Chapter 7

Till is spiraling at a frankly terrifying speed, and he tries to reason with himself.

It's fucking Ivan. He can't be gay. He can't be... it's just a coincidence. Till is coincidentally his step-brother, and Ivan is coincidentally into gay step-brother porn. Just because Ivan likes this messed up shit doesn't mean he feels that way toward—

Till.

But most of the videos lean toward emo twinks. Ones who wear too much eyeliner, none of them rocking it nearly as good as—

It's a small victory, to be better looking than these gay twink pornstars.Till wishes he had the energy to appreciate it more.

He wonders if it ever bothers Ivan, if Ivan has been searching through all this nasty porn looking for someone like Till.Someone to scratch his disgusting, repulsive itch—

Does... Ivan want to do this to Till? Pound his younger step-brother's guts into mush, just like in this porno?

Till slams the laptop shut.Closes out of the Chrome profile, careful not to leave a trace.

Then he gets the hell out of there before he throws Ivan's laptop at a wall.

He leaves everything exactly the way it had been before he entered, numbly walking to his own room to curl up in bed.

He's overreacting.Ivan isn't—He doesn't—He just can't, okay?

He's Till's older brother. That's all he is.He's not into Till.

They've known each other for so long. They're practically related. Raised by the same woman.

It's a fluke.A coincidence.Ivan isn't a pervert. He's—

Till imagined the whole thing.Ivan is actually into something super tame. Like Taylor Swift's feet. And.

And.

Fuck.

In retrospect, it honestly explains so much.

Till spends the rest of Saturday afternoon moping in bed. It's not exactly out of character for him, so no one comes in to check if he's alive.

If anyone asks, he'll just blame it on a headache.

It's not far from the truth—Till's had a whole lot of Ivan-induced headaches in his life, but this one might be the worst.

It's just—

Ivan is gay.Ivan is fucking gay.

Like, subscription-to-gay-porn-sites gay.

He pays a fee to watch emo twinks get their guts rearranged by nine-inch cocks.

There's a lot of dick-sucking happening too.A metric fuckton of choking and makeup-stained tears.

As always, Till's imagination is running wild.Usually, that's a good thing. It helps him write songs and paint.

But now?Now, he'd give anything to bleach his brain and scrub this whole fucking morning from his mind.

Till's mind is painting the vivid image of Ivan sitting at his desk late at night, his sweatpants pulled down just enough to free his hard, throbbing cock.

Looking around, making sure the coast is clear, before he pulls up his favorite gay porn site.

Snaggletooth digging into his bottom lip as he pumps his cock, watching with rapt attention as the Till lookalike on screen licks some jock's sweaty balls.

Does Ivan imagine it's Till sucking him off?

It would be such a disaster. Till's always had a strong gag reflex. Ivan knows this.

It'd be so unsexy—Till choking and slobbering all over Ivan's cock, snot and tears dripping down his face.

But maybe Ivan's into that.

Till will never make the mistake of assuming anything about Ivan ever again, because holy shit.

Till stares at the ceiling in his room.

Fuck.

No wonder Ivan's never brought a girl home.He's gay, first off.

Secondly, he (probably) fantasizes about spearing his younger step-brother on his cock.

The cheer squad would be so disappointed.

And the icing on the fucking cake is the fact that Till still doesn't have any blackmail material on Ivan.Till recognizes that outing Ivan would be an objectively awful thing to do, so now he's just stewing.

Empty-handed.

Ivan won without even trying.Fucking great.

How is Till supposed to live with Ivan now?

The full force of Ivan's Ivanism is, like, always directed toward Till, and now Till knows why.

How's he supposed to laugh Ivan off knowing what he does?

The phlegm.The weird interest in Till's favorite hentai genre.

Holy shit.The thigh thing.

That night they were sitting on the couch, and Till had groped Ivan's leg.

Ivan isn't ticklish.Looking back, Till realizes that he's been a fucking moron.

People don't whimper when they get tickled,and they don't hide their lap under a blanket afterward.

Ivan was hard.Hard, just because Till had squeezed his quad muscle.

In any other situation, Till would find that hilarious.Serves Ivan right. He's such a pathetic loser.

The most popular and accomplished person in their entire school, and he'd probably come in his pants if Till sat on his lap.

Till flips over onto his stomach, peering at his phone screen for answers.

"Don't judge your step-brother for his preferences and desires.Accept him for who he is and offer him love and support."

It takes everything Till has not to throw his phone at the wall, because yeah right.

Not only is Ivan a freak,but he's also a gay pervert.

Till is very clearly the victim here.

Never mind the fact that he was the one to search Ivan's laptop without his consent.

At least Ivan is only interested in Till sexually.Silver fucking lining.

Ivan must be home from that stupid breakfast with his team.Till can hear the front door shut.

He can't deal with him right now.

He'll probably end up saying something genuinely hurtful, and Ivan's eyes will go wide for a brief second—