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Anakt High holds a Senior Beach Day every year the week before graduation, a time to celebrate the seniors who are graduating while also sending them off with lasting memories of one final day spent with their schoolmates before university. Alumni are invited to attend, and many take the role of barbecue chef or fireworks wrangler, giving the teacher chaperones some relief.
It’s supposed to be an exciting, joyful experience, but Till can’t bring himself to look forward to it, so much so that his mother comments on it when she drops him off at the pier.
“It’s okay if you don’t want to go,” Io says gently, watching her son stare out the window with a furrowed brow and downturned lips. “But I think this is a good opportunity to have fun with your friends before school ends.”
“I know,” Till mutters, and he does. It’s not that he doesn’t want to go, but he can’t keep his chest from aching knowing that this will be the last time he sees them. Mizi and Sua are off to Penn State in the fall, and Ivan’s gotten accepted to every Ivy League in the country. He hasn’t said yet which one he’s chosen, but whatever it is, it won’t be close by.
Only Till will be left behind, stuck going to community college because his grades weren’t good enough and his parents not wealthy enough for anything else. He managed to get a few small scholarships, but nothing that will cover room and board out of state.
His stomach twists at the thought of saying goodbye. It’s been a cloud hanging over him the past month.
“Hey,” Io says, reaching over to rub her thumb against his cheek, wiping away a missed streak of sunscreen. “Try not to think about anything else today. Just focus on the present. Make good memories.” She smiles, pinching his ear lightly.
Till returns the smile halfheartedly. “Thanks, Mom,” he says, before inhaling sharply and getting out of the car.
“Till! We’re over here!”
He follows the sound of Mizi’s voice to where she’s standing at the entrance to the shore, waving at him over her head with a grin. Her pink and blue dyed hair is tied back in two braids, and she’s wearing the obnoxiously neon green t-shirt the school made them all buy to raise money for the event. It reads ANAKT SENIOR BEACH DAY 20XX in giant letters with their school logo in the center.
Sua and Ivan stand next to her, also wearing the hideous shirts. Till sighs and pulls his own out of the bag, slipping it over his head but not putting it on fully as he walks over to them.
“Yo,” he says with a slight wave as he draws near.
“Are you excited for Senior Beach Day?” Mizi asks with a grin, practically bouncing on her toes.
Ivan’s gaze falls to Till’s swim trunks, and he smirks faintly. “Nice swimsuit.”
Till frowns, glancing down as well. “What’s wrong with them?” he asks defensively. They’re the same ones he had in middle school, so they’re shorter than they should be, but not enough to be indecent, and it’s not like he has anything else to wear.
Ivan blinks innocently. “I said they were nice.”
Till narrows his eyes, because his tone definitely suggested otherwise, but before he can demand further answers, Mizi grabs his hand, Sua’s in her other.
“Let’s go find a good spot near the water!” she says, pulling them forward onto the sand.
Till sighs but allows it, trying to avoid losing his sandals in the loose sand. The whole area is a sea of neon green, and Till recognizes most of the faces, though none of them particularly appeal to him. It’s not that he hates his classmates, he just never saw the point in being fake to make friends (like some people), so he doesn’t have very many.
That’s always been fine with him, though, because he had his core group in Mizi, Sua, and Ivan. He didn’t need anyone else.
Now, though, with graduation looming around the corner, he wonders if he should’ve tried harder to meet other people.
“Ah! This is perfect! Let’s put the umbrella up here, Sua.” Mizi turns, eyes shining, and Sua nods, pulling the foldable beach umbrella out of her bag to open it up. It’s really only large enough for one person, but Mizi lies down two beach towels as Ivan takes the umbrella to stick it firmly into the sand.
“It’s already so hot,” Mizi says, pulling her shirt off. “Let’s get in the water, quick!”
Till looks away swiftly, feeling his cheeks warm. His childhood crush on Mizi has long since faded (cut to a tragic end once he realized she and Sua were a thing), but it doesn’t change the fact that she’s still incredibly attractive, and she fills out her sleek black one-piece with window cut-outs above her hips perfectly.
Of course, looking away doesn’t help when Sua also removes her school shirt, revealing a dusty pink two-piece with ruffles at the hips and around the heart-shaped neckline. It’s adorable, and her blush as Mizi gushes over her just makes it that much cuter.
Sighing angstily, Till drops to sit cross-legged on one of the towels, kicking off his sandals and setting his bag to the side.
Ivan pauses with his hands still on the hem of his shirt. “You aren’t going in?”
Till shakes his head. “I don’t like the ocean,” he admits. “Scary shit lives in there, you know?”
Ivan’s lips twitch. “Not this close to shore.”
Till looks up at him skeptically. “Over a million people get stung by jellyfish every year, you know,” he says hotly, shuddering at just the thought of feeling one of those goopy things brush against him in the water.
“Aw, I love jellyfish!” Mizi says with a grin. “They’re so cute!”
Till turns his frown onto her. “Yeah, cute until you step on one and get stung!”
Ivan crouches next to him, placing his hand on his shoulder while he looks at him solemnly. “Don’t worry, Till. If you get stung, I’ll gladly pee on you.”
Till recoils in disgust as Mizi laughs.
“That’s fucking gross,” Till snaps. “I’ll kill you.”
“That’s actually an old wives’ tale,” Sua pipes up quietly. “There’s no actual evidence that peeing on a jellyfish sting does anything.”
Ivan sighs and glances up at her. “Don’t ruin this for me,” he says.
“Get off on your piss kink with someone else,” Till says flatly. “I’m not going in.”
Mizi and Sua exchange a look before shrugging.
“Come join us when you change your mind!” Mizi exclaims, as she grabs Sua’s hand and takes off with her toward the waves.
“I won’t!” Till shouts after them. He’s brought his sketchbook, pencils and MP3 player specifically to avoid going in. He starts to remove them from his bag when movement at his side causes him to glance over instinctively, his mouth growing dry.
Ivan’s removed his own shirt. Till doesn’t think he’s seen Ivan shirtless since they were in elementary school. His black swim trunks hang low on his hips, and Till catches himself staring, pretty sure the lean muscle, trim waist, and broad shoulders were not there before. What the hell? Since when does Ivan look like some kind of beach model?
“Till?”
Till blinks, realizing Ivan just asked him something. “Uh. What?” He drags his gaze from the V of his pelvic bones dipping below the waistband of his trunks to the sunscreen bottle Ivan’s holding out to him.
“Mind getting my back?” he asks, smiling faintly.
“Um. Sure . . .” Till takes the bottle from him, his entire face burning in a way that has nothing to do with the sun high above them.
Ivan’s smile widens, and he drops to sit down in front of Till with his back to him, pulling his knees up to wrap his arms around them loosely. Till stares at the expanse of Ivan’s back, frozen. There’s a small mole just to the left of Ivan’s right shoulder blade, near the center of his back. Has that always been there?
“So, first you open the bottle cap, then you squeeze the sunscreen out onto your hand,” Ivan prompts, glancing over his shoulder at Till with a faint smirk.
“I know how to do it, dumbass,” Till gripes, shoving Ivan’s head forward.
Ivan laughs softly but faces forward again, giving Till enough time to gather himself before proceeding with squeezing out a generous amount of sunscreen onto his palm. He slaps it unceremoniously onto Ivan’s back, spreading it over the space with both hands, trying to ignore the way his heart’s pounding rapidly in his chest.
It’s not weird. Friends put sunscreen on each other. There’s nothing sexual about it either. It only feels off because he’s not used to Ivan showing so much skin; he’s especially not used to being close to him while the other’s this exposed. It’s a new experience, and those can make Till nervous. It doesn’t mean anything.
Just like it doesn’t mean anything the way droplets of sweat gathered on the nape of Ivan’s neck catch his eye, or the way he notices the baby hairs there lying dark against his cream-colored skin, or the way he feels the sudden urge to run his tongue along them.
What the fuck.
Till lifts his hands off Ivan’s back as though it scalded him. “Done!”
Ivan glances over his shoulder at him. He grins and reaches for his hands with his own, lacing their fingers together and pulling away slowly, gathering the remaining sunscreen on his own palms and fingers. Till’s taken aback by the touch and doesn’t duck away fast enough to avoid Ivan smearing the sunscreen over his face.
“Gack! Ivan! Quit it!” Till yelps, smacking his hands away as Ivan laughs. “I already have some on, asshole!”
“You missed a spot~”
“No, I fucking didn’t.” Till glowers at him, but Ivan just jumps to his feet and takes off toward the water.
Scrubbing his hands over his face with a groan, Till frowns down at them after a moment. He needs to pull it together. He’s probably just aching because, despite how annoying it is, Till knows he’s going to miss Ivan’s antics once summer’s over. Yeah. That’s why his chest hurts.
He lifts his gaze, watching the girls try to jump the incoming waves, laughing as they clutch each other’s hands, which is only to their detriment because when a wave knocks one of them down, they both go tumbling. Ivan doesn’t help, grabbing them both around the waist as he runs up from behind, dunking all three of them beneath the next wave.
Mizi and Sua’s shrieks and Ivan’s laughter carry over to where Till sits, and he pulls his knees up to his chest, wrapping his arms around them as he chews on his lip. It does look like fun. As much as he wants to avoid getting stung by anything or getting caught in a rip current or cutting his foot on a shell or something equally as dangerous, a part of him wants to join them.
But then he’ll be a pushover, so he sets his jaw and pulls his sketchbook out, opening to a blank page and using his thighs as an easel to prop it up so he can start sketching.
He gets caught up in his drawing and isn’t sure how much time has passed before Mizi, Sua, and Ivan come back to him, soaked and breathless. Mizi and Sua each grab extra towels, wrapping them around their shoulders.
“We’re going to grab something to drink. You want anything?” Mizi asks Till.
“Um, a Coke, I guess,” he says, realizing he is rather thirsty.
“What are you drawing?” Ivan asks, bending over him to see.
Till quickly shuts the book, his heart pounding as he looks up to find himself eye-level with Ivan’s clavicle. It juts out alluringly, sea water gathering in the slight dip as it slides down his neck from his wet hair. Till swallows hard, averting his gaze.
“None of your business,” he mutters.
“Mm.” Ivan straightens, tilting his head as he looks down at him. “Was it me?”
“Why would it be you?” Till snaps, frowning up at him.
Ivan blinks before ducking and snatching Till’s sandals up from the sand. He takes off with them, leaving Till staring after him in disbelief.
“What the fuck?!” he shouts, scrambling to his feet. He quickly shoves his sketchbook and pencils into his bag before taking off after Ivan. “Give those back!”
Ivan curves around a group of students with ease, while Till stumbles through the middle of them, cursing and stammering apologies. Ivan glances over his shoulder with a grin, laughing when he no doubt sees the infuriated look on Till’s face.
Abruptly, he stops and drops them in the sand. Till catches up, gasping for breath.
“Bastard, what the fuck did you do that for?” he grumbles, bending to pick them up.
He doesn’t get a chance, though, because Ivan tackles him. Wrapping his arms tightly around his waist, he hoists Till in the air and runs for the water.
“IVAN! PUT ME DOWN! FUCK!” Till yelps, flailing as he tries to wiggle out of Ivan’s arms.
The guy has him in a death grip, though, and he doesn’t let go no matter how hard Till pulls his hair or punches his shoulders. Till has just enough time to hold his breath and close his eyes before Ivan dives into the ocean. The cold water hits Till with shocking force. He’s fully submerged for a few seconds, before Ivan pulls him sputtering and coughing to his feet.
“What the fuck is wrong with you?!” Till screeches, wiping hair and water out of his eyes. “I told you I didn’t want to go in!”
“Relax, there are no jellyfish here,” Ivan tells him with a laugh. “I checked.”
“That doesn’t mean you can just attack me and throw me in!” Till shoves Ivan hard in the chest, pushing past him to wade back to shore.
“It was supposed to be a prank. Are you truly angry?” Ivan asks, following him.
Till grits his teeth, shaking his ears to try to rid them of sea water. Before he can fully step out onto shore, he feels Ivan grab his wrist.
“Till, I’m sorry. I thought you’d regret it if you didn’t go in the water at least once. Are you really that scared of it?” Ivan’s watching him seriously, now, his dark eyes searching Till’s face.
Till avoids his gaze, but of course he has to notice Ivan’s swim trunks clinging to his thighs instead. They wrap around the firm, thick muscle like a second skin, and at this proximity he can see the outline of his dick through the soaked fabric. It’s . . . impressive.
His ears burn, and he quickly looks further down, at their feet in the wet sand, slowly getting buried by the waves dragging more granules across them.
“I’ve never been in the ocean before,” Till admits finally. He tugs his wrist out of Ivan’s loosened grasp, hugging himself tightly around the waist instead. “We learn about all sorts of freakish ocean shit at school, and then it’s, like, dark and you can’t see when it drops off, and you hear about people getting caught in riptides and drowning . . . it’s a healthy fear, okay?”
“I’d never let anything happen to you, Till,” Ivan says, so earnest and solemn that Till’s chest aches once more. He can feel Ivan’s heavy gaze on him, but he can’t bring himself to look up yet.
“What, you’re gonna fight the ocean?” Till snorts, rolling his eyes. “You can’t protect me from nature, dumbass.”
“No? Watch this.” Ivan turns and throws a punch into the next wave that laps against their legs. “Take that, ocean! Fuck you!
It’s so ridiculous, Till can’t help but laugh. Ivan glances over at him with a tentative grin.
“You’re an idiot,” Till tells him, more fondness sneaking into his tone than he means there to be.
“I’ll gladly be an idiot if it helps you feel better,” Ivan offers.
Till watches him, realizing he truly means that. Mr. Class President, Valedictorian, Honor Roll Student, Top Athlete in the School, Teacher’s Pet . . . playing the idiot, just to make Till laugh. Hasn’t he always played that part for him, though? As annoying as his antics are, they almost always pull Till out of whatever mood he’s in, and it’s been that way since they were little.
Has that been Ivan’s way of looking out for him?
Warmth fills his chest, traveling up his neck to his ears, but the ache inside him only gets worse. Of all days to come to this conclusion . . . Till doesn’t even know if he’s right, but Ivan’s still staring back at him, and his breathing grows shallow, his heartrate picking up speed.
“Till! Ivan!”
Till jolts so hard he nearly falls over. Ivan grabs his elbow to steady him, and they both turn to look at Mizi and Sua standing by the shore, holding sodas above their heads.
“They have grapes and watermelon and orange slices too!” Mizi calls with a grin. “Let’s snack!”
Ivan’s long, firm fingers slide down Till’s arm from his elbow to his wrist. Till shudders and pulls away before he can reach his hand, sloshing his way back toward the girls.
The soda’s ice cold and tastes amazing. Till drinks half the can in a single swig and lets out a loud burp. Ivan smirks and follows suit, burping longer. Till narrows his eyes, but then Mizi releases a giant one that has several people glancing over in shock. Sua looks scandalized before bursting into giggles, the rest of them falling into laughter with her.
The fruit is just as refreshing. As Mizi untangles Sua’s short hair and starts sectioning it into French braids, Till sucks the juice out of his orange slice, distracted by the mess Ivan’s making out of his watermelon.
He takes massive bites, the juice dripping down his chin and onto his chest. Till licks the sour juice from his lips, staring at the drops slowly trailing down Ivan’s sternum. He again gets that urge, the one from before, to press his tongue against Ivan’s skin to lick up the beads of watermelon. The sweetness mixed with the lingering saltiness from the ocean would taste good, probably.
“Wow, Ivan, who raised you?” Mizi teases, dabbing a paper towel to her tongue before reaching over to wipe up the juice from Ivan’s chest and chin.
He lets her with a small grin, leaning toward her so she doesn’t have to reach as far. “My father would love to deny parentage,” he says. “Maybe you should adopt me, Mommy Mizi.”
Mizi giggles, and something sharp and ugly twists in Till’s stomach. He looks away, fixing his gaze on some of Ivan’s teammates, as they set up a volleyball net several feet away. Something warm and wet swipes at the corner of his mouth, and Till swerves away from the touch on instinct.
Ivan blinks, his hand outstretched toward him, thumb lifted. Till’s heart thuds loudly in his ears.
“Ah, you just . . . have some juice,” Ivan says with an apologetic smile, gesturing to the corner of his own mouth to indicate where.
“Oh. Thanks,” Till mutters, swiping at it with the back of his arm. He feels like an idiot, but before he can think of how he can save face, Marty and Durian from their class approach holding a volleyball.
“Hey, Ivan! Mizi! Wanna play two-on-two?” Marty asks, spinning the volleyball in his hands.
“Sure!” Mizi says brightly, standing and brushing sand from her legs. “Let’s go kick their butts, Ivan.” She shoots him a grin, but Ivan’s still watching Till.
“What?” Till asks, not sure what Ivan’s staring at now. “Is there something else on my face?”
“Yo, Ivan!” Marty tosses the volleyball at him.
It bounces lightly on his head, and he catches it as it falls, looking down at it in bewilderment. He glances up like it might’ve fallen from the sky, and Till can’t help but laugh.
“Idiot, they want you to play volleyball with them,” he says, gesturing to where Mizi has joined Marty and Durian.
“Oh,” Ivan says, blinking.
“So? Go,” Till prompts. “Mizi’s good, but she’s not tall enough to spike past Marty.”
“Hey! I’m working on it,” Mizi laughs.
Ivan gets to his feet, but he remains hesitating by the beach towels until Till physically shoos him away. Till shakes his head, as Ivan jogs over to catch up with the other three by the net.
“I really don’t know what goes on in that guy’s head,” he admits to Sua, as she settles down next to him under the umbrella to watch the game.
Sua hums noncommittally for a moment before saying softly, “I think he was waiting for you to say, ‘have a good game’ or something like that.”
Till glances sidelong at her. “Huh? Why? He always has a good game. He’s literally won awards.”
Sua pulls her towel closer around her shoulders. “He likes your attention.”
Till snorts. “Yeah, when he can annoy the shit out of me.”
Sua turns her head to stare at him in a way that’s so reminiscent of Ivan, it reminds Till that they’re cousins. He shifts uneasily.
“What?” he asks warily.
“Till, he’s flirting with you.”
Till chokes, a sound that’s thankfully covered up by Ivan’s service ace. Sua looks alarmed as he coughs, delicately patting his back in a way that doesn’t help at all. Till grimaces, grabbing his soda to drink and clear his throat.
“He’s not . . . flirting with me. What? No. He teases me. He bothers me. He steals my fucking shit . . . where the fuck are my shoes?” Till scans the beach, honestly having forgotten all about them.
“Yes, Till, that’s him flirting with you,” Sua says patiently.
Till glances sharply at her with a frown, his mind spiraling. There’s no way she could be right. Why would Ivan want to flirt with Till? It makes no sense. Ivan’s rich and has everything, is good at everything. The only things Till’s good at is art and music, which definitely isn’t going to take him anywhere soon. He’s a loner, not at all popular, scrawny and ugly . . . Ivan’s gorgeous and gets confessions every other day, it seems.
“It’s gotta be a joke,” Till says, shaking his head. He laughs, but it dies quickly in his throat. “I mean, right? If he’s flirting, it’s just as a joke. Like . . . joke-flirting.”
Sua frowns faintly. “That’d be a rather cruel joke,” she says pointedly.
“Only if I took it seriously, which I’m not,” Till says quickly. “He’s going off to some fancy school at the end of summer anyway, so it can’t be serious.” He shakes his head again. “No, I mean, if that’s flirting, he flirts with you and Mizi too.” He knows he’s grasping at straws, especially when Sua makes a disgusted face.
“He does,” Sua admits with a nod, “which is bothersome, but we all know he doesn’t mean it because, well, he’s gay.”
“He’s gay?!” Till gapes at her.
Sua looks even more disturbed, if that’s possible. “Till . . . he came out to us last year.”
“Huh?! When?!” Till scrambles to remember, but he honestly can’t come up with any memory of Ivan telling them that he’s gay.
“He told us he wouldn’t be attending the school dance because Anakt doesn’t allow same-sex couples to attend dances as dates.”
Till blinks rapidly. He remembers that conversation now, but it had a completely different context in his mind. “I thought that was, like, a protest thing, because of you and Mizi. I mean, we all didn’t go in solidarity.”
“He also mentioned Uncle would have a conniption if Ivan ever introduced him to a boyfriend.”
“I thought he was just pointing out how homophobic his dad is . . .” Till admits, his voice growing smaller, realizing just how badly he’d misunderstood that entire evening. He runs a hand through his hair. “Shit.”
Cheers from the volleyball game draw his attention, and he stares as Ivan picks Mizi up in a hug and spins her around after apparently making a point. His chest aches once more. He’s such an idiot. Ivan shared this huge part of himself, and Till completely missed it.
“If it makes you feel any better, I think Ivan knows you didn’t get it,” Sua offers.
“How is that supposed to make me feel better?!” Till asks in dismay, instantly feeling worse.
“Well . . . he’s not angry with you.”
“Ugh.” Till drops his face in his hands. “No. He’s just fully aware I’m an idiot.”
“We’re all aware of that.”
Till shoots her a sidelong glare, but she’s turned back to the game. Sighing, Till pulls his legs up, wrapping his arms around them as he watches Ivan dive to save a ball. He knocks it back over his head, scrambling to his feet as Mizi gets under it. She tosses it high, and Ivan leaps, his back arching as he brings his arm behind him and swings it forward, slamming the ball down in the sand between Marty and Durian, who are too slow to save it.
He turns to high-five Mizi with a grin, eyes sparkling. Till inhales shakily. The sun’s glistening off the sweat on his shoulders, back, and chest. His legs are covered with sand up to his knees, and Till curls his fingers into fists as he imagines running them through the thick dark hair on his shins to brush the sand away.
Would Ivan let him?
Would he let him slide his hand up further?
Till shakes his head to clear it. He needs to stop. None of these thoughts are productive. Regardless of the stirring low in his abdomen, Ivan’s leaving. He’s going to live in another state for four years. He’ll meet plenty of new people at university. He’ll forget all about Till. He’ll flirt with other guys, guys who will pick up on the signs a lot faster than Till.
“I-I’m gonna go look for my shoes,” Till says quickly, forcing the words past the lump growing in his throat.
Sua glances up at him, brows furrowed slightly, but Till ignores her. The sun’s grown unbearably hot. He can feel it baking his shoulders, as he walks down the beach, eyes scanning the bright sand. He knows he probably needs another layer of sunscreen, but he can’t go back yet.
“Till. Till!”
Grimacing, Till walks faster, ignoring Ivan’s voice behind him. He can’t find his stupid sandals. He knows they’re around here somewhere, unless someone else stole them. But they’re ugly and old, so they’re probably wherever Ivan dropped them.
“Till.”
Till jerks away from Ivan’s hand as it moves to encircle his wrist. “What?!” he snaps.
Ivan looks startled, and Till immediately feels bad. He looks away, clenching his jaw.
“Where are you going?” Ivan asks carefully when Till gives him nothing.
“I’m looking for my shoes. You know, the ones you fucking stole?” Till starts walking again.
“Oh,” Ivan says with a light laugh, quickly moving to join him. “They’re over here.” He gestures in a direction that honestly doesn’t seem familiar.
Till looks over at him skeptically.
“I swear I remember,” Ivan says with a faint grin. He changes course, and Till has no choice but to follow him, flexing his hands agitatedly at his side.
“Did you win?” he asks gruffly after a moment.
“Yes,” Ivan says simply.
“Of course you did.” Till rolls his eyes. “I don’t think I saw Marty and Durian get a single point.”
Ivan smirks. “We let them get in a few pity shots.”
“How generous,” Till snorts.
“They should have known better than to challenge the Dynamic Duo,” Ivan says, folding his hands behind his back. Bent slightly forward like he is to study the sand, he reminds Till of an old Korean grandpa.
Till bites back a smile. “Is that what you and Mizi are? A Dynamic Duo?”
Ivan nods. “Then she and Sua are Two Peas in a Pod.”
Till has no idea how he says such ridiculous things so seriously. “Yeah? What about you and me, then?”
Ivan pauses, head tilted in thought. “Comrades in Arms,” he says finally.
“What the fuck?” Till frowns. “Aren’t we closer than that?”
Ivan looks over at him. “What do you mean?”
Till sputters for a moment, gesturing helplessly. “That makes us sound like coworkers or something.”
Ivan blinks. “Does it?”
Till’s skin itches, irritation bubbling up. Sua’s definitely wrong. There’s no way Ivan’s been seriously flirting with him if this is how he categorizes their friendship.
“You know what? Fucking forget it,” Till says flatly. “Sure. Let’s be fucking Comrades in Arms.” He stalks forward, forgetting momentarily that Ivan has been leading the way.
“You don’t think it fits?” Ivan asks, following. “After everything we’ve been through together . . . a bond shaped by hardship and trauma that strengthens loyalty and the responsibility we feel for one another . . . doesn’t that sound like us?”
Till slows to a stop, biting his lip. When he puts it like that, Till can see where Ivan’s coming from. Still, it sounds more impersonal than he’d like. “What about . . . love?”
Ivan stiffens. “. . . Love?” he echoes blankly.
Till grimaces, shrugging his stinging shoulders. He really needs to put more sunscreen on or get back to the shade. “You said we have loyalty and a sense of responsibility between us . . . there’s no love? No . . . care?” He can’t bring himself to look at Ivan’s face. He doesn’t want to know what expression he’s making.
“Of course I care about you, Till.”
It comes after too long a pause. Till doesn’t know what that means.
“And?” Till prompts, his heart in his throat.
“And . . . I see your shoes.”
Till lifts his head with a frown, watching as Ivan jogs a few feet away and bends to pick up a pair of ratty sandals that Till recognizes immediately. Ivan brushes the sand off them and returns with a smile, offering them to Till with a bow and flourish.
“Your foot attire, my liege.”
“Have you been flirting with me?” Till blurts out despite his better judgement.
Ivan flinches. It’s barely perceptible, but Till’s watching him so closely he can’t miss it. A heavy stone forms at the base of his chest, as Ivan straightens, his face a blank mask.
“Why are you asking me that?”
“Just tell me,” Till says, desperation creeping into his tone. “Tell me the truth.”
Ivan slowly bends down to set Till’s shoes on the sand in front of his feet. His hair obscures his eyes as he does, and Till clenches his fists, waiting, trying to be patient.
Finally, Ivan straightens. “Yes,” he says, still betraying nothing.
He might as well have punched Till in the stomach. “Have you been flirting with me this whole time?” he asks weakly.
Another wince, a twitch in Ivan’s features, as guilt flickers across his eyes before disappearing behind the mask. “For a few years, yes.”
“Why?” Till stares at him, searching for an answer that makes sense. Ivan’s unreadable, shuttered behind a wall Till thought he didn’t have to use anymore. Not with him, at least.
“Because it’s fun.” Ivan grins, suddenly, a sharp twist of his lips that doesn’t reach his eyes.
It cuts through Till like a knife, leaving him breathless once more. To his horror, his eyes fill with tears. They spill down his cheeks before he can manage to stop them, and Ivan’s grin disappears, his eyes widening.
“Fuck you,” Till chokes out, his body starting to tremble.
“Wait, Till, I—” Ivan steps forward, hand outstretched, but Till doesn’t want to hear any excuses or apologies.
Bending swiftly, he grabs his shoes from the sand and takes off down the shoreline. His vision’s blurry, and he trips over small children, stumbles into classmates, but he doesn’t stop, not until he reaches the beach towels where the girls are talking and laughing.
They fall silent as Till approaches, and Mizi gets to her feet quickly.
“Till! What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” Till wipes at his face quickly. “I-I just . . . I need to find a bathroom.” He snatches up his bag, pulling his shirt from it and yanking it over his head. His shoulders scream as the material brushes against them, but he puts it on before sliding on his sandals.
“Do you want us to come with you?” Mizi asks, as Sua looks on in concern.
“No!” Till snaps, grimacing when Mizi freezes. He hates when he gets like this, but it’s better for everyone if he’s alone. He’s going to end up alone anyway. He might as well get used to it. “S-sorry. I-I’ll be back for the barbecue.”
Gripping his bag with both hands, he makes his way up the beach to the boardwalk. As soon as his feet hit solid ground, he takes off again, toward the shops and restaurants along the pier. He’s not sure where he’s going, just that he needs to get away, as far as possible. His mom told him she’d pick him up, but that won’t be until ten, and he doesn’t have a phone to call her earlier.
In the end, he collapses on a bench near the end of the pier, the wind picking up his hair and blowing it away from his tear-stained face. Despite the warmth, it feels nice on his flushed skin, and he closes his eyes, taking deep breaths to try and steady himself.
He knew it was fake. He shouldn’t have let Sua get his hopes up.
No, it’s not her fault. He should’ve kept himself from believing it.
Pulling his feet up to rest his heels on the edge of the bench, Till digs into his bag to pull out his sketchbook. Biting his lip, he opens to the page he used earlier, staring at the sketches of Ivan’s clavicle and broad shoulders, his back with the mole near the center, and the dark hairs at his nape, the slim lines of his waist, with the pelvic bones descending into his waistband. All parts of Ivan he’ll never see again, probably.
Exhaling shakily, Till closes the book, hugging it to his aching chest tightly. He shuts his eyes, fighting back more tears as his mind conjures that cruel smile once more.
“Because it’s fun.”
Of course. Of course it is. It’s fun riling Till up for no other reason than to see him upset, right? Fucking hilarious.
A small part of him recalls the change in Ivan’s demeanor whenever he realizes he’s truly upset Till, not just on a surface level. The soft, sincere way he promised to protect him in the ocean. The look of confused pain just now when he made Till cry.
It doesn’t matter. Ivan’s leaving anyway, so why should it matter? Till should just forget him. He should toss him away just like Ivan’s tossing him away. If it doesn’t bother Ivan, then it shouldn’t bother Till. After all, they’re just comrades.
Till drops his feet to the ground, standing abruptly. He marches over to the nearest trash bin and tosses his sketchbook inside of it, turning to storm away.
He only gets a few steps before regret hits him. Fuck. He quickly runs back to the bin, reaching inside to pull out the book, brushing it clean of any debris. It doesn’t appear stained by anything, and he breathes a soft sigh of relief, placing it carefully back in his bag.
He knows he should head back to the beach, but he can’t bring himself to make his way there. He’ll just be poor company, anyway.
In the end, he sits back on the bench, staring off across the ocean, and to the lighthouse in the distance. He can see the specks of neon green on the shoreline, clumped together even as the individuals within the group move around each other.
It feels right, somehow, being so far removed from it all. It’s where he belongs. Alone.
“Till?”
He blinks, refocusing on the three people in front of him. Mizi and Sua stand side-by-side, Ivan behind them, eyes on the slats of the pier beneath his feet. Mizi and Sua watch Till sympathetically. They’re all back in their neon green school shirts, standing out like a bar sign against the dark wood around them.
“Ivan told us what happened,” Mizi explains. “He’s here to apologize.”
Till frowns. They had to convince him? “No thanks,” he says flatly. “I don’t want it.”
Mizi reaches behind her to grab Ivan’s wrist, pulling him forward. “Just listen, okay? The two of you are best friends, and this might be the last time we get to hang out with all four of us for a while. I don’t want it to be ruined because you two can’t get your heads out of your asses long enough to have a proper conversation.”
Till huffs, but he doesn’t protest, even when Mizi forces Ivan to sit down next to him on the bench.
“Now, me and Sua are going to get some ice cream. I expect the two of you to be on good terms when we get back,” she says, hands on her hips.
“Yes, Mother,” Ivan monotones.
Mizi smacks him lightly upside the head before taking Sua’s hand and marching off down the pier.
Till clenches his jaw, staring straight ahead and not looking over at Ivan, even as he shifts uncomfortably beside him.
“Till, I—” he starts.
“If you’re just going to make excuses, I don’t want to hear it,” Till interrupts.
“No, I’m not—”
“You know, I fucking knew you were making fun of me,” Till seethes, curling his hands into fists on his knees. “I just can’t believe you’d pretend to be my friend while at the same time being so fucking insensitive.”
“I am your friend, I just didn’t think—”
“No! You didn’t fucking think! You just fucking did whatever you wanted just like always! You gave zero fucking thought for my feelings or that you might be—”
“Will you let me speak?!”
Till starts in surprise, pretty sure he’s never heard Ivan raise his voice. He turns his head to look at him finally, and the expression of misery and frustration on Ivan’s face is unlike anything Till’s ever seen before.
“I’m sorry that I hurt you,” Ivan says quickly, earnestly. “That wasn’t my intention. I didn’t think that it would hurt you. You never suspected that I might have any ulterior motives, and I didn’t want you to, so you caught me off-guard and then I thought it best to conceal anything that might reveal a deeper meaning because I did not know how you would react.”
Till blinks. “React to what?” he asks helplessly after a minute once he realizes he still doesn’t know what Ivan’s talking about.
“To . . . my feelings,” Ivan says hesitantly.
“Which are?” Till prompts, staring him down.
Ivan’s gaze skitters to the side. Frowning, Till grabs his chin, forcing him to look forward.
“Just tell me,” he says, softening his tone as best he can, contrasting his bruising grip.
Ivan looks back at him, and his mask cracks, ever so slightly. Till sees the vulnerability behind his dark eyes, and it makes his chest ache. His heart pounds faster, and thoughts once more race through his mind, remembering Sua’s words, remembering Ivan’s, remembering all those days they’ve spent together through the years, remembering how it’ll all be gone soon.
He lowers his hand from Ivan’s chin. “You don’t want to tell me,” he guesses.
Ivan just stares, the pain bleeding through his expression. “There’s no point,” he admits softly.
“Why?” Till asks past the lump in his throat.
“Why speak words that only fall on deaf ears?”
Till blinks. “Huh?”
Ivan glances over his shoulder. “Ice cream sounds refreshing. Do you want any?”
Till frowns. “Wait.”
Ivan stands. “I shall go buy some.”
He turns to leave, and Till stands quickly, grabbing his hand. “Wait.”
Ivan freezes, his back still turned. Till inhales sharply, telling himself to be brave. It might not solve anything, it might not change anything, but nothing will happen at all so long as he remains a coward.
“L-Lovebirds.”
Ivan turns to face him, staring at him blankly. “What?”
Till swallows hard. “Th-that’s what I want to be. With you. Not comrades. L-Lovebirds. You know. Like. Together.” He’s pretty sure his face is melting from the heat coursing through his body.
Ivan’s eyes widen. “You . . .”
“You’ve been flirting with me,” Till circles back quickly. “I didn’t realize it. I’m sorry. I didn’t understand when you came out to us either. I’m an idiot. It’s one of the many reasons why you deserve better than me, why I didn’t think you could be flirting for real. I thought you were just making fun of me because, well, I’m me. And you’re you. And . . . you’re leaving soon, so it’s pointless anyway, but I-I like you. So much. So . . . I still want to know the truth.” He inhales shakily, it taking everything in him to hold Ivan’s gaze. “Do you like me?”
Ivan continues staring, and Till’s pretty sure his lungs stop working, but then finally the mask crumbles the rest of the way, and Ivan nods, resigned.
"Yes."
Till’s heart thuds rapidly against his ribs. “D-do you . . . love me?” he tries.
Another nod. “Yes.”
Till bites his lip, the tears burning his eyes once more. He leans forward, wrapping his arms around Ivan’s waist to hug him tightly, burying his face against that firm clavicle, inhaling the sea salt clinging to his skin, the smell of sweet watermelon on his breath.
Ivan hesitantly hugs him back, but as soon as he does, Till winces and pulls away. “Ow! Shit!”
Ivan freezes. “Till?”
“Shit, no, sorry.” Till grimaces, tugging the collar of his shirt to the side to stare grimly at the reddened skin beneath it. “I think I got burned. My shoulders are on fire. Fuck.”
Ivan presses his lips together. “Come with me,” he says, taking Till’s hand.
Confused, Till follows behind as Ivan leads him down the pier back toward the shops and into the parking lot. He approaches a sleek black car that Till recognizes as one of the many Ivan’s dad owns. Ivan releases Till’s hand to open the trunk, rummaging through a bag to pull out a bottle of aloe vera.
“I thought you might forget to apply a second layer of sunscreen,” Ivan admits. “So I brought this.”
Till feels the tips of his ears burn for a completely different reason. When Ivan opens the back of the car, he moves inside and sits gingerly. Ivan goes to the front to turn the engine on, letting it idle as he turns the A/C to blow toward the back. Immediately Till feels less warm, but when Ivan gets into the backseat behind him, he tenses once more.
“I’m going to help you take off your shirt,” Ivan says before reaching forward to cautiously do so.
Till grimaces as the material catches against his tender skin, but with Ivan’s help he’s able to get it off with minimal contact. He turns his back to Ivan, then, clutching the shirt in both hands and staring at the tinted window in front of him. There’s a disorienting sense of déjà vu, only this time Ivan’s applying something to his back.
Till braces himself, but Ivan’s fingers are gentle as they smooth the aloe vera over the fiery sunburn. It still stings, but the aloe soothes and cools the area where Ivan applies it, and Till gradually relaxes under the careful ministrations.
It’s too quiet, though, and Till can feel the air thicken with a tension he’s never felt before. He bites his lip, keeping his gaze fixed on the window, trying to ignore just how good Ivan’s hands feel traveling over his sore back. His touch is tender in a way Till’s not sure they ever have been, and the ache in his chest grows, though the pain feels different.
“I-I don’t want you to leave,” he admits softly, unable to keep the words to himself anymore.
Ivan’s hands pause briefly before continuing. “Okay. So, I won’t.”
Till grimaces. “No. I mean, I can’t ask you to stay here. I’m not asking you to. You got into Ivy Leagues, Ivan. That’s huge.”
“It’s not any more impressive than anything else my family has done.”
“But it’s you who got yourself there,” Till insists. “You’ve worked so hard . . . you can’t throw all that away just because I-I’m afraid of being lonely.”
Ivan’s quiet for a moment. “I only applied to Ivys because my father wanted me to,” he admits. “I could go to university almost anywhere and get a good education.” His hands rest lightly on Till’s arms. “I don’t need to leave, Till.”
Till twists in his seat, turning in the small space to face Ivan. In the darkened interior of the car, Ivan’s eyes are liquid pools of onyx, his broad shoulders hunched slightly to fit sideways like he is, which means he’s leaning closer to Till than he might be if he straightened. He doesn’t straighten.
“I don’t want you to resent me,” Till says, shaking his head. “I can’t be the one to hold you back.”
“You’re not holding me back,” Ivan says, lifting his hand to touch Till’s cheek lightly. “We’re moving forward together.”
He smiles, soft and sincere, and Till’s heart overflows. He can’t stop himself from reaching forward, grabbing the front of Ivan’s shirt to pull him closer, as he moves in to press his lips against Ivan’s.
He’s never kissed anyone before, and it’s probably noticeable, but Ivan doesn’t make fun of him. In fact, he freezes momentarily, until Till presses more insistently against him. He melts, then, cradling the side of Till’s face with his hand, as his lips move slowly but firmly against Till’s.
Till parts his lips, and Ivan’s tongue accepts the invitation, slipping inside in such a careful, tentative way it sends a shiver down Till’s spine. He relaxes his grip on Ivan’s shirt, splaying his hand against his chest. He allows his fingers to slide up Ivan’s clavicle through the material, past the collar, around to the back of Ivan’s neck. He holds him there and lets his fingers play gently with those tiny baby hairs. He can feel the goosebumps that erupt across Ivan’s skin, and he has to fight a smile, as Ivan surges forward hungrily.
His tongue grows bolder, swiping along Till’s and the edges of his teeth, the roof of his mouth, exploring from all angles. Till pushes his fingers into Ivan’s hair, gripping the thick strands as he moans, the heat starting to make him feel dizzy despite the A/C.
It’s only when Ivan presses him back against the door that Till pulls away with a gasp of pain, as the pressure tingles across his burnt shoulders.
Ivan immediately backs away, his eyes wide, lips wet. “Are you okay?” he asks worriedly.
Till can’t help but smile despite the sting lingering on his skin. “I’m great,” he assures him, pulling him in for another kiss.
He’s not sure how long they stay there, kissing and testing the waters of what does and doesn’t feel good, but by the time they come up for air, the sun has started to set, and Till’s stomach growls.
“We might’ve missed the barbecue,” Ivan admits apologetically.
“Mizi and Sua will have saved us some,” Till says confidently, running his thumb across Ivan’s ear. He smiles, as Ivan turns into his hand, nuzzling it. “So . . . when you told me you were flirting with me because it was fun, was that a lie or . . . ?”
Ivan smirks. “No, I wasn’t lying. It is fun.”
Till tweaks Ivan’s ear hard enough to make him wince. “Asshole.”
“But I also flirted with you because I like you,” Ivan finishes. “I like when I have your attention, positive or negative.”
Till frowns, and Ivan smiles, reaching up to tug on his lower lip gently.
“Plus, you’re extremely adorable when you’re flustered and irritated,” he adds.
“Whatever,” Till says, blushing furiously as he moves to get out of the car. Ivan follows quickly behind, helping Till back into his shirt. “Ugh, I can’t wait to get rid of this ugly thing.”
Ivan tilts his head. “Really? I’m keeping mine.”
“Why?” Till asks despairingly.
“So I can remember this day when I jerk off in it,” Ivan says, completely straight-faced.
Till’s blood boils up to his ears. “What the fuck?!” he exclaims, even as Ivan dodges out of hitting distance with a laugh. “You better fucking not!”
“It’s my shirt. I can do whatever I want with it,” Ivan says, smiling brightly as he walks backward toward the beach. “Then again, maybe we should swap; that way we each have one that smells like the other. It’ll make the experience that much better.”
Till hates that he finds that idea hot as hell. “You’re not jerking off in my shirt, you fucking pervert!” he growls, racing after him, as Ivan takes off with an annoying cackle.
Above them, fireworks explode and dissolve into a thousand sparkling stars against the darkening sky.