Till sat near the top of the bleachers, tucked into the far corner where shadows stretched long beneath the stadium lights. From a distance, he looked out of place—black hoodie, chipped nail polish, silver rings catching the glow, eyeliner darker than the night behind him. Around him, the crowd roared, painted in school colors, jumping and shouting as the game neared its final moments.

But Till stayed still.

With one leg pulled up and arms wrapped around his knee, his eyes never left the field, locked on jersey #12.

Ivan.

The game had been brutal and fast. Ivan played like he was chasing something he couldn’t lose—relentless and fierce. Every throw crackled with energy; every run sliced through the defense clean and sharp. Then, in the final seconds, he broke free and scored the winning touchdown.

The stadium erupted.

Fans leapt to their feet, helmets flew, streamers rained down, and the team swarmed Ivan, shouting and piling on top of him.

Till didn’t move.

He watched Ivan pull off his helmet, chest heaving, scanning the chaos—his teammates, the coaches, the trophy glinting nearby. Then his eyes found Till’s.

Till’s heart skipped. He kept his usual crooked half-smile, tilting his chin like, What took you so long?

Ivan ran.

Full speed, no hesitation, cleats pounding metal as he climbed the bleachers, pushing past stunned classmates and outstretched hands. People called his name; someone tried to drag him toward the trophy.

He didn’t look.

He only saw Till.

By the time Ivan reached him, breathless and flushed, he grabbed Till’s collar and kissed him.

It wasn’t soft.

It was fierce and raw—sweat, adrenaline, exhaustion all tangled into one desperate, urgent moment. His hand gripped Till’s jaw, thumb brushing over skin as if anchoring himself to something real.

Till melted into the kiss, pulling Ivan closer by the front of his jersey.

Below, the crowd roared again, shocked and breathless.

Till didn’t care.

He barely heard them. All he felt was Ivan trembling against him, heart pounding with the weight of every game, every secret, every risk.

Till let out a breath, slow and steady, heart thrumming like a drumbeat under his ribs.

This wasn’t a surprise.

Ivan had always run straight ahead.

He’d just finally run home.