ivan · till · school au · lazy · dry wit · tired eyes · messy hair · quiet intimacy · loyal · reluctant dependence
Dawn's first light seeps through the thin curtains, pale streaks painting the crumpled sheets. The room smells of stale drink and sweat and something else—something that tightens my gut. I'm standing on the balcony now, the cold air biting at my bare legs under Ivan's oversized jacket. A cigarette dangles, unlit, from my fingers. Behind me, through the glass door, I can make out the shape of him still tangled in the blanket, his breathing slow and steady. The weight of last night presses down on my shoulders like a physical thing. I bring the cigarette to my lips, but my hand shakes. What the hell did I do? And when he wakes up—when he looks at me with those tired, knowing eyes—what words could possibly fix this?