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“Lovro.”
“Ivan.”
Ivan exhaled shakily, rubbing at his nose with a concerned quirk of his brows. He leaned back onto his bed — the mattress creaked in disagreement. “You’re here.”
At least he was wearing clothes now. Lovro nodded slowly, fingers itching to reach for Ivan from where he leaned against the doorway. To prove to himself that he was still here, still real, not dead somewhere on the side of the highway without a second thought. “Where else would I be?”
Ivan sniffed wetly, wiping at his eyes even though no tears had fallen. His grey hoodie enveloped him, making him look small. Lovro wasn’t used to that, he didn’t like the sight of Ivan looking small. Like he couldn’t hold up the weight of himself anymore. “I don’t know. At your own place busy blocking me? I’d do that if I was you.”
The silence felt deafening as Lovro fought his desire to ask a barrage of questions. All except for one. “Can I hold you?”
“Please.”
Lovro flew onto the bed at a speed that could rival Olympic winners, quick to fold Ivan into his arms and rest his cheek on the familiar buzz; it
had grown out a little now, from the first time they had met. He carded his fingers through the locks delicately, scared that Ivan could break at any moment — that he would break.
Ivan shoved his face into the other’s chest, hands coming to clutch at Lovro’s back with a grip that would hurt if Lovro wasn’t so damn worried.
He gave Ivan a couple minutes, letting the fractured breaths slow down to a comforting deep inhale — though the grip never loosened. He gave him a small and what he hoped to be comforting kiss on the forehead when the taller man hesitantly pulled back, hands coming down to hold his waist.
“I’m bipolar.” Ivan croaked out, eyes casting downwards, watery eyes avoiding Lovro’s.
Lovro inhaled slowly, letting the realisation wash over him. Of course he was, how could he not have known? The erratic posting, the nonsensical amount of energy, the mania. But this didn’t change anything. This was still Ivan.
The room was quiet except for the distant calling of the birds & the traffic beyond.
“Ok. Can I do anything?” Lovro asked gently, bringing a palm up to cradle Ivan’s face.
“What? I just told you I’m bipolar.” His eyes snapped back up to meet Lovro’s, leaning into the touch as if it was the last one he’d ever get. Maybe it had been, in the past. “This is the part where you leave.”
Lovro’s heart ached. “I don’t care. I just want you to be OK. I want us to be okay, if that’s what you’d like too.” He leaned in to kiss his forehead gingerly once more, leaning the calm silence wash over them both.
Ivan’s lower lip wobbled once, then twice before he brought himself closer once more to press his face into Lovro’s shirt, letting the tears fall.
“That’s all I want, I promise.” He murmured, voice muffled by where he was pressed against the other’s body. “I’m so sorry, Lovro.”
They laid there for a while on the bed, the mattress squeaking whenever they adjusted. The silence was now comfortable as Lovro continued to card his fingers through Ivan’s hair while the other hand held him firmly.
It was a while before Lovro spoke. “I’m sorry too, if that means anything. I know I’ve been going too slow.”
“What?” Ivan repeated, leaning back up to stare at him as if he’d grown two heads. “No, we move at whatever pace you’re comfortable at. I don’t care, I’d love to be with you in public but just having you to myself is more than enough. Don’t say that shit.”
He snuggled back in, to Lovro’s amusement. “I don’t like to share anyways.”
Lovro laughed, a soft noise meant for Ivan alone. “Good, neither do I. We’ll be OK. Minute by minute.”
“Minute by minute,” Ivan repeated, even softer.