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Till had known Ivan for approximately four months, which was long enough to know that Ivan was irritating and not nearly long enough to know what to do about it.
They weren't friends.
That was important.
They were classmates. They had several classes together, had been assigned to the same discussion group twice, and had exchanged enough messages about homework that Ivan had somehow ended up in Till's contacts despite Till never remembering actually giving him his number.
They sat near each other in their Tuesday afternoon music theory lecture because the professor's preferred seating arrangement had apparently been designed by someone with a personal vendetta against teenagers.
That was it.
There was nothing else to it.
Till had absolutely no reason to know that Ivan always arrived five minutes early.
He had no reason to know that Ivan drank coffee before class but almost never finished it.
He had no reason to know that Ivan preferred sitting on the aisle and always packed his notebook away before everyone else.
And he definitely had no reason to know that Ivan had once spent an entire lecture drawing increasingly elaborate little stars in the margins of his notes because he'd gotten bored.
Till remembered all of these things anyway.
It didn't mean anything.
It was just hard not to notice someone when they sat three feet away from you four times a week.
That was all.
“Are you coming?”
Till looked up from his phone and saw that Mizi was standing in front of him with her coat already on.
“No.”
“You didn't even let me finish.”
“You were going to ask me if I'm coming to the party.”
“I was.”
“No.”
Mizi stared at him.
Till stared back.
She smiled.
Till immediately knew he was losing.
“No.”
“It's just for a little while.”
“No.”
“You've been studying all afternoon.”
“I have an exam.”
“On Thursday.”
“That's soon.”
“It's Tuesday.”
“Exactly.”
Mizi folded her arms.
Till sighed.
“You already have your shoes on.”
“Yes.”
“You're going.”
“Yes.”
“You don't need me there.”
“I want you there.”
“That sounds like a you problem.”
Mizi's expression became painfully sincere.
“Please?”
Till looked away.
This was how she got him. Not by arguing. Not by forcing him. Just by looking at him like she had already decided that he was coming and was waiting for him to realize it.
“You're annoying.”
“I know.”
“I'll stay for an hour.”
“Two.”
“One.”
“An hour and a half.”
“One.”
“An hour and fifteen minutes.”
Till narrowed his eyes.
“Why are you negotiating like this is a hostage situation?”
“Because you're difficult.”
“You're the one kidnapping me.”
“Exactly.”
Till shoved his phone into his pocket.
“Fine.”
Mizi beamed.
“Yay.”
“Don't make that face.”
“What face?”
“That one.”
She was still smiling when they left the building.
The party was in one of the dorms on the other side of campus, which was already enough to make Till suspicious.
He'd heard about the place before.
Not because he knew anyone who lived there, but because college gossip traveled at a speed that made the internet look inefficient.
Some guy from the business program apparently had a room big enough to fit an unreasonable number of people and had decided that this was a compelling reason to host a party on a Tuesday night.
Till didn't know why anyone would want to spend a Tuesday night packed into a dorm room with strangers, but Mizi, apparently, did.
“You know the host?” he asked as they crossed the quad.
“Kind of.”
“What does kind of mean?”
“I've talked to him.”
“How many times?”
She thought about it.
“Three?”
Till looked at her.
“That's not knowing someone.”
“I know enough.”
“You don't even know his name.”
“I do.”
“What is it?”
She paused.
“...I'll remember when we get there.”
Till laughed despite himself.
“You're unbelievable.”
“I invited Sua too.”
That got his attention.
“She's actually coming?”
“Yeah.”
“Then I have to go.”
Mizi grinned.
“I knew that would work.”
“I just don't want you two wandering around with strangers.”
“Till.”
“What?”
“I'm the one who brought you.”
“I know.”
“So technically you're the stranger.”
“Shut up.”
They reached the dorm.
There were already people gathered in the hallway. Someone had propped the door open with a sneaker. Music was audible from halfway down the hall.
Till stopped.
He looked at Mizi.
Mizi looked at him.
“No.”
“Come on.”
“I can hear it from here.”
“That's because the music is loud.”
“Exactly.”
“It’s going to be fun.”
“That's heavily debatable.”
She caught his sleeve and pulled him inside before he could invent another objection.
The apartment was worse. Not in a bad way, exactly.
Just crowded.
There were people everywhere.
Someone was sitting cross-legged on the kitchen counter.
Two people were arguing over whether a movie counted as a horror film and pulling the remote back and forth.
A guy Till had never seen before was attempting to connect his phone to the television while four other people offered increasingly unhelpful advice.
There were bowls of chips and candy on every available surface… plus the wrappers.
Someone had brought an absurd number of little packaged pastries.
Mizi immediately disappeared into the crowd.
Till watched her go.
“Mizi.”
She turned.
“I'll be back!”
“When?”
She was already talking to someone else.
Till sighed.
Of course.
He stood near the wall for a moment, trying to figure out where he was supposed to put his hands.
Then he saw Sua.
She was sitting on the arm of a couch, holding a cup and looking like she'd been personally insulted by the existence of the party.
“You came,” Till said.
Sua looked at him.
“Unfortunately.”
“Good.”
She glanced around.
“Where's Mizi?”
“Somewhere.”
“Great.”
Till nodded toward the couch.
“Can I sit there?”
Sua moved her bag without answering.
That was apparently permission.
He sat.
For approximately thirty seconds, things were tolerable.
Then somebody turned the music up.
Till flinched.
He immediately pretended he hadn't.
Sua looked at him.
“Too loud?”
“No.”
She raised an eyebrow.
Till frowned.
“I said no.”
“Right.”
She looked back toward the television.
Till stared at the screen.
He could still feel the bass vibrating through the floor.
He should have stayed home.
He had homework.
He had an exam.
He had approximately seven better things he could be doing.
Then someone dropped a bowl in the kitchen, followed by a cheer from a group of people Till had never met.
He rubbed his forehead.
“I'm going outside.”
Sua nodded.
“Okay.”
He stood.
And then someone said his name.
“Till?”
He turned.
Ivan was leaning against the doorway to the kitchen, holding a cup in one hand.
Of course.
Till stared at him.
Ivan smiled.
“Didn't expect to see you here.”
“Neither did I.”
Ivan laughed.
He looked exactly like he always did.
That was the annoying part.
Neat clothes. Hair that somehow looked intentional even though Till had spent the entire afternoon fighting with his own. That same mildly amused expression he wore in class whenever the professor said something ridiculous.
Till looked around the room.
“Who invited you?”
“Eli.”
“Who?”
Ivan pointed vaguely toward the kitchen.
“The guy arguing about the movie.”
Till looked over.
“That's the host?”
“I think so.”
“You think?”
“I've spoken to him twice.”
Till snorted.
“Then why are you here?”
Ivan shrugged.
“Same reason you are.”
“I don't want to be here.”
Ivan looked at him.
“You don't?”
“No.”
“Then why haven't you left?”
Till opened his mouth.
Closed it.
Ivan's smile widened slightly.
“I'm waiting for Mizi,” Till said.
“Ah.”
Ivan nodded as though this explained everything.
“So you're trapped.”
Till glared at him.
“Shut up.”
“Gladly.”
He didn't leave.
Till looked at him.
Ivan looked back.
“Why are you still standing there?”
“I was waiting to see if you'd actually leave.”
“I am.”
“Good.”
Till turned toward the door.
He made it three steps.
“Till.”
“What?”
“There's a balcony.”
Till looked over his shoulder.
“And?”
“I was going to get some air.”
Ivan gestured toward the hallway.
“Come with me.”
Till narrowed his eyes.
“Why?”
Ivan looked genuinely puzzled.
“Because I asked.”
“You're weird.”
“So I've been told.”
Till hesitated.
The music had gotten louder again.
Someone was laughing directly behind him.
The room felt hotter than it had five minutes ago.
He looked at the hallway.
Then at Ivan.
“Fine.”
Ivan stepped aside.
They slipped out of the main room.
The hallway was noticeably quieter.
Till let out a breath.
Not a huge one.
Just enough that Ivan definitely noticed.
Ivan didn't say anything.
He didn't ask if Till was okay.
Didn't look at him with that careful expression people sometimes got when they thought he might break.
He just walked toward the stairwell.
Till followed.
“You actually knew there was a balcony?” Till asked.
“No.”
“You lied?”
“I guessed.”
“That's stupid.”
“You followed me.”
“Because I thought you knew.”
Ivan smiled.
“Then I suppose we're both stupid.”
Till rolled his eyes.
They reached the stairwell.
There were fewer people here.
The noise from the party became distant enough that Till could hear himself think.
Ivan pushed open the door to the small balcony at the end of the hall.
Cold air came through immediately.
Till stepped outside.
“Oh.”
The campus stretched out below them, dark and quiet compared to the dorm.
There were lights in the windows of the buildings across the quad.
A few students were walking along the paths.
Somewhere in the distance, someone shouted.
Then everything went quiet again.
Till leaned against the railing.
Ivan stood beside him.
For a while, neither of them said anything.
It wasn't uncomfortable.
That surprised Till.
He'd spent enough time around Ivan to know that the guy could talk forever when he wanted to.
Apparently, he could also shut up.
“Better?” Ivan asked eventually.
Till glanced at him.
“Yeah.”
Ivan nodded.
“Good.”
That was all.
Till looked back at the campus.
He didn't say thank you.
He didn't need to.
And, somehow, Ivan didn't seem to expect one.
The balcony door clicked shut behind them.
For a while, Till just stood there.
The cold helped.
He'd been inside for less than an hour, but it felt like he'd been trapped in that apartment for an entire evening. The air outside was cool enough to make his hands ache a little. He tucked them into the sleeves of his hoodie.
Ivan leaned against the railing beside him.
Neither of them said anything.
Till looked sideways.
Ivan was staring out over campus.
“You actually come to these things often?”
“Not really.”
“You seem like you would.”
Ivan turned his head.
“What does that mean?”
“You know.”
“I don't.”
“You do.”
Ivan smiled.
Till hated that smile.
It was the one Ivan used when he knew perfectly well what someone meant and wanted them to say it anyway.
“You're the type of person who knows everyone,” Till said.
“I don't know everyone.”
“You knew the host.”
“I spoke to him twice.”
“You knew his name.”
“I've heard it.”
“You knew there was a balcony.”
“I guessed.”
Till stared at him.
Ivan shrugged.
“Fine. Maybe I have an advantage.”
“What advantage?”
“I pay attention.”
Till snorted.
“That sounds like something you'd put on a résumé.”
“I probably would.”
“You're so annoying.”
“I've heard that too.”
Till looked away before Ivan could see him smile.
The quiet stretched again.
This time it was interrupted by a loud thump from somewhere inside.
Someone shouted, “WHO PUT THE SPOON IN THERE?”
Another person shouted back, “I DON'T KNOW!”
Till closed his eyes.
“What the hell are they doing?”
“I'm not sure.”
“You know what? I don't want to know.”
“Probably wise.”
Till laughed under his breath.
It was small, but Ivan looked over.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“You're looking at me.”
“I can look at people.”
“Why?”
Ivan's mouth twitched.
“It's generally considered polite.”
Till rolled his eyes.
He looked back over the railing.
“So what are you studying again?”
Ivan was quiet for a second.
“Psychology.”
Till glanced at him.
“I thought it was economics.”
“I changed programs.”
“When?”
“September.”
Till frowned.
“September?”
“Yes.”
“You changed your major in September?”
“Yes.”
“And you never told me?”
Ivan looked amused.
“I didn't realize I was required to.”
“I didn't say you were.”
“You sounded disappointed.”
“I wasn't.”
“Sure.”
Till kicked lightly at the bottom of the railing.
“I'm in music.”
“I know.”
Till turned.
“How do you know?”
Ivan looked at him as if the answer were obvious.
“You've mentioned it.”
“When?”
“Several times.”
“I have not.”
“You have.”
“No.”
“Twice in class. Once when Professor Lee assigned the group project.”
Till stared at him.
Ivan continued.
“You said you'd rather write a twelve-page essay alone than work with four people who couldn't keep tempo.”
Till's face changed.
He remembered saying that.
He just hadn't realized Ivan had been listening.
“That was months ago.”
“I remember things.”
“Apparently.”
Ivan smiled.
Till looked away again.
He was beginning to feel weirdly self-conscious.
It wasn't because Ivan had remembered.
It was because Ivan remembered something so specific.
Most people didn't.
Usually Till said something and it disappeared into the general noise of conversation.
Ivan seemed to collect little pieces of information without making a big deal about it.
“You remember too much.”
“Do you want me to forget?”
“No.”
The answer came too quickly.
Till caught it.
So did Ivan.
Neither commented.
Till cleared his throat.
“What's your favorite class?”
Ivan thought about it.
“Probably music theory.”
Till looked at him.
“You're lying.”
“Why would I lie?”
“You hate Professor Lee.”
“I didn't say I liked the professor.”
“Then why music theory?”
“The material is interesting.”
“You nearly fell asleep last week.”
“I was tired.”
“You were literally asleep.”
“I was resting my eyes.”
Till laughed.
“You're terrible.”
“You fell asleep too.”
“I did not.”
“You did.”
“When?”
“Tuesday.”
“That was one time.”
“Exactly.”
Till stared at him.
“You notice when I fall asleep?”
Ivan smiled.
“I notice a lot of things.”
There was something about the way he said it that made Till suddenly very aware of the cold.
He looked away.
“Whatever.”
Ivan didn't push.
Instead, he said, “Your handwriting is terrible, by the way.”
Till's head snapped toward him.
“What?”
“Your handwriting.”
“What about it?”
“I can barely read it.”
“You've never had to read my handwriting.”
“I've seen your notes.”
“Why are you looking at my notes?”
“You leave them on your desk.”
“That's not an invitation.”
“I wasn't snooping.”
“You literally just said you read them.”
“I looked at them.”
“That's snooping.”
Ivan laughed.
“You write like you're trying to finish before the professor finishes speaking.”
“Because I am.”
“That explains it.”
Till narrowed his eyes.
“Your handwriting isn't any better.”
“I never said it was.”
“You write like a nineteenth-century doctor.”
“That's oddly specific.”
“You know exactly what I mean.”
“I don't.”
“Yes, you do.”
Till pulled his phone from his pocket.
“Your lowercase r looks like a v.”
Ivan looked offended.
“It does not.”
“It absolutely does.”
“You're confusing it with my handwriting from last semester.”
“You changed your handwriting?”
“I improved it.”
“You made it worse.”
“That seems subjective.”
“No. It's objective.”
Ivan laughed again.
Till smiled despite himself.
They spent the next several minutes arguing about handwriting as if it were a matter of serious academic importance.
Eventually Ivan held out his hand.
“Give me your phone.”
“Why?”
“I want to see your notes.”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Because you'll make fun of them.”
“I already made fun of them.”
“Exactly.”
Ivan smiled.
Till refused to hand over the phone.
They stood there arguing until Till realized they had somehow moved closer to each other without either of them noticing.
He stepped back.
Ivan didn't mention it.
“Do you hate group projects as much as you claim?” Ivan asked.
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because people are unreliable.”
“That is a very broad statement.”
“It's also true.”
“You're not exactly the easiest person to work with.”
Till stared at him.
“Excuse me?”
“You're stubborn.”
“So?”
“You don't compromise.”
“I compromise.”
Ivan raised an eyebrow.
“Name one time.”
Till opened his mouth.
Nothing came out.
“Exactly.”
“Shut up.”
“You're proving my point.”
“I hate you.”
“No, you don't.”
Till looked at him.
Ivan was smiling.
It was obviously a joke.
Probably.
Till looked away.
“Whatever.”
A minute later, Ivan said, “For what it's worth, I don't think you're difficult to work with.”
Till glanced at him.
“You just said I was.”
“I said you're stubborn.”
“Same thing.”
“Not really.”
“What's the difference?”
Ivan shrugged.
“You care about what you're doing.”
Till didn't answer.
The compliment was too straightforward.
He didn't know what to do with it.
So he changed the subject.
“What kind of music do you listen to?”
Ivan looked amused.
“Is this an interrogation?”
“Answer the question.”
“I listen to a lot of things.”
“That's not an answer.”
“What do you listen to?”
“Me first.”
Ivan considered him.
“Classical.”
Till made a face.
“I knew it.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means you're predictable.”
“I listen to other things.”
“Like?”
“Jazz. Some electronic music. Indie.”
Till looked surprised.
“You?”
“Yes, me.”
“I don't know. You look like you listen to classical music and pretend it's making you smarter.”
Ivan laughed.
“That is incredibly specific.”
“Am I wrong?”
“Completely.”
“Then what do you actually listen to?”
Ivan told him.
Till listened.
Then Ivan asked what Till liked.
That turned into a much longer answer than Till intended to give.
He talked about artists he liked.
Songs he had been working on.
The kind of sound he wanted to make someday.
How much he hated when people treated music like it was only useful if it could be monetized.
Ivan didn't interrupt.
He didn't make jokes.
He asked questions.
Good ones.
Not the usual vague questions people asked when they wanted to appear interested.
Actual questions.
Why this genre?
Why that instrument?
What did Till like about performing?
Did he prefer writing alone or with someone else?
Till answered all of them.
At some point, he realized he'd been talking for nearly twenty minutes.
He stopped.
Ivan looked at him.
“What?”
“You're actually interested?”
Ivan blinked.
“In what?”
“Music.”
“I've been listening to you talk about it for twenty minutes.”
“Yeah, but…”
Till shrugged.
“I don't know.”
Ivan smiled.
“I wouldn't have asked if I weren't.”
Till didn't have an answer for that.
He looked down at his shoes.
“Oh.”
Ivan didn't say anything.
Till kicked lightly at the concrete.
“Most people don't really care.”
“I do.”
That was it.
Two words.
Till hated how much they affected him.
He looked up.
Ivan was still watching him.
Not intensely.
Not dramatically.
Just listening.
Till cleared his throat.
“You're still annoying.”
“I know.”
“Good.”
“Good.”
They stood there for another few minutes.
Then Ivan checked his phone.
“We should probably go back.”
Till sighed.
“Do we have to?”
“You said you were waiting for Mizi.”
“I regret that decision.”
“She's probably looking for you.”
“She knows where I am.”
Ivan smiled.
“Then let's go before she comes looking for us.”
“Why?”
“I don't want to be blamed for stealing you from the party.”
Till snorted.
“You're giving yourself too much credit.”
“Probably.”
They went back inside.
The party had somehow gotten louder.
Till immediately regretted it.
He looked around.
Mizi was nowhere in sight.
Sua was still on the couch.
Hyuna had appeared beside the television and was now arguing with someone about the movie.
“You're wrong,” Hyuna was saying.
“I'm literally not.”
“You are.”
“How?”
“Because I said so.”
“That isn't an argument.”
“It is if I'm louder.”
Till smiled.
“She's been here long enough to become one of them.”
Ivan looked at Hyuna.
“She seems happy.”
“She always does.”
They moved toward the couch.
There was one empty spot beside Sua.
Till sat.
Ivan sat beside him.
Till looked at the remaining space.
There was plenty of room elsewhere.
He looked at Ivan.
Ivan didn't seem to notice.
Or pretended not to.
Mizi appeared from nowhere.
“There you are!”
Till looked up.
“Where were you?”
“Talking.”
“To who?”
“Everyone.”
“That isn't an answer.”
Mizi ignored him.
Her eyes flicked from Till to Ivan.
Then back to Till.
A tiny smile appeared.
Till immediately knew what she was thinking.
“No.”
“I didn't say anything.”
“You were about to.”
“I wasn't.”
“You were.”
Mizi sat down on the floor in front of them.
Sua glanced at her.
Then at Ivan.
Then at Till.
Then back at Mizi.
Till frowned.
“What?”
“Nothing,” Sua said.
“Why are you looking at me?”
“I'm not.”
“You literally are.”
Sua took a sip from her cup.
Mizi smiled into her sleeve.
Till narrowed his eyes.
“You're both weird.”
Ivan leaned back against the couch.
“Agreed.”
Till looked at him.
“You're included.”
“I assumed.”
Mizi laughed.
The four of them stayed there for a while.
Someone finally got the movie working.
Nobody actually watched it.
Hyuna kept talking through the entire thing.
Mizi laughed at everything.
Sua complained about the volume.
Till occasionally made a comment under his breath that made Ivan laugh.
At some point, Till realized he hadn't checked the time in almost an hour.
His one-hour limit had come and gone.
He didn't feel particularly desperate to leave anymore.
That was strange.
He looked over at Ivan.
Ivan was watching the movie.
Or pretending to.
Till looked back at the screen.
He didn't know exactly when sitting beside Ivan had started feeling normal.
Maybe it had always been normal.
Maybe he'd just never noticed.
Either way, he didn't move.
By eleven-thirty, the party had become noticeably less of a party.
The music was still playing, but whoever had been in charge of the speaker had finally turned it down to a volume that didn't make Till feel like his bones were vibrating.
People had started leaving in groups.
Someone had taken the empty snack bowls into the kitchen.
Someone else was lying across the couch with their shoes still on.
The television was still displaying the paused movie nobody had watched.
It was the strange, exhausted stage of a party where everyone seemed to suddenly remember that they had classes in the morning.
Till checked the time.
Eleven thirty-two.
He stared at his phone.
“I've been here three hours.”
Ivan glanced over from the couch.
“You said you'd stay for one.”
“I know.”
“So you stayed for three.”
“Don't make it sound like I enjoyed myself.”
Ivan smiled.
“You did.”
Till put his phone away.
“I tolerated it.”
“Of course.”
“Don't.”
“I didn't say anything.”
“You were about to.”
Ivan's smile widened.
Till rolled his eyes and stood.
The living room looked significantly worse than it had when they'd arrived.
There were cups on every flat surface.
A pile of jackets had accumulated on one chair.
Someone had spilled something on the floor near the kitchen.
The coffee table was covered in empty wrappers.
Till looked around.
“Who is cleaning this?”
Ivan stood.
“Apparently us.”
“Why?”
“Because everyone else is leaving.”
“That sounds like their problem.”
“It is.”
Till nodded.
“Good.”
Neither of them moved.
They looked at the mess.
Then at each other.
Ivan sighed.
“Five minutes.”
Till groaned.
“Fine.”
They started with the cups.
Till gathered them from the coffee table while Ivan took the ones from the kitchen.
It was strangely easy.
They didn't really need to talk.
They just moved around each other, passing things back and forth without asking.
Till carried a stack of plates toward the kitchen.
Ivan moved aside before he reached him.
Till stopped.
“Thanks.”
“You're welcome.”
“You're learning.”
“I've always known how to move.”
“You walked directly into me twice tonight.”
“That was intentional.”
“Why?”
Ivan looked at him.
“To annoy you.”
Till stared.
“Why?”
Ivan shrugged.
“It's fun.”
“You're a terrible person.”
“I've been told.”
Till put the plates down.
There was a pile of unopened snacks on the counter.
He started moving them into a cabinet.
Ivan watched.
“Why are you doing that?”
“Because they're in the way.”
“Those don't go there.”
Till looked at him.
“Where do they go?”
“I don't know.”
“Then shut up.”
“I think they go over there.”
Ivan pointed.
Till looked.
“That's the pantry.”
“Yes.”
“They're snacks.”
“Yes.”
“So?”
“So they belong in the pantry.”
Till stared at him.
“Why are we arguing about this?”
“I don't know.”
“Exactly.”
He put the snacks in the pantry anyway.
Ivan nodded approvingly.
“Good choice.”
“Don't patronize me.”
“I wasn't.”
“You were.”
“You're very sensitive.”
Till grabbed a dish towel.
Ivan raised an eyebrow.
“Are you threatening me?”
“No.”
“You look like you are.”
“I'm cleaning.”
“Very aggressively.”
Till threw the towel at him.
Ivan caught it.
He laughed.
“Violence?”
“You deserved it.”
Ivan tossed the towel back.
Till caught it against his chest.
“See?”
“What?”
“I told you.”
“Told me what?”
“You'd catch it.”
Till stared at him.
“That doesn't even make sense.”
Ivan shrugged.
“Worked, though.”
Till shook his head.
He turned back toward the kitchen.
A minute later, he heard a soft thump.
He turned.
Ivan had picked up one of the decorative pillows from the couch.
“No.”
Ivan smiled.
“I'm not doing anything.”
“Put it down.”
“Why?”
“Because I know you.”
“You barely know me.”
Till pointed at him.
“Exactly. And somehow I already know you're annoying.”
Ivan tossed the pillow.
Till caught it.
He stared at it.
Then at Ivan.
Ivan smiled.
Till threw it back.
Ivan caught it easily.
“Oh, we're doing this.”
“No, we're not.”
Ivan threw it again.
Till caught it.
“Stop.”
Ivan threw it.
Till caught it.
“Seriously.”
Ivan threw it again.
Till threw it back harder.
Ivan ducked.
The pillow hit the wall.
There was a brief silence.
Then they both started laughing.
Till bent over, hands on his knees.
“You're an idiot.”
Ivan picked up the pillow.
“You threw it at me.”
“You started it.”
“You participated.”
“Against my will.”
“Clearly.”
Till was still laughing.
He hadn't realized how tired he was until then.
His face hurt.
He wiped at one eye and straightened.
Ivan was smiling too.
Not the polished little smile he wore around other people.
Not the one that seemed to appear automatically whenever someone looked at him.
Just a real smile.
It made him look younger.
Till stared for half a second too long.
Then he looked away.
“Come on.”
“Where?”
“Finish cleaning.”
“Yes, boss.”
“Don't call me that.”
“Yes, boss.”
“I hate you.”
“I know.”
They went back to work.
By midnight, the place was almost respectable.
Not clean.
Nobody was performing miracles.
But the cups were gone, the trash was collected, and the remaining snacks had been shoved into cabinets.
The host thanked them approximately four times.
Till waved him off.
“It's fine.”
Ivan was checking his phone.
Mizi came over.
“You're leaving?”
“Yeah,” Till said.
Mizi looked at him.
“Already?”
Till stared.
“It's midnight.”
“You said you'd stay an hour.”
“I stayed three.”
Mizi smiled.
“You had fun.”
“I tolerated it.”
“Sure.”
Till gave her a suspicious look.
She was doing that thing again.
The thing where she knew something and wasn't saying it.
He hated that thing.
“You're going home?”
“Yeah. Sua's coming with me.”
Sua appeared behind her.
“I am.”
Hyuna was beside her, pulling on her jacket.
“I'll walk with you.”
“You live the opposite direction,” Mizi said.
“I'm aware.”
“Then why?”
Hyuna shrugged.
“Because I feel like it.”
Sua looked at her.
“You're going to end up walking halfway across campus.”
“Probably.”
Mizi laughed.
Till looked around.
People were still filtering out of the dorm.
The room suddenly seemed much larger.
And quieter.
He hadn't realized how many people had been there until they were gone.
Mizi hugged him.
“Text me when you get home.”
“I will.”
She pulled back.
“Okay?”
“Yeah.”
She looked at him for another second.
Till narrowed his eyes.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“You're doing it again.”
“Doing what?”
“That.”
Mizi smiled.
“Goodnight, Till.”
“Goodnight.”
She left with Sua and Hyuna.
The door shut behind them.
Till stood there.
He looked around.
There were maybe six people left.
Then four.
Then three.
Then two.
He turned.
Ivan was standing by the kitchen counter.
They looked at each other.
“Oh,” Till said.
Ivan smiled.
“Looks like it's just us.”
Till glanced around.
“Apparently.”
The host came out of the kitchen.
“Hey, Till, you need a ride home?”
Till shook his head.
“No, it's fine.”
“You sure?”
“Yeah. It's not far.”
The guy nodded.
“Okay.”
He looked at Ivan.
“You?”
“I'll walk.”
Till looked at him.
“You're walking?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“It's not far.”
“You live on the other side of campus.”
Ivan shrugged.
“So?”
Till frowned.
“That isn't close.”
“I've walked farther.”
“You don't have to.”
Ivan looked at him.
“I know.”
Something about the answer made Till pause.
It was simple.
No argument.
No teasing.
No attempt to make the decision for him.
Just:
*I know.*
Till looked down.
“Oh.”
Ivan grabbed his coat.
“Ready?”
Till hesitated.
Then nodded.
“Yeah.”
They said goodbye to the host and stepped into the hallway.
The dorm was almost silent now.
There were still a few people scattered around, gathering their things, but the chaotic energy from earlier had disappeared.
Till pulled his hood up.
The hallway lights were too bright.
Ivan held the door open.
Till walked through.
Outside, the air was colder.
Till shoved his hands into his pockets.
They started walking.
For the first few minutes, neither said anything.
It wasn't awkward.
Till had expected it to be.
Instead, it felt almost like the balcony.
Quiet.
Easy.
He glanced sideways.
Ivan was walking beside him, hands in his coat pockets.
“You really didn't have to walk me.”
“I know.”
Till frowned.
“You keep saying that.”
“Because you keep saying I don't have to.”
“Because you don't.”
Ivan looked at him.
“Maybe I wanted to.”
Till didn't answer.
He looked ahead.
The campus was nearly empty.
A few windows were still lit.
Somewhere behind them, the dorm door opened and shut.
Till kicked a pebble off the sidewalk.
“Okay.”
Ivan smiled faintly.
“Okay?”
“Yeah.”
They kept walking.
Till didn't know exactly what had changed tonight.
Nothing, probably.
They were still classmates.
Still acquaintances.
Ivan was still annoying.
Till was still stubborn.
Tomorrow they'd sit through another lecture and complain about the professor and pretend they hadn't spent half the night talking.
That was all.
Probably.
Still, when Ivan matched his pace without thinking, Till didn't speed up.
And when their shoulders nearly bumped as they walked, neither of them moved away.
Till's dorm was quiet.
Not silent. The heating system made an occasional clicking noise, and somewhere down the hall someone was laughing loudly enough that Till wondered if they had somehow brought the party home with them.
But compared to the dorm they'd just left, it felt practically deserted.
Till unlocked his door and pushed it open.
Ivan stepped inside behind him.
“You live here?”
Till looked over his shoulder.
“No. I just carry keys around for fun.”
“Good to know.”
“You're so annoying.”
“I know.”
Till dropped his keys into the little dish by the door.
His backpack followed.
Then his coat.
Then, after approximately three seconds of standing there staring at the floor, he realized that he was completely exhausted.
He checked the time.
12:27.
He had an eight-thirty lecture.
He briefly considered dropping out.
Ivan was looking at his phone.
“You can take the bus from here, right?” Till asked.
Ivan looked up.
“Not tonight.”
“Why?”
“The last one already left.”
Till frowned.
“Oh.”
“I can walk.”
“How long?”
“About forty minutes.”
“That's stupid.”
“Probably.”
Till looked toward the window.
It had started raining.
Not heavily.
Just enough to make the pavement shine under the streetlights.
He looked back at Ivan.
“You're not walking forty minutes in that.”
“I've done worse.”
“That doesn't make it less stupid.”
Ivan shrugged.
Till rubbed his eyes.
He was too tired to argue.
Then he looked at the couch.
It was small.
Very small.
It had been designed for sitting, not sleeping.
There was also an inflatable mattress somewhere in the closet, but Till had never successfully managed to inflate it without discovering a leak.
He opened the closet.
Found the mattress.
Picked it up.
It immediately folded in half.
“No.”
Ivan laughed.
Till dropped it back into the closet.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“You're laughing.”
“It's not at you.”
“It is.”
“I promise.”
“You're terrible at lying.”
“I wasn't lying.”
Till shut the closet.
He looked at the couch.
Then at Ivan.
Then back at the couch.
There was technically another option.
He didn't want to think about it.
He thought about it anyway.
“You can stay.”
Ivan stopped looking at his phone.
“What?”
Till immediately became defensive.
“You heard me.”
“I did.”
“Then don't make me repeat it.”
Ivan studied him for a second.
“Are you sure?”
Till frowned.
“I wouldn't have said it if I wasn't.”
“Okay.”
That was it.
No teasing.
No stupid comment.
Till almost wished he'd made one.
He walked over to the couch and looked at it again.
“This is terrible.”
Ivan came over.
“I've slept on worse.”
“That's not encouraging.”
“You could take the bed.”
“And you?”
“The couch.”
Till looked at him.
“No.”
Ivan raised an eyebrow.
“You just said the couch was terrible.”
“It is.”
“So?”
“So you can take the bed.”
Ivan laughed quietly.
“Till.”
“What?”
“It's your bed.”
“I know.”
“Then why are you giving it to me?”
“Because you're the guest.”
“I can sleep on the couch.”
“You're taller than me.”
“By how much?”
“Enough.”
Ivan looked at the couch.
Then back at Till.
“Fine.”
“Fine.”
“The bed.”
“Yeah.”
“Together?”
Till's face warmed immediately.
He looked away.
“There isn't another option.”
“There is the floor.”
“The floor is worse.”
“Agreed.”
Neither of them spoke for a moment.
Then Ivan said, “This is going to be incredibly dignified.”
Till groaned.
“Just go to sleep.”
They got ready for bed without making a big production out of it.
Till changed into an old shirt and sweatpants.
Ivan borrowed a spare shirt after Till informed him that there was no way he was sleeping in jeans.
“You keep spare clothes for guests?”
“No.”
“Then whose is this?”
“Mine.”
“It's too big for you.”
“I know.”
Ivan looked at the shirt.
Then at Till.
“Why do you own this?”
“I don't know.”
“Fair.”
They brushed their teeth in awkward silence.
Till looked at himself in the mirror.
His hair was a mess.
He looked exhausted.
Ivan looked irritatingly normal.
“Stop looking so awake,” Till said.
Ivan glanced at him through the mirror.
“I can't help it.”
“You look smug.”
“I always look smug.”
“Exactly.”
They went back into the room.
Till pulled back the blankets.
There was a moment where neither of them moved.
Then Ivan climbed into one side.
Till took the other.
They left a very deliberate amount of space between them.
Till turned toward the wall.
“Goodnight.”
“Goodnight.”
Silence.
Thirty seconds passed.
Then:
“You know your pillow is terrible.”
Till closed his eyes.
“Go to sleep.”
“I'm just saying.”
“Go to sleep.”
“It's very flat.”
“I know.”
“How do you sleep on this?”
“I'm used to it.”
“You should get a new one.”
“I'm not buying a pillow at one in the morning.”
“I didn't say tonight.”
“Then stop talking about it.”
Ivan laughed quietly.
Till smiled into the pillow.
He tried to hide it.
There was no one there to see anyway.
Another minute passed.
“Till?”
“What?”
“Your alarm is really loud.”
“Why do you know that?”
“I've heard it in class.”
“You've heard my alarm?”
“Once.”
“That's weird.”
“You were sitting beside me.”
“Oh.”
Silence again.
Till pulled the blanket higher.
“Go to sleep.”
“Okay.”
A few minutes passed.
“Till?”
“What?”
“What do you want to do after graduation?”
Till opened his eyes.
He stared at the wall.
“That came out of nowhere.”
“I know.”
“Why are you asking?”
“I was curious.”
Till thought about it.
He didn't have a perfect answer.
“I want to make music.”
Ivan didn't respond immediately.
Till continued.
“I know that's vague.”
“It is.”
“Thanks.”
“But I understand.”
Till rolled onto his back.
The room was dark except for the faint light from outside.
“What about you?”
Ivan stared at the ceiling.
“I don't know.”
“You always know.”
“That's not true.”
“It is.”
“You've known me for four months.”
“And I've learned a lot.”
Ivan smiled.
“You've been paying attention.”
“So have you.”
“Fair.”
Till looked at the ceiling.
“What do you actually want?”
Ivan was quiet.
“Something that feels like mine.”
Till turned his head.
Ivan was still looking upward.
“That sounds vague.”
“It is.”
“Cop-out.”
“Probably.”
Till smiled.
“You're annoying.”
“I know.”
They fell quiet again.
After a while, Till said, “You'd probably be good at something where you have to talk to people.”
Ivan glanced over.
“Is that a compliment?”
“Don't make it weird.”
“I didn't.”
“You were about to.”
Ivan smiled.
Till closed his eyes.
“I mean it.”
“I know.”
The room became quiet again.
This time, neither of them spoke.
Till listened to the rain tapping against the window.
He could hear Ivan's breathing beside him.
He was tired enough that his thoughts had started losing their edges.
Tomorrow would be annoying.
He'd have to wake up early.
He'd probably regret staying out so late.
He'd have to explain why Ivan had been at his dorm if anyone asked.
Mizi would absolutely ask.
That was a problem for tomorrow.
Right now, he was warm.
The room was quiet.
And, for some reason, having someone else there didn't bother him.
Till opened his eyes once.
Ivan was asleep.
Already.
Of course.
Till stared at him for a second.
“You're unbelievable,” he whispered.
Ivan didn't move.
Till shook his head.
He turned back toward the wall.
A few minutes later, he was asleep too.
Till woke up because his arm had gone numb.
He opened one eye.
The ceiling.
His room.
Morning light.
He blinked.
Then he remembered.
The party.
Walking home.
Ivan.
Till turned his head.
Ivan was still asleep.
That was the first problem.
The second was that, sometime during the night, they'd apparently stopped respecting the carefully established border between their sides of the bed.
Till was almost completely sideways.
One of his legs was tangled in the blanket.
Ivan had somehow stolen most of it.
There was an elbow dangerously close to Till's face.
Till stared at him.
“How did you even do this?”
Ivan didn't answer.
Obviously.
Till tried to move.
The mattress shifted.
Ivan stirred.
He opened his eyes halfway.
There was a long pause.
“...Morning.”
Till looked at him.
“Morning.”
Another pause.
Ivan's eyes closed again.
“You snore.”
Till sat up.
“I do not.”
“You absolutely do.”
“I don't snore.”
“You do.”
“When?”
“Last night.”
“You were asleep.”
“So was I.”
Till stared at him.
“That doesn't make sense.”
Ivan smiled without opening his eyes.
“Good morning.”
Till shoved the blanket off himself.
“You're annoying.”
“I know.”
Ivan finally sat up.
His hair was a mess.
Till stared at it.
“You look terrible.”
“So do you.”
“I look fine.”
“Sure.”
Till threw a pillow at him.
Ivan caught it.
They both started laughing.
It was stupid.
Neither of them had even properly woken up.
Till checked his phone.
Eight fourteen.
His lecture started in sixteen minutes.
He stared at the screen.
“Oh, shit.”
Ivan looked over.
“What?”
“We're late.”
Ivan checked the time.
“Oh.”
“Why are you so calm?”
“We're already late.”
“That doesn't mean we should be more late.”
Ivan stood.
“Fair.”
They got ready as quickly as possible.
Till couldn't find his other shoe.
Ivan found it under the desk.
Till couldn't find his notebook.
It was in his backpack.
Neither of them discussed how they'd ended up getting ready together so naturally.
They just did.
By the time they left the dorm, they were both carrying coffee.
Till took one sip.
“This is terrible.”
Ivan glanced at his cup.
“You bought it.”
“I know.”
“Then why are you drinking it?”
“I paid for it.”
Ivan laughed.
They walked across campus together.
It was a completely ordinary morning.
Students hurried toward their buildings.
Someone was running with a backpack half-zipped.
A professor stood outside the library drinking coffee and looking deeply disappointed in everyone.
Till yawned.
Ivan noticed.
“You're tired.”
“I wonder why.”
“You could've slept earlier.”
“You kept talking.”
“You kept answering.”
Till looked at him.
“You started it.”
Ivan smiled.
“Probably.”
They reached the classroom just as the professor closed the door.
Till slipped inside.
Ivan followed.
They took their usual seats.
Three feet apart.
Same desks.
Same room.
Same boring lecture.
For the first ten minutes, nothing happened.
Then Ivan leaned slightly toward him.
Till glanced over.
Ivan whispered something.
Till immediately covered his mouth.
His shoulders shook.
The professor stopped talking.
“Something funny?”
Till looked up.
Ivan was staring straight ahead with an expression of complete innocence.
Till looked at him.
Then back at the professor.
“No.”
The professor stared at him for another second.
Then continued the lecture.
Till waited.
Three seconds.
He looked sideways.
Ivan was smiling.
Till whispered, “You're dead.”
Ivan whispered back, “Worth it.”
Till bit the inside of his cheek to stop himself from laughing again.
The professor kept talking.
Neither of them paid much attention for the next few minutes.
Nothing had changed.
Not really.
They were still classmates.
Still sat in the same seats.
Still complained about the same professor.
Ivan was still annoying.
Till was still stubborn.
There hadn't been a confession.
No dramatic realization.
No moment where either of them suddenly understood exactly what they wanted.
But when Till walked into the classroom that morning, he'd looked for Ivan before he'd even realized he was doing it.
And when Ivan arrived, he'd looked for Till too.
Neither of them mentioned it.
They didn't need to.
For now, that was enough.