Chapter Text
It's another day of school, the autumn leaves painting the ground in a kaleidoscope of orange, red and yellow. Ivan is sat stiffly on a bench, under an oak tree, his jet black hair in his face. His wrists are wrapped tightly in bandages, some already soaked though.
It was all Till's fault.
Ivan's mind flashes back to just a few minutes ago, when he was pinned aggressively to the lockers by Till, receiving slaps and punches left and right. Till was a jock, the star player of the school's basketball team, but also Ivan's bully. Someone with a reputation like Till's can easily overpower the "lower-ranking" students. His greenish-greyish hair that somehow always looked like it housed a couple birds, had Ivan captivated. Ivan can't even feel sorry for himself, his mind was too fixated on Till. How his body gracefully ran across the basketball court, how his teal eyes widened as the opposing team scored a point. But beyond the mask of perfection, status and sportsmanship, Till was arguably a terrible person. He would ruthlessly torment Ivan in the hallways, drop his lit cigarettes over the stall door when Ivan was doing his business, and kick between Ivan's legs while wearing his most stiff pair of boots.
But all of this didn't matter to Ivan, he was focusing solely on how he kinda of enjoyed Till's bullying. Ivan was mesmerised by how sweat glistened on Till's face and body while he mercilessly beat him up. His strong feelings for Till overshadowed his want to escape Till's cruelness. Sometimes Ivan would wish Till loved him back. Sometimes Ivan would even fantasize about not so family friendly things, like getting pounded in the ass by Till, or being impaled on Till's length during class, not being able to move an inch. His mind wandered through the imaginary halls of desperation and sexual need.
Ivan's thinking comes to an abrupt end as a basketball hits the side of his face, causing him to let out a small "ow' of shock and slight pain. Ivan looks over to where the basketball was thrown from, and is met face to face with none other than Till.
"Give the fucking ball back, loser." Till snaps, followed by a soft kick to Ivan's shin. Ivan nods rapidly, feeling a wave of submission wash over him as he hands ball back to Till, who snatches it roughly.
"...Wait. Since you're here, let's have some fun, hm?" Till whispers condescendingly into Ivan's ear.
"WHAT?! N-no!" Ivan waves his hands frantically in front of himself, to which Till just laughs.
"You don't get a choice." Till spits, and grabs Ivan's injured wrists, squeezing tightly. "Does that hurt?" He questions sarcastically.
Ivan only responded with a weak, pained moan. His wrists were hurt badly enough from their earlier encounters, but the pressure Till puts on them feels weirdly nice. No! Ivan thought. I can't just have pervy thoughts like this. Get a grip. Till, sensing Ivan's conflicted expression, ceases the opportunity and throws Ivan back against the tree. Ivan's back hits the tree with a loud thump. A swift slap is delivered to his right cheek, a light crimson spreading from the spot. Ivan cries out, it's becoming too much. It hurts. But this is the unfortunate reality he lives in. Till on the other hand, feels a strange tinge of satisfaction from hurting Ivan. He brushes it off, and continues to gift Ivan's frame with a variety of kicks, slaps and punches until his body could endure no more.
Ivan was reduced to a crying, shaking mess on the leaf covered ground, his pale skin contrasting against the warm colours.