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The exhibition ends at nine; the party drags itself out to ten, then eleven, then midnight, and by then Eva and Jakov and all the others are shouting we’re too far gone now, let’s go all out! Lovro can't physically refuse. He has Ivan beside him, all his friends are whooping around him, and he feels on top of the world.
“You wanna?” Ivan’s arm is slung around them as they step out of the darkness of the long-finished exhibition behind their gaggle of companions, all tied close to each other and collectively goofing out.
“Why not,” Ivan hums, and kisses his temple again. Someone in front of them– Nix, maybe, groans.
“Not too tired, are you? Because they’ll drag this out to three if need be.”
Ivan gives him a wry grin then. “And you won’t be tripping over yourself when it’s finally time to go home?”
“Well,” Lovro says, with a rush of pride, “that won’t be the first time I manage that, will it?”
“How so?”
“Literally Tina’s karaoke party. Drunk and high and I still made it home.”
Ivan laughs out loud, and flicks Lovro’s nose. “That was with me and the Tomos.”
“Who cares? I’ve still got you.”
“But I think the Tomos was the more important part of the equation,” Ivan grins, and they leave the topic there, because Eva is shouting their names, you’re lagging behind. Lovro shouts back and tugs him along by the hand.
Ivan's thoughts swim in the golden lamplight they’re dipping in and out of as they run, all variants of the same thing: relief that he’s here, relief that there’s a hand in his, that the hand belongs to Lovro. His mouth is spread into a smile so wide that Ivan can see the gem on his tooth flashing.
And how gloriously long the night is! The moment is beautiful. He is beautiful.
—
They take things to a club; the celebration continues itself. The first thing Ivan hears when he leaves the bathroom is his name being shouted out, its culprit immediately wriggling out of Jakov’s grip and launching himself in the vague direction of his boyfriend.
“Hey, guys,” Ivan greets, wrapping his arm around the Lovro-shaped pile of jelly making it its mission to cling around Ivan the best he can. “What’s up again.”
“Lovro over here is what’s up,” Jakov cackles, and Tina says, “I’ve really never seen him like that.” She’s leaning into Mario, who looks blissed out, and herself politely disturbed.
Jakov shakes his head. “Nah, he does crazy stuff when he’s wasted.”
Lovro totters a little while Eva coos, “That’s just what love does to you.”
Love. Ivan glances down fondly at the boy snuggling into him. The feeling swells up in him again, unstoppable and all-encompassing. Lovro is his, wants to be his. He tugs him a little closer, half for reasons entirely selfish and the other half to actually give Lovro some material support. “You wanna go home?”
“Dunno,” Lovro mumbles, looking small (read: adorable) in his big jacket, big shirt and even bigger jeans. Even in the purple light Ivan can tell his face is red. “Where home?”
“Yours. Could be mine.” Ivan stands him up gently. Lovro’s friends’ eyes are trained on them both. “Mine is probably closer, though?”
“Then mine.”
“Yours?”
“No, not mine, yours.”
Oh, he wants to laugh so badly. Does that make him a bad boyfriend? “You want to go back to Ivan’s place. In Tuškanac?”
“Mhm.” Lovro melts into him further. Ivan props him back up, okay, there we go, and pulls out his phone. There’s no way the tram is still going from here. Can Lovro walk? It’s probably better, if anything, to bite the bullet and take the tram still running to Lovro’s place.
“Lovro?”
“Nn,” he mumbles.
“We can walk less,” he lowers his voice, “if we go to your place instead.” No response. “Lovro?”
“Ivan,” Lovro announces back, beatific and content.
Ha ha. Ivan can feel everyone smiling at them both. He nudges Lovro. “Going back to your place might be easier.”
“Your place is so much more comfortable,” Lovro sighs.
“Then can you walk?”
“For you? Anything.”
Eva awws behind them. It’s sweet how supportive they are. Ivan pats Lovro’s shoulder as tenderly as he can manage. “I believe you. We’re still going to your place.”
“Okay,” Lovro says, voice and determination apparently both as weak as the rest of his body, and Nix helpfully props him up from the other side when Ivan makes to leave.
“You need someone to help escort him out?” she asks, tongue darting out to lick her lips. Beside her, someone retches, and immediately, she jumps to the defensive: “What?”
“No, but thank you.” Ivan gives her his best smile. “We’ll let you know how it goes though.”
Nix tsks. “You promised. Catch ya later then, Mr. President and First Lady. First Man? Literally whatever.”
They stumble out into the cold of Zagreb-past-midnight with all the composure of a pair in a three-legged race. Lovro, bless him, seems to be making an effort to funnel as much energy as he can into his leg muscles, for which Ivan is grateful; his traitor of a knee isn’t exactly invincible. The low temperature is a balm compared to the oppressive heat of the bar, but it’ll get to them pretty soon, and thank God, a tram pulls up literally half a minute after they make it. Ivan can almost see a halo surrounding the thing.
One arm around Lovro and he steps on. They’re not a particularly arresting sight; there’s more than enough pairs of drunk guys in Zagreb hitching late-night rides home, but still, he’s glad that the tram is empty. He picks one of the horizontal seats, the closest they’ll get to a pair, and pats the one next to him. Lovro slumps into it and closes his eyes. His body language screams finally.
“Go to sleep, I’ll wake you up when we’re there,” Ivan whispers, patting his shoulder.
Lovro’s eyes fly open. There’s an indignance to it. “No?”
Ivan peers across at him, smiling despite himself. “Why not?”
“Because? You’re here.”
“Aha.” Ivan tilts his head against the window to match Lovro, meet his gaze. The tram rattles past an empty stop. The announcer lags behind mid-announcement and begins reciting the name of the next. “Then, since you’re so adamant on being awake, how should we spend this time?”
Lovro says nothing, just stares at him. Ivan stares shamelessly back. This is nice. He lets himself sink into the atmosphere of the night. The tram pulls to a lull, then picks itself back up again with a wobble. When he looks out, he can see the River Sava rolling by, moonlight glinting off its generous expanse.
“Hey,” Lovro whispers, pulling him back into his seat, the cold light of the tram.
Ivan’s mouth quirks into a smile. It doesn’t fall, and it’s still there when the benevolent announcer declares the next stop is Utrina. Ivan sits up at once, taps Lovro’s shoulder, even though he doesn’t need to because Lovro’s been looking at him all along. They tumble off the step onto the station, squat in the middle of the road. The tram whirs its doors shut and pushes off, leaving the two of them behind.
“Right, now you’re going to have to tell me if I’m going in the right direction.”
Lovro nods weakly towards a behemoth of an apartment building just across the road– it sets off a spark of recognition in Ivan. They trudge along in what Ivan hopes is the shortest way there. Still, the journey seems infinitely long, and Ivan is beyond glad when he catches sight of the entrance. “There," Lovro’s voice is quiet, ridden with exhaustion. Ivan props him up a little more.
In the elevator he steals himself a look at Lovro, again. He’d lied, in the beginnings of the evening; there had been a tuft in his hair, multiple, only he hadn’t had the heart to smooth them down at the time. Now they have all the time in the world. Carefully, tentatively, he threads his hand through one, then another, sorting through the strands. Lovro sighs softly and nestles into Ivan. Nuzzle, he corrects, heart swelling, because really there’s no gap to close.
Ana opens the door for them and there is confusion written all across her face. Maybe a little resignation; no mother is blind to the trespasses of their child. She smiles gladly at him, nevertheless, and beckons them in. “And take off your shoes, Ivan,” she calls back, while she shuffles into the kitchen.
He settles Lovro as gently as he can on the sofa in the main room, then sits himself carefully next to him. He’s got nothing good to do now aside from wait to inevitably leave, so he drinks in the environment, ingraining every detail into his memory. Secretly he hopes he’ll get to grow as familiar with it as he is with his own place back uptown. The place is only lamplit. Had Ana been waiting for her son, or, he realizes with a pang of guilt, had they woken her up?
Namely: she approaches them both with a tray of tea and cookies. She has on a true but tentative smile that echoes the very one Ivan has been seeing with delightfully increasing frequency on Lovro’s face; like mother, like son. He gives her an apologetic smile back.
“Sorry to have bothered you. I won’t be here long.”
“Nonsense,” Ana puffs out, and hands him a cup of hot tea with no room for refusal. “Thank you for bringing my Lovro back. This is the least I can do, give you a good welcome. He hasn’t been giving you too much trouble, has he?”
“Not too much,” Ivan grins, sensing Lovro returning to life beside him. Ana does, too, and eyes the seat beside him.
“Well, considering he had you trek all this way here at this hour...”
“Hiya, mama,” Lovro says blearily. Ivan tilts his head at him. Lovro looks away.
Ana sighs. “Here, Ivan, for your troubles.” A cookie is pushed onto his saucer; shortbread, it looks like. Nice. “Now, dear, where do you live?”
“Ah, uh. Just," -how to say this to alleviate the prospect, "just Tuškanac.”
She blinks. “That’ll take you an hour, at this time of the night!”
“It’s alright. I’ll set off early, anyway, I don’t want to be too much of a bother.”
“But–”
“Ivan.” Lovro’s voice cuts through the exchange and Ivan whips around to look at his boyfriend. His eyes are lidded. His hand pats Ivan’s thigh. “Just sleep here for tonight, it’s fine.”
Ivan looks back at Ana. “But–”
“No, darling. You really ought to stay for tonight. It’s not safe for a boy like you to trek all the way back across the city so late. And it’s a Saturday, isn’t it?” Lovro nods. “See. No, I’m not taking no for an answer. I’m sure Lovro has clothes you can wear, since he’s so fond of those clothes that are a size too large.”
Ivan can feel Lovro’s eyes rolling. Ana looks at him like, see what I have to deal with. “Have you had dinner?”
“I’m full, but thank you.” Lovro makes a noise of assent. Ana doesn’t seem quite satisfied by that answer, but she lets it slide.
“Alright, then. Now, I’ll freshen up Lovro’s room for you, so you needn’t sleep in such awful conditions like last time. I think we still have an extra mattress in the storage closet.”
“You really don’t need to,” Ivan says, a little abashed.
“No, no, what sort of host would I be if I let you sleep on a carpet?” Again, Ana sends a glare behind Ivan. “Lovro, you should find Ivan some clothes. It’s not good to sleep in jeans. What about that pair of pants you bought last time we went shopping? Surely those would work? They looked like they would fall off of you when you tried them on–”
“Yeah, yeah, mama, I’ll find something.” Ivan looks at Lovro. He’s rubbing his eyes. “Just wait here.”
“Okay.” He watches Lovro get up to his feet with some difficulty and start stumbling his way down the main hallway.
After a moment, Lovro reemerges with a bundle of clothes in his hands. “I’ve got the famous sweatpants right here,” he places them next to Ivan– he notices, with some humor, that they’ve been stored as a roll and not folded– “and a bunch of old t-shirts. Like, really old. Don’t expect high fashion. And I don’t know if they’ll fit you.”
“Probably will,” Ivan hums, lifting one sample up to examine. The fabric is so thin as to be see-through. What must have been text is peeling off in places and therefore undecipherable. He fits it to his chest, looks up with a smirk. “You think yellow’s my color?”
“Oh, shut up,” Lovro grumbles. “You can shower first, I don’t mind.”
“Okay. I don’t suppose you have underwear…?”
Ivan’s glad to see Lovro’s face is now red for entirely different reasons. “No!”
“Just asking,” he sighs melodramatically. “Well, I’ll set off now.”
“It’s down the corridor, second door to the left,” Lovro’s voice comes through muffled. He must be speaking into his hands, Ivan thinks, and the image is nothing short of delightful.
—
Ana had laid out a mattress on the floor of Lovro’s room, a much-welcome change from last time, and said good night to them with a small, knowing smile on her face. Also, Ivan has his very own toothbrush here now, a clear one with blue silicone grips to distinguish from Lovro’s green. Then Ivan had led Lovro back down the hallway with his hand on the small of his back to steady him. The clock reads two, nearly three. Lovro plops fresh from the shower face-first down onto his bed with a groan verging on rapturous.
Ivan kneels onto his mattress, watches Lovro roll onto his back. “Oh my God. I’m so dead.”
“Mhm.” He props his head up on his hand, admiring his boyfriend's profile. Lovro stares up into the ceiling for a moment, then glances at Ivan. “Hey.”
“Hey.” Ivan smiles and bops his nose. Lovro huffs out a quick breath at that, looks straight back up.
“Are you ignoring me?”
“What? No.” Lovro looks at him, properly this time, “Why’d you think–”
Ivan dips down to peck him on the mouth and break his sentence. Just a kiss, not even for a second is all it is, and yet it has Lovro staring at him like he hung the moon when they part.
“Now that’s the attention I want,” Ivan says, pleased, and flops onto his bed. Suddenly there’s a weight rolling onto his side, and he lets out a small oof.
Lovro props himself up on his elbows and smirks down at Ivan. “You brat.” He whacks Ivan’s forehead impossibly gently with his knuckles.
“And you like it.”
“And you’re so full of it,” Lovro retorts, pulling down the lamp switch and plunging them both into darkness. Then Ivan feels a kiss land on his nose. Another on his cheek. Then another on his mouth.
He wants to laugh. “You know there’s no law against kissing when the lights are on?”
The kisses stop. “If you don’t stop talking,” Lovro says, so close that Ivan can feel his breath– smelling of mint– ghosting across his cheek like a caress, “I’ll never do it again.”
“Uh-huh,” Ivan says, who believes the lie about as much as he does that the moon is made of cheese.
“No talking.”
Mouth zipped. Ivan shakes his head. He’s smiling. Then, finally, Lovro kisses him again.
This is the perfect kiss, he thinks, soft and long at three in the morning and midway between drunk and sober and high on the thrill of love. Lovro moves his mouth gently against his, making soft sucking sounds and sighs as he does that Ivan never wants to stop hearing. He trails his hand down Lovro’s nape, then around his neck, tracing his collarbone where the stretched-out collar of his shirt has hung down and exposed it. Every touch is static electricity with all the longevity of a brand.
“But you know," Lovro murmurs, pressing their foreheads together when they part, "I’d never stop doing this if I could.”
“I know.” Ivan wraps Lovro into a hug. Lovro slumps, half-atop Ivan, into the embrace, and Ivan kisses his mouth, smushed against his shoulder. Lovro giggles. It’s a beautiful sound.
After all that’s happened, it’s a blessing to hear nothing but the soft whir of faraway appliances, switches of items not yet off and only waiting to be used. Outside, it’s begun showering. The wind washes itself with a soft sound across the windowpane. Ivan rubs mindless circles into Lovro’s back to the rhythm of the rain.
“You’re sleeping down here tonight?” he asks, gently.
“Mm.” Lovro looks up at him, eyes sleepy and bright and infinitely acquiescing. “Only if you want me to.”
“It’s all I’ve ever wanted,” Ivan admits after a beat, sudden emotion choking him up, the words meaning more than he can bear.
What do we know about wanting, Ivan thinks, once Lovro's drifted off. Everything. Do you understand what it’s like to have a bottomless hole in your heart and finally have it become finite? I know love now.
After everything it’s you. It’s always been you.
Rain, on a Saturday night, or a Sunday morning; ten weeks, two boys, curled into each other on a bed, on the floor. It’s late, so late. They close their eyes and fall asleep to the sound of each other breathing.