Ivan’s heart thudded in his chest as he jogged off the field, sweat dripping down his face, the crowd’s cheers still ringing in his ears. The sound of his teammates celebrating faded into the background, but all Ivan could focus on was the figure sitting alone in the bleachers. Till. His Till.

The emo kid with the worn-out band tee, the dark, messy hair falling into his eyes, and that air of someone who didn’t quite belong but made everything feel right. Ivan’s breath caught when he saw what Till was wearing—his letterman jacket, the one Ivan had never let anyone borrow. The sight made his chest tighten in a way that wasn’t entirely from the game.

He wiped his hands on his shorts and climbed the bleachers, his breath still ragged from the game, but the moment his eyes locked onto Till, it all melted away. The way Till was sitting there, casual, leaning back with his arm resting on the metal railing, wearing his letterman jacket—it sent a rush of warmth through Ivan's chest. Till had shown up. He'd actually come.

He jogged over, his heart racing not from the game but from the sight of Till—no longer distant, no longer the hard-to-read kid who would brush off his attention like it was nothing.

Till looked up when Ivan got close, eyes flashing with something between annoyance and something else—maybe affection, or maybe it was something more subtle, like something had shifted. Till wasn’t one for grand gestures, and Ivan knew better than to expect any show of fireworks. But that quirk of the lips—faint, almost reluctant—was enough to make Ivan’s chest tighten.

“You didn’t have to come,” Ivan said, catching his breath, his voice softer than it should have been.

Till scoffed, but the hint of a blush was hard to miss. “Like I’m gonna let you get all sweaty without me around to see it. Besides, you left your jacket in my dorm.” He gave a half-hearted tug at the fabric, and Ivan's grin widened.

“I think it looks better on you.” Ivan couldn’t stop the grin that spread across his face.