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At 14, Till painted his nails black for the first time. The bottle of polish had been a cheap rip-off of a fancier brand, marked down by half-price at his local dollar store. It had been an impulse purchase that perhaps changed the direction of his taste in fashion for the rest of his life.
The piercings came next. Then the choker. And finally, one afternoon, he pulled up an eyeliner tutorial on his laptop as he sat in front of his mirror.
From there, it became routine for him to be clad in all black when at school—from the thick outlining of his eyes to his skinny, ripped jeans—he was classified as an emo and relegated to the social status of an outcast among the uninitiated students.
It is funny, then, that he is often seen alongside Ivan, captain of the football team, Mizi, head of the cheer squad and Sua, student representative council leader. The latter, who also happens to be Mizi’s girlfriend.
Rumour has it that the group grew up together, and that their friendship has spanned since they were toddlers.
Students who have managed to observe the friend group over the years from the sidelines know that Till, while looking like the type of character to suit having no friends, did not in fact fit into that archetype.
He certainly wasn’t a beacon of social status either, but Till didn’t need a lot of friends when their group of four were so tight-knit and deeply loyal to one another.
They were steadily coming up to the end of their high school days. And this year had begun like any other, until people started noticing changes between the two males of the well-known group of four.
Specifically in the way that they dressed. The changes started small and quickly progressed into something impossible not to take notice of.
Each member of said group has a very distinct look to them.
Mizi has her bubblegum pink hair and beloved cheetah print jacket.
Sua follows a studious look, looking like she could step into an office setting and no one would bat an eye.
Ivan was usually found wearing sports or casual attire, depending on whether he had practice that day or not.
And finally, there’s Till, whose entire wardrobe consists of only one colour. The black sheep within their small group.
The boy is quiet. But sweet when given enough time and attention is provided to get past his cold exterior.
Students who are acquainted with him know that his unapproachable front is simply that. A front.
They know that while he may look like a delinquent, underneath all the black is a boy who often turned a pretty pink when startled and who wrote poems in the back of his books.
Ivan shows up to school with a choker around his neck.
Black. Thick. With flat silver studs.
Till narrows his eyes at it from his seat behind the jock.
It looks like something that Till would wear himself.
In fact, it is scarily similar to the one currently around Till’s neck, except he has two short overlapping chains on his.
Till kicks the back of Ivan’s chair, trying to get his attention to ask what the deal with the necklace is.
Either Till doesn’t kick hard enough or the jock is ignoring him.
Both possible scenarios piss Till off.
Till doesn’t get a chance to talk to him until lunch, sliding into his usual spot by the jock’s side, Mizi and Sua already seated across from them.
“Okay, spill. What’s with the choker?” Till interrogates.
Ivan grins at the emo boy, “In an effort to get to know you better, I’m trying out a new style.”
Ivan’s mind harkens back to a conversation he had with Mizi and Sua privately while Till was busy helping one of the younger music classes pack up.
“Mizi. How can I get Till to notice me? He doesn’t take me seriously when I tell him how sexy I think he is.”
Sua scoffs before Mizi gets a chance to reply, “And how exactly did you phrase this compliment?”
Ivan tilts his head, “I told him his clavicles were begging me to act out when he wore that loose tank top last week and that he needed to be more careful who he was showing his body off to lest they didn’t have as much self-restraint as I do.”
Sua’s eyebrow twitches. “What part of that sounds like calling him sexy to you?”
Ivan tilts his head the other way this time, “The part where I told him that his clavicles were making me think about shoving him to the ground and—”
Sua makes a gagging sound, “Stop saying clavicles. And just. Stop.”
Mizi laughs lightly, diffusing the brewing argument about Ivan’s questionable courting methods.
“Why don’t you try to understand what Till will respond to by getting to know him better? I know you’re both already very close, but after Sua and I began going out, there was still so much we had to learn about each other that we never realised we hadn’t shared before. Maybe if you put in the effort to get to know him even better, you can figure out the correct path to his heart!” Mizi claps her hands together.
Ivan contemplates her theory. The idea behind it is sound.
When he gets home that evening, Ivan types into his search bar, What do emo boys like?
The next day, Ivan complements his choker with eyeliner framing his eyes.
Till stares at his face for at least 15 seconds straight before scoffing and stomping down the hallway he just came from, heading in the completely wrong direction for his first class.
Ivan stays where he is, bidding goodbye to Sua and Mizi.
Till comes up again and grabs Ivan’s hand once the two girls have turned the corner, dragging him into the men’s bathroom. He drops his bag to the floor and pulls out an eyeliner pen.
“Eyes up. Your makeup is uneven.”
Ivan feels his breath hitch as Till enters his space to apply the eyeliner. Ivan has to actively engage his brain to keep his eyes on the ceiling as Till works to fix up his inexpertly drawn eyeliner.
“I’m not sure why you’re doing all this, but if you’re gonna rock the emo look, at least let me make sure you do it right.”
Till reaches around Ivan’s head to push his bangs out of the way, since he is limited to his right hand as he draws the dark lines to accentuate Ivan’s eyes. Ivan fails to hide the way he inhales deeply to breathe in Till’s scent as he comes closer.
Till doesn’t react. That’s just Ivan.
“ God ,” he whispers to himself, “it’s so unfair that you can just half-ass this shit and look so good effortlessly. Goddamn fuckin genetics or whatever-the-fuck.”
Ivan isn’t sure his heart is still working.
Day three has Till gifting a spiked bracelet of his to Ivan.
Ivan has seen the younger boy wear the exact design as a set of two before, one on each wrist.
Ivan slips it on immediately and, sure enough, next time he spots Till between classes, the emo is wearing the same one on his hand as well.
He’s matching accessories with Till.
Till wanted them to match.
Ivan remains in a good mood all day.
He relays the progress of his plan to Mizi, “That’s great, Ivan! I’m so happy for you! But, I can’t help but ask, is he learning about you, too? Remember, learning about him is step one, but he also needs to understand you, too, if a relationship is your end goal here. The last thing I want is for you to go through all of this only to end up disappointed. I just want to see you both be happy.”
Ivan ramps up his plan after that.
He invites Till to go out to a local punk-rock concert together.
Ivan spends more time watching Till than the performers all evening.
Till keeps averting his eyes and nervously playing with his pair of their matching bracelet set when he turns to talk to the jock.
Ivan wonders if Till isn’t feeling well as he spots the flush on the boy’s cheeks when the flashing lights strobe over Till’s face.
Before they head home, Till stops to check out the merch on sale. He buys a set of black earrings with the band’s logo on them. He deftly takes one piece of jewellery off the cardboard backing and hands it to Ivan, who had gotten one of his ears pierced just last year.
Till looks into the distance again, unable to meet Ivan’s searching gaze as he bashfully murmurs, “To remember tonight by.”
Ivan has a football game next Friday.
Ivan’s usual style of casual athletic attire steadily incorporates the inclusion of punk, emo accessories.
His teammates ask what’s with all the jewellery and eye makeup.
Ivan just shrugs and tells them he felt like a change.
His teammates eye him warily, not believing his words, knowing his style change also coincides with him spending more time with Till, the school goth, emo, punk teen.
Ivan seems to be in especially high spirits on this particular day, his teammates note, as they warm up for the game. They still have an hour or so until kickoff.
It’s a home game for them, so the student body is welcome to come watch the game before heading home. The bleachers are slowly filling up as students claim the best spots early.
Ivan keeps his eyes out for one particular person, eagerly awaiting his arrival.
At the same time, Till must have dozed off while studying in the library, if the drool beginning to drip onto his math homework is anything to go by.
Till wipes it away, hoping no one saw him snoozing in his secluded corner.
As he shifts, he notices an extra weight on his shoulders.
It’s Ivan’s red letterman. The one he wears every day. With his name in bold white across the back of it.
The fabric practically swallows his frame, and Till hates how right it feels draped across his back.
It’s warm and smells like Ivan.
Not that Till is smelling the jacket, it’s just. Well, it’s hard not to notice when something smells so good, okay?
Till pushes away from the desk, preparing to head to the field and watch the game.
It’s then that he notices that his bag is missing. Till vaguely remembers Ivan saying something about driving him home after the game. He assumes Ivan must have grabbed his bag in preparation for that when he caught Till sleeping and left his jacket here.
Till closes his books and pulls the jacket tighter around his shoulders, steeling himself for the embarrassing walk across campus, feeling claimed by Ivan.
Of course, he could have chosen to take the jacket off and carry it in his arms, but the thought doesn’t even pass through Till’s mind.
Till hears the whispers that trail after him as he walks the halls to the sports oval.
A hushed exclamation of, “I knew they were dating!” has the pink blush on Till’s cheeks creep up to the tips of his ears.
The walk isn’t long, but there is increased foot traffic around due to the excitement of the upcoming game.
Till reaches his destination and sees, there, out on the side of the field is his bag. Right next to where Ivan is stretching on the grass.
Till stomps out across the oval to put his books away. Ivan spots him the moment one of Till’s black combat boots makes contact with the freshly cut grass.
Even from across the way, Till can see how Ivan perks up at the sight of him and thinks back to the comment from the random he passed on the way here.
Till is a watercolour of blush tones, stark black clothes and bright red from Ivan’s jacket that is still draped over his shoulders protectively.
The entire stadium is glued to the sight of Till walking up to Ivan wearing his jacket, reaching down to put his school supplies away and leaving without returning the clearly borrowed item of clothing to the captain.
Ivan practically swoons as he watches Till finally put the jacket on properly. The fabric reaches his mid-thigh, and Till has to roll the sleeves twice to free his hands.
Till takes his place next to Mizi and Sua in the front row to cheer their team on.
Ivan’s team wins the game easily.
He runs up to Till as the timer runs out. The school holds their breath as Till reaches over the banister and loops his arms around Ivan.
Ivan makes eye contact with Mizi, who is giving him a double thumbs-up.
Ivan drives Till home, and Till invites him in for dinner.
Io is used to seeing the jock at their dinner table after over a decade of friendship between the boys. They go up to Till’s room to wait for Io to get home from work.
Till picks up the black lipstick on his desk and carefully applies a fresh layer to his fading lip colour.
The wax is decidedly high-end. Vibrant, long-lasting and buttery smooth.
Ivan watches the glide across Till’s lips, transfixed as Till gently parts his mouth in front of the mirror and swiftly applies the dark shade evenly.
Till smacks his lips together once with a pop and returns to facing Ivan, his bangs hiding the expression in his eyes.
“Did you want to try? The colour will match your hair and eyes.”
Ivan immediately agrees and goes to lean in to allow Till access to his lips, but is halted when Till snakes a hand into the hair at the back of his head, grips it hard and pulls Ivan down so that their lips collide with one another’s.
Ivan blinks in shock. His eyes are wide open, staring at Till’s face, which is quickly turning red. The grey-haired boy’s eyes are scrunched tightly closed.
Ivan’s brain comes back online, and he realises that Till is kissing him.
Till.
Voluntarily.
Of his own volition.
Kissing Ivan.
The same Till that Ivan has been madly in love with since he stole the younger boy’s colouring pencils in preschool, and Till responded by tackling him to the ground.
Ivan pulls back a hair’s length to adjust the angle of their mouths slotted against each other and to grasp his own fist-full of Till’s hair, pulling the boy into him harder until Till stumbles forward and onto Ivan’s lap.
Ivan enjoys the size difference between them. Till is bulliable-sized and Ivan is only human not to capitalise on that fact.
Till’s knees widen and sink deeper into his carpet as he finally drops all of his weight onto Ivan, the jock’s other hand supports him, digits splayed out across the plane of Till’s ass.
Fingers dig into the seam of the seat of Till’s jeans, dragging up and down along the line between his cheeks.
Till moves with him. Shuddering as the pressure teases his nerves without actually crossing any lines.
It is altogether too much and nowhere near enough, all at once. His chest vibrates between them as involuntary whimpers and whines escape from the back of his throat.
Using his grip on Ivan’s hair and his legs bracketing Ivan’s waist as leverage, he pulls his negligible body weight up and down, up and down.
Till rubs and grinds his quickly hardening length against the matching bulge underneath him, that is keeping him anchored in the moment.
Till’s thighs shake from the pleasure until the two boys are forced to pull back to allow air into their lungs and to take a moment to wipe the saliva dripping down their chins.
Their lips are a shared mess of smudged black, and Ivan chuckles as he catches sight of his reflection out of the corner of his eye.
Till is still heaving in air, mere millimetres away from connecting their lips again with every inhale he takes.
Ivan grins down at him, fondling Till’s cheeks idly, “What do you think?”
Till’s eyes refocus a touch, and he hums a performative thinking sound, zeroing in on the state of Ivan’s messily coloured lips.
“I think you need a touch-up,” he purrs.
Ivan, ever willing to indulge him, leans in first this time.
On Monday, Ivan attends school with a full face of makeup and black sparkly nails that look like a night sky full of stars. Till walks by his side proudly wearing the jock’s letterman jacket—his boyfriend’s name printed across the back.