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Summary
Till grips Ivan’s sleeve. “Stay.”
“Till—”
“I can’t be alone. Not tonight,” Till whispers furiously, desperately. “Please.”
A small, evil part of Ivan urges him to leave, to show Till how it feels to be abandoned, left cold and alone, staring after a retreating white shirt and a red flashing collar. But that would be too cruel on a night like this, and Ivan is a weak man, especially when Till is linking his fingers behind Ivan’s neck and kissing him again and again with lips that urge Ivan to let go, to dissolve and diffuse into Till, to stay, stay with me.
or: The night before round six, Ivan finds Till crying in his room and does his best to comfort him.