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“I like you!”
The puzzled glance Ivan sends her way is overwhelming. Runa squeezes her eyes shut, wanting to avoid the full force of his breezy, gentle expression. Heat rushes to her cheeks, so forcefully she can almost feel tears prick at her eyes.
“I know you must like Mizi,” Runa rushes out, the words tumbling unceremoniously from her mouth. “But—“
“I don’t like Mizi,” Ivan says, placing a hand on Runa’s shoulder. Blinking, Runa gazes up at him and tries not to float away at the sight of his curious face, snaggletooth catching on his bottom lip.
So handsome… Runa thinks wistfully.
“You don’t…?” Runa asks imploringly.
“You’re talking about the way boys and girls like each other, right?” Ivan verifies. At Runa’s nod, Ivan shifts his weight to his heels, posture relaxed. “I don’t like Mizi in that way. Why—?”
“I like you!” Runa blurts out again, unbidden, feeling her head go fuzzy with embarrassment. “The way that girls and boys like each other.” Her chin drops down to her chest, face aflame.
“Oh,” Ivan says from above her, although she can’t see his expression. “Why is that?”
Runa stares at the artificial grass of the garden resolutely, fisting the hem of her white uniform. “Well, you’re one of my dearest friends. You’re so smart and knowledgeable in class, I always feel like I learn from you. Your voice is beautiful. You’re very kind, you always listen to everyone so attentively. And… I love your smile.”
“…Love?” Ivan repeats softly.
Runa squeaks, unsure how she got herself into this situation, but she nods meekly, braving the humiliation of being so vulnerable.
“Hey, Runa,” Ivan says, tilting her head up with a finger to her chin, his touch feather-light. Runa has to crane her neck upward to look up at him, he’s so tall. He casts her a dazzling smile, the one that turns his eyes into crescent-moons and dimples his cheeks so adorably. “I like you, too. Let’s go on a date.”
Runa feels her knees go weak.
Ivan feels disgusted.
Although… disgusted may not be the most accurate name to what he’s feeling. More than anything, like with most things in the Garden, Ivan feels numb.
Most days, Ivan feels out-of-body from the idyllic tranquility of the Garden. The way the pet-humans scurry about and play with one another is both delightful yet perennially foreign. Although Ivan has grown used to the feeling of a settled belly, his designated portions must always be perfectly sized, never enough to truly satisfy him — and subsequently never severing him from the underlying coil of hunger he’s never been able to quite forget.
Ivan, over the years, has perfected his integration into the social sphere of the Anakt Garden children, has learned not only what pleases his segyein overseers but also his batchmates. It’s what makes him so popular with both the Garden children and the segyein alike, granting him all of his privileges as the pride of his segyein guardian.
Resultingly, Ivan has many “close” friends, Runa being one of them. Though out of all of the Garden children Ivan spends most of his days playing with, Runa is one of the most middling of the bunch. Nowhere near as interesting as Sua, nor as bright as Mizi. But on certain days, Runa requires some of the least effort to talk to, always unendingly pleased with anything Ivan says or does. Which, given new information, makes more sense…
“Ivan!”
A blur of pink and white hurtles into Ivan, causing him to let out a startled ‘oomph’ as he catches her in his arms.
“Hello, Mizi,” Ivan stretches his face into a smile, just the way he was trained, encircling his friend with a tight embrace. “How are you doing?”
“Wonderful! I beat my personal record on the track earlier today,” Mizi beams, and there’s dirt smudged against her cheek. She grasps Ivan’s arms. “Let’s go play in the shade over there!”
“Is it nap time?” Ivan asks, letting himself get dragged along. He sniffs the air, pinching his nose. “Have you even showered?”
“Nooo, I missed you too much!” Mizi giggles. “I had to catch you before you disappeared again. You and Sua are always off doing photoshoots and advertisements and stuff. I have no one to play with!”
“You have a lot of other friends,” Ivan points out. “Why don’t you go play with them?”
“I do, but they’re not as fun,” Mizi pouts. She stops them both in front of a tree, their go-to spot. “Is that mean?”
“Not if that’s how you feel,” Ivan says, sitting down primly on the grass. Mizi seats herself in front of him and starts pulling at the grass. Ivan allows himself to be selfish for a moment, letting an unbidden thought rise to the forefront of his mind. “Do you ever play with Till?”
Mizi frowns, and it looks out of place on her normally cheerful face. “Not as much as I would like.” She pulls the face framing strands of her hair over her mouth, chewing her lip. “He doesn’t say much around me. The longest time we spend together is when I sit with him while he composes, but I’m worried about bothering him. Whenever I ask him questions, he kind of waves me off.”
“He’s shy,” Ivan says. “And sensitive.”
Mizi smiles at him, “Yeah, and you know just how to push his buttons.”
Ivan feels himself smile before he can help it, crawling across his face like the skittering of roaches — genuine. “I suppose.”
Mizi pats his cheeks, “What a weird expression.”
Ivan lets his face settle into something more pleasant, and Mizi’s eyes shine in response. A sly expression crosses her face, “So… I heard something interesting about you today.”
“About me?” Ivan arches a brow, pointing at his own chest. “What could be interesting about me?”
Mizi slaps his shoulder, “Don’t be self-deprecating, silly. You’re so interesting!”
“I know you think I am,” Ivan says jovially. “I can’t imagine why anyone else would.”
Mizi clicks her tongue, “I can see why Runa would think so…”
Ivan’s expression shutters, “Oh, yeah. That.”
Mizi gives him a strange, considering look, then flits her gaze off to the side, returning to form with a beaming smile. “I heard she confessed to you! And you reciprocated! And now you’re going on a date!”
“She’s already telling people?” Ivan says.
Mizi shrugs, “I have my way of knowing.” Mizi braces her arms on Ivan’s biceps, shaking him back and forth. “Ivan! That’s so exciting! Are you excited?”
Ivan rearranges his face into something akin to happiness — at least that’s what he hopes it looks like, recalling the “human facial expression” chart that’s been practically burned into the backs of his retinas.
“I am excited,” Ivan lies, feeling a pit open up in his stomach.
“Runa’s really beautiful,” Mizi continues. “She takes really good care of her skin and her hair. And she’s a really good dancer, too. She’s so quick at learning choreography.”
“Her vocals are only mediocre, though,” Ivan points out.
“Hmm, yeah,” Mizi agrees after a moment. “She’s not likely to pass the audition round, but that’s okay. That’s so far away! What do you think you’re gonna do on your date?”
“I’m not sure yet,” Ivan says absently. His mind wanders, thinking of nimble fingers and ash-gray hair. “…maybe we’ll touch lips.”
Mizi flushes but doesn’t falter. “Touching lips is a lot of fun, especially when it’s someone you love.”
Ivan looks at Mizi, “Who have you touched lips with?”
“Sua, obviously,” Mizi says. “And there’s a lot of ways to do it.”
“Like how?”
“I guess you’ll just have to find out,” Mizi teases, sticking out her tongue.
“Right…” Ivan trails off.
A shadow passes by them and Ivan’s heart stutters when he catches a glimpse of gray hair and teal eyes, hands poised into a pantomime of fingers on frets, the silent shape of guitar chords.
“Till!” Mizi calls out joyfully. “Hi!”
Till is poised with all the grace of a wagyein fit to pounce and scratch. Mizi’s voice seems to activate him, eliciting a shivering straightening of his posture that casts his wide-eyed expression in Ivan and Mizi’s direction. First, light passes over his gaze, sending his teal eyes alight, then they narrow, honing in on Ivan’s beaming face.
“H-hi, Mizi,” Till stutters, then walks over to them while scratching the back of his neck bashfully. His gaze passes over Ivan’s face with a slight glare, which sends a delightful shudder down Ivan’s spine.
“Are you working on a song?” Mizi cajoles, grabbing Till’s sleeve. Till flinches back, careening into Ivan’s side, who steadies him very nearly without comment.
“M-maybe,” Till ekes out.
“Clumsy today, aren’t we, Till?” Ivan says.
“Shut up,” Till hisses, but he doesn’t move from where he’s warmly pressed against Ivan’s side, shoulders relaxing marginally. “What—what were you guys talking about?”
“Runa asked Ivan to be part of an exclusive pair with her!” Mizi bursts out with little to no prompting.
Till turns and squints up at Ivan’s face. Ivan very nearly grabs hold of his cheeks just to hold his gaze there, lengthening the time at which he’s the center of Till’s focus.
“You agreed to that with Runa?” Till asks.
Ivan nods.
Till scoffs, “Of course you did.”
Ivan stares at Till impassively, tracking every twitch and fidget, almost unblinking. “We may touch lips.”
“Hah—why are you telling me this?” Till glares. “That’s gross.”
“It’s intimate,” Mizi interjects, voice dreamy. She pats Ivan’s shoulder. “You have to tell me how you enjoy it after you do!”
“Of course,” Ivan responds lightly. He turns back to Till. “If you’re willing, Till, I’d be open to practicing with you. My adoption day just passed, if you remember.”
“Stop saying stupid shit,” Till spits at him. “I don’t wanna hear any more of this. Bye, M-Mizi.”
“Bye, Till!” Mizi waves, watching his back as he walks away. She turns toward Ivan, pouting. “Why are you guys always fighting? Aren’t you best friends?”
“Hm,” Ivan hums, twirling one end of Mizi’s long pink hair around his index finger. “Not quite.”
Till is searching for a quiet place to sketch when he sees them.
It’s been a few days since his run-in with Mizi and Ivan and he’d been in the middle of planning out the chord progression for a new song Urak had ordered him to create, so he’d honestly forgotten the majority of that conversation. Aside from the fact that Ivan had pissed him off slightly more than usual, but Mizi was there and so he’d turned tail and left as quickly as he could. He didn’t want to think about what would happen if he didn’t make adequate progress on the song, and thus the album, which could lead to him losing meal privileges.
Stupid Ivan, Till catches himself thinking. It’s a thought he often circles back to.
He’s at the edges of the Garden, the faux sunset casting a bright orange across the fields. It’s beautiful, as it always is. Till wants to capture it in the pages of his sketchbook, a packet full of watercolor markers bulging out of his pants pocket. The edges of the Garden are usually the quietest, the perfect place for Till to concentrate. Sometimes Ivan will still join Till as he sketches, though not as often as he used to when they were younger.
Till finds himself jogging up one of the larger hills at the edge, only to find that the spot under the tree is occupied by an exclusive pair already. Till cringes, about to walk away, when he realizes that the male counterpart in the exclusive pair is tall with a head of black hair. There are only two students with black hair in their class, Sua and Ivan. So that means…
Runa and Ivan are touching lips, Runa cupping the back of Ivan’s neck while running her fingers through his hair with her eyes closed. Ivan’s hand is holding her chin, keeping her mouth pressed against his.
Till shudders, an uncomfortably hot feeling blooming in his chest. His face reddens, and suddenly he feels tears pricking at his eyes. He’s not sure why, but he’s upset. He thinks back to when Ivan once asked him if they could touch lips, remembering that Ivan had actually referenced that empty promise a few days ago with Mizi. Till tries wiping his tears from his face with the back of his sleeve, planning on glancing up at the pair one last time before he leaves for good.
Only, when he looks up, he catches Ivan’s red-pupiled gaze.
Runa is still lip-locked with him, arms curling around the back of his neck now, but Ivan’s stare trails past her to train itself directly on Till.
Till scowls, flipping Ivan the bird. Ivan responds by pulling Runa into his lap, opening his mouth and licking into hers. His stupid snaggletooth must graze her a little bit. It’s fucking disgusting, Till thinks, transfixed and blushing down to his chest. His finger comes up to his own bottom lip, pressing down with his nail where Ivan’s fang might catch on Till’s mouth.
Ivan’s eyes widen, and the look is almost too much.
Till books it.
Ivan and Runa are sitting by the lake, fingers overlapping each other in the fake grass. Ivan had tucked an anemone behind her ear, a decision which he very quickly regretted, watching the camera centers pointing straight at him.
“What are you thinking about?” Runa asks. She always asks such inane questions.
Ivan casts a smile her way, and says, “Just about our recent practical exam performances.”
“Oh, yeah…” Runa trails off, voice dissipating. “I didn’t do too well on those…”
“You did your best,” Ivan assures her. It is unfortunate that you are painfully mediocre.
“I wish my scores were better so that we’d be able to sit together in class,” Runa pouts. “I like Mizi, but she’s always asleep.”
Ivan hums in agreement, passively allowing Runa to ramble.
“Acorn is nice enough, but we’re not exactly friends,” Runa continues. “Honestly, I think the most annoying part about class is having to sit next to Till.”
Ivan perks up, finally not needing to feign interest in the conversation. “Really?”
“He’s just always humming,” Runa complains. “Which is super distracting during lecture.”
Ivan feels something like jealousy — if that’s what it is — stirring up in his chest. He wishes he could be privy to Till’s idle musical genius during class, in the mundanity of his life. He’d appreciate it more, definitely, unlike Runa.
“And whenever we have to do group work, his worksheet is covered in doodles and he has no idea what the instructions were,” Runa says. “And then whenever we have an exam, he asks if I can share my notes with him the day before. As if I don’t also have to cram!”
“That is frustrating,” Ivan affirms mindlessly.
“And then on the practicals, he always scores so high!” Runa huffs. “And, like, obviously I know he has one of the best voices in our class, but I’m a much better dancer!” She gazes up at Ivan. “Wouldn’t you say so?”
“Of course.” Which isn’t a lie. Till is notably an abysmal dancer. He’s just also brimming with more talent in his pinky finger than Runa has in her entire body, dancing ability notwithstanding.
“It’s just so unfair,” Runa groans. “I understand why you two don’t get along. He’s so annoying.”
“He’s under a lot of pressure,” Ivan offers.
It’s a known fact among their class that Till’s guardian treats him the worst out of all of the segyein guardians. The amount that Till comes into class limping, or with his bangs covering the bruises on his face, leaves little to the imagination. Of course, no one knows how deeply Till’s suffering goes. No one besides Ivan, whose obsession with Till has led him to discover secrets no other human in the Garden could even dream of.
“You’re so empathetic, Ivan oppa,” Runa gushes. She presses her mouth to Ivan’s cheek and he freezes his face into a smile to suppress the disgust that curdles in his gut.
A week into Ivan’s dwindling relationship with Runa, Ivan is delightfully surprised by Till initiating playtime for once. Till hasn’t done such a thing since they were children, and even then, it was a sparse offer.
“What’s it like?” Till asks roughly, bangs covering his eyes. Between his fingers, he twirls the stem of a beheaded anemone.
“What’s what like?” Ivan says innocently. He wants to seize the stem from Till’s fingers and put it in his mouth.
“Touching lips,” Till grits out, squeezing the stem flat between his thumb and his index finger. “With Runa.”
“Ah,” Ivan says, smiling. “Enjoy the show?”
“Shut up!” Till hisses, balling up the stem and throwing it at Ivan’s chest.
Ivan lets it bounce off his chest, falling into his lap. He picks up the crumpled stem, takes a deep whiff of it, then tosses it into his mouth, chewing thoughtfully.
“You’re disgusting,” Till says, though his tone is notably less perturbed.
Ivan swallows. “Thank you,” he says seriously — because even if Till is hurling insults at him, it means that Till is thinking about him at all.
“So, are you gonna tell me or not?” Till pushes. “Was it everything you thought it would be?”
“Not really,” Ivan admits, feeling strangely honest for once. Maybe it’s something only Till can bring out of him, perfect as he is. “It was kind of weird, wet, and gross, just like you said it would be. I’m not quite sure I understand what Mizi finds so appealing about it.”
Till’s ears go red, flustered, “Who does Mizi touch lips with?”
“Sua, of course.”
“Don’t only boys and girls touch lips?” Till questions, red-faced.
“No, Till, of course not,” Ivan says, deliberately patronizing. “All humans have mouths, don’t they? Anyone can touch lips, obviously.”
“Don’t be a jerk, you jerk,” Till says, hitting Ivan in the thigh.
“I can’t say I’m not amused by this line of questioning,” Ivan says. “But is there a point to this, Till? I can’t imagine you’re all that invested in my relationship with Runa. Unless, of course, there’s someone you’re interested in?”
“You know I like Mizi, dumbass,” Till sputters.
“Are you trying to touch lips with her?” Ivan tilts his head inquisitively. “I can’t imagine Sua would be too pleased with that.”
“N-no, of course not,” Till stutters. With how red Till is increasingly getting, Ivan idly wonders if Till would ever return to a normal shade.
“Then what is it?”
“Do you still want to touch lips with me?” Till blurts out.
Ivan freezes. Inconspicuously, he moves to pinch himself. He would think he must be dreaming, but his dreams are never this nice. It’s amazing how perfect Till is, Ivan thinks. He never fails to surprise him.
“It’s not my birthday anymore,” Ivan says, unthinkingly.
“Okay,” Till says, tucking his face into his knees. He won’t look Ivan in the eyes. “Nevermind, then.”
Ivan surges forward, “No, wait, let’s try it.”
Till’s eyes peek over at him, “Should we? While you’re in a pair with Runa?”
“We’re both boys, aren’t we?” Ivan says. “So it doesn’t count.”
“Okay,” says Till. “So, how do we…?”
Ivan stands on his knees, pulling Till upward by his cheeks and pressing a small peck to his lips. The small bit of warmth is enough to send tingles across Ivan’s body from his head to his toes. When Ivan pulls away, his hands are still cupped around Till’s face. And, for once, Till is not pushing him away.
Unexpectedly, Till says, “Is that it? Really?”
“Mizi said there were multiple ways to do it,” Ivan volunteers breathlessly.
“Okay,” Till says.
“Okay?” Ivan inquires.
“Okay, so do it then,” Till clarifies grumpily, but his expression is so soft. He’s so precious, Ivan could just eat him right up.
“Okay,” Ivan agrees, then dives in again.
At first, Till’s knees are still tucked between them, so Ivan really has to hunch in to press his mouth against Till’s. But then Till adjusts his position so that there’s nothing obstructing them anymore, tugging Ivan down by the collar to capture his lips more fully. Ivan’s hands grip the hem of Till’s shirt, knuckles brushing his waist. They move their mouths against each other clumsily, and it’s a little wet and unfocused, but it feels really good.
Till pulls away for a moment to catch his breath, but Ivan doesn’t give him much reprieve. He yanks Till into his lap, Till’s legs bracketing Ivan’s torso, tonguing into Till’s mouth. Till gasps, hands reaching up to tug at Ivan’s hair when Ivan pulls Till’s bottom lip in between his teeth.
“Hn, Ivan,” Till whines. He said my name, Ivan thinks giddily, then bites down on Till’s lip with his snaggletooth. Till yelps, but only crushes their mouths together closer.
Ivan doesn’t know how much time they spend like this, Till writhing on Ivan’s lap while Ivan — impossibly — tries to bring them closer and closer. All he knows is that when they started, there was light, and now the cool nighttime envelops them. More importantly, he wants to crawl into Till’s body through the opening of his mouth. He wants to wear his skin like a blanket swaddling a creation. He wants to live inside him, wants Till to carry a piece of him everywhere so that they’d never part. Ivan wants Till — he yearns for him. So perfect, his Till. Ivan, the parasite. Till, his paradise.
They get bored of just their mouths. While their lips touch, their hands explore each other. Ivan runs his hands past every jut and angle in Till’s skinny body, committing every curve to memory. Eventually, Ivan begins to pepper small pecks across Till’s jawline, trailing down to his neck, teeth scraping against the curve of Till’s jaw and the shell of his ear. In turn, Till presses his mouth against Ivan’s throat, shyly licking and sucking, leaving behind a small marking there. Ivan wants to carve it into his skin. How did he ever get so, so lucky?
Finally, Till gets tired, pulling away and looking at Ivan shyly.
“What’s poking me?” he whispers.
Ivan’s ears burn red. “I think… my genitals are stimulated.”
“Oh,” Till says, face pink and mouth wet. “Mine, too, I think…”
“Oh,” Ivan echoes, unsure what to do with that information.
Till rolls off Ivan’s lap, leaning back onto his elbows. He looks up at the night sky, dutifully glancing away from Ivan. He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. He’s so beautiful, Ivan thinks. It hurts.
“That wasn’t so bad,” Till says, almost smiling. He turns back to look Ivan in the face. “Should we do it again?”
Ivan looks away, heart sinking in his chest. Fuck. How could someone like Ivan — someone who is barely human — get to have something like this? With someone as beautiful and talented and perfect as Till, who is the most human out of anyone that Ivan has ever met? Ivan’s hand curls into a fist, ripping fake grass from the dirt.
“I think…” Ivan says. “You’re only really supposed to touch lips with someone you like.”
“What?”
Ivan chances a glance back at Till, and crushingly finds that his expression is ice cold with hurt… and fury. Ivan wants to smooth the furrow of his thin gray brows. Poor Till, Ivan thinks. He must be so betrayed that Ivan took advantage of his trust like this. Ivan, who asked to touch lips because he’s obsessed with Till, while Till does little more than tolerate Ivan.
“You heard me,” Ivan says, not allowing an ounce of his sadness to cross his features. He quirks his lips up into his practiced smile. “You’re supposed to like the person you touch lips with.”
“What are you saying?” Till asks, accusatory. Hurt colors his tone. It pains Ivan to see him like this. He likes when Till directs his ire at him, but his pain only brings pain to Ivan as well.
“I tricked you,” Ivan says plainly. “Sorry, Till.” Idly, he observes his fingernails. He’s in dire need of a manicure.
He’s not expecting it when Till slaps him across the face, head whipping with the force of it. Ivan brings a hand up to his throbbing cheek, and winces. That is definitely going to leave a mark.
“Fuck you, Ivan!” Till screams at him, tears pouring down his cheeks. There’s snot gathering beneath his nostrils.
Ivan wants to clean off Till’s face with his tongue, run his fingers over Till’s simultaneously soft and angular cheeks again, press his mouth to Till’s closed eyelids. Ivan is disgusting. He doesn’t deserve such luxury; he never did.
“For what it’s worth, I do apologize,” Ivan offers placidly, offering an olive branch.
Till punches the tree behind him, and the tree branches shudder off their fake leaves. “Fuck off.”
Then he runs away, leaving Ivan to watch his shrinking, retreating back. From a distance, Ivan observes the way Till brings his arms up to his face, likely wiping away the mess of snot and tears. Eventually, Till’s figure disappears off into the distance. Ivan’s chest twinges with sympathy. He was too selfish today.
Still, selfish people are selfish for a reason. Ivan sighs, laying backward in the grass. He replays the memory of Till, pliant and soft and needy in his lap. He cups himself through his pants, and closes his eyes.
After Runa and Ivan break up — because “talking to Ivan was like talking to a brick wall, even as an exclusive pair” — Ivan spends the day with Mizi while Sua is out again, for another photoshoot and promotion.
“I’m sorry she broke up with you,” Mizi says. “Are you okay?”
Ivan shrugs, “It was bound to happen.”
“So you didn’t love her?” Mizi observes, curiously perceptive.
Ivan says, “I’m not sure I understand what love is.”
“You’re so strange, Ivan,” Mizi grins. She pauses, humming thoughtfully, “So how did you like touching lips?”
Ivan presses a finger to his mouth, remembers Till’s chapped lips and clumsy tongue, and smiles — his genuine one. “I see why you like it, Mizi.”