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The fridge door slammed shut with a crash, bottles rattling angrily as they clinked together. “Where’s the almond milk?”
“I finished it.”
“You don’t even like it!”
“I was thirsty.”
“Shut up, no you weren’t, what would you even use it for?
“Coffee.”
“You don’t even drink coffee, dumbass! You were just trying to piss me off!”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about, Till,” Ivan said with the same polite smile and even tone he always had, steaming mug in hand. He hadn’t taken a sip since Till had entered the room.
Till threw his hands up in the air in frustration, rolling his eyes, “God, you’re so fucking annoying! Get your keys, you’re driving me to the store.”
He glanced back at Ivan to watch that smile deepen a little, his head tilting ever so slightly to the side, “What’s in it for me?”
“Your neck doesn’t get snapped is what’s in it for you,” he muttered angrily, swatting at Ivan’s side from where he was sitting atop the kitchen counter as he strode by, “Just get your damn keys and shut your mouth.”
When Till returned to their shared living space with his wallet and phone found and stowed in the right pocket of his baggy jeans, Ivan was already standing by the door, keys in hand and a to-go cup in the other. Till didn’t even flinch when it was handed to him, noting that Ivan didn’t have one of his own, and opened it to take a sip as the door was held open for him. Unsurprisingly, it was coffee made exactly how he liked it, a little almond milk and honey. Usually, if he was making it for himself, he’d just take it black, but he preferred it this way. It’s just that black coffee seemed more efficient.
Jogging down the steps of their second story apartment, Till didn’t look back as he heard Ivan locking up behind him before following him towards the parking lot. Ivan’s black sedan sat, spotless as ever, and he yanked at the passenger side door a few times before the car beeped its approval and was unlocked. Swinging into the seat and slamming the door behind him, he closed his eyes and took another long sip of the coffee, listening to Ivan’s muffled footfalls and eventual driver side door opening and closing with a much less dramatic click.
The first minute of the drive was mostly quiet, with Till’s usual playlist automatically queued up letting him bob his head up and down as he sang along under his breath. That pit of guilt was already starting to form from his little outburst, especially with the coffee still in his hands, and eventually he glanced over at Ivan, “Sorry.”
Ivan just hummed, that same stupid smile on his face, but Till swore he saw the corners of his eyes crinkle a little more. He watched as Ivan motioned with his head down towards Till’s lap where the to-go cup sat, “It’s good?”
“Ugh, you know it’s good, stop fucking fishing for compliments,” he bitched back, anger flaring and swallowing the guilt that had been soothed by his friend’s response. “Idiot,” he added for good measure.
“Categorically, I’m smarter than you.”
“Who cares? I don’t.”
“But if I’m an idiot, what does that make you?”
“Do you have to go ahead and be such an ass on the one day I have off this week? Fuck’s sake.”
“What are you doing later?”
Till raised an eyebrow, mid sip, his gaze flashing back over to Ivan. He was checking his blindspot to the left, his dark eyes darting to the mirror as they prepared to turn into the store’s parking lot. Till squinted, trying to ascertain what type of trap this question would be this time, “Why?”
A shrug, “Just curious.”
“Curious my ass.” He immediately regretted the words that had left his mouth the moment he’d finished speaking them, blood surging up to redden his ears and cheeks. When he heard the tell tale soft huff and almost snort from next to him, he slapped one hand down lightly on Ivan’s arm, “Shut up.”
“Answer my question and your wish is my command.”
They were pulling into a parking spot, and as Ivan shut the engine off and made sure they were secure, Till just shrugged as well, “Not much, I guess. Catching up on assignments, probably forgetting to do them and working on music instead. Sleeping.”
“Usual Till things.”
“Sure,” he replied as he swung out of the car, shutting the door at a more appropriate volume and force than before.
“You know,” Ivan said, also stepping out of the car, a few reusable grocery bags under one arm, “I’ve got a game later. You should come.”
Ah. This is why he’d been asking. Till should have known he’d be asked to go watch a bunch of manly men all wrestle around on a painted field for a weirdly shaped ball with a bunch of rules he didn't understand. “Absolutely not.”
His stomach did another flip of guilt when Ivan’s usually neutral expression actually shifted into a genuine pout, “But it’s the start of the playoffs, and we’ve got a real shot this year!”
Till began to walk towards the store’s entrance, almost laughing at the sound of Ivan’s scuttling to follow him, glancing back at his friend who was trailing after him with the most pathetic look on his face. “Stop looking like a kicked puppy, you know I don’t want to watch that shit.”
“Aw, but it’s for me! Ivan, your bestest of friends.”
“Nope. Get a small cart, not the big one.”
As he led the way into the grocery shop, stopping by the box of bananas and breaking 3 off of a bunch of 6, Ivan rounded on him with the cart and a visibly tamped down pout, “I know you don’t like it and I know why but I really want you there.”
Placing his choice into the cart, he quirked an eyebrow at Ivan and set both hands on his hips, “Well, sue me for not really enjoying it when I have to watch you get your brain rattled around in your skull like a ping pong ball in a jar so you can throw a fucking ball around with a bunch of other big sweaty men.”
Ivan smirked, his teeth almost dazzling as he leaned his face a bit closer, bending at the waist so they were almost the same height, “Hm, sounds like a nice wet dream.”
Till pushed at Ivan’s shoulders and stuck his tongue out, cheeks and ears heating up again, “Shut up! Oh my fucking god you’re gross.”
“You’re the one imagining me rolling around with big sweaty men.”
“I didn’t say- you’re impossible,” Till said, his face still hot, “All I’m saying is it’s not my scene.” His voice softened a bit, eyes darting over to Ivan’s face, “I’m sorry. Maybe if you make it to finals, I’ll come.”
They walked around the store, Till stopping impulsively to pick up more stuff while Ivan stuck to his usual items, the subject effectively dropped. Once they’d checked out and brought the bags back to the car, Till was digging through one of them while he took his seat, looking for the box of granola bars he’d seen on sale and snapped up. He was so immersed in his task, his stomach rolling with hunger from their early morning shopping and lack of breakfast, that he nearly missed Ivan’s unusually quiet voice ask, “You’d really come?”
“Hm?” he hummed in question, still digging through their haul for his spoils.
He paused when a hand clasped his shoulder, looking up to see Ivan’s stoic face twisted into an emotion he couldn’t place. “If we make it to finals, you’d come to watch?” his friend clarified, still gripping his shoulder.
Till’s brow furrowed for a moment, his stomach filling with something that wasn’t hunger but felt a lot like it, a jolt of anxiety pumping through his veins. In all honesty, he really did hate football, and he hated it even more when Ivan played it. Ivan had already had one minor concussion during his career, and seeing his usually relaxed and unshakeable roommate and childhood best friend clearly struggling in the aftermath had been less than fun.
They’d fought about it after, about Ivan returning to the game, but when Ivan had agreed to quit in that moment, Till had felt instant regret. He’d been surprised by the sway he’d held in that decision, how easily Ivan had caved and agreed to not return after he’d recovered, and only a few hours later Till had walked back into his dark bedroom to tell him that he should go back after all. That had always left a sour taste in Till’s mouth when it came to football, how oddly agreeable Ivan had been to drop the game for Till’s sake, and he’d made himself scarce around the activity afterwards instead of confronting him about it. That and the scene truly wasn’t for him, the stereotypical jock filled team not an environment he thrived or belonged in. He knew from experience that none of Ivan’s teammates would say anything to his face, but Till’s style and brash words wasn’t something he was willing to tone down in any company, and he could feel the stares of disapproval from some of them at points.
But seeing the poorly disguised hope in Ivan’s eyes here, as he asked Till to attend just one game, made his stomach twist. Maybe they wouldn’t even make it to finals; the team was good, but it was no guaranteed thing. He could promise to attend one game, right? It wouldn’t kill him, and it obviously meant a lot to Ivan, more than he’d realized.
He nodded, letting his brow relax, mouth curving into a smirk, “Sure, if you make it, that is. You’re pretty ass.”
Ivan’s own open expression relaxed as well into a much more familiar blank smile, “You think my ass is pretty?”
“No, not- SHUT UP! Drive, idiot, before I change my mind and go back on my word.”
“I’m writing up a contract once we’re home.”
Ivan did, in fact, make him sign a piece of paper saying he would attend the finals match if they made it through the playoffs. The bastard even had witnesses in attendance, Mizi’s poorly disguised glee and Sua’s quiet jabs at Till’s expense only making everything worse. The entire situation was mortifying and incredibly stupid and unequivocally Ivan.
He forgot about it a few days later, slogging through the semester, falling behind on projects and spending late nights painting and sketching and composing to catch up. Ivan would come into his room and bring him food and drinks and drag him out of hiding to see their friends, and he would spend that time forgetting the stress of school, until he’d have to confront it again the next day.
It was only a few weeks before everything was due that Ivan came home, late one night, smelling like cheap liquor and with a dazed smile on his face, pushing Till’s bedroom door open without knocking, “I did it.”
Till had his tongue peaking out of his mouth, face scrunched in concentration, only a few inches from the easel he was working on, “Did what?”
“We won.”
Ah, it had been a game night, right.
“Congrats.”
“You know what that means?”
He swiped a bit more of the yellow ochre and mixed it with the green umber he’d been detailing with, making it a bit lighter and warmer, his brain on autopilot. It wasn’t until a full five seconds later that his mind caught up to the words being said, and he froze, eyebrows lifting in surprise.
It hadn’t just been a game night, had it. It had been semi finals night.
“Ivan.”
“You promised me!”
Looking over, that signature pout that he used to pull at Till’s heart strings was in place, but it looked a bit more vulnerable than usual. That made sense, considering how heavily his breath smelled of booze. A drunk Ivan was always less guarded and more honest.
Till almost thought he’d done that on purpose.
“I… I did. I know.”
Ivan nodded sagely, walking forward and wrapping one arm around Till’s waist from behind, hooking his chin over his shoulder. “I’m going to win it if you’re there, I’m going to play so well,” he said into his ear, and Till’s entire body felt hot, his cheeks on fire as he fumbled to put down his pallet and brush on his work table, “I worked so hard because I needed you to come see, I needed it. Need it.”
Till looked slightly over his shoulder at his friend who was far too close and breathing down his neck, “How much have you had to drink?”
“A bit.”
Till scoffed, “A bit. Sure.”
They stood that way in silence for another moment, Till’s hands coming to rest on the arm wrapped around him, leaning back against the sturdy body of his friend. Ivan smelled clean and fresh, only a slight tang of sweat from his clothes being stored in that gross duffel bag he used for game days to carry his equipment. He was a solid presence behind him, always a solid presence in Till’s life, always around, always nearby, always on call when he needed him.
It felt a bit foolish but a part of Till knew this was a losing battle. He couldn’t stand up to Ivan when he was practically begging for something. Logically, he knew his reasons for being hesitant, he’d always had his reasons, but that damned emotional part of his brain was making that pit of guilt that sometimes showed up when he established boundaries grow and grow.
He could stomach one game. It meant a lot to Ivan, and Ivan would have done it for him without needing to ask.
“Okay.”
“Hm?”
“I said I’d come, didn’t I?”
He felt Ivan’s stomach tense as his arm tightened behind him, his head picking up from its place in Till’s shoulder, “Really?”
“Yeah. I would be a total asshole if I didn’t show.”
“You are a total asshole.”
Releasing his grip around Ivan’s forearm, Till slammed his elbow into Ivan’s ribs, elating in the choked off gasp that followed, “Shut the fuck up or I’ll change my mind.”
That’s how he ended up bundled in 3 layers of clothing, a borrowed scarf tied tightly around his neck and the bottom part of his face, in the bitter cold of December with snow threatening to fall from the sky, sitting next to Mizi and Sua on the bleachers.
The crowd was loud, and Till shrank from the chattering and music that played, his hands warmed by a hot chocolate Mizi had bought and spiked with rum. They were seated in a section Ivan had apparently had free tickets for, one reserved for friends and family, right at the bottom row.
Till was trying to keep his spirits up and enjoy himself a little, but the anxiety was slowing getting the best of him. He felt Mizi’s arm loop through his own, elbow to elbow, “You need to breathe, Till.”
“I fucking hate this and it’s so cold,” he retorted, his tone unkind, cringing at himself when he heard how he sounded, “Sorry.”
“You should be,” Sua’s voice floated over from Mizi's other side.
“It’s fine,” Mizi said, squeezing him to her side in a way that would have made him tomato red a few years ago, “I know it’s a lot here, but once they get going we’ll have something to pay attention to! And he’s so good now, you’ve got to see him. I think he’s up for scouting, I know a few of them have talked to him already.”
Till just hummed and sipped his drink, nodding along. It had once been something Ivan really wanted, to be picked up for the professional league after college, but now he seemed less interested in the potential scouting than he was in his actual degree. He’d never mentioned why.
It was only a few minutes later that the professional cheer squads were out on the pitch warming the crowd up, their outfits more appropriate for the weather but still far too light to really keep out the chill. Till listened as Mizi oohed and ahhed over their tricks and flips, which he had to admit were impressive, letting her chat both his and Sua’s ears off as the announcers introduced both teams. The pyrotechnics and expensive lighting and all the damn smoke from machines that came thundering out into the arena when the opposing team came running on from one gate, followed by Anakt’s on the other side, was a bit showy for Till’s taste, but his stomach lurched with nerves again as he recognized Ivan’s jersey number from a ways away. All these years later, he still knew he was number 13.
Ivan himself was side stepping onto the field, his helmeted head scanning over their direction, before he slowed and raised a hand and waved enthusiastically towards them. He almost looked like a kid for a second, so small on such a large field, nearly jumping up and down as he flailed a hand around. Mizi squealed and nearly caused Till to drop his almost finished drink, pulling him to stand next to her and wave back. Till could imagine Ivan’s broad grin under the helmet, even if he couldn’t see it.
The game started with Anakt kicking, and after that it was almost total chaos that Till could hardly understand. When Ivan had tried to teach him a little about football, it had been in front of a TV where they could draw out all the lines digitally, so it was easier to keep track of. Obviously, with the screen above them now, he’d be able to see that sort of stuff as well, but the angle was awful and he was too choked up trying to keep track of his best friend on the field, to make sure he didn’t get decapitated by one of the even bigger men’s legs or something. Suffice to say it was impossible for him to really keep up, but thankfully Mizi, who regularly attended Ivan’s games, was filling him in as much as possible.
“See, now the other team only has one more chance to get over the first-down line, and they’re nowhere near it- still 8 yards to go- but they’re close enough to the endzone and it’s early enough in the game for them to kick for a field goal instead of risking a turnover,” she was saying, her finger pointing at certain things that Till was sure he wasn’t looking at properly. He just nodded along, glancing over her shoulder at Sua to see her nodding as well, so at least she was also lost.
Once Anakt was on offense was when things got more interesting. Till didn’t know much about football, sure, but he did know that Ivan was a hell of a runner and made to catch good throws. A wide receiver, he’d been told many times. Ivan was tall, but not as tall or as broad as a lot of the other guys, and his spriting and dodging capabilities were what made him such an asset to their team.
So when Ivan took off running with a defender on his heels after a few first downs of their team pushing through the wall that was the defensive force, Till couldn’t help but leap to his feet, his hands gripping at the rail in front of him.
Time felt like it slowed for a moment as he watched Ivan pull away at a speed he could hardly fathom, and the ball soaring through the air to catch up to him, spiralling straight towards where he’d be in a second or two. Ivan was looking over his shoulder, his upper body opened towards the incoming throw, and Till’s breath hitched as it soared straight into his arms through the block the defender had attempted as he darted sideways slightly to hit the correct trajectory.
“Go, go, go!” he shouted as Ivan hit the accelerator, his opponent only an arm away.
It was a marvel, seeing him pedal to the floor gas it down the field, a few other defenders running to cut him off, diving to try and catch up, but no one could down him before he’d hit the endzone. The crowd’s resounding yell was nearly deafening, but Till could hardly distinguish it through the blood roaring in his ears.
He hardly heard the announcers on mic calling the touchdown, barely noticed the cheer squad doing some flashy routine in celebration, because it really felt like the only person on the field was Ivan in that moment.
He was throwing the ball to the ground, beating both hands on his own chest and then opening his arms out to the crowd, basking in the screaming celebrations. His own teammates were on him then as he jogged back out into the field, pummeling him with slaps and fistbumps and jumping up on him. It almost looked painful, but Till couldn’t rip the grin off his own face.
He swore Ivan looked over their way as he brought his hand up to his helmet and mimed blowing a kiss.
Rolling his eyes, Till finally sat back down, the adrenaline finally subsiding a bit. He’d forgotten the rush that an event like this could produce in favour of worse memories taking their place, that same rush souring when injuries were involved.
“What a run he had, almost 70 yards,” Mizi was saying when he finally tuned back into reality, “The throw itself was incredible, Jacob is so good. He threw it, like, 40 yards for that catch. They’re so good together.”
“He’s fast,” Sua chimed in, “and plays smart.”
He felt his sleeve getting tugged on and glanced over at Mizi, “Till, you haven’t seen him play in 2 years, right? Isn’t he so much better now? Obviously he was good before but now he’s just… I don’t know how he runs like that.”
Till’s stomach lurched, his hand resting on his own thigh clenching, digging fingers into the meat of it. Ivan was really good at this, extremely talented and dedicated and full of so much potential. If he wanted, he surely could make a career out of it, but-
He had to stop himself from spiralling, so he took a breath, and said, “He’s always been fast. I don’t think I’ve seen him run like that, though.”
The rest of the first quarter went by without any more scoring, apart from the extra point Anakt had taken for a successful kick through the goal posts. In the second quarter, the opposing team took one, Anakt took one. It was in the third that things got dicey.
It was another rousing run from Ivan, watching him take off at light speed before slowing a bit to make the catch, but as he did, the defender that was trailing him jumped to intercept. Again, time seemed to tick slower, a gasp of fear leaving Till when he watched the two of them tumble to the turf as Ivan tripped over the feet that were getting in his way, the other man on top of him, and landed neck and shoulders first.
Till was on his feet before he could even think, and he was sure that Ivan’s name had left his mouth before he’d even thought to say it. Mizi and Sua were standing as well, one of Mizi’s own hands covering her mouth as she grabbed at Sua’s arm for support. The whole stadium was quieter, a rumbling of concern present, as Ivan went down hard.
The man over him rolled away quickly, getting to one knee next to him and putting a hand down next to his head, leaning over him slightly. A few seconds later, he was pushing himself up to stand and reaching a hand down to Ivan, who had appeared mostly motionless, until he reached up to grasp the extended arm and let himself be pulled up as well.
Trying to let every single muscle that had tensed relax a little, Till forced himself back down from the tips of his toes where he had been considering launching himself over the side of the bleachers to get down a second ago, his shoulders dropping as the panic that had gripped him lessened its hold. All that remained was that sickeningly thick anxiety that refused to disappear completely, a reminder of why he hated this game so much, the danger it posed.
“He’s okay, thank god, that looked like it knocked the wind out of him at least,” Mizi said, her own voice full of tension as she made herself sit back down. Sure enough, Ivan had both hands on his knees, bent over at the waist, breathing heavily as one of his teammates rubbed his back and talked to him. Only a moment later, he was straightening and waving him off, exchanging a few words with the referee, and then the crowd was cheering as he jogged back, much slower than the breakneck sprint from before, to the right spot.
Still, that mishaps had set Till’s nerves so alight that he missed the opposing team’s next touchdown, which brought them into the lead.
By the fourth quarter, he was feeling a little better, as he could see Ivan was moving more comfortably again, clearly having recovered from what had been a pretty rough hit. The game was tense, Anakt down by 4 points, and either 2 field goals or a touchdown needed to bring them back into the lead. The opposition had ramped up defensive, and Till could tell Anakt had had to make some changes to their usual style to just keep pushing through.
With about 3 minutes on the clock, Ivan made another break for it.
This one was instantly cleaner, the defensive opponent left to keep track of him losing him for a whole second which put a few feet of clearance between them, space he’d need to make the catch. The crowd roared into action as he took off like a racecar, barely looking back, trusting the quarterback to throw to where he needed to.
He was right to make that choice.
Jacob, as Mizi had called him, got a clean spiral off before he was tackled to the ground. It was too late, his job was done, and it was done well. The ball went flying, the defensive unit trailing Ivan pushing to catch up as Ivan held his hands out, his head tilted to watch the ball as it flew towards him.
Till felt his knees crack as he stood faster than he ever had in his life, back up on his tip toes, hands clutching the railing once again. He could feel his heart beating out of his chest as the ball soared straight into Ivan’s outstretched arms.
It was nothing but green turf until he hit the endzone, a showcase of pure power and skill as Ivan hit the gas again and accelerated to his top speed, pulling away with practiced ease.
The roar of the crowd would have overwhelmed Till he hadn’t been a part of the screaming, both hands punching up in the air. In all honesty, if he’d seen himself on TV, he’d probably be incredibly embarrassed about his reaction, but in that moment he couldn’t have cared less.
Mizi was jumping up and down next to him, and even Sua stood beside her with a smile on her usually stoic face that was wider than one she’d ever graced Till with. He laughed as he was jostled around by Mizi’s hands, shaking him back and forth as Ivan’s team converged on him to celebrate once again, hooting and hollering enough for themselves as well.
This time, it was undeniable, as Ivan ripped his helmet off and pointed straight to where they were seated, and then made a half a heart with his free hand.
Till couldn’t stop smiling. What was worse was the anxiety that had been affecting him morphed into something else, a little lighter as butterflies flew up into his chest. His breath hitched at Ivan’s unmistakable smile from so many yards away, that signature cocky grin directed straight towards him.
The last few minutes of the game were much less exciting, with Anakt’s team shutting down as much as they could to avoid a catastrophe, stopping every offensive play that became dangerous. It was still almost 20 minutes of nail biting stop and go, as the opposition called a timeout or two, and the other team dragged their feet as much as possible, but once the buzzer finally sounded the place was in uproar again.
Till never thought he’d ever be this happy for a bunch of gross sweaty jocks who’d just rolled around together in a field for 3 and a half hours ever again.
He clapped along with the mildly drunk and extremely cheery crowd, squeaking as Mizi grabbed one of his arms and Sua the other, pulling him forward out of their row and instead down to the catwalk just below. “Woah, uh, where are we going?” he asked, glancing back and forth as Mizi led the way, her hand slipping into his as Sua kept a death grip on him from behind.
“Come, come, he’ll run over and say hi before he leaves the field, we may not see him again until later!,” she explained, glancing back at him before tugging him forward again. They stopped at the railing, just a few feet above the field now, and she turned to look back at the celebrating team and called, “IVAN!”
As she waved a hand around, Till watched as his best friend looked up, helmet off again and propped up against one hip, his sweaty hair somehow still looking incredible as he’d combed it up and back from his forehead. The pads of protection he wore with his outfit made him look even more muscular and toned, and that same feeling from before invaded Till’s chest as he stared, unable to control his expression.
It didn’t help when Ivan grinned again, patted one of his teammates on the shoulder, handed him his helmet as he said something to him, and then began to jog over to them. Said teammate, who had unruly blond hair that was bleached from brown and very obvious roots, yelled back over to him enthusiastically, both hands occupied with helmets shooting up in the air in celebration.
Till barely noticed him, and he didn’t notice Mizi letting go of his hand and taking a step back, nor Sua slipping away to join her. His eyes were on Ivan.
“Till!” his best friend called, his voice a little wild, “Till! We won!”
“You did!” he shouted back as Ivan neared, a nervous laugh spilling out of his mouth, leaning slightly over the railing. His heart was beating loudly in his ears and he physically could not remove the smile from his face.
“Till, I’m so glad you came, I’m sorry I…” Ivan said once he was close enough, reaching a hand up toward him. They were only a couple feet of height away, and it was easy enough to reach his hand out to reciprocate and grab Ivan’s in return. The older man’s face schooled a little more somber, still smiling but he almost looked guilty, “I’m sorry. I know you were probably freaked out.”
It took Till a moment to realize what he was talking about, “You mean the hit you took? You’re okay, right?”
“Yes. It just knocked the wind out of me. No major issues, got the okay from the doctor during the side switch.”
He shook his head, eyes crinkling down at Ivan, “Good, because if you’d actually been injured, I’d have come and visited you in the hospital to kill you myself.”
And then Ivan’s hand was on the front of his coat, and he was pulling Till’s face closer as he propped himself up higher and he was kissing him over the bleachers.
Till wasn’t sure if he was hallucinating or not.
The hand holding his coat relaxed, but he stayed leaning over the bleaches’ railing, staring with wide eyes down at his best friend. His best friend, who was smiling warmly up at him, his eyes almost sad.
“I’m sorry,” he heard him say, that same sadness creeping into his usually controlled tone, “I had to. I had to. I love you.”
And then he was turning away and jogging back towards his team to jump back into the celebrations.
“What the fuck.” The words spilled out of his mouth but he could barely feel them, his fingertips brushing over his lips where Ivan’s had been pressed only mere seconds ago. That fluttering of emotions that had been bothering him had exploded into a set of fireworks, his breath catching as his other hand came up to grip his chest.
Still, his eyes were locked on the back of Ivan’s head as he walked away. He walked away. He was walking away, the fucking idiot was going to kiss him, profess his love and then walk away.
Till was vaulting over the railing before he could stop himself, landing on his feet on the grass below with a thud and a wince.
If he’d had attention for anything that wasn’t Ivan in the moment, he would have heard Mizi nearly screech his name, would have seen a few people look over as he began to run after Ivan, would have seen the camera that was now capturing his approach of the team, but he didn’t. None of that mattered, because the bastard had told him he loved him and then had walked away like the damn coward he was.
“Ivan,” he yelled, his voice quivering, and there was anger there but it was more than that. It was so much more than just anger, it was everything he’d just realized he’d been feeling for months and months and maybe even years. It was all those times Ivan had come to open mic nights just to hear Till sing 2 songs, or when he’d bring him breakfast in bed on a weekend when he knew Till had had a long week. It was when Ivan had driven him 3 hours back home so Till could see his mother after he couldn’t even afford a bus ticket, claiming that it would give him an opportunity to see his own estranged family anyways, and then how he’d spent the whole time keeping them both company instead. It was Ivan’s idiotic tendency to piss Till off and then do exactly what Till wanted regardless. It was their late night conversations about the world and who they could be, and how Ivan would sit and listen to Till wax poetics about what the future may bring them and how they could achieve it. Together.
It was just Ivan. It had always been Ivan, and he felt so stupid for not seeing that sooner.
What was even more stupid was the idiot who was finally turning back to look at him, his face whiter than a sheet.
“Ivan, fucking stop running away, you coward,” he yelled angrily, and this time he did see some of Ivan’s own teammates looking his way, but he decided he didn’t care. Instead, he stomped right up to his idiot, grabbed his jersey with a shaky hand and pulled him closer to plant another kiss squarely on his lips.
Instantly, two hands came up to hold him, one cupping his jaw while the other slid across the other side to cradle the back of neck. Till pushed all of his anger and frustration into the kiss, nothing like the timid confession from only a minute ago, both hands balled up in Ivan’s jersey, putting him exactly where he wanted him to be.
His cheeks flushed even darker than they’d already been from the cheering chorus and hollering of Ivan’s friends and teammates around them, a wolf whistle even making it into the clamour around them. He pulled back, very suddenly self conscious, leaning his forehead against Ivan’s chest and looking down at his own boot clad feet.
“Oh,” Ivan said. Like the dumb idiot he was.
“Yeah, oh, you fucking moron,” Till grated back, pushing his chest but still keeping a firm hold on him so he wouldn’t go far, “You do not get to come up to me, kiss me, tell me you love me and then walk away like a fucking coward who doesn’t want to face the consequences. What the hell, Ivan?”
Teal eyes met black and Till’s anger and bravado fell slightly when he saw the tears in Ivan’s, such an odd and unusual sight. “Oh,” he said again, hands touching Till’s face like he had to make sure he was real, like this wasn’t a dream, “I love you.”
“Well I know that now! Don’t you dare run away.”
“I won’t. I’m sorry, I love you.” His voice was choked up, eyes still watery, his lips slightly swollen and redder than usual, and he just looked so damn beautiful in that moment that Till just wanted to kiss him over and over and over again and make up for lost time.
Instead, he huffed, knowing that they may have lost time but if they didn’t talk now there wouldn’t be future time either, “Stop- don’t say that like you’re sorry that you- Why are you so immature? What are we, 6 and in kindergarten?”
He was glad to see a bit more of Ivan returning to himself, one hand travelling down to loop his arm around Till’s waist and hug him close, “No, I reckon it’s been a few years since then.”
Till nodded furiously, letting himself be held, “I know because I’ve been there with you since the start. You absolute bastard.”
“Technically, I joined halfway through kindergarten after moving, so not quite from the start of my schooling-”
“Shut up, you stupid, stupid…” Till trailed off, thunking his forehead against Ivan’s shoulder, “I love you too.”
He could feel Ivan’s breath against the side of his head, steady but shallow, his hands freezing where they rested on Till’s back. And then, very quietly, so only he could hear, “Really?”
Till forced himself to pull back, that same feeling invading his chest as he noticed that a tear had managed to escape Ivan’s still watery eyes, one hand cupping his face and thumbing over the track to wipe it away, “Yes. I’m sorry I didn’t realize sooner. I just… it was just now. You’re not the only one who’s been an idiot, I guess.”
He yelped in surprise when two strong arms crushed him closer and lifted him off the ground, spinning him around so quickly he was sure they’d crash to the field below. Before long, he’d been set down again and was being kissed within an inch of his life, chapped lips that tasted like sweat pushing eagerly against his own.
After another few moments, he pushed Ivan away, squinting at him, “Down, boy.”
“Woof,” Ivan replied, extremely unhelpfully.
“So this is who tamed the beast!”
Till glanced to his right to see the guy who’d held Ivan’s helmet for him leaning on another man grinning their way. Up close, his bleached wavy hair was even more obvious with very clear dark roots, but he somehow pulled it off. He was taller than Ivan, broader and a lot more muscly too, and his smirk looked almost predatory. Till’s stomach lurched a bit, and he nearly felt himself shrinking down, but refused to.
To his credit, the man just gestured a mock salute at him, still holding a helmet in both hands, “We’ve been pushing this guy to get hitched for years, wrong way at first.Turns out he likes guys, but once he let us in on that fact it became pretty obvious he actually only liked one guy. You must be Till, then.”
The nerves and anxiety quelled a bit, Till tried to push himself away from Ivan so he could properly meet his teammate, and scoffed when arm wrapped tightly around him to restrain him instead. He snarled back over his shoulder, “What the fuck did I say about down, boy. Let me go, I’m not going anywhere.”
“I just got you, please don’t make me,” Ivan whined, like the pathetic loser he was.
Huffing out a puff of frustration, and turned back to his new acquaintance, Ivan’s grip on him still strong, his arms wrapped around him from behind, “I didn’t realize I was signing up to never be let go. Shoulda guessed. Yeah, I’m Till.”
“Name’s Dewey, congrats you two, he’s been lovesick for too long. Wouldn’t stop talking about how you were finally coming to a game again,” Dewey, as he’d just learned, teased. If Till had been the one in the hot seat, he absolutely would have reacted, but as expected Ivan didn’t even try to deny it, just squeezing Till’s waist once. The blond motioned towards the edge of the field, “We gotta get out of here, you two, they’re going to start shutting this place down. Plus I’m sure he smells like a wet dog.”
“You all do, why you enjoy sweating for hours I will never understand,” Till snipes back, lip curled up in disgust as he finally pushed Ivan off of him, ignoring his pout, “Go shower. And brush your teeth. When will you be done celebrating?”
Ivan’s pout was replaced by genuine bewilderment, “You think I’m going out celebrating when I can go home and kiss the love of my life for the first time ever?”
“Ivan, holy fuck, enjoy your celebrations you horndog,” Till spat back, slapping his chest, “What kind of lousy team player are you? Scoring twice and then not even being there so you can soak up the praise… who are you and what did you do with Ivan?” He lowered his voice and placed both palms flat on Ivan’s padded chest, “Go, have fun, I’ll be at home. I’m not going anywhere. Mizi and Sua will keep me company until you’re done celebrating.”
“You could come with us, you know.”
Till glanced around at the few stragglers that were still on the field, Dewey and the guy he was leaning on both still watching them, one with unrestrained glee and the other with a curious eye. Till recognized that he was the quarterback, the number matching the one who’d been throwing all game, his brown hair shaggy around his much sharper angled face.
Shaking his head, Till leaned up and kissed Ivan one more time, “Not tonight. This is… it’s already been a lot.”
Ivan’s pout was replaced with a very serious expression and Till nearly laughed at the switch, “Okay. I’ll text you when I’m headed back.”
“Don’t drive.”
Ivan was starting to walk backwards, blowing him a very unserious kiss, “I won’t. See you later, honey bunny!”
“If you call me anything other than Till after this I’m never speaking to you ever again!”
“Okay, sweetie pie!”
“Seriously! I’m considering a restraining order!”
“Whatever you want, baby cakes!”
“IVAN!”
“Yes, pookie bear?”
Till paused, staring at him, before he made half a heart with one of his hands.
Ivan’s eyes softened and he copied the gesture with his opposite hand, squinting one eye like he was trying to line them up in his field of vision. It was so goofy it made Till laugh, despite everything.
He watched Ivan retreat with two of his teammates, Dewey coming to playfully punch his side while Jacob slung an arm over his shoulder. A third man was waiting for them near the exit gate, leaning against the wall, and he pushed up from his spot to hook his own arm over Dewey’s shoulders as they exited the field together.
Till turned to leave as well, his mind wandering. All those nights spent talking about the future, and what it could be. It all seemed a little bit brighter, now.