly trying to avoid responding—or even looking at him.
Ivan won’t pretend he doesn’t love Till’s reactions. Hell, anything Till does is mesmerizing to him. He’s been in love with the gray-haired man since they were kids, but Ivan knows better than to hope Till would ever look at him that way.
He runs a hand through his hair, sighing. It’s probably best to let things play out and hope it’s nothing bad, while he keeps an eye on Till. Till will most likely go back to acting normal.
It’s not like things could get any weirder, right?
“Hey.”
Till knocks on Ivan’s bedroom door, leaning against the frame. Ivan is sitting at his desk, finishing an essay for his world history class. He looks up from his computer, taking off his glasses, caught off guard.
“Oh—hi. I didn’t notice when you arrived,” Ivan says, lying. Of course he noticed; he notices everything about Till. “Is something wrong?”
“W-well… I bought you something,” Till says, hiding his hands behind his back as he walks closer.
Ivan blinks. “For me? What’s the reason? My birthday was months ago. Or—wait—did I travel back in time?” he asks playfully.
Till scoffs and shakes his head. “Do I really need a reason to give you something?” he says gently, almost in a whisper.
Ivan’s stomach flips at the tone, but he composes himself.
Till slowly reveals what he’s been hiding: a small basket full of snacks and sweets. When Ivan looks closer, he realizes everything inside is his favorite—even the strawberry beverage he loves so much.
Ivan is surprised. He would have assumed someone had gifted it to Till—and that Till wouldn’t want it. But nobody would gift him sweets, since everyone knows Till isn’t a fan of them.
“Is this all for me?” Ivan asks, eyes sparkling.
Till nods, looking at him fondly. “Y-you said you study better while eating sweets, and I noticed your usual supply ran out. So I thought you’d like it,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly.
Ivan stays quiet, looking between the basket and Till, his heart beating faster.
“But!” Till suddenly exclaims. “You can’t eat it all in one go. I don’t want you to get diabetes, so keep it in the kitchen so I can keep an eye on it,” he scolds.
Ivan smiles, still dazed, still hypnotized by Till. “Alright, I won’t. Don’t worry. Thank you, Till,” he says softly, genuinely.
That makes Till short-circuit.
He steps back, mumbling that it’s fine, then pauses at the door. He looks back at Ivan, suddenly serious. “But really—don’t eat it all. I… wouldn’t want anything bad to happen to you,” he whispers, before hurrying to his room.
Ivan hears every word.
He drops his head onto the desk as soon as Till’s door closes, breathing out shakily. His head feels dizzy, and he’s definitely blushing.
How can he keep making me feel like this after all these years? Ivan thinks, smiling softly at the fact of Till noticing which snacks he likes.
“Till! Till!”
Ivan is washing dishes when Till’s phone starts ringing on the table. “Till!”
Footsteps approach.
“What? Did something happen?” Till asks as he appears.
Ivan points at the table. “Your phone’s been ringing. Didn’t you hear it, or have your full-volume music habits finally caught up to you?” he teases.
Till scoffs, then grabs his phone—and gasps.
“What?” Ivan asks. “Who is it? Aren’t you going to pick up?”
Till hesitates, then walks over, stopping right in front of Ivan at the counter. He holds his phone out. “Pick up and say I’m sick. Or something. Please.”
“What? Why?” Ivan asks.
“Just—do it, please.”
Ivan answers the phone and lies smoothly. When he hangs up, Till exhales in relief.
“Thank you so much,” Till says, taking his phone back.
“So,” Ivan asks, leaning forward on the counter, “are you going to tell me what that was about?”
Till gulps. “It’s a girl from one of my classes. We worked on a project together. She’s nice, but really intense.”
Ivan feels his stomach twist with jealousy.
“So… does she like you or something?” he asks, hoping his irritation doesn’t show.
“No!” Till blurts out. “She doesn’t like me. We’re just friends, but she likes inviting me to mixers and stuff. She kind of likes playing matchmaker.”
“Mixers,” Ivan repeats. The thought makes his chest ache. “Have you been to one before?”
Till nods. “Yeah, but last time she didn’t tell me. She said it was lunch, so I escaped by saying I forgot to feed my cat.”
Ivan laughs.
“They probably thought I was a horrible pet owner,” Till adds mockingly.
“So I prefer saying I got sick. It’s easier.”
“I’m surprised,” Ivan says carefully. “A lot of people wouldn’t want to miss meeting pretty girls.”
“Well, I don’t,” Till says firmly, looking straight at him. “I’m not interested in meeting anyone.”
He hesitates. “Also… I have you. So I don’t really need anyone else.”
Ivan almost drops the plate he’s drying.
That can’t be right. I must’ve heard wrong.
Till panics. “I—I mean—people sometimes date because they’re lonely or want company. But I have you. And Mizi and Sua, Luka and Hyuna. Obviously you matter more,” he rambles.
Ivan forces a smile. “Aww, Till. You prefer our bond over having a girlfriend? That’s sweet.”
“So if I asked you to stop going to those mixers,” Ivan jokes, “you would?”
“Yes,” Till answers immediately.
“…What?”
“I said yes.” Till grabs his phone and starts typing. “I’m texting her now.”
“W-wait—what are you doing?” Ivan asks, stunned.
“I’m telling her to stop inviting me. She’ll understand.”
Till walks away, still typing.
What just happened? is all Ivan can think.
“What exactly are we doing here?” Ivan asks as they walk together.
“I told you—I want to upgrade my closet,” Till says.
“You never wanted to before. Not even when Mizi and Sua offered to help.”
“So?” Till asks suspiciously. “Is it weird?”
Ivan thinks it’s extremely weird—but he won’t deny the opportunity to see Till in different clothes. He knows Till will look good in anything.
Ivan sits outside the dressing room as Till tries on outfit after outfit, each one better than the last. Ivan knows damn well the clothes aren’t the reason they look good.
So this is what being head over heels feels like, he thinks.
If Sua were here, she’d call him a simp. But Ivan can’t help it—everything about Till is beautiful. It always has been.
Still, something nags at him. Why now? Is Till trying to impress someone? No—he said he wasn’t interested in dating.
Till steps out. “So? What do you think?”
Ivan stares. “You look great,” he says, hoping Till doesn’t notice his blush.
Till smiles shyly and checks himself in the mirror.
“Till,” Ivan says gently, stepping closer. “Why do you want to dress differently? You never cared before.”
“I don’t care what others think, but…” Till hesitates, fingers twisting nervously. “When people say I look basic—whether it’s my looks or my clothes, nothing really remarkable—I get conscious about not being able to stand next to you… a-and the others without feeling like I don’t belong,” he admits quietly.
Ivan reaches out, fixing Till’s collar. “You’ve always looked amazing. No matter what you wear,” he says softly. “Whether it’s your hoodies or sweaters, or those caps you wear to hide the fact you didn’t brush your hair.”
“If people can’t see that, then it’s their loss,” Ivan adds gently. “They wouldn’t recognize true beauty even if it hit them.”
He adjusts a button, his voice gentler still. “To me, you’re a star—one that shines brighter than anyone I know.”
Ivan doesn’t hear a response. He looks up—
Till is frozen, flushed, teal eyes shining.
For a moment, face to face, it’s just them—
“Everything okay here?” the dressing room attendant asks, popping up from behind the curtains.
They jump apart.
“Yes!” Till blurts out.
“Perfectly fine,” Ivan adds, just as flustered.
“Need help with anything?” the woman asks cheerfully.
“Actually, yes,” Till says, suddenly confident. “Where are the hoodies and sweaters?”
Ivan smiles at that, his heart still racing.
Ivan is curled on the couch with a book when he hears the door handle jingle. It must be Till—he had extra classes today, so Ivan came home first. He’d offered to wait for him, but Till had insisted he’d be fine.
The door opens. Till steps inside, kicking off his shoes.
Something’s off.
His shoulders are tight, jaw clenched, lips moving like he’s arguing with himself under his breath. Ivan shifts slightly on the couch.
“Welcome back,” Ivan says, keeping his voice light.
Till looks at him, and Ivan watches the tension ease, just a little.
Till sinks down beside him, exhausted, quiet in a way that feels heavier than usual.
“Dinner’s ready,” Ivan says gently. “If you’re hungry. I waited so we could eat together.”
Till glances at him, then reaches into his pocket. He pulls out a small slip of paper, crumpled from being held too tightly. Without meeting Ivan’s eyes, he presses it into his hand.
Ivan unfolds it.
A phone number.
A name: Jake.
He looks back at Till.
Till exhales slowly. “A guy gave it to me,” he says. “He asked me to give it to you. He knows we’re friends. That we live together.”
His jaw tightens. “I guess he’s into you or something.”
Ivan shrugs. He honestly doesn’t care. He only has eyes for Till.
Ivan doesn’t even hesitate. He folds the paper and hands it back. “You can throw it away if you want. I’m not interested.”
Till blinks. Then his eyes brighten.
“Really?” he asks, inching closer. “Not at all?”
Ivan blinks, flustered. “No. I don’t even know the guy,” he says, trying—and failing—to hide his blush.
“Can I throw it away?” Till asks again, serious this time.
Ivan nods.
That’s all the permission Till needs.
He leans in and gently rests his head on Ivan’s shoulder, nuzzling into the warmth there like he’s been holding himself together all day and can finally let go.
Ivan’s breathe catches. “T-Till… are you okay?” His heart is racing, and Till smells like clean soap and something comforting.
Till sighs, long and content. “Yeah. I’m great.”
He shifts closer, fitting against Ivan like it’s the most natural thing in the world. Ivan stays perfectly still, afraid to break whatever this is.
They stay like that for a while, quiet and warm.
“Ivan,” Till murmurs.
“Y-yeah?”
“If anyone else gives me their number for you,” Till says softly, breath brushing near Ivan’s ear, “can I rip it to pieces and tell them you’re not interested?”
Ivan swallows “Huh—what?”
“Answer me,” Till says, dropping more of his weight onto him.
“Y-yeah sure,” Ivan says nervously. “You can. Why not.”
“Good,” Till says, smiling.
A moment later, Till relaxes completely, his weight pressing down.
“Till… you’re getting heavy,” Ivan says, half-hearted.
“Mmm,” Till hums, not moving.
Ivan tries to shift, but loses his balance, and suddenly they’re tumbling back against the couch—Till landing on top of him, arms still wrapped around him.
Ivan expects Till to pull away.
Instead, Till hugs him tighter nuzzling even closer.
Ivan exhales, finally giving in, letting himself relax beneath him. Whatever this is, he decides, he’ll treasure it—confusion and all.
“Come on, why don’t you want to go?” Ivan says, trying to tug Till’s arm. The other of Till’s arms is draped tightly around a streetlight.
“No, I don’t want to,” Till says stubbornly.
“Ugh, stop acting like a child, Till. What did Sua do now that you don’t want to meet up with her?”
“You should know she’s my cousin. You know how she is,” Till mutters, still clinging to the streetlight.
Ivan drops Till’s arm. This is weird, even for him. Sua might be… quite the person, but she and Till had always been close—at least after Till got over his high school crush on Mizi.
He sighs, watching Till hug the streetlight as if he’s never moving.
Since Till wants to act like a kid, Ivan decides to treat him like one. He adjusts his coat.
“Okay,” he says. “If you don’t want to go, you can stay here. I’ll meet Sua and Mizi on my own. Who knows—maybe Sua will tell me herself what’s going on. I bet she’d do it with… much pleasure.”
Till’s eyes widen.
Good thing Sua is a menace, Ivan thinks.
He starts walking away.
“Wait! No, don’t go! I’ll go with you!” Till calls, clearly running to catch up.
Ivan laughs. That was easier than he expected. He can hear Till panting, exhausted from running after him.
They arrive at the café Mizi had told them about.
Mizi and Sua are already there. Mizi is talking passionately about something, hands flailing slightly, while Sua listens closely, attention sharp and focused. Ivan can’t help but scoff playfully.
And she dares call me a simp? he thinks. They both know they’re down bad for the people they love. The difference is Sua’s feelings are returned, while Ivan is still stuck in his one-sided crush on Till.
Till notices the way Ivan is staring and leans slightly closer.
“Are you okay?” he asks, concern clear in his voice.
Ivan snaps out of his trance. “Yeah… let’s go.”
Mizi sees them and waves enthusiastically. “Guys! Over here!” she calls. Sua gives a small, polite wave.
Ivan and Till sit next to each other in front of Mizi and Sua.
Something feels off. There’s tension between Till and Sua, a silent battle simmering under the table, while Mizi chats casually with Ivan.
Mizi glances at Sua, and Sua nods slightly. Ivan notices the small exchange—suspicious, definitely suspicious.
Mizi claps her hands. “Okay! Let’s get the drinks and food. Come with me, Ivan!”
It’s phrased like a question, but Ivan knows better. Before he can respond, Mizi grabs his arm and guides him toward the counter, leaving Till and Sua behind.
As they order, Ivan notices Mizi fidgeting, constantly glancing back at the table.
“Did you consume too much sugar or something?” he teases.
Huh? She laughs. “No, of course not. Why do you ask?”
Ivan raises an eyebrow. “You look extra nervous. Are you okay?”
“Perfect!” Mizi says, smiling—but it’s not her usual bubbly smile. This one’s forced, hiding something. Ivan can see the subtle twitch in her eyebrow. She’s lying, but if Sua is involved, Mizi won’t crack. Best to let it go for now.
When they return to the table, Ivan immediately notices the tension between Sua and Till has escalated. It’s like a psychic duel, both of them staring each other down silently.
Ivan decides to break it. “Mizi, this café looks nice. How did you find it?”
She brightens. “I found it online! Amazing reviews, and they say the desserts are incredible.”
“If you say so, it must be true,” Ivan teases.
Sua waves at Ivan. “Hey, Ivan!” she calls. Then she leans in, grinning. “Purely hypothetically, if someone were to confess their undying, eternal, definitely-not-embarrassing love for y—”
“Augh! Idiot, that hurt!” Sua yelps. It seems Till kicked her under the table.
Ivan glances at Till.
Till is smirking, then notices Ivan staring. “Ehh… it was a reflex. Sorry, Sua,” he says, monotone as ever.
Sua grunts. “Whatever.”
The meet-up continues without a hitch… except for the obvious fact that Sua and Till are casually stabbing each other with their very intense glares.
Eventually, the four of them head back to Ivan and Till’s apartment and flop onto the living room couch. Ivan gets up to use the bathroom. Just as he’s about to leave, he hears Mizi, Sua, and Till whispering like a secret club.
“Augh, stop hitting me! I said I’m sorry already,” Till complains.
“Sorry!! You kicked me hard! I was just kidding,” Sua retorts.
“Guys, chill. He could come back any second,” Mizi warns.
“Kidding? Yeah, sure… what if he suspects something?” Till mutters.
“When are you going to tell him?” Sua asks. “I told you the truth so you’d do something”.
“Soon… I hope,” Till says nervously.
“Just… don’t delay it, and make it good. He deserves it,” Sua says sternly.
“I know, I know. I’m aware of it,” Till admits.
“Good. Because I will kill you if you break his heart,” Sua hisses.
Ivan freezes in the doorway, trying to figure out what he just overheard. What on earth are they plotting?
“But I don’t know how. I always get nervous just looking at him. I can barely talk,” Till confesses.
“That’s… adorable,” Mizi coos.
“Hmm, I know,” Sua says, snapping her fingers like a coach. “Talk to him while he—”
Their scheming halts abruptly as Ivan returns. Sua, Mizi, and Till immediately turn into statues, acting like nothing happened. The rest of the night passes normally… if “normal” means everyone acting suspiciously chipper.
As Mizi and Sua prepare to leave, Sua suddenly grabs Till’s arm, yanks him down to her level, and whispers something. Till blinks.
“You sure?” he asks.
“Positive,” Sua says with a sly grin.
Then she faces Ivan. “Good night!” she chirps, grabbing Mizi’s hand. They wave and disappear.
Ivan will definitely be interrogating them later. He glances at Till, who is clearly deep in thought.
“Till… are you okay?” he asks.
“Hmm, yes. Better than ever,” Till smiles. “You should go to sleep.”
He gently steers Ivan toward his bedroom.
“Sleep? But I’m not tired,” Ivan protests.
“Yes, you are. You’ve been working your brain off all day. College needs you rested,” Till says, giving a gentle push inside. “Now sleep. Good night.” He shuts the door behind him.
Now alone, Ivan flops onto the bed and thinks, Why is everybody acting so weird today?
+1
“Ivan… Ivan, wake up. Wake up.”
Ivan stirs from his slumber.
“Wh—Till? What time is it?” he mumbles, eyes barely open.
“It’s past midnight,” Till says, sitting beside him on the bed. “Sorry to wake you, but there’s something I want to tell you.”
“Mm… really? Okay,” Ivan replies, his thoughts moving like syrup as he blinks slowly.
Till looks straight at him. “I’m in love with you.”
“Oh, really?” Ivan murmurs, eyes half-closed. “That’s sweet—”
A few seconds pass.
Ivan’s eyes snap open. He sits up so fast he nearly topples over.
“Wait—what?”
Till laughs softly. “I said I’m in love with you. I’ve been for a while, actually. I just… only recently came to terms with it. That’s why I’ve been acting so weird. I didn’t know how to tell you.”
“Love… me… you… weird— I—” Ivan stares at him. “Am I still dreaming?”
Till reaches out, gently brushing Ivan’s messy sleep bangs aside so he can see his face clearly.
“I love you so much, Ivan. I wanted to make it special, but every time I tried, I turned into a mess,” he says, giggling quietly. “I get so nervous I can’t even look at you properly.”
Ivan’s heart starts doing backflips. This can’t be real.
“Sua told me it might be easier to tell you when you’re half asleep,” Till admits sheepishly. “Since you don’t really process things right away.” He smiles. “But I can’t deny how cute you are when you’re sleep‑induced.”
Ivan’s face burns. Red. Absolutely red. Maybe he should pinch himself. Maybe this is a hallucination.
Till continues, tracing his thumb gently along Ivan’s cheek. His hand is warm—too warm to be fake. Ivan instinctively leans into the touch.
“I love you,” Till says softly. “Only you. Will you be my boyfriend?”
Ivan’s eyes fill before he can stop it. A tear slips down his cheek.
“Ivan—hey, are you okay?” Till asks immediately, worry flooding his face as he uses both hands to wipe Ivan’s tears away.
“Y‑yes,” Ivan sniffles. “It’s just… I never thought you’d feel the same. I’ve loved you for so long. I can’t believe you—”
Till squeezes his hands gently. “I know. I’m sorry I took so long. I’ll make it up to you, I swear.” He kisses Ivan’s palm and rests his cheek against it.
“If you let me, I’ll show you how much I love you,” Till says quietly. “So much you’ll never doubt it’s real. So much you might even get tired of me.”
“Tired?” Ivan laughs through his tears. “I could never get tired of you. Not now. Not ever.”
Till closes his eyes for a moment, processing that. Then he opens them, hope shining clearly.
“So… can I take that as an answer?”
Ivan nods and presses his forehead against Till’s.
“I’d love to be your boyfriend, Till.”
Till exhales shakily, then laughs—real, relieved, happy. He leans closer.
“Then… can I kiss you?”
Ivan doesn’t wait. He kisses him first.
It’s short, nervous, a little awkward—but sweet. So sweet. Ivan swears he feels sparks. When they pull apart, they just stare at each other, smiling like idiots.
“I really hope this isn’t a dream,” Ivan whispers.
Till kisses his cheek. “It’s not. But to prove it, I think I should sleep with you tonight.” He settles comfortably beside him.
Ivan laughs. “You’re just saying that so you can cuddle me, aren’t you?”
“Guilty,” Till admits.
They lie there together, cuddling, staring at the ceiling and talking about nothing and everything, hearts full. Eventually, sleep creeps in.
Just before Ivan drifts off, Till murmurs, “I love you, Ivan.”
Half asleep, Ivan smiles. “I love you more, Till.”
Fin