Work Text:
Till walked through the gates of his new workplace, nervous as ever in his cheap suit from the thrift store. His eyes darted from corner to corner of the room, avoiding direct contact with the receptionist until he finally got to the front desk. The lights flickered, and he stumbled with his ID card before placing it on the desk with a nervous grin.
“New here?” The receptionist asked as she checked him in. “Never seen you around.”
“Yup. My name is Till. Till Weber-Suárez?”
“That rings a bell. You’re the new hire, aren’t you? The company party just started on the fifth floor, might as well network while you can.” She let out a hefty laugh, handing his ID back. “Seriously, good luck up there. People here are pretty competitive.”
“Yeah, I’ll—I’ll keep that in mind.” Till definitely didn’t want to tell her that she had raised his anxiety by ten thousand, his palms jittery as he took the ID card. He could feel sweat on his palms, so he wiped his hands on his pants before waving goodbye to the receptionist.
He entered the shiny elevator, attempting to fix his perpetually messy hair with his hands before he reached his destination. The elevator doors opened, and Till turned around to see people standing in little clumps. As he walked through the crowd, he could hear snippets of conversations—nothing exciting, just mundane things like investments and vacation plans. Nothing that he had.
The lights were on, and Till could spot a food and wine bar at the farthest corner of the room. Without making direct contact with anyone, he quietly navigated to the bar, grabbing a slice of cold pizza and eating in silence. It had only been five minutes, but Till already wanted to leave.
Suddenly, a man approached him. He wore a smug grin and looked at Till like he wanted to devour him. He leaned on the food bar, running a hand through his impossibly silky black hair.
“Hey. New here?”
“Yeah. You too?”
“Me? New here?” The man let out a loud laugh, looking Till in the eye. “Maybe you just don’t recognize me. We’re in a dark corner of the room after all. My name’s Ivan… Ivan Volkovsky? Ring a bell?”
Till racked his brain, but couldn’t think of anything. He assumed this guy was important here, considering his snobby attitude, so he decided not to piss him off. After all, Till hadn’t even started officially working at the company, and he absolutely could not get fired.
His father had told him that if he didn’t get a job, he would cut his contact with Io, and that couldn’t happen either.
Till didn’t understand why Urak wouldn’t let him pursue his dream of film and music, demanding that he get a corporate job. It wasn’t like it was hurting him, right?
He hadn’t told Urak, but he still had been working side gigs at bars here and there. His band, The Rebellion, had actually been going pretty well, he—
“Hello?” Ivan waved his hand in Till’s face. “Earth to…”
“My name’s Till. And yeah, uh, I guess I know who you are.” Till mumbled, ruffling the back of his head with his hands.
“You don’t sound like you do.” Ivan teased. “Well, you’ll be very well acquainted with me by the end of the week.”
Ivan leaned in, lips brushing Till’s ear. “Or maybe by the end of tonight.”
Till flushed, shoving Ivan away from him. He did not like the way Ivan had said that. Well, he did—but that wasn’t the point, because he didn’t even know this guy!
“Hey, what’s that supposed to mean?” Till asked, crossing his arms over his chest. Even in the darkness, it was painfully obvious that Till was red as a tomato. Ivan grinned at this observation, teasing Till further.
“It can mean whatever you want it to mean.” He said in a low, confident voice. Till just looked away, his heart beating fast and hard in his chest—it was probably so loud the entire building could hear it!
“Well—I—“ Till stammered, looking down at his stale pizza as if it was supposed to come to life and save the day. “I—um—“
“Cat got your tongue?” Ivan derided.
“No! The cat has not gotten my tongue.” Till replied, his face miraculously turning even redder than before. “You know, I can—I can report you to HR!”
“Aw, I’m only being friendly.” Ivan teased, not at all phased by the threat. “You’re gonna report me for being friendly?”
“You’re not being nice, you’re teasing me!” Till mumbled, realizing his threat probably had no impact on Ivan either way—based on the man’s confidence, he probably was too high up on the corporate ladder for HR to give a damn about him.
“Is my teasing too much?” Ivan asked mockingly. “Although this is only the beginning, I’ll stop. Y’know what, you should tell me about yourself. What do you do besides this corporate job?”
“Uh…” Till murmured, unsure if this was a trap.
“Seriously, no hobbies?” Ivan said, noticing Till’s scramble for an answer. His smirk dropped slightly, but he quickly adjusted it.
“What? No, I have hobbies!” Till quickly replied. “I’m into art. I draw. And paint. A lot.”
Till internally beat himself up for not getting his words out properly, wishing to go home for the fourth? Fifth? He didn’t even know how many times tonight that he had wished he was in bed, doing some bullshit like writing fanfiction.
“Ah, art! I like art too. I frequent art museums, it's so beautiful. What do you draw?”
Instead of admitting to his probable new boss that he drew men kissing, Till said, “People.”
“Who?”
“Just… people.”
“What kind of people?”
“People.”
“Yes, but what type?”
“… Fictional.”
“Fictional people?”
“Yes.”
“Oh, which people? Maybe I’m familiar.” Ivan just had to keep prying, and Till wanted to kill himself.
“Probably not.”
“Trust me when I say I have quite nerdy interests…”
“Oh, what are you into?” Curiosity—and a bit of hope—bloomed in Till’s heart as he looked up at Ivan.
Ivan blushed a little before continuing, “I’m very into classic literature, such as Crime and Punishment by Doestevesky, or The Count of Monte Cristo by Dumas… I wouldn’t suppose you like those kinds of things, do you?”
Till’s heart dropped, and all hope wilted like a dead flower. Ivan was way out of his social—and romantic—league, both in intelligence and looks. After all, the last time he had read those books was in junior year AP Literature, and that was because he realized SparkNotes couldn’t carry him through the rest of the year.
“Uh, yeah, I—I like classic lit.” Till mumbled, the lie slipping out of his mouth easy as cake. He made an internal note to Google a summary of The Count of Monte Cristo.
Meanwhile, Ivan’s face lit up like a child on Christmas morning, and he displayed a wide grin—Till felt bad for lying to him, but at the same time, it was best if he sucked up to his superior early on.
“Really? Oh, you have to show me your drawings of the characters, who do you draw?”
“Um…”
Fuck, think of someone quick!
“Emma and Harriet!” Till exclaimed. “From Emma, by Jane Austen.”
The only reason he had remembered those two is because he and Sua used to ship them during class. They had even written a mini thesis on it.
“Do you have a photo?”
“No, I’ll, uh, take one when I get home.”
Ivan smiled, and Till weakly smiled back, his stomach lurching. How the hell was he supposed to create a painting in less than 24 hours?
“Hm, how will you show me?” Ivan pondered. “I’ll just give you my number. You can text me the photo… and other things.”
“Other things? What else would I text you?”
“Whatever you want to.” Ivan smirked.Till rolled his eyes.
Glad to see that the Ivan from ten minutes ago is back…
“The only thing I’ll be texting you for, besides this, is work.”
“Right.” Ivan grinned, and Till blushed.
“Stop saying things like that, it’s annoying.”
“Why? I can tell you like it.”
“Well, I don’t.”
Till knew he was lying, both to himself and to Ivan. But what was he supposed to say? Yes, he did like it? Absolutely not. Till would rather die than admit that.
He glanced at the clock then looked back at Ivan. “I gotta go. I have stuff to do.”
Ivan’s expression faltered, before returning to its usual smug grin. “Wait. My number. And don’t even say you don’t want it.”
Till sighed, knowing he couldn’t deny that. “Fine.”
He took his phone out, looking up at Ivan. “What’s your number?”
“907-068-8970.” Ivan said, grinning.
“Okay. I’ll text you the picture later. I’ll, uh, see you later. And don’t text me random shit when you have my number, or else I’m blocking you.”
Ivan mockingly saluted to him, and Till couldn’t help but chuckle as he walked away.
The cold night air on Till’s skin made him wish he brought a jacket, and so he sighed with relief as he got in his car—although the interior of the vehicle was still chilly, at least it was better than outside.
He started the ignition,waitingas the car faltered twice before finally starting up.
Maybe Till needed to bring his car to the repair shop, but that was for rich people. When you were insanely broke like Till, there were other things on your mind besides getting your car fixed.
The car ride home was silent besides the radio playing quietly towards him. Till categorized his coworkers based on how friendly they seemed.
The receptionist—did she count as a coworker?—at number one.
Ivan at the bottom.
Till was gonna be so happy working here. This was going to be his favorite job.
He sighed, getting out of the car as he parked it. His eyes darted towards the elevator as it dinged, but it was just the janitor ending her shift. He nodded politely towards her, and walked into the elevator.
The only thing on Till’s mind was Ivan. That infuriating, teasing, beautiful bastard.
Fuck.
Well, more like I want him to fuck me, but—
The door opened to his floor, and Till walked out into the corridor of rooms, quickly finding his own and opening the lock to a still apartment.
Damn, I wish I had a roommate or pretty girlfriend or something. This sucks. Imagine coming home to a pretty guy waiting at home… That's the dream.
Till sighed again, walking into his kitchen to cook some scrambled eggs.
Oh, I gotta tell Mom how the corporate party went. Let me do that as my omelette cooks.
With that, he wandered off into his bedroom, dialing his mother. The room smelled vaguely like lavender, and Till completely forgot about his cooking dinner.
“Hey, Mom.” Till started. “How’s—“
“Till!” Io exclaimed. “How’d your company party go? Is everyone nice?”
“Well, I was about to ask you about your day, but I guess I’ll tell you about the company party.” Till sighed, debating with himself about whether he should tell his mother the truth about what happened or a vague white lie. “Well, e—“
Till was suddenly interrupted by the loud beeping sound of the smoke alarm, and he nearly dropped his phone. He ran towards his small kitchen, smelling faint smoke from the hallway.
In the kitchen, he searched frantically for the extinguisher, finally finding it near his fridge.
Finally, he sprayed the white foam all over his now ruined omelette.
Great.
Till sighed for what felt like the hundredth time today. He could hear his mother’s concerned voice from the phone, but he couldn’t bring himself to say anything. He was just so, so tired… he might as well rest his eyes for just a second on his couch.
“Till!”
Till woke up, vision blurry before he focused on his ceiling. He feltl his back ache, and his hand felt like static. He vaguely made out his mother calling his name.
“Mom, five more minutes…” He sleepily mumbled, attempting to turn to the other side, falling onto the floor instead.
“Till, let me in!” Io fretted. “Holy Saint Mary, do you have a concussion or something? Maybe something happened and you lost your memory—“
“Yo, yo, Mom, wait…” Till murmured, getting off of the lumpy sofa and answering the door. His eyes were still half lidded with sleep and he smiled crookedly at the sight of his mother. “Uh, hey, Mom.”
“You can ‘hey, mom’ your ass! You know how worried I was when you went silent after the fire alarm? I thought you burned to death, you pendejo!”
“Oh, the fire…” Till rubbed his eyes, glancing at his watch. It read one AM. In the back of his mind , he thought of work tomorrow, starting at nine sharp. “That’s my bad, I was just so tired, the work party was really something.”
“I can tell. Are you drunk? Don’t tell me you’re drunk right now. That explains why you left the kitchen.”
“No, Mom, I’m just stupid. Learn the difference.” Till laughed at his own joke. “Plus, it’s my first work party. I’m not trying to stumble around like Urak in front of my new bosses.”
“Hm, you’re right.” Io chuckled. “Well, it’s late. I just wanted to check on you. Have a good night’s rest. Sleep in your actual bed. ¡Te amo!”
“Te amo, Mom.” Till mumbled, shuffling to his own empty bed.
As he lay in his bed, he thought about his day.
Well, the company party wasn’t that bad. I mean, that stupid Ivan dude was really pissing me off. I hope he works in a different department than me so I only have to see him at company wide meetings or something.
I mean, he seems important… I can only pray that he’s not the CEO.
But I should’ve responded to Mom instead of sleeping… she could’ve had a heart attack again. God, I need to be more careful.
I really hope I don’t see Ivan again…
With that final thought, he let sleep take him. That was until he realized one more thing he had to do. He had to paint stupid Emma and Harriet from a Jane Austen book simply because his dumbass couldn’t stop lying to hot guys.
First it was about his age, now, it was about his hobbies.
Maybe I should go see a therapist… Till thought sleepily as he got up and went to his easel on the other side of the room. His steps were slow and deliberate, as though simply walking took resources he didn’t have. He flipped the light switch and winced as the artificial rays of light hit his eyes—well, more like attacked them.
By the time he finished slapping something together, it was four AM.
This is a perfect start to my first day on the job, isn’t it? Do I get some sleep or improve the painting and impress my hot new boss?
I mean… impressing your boss will get me a promotion… won’t it? Not like I have any other motives though, haha.
Till spent another hour making the painting look pretty, then got approximately one hour of sleep before getting ready for work. He carefully applied concealer to his under eyes, making it seem like he was a perfectly normal guy that got enough sleep and didn’t crush on as well as lie to his bosses.
After attempting to tame the beast that was his teal hair, Till was ready. He waltzed into his kitchen, playing some good ole Mitski to start his day off. Her calming voice filled his miniature kitchen as he poured himself a cup of coffee. Black coffee was Till’s favorite, since his hatred for the bitterness also helped wake him up with the caffeine. He referred to it as killing a bird with two stones.
As he got into his car, the GPS read that he would be arriving at 8:59 AM.
Well, at least I’m early?
But then, of course, he had forgotten to take a photo of the portrait. So he rushed up into his apartment, spent five minutes getting the lighting right, adjusted his hair, and sped down the stairs.
When he got back in his car, it read that he would arrive at 9:04 AM.
Perfect.
He drove haphazardly to the office, sliding in traffic like he was an ambulance carrying a life or death situation rather than a beat up Honda Civic carrying a 21 year old about to be late to work.
Finally, he pulled into the parking lot at exactly 8:57 AM by the miracle of God and Holy Saint Mary themselves.
He walked to the desk, trying not to pant like a dog. The same receptionist was there—her name tag read Martha.
“Good morning, Martha!” Till said, handing over his ID.
“Gosh, I can’t remember the last time someone properly addressed me by my name at this firm! Usually, people just hand me their ID and wait for me to let them in so they can leave. The only person who doesn’t do that besides you is Ivan. Have you met him? He’s such a sweetheart, I remember when he was Yae High—such a cutie.”
Sweetheart? Ivan?
“Yeah, I’ve met Ivan. He’s pretty nice.” Till lied through his teeth. Ivan was so annoying. Well, he couldn’t say that he didn’t like it, but still.
“Say hi to me for him, will you? Speaking of Ivan, it looks like Ivan’s your boss! You’ll just go up to the third floor and ask anyone where he is.”
That’s fantastic.
“Oh, cool. Okay, bye Martha. Have a good day!”
“Aw, you too, sweetheart!” Martha waved from the desk. Till walked to the elevator, going up to the third floor. There were a few people there, but no one looked approachable. He scanned the room, stopping when his eyes landed on dark green hair. It belonged to a girl in business casual, her short hair tied into a messy ponytail. She chewed on the edge of her pen with a confused expression, clearly internally debating something. Till cautiously came up to her, lightly tapping her on the shoulder.
She turned around, smiling.
“Hey, anything you need? I haven’t seen you around, I’m Durian. Nice to meet you!” She shook hands with Till, her strong grip nearly making his arm fall off.
“I’m Till.” Till smiled weakly, his arm sore. “Do you know where Ivan is?”
“Oh, everyone calls him Mr. Volkovsky around here. But yeah, I know where he is, he’s probably in his office.” Durian pointed him in the vague direction of his office and smiled. “I’d love to walk you, but I have a deadline coming up and I’m a chronic procrastinator. You look cool, we should hang out sometime. Just meet me here, at my desk during lunch, and we can grab a little something. Okay?”
Till nodded. “Sounds good, see you.”
“Bye!” Durian waved, and Till started his expedition to Ivan’s office.
The corporate office was a bit of a maze to Till. He was used to retail and fast food, not endless cubicles that seemed to go on till the end of time.
Okay, I just gotta head, like, north east? Or was it north west?
The cubicles seemed to merge into each other and create new paths similar to the Amazon Rainforest. Till was completely utterly lost—yet he would rather die than ask any one of his new coworkers for help. So instead, he decided to navigate it himself.
Find a corner and go from there.
It was going okay until Till decided it would be a bright idea to not look down at the floor and instead trip. He braced for impact, waiting for the carpet floor to come hit him smack at the back of the head—but instead, his back came in contact with a hand.
“You’re very clumsy.” Till heard a familiar voice say, a voice that belonged to none other than Ivan.
Dear God.
“I—“
“What’re you looking for?”
“Your office.”
“My office is in the opposite corner of the room.”
Till blushed, pink spreading on his cheeks.
“My bad, I kinda forgot.”
“Yeah, yeah. Let’s go.” Ivan smirked, and Till wanted the world to cave under him.
As they walked to Ivan’s office, the silence was filled with unspoken tension. There was nothing to say, after all. Before, they were at a party. Till assumed Ivan was probably drunk. Therefore, nothing Ivan said meant anything.
“Where’s the painting?” Ivan finally asked. “Of Emma and Harriet, I mean.”
“Oh, that, yeah.” Till fumbled for his phone, careful not to show Ivan his camera roll before rotating the phone so Ivan could see the finished painting.
“Till, that’s…” Ivan’s eyes widened as if he’d seen the love of his life. “That’s really pretty.”
Till blushed. “Thanks, I try.”
They continued walking, Ivan opening his office door for Till. Till grew red as he walked through the doorframe, waiting for Ivan to come in.
God, why’d I just walk in like some girl? I should’ve waited for him in the doorway!
Till cringed as Ivan walked into the door.
The pair stood there for a bit before Ivan said, “Are you just gonna stand? Come sit.”
Till obeyed wordlessly, blushing pink. He sat opposite to Ivan, and observed his desk. It was pristine, the sleek black furnish displaying the fact that there wasn’t a single speck of dust. There were a few pens in a cup holder, alongside two folders on the other side of the desk.
“Your first responsibility as a financial analyst will be to evaluate our current budgets and spending patterns to identify areas where expenses can be reduced and capital can be redirected toward investment opportunities. Does that make sense?” Ivan said. Till nodded. “Also, in public, you should call me Mr. Volkovsky. But in private… I don’t really mind what you call me, but I do have a few suggestions…” Ivan smirked. Till’s heart skipped a beat.
“Mr. Volkovsky will be very fine, thank you.” Till mumbled, taking his leave.
“Till,” Ivan said, stopping Till at the door. “Would you want to get lunch today? I mean, I get to know all the new employees like this, and we can discuss more classic literature.”
“Would tomorrow be okay?” Till asked. “I have plans with Durian.”
“Ah, you’ve met Durian!” Ivan smiled. “She’s a very good employee of mine. A bit disorganized, but very creative and kind.”
Till noticed there was a subtle shift in Ivan’s face—his perpetual grin had fallen ever so slightly—but he chose to think nothing more of it. Maybe Ivan just wanted to get to know him better on the first day, right?
“Yeah, let’s grab lunch tomorrow. I’ll see you around, Mr. Volkovsky.”
“See you, Till.”
Till exited Ivan’s office feeling light. All he had to do was compare budgets and spending! But it would probably only get harder…
He reached his new desk, which was weathered but clean, and got to work on the ancient desktop. It took a bit of time to boot up, but the software was easy enough to figure out that he didn’t need a tutorial. His eyes scanned the documents that Ivan had shared to him, quickly finding the material he needed to finish his task.
After a while, he finally finished it. He looked at the time, reading 12 PM. Now was probably the perfect time to go get lunch with Durian.
He walked over to where he had found Durian earlier, and saw her on a call with a client. He looked at her awkwardly, thinking about whether he should tap her shoulder or just leave her be. Durian finally noticed him—probably feeling his presence near her table—and wrote something on a sticky note.
Can’t do lunch today, Mr. Volkovsky assigned me a client call. Let’s do tomorrow. So sorry for the inconvenience!
Till frowned and walked away from Durian’s desk as she resumed her call. Who would he have lunch with now?
Well, there was Ivan. Sure, he was annoying as hell, but he seemed okay when they were talking about something like literature.
He navigated over to Ivan’s office, knocking on the door. Ivan opened it, a confused look on his face. “Well, what do we have here? Till has decided to cancel his plans and spend time with humble old me? So—“
“Please stop, or else I’ll just go eat lunch alone.”
“Aw, I’m sorry for expressing my gratitude.” Ivan smirked. “Well, don’t stand there all day!”
“You—“ Till stopped himself, trying not to get fired. “Okay, please stop blocking the doorway then.”
“Sorry, princess.” Ivan moved out of the way, welcoming Till into his office.
Till blushed beet red, stammering out, “Don’t—don’t call me that.”
“My deepest apologies, sweetheart.”
“That too.”
Till sat across from Ivan, cracking his knuckles nervously as he looked around. “I’ll order takeout, what do you want?”
“I pack my own lunches, thank you, though.”
Till tapped a few buttons on his phone, ordering a sandwich with a cookie. He got another cookie as well, for Ivan.
“So, do you sell your art, Till?”
“No, why?”
“I was wondering… if I could buy your painting of Emma and Harriet.”
Till nearly dropped his phone.
“For how much?”
“I was thinking 500? Unless that’s too less. It’s a true beauty, after all.”
Till blushed, a small smile appearing on his face.
“Yeah—yeah, you can buy it.”
Holy shit. No way. This is gonna pay my rent for the month, holy fucking cow! I hit the jackpot!
“Great! Now, let’s talk more about literature. Let’s talk about Crime and Punishment. I’m assuming you’ve read it, after all, it’s simply a classic… well, classic. You can’t have not read it if you’re into classic literature.”
“Yeah, Crime and Punishment is a great book. His… his, like, paranoia was scaring me a lot.”
“I know! His fear makes me want to scream, because the reader knows nobody’s onto him, yet he acts as though he’s the prime suspect. And then, because of his fear, Dunya’s ex-fiancé finds out he’s the killer!” Ivan genuinely smiled, not like any of the casual, flirty grins he usually gave Till.
“Yeah, haha. Uh… Raslolinov was also super weird for killing that lady, why did he even do it in the first place? That’s something I don’t understand.”
“Raskolnikov. And he kills the pawnbroker because he convinces himself she’s a harmful person and that getting rid of her could be justified if it helps others, especially since he’s desperate and broke.” Ivan hesitated, then added, “Well, there’s also the extraordinary and ordinary test theory…”
Till watched Ivan talk, observing how Ivan’s eyes sparkled a certain way when he discussed topics he was passionate about. Ivan’s eyes were really pretty, now that Till thought about it. They were this scary, pitch black color with red pupils. They would look terrifying on anyone else, yet on Ivan they looked stunning.
His eyes weren’t the only pretty things about him either, his sheer passion was simply—
“Well, which theory do you agree with?”
“I agree with the… the theory that Raskolnikov did the test, I guess.”
“How come? I mean, I agree too, but I want to understand your point of view on why, maybe we can find evidence and present it to my sister, Sua! She’s always saying—“
“Sua?”
“Yeah, Sua. Do you know her?”
“We’re probably thinking about different Sua’s. I know a Sua Volkovskya.”
“That’s my sister.”
“You guys have different last names though! And plus, if I knew Sua, then how come we never met?”
“In Russia, women have different last names than men—their surnames often take on a feminine tone, ending with an a or aya. Also, I completed my schooling in Russia, and came here to take over the American branch of the company. Is my English good enough that you didn’t notice?”
“Yeah, your English is great, I couldn’t even tell!”
Ivan smiled. “Thank you, Till. You ordered something, didn’t you? You should get it, your lunch break is almost over.”
“Yeah, I totally forgot, thanks.” Till exited Ivan’s office quickly, grabbing his delivery from the front desk.
“Hey, Till, make any friends?” Martha asked, eating a salad.
“You’re still on shift?”
“They hire too many people to work up there, but not enough down here. I have Bertha and Sarah, and Sarah’s maternity leave just started.” Martha rolled her eyes. “Anyways, I don’t want to keep you. You seem like a sweet boy, you’re probably eating lunch with someone. I’ll let you go.”
“Yeah, I am having lunch with someone, bye, Martha!”
“Bye, sweetie!”
Till entered the elevator smiling, thinking about his nice exchange with Martha.
However, he suddenly realized he had to find a reason why he thought that stupid theory was correct. After a quick Google search, he was ready. Or so he thought.
“So, back to Crime and Punishment.” Ivan said, grinning.
Till bit into his sandwich. “Well,” He started, and paused to remember exactly what he had read. “Raskolnikov believes there are ordinary people, who have to follow the rules, and extraordinary people, who can break them to do great things. He kills the pawnbroker to test if he is extraordinary, but his guilt proves he can’t live with what he did.”
Ivan’s eyes sparkled in that beautiful way Till liked. “Yes, exactly!” He smiled. “Your lunch break is almost up.”
“Yours too. When are you going to eat your lunch?”
“I forgot about that, looking at your beautiful face just makes me forget everything.”
Till blushed. “Stop saying stupid stuff like that.”
“Aw, your reaction’s cute, though.”
Till simply rolled his eyes, finishing his sandwich and getting out the cookies. He held one out to Ivan, smiling. “Want one?”
Ivan beamed at him, taking the cookie. “Thank you, Till.”
Till blushed, eating his own cookie.
I have a love-hate relationship with the way he says my name, like the way it rolls off his tongue… Good Lord, I’m done, aren’t I?
The two ate in silence until Till’s lunch break was over. He took his takeout bag and dropped it in the trash, smiling back at Ivan. “I’ll see you later, Mr. Volkovsky.”
“I’ll see you, Till. And please, call me Ivan.”
“Okay… Ivan.”
Ivan grinned as Till walked out of the room. The cold air hit his skin, and Till realized that Ivan’s office probably had a heater or something.
Damn.
He walked over to his desk, where Ivan had forwarded a few more documents, with a note attached at the bottom.
If you haven’t, look into The Brothers Karamov by Doestevesky. I have a feeling you would like it.
P.S. Are you a slow reader, or a fast reader?
Till smiled at the message, making a mental note to buy the book in his free time. He opened the documents Ivan had shared, looking at more of the budgets and spending costs.
“To think I could be playing my guitar right now…” He mumbled, opening each zipped file and doing mental math.
After a bit, he finally finished the rest of his work. Suddenly, his email pinged with a notification.
Dear Till,
I hope this finds you well. You’ll be doing a presentation on Friday about our budget and spending habits for this quarter, as well as where we could possibly cut costs. It’s a very small presentation, only to me and the other department leads. Feel free to use any kinds of visuals you want—as long as you can put it on a Google Slide. If you have any questions, just come to my office.
Sincerely, Ivan.
Till sighed, putting his head in his hands.
A presentation? Already? Fuck me.
Till glanced at the time—it was 4:30 PM. Almost time to clock out of work. He looked over at his computer. Either he could start reading the book that Ivan recommended, or get a head start on his presentation that was in four days.
Well… Ivan will be more lenient with me if I read that book.
He bought The Brothers Karamov on his Books app, and started reading. As he read, he found himself actually getting into the book. This shit was actually pretty good.
“What’re you doing?” An unfamiliar voice said from behind him, and Till jumped. He looked behind him to find a man with dirty blonde hair cut to his shoulders staring at him intensely.
“Oh, sorry, I was just—“
“Save it. Since you’re a new hire, I’ll convince Mr. Volkovsky to give you just a warning. But company time is essential, and there’s always something you could be doing. I’m sure there’s a task that you could be working on or helping with right now.”
“Yeah, yeah, I’m so sorry for being off task. I’ll get to work right away.”
The blonde gave Till a nod and walked away. Once he was gone, Till buried his face in his hands, sighing.
Great, I have a warning on the first day. Just fucking great.
He started working on his presentation again, looking at the time that read 4:55 PM.
That fucker. There’s five minutes left of work and he’s writing me up? Is he serious?
Till left his desk as soon as it hit 5 PM, smiling at his phone screen as he texted.
Till: Hey, this is Till, from work.
Till: Let’s text, emails are hard.
Till: Also, I started reading The Brothers Karamov. It’s pretty cool. And I am a fast reader.
Till: I’ll see you tomorrow, Ivan.