Effortful Coverup

Posted originally on the Archive of Our Own at http://archiveofourown.org/works/64147051.

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Archive Warning: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Category: M/M
Fandom: Alien Stage (Web Series)
Relationships: Ivan/Till (Alien Stage), Mizi & Till (Alien Stage)
Characters: Ivan (Alien Stage), Till (Alien Stage), Mizi (Alien Stage), Luka (Alien
Stage)
Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Coffee
Shops & Cafés, Slice of Life, Slow Burn, Eventual Romance, Fluff, Till
is Bad at Feelings (Alien Stage), Till Realizes Feelings For Ivan (Alien
Stage), POV Till (Alien Stage), Oblivious Till (Alien Stage), Pining Ivan
(Alien Stage), Ivan (Alien Stage) Tries, Friends to Lovers, Minor
Mizi/Sua (Alien Stage), Ivan and Sua are Siblings (Alien Stage), Mizi
and Till are Best Friends (Alien Stage), Established Mizi/Sua (Alien
Stage), Fake/Pretend Relationship
Language: English
Stats: Published: 2025-03-25 Completed: 2025-04-10 Words: 27,331 Chapters:
9/9
 Effortful Coverup
by Frost5ive

Summary

How did Mizi convince Till to work at the cafe again? Oh, right. Because he's a broke
university student who could really use the pay.

But serving up coffee whilst dressed in a maid bunny outfit? That's crossing the line a little.
Also, who the hell is that pretty rich-looking guy who keeps staring at him during his shift?

Notes

Welcome back to another Alien Stage fic! It's a lighthearted one, after my previous two fics.
Hope you enjoy it!
 Chapter 1

“How did I let you convince me to do this again?” Till grits out. He hasn’t stopped blushing
since he put on his work-mandated outfit, consisting of an embarrassing assortment of a few
of the kinkiest pieces of garments he can imagine in his innocent brain. Fluffy bunny ears
poke out from his mop of silver hair, with a complementary puffball sewn onto his frilly maid
dress where his posterior would be. Black stockings wrap tight around his legs, stretched so
thin that Till thought it’d tear. Also, he’s going to have problems walking around in this pair
of shiny black heels.

“Because you’re broke and in need of some quick cash?” Sua says, and Till hates to admit
she’s pulling off the exact same look much more gracefully and flawlessly than he ever
could. He also knows the real reason that Mizi managed to talk him into applying for this
part-time job despite its obvious caveats, but he can’t bring himself to think it, let alone say it
aloud. “Besides, who knows, you might find someone who is into you and have your
whirlwind romance.”

“Might I remind you the main clientele of this establishment are twenty-year-old horny
guys?” Till hisses. Kitty Kat Kafe is situated on campus, right in the middle of the university,
the nexus of student hubbub. And who knows why it’s called Kitty Kat when they’re dressed
up as bunnies. “And who said I wanted a whirlwind romance?”

“Oh, you’ll be fine,” Mizi says, swatting his shoulder. “We get some ladies coming in too.”

Till sighs for the umpteenth time that day. It’s only his first day of work—he hasn’t even
gone out to the floor yet—and he’s already sweating buckets. He thought it’d be fine, no
biggie, it’s for the cash, after all, but it’s now that he’s actually standing here dressed in this
unnecessarily provocative outfit that he begins to have second thoughts. Well, he probably
won’t be ogled, but he’d still garner stares from others, given that he’s the only man—to his
knowledge—on the floor. The only other male worker and also the owner, Dewey, mainly
handles the beans and other supplies in the back.

“It’s almost time for our shift!” Mizi says, shoving Till roughly towards the door. Till swears
one of the stockings tore. “Get out there and break a leg, Till!”

And just like that, Till finds himself standing at the entrance of the breakroom, staring at the
café bustling with hungry students—in more ways than one—at noontime.

That man has been staring at him. Till’s noticed him sitting at a booth by the window since
his shift started, and it’s almost three. Eighty percent of the time, Till can feel his penetrative
gaze on his person. Sure, he hadn’t been as forward as the other men who’d come on to either
Mizi or Sua, but boy, did he stay the longest.

There’s no denying his eye-catching appearance, shiny black hair slicked back for a full view
of his pale forehead. High cheekbones accentuate the sharpness of his eyes as black as his
hair, eyes that follow Till as Till bumbles about, serving coffee, tea, and treats to their
patrons. If not for his youthful face, Till would have thought he’s a fully-fledged office
worker, or a businessman high up on the corporate ladder.

Because what kind of student would wear a damn suit—complete with the tie, mind—to
university?

Even at five p.m., when Till is about to knock off, that man is still there . His laptop lid is
flipped shut, his coffee that must now be lukewarm is half-drunk, and he’s staring directly at
Till with what Till can only describe as a lecherous smirk.

Men like him need to stay far, far away from Till. On one hand, Till is not gay. At least, he
doesn’t think so. On the other, someone making that sort of expression must have only one
thing in their head, as smartly-dressed as they are, and it is this kind of people that Till wants
nothing to do with.

He pretends not to notice, hurrying back to their breakroom. He’ll change out of this skimpy
outfit, grab his bag, and flee for his dorm, and he’ll tell Dewey he wants to resign tomorrow.
This was a mistake, and there are lengths that he would go to for Mizi, his past crush, but this
is too far past that boundary. He has his dignity to preserve too, dammit!

“How was your first day?” Mizi asks, as she emerges from the bathroom in a sweater and
slacks, her maid costume in hand. “It wasn’t that hard, was it? That’s an easy fifty-five
thousand won in your bank account.”

Mizi’s heart must be tempered steel if she found that easy . Till had never felt more self-
conscious in his life, so aware of everyone’s gazes and whether they were directed at him.
Peak hours had him focusing on orders, but after that…

There was that man. Who kept staring. Brazenly , Till might add, with no shame whatsoever .
And why are his thoughts circling back to this ogler—

“Hey.”

Till stiffens once he steps out of the café’s back door. He gapes at the very same man
standing at the entrance of the alleyway, his arms folded, a small smile—or is it a smirk—on
his face. Till fidgets with the strap of his messenger bag.

“Oh, I remember you! Caramel macchiato guy!” Mizi cries, a wide smile on her face that
makes Till suspicious.

“Yes, caramel macchiato guy,” the man says, and his silky-smooth voice sends shivers up
Till’s spine. “My name’s Ivan. Pleased to meet you. I have some business to discuss with
your friend over there.”

“This one, or this one?” Mizi asks, jabbing thumbs at both Till and Sua. Sua harrumphs,
glancing away.

“That one,” Ivan says, and Till’s heart sinks at Ivan’s finger pointed in his direction.
Till snaps, “And I have nothing to discuss with you . I’m leaving.”

“Maybe you should hear him out,” Sua says, and she grabs hold of Mizi’s hand. “Whatever
he wants to say seems important.”

“What!” Till cries, affronted.

“Well, we’ll be nearby if you need us,” Mizi says, and Till swears he sees her wink at Ivan.
“Just holler, and we’ll come running.”

“Hey!” But Till’s shout falls on deaf ears as Mizi and Sua take off down the street, leaving
Till with Ivan. Till would have run after them if he had the gall to leave Ivan all by himself in
the street, though the possibility that he was in cahoots with Mizi severely encouraged the
thought. He sighs, and he peers up at Ivan, whose dark eyes sparkle so brightly, pupils tinged
with the slightest hint of red.

Till wouldn’t call his gaze perverted. Perhaps something more akin to curiosity. He folds his
arms, narrowing his eyes and giving Ivan the best glare that he’s got. “You have thirty
seconds to—”

“Will you be my boyfriend?”

Till blanches. Jaw goes slack. Has more than half a mind to storm away because—

“Not my actual boyfriend,” Ivan says, but the faint dusting of pink on his cheeks is not
helping his case. “I mean, as a fake boyfriend. A plus one.”

Till keeps up his suspicious glare. Letting his guard down would only spell bad things for
him down the line. “And… why me, specifically?”

“Because you’re exactly my ideal type,” Ivan says, and Till curses the flush creeping up his
cheeks. Then again, anyone would blush if some handsome stranger told them outright that
they’re his ideal type, right? “So, my family are more likely to believe me when I tell them
you’re my boyfriend.”

“Why should I believe you? You could be a kidnapper for all I know.”

“I’ll pay you for your services.”

That gets Till’s attention. “How much?”

Ivan smiles, and Till hates the fact that mention of money lures him in so easily. Seriously, he
should play harder to get. At this rate, Sua’s going to call him a gold digger. “As much as you
want. A hundred thousand won per session?”

That’s slightly less than double what Till’s earning now, for five hours a shift at the café. And
he’d just have to sit there and make small talk with Ivan’s relatives. Still, the fact that he
proposed a rate instead of a simple price probably means that he’d need Till to accompany
him more than once, right? “Two hundred thousand.”
“As you wish.”

Till hadn’t expected Ivan to agree so readily. He thought the man would hesitate, ever so
slightly. Yet, Ivan seems chipper than ever, with nary a sign of displeasure in his relaxed
smile, skin around his eyes crinkling at the corners. “Right, for this to work, I’m going to
need your number.”

Till holds out his hand. “Phone.”

He types his number into Ivan’s contact list, saving it under his name, and he hands the
device back to him. “There. No contacting me other than for the session, okay? Any extra
texts and I will charge you for those too.”

“What do you define as extra?” Ivan asks, tapping away at his phone. Oh, so now that he’s no
longer asking Till for a favour, he’s treating him like he’s invisible? “Can I text you good
morning and good night?”

Till gags. “Who the hell does that?”

Ivan winks. “Well, if we’re to be boyfriends, it’ll make things more believable. We should go
out some day, preferably before the wedding, and get to know each other. It would be weird if
I didn’t even know your age or what major you’re in.”

“I’m twenty-one, and I’m doing Music.”

“We’re the same age, then. I’m in Business, with a minor in Entrepreneurship.” Ivan holds
out a hand, and Till shakes it. “Looking forward to working with you, Till.”

“Sure.” Till’s not going to get overly friendly with someone whom he’s going to pretend to be
a boyfriend for. This is purely business; he’ll go with Ivan to the wedding, play nice in front
of Ivan’s relatives, answer some probably invasive questions, and get paid four hundred
thousand won by the end of it. Maybe a few extra thousand for every unnecessary message
that Ivan sends him. He’s warned the man, after all.

“Great. So, as your new boyfriend, shall I walk you home?”

A full-body shudder passes through Till. “We’re fake boyfriends. Don’t get ahead of
yourself.”

“Then,” Ivan says, in the same sly lilt that tingles Till’s spine, “I’ll take my time.”

Why the fuck did I do that?

Till buries his head in his pillow to muffle his regretful whines. It’s the only thing on his
mind on the five-minute walk from the café back to his dorm, and it plagues him even when
he was in the shower, weighing on his mind and chasing all other thoughts out of his head
when he tries to write his essay on trot musicians.
He glances at his phone on the nightstand. It has not buzzed at all, the only messages being
those sent from Mizi, asking whether he’s okay. Till ends up shooting her a short reply—no
need to worry about him, but the concern is appreciated. Sua didn’t even bother, but she’s
probably hanging out with Mizi anyway, so Mizi’s message speaks for the both of them.

A sudden buzz jolts Till, and he quite literally jumps. He snatches his phone up, sees the
unknown number on his phone screen, and he squints at the message in his notifications bar.

Unknown: Hello? Is this Till?

Unknown: I’m so sorry if he gave me your number.

A sudden sheen of cold sweat lines on Till’s forehead. Why didn’t he think about giving Ivan
a false number? He should have, then he wouldn’t have to do this, even if it’s for four
hundred thousand won.

Technically, Till could pretend to be an unsuspecting victim, and he could blow Ivan off if he
wanted to. That said, he doesn’t know whether Ivan would track him down at the café, or at
the arts building, considering he’s just, once again, stupidly told Ivan his major.

God, Till should really stop getting himself into these kinds of situations. He needs to
smarten up, pronto.

But then again, this is four hundred thousand won they’re talking about.

Me: This is Till.

He hopes he didn’t just commit another idiotic mistake that he would soon come to regret. He
quickly saves Ivan’s number in his contacts. Purely for business purposes, of course. He even
adds “(Business)” behind Ivan’s name.

Ivan (Business): Hi Till!

Ivan (Business): When are we gonna meet up?

Me: Send me the details of the wedding first.

Ivan (Business): Playing hard to get?

Till makes a mental count of the number of unnecessary messages he’s sent. For now, it’s
one.

Ivan (Business): But okay, I did make a promise.

Ivan (Business): Date: 31 May, Time: 9am-1pm, Venue: The Atria.

31 May is a Saturday, and Till resents having to get up early on a Saturday. For the four
hundred thousand won, he reminds himself. Wake up early on a Saturday for once in my life
and get four hundred thousand.
Till: Ok

Ivan (Business): Let’s meet up sometime, Till! How about this weekend?

Another unnecessary message… or is it? Ivan’s right—if they want to have any shot of
convincing Ivan’s family that they are dating, then they probably need to get used to each
other, and know more about each other than just their ages and major. As much of a chore as
it is, he should meet up with Ivan at least once before the actual event.

Till: Fine. But that’ll be another two hundred thousand won.

Ivan (Business): Saturday, 5pm. Let’s go get some fried chicken.

“So, how’d it go?” Mizi asks Till at lunch the next day, after their lecture. It’s just the two of
them, since Sua is meeting up with her groupmates to rush a project due soon. This is a rare
occurrence, and Till is determined to make the most of it. “What’d he ask for?”

“Um.” Heat creeps up Till’s cheeks, and he resists the urge to cover them. What’s he feeling
so hot and bothered for? “Because you’re exactly my ideal type,” Ivan’s voice echoes
unsolicited in his head, and Till wishes he can shut him out and never listen to it again.

Mizi peers at him curiously, waving her hand in front of his face. “Go on.”

“T-That’s… He, uh, asked to be my boyfriend.”

Silence prevails. Mizi blinks. It takes a grand total of three seconds for Till to realise what he
just said, and that it is in the best interests of his self-respect that he adds, “A fake boyfriend!
I mean, like, it’s a favour! Because he needs to attend a wedding, and his family is…”

Till trails off. Mizi takes a sip of water, her gaze never leaving him.

“His family is…?” she prompts.

“I think he told his family he’s dating someone, and he doesn’t want to go back on that
claim?”

“Why does that sound like a question?”

“Because I don’t know anything about him? Look, this is only business. It makes sense that I
barely know anything about him, right?”

Mizi giggles. Till’s heart flutters at the sound. She spears a chunk of her chicken, and she
holds it up to her mouth. “And you’re trying to convince his family that you’re dating when
you don’t know a single thing about him?”

“Well, I know his name is Ivan, he’s a Business major, and he’s the same age as us. Besides,
we’re meeting tomorrow. For fried chicken. So he can gimme all the info he needs me to
know.”
“Wait, so you agreed to it?”

Till does not know what to make of the faux shock in her voice. “Uh… yeah.”

“Good for you.” Mizi reaches over and pats his shoulder. “Good for you.”

Good for him? Till fails to see how it could be good for him in any capacity. Aside from the
four hundred thousand won he’s promised. Now that Till’s thinking about it in his right mind,
what kind of uni student can drop four hundred thousand won to pay for a fake boyfriend?
What if he’s being scammed?

“Anyway, class is starting in ten,” Mizi says. Her phone buzzes, and she immediately scoops
it up, scrolling through her notifications bar. “Come on, we don’t want to be late.”

Till shovels the last of his rice into his mouth, polishing the dish of chicken and tofu, before
dumping their plates into the bins in the corner of the cafeteria and following Mizi out the
door.

Ivan (Business): 20250329.img

Ivan (Business): Saw this dog today thought it looked like u!

Lying with his back flat on the bed, Till clicks on the image that Ivan sent him. It’s a picture
of a Pomeranian, head tilted at the camera, beady eyes wide, its mouth open and revealing
tiny teeth. It’s adorable.

Everything that Till is not and does not want to be called.

Till: I do NOT look like that

Ivan (Business): Yes u do!

Ivan (Business): Looking forward to our date tomorrow!

Till resists the urge to throw his phone across the room. His fingers have never flown across
the keyboard so fast in his life as he types out a message to Ivan.

Till: You know we’re not really boyfriends right

Ivan (Business): Of course, this is all for the sake of deception

Ivan proceeds to send him a link to a fried chicken diner. Till narrows his eyes at the
storefront, because he knows exactly where it is. It’s right next to Kitty Kat, where he works.

Ivan (Business): I’ll see u after ur shift!

Till sends him a sticker of a middle finger, before putting his phone down on the nightstand
and resolving not to look at it till the sun comes up. Ivan has been occupying his thoughts
way too much lately, and it’s time to do a detox.

Yet, the next time his phone buzzes, he reaches for it out of curiosity, and is promptly greeted
with a massive sticker of a heart from Ivan.
 Chapter 2

Ivan’s here again. To be fair, Till should have expected as much.

At twelve p.m. sharp, when Till’s shift starts, Ivan strolls in, his satchel dangling from his
shoulder, once again dressed in a suit and tie. He settles down by the same booth at the
window, orders the same cup of iced caramel macchiato, this time adding on an order of
chocolate mousse cake. Till, unluckily, is the one who serves his table.

“Here you go,” Till says curtly, placing Ivan’s cup and cake on the table. Ivan’s laptop is open
to a document, filled with graphs and charts that Till won’t understand even if he tried.

Ivan leans back against his seat, and he flashes Till a winning smile. “Thanks. You look good
today. Absolutely ravishing, I dare say.”

Till has to physically hold his fist back from socking the man across the face. “Bastard.”

“Uh-uh. Is that how a maid should speak to his master?”

Till doesn’t know what sort of face he made, but it must be something grossly ridiculous if
Ivan throws his head back and bursts into laughter.

“I’m kidding,” Ivan says. “But, God , you’re so funny.”

Till kicks him under the table. Ivan yelps, his knee slamming into the underside of the table.
The caramel macchiato sloshes about, almost splashing over the rim of the cup. Nearly
everyone in the establishment turns to stare at the commotion. Till’s face grows as red as a
tomato, suddenly aware of the spotlight on the both of them.

“Is everything okay?” Mizi asks, hurrying over, and shame paints Till’s cheeks even redder.
God, he did not need Mizi to see him like this.

“I’m fine. Totally deserved, honestly.” Ivan winces, rubbing at his shin where Till’s foot
connected with his leg. “Don’t blame Till for this.”

Mizi huffs, and she ushers Till away with a hand on his shoulder. Her expression has become
oddly serious. “Well, if you harass our employee, I’m going to have to report you to the boss,
sir.”

“Yeah, I understand.” The playful smile is gone from Ivan’s lips too, and his eyes lose their
amused sparkle. “I’ll just finish this up and get going.”

“Come on, Till,” Mizi says, batting him towards the counter, “it’s your turn at the coffee
machine.”

Till has never been so embarrassed, and in front of so many people, at that. All he wants to do
now is to bury his head in the ground and pretend none of this exists. It’s bad enough that
he’s the only male bunny maid here, but to add this incident to the list?

“You okay?” Mizi asks, as soon as they’re behind the counter. “Do you want to leave? I could
just tell Luka you’re sick. Forget about that dinner later if he makes you uncomfortable.”

Till shakes his head. He’s twenty-one, for goodness’ sake. He can handle this himself. “I’m
okay. Really. And I’ll go to that dinner later. I made a promise.” And if nothing else, Till is a
man who sees all his promises through to the end.

“Okay, but if you ever find yourself in a bind, call me or Sua.”

Till nods. “Yeah, thanks.”

The rest of the shift passes by quickly. Like Ivan said, he promptly left after finishing his
cake and dessert. Till’s mind is taken off the incident as he takes orders after orders, serves
tables after tables. Even during the non-peak hours of three to four-thirty p.m., he’s
constantly on his toes, preparing lattes, mochas, Americanos, and more. By the time he
clocks out at five, he’s on the verge of collapse, his soles aching.

“When are you meeting him?” Mizi asks, once they change out of their attire.

Till slings his bag onto his shoulder, flinching when he puts weight on his feet. He should
swing by the pharmacy and get some muscle relaxant patches on his way back to the dorm.
“Now, actually. I gotta get going.”

“Want me to come with you?”

“Nah. If he tries anything, I’ll just contact campus security.”

“Okay, but you’ll call us too, right?”

Her concern puts a smile on Till’s face, and his heart beats just a little faster. Guess those
lingering feelings take longer to fade than he thought. “I will.”

Till opens the door of the backroom, but before he takes a step out, he pauses, hand still on
the knob. Because who else would be standing there, leaning against the wall next to the door
and staring up at the evening sky, but Ivan himself?

“What’re you…?” Till starts, and Ivan startles, springing away from his spot by the door, his
eyes going wide.

“We’re supposed to meet at five, right?” Ivan says, and his eyes flick down to Till’s wrist,
encircled by Mizi’s fingers.

“Yeah,” Till says, and he turns to Mizi. “See you tomorrow.”

“I’ll see you too!” Mizi calls, but she doesn’t leave, doesn’t stop watching them. Not until
Till and Ivan turn the corner of the street, headed for the fried chicken place.
Neither of them speak on the way there, even after they enter the crowded restaurant, and
they are led to the table. Till wishes the unbearable silence can suffocate him and save him
from this awkward situation.

“What do you want to eat?” Ivan asks, pushing a laminated menu to him. Till peers over the
words, his gaze gravitating towards the sheet of discounted items.

“Garlic soy, ten pieces.”

“Beer?”

“I don’t drink.”

Ivan orders for the both of them, getting a basket of ten pieces of gochujang wings for
himself, a plate of cheese balls, and a bottle of soju. Till wonders if the man would be able to
finish a whole bottle by himself. Mizi and Sua are usually knocked out after half each.

“So, um,” Ivan begins, running a hand through his hair. Till feels almost apologetic, then
hardens his features when he catches himself and reminds himself not to be. “For what
happened just now, I’m sorry. I said something out of line.”

Till blinks. This is unexpected. Ivan didn’t give off the impression that he was the type to
apologise. If anything, Till thought he’d say something inappropriate again, and he was
prepared to kick him if it came to that. Or make him pay for Till’s food. One of the options
sounds more enticing than the other.

“Oh, uh, sure. I mean, don’t worry too much about it,” Till babbles, and he’s suddenly
wondering if it’d be less awkward if Ivan were more offensive towards him. Though, that
makes it sound like Till can only respond with violence.

Ivan smiles. “I’ll work hard to be a worthy boyfriend, Till.”

“You sure you know we’re not actually boyfriends, right?”

“Yeah, of course. How was your shift today, after I left?”

“Ah, cut the crap,” Till hisses. “You want to know more about me, right? So? Start asking.”

Ivan nods, looking much too gleeful for this situation. His snaggletooth stands out when he
grins, a sharp canine protruding from his gum. “Okay, so, you’re Till, you’re twenty-one, and
you study Music. What kind of music do you like?”

“Usually rock and R&B, and a little bit of mainstream K-pop, but I’m good with whatever.
What about you?”

“I prefer some ballads and classical music myself.”

For some reason, that preference rather suits Ivan. If Ivan hadn’t told him that, Till would
have thought he liked those genres too. “Okay, next question.”
“Where do you usually hang out on campus?”

Till scratches his cheek. “I usually go back to my dorm room or the library after lessons.”

“Outside of that? The cafeteria? The field?”

“The music room. There’s a piano there that’s surprisingly not out of tune.”

“You play the piano?”

“When I’m thinking of new melodies. Sometimes. Or I’d use my guitar.”

“You performed at the talent show, didn’t you? Last semester?”

Till flushes, and he glances away. “Yeah, but like… I only did it because Mizi and Sua
wanted to do it. I can’t believe you remembered something like that. We didn’t even win.”

“But you were good enough that I remember your performance even now. That’s got to count
for something.”

Pressing his hands to his face, Till hopes to disguise just how embarrassed he feels. He can’t
bring himself to meet Ivan’s eyes, though he can feel Ivan’s gaze drilling holes into him. He
opens his mouth to ask Ivan to stop staring at him like that, because he’s blushing so much
that he thinks he’s about to burst.

Thankfully, the waitress arrives at that moment with their food, serving up two baskets of
crispy fried chicken drenched in the wonderful sweetness of soy garlic and gochujang sauce,
as well as Ivan’s bottle of beer and the plate of cheese balls. Till grabs one of his drumsticks,
and he takes a large chunk out of it.

“You like sweet things?” Ivan asks, pouring himself a shot of soju.

“Hmm, yeah,” Till utters absently, too focused on eating his chicken. “You like spicy food?”

“Can’t live without it.” Ivan chomps down on his chicken too, the sauce staining his hand an
orangey-red. “Kimchi, tteokbokki, I’d eat anything that has chili on it. What’s your favourite
food?”

“Jjajangmyeon, and tangsuyuk. And ice cream.”

“Cake?”

Till considers this. “Oreo cheesecake.”

The questions continue over food. Till tells Ivan about how he wants to become a music
producer when he graduates, that he has been friends with Mizi and Sua since they met
during freshman orientation, and that he once had a dog his mother named Tilly, after her
son. Till learns that Ivan is the rich son of ALNST Entertainment, and he’s set to become the
company’s CFO once he graduates, he’s been wanting to try skydiving and waterboarding for
a while now, and taking hot air balloons over the Turkish landscape and watching the
Northern lights up in Canada are on his bucket list.

Till isn’t sure he can remember all this. All he took away from that Ivan information session
is that he is the son of the current CEO of ALNST. And that he is loaded . No wonder he can
pay Till two hundred thousand per interaction.

“Is ALNST hiring?” Till asks nonchalantly, as he tosses the polished bones of his final wing
in the tiny bin. “You know, for music production or something?”

Ivan chuckles, but not in a mocking way. “Well, that depends. Do you want a spot?”

“Hell yeah.” Till grins lazily, leaning back against the seat. “Come on, seriously? ALNST?
You’re asking whether I want a job in the biggest entertainment company in Korea?”

“I can do it, you know,” Ivan says, and though Till may have said his line in jest, Ivan looks
dead serious. “Just say the word, and it’s yours.”

“Chill, I’m just kidding. I’d feel bad if I got in because I’m your friend or something,” Till
assures him, partly out of embarrassment, and partly afraid of the fact that he doesn’t think
Ivan is joking.

“I’m your friend?”

It’s hard to meet Ivan’s eyes when they sparkle like that. Till glances away, his next words
stuttering. “Uh, yeah, I guess? I mean, I’m helping you with this thing now, right?”

Ivan smiles the sort of mirthful smile that reaches his eyes, his snaggletooth catching on his
bottom lip. Till wonders why he’s so happy about it. “Yeah, you are. It makes sense for us to
be friends, then.”

They finish up their chicken, and Ivan downs the last gulp of soju in his bottle. With that, it’s
time to say goodbye.

“That’s two hundred thousand won,” Till says.

“I’ll transfer it to your account later. So, when’s our next meeting?”

“Thirty-first of May.”

Ivan pouts. “Twenty-ninth of March.”

“That’s tomorrow. Do you really have that much money to throw away?” And Till wants to
slap his forehead, because that is one of the stupidest questions he could have asked. Ivan is
the heir to ALNST. Of course , he’d have more than enough money to “throw away,” as he
put it.

Now that Till thinks about it, what was a guy like Ivan doing in a place like Kitty Kat Kafe
anyway? And what’s a guy like Ivan doing in this greasy fried chicken place on university
grounds? Shouldn’t he be eating somewhere posh, perhaps a restaurant on the seventieth
floor overlooking the skyline of Seoul as the sun sets behind the horizon… or something like
that?

“Sure, I do,” Ivan says, snapping Till from his thoughts of a romantic candlelit dinner with a
potential, future significant other. “So, does the twenty-ninth of March work for you?”

Till hums, mentally thinking about his schedule. “I’d be free in the morning, after my jog.
But I’m preoccupied from twelve onwards.”

“Morning’s good. Maybe I could join you on your jog?”

“Hmm. I don’t jog very far or very fast, though. You look fitter than me.”

Ivan coughs. “Looks can be deceiving.”

Till isn’t convinced, because there’s no way Ivan can maintain a body like that without eating
right or exercising. If that so happens to be the case, however, Till would be shaking fists at
the universe for blessing Ivan with all he ever needs to succeed in life. “Fine. Seven a.m., at
the lake.”

“S-Seven?”

“You don’t have to—”

“Seven a.m., got it! I’ll be there, Till!” Ivan says, showing him a thumbs-up. “You have to
wait for me, okay?”

Till merely waves as he heads off first. The talk with Ivan was refreshing, though there are
way too many things to keep track of. Ivan likes spicy food, matcha-flavoured sweets, and
the smell of lavender. He wants to visit Turkey and… Cambodia, was it? Or was it
California?

For four—no, six hundred thousand won—Till can do this.

That night, after stepping out of the shower, Till responds to Mizi’s message that was sent
about an hour ago, just after he started walking home after dinner. He plops onto the bed,
typing hurriedly to quell her worries. The mattress dips under his weight, dampening slightly
with the residual water still trickling down from his thighs.

Mizi: How did it go?

Me: It went fine.

Mizi: He didn’t try anything weird did he?

Me: Nah. He was surprisingly normal. I thought he’d be a creep.

Mizi: That’s good. Remember you can call me or Sua if anything happens, right?
Me: Yeah. Thanks.

Till flops onto his back, one arm thrown over his eyes. He hates worrying other people,
especially Mizi. She’s too nice for her own good, and Till can’t help but feel guilty every
time she asks after him. He’s twenty-one, for crying out loud. He can handle his problems
himself.

Then again, he can’t deny that her support is greatly appreciated.

Till’s phone buzzes again, and his heart warms at first, though that warmth quickly dissipates
into minor apathy.

Ivan (Business): Did you get back safe?

Ivan (Business): Let’s go somewhere nicer next time!

Ivan (Business): I can bring you to ALNST too :>

Me: That’s another two hundred thousand won.

Ivan (Business): I can give you as much as you’d like XD

Till sighs. Does Ivan really need him that badly? Surely, he can find someone willing to be
his boyfriend or whatever for his wedding, right? There are rent-a-boyfriend services out
there too, if Ivan is somehow unable to find another guy willing to do this for free. And that
notion seems implausible, if not outright impossible. Not with those idol-like looks of his.

Still, as money-grubbing as Till believes himself to be, he’s already feeling a twinge of
contriteness at Ivan’s offer of more. Perhaps after this whole thing, he should just return the
money. Yes, that’s the right thing to do, even if only to alleviate the weight on his
conscience.

Till hates mornings. He especially hates mornings when he has to jog. Don’t get him wrong
—Till doesn’t jog because he loves it. In fact, it’s the exact opposite. Till hates exercising,
prefers lazing about in bed and listening to his playlists over and over as he attempts to fall
back asleep. Then again, he’d probably sink into the life of a slob if he kept that up. And so,
he has devised a training regimen to keep him healthy, if not fit.

Probably not fit, but his point stands.

Till has been jogging around the university grounds for the last few years or so, three rounds
every morning, constituting five kilometres in total. He’s never found the willpower to
increase the distance, so five it stays.

He waits outside his dorm, tapping his foot and waiting for Ivan’s appearance. He did
promise to wait for him, but if Ivan doesn’t arrive in the next ten minutes, he’s starting
without him.
“Till!” Ivan waves vigorously, and he runs up to Till. As soon as he reaches Till, he sneezes,
elbow coming up to cover his nose. “It’s a little cold out here.”

“Yeah, that’s why we should start now,” Till says, and he gives Ivan a once-over. Ivan’s
dressed head-to-toe in black, his tank top exposing his lean arms, and his shorts show off a
pair of long slender legs. It makes Till jealous how he keeps this slim. Maybe this is his push
to increase that distance to five-point-five, or even six.

“Okay!”

“We’re going around the school, so we’ll end up right back here after three rounds. There are
some parts where we’d be running on the roads, so just be careful of any vehicles.”

“Okay!”

“Right, so… three, two, one.”

And they’re off.

 Chapter 3

At five hundred metres, Ivan starts to fall behind. Till slows his pace, and the only thought
that crosses his mind is that this is going to be a long run. Ivan looks like he’s on the verge of
collapse, sweat clinging to the ends of his soaked hair, his face stained a deep crimson, his
breaths ragged and rapid. Well, Ivan never claimed to be fit, said the contrary, actually, and
Till supposes it’s his fault for assuming so in the first place.

At one and a half kilometres, just slightly longer than one round around the school, Till
decides to ask him to stop between pants. “You should really rest up now. You can’t keep
going like this.”

Ivan must be too out of breath to even respond properly. But he shows no signs of stopping,
instead choosing to drag his feet onwards with each painful step. It’s agonising to even
watch. Why in the world is Ivan going so far? For their deal?

“Hey, hey.” Till stops, and he grabs Ivan’s arm. Ivan wobbles, stumbles, almost topples.
Concern gnaws at Till. “You should really stop. It’s not good for you if you keep going like
this.”

Ivan bends over, his hands on his kneecaps. Till rubs his back, one hand in front of Ivan in
case he falls over, though Till isn’t sure he’s strong enough to keep someone like him on his
feet. “Try to steady your breaths. Breathe in and out slowly. Breathe in.”

Ivan does as he’s told, sucking in a breath.

“And out.”

A gust of air whooshes around Till’s legs. Ivan greedily takes in another, his chest expanding,
his shoulders still shaking. They stay like this till Ivan can finally stand, his back
straightened. He puts his hands on his waist, and he lets out another shaky breath.

“Feeling better?” Till asks.

“Y-Yeah.” Ivan buries his face in his hands, pressing down lightly on his eyes. “How do you
even do this like… weekly?”

“Twice a week, and I gym most evenings. Except Saturday. Saturday’s my rest day.”

“Jeez.” Ivan sighs. “Sorry, I must have looked really embarrassing.”

“Ah, don’t be so down. Everyone starts out like that.”

“Did you start out like that?”

“Yeah. It’s pretty normal. But you shouldn’t push yourself to run more than you can. You
might end up fainting.”
Ivan frowns, and he peeks out at Till between the gaps in his fingers. Wonder dances behind
his eyes, and Till glances away, pretending not to see. This is supposed to be purely
contractual, only business. Why is Ivan looking at him in that way?

“Let’s… go and get some breakfast. Come on, I can sneak you some toast and eggs from the
dining hall.”

“Okay!” Ivan seems to have perked up, barely suppressing a grin as he lets Till lead the way,
tottering behind him. Till tosses a glance back once or twice, because he’s afraid that Ivan
would just keel over. He should get some fluids into him too, with how much he’s perspiring
even in the cooling spring air.

“Actually, do you want to go and shower first?” Till says. “Wouldn’t want to stink up the
whole dining hall.”

“Oh. But… I don’t live on campus.”

“There’s a shower in the gym, and… you know what? Never mind. Come with me, you can
use the shower in my room, and I’ll lend you some clothes.” Although, given their height
differences, Till doesn’t think his clothes would fit Ivan.

“You’re so considerate,” Ivan coos.

Till hates how weak he is to praise. He hopes that Ivan doesn’t see the flush on his face.
“Yeah, yeah, whatever.”

Till’s room is a mess, but if Ivan is bothered by it, he doesn’t seem to care.

“Wait here,” Till says, sitting Ivan down on a chair in the dining room, both hands on his
shoulders. Ivan’s body is hot, and Till’s hands come away sweaty. He wipes his palms on his
shorts, muttering something about Ivan being disgusting. It’s high time this man took a
shower.

Till waits at his desk as Ivan takes his time in the bathroom. Bathing has always been a five-
minute affair for Till, if not shorter. Ivan has spent a grand total of twenty minutes in there,
fifteen with the water running. When the door finally opens, there is already a butt-shaped
imprint on Till’s chair. Till grabs his clothes from the bed, and he saunters towards the
bathroom.

He smells Ivan before he sees him, the fragrance of lemon-scented shampoo filling the air. To
say that Till’s clothes are small is an understatement. A sliver of Ivan’s tummy peeks out
from under his tank top, and the hem of his trousers ends mid-calf for Ivan. Till’s spare towel
hangs around his neck, soaking up the water dripping from his hair. Now that Till gets a good
look at him, Ivan’s lanky, with next to no muscle on his person. What made Till think he
could run five kilometres?

“How do I look?” Ivan asks.

“The clothes are too small for you, so kinda like an oversized child.”

Ivan droops, and Till instantly feels bad. “Well, I like them. It’s very… you.”

Till’s eyelid twitches. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Ivan gestures at the skull on his tank top. “I think you’re the only person I know that’ll go for
something like this. Those kinda edgy, punk images.”

“If that’s all it takes to be edgy and punk, half the world would be edgy and punk.”

Till brushes past him, headed for the bathroom. He shuts the door, locks it, and he sheds his
clothes. Outside, he hears Ivan ambling about, footsteps loud and clear on the wooden floor.
He wonders what Ivan is doing, and maybe he should have told him to stay away from his
stuff before stepping in.

It’s strange that the bathroom already smells of his soap when Till hasn’t even showered.
Then again, this is just a one-time thing, so he doesn’t need to get used to it. He sheds his
clothes, hops into the shower stall, and he lets the water spray.

At this time of the day, the dining hall is surprisingly crowded. Abuzz with activity, students
queue for meals, sit at tables, chat with their friends, bantering over their breakfast. Till
guides Ivan to a table at the far corner of the dining hall, and he marches to the counter where
the food is being served.

Today’s menu is toast with jam, scrambled eggs, salad, and a cup of coffee or tea. It’s nothing
special, probably nothing that Ivan is used to. He gets coffee for himself, and tea for Ivan,
and he makes his way back to the table at the far end of the hall. Ivan is seated at the table,
scrolling Instagram on his phone.

“What are you looking at?” Till asks.

“My cousin’s account. He’s preparing for his wedding,” Ivan says, turning his phone towards
Till, full of pictures of his cousin—blond hair, wears all white in every selca he takes,
showing off wedding dresses, flowers, the venue, and more. For some reason, this cousin of
Ivan’s looks kind of familiar…

“Wait, is that Luka ?”

Ivan sighs. “Yeah.”

“ The Luka? Wait, so those rumours are real? Him and Hyuna are getting married?”

“Yeah. I still don’t know how he wooed her. And I still don’t know why Hyuna fell for this
idiot.”

Till can only stare at him, because how is he supposed to express the sudden exhilaration
running through his veins at being invited to his idol’s wedding? Ivan narrows his brows. Till
tries to contain the silly grin he hadn’t realised spread across his face.

“Seriously? You like him?”

“Duh, ’course! Most of my music’s inspired by his!” Till gushes. “Like Ruler of my Heart,
and Blink Gone, and, and—”

Ivan holds up a hand, the other pressed against his forehead. “Okay, okay, I get it. You like
Luka.”

“I like his songs,” Till says, and he takes a bite of his toast. “That’s different.”

Ivan picks up his toast, but Till can see a small smile ghosting his lips. What is Ivan all happy
about? He gets the urge to ask, yet at the same time, doesn’t know whether he wants the
answer.

It’s business as usual for Till after that. Ivan wanted to wait until Till has finished his classes
to grab lunch with him, but he looks like his consciousness is barely holding on by a thread,
with droopy eyelids, slumped shoulders, and a staggering gait. Till ends up ferrying Ivan to
his room, warns him not to touch anything, and lets him lie on the bed.

By the time Till has finished packing and is ready to leave, Ivan is out like a light. He faces
the wall, his back to Till, snoring peacefully under the covers. Till sighs, runs a hand through
his hair, and half-heartedly convinces himself that he’s just being kind, and that he’s not
making a mistake. With his bag slung over his shoulder, he heads out of his room, locking it
behind him.

Mizi is already in the lecture hall by the time he arrives, as are majority of the other students.
She ushers him into the seat she saved for him, placing her bag on the ground as Till plops
into the chair.

“What happened?” Mizi asks.

“A lot,” Till replies simply. “I’ll tell you at lunch.”

Two minutes later, the professor strides in, and they begin their lesson. Till peers over at the
small clock at the front of the theatre every few minutes, because leaving Ivan alone in his
room has Till antsy. His leg bounces, he can hardly focus on the lecture, and he constantly
checks his phone for vibrations, if, for some reason, Ivan has contacted him at all.

Just as the lecture concludes, the professor reminding them of their essay worth twenty per
cent of their grades due the following week, Till’s phone buzzes.

Ivan (Business): Where are you?

“Is that… Business? Why’s his name saved with ‘Business’?” Mizi asks, as she peeks over
his shoulder, her scores of notes in her hand as she packs up.
“Because it’s not like I’m going out with the guy.”

“Oh, but… you’re supposed to act like his boyfriend, right? If his relatives see that, then
wouldn’t that defeat the purpose? They’re gonna know straight away that you’re just doing it
for money.”

Till frowns. Mizi’s right. He’s been a fool. He edits Ivan’s contact, deleting the word
“(Business)” from the name.

“And… oh, you have to add some emojis too!” Mizi says, grabbing his phone. If it were
anyone else, Till would have ducked away, probably held it out of reach, but this is Mizi. And
so, what Mizi wants, Mizi gets.

But sometimes, that rule does not quite hold true.

“What? Like hell I’m gonna do that!” Till cries, snatching his phone back, deleting the three
heart emojis Mizi added next to Ivan’s name. At that moment, another message chimes in.

Ivan: Till! I’m boredddd. The door’s locked!

Mizi shoots Till a questioning glance. Till deigns to answer, instead typing out a quick “I’ll
be right there” text to Ivan.

“The door’s locked?” Mizi asks. “What door?”

“W-Well.”

“You locked Ivan in your room?”

Shame paints Till’s face red. “No! I mean, yes! Kinda? Look, I said I’d explain over lunch.”

“He slept over at your place?”

“I wouldn’t let him even if he paid me.” That’s half a lie. It depends on the sum Ivan’s
offering up, really.

Mizi waits for Till to finish packing his bag, stuffing his laptop haphazardly into his
messenger bag. They leave just as the next wave of students enter, jostling against the crowd
to exit.

“Look, I gotta be heading back,” Till says.

“Right. And I gonna go look for Sua,” Mizi says, a sly smile on her face. “So, lunch later? I’ll
text you when I’m done with my class.”

“Yeah, sure. See you.”

Mizi strides off first, humming a little tune as she goes. Till stares at her retreating back,
wondering when his crush on her faded. It wasn’t anything strong, not like those infernos of
passion that people describe yearning as, but just something simmering in his chest that made
his heart leap whenever he saw her. But even that has fizzled away to nothingness.

His phone vibrates again, tickling his thigh against which it rests. The vibration doesn’t stop,
and Till sighs when he sees that Ivan has chosen to call him.

“What?” Till says when he picks it up.

“Come back, Till! I’m bored! Besides, this is a fire hazard. Poor me would be trapped in here
with no way to escape.”

Till sighs, and he pinches the bridge of his nose. “Fine, fine. Give me, like, five minutes. I’m
already on the way.”

“Okay! I’ll see you at home, honey.”

“Ew. Never say that again.”

Ivan giggles, and Till hangs up. How strange it feels to have someone tell him that, to know
that he’d be returning to his room, and someone would be there. And why did Ivan have to
say that word, sending tingles down his spine?

He hurries back to his dorm, his cadence faster than it would usually be.

Till turns the key in the lock. The moment he opens the door, he is greeted with the sight of
Ivan lounging on his bed, a stack of comic books next to him. Ivan thumbs through the pages,
apparently so absorbed in the story that he didn’t even notice Till’s return.

So much for looking forward to him coming home.

“Put those back,” Till huffs.

Ivan springs up from the bed, tossing the book back onto the stack. He practically flings
himself at Till, throwing his arms around him and crushing Till to him. Till gasps for breath,
flailing his arms and desperately trying to get this oversized puppy dog off him.

“Till, you’re back!” Ivan cries.

“Get off me!” Till snaps, managing to land a punch on his shoulder. Ivan whimpers,
withdrawing and rubbing the spot where he was socked. “Anyway, now you owe me eight
hundred thousand won.”

Ivan grins lazily. “Anything you want, Till. Anything you want.”

Rich people really have a different frame of mind, tossing money around like it solves all
their problems. Admittedly, most of the time, it does. Because if Ivan is offering up money,
who is Till to say no, despite the conflict raging in him? Why is he such a slave to
capitalism?
“Anyway, now that you’re awake, you can get out,” Till says. “I need to get started on my
essay.”

“Can’t I stay here? I won’t make a sound, I promise.”

Till curses his weakness to pathetic faces and pleading voices. “Don’t you have lessons to get
to?”

“No, I’m completely free today.”

“Bastard.”

“So, can I stay?”

Till sags into his chair, slipping his laptop out from his bag. “If I hear a peep out of you, I’m
kicking you out immediately.”

“Okay!” Ivan returns to his perch on Till’s bed, and Till switches his laptop on. This essay
shouldn’t be difficult—he just needs to write a paper on a singer or artiste whose work he
appreciates, and how their style inspired his own music. Of course, there really is only one
person that Till would write about, especially with the massive influence his discography
exerted on his music taste and the songs he wrote.

It was supposed to be an easy paper, an assignment that should take him no longer than one
morning and maybe half the afternoon. He should have finished it, checked through it, and
submitted it by tomorrow.

Who knew that all it takes is Ivan’s constant staring, burning a hole at the back of his head, to
distract Till the entire time? He becomes self-conscious of every minute movement, every
time he turns his head, leans back against his chair, chews on his lip as he searches for and
listens to Luka’s music. Particularly his favourite songs, even those that aren’t title tracks.

“Why do you like him so much?” Ivan asks, and Till can even hear the pout in his whine.

“His songs are fantastic. You just have shit taste. Also, I’m doing research for a paper.”

“What sort of paper needs you to research on Luka of all people?”

“A paper on the most influential artiste in my life.”

Till can’t help the wide smile plastered on his face as he imagines Ivan’s reaction. Oh, how
he wishes he could turn around and watch. Why Ivan hates his cousin, Till doesn’t know, but
the idea of anyone hating Luka in such a petty way is amusing to him.

However, the extended silence irks him. Till turns his head to find Ivan pouting, staring
intently at his phone.

“What’s wrong?” Till asks.

“I wanna find you a song,” Ivan says. “I wrote this myself, back when I still did
songwriting.”

Till raises a brow. “You wrote a song?”

“Yeah. I never released it anywhere, though.” Ivan presses a button, and the song begins to
play. It was melancholy and solemn, conveying what feels like abject hopelessness. The
voice sounds a tad familiar, like Till has heard it bef—

“You sang this?” Till asks, as the song comes to an end with a mournful note.

“Yeah. Who else?”

“Wow, I… Okay, maybe I misjudged you. This is actually not bad.”

Ivan brightens. “Really? Luka didn’t like it much.”

“Okay, but, like, no kidding. This is pretty good.”

Ivan grins, all teeth and no eyes, like a schoolboy proudly showing off his artwork to his
parents. It makes Till curious about what Ivan looked like when he was younger. He can only
imagine a miniature version of the man, perhaps with larger eyes and cuter features. Did he
have a snaggletooth when he was a toddler, or did it only grow that way after his adult teeth
grew in? Did Ivan glow when he showed something off too?

If they met when they were younger, would they have been good friends?

“I can send it to you,” Ivan says, but he does not wait for an answer. The next second, Till
receives a text from him, an audio file titled “Nowhere.”

It is also then that he sees a missed message from Mizi, telling him they’re already at the
burger joint. That was sent ten minutes ago.

“Shit!” Till leaps from his chair, the chair’s legs scraping against the floor. “Mizi’s waiting
for me. I gotta go.”

“Let me come with you.”

“Err…” Judging from their last interaction with Ivan, the impression he left on Mizi is less
than stellar, so it would be best if he didn’t join them. “Let me ask Mizi first.”

She responds in a matter of seconds. Surprisingly, she said yes.

 Chapter 4

“Right, let’s hear it,” Mizi says, as soon as Ivan slips into the seat, setting his and Till’s trays
of piping hot burgers and fries in front of them.

“Hear what?” Till asks, hoping that Mizi would get the hint and wouldn’t bring it up.

“How did Ivan end up locked in your room?”

Sua nearly spits out her mouthful of Coke. Till’s face reddens, and Ivan merely wears a self-
serving smirk that mirrors Mizi’s.

“Well, it’s definitely not what you’re thinking of,” Till says feebly.

“Then, care to elaborate?” Sua says, as she nibbles on a fry.

“We just met up for a jog this morning,” Ivan says. “I was tired, so Till let me rest in his
room. He had to go for class, so he locked up. That’s all.”

Till unwraps his burger, nodding along to Ivan’s explanation, because that was precisely what
happened. He half-expected Ivan to spin some raunchy story that Till would have to shut
down immediately, but Ivan seems to have outdone himself yet again with an accurate
retelling of the morning’s events.

Wow , Till thinks, what a low bar.

“Well, if he fell asleep, you could have left him there,” Sua says. “I would have.”

“Like, no offence, but I’m not that mean a person.”

Sua chucks a fry at Till. “What are you trying to say?”

Mizi places her hands on Sua’s shoulders. Sua settles back against the seat, her arms folded.
Till picks the chucked fry from the tray and stuffs it into his mouth. Then again, the way she
acts, the way she talks, seems just like someone else’s… but he can’t put his finger on it.

“Why do you hurt me so, noona?” Ivan coos. “Can’t you spare some pity for your little
brother?”

Till blanches, stares at Sua, before meeting Ivan’s cocky gaze. His jaw goes slack.

Sua huffs. “Eww. Close your mouth when you eat.”

“You’re siblings?”

Ivan beams. “Yeah. My one and only noona. By, like, a minute.”

“Twins,” Sua corrects. “But we don’t look alike at all.”

Although, now that Till thinks about it, both of them do share some similarities. It’s the tiny
details in their features, he supposes, and their black hair and black eyes. Then again, it could
be the aura they give off.

“Wait, so… does that mean that Sua is working for ALNST Entertainment too?” Till asks.

“Yeah!” Mizi cries, slinging her arms around Sua and hugging her tight. “Isn’t that cool?
She’s going to be the heiress of the company!”

Till peers over at Ivan. “And you? CFO, right?”

“I dunno. Probably. Honestly, I don’t really care.”

“And that’s why she’s gonna be the CEO and not you.”

“Ah, it’s not like I want to do it anyway.”

“Okay, so… if Ivan’s going to Luka’s wedding, then does that mean that Sua would be too?”
Till asks.

Sua makes a face. “Yeah, but it’s a drag. If Mizi wasn’t accompanying me, I think I’d die.”

“Mizi’s going? And you didn’t tell me?” Till feels somewhat betrayed.

Mizi titters. “Well, the topic never came up.”

That makes it a little better. Hopefully, Till would be able to sit next to both her and Ivan, and
having a familiar face at the event should make the proceedings more bearable. Suddenly,
Till’s wondering whether they would be playing Luka’s songs at the wedding. That would be
sick. For him, at least. Ivan doesn’t seem to like Luka much, so it would be fun watching him
flip out too.

“Are you working today, Till?” Mizi asks.

“Nah, I don’t think so. I’ve got an essay to finish and a song to write.”

“Oh, but we’re a little shorthanded today…”

Technically, Till’s essay isn’t due till next week, so—

“I can fill in for him,” Ivan says.

The table goes silent. Ivan is still smiling, not looking troubled at all in the slightest. Till
doesn’t know what to make of this situation. On the one hand, it’s extremely kind of Ivan to
offer his assistance, but on the other hand…

Ivan in a bunny maid dress?

God, Till needs a picture of that. It’ll be prime blackmail material.

“Great!” Mizi says, clapping her hands together. Till shivers at her tone, which is less
mirthful and snider. “Thanks a lot, Ivan!”

After the meal, they go their separate ways. Sua and Till back to the dorms, and Mizi and
Ivan towards Kitty Kat Kafe.

“So, you’re going as Ivan’s boyfriend?” Sua asks, when they’re alone.

“I guess. I mean, we’re not actual boyfriends. I’m just pretending to be one.”

“Well, our relatives have been getting on his case about getting married, and they’re in the
midst of finding a potential partner for him.”

“Oh.”

Sua pats his shoulder. “So, what I’m saying is that there might probably be quite a lot of
resistance from our kin, but don’t worry. Ivan and I hate them too.”

“Ah, okay.”

“Anyway, don’t feel obligated to do this. If at any time you want out of it, just say the word.
I’ll make sure Ivan doesn’t do anything to you.”

“Thanks.”

Till reaches his dorm first, while Sua continues walking down the path. He heads up to his
room, shuts the door, and he takes a seat at his desk. It’s time to finish what he didn’t get to in
the morning, what with that huge distraction in his room and all.

Till opens up the blank Word document that is supposed to be his essay, and he gets to work.

Till is halfway through the paper when he takes a break, pats himself on the back for being
able to write a thousand and five hundred words in one sitting, and he takes a large gulp of
water. It’s half past four in the afternoon, and their shift is set to finish in another half an
hour.

Till pauses the song “Nowhere,” which has been playing for the last one hour on repeat from
his phone, and he throws on a hoodie and a pair of sweatpants before slipping on a pair of
trainers. It’s time to collect some blackmail material.

As Till reaches the student hub, it’s jarring to see just how many people are gathered outside
of the café. He’s seeing this from a fair distance away, so… and perhaps it’s just him, but
there seems to be more patrons than more. Apart from the unruly crowd clamouring for a
peek into the premises, the queue snakes from the door and wraps around the building. Is the
café holding an event that he is unaware of?

Gingerly, Till approaches the back door. He enters the passcode into the keypad, and the door
clicks open. He steps into the breakroom, and he’s greeted with the very real sight of a
shirtless Ivan standing in the middle of the room in just a pair of stockings, the bunny maid
dress gathered in his arms.

Damn, Till was too late. But also, damn , does Ivan have such pale and smooth skin. Must be
from all the not-exercising-in-the-sun he does.

“Hey, Till!” Ivan waves him over. “Why did you come?”

Till’s brow twitches. Surely, he can’t tell Ivan the exact reason, because that story’s going to
spread far and wide if he ever lets a word slip out of his mouth. “Uh.”

“Oh, I get it.” Ivan smirks the type of smirk that Till wants to wipe off his face permanently.
“You want to see me in a maid dress, don’t you? Well, why didn’t you say so?”

“What? No! That’s not it at all!” Why, oh why isn’t Till’s face as dishonest as his words? The
full-on blush on his face is just going to clue Ivan in on this whole charade. “Don’t put words
in my mouth!”

Now that Till thinks about it, the reason that those people were congregated outside the café
is… this guy ? He can already see the headlines on the school’s SNS page: Hottie spotted at
Kitty Kat! New bunny maid captivating everyone who lays eyes on him!

But Ivan doesn’t listen to Till, and he slips the maid dress back onto himself. With no shame
whatsoever, Till might add. With how tall Ivan is, the dress comes up just short, the frilly
hem ending above his knees. If it rides up his thighs a little more, then…

Don’t go there , the angel on Till’s shoulder warns.

What’s wrong with thinking about that? It’s not like you’re acting on it or anything, the devil
on his other shoulder sneers.

“Hello? Earth to Till?” Ivan winks at him, leaning forward so that his forehead nearly bumps
Till’s. “Enjoying the view?”

“Nope, nope, nope, change out of that right now,” Till cries, ramming Ivan’s shoulder with
his palms, pushing him back. Ivan barks out a laugh as he stumbles back, nearly falling back
onto the settee. “I’m gonna go blind.”

“Sure. Suit yourself. Mizi’s got a bunch of pictures, though.”

Till pointedly looks away as Ivan changes back out into his regular clothes—or rather, Till’s
clothes. The set that he lent Ivan in the morning.

“You should bring a change of clothes next time,” Till says.

“Why? I like these.”

“Excuse you, those clothes are mine. You’d better wash them and return them to me
tomorrow.”
“Of course, of course. I’m not that uncouth.”

“Okay, whatever. Bye—”

“Till? What are you doing here?”

The door to the café opens. Till whirls around to see Mizi standing in the doorway, a sly
smile on her face. “Did you come here to see Ivan in a—”

“Et tu, Mizi?”

Till has never felt so mortified in his life as he lies on his bed, his phone in hand. There are a
few texts from Mizi—all images—that he does not dare to open, already knowing what those
are going to depict. Did Ivan put her up to this? Does he think he looks good in a bunny maid
outfit?

Against Till’s better judgement, an irrational part of him thinks that maybe he does look good
in a bunny maid outfit.

Mustering up all his courage—and noticing that Ivan has also just texted him—Till opens his
and Mizi’s chatlogs.

And he closes it instantly. Embarrassing memories flood his mind, and heat rises in Till’s
cheeks, spreading down to his neck. He buries his face in his hands, else he would have
hurled his phone across the room. Think pure thoughts. Think pure thoughts .

He decides to open the message from Ivan instead, who is already offering up a date for their
next meeting. Seventh of April, a week from now. He can do seventh. He types back an
affirmative, and he rolls onto his back, his phone resting on his chest, his fingers clasped on
his belly.

He just agreed to the meetup so readily, and he didn’t even consider payment. The thought of
hanging out with him has become so natural, even though they only met each other for the
first time a couple of days ago. How has Ivan wormed his way into his life so easily? Why
did Till let him wriggle in so easily?

Well, that’s a good thing, isn’t it? That means that he doesn’t hate Ivan’s company all that
much. He’d even go so far as to say that they have… they have chem—

He can’t bring himself to even think it. If that happens, it’s as good as admitting it. And he
and Ivan are not in that kind of relationship. Ivan is just paying him for his services of acting
as his boyfriend, and at best, they’re friends. Nothing more, nothing less.

Till throws his arm over his eyes, and he instantly regrets it. Contrary to his conscious
wishes, as soon as he closes his eyes, his mind’s eye is filled with images of Ivan in his
bunny maid outfit. Of Ivan leaning towards him, foreheads almost touching, dark eyes staring
at Till as if he were the only thing in the world.
That got cheesy fast. It is a sure sign that he should hit the hay.

One week passes fast. With a mountain of assignments, pop quizzes, and various other
unseen tests, Till finds himself struggling to pull up his grades, eat lunch, or even sleep. On
that same vein, he hadn’t the time to meet up with Mizi and Sua, or Ivan, for that matter. Yet,
the days fly by, and before Till knows it, it’s time for his and Ivan’s third—or was it fourth, or
fifth now—meet up.

Ivan’s late this time. Till’s waiting outside his dorm, like Ivan told him to, watching as cars
zoom by at a speed far too fast for university grounds. He watches each one that passes by,
wondering what sort of model of car he’d like if he were ever to make enough money to—

A black sedan pulls up to the roadside. It looks sleek and polished, unlike most of the other
cars he sees parked around the institution. Till is about to turn his attention elsewhere—
because surely, this must be the car of some boyfriend looking to impress his girl.

“Till!” Ivan clambers out of the passenger’s seat. Stepping out from the driver’s seat is
another man dressed in a black suit, red tie prominent against his white shirt. Ivan wears his
trademark suit as well, except this one is an ugly puke green instead of his usual black. Till
would have preferred the black instead of whatever this hideous attire is.

“What are you wearing?” Till blurts out.

“Do you not like it?” Ivan whimpers, and Till can so easily compare him to a dejected puppy.

“I think black looks better on you.”

“I’ll keep that in mind. But I suppose you’re gonna have to deal with this for today, because
I’m not going home to change out.”

“Why’re you so dressed up?” Till asks, then he pauses, because Ivan has always been dressed
like that before meeting up with him casually.

“Because we’re going somewhere where I need to be dressed up,” Ivan says. “Come on, get
in.”

Ivan ushers Till to the backseat, and he climbs in after Till. The driver sits back down behind
the wheel, and once all the doors are shut and locked, the car turns out onto the road. Till
fidgets with the hem of his hoodie, suddenly feeling self-conscious. Why are Ivan and his
driver dressed so formally, whilst he’s just wearing a white hoodie and a pair of jeans like a
regular university student? Should he have dressed better, donned a button-down and dress
trousers instead? Worn oxfords instead of trainers?

It's only when they turn out from the university’s main gates that Till notices Ivan humming
along to the music currently blasting from the radio. His heart flutters with excitement at
Luka’s familiar dulcet tones, his low voice sultry as he sings what sounds like an emotional
ballad.
“Oh my God!” Till cries. “Is that his cover of Yahwa?”

“Yeah. One of the only songs he’s sung that I like, actually.”

“He covered a lot of Ahn Yee Eun’s songs, and BTS’, and I like all of them. Do you have
Sailing too, or, like Blood Sweat Tears?”

Till hadn’t realised he’s rambling till the song finishes, and only his voice fills the momentary
silence that follows. Ivan has stopped speaking quite a while back, choosing to listen to Till
instead. Till flushes, kicked himself internally for boring him with such a niche topic. The
only other person who’d hear him out is Mizi, and that’s because she is partial to Luka’s
songs too.

“Sorry,” Till says, chuckling nervously as he leans back against the seat; he hadn’t even
noticed when he’d become so animated. “You probably hate hearing about him.”

“But I like hearing you talk about something you like, even if it’s someone I don’t
particularly find favourable.”

“You can just say that you hate him.”

“To be honest, it’s just a mutual dislike. I don’t exactly hate him. What were you saying
before? That Luka’s voice isn’t exactly suited for Jangsanbeom? You know, I totally agree.”

Their conversation continues till the car comes to a complete stop outside a skyscraper, its
roof reaching for the clouds in the blue, blue sky. The driver steps out, and he helps Till open
the door. Ivan offers him a hand. Till feels that he’s somehow thrust into fairy tale land,
because things like this only happens to princesses in glass slippers stepping daintily out of
pumpkin coaches.

“Thanks,” Till says, hoping Ivan doesn’t hear the awkward tone in his voice. “So, uh, where
are we?”

Ivan merely smiles like a Cheshire Cat. Till thinks it’s rather creepy when he does that. “You
don’t recognise the building in front of you?”

Till squints at the signage above the revolving entrance of the massive skyscraper, and his
eyes widen at the name. There, spelt out in silver, metallic lettering, is none other than
ALNST Entertainment itself. He’s barely ever passed by this place, much too far from the
suburbs and his previous schools, and he has no reason to come all the way to Gangnam
either ever since entering university.

“Wait, are we—”

“Yes, we are. Come on.”

Ivan takes the lead, and Till follows closely behind, both of them stepping through the
revolving doors and into the sophisticated reception and lounge area. The scent of coffee
wafts from the in-house café, where a few office workers are chatting. Posters and banners
are put up on the walls, hung across the pillars, showcasing ALNST’s various artistes and
their albums, movies, advertisements, and other works. Playing from the loudspeaker is a
lively bop from their award-winning girl group.

“Holy crap,” Till utters, still unable to believe his eyes. “If I work here next time, then…”

“You’ll be able to see this same lobby every day, though you’d probably get sick of it after a
while,” Ivan says. “Come on, let’s go see the studios and everything, shall we?”

“Can I? It’s not like I have clearance or anything…”

“What are you talking about? I am your clearance. And if not me, then I could always ring up
Sua.”

Ah, talk about nepotism. For the first time, it seems to be working in his favour. Not that he’s
going to accept Ivan’s invitation to make him a producer here at ALNST, but at least Till can
check out their facilities and how they operate. It’s probably a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity,
so how could he ever pass this up?

A tour of ALNST Entertainment, here he comes!

 Chapter 5

Even as Till observes the producers working in their studios through the small window in the
door, he can already imagine himself as one of them. Headphones over his ears, as he listens
to the beat he just put together, surrounded only by the music he loves. His songs will then be
sung by top idols, perhaps used as soundtracks in movies or dramas. The possibilities are
endless.

Production studios aside, Till and Ivan swing by the dance and recording studios as well. Till
hears children singing their hearts out and vying for a position on one of ALNST’s new boy
band, he sees idol groups and backup dancers practising for their upcoming concerts and
performances.

“Who’s this?”

Till jolts at the voice, head snapping in the direction of the source. There, standing in the
centre of the hallway, wearing a turquoise beanie that matches his cyan sweater, is none other
than the one and only Luka himself.

His brain short-circuits as he tries to process this. The man standing before him is Luka, the
artiste whose songs have such a lasting impact on Till’s own style, who inspired Till to work
at ALNST for the smallest opportunity that Luka could be the one to sing the songs he
produces. That would be a dream come true.

Ivan sniffs. “Oh, it’s you.”

“You make it sound like I want to see your ugly mug,” Luka shoots back, and Till doesn’t
think he’s heard insults from his angel’s mouth before. Perhaps what he said about him liking
only Luka’s songs was a barefaced lie, even to himself. Luka turns his attention back to Till,
and he smiles his blinding smile, the type of smile reserved for cameras. “You’re Ivan’s
friend, right? The one called Till?”

“H-How did you know?” There’s no way that someone like Luka would know someone like
Till. Luka’s one of Korea’s biggest solo artistes, and Till is just… Till, a regular student at
university, doing quite terribly in every course not related to music.

“Ivan talks about you,” Luka says with a wink. Till is this close to swooning. “A lot. Like,
seriously a—”

“Okay, that’s enough.” Ivan grabs Luka in a chokehold, one hand covering his mouth. “Till
does not need to hear your ramb— What the hell?”

Ivan withdraws his hand immediately, and Luka wipes his mouth. Till can only guess that
Luka licked him. He snorts at the melodrama of it all.

“Disgusting,” Luka mutters, shooting Ivan a death glare, before turning back to Till, his
expression instantly changing to wear a smile so bright it rivals the sun. Or at least, the
golden blond hue of his hair. “I’m sorry that you’re stuck with someone like this guy. I hope
that at least his looks and wealth make up for his godawful personality.”

Till cackles. “It kinda does.”

“Till, you wound me,” Ivan whines, returning to Till’s side and grabbing hold of his arm.
“What does Luka have that I don’t?”

“Um… he has an angelic singing voice?”

“You said my song was nice.”

“Yeah, but…” Till frowns, but he’s saved from the situation as Luka holds out his phone, and
he hands it to Till.

“What’s your Instagram handle?” he asks.

Till’s mind immediately switches gear, alarm bells going off in his head as he thinks about
what Luka is now offering him. A chance… to exchange… Instagram handles! Not that Till
doesn’t already know what Luka’s is. But Luka wants his— his —Instagram handle! No way
would an opportunity like this ever arise again!

Ivan scowls. “Hey, you haven’t given me your handle yet.”

Till harrumphs. “You never asked.”

Luka sticks his tongue out triumphantly. Ivan’s face is red, and his lips are pulled into a
frown. Or is that a snarl? Either way, he looks like he’s going to blow a gasket.

“There, done,” Till says, and he hands the phone back to Luka. “I’m not as good looking as
you, Luka-ssi, so—”

“No need to speak so formally. You can call me hyung,” Luka says, as he scrolls Till’s
Instagram page. Till fidgets with his fingers, wondering what is running through Luka’s
mind. “Besides, you’re not bad-looking at all. Not really my type, but—”

“You have a damn wife,” Ivan hisses.

Luka grins. “Yeah, a wife-to-be, so you don’t have to worry about a thing. Anyway, I have
places to be. See you later, Till-ah.”

With that, he continues striding down the corridor. Till watches as he goes, his heart still
pounding with exhilaration. He just met his idol, whose songs he’s loved his entire high
school years, and way into university. He can certainly die happy now.

“Let’s go,” Ivan says, and instantly, Till knows that something is wrong. Never before has he
seen Ivan so glum, frowning so deeply, as he walks ahead. To him, Ivan’s generally a sunny
guy, always smiling, always managing to turn a despondent situation into something worth
laughing about. What’s got him all bothered now?
It’s probably because he doesn’t like Luka, isn’t it, and Till’s just spent all his time fanboying
over his idol. Ivan probably felt sick in his presence, and here Till was, so happy that Luka
asked him for his Instagram handle. Maybe he should apologise to Ivan. After all, Ivan
graciously took him to ALNST Entertainment and showed him around, and this is the thanks
that Till offered.

The only problem is that Till… has hardly ever apologised to anyone in his life. He has never
ended up in a situation that he can’t resolve with an easy, simple “Sorry.” Waiting at the lift
lobby was pure torture, what with the awkward silence brewed between them. Ivan’s jaw is
set, his hands stuffed in his pockets, glaring at the floor.

“Hey, uh…” Till starts. “Sorry about that. I didn’t mean—”

At that, Ivan looks genuinely confused. The furrow in his brow smoothens, and so does the
edge in his gaze. “Sorry? For what?”

“I knew you hate Luka, and I still… well…”

“It’s not your fault. I was mad at myself. And him, too. But mostly at myself. I shouldn’t
have acted that way. I’m sorry.”

“That’s okay. I know how much you hate him. Oh, and… it’s TilltheEnd, by the way.”

“It’s… what?”

“My handle. You can find me at TilltheEnd.”

Just like that, the storm clouds are chased away, and Ivan beams again. Till smiles, satisfied.
That expression looks better on Ivan anyway.

Ivan whips out his phone, types in Till’s handle. In a matter of seconds, his own phone pings,
and Till glances at the notifications. There is a single follow request.

Till accepts it and returns a request himself.

“What are you doing later?” Ivan asks, as he and Till stand in the lobby, listening to the quiet
melody of up-and-coming idol group Noble’s pre-debut song. “If you’re free, do you want to
—”

“Well, I do have an exam I need to study for, so I’m meeting up with Mizi at the library.”

“I’ll come along too! I just need to pick up my laptop from home first, though. If you don’t
mind, do you want to come with me? I can get someone to drive us.”

ALNST is a fair distance from school, and Till would have to spend a bomb on public
transport getting back to university, so… And besides, Ivan’s seen his room. Twice. He
should return the favour. “Yeah, sure, why not?”
The same black sedan picks them up, and it navigates a network of congested roads before
turning into a carpark under another skyscraper. Till follows Ivan as he strides into the
building, feeling even more self-conscious at the numerous people in suits and ties, hurrying
to and from their offices and lifts. Does Ivan seriously live here?

Ivan greets the security guard with a genial wave, and the guard tips his cap at him, yet glares
at Till. Till shrinks under his piercing gaze, but Ivan merely wraps an arm around him,
guiding him towards the lift lobby.

“He’s with me,” he says loudly, and the guard bows his head in response.

The trip up to Ivan’s home takes a while, and Till watches in awe from the window of the lift
as the city gets smaller and smaller, the cars and people looking at ants as they ascend. After
what seems like forever, the lift finally halts, and the doors open out into a short entranceway
that leads directly into a living room.

“Wait, you… you live in a penthouse?” No wonder Ivan didn’t live in dorms. Till wouldn’t
either if he had a penthouse and a personal chauffeur.

“Yeah, all to myself, too. My parents have their own nearer to the company,” Ivan says, and
he gestures at the interior, hope sparkling in his eyes like an expectant puppy awaiting his
owner’s praise. “So, what do you think?”

“I’m fucking jealous, that’s what I think,” Till cries, and he proceeds to stomp on Ivan’s foot.
Ivan yelps, hopping about on his other, uninjured foot. “Jeez, you’re loaded ! Oh my God, is
that a PS5?”

“Yeah, it is. Wanna play something?”

Till shoots him a look. “Ask me that again during term break. Unlike you, I don’t have a
company to inherit.”

“Hmm, you don’t have to study so hard, you know. You could aim to be a house-husband. I
hear many people are doing that nowadays.”

“Oh, and find myself a rich partner? Yeah, trust me, I had that dream for as long as I
remember.”

“Do you have any rich partners in mind?”

Till peers up at him, mouth open to answer, but he flinches at the look on Ivan’s face. Earnest
eyes, and a tense countenance. Like… he’s expecting something? “Uh… nope. What kind of
rich person would want someone like me?”

“More than you might expect.”

Till snorts. “Sure, in my dreams, maybe. Hey, go get your laptop, and let’s go. Or I’m leaving
without you.”

“Do you want to come inside and see the rest of it?”
“I want to go to the library and finish studying for the upcoming exam.”

Ivan frowns. Till doesn’t know what he’s frowning about, but he watches as Ivan pads his
way farther into the house. His room appears to be behind a black door rimmed with gold,
with a golden knob that glints in the light. Now that Till thinks about it, this place is spotless.
Is Ivan a clean freak?

He slaps his own cheeks. Nah, that can’t be right. He’s rich, so he must have servants or
maids. Or… even a butler?

Till has never seen a butler in real life. He wants to come back to Ivan’s place solely to see
said butler.

“What are you thinking about?”

Till was so lost in his thoughts that he hasn’t noticed Ivan standing in front of him, slipping
his shoes back on, his laptop bag tucked under his arm.

“I was just wondering how you keep this place so clean,” Till says. “Surely, you’ve got
someone doing it for you.”

“I’m wounded you’d think that, but you’re absolutely right. Come on, the driver’s waiting.”

“Can I come back around again?”

Ivan spins on his heels, eyes wide, as though caught off guard. But that expression vanishes
in the blink of an eye. “Oh, and why’s that?”

“With your house so clean, you must have a butler or something. I wanna see a real-life
butler.”

Ivan laughs. “Sure. I’ll let you see one.”

“And it’d better not be you dressing up. I know your tricks by now.”

“Aw, I thought wearing that maid outfit would have—”

“Ah, I don’t wanna hear it! Whatever that was scarred me for life!”

Ivan grins. The lift arrives, and Till storms in, cheeks red with unrivalled mortification. How
could Ivan be so composed when he was the one wearing that thing? Just how shameless can
he be?

“Are you blushing? That’s so cute, Till.”

“Shut up, shut up, shut up! Why are you so annoying?”

Ivan doesn’t say anything, merely wears that stupid grin on his face. Overcome with a sudden
embarrassment, Till glances away. His face grows redder, and his gaze lands on the scene, the
city getting nearer and nearer as the lift descends. His stomach lurches, and Till’s hand shoots
to his mouth, the other grabbing the railing as his knees go weak.

A hand reaches out to grab his wrist, the other curled around his waist, steadying him,
grounding him. “Till? You okay?”

“Y-Yeah.” If Till wasn’t blushing madly before, he is now. “W-Why’re you standing so
close?”

Ivan sniffs as he releases Till from his admittedly rather tight clutches. “Not even a word of
thanks.”

Till tightens his grip on the railing, still unable to look Ivan in the eyes. “Thank you.”

Silence settles over them, a coalescence of words unsaid. It’s so quiet that Till can quite
literally hear his heart pounding in his chest, can feel his palms going clammy as he grips the
strap of his bag tightly. This is just a physical reaction, he reminds himself. Just a physical
reaction. A physical. Reaction.

Ivan looks like he wants to say something, but he ends up staring out the lift the entire time.

The lift eventually touches down on the first floor, and the doors open to reveal the opulent
lobby yet again.

“Come on,” Ivan says, so carefreely, as though that awkward moment in the lift never
existed. Till follows after him, stumbling over his words of “Yeah” and “Sure.” As if he isn’t
embarrassed enough.

The black car has already pulled up in front of the building, and like the (kind of) gentleman
that he is, Ivan opens the door for Till, ensuring he’s settled inside—reached over and
buckled his seatbelt and everything—before rounding to the other side of the car and slipping
into the other seat. The engine revs, and the car moves off.

“Hello, noona,” Ivan greets.

“Hello to you too, loser.”

Mizi and Till exchange glances. Like how Till hadn’t expected Sua to be here when he
arrived, she and Mizi looked just as shocked to see Ivan strolling in alongside Till. They got
settled, opened their laptops and books, and Sua and Ivan began an uncomfortable staring—
or glaring, really—match. At some point, Mizi decided to leave them be, tapping away at her
laptop with her earbuds in her ears. Till too follows suit.

He finds out one second later that Mizi is not studying. Instead, she’s bombarding their chat
with messages.

Mizi: Why’s he here?

Mizi: Why’d you come in together?

Mizi: Did he bother you again?

Till’s heart warms as he types back a reply.

Me: He took me to ALNST today!!!

Me: And I met Luka!! The REAL Luka! In the flesh

Me: Oh, and he’s not bothering me, so don’t worry.

Mizi: That’s good. Seems like you two are hitting it off well!

Are they? Well, they were, and Till even gave Ivan his Instagram handle. But after that
incident in the lift, there has been an awkward air hanging over them. Or is it all in Till’s
head, because Ivan seems perfectly fine from where he’s sitting, still squabbling in hushed
tones with his sister over something minor.

Me: I guess? A lotta things happened, though.

Me: And pls de|

“What are you doing?”

Till shrieks, slamming his laptop lid down and ripping his earbuds from his ears as Ivan rests
his head on his shoulder. Everyone else in the vicinity turn their heads, shooting daggers at
them with their eyes alone. “Shh!” of varying degrees of annoyance were hissed at them, and
if Till thought the lift incident was a pinnacle of shame, he clearly has never experienced
mortification quite like this before.

He’s having many firsts with Ivan, but not all of them are good. In fact, most of them are
downright horrible.

“You okay, Till?” Mizi asks. Till swears that he can see her glaring at Ivan.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Till says, and he glances around, bowing his head and wordlessly
apologising to the people around them. He doesn’t think he can show up at the library
anymore. Not in the near future, at least.

“Were you watching something naughty? In the middle of the school library?” Ivan teases.
“Wow, that takes some real courage.”

“I was not,” Till snaps, forcibly reminding himself not to think about how Ivan’s rubbing his
head against his neck, his sharp chin jutting into his shoulder. Tries not to think about the
scent making him all heady, or the warmth seeping into his skin.

“No? Then what’s so embarrassing that you can’t show me?”

“It’s my… new project. I need to write a song for class.”

“Yeah, and Till’s pretty sensitive about his projects,” Mizi lies, and Till wishes right there and
then that he could kiss her feet and sing praises about her.

Ivan pouts. “Is that so?”

“Yeah,” Till says, and he hugs his laptop to himself. “So, don’t go peeking at my laptop as
and when you wanna.”

“Sure, sure. How could I make my boyfriend uncomfortable?”

“We’re not dating, you ass.”

“We are. Fake dating. It still counts as a form of dating.”

“Did you hear yourself? Fake dating. It’s fake . Not real. Get that in your head.”

“But—”

The nib of a pen stabs Ivan in the forehead. It clatters onto the table, and Ivan winces, hand
slapping the part where he now has a blue dot on his skin.

“Will you two stop clowning around? There are people trying to get work done here,” Sua
snarls, scooping her pen from where it stopped rolling in the middle of the table.

After that, the library falls silent. Finally, with some peace and quiet, Till flips open his
laptop, cracks his knuckles, and he gets to work.
 Chapter 6

Ivan must be one of the worst studying buddies Till has ever had the displeasure of
encountering. He’s barely half an hour into his song—thankfully, with zero messages from
Mizi—when he feels something poking at his wrist, which turns out to be Ivan’s finger.

At first, Till tries not to let that bother him. But Ivan must have been trying to get a rise out of
him, because he switches to dancing his fingers across the back of Till’s hand. When Till
withdraws his hand, Ivan’s follows, attempting to entwine their fingers—

“Would. You. Stop. It,” Till hisses.

Mizi pretends not to have noticed anything. Sua flashes them one of her signature death
glares. Ivan smiles giddily, and Till shrinks back in his seat.

Ivan’s either a god at his academic work, or he’s completely given up on obtaining his
degree, because at the one-hour mark, he’s already shut his laptop, plopped his head on the
table, cheek squishing against the polished surface. He’s not bugging Till, exactly, but his
unreadable gaze makes Till want to curl in on himself like a hedgehog.

“I’m bored,” Ivan whines.

“Well, I’m not. Go home or something if you’re done.”

“Entertain me, Till.”

“As you can see, I’ve got work to do, so buzz off.” The fact that Till’s here trying his best to
get his “A” grade while Ivan is just cruising through life is starting to piss him off. He gets
that those kinds of people exist, but to see their nonchalant attitude right in front of him frays
his nerves.

“Hmm, okay. I’m going to Kitty Kat, then.” With that, Ivan stands, taking his laptop bag with
him. Sua shows him the middle finger when he leaves, and Mizi can only chuckle. Till turns
his attention back to his laptop screen, tuning back into the song he’s working on. He just
needs to finish up this last portion, before he can leave for the day.

Or, at least, that’s what he’d like to think. The moment Ivan disappears down the stairs, an
unnatural worry takes root in his heart. Ivan did say he was going to Kitty Kat Kafe, right?
Isn’t that… where he and Till…

Is he looking for a replacement fake boyfriend? Does he feel that they have no chemistry?

Why the fuck is Till worrying about it in the first place? This whole thing has been purely
business. So, it’d make sense if Ivan finds another service provider if Till isn’t up to snuff.

“That bastard,” Till hisses through gritted teeth. The least Ivan could do was to break this off
cleanly! Or does he not want to let go of Till until he found someone new? Is Till just the
backup?

Is his mind running too wild right now?

“What are you thinking about?” Mizi asks. Her hand on his, her very touch tethers him to
reality, stops him from wandering too far into his own thoughts. Years later, even after the
initial flame fizzled out, she still has that calming effect on him.

“Just, uh…” Till withdraws his hand, very aware of Sua’s penetrating gaze settled on where
Mizi is holding onto his. “Nothing.”

“Is this about Ivan?”

Till blinks. Mizi smiles. “H-How did you know?”

“Because you’ve been worrying a lot about him lately. Well, not about him, per se. Just
matters relating to him.”

Till harrumphs. “I’m not worrying about him.”

“It’s okay to worry about your friends. He’s at least a friend, right?”

“Um, I s’pose.”

“Well, I’m sure Ivan isn’t mad. Maybe he’s just as he said—he’s bored.”

“So he goes to that café?”

Mizi frowns. “Well, I can see why you’d be concerned. But there’s nothing going on between
you and him now, right?”

Great, now Till feels stupider. Ever since Ivan’s come into his life, all he’s done is just mess
around with Till’s head, meddling in his affairs, making him feel things he’s only ever felt
once before. Like this afternoon, grabbing his waist like that!

Why did Till react that way? He has half a mind to give himself a good hard slap.

“There’s… nothing going on. We’re just friends,” Till says. “I mean, how can we not be after
he brought me all the way to ALNST?”

“Hey, it doesn’t mean that you have to be friends just because he did that for you. You could
just be cordial with him.”

Till sighs. She’s right. He should be handling this more maturely. He’s a grown man, for
goodness’ sake. He turns back to his laptop, only to see the notification “Battery Low, please
plug in your charger” pop up on the screen. He curses, turning to dig through his bag for the
cables when he comes face to face with someone’s arm.

“Oh, sorry,” Ivan says, and Till lifts his head, brows raised, mouth agape. “Did I startle
you?”
In Ivan’s hand is a cardboard carton carrying four drinks. The aroma of coffee permeates
Till’s nose immediately, eyes drawn to the cups in the carton placed in front of them, with the
Kitty Kat logo printed on its side. Ivan settles back into his seat, and he grabs the caramel
macchiato. Mizi and Sua stake their claim on the mocha and iced Americano as well, leaving
Till with the pumpkin latte.

“You went to get us coffee?” Till asks, plugging in his laptop to the socket on the wall next to
him.

“Yeah.”

“Not to check out the maids?” Sua continues, without looking up from her laptop.

Till flinches at the question, and Sua’s lips curl up ever so slightly, as though reading his
mind and smirking at him.

Ivan purses his lips, looking grossed out. “What? No. Why would I do that?”

Till doesn’t know how to bring up the fact that that is how he and Ivan met in the first place,
when Ivan was checking him out in that goddamned café. Embarrassment rises in him, at the
memories of him and Ivan in and around that café. Especially when Till was dressed up in
that outlandish uniform.

“Anyway, how long are you guys staying here for?” Ivan asks.

“Actually, I’m just about done,” Sua says.

Mizi shuts her laptop. “Same here!”

“Yeah, uh, you guys go on ahead,” Till says, adjusting the headphones on his ears. “I’m
gonna keep at it for a while longer.”

“Make sure not to overwork yourself,” Mizi says, as she stuffs her things into her bag. Sua
has already stood, chewing the straw of her Americano. With a quick goodbye, the two girls
head down the stairs, leaving Till with only Ivan in this section of the library. In the time that
he’s been here, Till’s watched the other students come and go, until he remains the only
constant.

“You don’t have to stay here, you know. It’ll probably get boring,” Till says. “You should
head home. Play your games or whatever.”

“I don’t think I’ll be bored.”

“Liar. You said you were bored just this afternoon.”

“Well, I lied then.”

Till huffs. “Fine, you can stay, but don’t bother me like last time.”

“Okay.”
And, true to his word, Ivan leaves Till well alone. Till must have entered a state of
hyperfocus, because he’s managed to complete his song in the next two hours. The first rough
draft, at least. By the time he’s done, his stomach is growling like a famished tiger and his
vision swims before him. He yawns, wiping the moisture from his eyes, hating how night has
already fallen, the sky turned black.

“Come on,” Till says, shutting his laptop and slipping it into his bag. “Let’s go get some
dinner.”

No response.

Till glances over, only to see Ivan with his head tucked against his crossed arms, lying flat on
the table. His eyes are closed, lashes fluttering lightly against his lids. His chest rises and falls
rhythmically with each breath, steady in the throes of sleep. There’s something enchanting
about the display, of Ivan so unguarded. It’s a far cry from his usual mischievous
mannerisms, a new side of him that Till hasn’t seen thus far.

Before he realises it, Till’s reached out, fingers tangling in his hair. It’s surprisingly soft and
silky, like a bed of grass that Till could run his hands through forever.

“You like it that much?”

Till gasps, immediately withdrawing his hand. The magic was lost, and he flushes deeply,
meeting Ivan’s sleepy gaze. Eyes hooded, a wry grin on his face. Till was pinned by that self-
serving expression alone.

“You can continue touching it if you want,” Ivan says.

“N-No thanks. Look, I’m going to get something to eat, so—”

“I’ll join you. Where do you wanna go?”

Till thinks about it for a moment. “Dunno. I’m craving pizza.”

“Okay. Let’s get pizza, then.”

The entire time, Till could hardly look Ivan in the eye. Ivan has no qualms about staring,
though, watching Till from under long lashes and fond eyes, with strings of cheese hanging
from his lips, sticking to his chin. Till doesn’t know whether to be flattered or disgusted.

Inconsequential emotional conflict aside, Till has more pressing matters to brood about.
Namely, the strange feelings he’s getting lately around Ivan. All the burning cheeks, the
sweaty palms, and the incessant thud-thud-thud of his heart. He’s only ever felt this way with
Mizi before, and the last time he tried to deal with those peculiar reactions…

Oh, yes, he just ignored them, and over time, they went away. Logic dictates that the same
thing would work with Ivan as well.
In the past, all he needed to do was to limit the time he spent with Mizi. That was easily
solved by heading off to military service and returning to his studies afterward. If he wants to
succeed this time, he will have to make a concerted effort in avoiding contact with him.

“What are you thinking about?”

Till flinches at the sudden warmth against his lip. The hairs at the back of his neck stand on
end, and he flinches away reflexively. Ivan frowns, and he withdraws his hand, before
dabbing his fingers stained with tomato sauce on a napkin. “Nothing.”

“You were pretty spaced out. I called you twice, but you didn’t respond.”

“Oh,” Till manages amidst a constricting throat and jumbled thoughts in his head.

“Anyway, you had some sauce there.”

“Oh,” Till repeats, because his brain short-circuits and leaves that mass of muscle a quivering
mess of electrical impulses. His cheeks grow hot again, and his pulse palpitates. Why, oh why
is he like this? Is he an animal that responds primarily to his bestial instincts? He revokes that
claim, though, by getting out a, “Thanks.”

Ivan smiles, and Till feels like his entire face is on fire. The man literally wears a halo, and is
accompanied by a backdrop of roses, angelic trumpets blaring behind him. How can anyone’s
smile be so bright? “You’re welcome.”

Once more, the meal descends into awkward silence. Awkward for Till, at the very least. Ivan
seems to have no problems continuing to stare at him, like he’s appreciating a piece of art at
the Louvre. Till wolfs down his food, pretends that he’s completely unaffected by the
smallest of gestures, and he stands.

“We’re done,” Till says, as robotic as the automated voice in trains. “Let’s go.”

Ivan blinks. “Sure. Wanna take a walk around the campus?”

“N-No, thanks. I, uh, I’ve got things to do, so… yeah. Bye.”

“Let me at least walk you back—”

Till brushes Ivan’s hand away, which has magically appeared on his shoulder. The confused
furrows on his brow only deepen. It makes Till feel bad, but for the sake of his own sanity, he
has to stop here before it gets any worse than it already is. Without lingering on the crushing
sense of guilt that has evolved from those tingles of “feeling bad,” Till flees as fast as he can.

That is to say that he runs right out into the pouring rain. Till gets about five steps before
sneezing, slipping on a puddle and falling flat on his face. Pain splits his nose, and Till
screeches, clutching his face and panicking even more when blood gathers on his palm.

First off, when did the rain even start? Was he too wrapped up in his thoughts about Ivan to
notice? Second, he needs to get first aid, pronto. The university’s health centre is definitely
closed at this time of day. Third, who the hell is scooping him into his arms and yelling in his
ear? God, that voice is more thunderous than the raging storm swirling around them.

What happens next can only be described as a tempest and then some. In a flat ten minutes,
Ivan is kicking down the door to his dorm room and he’s laying Till on the bed. Water soaks
through the mattress, and Till has half a mind to demand some form of compensation, like
Ivan letting Till sleep over at his place for one night. If he has an expensive four-poster bed,
that’ll just sweeten the deal.

“It’s just,” Till snaps through a nasally voice, “a fucking nosebleed.”

“You probably broke your nose. I’m calling my personal—”

“Don’t you dare. Being the only guy working at that café is bad enough. I don’t want to end
up the talk of the uni again!”

Ivan looks like a kicked dog. A kicked dog dripping water all over his floor. If the wood rots
or mould grows, Till’s going to have an aneurysm.

“Look, it’ll go away by itself. If it bothers you that much, I’ll go to the university health
centre tomorrow morning.”

“But this is all my fault.”

Till freezes, stares at him, stunned. “Why would you say that?”

“It was something I said, right? I mean, you were in such a hurry to leave, and you didn’t
even realise it was raining. Like, you must have been super out of it, because who in their
right mind wouldn’t have noticed the rain—”

“You have a death wish?”

“So, yes, this was all my fault. I probably said or did something I shouldn’t have, and that
made you all flustered, and…”

Whoa, why the hell is he apologising? If the crushing guilt from before hasn’t flattened Till
like a pancake, the weight of his guilt now is hefty enough to press him six feet into the soil.
“Hold on a minute—”

“Whatever it was, I probably didn’t mean it, and if I did, I take it back,” Ivan says, dropping
to his knees in front of Till, and Till is beginning to think that this is not typically a thing
mere friends do to and for each other. Perhaps a king-and-servant dynamic would fit better
instead? “I’m sorry.”

“Wait,” Till says, ripping out a tissue from the box on his nightstand and holding it against
his nostril. “I think you’ve got this all backwards. I don’t hate you or anything, and you didn’t
do anything wrong , per se. It’s… It’s me. I’m—”

“The problem?” Ivan finishes for him. Without warning, he reaches over and grabs Till’s free
hand, ignoring Till’s pitiful squeak. “You’re never the problem, Till. So, don’t get that
thought in your—”

Ivan is interrupted with a foot in his face, Till’s kick so strong that he flies and nearly crashes
into the opposite wall. He winces, burying his face in his hands. Till tries to stamp down the
fire in his cheeks, but to no avail.

“That was the cheesiest shit I’ve heard in my life,” Till utters.

When Ivan moves his hands away, the lines on Till’s forehead bolden. He points at his
crooked nose. “See, we’re matching now!”

Till kicks him again.

 Chapter 7

Till isn’t quite sure how he ended up in this situation, but he has, and he now has to suffer
through the consequences. Buried under the heft of his conscience, Till lets Ivan spend the
night, neither begrudgingly nor enthusiastically, mind. Maybe more the former than the latter,
if he’s being honest, because he’s now sleeping flush against the wall with barely any space
to himself. This single bed is not big enough for the both of them.

Before this, they waged a huge war. Neither he nor Ivan was comfortable with letting the
other sleep on the floor, so they duked it out. With words, not fists, because they’re not
barbarians. The battle tapered off since both of them are stalwart warriors who refused to
give in at any cost, so Ivan proposed a better solution that benefits both of them—that they’d
both share the bed.

Well, at least Ivan allowed him to change out of his wet clothes, and naturally, Till had to
lend him his garments for the night. It’s not like Ivan has a team of servants at his beck and
call, who can bring him a fresh set of clothes at the snap of his fingers.

Till is starting to think that Ivan’s perceived benefit only extends to one of them. Till can
hardly breathe, desperate to keep a distance of at least a hair’s breadth away from Ivan, even
as Ivan inches closer. He’s fast asleep, completely unaware of his own movements, and the
seemingly natural way he seeks Till out with grabby hands and long legs.

At some point, Till tries to sink into dreamland, craving the embrace of slumber where he’d
be dead to the world and wake up with, hopefully, no recollection of how uncomfortable this
situation is. He screws his eyes shut, and he crosses his arms over his chest. He barely just
manages to calm his racing heart when the unexpected—or totally expected, to some—
happens.

Till’s hackles raise when Ivan tosses an arm over his middle, and, with insane strength—
particularly so for a sleeping person—Ivan pulls him across the bed and right into the crevice
of his torso. Till goes rigid instantly, and his breaths turn shallow. He can feel Ivan’s
heartbeat, the rise and fall of his chest against his back. Ivan nuzzles his nose into the top of
Till’s head, and Till’s brain fries for a second time that night.

That’s it , Till tells himself, pressing his palms to his cheeks in hopes of dousing the flames
trapped under his skin. Ivan’s never sleeping over again . He’ll get through this night, ban
Ivan from his room forever, and go back to living his regular life. He should quit that maid
café job too while he’s at it. It has brought him no end of humiliation and shame, and that
relatively paltry paycheque is not worth the emotional pain.

Till shuts his eyes, and he tries his best to drift off.

Eventually, Ivan’s earthy scent, the steady tempo of his heartbeat, and the security afforded
by the arm around Till’s middle lulls him into a deep, deep sleep.

*
When Till awakens, he punches Ivan with one swift fist.

It was an honest-to-goodness accident, a perfectly normal response to waking up with another

body in your bed when you’re not used to it. Especially when the body belongs to someone
that has been eliciting all these weird emotions from him. Ivan yelps and flails, falling
painfully from the bed. Till sits up, his fist still curled and trembling ever so slightly as he
stares at the tangle of limbs on the floor.

“I… did not mean to do that. Sorry,” Till says, and he offers a hand to an Ivan busy
massaging his tailbone. It’s the least he can do after socking him in the chin and causing an
extra bruise.

“Don’t mind if I do,” Ivan says, taking Till’s hand, and he’s so light that Till heaves him to
his feet effortlessly. Ivan looks almost shocked by it.

“So,” Till says, “you’re never allowed to sleep over anymore.”

Ivan’s jaw drops, and sudden fear crosses his face. “Did I… do something weird in my sleep?
Like, sleepwalking, or…?”

“Well, you were hugging me. In your sleep. I hope that answers your questions.”

“Oh.” And Till isn’t sure why, but Ivan’s fucking smiling .

“A-Anyway, I’ve got to go to class.”

“But it’s Saturday.”

Till curses internally. “No rest for the wicked. I’m going to the library to study.”

“We should go to the university health centre first,” Ivan says. “Just in case something’s
happened to your nose.”

“I’m fine. It’s stopped bleeding, and it still hurts a bit, but I’m fine.”

Ivan purses his lips. “Okay.”

“Yeah.”

An emotionally-charged silence ensues. Neither of them seems to want to delve into what
occurred the night before. Thankfully, Till’s growling stomach saves them from the
awkwardness of the situation.

“Well, I’m going for some breakfast. Wanna come along?”

Ivan is like a leech. Yes, that is the most accurate description of the man constantly clinging
to him as Till studies at one of the benches around campus, writes his music in one of the
music rooms, goes for lunch at the cafeteria before heading for his café job. Ivan chooses to
sit at the same booth he sat at when Till first saw him, the one by the window, with his laptop
open in front of him.

Needless to say, Till is distracted the whole time. How can he not be, when Ivan strives to
hold his attention captive all the while? He finds his gaze drifting to Ivan when there is a lull
in business, only to see Ivan staring back at him, and, once, even winking. It’s getting harder
and harder to hide the persistent blush on his face.

At the end of the day, Till hands in his resignation letter. Dewey is sad to see him go,
apparently, but his expression—staring down soullessly at his phone—doesn’t match his
words at all. Till changes out of his bunny maid outfit for the last time, hands it over to the
boss, and he takes his leave.

When he pushes the door open, Ivan’s standing right outside. He gives Till a wave, beckons
him over, and absently, Till complies. It’s only when they’re walking down the street, Ivan
complaining about his studies, that Till realises just how normal it has become to be with
Ivan. A week ago, he’d have found it strange, but now? Now, it’s become second nature to
him.

It was supposed to be a simple job—play Ivan’s date for a wedding and get paid. How in the
world did he get a friend out of this? And a clingy one, at that?

“Till? Are you listening?” Ivan whines, poking at his cheek with a finger. Till has half a mind
to sock him across the cheek for that alone.

“What? Oh, uh… something about going to the zoo?”

“For an assignment, yes.”

“You’re not even doing a Biology class or anything of the sort.”

“We’re supposed to, uh… identify a new marketing campaign and write about how it
impacted regular consumers. And there’s a new exhibit that opened. The, uh, penguin one.”
The words rush out of Ivan’s mouth so quick that Till has the sense to arch a brow in
suspicion. If his tingling senses are telling him anything…

“You could just ask to hang out if you wanted to, you know?”

Ivan stops walking. Till doesn’t even notice till he’s already ten steps ahead of him. He spins
on his heels once he realises how silent it is, only to find Ivan staring at him with eyes as
wide as saucers.

Till narrows his eyes as he walks back to his rigid companion. Was it something he said?
“What?”

“You want to hang out?” Ivan asks, voice barely a whisper. Till thinks he’s being dramatic.

“I mean, I’m okay with hanging out, if that’s what you want.”

“This isn’t watching a movie or going to the mall. So, um, name your price.”
Till blinks as confusion takes hold on him for a moment. Then, clarity returns, and he
remembers his and Ivan’s deal. He furrows his brow and turns away, hoping Ivan doesn’t see
the light pink on his cheeks. How can he not feel embarrassed when the man’s staring at him
with such an expectant look? “Uh, you don’t have to pay me. I mean, we’re friends, right?
You don’t have to pay to hang out with friends.”

“Oh!” Anticipation turns to wonder, and it still amazes Till how quickly Ivan’s expression
changes. “Yes! Right! Let’s go this weekend!”

“What? No, I have an exam next week.”

Ivan droops.

“If you want to go, we can go during term break.”

The sparkles return to Ivan’s eyes, and his whole complexion brightens. Till has no clue what
he got himself into, but it’s something , alright.

“Okay,” Ivan says almost breathlessly. And, if Till listened closer, he would have heard his
next words, whispered so low that only he could hear it. “It’s a date.”

Exams come and go, and Till finds himself hobbling out of the exam hall on the last day of
exams, dragging his lethargic body back to his dorm room. He plugs his phone into the
charger, reviving it from the five percent left of its juice. Unlocking it brings him
immediately to his and Ivan’s chatlog, the last messages being that of Ivan wishing him good
luck with a bunny sticker and Till replying with a thumbs-up.

Ivan’s still in the exam hall in the Business building, taking his examination on… something
that Till ha no idea about. He has no interest in business, and he’s not going to start now. But
whatever it is, Ivan already has a head start, considering his background.

They’re meeting for dinner tonight at his place to celebrate the end of exams with Mizi and
Sua. The two women are bringing the beer, Ivan’s in charge of the food, and Till’s… just
hosting, though he argues that that is the most difficult part.

He lies on his bed, thinking about his outing with Ivan the day after. To be perfectly honest,
Till’s only gone to the zoo once, on a field trip when he was in kindergarten. He remembers
being enamoured by the lions and the tigers, the giraffes and the elephants. Like what Ivan
said, a new penguin exhibit came up, alongside the polar bears and the seals. That’s the one
he said he wanted to go, using a project or assignment as an excuse. It was sort of… cute.

And Till punches himself square in the cheek. What the heck is he thinking, calling Ivan
cute? That man is anything but cute, his rational mind tells him. Ivan is a tall, lanky man who
is clingier than a koala. Yet, Till finds himself giving in to him more often than not. Surely,
him doing something this uncharacteristic must be out of the goodness of his heart.
Absolutely nothing to do with Ivan himself whatsoever.
Till buries his head in his pillow, sudden exhaustion overcoming him. His heavy eyelids
close, and his body relaxes into the soft mattress.

As the clock strikes three p.m., he falls fast asleep.

“Till! Are you dead?”

Till awakens with a jolt, then flinches again at the banging of fists on his door. Panic shoots
through him, and one glance at the window and his clock tells him that he’s overslept by a
larger margin than he thought.

“Stand back, I’m gonna break the door down.” Ivan’s voice floats from the door, and Till
squeaks, darting towards his door and grabbing the handle before Ivan can do any real
damage that he’d have to foot the bill for.

The moment Till pulls the door open, a foot connects with his stomach, sending him flying
and sprawling onto the ground.

Ow , is all Till can think, one arm clutched around his middle. What comes next happens like
a whirlwind. Someone scoops Till up into his arms, and Till’s head lolls such that his face is
pressed against sturdy chest. Mizi runs to get his first aid kit, and Sua merely watches on
whilst shutting the door quietly behind her.

“Till, I’m so sorry!” Ivan half-sobs as he lays Till back down on the bed. Till wishes he
wouldn’t whine so pathetically in his ear. “I didn’t mean it!”

And that is how Till finds himself wrapped up in his blanket like a roll of kimbap, sat on his
bed, and with two worried faces staring him down. The shock of the whole situation seems to
have severed his neurons, because he has no clue how to react to this situation, only knowing
how to stare back, his mouth opening and closing like a fish.

“Well, that’s an eventful start,” Sua says.

“Yeah,” Till utters eloquently.

“It’s not like he drinks anyway,” Mizi says, placing the first-aid kit on the nightstand. “I’m
sure he’ll be fine.”

“Are you really okay?” Ivan asks, drooping like a sad puppy at his bedside. Till could see his
ears and tail if he tried hard enough. As he is with most domesticated canines, he has half a
mind to pat Ivan’s head, maybe give him a scratch under the chin.

“I’m fine,” Till croaks out, and that’s when he realises that he sounds worse than he feels.

“Okay, change of plans,” Mizi says abruptly. “We can’t play Spin the Bottle or Truth or Dare
with Till all wrapped up like that. Let’s watch a movie.”

Till blinks, unsure if Mizi pre-drank before this get-together. “Uh, sure.”
“Let’s watch a scary movie,” Sua says, shooting an evil smile at her brother, who returns a
death glare.

“Let’s watch something funny. I haven’t had a good comedy in a while,” Ivan counters.

“Or romance!” Mizi cries, her fingers clasped together. “Let’s watch a romantic comedy!”

And so, their lively conversation continues. Till can only listen to them, with his body bound
tight by the blankets. They eventually watch a horror comedy, something about a zombie
apocalypse. It’s a B-movie at best, but at least Mizi keeps everyone’s spirits up with her
constant commentary and abrupt screams with each jump scare.

“Say ah,” Ivan says, holding up a piece of fried chicken to Till’s mouth.

Till glares at him, but he takes a bite out of the crispy drumstick anyway. “I can eat it by
myself.”

“But I like feeding you.”

Sua shoots Ivan a look. Mizi screams at the zombies lunging towards the protagonists on
screen. Till gives Ivan the most disgusted expression he can muster, but even so, he finishes
the drumstick that Ivan feeds him.

“Ah, that hits the spot,” Mizi says, finishing the can of beer as the movie’s credits roll. The
box of fried chicken has been cleared out as well, and Sua opens the windows to let the smell
out and let cold air rush in. For the first time in the last two hours or so, Till has never been so
glad he’s sweating it out in this blanket bundle. “So, are we sleeping over tonight?”

A long time ago, Till would be thrilled at the idea of having Mizi spend time over at his
place, especially if she stayed the night. Not that he ever got any alone time with her,
considering Sua would never let them. But now, all he’s looking forward to is peace and
quiet, which is not going to happen if this trio spends the night here.

But Till, being the pushover that he is, would have agreed meekly if not for Sua speaking up
first. “Come on, Mizi, you can do better than this dusty old place. I have a spare room in the
penthouse.”

Till’s eyelid twitches at the not-so-subtle insult.

“I think Till’s place is homely,” Ivan says. He’s been seated at the foot of the bed the whole
time, snuggled up next to Till. With how thick the layers of blankets that he is still trapped in
is, he hasn’t noticed till now. It must be uncomfortable; his legs must be numb now. “You can
leave if you want, and take out the rubbish on the way out.”

Sua shoots him her middle finger—more out of reflex than anything, it looks like—and she
hoists Mizi up by the underarm. Mizi giggles, her flush evident on her face, and she whines
Sua’s name as Sua carries her on piggyback. Till briefly wonders if Sua works out, and if she
does, never to cross her in his lifetime. With one arm under Mizi’s leg, the other curled
around the bags of oily cardboard boxes and empty beer cans, she strides out the room, the
door shutting behind her.

“It’s just me and you now, Till,” Ivan says, and a shiver runs up Till’s spine.

“Uh…”

“Let’s go and wash up, yeah? Do you have any more spare clothes I can borrow?”

Is Ivan gonna stay the night? No, no, no, Till can’t go through that again. He needs his beauty
sleep, dammit, and he’s sure not getting any if Ivan crashes on his bed beside him. “What?
No, get out. You have a whole penthouse, don’t you?”

Ivan taps his chin. “Hm, but I quite like it here.”

Well, I don’t , Till thinks, although it does sound like he’s trying to convince himself. Ivan
must have noticed his frown, because he sniffles and wipes a mock tear from his eye.

“Since you don’t want me around, Till, I’ll have to take my leave,” Ivan says, shuffling
towards the door. “I’ll see you tomorrow, then.”

Oh, yeah, the zoo trip. Till completely forgot about it. He probably needs to turn in early
tonight, so that he can get all the rest he needs tomorrow.

“Wait! Could you,” Till cries, rolling about like a sushi roll that came to life, “get me out of
this first?”
 Chapter 8

“It’s been a while since I came here,” Till says, as he and Ivan step through the gantry to the
zoo. All around the entrance are statues of animals—advertising lions, flamingos, red pandas,
and most of all, the penguins. Till could literally see Ivan’s eyes sparkling, practically
vibrating with excitement as he drags Till across the entrance concourse towards the Winter
Wonderland exhibit.

Till finds himself sandwiched between a bunch of families and couples who have no doubt
come to ooh and aah at the penguins. The exhibit is held in an aquarium, the air conditioning
rushing at Till’s face the moment they step in. In the centre of the aquarium is the penguin
enclosure, a large glass tank showcasing the graceful birds as they dive deep beneath the
surface of the water.

“Penguins!” Ivan gushes, and Till doesn’t think he’s seen the man’s eyes sparkle quite that
brightly before, almost like a schoolboy. He must really like the birds, though Till has always
been more partial to big cats like tigers or jaguars himself. “Are you seeing them, Till?
Penguins!”

“Yeah, penguins,” Till says tonelessly. He glances slyly up at Ivan. “Were you the kind of kid
who liked Pororo?”

“Liked? Don’t you mean ‘like?’ In the present tense?” Ivan beams. “I mean, a lot of people
like Loopy for some reason, but Pororo is objectively the best character of the series by virtue
of being a penguin.”

Till snorts. “Sure, whatever you say. For the record, I liked Krong.”

Ivan looks at him thoughtfully, then he smiles. “Yeah, you look like the kind of child who
would.”

They stand around the glass tank for a little longer, just in time to catch the feeding session.
Just like the children around them, Ivan presses his face to the glass, eyes wide as he watches
the penguins snap up the fish thrown to them. If Till thinks about it, he does look like a
puppy, with raised ears and a wagging tail.

It’s only after the feeding session has concluded, the keeper walking back through the door
with the empty pail, that Till manages to pry Ivan away from the enclosure. They make one
round around the aquarium, passing by the polar bear enclosure and the seals, sealions and
walruses, before they find themselves delivered to the entrance of the Reptiles section.

“Look,” Ivan says, gesturing at a gecko perched on a branch in a small tank. “That one looks
like you.”

“What? That’s nothing like me.”

“Tough on the outside, but soft on the inside.”

Till feels the sudden urge to throttle him. “I’m not soft on the inside, you prick.”

Ivan only grins.

The zoo is bigger than Till remembers. Crocodiles and snakes aside, Till and Ivan visit the
bears, the elephants, the foxes, the goats, and eventually end up at the petting zoo. Goats and
sheep meander around, bits of hay sticking to their mouths, their hooves caked with dirt.
There’s even a separate section for guinea pigs and rabbits, the latter nibbling on leaves of
lettuce.

Till isn’t sure how, but he ends up with a rabbit curling on his lap and sleeping, its ears
flattened against its head. Its body is warm, trembling ever so slightly with each breath. Till
has never so much as touched an animal before now—just some city boy things—so the
feeling is foreign. Gingerly, he strokes the rabbit’s back, mimicking what he remembers
seeing on TikTok and TV. Is he doing this right? The rabbit isn’t going to wake up and kick
him, would it?

“You don’t have to be so scared,” Ivan says, and Till jumps when Ivan comes up behind him.
He’s standing so close that Till can literally feel his body heat radiating off him. Till’s breath
catches in his throat when Ivan reaches over for a demonstration, his hand coming up to
thread through the bunny’s soft fur. The rabbit doesn’t seem to react, its breaths rhythmic as it
continues to nap.

He should really be focusing on the rabbit, but how can he when Ivan is sitting so
purposefully next to him, the very fact that their arms are almost touching sending
shockwaves through his skin and tingling his heart? How long are these feelings going to
last? How long must Till suffer?

After what feels like forever, and Till’s thighs are going numb, that the rabbit finally awakens
and hops off of its own accord to join its brethren.

“Do you want to practice?” Ivan asks, as he stands, and he helps Till to his feet.

“Practice what?”

“Petting animals.” Ivan lowers his head, and he points at his mop of hair. “You can practice
on me, Till.”

Till doesn’t think he has ever been rendered this speechless. He freezes like a statue, and his
vocal cords have stopped working. When Ivan senses no reaction, he lifts his head, and hint
of worry in those eyes that Till wishes to soothe away—

Hold on. Hold that thought. When in the world did his hand move to Ivan’s hair? Ivan’s hair
is soft and slightly puffy, somewhat fun to card through, to the point where Till thinks he can
do this all day.

Ivan peeks up at him from under his bangs, and he winks. “I’ll be a petting zoo animal any
day for you.”
Till roughs up his hair, pulling at the locks, and Ivan yowls like a cat. With tousled hair as
messy as a bird’s nest, Ivan lifts his head, a mischievous smile on his face.

“Let’s go,” Till mutters, turning away from Ivan so as to keep his reddened face hidden. It’s
embarrassing having these feelings in the first place, and running his fingers through Ivan’s
hair just because it looked so inviting? Is this what Till has become, a barbarian that lives
only by his base desires?

“Okay,” Ivan says, as chipper as ever.

If Till turned around right then, he may have noticed the faintest blush on Ivan’s cheeks, and
his hand reaching up to press against his scalp where Till touched him.

“Today was a good day,” Ivan says, as he opens the car door for Till to step out. Till alights,
still unused to this sort of chivalry that everyone says is dead. He has half a mind to tell Ivan
that he doesn’t need to do this, because Till may be smaller than him, but he’s still a young
man of twenty-one.

“Yeah, it was more fun than I thought,” Till says.

“So, when are you free next?”

“Um, well… the rest of the week, really. It’s break.”

Ivan beams. “Okay, let’s have lunch together tomorrow. Is there anywhere special that you’d
like to go?”

Till shakes his head. “Nah. I’m good with anywhere except Kitty Kat.”

“Why? I would love to see you in that outfit again.”

Why, oh why must his bodily functions betray him so? Till prays to the heavens that Ivan
does not see the flush on his face. He reminds himself to calm down, not to imagine strange
and weird things just because Ivan’s a playful flirt. He’s probably like that to everyone,
considering his personality. It’s not hard to picture him speaking and acting this way around
his friends as well.

“I quit,” Till says. “I don’t think I’m suited for the job, is all.”

“Oh, well, should I get you a maid cos—”

Till glares at him. Ivan chuckles guiltily.

“Anyway, thanks for today, and getting us the tickets and all. Send me the amount and I’ll
pay you back,” Till says.

“No need. Consider it payment.”

Payment…? Oh, payment! Till almost forgot about it. “Oh, right. Uh… yeah, like I said, I
don’t need payment anymore for this. I mean, we’re friends, so we can just hang out.”

“Well, we’re definitely going to have to kiss and hold hands at the wedding,” Ivan says.
“Think of it as payment for that.”

“K-Kiss?”

“Yeah,” Ivan says, and he looks less nervous and apprehensive about the prospect than Till
thought he’d feel. In fact, he can go so far as to describe his mannerisms as nonchalant, with
relaxed shoulders and hands shoved into his pockets, leaning against the car. “How are we
going to convince my parents that we’re boyfriends?”

Till scratches his nose. It’s embarrassing to think about it now, but he’s never kissed anyone
before, not on the mouth, at least. When he agreed to the request, all his gold-digging brain
saw was the money, and everything else was secondary. This is precisely why he should
really heed his mother’s words when she told him to read every clause of a contract carefully,
and in this case, take a step back and understand the implications of whatever he has agreed
to.

“If you want, you can back out now,” Ivan says, and for the first time in a while, he looks
entirely serious. “I won’t hate you for it.”

“What? No, I agreed to it. The least I can do is to see it through till the end.”

“Really, you don’t have to feel pressured if you’re not comfortable with it.”

“And I’m telling you that I’m seeing it through till the end,” Till repeats, stabbing a finger at
Ivan, who has somehow awakened his competitive spirit. “So, just watch me. We’ll get
through that wedding no problem.”

Without waiting for a reply, Till marches back into his dorm room. As he waits for the lift, he
spots, through the glass doors, Ivan waiting there. Watching him. Waving at him even when
he gets into the lift, only getting back into the car when the lift doors begin to close.

Ivan is taking this way too seriously, and it’s not good for Till’s heart.

Their days continue like that, really, throughout the month of April. Ivan never leaves without
asking for Till’s next available date, and he always shows up on time and in style. So much
that sometimes, Till feels a little stressed about it. Apart from the times when Ivan joins him
in jogging or in the gym. Till ends up fearing that the man would get a heart attack every
time.

After April comes May, abound with exams once more. They get into a rhythm, along with
Mizi and Sua, migrating to the library where they spend most of their days studying their
butts off. All thoughts of anything else are shoved to the side, to the back of their minds, only
music, business, and economics fill their heads.
Ivan is their designated coffee boy, because for some reason, he’s the type who’s genius
enough that he can achieve excellent grades without even so much as touching a book. It’s
truly unfair, Till thinks, but he has no time to dwell on that thought when he has so many
exams to study for and music and papers to write.

Just like that, the exam season comes and goes. By the end of it, Till feels like a walking
corpse, except he craves the bitterness of coffee instead of brains. On the day of his final
exam—both Mizi and Sua have another two days later—he flops onto his bed without even
showering or changing his clothes, body weighed heavy by the cumulative exhaustion of the
past week.

Till glances at his phone, and his heart does an involuntary skip at the name on his KKT
notifications. It’s Ivan, asking him out to get dinner at a nice seafood restaurant that just
opened up along the Han River. A quick Naver search tells him that it’s supposed to
specialise in clams and oysters, which Till wouldn’t say he loves, but he knows fits right into
Ivan’s palate. Then again, it looks like they serve up some mean mackerel and eel too, so he’s
down for those.

Meet u at 7 , Till texts, and he lets his hand fall back limply on the bed. He takes a deep
breath, summons all his strength to peel himself off the soft, downy mattress, and he shuffles
to the bathroom to wash up.

“So, just four days left,” Ivan says, as a waitress places a bowl of steaming clams between
them. Though not a fan of clams, Till finds his mouth watering at the buttery scent. “Then,
it’s the wedding.”

“The biggest performance of my life,” Till mutters. He’s certainly sung on stage before,
played in his school’s guitar ensemble in middle school, but he found his passion in writing
and producing songs, the audience scaring more than it excites.

“Yeah, but you’ll be fine,” Ivan says, and he scoops a few clams into Till’s plate. “I mean, I
think we look pretty natural already.”

Do they? They may be natural as friends, but as lovers? That’s a whole other matter. What do
lovers even do? Hold hands, perhaps. Till can do that. Initiate skinship? Ivan covers that area
pretty well, without Till’s input. Blush when they see each other, experience heart
palpitations at every feather-light touch?

Well, Till’s got that part down to a T.

“What are you thinking about?” Ivan asks, waving his chopsticks in front of Till.

Till shakes his head. “Nothing. Just how tiring my exams are.”

“Hmm.”
Ivan doesn’t speak. Till hopes he hasn’t offended him. He chooses to focus on his food,
pushing his clams about on his plate, their shells clinking against the porcelain.

“Can I ask you something, Till?” Ivan says. “I know I’ve already asked a lot from you, but…
can I make just one more request?”

Till gulps. Ivan’s always asking for things, like whining for Till to spend time with him, or
for Till to give him a sip of his coffee, then complaining it’s too bitter for him afterwards. But
he’s never seen him so solemn before, so earnest. “What is it?”

“After this, no matter what happens during the wedding, can we stay friends?”

Till blinks. That’s it? “Yeah, sure, I mean… why not?”

At that, Ivan smiles, and Till hasn’t been blinded before, but this comes real close. “Okay,
you promised, Till.”

After that, Ivan becomes more talkative, his tone freer and lighter. Till finds it strange that
something like that would weigh on his mind, because it’s something so simple. After all, this
is a transaction, isn’t it? Ivan doesn’t actually want to date him. They’ll just settle this
wedding, then go back to being how they are before. Maybe they won’t hang out as much,
because Ivan would have better things to do as the CFO of ALNST than to stay with a normie
like Till.

Till’s jaw clenches at the pang in his chest. Why’s he thinking of such depressing things?
He’s friends with Mizi, who’s Sua’s actual girlfriend, so they could still hang out together by
proxy.

“You’re distracted today,” Ivan observes, jolting Till from his trance. He hasn’t even realised
when Ivan’s reached across the table, hand over Till’s. “Are you tired? We could finish this
up, and I’ll take you back to the dorm.”

Till snatches his hand away, perhaps a little too quickly. He doesn’t miss the slight downturn
of Ivan’s lips, as he slowly retracts his hand. The warmth of Ivan’s hand lingers on the back
of his. “Yeah, I’m a little exhausted. Long day, you know?”

Ivan nods. “Okay. Let’s eat this up and go back, then.”

Till tosses and turns in bed, the reality of his situation suddenly crashing down on him. The
wedding is coming up in a few days, and he and Ivan are, to the other members of his
privileged family, a couple. These people are powerful figures in the entertainment scene, if
not other industries. What if Till makes a fool of himself in front of everyone, by, well,
spilling a drink all over himself, or tripping over his own two feet. Goodness, does he need to
learn to dance? He knows nothing about dancing and has two left feet.

If he messes up, would he tarnish Ivan’s reputation? What if Ivan—

Till pulls his blanket over his head as he curls into a foetal position. No, he told himself that
he isn’t going to think of such things, and besides, it was Ivan who asked whether he’d like to
remain friends after the wedding. That must mean that Ivan himself must like Till to some
extent, right?

Till squeezes his eyes shut, and he tries to force himself to sleep.

Perhaps he should ask Mizi tomorrow. Coach him on being a partner to someone of a higher
social status and how to act around their family. Surely, Mizi must have met their parents
already—she’s been Sua’s girlfriend way longer than he has been fake-dating Ivan.

He reaches for his phone, and he shoots a text to Mizi.

Why is it that Till’s fate is inextricably linked to this café? Why is it that when he goes
through his quarter-life crisis, he ends up right back here, like it’s where he belongs?

Till drums his fingers on the table as he waits for Mizi to change out of her frilly bunny maid
dress. He takes a sip of his mocha, and he turns to stare out the window for lack of anything
better to do. The university courtyard is full of students milling about, some of them playing
a game of frisbee in the field, a few are studying at the picnic benches, and some are just
lying on the grass, basking in the soft glow of the sunset.

“Sorry that it took a while,” Mizi says, and she eases into the seat in front of Till, now
dressed in her regular clothes—Sua’s white tee that’s slightly tight on her, and Sua’s purple
skirt that flares at her hips. “What did you want to talk about?”

“Oh, nothing, just, uh… what’s it like? To be Sua’s girlfriend?”

Mizi blinks slowly, then she tilts her head, confusion clear in the furrow of her brow. “Um…
you mean generally, or is there something specific you’re thinking of?”

“Like…” Till waves his hands about wildly. “Have you met her parents yet?”

“Well, once or twice. They’re really nice,” Mizi says. “It really makes me wonder whether
Sua’s really their daughter.”

Till can expect their parents to be more like Ivan, then. Relief floods him; well, that’s one less
thing he has to worry about.

“Have you ever been afraid of messing up?” Till asks. “There’s gonna be tons of people at the
wedding.”

“Well, it’s definitely nerve-wracking, but honestly, I don’t think it’ll be as bad as you’d
expect.”

Till takes another sip of his mocha. “Oh.”

Mizi smiles. “Don’t be nervous. You and Ivan have been spending a lot of time lately, right?
Think of it as just another outing, yeah?”

“Y-Yeah. Right.”

“Ah, you don’t have a tuxedo or suit yet, right?” Mizi says, her eyes lighting up. “We should
go shopping after my exam tomorrow. I’ll get Sua’s credit card, so you don’t have to worry
about cost.”

Till frowns. “I’m not sure what I feel about spending other people’s money…”

Mizi flashes him a thumbs-up. “You don’t have to worry! I’m gonna marry Sua in the future,
so technically, all this money already belongs to me anyway.”

Till’s gaze falls momentarily to her hand, and after noticing the ring on her finger, which has
an equal chance of being a couple ring or an engagement ring, lifts his gaze to meet hers
again. “Okay…”

“Will tomorrow at two p.m. work for you?”

“Yeah.” It’s been a while since he and Mizi have gone anywhere together, or even had a one-
on-one conversation outside of lessons. It would be refreshing and helpful, especially since
Till has zero fashion sense and would probably look like a walking disaster if he was left to
his own devices. “I’ll see you at two tomorrow, then.”

Mizi leaves first, citing a date with Sua, and she gives him a friendly wave as she ducks out
of the café. Till drains the cup of mocha, leaves the dregs, and he prepares to head out as
well. His phone buzzes, and Ivan asks if he can come over for a spot of video games. Till
quickly types a response—that yes, he can—and he shoves his phone into his pocket,
whistling a tune as he slips out the door.
 Chapter 9
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes

Till feels watched.

He’s had the feeling as soon as he and Mizi step into the departmental store, and his gaze
instinctively flicks to the crowds, the shadows between the stores. He just can’t put his finger
on where exactly those gazes are drilling into him from. But if Mizi noticed anything, she
doesn’t let on, instead leading the way up the escalators and towards the men’s section.

He’s greeted with a wide selection of suits, shirts, dress trousers, dress shoes, and ties. Most
of the clothes come in polished black, browns, and greys, with a few in brighter colours like
white and gold. Sales assistants flock to them like vultures drawn to a carcass, advertising
their newest offerings and gushing about how good it’ll look on Till.

“We’ll take one of this, and one of this,” Mizi says, gesturing at the various suits. “I want
them in his size, and matching shoes as well.”

Till watches as she navigates the sales assistants like a natural-born leader, a woman who
belongs in the upper echelons of society. Till on the other hand stands awkwardly as several
jackets and shirts are thrust on him, each of different colours.

“Okay, go try this on,” Mizi says, pushing him towards the fitting rooms, her hands flat on his
back.

“W-What? Whoa!” Till cries, almost losing his footing as he stumbles forward. He now finds
himself all alone in the admittedly large room, clutching sets of clothes in his arms that he
isn’t sure he knows how to put on. He doesn’t even remember the last time he put something
like this on, if ever. How would he look, if he did? Hopefully presentable.

When Till steps out of the fitting room, clad in the first set, Mizi immediately assaults him
with a camera flash to the face.

“Whoops,” she says, turning it off. Till shuts his eyes, one hand held over them. “Sorry about
that.”

“W-What was that for?” Till splutters.

“Oh, you look absolutely dashing,” Mizi croons, as she takes a few more shots. “Anyway,
you should go try on the other suit too. I’m sure he’ll love it.”

“You’re sure who’ll love it?”

“Just get in there already.”

Whilst Till is busy unbuttoning his shirt, he vaguely hears someone shouting, “He’s got a
nosebleed!” outside. Maybe he’ll ask Mizi what happened later.

Three more suits later, they finally decide on a sleek black jacket with a pressed white shirt,
complete with a silver tie to match Till’s hair colour. Till watches as the cashier scans their
items, eyes bulging when he sees the grand total, and he begins sweating when Mizi swipes
Sua’s platinum card. God, he’d never be able to pay that family this money back.

“Okay,” Mizi says, and she hands the bag of clothes back to Till. “Here you go.”

“I’ll probably return this when the wedding’s over. We really should have rented a tux or
something.”

Mizi shushes him with a finger on her lips. “No, there’s no need to think that way. I’m sure at
least one person in that family would spend every last cent on you.”

Is she talking about Ivan? Till’s heart soars at the prospect, as far away as it may seem.

“Seriously, trust me,” Mizi says, shoving the bag against Till’s chest. “Keep. It.”

Till stares down at the bag, then at Mizi, who’s already walking ahead. He hurries after her,
the bag dangling from his arm. “Hey! Wait up!”

In the end, he didn’t get to find out who was—or were—watching them. That is, if he had
remembered before they left the mall.

The day of the wedding creeps up on them and leaps at them like a tiger pouncing on prey.
Till is still struggling to get into the trousers, much too scared to rumple or crinkle it, when
Ivan knocks on the door of his room.

“Till, are you in there?” Ivan calls.

“Just a sec!” Till shouts back, and he grumbles to himself, expletives leaving his mouth as he
yanks the trousers onto his legs. He curses at the buttons on his cuffs, at his hair sticking up
despite the gel, and his tie that he has no goddamn idea how to tie.

“Till, are you okay?” Ivan asks, delivering another round of knocks on his door. “Can I come
in?”

“Do you,” Till asks, finally giving up, “know how to tie a tie?”

“Yeah. Don’t you?”

“I really don’t need that sass right now.” Till wrenches his door open, and he sees Ivan all
dressed up on the other side. Till almost forgot what he looked like in a suit, since he stopped
wearing them after they became more comfortable, but damn does he look good. Hair slicked
back, dressed in a white jacket and shirt, complete with a black tie, Till would be drooling if
he has any less self-restraint.
Well, Ivan himself is drooling, a rivulet of saliva beading at the corner of his lip, so Till
would like to think that he’s marginally better than this man.

“Um, some help here?” Till prompts, holding out the tie.

Ivan mutters something under his breath, something that sounds vaguely like, “I want to
throw you onto the bed and rip that right off you right now.” Or something of that nature. But
it probably wasn’t that, because why would Ivan be having such thoughts about him?

“Give me that,” Ivan says, and Till hands it to him.

Ivan drapes it around Till’s neck, and he proceeds to loop the tie into itself, and again, and
Till honestly has no clue what he’s doing. He is, on the other hand, hyperaware of Ivan’s
fingers brushing against his clavicle, against his neck. Each time, the merest touch sends
electric shocks through his system, and Till can’t help but imagine those gentle fingers
holding his.

“There, done,” Ivan says, and he gives the tie a little tug. “Are you okay? You’re beet red.”

“I’m fine!” Till cries, louder than he expected. “Sorry, I’m just a bit on edge.”

“Don’t be sorry. I get it. This is a little stressful. But I’ll be right beside you the whole time,
okay?” Ivan beams, which is not good for Till’s heart. “Just remember that you don’t have to
do something you don’t want to do. Promise me.”

If Till isn’t mistaken, Ivan seems about as nervous as he is. “Uh, I promise?”

“Great, okay. Let’s go. Come on. Isaac’s waiting for us.”

Till doesn’t remember the last time he went to a wedding. Was it always this extravagant and
lascivious? Silk banners strung up from pillar to pillar, silver balloons tied up in bunches of
threes. Tables are covered with velvet cloths, their golden hems brushing the floor. Elevator
music plays from the speakers as a symphonic ensemble sets up near the stage.

Till fidgets nervously with his sleeves, which has started itching around his wrists. The food
placed in front of him is much too pretty to eat, not that anyone else is eating, anyways. His
glass of wine sits full by his plate, whilst others around the table have been drained. Mizi is
engaged in small talk with Sua and Ivan’s parents, who, judging by what Till has seen so far,
are certainly nice enough. They definitely do not fit the condescending mould that Till
expected from people in charge of the largest entertainment agency in Korea.

Though they have yet to speak to him, aside from exchanging pleasantries, Till can still feel
their mother’s stare. Like both Ivan and Sua, the woman has piercing black eyes that seems to
pierce Till’s soul, asking a multitude of questions with her gaze alone. It makes Till squirm
the more he thinks about her curiosity.

“And you are Till-ssi, right?”

Till sits bolt upright, his hands stiff on his lap, arms pinned to his sides. He clears his throat
and turns to Ivan’s father, Mr Park. “Yes.”

“Please relax,” Mrs Park says with a titter. “We’re all family here, aren’t we?”

Till can already imagine the steam erupting from his ears at how hot his face is. “F-Family?
Yeah, we’re, um…”

“I think it’s a bit too early to say that,” Ivan says, slinging one arm around Till’s shoulders.
Never before has this casual gesture felt so intimate, sending shockwaves that runs down
Till’s back. It’s welcoming, though, Ivan’s warmth, his sturdiness, as he pulls Till against
him. Till tries his best to relax as Ivan continues to speak, but he doesn’t register the words
coming out of his mouth.

“You’re both really close, aren’t you? And you’ve only met him two months ago?” Mrs Park
asks, now turning her attention to Ivan.

Ivan nods, smiling a picture-perfect smile. “Yes, but we clicked quickly. We started hanging
out more and more, and… well, we started dating sometime along the way. Fifteenth of
March. I still remember the date.”

Till nods rigidly. “Yeah. Ivan, uh, confessed to me first. I was really taken by surprise.”

“I have to apologise in advance, dear,” Mrs Park says, reaching over and grasping Till’s hand.
Her fingers are smooth, free of calluses. “Our little Ivan can be somewhat of a handful, but
he’s a good boy.”

“Mum!” Ivan whines.

Till can’t help but chuckle, the mood lightening up a touch. “I think he’s alright.”

“He’s in good hands, Mrs Park,” Mizi says with a smile. “I’ve been friends with Till since the
start of uni, and I can say that he’s an excellent person, Mrs Park. Ivan won’t find a better
spouse around.”

Till almost chokes. Mrs Park giggles, her hand resting on Mr Park’s. “Yes, well, he’d have to
be, if he managed to end up with our boy.”

“Mum!”

“I agree,” Sua says, and she takes a sip of her wine, which has been refilled.

The ceremony soon begins, and Till watches Luka and Hyuna head down the aisle, join on
stage, and cut into the wedding cake. He doesn’t think he’s seen either of them quite this
happy, unfettered elation radiating from them even in front of the numerous cameras.
ALNST’s largest artistes committing to a holy vow? Well, the fans are going to love that .
Most of them, anyway.

Till claps when he needs to clap, cheers when he needs to cheer. More food is presented on
the table, and they dig in.
“Do you wanna get out of here?” Ivan asks, when the after-party is just beginning. People
have risen from their tables, mingling around, perusing the cakes, eclairs, and other treats
from tables at the front of the hall.

“Would your parents be offended, though?” Till asks.

Ivan lowers his head so his lips brush Till’s ear, his breath tickling his neck. “Like I said,
don’t force yourself to do anything you don’t want to do. If you want to leave, we leave. I’ll
handle my parents.”

Speaking of Ivan’s parents… Till glances over at where the Parks stand. Mr Park is speaking
to another guest, whilst Mrs Park’s eyes appear to be entirely on them. Till flinches, his heart
rate skyrocketing. Are they not convincing enough? Is she still suspicious of them?

“Your mum’s watching us. I don’t think she’s convinced.” Why’s he so bothered? It’s Ivan
who has to deal with the fallout if anything happens, not him.

“Let her.” Ivan’s face is so close, so impossibly close. Till could just tiptoe and— “If she
asks, I’ll talk to her later.”

Boldness grips Till in that one moment, and pure, animalistic desire fuels him as he utters, “I
wouldn’t want you to get into trouble. Shouldn’t we make it clear that we’re boyfriends?”

Ivan’s eyes go wide. “Till, what are you—”

Till grabs him by the collar, pulling him down the same moment he surges up, crashing their
lips painfully together. Ivan is frozen like a statue, his hands held up awkwardly, as though
unsure of where to put them. Till’s eyes are screwed shut, his fingers bunching Ivan’s collar
so tightly he’s probably choking the man.

But Ivan recovers quickly, his arms coming up to wrap around Till, one hand cupping the
back of his head. They part after much too short a time, Till’s breaths heavy, his lips bruised
from the impact.

“At someone else’s wedding?” Ivan laughs breathlessly.

“Never a better time. Come on, let’s get out of here.”

Ivan tugs Till along, his fingers entwining with his. Till shoots one last glance back at Mrs
Park, who merely winks in response.

“I thought I said you shouldn’t do what you didn’t want to do,” Ivan says, as the limousine
trundles along the busy road. God, why must the wedding be on a weekend, when everyone
in town is headed to the city centre? Till’s glad the snaking line of cars are even moving at
all.

Till can’t bring himself to look Ivan in the eyes. After the adrenaline died away, reality
chooses that moment to crash down on him. In the car, Till wishes that the ground could just
open up and swallow him whole, instead of having to spend this next half-hour crammed into
the car’s backseat with Ivan, the man he quite purposefully kissed in the middle of a crowded
wedding hall. What the hell was his past self thinking?

Till lets out a breath, staring out the window, pretending that his heart isn’t beating a million
miles a minute. Well, he’s come this far. No way but forward. “Yeah, you did. And I did keep
that promise.”

Ivan goes silent. Till chances a peek at him. He’s staring at Till, and the intensity of his gaze
makes Till self-conscious. Unwilling to meet the pressure, Till returns to watching the
riverbed, at the scores of elementary school children on a school outing to pick up rubbish.

“Do you really mean that?” Ivan asks, his voice barely a whisper.

Till hesitates. This is it, the edge of the cliff, and he’s about to take the plunge into uncharted
waters. How Ivan will react, he has no control over, but at least, he can say he tried his best.
“Yeah, and… well, you know the promise I made before this?”

“Promise?”

“To remain friends no matter what happens?”

Ivan gulps, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “Yeah?”

“I think I’m gonna have to break that promise.” Silence. The tension in the air is so palpable,
so thick that Till could cut it with a knife. “Because I think I want us to be something more.”

No words can describe the pure ridiculousness of Ivan’s expression. Eyes wide, cheeks pink,
jaw dropped so far that Till can see all his teeth. He seems to want to speak, but no words
come out of his mouth. Till wishes he’d just break the silence already, or he himself is going
to explode.

“Do you… Hold on a minute… Let me just…” Ivan rakes his fingers through his gelled
locks. “You want us to…”

“Date, yeah. I mean, it’s okay if you don’t want to, I totally get that. It was all just a contract
—”

“That’s not what I mean.” Ivan grasps Till’s hands, and Till flushes, blood rushing to his ears.
“It’s not that I don’t want to. I’ve wanted this for so long I don’t even remember… well. This
whole contract thing was just an excuse to get close to you, because I was a coward who
didn’t dare to just ask you out.”

Till blinks. Tries to process the babbling that just left Ivan’s mouth. So, the fake dating
request itself was fake, and Ivan just wanted to date Till for real?

“Okay, I know what I did was kinda unethical, and maybe I should have plucked up my
courage and told you from the get-go, but… you know, confessing your feelings to someone
who doesn’t even know you exist is not the easiest thing in the world—”
Till snorts. “You got that right. And at least you’re self-aware.”

“Yeah, but… could you forgive me? Just this once?” Ivan whimpers, dropped his head,
thumbing at Till’s knuckles.

How can Till say no to that? Ivan’s already barged into his life like the unpredictable typhoon
that he is, stole his heart, and is now here to stay, if Till lets him.

“Well, you’ll have a lot of making up to do. Maybe you can start by promising that you won’t
lie to me again.”

Ivan beams, perking up like a wilted plant given water. “Yes! I promise!”

“Second, you can come clean with any other secrets you might have been keeping from me.”

“Well, I, uh, when I was young, I didn’t like eating congee, so I fed it to our dog when my
parents weren’t looking. I cheated once in my English test because I didn’t want my dad to be
mad. And I roped both my sister and Mizi into helping me with my fake dating—”

“I don’t need your whole life story,” Till says, waving with a flick of his wrist, and then he
pauses, before peering back up at Ivan. “Wait, what’s that last one—”

“Oh, would you look at that? We’re here already! Come on, Till. Let’s go eat somewhere
nice.”

Mizi: No way!

Mizi: U guys are dating now??

Mizi: Isaac told me what happened! U kno u really shldnt be confessing at the back of a car.
It’s not romantic!

Mizi: We shld go out for lunch together to celebrate the mission’s success!

Mizi: Tell Ivan that I said hi!

“Do you need to answer that?” Ivan asks. He’s partially draped over Till on Till’s bed, the
both of them lying flat on their stomachs as they watch the latest season of a dating game
show that Ivan’s rather into at the minute on Till’s laptop.

“Nah, it’s just Mizi,” Till says, and he puts his phone on silent mode. He shifts closer to Ivan,
who tightens his hold on Till’s waist. “Let’s keep watching.”

Ivan presses a kiss to Till’s temple, and God, does it feel natural, like they’ve been doing this
all along. Funny what two months together can do to a couple. The game show continues to
play, Till rests his head against Ivan’s shoulder, and Ivan lets out a contented sigh.
Chapter End Notes

Standard romance plot, but I hope you enjoyed it!

If you liked this one, you might like:

Know How I Feel (For You)
Of Fevers and Chicken Soup
Passion
Please drop by the Archive and comment to let the creator know if you enjoyed their work!