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Till has a problem.
Well, it’s not really his problem. But it does affect him, thus making it partly his problem.
Every year Ivan gets hounded by his admirers on Valentines Day, which also happens to be his adoption day and, as a result, a stand-in for his otherwise unknown day of birth. On such day each year, Ivan is forced to take on a frankly obscene amount of chocolate. For the entire day, Ivan’s schedule is reduced to the act of being pulled aside to accept offerings from countless giggly, blushy girls from all around the school over and over and over.
Till has watched it happen every year for the entire span of time he has known Ivan—which is practically forever.
Till’s problem isn’t with the amount of chocolate that Ivan gets, or the innumerable half-baked love confessions Ivan receives along with them, or even the way that he has to stand around and wait on the sidelines for each never-to-be romance event to play out all day.
Till’s problem is the fact that within the entire female (and sometimes male, if he’s being honest) population of their school district, over the entire span of their patronage of schooling, not once has Ivan ever truly liked any of the chocolates given to him.
Ivan will carry home an absolute mountain of cocoa-based confectionery every year and Till bears witness to him quickly working his way through it like it isn’t a heart attack level amount of sugar.
Till will ask, “Well, how is it at least?” after Ivan has chowed down on the fifteenth handmade heart shaped chocolate in an hour and the answer will always consist of some combination of “hmm, not too bad”, “it’s fine”, “alright”, “not really for me”,or “passable”.
Ivan still eats them all though. He tells Till it’s to honour the effort the gifter put into making them for him, but Till wonders if it is because his guardians don’t keep any sweets in the house. They keep a tight handle on Ivan’s diet and never has Till seen anything classified as junk food in their cupboards the few times he’s gone wandering, looking for snacks amidst their regular sleepovers.
Regardless, Till has had enough of seeing his best friend settle for mediocre birthday valentines chocolates! He’s grown a palpable dislike for the girls who gift him the same shit every year without even getting to know Ivan and his tastes! How can they claim they have ‘fallen in love’ with him, as they so profess, and then gift him a salted caramel chocolate?! The audacity!
Ivan’s sweet tooth is so outside the realm of normal people’s scales that any of the things Till has tried that were to Ivan’s taste, while out on their totally-not-dates, were so loaded up on syrups and straight up sugar that it brought tears to Till’s eyes and nearly made him spit them out immediately upon first contact with his tongue.
Ivan’s palette holds space for sugar and sugar alone. Ivan’s tastes might make a normal person’s tongue wither and die from sweetness overdose, but Ivan’s profile will practically fill with sparkles and blooming anime roses as toothache-inducing sweetness melts on his tongue.
For this reason, it upsets Till to watch Ivan’s blank face as he eats his way through his February gifts every year without a single outstanding response to any.
Ivan deserves better. He may be a perverted, aggravating bastard 99% of the time in Till’s opinion, but everyone deserves to receive gifts they actually like in their lifetime.
Every dark chocolate or coffee flavoured item gifted to Ivan is palmed off to Till due to the older’s refusal to eat any versions of chocolate that don’t purely consist of hyper energy and cavities.
Till makes a mental note of all the girls who gifted Ivan such items so outside of his tastes that he won’t even touch them. Later, those same girls wonder what they possibly could have done to piss off their grey haired classmate for him to glare so angrily at them unprovoked.
In summary, Till has put it upon himself to make the perfect Valentine's chocolates as Ivan’s Birthday/Adoption Day gift this year, to make up for all the years of shitty chocolate Ivan has had to endure. He'll show Ivan what it means to get a gift from someone who actually sees him and cares enough to know what he does and does not like.
Purely as his best friend, of course.
Now, Till has never made chocolate before but it surely cannot be that hard. Till grew up helping Io in the kitchen and developed a love for cooking along the way. All he has to do is find a good recipe online and use that to make his chocolates for Ivan.
He decides to utilise the kitchens at school for access to the high quality equipment. He asks the hospitality teacher in advance if he can borrow the room after school and gets the go ahead as long as he cleans up after himself.
The next day, Till brings all the ingredients he needs with him to school and safely stashes them in the cooking room before Ivan gets a chance to sniff out the cocoa in his bag.
Luckily, Ivan is occupied with a family dinner the night before Valentine’s Day, celebrating his adoption day in advance.
Perfect, Till thinks to himself as Ivan whines into his shoulder, he gives the man a consolatory pat on the back while his mind wanders to how everything is falling into place for his plan.
Later that day, Ivan resumes his resting position draped across Till and murmurs, “Why have you been so fidgety today? Are you confessing to someone tomorrow?”
Till startles and tries to push Ivan off of him, “Fuck off! Do I look like a girl in love to you? Who exactly would I be confessing to?”
Ivan laughs at Till’s usual feistiness returning and admonishes him teasingly, “Till, that’s reinforcing gender stereotypes, anyone can confess to anyone on Valentines Day despite their gender presentation. How unwoke of you.”
Till feels his face flush, “I know that, asshole! I didn’t mean it like that!”
Ivan laughs again at how easy it is to rile Till up and Till realises he’s being played, “Man, fuck you.” He quietly adds, “Ungrateful bastard. You’ll see.”
Till stomps away as the bell for class rings. He delivers a pointed glare towards Ivan, leaving the black haired man confused regarding what had just transpired and what Till could possibly mean with that final addition to their back and forth.
Till has been expertly goaded into trying Ivan’s abominations of sweetness on too many occasions.
He thinks back to every disgustingly sugary smoothie, frappe, and milkshake Ivan has made him try over the years. Till knows that Ivan has a preference for strawberry flavours, the sweeter the better. Till shudders at the memories of each item of Ivan’s he has sampled.
Ivan will often order the strawberries and cream ice cream from their local shop during the summer and load it up with an excessive amount of toppings. Ivan had used his golden tongue to manipulate Till into trying this concoction once. When all the clashing flavours mixed together in his mouth, Till had to turn away to spit into a napkin, frantically handing the spoon back to Ivan.
In his haste, Till had missed Ivan sticking the used spoon back into his mouth, devoid of any new ice cream.
Mizi eyes the chocolate-making supplies suspiciously as she enters the hospitality room, having noticed the light was still on as she was about to leave.
She swallows thickly and asks with a measured bubbly tone, “What’re you up to Till?”
Till continues deftly measuring out some sort of liquid extract from a bottle. Mizi can smell the sweetness from across the room. She fights the urge to sneeze.
Till doesn’t look up from what he is doing as he answers, “Hey Mizi. I’m making Ivan’s birthday gift.”
Mizi waits.
But nothing happens.
Till doesn’t bashfully stutter or even turn the slightest bit red–much too engrossed in his work to worry about Mizi’s appearance.
Mizi blinks at Till’s even tone and kept composure. A moment passes before she returns to her senses. She breathes out a sigh of relief in discovering that the recipient of the chocolates is not, in fact, herself.
Her sidetracked mind means it takes an extra moment for Till’s answer to fully sink in and make sense in her brain.
“You’re making Valentine's chocolates for Ivan?!”
Till drops the utensil in his hand with a loud clang on the metal benchtop. He whips around to refute her accusation, the usual pinkness returning to his features, “No! They’re for his adoption—”
She isn’t listening though, instead she’s staring down the heart molds that are currently half filled so Till can put the strawberry filling in before he properly encases them.
“Till!” she squeals. “That’s so cute! Oh my god, Ivan will love them!” She sighs lovingly, “Ah, how romantic.”
Till’s face further fills with colour.
“Mizi! They’re not Valentine's chocolates!”
Mizi giggles at his defensiveness and bounces out of the room as quickly as she arrived.
“Good luck with your confession!” she yells from down the hallway, skipping away.
Till is unable to chase after her to convince her otherwise while his chocolates are halfway done. He resorts to taking a deep breath to calm his racing heart and resumes completing the final steps for Ivan’s gift. His very platonic, birthday gift.
He promises himself he will defend himself further later on. His flushed state and elevated heart rate are simply from getting worked up from Mizi’s teasing. Nothing else.
An hour later, Till pops one of his test chocolates into his mouth and flinches at the wave of sweetness.
Disgusting. Ivan will love them.
He sets everything up, ready to give to Ivan tomorrow morning and cleans up the kitchen as promised.
Later that evening, Mizi lays on her bed while Sua writes an assignment at the desk. Mizi pauses her TikTok doomscrolling to send Ivan their yearly tradition.
‘Good luck tomorrow Ivan!’ she texts, ‘Hopefully there are less of them this year than usual!’
Ivan responds immediately with a heart reaction and a swiftly typed, ‘Thanks, and same to you.’
Ivan and Mizi share a common dilemma in that numerous members of the opposite sex like to confess their love to them on Valentine’s Day each year.
Which is not generally a problem in and of itself for most people, but as a closeted gay and a spoken for lesbian respectively, the repeated headache every year does pose a certain amplified annoyance for the two individuals.
One heart-to-heart conversation between the pair led to them airing out their grievances regarding the entire holiday, and starting the tradition of wishing the other good luck each year after realising they could, unfortunately, relate to the other’s predicament.
‘You know they only see me for my good looks. And! They don’t even care that I’m already dating Sua either!’ Mizi vents.
Ivan types back, ‘Okay, don’t flatter yourself too hard.’
Mizi giggles to herself and sends him a middle finger emoji.
“What’s funny honey?” calls Sua.
“Just Ivan calling me ugly.”
“Tell him to eat a dick.”
Mizi gives Sua a look over the rim of her phone screen.
Sua sighs, “Right, tell him to go eat out a woman or something then, I don’t know.”
Mizi messages back, ‘Don’t forget that your man was part of the issue too.’
Ivan’s typing bubble animates for an extended timeframe, ‘Yeah, but he’s harmless. He could hardly string together a sentence in front of you. He wasn’t really trying to date you. When you spoke to him back then I don’t think he was able to take in even a single word you said to him.’
Mizi laughs again. She does distinctly remember telling Till that she thought men were gross the first time he tried to make a move on her and him absently nodding along, oblivious to anything she was saying.
Mizi’s nails click on her phone screen as she responds, ‘I’m so glad he’s not like that anymore. The moment he realises he’s bi I think he will be even easier for me to talk to.’
‘Consider yourself warned, I can’t guarantee he won’t try to give you a valentine's gift tomorrow.’
Mizi bites the inside of her cheek as she fails to hide her grin at her insider knowledge, ‘Nah, I spoke to him earlier today. He isn’t giving me anything this year.’
Ivan notices Mizi’s specific phrasing but refrains from asking who, if anyone, Till is actually giving a gift to this year. He’d rather not know.
There is a pause before Ivan finally types back, ‘I’ve gotta go Mizi. My dad is calling for me.’
‘Ivan.’ Mizi types seriously, before he goes offline, ‘Try not to stress too much about tomorrow. I have a hunch that this year won’t be as bad as other years.’
Ivan powers his phone off to that strange message and goes to complete his social obligations as his father’s son.
On the morn of Valentines Day, Till asks Io to teach him how to tie a nice bow for his box of chocolates for Ivan.
She takes in his flighty nervousness and shows him how to weave the ribbon into a pretty shape with a gentle smile adorning her face.
She spies the name written on the small cardstock to accompany the gift but doesn’t comment on it.
Once he’s gotten the hang of tying the ribbon Io pulls him into a hug and wishes him luck.
Till turns his usual pink and jogs out the door to beat Ivan to school.
The students are loud. More so than normal. There’s an aura in the air promising that today is more special than other regular school days.
Numerous people anxiously grasp gifts, waiting for their special someone to arrive at school. Till slinks past the crowds and moves to where Ivan’s driver drops him off each morning. Luckily, Till has managed to beat the older boy as intended. He waits patiently, secure in the knowledge that Ivan’s driver will be there soon, prompt, as he is every day.
Till wipes his sweaty palms on his school pants.
As Ivan pulls up and steps out of the back of the car, Till finds himself reeling from the quickening of his heartbeat and the racing of his thoughts. What the fuck is wrong with him?
His tongue has turned to cotton.
He’s sweating.
He tries to address Ivan but finds himself faltering, face burning.
There’s no other possible reason for it, Till must be dying.
Ivan quirks an eyebrow at Till standing there, still and silent. It’s odd for Till to be early to school, not to mention quiet and placid.
“Good morning Till. Did you need me for something?” Ivan laughs lightly, unsure what Till’s appearance signifies.
Till mumbles something under his breath quietly, but Ivan can’t make out the words. Ivan steps closer as he bids farewell to his driver.
“Sorry, what was that? Till?”
The quiet boy finally drags his eyes up from the floor and meets Ivan’s gaze. He unveils a wrapped present of some sort from behind his back.
“I said, this is for you...” Till’s voice is tiny and he is red all over, flustered.
Ivan has half a mind to search around and check if Till has spotted Mizi somewhere nearby.
“For me?” He repeats instead, in a disbelieving tone.
“Yeah,” Till murmurs, “for your adoption day.”
Placed in Ivan’s shaky hands is a non-descript box with a delicate hand-tied bow keeping it carefully closed. The name ‘Ivan’ is scribbled on a small placard hanging off the ribbon.
Ivan softly slides the bow off of the box without disturbing the intertwined layers that make up the decorative knot. He slips it into his pocket subtly.
But not subtly enough, Till watches carefully and feels his chest stutter at the gentle care Ivan treats all parts of the gift with.
The chocolates are lined up nicely in the box. They almost look store bought except for the tiny imperfections that give away the labour of love that went into the creation of each one. Till stares down at the revealed heart shaped sweets and undergoes an emotional revelation that is much overdue.
Ivan unwaveringly pops a chocolate into his mouth and upon first bite realises the flavour is like nothing he has had given to him before. It tastes like his custom milkshakes, like his ice cream order. It’s perfect, and ruins all other chocolates for him for the rest of his life.
“You made these?” he chokes out.
Till wrings his hands together and picks at a thread sticking out from the bottom of his school shirt. Till nods his head minutely, discovering his gaze has gravitated to staring at the floor once again.
It’s quiet. Just the rustle of Ivan gripping the box and him silently considering the flavours on his tongue as he chews.
Till only manages to look up again when two wet droplets hit the concrete at their feet, breaking his stare. The drops glisten atop the grey sidewalk, directly below where Ivan is standing.
Like time is moving in slow motion, Till tracks their trajectory up to Ivan’s face and finds that the man in front of him is crying. Two wet lines frame his cheeks as Ivan continues to chew the strawberry filled chocolate
“Ivan?” Till whispers.
He’s never seen Ivan cry before, the older seeming to have always had a handle on his emotions for as long as Till has known him.
It’s a surreal sight. And Till doesn’t know what to do.
Ivan swallows the dessert, “Thank you Till. I love them.” The tears continue to flow down his face as he thanks Till.
“You’re welcome.” He meekly responds on auto-pilot as his mind bends to understand what it is telling him, sifting through all of his memories to view them through the lens of his sudden earlier epiphany.
“That–” Till stumbles on his words, swallowing the lump in his throat as he realises how stupid he has been for so long, “That was your adoption day gift.” Till says, steeling his resolve before he chickens out, “I’ve got one more gift for you, but you’ll have to close your eyes for this one.”
Ivan studies Till’s bashful countenance, as well as his beautiful green eyes filled with trepidation, and lets his eyelids drop.
Till steps up to Ivan and, on his tip toes, delivers the chastest, softest little peck of a kiss on Ivan’s lips.
“Happy Valentine’s Day Ivan,” Till squeaks.
Ivan shifts his box of precious sweets, created from Till’s lovely act of service, that showcase how closely Till knows Ivan and how he sees him like nobody else gets to, to one hand and pulls Till back in for a second kiss. Ivan threads his fingers through Till’s hair and guides him to tilt his face to the most compatible angle for them to continue to drag out the kiss.
They pull away to stare into each other's eyes, breathing heavily, the smallest bit of height that Ivan has on Till more apparent than ever before, much to Till’s annoyance.
“Go out with me,” Ivan pleads directly into Till’s ear.
Till’s answering ‘okay’ is faintly murmured between them as they fall into place for their third kiss of many, many more to follow.
When the school bell rings and Till has to forcefully pull Ivan’s hand out from sneaking up the back of his shirt, the true magnitude of what Till has just allowed upon his life hits him with terrifying clarity.