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Marty and Quill were settled by the stairway down, leading to the highschool part of the complex. They eye the crowd of older students, anticipating the sheer existence of two other significants who had promised quality time with their juniors as soon as they were free.
“Are they really going or ditching us?” Quill inquires, binoculars hovering over his eyes—pointing them towards the stairway where college students lounge and pass by.
“Honestly,” Marty resists the urge to smirk and chuckle, pushing himself off his sitting position. “I’d say it is best we ditch them first before the complex is emptied.”
“That is rather rude,” Quill inquires, his binoculars leaving his eyes, thrusting them back into the pockets of his back. “Especially on Ivan’s birthday, man?”
“I mean,” Marty clears his throat, arms hanging on the railings of the stairway, his body pressed against the cold metal. "What’s more preferable to you? You rather they ditch us first or we book it to the nearest arcade?"
“Would it not be embarrassing for them if they stood here anticipating our company like lunatics, hyung?”
“Don’t hyung me,” Marty scoffs, playfully jabbing the junior. “That label makes me feel older than I actually am. After all, I’m only graduating senior high.”
“How you’re even graduating your senior years baffles me.”
“Hey, take that back–”
“Planning to leave me now, huh?” An eerily familiar voice cuts through the duo’s bickering, their heads slowly turning towards the direction of the spoken voice. Till, hands shoved into the pockets of his ripped jeans, an eyebrow raising at them—accusing them with undiscovered suspicion.
As to retaliate, Quill points an accusing finger at Marty, outing him for ever bring up the idea of abandoning Till and another significant cluelessly. “Was not me, he brought up the idea!”
“Do not expose me like tha– I swear I’m innocent!”
Till responds surprisingly in a more dismissive manner. Rolling his eyes, hand placed on one side of his hips alongside an irritated sigh. It seems like they was threading on thin ice around him, judging by his annoyed demeanour.
Nevertheless, the youngers knew meddling with his issue will continue to aggravate him. On cue, the topic is momentarily put aside by a question to forgo moments and remnants of unexplained frustration.
“Any of you seen Mr. Birthday Boy?” Till glances at the other two, prompting a conversation related to their supposed ‘hang-out.’ “He is supposed to be out by now. He did say there may be no practice today for him. Assuming Marty’s here.”
“Ah, I skipped today,” Marty admits sheepishly. Quill and Till, hilariously synchronised, turned their heads to stare Marty down with disbelief. The pitiful man can only shrink under their towering gazes.
“Now why would you–?” Quill mouths unsaid profanities, arms gesturing towards the hallway still crowded with students. “He’ll– well, okay, that’s a you issue. Good luck dealing with Ivan.”
“Captain of Football too,” Till chuckles dryly. “Dealing with a pissed man like him is no fun. You’re playing with life and death.”
“I know, okay!” Marty explains frantically—although the panic in his voice is not exactly defending his mishap. “It’s just– unintentional, I swear! I spent the rest of the day searching for my water tumbler, I could not attend.”
“And are you sure this is no absurd excuse?” Till asks, eyebrows furrowed, teal searching for any kind of suspicion on the younger quarterback’s face.
“I swear, it is no excuse! I’m being serious here!”
“Sounds ridiculous, but it’s whatever. The accountability lies on you, anyway,” Quill averts his attention away from their helpless squabbles—eyes searching the corridors, arms and his stomach resting on the stairs railings. “Speaking of Mr. Captain of Football, where is the man?”
And just as the question was repeated, the junior felt something—a hat or rather a cap land in place on top of his head. He jolts with a bloody shriek, nearly bolting and slipping down the stairs to his demise. He turns around to find Ivan, smug and appeased with their reaction.
“I don’t think lounging by the stairs is a good idea,” Ivan inquires with a smile that masks faux innocence. “fortunate for you, you had not catapulted off the stairway yet. I’m quite shocked you’ve managed to go on for this long considering your luck.”
“Are you wishing impending doom on me!?” Quill argues, a smack landing at Ivan’s bicep yet met with no reaction. “Why would you have expected me to hurl myself down the stairs?!”
“Did it not happen before?” Till asserts bluntly, recalling a memory the junior had wished to never be brought back.
“Last I remember, you slid down the stairs. Brought to the clinic with scrapes on your elbows and knees right after,” Marty snickers, palm hovering his smirk—as if that would have restrained his laughter. He only did hold back when crimson glared right at his direction.
“You,” Ivan tilts his head sideways, arms crossed over his chest. He does not speak after he had called Marty out, only staring at him menacingly prompting him to explain himself.
Quill and Till had a quiet non-verbal exchange. The junior glances at his senior anxiously, while the other responds with an warning glare—silently requesting that they stay out of it if they do not wish to fall victim of Ivan’s wrath.
The boy, Marty, who persists for his way, can only revel in his misfortune for ever committing to a ‘minor’ violation that goes against every quarterback’s rules.
Swallowing the lump that had long been on his throat, he spoke, “I… lost my water tumbler,” even as he mentally shrunk under his captain’s unravelling and piercing glare.
Even with how serious the situation may sound, Till stiffled laughter came out as a fake cough, rather than spewing off-handed comments. Marty’s eyes wonder around, avoiding Ivan’s—his gaze flicking at Quill’s, as if he was signalling a cry for help.
“We’ll talk about this another time, then,” Ivan mutters, conceding, his scowl shifting into a fond smile as he flicks his attention to teal iris. “You good?”
“Good,” Till answers. “Better knowing the day today.”
“What–”
“Can we just get on with it instead of stalling?” Quill whines, exasperated of the relentless third wheeling he had faced for months onwards. “Are we not here to celebrate Mr. Birthday boy’s day?!”
“True,” Marty asserts, standing beside the junior with anticipation. “So, sir. Where to? Is it not your birthday? It’s your place to decide the venue for our hang-out.”
Ivan chuckles, amused by their impatience. His hand reaches into the pockets of his jacket, car keys hanging down his index fingers, suggesting an invitation to his car.
“You’re dead serious?” Till stares at the key, bewildered. His baffled gaze countered with Ivan’s confident smirk. “No. You aren’t bluffing us, are you?”
“Let’s fucking go!” Marty screams all too excitedly, racing down the flight of stairs, ahead and out towards the exit.
“Fucker, wait up!” Quill yells out, chasing after Marty on cue. He was nowhere near as athletic to any varsity player, it was no surprise he was incapable of meeting the same pace Marty had set as he exited the complex.
Ivan and Till watch as the pair of high schoolers went ahead of them. Amusement contrasting with bemusement—Ivan turns to Till with a smile of endearment, gesturing at the pathway ahead of them.
“Would not wish to waste any more time than we already have, darling,” Ivan winks at Till, as if he were persuading him to walk ahead of him. “It’d not be courteous of me if I had gone ahead of you.”
“Big words won’t exactly woe a man like me, Ivan,” Till says, going along with Ivan’s banter. He walks up to Ivan, pressing a chaste kiss to his cheek, his hand intertwining with the quarterback’s. “It’s better that you walk with me, dumbass. I don’t need your false gentleman act.”
“Aw, I tried,” Ivan chuckles, nose nuzzling into the shorter man’s hair, pressing a soft kiss there before lifting his head off Till’s dishevelled hair. “Let’s go then, my love.”
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As soon as they found a parking spot by the small, they went straight to the arcade to indulge themselves with the displayed games. The place was entirely huge for it to be called a mere arcade—they separated into groups of two to explore the featured games.
Ivan and Till had found a claw machine to entertain themselves despite their traitorous luck. Even when Till was evidently ticked with the fact he was gaining nothing from the machine, he insists on proceeding to prove he was not raised to be a pathetic quitter.
“Fucking come on already,” Till grits under his breathe, hands gripping at either side of where each controls were presented.
“We can go for another game, Till–”
“No! My mama raised no quitter!”
Though, as adamant Till is on giving up, he goes on a few more rounds to no luck. His sense of strong determination only falters when he continues to lose. Frustration builds up within him leading him to accepting his loss. Forehead pressed against the glass compartment as he groaned defeated.
“Give up?” Till turns to glare at Ivan, who only smiles back at him with an adoring glint. Till swore his initial anger had almost put him at ease by just looking at him. “I can take your place and attempt to win the game for you.”
Till thoughtfully reconsiders Ivan’s offer. His irritation directed at the game had soon dissipated—not necessarily by his boyfriend’s words but because of the softness of his voice. His scowl soon fades away, reluctantly stepping back to give way for Ivan to take control of the game.
Once Ivan gets himself busy with the game, Till fixates on the man before him. He does not know if Ivan even acknowledges how the shorter gazes at him with admiration—captivated in the man’s beauty. He simply does not care if he knew.
Gorgeous, Ivan was gorgeous, Till thinks—no, knows. The entire day, Ivan was occupied with students running his way, complimenting him, and even handing out gifts to allude him. Till sometimes finds himself feeling upset knowing Ivan’s day was shared with valentines—so normally, every student who had been pining for Ivan would ask him out on dates. To Till’s relief, Ivan would refuse with a polite, customer service smile.
Till knew he could not blame them for ever chasing after Ivan’s attention. He was just the same thinking back, he had fallen for the campus’ golden boy—the student who was always put under the spotlight. Till, himself, was never really shunned out despite being the odd one out. Sure, there were a few instances he’d hear gossip meant to be against him from the corner of the locker rooms, but he never bothered, never really got to him.
However, he can not help but feel envious of those students who surrounded his partner. Ivan had chosen him, that he appreciates—nonetheless he still can’t conceal the doubt that gnaws him alive. Till selfishly yearned the stupidly, endearing raven hair to forevermore be his, to continue to choose him over those who claim to be far more perfect than he can ever be.
Then, a thought snaps him out of his trance state. The noise produced by other children who were in the same arcade pulls him right back to reality, his hand still hidden under the pockets of his oversized hoodie, keeping a gift he had promised to give him later—now.
He nudged at Ivan’s shoulder, diverting his attention away from the game as he grabbed at his arm. “Actually, screw all the games here. I have something else that you would like more.”
Ivan tears his attention away from the claw machine and back at Till. Head lightly tilted with his lips subtly parted with confusion. Yet, even as he was oblivious to Till’s ‘surprise,’ he still allows his boyfriend to drag him away from the busy arcade, passing by and abandoning the other high schoolers who were too focused on their current game.
They eventually arrived at a more secluded area of the mall. A place where shared intimacy was common. While Ivan admires the stars that glow oh so brightly, Till eases himself by taking a drag of his cigarette. He looks beneath him, watching as vehicles dash down the roadside—it was, unadmittedly, consoling his initial nerves.
He was nervous—afraid that his gift would not exactly reach Ivan’s expectations. What if he does not like it? No, he doubts Ivan would dislike it, especially when his older sister herself had stated that he would have been grateful if he were to be gifted a rock.
However, no, Till knew Ivan deserved something more meaningful than a rock. If Till could, he would have given the world to him—he knew it was corny from him, but his intentions were to only reciprocate the love Ivan had harboured for him. And so he will.
“I thought you’d quit smoking,” Ivan peers over, crimson boring into teal that was hovered by his hair.
“Eventually, habits die hard, they say,” Till grumbles, flicking off the cigarette, foot stomping against it to disperse the light that lingers on the now flat cig.
“Still,” Ivan huffs, his lips dragged out into an stretched pout, hands grabbing at Till’s waist to pull him closer. “You promised you’d quit.”
Till sighs, guilt and conflict were never a good combination—especially now. “I know, sorry,” He leans into Ivan’s touch, holding him back with the same strength.
They stay in this position, embracing each other in silence—the rooftop was quiet, only disrupted by the occasional sounds of the busy road below them and the breezy wind that only ever comes to brush their skin in a soothing manner.
Till knew time was unpredictable; it is only a matter of hours before they leave the building and back to their shared dorm. With the remaining time left, Till moves to make the best out of it. Hands placing themselves on Ivan’s chest, he lightly pushes away to look at the attracting void.
Ivan pulls away from the comfort of Till’s hair, searching his boyfriend’s face for any sign of discomfort. Till’s eyes stray away from Ivan’s, his palms leaving Ivan’s chest to finally show a gift that had long been awaiting to be given to its designated person.
“Uhm, I know I am not really the type to take action or shit, but,” Till began, fumbling bad to find the gifted item—treasure, he told himself. “But I thought I would do something special for you. Especially that today, is your day, uhm–”
Ivan’s hands fall from Till’s waist to his sides, his expression lighting up with slight shock—Till got something for him? His own hands clasped together, patiently waiting for Till to prop out his gift, surprise, whatever that may be.
Eventually, after minutes of embarrassing struggling, Till’s hand held a small box, shoving it at Ivan’s chest—cheeks flushing red, avoiding the other’s gaze. He had not prepared himself for this day despite the numerous times he had rehearsed for it.
His eyes squeezed shut, his grasp on the small box trembled—he could not exactly see how Ivan was taking his sudden surprise. He can only hope Ivan will greet it with gratitude.
When he heard obnoxious sniffling noises that were closely akin to sobbing, he finally relented to crack an eye open. To his bewilderment, he was met with a tear-streaked Ivan—his own rough palms wiping away any more tears that had rolled down his cheeks.
“Iv!?” Till’s attention flicks back on Ivan, his free hand grabbing at the quarterback’s wrist to prevent him from scraping his face. “What’s wrong? Why are you– did you not like this silly gift–”
Till was tugged back into Ivan’s arms, his own flailing to hug at Ivan’s neck. His own hand rubs circles at Ivan’s back to console him—he feels his clothes begin to damp, tears drenching his shoulder.
“Thank you,” Ivan manages between the sobs that wrack his body, his face hidden in the crook of his beloved’s neck—his hold on Till firm even as his body shook with an overwhelming sense of vulnerability. “Thank you, thank you. I had least expected something as precious as– I’m.”
“Precious? You don’t even know what is inside the box,” Till exclaimed, his hand snaking back to Ivan’s shoulder, lightly pushing him back to disengage the embrace.
“Ah, sorry, I reacted ahead,” Ivan chuckles, humourless. “I just did not expect that anyone would take the time for– this.”
Till huffs, his free hand that rested on the other’s shoulders climbs its way up to his boyfriend’s cheek—his own lips failing to hold back the urge to smile giggly at his beautiful Ivan. Carefully, he pushes the box into man’s hand, nodding at him with anticipation, he waits for another reaction.
Ivan held the box within his palm with care, afraid that it would drop out his hold with how badly he was trembling, after barely recovering from all the sobbing. His hand lifts off the lid, gazing down a gorgeous teal gem, a ring that was right and fit for his finger’s size.
That only brings more tears to swell in his eyes, a weak smile gracing his lips as he picks out the ring, gaze studying the features of the accessory.
“I’m,” Till’s next words slip out as incoherent mumbles, showing his other hand which displayed a ring, a crimson gem complimenting teal. “I thought that you’d like to bring something that would remind you of me, wherever you go.”
Ivan laughs, actually laughs, even as tears moist his cheeks, his nose knocking against Till’s cheek before pressing his lips against it. “It’s precious, beautiful. Like you, god. This means more than any cake I’ve ever received on my birthdays.”
Ivan hastily wore his ring around his finger, hands dragging Till back within his arm as he showered Till’s face with light, feather-like kisses—muttering words of affirmative gratitude in-between.
Till soon learns Ivan’s tears were only from the love that was being given to him. He holds his boyfriend’s face in his hands, halting his adoring attack to counter it with his own. His own lips brushing against the wetness of Ivan’s skin. He dares to even kiss him even as Ivan was soaked and choking on his own tears.
“‘M sorry, I felt really–”
“Loved? I get you, love. You’re fine, I’m here.”
Ivan nods, sinking into Till’s warmth, revelling into the love that he has given now being returned to him. Impulsively, he pulls Till into a slow, tender kiss—their lips moved against each other, synchronised.
For a first time, their kiss was not as messy as other tales they’ve heard from other people’s experiences. That was until Ivan’s snaggletooth had accidentally sunk into Till’s lower lip, breaking their shared moment.
A pained yelp escapes Till’s lips as he forces himself to push away. His finger grazes over his bruised lip, glancing back at Ivan, whose gaze remained stuck on Till’s lips.
“You’re silly,” Till teases, the two giggling as their foreheads pressed against the other.
“But you love this silly,” Ivan asserts, nuzzling his nose against Till’s, pressing another swift kiss to the tip of his nose.
“And I do not regret falling for this silly,” Till’s hand pushes Ivan’s head in, guiding him back for another kiss. This time, they sought to get this right and to correct their small mistakes.
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Bonus..
“Now, hyung. Are you sure there is nothing you don’t wish to do before proceeding back to your dorm?” Quill assures, walking alongside Marty, aimlessly fidgeting with their own fingers—presumably with nervousness.
“Yeah, I’m pretty satisfied with today. I suppose that’s enough for me to have a goodnight’s rest.” Ivan’s answer was met with unsettling silence. Their steps seemed to slow down as they were nearing his shared dorm with Till.
Ivan and Till glanced at the duo, almost oblivious to what they were plotting up next—the looks on their faces was enough to suspect it was not for the better good. A new prank? Perhaps.
“What did you two do now?” Till deadpans, glaring at the other two who looked like they were immensely constipated.
Marty backtracks until his back hits the wall beside the couple’s shared dorm. He inhales, sharply, his gaze flickering at Quill’s as to get an affirmative cue. His exhale comes out with a hesitant quiver, his hand fisted before he knocks at the door of their dorm.
“Hey, uhm, guys?” Marty clears his throat aloud, as if to assure whoever was behind their door it was him. “You guys can do your thing now, I think.”
“Do what now–”
Ivan’s question was only cut off as the door shot out open, colorful confetti that had initially exploded right at Ivan, cascaded down his face. As Ivan brushes away the colorful material off his face, he was then greeted with their other group of friends—Mizi, Sua, Hyuna, Hyunwoo and even Luka had brought it within themselves to surprise Ivan.
They all cheered, “Happy birthday, Ivan!” aloud while Mizi held up a strawberry cake—the one the quarterback had eyed for a consecutive hour weeks prior to his day.
“Oh fuck, I forgot about..” Till curses to himself under his breath. He shoves a frozen Ivan upfront the cake Mizi had originally picked for him.
“Make a wish! Make a wish!” Mizi excitedly chimes, bringing a lighter to the candle that was placed on the middle of the cake. “And blow the candle, then we can–”
“Delightful, really, had I really not expected any more surprises like this?” Ivan’s eyes only begin to sour again with fresh tears.
“Oh crap, tissues!” Hyuna yells, “Haul your ass, slack bag. Birthday boy is weeping!” She pushes Hyunwoo back into the kitchen, hurrying themselves in search for another box of tissues.
“Are you okay? Did we– why are you crying?!” Mizi exclaims, frantically whipping her head around to look for a place to settle the cake.
“No! It’s. Let me make this wish first, okay?” Ivan replies, wiping off the snot and tears on his face. His eyes closing to finally make a wish to himself.
“You cry ugly.” Luka comments, uncalled and unneeded.
“Not the time, moron,” Sua hissed, aiming her pen right at the blonde man as a threat. “No one needs your unnecessary commentary.”
Eventually, Ivan concludes to himself with a final wish, before blowing out the candle’s light. Cheers erupt, mostly from the twins as they approach Ivan with boxes of tissues. Mizi immediately settles the cake by the table, pulling Ivan into a heartfelt hug.
“Happy birthday, capt’.” Marty chuckles, leaning against the doorway, his lips curled not into a smirk but a delightful and fond smile. “Thought right for once, did I?”
Ivan spares Marty a gleeful smile, nodding at him, before he turns his attention back to Mizi, reciprocating her embrace. Eventually, Sua and Till joined the group hug, wrapping themselves around the two. Hyuna and Hyunwoo jump in the embrace with enthusiasm, Luka only reluctantly joins in for the sake of both Hyuna and Hyunwoo—he only wishes not to consistently be nagged just to comply.
This will definitely be a long night.
“Am I now off the hook, captain?”
“Nope.”
“Shuckss..”
“Well, we tried!”
“For nothing, Q.”