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it starts simple at first.
till had just come back to class after using the bathroom, only to find a box of apple juice sitting on his desk. when he picked it up, he found that it was still cold, condensation running down the side. he’d looked at acorn, who sat next to him, and asked if he knew whose it was. acorn said he wasn’t sure, that he hadn’t even seen who’d left it there. no one else till asked claimed it either.
the funny thing was, earlier that morning, till had been really craving some apple juice. he’d longingly looked at the vending machine located in their school courtyard before class, wished he had the cash to buy some. but he hadn’t, so he didn’t. now here was a box of apple juice in front of him, tempting him.
he’d done his due diligence in asking if it belonged to someone. that being said, till felt no guilt when he popped open the straw and happily drank the juice.
till chalked it up to a coincidence, to the universe granting his wish. he also didn’t think it would happen again.
but it did.
a few days later, there was a bottle of lemonade sitting on till’s desk. it just so happened that till tried to buy some lemonade during lunch, but it had been sold out. once again, his wish was fulfilled.
over the next few weeks, little things like this occurred frequently to till. the day he left his pencil case at home, he’d found an unfamiliar pen in a pocket of his book bag. when he got mud on his shirt during gym class, he found a spare shirt in his size sitting in his locker. when he got a bad grade on an important exam, he found a piece of his favorite dark chocolate sitting innocently on his desk with the note reading ‘you’ll do better next time! don’t give up!’
now, the first couple instances had confused till, but it didn’t take long for till to clue into what was happening. the world was not suddenly in a giving mood. the universe didn’t want to give till an easier time at school. none of that.
someone was responsible for making things easier for till, for cheering him up when he was feeling down for any reason, and there was no question in till’s mind who that someone was.
when till gets home, he pulls out a shoebox from under his bed, opens it up to reveal a bunch of notes he’d received over the course of three weeks. the one with the chocolate had been the first, but certainly not the last. till got a bit of everything, a slew of notes ranging from inspirational quotes to dumb jokes, from reminders to study for upcoming exams to praise for jobs well done.
today’s note read ‘did you know you have two moles side by side on the nape of your neck? if you draw a curve underneath, it’d make a smiley face! you also look better when you smile!’
when he’d read it, till had immediately used his phone to take a picture of the back of his neck, pulling down his shirt a bit to get as much skin as possible.
there were no moles.
till had then turned the note over and found a devious little ‘just kidding! you don’t have any moles, but you should still smile!’
despite everything, it worked. till smiled.
in present time, till adds the note to the box, pleased to see that he had gathered quite the collection. the familiar handwriting was the same in each one. till picks out one of his favorite notes, a badly-drawn doodle of till himself, and traces the ink lines with his finger, feeling fondness fill up his heart.
till thinks back to all the times he’s received something, whether it be his favorite snack or an item he desperately needed in the moment, and wondered if there was something he could possibly give his donor. what could till give him that would make him as happy as he’d made till?
as till’s eyes glance over the doodle once more, an idea strikes him.
the next day when till enters class, he makes his way not toward his own desk, but his donor’s instead.
“till!” ivan greets. “good morning!”
till doesn’t answer, too busy rummaging through his bag. “ah, there it is.”
out comes his sketchbook. till flips to a page in the middle, carefully tears it out and hands it to ivan.
“for you,” till declares, pink blooming on his cheeks like a flower unfurling its petals in the sun.
ivan blinks, speechless for once in his life.
till shifts nervously, searching ivan’s blank expression for any hint of a reaction. “well... do you like it?”
on the paper till had gifted ivan was a drawing of ivan himself, a side profile depicting ivan mid-laugh. in the drawing, ivan’s eyes were crinkled and his mouth was open, with just the barest hint of his snaggletooth showing.
this wasn’t an expression ivan showed often, but it was till’s absolute favorite. he adored when ivan let loose, let himself enjoy life and find joy. normally, ivan kept himself controlled, didn’t let himself emote as usually as anyone else, but in the rare moments when till fucks up or does something stupid, ivan sometimes dissolved into laughter that was always the highlight of till’s day.
ivan’s voice, low and velvety, always cracked when he laughed, as if not used to letting out the sounds. sometimes tears even emerged helplessly from his eyes. it was the purest, best version of ivan till was privy to, and he was smug that only he really got to see ivan laugh uncontrollably like this. only he was special.
till loved the drawing he’d created and was a bit sad to give it away, but he thought it would be worth seeing ivan’s reaction to it, would be worth giving his donor a gift as lovely as everything he’d given till.
but ivan was frozen, staring at the drawing like he had no idea what to say or do.
eventually, till can’t take the suspense any longer and pokes his shoulder hard. “well,” he grumbles out, “what do you think? do you like it?”
slowly, ivan exhales, as if he’d been holding his breath this entire time. actually, maybe he had been.
“is this...” ivan hesitates, deliberating over his words for a moment. “are you giving this to me?” when till nods, ivan frowns. “why?”
at this, till smirks. “no reason,” he says teasingly. “you’re always asking me to draw you, so i figured, why not? and lucky you, you get to keep the proof that i did.”
“i don’t...” ivan looks up at till briefly before quickly looking back down at the drawing, almost as if he was afraid of holding eye contact. “i don’t understand.”
“you don’t need to,” till says shortly. “class is starting soon. i’m glad you like your gift.”
“i didn’t—”
but till’s already walking away before ivan can finish, whistling merrily as he goes.
till doesn’t see ivan’s eyes linger on his back. till doesn’t see ivan’s gaze soften when he looks back down at the drawing. till doesn’t know that ivan had never seen himself so carefree before, not even when he practiced expressions in the mirror.
till doesn’t know that this drawing has immediately become ivan’s prized possession.
without any more interaction between the two boys, class begins and ends. by the time the school day is done, till isn’t surprised to find that he hadn’t received anything from his donor. he’s sure ivan was so shocked to receive something in return that he couldn’t perform his ‘secret’ duties as usual.
the next day, everything went back to normal. kind of.
come lunch time, till had already found a c.d. in his locker, one he’d been looking for in record stores in town with no luck. the jewel case was battered, worn, not new in the slightest, but when till tried the c.d. in the music room, it played flawlessly.
when till and ivan are walking home that day after school, till grabs ivan by the hand and drags him to the park. the two sit in the grass under a big oak tree, happy to waste time away with one another. ivan attempts to break the record for most acorns piled up in a mountain while till works on a flower crown with the anemones scattered around them.
when ivan finally gives up on his acorn mountain, he turns to till, ready to make a joke at the other’s expense, only to find that till is reaching up to place the finished flower crown on ivan’s head.
“till?”
till is pleased to see the hint of pink painted on the tips of ivan’s ears. “it looks good on you. keep it on until you get home, okay?”
ivan is lost for words and immediately avoids till’s gaze again. “okay,” he replies, voice small and unsure.
till stands up, brushes his clothes off, and holds out a hand for ivan. ivan takes it, and the two pretend they don’t feel the electric current that sparks when they touch. ivan tries to let go once he’s standing, but till simply threads their fingers together before yanking ivan forward. they walk home all the way just like that.
till pretends his hand’s not sweating. and till doesn’t know it, but ivan’s pretending not to panic.
they both suck at pretending.
from then on, every time ivan played his part as till’s ‘mysterious’ donor, till would gift ivan something from himself as well.
on a day when till scraped his knee after tripping and ended up with antiseptic in his bag, till took ivan to a cafe after school and bought him his favorite strawberry bingsu. the red of the strawberries matches ivan’s cheeks well enough for till to memorize and fall in love with the color.
when till found a pack of guitar strings in his locker after complaining about lacking them the day previously, ivan was taken to the local arcade where till won enough games to get him the prize tillbun plushie. ivan had mumbled his thanks while burying his face into tillbun’s soft fur, and till had been furious that such a dumb creature could get that close to ivan.
during the week when the baking club was selling their treats, till found a bag of his favorite lemon bars on his desk when he had left the classroom briefly. funnily enough, till had left in order to visit the baking club’s room and buy some yuzu cookies for ivan, which he promptly placed in front of a gaping ivan.
again, and again, and again. till reacted every time ivan tried to secretly help him or gift him something. after a month of non-stop reciprocation, ivan had enough.
that friday, ivan hadn’t given till anything. not a note, not a gift, nothing. but till had given ivan something anyways. that day, it was a sheet of paper with song lyrics till had worked on the night prior. lyrics to a song that was wholly inspired by ivan.
when till slams his locker shut, ready to find ivan and walk home with him, he’s met face-to-face with ivan himself. till frowns when he sees the upset on ivan’s face.
“what is it? did someone hurt you?”
ivan shakes his head and lifts up till’s gift. “this is a song,” he states coolly.
till’s lips quirk up, but he tries to school his expression into something neutral. “i’m glad you noticed. did you like it?”
ivan can’t connect the dots, poor boy.
“this is your handwriting, till,” ivan says, thrusting the paper in front of till’s face. “see? these are your words. and this was in my locker.”
oh, no. till really wants to chuckle, but he can’t. he shouldn’t.
“yeah, so?”
ivan stares at till, as if hoping he’d find some semblance of an answer to his queries. “you’ve been giving me things. this past month. i’ve gotten so many things from you.”
till can’t help the small laugh that escapes him. “i know. i was there.”
“not only that!” ivan exclaims, not seeming to have heard him. “but you’ve also been weirdly nice. and you’re paying more attention to me.”
“isn’t that what you want? isn’t that the point?” till asks, reaching over to hold ivan’s free hand. ivan tries to pull his hand out, but till doesn’t let him. “sure, i’ve given you a few things. but you started it, you know. i’ve been receiving things from you for ages.”
ivan blinks. “how did you know it was me?”
“oh, come on, give me some credit. you could tell that was my handwriting. why did you think i wouldn’t have been able to recognize yours?”
apparently, this confuses ivan further. “you know what my handwriting looks like?”
till’s gonna murder him. he’ll kiss ivan stupid first and then he’ll murder him.
before till can declare his intentions, ivan cuts him off. “never mind that,” he says. “is that why you’ve been giving me things? because you knew i was... was...”
and suddenly, all thoughts of murder leave till and he’s overwhelmed with affection. “aw, look at you,” till coos. “you can’t even properly admit what you’ve been doing this entire time. cute.”
till tugs ivan closer, laughs a bit when ivan stumbles over his feet. till’s free hand finds ivan’s waist and in shock, ivan drops the song page and places his hand on till’s chest, as if to push him away. he doesn’t get the chance to do so though, utterly spellbound by the sheer confidence in till’s teal eyes.
till squeezes ivan’s waist, relishes in the feel of the boy so close to him. “why start at all, ivan?” till asks, voice lowered. “why grab my attention this way at all?”
ivan gulps. “i thought... i wanted to make you happy. i didn’t want anything from you. i just wanted to see you smile.”
till thinks back to his shoebox full of notes, thinks about how every single one has made him laugh, chuckle, smile from ear to ear.
“you did just that,” till says softly, “and more. you’ve given me more than just a reason to smile.” till glances at the fallen song lyric page at their feet. “speaking of, did you read the lyrics i wrote at all?”
ivan stiffens. “i did.”
euphoria floods till’s veins when he seems the pink blossom on ivan’s cheeks. “and?” till needles. “tell me about it. i wrote it while thinking of you, you know.”
ivan’s eyes snap to till’s. “till. till,” ivan says urgently. “you wrote a love song. a love song.”
ivan’s hand is resting right over till’s heart, and till’s half afraid ivan can feel how hard is heart is thumping. but at the same time, he wants ivan to know. he wants ivan to know how till feels about him. about them.
“you know, ivan,” till starts, chuckling, “you tried your best to keep it a secret, i’ll give you that. but that’s not my style. i’m upfront about what i want, and i do my fucking best to make sure i get it. i’ve laid all the cards out in front of you, but it’s up to you to read them. what do you think i want from you?”
till purposely lets his eyes dip to ivan’s mouth and wets his bottom lip with his tongue. ivan follows the movement and pales.
“you can’t.”
“i fucking can.”
when till bridges the gap and slots his lips against ivan’s, he’s more than pleased to find ivan kissing back, though tentatively. ivan’s brought both his hands up to till’s shoulders, as if to help ground him to reality. till just smiles into the kiss and lets himself enjoy the taste of cherry lip balm, spearmint gum, and something inexplicably ivan.
when they break apart, ivan is flushed red. till isn’t too far behind him either.
the next day, till and ivan meet before school in the courtyard. ivan holds out a note with shaky hands. till reads the question, kisses the note, and pockets it before handing ivan a note of his own. ivan reads it, carefully folds it, and places it in the front pocket of his school shirt.
when ivan gingerly takes hold of till’s hand in his, questioning if it’s okay, till simply locks their fingers together and pulls them toward their first class.
they don’t let go until the last possible moment.
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ivan: be my boyfriend?
till: be mine.
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