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The ice rink is fucking cold.
Of course, Till knew it would be. It’s an ice rink, after all. Still, he didn’t expect to be sitting here this long, bouncing his legs to keep them warm as best he can in his basketball shorts, hands stuffed in the pockets of his hoodie as he leans forward to try and conserve body heat.
He has his headphones on as a deterrent to keep people from talking to him, but he’s not playing anything, instead listening to the girls on the bench a few rows down from him.
“Oh my gosh, I know right? Ivan’s a total dreamboat.”
“Do you think he has a girlfriend? Someone that hot definitely has a girlfriend.”
“I don’t think he’s mentioned dating anyone. Maybe you should ask him, Mai!”
“Oh no, I couldn’t! He’s too popular! I’d die!”
The girls burst into giggles. Till’s blood boils, his cheeks flushing. At least his irritation’s helping to keep him warm.
He knows it’s stupid. Ivan isn’t his boyfriend, and despite being best friends, it’s not like Till can tell him not to date anyone. The only consolation in this situation is the knowledge that Ivan is entirely and completely gay. He won’t be interested in any of the girls currently watching his rehearsal like predatory hawks.
Begrudgingly, Till can’t really blame them. He’s transfixed as well. The way Ivan moves on the ice makes the entire routine look easy. Like anyone could just slide onto the ice and start twirling and jumping and shit. Till knows how hard Ivan works, though. He’s incredibly dedicated to the sport. He’s on special diets, stretches and exercises every day, and even has a personal trainer outside of his coach.
Ivan leaves everything out on the ice, and he’s absolutely beautiful.
Till swallows hard, clenching his hands into fists and digging them into his stomach. His legs bounce harder, rattling the benches. The girls turn to look at him, and he abruptly stops, another flood of heat assaulting his cheeks.
“Um. Who are you?”
“Yeah, are you even supposed to be here?”
They all eye his basketball shorts and worn-down sneakers with barely concealed disdain. Ah. Right. Ice skaters can be pretty stuck up, as well.
“I’m waiting for someone,” Till says, resisting the urge to cuss them out.
“Who?” one of the girls asks, flipping her ponytail.
“Nunya.”
The girls look at each other in a way that makes him feel very small.
There are several skaters on the ice currently, working with their coaches. Technically he could be here for any of them. Till debates the pros and cons of stating that he’s actually Ivan’s best friend and has been since they were basically in diapers so they can all fuck off if they think he doesn’t belong here.
Before he can decide what to say, Ivan skates up to the wall of the rink, waving his hand over his head with a wide grin.
“Till! You’re here!” he calls, despite Till only being a few feet away.
“You’re late, asshole,” Till shoots back, fighting a smile of his own.
The girls look astonished and begin whispering among themselves. Yeah, that’s right. He knows the famous Ice Prince.
“Sorry, rehearsal ran late,” Ivan says, sticking his lower lip out and giving Till puppy eyes. “Give me ten minutes, okay?”
“Fine. Whatever. The movie doesn’t start for another thirty minutes anyway,” Till says slipping his headphones down around his neck.
Ivan nods and skates toward the rink exit. The girls peer over at him.
“I didn’t know you knew Ivan,” one says, still sounding a bit snotty.
“Yeah, well, we’re best friends,” Till says.
“I thought Mateo was his best friend,” another girl pipes up.
Till’s blood runs cold, his smirk freezing on his face. “Who the fuck is Mateo?” he asks, narrowing his eyes.
The girl points toward the rink, and Till follows her finger to a young man who looks around sixteen, the same age as him and Ivan. He’s skating over to meet Ivan at the exit of the rink, and he flings his arm around Ivan’s shoulder in a friendly gesture. Till’s heart pounds rapidly in his chest. What the fuck? Who the fuck is that?
He doesn’t look familiar, so Till doesn’t think he goes to their school. Still, how does Ivan treat this rando if these girls think they’re best friends?
“I hear they’re close,” another girl says, lowering her voice. “Like really close. You know.” She gives the others a meaningful look that has Till’s stomach swooping anxiously.
Till knows Ivan goes to competitions out of state and has even gone to other countries to compete, he’s that good. Does Mateo go with him? Do they share a hotel room? Do they share a hotel bed?
Till’s brain supplies him with very unhelpful images of what Ivan and Mateo might have done in these hypothetical hotel beds between competitions, and his clenched hands start to tremble. He bounces his leg again, agitation buzzing beneath his skin.
Stop freaking out. He’s not your fucking boyfriend. He can do whatever he wants with whoever.
That’s his rational brain. His emotional brain has a hard time listening to it.
It’s only recently that Till’s realized his crush on Ivan. It’s equal parts exciting and terrifying. He’s never had a crush on a guy before. He didn’t even realize he was into guys before.
Then one day Ivan wanted to show him how to skate and Till foolishly agreed. He was like a baby deer on the ice, wobbling and falling all over the place. After laughing at him, Ivan helped him up and took his hand, wrapping his other arm around his waist. He guided Till forward smoothly, his hands warm, his grip firm, and Till’s heart leapt into his throat, thudding wildly.
Oh, he thought. Shit.
That was two weeks ago. Till hasn’t worked up the courage to say anything. He’s not sure he should say anything. Will it ruin their friendship? That’s the last thing Till wants. If he confesses and Ivan doesn’t like him back, then he’s not sure he’ll ever be able to look him in the face again.
He’s kind of hoping that if he keeps things the same, Ivan will develop feelings too. It’s not a good plan, but it’s the only one he has currently.
But that’s before he learned there’s a fucking Mateo.
He’s gotta speed this up somehow. Figure out a way to get Ivan to like him back. What should he do? What can he do?
His leg bounces faster.
“Till?”
Till freezes, tilting his head back to find Ivan looking down at him quizzically.
“Are you okay?”
“Yeah. Fine. It’s just fucking cold in here,” he says, standing abruptly. He squeezes past Ivan, doing his best not to touch him, and jogs down the steps. He avoids looking at the girls as they pass them, though Ivan gives them a friendly wave and tells them goodbye.
“Sorry again for making you wait,” Ivan says once they’re outside. He shifts his gym bag and ice skates higher up on his shoulder. “I couldn’t quite land this triple lutz, so my coach wanted me to keep doing it until I did it correctly.”
Till frowns. “That sounds like a lot.” He honestly has no idea. “Do you need to rest? We can skip the movie.”
Ivan laughs. “I’ll be resting during the movie,” he points out, making his way down to the car his dad bought him for his sixteenth birthday. He sets his things in the trunk, gesturing for Till to put his gym bag in too, which he does.
The theater is in the same shopping center as the rink, so they leave the car and make their way over.
“Two for Superman please,” Ivan says to the ticket seller.
“Wait, I wanted to get it,” Till says, hastily pulling his Velcro wallet out of his basketball shorts.
“Nah, it’s okay,” Ivan says, already handing his card over.
Till frowns faintly. This isn’t going to woo Ivan at all! “I’ll get the popcorn and drinks then,” he says.
“Oh. I probably shouldn’t,” Ivan says as he takes back the card and the tickets with a brief thanks. “My coach will kill me if I eat carbs right now.”
Till wants to pull out his hair. “Okay. That’s fine,” he says, smiling with gritted teeth.
Ivan gives him a curious look but doesn’t say anything as they head inside and get their tickets torn. The previews have already started as they make their way to their seats. As the lights dim further and the movie starts, Till’s hyperaware of how close Ivan’s sitting. All the seats are close to each other, but for some reason it feels extremely close.
Ivan’s hand lays against the armrest, and Till finds himself staring at it, even as the movie starts. His own hand twitches. Should he . . .? That would be weird, though, right? Best friends don’t hold hands during movies, and if Ivan pulls away, Till might keel over and die right then and there.
Before he can figure out what to do, Ivan moves his hand to his lap, folding his hands together as he settles back in his seat. Till exhales slowly and tells himself to watch the damn movie. This isn’t a date. They’re just hanging out. There’s no reason to be nervous.
Till’s heartrate doesn’t settle the entire two-and-a-half-hour runtime. He feels dizzy by the end, his entire body stiff from the tension throughout his muscles. Ivan looks relaxed and happy, by contrast. He chatters about his favorite parts as they make their way out of the theater and back to where the car is parked.
“I’m glad they included scenes of Clark in the newsroom. He looked so cute in his glasses,” Ivan says as they get into the car. “I wasn’t sure if they would since it seemed like it’d be mainly a Superman movie. I mean, it was but . . . you know what I mean.” He chuckles softly.
“Yeah . . .” Till says slowly, chewing on his lip.
“Are you okay?” Ivan asks, glancing over at him before he starts the car. “You’ve been acting a bit weird.”
“I’m fine,” Till says quickly. “Just tired, I think. Coach really pushed us today. Championship game’s coming up and everything so . . .”
Ivan nods. “Try not to overdo it,” he says. “Make sure you’re drinking enough water and stretching.”
“Okay, Mom,” Till says, rolling his eyes.
Ivan grins and reaches over to pinch his cheek. “Who’s gonna be a good boy for Mommy?” he teases in a baby voice.
“Stoooop,” Till complains, brushing his hand away. “You’re so annoying.” His cheek feels warm where Ivan pinched it.
Chuckling, Ivan leans back and turns the car on, driving out of the parking lot and toward Till’s neighborhood. Till scrunches down in his seat, pulling his heels up onto the edge of it even though he knows Ivan doesn’t like his shoes on there. As predicted, Ivan reaches over and swats lightly at his knees.
Till makes a show of sighing and sets his feet back down, sitting up. “So. Um. Those girls at the rink . . .”
“What about them?” Ivan asks, glancing at his mirrors before crossing an intersection.
“They all got, like, a crush on you or something. They kept giggling over how handsome you are. It was gross.”
Ivan’s lips twitch slightly. “Yeah, only my coach knows I’m gay. Oh, and my friend Mateo.” Till freezes. “I haven’t introduced you two yet, have I? He’s even busier than me, if you can imagine that. I’ll try to catch him next time you’re at the rink.”
“I don’t want to meet him,” Till says quickly, too quickly.
Ivan pauses. “Oh. That’s . . . fine, I guess,” he says.
It’s difficult to read his expression. He gets like this sometimes with Till. His face carefully blank like he’s hiding something. It pisses Till off, because they’re supposed to tell each other everything. Ivan’s been wearing that face more and more lately. He can’t help but wonder if it has something to do with Mateo.
“Is he, like, your boyfriend or something?” Till asks, trying to sound conversational. He fails. It comes out just as bitter as he feels.
Ivan’s brow furrows. “No? Why would you think that?”
“But you’re fucking him, right? Like, on your competition trips?” Till wants to take it back as soon as he says it. He grimaces at the stricken look on Ivan’s face that slowly clears back into his blank mask.
“I don’t know what you heard, but I’m not fucking anybody,” Ivan says, his voice carefully controlled. He stares out the windshield, not looking at Till even when he comes to a stop sign. “I’d appreciate it if you didn’t repeat unfounded rumors about me. I can take it from most people, but I can’t take it from you.”
Till’s stomach twists. “I’m sorry,” he says, feeling unbearably small and disgusting.
Ivan pulls into the driveway of Till’s house and parks. Sighing, he grips the steering wheel for a moment before turning to Till and giving him a small smile. “I enjoyed seeing the movie with you,” he says. “I’ll see you tomorrow at school, okay?”
It’s fake. The smile, the light tone. Till feels even worse.
“I-I didn’t . . . I shouldn’t have said that. I’m sorry, Ivan,” Till says earnestly, reaching for his hand.
Ivan pulls away, and Till’s heart sinks. “It’s okay,” he says, his expression softening slightly. Till really doesn’t think it is, but it’s too late to take it back now. “I’m not mad at you, Till,” he adds after a pause.
It’s a small consolation.
“Um. Right. I’ll . . . see you.” Till gets out of the car quickly. He just wants to run inside and fling himself down on his bed and scream into his pillow. How could he have let his jealousy get the better of him like that? He hurt Ivan’s feelings. Upset him. That’s the last thing he wanted to do.
“Argh! Why am I such a loser?!” He yells into the empty house as soon as he’s inside. His parents both work. He’s often home alone.
He trudges up the stairs and does a face-plant into his mattress.
Step one of getting Ivan to fall in love with him: failed.
***
“This is so fucking stupid.”
Till glares at himself in the bathroom mirror, reaching up to brush his hair to the left and then the right, trying to find a part that doesn’t look strange above the black rimmed glasses that sit on his face. There’s no prescription, because he doesn’t need fucking glasses. No, he dug them out of his mom’s Halloween costume box for a completely asinine reason that he hasn’t been able to completely talk himself out of yet.
Ivan mentioned Clark Kent with glasses was cute. Maybe he’ll think Till in glasses is cute too?
At the very least, maybe it’ll cheer him up after the disaster that was last night.
It’s a stupid idea, but Till hasn’t been able to come up with any better ones.
So here he is. Wearing fake glasses. They don’t even go with his aesthetic, really, and he knows he can’t wear them on the basketball court. He has no idea how much his mom spent on these, and he’s not going to risk them getting knocked off his face and stepped on.
Whatever. If anyone asks, he can just say he’s trying something new.
“This better fucking work,” he mutters, taking one last look in the mirror before turning and grabbing his backpack, heading out of the house.
He’s just noticed Ivan’s car isn’t waiting at the end of the driveway when his phone vibrates. Digging it out of his pocket, he frowns down at the text.
[Moron 🖤]
Till! I’m soooooo sorry but I won’t be able to drive you to school today. (｡•́︿•̀｡) (07:42)
Coach wanted me at the rink for early morning practice. (07:42)
I’ll see you in class, okay?? (;-_-)ノ(07:43)
Till sighs, sending a single thumbs up before making his way down the driveway and across the street to walk to the bus stop. He hates taking the bus and told Ivan as much one day, which is why he offered to start driving him to school as soon as he got a license. He fulfilled that promise, but Till can’t help but wonder if this will become a regular thing moving forward.
Or maybe Ivan’s just avoiding him.
The bus is half-full, so Till takes a seat near the back, pulling his hoodie up and sinking down, hoping to avoid anyone’s gaze who might walk by and notice the glasses.
Of course, fucking Acorn has to be the one to sit across the aisle from him, and he points it out immediately.
“Why are you wearing glasses?” he asks skeptically.
“Nunya!” Till hisses back.
“You look like a dork.”
Till’s cheeks and ears burn, and he snatches them off his face. He knew this was a dumb idea. He’s not going to do it. He can’t. Everyone will laugh at him in class and even if it does make Ivan feel better, he’s not going to be labeled “Dork” for the rest of his time at high school.
Turns out it doesn’t even matter because Ivan’s not in class first period. It’s not like him to miss school unless he’s sick or something, so Till’s immediately worried. He texts Mizi and Sua, but they say they haven’t heard from him.
Shit.
Is this his fault? Did he upset Ivan that badly?
He can’t pay attention at all in class, spending the entire fifty minutes trying to come up with a text that doesn’t sound too worried but also not too dismissive. He can’t think of anything. Gah. Why do words have to be so hard?
He doesn’t end up seeing Ivan until lunch. They always eat outside on this stone planter off to the side of the school building, and Till heads there like normal, relieved when he sees a familiar dark head already seated there. He pauses long enough to take out the glasses and put them on, steeling himself before making his way over and plopping down next to his friend.
“Where were you all morning?” he asks immediately.
“Sorry, I—” Ivan starts sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck. When he turns toward Till, though, he cuts off, his eyes widening as he looks at Till’s face.
“You what?” Till prompts, frowning.
Ivan makes a soft, choking sound, lowering his hand. “Uh. I, uh . . . sorry. When did you get glasses?”
Till blushes, reaching up to touch the frames. “They’re not real,” he admits. “I just wanted to try them and see how they looked. Acorn said I look like a dork, though.” He wrinkles his nose, waiting to see what Ivan will say.
Ivan doesn’t say anything. He just stares.
Till’s face grows warmer. Fuck. Obviously, this was a mistake. It’s not cheering Ivan up. It’s not making Till look cute. He probably does look like a dork, and for some reason Ivan’s not teasing him about it.
“Forget it,” Till says, whipping the glasses off once more. “It was a stupid idea.” He laughs, high and uneasy. He moves to put them in his backpack, but Ivan’s hand suddenly appears, grabbing his wrist.
“Wait,” he says. He gently takes the glasses from Till. “I need to take a proper look before I give my opinion, that’s all.” He grins faintly as he carefully slides them back onto Till’s face.
His hands continue to cup Till’s flaming cheeks for a moment, and he blinks at Ivan, not entirely sure what his expression means. His eyes are large and dark, his snaggletooth worrying into the skin of his lower lip. Suddenly he grimaces and releases Till, doubling over with a groan.
“Ivan?! Are you okay?!” Till asks frantically, wondering if he really is sick.
Ivan doesn’t say anything for a moment, just keeps his body bent in half, his face hidden.
“ . . . I’m hard.”
It takes Till’s brain a second to catch up.
“WHAT?!”
His face is on fire. It might actually burst into flames. His whole body might. What the fuck?!
Ivan chuckles softly. “Sorry,” he says, his face still buried in his knees. “You just . . . you look really good. Fuck. Gimme a second.” He takes a deep breath, exhaling slowly.
Till just stares, dumbfounded. The sight of him in glasses got Ivan hard? He wasn’t even trying to do anything sexy! In fact, he’s pretty sure his face was red as a tomato.
“You’re ridiculous,” Till says, because he can’t think of anything else to say.
At the same time, though, a giddy, bubbly feeling wells up in his chest. Affecting Ivan in this way . . . does this mean he likes Till back? Or is it just one of those weird hormonal erections that happens because you felt a stiff breeze, and it doesn’t mean anything? He said Till looks good, though, so maybe it is because of Till?
Ivan exhales again, sitting up slowly. Till can’t help but glance toward his lap, but he doesn’t see anything. Guess whatever Ivan did worked.
“Take them off.”
“Huh?” Till blinks at him.
“The glasses. I don’t want anyone else to see you in them.”
“Oh. Why?” Till asks, not moving to do anything yet.
Ivan glances at him before quickly looking away. A muscle jumps in his jaw, like he’s clenching it. “Please, Till?”
Rolling his eyes, Till removes the glasses and returns them to his backpack. “I’m pretty sure anyone else would think I looked like a dork like Acorn did, so I don’t know what you’re worried about.”
Ivan doesn’t say anything, his face still turned away.
“Hey,” Till says, reaching out to pluck on his sleeve gently. “I took them off. Can you look at me please?”
Ivan exhales shakily, turning toward him finally. Till looks at his face, noticing a faint coloring of pink high on his cheekbones. Is he blushing?
Till can’t help but grin faintly. “Damn. I just wanted to cheer you up after last night. I didn’t mean to cause a whole thing.”
Ivan just looks at him. “You really have no idea how attractive you are,” he says finally.
“What?! Attractive?! Me?!” Till squawks, reeling back. “The fuck?!”
Ivan nods solemnly. “Till, you’re the most beautiful guy at this school.”
“Okay, now I know you’re fucking lying. There’s no fucking way. I mean, just look in the mirror!” He gestures toward Ivan’s face, fighting a blush of his own now and probably failing miserably if the heat prickling across his neck is any indication.
Ivan smiles faintly. “I guess we’re both biased, then.”
Till parts his lips to protest once more before closing them. He turns his gaze down to the rough stone of the planter on which they’re seated. “Does that mean . . .” He shifts awkwardly in his seat. “I mean, it-it’s okay if you don’t, but I just . . . I kinda wanted to know . . . I mean, I do want to know, um, if . . . you like me?”
The ensuing silence makes him want to die. He shudders and bows inward, wondering if he should just make a run for it. Before he can reach for his backpack, though, he feels Ivan’s fingers on his chin, lifting his head. Leaning forward, Ivan gently knocks his forehead against Till’s.
“I’m fucking crazy about you,” he says softly, smiling faintly.
Till might literally die just then. He stops breathing and it feels like his heart stops as well. A second later it starts beating again, faster than ever before, and before he can think better of it, he smashes his lips against Ivan’s in a kiss.
Ivan makes a muffled sound of surprise, but then he moves his hand to the side of Till’s neck, pulling him back just slightly so he’s not pressed as forcefully against him. Till lets him, because he knows he came in a bit too quickly, and as Ivan’s soft lips start to kiss him back, a shiver runs down his spine.
They’re still at school, however, so Ivan keeps it brief, pulling away after a moment, his eyes searching Till’s. Till stares back blankly, trying to catch his breath and not sure what Ivan’s looking for.
“What?” he asks breathlessly after a moment.
“I’m waiting for you to ask me out,” Ivan says with a faint smirk.
Till sputters. “I thought I already did that!”
Ivan shakes his head slightly. “You just asked me how I felt. You haven’t said anything about your own feelings.”
“Oh. Shit,” Till grimaces. “Uh.” He glances down at his feet, scuffing the toe of his sneaker against the concrete. “I-I mean. I thought the kiss made it obvious . . .” His cheeks burn.
“I’d still like to hear you say it,” Ivan requests softly.
Till huffs softly, grimacing but knowing that’s fair. “I-I . . . I like you too,” he mutters. “Like, a stupid amount.” He bites his lip, forcing his gaze to meet Ivan’s. “W-will . . . you go out with me and . . . be my boyfriend?” It’s so cringe, but the way Ivan’s face lights up makes it worth it.
He leans in and kisses Till’s lips gently. “I thought you’d never ask,” he beams.
Till can’t help but return the smile, that giddy, bubbly feeling returning. It’s happiness. He’s happy.
He’s really fucking happy.