St. Cygnus Senior High was known for its pristine corridors, prestige, and its intimidatingly competent Student Council.
At the helm stood Ivan, the golden boy—charismatic, sharp-tongued when needed, but always with a crowd-warming smile. Alongside him, his second-in-command in everything except title: Till, the Auditor. Sharp-eyed, sharp-tongued, and always watching. If Ivan was the Council’s face, Till was its knife—cutting through bureaucracy, hypocrisy, and excuses.
They worked like a machine. Efficient. Professional. Never a hair out of place in meetings, never a word of gossip.
But when the day ended—when the Council room door clicked shut or the lights dimmed in Ivan’s apartment—they unraveled. Quietly. Softly. Together.
Till always arrived last. Ivan would be waiting—tie off, sleeves rolled. There were no speeches, no power plays. Just warmth. A heavy exhale. Sometimes they barely spoke. Just slipped into bed, skin to skin, heartbeats syncing. Sometimes they just held each other, fingers tangled in silence.
And sometimes… they did more than just sleep.
But no one knew that. No one could know that.
Until today.
Mid-Morning | Student Council Office
"Meeting in five," Sua reminded, clicking her pen. “We need the budget proposal ready.”
Ivan nodded, flipping a paper over. “Luka, the performance budget's your cue. Hyuna, prep the breakdown. Mizi, flag anything unclear.”
“Got it,” Hyuna responded calmly.
Till was leaning against the wall, arms crossed, silent as usual.
Ivan glanced up. Their eyes met—just for a second too long.
Till's gaze softened. Just a twitch of his brow. It was a look Ivan knew—the one he gave when he was tired, when he wanted to pull Ivan aside and bury his face in his neck and forget school, politics, everything.
Ivan’s lips twitched upward before he could stop it. Not his usual practiced smile—a genuine one. Small. Private.
“President?” Sua blinked. “Did you… need something from Till?”
A pause.
Ivan realized. His smile. The way he was looking at him.
He cleared his throat. “No. Just making sure everyone’s awake.”
Till’s jaw tightened, but a hint of red crept up his neck. He turned away, too quickly.
Mizi raised a brow. “Weird vibe.”
“Yeah, that was… weird,” Luka muttered.
Hyuna narrowed her eyes between the two.
Acorn, ever the chaotic spirit, whispered too loudly to Marty: “You think they're secretly dating?”
Till’s pen snapped in half.
Everyone turned.
Ivan’s fingers twitched like he was about to say something—deny it, laugh it off, distract them—but instead, he just sighed.
“…Till,” he murmured, low enough only Till could hear. “I think we slipped.”
Till didn’t look at him. “Yeah. No shit.”
Ivan stepped closer, voice smooth again. “Let’s keep it professional from now on.”
Till raised his eyes—dark, unreadable—but with the faintest smirk. “You’re the one who looked at me like I was a warm bed and chamomile tea.”
The words sent a jolt through Ivan’s chest.
The rest of the Council awkwardly resumed shuffling papers, pretending they weren’t trying to eavesdrop.
“Later,” Ivan muttered under his breath, lips barely moving.
Till’s voice was even quieter. “You better cuddle me until I forget this happened.”
Ivan smiled again. Not the President’s smile.
His.