twotimed
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Summary
The bastard was bandaged like a mummy, his usually perfectly styled hair still had chunks of blood in it and he looked paler than a ghost, but somehow, annoyingly, he managed to look handsome all the same… how had he not noticed that before?
As he thought of that, he traced the line of his bottom lip with one of his fingers, absent-mindedly.
There were other things he didn't realize before, it seemed.
The before and after of the (successful!) rescue mission. Ivan was ready to die for his love, and Till had a lot on his mind.
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“When I get famous, I’ll steal you away from them. Then you can study something you actually like. Not this… Business shit.”
“I’ll be the great Till’s little housewife?” Ivan teases, and that grabs Till’s attention away from his frustration. The frown on his face turns into fond annoyance.
Despite his expression, Till’s response is genuine, “If that’s what you want,” he says, before smiling, small and soft, “or you could study the stars. Teach me what they mean the next time the sky’s clear enough to see all of them.”
Ivan softens, looking at Till with the warmest look in his eyes, “You don’t want to just learn them yourself?”
“Things are better when you say them.” Till says, earnestly. Ivan is gripped with affection, and the need to pepper kisses all over his face.
(But he can’t. He hasn’t been able to for months. It’s starting to drive him insane.)
or;
Ivan tries to survive college with his only support system miles away from him. It goes as well as you think.
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Maybe in another life, Till wouldn’t have had the time or the capacity to comprehend how Ivan’s fucked up little head works. Maybe in that life, they would have never known how it felt to love and be loved in return.
But that life isn’t this life, and Till knows everything there is to know about Ivan, and he loves him. He loves him so much that it aches on most days when he can’t be around him, his heart not being able to carry the love he couldn’t pour into the other half of his soul.
Okay, that’s pretty cheesy, Till thinks, as he makes a mental note to write it down for the next song he writes about Ivan.
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Or, Ivan and Till in a much kinder world.
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“They should’ve at least let me kiss you back,” Till complains against Ivan’s lips, earning a soft laugh that he feels through his body.
“Mm. It could have been sadder that way, maybe,” Ivan replies, giving Till one last soft kiss awfully reminiscent of the one from the act. Subconsciously, his grip on Ivan’s arms tighten, thumbs finding their way over his wrists until he can feel a pulse.
or: round 6 but they’re actors because i’m in agony. it still bothers till a little, though.
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“Ivan,” Till says, finally, his voice soft and rough. The bed creaks, sheets rustling. There’s hardly any light in the room, but when he feels warm hands upon his shoulder, he sinks into the touch, leaning forward to nuzzle his nose into Ivan’s neck. His scent is of their shampoo, and his skin is cool to the touch. It’s a good contrast to the way Till is always burning up, and he melts into Ivan’s embrace. “You’re here.”
“I’m here.”
Till dreams of Ivan's death, in another world, in another life. But in this one, Ivan is alive, and he's here to make sure Till knows it.
Series