Chapter 5

The cheerleader looks like she's fighting back tears, clearing her throat several times before she speaks. It still cracks.

"I'm going to have my boyfriend beat you up so bad, your mom won't even recognize you."

Till laughs. It's hilarious that she thought she could be meaner than him — Till is a fucking terror, and she clearly missed the memo.

"Cool. I'm free after school on Monday. Send two guys if you want it to be a fair fight."

She turns and leaves, sobbing as she goes. People are staring at Till like he's the asshole, but he's used to it.

Ivan, on the other hand, is still looking at him funny.

"What?" Till asks, a little peeved.

"Don't tell me you actually wanted to go to that party."

"No," Ivan says, blinking several times like he's coming out of a daze. "I still have to beat you at Mario Kart. You won last week."

Till grins. No matter how popular Ivan is, he'll still choose Till and Io above anyone else. Shitty game nights are their thing.

"Sure you don't want to try MDMA?"

"What's this about drugs?" Io asks, holding two steaming cups of hot chocolate in her hands.

Till's heart freezes to ice. The world stops spinning. The end of the world is happening twice this week — first when Ivan found his suspiciously stiff boxers, and now with his mom overhearing him talk about taking drugs.

It was a joke, he wants to say. He wonders if she'll believe him.

"I don't mind you two experimenting," Io continues when she sees both of their ashen faces. "But you probably shouldn't take MDMA together. It has some... side effects that aren't appropriate for two brothers in a room alone together. Don't ask me how I know this."

"What," Till manages. His mouth's as dry as the desert. "It's not like that."

Io is frowning at the loudly crying girl a few yards away.

"Till, I hope that wasn't you."

"Of course not," Till says —

— at the same time Ivan opens his mouth.

"It was him," Ivan says like the rat he is. Then, less like a rat, he continues, "He heroically saved me from turning down a basement party with drugs. By the way, I appreciate the gesture, Till, but I'm used to it. I would also appreciate it if you didn't make people cry in my presence, but I know that you can't help it."

"Oh!" Io's face lights up. "Till, baby, were you protecting your older brother?"

"We're not brothers!" Till hisses, looking around. People are staring. He pulls his beanie down to try and hide his eyes. "I'm not related to this freak!"

Io passes a cup of hot chocolate into Till's hand, then pinches his cheek.

"It's okay to care, Till. I know there's a sensitive, loving boy underneath all of that eyeliner. I raised him."

Ivan, in true Ivan fashion, also pinches Till's cheek, tugging harder than Io. He's pulled between them, and his face flushes a deep, deep red.

Till slaps Ivan's hand away. Then, he gently fights Io's grip until he's free at last. He points a finger at Ivan, still red with embarrassment, and declares before retreating to the stands,

"I hope you get a fucking concussion, shithead!"

Everyone gasps. Except for Ivan, who smiles at Till with his stupid snaggletooth on full display.

⸻

Unfortunately, Ivan does not get a concussion.

He plays the best game of his life after the halftime period is over, leading the team to victory.

They're securely in the semi-finals for their division, and Io is ecstatic. That's her boy, she says with teary eyes.

The coach is chatting her up, and Ivan and Till both glare daggers at the man until he retreats.

Till refuses to let Ivan have everything, though.

He kicks Ivan's ass at Mario Kart for the second week in a row, which he is totally normal about. He doesn't rub it in Ivan's face.

Except that he does. Gloriously.

They eat pizza and celebrate until Io falls asleep on the couch, and then Ivan carries her to bed like a charming prince.

⸻

By the way, Till does not hang out with Ivan. Ivan just so happens to pester him late into the night while Till is strumming his guitar, and Till tolerates his presence.

Currently, Ivan's coloring one of Till's drawings with a very serious expression on his face, completely focused on his task.

When Ivan holds up the paper, Till almost falls over with laughter.

"Oh my god, you can't even — even color inside the lines, Ivan, holy shit."

Ivan frowns at the picture. Till drew him an astronaut cat, as per Ivan's request, and it's totally ruined now.

"I thought my use of crayon was very artistic."

"Yeah, for a toddler." Till reaches over to pluck the paper from Ivan's fingers, gleefully taking it all in. "I think this is the worst coloring job I've ever seen. Why is the cat blue?"

Ivan blinks.

"They say blue is the saddest color."

Till also blinks at him.

"Is the cat, like, depressed?"

"It could be," Ivan replies easily, examining the picture over Till's shoulder like an art snob at an Andy Warhol museum. "Space is a big, lonely place for a cat. Maybe it left Earth because of unrequited love, and now it's looking to the stars for answers."

Till can't believe some of the shit that comes out of Ivan's mouth.

School heartthrob, star quarterback, making a sad backstory for an astronaut cat doodle in Till's messy room on a Friday night.

"Yeah, well, maybe it left Earth because someone was obnoxiously in love with it, and it had to leave for its own safety."

"You think the blue cat is being stalked?" Ivan asks, stroking his chin like a true appreciator of the arts. "And its solution is launching itself into outer space?"

"Are you high," Till has to ask.

"I think the fumes from your room are getting to me," Ivan replies. "There might be a gas leak."

"I wish your freak behavior was because of a gas leak," Till states, because wouldn't that be a dream? "Then you could be fixed."

Ivan is still looking at the stupid drawing, his expression unreadable.

"Please don't launch yourself into outer space, Till."

"Dude, forget about the stupid cat," Till says, crumbling the paper into a ball so Ivan can stop being such a freak about it.

Once he's finished, he hands it to Ivan. "Here."

Ivan begins the painstaking task of unfolding it without tearing the paper, until Till sighs and rips it from his hands again.

Ivan looks way too sad about his blue astronaut cat, and Till can't take it anymore.

"No, I meant, like —" Till refolds the paper into a ball, then passes it into Ivan's hand. "Use your freakish sport talent to prove it. Make the shot into the trash can from here."

"Not that I don't appreciate you recognizing my talents," Ivan says, gazing at the ball of paper in his hand, "But I'd really rather keep this. It's my first collaboration."

"Ivan, I doodled that in a minute."

"It took me twenty minutes to color," Ivan replies. "It has value, Till."

"If you can make the shot into the trash can from my bed," Till begins, "I'll let you sleep here tonight."

Ivan instantly launches the ball of paper across the room. It lands perfectly inside the trash can, not even bouncing on the rim.

It's one of those things people do that is instantly impressive to everybody, including Till, much to his displeasure.

He can't help but let out a startled laugh and clap Ivan over the shoulder.

"Ivan, what the hell. That was crazy," Till is saying, reaching for his sketchbook to doodle something else.