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Till hated Fridays. Not because they were when he had his morning class (ew), but because they were when Ivan had someone over. Straight A's, star quarterback, perfect Ivan. Ivan and Till had been roommates since freshman year of college, and Till couldn't stand him. Everything about him was so aggravating, and it was like he was the only one who noticed. For some reason the entire school loved him. If only all the cheerleaders hanging on his every word knew he was fucking random guys every week.
Every Friday at 11 he barges in, making out with some rando. They'd push each other back and forth onto different walls like a pinball machine, and as soon as Till heard the door open, he'd lock himself in his room, then they'd usually go for an hour or two. Was that even physically possible? Even with his headphones on, he could always hear lewd noises from Ivan's room. How did he even get away with that? The RA surely wouldn't let that slide. Or maybe they would. Ivan could probably smile and smooth talk his way out of anything with his little fang and stupid dimples. He was probably sleeping with the RA. Till couldn't care less.
It's not like he ever paid attention to these late night encounters, he just turned on some of his favorite music and locked himself in his room. It actually wasn't awful to have some time to space out and work on his assignments.
And now Till found himself in this exact situation, slapping paint on a canvas in his room, headphones blasting his favorite band, the faint sound of Ivan slapping something else in the other room. It didn't help that the walls were paper thin in these cheap ass dorm rooms.
How did he even end up in this situation?
Ivan and Till had been friends in high school. Well, maybe friends wasn't the right word. It was more like Ivan had started annoying him everyday until they just happened to sit together at lunch. And sometimes happened to hang out after school. It was like Ivan was a paperclip and Till was a magnet or something, because Ivan just wouldn't let him be. He was still a total jock then, and Till was going through his 'emo' phase. Even thinking about the hot topic shirts and poorly applied black nail polish made him shudder. Before he knew it, they were applying to the same college and Ivan requested for them to be roommates, and what was Till supposed to say? No? Ivan was his only friend, and he didn't want to let himself become a complete shut-in with no social life. Plus, it would be nice for an art student to have a roommate living off his rich dad's paycheck to pay for everything. God, that's depressing.
Things started out normal their freshman year, then Ivan started acting weird. At some point he started becoming… distant. Depressed, maybe. He would only cook simple meals, he spent all his time at the gym, and rarely made eye contact with Till. Then he started bringing the guys over. Now, it's their junior year and things have been like this for a year and half.
Till dips his paintbrush in a pink color, adding a gradient to his blue base. He's drawing her again. Mizi's shown up in his portfolio countless times. He knows he doesn't have a chance with her, he never did. But he can't let go. Not yet. And he couldn't help himself, she made a great model for art. He tilted his head slightly and stood away from the canvas, just to take his painting in. The gradient in her hair wasn't quite smooth enough, and her eyes weren't quite the right color for the lighting. He chewed on the handle of his paintbrush, a bad habit. He took another dab of paint and got back to work.
Till loved oil painting. It wasn't like the real world, where you had to use manners and talk to people in a certain way, it was messy and free. It wasn't like the real world, where he knew Mizi would never love him back. He had faced that fact a long time ago. Now, he just indulges himself in the fantasy every now and then. He could vomit his emotions out onto a canvas, and he knew it would be okay because all of the anger and confusion in him would create something beautiful. It didn't matter if his feelings were disgusting or uncouth. They still mattered. He still mattered.
He tended to lose himself and all thought when he really got into his art, which was ironic because that was usually on Friday nights, which he hated. He was getting into the zone now, each stroke of the brush on the canvas faster and freer, like a rush of wind through the grass. Mizi's long hair started to fade into the background. Pink faded into darkness, brown and black and red. As Till let himself feel through the painting, the background became darker, until Mizi was standing in front of a black and brown galaxy. He had no idea where that came from. He took a glob of white and shook drops of it onto the piece, creating spatters of stars. It was beautiful. Till had been trying to create something like this, a true piece for his final. His magnum opus, if you will.
Till stood back again to examine his art, slipping his headphones out to eliminate any distractions. As soon as the music left his ears, he realized he had forgotten why he was listening to music in the first place.
Incessant loud moans came from Ivan's room. The bed creaked violently, the moans sounded more like shouting. What was Ivan doing to that poor man? Till noticed he only heard one voice. Ivan never made any noise, which was unusual. He must enjoy this stuff if he does it so regularly, right? Apparently he was really great in bed or something. Not like Till cared.
Till is just about to put his headphones back on as the moaning continues, then he hears another faint voice come from Ivan's room.
"Till."
Ivan said his name.
Ivan said his fucking name. Wait, his name? During sex? With another man?
Holy shit.
Till's body goes rigid as the moaning and creaking stops. And for a second, the entire dorm goes quiet. Suddenly, screams erupt again from Ivan's room. Not one of pleasure, but ones of anger.
He can hear muffled reprimands through the wall, just well enough to understand the man's words.
"Not fucking again, Ivan!"
Again?
"No- wait, I can explain." Ivan's voice.
"Yeah, right. This is over!"
Till heard a rustling from the bed, and footsteps as the man left Ivan's room.
"Wait, baby- just wait. You know that was an accident." Ivan followed him, his voice trembling.
The door slammed shut and now they were both in the kitchen. If Till opened his door, he could directly watch their argument. He knew he should've just tried to ignore it, but curiosity got the best of him. Till very carefully creaked his door open. The man shoved Ivan back against the kitchen island aggressively. Against his own judgement, Till watched.
"Please, I'm done forgiving you! This is the third time you've said his name during sex!"
Third time?
"I-I swear, baby, it was an accident! My brain's just been scrambled recently! Finals, you know?" Ivan stumbled over his words, his face pale as a ghost.
The man pulled a large trenchcoat over himself, scoffing at Ivan in disgust.
He pushed Ivan with his shoulder on his way out.
"It's not my fault you've been in love with your fucking roommate. Goodbye, Ivan."
"Wait-!"
Ivan reached out to the man, as he threw the door shut behind him, leaving their dorm.
Till's jaw was on the floor. Ivan had said his name three times during sex? Ivan had been in love with him? No, there was no way. Till's thoughts raced, running over all the implications of that conversation. He had never seen Ivan that scared before. Was the guy right? Was Ivan in love with him? And why wasn't Till angry about that? Sure, it's not like he hates Ivan, and sure, he's been able to stand him for ten years, but surely he didn't like him like that.
Did he?
Till's brain went faster than his body, and in his state of thought, he failed to realize that a pair of eyes was watching him.
Ivan stared at him through the door, eyes wide in panic.
"You didn't hear that, did you?"
Till gasped. He slammed the door, pushing his back against it. Oh, god. Was Ivan angry at him? He couldn't handle confronting him now. He needed time to think about what he'd just witnessed. He had to get out. Out of his room, out of his dorm, hell, off of campus. Till's eyes darted around the room for an escape. The window! With shaky hands he turns the lock, pushing the window open. Till's breathing grows rapid, and he pushes too hard, jamming the window.
"Fuck!" Till curses.
"Till."
Ivan's voice, quiet, says his name from the other side of the door.
Till freezes. He turns, and Ivan is standing in front of his open door. Fuck, he forgot to lock it.
"We need to talk."
Ivan stands completely still, arms at his side. It's honestly shocking how calm he looks, but if Till had looked closer, he would be able to see Ivan biting his lip, his fists clenched, a horrified man.
Till's throat clenches. He tries to say something, but nothing comes out. He doesn't know what to do. Should he keep trying to leave? He kind of wants to slap Ivan. He should slap Ivan.
"Till, what he said…"
"Is it true?"
Ivan falls silent, his red eyes boring holes in the floor. Till's jaw clenches. The silence is not comforting his suspicions. Ivan tilts his head up.
"Does this mean I have to move out?"
Ivan looks up at Till, and he can't help but think he looks like a cute puppy out in the rain. Cute? No— definitely not— more like a pathetic little runt. Ivan's eyes are shiny with unshed tears as he kneels on the ground, his hands clasped like a priest praying to his god.
"Are you begging—?"
"Please. I'll do anything. I don't want to go back to living with my parents," Ivan brings his hands up to his forehead, "I'll wash the dishes. I'll do the laundry. I'll clean the whole house, I'll make all the meals, I'll pay the rent for the rest of college! Anything!"
Till's jaw drops on the floor. Who thought that one of Ivan's regular hookups would turn into him begging on the floor for Till. Small sobs escape Ivan as he begs, awaiting Till's answer.
Till grabs his arm, yanking him back on his feet.
"How long?"
"What?" Ivan murmurs through his tears.
"How long have you, uhm, liked me?" Till says the word liked as if it's a curse.
Ivan takes a moment to think. He blinks slowly at Till, then sniffs.
"Freshman year."
"But that's when you started bringing guys over."
"Not college. High school."
"What?"
"I've liked you since high school."
Till thinks he must be lying.
"But… that's when we met."
Ivan looks into his eyes.
"Till."
This can't be real. There's no way Till's roommate and his best friend since high school has been in love with him all this time. He would've noticed. Wouldn't he? Is this the only reason Ivan chose to stay with him for ten years? Is that the only reason Ivan, star quarterback, football captain Ivan, had approached Till sitting all alone in that first lunch period? Till can still remember that day like it was yesterday. He remembered himself thinking that if Ivan could talk to him and sit with him when no one else wanted to, maybe it was worth coming to school everyday. Maybe it was worth waking up every day, if there was someone out there that would be his friend. But Ivan was never his friend, apparently. To Ivan, Till was just another guy he wanted to screw.
Till releases Ivan's arm, and he can feel his hands shake. Ivan looks sad. Sad that his secret was out now, Till supposed. Sad that he couldn't keep playing Till.
"Are you okay?"
"Shut up!" Till finds himself shouting, "You can't just come out of the blue and say something like that! Why would you keep that a secret for so long? When I really thought you were my friend?"
"I am your friend!" Ivan hurtfully grabs his chest.
"No you're not! You can't just say my name during one of your hookups with random guys and pretend like you didn't have me around just for your fantasies!"
"That's not— it's not like that!"
"Then why? Why fuck random dudes every Friday, when what you really wanted was sitting in the next room the whole time?"
The tears in Ivan's eyes return, fat globs running down his cheeks.
"I never meant to hurt you. I thought… well, I knew I would never have a chance. You love her. Not me."
Mizi. Suddenly, everything clicked in Till's head.
"For so long, I stayed by your side hoping that one day I could work up the nerve to tell you how I felt. All of high school I waited, trying to see if you even remotely felt the same way. In college, I thought if we were closer, if we lived together, maybe that would spark something. And then…" Ivan hesitates. He looks away, his voice quiet.
"You met Mizi. She's your crush, your muse, and I know that isn't going to change. I couldn't just stay here when all you would talk about was her. Because every time I look at you, I'm reminded why I can never have you. So… I started to go out. A lot." Ivan's eyes dull as he stares at the carpet. "Everything is just… a blur. Classes, jobs, everything. I thought if I could just pretend someone out there wanted me, even for a second, all of this would be worth something."
Till's breath hitches at this. All of it seemed so genuine. He would never imagine his cold, distant roommate, once so full of life, was holding all of this inside of him. Ivan's eyes draw back to Till's, holding nothing in them but a hollow of who he once was.
"All I ask now is that I can stay. We can pretend this never happened. I'll never bother you again, please, just don't kick me out." Ivan's face screws up in sorrow, and sobs wrack through his body.
For a moment, Till can do nothing but stand there and watch. He has the power to do whatever he wants to Ivan. He could kick him out, he could slap him, he could kiss him.
"So, this was all about… Mizi?"
Ivan nods.
"Well. I should probably tell you." Till feels like every word he says, he's edging closer to a cliff, and once he jumps down, he doesn't know if he'll ever come back.
"I… don't have feelings for her anymore. I haven't for a while."
Ivan stares, unblinking. His eyes are red and puffy, even in his state of shock.
"W-what?" He still sniffs while he speaks. Till finds the carpet very interesting.
"I don't like Mizi anymore. So, you don't have to, um. Distance yourself. You don't have to because I'm not… going anywhere." Every word is a struggle. It was so much easier to talk about his feelings when Till was angry, now everything just felt scary and emotional.
"What are you saying?" The light returns in Ivan's eyes.
"You don't have to leave. You can still um. Like me. It's… it's okay."
"It's okay?" Ivan takes a step toward Till. The corners of his mouth start turning up.
"It's okay. We can still be friends." Till hesitantly meets Ivan's gaze.
Ivan abruptly wraps his arms around Till, his head finding its way into the crook of Till's neck. He always hated how Ivan was taller than him.
"Friends." Ivan murmurs.
"We can be okay," Till nearly-whispers. He can feel Ivan's fang on his neck, cool against his burning skin.
"Thank you." Ivan says. Till can feel him smile against his skin, and before he knows it, he finds himself smiling too.
3 months later, winter break
Till loved Fridays. Ivan would always take him out to his favorite restaurant, and they would come home and watch a movie together. Today they sat at a booth, and Ivan had just gotten his desert. He always ordered more food than he could eat, and they always had to get a to-go box for it, Till finishing it later for him during their movie.
Till watched Ivan order his food. The life had returned in his eyes, and his hair had a healthy shine. His skin was warmer. He had become his real self again. Till found he liked Ivan a lot more like this.
Today was creme brulee, and as Ivan picked at what he could stomach until he was too full, a figure caught Till's attention.
A woman entered the restaurant, wearing a large petticoat, the warm lighting shining off of her pink hair. Till hadn't seen her since before him and Ivan had made up. Seeing Mizi again was like looking through an old photo album, stumbling upon a fond memory. A shorter woman followed behind her, their hands linked. She had short black hair and a sour expression on her face.
"Till…" Ivan whined from across the booth, "I don't think I can finish this." Till looked at his dish. He had taken three bites.
Till sighed. "Again?" Even though his tone was disappointed, a grin struck out on Till's face.
"Can we get a box? I feel awful wasting food…"
"Yeah, I want to go home anyway. There's something I need to do."
He glances back at Mizi, and finds she was already looking at him. Her eyes dart to Ivan, then back to Till. She smiles. Their server comes back, and hands them their to-go box.
As soon as they get home, Till throws off his coat and boots, racing to his room. He slides his closet door open, searching. Where had he put his portfolio? He knew it was around here somewhere.
"Till? What are you doing?" Ivan calls for him in the living room.
"Just a second. I have to finish something!"
"Okay. Don't take too long."
He finally finds it. A large white box, littered with dents and scratches from years of use. All of his canvas pieces since freshman year were in here. He doesn't have to rifle long until he finds what he was looking for. An oil painting of Mizi, a muddy galaxy behind her. Till hadn't touched this since before him and Ivan talked. At the time, Till had thought this was his best work. And there was no doubt, Mizi looked great. He had spent a lot of time blending the colors of her hair and sculpting her face.
But, it was the background that bothered him. The mess of brown and black clashed with Mizi's bright color palette. The white stars looked okay, but that was really the only thing telling the viewer that the background was supposed to be outer space. It looked out of place.
Till placed the piece on his eisel he still had set up from before break, and rushed to grab his oil paints and some brushes. He only grabbed a few essential shades and his favorite brush he had been using since high school. Till got to work.
Till loved oil painting. It felt like an honest opening to his soul, where he could let out his feelings and just be. Now that he had changed from when he first made this, he felt drawn to fix it. It wasn't awful, it just needed some shaping. Till let himself let go, and let his creative side take over as he added more paint to the canvas.
Before he knew it, he stepped back to review his finished product.
Now, instead of the background being messy and ugly, it sprawled in a stunning galaxy of reds, browns, and black. He had added pockets of stars again, overlapping Mitzi's figure. He hadn't changed much about Mizi, except for her expression. Till bad tweaked it slightly whereas before it looked affectionate and longing, now she looked reminiscent and a tad melancholy. The edges of her figure overlapped with the galaxy, her arm stretched out toward the viewer, as if to say goodbye.
Till didn't know what it really meant yet. He had just felt the need to update his painting.
The background worked with Mizi's palette much better now, her pink hair fading in abyss. In fact, it was like she was fading into the background, letting the ether consume her.
"Till! Are you done yet?" Ivan shouts. Till snaps out of his trance-like state, setting his paint brush down.
"Coming!" In the doorway of his room, Till spares one last glance at the canvas before leaving.
"What are we watching tonight?" He asks Ivan, plopping down on the couch next to him.
"I was waiting for you to tell me." Ivan holds the remote, scrolling through their options on Netflix.
Till looks at him. Ivan had tan skin. His black hair framed his face in dark strands. His eyelashes were long, surrounding large red pupils. His cute fang peeked from his lips. Till didn't know how to decipher his feelings for Ivan, but he knew being here with him, now, felt good. Spending his Fridays on the couch with Ivan, and at dinner with Ivan felt good. He liked Ivan.
"… and, hey, you there? Till?"
"Huh?"
"You were staring," Ivan laughs.
They look at each other.
"I think I'm in love with you."
"What took you so long?" Ivan's eyes crinkle in a smile that reaches his ears.
Till reaches for Ivan. They hold each other, laughing giddily. So many things had held him back from saying those words to Ivan, but none of them mattered anymore. All that mattered to him now was staying with Ivan. They will still fight, but as long as Ivan stays by his side, Till will be okay.