Work Text:
"I hate homework. " Till complains for the nth time to what feels like open air but is really his (kinda, sorta, maybe?) Best friend.
For the past week in his lyrical class they've been talking about love songs. Now that in and of itself isn't bad, in fact, Till would probably say his specialty is writing love songs. But they aren't just writing about the usual woes of unrequited love and the feeling of butterflies when you have a crush.
Instead they've been focusing on the different symbols for love, especially the uncommon ones. So for the past few days Till's been trying to write a chorus for a song he has no real understanding of.
This all is what Till vents to Ivan while lying on his carpet kicking at the leg of the desk Ivan is sitting at.
Normally he isn't one for school small talk because he has the strong mentality that once he's out of school he has no reason to think abt that torture. However, he's doing his homework at the moment—because apparently school has never heard of a healthy work life balance—so might as well sneakily get some help from the schools golden boy.
Ivan hums in acknowledgement, doing whatever the fuck business majors do.
Something something, inherenting his father's company, something something, Till mooching off of him for the rest of his life. That's all Till knows and that's all he wants to know thank you very much. .
"It was actually kinda cool, I just don't really understand a part of it. "
Ivan smirks after Till says that, probably creaming his pants at the opportunity to make fun of Till's lack of knowledge. Because he's not just a nerd, but a fucking petty one.
"And what could the oh so great musical prodigy Till possibly not know! " Ivan gasps in faux distress, abandoning his work to lay on the floor beside Till.
How fun.
"Ha. Ha. Ha. You are just so hilarious, Ivan. " Till ignores the way Ivan beams at him like he wasn't being sarcastic. "It's just that we were talking about the symbolism of canabilism and like parasitic one sided relationships and I just don't really get it? "
Ivan's face turns serious for whatever reason and Ivan looks at the side of his gaze to see Ivan's turned his head to look directly at Till.
Flushed, Till turns back to stare at the ceiling, fidgeting with his fingers, "Like they talk about how canabilism is a way for someone to get close to their lover and stuff. And we listened to a song about someone wanting to live inside of another person even if it wouldn't be what's best for their loved one and I just don't get it. If you know it would harm your lover then why do it? "
Till stares at the ceiling for another moment just wondering before he can continue, "I just... Don't understand why someone would want to live inside of or eat the person they love while knowing it would hurt them. "
Till sits with his own thoughts for a moment before remembering that he was talking to another person who should've responded and there by helped him with his confusion.
Turning his head again he startles when he sees Ivan's still staring face. Till is used to his slightly off putting resting face; at the very moment his gaze is chilling and one Till's never seen before but just as fast as Till catches it, it's gone.
"I mean, it doesn't seem that crazy. " Ivan shrugs easily, a coy smile playing on his stupid handsome lips.
"I guess? Sometimes I wish I could just crawl into your head to figure out how the fuck you're feeling even though I know I'd probably see some really fucked up shit in there." Till rants exasperated to which Ivan doesn't deny. Because he's a freak and a pervert and deserves to be locked up.
Instead he responds, "Sometimes I wish I could crawl into your skin and live there to force you to never forget me."
Ivan stares blankly at Till's disgusted and most definitely terrified face before continuing, "Or to just hold your hand, that would be enjoyable too." He finishes with a smile.
Till slowly inches his hand towards the other boy's before gently placing it on top. With a wary look he scoffs at the boy while blushing, "It's not like I could forget your freakass anyways."
Though he's slightly unsure whether he's holding the man's hand out of love for his best friend or to stop him from potentially canabilising or crawling inside him, he still feels butterflies either way. It's probably love.
Ivan looks back and forth from where Till's increasinglg sweaty hand lays awkwardly atop his, to Till's scared blushing face.
Ever so silently Till pleads that he isn't figuring out how to actually fit inside his brain. He'd probably shrink himself and just to be a dickhead go through Till's nose or something.
After an undisclosed amount of time, but one that is long enough for Till's hand to become a proper swamp, Ivan smiles.
"Well, I suppose I can settle with hand holding." He hums politely.
Till is still scared, but now he is scared and charmed.
That's probably worse.
"For now."
Definitely worse.