Chapter Text
A boy who would never return his feelings, not now, not ever. Ivan was okay with that. He was okay with simply basking in his presence, not demanding any more than what the universe has already given him. Till is the one that is truly a gift. Admittedly, Ivan was satisfied enough seeing Till happy around her; the girl he liked. Mizi.
She was a shining star, a fashion design student. He could perfectly see why Till would be so enthralled by her, but God, did it hurt seeing him swoon. Even now, in such a lax group setting, he tried to force a neutral expression. More than anything, Ivan wanted to run. He wanted to run far, far away. A place without Mizi, or Sua, or Hyuna, or Hyunwoo, or Luka, nor anyone. A void in time that he and Till shared especially. Then maybe, just maybe, if Ivan was the last man in the entire universe and all eleven dimensions, Till could learn to love him back.
Just before Ivan’s thoughts could get darker, Mizi nudged him.
“Ivan, you good?”
He tried to swim out of his dark headspace, clawing out of his irritation. She’s a nice girl, and he shouldn’t be taking out his own unfortunate circumstances on her.
“I’m doing alright, just a little tired. Are you good?”
Mizi flashed a quick, cute smile, “yeah, I’m good! Speaking of which, I’m getting a little tired, too. Sua and I’s classes are over for the day, so we’re gonna hang in my dorm…?”
She glanced over at Sua, asking for approval in the increased pitch of the end of her sentence. Sua gave a curt nod in reply.
“We’re gonna hang in my dorm! We’ll see you both tomorrow,” Mizi enthusiastically replied, taking Sua’s hand and speedwalking off into the direction of her hall. Till stood there, looking a little dumbfounded as he waved at Mizi’s back, perhaps expecting her to sense him and turn around to give a wave in return. Ivan immediately invaded Till’s space, snapping him out of whatever crush induced trance he was plagued by. He flicked the temple of his head, and his hand was promptly slapped. Cute.
“Enthralled, are we?” Ivan asked mockingly, leaning down and encroaching just inches from Till’s face. He basked in the closeness, staring and observing what he could for a couple seconds until he felt Till’s palm splay on his face, shoving him back. A part of Ivan wanted to lick his hand, but he decided that would be pushing it.
“D’ya ever shut up sometimes? Geez… Come over to my dorm. I got calculus work to do,” Till grumbled as he started walking towards his hall. Ivan lagged behind, feeling a little giddy he got invited over.
“Are you offering for me to help you with it?” He asked, faking oblivion. Ivan wasn’t actually sure why he was playing stupid, sometimes lies and ridicules fall out of his mouth before he can think about it. It’s kind of a dumb habit he can’t quite catch, which means he can’t quite break it.
“Duh. Y’need me to spell everything out for you? Why are you walking behind me?” He scolded as he slowed down to match Ivan’s pace. He nudged him with his shoulder and looked up at him, almost like he’s waiting for him to say something. Ivan didn’t want their conversation to end, and he needed Till to keep his eyes on him. When Till rips his eyes away from him, Ivan can’t help but feel like an example of the philosophical theory of Idealism—the whole “If a tree falls in a forest but nobody is there, does it make a sound?” question. Except, does he, himself exist if Till doesn’t look at him? It’s a silly thought, but Ivan feels as though it rings true in his heart.
In an attempt to keep the conversation going, he looks down at Till and decides to just ask a random question to keep the shorter one talking, “Which calculus class are you in again? Can’t remember.”
“Uhhhh… Calc 152. I think. I forget all the codes ‘n shit, but I know it’s, like, one of the lower ones because I fucked up the math exam thing they make you take before the year starts…”
Till was better at the humanities, specifically art, music, and English. Anything that required a semblance of creativity, he was amazing at. He had passion for it, too. Ivan sort of just did whatever was expected of him. He doesn’t have any passions when it comes to school, or really any at all. The only thing he was passionate about was Till. It’s like his life was split in two, a life before Till and a life after him. It’s pathetic, he knows that, but it keeps him occupied and going.
“Mm, I remember you telling me that. I should start charging you for tutoring sessions,” Ivan joked around. Till gave him a light shove and a chuckle back, “yeah, yeah, whatever. Put it on my tab.”
Ivan was preoccupied with looking at Till, that he almost didn’t realize he was at the front door of his residence hall. He waited for Till to scan his card, and opened the door to the main lobby area. He followed him up the elevator and into his dorm room.
It was small, and Till managed to snag a single. The walls were plastered with various band posters, ranging from punk to indie. His bed was shoved into a corner with a basic black comforter set lazily thrown on top of the mattress. The desk and makeshift nightstand was messy, to say the least, but the mess was unequivocally Till’s. If they’d have known each other when it came time for room assignments, Ivan would’ve gotten on his knees and begged Till to room with him. If he was his roommate, Ivan would have no decorations or even bedding of his own so that he can be surrounded by Till all the time. He’d ask for Till to wash his sheets and comforter, the only items on his hypothetical side of the room, and when Ivan would get them back they’d smell like his detergent. If he was really lucky, maybe traces of Till’s scent from manhandling his bedding would stick…
He cleared his throat, snapping himself out of his daydream. Ivan set his schoolbag down by the door as Till sat down on the floor, pulling out his computer.
“Ivan, c’mere,” Till beckoned, and like a dog, Ivan obeyed. He immediately took a seat next to Till on the floor, leaning up against his wooden bed frame. The silver-haired one furrowed his brows at the computer screen, Ivan watching the white reflection bounce back on his face. Harsh light is a blessing, especially this close, because he was able to see details the harshness carved out unlike softness ever could. His eyes flicked over the apples of his cheeks, the fine lines of his forehead, and a small bump on his nose. Ivan looked away, fearing that if he stared any longer his chest would begin hurting.
“Kay, I pulled it up. Here’s the assignment. I think I figured out the first kind of portion, but I don’t really get the last few,” Till demonstrated by pointing out what he was struggling with.
“Mind getting a notebook for me?” Ivan inquired.
“Oh, yeah, duh, sure… Hold on…”
Till yanked his backpack over to his side and started rifling through. He wasn’t the most organized. He pulled out a basic notebook and threw it in Ivan’s lap along with some random wooden pencil. Ivan looked at the screen, and started trying to solve the problems for Till. Even as he was genuinely trying and writing down the equations for him, he felt eyes on him. Till’s eyes.
Good. He wanted his eyes on him, forever and ever. Ivan knew it was selfish, as maybe someday Till will marry a girl, Ivan will be his best man, and he felt nauseated at the thought of trying to hide his disgust for the entire ordeal.
But that was so far into the future, so it’s better not to dwell on it.
“I see what you did wrong. You incorrectly canceled the terms instead of the factors in these limits here,” Ivan was describing as Till leaned in closer, his eyes flickering between Ivan’s lips, eyes, and his notebook. Their breaths were mingling, intertwining with each other, and if Ivan leaned in closer, just a little closer—
Till promptly backed up.
“S-so… Uhh… Sorry. For being bad at the math! For being bad at that. I’m not good at like… The factoring shit,” he explained sort of out of breath. It seems like he just realized they were really close.
“Do you need glasses, Till?”
He furrowed his brows in response. “What? What’s that gotta do with my math skills?”
“You were really close to my face. Can you not see?” Ivan inquired as he cocked his head to the side, then promptly straightened it back up once he realized he was truly like a dog.
“I can see fine! Idiot! Always in my fucking business…” Till sheepishly scolded back at Ivan. He wasn’t really sure if he said something offensive to make him react so erratically.
“I’m just concerned for you. We can go to the eye doctor’s if you want. You would look pretty in glasse—”
“Shut up about the fucking glasses! I’m fine! Everything’s fine! Just help me with the rest of my math like you promised!” The silver-haired boy quickly spouted out like he only had one breath to spare. “God, you have such a, like… one track mind. You get so stuck on something and you won’t quit bothering me about it…”
Ivan smiled in response. “Sorry.”
“Shut up, you’re so clearly not sorry…” Till said in that non-committal tone that signified he wasn’t actually upset. He slouched up against his bed frame, shoulders almost touching with Ivan. He went on his phone, mindlessly scrolling and typing. Then, he laughed at something. Till laughed. Ivan wanted to make him laugh, so he intruded Till’s space once again, trying to steal a glance at the screen to see what was so funny before Till shrunk away from him.
“Ivan! What’d I say about my bubble?”
“What were you laughing at?”
Till’s face softened, and he leaned back up against the bed frame. “Something Mizi sent. Look.”
Ivan could feel his face darken at Till’s mention of Mizi. He watched his phone screen, and let out a fake laugh. A laugh from his throat, not his chest nor his gut.
Mizi. It was always Mizi. Maybe if Ivan tore off her skin, slathered it on his own face, stuffed his shirt with tissues and cotton balls, and put on a plastic wig Till would put his focus on Ivan for once. If Ivan was in that ridiculous, gory get-up, and kissed him slowly and gently, sweetness laced on his cracked lips, Till might believe it for a moment and Ivan could feel alive. But that facade could never work. It would never work for his fake scenario, for when Till kissed him, he would wrap his arms around Ivan’s bulky waist, his hands would travel upwards, and Till would feel muscle instead of soft flesh. When Till would shove Ivan against the wall, trying to cop a feel, he’d feel firm abs instead of a plump middle. Then, when Till’s hands would move upwards to take off his shirt, his tissues and cotton would fall out. Then, in that moment, his nightmare disguised as a fantasy melted away and reality set in. A disgusting feeling settled in his chest, was it envy? Was it hate? All Ivan knew was that it made him feel mindlessly gross.
However, he smiled anyway, trying to knock himself out of whichever alternate timeline his consciousness had shifted itself into. Till’s voice, which he just now realized was a muted noise in the background, started to become clearer. It felt gross against his ear. So… Gross.
“...Van… Ivan? Hello? Dude, you alright?” Till waved his hand in front of his face.
“What? Yeah, I’m alright,” Ivan muttered unconvincingly.
“Did you hear what I said?”
“No, I’m sorry. Can you repeat?”
“I said there was a party tomorrow night. At a frat house. Come with me?”
At any other point, Ivan would’ve jumped at the opportunity. But Till… Till made him sick right now. He just hated looking at him. He felt… shame, disgust, just… a nasty black sludge settling in at the bottom of his stomach of hate that was slowly spreading all over him.
“I don’t like parties like that,” Ivan replied blankly.
“Ivan, c’mon, please? Everyone’s gonna be there. I don’t wanna be alone,” Till begged as he looked up at Ivan with those sharp eyes of his.
“If everybody’s gonna be there, then you don’t need me, right?” He snapped back, sounding harsher than intended.
“I do need you there. Mizi and Sua are gonna go off on their own, and Hyuna and the others are all gonna be in their little circle. Y’know they’re a little loud for me.”
Ivan’s mood immediately brightened. Till needs him there? Till? Needs. Ivan? The sludge at the bottom of his gut dissipated as quickly as it came, almost not sure why he was in such a bad mood to begin with.
“You need me?”
Till shrunk back, almost like a cat. Ivan could see a visible red forming on the tips of his ears, and he could see the blood flow slowly blossoming down his neck.
“W-What? That’s the part you focus on!?” Till yelled out, then noticeably got quieter; “Just… Be there… Y’never go out or nothin’... It’s bad for you.”
God, he was so cute.
“Okay. I’ll be there.”
“Good… And… We’re gonna walk together…”
“Okay.”
“Okay… Um… Wear something different than you usually wear. Like, not boring.”
Ivan smiled, leaning in to invade Till’s space once again, “you think I dress boring?”
Till, this time not backing away, simply just turned his head away. “Yeah.”
“Do you want me to dress like you?”
At that remark, it seems as though that was the straw that broke the camel’s back. Till lightly shoved Ivan away, furrowing his brows. “What? No! Don’t do that. It wouldn’t look good on you, anyway…”
“I dunno, do you think I’m too bulky for a pair of skinny jeans?”
“First of all, I don’t wear skinny jeans! They’re boot cut at the bottom!”
“But they’re awfully tight on top, huh?”
It seems Till got too embarrassed once again, hitting his limit. His face turned fully red, and he just turned around to mutter a small “shut up.”
But Ivan would never shut up, and he loved those tight jeans Till wore.